Just One Night, Volumes 1-3 Page 2
One night.
It’s all I require, all I need, after which I will move on to the next sub. I know most men don’t bother with contracts for a single night, but being a successful corporate lawyer as well as a silent partner in The Dungeon, I know the importance of covering my ass. I always have the women sign a contract the second they set foot in my suite. I won’t chance a woman crying abuse in the hopes of bleeding me dry should she recognize me in the papers.
It’s never happened, still I always insist on their signatures, ensuring that both me and my multi-million dollar portfolio are safe.
I’m not sure why I even entertained Alyson’s response to my ad. It was obvious to me that she lied about her previous experience as soon as I read her textbook, generic responses. I surmised that she got her answers from either the internet or from erotic novels. I don’t want a sub who requires training, which is why I always specify “experience required” in my ads. Training takes both time and patience—neither of which I possess.
I’m not a man who is eager to show off his prowess as a Master. I have no interest in finding an apprentice to teach how to submit. These things require too much of me. I’m not the kind of man to take lightly the responsibility of jumping into such a delicate situation, knowing that choosing a trainee requires careful thought and consideration. Personalities and expectations are a major factor in selecting and training a sub. I know this all too well, given the manner in which I was first introduced to this lifestyle.
When Alyson wrote that her hard limits where that she wasn’t as physically flexible as she would like to be, I nearly choked on my drink, laughing hysterically. It’s a uncommon thing for me to do, but at the time, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I continued reading.
Curious to see what she Googled, I searched for the words ‘hard limits’ and ‘flexible’ and nearly died laughing at what I found:
HARD LIMIT: A limit which is considered to be absolute, inflexible, and non-negotiable.
Assuming she read the same definition, she obviously focused her attention on the inflexible part and missed the meaning altogether. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her apparent naiveté.
Although I was amused by her complete lack of experience, I had every intention of deleting her email and continuing my search. I have a strict ‘no novice’ policy when I select a sub. One night encounters aren’t really ideal for training subs, but the picture she sent along with her initial resume stopped me from doing so.
The photo showed a stunningly breathtaking woman with curves I wanted to feel under my hands, and long, toned legs I eagerly desired to feel wrapped around my waist. Intrigued by the look of her, rather than hitting the delete button, I found myself clicking ‘reply’ and it went downhill from there.
Fifteen.
That was the number of emails that were exchanged between us since the first, and it makes me groan with irritation just thinking about it. Although, I must admit, I did enjoy it. I’m not normally the type to sit and chit-chat with women online. I’m sure as hell not one to tolerate a woman’s charade either, and yet I did, which is why I’m upset as I sit here at the bar inside this exclusive club, waiting for her to arrive.
What irritates me most is that I’m not sure with whom I am more upset, myself, for engaging her or her, for lying to me.
Turning back to the bar, I pick up the glass of brandy the bartender has refilled and down it, wincing slightly, as the liquid burns its way down my throat. I’m not much of a drinker, preferring to always stay in control, but the few of my rules I’ve already broken with this woman, has me needing something to take the edge off.
“Thanks,” I mutter to the young bartender, dressed in only his FemDomme’s collar and dark colored jeans.
Standing up, I make my way through the dark club, carefully studying each exhibit. Each scene is showcased with a different soft colored spotlight, and features either another couple or a group. Some couples are completely engrossed in one another, using whips and/or chains, while others only tease their partners with hooded, lustful stares, and/or soft, alluring touches.
The ground floor of the club is considered the area for ‘Basic’ play. Nothing remarkable goes on down here, it’s primarily the place for foreplay and fetish fantasies. The top two floors, known as ‘Elite’, are where the real action takes place, but not all members are granted access to those floors, certainly not without first being restricted to the ground floor for a time.
The Dungeon prides itself on exclusivity and discretion, and only after a thorough background and financial check are members allowed to explore what the ‘Elite’ has to offer. Being an owner, I have my pick of any room or floor in the establishment.
“Mr. Hanson.”
I turn to look behind me at the sound of my name and spot my driver making his way toward me, with Alyson shyly trailing along behind him. Her long legs are the first thing I notice, and I can’t help but drink her in as more of her comes into view.
Fucking stunning. This is going to be interesting.
ALYSON
The lobby tells me absolutely nothing about this place. It is a bare, all white room containing only an elevator.
Allowing the driver to escort me inside, I continue to take calming breaths as we begin to ascend. I glance at the driver who stands next to me, contemplating whether or not I should ask him about this place. He seems to be somewhat approachable, but I can’t really be certain of that, so I keep my mouth shut and my questions to myself.
The elevator soon dings, signaling that we have reached our floor. Stepping out first, I feel the hand of the driver return to the small of my back. I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel safe with his hand there. Perhaps it’s because of the small smile he gave me downstairs.
“You have nothing to worry about Ms. Lane,” he says suddenly, without turning to look at me.
Stopping dead in my tracks, I turn to look him in the face.
“What makes you think I’m worried,” I ask, not liking the fact that my emotions were apparently so easy for him to read.
He shrugs, “I meant no offense. I apologize,” he whispers, with a knowing glint in his eyes.
I don’t like that glint or the fact that he seems to be having a great time watching me panic.
Was this the way it had been with all the other women Blake had picked up online?
Turning away from him, I notice that the long hallway in which we are now standing has only one door at the very end. I begin making my way toward it, while the driver remains close by my side.
“Just tell…” I begin to blurt out, but my voice trails off as we reach the door. I gather my thoughts and try again, “I’m not walking in there to meet a rapist or murderer, am I?”
I don’t look up at him as I ask, not sure whether or not I really want to hear his response. I hate that I appear to be so weak and uncertain in front of him, but I just can’t walk through that door without asking, without getting some kind of reassurance.
The driver chuckles softly, forcing me to look at him with some annoyance. “That is not funny!” I fume, with my hands at my hips.
Reining in his laughter, the driver straightens up, and replies, “I’m sorry. It’s just… I already like you. I hope he keeps you around.”
Not giving me a chance to respond, the driver opens the wooden door, and a cacophony of sound assaults my ears. I can hear the faint sounds of music, but there is something else overlaying the melody. I gasp, and bring my hands up to my mouth as I take in the room, realization hitting me strongly.
Holy shit!
I know as soon as we step inside the room that Blake has brought me to a sex club, and I shudder with nervousness as the sounds coming from the room grow even louder as the driver leads me inside.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the hell am I doing here?
I not ready to explore this place, unsure of what I will find once we are fully inside, but the driver stops my forward movement and asks me to hold on for a minute.
Thankful for a moment to think, I contemplate turning away and leaving. I am not ready for this.
No one man is worth all this shit. A sex club? What the hell is this man into?
Sure, the idea of meeting him, and of possibly experiencing my first real orgasm was enticing before, but now that I’m here, I’m not sure I can go through with it as panic starts to envelop me. My hands are suddenly clammy and my heart is racing
Looking over at the driver, I see that he is speaking to someone who appears to be a hostess, dressed in what can only be referred to as underwear. I can’t hear what they are saying, but I notice that he and the woman exchange cards, or at least that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.
A few seconds later he returns to me with a smile on his face, “Right this way…”
The décor is flawless. Luxurious draperies line the club’s walls; they are all white and each exhibit is backlit. I take it all in with wide, astonished eyes, as we make our way through the club.
The solid, stark white, Greek columns make the place appear regal. Soft, majestic music plays in the background amid the human grunts, moans and yelps, causing me to instinctively hide shyly behind the driver. I know that I am in way over my head, but I’ve already made it this far and I can’t very well walk back to my apartment in Manhattan from Brooklyn.
Wringing my fingers as I proceed, I feel the place oozing with sex and it makes me uncomfortable. I have no idea how I will make it through the entire night, but I find some small degree of comfort in the fact that no murderer would bring me into a club so filled with other people.
That’s one good thing, right?
When the driver calls out to someone, I peer around him, gasping when my eyes spot the man in the picture. He’s taller than I would have guessed, possibly six foot five inches , give or take an inch, and draped in an expensive dark grey suit, crisp white shirt, and a steel grey tie that matches the color of his piercing eyes. His physique is notable under his layers of clothing, solid, masculine and mouthwateringly sexy. His skin appears to be silky smooth, not a single blemish in sight. His posture is straight—really straight, which shows his dominance and power and I can’t help but swoon at the mere sight of him.
Fuck, he’s even sexier in person.
“Jaxon, thank you. You may retire for the rest of the evening,” Blake informs the driver, shaking his hand before turning to face me.
Dismissed, the driver walks away without so much as a second glance at me.
I am officially on my own.
“I hope the drive wasn’t too long.”
I stand in front of him speechless, a lump forming in my throat as he slowly allows his eyes to roam over me. Feeling foolish, I glance away from him. “Not long,” I lie, and quickly scan the room. His gaze is both overwhelming, and possessive, and I can’t help but look away from him.
His hand suddenly comes up to clasp me around my waist, the contact sending electricity through me. I take a chance, glance up at him and find that his eyes are still fixed on me, showing nothing but desire, which makes his eyes appear even darker than they were just a moment ago
“Would you like a drink first?” he asks, suddenly releasing me. I sigh softly at the loss of contact, but simply nod my head in response to him. This man is intense.
Turning away, he leaves me standing alone as he makes his way across the room to the bar. My eyes restlessly shift around the room. I’ve never been to a place like this and I feel completely out of my element.
Shit, you aren’t in Kansas anymore, Lane.
Everyone here seems so free and confident, and I am anything but that. I know Blake will figure me out soon enough, but I hope it won’t matter much to him. How hard can being a sub really be? Yes Sir, no Sir, more please… I had seen it all in the videos I’d watched online. Easy peasy.
Now that I know what to expect, for all my paranoia on my way here, I do want to enjoy this experience, enjoy him.
I smile at the thought of what tonight will bring. Having had only two pervious sexual partners previously, I am as inexperienced as they come. I focused so much on my studies in high school and college that I hardly ever dated or had any friends. Tonight is the first truly spontaneous thing I’ve ever done, and that excites me.
Slowly wandering through the club, I take in the scenes before me. I’m completely fascinated as I watch how much freedom the other couples have. They’re not shy, and they seem utterly unaffected by the fact that people are watching them. No, they seem to actually enjoy it, even crave it I stop in front of a red-haired woman on display and stare at the lovers as they play out their scenes.
A naked, freckled-faced woman hangs suspended from the ceiling, her creamy, long legs pulled apart into a seemingly uncomfortable position by leather straps. Seated, with her legs bent, there is a thick strap of leather supporting her ass. Each of her legs is held in place by this contraption, exposing her completely shaven, glistening pussy for all to see.
My face reddens as I peer in on what seems like an intimate moment between the woman and the man standing before her. Her partner, a tall, dark, shirtless, well-built stallion of a man, trails a long white feather against her reddened opening, causing her to squirm in both delight and torment as she begs him to take her.
Instead of obliging, he moves the feather from her throbbing pussy to her inner thigh, which seems to send her further ablaze. Dripping with need, she calls out to him, still begging, needing, wanting him inside of her. Each desperate wail for more of him causes my breathing to become shallower, the woman’s pleas fueling her own desire, her master’s and mine. I stare at the woman’s face, which appears anguished with need as he continues to tease her ever so slowly.
I don’t understand why, but I am completely flushed with desire as I watch this couple. Wet, and dripping with excitement, I continue to watch, my body throbbing under the fabric of my dress. My lack of underwear only turns me on even more. I want to be that woman in that moment, I need to know what it feels like to surrender completely to such a strong, confident, sexy man.
“Like what you see?” I hear Blake murmur from over my shoulder. I don’t turn to face him, choosing instead to keep on watching the couple.
“Actually, yes, I do.”
BLAKE
The look on Alyson’s face as I return to her with our drinks in hand, is absolutely titillating to see. Her lips are parted, her eyes are hooded and a beautiful shade of pink flushes her cheeks.
Fucking gorgeous!
I half expected that she would have taken off when I went to the bar to order our drinks. It’s apparent that she is in way over her head, and that she doesn’t belong in a place like this.
Yet, as I look at her growing desire as she stares at the exhibit in front of her, I groan. My dick twitches inside my pants as I notice her face flush with desire. Downing both shots, one after the other, I place the glasses down on a passing waitress’s tray, my eyes never leaving Alyson.
She bites down on her lip and gasps aloud when the man finally makes contact with the woman’s gleaming pussy.
Closing the short distance between us, I stand behind her. “So this,” I whisper softly into her ear, her sweet perfume teasing my nose, “this turns you on?”
Fuck, she smells so good.
She doesn’t respond, instead, she closes her eyes and allows her head to fall back against my chest as I grip her small waist.
Taking her hand, I pull her away from the exhibit, wanting to get her into my private room as quickly as possible. I’ve had enough small talk. I need to have her underneath me and don’t want to waste another moment.
The air in the elevator is charged with the thick scent of lust, as we ride to the uppermost floor. Her eyes never lift from the ground, but I watch the rise and fall of the deliciously exposed mounds of her breasts, which are nearly spilling from her skin-tight red dress.
My eyes continue to roam over her voluptuous curves, her hips are rounded, and her ass i
s high, and plump.
She looks fucking amazing.
The elevator dings and I restrain myself from leaping out and dragging her to my room. I know she isn’t experienced, and I curse myself for putting myself in a situation where I have to consider every move I make. I am used to taking the lead. Hard, fast, deliberate and unrelenting is what I am accustomed to.
“After you,” I murmur, stepping aside to allow her enough space to move past me.
I watch as she slowly brushes by me, her sweet, flowery perfume teasing my nose as she does.
Shit, I love her fragrance, but I quickly purge my mind of the thought. Just one night. One fucking amazing night, I remind myself.
The top floor only has a few rooms compared to the twenty rooms on the second floor. This floor is reserved for special members only, partners and high rollers who want both exclusivity and discretion when they frequent the club.
The second floor is open to whomever wants to use it, while the rooms on the third floor are assigned.
The red carpeted floor runs in three separate directions when you exit the elevator, the left and right corridors each lead to four rooms, but the one corridor straight head is my personal suite, one of the perks of being a partner.
As I walk up to the door and place my right hand in my pocket, I notice how apprehensive Alyson is at my side. Her eyes are wide, and she’s biting down on her bottom lip revealing how nervous she is at the thought of what will happen once we cross the threshold and enter my suite. I can’t help but smile inwardly as I swipe my access card and open the door wide for her to enter.
She steps inside tentatively, her eyes darting to cover every inch of the room, and I watch as an air of relief washes over her.
What exactly was she expecting? I wonder, as I close the door behind us.
Studying her as she moves around slowly, I watch as her fingers graze every surface as she passes. I know she’s intrigued by what goes on here in the suite and I… I am intrigued by her.