“Club guests, especially submissives, deserve to feel safe within the walls of Hazelle House. I’m sorry, Cassie,” Joseph said.
“No apology is needed, Sir. And I’m used to dealing with manipulators.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Cassie, but within Hazelle House, I don’t tolerate liars or manipulation, especially not over such a simple thing as not getting her way. Samson, I’ll allow you to handle this in the manner you see fit.” He nodded in the direction of the main entrance. “Your brother has arrived.”
Thinking on his feet, Samson took Cassie’s upper arms and said, “Have a seat in my spot.”
“You don’t want me to kneel?” she asked, a trace of amusement in her eyes. The fact that she saw any humor in the situation was reassuring.
“No. Why?” he said and then lowered his tone. “Would you if that was what I wanted?”
She nodded without a trace of hesitation. “My knees would sound like Rice Krispies as I went down, and I’d probably need your help getting back up, but I’d do it if it’s what you want.”
He nodded once. “Shoes off and kneel in my chair. That would make me happy. I’ll be right back.”
Ivan was scanning the room searching for him. Because he knew his brother’s face better than his own, he noticed his slightly widened eyes as he caught sight of the play areas across the club—and the bounce of his eyebrows as he reacted and just as quickly hid it.
“You’re a little hairy for me to refer to you as Dorothy, but you look as if you’ve realized you’re no longer in Kansas.”
Ivan turned at his voice and laughed along with him. With an encompassing gesture at the room, he said, “This is not what I’d expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Not the monolithic structure this place resembles from the outside, certainly not the high-end architecture and attention to details in the interior. I suppose I was thinking urban gothic, all painted black, with the scent of pain and sex heavy in the air.”
Samson nearly choked in his laughter. “You sure you didn’t miss your career as a writer? All I smell is herbal disinfectant and Tiger Balm, with just a wispy top note of angst. Come on. Cassie is waiting for us with Joseph and Bunny. We have a situation I need to apprise you of first, though.”
They stepped into the entry hall, and he explained and enlisted Ivan’s complicity.
Shae, Randall, and Mona had joined their group by that time. Shae looked nervous to be seated in the VIP section, but her presence might be necessary. Samson was glad she’d felt comfortable enough with him to come forward and tell them what had been said to Cassie in the ladies’ room.
Cassie smiled up at him, rising from where she knelt in his chair with her hands folded in her lap. “Sir,” she murmured as he tipped up her chin and kissed her. After greeting Ivan with an embrace and a warm kiss, she turned away, and he knew what she was doing before she got very far.
“No,” he said, halting her when she bent to kneel beside his chair. “For this, I want you in my lap.”
Bunny smiled at her and tipped her head toward Samson, and when she looked Samson’s way, he winked at her. Good girl. Considering how challenging and sassy Bunny was, she had turned out to be the dream submissive for his close friend.
Joseph nudged him after he’d directed Ivan to the seat nearest his and pointed to the club floor, where the troublemaking submissive walked, dressed in high heels and nothing more, through the seating areas, which were now filling up with club goers conversing. Jillian was regal as a queen, purposely drawing attention as she headed toward the VIP section.
“Oh, look at me, look at me,” Bunny quipped with jazz hands and rolling eyes. A raspy, disembodied chuckle met Samson’s ears. Joseph lifted the ball gag he held in one hand, his phone in the other, and she grimaced and made a lips-locked-throwing-the-key-over-my-shoulder gesture, and he nodded.
Jillian didn’t pause and kneel at the bottom step with eyes averted, waiting to be noticed. No. She walked right up the steps to the edge of the group of seats. Bunny’s jaw dropped, but she wisely said nothing as Jillian stood there. In his peripheral vision, Samson noticed Cassie kept her eyes on him.
“Have you forgotten yourself, sub?” Samson asked as he stroked Cassie’s luscious hip. Jillian’s gaze rested on Cassie far too long before she frowned and finally kneeled down. He’d give Jillian that much. She was smooth as butter in all the outward signs of submission, when she remembered them, which should’ve been always, considering how long she’d been in the lifestyle.