Decadent Master. Tawny Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ rules several times, leading to at least one submissive seeking medical care for injuries,” Rolf said as he led Dierk on a quick tour of the club. He stopped inside the main dungeon, kicked a booted foot up onto a bench. “Since I wasn’t here at the time, I can’t verify or dispute the rumor.”

      “I’ll have to keep an eye on him. Do we keep pictures of our members?”

      “Yes, they’re kept in our computer. The receptionist out front checks every person in, and if she doesn’t personally know them, she checks the picture in the system.”

      “Good. I’ll take a look at the photos when we get back to the office.”

      “He’s easy to pick out in a crowd. He’s a dark sonofabitch, with straight black hair. Pulls it back in a ponytail. His eyes are the color of coal, and his mouth is always twisted in a sneer. Looks mean and has a reputation to match. Some members tell me the guy’s trouble. Personally, I haven’t had any problems with him. I’ll tell you this: the submissives, especially the humans, can’t seem to resist him, despite his rep for ignoring limits.”

      Dierk shook his head. That he would not tolerate, especially if the guy had actually injured a submissive he’d been playing with. No Dom had the right to ignore a submissive’s limits, ever. Especially when it came to an issue of safety. Every Dom worth a damn knew a submissive’s safety was his responsibility.

      Safe. Sane. Consensual. Those were the three pillars of their world. If any one of those three were knocked down, the whole damn thing would come crashing to the ground.

      What the hell was the guy thinking?

      Dierk’s nerves were twitchy as he checked the equipment, making sure it had all been maintained properly, cleaned, and sanitized. Meanwhile, Rolf continued his monologue about each member of the club, ending with a human Domme who called herself Mistress Raven.

      Dierk glanced at the clock before he checked the last piece of equipment. Ten minutes and it would be sundown. The club would open. And this room would be full of humans and immortals, tops and bottoms, stripping away their everyday identities to become the Master, slave, Dom, or submissive of their fantasy.

      Rolf rested an elbow on a nearby support. “The private suites are leased by a handful of members, including Master Zane, who has the last room on the right.”

      “Do we have keys?” Dierk asked, standing. Everything looked good. Nothing broken or needing repair.

      “Sure.” Rolf cocked his head to the side. “They’re in the office, bottom desk drawer.”

      “I want to take a look at his suite before he comes in tonight.”

      “Good idea.”

      Dierk headed toward the office, his brother trailing close behind. “What about cameras?” Dierk asked.

      “We don’t have any in the private suites, if that’s what you mean.”

      “I want some installed tomorrow. But I don’t want the members to know. I don’t trust anyone else to handle this but you. Will you find someone to come in and install them for me? We need a mortal company who can be here before sunset.”

      “Will do.”

      “Thanks.” Dierk unlocked the desk drawer, snatched up a ring loaded with keys, and headed toward the private suites. “You ever watch the sonofabitch play? Is he intentionally ignoring his submissives’ limits or is he just getting carried away?”

      “Hard to say. Like I said, the guy looks like he would take on a demon without thinking twice about it. Hell, he might be a demon, for all we know. He’s immortal, but I can’t say for sure what species. But, as mean as he looks, I’ve never seen him get outta line.”

      Dierk unlocked the door and stepped inside. Behind him, Rolf snapped on the lights. A quick look around, and Dierk had the guy summed up. Hardcore sadist. Among his toys, Master Zane had a large and wide assortment of torture instruments, more than he’d seen in one place before. There was the standard—ropes, floggers, paddles, masks, and leather restraints—as well as needles, nails, enemas, equipment for electro play, mummification, and water torture. This was not a Dom for a new bottom. His taste ran to the extreme side of S and M.

      Dierk was no angel, had in fact tried most of those activities at least once. Some of them he’d liked. Others, not at all. But even he had some limits on what he’d do in a dungeon.

      As the club owner, Dierk couldn’t limit the activities that went on in this room, as long as those three pillars were maintained. Safe. Sane. Consensual. But he would watch this guy closely, and if he stepped even a toe over the line, he’d be out. No explanations. No second chances.

      “We better get going,” Rolf said, moving toward the door. “Alicia the receptionist will be coming in any minute now. We don’t want Zane to know we’ve been in here.”

      “Yeah.” Dierk followed Rolf out, locking the door behind them. He pocketed the keys just as he heard the back door chime.

      He shared a knowing smile with his brother and headed toward his office to view the digital picture files. Rolf went to gather the employees as they arrived.

      After a quick introduction to the staff, Dierk gave a short speech about making sure their guests were safe at all times. Then he sent them off to see to their jobs.

      The club wasn’t just a bondage dungeon. There was also a bar and restaurant in the building, catering to a more mainstream human crowd, which meant there were over fifty people to manage, including cooks, waiters and waitresses, bartenders, dishwashers, and maintenance crew. Human and immortal, both.

      If there was one thing he hated, it was having someone looking over his back, telling him how to do his job. He wasn’t going to be that kind of boss to his staff.

      His staff. Damn, that sounded strange.

      After the impromptu meeting, Dierk settled himself at the small nonalcoholic bar positioned at the front of the dungeon and ordered a yerba mate. He swiveled his stool around to watch the action unfolding behind him, in the dungeon. His eyes meandered through the room, from a Shibari scene just beginning in the corner, to a Mistress training a lovely little olive-complexioned slave girl on a kneeler, to the entry, where a pair of women had just stepped into the room.

      The one on the right he recognized from his quick perusal of the photographs on file. Mistress Raven. The one on the left, however, was new.

      “Looks like Mistress Raven brought in some fresh meat,” Rolf said, taking the seat beside him.

      Dierk grabbed his cup, taking a sip of the grassy-flavored hot beverage. Humans drank it for its health benefits. He drank it to clear his mind. An immortal didn’t need anything to counteract cellular destruction or improve his immune system.

      Rolf sighed. “What a sweet little thing she is,” he mused. “Obviously scared out of her mind.”

      “Yeah,” Dierk agreed, tracking the petite brunette as she followed her hostess, almond-shaped eyes wide, little heart-shaped face pale. Her lush lips, coated with a layer of deep pink lipstick, were slightly parted in a sexy pout. He suddenly ached to kiss that pink lipstick off, smear it all over her sweet face.

      “My money’s on that one leaving before СКАЧАТЬ