Hooked: Club Decadence Book 7, page 12
“I’m a little nervous about that,” Livia admitted. “I didn’t make it to the dungeon the last time I was here.”
“No kidding,” Mara replied. “You hightailed it out of here like your thong was on fire. As soon as you busted through the front doors, I saw Joseph in hot pursuit. I would have paid money to be a fly on the wall in the lobby that night.”
“Ooo, do tell,” Megan gushed with a grin. “Did he chase you down and toss you over his shoulder? I freakin’ love when Tony does that.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a chase, exactly. He caught up with me at the door. I fainted and later woke up in his bed. About the over-the-shoulder part, I’d have to ask.”
“These Decadence masters,” Mara said with a dreamy look on her face, clearly lost in a romantic memory of her own. “Where else in the world could you find so many gorgeous men all with the power to sweep a girl off her feet?”
“Yeah,” Megan sighed. “They also spank you, tie you to the bed, fuck you senseless, and convince you that you can’t live without them. We don’t stand a chance.”
Feminine heads nodded in agreement all around and Livia, who thought it only happened to her, laughed with relief.
“SORRY, PET. BUT YOU part ways with your shoes here.”
Any other time, she would have protested leaving her prized Valentino sling-back pointy-toe pumps anywhere. She’d found them gently used at a consignment shop for a fourth of their original thousand-dollar price tag, but $250 on a legal secretary’s budget was a lot. But she held onto Joseph’s arm to take them off and handed them over, too busy trying to take in everything about the ginormous dungeon behind him.
Affectionately referred to as the playroom by the members, it was huge, lavish, and when she got a good look at the first few stations, completely depraved. It made the other BDSM clubs she’d been to, which were all public access, dim in comparison. As she walked the circuit with her dom—what the members called the walkway that wound between the roped-off stations filling the vast playroom—Livia didn’t know where to look first. Did she watch the exhibitionists under the spotlights on the elevated stages, clearly reveling in their love of being watched? Or the inverted male sub hanging by a cable from the ceiling? He was strapped to a spreader bar by the ankles, revolving slowly as his mistress methodically flogged his naked body everywhere.
There was a scene at a bondage table where the dom was making his bound submissive scream in ecstasy as he dripped hot wax on her breasts and between her splayed legs. In another station, they had dimmed the overhead spotlight to better see the purplish wand that buzzed and crackled as a dom moved it over his subs bound and trembling body.
When Joseph paused to watch a trio at a chain station, he positioned her in front of him so she, too, could see. With his arms wrapped around her, and their bodies pressed together, she couldn’t miss the hard length of him nudging her lower back. She knew he liked restraints, and impact play, and control, but wondered about his other kinks. Did he like group play, like the ménage taking place in front of them?
The sub was beautiful, with alabaster skin and full curves. She was bare except for a black waist cincher that laced up the back. Her wrist cuffs were hooked to a chain, stretching her hands high above her head and forcing her up on her toes. With her eyes closed, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, her moans rose over the din of the room likely because of the man with his face buried between her spread thighs. Interspersed with her moans was an uninhibited throaty cry every time the third, another man, lashed her back, ass, and thighs.
“What is he using, master?”
“That is an Alley Cat, a variation of a cat ‘o nine tails. The braided and knotted ends up the intensity from a standard flogger. It’s light and fast and packs quite a bite. Monroe is skilled with it. Notice her skin. It’s pink, but without a single welt.”
“She seems to enjoy it.”
An understatement, Livia thought, as another joyful cry rose from the submissive. As she looked on in fascination, the dom dropped his lash and tore open his leathers. After spitting on his fingers and wetting the head of his cock, he thrust into her from behind. As if planned, the other dom rose and with her legs draped over his forearms, he entered her from the front. Simultaneously, the two men pumped away while a sustained wail rose from the submissive wedged between them.
It didn’t end there, however. The man in the rear, literally, fisted her hair and twisted her head for his kiss while the man in front plumped up a breast and latched onto her nipple. It was raw, visceral, and more erotic than anything Livia had ever witnessed. The public clubs she’d visited didn’t allow full nudity or sex. Club Decadence, being private was on a whole other level.
Livia took a step back but didn’t get far with her dom directly behind her.
Kudos to the woman. Even though the scene was provocative and beyond exciting, it was more than she could ever imagine taking on herself, nor would she want to. Joseph alone stretched her limits. She couldn’t see herself handling two men at a time.
Joseph’s hand cupped her chin and angled her face up to his. The spotlights over the stations cast the circuit in shadow. Even in the dimness, his green eyes flashed when he stated, “The scene is intense, sensual, carnal, hot, and a bunch of other adjectives, pet, but I don’t share—ever.”
She twisted in his arms and buried her face in his chest. “You don’t know how relieved that makes me, sir. I couldn’t...”
“Just another way we suit.” As the trio’s cries of release filled the air, Joseph led her away. “Let’s move on. There’s more to see.”
Next stop was a spanking bench with one dom and one sub. She was facedown and restrained at her wrists and knees while he took her vigorously from behind.
“BDSM 101, essentially,” she uttered, relieved to find something more her speed.
The dom paused briefly and picked up a mini-flogger from on a nearby table. In profile, she recognized Master Dex. Her eyes dropped instantly to the sub...Elena.
She sighed in relief, which made him chuckle. “You prefer monogamy and fidelity, it seems. It also says something that you see a spanking bench and a mini-flogger as run of the mill.”
“Decadence is much more intense than anywhere I’ve ever been. It’s refreshing to see something old school.”
“Be glad we didn’t find them in Dex’s corner.” He nodded to a large cordoned-off area up ahead. “He’s a whip master, the single tail being his tool of choice.”
Looking from the wooden whipping post in the shadowed corner to the petite singer restrained over the bench, Livia shook her head in amazement. “But she’s so small, and he’s...huge and strong. How does she handle that?”
“Different strokes, as they say.” Sounding amused by his pun, he once again moved them deeper inside the cavernous playroom. “I reserved us a room upstairs.”
Her attention turned to the stairs ahead of them leading to the open second floor.
Reading her unconcealed curiosity, he explained, “The second floor houses a dozen private rooms, each with a different theme. Some are so popular they have to be reserved weeks in advance. I was hoping for the Sultan’s Chamber, but it is the most sought-after room, so we’ll have to make do with what was available. Sean and Dex told me they’re expanding because what they have is simply not enough to keep up with the demand. A dozen more will be open in the next six months. We’ll be able to play sultan and concubine, one night, headmaster and unruly student the next, or perhaps, doctor.”
“Doctor!” she repeated, eyes wide, her mind reeling with kinky possibilities.
“You’re intrigued,” he deduced correctly. “I’ll have to sign us up for the exam room next.”
They had arrived at the bottom of the stairs where a dungeon monitor was limiting access. Joseph took her hand before proceeding. “I thought you’d prefer a private room to the main floor on your first trip.”
She nodded. “Thank you, master. This is all quite unexpected and rather intimidating.”
“We’ll go slowly for now, little one. Once you become more comfortable, I’d like to see you on the cross.” He tipped his head, indicating the St. Andrew’s Cross behind him and the intense flogging scene going on. Staring glassy-eyed at the leather tails that rose and fell across the restrained submissive’s breasts, she swallowed hard.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of her parted lips. “When you’re ready,” he reassured her. “Tonight, it’s only me and you, and a room full of surprises.”
THE WALL SCONCES WERE aglow, the special bulbs flickering and casting a candlelit ambiance over the chamber. As Joseph stepped inside, he turned to watch Livia’s reaction to the Tudor Throne Room.
As he’d hoped, her animated face conveyed her delight. Her eyes shone with excitement and a becoming blush of pink had risen in her cheeks. The quickening of her breathing drew his eyes to the front of her dress where her taut nipples were visible through the clingy fabric. Her arousal spurred his own, but he couldn’t get much harder than he already was and had been all evening.
“Through the door is a dressing room where you’ll find costumes. Choose something that suits the room and your mood.”
Joseph grinned as she sprang forward, practically racing across the room. Role-play obviously appealed to his submissive. As the door closed behind her, he turned and surveyed the opulent room, which he’d seen before but only briefly.
The centerpiece was the huge four-poster bed. Calling them posts was misleading; they were more like columns with Tudor-style carvings, and he doubted it was typical of the era to have eyebolts bolted into the wood for restraints. Although he could be wrong.
Moving toward it for a closer look, he suspected the two columns at the foot of the bed could double as whipping posts. The room had sufficient space to enact a whipping scene, but that wasn’t his taste. The bed had other features he was eager to test out with his lovely pet’s assistance.
The bed was immense, larger than a standard king-size frame. He imagined it could hold most of the royal court if the king had the inclination. Again, not his thing, but he and Livia would put the wide surface to good use. She’d adore the gold and red linens and the stack of cushy pillows, which would be ideal for propping and draping and lifting certain curvy body parts up.
On the opposite side of the room, a red velvet throne sat on a raised dais. It was the perfect place for his majesty to inspect his subject or be entertained by a dance. There was a padded stool tucked beneath the ornate chair, the sight of which conjured an image of Livia kneeling naked on the plush velvet, her hands bound behind her back as she paid homage to her sovereign lord with her inventive mouth and tongue.
Joseph smiled, looking forward to bringing his fantasy to life, as he crossed to the storage armoire to get his accessories for the night. Inside, he found everything he could possibly need to make Livia scream with pleasure or, if he chose—beg for mercy. On hooks, inside the double doors, was a variety of short-tail whips and canes. He passed on both. The former was too harsh for her delicate, flawless skin; the latter too much like punishment. He had only pleasure planned for her tonight.
He selected one of the many branding paddles—the Tudors had a penchant for marking criminals back in the day—a single word in raised lettering adorning each wooden blade. Joseph passed over slut and mine, grinning when he came to one with pet embossed in bold script. Perfect.
He tucked it under his arm, while slipping a few other odds and ends into his pockets. As he was finishing, the door opened behind him.
Livia stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light behind her. She likely didn’t know that her long burgundy gown—off-the-shoulder with puffy sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a full flowing skirt common to the era—was sheer and revealed her shapely legs, from her ankles to the apex of her thighs. Atop her gleaming blonde hair, which was long and loose as he liked it, she wore a circlet of gold. He gazed at her appreciatively, his eyes scanning every exquisite inch.
His inspection must have been overlong because she began to fidget. “You’re gorgeous, pet,” he reassured.
Smoothing down the fabric, she smiled. “It was this or a servant’s costume. I preferred being the queen tonight.”
“And so you shall be.” Her blush lit the room more effectively than the wall sconces. “If Her Royal Highness will stand in the middle of the room and wait for me, I’ll finish preparations.”
It took only a moment for him to place his tools where he needed them, on the nightstand and in a pouch that conveniently hung off the side of the throne. Last, he slipped off his shirt and into a long, flowing velvet robe, which he left open in front. It was regal but ridiculous. Still, when in Rome...
Joining her in the middle of the room, he stood close but not touching. If she inhaled deeply, her erect nipples would graze his bare chest.
Her eyes dropped to his shoulders then swept down his front. “I like the robe; it’s stately. You’re only lacking a crown, Your Majesty.”
With gentle fingers, he skimmed over her bare shoulders and across her collarbone to her throat where he traced the leather and lace. “Your cuffs and collar are from a different time, but they go nicely, I think.”
He dipped his head, pressed kisses along his fingers’ path. With practiced movements, he raised her hands and hooked her wrists to the velvet-encased chains above her head. With her head tilted back, she watched as he expanded the telescoping spreader bar between the two restraints, leaving her upper body open and vulnerable to him.
“You are well and truly caught, my queen.” Slowly, he trailed his hands down her arms, his fingers following the edge of her gown to the low bodice and with a quick tug, pulled the stretchy material below her breasts. His avid gaze took in the abundance now bare and presented prettily before him. Unable to wait, he palmed their fullness with both hands, his thumbs sweeping sensually across the perfect pink tips.
“Joseph.” His name was little more than a sexy exhale.
He tweaked a nipple at her lapse. “You will address your king respectfully or face the court’s displeasure. I think sire is appropriate while in my throne room.”
“Yes, Sire,” she breathed, a small grin tilting her lips as she leaned into him for more.
“Queen Olivia likes nipple play. Let me give them the royal treatment.”
With a hand at her back to keep her still, he dipped his head and took one hard nipple into his mouth. Opening wide, he applied suction, while inside, he lashed the tip with his tongue. His free hand cupped her other breast, pinching and rolling the nipple, tugging gently at intervals.
Her moans conveyed her enjoyment, as did the muffled clanking of the velvet-encased chains high overhead. She trembled beneath his touch, the shuddering rush of air through her lips becoming harsh as her need grew. When he stopped momentarily and moved to the other nipple, to lavish it with the equal attention, her whimpers became more insistent.
“Now,” he murmured, when he raised his head minutes later, “for the presentation of the crown jewels.”
He held up nipple clamps with sapphire-like stones dangling from delicate chains.
Despite her obvious arousal, she giggled.
“Do you find something amusing, my queen?”
“Other jewels came to mind.”
“Naughty wench,” he scolded, tweaking a nipple.
This time, she laughed outright. “Please, Sire. Don’t make me laugh. I’d hate for you to be insulted. I can’t imagine the punishment for such a crime.”
“For an unguarded tongue, ten lashes at the whipping post was the order of the day.”
This sobered her and she protested on an indrawn breath, “A whip. But, Joseph—”
“But for my queen, nothing so harsh. An hour in the brank should suffice, I think.”
“The what?”
“Look on the shelves behind me.”
He watched as she scanned the back wall.
“Also known as the Gossip’s Bridle.”
He knew the instant she located the padded head cage with the penis gag. Horror-stricken, she slipped her role. “You can’t be serious. I wouldn’t be able to breathe.”
“Are you ready to safeword?”
Her eyes met his with obvious dismay. “Is that my only choice?”
“If I say it is.”
She snapped her mouth shut, closing her eyes as well.
“Stoic is my queen,” he murmured. “Back in Henry Tudor’s day, the cage was metal, and the gag had barbs. A damn unpleasant piece of business.”
“Forgive me, but how do you know so much about fifteenth-century torture?”
“Sixteenth. I was a history major in undergrad and took several classes on the Renaissance. Henry was a cruel bastard and had nothing on De Sade, but never would I be so harsh with you.” He applied the first clamp as he said this, adjusting the tightness until she squirmed and tried to pull away. “Would you rather have the Bridle?”
When she shook her head, he backed off the pressure just a bit.
“You’re holding your breath, pet. Breathe through the initial pain and it will even out.”
Carefully, he observed as she did as he bade. After a moment, she relaxed.
“Better?”
“Yes, Sire. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn clamps. I’d forgotten.”
He flicked the dangling blue gems while pinching her other nipple. Knowing what to expect this time, Livia managed the application of the other clamp with ease and grace.
He turned her until she faced the mirrored back wall. “These enhance your beautiful breasts to perfection and match the blue of your eyes.” As he caressed her from behind, he licked up the side of her neck and latched onto her earlobe. Huskily, he advised, “I quite like them, so prepare to be clamped often.”
Her head fell back on his shoulder while he kissed and played. Soon, his need for her was a throbbing ache pressing hard against his zipper. He released her wrists from the chains above and linked them behind her back. He further restricted her movement by tugging her bodice down to her waist and her sleeves to her elbows, which trapped her arms next to her body.
