Mastering Melody (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Mastering Melody
Melody Jeffers has a secret.
She craves a lifestyle she doesn’t even understand, but she has to know, needs to find out where the strange urges come from before she marries her best friend, Bradley Griffin.
When Ryan discovers his brother’s fiancé has wandered into his BDSM club he’s momentarily shocked. Since announcing their engagement he’s been careful to avoid the happy couple. He may have been Melody’s first, but her future is with his brother. Yet, when he realizes she’s a lost and confused natural submissive, he has trouble letting go.
Bradley can see the attraction between his fiancé and his brother and asks Ryan for help to train her as a submissive. He knows he’s risking his future, but if sharing her will make Melody happy he’s willing to try. But can a relationship survive between three people with very different needs?
Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.
Genre:
BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre
Length:
35,621 words
Rachel Clark
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
MASTERING MELODY
Copyright © 2012 by Rachel Clark
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-068-1
First E-book Publication: December 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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Mastering Melody
by Rachel Clark from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.
Regarding E-book Piracy
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Amanda Hilton, Publisher
MASTERING MELODY
RACHEL CLARK
Copyright © 2012
My heart is pounding. My hands feel clammy. I’m more nervous than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Good god, I just want to run, screaming.
But I have to know. I have to understand. I need to face my demons before I can move on.
The deep throb of the music pounds through me as I sneak in the door, but it’s the brightly lit reception area that throws me. I didn’t expect it. I thought only to wander through the displays—the scenes, as they call them—and finally be able to admit I was wrong.
I don’t crave this lifestyle. I don’t. Just the thought of a man taking pleasure from hurting me is appalling, but there is something, something I don’t understand, something I need or at least
think
I need. I’m here to prove to myself that I don’t need it, that my cravings are nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination.
But I need to be sure.
“Can I help you?” I startle slightly when I realize the woman is addressing me. I’d planned to be anonymous. I hadn’t intended to talk to anyone.
“I…um…” What the hell do I say? Sorry, I wandered in here by mistake? Or do I pretend I don’t know what sort of club this is?
But the woman gives me a kind smile. “Curious?” she asks.
I nod nervously, unwilling or perhaps unable to say the word out loud.
The woman looks me over, seeing something I cannot even imagine. She nods decisively, as if I’ve passed some sort of test. “You’ll need a guide, a Dom.”
I shiver at the word “Dom.” I know what a Dom is. I’ve done my research. Damn Internet. Without it I would never have known places like this even existed.
“Do you prefer men or women?”
“What?” I ask, feeling my face fill with color.
“I know this can be overwhelming, but you’ll enjoy yourself more if you’re honest with me.” She gives me a friendly smile. “Men or women?”
I shake my head. “I–I have a fiancé,” I whisper in a strangled tone of voice.
“Still doesn’t answer my question, sugar.”
“Men,” I say quickly, “but…”
She lifts the phone, presses a single button, and hands me a yellow piece of plastic that looks similar to a hospital tag. “Hi, Mitchell. It’s Stephanie. I have a new sub here who needs a guide. Could you send a Dom to the front desk?” She listens for a moment, smiles at something the man says, and then hangs up. “Mitchell will escort you around the club.” She points at the yellow plastic. “That tells everyone that you’re not here to play, only to observe.” She hands me a sheet of paper and points to a row of lockers at the far end of the room. “Reset the access code with your own,” she says, pointing to the instructions in front of me, “and then place everything inside.”
“Everything?” I ask with a squeak. I know many clubs expect the subs to be scantily dressed or naked, but it’s not what I expected tonight. I’m only observing. I only want to watch. I’m only here to convince myself that I don’t need to be here. Shit.
“There’s a list of banned items on the bottom, sugar,” the woman says, pointing to a group of words separated by asterisks. I nod a little shakily when I realize she means to place the banned items into the locker—my cell phone, car keys, any photographic or recording devices, basically everything except my clothes. “Quickly, Mitchell will be here in a moment, and he is one Dom you don’t want to keep waiting.”
I nod and rush to do as she says. I’ve read some stuff about hard-ass Doms. I really do not want to upset one on my first night here. First? No, no, no…My
only
night here. Ever.
I nearly leap from my skin when the door beside the reception desk opens. The man who comes through is huge, scary huge, man-mountain huge. Oh hell. He’s wearing black leather pants and heavy boots, the type that a biker might wear when riding his Harley. But it’s the chains crisscrossing his chest, the leather cuffs hanging from his belt, and the nearly naked woman holding his hand that declare him a Dom.
I swallow nervously as he comes to stand in front of me.
“What’s your name, little sub?”
I consider lying—I don’t plan to come back here—but there is just something about this man that rattles my composure. I don’t think he’s even trying to be intimidating, but I can’t for the life of me think of another name to give him. The only one in my head is my own.
“Melody,” I blurt out nervously.
“Well, Melody,” he says as he takes the yellow plastic out of my hand and secures it around my wrist. “Tonight you will watch and learn and do exactly as I tell you.”
I glance nervously at the woman, the sub, behind him. She gives me an encouraging smile and a small nod. Apparently she trusts this giant of a man and thinks I should, too.
“What happens if I break a rule accidentally?” I’ve read about all sorts of painful-sounding punishments for badly behaved subs. I’m not ready to be one, and I sure as hell don’t want to find myself being punished for not understanding the lifestyle.
“Nothing, little sub,” he says, reaching over to touch my cheek affectionately. “But I won’t tolerate bratty behavior, either. Defy me and you will find yourself escorted to your car and your welcome revoked. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to react to the way he touched my face. My fiancé touches me like that quite often. It makes me feel loved and cherished and special to him. The same touch from a stranger should not affect me the same way.
“Keep your gaze lowered, speak only when spoken to, and you will address every Dom with the proper respect.” I nod my head, but I’m not certain what constitutes proper respect. I’m practically dancing from foot to foot wondering what the hell I’m supposed to say. God, I’ve never been this nervous in my entire adult life. How can one man make me feel like an inexperienced, awkward, socially inept teenager? Shit, I’m almost on the verge of hyperventilating and I haven’t even made it into the damn club.
A firm grip on my jaw lifts my gaze to his. “Last chance to run, little sub. Now or never.”
I swallow hard. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here. The fact that I am almost scared witless should be enough to convince me that I need to go home and forget everything about this place, this lifestyle, this intimidating man. But I’m frozen to the spot.
He searches my face, apparently seeing what he wants to see, because he drops his hand from my jaw, turns his back, and issues his order. “Come, little sub. Let’s go see if we can find what you’ve been looking for.”
I follow him instinctively, grateful for the other sub’s friendly smile as we step through a doorway and into a world I’ve only ever dreamed of.
The music is pounding right through me, the deep bass and the dim lighting, the shrieks of both pleasure and pain, making me feel like I’ve stepped through a portal to another dimension. People all around me are naked, or nearly naked, some on display, some just watching.