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“Oh, I understood. I just disagree,” he replied.
“Let’s discuss things in private,” Miles suggested. “Before you two get into it out here in the middle of the club. That wouldn’t be professional at all.”
Professional? Serena didn’t have a clue what that could mean in the context of a BDSM play space, but she didn’t have time to ask. The men each took one of her elbows and led her gently yet firmly past the lobby. Could she have broken free and hightailed it out of there? Yes, and she innately trusted that these giants wouldn’t stop her. But did she want to? Absolutely not. Serena was curious and just a little bit unnerved, something she hadn’t felt since she first started coming out to the clubs. She wanted to see where this ride would take her, and if it ended with her having to knee a couple of men in the groin to get away from them, well, that would be fun too.
“Mr. Hudson.” The pretty secretary smiled and greeted him as they walked past. He nodded and smiled in return. The secretary then gave Serena a very subtle thumbs up along with a genuine beaming smile. Interesting.
Miles sauntered a few steps ahead of Serena and Caleb and opened another antique wood-planked door that led to a short hallway. The rustic bronze plaque on the door read: ‘Employees Only.’ He gestured gallantly for her to enter before he clasped her elbow again possessively. Serena’s flesh burned where he touched her, and she felt as if she’d been branded.
To one side a door marked ‘STAFF LOUNGE’ stood slightly ajar. To the other side, another door was tightly locked.
‘MILES VINCENT AND CALEB HUDSON, PROPRIETORS’
“You’re the owners?” she began questioningly.
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Caleb said. Serena rolled her eyes, but secretly she loved the sarcasm. Whips and chains aside, nothing turned her on like a man with a sense of humor.
Miles unlocked the deadbolt with his key and held the door for her again. He bowed reverently as she entered. Serena’s eyes went wide as she stepped into their world.
* * *
The room was nothing like she had expected. Rather than old wood and the dungeon theme, this office—or bedroom rather—was decorated ultramodern. The walls were bright, optic white. Track lights shone in every corner, illuminating every inch of the space so brightly Serena’s eyes hurt for a moment before they adjusted.
Directly before her was a black desk with a large swivel chair. In front of it were two black leather wingback chairs, presumably for conducting business with clients and vendors. Between the chairs was a mahogany coffee table with a ballistic-glass top and a slave cage below.
And behind it was two thousand square feet more of private play space.
“My god…” she stuttered. “It’s…it’s…”
“A wonderland?”
Serena remained speechless as she looked around at the stark black and white room. Not a single color marred the dichromatic scheme, except for the collection of ornate-handled rattan canes that covered the rear wall. There had to be a hundred in all, and they looked like they hailed from every country and every time period, Serena thought.
Next to the desk, on the right, was a full-sized, free-standing suspension rig complete with hooks and chains; to the left a human-sized, raven-colored birdcage with a black steel bondage chair inside. The walls boasted a St. Andrew’s cross, while the corners were adorned with a plethora of black leather slings and swings. There was a massive bondage table to one side and various pleasure horses scattered around it.
The pièce de résistance of the room was a king-sized, four-poster bed that stood proudly in the center. The white mattress and throw pillows were made of leather, and there were no linens or bedding upon them. Up and down the four posts were various hooks and rings for bondage with chains or ropes.
It was like Disneyland for adults.
“Drink?” Miles asked.
“Just water, please,” she replied, and he nodded in approval.
As he fetched them all water from a crystal decanter, Caleb invited her to sit on one of a pair of plush black and white couches. He sat opposite and stared openly at her, making her skin break out in tiny goosebumps. She wanted to gaze back at him, lock eyes and challenge him, but something inside her that she didn’t understand made her avert her eyes demurely.
Miles returned with the drinks and sat next to his partner. “Now! Let’s talk out this misunderstanding. You say you aren’t a sub?”
Serena nodded.
“And yet we’re both absolutely certain you are. And we tend to be right about things. Do you see the issue?”
She nodded again. She wanted to speak, to defend herself and tell them she had no interest in being submissive for anyone, let alone a pair of cocky brutes like them. But her tongue betrayed her and remained still.
“What do you suggest we do about it?”
“A trial,” she said quietly. Until the words came out of her mouth, she’d had no idea what she was going to say. “You’ve got me for one hour. If we’re all enjoying ourselves after that, I’m yours. And if I hate it…I get free membership here for life, and you never speak to me again.”
She smiled triumphantly. That was the fiery Serena her mother had raised. Well, not the whole Dom/sub thing—her religious parents would be horrified if they knew about that.
