Ties That Bind (Club Risque Book 3)

by Poppy Flynn

  "It's best to try and think of 'submissive' as really just a title and remember that just because someone is given that title, it doesn't necessarily mean they are subservient," Desi explained.

  "Of course, it doesn't always mean that they're not, either," Laurel cut in to confuse the issue. "But generally, those types of women are referred to as 'slaves', and they are a tiny minority."

  Luanna was floundering again, and Desi was quick to see that. "Of course, 'slave' is just a title, as well, remember," she interjected hurriedly. "But those are people who take submission to a whole different level. What you need to remember is that it is a choice. And it's their choice. There is no coercion here. People participate in BDSM at whatever level they are comfortable with, because that's what they enjoy. For some, that's a 24/7 commitment, but for the majority, it's a way to…" She faltered as if searching for the right words.

  "…get our freak on a couple of times a week," Laurel finished for her.

  Desi raised one eyebrow at the younger girl. "Not quite how I was going to put it, but yeah, I guess that about sums it up," she accepted.

  "And it will probably make you feel better if I tell you that many of the women who are submissives at the club are, in their day to day lives, strong women who invariably hold positions of significance and authority. In many cases, becoming a submissive is our way to decompress, to let somebody else take the reins and be in control. A kind of active stress relief option, a bit like jogging."

  Jogging? Yeah, that wasn't quite the way Luanna was seeing it. But the remainder of what Desi claimed was quite fascinating. She could definitely understand that notion, at least. The times in her life when she had wished for someone else to, at least, share her burdens were legion. Could Logan's fetish have that same effect for her? The idea was certainly intriguing.

  "The best way to view it all is with a definitive understanding of the 'power exchange'."

  "The what?" Luanna frowned and groaned. "This is all getting a bit beyond me."

  Desi smiled sympathetically. "The power exchange is the process within which Domination and submission work. Submission is offered willingly, in exchange for the Dominant taking responsibility. The Dom is in control, but the ultimate power still lies in the hands of the submissive, because it's the submissive who has the ability to call a halt to everything—that's immediate, with no questions, no recriminations—with just the use of a safe word."

  "Safe word? That's a real thing, too?" Luanna was starting to feel like a parrot. She was also beginning to understand that there was far more to all this than could ever be covered in a single lunch date.

  "Ask Logan to take you to the club. The best way to learn about it is to experience it first hand. Not necessarily taking part, if you're not comfortable with that, but watching and seeing how it all plays out. Maybe have a chat with Micah."

  "Micah?"

  "Micah Flynn," Laurel filled in helpfully. "He's the manager, but he also holds a doctorate in Psychology, as well as being a total hottie beef-cake."

  Desi rolled her eyes at Laurel's description and carried on. "Also, I have a friend in a similar situation. She's the same age as I am and has led a pretty sheltered life, although there's no man involved in her particular circumstances. She's decided to explore the lifestyle for herself, but she still has a lot of the same issues in understanding and accepting as you're finding, yourself. It might help you to talk things over with each other. If you're up for that, I can ask her to get in touch?"

  Luanna mulled over the offer for a moment. She wasn't sure she really wanted to discuss some of her innermost thoughts and feelings with a complete stranger. Then another thought occurred to her. "Is it someone I know?"

  Desi winked. "You have met," she confirmed, as if understanding exactly what Luanna had been thinking.

  "In that case, yes. I'd love for you to put her in touch."

  Desi fired off a text message, there and then, and a reply came through within minutes.

  "Great, she's all for it. She thinks it will be good for her to also have someone in a comparable position to bounce some of her doubts and uncertainties off of."

  Desi's busy fingers flew over the keypad of her smartphone, and a second later, Luanna's own phone beeped.

  "That'll be her details," Desi confirmed.

  Rummaging around in her handbag, Luanna dug out her mobile and opened up the message, curious to find out whose information she'd been sent. She looked back at Desi in surprise when she read the name linked to the phone number. It was none other than their fellow bridesmaid and Desi's long-time friend, Charlotte Chapman.

  "Small world, huh?" Desi grinned.

  Chapter 8

  A few days later, Luanna looked around Club Risqué and knew that her eyes must be like saucers. Gone was the habitual calm and serene look that she prided herself on, and this was the only expression she could muster right now.

  She'd deliberately not allowed the time to second-guess herself with the visit she'd agreed to, but now that she was here, she felt decidedly out of place and more than a little unnerved. She didn't belong here. It was so way out of her comfort zone that it was off the scale. It wasn't that she felt nervous, as such. More the overwhelming feeling that she simply didn't belong. And yet she couldn't help but notice how comfortable Logan was in these surroundings, how happy this normally grave and steady man was to be here and how excited he was that she was here with him.

  Luanna had led a deliberately conservative life after the dreadful fallout from the scandal of her teenage pregnancy. She'd worked hard to come across as mature, dependable and sensible. There was most definitely nothing calm, serene or sensible about Club Risqué.

  This? Well, this was a veritable smorgasbord of sin, skin and kink.

  Right now, they were on the ground floor, an area that was open to the public—for a price. The inside of the building here was heavy on the industrial warehouse kind of look with a hopping, youthful vibe. There was a packed bar and a completely slammed dance floor, where the undulating pile-up of bodies seemed to writhe like a single, sinuous wave.

  That's where the comparison to a regular nightclub came to an end. Though most of the outfits were skimpy, some of them were literally non-existent. And then, on suspended platforms, each hanging at various levels around the cavernous hall space was the type of entertainment that made the mind boggle. The kind that made it very clear that this was no ordinary club.

  Luanna was almost embarrassed to look. Every type of kinky, sexual predilection you could imagine was going on in plain sight right above her head. She saw Doms and subs of both sexes and, also, same sex couples—naked or mostly naked, young and not so young, all sizes, shapes and colours. There was flogging, bondage, pole dancing, spanking. Dildoes, spreader bars, nipple clamps, hand cuffs were everywhere, plus, more things she didn't recognise or didn't have a name for.

  She didn't drink much, as a rule, but she was grateful for the glass of wine Logan went to get her from the bar, bolstered by the shot of alcohol, even as she noticed the preferential treatment he enjoyed from the staff.

  "If we ever scene here, there's a strict two drink limit," he told her. "BDSM and alcohol shouldn't be mixed."

  He pointed out the coloured wristbands that some members wore, to denote their alcohol intake. "Their membership card is scanned when they purchase alcohol. If they buy for someone else, those cards are scanned, too."

  "Surely, that's still open to exploitation?"

  "Not really. Members get a generous bar discount, which they like to take advantage of, if they want to drink they simply stay downstairs. But the bottom line is that they're here for other facilities, not the bar. They're strictly vetted before they can join, so the clientele is the creme de la crème. They are the most serious of patrons and have little interest in flaunting the regulations. They understand why the rules are there. Breaking the two-drink limit means immediate loss of membership here and having their name flagged at other establishments, as
well. That's not a risk that a serious Dom or sub wants to take, and if they're not serious, that's usually flagged up in our psych evaluation requirement."

  Since she'd downed her single drink in a couple of quick, unladylike gulps, he led her across the room to an almost hidden door in a shadowy corner on the other side of the room, marked private. It led down a short nondescript hallway to another set of doors with keypad security.

  Through these doors was a metal staircase. When they reached the top, they walked past a row of rooms with huge viewing windows and even areas inside the rooms, where people could watch the unfolding scenes.

  "This is the members' area," he explained. "Members may bring one guest, who must agree to ID checks and verification."

  "I didn't do that." Luanna frowned.

  "I submitted your details earlier, to save time. Plus, I'm on pretty good terms with the owners," he said with a wink.

  Many of the rooms were themed. There was a doctor's office, featuring a recliner, complete with stirrups, a French boudoir filled with what looked like real antiques, a jail cell with a whole row of bars situated a foot or so inside the window, a curved, medieval turret room, a wet room featuring numerous different spray and waterfall features, a sumptuous throne room, and a board room with the requisite table and chairs. In each and every one, the occupants inside dressed the part in specific role play costume, which she, somehow, found a surprise. With all the deep and darkly sexual deeds this place lent itself to, she really hadn't imagined something as frivolous as dress up.

  They continued to the end of the double wide walkway to a huge open space at the end.

  "This is the dungeon…well, the general play area, really, since, obviously, we're not in a basement, but we call it the dungeon, anyway."

  Luanna noticed several people, both men and women, wearing florescent armbands, which Logan explained denoted their role as a 'Dungeon Monitor', whose responsibility was to ensure the smooth running and safe supervision of the area.

  The lighting in the room was muted. There were several daises, which were spotlighted, and a proper stage area at the far end. The plain painted walls featured all kinds of implements from floggers and crops to shackles and spreader bars. There were eyebolts and chains embedded in the plaster and stations throughout the generous space featuring spanking benches and St. Andrew's crosses, sex swings, stocks and other equipment made up of bars and frames that looked like scaffolding.

  "I'd like to show you one room, in particular," Logan stated, checking his watch for the time. "It should be free by now."

  Leading her back the way they came, he stopped and opened a non-descript door along a wall where the glass seemed to have been somehow blacked out, so no one could see inside. She noticed he seemed uncharacteristically nervous.

  Pausing before he ushered her inside, he admitted, "This is my favourite play area."

  Expecting to see a room full of coloured ropes in all kinds of weight and thickness and type, Luanna was taken aback to find herself confronted with a room completely outside her sphere of comprehension. It had what looked like a crisscross of metal rail track covering the entire ceiling. Attached to the rails, like little train carriages were various different accessories that could be manoeuvred throughout the system. Spreader bars, huge, shiny rings, single and double chains that could all be moved around to be used together or on their own. Luanna wondered if Logan would be offended if she vocalised her initial impression of it looking like a railway track, a big kid, kinky train set.

  Interspersed were a plethora of sturdy eyebolts that continued down the walls. They were matched by rings that were recessed into the floor.

  "What is this place?" she asked when she finally found her tongue.

  "This is the suspension room," he said proudly. "I had a hand in designing this particular facility. It's a room that takes Shibari to a new level, no pun intended." He winked with a boyish grin.

  "I…but…" Luanna found herself uncharacteristically tongue tied. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. "How does that work?" she whispered, not sure if she was shocked or intrigued. This place was clearly a big deal to Logan, and once again, a ripple of apprehension shivered down her spine as she wondered exactly how she was truly going to fit into his life. On the surface, they seemed so very similar, and sometimes, she thought that led him into a false sense of security, but scratch beneath that veneer and they were really poles apart.

  She was a realist; she could see the pitfalls clearly, but she wasn't certain that Logan was with her on that. He sometimes seemed almost blasé about the differences between them. If their relationship was ever to be truly put to the test, she sometimes wasn't certain whether it would stand the strain, or whether it might crumble under the first squeeze of pressure. The thought made her jittery. Almost as much as being here in his world did. She'd already devoted so much of herself to this relationship. Logan meant more to her than anyone in her life, with the exception of her son, and even he was growing up, growing away from her, becoming his own man. Soon, Danny would spread his wings and he wouldn't need her any more, not like he had when he was little, when she had been his world. She had hoped that what she had found with Logan was a relationship that would help to fill the void she would be left with when her son finally left for college in a couple of short years' time. And while, occasionally, she worried that she was trying too hard to plug a gap that might never even materialise, she didn't want to find out what might happen if things got difficult between the two of them. Regardless of whether she could come to terms with his fetishes, let alone share in them, her feelings for Logan couldn't be denied. She might not yet have said the words, but she knew she was in love with him. She had fallen hard and fast, and the thought of losing him scared her ridiculously. It pushed her to experience all of these things that were way out of both her comfort zone and her field of knowledge. Did that mean she was also guilty of trying too hard to keep him happy at the expense of her own good sense, or was it that she was just being flexible enough to experience his lifestyle with an open mind? It troubled her that she didn't immediately—instinctively—know the answer.

  "The rope, it becomes almost like a web…" Luanna started when Logan began his answer. She had been so lost in her own uneasy thoughts that she had forgotten what she'd asked; that she'd asked anything at all.

  "…a network of meshing lines that expand the Shibari from the singular and individualistic and into the collective, allowing it to extend into the space beyond, to take on an aura beyond its limits and into a whole new realm of possibilities. Suspension allows Kinbaku to literally fly.

  His explanation did nothing to relieve her anxiety. She heard the love and the rapture in his voice as he talked enthusiastically about his ropes and the fascination of combining them with suspension. The way he revered it like the art form she knew he believed it to be, she wondered if she could compete.

  Logan was finding it difficult to judge Luanna's overall reaction to their maiden visit to Club Risqué. Sure, she'd been shocked when they first came in. Heck, he'd been expecting that! Unless you were already inured in the lifestyle, a place like this was all kinds of overwhelming. But the visit had been Luanna's idea, so he'd hoped that she'd be more prepared than she seemed. He was grateful that she'd sought out advice from Desi, but the truth was he wouldn't have initiated her inauguration to the club, himself, quite so soon.

  Luanna, on the other hand, had been adamant. Now he had to wonder what exactly had fuelled that apparent eagerness, because she sure didn't seem comfortable. The longer they were here, the quieter and more withdrawn she had become. He'd tried to infuse some of his own enthusiasm into the occasion, but that just seemed to shut her down even more.

  Did she really hate it, or was she just overwhelmed by the scale and diversity of the practices? They had only really discussed and explored the basic elements of Shibari. There was so very much more going on here—alternative types of bondage, impact play, exhibitionism, ménage,
role playing, every conceivable kind of sexual act, voyeurism. Maybe it was all too much for her. Maybe she felt like he would pressure her into other activities that she wouldn't be comfortable with, though Lord knew that he'd explained, time and time again, that nothing would ever occur that she wasn't comfortable about. He wished Desi was still around, so she could have accompanied them, or maybe even Laurel, though it was entirely possible that Laurel, or Fluff, as she was known at the club, was, in fact, here somewhere. Logan wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not. When the younger woman was in full submissive mode with Connor, Fluff tended to be slightly over the top, embracing the outrageous, pushing the boundaries. That might not be the best example for Luanna, right now.

  They'd finished their tour of the facilities. Logan wondered how she would view the suspension room. Would she find it more or less intimidating? There was only one way to find out, but the sense of trepidation he felt was intense. He wasn't sure what would happen if she was truly averse to the things he wanted to show her, the things he wanted to share with her and experience together. Could he give this up if she decided it wasn't for her? She'd been open to the idea of exploring Shibari. He knew he hadn't mistaken that initial response. She'd enjoyed the Kinbaku elements they'd shared in private and was unquestionably, genuinely responsive during the mini scenes they had participated in. There were certain responses that really couldn't be faked. And Luanna wasn't the type to bother, anyway. If she found something a bore, then she would simply say so. So why was he finding her so very difficult to read, right now?

  Damn it all. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to play it? Should he cut his losses right now and take her home, or should he seek out Micah or Trinity to see if they could help her feel more at home. If she met people, got to know them, she might not feel quite so out of place. Maybe the presence of another woman would help her feel more at home.

  Logan wasn't used to second guessing himself. It had never been necessary, in the past. Or maybe, more truthfully, it had never mattered this much before.