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Across from Gabe, Ryder Blackwood said, “We might have to bring Matthew in and discuss the matter, if he continues to pursue opening a club.” His sandy hair set off his emerald-green eyes, which were focused and intent, though his two deep dimples offset the ruggedness of his features. He was the head of the security detail for a San Francisco politician and owner of the best detail company in North America, which was initially how I met him. “But I’m not sure it would be in our best interests to let him know who we are.”
“I agree. It could backfire,” said Darius Bennett, the CEO of Bennett Inc., a billion-dollar company that provided financial and budgeting services to large corporations, as well as advice on organization and management issues. He had an all-American look, with dirty-blond hair, clear blue eyes, and a strong mouth. “That said, I’m pleased this problem is behind us.”
I agreed with a nod. “I’m tearing down the club and putting a shopping center in its place.”
“You didn’t just steal the property away,” Gabe said, and gave a soft laugh. “You demolished it. Way to prove a point.”
Matthew probably hadn’t gotten the point, because no one except the women who played a submissive role to us knew of our existence. I assumed there were likely whispers of the DC in the dark rooms of the San Francisco BDSM community, but our confidential contracts were firm and could ruin submissives if they ousted us.
Perhaps it wasn’t the life I’d wanted or hoped for, but it was one that was necessary, as it was also essential for every man in this room. We had too much to lose if the truth of our BDSM preferences were exposed. Those in the BDSM lifestyle would understand. Those not in it, wouldn’t.
It was a scandal no one wanted.
“With that out of the way,” Darius continued, “do we have any other matters to discuss?”
I watched Gabe shake his head, then Ryder, and even Darius—who was the last man to become a member of the DC two years after our secret society had been formed—shake his head, too. The idea for the DC started with Gabe and I, when we were twenty years old, and before we gained our wealth—two young kids who had similar sexual tastes, who learned of the BDSM lifestyle together, who mentored under some of the best Doms out there, and who knew the importance of keeping this all a secret.
Ryder came into the picture after my mentor suggested that I should hire his security company to oversee Holt. That conversation proved valuable, as Ryder was in a similar situation, unable to play in public clubs in fear of being seen, and lacking the secrecy needed for his lifestyle.
We’d all come to the DC under different circumstances, but one truth remained—we ruled this city, we had created it in a way that kept our private lives far away from public scrutiny, and we had maintained that secrecy for the last fifteen years.
When all eyes came to me, I didn’t have the luxury of staying silent. “My latest submissive has become a problem.”
Ryder’s head cocked, eyebrow arched in curiosity. “In what way?”
“She’s become attached.” That was the one deal breaker. I wanted women to be submissive to me when I called for them. I didn’t have it in me to give them my heart, because I didn’t have a heart to give. “I think it’s best at this point to put Caroline with one of you.”
Gabe gave a sly grin, offering his hand. “Let me have a look.”
I opened the file before me on the meeting room’s desk, taking out the picture of Caroline, and handing the photo to Gabe. “As you can see, she’s lovely.”
“Yeah, she is.” Appreciation richened Gabe’s voice, as he scanned over the picture with care. “One of my submissives has moved out of state because of a job transfer, so I’ll take her on.” He handed the photo back to me, and as I returned it to the file, he added, “This saves me from having anyone vetted.”
Gabe’s statement was simply said, but that’s how the process worked. Each of us owned a public club to meet potential submissives who appealed to us as Dominants. Those submissives were vetted thoroughly, given background checks that were so extensive they would make the military proud. From there, the candidates were brought into our office and offered the opportunity to play with a member of the DC. Once they agreed, contracts were signed, and play commenced.
“Excellent,” I replied, grateful for Gabe’s agreement.
The last thing I needed was an emotionally unstable submissive. The job now belonged to Gabe to ensure Caroline adjusted well without me, and I appreciated not having to hire a therapist. I leaned toward the phone at the end of the table, and hit the intercom.
“Yes?” the receptionist asked through the speaker.
“Please send in Ms. Carrington.” I had called her on my way to this meeting, indicating she needed to meet me at headquarters.
“Right away, sir.”
The receptionist didn’t work for me. The high-tech company that rented this building from me employed her. That company had government contracts, and because of the resulting heightened security of this office it was the ideal location for the DC’s headquarters. No one could get close to this building without proper identification. Even the rooms were soundproofed to keep secrets from seeping out. That made it the perfect location for our weekly meetings involving the BDSM community, our clubs, and our submissives.
Only a few short minutes passed before the meeting-room door opened and in walked a leggy, stunning blonde. Caroline was wealthy herself, and she held the air of a woman who came from privilege. She scanned the room, and her soft blue eyes surrounded by dark makeup immediately lowered.
A perfectly well-trained submissive.
Her fingers played with the platinum bracelet on her wrist, with a skeleton-key charm dangling from the links—a gift I’d given to her when I took her on as my submissive three months ago. That symbol told all who knew about the DC that she belonged to one of the DC Doms.
I looked away from the bracelet to her bowed head. “Caroline, please come in and sit down.”
She shut the door behind her and then took her seat at the end of the meeting-room table. Her eyes drifted around the room, not connecting with anyone, and not surprising me either. I imagined that coming into this room, surrounded by four of San Francisco’s wealthiest men, would intimidate her. “Is everything okay?” she eventually asked, her voice a soft whisper.
“I’m afraid our time together must end,” I told her, straightening my back, showing her with my posture that my mind couldn’t be changed. “Things between us have become personal for you. As you are well aware from our first meeting, I do not tolerate that sort of connection.” Her shoulders sank in disappointment, so I added, “Gabe has offered to take you on as his submissive, if you are willing.” Her head lifted then and her eyes met mine, and I saw the hurt cross her face when I added, “If you choose not to play with Gabe, this will end your contract with the DC. The choice is up to you.”
