Chapter 1
Brielle Donovan leaned back on the leather couch. It ate at her, that her editor kept assigning her fluff pieces. Articles that didn’t matter. She was a journalist. There was more to her than this. Her eyes scanned the club. Luxe was one of Gabe Dare’s newest underground clubs. Her article this week was on the rise in BDSM clubs in New York City. With a finger, she lifted her mask to wipe at her eye. There was glitter everywhere from her damn outfit. But, fluff pieces or not, she was recognized often in the city. Her photo was on cabs, and billboards. That made it hard to go undercover and get information she needed. When people knew who she was, they acted different. She wanted real, raw reactions. This was her fourth night here, and she had yet to find a way into the private VIP area. She knew that there were rooms back there, where members had sex. Obviously, she wasn’t willing to go that far, not for a story. Sex with a stranger wasn’t her thing. She still couldn’t understand what it was that drew these people to BDSM. Over the past few nights, she had seen women in ecstasy from play, on the stage in the middle of the club. None of it turned her on. Part of her thought she was broken. It had been almost a year since she had sex.
Since moving to the city after college, she had horrible luck dating. Eventually just giving up. Her nights were spent home alone, she didn’t have much of a social life. But it didn’t bother her. She had a wonderful career and there was room for advancement. She worked hard and led a good life. Sure, having someone to share it with, would be better. It just wasn’t a priority for her. She watched as couples groped each other, kissed. It stabbed at her heart. She really was lonely. Her longest relationship had been a month. The guy had tried to move so quickly, asking if they could move in together. She considered it, until realizing that it was only because he was being evicted. Her apartment was in a great area of lower Manhattan. The rent was affordable. Bri had quickly gotten rid of that guy. Pariahs. Users. Cheaters. She just couldn’t find any decent guys. Her few friends she had made from work or her building, were all getting married, having babies. And here she was, in a sex club, doing an article, because she was the only single woman in her department. The editor couldn’t consider anyone else for it. Part of her was angry. Though really, she was hurt. Her parents had died when she was younger. She had no one. But that was the life she led. It could be worse.
She trailed a finger around the rim of her glass. Her editor had asked her to try and find something juicy to add to the piece. Either some prominent citizen who was a member, or something shady happening. She just couldn’t do it. That wasn’t the type of reporter she wanted to be. Sure, she longed to be an investigative journalist and dreamed of revealing some huge wrong doing. But this wasn’t it. These people had needs and found a safe place to fulfill them. She couldn’t with good conscious break their confidence. Not to mention, that when joining Club Luxe, even temporarily, you signed a confidentiality clause. She could be sued if she revealed anything. Gabe Dare surely had thought of everything when creating this place. The bourbon in her glass was watered down from melted ice cubes. At least they kept it warm in the club, for the scantily clad women. Bri shifted in her seat, uncomfortable as the tight corset bit into her ribs. The black lace was custom made by a lingerie store in Chelsea. She had purchased several, charging it to the paper for this assignment. For the first time since she started working at the New York Times, she was excited about them buying her clothes and shoes, until she realized the clothes would be barely there skirts and tight corsets that looked as if they belonged in some medieval torture room. Though she could admit that her breasts looked amazing in it. Her tiny mini skirt left nothing to the imagination, but there was a dress code here. The temperature seemed to rise, and she could feel someone looking at her. Turning her head to the right, she had to crane her neck, looking up. The tall man before her, with his close cropped brown hair, and 5 o’clock shadow stared down at her. His eyes shone in the darkness, and she felt like he was eating her up with his gaze. The music in the club pounded, matching her heart racing. The lines of his muscles stood through the tight black tee he wore. His jeans clung tightly against hips that were made for her legs to wrap around.
“If this place bores you so much, why keep returning?” his voice was smooth and warm, like a good bourbon. Staring at him, she didn’t know how to answer. “Come,” he held out a hand, and without thinking, she took it. Strong fingers wrapped around her small hand, engulfing it. He tugged, and she stood, wobbling a little on her stiletto heels. With his free hand, he took the drink from her, placing it on the table next to them. Without speaking, he led her towards the coveted VIP doors.
“No,” she hesitated, trying to pull back. “I can’t, I, um,” stuttering, she tried to find the words, that she wasn’t prepared for this.
“Are you here to learn about the life?” She nodded. “Then let me show you. I won’t hurt you, I promise.” She stared at him. Her heart was racing, and her mind was a jumble. This was what she had been waiting for. She needed to do it.
The man spun on her, looking into her eyes. He leaned in, whispering next to her ear.
“Say no, and I’ll walk away,” he said. His warm breath on her skin sent shivers down her spine. She was rendered speechless. Taking it as a yes, he nodded to the bouncer and walked through. When the door shut behind them, it cut out the loud noise from the club. The walls were red, lined with black, each room they walked past, was black, with a shining silver knob. Nearing the end of the hallway, the man stopped, opening a door.
“Enter,” he said, letting go of her hand. She stared at him, as she moved by. The inside of the room was dark, lit only by glowing candles. In the middle of the room stood a king size bed, with sheer white curtains draped around it. Hesitation kept her from moving closer. A hand softly brushed her long brown hair aside. She trembled as the man trailed kisses up her neck. Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes. She could feel him back up, her body wanting to cry out at losing his heat against her. Opening her eyes, she watched him move in front of her. She resisted the urge to clench her legs together as she felt her thong moisten. Getting wet from just a few kisses on her neck, was not normal. Bri had never met a man before that caused that.
“You seem interested in the life, but make no moves to participate. I’m Master Marsh. You will refer to me as Sir, while we’re in this room. I won’t push you past what you’re comfortable with, but you can’t sit out there alone forever. Maybe I can help you decide if this life is for you or not.” He stood, arms crossed against his chest. She finally took a good look at him. With his small black mask, his eyes and nose were obscured, but she could see the shimmering blue in his eyes much more clear than out in the club. He was tall, with defined muscles, but not in a body builder way.
“I don’t,” she paused, shifting nervously on her feet, wondering how to say this without making it sound like she was a prude. “I’m not into sex with random strangers, especially ones who want to tie me up and beat me.”
“BDSM isn’t about beating you. It’s about mixing pleasure and pain, helping your body reach new heights. And there’s plenty we can try, that isn’t sex.” He reached out and she gave him her hand. Pulling her close, he wrapped an arm around her waist. With backwards steps, he reached the bed. “Let me show you something.” Master Marsh spun her around, giving a light shove. She collapsed onto the bed, looking up at him. He knelt before her.
“If you’re a Master, shouldn’t I be the one on my knees?” She couldn’t hide the sarcasm in her voice.
“Misconception of the lifestyle. And if you don’t call me Sir, I’ll put you over my knee and spank you.” She could feel her cheek heat up with embarrassment. She was in his world now. He gave her what she had been trying to do for days. A glimpse into the VIP area. She should at least play along and give him what he wanted.
“I’m sorry. I just, I guess I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be. I won’t hurt you. If you don’t want to do something, just say stop. And I will.”
“What if we go too far? I don’t, I’m not the type that sleeps with random guys. I just…” he cut her off.
“It’s never too late. You say stop, and I’ll stop. But, you must follow the rules, including calling me Sir.”
“Sir,” she said curtly, “I’m sorry. I don’t know much about this. Enlighten me.”
“Being a Master is about pleasing you. You give me control of your body, your sexual pleasure, I show you how you can enjoy it beyond anything you’ve ever known.” He nudged her legs apart, running a finger against the material of her thongs. The finger pressed between her folds, sliding along the wet panties. She tried to close her legs, but he held them open, shoving his body between them.
“Just feel. Close your eyes,” he instructed her. She did as she was told, and then felt his hand press against her chest. Firmly between her breasts, he pushed harder, until she lay back on the bed, her legs still dangling off. Bri felt Master Marsh push the material aside, and stroke his finger between her wet lips. Pressing hard on her clit, the digit moved in small circles. Her insides coiled, immediately beginning to build pressure. She moaned, grasping at the bedspread. While moving against her clit with his thumb, his fingers slid inside of her. The trio of digits working in tandem. Her orgasm kept building, the pressure growing with each flick of his fingers.
“Oh God,” she cried out, pulling on the blanket. She tried to move her leg, but he held her knee tight with his other arm. As she cried out with a final moan, her body released, walls closing around his fingers. Panting, she kept her eyes closed, letting her tense muscles loosen. She pushed the mask up, finding it restricting as she tried to regain her composure.
Bri felt Master Marsh remove his fingers from inside of her, but the room remained quiet. She closed her eyes, listening to the pounding of the blood through her veins. It was so loud in her ears, she could hear every pulse. Finally sitting up, she looked around. He was gone, she had never heard the door open or shut. She blinked in confusion. What the hell? Replacing the mask, she ran her hand down the small skirt she wore, making sure everything was covered. On wobbly legs, she stood, fixing her thong. Walking down the corridor, there was no one else around. As she pushed open the door to the club, she was immediately met with the pounding music. With a quick scan around the club floor, she couldn’t see Master Marsh. It was like he had just vanished. With disappointment settling in the pit of her stomach, she headed towards the exit. Handing over the small ticket she held in her corset, the coat room attendant handed her the long black pea coat and her purse. She thanked the woman and exited into the Manhattan night. Taking the mask off, she trekked to the nearest corner and flagged down a cab. She could really see now, the attraction to this lifestyle. The way it made women feel. Powerful. Everyone had it wrong. Women were the ones in power, the men to please them. She had a lot of writing to do when she got home, after she downed a few shots to forget the blue eyes that now burned in her mind.