Duchess.

The club was as intriguing as it was terrifying.

And tonight...Anthony was taking me back.

“My friends think I’m crazy...” I stood in front of the VIP entrance, not ready to step inside just yet. Anthony took my hand. I was sure he’d caught me staring at him in the shadows, memorizing his lips, his chin, the way his dark hair tucked into the half-ponytail. “I might be a little crazy for doing this.”

“You told them about me?”

“Selected details, sir.”

“What exactly did you tell them?”

Being that Rose and Martini were both dating members of a dangerous motorcycle club, I kept the details vague in case any of the road warriors decided to play hero. “They think you’re a man I met at the bar. That we’ve been seeing each other for a little bit now. That you’re…different from most men.”

“I’m assuming you told them that I’m charming, handsome, and offering you the best sex of your life.”

“Yes, sir. Next time I see them, I’ll say that you’re a sexual deviant hellbent on destroying my innocence.”

“You make me sound so terrible.”

I giggled. “What do you tell your friends about me?”

“Which friends?”

I pointed towards the mysterious, dangerous door. “The ones in there.”

“I don’t have to tell them anything. They already know I’m a sexual deviant hellbent on destroying your innocence.”

“What about your family? Did you tell them about Duchess?”

Anthony shook his head. “They knew I bought the club, and they heard about its reputation. Primarily through my brother—” He looked at me. “The priest.”

“Oh, ouch.”

“They don’t ask. I don’t volunteer any details. It spares my mother that way.”

“God. If my mother knew...”

I shut up before any crazy spilled out. My mother wouldn’t be happy until I was in school, practicing my violin twenty hours a day, and living the rest of my time in penance for ruining her plans. I wouldn’t be happy until she stopped leaving me tearful messages on my phone.

And Anthony understood. “Not taking me home to meet your family then?”

I dodged that conversation with a shake of my head. “I’d much rather go inside Duchess. Less insane in there.”

“You know nothing’s scheduled for tonight.”

“That’s okay, sir.”

“A few club members organized a scene for tomorrow. Orgasm torture.”

Orgasm. Torture. I nodded like that phrase made sense.

But I had to work, and I couldn’t afford a day off. Coffee didn’t pay the bills unless I was brewing it, and, even then, it earned less than I needed. The old Morgan would have started picking up extra-shifts to cover expenses. But back then, it was easier to be responsible when I liked what I was doing. Now?

My life was as boring as a cup of decaf, as flavorless as day old grounds, and as useless as the leaky paper cups I served day in and day out.

Duchess made my life feel different.

And Anthony made me feel good.

And I had missed feeling that way so much.

He held the door open for me with a sweeping grin “Might be a bit slow tonight.”

It still fluttered my tummy. “Not a problem.”

Going back to Duchess was a big step.

Though we met a few club members during dinner and at Simone’s party, this was the first time I returned to the scene of the crime. Anthony had a gift for sexualizing any place we went. And now that we were heading to his natural environment?

A slow night at Duchess probably consisted of enough kink to keep a psychiatrist’s pockets lined for a year.

Only a few couples lounged in the private den, a cozy room decorated more like an elegant music chamber than dungeon. Simone had arranged leather couches and chaises, red velvet chairs and expensive rugs around an ornate white marble fireplace. My heart fluttered—a baby grand piano served as the room’s focal point.

How long had it been since I played a piano?

Longer than it’d been since I’d picked up my violin.

And that was a long time.

Surprisingly, no one was naked. More importantly, Reed Bennett and his slave, Genn, relaxed in jeans, sipping a beer. Casual Thursday at the fetish club?

I breathed a bit easier.

“Mm, Anthony…” Simone’s tease curled around my throat. “You brought your pet to visit.”

And now my lungs threatened to collapse.

I stilled as Simone stalked toward us with all the grace and lethality of a lioness. A black pencil skirt and white blouse painted her curves, and her four inch heeled boots clicked with each step.

Even her shoes intimidated me.

Now I was stuck. I couldn’t look in her eyes without squirming, and I couldn’t admire her heels without imagining me squished under them.

I scooted closer to Anthony, squeezing against his arm. One deep breath and I was done. His scent smothered me—sharp, spicy, mine.

Anthony nudged me forward. “I knew you weren’t done playing with her.”

“I haven’t even started, darling.”

His warning was clear. “Pet…say hello to Simone.”

I twisted, wiggled, and fought a rising desire I didn’t understand. “H—hi, ma’am.”

“Still embarrassed, little girl?” Simone tipped my chin up. “Stay that way. I like my pet humbled.”

That I was. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, ma’am.”

She reached for my hair. Anthony prevented the yank with a cleared throat, and Simone turned gentle again, stroking a soft finger over my cheek. “The correct way to address me is yes or no.” Her eyebrow arched. “And I prefer Mistress.”

Oh God.

I stilled, but her attention flicked away from me. She pouted at Anthony.

“I’m glad you’re here, darling. I’m bored.”

Anthony seemed immune to her charms. “Poor baby.”

“So entertain me.”

“All this time and you’ve never learned to entertain yourself?”

“Why? Others do it for me.” She licked a lip as pink as grapefruit—and probably as sweet, tart, sour, and delicious. “So…entertain me.”

“Why doesn’t the hostess offer us a drink first?”

“You always were a stickler for etiquette.”

“Can’t a man be thirsty?”

She wagged a finger at me and sauntered to the bar. “Careful, Morgan…you don’t realize how traditional Anthony can be. Drink ready and prepared at the door, slippers by his chair in the evening.”

Anthony frowned. “I have never once worn slippers.”

“Oh, excuse me. Crop and paddle beside his chair.”

“That’s better.”

Simone smirked, every bit of her swaying as she made damn sure we watched her shimmy to the bar. Anthony dragged me away, plunking me into a couch. I collapsed against the leather, eager for his strong arm to wrap over me. He pulled me close.

This was safer. Still in the lion’s den, but now I had a chair between my body and the jungle cat trying to eat me.

But Anthony’s hand dropped lower, against my hip. His fingers tugged on my skirt. The material shifted upwards.

Uh-oh.

Simone snapped her finger towards the bartender, tugging on the chain that swayed between the poor girl’s breasts. I tried not to stare, but the clamps looked terribly painful, snapped onto nipples that had once been princess pink but now looked plump and dark. The bartender struggled to make Anthony’s gin and tonic, though her breathing gasped out with every tug of the chain.

Simone didn’t seem to notice. Or, if she did, she didn’t care. The chain curled around her finger. The bartender should have cried out. Instead she leaned into it, purring against Simone.

“Everyone is on vacation or working or entertaining family and too busy to come,” Simone sighed. “This week has been absolutely dead. What’s the pet want to drink?”

Drink? I’d swallow my damn tongue.

“Sprite?” My voice cracked. Anthony pinched me. I panicked. “Ma’am….I mean…Mistress.”

Simone wasn’t amused. She sipped her cocktail—the dirtiest of martinis. “You know, Anthony…that’s the attitude you get when you fuck a girl before punishing her.”

“I haven’t fucked her, love.” He rubbed a little higher on my thigh. “Not yet.”

I tried to melt, but Simone’s gaze froze me once more.

“No?” Simone handed him his gin and tonic. She hesitated before offering me the soda, her gaze dropping to study every inch of my body. “Why not? She’s cute as a button and so wet she’ll slip right off this couch.”

My stomach rolled.

This…this was a slow night? Talking about Anthony and me having sex as if I wasn’t even sitting there?

I didn’t need the giggle from the audience. Thomas and Shannon shared a loveseat. More specifically, Thomas claimed the loveseat and Shannon cackled at his feet. A form fitting dress looked better than dozens of sushi rolls, but she wore a cold scowl with more confidence.

I wasn’t sure what I’d done to piss her off, but Shannon enjoyed my discomfort. Not in a playful, teasing way like Simone, but legit disgust.

Anthony didn’t notice. His gaze matched Simone’s, as demanding and intrusive as he could get without ripping off my clothes and inspecting my every secret. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I hated that I sighed.

Any touch from him was magic, even if he surveyed me like a chunk of meat.

“She’s new to this, love,” he said. “I want to break her in.”

Simone’s nails clicked off her wine glass. “I just want to break her.”

I sipped my drink, wishing I had spiked it with something stronger than ice. Fortunately, Anthony’s friend, Nate, called Simone away. His beautiful brunette—Mariah—sat up a little straighter. Sophisticated even in jeans, Nate had a lean build and a rock-star smile. Mariah curled between both him and Simone, grinning like a schoolgirl. Simone ran a hand through her hair then yanked the curls back. The two kissed long and deep. Mariah’s tongue darted into her willing mouth.

“They seem…” A dozen new feelings sizzled through me. “Comfortable together.”

Anthony agreed. “You could say that.” A long moment passed. His voice lowered. “Jealous?”

Great. He’d caught me staring. What was wrong with me? Anthony had me so amped up that even Simone’s antics got me hot.

Or maybe Simone did it all on her own.

I shook my head, snuggling closer to him. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to admit that to myself.

“Haven’t seen you around much, Anthony.” Reed fed Genn the cherry from his drink with a grin. “Had to show off your new prize?”

I didn’t know why Anthony hated Reed, and I wasn’t sure what Reed was drinking to make him brave enough to poke the bear. Anthony held me a little tighter.

“I thought I’d bring her to a safe place…doubting the wisdom of that now.”

Simone sighed. “Don’t start. Either of you.”

Reed’s one-dimpled smile seemed so genuine I couldn’t imagine him ever doing anything evil or terrible, especially something so bad it’d rile Anthony. He tugged on Genn’s leash and brought her closer to his lap.

“It’s been a year, Anthony. Gotta get used to me being here at some point.”

“No. I don’t.”

Reed arched a playboy eyebrow. “Just say it. You’ll feel better. What is it that you think I’ve done?”

“It’s not what you’ve done, it’s what you didn’t do.”

The room quieted, only the tinkling of ice daring to make a sound.

Reed’s voice lowered. “I did everything that I could. Sarah will tell you that much.”

“No. She won’t. For some reason, she thinks she should protect you.”

“For some reason? I know it eats you up inside, Anthony, but she’s my sister-in-law now. We’re one big happy family.”

“Happy?”

“Very.” Reed met his stare. “She’s happy. My brothers and I are happy. And I have a beautiful little niece I get to spoil.”

“Niece?” Anthony clenched his jaw. “Or sister?”

“You son of a bitch—”

Reed leapt to his feet. So did Anthony.

But Genevieve was quicker. She hopped between the men. Her hands pressed hard against Reed’s chest to keep him from lunging. She shouted, and everyone froze.

“Glitterbomb!” A safeword? She said it again, soothing Reed with a touch to his cheek. “Glitterbomb. Let’s go get some air, huh? Reed? Come on.” She tugged on his hand. “Follow me.”

Simone shooed them out, but she reserved her ire for Anthony. “You’ll never let this go, can you?”

Nate and Mariah, Thomas and Shannon, and the other couples in the corners watched Anthony with curious glances. I did all I could do. I slipped my hand into his and squeezed.

And he calmed.

“Well done, Anthony.” What was more dangerous coming from Simone—the cocked eyebrow or hip? “I know you didn’t approve of his application, but Reed is still a member of this club. Don’t undermine him.”

“He knows not to speak to me.”

“No one’s going to be speaking to you if you don’t straighten out this shit between you, the Atwoods, and the Bennetts.”

“There’s nothing to sort out. The damage has been done.”

“Yeah, and I went with you to Sarah Atwood’s wedding. The damage looked like a beautiful baby girl, one proud daddy, and a lovely and happy bride. You’re the only one still entangled in that rivalry.”

Simone stalked to the bar, ordering another drink just to make the bartender squirm. The others returned to their conversations. Anthony exhaled, kissing my hand.

“I apologize, pet,” he said. “I’m…protective of my clients.”

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

“That’s a long story.”

“Did Reed hurt someone?”

Anthony shook his head. “Yes and no. His father is rotting in hell for what he did, but I suppose I’m too loyal sometimes. It’s not always about money.” He shrugged. “Though, in this case, it’s a multi-billion-dollar account, so it is a little about money.”

The numbers made me see stars—gold and diamond plated stars. “I think this Sarah girl is lucky you’re her attorney.”

“Would have been luckier if I had stopped them long ago, but what’s done is done.” He kissed my hand. “I’m tired of living in the past. I much prefer what the future holds.”

“You’re a man after my own heart, sir.”

“And hopefully I capture it.”

He’d have to bind it down once he did, because his words made my heart nearly flutter away. I smiled, and that was cause enough for Simone to interrupt with a mischievous grin.

The devious redhead stalked the room, pointing at each submissive girl in her path.

“Why don’t we have some fun…” she threatened. “Eeny, meeny, miney...Morgan.”

I tried to hide inside the couch. No such luck.

“We really should get to know each other better, pet.” Simone’s order shocked me, a crack of a whip or a brush of a feather. “Strip.”

Anthony called her off with a shake of his head.

Simone huffed. “Well, she has to do something besides cower behind you all the time.”

Anthony’s arm had kept her at bay so far, but I couldn’t use him as a makeshift cover all night. My stomach hardened into a knot. Sure, I wasn’t ready to peel my clothes off for an audience just yet, especially not in front of a troublemaker like Simone, but I had more talents than a palmful of breasts and an ass that could make the other girls jealous.

Simone might have been beautiful and confident, but she wasn’t the only one who could entertain a crowd. My eyes settled on the piano.

“I can do something, ma’am.”

“Squirm like a schoolyard virgin?”

How right she was. I glanced at Anthony. “Does the piano work, sir?”

He nodded, eying the musical tattoo on my ankle. “Yes, pet.”

“Okay.” I avoided the stare of everyone in the room. “I’ll…entertain you.”

I didn’t realize what an idiotic move I made until I sat at the piano. Eight-eighty pearly mistakes leered at me.

It had been a year since I’d played piano. Sure, my major demanded more than simple proficiency in other instruments, and yes, I had years of extensive training in music, but I was no more a pianist than I was a sub who belonged in a fetish club.

Taking my clothes off seemed a better option. A safer option.

But only fourteen people sat in the room—and only half of them even paid any attention to me. This crowd was far smaller than my last audience…

When I had completely broken down and ruined my every chance for a successful future.

Any future.

And yet, bombing a solo in front of five hundred people at the city symphony wasn’t anywhere near as terrifying as potentially humiliating myself in front of Anthony.

He leaned against the sofa, gin in hand. My heart fluttered as he flicked his fingers. A gesture to proceed. He wanted to hear it.

Life goal number seven: Impress Anthony.

“So?” Shannon’s irritation pierced the silence. “Are you going to play or not?”

I really didn’t need any lip from tuna-girl. “What would you like to hear, ma’am?”

“I don’t know, Beethoven. Surprise me.”

Beethoven?

That was easy.

I didn’t take my eyes from her as the first few notes of Moonlight Sonata tickled from the piano. Muscle memory was an amazing thing. So was the sensation of keys on fingers, the press of the ivory, the bite of the note.

The music washed over me.

Pleasure.

This was a pleasure.

And I had missed it so much.

“Hey!” Thomas’s praise was almost as delicious as Shannon’s shock. “That’s pretty good!”

“Thank you, sir.”

Shannon simmered on a low boil, but the others seemed impressed. Including Simone.

She hopped onto the bar, crossing her perfect legs with a deliberate poise. “That’s more like it, pet. What else can you play?”

Anthony answered for me. “Bach.”

Damn him. I averted my gaze but obediently switched to Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. It wasn’t the song he wanted, but there was no way I was sampling the tattoo on my ankle. Besides, the freaky melody fit the club scene.

“Know anything modern?” Simone scrunched her nose. “The classical stuff is lost on me.”

My lips teased into a smile, and I pieced together the Jeopardy theme. “Any suggestions, ma’am? I’m pretty good at improvising.”

The room laughed. Simone’s eyebrow perked, but she wasn’t annoyed. That was an improvement.

“Anything?” she asked.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Bon Jovi.”

Damn. My college friends used to suggest Lady Gaga and Taylor Swift. I wanted to ask if Bon Jovi was the guy from Labyrinth, but I decided to fake it instead. Pop songs used the same four chords anyway.

“No, sweetie.” Shannon interrupted me after only ten notes. She seized the opportunity to ridicule me but covered it with a cold smile. “That’s Don’t Stop Believing. Journey.”

I tabbed the F-Sharp for a moment, struggling to remember. The notes tentatively banged out.

“Ohh, we’re halfway there...?”

That did it. Simone clapped and congratulated Anthony. “Oh, our little pet can sing!”

Singing was a…subjective term. I could hit the notes provided I had an instrument to guide me, but my best friend, Rose, was a vocal major, mezzo soprano, and had a YouTube page of hundreds of thousands of followers. She had her pick of nightclubs to sing at in the city—though the gang of bikers following their queen had something to do with that.

No amount of vocal lessons could match her raw talent. Singing was something I usually reserved for the shower, but Anthony’s smile turned golden. He was impressed—charmed even. That made it worth bumbling through a couple songs.

I wasn’t sure of the correct lyrics to Livin’ On A Prayer, but Mariah perked up, singing with me as best she could before we forgot who used to work on the docks and what union was on strike. She collapsed in a fit of giggles while I circled to the chorus and vaudeville’d an ending, blending it with that damn Journey song stuck in my head.

Not bad for a year’s break.

But music was a living, breathing passion, not just a memory. Melody, harmony, and rhythm weren’t the sort of thing I could ever forget—no matter how hard I’d tried.

The room clapped as I finished. Shannon glowered.

Nate’s voice was warm, and Mariah practically purred as he brushed his hand through her hair. He smiled. Calm and reserved. No wonder he was one of Anthony’s friends.

“How about one of your favorites?” he suggested.

“Of course, sir.”

My confidence surprised me. I jazzed up the beginning to Bohemian Rhapsody. Freddy Mercury and I had shared a history of tequila and Friday night parties in the music lab. A request like that was too easy.

The music roared out of me like I’d never quit playing. Best of all, the piano tamed Anthony and Simone. An encyclopedic knowledge of songs, years of improvisational technique, and five hundred pounds of baby grand kept their sadism at bay.

“Is she a musician?” Nate directed the question to Anthony. Anthony waved for me to answer.

And I had no idea what was the truth anymore. “I studied music, sir.”

“Where?”

My tongue felt thick. “Broughton University.”

“Good school.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How about something slower?” Thomas pulled on his sub’s hair. She rose to her feet. “Go on, Shannon, dear. Why don’t you dance a little?”

If looks could kill, Shannon would have stuffed me through the piano wires like an egg slicer. She glared at me, and the song petered out.

“So?” Her hand fell at her hip. “Play me something.”

“What would you like?”

“What would you like, ma’am?”

Really? I gritted my teeth. Did Anthony expect me to give a condescending sushi monger the same respect as Simone? Shannon rolled her eyes as I repeated the question with her title. She patted the piano.

“You’re the musician.” Her voice dripped with irritation. “Use that fancy degree and play something so I can dance.”

I’d never earned my degree, but I did have a Masters in attitude. My hands banged the keys before I realized Duchess wasn’t the place to throw down a musical fight, West Side Story style.

Only a few notes played before the room laughed. Apparently, Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies wasn’t what Shannon had in mind.

“Go on, Shannon.” Thomas hooted from the couch. “Give us a curtsy.”

Shannon forced a smile. “I’m sure she can play something else, Master—”

“I said twirl.”

My inner genius cackled. Shannon’s cheeks flushed a vibrant pink as she gave Thomas a lunge and half-assed pirouette. He leaned forward, practically salivating.

“Okay, okay. Now play something so we can get her dress off.”

I couldn’t think of a song off the top of my head, so I studied the piano, picking a few chords to force my way through an improv of something jazzy yet sensual. Fortunately, the room focused more on Shannon as her hips swayed and arms rose over her head.

For as unpleasant as she was, Shannon leapt into submission with no arguments or hesitations. Whatever Thomas wanted, he received. I didn’t dare look at Anthony. Not while another woman expertly demonstrated her place, and not while I plucked away at the piano with a year of self-doubt shadowing the notes.

The bridge struggled to come together. Music wasn’t quite like getting back on the horse after a fall. It was more like riding the bike with two flat tires while chased by the neighbor’s yappy dog. Accidentals and time signatures and simple chords tangled in my head. The piano was never especially kind to me. The violin—that was as familiar as breathing. If I had my violin, I could have pumped out something sultry and classy and impressed the hell out of Anthony.

He’d definitely be an attentive audience.

And he’d be damn attractive to picture in his underwear if I got stage-fright.

I snuck a glance at him. Dark eyes stared, studying my every movement at the piano. Listening. Enjoying. A thrill shimmied up my spine.

He smirked.

Heat joined the thrill.

The song flooded my ears. Every sensual and dark thought I’d pent up within me crescendo’ed out for him to hear. As sexy as my deepest secrets could become, and as honest as my feelings for him could get.

Then, my fingers slipped.

Totally out of key. Totally wrong.

A second wrong note. Then a third. I tangled, banging the key as all eighty-eight blended into a series of wretched errors.

Everyone flinched.

I stopped. My hands stilled over the piano. Silence filled the room.

One.

Two.

Three seconds of dead quiet.

Bile rose from my stomach, and every shred of joy evaporated. Chilling apprehension—a decaying, crippling anxiety—replaced my carefree ignorance. My heart thudded. Too fast. The arrhythmic panic foreshadowed a complete panic attack.

Oh God.

Not here.

It’d been weeks. Maybe even a month. I’d worked so hard to keep it under control. To stuff all that misery and hate and humiliation deep into a forgotten hole in my soul. It was always there, threatening to consume me, to waste away, to corrupt, but I’d managed. I was living half a life, hiding from colleges and bills and any and all responsibility, but it had worked.

I spent a year struggling to overcome that depression.

One wrong note, and every bit of progress was lost.

Shannon’s groan sounded suspiciously like gloating. “Please tell me they didn’t let you graduate playing that way.”

I didn’t remember standing. The tears prickled my eyes, and the shards of anxiety threatened to pierce through any and all resolve I’d used as a shield. I couldn’t get trapped in that dark and terrible corner of my mind again.

I’d never make it back out.

I darted from the piano, but Anthony was there, blocking my path before I fled from the room.

He didn’t let me go.

His arms surrounded me. Pinning me. Keeping me still.

He didn’t allow me to run.

And I think that’s what I needed the most.

Thomas grabbed Shannon’s arm. “Where are your manners, slut? Sometimes I think you like to misbehave.” He turned to Anthony. “I apologize for her behavior. This will be rectified immediately.”

Anthony didn’t answer him, too concerned with my panic.

I hated it. My stomach swirled with sickness, my mind with memories of an abandoned life, and my heart with broken remnants of an unattainable dream. I swallowed as much of the hurt as I could from my expression. His hand brushed my cheek.

“That was impressive, pet.”

My words raked with honesty. “I messed up.”

“One note?”

“The whole song.”

“...The song you made up on the spot?”

“This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have played.”

He didn’t let me twist away. “I’m glad you did.”

His voice wrapped over the areas his arms couldn’t protect. A wave of safety beat at my head, trying to chase away the dark thoughts. Even my insecurity couldn’t resist.

“You’re a talented musician,” he said. “Why didn’t you graduate?”

I shouldn’t have looked at the piano, but I did, and the memories of everything dark and horrible and unforgiving recurdled my stomach. Not just the flubbed note, but college and my performances, my future and my only real ambition.

It wasn’t fair. My mind never remembered the little things—going to the store for milk or getting my last haircut. But every agonizing second of my last performance on that stage burned into my mind.

It’d haunt me forever.

My chance. My opportunity.

Twenty-two years of work, struggle, and sacrifice—hours upon hours of studying and practicing until my hands were raw—lost in a blink.

“Nothing happened,” I said. “I just quit.”

“You quit.”

“I didn’t want to do it anymore.”

“Why?”

Why was he so close to me? It was too hard to freak out in his arms.

I drew in a steadying breath, savoring the sharpness of his scent. Somehow, even lost in an unfamiliar, potentially dangerous club, Anthony’s strength and confidence offered me a shred of rationality.

He made me feel safe. In his arms, nothing could harm me—even my own unrealized expectations.

Anthony stroked my cheek. “Don’t hide your gift, Morgan. It makes you special. Very special.”

I didn’t look up. “Do you...like special?”

“I like taking what no one else has…and no one has a concert violinist to call their pet.”

I shivered, the heat of his words wrapping over my exposed insecurity. He held me close, gripping the tender spot on my arms just above my elbows. I couldn’t move.

He certainly had me. Pinned in place. Hanging onto his every comforting word.

But he was wrong. I wasn’t a concert violinist. Not anymore.

And no matter how many improv pieces I played on the piano or how often I nearly pulled my hidden violin from the closet, it wasn’t happening.

But I could hold my head up again. I could look him in the eyes, handle the club for the night. His confidence was infectious. I didn’t want to be his. I wanted to be him. Poised. Strong.

Whole.

“Thank you,” I said.

He tapped my nose. “Sir.”

“Sir.”

“I might not be so lenient in the future.”

“What would happen then?”

Some of the couples were on the move. Anthony’s lips twitched into a wicked smirk, and he took my hand.

“I’ll show you, pet.”

We followed the others from the den to a private room designed for…

Well, a show. As far as I could tell.

A ring of tables bordered the room—some private booths, some wingback chairs, everything dark and comfortable and intimate. The room was under-lit, but chains lined the walls, and restraints clattered from every table. The stage was only a little platform, a step up, nothing more. But a soft, padded table was the grand feature. Almost a bed, almost a bench, and designed for one reason only.

Thomas pushed Shannon onto the table. He lifted her dress and, in a single, violent motion, ripped her panties to her knees.

Whoa.

The doms went from zero to Guantanamo Bay after one flippant comment.

Those watching the performance picked seats near the action. I half-expected Simone to pass around a bag of popcorn alongside the crop she tossed to Thomas.

Shannon didn’t panic even though her every curve was exposed. She obediently spread her legs.

Thomas gave her no warning, no preparation. His hand cracked against her behind with enough force to leave a pink handprint in his wake.

She shouted.

The room murmured in appreciation.

Oh God. I spun around, hands over my eyes.

“He’s hitting her!” I gasped.

Anthony’s arms curled around me, his whisper comforting, warm, and sane despite the club’s complete madness.

“She misbehaved, pet.”

Thomas’s hand caught Shannon again. Higher on her ass. He cupped her flesh, and she jerked. Her groan was less audible that time, and that displeased her master. He slapped her once more before unceremoniously shoving her discarded panties into her mouth. Her next moan muffled over the silk.

“What are you thinking?” Anthony whispered in my ear, his words leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Tell me how you feel about this.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“No?”

I flinched before the next spank.

Then, Thomas picked up the crop.

His order came harsh and unforgiving. “Start counting.”

The crop whistled in the air and cracked against Shannon’s skin. Her voice strained through the panties. “One!”

Anthony’s hands drifted low, brushing against my stomach. “Rule one, pet. Talk to me.”

What was there to say? Shannon’s skin flushed pink. She whimpered and counted through the panties stuffed in her mouth while every strike nearly drove her from the table.

Even from the doorway I spotted the thick bulge in Thomas’s pants. He liked it. He beat her, and he liked it.

Was this okay? Was this supposed to happen? The only lessons I’d learned about relationships stemmed a general shame of sex and the resolve to run if anyone ever raised a hand to me.

But Shannon didn’t fight.

Mariah and Genn and the other submissives…they eagerly watched the spankings, their hands either rubbing their own pleasure or teasing their master’s obvious excitement.

Even Simone—a woman who would hardly tolerate a single insolent word—offered Thomas other implements to use on Shannon.

“This scares me,” I whispered.

“Why, pet?”

Anthony traced delicate patterns over my skin. My musical freak-out had subsided, but a new fear replaced the usual anxiety.

Anthony towered over me. His hands were huge. They’d so easily wrap over my neck if he wished. And he was strong enough to toss me wherever he wanted. A wall. A bed. The floor.

I had no hope of physically resisting him—and he knew it.

That was part of the game we played.

A game I hardly understood.

Thomas assaulted Shannon’s behind, but his strikes also pinkened her back and thighs. More than once, the crop darted between her legs. The panties couldn’t muffle her pained howl.

She sputtered a number that sounded like fourteen, but I’d lost count around two.

“What if he hurts her, sir?” I asked.

Anthony nuzzled against my head. His words hummed over my skin. “You mean…what if I hurt you?”

I barely nodded, but he felt it. “You’re much bigger than me.”

“Yes.”

“And stronger.”

“Undoubtedly.”

His hands tightened. Almost reflexively, my hips ground backwards.

What in the world was I doing?

I’d admitted to a man that his size, strength, experience terrified me, and yet my body heated like I stumbled too close to a fire.

And maybe that’s what I did. Tumbled headfirst into the flames of desire like a klutz cooking s’mores.

“Do you trust me?” Anthony never disguised the passion in his voice. The low rumble growled through me.

Why lie? “Yes, sir.”

“Shannon isn’t hurt.”

Her cry rang out, pleading seventeen between a grunt and moan.

“But he’s beating her.”

“Watch her move, pet. Look closely.”

Thomas’s next hit was lighter than the others. A mere tap instead of a raging swipe. Shannon’s knees buckled. She stretched out over the table under her own power. Her chest heaved, and the dress bunched over her back.

She trembled and rasped, but her hips dipped in towards the edge of the table.

Grinding.

“Shannon has a safe word.” Anthony guided my hips against his. I couldn’t help it. I pushed back, teasing my body against his.

Simone glided to our side. Anthony slid his hands over my arms. Holding me. Pinning me.

Was it terrible to think that I’d wetted more?

“Shannon will never use a safe word,” Simone said. “She’s too reckless.”

Neither Simone nor Anthony appeared pleased by this. I peeked at them both, but I didn’t know who to ask.

I frowned. “Don’t you like that? How can you dominate someone if they make you stop?”

“It’s an issue of trust, little one,” Anthony said. “You trust me to not harm you, I trust that you’ll tell me if it’s too much for you to handle.”

Simone glowered as Shannon cried out. “We understand our subs limits, but you never know when something might scare them. Shannon’s last master, Tex, was a freak. He made me look soft. He’d beat her until she bled and then some more, but she’d never tell him no. Thomas is much better for her.”

“Safer for her,” Anthony corrected. “Safer for us. The less incidents we have at Duchess, the better. We wouldn’t want the fun to stop, would we, pet?”

Restraint. I liked that. Anthony might have held me close, but he hadn’t hurt me. Not even a threat. Thomas slapped Shannon with another three successive blows. After the third, he rubbed his hand over the crop’s red welts. Shannon purred.

This was a step to the dark side, and I’d exchanged my light saber for a pair of wet panties.

But I had him. Anthony. My life preserver of muscle and testosterone that wrapped me in so much turmoil I willingly offered my dignity, body, and self-preservation to please him.

To please myself.

My breath trembled through me. “I don’t understand how someone would want to be hurt.”

It wasn’t a confession any more. This was curiosity.

“You’d be surprised, pet,” Anthony said.

“Do you like to spank your...” My insides quivered. “Submissives?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Simone smirked. “The same reason the subs like to get hit.”

I hated how she could answer for him, as if they read each other’s minds, or just understood far more than I could imagine yet.

The heat from his palms seared my skin. My stomach clenched, and a good shiver tickled deep inside me. I believed them. About all of this. Sex. Submission. Pain. Pleasure.

It sounded perfect.

Then again, if Anthony had promised that leaping from the Eiffel Tower would feel good, I’d learn French.

I pushed hard against him, wishing his hands would lower to where I needed his touch the most.

His seduction masqueraded as a question. “Would you like to try it, pet?”

Shannon’s muffled moans turned frantic as Thomas reached between her legs and stroked.

Oh God. He touched her while everyone watched. And not like they were in the privacy of their own home. Both of them knew full well they had the attention of everyone. Every breath, every touch, every glistening bit of wetness from her slit. They showed it to us. Thomas beat and pleasured her like she was a common whore, deserving nothing more than to be spanked in a room full of strangers.

My mind twisted.

This wasn’t me…

…Was it?

I’d never been so wet before. I twisted, tensing my hips. I needed something more than a quick flick of my own wrist. My body craved a darkness only Anthony could give.

My voice wavered. “I thought you only spanked a girl for being naughty, sir?”

Simone laughed, a clear and condescending hum. Anthony didn’t shush her. His own smile grew—confident and wicked.

“Pet, once you submit to me, you’re mine. If it gives me pleasure, then I am free to tease, explore, and fuck as I please.”

“And…you’d enjoy spanking me?”

Anthony snaked his arm around my waist to pin me against him. The other teased a path along the back of my thigh. His fingertips grazed my bottom. I braced for an impact, but he held steady.

A threat.

“I’ll give you two options.”

Every part of me ached. I swallowed, afraid to move.

“First…I’ll put you over that table and spank you. Give you a taste of this life. Hands, crop, flogger, a little bit of everything. A trial by fire, right here.”

“Here? But everyone...is here.”

Watching.

Awaiting the next show.

“Is that a problem, pet?”

“What’s option two?”

“I take you home with me.”

Words I’d been dying to hear. I nodded too eagerly.

“Okay.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” His voice laced with darkness. “If we stay here, with everyone watching, I’ll go easy on you. Baby steps. Just a couple little teases.”

Easy. I liked easy.

Submissive training wheels.

But I’d still be learning to ride before an eager audience.

Shannon grunted. Thomas slipped two fingers inside of her. A few couples murmured their appreciation, applauding the sound of Shannon’s wet slit as he rammed her to a quick and shameful orgasm.

No way. I couldn’t do this.

If I couldn’t play piano in front of strangers without screwing up, how could I attempt something sexual? What if I freaked out? Screamed a safe word with the first blow? What if it hurt?

What if it didn’t?

What if I came for Anthony even harder than Shannon did, bucking her hips against Thomas’s fingers like she was getting fucked by his cock?

I shook my head. The new submissive me was brave, but not that brave.

Not yet.

“If we’re alone, I won’t be as nice,” Anthony warned. “I’d have you all to myself…free to do as I please…”

My mouth dried.

Nothing had ever sounded so delicious.

I wanted what Shannon had—that absolute trust in her master, even in her most vulnerable of states.

Anthony waited, patient. His hand tugged at my skirt. He wanted to touch me as badly as I needed to be touched.

As badly as I craved to be hit.

Spanked.

Dominated.

I didn’t recognize my voice.

“Let’s go home.”