Jesse stared at the letter a few more times before dropping it on his kitchen counter and scrubbing his face. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

The answer was obvious.

Two weeks ago, Jesse was strung up in the middle of Great Expectations. He faced the club audience as one of their Master’s went to town on his ass. Well not literally. If Jesse remembered correctly, he’d only felt the bite of pain mixed with pleasure once. He safe worded after the first snap of the whip’s tail came across his ass cheek.

Jesse didn’t say red because he was in pain. Quite the opposite, really. He liked it.

When the initial shock of being whipped was over, his dick got hard and he groaned. It was instantaneous. Never had he gotten an instant boner. That was what caused him to safe word out of the scene. He’d barely made it home from the club, before yanking the zipper of his pants down and jerking himself off to completion. That was what scared him—his visceral reaction to the stimulation.

Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer and twisted off the cap. If it hadn’t been for his friend, Isabel, he’d never have applied to TPC. She’d been at the club with him that night, tried to explain what would happen. Jesse didn’t listen. How hard can it be, Bels? It’s not like I’ll lose myself in the moment. I’m a big boy. I can handle this.

“God, I was so wrong.”

The words, “I’ll call you later,” floated over his shoulder as he raced past her without a backward glance.

“Hey, Jesse?” Isabel called out.

Lost in thought, he never heard her come in the front door. “Hey, Bels. I’m in the kitchen.”

Isabel walked into the kitchen and threw herself onto one of the bar stools stationed around the granite-counter-topped island. Jesse watched as she picked up the letter he carelessly threw down. “So you went and signed up, huh?”

Jesse nodded.

“Well good. I was afraid after the incident at Great Expectations, you wouldn’t give them a shot.”

“Trust me, I almost didn’t.” He took another swig of beer. “But, I could hear you in the back of my mind the whole damn time.”

The next day after his ”little problem,” Isabel told him about The Pleasure Club. She explained her own experiences there and how they respected everyone’s privacy. He could even use a fake name if he wanted. He didn’t want that.

What if I want my Master to know my name?

It doesn’t matter, Jesse. You can’t pursue anything outside of the club. No matter what.

That tanks.

The tradeoff is worth it. You can have a different Master any night you need one, or a threesome, or whatever you want.

That does sound appealing.

It sounds just like your style.

It was his style. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself a serial player, but he also couldn’t see himself in a full-time relationship either. He’d watched his parents divorce, marry again, and divorce. He called his parents perpetual love seekers. He wouldn’t follow in their footsteps. He refused.

After contemplating it and weighing the pros and cons of what he was about to do, he filled out the online registration. A week later, his packet arrived. Once the questionnaire was filled out, he mailed it back with the club’s dues and waited.

“Hey, your date’s tonight. When did this letter come?” Isabel’s question brought him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, three days ago, I believe,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug.

Isabel sighed in frustration. “Why aren’t you getting ready? It’s after eight. You have to be there in less than two hours!”

“I am ready.” He ate dinner early and showered all before seven. He wasn’t exactly sure what would be expected of him, so he chose to go with casual. After picking out one of his name brand shirts and jeans, he dressed, fixed his hair, and waited.

“You can’t go looking like that.” Isabel pointed at what he wore as if it were beggar’s clothes.

“What are the chances when I walk through the door, I’ll keep my clothes on?” he questioned, knowing in an instant he had her.

“Well, I guess… But still.” Isabel blew out a breath of frustration. “You have a great button-down silk shirt in your closet. Oh,” she exclaimed excitedly, “and that pair of charcoal dress pants that hug your spectacular ass.” She moaned.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll go change.”

Isabel was probably right; he should dress better than he did, but he was comfortable. He wore a monkey suit every day at work. It was part of the dress code at the law firm he worked for. Causal Friday for them was wearing a dress shirt and slacks. No one dared wear jeans or even a polo shirt.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from his bedroom, dressed in exactly what Isabel told him to wear. “Well?” He held his arms out and spun around.

“Mmm, delicious.” Isabel smacked his ass. “You would’ve made a perfect sub for me, Jesse.”

“Yeah, the whole being gay threw a kink in your little plan, huh?” He winked.

Isabel laughed for a moment and nodded. “Yes, damn it. It did.” She picked up the letter and handed it to him. “All set, stud?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, go have fun.” She pushed him playfully toward the door. “I want deets tomorrow, Jesse.”

He waved, climbed into his little sports car, and took off down the road.

* * * * *

Cian laid out a pair of leather shorts and a note, then headed down to the dungeon to wait. It was his first night working for TPC, and he was nervous. He didn’t doubt his skills. He was a professional Dom for Great Expectations. He knew he could give pleasure to anyone who willingly submitted to him. It was his partner for the evening. He knew the guy.

Well not really.

Jesse came to Cian’s club with who he thought was Jesse’s Mistress. Isabel tried to explain to Charles, a full-time Master, like Cian, that Jesse was new. Completely green. He scoffed at Isabel and trussed her friend up without a second thought. He didn’t even take a moment to explain anything to the man.

As Charles unfurled the whip he customarily used on the ”newbie’s,” Cian’s stomach turned in disgust. He wanted to stop the scene right then and there, but couldn’t. Jesse hadn’t safe worded.

Charles warmed up his arm with a few practice shots. The whip cracked against the floor and made Cian’s skin crawl. The whole scene just seemed off. Wrong. Clenching his fist as Charles flicked his wrist and the tail of the whip snapped against the floor one more time, he closed his eyes and counted to ten. Give me the strength to stand here and not make an ass out of myself. The whip cracked again.

Cian opened his mouth to holler something at the bastard when Charles raised his arm and snapped the whip. The end connected with the man’s flesh, and Jesse moaned. As Charles rolled his shoulder again, the man safe worded out. The scene was over.

Cian heaved a sigh of relief.

He watched the attendants unhook Jesse. The man didn’t say a word to anyone. Jesse ducked his head and moved quickly for the exit. As an experienced Master, you look for little tells in a person’s demeanor. Jesse obviously wasn’t in pain. He hadn’t screamed his safe word; he spoke it as if he’d been talking the whole time.

The lights from the club had hit him just right for a moment, and Cian could see the slight pink tinge on his cheeks. Jesse was aroused.

Taking one last look around the entrance of the castle, Cian smiled. Tonight he would be able to teach Jesse all about pleasure, and this time he couldn’t run.