Claimed Darker by Em Brown
Chapter 9
DARREN
Past
Ihave my own entrance to the BDSM side of my club, but Bridget wants to give the clothes she brought to Cheryl. Before we can make it over to my office to see if Cheryl is there, Manny Wu, dressed head to toe in a black Armani suit, accosts me. Manny is a hanger-on, but my mother and his are friends, and I’ve always felt kind of sorry for him, so I humor him.
“Darren, Darren,” he says and doesn’t seem to notice Bridget at all. “I just talked with Hao Young. He’s back from SoCal and was here earlier.”
I motion for the head of my security detail, Marshall, to come over. I instruct him to take Bridget to see Cheryl. Cheryl had texted me while I was in the car about Lee Hao Young, a triad vanguard trying to recruit me to fill my father’s shoes in the counterfeiting division. I told her to set up a lunch meeting. I probably should be paying more homage to someone as high up as Hao Young, but I am not derailing my night with Bridget.
“I told him all about how—”
“I’ve got plans for tonight. You can tell me about it tomorrow.”
“This won’t take long. I promise.”
“Let’s take the talk upstairs. You get five minutes.”
We head to my private balcony. Manny takes a seat on the sofa, but I remain standing to reinforce the short duration.
“I told Hao Young about the massage parlors I’m doing with Tran in the suburbs.”
“You told him you were working with the Park Street Boyz?”
“I kinda fudged that detail. Made it sound like it was more my thing. We’re going gangbusters. Got more clients than we can book because we don’t have enough girls. He said I should talk to JD about it. And I mentioned that I’d love to work my way up in the triad. He suggested that JD could mentor me. Maybe we could even work together on his shit. But you know what your cousin is like.”
JD’s not a fan of Manny. When we were teens, JD was always trying to find a way to ditch him.
I want to cut to the chase. “So what do you want from me? I don’t think another loan is going to solve your problem.”
“I’m not looking for more money right now. I need you to talk to JD. Convince him to take me on.”
“That’s a big ask.”
“But you and JD are like brothers. He’ll listen to you.”
“He’ll listen. Doesn’t mean he’ll agree.”
“Will you at least try?”
“I can try,” I reply.
“You’re the man, Darren. Anytime you want me to cut you in on the massage parlors, you just say the word.”
So far I’ve limited my involvement in triad business, but if I was looking to expand my activities beyond The Lotus, it wouldn’t be to run low-level massage parlors, especially with the PSB.
“I’m good, but thanks,” I reply.
“Tran thinks I’m hot shit. Ever since I brought him here. He’d like to come back.”
“No.”
Manny pouts. “But he’s my business partner.”
“I don’t want people thinking he’s a regular.”
“The PSB are a pretty big deal.”
“Most of their stuff is still street robberies and bootlegging CDs and DVDs, which are dying products.”
“You should meet Tran. He’s smart, he’s got vision—”
“One thing at a time, Manny. You want me to talk to JD or not?”
“Fine. Yeah. Talk to JD. You wanna have a drink?”
“I have a guest.”
“Oh, you got pussy to pound.”
I do, but that’s none of Manny’s business.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve talked to JD,” I tell him. “After he’s back from Thailand.”
“I heard you and he took some college girls to Andrea’s wedding.”
“Who told you?”
“Your ex. She said you guys were slumming it.”
“She’s just jealous.”
“Yeah, women get like that.”
Like Manny, given his limited experience with the opposite sex, knows what he’s talking about. That kind of stuff bugs the shit out of JD.
“They’re so emotional,” Manny continues. “It’s not worth taking that crap just for pussy.”
I think about all that I’ve put up with from Bridget. I should be agreeing with Manny, but I don’t. “Maybe you need to upgrade the pussy you’re getting,” I suggest.
Done with Manny, I turn away and head into my office, where I find Marshall and Cheryl chowing down on fried chicken.
Bridget hands me a bag of chicken. “I fried them right before you picked me up.”
“This is amazing,” Cheryl says with her mouth half full.
“It’s good, boss,” seconds Marshall.
I’m not hungry, but I pull out a drumstick and take a bite. It is good.
“Your father would’ve loved these,” Marshall says to me.
“Your dad a fan of fried chicken?” Bridget asks me.
“Mr. Lee used to send me down to the Church’s on Telegraph Ave. all the time to get a bucket for him.”
“You ever been to Maybelle’s?”
“Hell yeah. That’s the perfect meal: her fried chicken and a slice of sweet potato pie.”
“You’re not having any?” I ask Bridget.
“I had my fill.”
“Right. When you were with Felipe.” Cheryl hands me a napkin after I lick my fingers clean. I turn to Bridget. “Let’s go. You can leave your backpack here in the office.”
“You sure you don’t want more chicken?”
I cross my arms. “That a delay tactic?”
“I’ll have more,” Marshall says, “if you don’t mind, boss.”
“Me, too,” Cheryl says.
“I’ll bring more next time,” Bridget offers, handing Cheryl the bag of chicken.
I take Bridget by the elbow and guide her out of the office.
“Wait! I left my mask in my backpack,” she says.
“Your mask?” I ask.
“I don’t exactly want to advertise my identity to your other club members.”
“There are masks over there, but you won’t need one. I’ve got a private room reserved.” We continue walking.
“Oh. Well, why don’t we just go up to your place then?” she asks.
“Because if I decide to invite company, I don’t have to go far.”
“Menage is on my list of hard limits.”
For now, I think to myself. “You’ve never fantasized about being with two guys at once? Or maybe adding a woman?” I inquire.
“Not really. I take it it’s not new to you?”
“Menage? No.”
She pauses. “So were you with another guy or two women?”
“Depends what instance you’re referring to.”
“Have you been with two women before?”
“Yes.”
“A woman and a guy?”
“Yes.”
“Two guys?”
“No. Any other combinations you want to know about?”
“What other combinations are there?”
“Menage doesn’t stop at three.”
She stops in her tracks. “How many people have you been with at one time?”
“I’ve been in a foursome before. Two men, two women.”
I eye her carefully for her reaction, wondering if it’s too much information for her. Will she be put off? She seems very pensive.
“You do that kind of thing a lot?” she asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She looks skeptical, so I add, “I prefer one-on-one BDSM. It allows me to focus. But if you want to give it a try—”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m even doing this. My whole perception of BDSM is going to be shaped by what happens tonight.”
“Thanks for the pressure.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You don’t have anything to worry about. We’ve been through your hard limits. You’ll have a safe word—mercy—when you need me to back off. You know how to get through to the other side?”
She nods and disappears into the ladies’ room, which has another egress that leads to the BDSM side of my club. I draw in a long breath. I’ve thought through how the night will unfold. I want to get it right for her.
For the first time, I feel faintly nervous. I’ve never been nervous in my club before.
Walking through the men’s room, I emerge on the other side of the club and meet up with Bridget. Whereas the main part of The Lotus is steeped in calming tones of blue, the BDSM side pulses in red. It’s an unusually busy night, and many of the members are watching a public display between a dominatrix and her two subs, a gimp and a woman wearing a leather dog fetish hood.
Taking Bridget by the hand, I lead her up a staircase to one of three private rooms. I chose the room outfitted with Edwardian furniture, with burgundy vintage wallpaper and Persian rugs. The other rooms are much more austere. One resembles a jail cell, the other a medieval torture chamber.
There are a few items in the present room that might intimidate. There’s a swing in the center of the room, a cabinet with glass doors showcasing the implements inside, a St. Andrew’s cross in one corner and an A-frame in another. Otherwise, most of the furniture—like the sofa, coffee table, framed mirrors and armchairs—are pretty innocuous.
“You want me to order you a Shirley Temple?” I ask.
“Maybe just a cup of water,” Bridget answers, taking in everything. “So you never said what the plan for tonight’s going to be.”
“The plan is to take it slow,” I reply, walking over to a sideboard to pour two glasses of water. “You remember the safe word?”
“Mercy.”
I hand her the water. “We’ll try different things to see what you like.”
“What if there’s nothing I like?”
“That won’t happen.”
She takes a sip of the water. “How do you know?”
I tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. “Because you’re a little sex fiend.”
She’s taken aback in disbelief.
I give her a wicked half smile. “Babe, you haven’t failed to get wet for me so far.”
“That doesn’t mean that I’m a…”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a sex fiend. There’s nothing wrong with having a naughty side. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess. Sure.”
I walk over to the fireplace and turn it on. Taking a seat on the sofa, I tell her, “Come over here.”
She comes over and sets her water down on the coffee table. I have her sit between my legs and start by massaging her neck to relax her.
“What kinds of things are we going to try?” she murmurs.
“Some rope bondage.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
You have no idea what rope is capable of.Aloud, I say, “Possibly more spanking.”
“Okay, we’ve done that.”
“Lots of fucking.”
She chuckles. “I figured that.”
I slide my hand beneath her sweater to rub her shoulders and upper back.
“You could give me one those foot massages,” she suggests.
“If you’ve been good.”
“What do I have to do to be good?”
“Obey, take what I dish out, and appreciate it. Simple.”
“But easier said than done. Especially by you since you’re the one in control.”
“You’d rather switch places?”
“Maybe. Though I wouldn’t know what I’d be doing.”
“Watch and learn then.”
I’m not sure why I said that, because I’m not a switch and have no intention of taking on the submissive role. The only time I’ve been on the receiving end of a flogger was when I was first learning BDSM. My instructor at the time said it was the best way to understand the experience of the sub.
“What makes submission such a turn-on is the suffering your sub is willing to go through for you,” my Mistress had said. “So you need to appreciate their pain.”
I pull Bridget back against me and reach for her crotch. I rub her through her jeans. “What kind of underwear are you wearing?”
“Cotton.”
“We’re getting you new underwear.”
“Will you stop wasting your money?”
I unbutton her jeans, pull down the zipper, and slip my hand inside. “You’re right. You’re going to go commando when you’re with me.”
She sighs as my fingers comb through her bush and brush against her flesh. In silence, I caress her as she lies against me. Her wetness starts to flow.
Grabbing her jeans and underwear, I yank them down past her hips, letting them settle just below her knees because she still has her thick boots on. She squirms as I resume fondling her. Her writhing atop me makes my cock crazy hard, and I press my hips against her. I shove my free hand up her top to grope a breast through her bra. I look down at her closed eyes, her parted lips, her furrowed brow. I know I can make her come good, but I want her to experience an orgasm so mind-shattering, she can’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else.
After working up a wet mess between her thighs, I sit her back up and peel off her sweater and top.
“Take everything off,” I instruct.
As she stands up to step out of her boots, I walk over to the cabinet and take out a cord of rope made from hemp.
I walk over to a mirror and command, “Come here.”
Once she’s in front of the mirror, I have her fold her arms behind her back and wrap the rope around her in a chest harness.
“The rope looks good on you,” I murmur into her ear.
She tilts her head to one side as she gazes at her reflection in the mirror.
Taking her by the rope, I lead her back to the sofa, bend her over the arm, and brush her hair over a shoulder and out of the way. I take a step back and admire the view. Nice rounded hips. Supple ass. My preferences definitely differ from JD’s, who likes his women thin and small.
“We’re going to start with some light flogging,” I tell Bridget. “Nothing to worry about. It’ll feel like a massage.”
“From a flogger?” she says with skepticism.
I walk over to get a deer-skin flogger from the cabinet. The soft, supple leather lands more tamely than others.
I massage her shoulders and her ass, warming up the body parts again, before lightly swinging the tails against her buttocks.
“Remember you can use your safe word,” I remind her, swishing the tails a little harder against her.
“Got it.”
I whip harder.
“Oh!” she cries.
“Too hard?” I ask.
“No. You just caught me by surprise.”
I smack her ass with more force. “How’s that?”
“Not too bad.”
“You think you can take more?”
“Yeah.”
I bring the flogger down harder.
She yelps.
“That the most you can go?” I inquire.
“Um…maybe a little harder.”
I land another blow.
She cries out again, then draws in a long breath. “Maybe a tiny bit harder.”
Impressed, I flog her twice.
“Okay! I think that’s good.”
I move to other parts of her body, lightly slapping the flogger on her shoulders, her upper arms, and her thighs. Since she lies on the sofa on the side of her face, I can see her profile and discern if she’s having a hard time. She exclaims when the tails catch her sensitive inner thigh. I go back to flogging her ass, making it blush dark pink, gradually increasing the impact. She surpasses her previous limit.
To reward her efforts, I put down the flogger and fondle her clit.
“You did good, Bridge,” I praise. “I think you were made for BDSM.”
“I don’t know about that,” she murmurs.
I sink my fingers into her pussy. It’s true that she has a long way to go, but so far the signs are very promising. Which means I’m in trouble.
