the club owner, Dierk couldn’t limit the activities that went on in this room, as long as those three pillars were maintained. Safe. Sane. Consensual. But he would watch this guy closely, and if he stepped even a toe over the line, he’d be out. No explanations. No second chances.
“We better get going,” Rolf said, moving toward the door. “Alicia the receptionist will be coming in any minute now. We don’t want Zane to know we’ve been in here.”
“Yeah.” Dierk followed Rolf out, locking the door behind them. He pocketed the keys just as he heard the back door chime.
He shared a knowing smile with his brother and headed toward his office to view the digital picture files. Rolf went to gather the employees as they arrived.
After a quick introduction to the staff, Dierk gave a short speech about making sure their guests were safe at all times. Then he sent them off to see to their jobs.
The club wasn’t just a bondage dungeon. There was also a bar and restaurant in the building, catering to a more mainstream human crowd, which meant there were over fifty people to manage, including cooks, waiters and waitresses, bartenders, dishwashers, and maintenance crew. Human and immortal, both.
If there was one thing he hated, it was having someone looking over his back, telling him how to do his job. He wasn’t going to be that kind of boss to his staff.
His staff. Damn, that sounded strange.
After the impromptu meeting, Dierk settled himself at the small nonalcoholic bar positioned at the front of the dungeon and ordered a yerba mate. He swiveled his stool around to watch the action unfolding behind him, in the dungeon. His eyes meandered through the room, from a Shibari scene just beginning in the corner, to a Mistress training a lovely little olive-complexioned slave girl on a kneeler, to the entry, where a pair of women had just stepped into the room.
The one on the right he recognized from his quick perusal of the photographs on file. Mistress Raven. The one on the left, however, was new.
“Looks like Mistress Raven brought in some fresh meat,” Rolf said, taking the seat beside him.
Dierk grabbed his cup, taking a sip of the grassy-flavored hot beverage. Humans drank it for its health benefits. He drank it to clear his mind. An immortal didn’t need anything to counteract cellular destruction or improve his immune system.
Rolf sighed. “What a sweet little thing she is,” he mused. “Obviously scared out of her mind.”
“Yeah,” Dierk agreed, tracking the petite brunette as she followed her hostess, almond-shaped eyes wide, little heart-shaped face pale. Her lush lips, coated with a layer of deep pink lipstick, were slightly parted in a sexy pout. He suddenly ached to kiss that pink lipstick off, smear it all over her sweet face.
“My money’s on that one leaving before the half hour’s up,” Rolf said, extending a hand. “What do you say? Wanna bet me…a thousand?”
“I say you’re not very sure of yourself if that’s all you’re willing to lay on the table.” Dierk gave his brother’s hand a shake, hoping Rolf was wrong, and not because he’d lose the money. It had been a long time since he’d watched an innocent get broken in. There was no greater rush than watching the training of a new bottom.
The brunette’s hostess waved in their direction and Dierk glanced back, realizing she was signaling Rolf. Clearly, his brother hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said he spent a lot of time in the club—which begged the question of why he’d turned down the offer to run the place.
Dierk made a mental note to ask him later.
“She’s heading this way,” Rolf stated the obvious. “Maybe she’s looking for a Dom for her friend.”
“And I’m the man on the moon,” Dierk said, noting the newbie’s tight expression. She wasn’t nervous like the average new submissive was. There wasn’t a speck of curiosity in those deep mocha-hued eyes of hers. Only fear, mixed with a little…hostility?
Interesting. What was her story? Dierk couldn’t wait to hear it.
Wynne had never been so petrified.
Hello. She was in a real, honest-to-God bondage dungeon. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so out of her element. Not even that one time when she’d gone with Kristy to that freaky art exhibit downtown, where people wearing plastic clothes handed out free samples of condoms, and rows and rows of tables loaded with sex toys lined the enormous warehouse. That had been years ago, when they’d been in high school. Catholic high school. She hadn’t even known what half those sex toys were for.
Maybe she should’ve known then that her friend wasn’t exactly cut from the same cloth as she. But like her therapist had said, she’d probably just wanted to believe what she’d wanted to believe, rather than seeing her friend as she truly was.
It had taken both her therapist and Kristy two weeks to prepare her for this. Already, she was ready to go home. There was only one thing, or rather two, keeping her from turning on her heels and saying sayonara to Twilight forever. And that thing, or things, weren’t the ones she’d expected.
Instead of staying to find out more about bondage, or more specifically why anyone would want to seek out a Master, she wanted to find out a little more about the godlike men Kristy was waving at.
“Hi, Master Rolf,” Kristy said, reaching behind her, no doubt to catch Wynne’s hand and coax her up closer.
Master Rolf. Guess he wasn’t an employee. Wynne was happy to stay where she was for the moment, thankyouverymuch.
Kristy motioned to the second man. “It looks like we’ve both brought guests today.”
Now, that raised Wynne’s hopes. If the second guy—who was jaw-droppingly gorgeous—wasn’t a regular at the club, then he might not be a part of the scene yet.
“Hi, Raven.” Master Rolf smiled. “This isn’t a guest. He’s my brother, Dierk. He’s taking over as general manager of the club.”
Manager. That was acceptable.
“I see,” Kristy responded, nodding over her shoulder at Wynne before cranking on the charm for the new manager. “It’s good to meet you, Dierk. Dierk and Rolf, this is my friend Wynne. And I’m sure you can tell this is her first visit to a bondage club. She’s totally new to domination and submission, so she’s a little nervous.”
Great. Thanks, Kristy, for pointing out I’m the new, clueless kid on the block.
She pasted on a smile, hoping they wouldn’t all look at her like she was a freak. How humiliating. Maybe they’d even make her wear some kind of special badge or something.
Dierk the manager gave her a long, disconcerting once-over. Down went his gaze from her face to her toes and then slowly it meandered back up. She could almost feel his gaze as it swept over her body. Her skin felt tingly all over, her nerves twitchy and raw. “Hello, Wynne,” he said in a low, rumbly voice that reminded her of a cat’s purr.
The man was like sin incarnate, the very opposite of what John had been, with his sun-bleached hair and boy-next-door good looks. Dierk had dark hair, almost black, cut in shaggy, messy layers. His face was all hard angles, his eyes too dark to clearly make out the pupils. And his body…He was huge, built like a professional athlete, all muscles and sinew and raw power.
Kristy jabbed her in the ribs, and she realized, embarrassingly, that she’d been standing there, mute and stupid, staring like a groupie at a rock concert.
She didn’t need Kristy to make her look like an ass. She was doing that well enough on her own.
Too nervous to trust her voice, she merely gave him a weak, shaky smile and nodded her head, then turned her gaze to his brother.
Master Rolf wasn’t far down the gorgeous scale from his brother. There was most definitely a family resemblance. He also had that dark, wavy hair, although Rolf’s was a little