Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“Oh yeah, Kitty, as I like to call her, helps me fall asleep real quick,” Sam hums, glancing at the busty model with appreciation. “I’m usually out like a light after jerking off to the beautiful Kitty.”
Joe rolls his eyes, but then we step out and he opens another nondescript door on the left.
“Ignore that asshole. Meanwhile, here’s my room at the club,” he grunts, gesturing inside. To my surprise, Joe’s bedroom could not be more different from what we just saw. Joe’s a bit of a monk, actually. His bed is made with hospital corners, and his desk is sparkling clean. Fresh white curtains wave at the tiny window, and there’s even a bookshelf filled with all sorts of tomes against one wall.
“As you can tell, I actually read sometimes,” Joe says in a wry tone. “Unlike these guys, who’ve never cracked a book in their lives.”
“Speak for yourself,” Sam shoots back. “I read back in high school.”
Joe guffaws.
“That was years ago, my man, and that crap doesn’t count. I know you probably had some pretty girl writing all your essays for you, so like hell, you read.”
There’s a shit-eating grin on Sam’s handsome features and he nods.
“Yeah, you’re right. I was too busy boning women to read anything. But I passed anyways, and it was because I fucked Clarissa McNealy so well that she was happy to write my reports for me. Hell, she was dying to write that shit for me, and in fact, I think we might even have been fucking while she was literally typing some of those essays out. Good things those essays were all digitally submitted because there would have been splotches of semen on a hard copy,” he snickers.
Joe rolls his eyes, shutting the door.
“Like I said, ignore this fucker. The club’s just lucky that I’m the treasurer, and not a clown like this dude.”
Sam mock-protests, holding his hands up.
“Yeah, but I work the cash register at the store sometimes. So I’m obviously good enough with numbers to do that.”
Joe rolls his eyes again as we proceed down the hall, still talking.
“It doesn’t take a genius to run the register at the store because cash registers are high tech now. You don’t need to have a brain because the fucking machine does everything for you.”
Sam merely shrugs, unbothered.
“Still. I do it, so I must at least know how to count to ten.”
Joe merely grunts, this time moving past a couple more doors.
“No need to look in because they’re the bedrooms of the rest of those assholes,” he grunts. “But yeah, we also have a special guest bedroom.” This time, he flings open a door on the right, and I gasp because this is clearly a woman’s space. It’s large and airy, with white-painted walls, a floral bedspread on an enormous California king-size bed, and fluttery pink curtains at the window. There’s an elegantly carved armoire in one corner, as well as an attached bathroom that seems to be decorated in white marble.
“Goodness, I didn’t know you had female visitors,” I murmur. “Much less ones that stay overnight.”
Joe shoots me a searching look.
“How much do you know about the club’s initiation process?” he asks in a slow tone.
“Not a lot,” I admit. “Why, will I be using this room during the initiation?”
Sam hesitates, about to speak, but Joe cuts him off.
“Yeah, definitely,” he says in a smooth voice. “That’s why we did it up all feminine. We want our women to be comfortable.”
Then, he shuts the door and we’re back in the darkened hallway. Hmm, there’s something going on, but I decide not to push it because I just got here and don’t want to rock the boat. There will be time enough for discovery later.
Sam perks then before opening another door which leads to a set of stairs.
“We’ll just go through this place real quick,” he says by way of explanation. “And then the tour will be done.”
I follow him down the narrow stairs, Joe at my back, and soon, I’m in a basement rec room. At least that’s what it looks like at first. There are pennants on the walls, dilapidated sofas, as well a dartboard, a flat-screen TV, and a small mini-bar off to the side. But in the low light, I also see contraptions that make me gasp. There’s a full-size St. Andrew’s cross set against one wall, as well as a padded bench, a breeding stand, and a set of stocks.
“Goodness,” I gasp, my eyes going wide as my chest tightens. “Do you use this stuff? Silly question, I know.”
Joe caresses the smooth wood of the stocks with one big hand, his eyes gleaming in the low lights.
“Sometimes,” he says in a low tone. “Especially the whips and the padded bench if the woman deserves it. You know BDSM can be used for reward as well as punishment, right?” he asks.