Page 39 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

FIONA

T his time, when we drive out to Club M, anticipation buzzes through me. All week, I’ve been craving Brody and Adrian. Now, I get them to myself for the entire weekend.

Two dominants, Adrian and Brody. One submissive, me. An infinite variety of games, with ropes, crops, whips, clamps, and more. I am so ready.

We check in. I’m in the same room as I was last week, and Adrian and Brody have rooms next to me. “I’m assuming you need to change,” Brody says to me as we ride up in the elevator.

“And shower, if I have time.”

Adrian glances at his watch. “I need to respond to some emails,” he says. “Why don’t we meet you downstairs in an hour and a half? That’ll give you enough time to get ready, won’t it?”

My insides are tingling with excitement. “Yes, Mr. Lockhart.”

A surprise awaits me in my room. A vase overflowing with purple and pink orchids dominates the small desk by the windows, and there is a note underneath.

On the bed, an outfit is laid out. It’s a floor-length red evening gown, made from the softest silk.

Next to the dress is a pair of nude-colored heels.

Very sneaky, Mr. Payne and Mr. Lockhart.

I pick up the note.

Fifi,

We have plans for you tonight, so make sure you’re ready. The gown is a gift for you. It would make us very happy if you wear it tonight.

Adrian and Brody

I race through my shower. I spend a lot more time than I usually do on my makeup and hair, and then I slip into the dress and look at my reflection in the mirror. Oh, my.

The dress is low-cut. The vee-neck plunges almost to my belly-button. The long skirt has a slit up the side, cut to my hip. They don’t even have to take the dress off to fuck me.

There are no panties in sight. I guess I’m not supposed to wear them. A shiver of lust runs through me. I can’t wait for tonight.

When I’m ready, I glance at the clock by the bed. It’s a little after nine. I’m supposed to meet Adrian and Brody in thirty minutes. I can either sit around my room and wait, or… I can head down early. See if I can get Kiera, the chatty bartender, to talk about Raymond.

Brody and Adrian aren’t going to like it.

I know. I know. But I’m not technically disobeying them. I have no intention of confronting Raymond. I just want to do some discreet investigating.

“Look who’s here.” Keira, the pink-haired bartender, greets me with a friendly smile. “You’re the talk of the club, you know.”

I take a seat at the bar. “Why?”

“Mr. Lockhart and Mr. Payne haven’t been to the club for two years. Everyone’s curious about the woman they’re scening with.” Her body stiffens as she looks over my shoulder. “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath. “This guy again.”

I turn my head, following her gaze, and my heart speeds up in my chest. It’s Raymond, and this time, he’s not alone. A submissive is walking behind him, a leash attached to her collar, her eyes lowered to the floor.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the girl. She’s tall and skinny, with long dark hair. Her head is bowed. She’s wearing a black tank top and a short black skirt. Underneath, her nipples are clearly being gripped by clamps. Though she has to be in pain, her expression is stoic, resigned.

Too clearly, I remember that feeling.

I was hoping to pump Kiera for information. Here’s my chance. “Who is he?” I ask, pretending I don’t know Raymond.

“A fucking asshole,” she almost snarls. “There are all kinds of people at the club. Some are sticklers for protocol. Others are more relaxed. But there are very few people who get my back up, and that guy is one of them.”

“Why? Because of the leash?”

“No.” There’s simmering anger in her tone. “It’s because he treats Katya like dirt. Keep watching.”

Raymond takes a seat in a booth in the far corner of the room, joining a pair of men already there.

He says something to his submissive. She nods obediently and approaches the bar.

As soon as Kiera sees her walking toward us, she reaches for a bottle of scotch in the back.

“Scotch and soda, please,” the woman says in accented English.

“My master would like the eighteen-year-old Glenmorangie.”

Xavier’s accent is difficult to identify. This woman’s accent is far easier. She’s Russian, maybe Ukrainian.

Up close, she looks terrified. As she waits for Keira to pour the drink, she keeps her eyes on the ground. When Kiera hands her the scotch, she takes it with a murmur of thanks and makes her way back to Raymond, kneeling in front of him and holding out the drink.

He takes it from her without acknowledging her presence and continues his conversation with the man seated opposite him. “See what I mean?” Keira says. “Asshole.”

“That’s just protocol,” I argue. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Three weeks ago,” she says grimly, “The bar was really busy, and I was distracted when I made the drink. I used the wrong kind of scotch. Instead of sending her back, he dragged her off to be punished.”

“At the club?”

“No. Here, the monitors will stop punishments if they get too extreme. He took her home. When she came back two weeks later, her ass was still bruised. He’d caned her, and he’d broken skin in several places. Katya was a mass of welts.”

She wipes the counter clean with a cloth and leaves to fill a couple of drink orders at the far end. When she returns, she continues her rant. “He never lets her out of his sight,” she says. “She’s not allowed to talk to anyone, not even the other submissives. That’s not domination. That’s abuse.”

“Why hasn’t anyone interfered?”

“People have tried. Xavier talked to her, but she insisted everything was okay. A couple of submissives tried to reach out as well and were rebuffed. He’s got her firmly under his thumb.” She exhales in frustration. “You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

How well I know that.

“All you can do,” Keira continues, “is to keep an eye on them and make sure they’re okay. Make sure they realize there’s help if they need it.”

Katya says something to Raymond, and he nods curtly. She heads in the direction of the bathroom. Acting on instinct, I get to my feet to follow her.

I’ve been there. I’ve felt trapped by Raymond. I have to intervene. Because Adrian and Brody are right. This lifestyle comes with responsibility.

She’s washing her hands as I enter, lost in thought. She looks up when I walk in, and then drops her head again.

Every inch of her is defeated. I see her, and I see myself two years ago. This had been me those last few weeks. Had Raymond not pushed too far, had he not threatened to share me, I might still be there. Trapped with him, my self-esteem eroding in his corrosive presence.

“Katya, can we talk for a minute?”

She gives me a startled look. “How do you know my name?”

I take a deep breath. “Because Raymond Downing used to be my master.”

She goes still for a split-second, and then her gaze darts to the door. “Master doesn’t like it when I talk to strangers.”

She’s looking for a way to escape, and I have only one chance to get through to her.

“I know. Does he still hold his weekly poker games on Wednesday?” I take a deep breath.

“I used to hate Wednesdays. Six men leering at me, six men pinching my nipples and smacking my ass, knowing they could do whatever they wanted to my body because Raymond wouldn’t stop them. ”

She nods slightly.

I place my hand on her upper arm, and she flinches visibly. “Katya, you don’t have to stay with him,” I say, my pulse racing. “Someone told me once that submission is a precious gift. Give it to someone who deserves it. Not Raymond.”

Her shoulders slump, and she doesn’t look at me. “I can’t,” she whispers.

Damn it. Was I this stubborn?

Yes, yes you were.

“He killed someone in Thailand,” I say harshly. “He could kill you.” I take a deep breath and try to calm down. “You can leave. I promise you, I’ll help you. I know how lonely it feels, but you aren’t alone.”

She shakes her head mutely.

I’m losing her. “Raymond’s rich and well-connected, but my friends are more powerful than he is. We will keep you safe.”

“It’s too late for that.” Her face crumples. “No one can keep me safe.” She pushes past me, her eyes bleak, and makes for the door. I watch her leave, a heavy sense of failure in my heart.

How can you save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?