Chapter 1

Immerse Yourself in the Forbidden

TAKING IN THE UNINSPIRINGsight of the building before her, Fiona's hopes deflated like a leaky balloon. "This can't be it," she whispered as she looked down at the invitation clutched in her hand.

There was no mistake. Her Uber driver had taken her to the correct Beverly Boulevard address. The drab gray facade made it look more like a warehouse than a club. And shouldn't there at least be a sign?

She flipped the glossy black card stock over and ran her fingers over the raised gold lettering. You're invited to immerse yourself in the forbidden at LA's most exclusive club, where Decadence thrives.

The words evoked a myriad of fantasies. She expected a sanctuary for those seeking a different kind of pleasure, something upscale, and lavish, as the name promised. Instead, she got dull and unenticing, and, quite frankly, sketchy.

An old college friend who was a member at the flagship club by the same name in San Antonio had recommended it. And her husband, one of the owners, had arranged the invitation. They wouldn't steer her wrong.

"I've never been to the club in LA, but Jonas has, and several of my friends," Lexie mentioned during their monthly chat. "Their clientele is younger, edgier, and much more uninhibited than at our little club here in the sticks."

"More uninhibited?" Fiona parroted in surprise. The wild stories Lexie told about the private club created vivid images that left her both intrigued and mortified. "And you think this is the place for me?"

"I'm just saying they're free-spirited and welcome everyone. The owners, many of whom I know through Jonas, insist on it being a no-judgment safe space for all members and guests."

"I don't know, Lex. I'm not sure I'd have the courage to walk through the door."

"Let me talk to Jonas. We're due for a getaway. Maybe we can schedule a trip to LA and go with you."

"That seems like such a hassle," she objected, although she really wanted to go because she was getting nowhere on her own. Having her old friend and her husband who was not only an experienced dom but a partner, a black belt in at least two martial arts, and former military—special forces in a branch she couldn't remember—would set her mind at ease. But she hated to put them out, especially with Lexie pregnant with their first child.

"It's no trouble. Besides, I've been dying to see the carousel for myself."

"Did you say carousel?" Fiona asked, sounding like a parrot again.

"It's a... How do I describe it?" she muttered, as if to herself. "I'll tell you what my friends told me. You've got to see it to believe it. C'mon, Fi. You're not meeting the right kind of men in your small vanilla dating pool. Why not give the club a try? Their kink may be different, but they're all in the lifestyle, and security vetted them all or they wouldn't be members. Which reminds me. Guests have to go through a screening process, so there's some paperwork involved, including signing a confidentiality agreement."

"I'm okay with that," Fiona replied. "It actually makes me feel better."

"It should. The owners are sticklers for the rules, which are in place for everyone's safety and privacy. What do you say? Should I talk to Jonas about making the trip?"

"Yes. You've piqued my curiosity, if nothing else."

"That's great, Fi. We haven't seen each other in what feels like an eternity. We can catch up. Maybe do a little shopping."

"Jonas won't mind if I monopolize your time while you're on vacation?"

"I'll have to pay him some attention. You know how these doms are."

Actually, she didn't. But she wanted to.

"But he'll have plenty to do. He has a lot of friends in LA and can do some catching up of his own."

Three months had passed since they made their plan. She'd completed the pile of paperwork sent to her and within two weeks, received approval. However, amidst the hustle and bustle of the holiday season and three work schedules to accommodate, obstacles kept surfacing, and they put it off until after the new year.

In January, when plans fell through again, she couldn't help feeling frustrated. She'd dabbled with some mild bondage and spanking in her twenties, but with college and work consuming her time, what social life she had fizzled out. By the time she hit her thirties, she'd decided she wanted to find a dominant who was looking for long-term and would help her embrace the more adventurous side of her sexuality. That was a few years ago, and she was getting nowhere fast.

When February arrived and their plans remained uncertain, she picked up the phone and called.

"I can't wait any longer, Lex. I'm going for it."

"Alone? Are you sure?"

"At this rate, if I decide to join, I'll qualify for a senior discount."

"I'm sorry, honey. This was my idea, and I keep letting you down."

"I wasn't being critical of you, Lex. You're eight months pregnant. It's not your fault you can't fly. And I was the one who whiffed in December."

"You had a nasty cold. Hardly your fault, Fi."

"Yeah, but only having one of these events a month makes scheduling with two out-of-towners even more challenging. Besides, you'll have a newborn baby in a few weeks, and your lives will change. You won't have time for a trip to LA."

"But you should have a friendly face on the inside," she insisted. "Jonas knows a lot of the doms. Some he's worked with; a few he served with. Let me see if he can arrange an escort."

"Is that necessary?"

"No, they'll have club members available for tours and QA, but I want to make sure you're taken care of. Hang on. He just walked in." She came back on the line a moment later. "You're in luck. A friend of his is heading up to LA next week. He's a club member here, which gives him guest membership there while in town."

"Won't he be like me? A fish out of water?"

"No. Axyl has been there a bunch. He fills in as a DM in the evening when he's in town working."

"Axyl?"

"He'll be Master Axyl to you."

She swallowed. Oh my. This was really happening.

But as she peered out the window at Club Decadence LA, her first impression wasn't promising.

"Are you going in, miss? Or would you like me to take you somewhere else?"

She made eye contact with her Uber driver in the rearview mirror. Uncertain, even more so than before seeing the place, she glanced out her window again.

"I really need to schedule my next ride," he urged.

"Of course you do. I'm so sorry."

Having paid in advance on the app, including the tip, Fiona opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. As soon as she slammed the door, the Uber, her only escape route at the moment, sped away from the curb.

She stood with her feet frozen to the sidewalk in the eighty-degree heat, staring at the entrance—double doors, also plain—trying to build up the nerve to go inside. A couple rushed past her, their footsteps echoing on the pavement as they hurried up the steps and vanished inside. The woman's clothing—a long, belted raincoat—didn't go unnoticed, an odd choice considering the heat and the fact that California was experiencing a drought. Fiona couldn't help but wonder what scandalous outfit she had on underneath.

With her heart pounding, she took a deep breath, trying to slow it down, then forced her feet forward. Once inside, she found the lobby to be as dull as the exterior, but her other senses immediately came alive. The heavy scent of leather, wood polish, and a hint of musk filled the air, while the floor beneath her feet vibrated with the discordant strains of metal rock. The pounding bass beat seemed to originate from behind a roughhewn wood and wrought iron door. As if plucked from a medieval castle and somehow transported through time, it exuded an aura of authenticity.

"Next!"

Fiona's gaze shifted to a tall counter, where a scantily dressed young woman, who couldn't have been over twenty-five, stood with a clipboard.

With a smile, she extended her hand. "May I see your invitation, please?"

Despite her outfit that left little to the imagination and revealed a toned, athletic build, there was an air of professionalism about her.

"You have an invitation, don't you?" she prompted when Fiona simply stood there, tongue-tied like an idiot.

"Yes, of course," she muttered as she moved forward.

After a cursory glance, she handed her the clipboard. "You should have received a copy of these documents in your pre-screening packet. This is an acknowledgement. Read everything carefully and initial in the flagged places. You're responsible for following the rules even as a guest and will be subject to consequences if you don't. So, I can't stress enough how important it is to read each one and understand them. Ask if anything is unclear. Then sign and return it to me."

Fiona took a seat between two other wide-eyed subs. She figured she looked scared shitless just like them. As she flipped through the pages, reading and initialing, she felt like she was signing her life away for kinky sex.

Once she finished, the receptionist double-checked all five pages for completion.

"You're all set." She waved to another nondescript door. "Through there is the lounge. Our master dom will give a quick welcome, then you'll be paired with a club member who will serve as your personal guide, sharing their knowledge and expertise during a tour. There are a few demonstrations planned you won't want to miss and plenty of time for questions. Enjoy your night."

Expertisestartled her a bit. How much participation did they expect on an introductory visit? Fiona exchanged worried glances with the other two subs waiting by the door, who looked petrified and ready to bolt.

When none of them moved, the blonde behind the counter called, "Come on, now, ladies. Through that door you'll find the lounge, complete with a fully stocked bar, a spacious dance floor, and a stage where some of the best bands in the city perform six nights a week. It's like any vanilla club in LA. Tonight, at least. If you can't walk through that door, how will you ever get the nerve to enter the dungeon?"

Fiona said to the other two, who appeared to be in their early twenties, "We've made it this far. We might as well have a look around, right?"

"Right," the slender redhead agreed. "You first."

Her gaze slid sideways to the other girl, a tall, lithe, blonde who reminded her of a young Gwyneth Paltrow. She nodded and offered a timid smile. "I'm right behind you, sister."

Elected leader that quickly, Fiona faced the plain-Jane door and pushed it open, entering with the younger two close on her heels.

A woman wearing only slightly more clothes than the girl at the counter greeted them and passed them each a coupon. "There's a one-drink limit tonight. Hurry, if you intend to use it. Our mingle hour is winding down. Master Eric is due to speak in a few minutes, and he's a stickler for being on time."

Without a word of thanks or even a goodbye, her two faint-hearted companions headed straight for the seating area, which was practically full. Fiona, in need of some liquid courage, veered toward the bar. A few minutes later, with a glass of white wine in hand, she found a chair at the back of the room where she could go unnoticed.

As she settled into her seat, a hush fell over the room, all eyes fixated on the striking blond man in a flawlessly fitted dark suit who stepped into the spotlight to address the group. His commanding presence dominated the room, and his Viking-like appearance—light-blond hair, piercing blue eyes, intimidating height, and broad shoulders, which she instinctively knew didn't need help from his suit—reinforced the impression. All he needed was a breastplate and a broadsword.

"Welcome to Club Decadence," he said in greeting. "Since you have all read and signed the club rules, I won't belabor the point by going over them further. Tonight is dedicated solely to inquiry and observation."

He extended his hand to the area behind them. As one, the group turned and gaped at a twin set of gothic doors, just like in the lobby but on a much larger scale.

"Before you enter our playroom, you will need a member escort. If you didn't come with one, we have volunteers ready to serve. I encourage you to try out the equipment and visit the theme rooms upstairs, but keep in mind, tonight is a G-rated event. Clothing remains in place at all times, and sex is prohibited. With consent, touching is allowed but no penetration. All of that can come later, should you decide to join our community and after contracts are signed and introductory classes completed. Questions?"

When no hands went up, he nodded.

"Excellent. Pair off, then, and enjoy your night with us."

Most of the group moved by twos to the medieval doors. As the group thinned out, she realized she was one of the few without a partner.

"Seated in the back. Are you hesitant or a Baptist?"

At the rumbling bass voice so close to her ear, she jumped at the same time she twisted and nearly fell out of her chair.

"Careful," the man urged as he caught her arm and steadied her.

Nice looking, a few years younger than her, and massive, even bigger than the Viking master dom, rather than a suit, or the pervasive black leather, he wore a snug T-shirt and molded-on jeans, both in black. And when he smiled down at her, his dark-blue eyes glinted with a hint of mischief.

"You're jumpy. Maybe you should finish that wine," he suggested. "It might calm your nerves."

She looked down at the glass she held, having forgotten it, actually, then tipped it up and drained it in one gulp.

"Thatta girl. A bit of liquid courage sometimes helps."

"That was my hope when I ordered it."

"You're Fiona, aren't you?"

She blinked up at him, wondering how he knew her name. They hadn't issued name tags. Then it clicked. "You're Master Axyl. Jonas and Lexie Mitchell's friend."

"Guilty as charged," he replied, a slight rasp in his low voice she had heard described as gravelly but never truly understood until now. "Do you still need a guide?"

"I would appreciate it very much, sir. I didn't realize there was a social hour before the event, so I'm afraid I've gotten a late start."

Gallantly, he offered his arm and walked her toward the massive double doors now open to a stream of excited newcomers.

"Your name is lovely, but uncommon. Are you of Irish or Scottish descent?"

"Canadian and Columbian, actually, but my father was in a production of Brigadoon in college and became enamored with the name."

"‘Come to Me, Bend to Me...' Seems appropriate for where we are." That he knew the 1954 musical, let alone a song from it was stunning, but then he shocked her further by asking, "Were your parents in the lifestyle?"

"Goodness, no!" she squeaked, unable to even consider the possibility.

His laugh was deep and gruff like his speaking voice, and quite pleasant. "Although we're often loathe to think it, we were all begat the same way, dear Fiona. Mechanically speaking, that is."

There was a slight bottleneck to get into the dungeon because the submissives had to relinquish their shoes.

"Why, if I may ask?" Fiona inquired of her guide.

"It's a Decadence tradition, I'm told, and because it helps put little subbies in the right headspace."

When she handed over her treasured five-inch, ankle-strap stilettos and looked up at Master Axyl, she felt like she'd stepped in a hole. Nearly six feet tall, being towered over was unusual and intensified her nervousness and vulnerability. She better understood the rationale behind the tradition.

Once inside, he stopped at the top of the stairs and let her take in her first glimpse of the heart of the club—the dungeon. Or what Master Eric had referred to as the playroom. Booths lined three of the four walls, but most were unoccupied. The members and guests circulated amid the activities taking place in a multitude of roped-off stations on the vast main floor. The lights were up, and a hum of conversation filled the room.

In a split second, her mind traveled to a time that wasn't just for exploring. Visions of submissives kneeling at their dominant's feet, their bodies adorned in cuffs and intricate ropes and little else filled her head. Her imagination added the sound of whips cracking, muffled moans, and orgasmic cries blending into a concert of pleasure and erotic pain.

Master Axyl's firm grip on her arm jolted her out of her fantasy as he led her down the stairs to the main floor.

"They designed the playroom like a dartboard. The outer ring is seating, for conversation, negotiation, observing, and for relaxing before and after play. The next ring is what we call the circuit. Like the yellow brick road, if you follow it, it will take you where you need to—"

"The Emerald City?"

"Not quite," he chuckled, strolling while explaining, "Keep to it, and the circuit will take you by all thirty stations, which is the third ring, where you'll find standard equipment such as crosses, benches, and bondage tables. You'll also discover some unique, custom-made designs painstakingly acquired by Master Eric. It all culminates in the center circle, the dungeon's main stage where some of the most creative pulse-pounding scenes take place."

"Like what, for example?"

"You're about to find out."

He nodded toward the center of the room, where a circular stage rose out of the floor under a single bright spotlight. In the middle of it stood what she could only guess was a whipping post. Her first thought was what on earth had she signed up for? Her second, how was any of this G-rated?

"This is one of four demonstrations Eric has arranged for our prospective members." He steered her toward a row of bench seats on a raised dais along the front wall. "Let's have a seat. No sense straining our necks when we can be comfortable."

Fiona couldn't take her eyes off the scene unfolding thirty feet above the main floor. The dom, dressed in all black, wasn't nearly as big as Master Axyl but was still tall and fit. At first glance, he looked around her age. Then she noticed the touch of gray in the dark-blond hair at his temples, and the occasional glimmer of silvery threads in his beard under the lights.

In a figure-hugging vinyl minidress, his play partner willingly yielded as he secured her wrists to a ring embedded in the post above her head. Enthusiastically, too, judging by her delighted smile.

He spoke as he circled her, but from this distance, she couldn't hear what he said. The sub understood and turned with him; her gaze never leaving his. She ended up facing the post, which was when Fiona realized she'd be vulnerable to whatever he planned to do from all angles.

The multi-tailed lash draped around his neck gave Fiona a pretty good idea of what that was.

Further preparing for the scene, he pulled off his shirt, revealing broad shoulders, muscular arms, ripped abs, and a lean waist, and not an ounce of fat that she could see. For the next quarter hour, he employed the flogger, the rhythmic thwaps of leather against skin filling the air. Fiona only vaguely noticed the sub's moans starting out low and rising in pitch as the scene continued. Or how her body bowed and writhed with each stroke. She was secondary to the grace and confidence of the dom who commanded the scene. Fiona sat transfixed, watching the play of muscles in his back and shoulders as he worked the lash.

With obvious skill, he lightly flicked the tails against her belly, upper thighs, and breasts. He then changed the speed and angle, delivering a series of firm strokes over her bare upper back and vinyl-covered bottom. Keeping her off guard, he snapped the lash across both nipples, visible through the vinyl even from a distance.

He delivered stroke after stroke, controlling her pleasure until her bliss-filled cries echoed off the high ceiling, and the widely spaced walls of the cavernous room. And he didn't stop until it culminated in what looked to be an intense, body-shaking orgasm.

When the dom's lash arm dropped, his upper body gleamed with sweat, showcasing his flawless skin and powerful, well-defined muscles. Fiona licked suddenly dry lips. Flushed, very much aroused, and wishing she could change places with the lucky girl, she shifted in her seat.

The telltale squeak of the leather broadcast her restlessness. She tried to mask it by leaning in and asking Master Axyl, "Are they a couple? They seem so...in sync."

"That's Doc's skill with a flogger you witnessed. He doesn't have a sub. The one he's with is a volunteer for the demo."

"It sounds like there's more to that story."

"Yes, but he's not telling. And if I knew, I wouldn't share. Gossiping is against the rules, as stated in the handbook you received," he replied, gently reprimanding. "Suffice it to say, he's available for demos because he's a permanent bachelor. Steer clear of Doc if you're seeking more than a dom for the night, little subbie."

"Why Doc? Is it just a nickname, or is he really a physician?" she asked, trying to conceal her disappointment as she watched him release his noodle-legged sub from her restraints. He held her close, speaking close to her ear, offering what she imagined was praise and reassurance, as the stage lowered and disappeared amid the crowd as it returned to the main floor.

"His friends call him Doc, and likely, his patients. He's a renowned pediatric orthopedic surgeon here in LA. He often takes time off from his practice to volunteer abroad. Doctors Without Borders, or something like that. Eric was lucky he was available tonight."

"Is all the travel why he's a permanent bachelor?"

Master Axyl's steely gray eyes cut to her.

"Your pardon, sir. It's his story, of course, but it sounds like a lonely life to me."

"Hmm. To each his own," he grunted. "We have more exploring to do. I see a cross opening up. Are you game, little newbie?"

Fiona took his proffered hand and followed him to a roped-off station with a padded cross. She'd never seen one with quite so many eyebolts or a headrest. Once he strapped her to it, she understood why as he demonstrated the functionality of a 360-degree, fully invertible, St. Andrew's cross. It was her first ride on a cross, ever.

During the rest of the event, which lasted until midnight, Fiona caught glimpses of Doc, and the longing returned. Her too-observant guide noticed. With a tug on her arm, he steered her in the opposite direction.

"Heed my warning, little subbie. More experienced subs have tried and gotten their hearts broken. Let's walk the circuit. I'll point out some better prospects for potential doms as we go."

He was right. One scene or one night and a goodbye weren't what she wanted, no matter how hot and skilled the master was. Her experience made her one rung above a novice. Tonight was only her third scene, and none had come close to ending like the one she'd witnessed on the center stage.

She'd been out with her share of men—some dom wannabes, but mostly vanilla guys—and no one wanted anything serious. Being a serial dater wasn't her thing. She wanted permanence and, with her body clock ticking more loudly as she neared the mid-thirties mark, she was ready to start a family. All she needed was to find the right man.

By the end of the night, she made her decision to apply for membership. The astronomical fees were daunting and would take some creative budgeting, but she liked the positive energy of the club and all the safety precautions. And she'd found two doms who were her type on day one. The club seemed like an answer to her prayers.

Although Master Axyl was just visiting and Doc she should avoid, with a membership of close to 1000, the odds of finding someone who wanted to dominate her but also wanted to be with her rose exponentially.

Finding fulfillment and true happiness at long last seemed within reach. All it took was embracing the forbidden and surrendering to a decadent world she never dreamed existed.

Simple enough, right?