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  • Ferron's Journey Trilogy: MM suspense romance (The Playroom) Page 2

Ferron's Journey Trilogy: MM suspense romance (The Playroom) Read online

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  Nathan ran the club with Carl as more of a silent partner. Carl kept himself busy running his ever-growing chain of posh Italian restaurants, La Trattoria Di Amore. I’d never eaten in any of them, but I’d heard from friends that the food was to die for. Maybe that will change if he becomes my Dom?

  Excitement buzzed through me at the prospect of Carl cooking for me. I’d been hoping he’d choose me for more than the few play dates we’d had over the last few months. Well, eight months, not that I was counting, okay maybe I was, since I’d not had a contract that lasted longer than a night.

  Could this be the night Carl asked me for more?

  My fingers grew clammy as I pressed the button to accept the call.

  “Hello Ferron. I know it’s a little late,” Carl said hesitantly before he continued. “Are you up for a play date?”

  The “yes” came out before I could rein myself in. My timid answer received a brusque response and then I found myself listening to the dialling tone.

  This is a good thing. Is it really? You know full well that Carl isn’t going to want more than a night of fun with you. You have to stop lying to yourself. He doesn’t want you the way you want him.

  “Oh, shut up. It might be different this time,” I ground out as I headed to my bedroom to change and get ready for Carl.

  Four hours later, exhausted and replete, I struggled to keep a hold of the euphoric feelings from my date with Carl, worry gnawing at me as I walked back into my childhood home. I switched on the light, trudging up the stairs with disappointment weighing on me. The silence of the house made the events of the night feel even more depressing. The comfort I’d felt as a child in coming home to my mother was missing. A mother who had always been eager to find out about my day. A sob rose swiftly and I jammed my fist into my mouth, trying to stifle it. It didn’t help that I could still smell Carl on my skin.

  Tears leaked down my face as I stopped at my parents’ bedroom door, my feet not obeying the conscious desire to keep moving. My hand trembled as I pushed the door open, inhaling the musty scent instead of the comforting smell of my parents. It had been two and a half years since they’d died and the house remained pretty much the same as it was on the day they’d left to go on holiday.

  It was a freak accident which had prevented them from returning to me, or so I’d been informed. Their plane had been struck by lightning and it had crashed, killing everyone on board. What few people knew, was that I was supposed to go with them, only my boss had declined to give me three weeks off work because it was the busiest time of the year in the bar.

  So… I’d waved them off, feeling very put out about it. Guilt rose and gripped me by the throat as I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge, staring at the dressing table with my mother’s things scattered across it. I was ashamed to realise that the dust was so thick I could write my name in it. Sobs I couldn’t hold on to any longer choked me, my eyes blurring and the grief that was never too far away welling up and making its presence felt.

  I grabbed the pillow off the bed, coughing at the dust which billowed from it. The need to hold onto something they’d touched in order to tether myself seemed as vital as breathing in that moment of misery. The dust didn’t prevent me from burying my face in the cotton to search for just a hint of my father’s scent.

  My tears soaked the pillow as I rocked back and forth, my back burning from where Carl had whipped me. The sensation added to my woes. My earlier hope of him offering me a contract had died a very quick death.

  Once I’d reached Carl’s home, he hadn’t been able to mask his impatience, along with something else that had twisted my gut—disappointment.

  I told you he doesn’t want you the way you want him!

  I shook my head as I dropped the pillow back on the bed. My legs were unsteady as I walked towards the door. I stopped, looking back at the room and, not for the first time, wondering if the search for something more after they’d died had led me down a path to more heartbreak.

  I’d always known I was different. But it was only after talking to my friend, Wren, not long after my parents had died, that I’d become stuck on the idea of visiting The Playroom, a BDSM club he’d mentioned. That first visit had blown my mind. I’d found myself going back night after night, watching with fascination as the subs submitted to the Doms. Seeing the care with which the Doms treated the subs, my heart had swelled with pure joy. I’d intrinsically known that I’d found my true place in the world. A place which had opened me up to the possibility of what had been missing from my life so far. I’d finally understood what I was… a sub.

  Submission was a gift to be treasured and something I loved to give. There was something so freeing about letting myself go, about trusting the other person to know what I needed more than I knew myself. Without my parents’ guidance and with no one listening to me, I’d felt lost. The Playroom gave me back what had been absent from my life: the ability to find my centre, to know my place.

  Yet there was one thing missing, and that was a permanent Dom to call my own. I’d had several contracts which had run for months over the last couple of years, but no one had wanted me for longer than that. Cast aside for younger, cuter subs, I was starting to lose faith.

  What was it about me that made me so unlovable? That made people want to toss me aside?

  I’d thought my luck had changed when Carl had started to show an interest. He’s not interested in long-term with you though, is he, you fool? How many times do I need to say it?

  I swung around and stalked out, pushing the voice aside and glancing heavenward. I sent up a silent prayer, hoping that I was wrong as I continued on to my bedroom. “He does like me. I know he does,” I muttered, ignoring the lack of conviction in my own voice.

  *****

  Several weeks later, sat at the bar sipping a cocktail in The Playroom, I was reminded of those thoughts as I watched Carl stroll over towards Saul, one of the new subs.

  Hurt sliced at my heart as I did my best not to watch the pair. Carl towered over Saul, looking delicious in a black vest and fitted, distressed jeans which he’d chosen to wear in lieu of his usual leather.

  My gaze moved to the mirror which covered the back wall of the bar as I inhaled the familiar scent of cum and leather. Given how much of my free time I’d spent there, the large open-plan room felt like a second home to me.

  The deep red walls were a backdrop to the large, black leather booths which could seat thirty people comfortably. Each booth was situated around a large dais so that everyone could see the action. Throbbing music poured from the speakers, though not loud enough to drown out the moans and groans which came from those lucky enough to have found a playmate for the night.

  At the sight of flesh being caressed and teased by the Doms, I squirmed in my seat, a wave of jealousy riding through me. The full-length mirrors in front of me cast reflections of the other occupants back. It also gave a perfect view of the empty stage positioned in the middle of the room. The stage was sunk into the ground so that wherever a person was in the club, they were eye level with the action and able to watch with an unobstructed view. It had been months since anyone had asked me to go up on stage. What was wrong with me?

  My gaze found its way back to Carl and the cutie with the blond-streaked hair wearing a sexy pair of shorts and a green tank top which showed off his trim, golden-skinned body.

  The minutes ticked by as I watched Carl and Saul have, what I could only assume was, a conversation about a planned session. My heart sank into my boots when my assumption was confirmed minutes later. I watched as Carl carefully tethered Saul to the St Andrew’s cross on the main stage. Saul’s naked limbs glowed from the soft lights which were situated in the ceiling.

  Carl’s gaze swept the room as he stepped back, but he didn’t seem to notice me and after leaving a tip for Isaac, the head barman, I slipped wordlessly off my seat. Isaac often took the time to come and chat to me, but there was something about him that made my insides tremble so
I tended to keep my distance from him. There was already a crowd starting to gather around the main stage as I slipped unnoticed out of the door to get my coat.

  I nodded to the security guy who was more interested in what was going on inside the club than in me. With my light jacket hiding my harness, I stepped out into the muggy heat and strolled down the street towards my house in Notting Hill.

  My parents had bought it in the early seventies when the area wasn’t as popular. If I wanted to sell it now, I’d been quoted an astronomical price. But as much as the money sounded amazing, it was my childhood home and there was no way I could part with it.

  The ten minute walk home wasn’t nearly long enough to erase the image of Carl positioning Saul until he was stretched over the St Andrews cross. I opened my front door with a tremulous sigh and sagged back against the wall. Would I ever find a Dom that wanted me?

  The heat inside the club was immense and I struggled not to fidget as the Dom in front of me gave me a head to toe inspection that caused my stomach to tighten. The office which the Dom on the door had led me to smelt a little funky and was a mess. Nothing like Nathan’s.

  Stop thinking about The Playroom. You’re trying something new, remember?

  This was a weird arse introduction to a club, not that I’d been to many, only The Playroom really, but I’d never had to go through this rigmarole. Why would anyone need to come to the office so the owner and floor manager could inspect them?

  It was more than a little daunting to say the least but now that I was here, I didn’t feel as if I could be rude and just leave.

  You said you were going to stop going to The Playroom, so you need another club now.

  How could I forget that? Not after the last time I’d been there when I’d stupidly broken a key rule. I’d tried to push Carl for more, only to be told gently that there would be no more sessions, either at the club or at Carl’s home.

  Saul and Carl hadn’t played together after that first time and it had been weeks ago, so I’d watched him, trying to gauge whether to approach him or not.

  “Just do it,” Wren muttered in my ear, his bony elbow nudging me in the ribs.

  “Really, you think I should? Carl hasn’t played with anyone for weeks. Maybe it’s because he’s missing me?” I couldn’t disguise my hope as Wren nodded eagerly at me.

  His golden eyes gleamed with excitement as he ran a hand through his rainbow-coloured hair. He’d been my best friend ever since primary school. Despite the fact, he resembled a tiny bird, he was a complete pain slut and often surprised the Doms with how much he could take. What they didn’t know was that his mother had thought nothing of using Wren as a punchbag. He’d often come to school covered in lurid bruises that his mother had said were from Wren falling over.

  “Stop daydreaming and get your arse over there before he does go looking for someone else. Come on, it’s time you went after what you want.” Wren’s suggestion pulled me from my thoughts as I sucked my lower lip between my teeth. I eyed Carl once more before rolling my shoulders back. I tugged at my mesh top to make sure it sat just right before getting up and swaying as seductively as I could towards the booth where Carl sat.

  I halted in front of him, lowering my head. “Sir, would you be interested in… in taking me on as your sub,” I finished on a breathy exhale. It was only when all the talking suddenly stopped in the booth next to Carl’s that I realised I’d spoken loud enough for the group of subs to hear me, but I didn’t look over. Heat filled my face as Carl remained silent for a moment before sighing. His hands moved on the table, his fingers tapping, but I didn’t dare raise my gaze to his face. My heart thundered more with each passing second and it felt like an eternity had passed as I waited for him to respond.

  “I’m sorry, Ferron, but I’m not looking for a permanent sub. May I also point out that if I had been interested in more, I would have approached you.”

  Several sniggers came from the booth next to Carl’s. The comfort I’d often found in the club fled in that moment as my humiliation was witnessed and mocked.

  I worked to shove the feelings back down inside me as the devastation continued to cling to me. Even the several days I’d taken off work sick hadn’t helped. My swollen, puffy eyes and red nose were a constant reminder when I looked in the mirror.

  With the whole incident constantly running through my mind on replay, I’d not been able to face any of the other club subs, not when some of them were so gleeful at having witnessed my shame.

  When I’d finally spoken to Wren about it, he’d asked around to find another club I could go to until I felt able to face everyone again. The Dom’s Haven, the place suggested by one of Wren’s friends, was on the other side of London.

  I’d not checked it out prior to my visit because I’d been so eager to find a place but now I was regretting that, big time. The skin on the back of my neck felt like it was crawling with a hundred ants. The club wasn’t what I’d expected: it was seedy and looked like it had seen better days.

  At least they hadn’t asked for a big fee.

  That was the only positive I could muster as my skin continued to crawl. My eyes remained fixed on the floor in submission, but my insides were doing their best to get me moving, my nerves thrumming with anxiety. My heart rattled against my ribs as the menacing guy stood in front of me pinched my chin. His fingers gripped far harder than I thought was necessary as he lifted it and stared into my eyes.

  His almost colourless eyes promised nothing good and I struggled not to pull away, my hands balled at my sides.

  “Oh, I can see you’re a feisty one. You’ll be perfect for… Devon,” he growled in a tone which said he was telling me rather than asking me.

  My mouth dried up as I tried to figure out a way to get out of the club—and fast. Sweat slid down my back, my leather harness feeling sticky as it glued itself to my skin. I exhaled shakily as my chin was released and I barely resisted rubbing the ache where his fingers had dug in.

  The guy nodded to the big goon who was standing silently behind me. I chanced a quick glance in his direction from under my lashes. His presence gave me the distinct feeling that I might not be escaping from here as quickly as I’d like.

  Shit, what have I got myself into?

  My phone had been taken from me when I’d entered the club, along with all my other personal belongings, including my wallet. The guy on the door had explained that it was the usual policy and that they’d be returned when I left. He’d also said I’d settle the bill then for whatever drinks I’d purchased through the night.

  I’d not questioned it at the time, thinking it was a good thing to not have any unnecessary bulges in my tight outfit. The leather trousers I wore were a little tighter than usual because I’d been comfort eating. Cake and chocolate had been my best friends while I’d been so upset. And as I’d been upset for quite a while, supplies I usually kept in the house were running low. I sucked in my stomach, the leather outfit the club insisted all subs wore rubbing over my skin unpleasantly. How on earth could anyone cope with wearing leather in this heat?

  The thought fled as the door opened and a man walked in. His presence seemed to fill the room as he glanced from me to the owner and back again.

  He was tall and had dark hair and eyes. The man was well built with lots of muscles and he was wearing low slung black leather trousers and a harness which disappeared into the dark hair on his chest. His trousers clung to his lower body like a second skin, highlighting what he was packing between his legs.

  His dark eyes seemed to bore right into me, holding me captive. His arms flexed as he crossed them over a well-muscled chest. There were intricate tattoos on both his arms, a colourful snake with eyes that gleamed like rubies on one and what appeared to be a skull with insects crawling over it on the other.

  I shifted ever so slightly away from the guy as tiny shivers skirted their way down my spine, a sense of unease making my nerve endings hum to attention.

  “A newbie. Oh,
look at him. He reeks of fear.” As if to compound his point, he sniffed the air, a feral smile forming on his mouth. The next thing I knew, his hand came up, striking my cheek. My head shot backwards from the sharp, stinging blow to the right side of my face. Stunned from the act of violence, I could only stare at the man as tears sprang to my eyes.

  “In the presence of your Dom, you will lower your gaze. You’ll need to be retrained.” He sounded so pleased by the prospect that I found my head lowering.

  Did this man want me to be his sub?

  A part of me was shouting, “run, run for the hills and don’t look back.” But the needy part of me, the part searching for someone to love me, forced me to keep still and shut out the voice trying to warn me. This man wants me, wants to train me to be his.

  Don’t do this!

  I shut the voice out again.

  The sub holds the power. I hold the power.

  The thought settled me and I found myself justifying the smack to my still throbbing cheek as having been my own fault for not showing the respect a Dom deserved. I should have expected to be punished for disrespecting the man. You didn’t disrespect him because you haven’t discussed what either of you want!

  ”What’s your name?” the man demanded.

  “Ferron… Sir,” I quickly tagged the latter on, not sure what honorific he’d prefer as I kept my eyes downcast.

  “It’s Master to you.” His calloused palm touched my hot cheek, his fingers lingering for a moment in a gentle caress. “It’s going to be hard to start with, while we figure out your bad habits and break them. But don’t worry, I’m a patient Dom.”

  The other two men choked on their laughter as he spoke, the muggy air in the room becoming stuck in my lungs. But before I could question what I’d got myself tangled up in, fingers wrapped around my throat. My head was tilted back, his hand squeezing and I felt a rising panic which threatened to overwhelm me. Was he testing me to see what I’d do? Why weren’t we talking about limits first? Why wasn’t he asking what I liked and didn’t like?