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I stare at him. “Um—no. I’m okay. Just—answer the question?”
He sighs. “Yes, Saoirse. Everything in here is consensual. The club is very strict about that, in fact. Everyone has a safeword, and if they use it or their safe signal, play will stop immediately. If a staff member thinks that someone appears to be uncomfortable but not using it, they’ll step in and ensure that it’s all still consensual.” Connor turns to face me, his gaze keen on mine. “I know this is all very strange to you, Saoirse. But everyone hereishere because they take pleasure in it.” He pauses. “Do you want to leave?”
I hesitate.Do I? He doesn’t even sound mocking now, as if he’s genuinely asking if it’s too much for me. Asking if I’m consenting to staying, even.
I glance back at the woman in the stocks, her legs spread now, the other woman’s fingers working busily between her thighs. A line has formed behind the elegantly dressed woman, mostly men waiting their turn, but other women as well. As the bound woman’s back arches, her moans suddenly piercing the air and her thighs trembling as she comes, I feel a jolt of pure arousal wash over me, my own thighs clenching together as my clit throbs with need.
I just watched someone orgasm. In public. Oh my fucking god.
It feels like I’m in some kind of insane dream. Like I’m going to wake up any second and realize this is just some fantasy of mine fueled by the strange new desire that Connor has awoken in me. But then his hand touches my back, his caress feeling as if it’s burning through the leather and straight to my skin, and I know I’m not dreaming.
I look around the room, and it’s as if the club is waking up around me, the sexuality sharply escalating. There’s a woman on her back on one of the benches, a man slapping her inner thighs with a crop as she moans, only for another man at her head to pull his considerable erection free from the tight black pants he’s wearing and feed it into her mouth. I tear my eyes away just as she starts sucking, moaning around his cock as the slap of the crop wetly hits her exposed pussy. Still, it feels as if there’s nowhere I can look where I don’t see men and women in various stages of nudity, curves and muscles and cocks and pussies and breasts, moans and gasps and slaps of crops and floggers. Most of the bound submissives are women, but at least one man is cuffed to one of the X-shaped structures, shirtless with his pants open and his erection straining free, moaning and dripping pre-cum as the woman wrapped in red latex next to him slaps his tight balls with a riding crop as a crowd gathers to watch his suffering—or pleasure, apparently, because he’s hard as a rock.
I’ve never felt so overwhelmed in my life. The room feels suffocatingly hot suddenly, my thighs clenching together as I realize that I’m terribly aroused.This isn’t turning me on,I tell myself firmly.Or if it is, it’s not because I think this—this behavior is hot, but because it’s literally like being in the middle of a porn clip right now, the roomsmellslike fucking sex, it’s not my fault I’m aroused.
“Saoirse?” Connor’s voice cuts through my haze of arousal and dizziness. “Are you okay?”
“I’m—” I raise a hand to my head, feeling as if the room is spinning a little, the sensory overload too much. “I just—I need a break.”
“Do you want to leave?” He looks almost concerned, his blue eyes without any sort of mockery now. “Saoirse?”
I’m not backing down.“No,” I say as firmly as I can muster. “We don’t have to go. I just—need a break.”
Connor purses his lips, looking down at me as he considers. “I have a private room upstairs that I rent in perpetuity for my exclusive use. Do you want to go up there?”
I blink at him, letting that sink in for a second. Even though I know it’s ridiculous, I feel a sudden hot flare of jealousy at the thought of him having that room, other women up there with him, letting him do—
The slap of a riding crop against flesh echoes to my left, and I flinch. “Yes,” I say quickly. “Let’s go up there.”
Connor smiles, his blue eyes gleaming with some wickedness that I don’t dare think too closely about. He gestures towards the staircase that leads up to the second floor. “Ladies first,” he says gallantly. “I’ll catch you if you swoon.”
I give him a frigid glare as I turn sharply, striding as quickly in that direction as my high-heeled boots will allow. “I’m not going to fuckingswoon,” I tell him curtly. “This is just all—a lot.”
Connor shrugs. “You looked a little pale back there, is all.”
I frown at him. “Does every woman you bring here just throw herself headlong into all of this?”
He smirks. “Saoirse, I don’t normally entertain virgins. Not only would any woman I brought here be ‘throwing herself headlong’ into the activities, as you put it, but I’d also probably begettinghead right now.”
I’m glad he can’t see my face or the way my pulse leaps in my throat at that, my face flushing all over again. The thought of Connor in my mouth, tasting him, going down on a man for the first time, and it beinghim, makes me feel dizzy.He’d probably mock your lack of experience,I tell myself, but I can’t get the thought out of my head as we walk up the stairs.I’ll have to do it at some point, won’t I? He’ll want that from me, surely, after we’re married—
Or will he?
I realize at that moment how little I really know of what Connor will expect from me, personally, in bed. Will he just want a quick missionary fuck, enough to potentially get me pregnant, while all other pleasures are reserved for other women? He’s not exactly demanding thatIonly ever enjoy that, he’s told me I can seek out whatever pleasure I want with other men so long as I’m careful, but the thought of never experiencing any of that withConnor, specifically, makes my chest tighten painfully in a way that I know it shouldn’t.
Iwanthim. And if he doesn’t want me--
“Here we are.” Connor leads me to a large, iron-banded wooden door in the stone wall, looking for all the world like we’re walking into a bedroom in a castle. I swallow hard, the reality of the situation I’m putting myself into hitting me anew.
I’m going alone into a private room.
In a sex club.
WithConnor McGregor.
My father would kill me if he knew. Literally.
I should leave.
Connor produces a large metal key from his pocket, and I almost burst into laughter at the pomp of it all, the ridiculousness. But all I do is stare as he pushes the key into the lock and turns it, pushing the door open so that I can walk in first, if I’m willing to.
His blue eyes meet mine, the challenge in them plain.
“Well, Saoirse? Are you going in?”
