Chapter One
Stepping out of the shower and into the bedroom, Nick pulled the towel off his waist and used it to squeeze the water from his long, dark hair. There were three choices of black thongs laid out for him on the bed. He chose the leather one with the corset lacing and carefully slid himself into it so that his package was kept snugly in place.
Across the room, Deborah stood at her full-length mirror as she prepared for the night in her own way. She was always a vision, even when she did something as pedestrian as gathering up her long braids into a ponytail that reached to the middle of her back. He watched her slip an evening gown over her head, allowing the mint-green satin to fall over her oiled and muscular brown body like liquid. The last thing that she did was step into a pair of four-inch stilettos, though she did not need the added height, but it took hers to over six feet, eye-to-eye with Nick.
She was ready.
“What are you planning, My Lady?” he asked her.
“Not sure yet.” Deborah checked her makeup in the mirror. “Business is slow at the Club, so we have to show our faces and help out the family. Remind the people why we’re Team Malachi.”
Nick sidled over to his wife and wrapped his meaty arms around her from behind. In the mirror, they looked like the perfect bodybuilder couple, her sculpted shoulders languishing against his bare, olive chest. Deborah leaned her head to one side and melted into his embrace.
“I’m here for that,” said Nick. “What toys do you feel like playing with?”
“Mmm…” she closed her eyes and breathed through her nose. “What have you been missing the feel of?”
Nick thought for a moment. “Your floggers.”
Deborah tapped the back of his wrist with her fingertips. “I am not working up a sweat in this dress.”
“How about the strap?”
“Strike two. The last time we did that at the Club, we cleared the room of terrified newbies, and all the men hated my guts. One more try.”
Nick brushed his lips up the length of Deborah’s neck, and she purred in response.
“Haven’t been caned in almost a year. Never had it at the Club.”
“Poor baby. We’ll have to fix that.” She forced herself out of Nick’s arms and clacked into the hall. “I’ll be ready to leave in ten. Don’t make me wait.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Nick combed back his damp hair into a ponytail and then opened his closet to find an outfit to put together. Simple collared shirt and slacks would do. He would not need a tie to impress anyone tonight.
Club Purgatory was a BDSM play space open to the public. It was owned by Malachi Liege, a lifestyle Master in the Community, and managed by his slaves. People could come in off the street to drink, relax, and party on the weekends. Members could also play naughty games with each other in the semi-private cells of the Dungeon Area, where there was a stage for exhibitionists to show off for a small yet appreciative crowd. Both dance cages were occupied by busty, half-clothed women. The St. Andrew’s Cross in the back and the pommel horse down front and center stood empty on the stage, waiting for whoever else was bold enough to put on a show.
Tonight, that would be Deborah and Nick.
They strolled through the arch, with Deborah leading their way into the Club. Her green gown glowed in the fluorescent light, as if her very presence were not striking enough to make heads turn. Deborah never looked at them; she only acknowledged people whom she knew—or wanted to know. Nick, however, was always fascinated by people’s reactions to the bronze goddess that was his wife and to him, the man lucky enough to be her slave.
“Ms. Deb!”
Deborah and Nick looked around to see Malachi’s Head Dungeon Monitor with the sandy-blond hair and Carolina accent, swooping in from the crudité spread to greet them.
“Terry.” Deborah allowed him to touch his lips to the back of her hand. “Where’s your boss?”
“In session, for the third time tonight.” Terry looked up at the door at the top of the staircase, where another Monitor stood guard. “They want him bad, but what else is new? Those are some mean-looking canes you’ve got there, Nick.”
“Thank you.” Nick adjusted the shoulder strap on the plastic quiver on his back. “They feel every bit as mean as they look.”
“Never doubted it.” Terry looked to Deborah again. “So, how may the Club serve you tonight?”
“You may clear the stage,” Deborah told him, “and then play me some music with a Motherland vibe.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” said Terry, with a slight bow of his head. “We’ll get right on that for you.”
He backed away to wave other Monitors over, ostensibly to carry out the request. Deborah and Nick watched as one of the Monitors went to the A/V room to handle the music while two more whispered to the girls in the dance cages while helping them off the stage.
The music track faded out mid-song, and in its place began a rhythm and blues instrumental, complete with the sound of a gourd rattle on the downbeats.
“Oh yes,” Deborah bobbed her head and chest. “That’ll work. Time to get busy.”
