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After a few minutes of demonstration of Adriana’s grace and obedience, she was strapped into the St. Andrew’s cross. “We’ll open the bidding at one thousand dollars,” Dominique announced.
“Five thousand,” Harlan called out.
With a lifted brow, Dominique acknowledged the bid.
“You weren’t kidding,” Cameron whispered.
“Right? Head over heels,” Grayson replied.
“Do I hear six?” Dominique queried.
The price was bid up to ten thousand in short order. Suddenly, Harlan jumped to his feet. “Fifteen thousand,” he blurted. Adriana, who had been looking down, suddenly lifted her head to stare at her would-be benefactor, her face breaking into a beatific smile.
“Incurable romantic,” Grayson murmured, grinning.
It was a very high bid, until you took into account that two thirds of that would be going back to the couple. Still, five thousand was a decent chunk of change to add to the club coffers.
The room was silent for several seconds. Then, with a musical laugh, Dominique proclaimed, “Sold to Harlan Restrepo for fifteen thousand dollars.”
Harlan rushed to the cross and released Adriana’s cuffs. She started to sink to her knees before him, but he caught her in a bear hug, lifting her into his arms. He whirled her in a circle, both of them laughing, eyes only for each other.
The room felt suddenly hot, the oxygen in short supply. Tugging at his collar, Cameron rose abruptly to his feet, refusing to allow the images attempting to hijack his brain to take hold.
“Hey, you okay?” Grayson looked up at him with concern.
“What? Oh. Yeah. Sure. Just need a little air. Maybe I’ll check out the main dungeon before I head out.”
For the second time that evening, Cameron fled the scene. Was it possible, for the first time in his life, that he wasn’t up to a challenge? Had he bitten off more than he could chew?
~*~
Jess sat for several minutes after Master Cameron disappeared on her, trying to process what the hell had just happened. Surely, she’d imagined that last part—at least the part when he’d been about to kiss her. It had been wishful thinking, brought on by the intensity of the moment.
She considered calling it a night and heading home. She would take a hot bubble bath, sip white wine and try to parse just what was going on, or not going on, between Master Cameron and her.
No. Fuck that. She was a member of the private, elite, awesome Masters Club! The night was young and she was primed and ready to play. Jumping to her feet with renewed determination, she redressed and slipped her feet into her shoes.
There was a full-length mirror positioned on the wall near the door. She examined herself, adjusting the zipper to reveal more of her cleavage. She touched the red slave collar around her neck, letting the feel of the soft leather calm her. Her hair was mostly out of its pins. Rather than fussing with it, she left it down. She ran her fingers through the long, springy curls, decided she would do, and headed down to the main dungeon.
Bare bodies, flicking whips and breathy cries greeted her. The place was crowded, many of the scene stations occupied. The scent of leather, perfume, sweat and excitement filled the air. Three pleasure subs were kneeling patiently along one wall, like girls at a middle school dance waiting to be asked.
Jess started to make her way toward them. She was, after all, now a bona fide pleasure sub herself. Master Cameron had said so, right before the vanishing act.
But, before she could reach the other girls, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello, there. I don’t recall seeing you before. Are you a visiting member?”
She turned to see a tall, imposing man she guessed was in his forties, with light brown hair turning silver at the temples. He was shirtless, his legs encased in black leather, a black captain’s hat on his head, a gear bag slung over his shoulder.
“My name is Jess,” she replied. “I’m a new member here at the New York Masters Club.”
“Even better,” the man enthused, gracing her with a broad smile. “I’m Oscar Young, a Shibari Master. Would you care to scene with me? You’d look amazing trussed from head to toe in beautiful rope.”
Jess adored being tightly bound. It always helped to settle and calm her when she was agitated. In spite of her determination to push through whatever she was feeling at the moment regarding Cameron Lord, she was still pretty damn agitated.
“It would be my pleasure, Sir,” she said deferentially.
“Excellent,” he boomed, taking her by the hand. He took her to a scene station that contained a hanging suspension rack. Dropping his bag to the mat, he unzipped it and pulled out several hanks of Shibari rope dyed a rich, blood red.
“Take off your things and lie down naked on the mat,” he directed in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’ll truss you up first. Then I’ll suspend you upside down on the rack for a nice whipping. You good with that?”
