The Dom with the Dragon Tattoo (Masters of Submission #5)(2)
Tyler figured it was the bumpy four-hour flight from Houston to Boston that made him irritated, but what the hell, kicking ass was therapeutic, especially as he’d been without a sub for well over a month now. Spanking Lucy had been a good way of letting off steam, until they’d slowly drifted apart after four years together.
Feeling pissed, he grabbed the phone and dialed reception. Fucking hell, is it too much to expect the room to be cleaned properly? As he curiously studied the attractive matchbook, a flash of gold rippled across the black glossy surface, catching his eye. He looked closer, and the italicized words “Club Submission” finally made him disconnect the call. Intrigued now, he placed the phone back in its cradle and studied the matchbook more closely. “Club Submission, huh. Interesting.”
Maybe he’d give them a call and go check the joint out. He needed to wind down, and Club Submission seemed his type of place.
* * * *
Tyler eased himself onto the last available stool and made the bartender aware he wanted another shot of Jack Daniel’s. While he waited, he glanced around the crowded room. The whole place heaved with life and vitality, everywhere from the packed stage with its provocative, erotic dancers to the numerous revelers enjoying the masquerade ball. The atmosphere created at Club Submission impressed Tyler. It reminded him of one back home in Houston, where he was a regular. He liked the way the club was split off into zones. The Warm Zone, where the bar was situated, was just that—a place for customers to warm up before things turned serious and the action moved to the Hot Zone. He studied this new environment more closely. Subdued lighting was complemented by interesting sexual murals, which decorated the walls. It was a tidy setup, allowing excellent views of the raised platform complete with a slave cage, holding a scantily clad submissive or two.
He’d never believed in coincidence, but the very night he was here in Boston on business, Club Submission was holding a masquerade party. Once the management had checked his ID, they’d encouraged him to come along and enjoy the evening. The only requirement being that he joined in and wore a costume. After he made a quick call to hotel reception, they managed to find him a sultan’s outfit, complete with pantaloons, turban, and matching waist sash, along with a mock beard and sinister black mask. Full marks to the Corinthian Hotel. The flamboyant costume was delivered to his suite within the hour. He guessed that word had gotten around that he gave good tips. Well, as the saying went, money talks.
“Same again?” the bartender asked.
“Yeah, thanks, Todd.” He’d been here for some two hours now, enjoying the show, and as with any private club, he’d picked up a lot from the guy behind the bar. Apparently, the two brothers who owned and managed the club were a pair of great guys. According to Todd they went by the names of Matt and Ethan Strong. Because tonight was party night, Club Submission was hosting demonstrations by a few trusted Masters and Mistresses. Shibari, bull whipping, and tips on training a new sub were all on the agenda. It was a way of introducing new members to the lifestyle without putting any pressure on them.
With an early start tomorrow, Tyler was happy to sit back and enjoy the show. In fact, merely watching the act of submission was a very erotic and pleasurable experience for all involved. There’d already been a display by a couple heavily into bondage, and his cock had hardened as he’d observed a Master demonstrating Shibari, a form of Japanese rope bondage, on a beautiful and willing girl. The Dom in charge didn’t perform the ancient technique quite as he would have done. Nevertheless, it was great seeing the web of ropes slowly tighten around the young woman’s lissome body.
He’d give it another hour or so then return to his hotel. Tyler felt relaxed, more relaxed than when he’d arrived in Boston some five hours ago.
When a tall, sexy woman wearing the most amazing perfume stood beside him, he couldn’t resist letting his gaze travel the seemingly never-ending length of her incredible stocking-clad legs. She looked good enough to eat, from her towering black stilettos to her gorgeous ass cheeks, gloriously naked save for the thinnest leather G-string he’d ever seen. Unable to tear his eyes from this vision of femininity, he drank in the sensual curve of her perfect breasts, which lay naked beneath the shortest leather jacket in history. Where the hell is her skirt? Thick, lustrous, dark-brown hair cascaded over her shoulders. He loved the way it swayed harmoniously from side to side as she moved her head.
Tyler licked his lips and cleverly adjusted his position on the barstool, well aware that a raging hard-on threatened to poke through the satin of his Ali Baba trousers.
Perhaps sensing his discomfort, a smile graced her full, luscious lips before she turned in his direction. “Like what you see?” It was a pity she wore a gold mask, because he figured her face would be as beautiful as her body.
He almost had to lip read, because he could barely hear anything above the pandemonium in the room. “Oh, yeah, you bet, honey.”
“Nice tattoo, by the way, mister.”
Sensing her interest, he leaned in closer, enjoying her unique feminine smell, then whispered in her ear, “If you were my sub, I’d spank you for being so provocative.”
She tossed back her head and laughed. Her teeth were perfect, too, not a filling in sight. She playfully wagged a finger at him. “Mmm, I might like that, but I’m not your sub, so you can’t.” She turned abruptly from him and called across the bar, “Hey, Todd, I’m running late. Take care of my purse.”