“Is there a problem, kitten?” Brock asked with suppressed mirth as the staccato of her shoe tapping on the wood floor increased.
“I thought you were in a hurry.”
“Indeed.” Brock smiled at the sub. “I believe you have the paperwork ready for my sub?”
“Of course, Sir,” she lilted with fluttering eyelashes as she handed him a folder.
“Gmphf.” Jordan verbalized her annoyance with a sharp glare at the seductive woman, a warning that she was overstepping the boundaries.
“Sheath your claws, kitten. Emily has been at the club for years.”
“And obviously head over heels in love with you.”
“You’re exaggerating.” He glanced sideways at her. “The club is filled with submissives I’ve scened with and fucked, Jordan, but I have never had a formal relationship with any of them. I hope you’re the kind of sub who understands the dynamics of our lifestyle so it won’t become a problem.”
“As long as you know I have no intention of sharing you, Brock. I am a very possessive woman.”
“As am I but I will not stand for jealousy and pettiness.”
“Duly noted,” she grumbled as she finished signing the NDA agreement and completed the limit list, fully aware that he took note of every box she ticked off.
Soon they were heading to the main dungeon. Her steps slowed as they approached the tall, gothic-looking wooden door, bookended by flickering LED torches. Brock, as a Dom, was intimidating and since a remnant of anger still seethed inside him, apprehension plucked at her mind for what lay in store. She’d felt the sting of his palm before and the memory of how painful it was caused a ragged shudder to jolt through her. Imagining what he could do with a whip or a flogger filled her with a combination of fear and excitement. The latter being inappropriate at the time, since she had no doubt the next hour would be anything but pleasant for her soft behind.
“Aren’t we going to have a drink first?” she hedged with a longing glance at the packed bar that lined the full length of one side of the entertainment area.
“You had a drink earlier. I don’t believe in mixing liquor with a scene. Besides, I don’t want your senses dulled, especially not tonight.” He pushed open the heavy door and gestured her inside.
“No more stalling, my pet. It’s time.”
Chapter Fourteen
The moment she walked through the door, her senses were inundated with the smell and sound of sex, pleasure, and pain. Leather, sweat, and muted screams floated towards them from the four hallways leading out of the large reception room which doubled as the aftercare area.
This was what a BDSM club was all about and a true reflection of the plaque she’d seen at the entrance. “A deviant redoubt of decadence,” she murmured as she looked around the luxuriously appointed room filled with plush sofas, chairs and tables all moored on a bed of lustrous Persian carpets.
“This way.” Brock took her elbow and led her down a hallway. “I’ve booked a spanking bench for us in the Red dungeon.”
He set down the large leather toy bag he’d carried with him next to a modern padded spanking bench. She appreciated him waving away the club coordinator and personally sanitizing the entire surface. It showed how much he respected her as his submissive.
“Since this is your first time at the club, I’m not going to insist on you being naked but I want you to strip down to your lingerie. Leave on the heels.”
Jordan didn’t protest since she was used to showing skin in the dungeon. It was in public areas of clubs that she refused to take off her clothes. Getting fucked as part of a scene in a dungeon was to be an expected element of the lifestyle that she had often indulged in over the past ten years as a submissive. While she undressed and hung her clothes on the hooks fixed to the wall, Brock removed a pink dyed tossa jute rope from his bag.
“You don’t need to tie me down, Sir. I won’t move.”
He smiled as his darkening eyes wandered over her body. “This is as much for my pleasure as yours, my pet.” He trailed the edge of the rope over the rounded slope of her breasts. The color perfectly matched the coral pink of her bra.
“So, that’s why you wanted me to wear pink.”
“You’re going to look like a goddess of kink tied up in my ropes against your tanned skin. Get on the bench, please.”
“I thought you’re going to punish me. Bondage is hardly a punishment, Sir. Quite the opposite. I find it rather arousing.”
“Good to know. Never fear, little one, by the time I am done, you’ll curse the restriction of the ropes.” His hand did a seductive swoop over the satiny curve of her buttocks before he tied her with quick economic movements to the spanking bench.
“Remind me why we’re here, Jordan.”
“I am to be punished,” she admitted in a petulant tone.