Table of Contents
Title Page
About this title
More from Aimee
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Available titles
Meet Aimee:
Trusting Trace
Christmas at the Dungeon
The Dungeon series, book V
AIMEE BRISSAY
About this title
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, the models on the cover, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Trusting Trace: Christmas at the Dungeon Copyright ©2018 Aimee Brissay
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other enquiries, please contact Aimee Brissay directly:
[email protected]
More from Aimee
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More books from Aimee Brissay:
Switching Wesley (The Dungeon, book 1) - MM contemporary BDSM Romance
Bending to Lucas (The Dungeon, book 2) - MM contemporary BDSM Romance
Healing Alan (The Dungeon, book 3) - MM contemporary BDSM Romance
Pushing Connor (The Dungeon, book 4) - MM contemporary BDSM Romance
Perfect Timing - MM Paranormal Romance
Nature of the Beast - Paranormal
Dedication
To Adrian. My husband, my friend, my lover, the father of my child.
Thank you everything!
Chapter 1
The weather sucked. A bit over two weeks before December 25th and there was no sign of snow. Only cold, miserable sleet that turned the sky an awful shade of grey and the roads into ice rinks.
Born just before Christmas, Robbie had always wanted snow for his birthday. Preferably, not just snow, but for it to be actually snowing that day, and perhaps continue until Christmas Eve too. Of course, due to the weather changes, that hadn’t happened for more years than he cared to remember.
But this year he was hopeful. He felt it in his bones. It was going to snow. Then again, it was the same every holiday season, but this time he had meteorological predictions to back up his wish.
The wind gusted, making the below-freezing temperatures seem even colder. Shivering, he glanced up at the sky, and sighed at the lack of even the barest hint of cloud. Nope, he didn’t think the predictions were right. Hunching his shoulders, he adjusted the collar of his parka, so it covered more of his face. He blew on his hands to warm them up, and shoved them into his pockets. If not for the promise of snow, winter would hold no appeal for him.
He hurried along the street, glancing at the lively, decorated Christmas windows. He almost gave in and entered one of the stores, but it wasn’t as if he had anyone to shop for this year, except for his best friend, Tony, and he’d already got his present. A new gust of wind cut through the layers of his clothes, making him pick up the pace.
Fifteen minutes later, he pushed open the door to his apartment building. The wind pulled it from his hand and slammed it shut behind him with a loud bang that reverberated through the hallway. He winced. Being short and skinny, with no real muscles, made for many similar occurrences in his life. Even at work, among the other young, thin-looking game testers, he was considered skinny.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to,” he yelled at the empty stairwell, knowing the elderly lady living on the ground floor would hear him, and then sprinted up the stairs before she could come out of her apartment and scold him.
Inside his own apartment, he shed the jacket and the cap, and removed his sturdy boots. Even without snow, the cold was sharp enough to require thick accessories. The phone rang just as he was debating what to have for dinner.
Tony’s name flashed on the screen, eliciting a smile from Robbie as he accepted the call.
“How about we go to a party tomorrow?”
Robbie sighed inwardly. “I don’t know. I’m not really in a party mood.”
“Come on. Please?”
“I don’t know what to say. I don’t think I can handle a Christmas party right now. Besides, there are two more weeks until Christmas. Why would someone throw a bash this early?”
“It’s usual for companies, clubs, and so on, to allow their employees to spend the actual holiday with their families, while still celebrating with colleagues and friends too. Besides, I call bullshit. You love Christmas.”
Robbie winced. Tony was right: he was always in holiday mood.
“Come on, you have to come.” There was a little whine in his friend’s voice that Robbie knew all too well. He sighed again to himself. He might as well agree to go. Tony was relentless, and would eventually wear him down anyway. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to give in too quickly or it would set a dangerous precedent.
“Why do I have to come?”
“It’s a D/s party.”
For a moment, Robbie thought he hadn’t heard him right. Those weren’t words he’d ever have expected to hear from his very vanilla best friend. Taking the cell away from his ear, he stared at the screen, checking to make sure he was, indeed, talking to Tony.
On the other end of the line, Tony kept droning on, but none of his words registered with Robbie. Why on earth would Tony want to go to a BDSM Christmas party? And who the hell threw a BDSM-themed Christmas party? How would that even work? Maybe he’d understood it wrong.
“Robbie?”
Robbie frowned at the cell, the words coming from it finally starting to sink in again.
“Hey, Robbie, still there?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m here. Did you say a D/s Christmas party?”
“Yes.”
Nope, it still made no sense.
“You know it’s not my…scene, and I know you’re into it, so who better to accompany me? Pleeeease.”
Yes, that he could understand. And he bugged Tony enough about safety to be proud to hear him asking for support, but there had to be something he was missing.
“Okay, but why?”
“Why do I need company?”
“No, that I understand. Why do you want to go to a kink party?”
“There’s this guy…”
“Ah. I see. Damn it, Tony, are you sure about this? Most guys who are into the scene are into it in the bedroom, you know? Are you sure you can handle that?”
“Yes. You should see this guy…”
Damn it, damn it, damn it! What was Tony thinking? He should make sure Tony had all the details, and knew how to take care of himself, before he did something he would end up regretting. And that would fall on Robbie, as his friend, and it was all going to start with this damn party.
“Fine, I’ll go with you. What’s the dress code?”
“Awesome. I’ll email you the brochure.”
“Brochure? Who issues brochures for a private party?”
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s at The Dungeon.”
Robbie’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. The Dungeon was the best kink club in town. Not that Robbie could afford the huge entry fee, or that he’d ever gather the courage to visit even if he did manage to swing
that kind of money.
Dry swallowing, Robbie returned his attention to his friend. “Tony, the thing is… I can’t really afford to go to that party.”
“Oh, no, don’t worry. Entry is by invitation only, and you’ll be my plus one.”
How the hell had Tony managed to score such an invitation? While his finances were better than Robbie’s, he was far from loaded.
“Fine. Just send me the damn brochure.”
Two hours later, while eating his homemade pizza, he checked the schedule for the party. From the looks of it, it was a cross between a munch and a play party, only in Christmas attire. At least it would give him a chance to check out the club.
***
Trace stared at the lines and lines of code covering his monitor. The blue and purple of the various declared variables jumped before his tired eyes, mixing together in a weird, exhausting swirl of color. The sounds coming from around the office were nothing but white noise in his ears. He was far too used to the open-plan structure to notice it anymore.
He had been working for the company for three weeks, hired as a Scrum Master for a particularly difficult product. As he went over the parameters of the change request, he questioned his decision in taking the job, just as he had when first he’d laid eyes on the code. There were millions of lines—financial variables of which he had no understanding—and so many working versions it was difficult to keep track. On the other hand, if it had been easy, he’d have gotten bored fast, just as he had in his previous jobs.
He glanced at the onscreen clock, and frowned. It was almost time to go home and he hadn’t made much progress. Apparently, all of his previous experience as a programmer meant nothing, not judging by his current accomplishments.
He rubbed at his eyes, then locked his hands behind his neck and stretched. The muscles in his back protested, then distended, warmth spreading through his body. Involuntarily, he met the eyes of one of his colleagues, and he gave him a little nod and a smile. The man smiled back, his face lighting up, a little challenge in his eyes. Trace shifted in his seat, and forced his gaze to return to his screen.
Martin was nice, and under normal circumstances, he would have provided a nice distraction from the day to day activities. He was young and fit, and if the challenge in his grin was any indication, he was up for anything. Trace had to admit he would look so good on his knees, with a ball gag in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back. But at thirty-five, Trace was no longer interested in meaningless sex. A shame really sex would be a great way to release the tension that was currently distracting him.
He glanced back at Martin, and Martin winked. Trace would have to do something about him, before they became office gossip.
In the next moment, Martin was on his feet, heading toward him. Trace hid a groan and plastered a fake smile on his face.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Martin.”
“Oh, good, you remember my name.”
Trace resisted the need to roll his eyes.
“Anyway. I was wondering if you have any plans for tonight.”
“Actually, I do.”
“Oh?”
“I still have a lot of unpacking to do, and with the holidays just around the corner, I really want to have everything set up by then.”
Disappointed flashed across Martin’s face, but he recovered quickly and perched himself on Trace’s desk. “I get that. But you still have to eat.”
Man, he was relentless.
“There’s a gyros place right next to my building. I’ll grab something from there.”
Martin narrowed his eyes, as if judging the truth behind Trace’s words.
“I get it, man. I’ll let you settle in, but after that, we are so going out.” With another meaningful wink, Martin strolled away, putting a little sashay into his walk.
Trace watched him go, shaking his head. He’d dodged the bullet for now, but he would have to come up with another excuse to avoid Martin soon. Preferably a more permanent one.
He needed that excuse sooner than he’s anticipated. Just a half an hour later, Martin was back by Trace’s desk, chatting.
“How about a party?”
Goddamn it, not again. He really needed to find a way to let Martin down gently, which, judging by how insisting he was, was going to prove problematic.
“No, thank you. I’m not the partying type.”
“You’ll like this party though.”
He had his doubts, so he shook his head, pointedly staring at his screen. Until a flyer showing a pair of leather handcuffs crossed by a riding crop was flashed before his eyes. Now, that had his attention.
As he followed the movement of the paper, all the while sensing the grin growing on Martin’s face, he cursed his lack of self-restraint. Nevertheless, before he could talk himself out of it, he snatched the flyer out of Martin’s hand.
“I thought you might like this.”
“Christmas at The Dungeon. Food, virgin eggnog, and Christmas carols. Bring your date and your toys, or use ours, and don’t forget to behave. Presents, auctions, and surprises are waiting for you.
“Black is for Doms/Dommes, white is for subs, and red is for everyone who wants to play. And Santa. And, as always, nudity is welcome.”
“Where is this?”
“At The Dungeon.”
Trace sighed. “I can see that. But what is this dungeon?”
“The most exclusive kink club in town. It took a lot of work for me to score this invitation.”
Something in Martin’s voice got Trace’s attention. He clearly wanted to impress, and he was unsure whether he was going to succeed.
“Tell me more about this club.”
Martin fidgeted, his gaze wavering. “I don’t really know much about it. I’ve never been there myself, but it’s supposed to be awesome.”
Chapter 2
The air was heavy with frankincense, and the candlelight threw interesting shadows on the dark walls of the large room. Heavy-metal carols poured out of the hidden speakers, making Trace smirk. Had he really thought there would be Neil Diamond or Brenda Lee carols at a kink affair?
He’d barely set foot inside, but already he liked the vibe. If he was as impressed by the end of the evening, he might have to look into getting a subscription or something.
Enjoying himself, Trace glanced around, taking in the futons and heavy chairs spread tastefully around the room, the well-worn leather toys hanging in their cases, and the draped velvet soundproofing the place. Here and there, suspended cages displayed X-rated Santa’s helpers covered in little red-and-white leather patches, complete with fluffy pointed hats and glitter. Yet, somehow, they managed to look tasteful.
In the far corner, a large Christmas tree dominated, sparkling in silver, black and red. While, on one side, an empty stage took up most of the wall. As it didn’t look like there was going to be live music, Trace assumed that was where the auction was going to be held. And as there were a number of things that could be auctioned at a kink party, that was something he really wanted to observe.
“Do you like it?”
Martin joined Trace, brushing against his shoulder. Inconspicuously, Trace took a small step to the side, putting some distance between them. He shouldn’t have accepted Martin’s invitation, but the thought of a kink gathering had been too appealing to pass over.
Oblivious to Trace’s train of thought, Martin placed his palm on the small of Trace’s back and gently pushed him forward. Trace fought the need to shake off the hand. He really had to do something about Martin. As the palm travelled lower, Trace set his jaw. He’d have to do something really soon. Stepping away from the unwanted touch, he turned to his colleague.
“Why don’t we get something to drink?” He tried to sound as cool and detached as possible, but the gleam in Martin’s eyes told him he hadn’t been that successful.
“Sure.”
With drink in hand, Trace was free to peruse the crowd. People had started to split off into tw
os or threes, some of them starting scenes, others simply watching. The toys came out. There was a vast array of paraphernalia—some supplied by the club, judging by the matching handles, and some brought by the guests.
With appreciation, Trace watched the care everyone involved in any sort of play was paying to their partner, and how smoothly the Monitors walked through the crowd, checking to make sure everything was in order.
“How about we try something?” Martin asked, giving him a little elbow nudge.
“Try something?”
“Yeah. Like them.” Martin waved his hand in the general direction of a couple involved in a light spanking. “Or them.” He then pointed to another couple who was leading a nearly naked man around the floor on a leash.
“No. Sorry.”
“Why not? You like it. I can see you’re enjoying the view.”
Trace sighed and turned to Martin. “Martin, look…You’re a really nice guy—”
“The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bit?” The hint of bitterness didn’t escape Trace, and his pang of regret nagged at him. He didn’t want Martin hurt. Martin wasn’t a bad guy. He was just barking up the wrong tree.
“No, actually, no, it’s not that. You are a great guy, but I don’t want to get involved with someone from work. It never ends well.”
Martin frowned, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Trace paused, eyes narrowing. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting, not after the way Martin had pursued him since he’d moved to town.
An awkward silence spread between them.
Martin shifted from one foot to the other. “Err… Do you mind if I mingle, then?”
“No, go ahead.”
Martin nodded, but he wouldn’t meet Trace’s eyes. He made to leave. Trace caught his arm before he could walk away.
“Hey. Do you know what you’re doing here?”
Trusting Trace: Christmas at the Dungeon Page 1