BreakMeIn (2 page)

A sub keeping a Domme waiting wasn’t good form. Not to
mention outright rude.

She came to the club tonight looking to relax. Gideon’s
absence further added to her agitation. If she’d wanted this kind of anxiety
she could have stayed at the Conners’ wedding.

“Sorry. Sorry. Meeting ran later than I expected. And then I
didn’t see your IM until the dessert cart came around.” Gideon stripped off his
expensive jacket, placing it on a hook jutting from the post. “Busy place
tonight.” He removed his silk tie, looping it over the collar of his suit
jacket. As he started to unfasten the buttons of his starched shirt she caught
a glimpse of something white.

Interest piqued, she recognized what he wore underneath.
Things had just gotten a bit more interesting. She pushed away from the column,
coming to stop directly in front of him. Her hands rested lightly over his,
preventing him from removing the shirt. His head lifted, his babbling about his
late dinner with a client trailing off as his baby blues met her gaze.

“You wore this under your clothes during your very important
client dinner?”

The side of his mouth curled in a sexy half-smile. “That is
what my Mistress ordered.”

“Such an attentive pet.” She brushed his hands to the side,
taking over the task of unfastening the buttons. She worked more slowly than he
had, taking her time to peel away the outer layer of stuffy lawyer. As she
worked, the agitation rattling her nerves smoothed.

She always found comfort in this process.

Tossing his perfectly ironed slacks to the side, she drank
in the sight of the white PVC harness she’d given him the last time they’d
scened together. Six wide bands circled his body, evenly spaced down a torso
she knew he spent hours in the gym perfecting. Her gaze traveled lower to the
strip of PVC, which ran vertically down the succulent ridges of his flat
abdomen.

The titanium ring she’d sewn to the end of the strip
currently surrounded his cock. His body fit and toned, the straps highlighted
the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest. Gideon wasn’t a small man,
standing a full three inches taller than she even when she wore her tallest
heels.

Strong men always fell the hardest.

Especially when it came to matters of submission and
domination.

Just the sort of detail Elena loved.

“Something is still missing.” Gideon’s gaze tracked her as
she reached into her toy bag. His heavy sigh washed over her as she extracted a
cock cap. His dick jerked as she slowly made her way back to him, cap dangling
from one finger.

“Nice to know I’m appreciated.” His erection grew harder,
tapping against his abdomen. “Very nice.” She stepped closer, trailing her
fingers over the hard steel package he’d presented to her. A package she now
controlled since she would determine when he was granted relief.

Quiet rumblings sounded over her shoulder. Perfect. They’d
gotten the attention of the crowd. Gideon’s shaft quivered under her touch.
They both flourished under this kind of scrutiny. The exact reason why they
played at the club. Elena had never even invited him to accompany her to her
private room at Sanctuary.

They wouldn’t be right there.

The warehouse was too intimate and private.

She snagged a tube of lubricant from her bag, applying the
dense fluid to the thin shaft. She’d chosen one of the shorter, thinner plugs
tonight for sounding. Most of the newcomers came looking to see something out
of the ordinary, but the plug she and Gideon both normally preferred would make
most of them uncomfortable.

She wanted to entice them to join, not scare them off.

Gideon inhaled sharply as she brushed the tip of the plug
against his slit. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his solid pecs with
a tender caress that caused his muscles to ripple. She pushed down with gentle
force, waiting until he’d relaxed enough to accept the hard metal.

A soft hiss spilled from his lips as the plug slid deeper.
She continued pressing until the head of his cock was covered by the cap. The
metal surrounded the broad head completely, shielding her from touching his
sensitive skin to keep him off-limits.

His heart beat fast at his throat as she kissed the flushed
skin. “Such a good, well-behaved pet.”

She moved away, smiling at the quiet murmurs from the crowd as
they got their first glimpse of Gideon in all his submissive glory.

Showtime.

Alex Conners’ fingers tapped against the bottle of champagne
he’d swiped from the reception as he sat in the parking lot of Element
Twenty-Six. He could ask himself why he was here, but he already knew the
answer. He could also ask himself why he was still sitting in the car, but he
already knew the answer as well. The hesitation wasn’t because of the newness
of the situation. The oddity of facing the unknown ever since he’d asked the
question that had ended his marriage.

He knew exactly why he’d come here.

He needed to know if the questions swirling in his head had
viable answers. He needed to learn if the sacrifice had been worth losing
everything. Most of all, he needed to know if he was right. If what occurred
beyond those doors was something he needed as part of his life.

His headlights shined on the various cars dotting the
parking lot, an odd assortment of rusty hatchbacks and expensive roadsters. All
means of transportation for the members of the club and their guests.

He drummed his fingers against the bottle as he tried to
decide if he would join them. Even though he needed to know if he was right,
was this really what he wanted? Was he ready to face the answers he discovered,
whatever they were?

While he had a general idea of what went on behind those
doors thanks to the research he’d been conducting on the internet, he didn’t
know if he would fit amongst them. Vivian had scoffed at the notion he wanted
to be more sexually adventurous. While it was better to know they were no
longer compatible in such a way, it was still a sore spot on his mind.

It made him feel as though he’d been a failure as a husband.
Not to mention as a man. The point had been driven home even more so earlier
today when a box had arrived with the last of his personal things. No note. No
parting of ways or even a simple “fuck you” to send him on his way. Just a
plain cardboard box filled with memories.

Painful, soul-shattering ones.

Annoyed, he lifted the bottle to his lips as he chugged the
expensive alcohol.

The renewed frustration forced him to get out of the car and
slam the door shut. The frigid night air against the wet spot on his still damp
pants made him shiver. He remembered he’d left his coat draped over the back of
the chair he’d hastily vacated at the reception. But he didn’t need it. He had
something else to keep him warm. He swigged the champagne again, not even
tasting the decadent alcohol any longer.

Alcohol would chase the pain away.

If he left now to retrieve his rented coat he’d lose his
nerve. He’d never know. Never have an answer to the desire burning in his gut
to find out the answers to his questions. He shoved his keys into his pocket.
Someone from the cleanup crew he’d hired would take notice and put the coat in
some box to be donated to charity.

Maybe he should do the same thing with the box Vivian sent.
Donate it. Then someone else could deal with his painful memories. He wasn’t
going to need them anymore.

As he walked up the path, rock salt crunching under his
loafers, he realized he was thrilled by the thought of what he faced. He would
merely be an observer tonight. Nothing more, nothing less. He would simply see
if this was the kind of lifestyle he wanted to pursue further.

That was the beauty of Open Door night, or at least it had
been presented as such. The policy seemed like a good way for him to discover
if the lifestyle would fit him. He would finally be able to put to rest the
stupid nagging that had plagued him since he’d opened his mouth months and
months ago.

Simple human curiosity. Once he discovered it wasn’t for
him, he could put it behind him and get on with his life. Swallowing the last
of the liquid courage, he tossed the empty bottle into a nearby trashcan.

A beefy and intimidating guard at the door held a small
electronic device in his hand. He seemed unimpressed and totally unsatisfied
with his current job situation. “ID.” Alex handed his license over without a
word, waiting while the guard scanned the barcode. “Have a sponsor?”

“A what?” The information he’d found about Open Door night
at Element Twenty-Six hadn’t said anything about a sponsor.

The guard, clearly annoyed, rolled his eyes as he returned
Alex’s driver’s license. “Non-members have to have someone—”

A man suddenly pulled back the curtain. “Hey, Rocco, they
need you on the upper floor. Someone’s hurt.”

“Tell Luke to deal with it.”

“Luke is the one who’s hurt.”

“Shit.” The guard shoved the mini-tablet into his back
pocket as he dove through the gray velvet separator curtain.

Alex blinked a few times, surprised he’d been abandoned. Was
he supposed to just stand there and wait? He couldn’t leave, he’d never come
back. He wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet. Not when he was so close.

Cautiously he stepped forward, pushing aside the curtain, which
separated the foyer from what he suspected was the main floor of the club. The
atmosphere of the club hit him full force as he stepped inside. The walls were
draped in the same dark-gray velvet as the separator curtain. Everything was
opulent and expensive-looking. Extremely high-end.

Surprisingly the decorations relaxed him. Small and cozy with
soft colors and intimate lighting. He’d expected dark and foreboding. Music pulsing
through his brain so loudly he wouldn’t be able to think. Rough and so hard the
edges of the atmosphere would slice him like a razor.

Element Twenty-Six was nothing like he’d built up in his
mind.

A knot of people had gathered in the center of the room. On
the stage a man wearing a white harness around his torso was secured in place
by a length of rope hanging from eyebolts in the ceiling. A figure in white moved
behind him, his cry of ecstasy-laced agony spilling from his lips as he was
struck with a flogger. Alex made a mental note to wander over there in a bit
despite the fact he wasn’t interested in impact play.

After all, he was here to learn.

He turned to the left, winding his way through the densely
packed crowd. Another knot of people had gathered, this time around a smaller
stage. A woman was bent over a wedge, her ass high in the air for offering. Her
wrists and ankles had been bound by hot-pink cuffs as a man stood behind her
holding a pencil-thin implement.

For a moment Alex couldn’t figure out what was happening.
Then the thin strip contacted sharply with the woman’s ass. Caning. More impact
play. He’d scanned through the information he’d found on the subject without
any real interest. Given the abuse from his past, hitting was something he
hadn’t given much thought to. Evidently not the case for this woman. Her skin
was bright red where the cane continued to hit her. Her moans of pleasure
filtered out to the crowd, washing over those watching with keen interest.

Alex shifted his stance and leaned against a cloth-draped
post as he watched the couple with utter fascination. While caning didn’t
interest him specifically he was fascinated by the pleas spilling from the
submissive’s lips. She egged the Dom on, begging him to hit harder and faster.

With a wide grin the Dom complied.

For a few minutes at least.

When the sub’s cries grew to incoherent demands the man
standing over her stepped away and folded his hands in front of him. The sub
screamed in frustration, tugging on her bindings.

Oh yeah, this is definitely for me.

Fascinated with couple’s dynamic, Alex drew closer, standing
at the edge of the stage. He could all but taste the perspiration and need
dripping from the submissive.

Alex wanted that.

He just didn’t understand why.

He also didn’t understand why in the hell whenever he
thought about this very thing, he always saw himself in the submissive
position. Never the dominant. He kept trying to tell himself it was perfectly
normal simply because he didn’t know differently. It was better than wondering
what the hell was wrong with him.

The sub on the stage struggled even harder against her
bindings, her cries lofting higher as she begged her Dom to use the cane again.
The expression on the Dom’s face didn’t alter as he discarded the thin rod onto
a table behind him. The woman continued to beg as he walked around to her head,
staring down at her quivering form.

Her pleas grew louder, the raspy quality of her voice arrowing
to the base of Alex’s dick. He shifted his pants, hoping no one noticed he was
getting aroused by the scene. By the thought of being bound. All he needed was
for someone to call him a sick pervert.

The Dom’s hand covered the sub’s head, his thick fingers
casually stroking through the strands of hair wet with perspiration. Tears ran
down her face, her mascara forming thick trails across her pale skin.

“Hush, my little pet.”

Instead her cries grew louder, her desperation obvious to
even an uneducated newbie like Alex. Why didn’t the Dom just give her what she
wanted? Wasn’t that the point of this whole scene?

The Dom’s eyes narrowed, his hand going to the zipper of his
pants. With little flourish the hard length of his cock sprang free, tapping against
the woman’s trembling lips. Her pleas grew louder and more desperate as the man
standing over her brushed the side of his erection against her cheek.

Alex couldn’t tell if she was begging for more or trying to
tell the Dom to stop.

A sudden crack of the Dom’s hand against the side of the sub’s
face propelled Alex forward before he could stop. Another slap echoed through
the club as he vaulted the stage with his hands instinctively curling into
tight fists. Blood boiling, he watched the Dom lift his hand again for another
strike.

Oh. Hell. No.

The music drifting through the club teemed with life,
fueling the sounds of ecstasy emitting from various scene areas. There were no
words to the music spilling from the hidden speakers, but Gideon’s raised
voice, lost somewhere between pleasure and pain, provided a chorus for Elena.

She was already deep into topspace, focused and precise with
her strikes on his pink skin. Gideon’s guttural moans of pleasure seemed to
escalate the harder she hit. Like always she tempered the pain with a gentle
stroke or caress to his ass, the tops of his thighs or his broad shoulders.

Firm muscles clenched under her hand, allowing her to feel
just the moment he would start to relax. When he did her flogger would strike
and he’d sink even lower into his own head, lost on a plane saturated with
pleasure as she delivered the pain.

His pleasure was hers.

Gideon whimpered as she stroked her hand down the column of
his spine. His flesh was flushed and warm from her marks, just the way they both
liked it. She reached around his body, tapping her finger against the pointed
head of the cap.

Gideon hissed, ecstasy brightening his cheeks and causing
small lines to form between his eyes. Now he was thinking too much, too worried
about displeasing her. She needed to get him into the place where his instincts
kicked in.

A loud commotion caused her to pull her next strike,
obliterating her endorphin high in a split second. A quick glance over her
shoulder indicated the noise had already caught the attention of the gathered
crowd.

She’d lost them.

Wonderful.

“I’ve got to see what’s going on over there. In the
meantime…” She reached down, tapping hard against the metal cap surrounding
Gideon’s cock. His gasp sounded over the noise, his body straining against his
bindings.

Such a good and attentive sub.

And damn whoever had decided to ruin his moment.

She hated to leave him, especially since she had a strict
rule about never abandoning a sub at any time during a scene. However, the
disturbance seemed to be getting louder and louder by the second. Where the
fuck was Rocco and the rest of the security detail working on Open Door night?

Annoyed, she tucked her flogger into her belt and stepped
off the stage. The crowd parted easily for her, seemingly confused if this was
part of some scene. She crossed to the area where a knot of people stood. A
quick glance over her shoulder showed she was only a few feet away from Gideon
and could easily get to him should he struggle.

She also noticed Ian, the Dom Chaplin had left in charge,
standing next to the stage. He tilted his head slightly, a signal he would keep
an eye on things for her. Satisfied Gideon was in good hands, Elena turned and
tapped Michael on the shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

Michael sneered, gesturing to where Tommy struggled with
someone. “We’ve got a rule-breaker.”

“Wouldn’t be Open Door night if there wasn’t one or two in
the bunch.” She stepped closer to Michael, pressing her mouth close to his ear
so only he heard her. “Deal with this asshole and toss him out. You’re creating
a disturbance and upsetting everyone. We’re trying to attract new members, not
dissuade them.”

Confident the men could handle this mess, she started to
turn around in order to return to her station and Gideon. Tommy’s frustrated growl
and subsequent curse signaled she wasn’t going to be able to simply walk away.

She whirled around, more than pissed now. “What the hell are
you doing? Get his ass out of here.”

“I’m trying to.” Tommy pinned the man to the ground by
sitting on his back, using his knees to secure the man’s upper arms. One of his
beefy hands was spread wide over the man’s head, forcibly pushing it to floor.
Even then the man continued to struggle. “This newbie here tried to play hero
when Rick slapped Aimee. Jumped up onstage like some kind of stupid prick,
thinking he was saving the day or some other kind of bullshit. Hate these
newbies and their fucking knight-in-shining-armor complex.”

She glanced over to where Aimee huddled in Rick’s arms. Her
head was buried under his chin, her hands clutched tightly against his
shoulders in a death grip. His hands smoothed over her trembling back as he
held her tightly. “Is slapping in her limits?”