Seven Days - The Beginning (Jess & Liam's Story, #1) Read online

  Madam takes my hand and pulls me towards the back of the club. “The receptionist said tonight you have new women and will be auctioning them for sponsors?”

  “What a crude way of saying it.” Madam’s lips curve up into a tight smile. “When we have new girls with the intent of serving as a sexual submissive’s in the club, they are required to go through training. As I said last night, we have members, VIP’s who enjoy using their memberships to training our new submissive’s.”

  Madam stops and turns to face me, the few lights from the ceiling glint in her black eyes, making me shudder. “My club is for those who have particular tastes. Some like to be dominated and enjoy submitting to the girls here. Others require they be the Top, or Dom we call them here. Our club offers both for the scenes the members want to play.”

  “I can’t do that,” I whisper. “Actually I can’t do any of that.”

  “You would be amazed at how freeing it is to hand over all your needs to another,” Madam says. “This is our specialty here at Jolie’s. We have women who are willing to submit sexually, handing over their trust to another to care for their needs and in turn, the members here get what they came for. The feeling of control, along with the gratifying experience of caring for another human or just Topping them. That is, after all, what this boils down to—meeting needs and fundamental human desires.”

  “No, I don’t mean I couldn’t follow instructions, actually I can follow orders very well,” I tell her. “I just...”

  “Let us continue the tour before you jump to conclusions.” Madam pulls me through a black door and we walk down a long hall. Much like her office, this hall is lined with doors, but there are small windows in each, covered in black silk curtains, but some are pulled back to reveal what is happening behind them.

  At the first one, Madam stops and motions for me to look. I’m not so much shocked by what I see on the other side, as I am—amazed? A woman is bound laying on top of a platform, her hands tied above her head, legs spread eagle and tied as well. Another woman—this one clad in the cliché leather, the traditional no pants version and knee high boots—stands above the tied up chick, holding a thin leather whip in her hand.

  I’ve seen this stuff in movies, read some books like every other chick on the planet, but it is something else to see it in person. With real eyes in a real room, smelling the sweet aroma of desire mixed with the musk of sex and leather. There is something delectably dirty and appealing about the scene in front of me.

  “Nadia here has just finished her sexual submissive training, I require for the club,” Madam says. “I believe in order to fully submit, one must understand the desires and needs—the psychology really, that comes from wanting to obtain dominance. So, I ask all shareholders do both. Unless of course it is really not their kink.”

  Nadia, the one clad in black, trails the thin leather tails over the woman’s stomach and down her mound forcing a moan from the woman on the bed. With a light flick of her wrist, the small whip strikes out and kisses the delicate skin.

  “It is a crop.” Madam watches me intently. “The right amount of control is needed in order to ensure pleasure. There is a fine line between pain which brings about pleasure and pain that produces, just that—pain.”

  “So training includes both submission and dominance.” I follow Madam, feeling almost giddy over what else I’m going to see. It’s like being in a fetish fantasy, one I never knew I would be fascinated by.

  She stops in front of another door and I peek in. All my fascination falls to the floor in a ball of ‘what the fuck am I seeing’? A woman stands behind a man, who is tied and bound to a platform and she’s wearing a belt. The woman thrusts behind the man, pulling his hair, and I’m pretty sure I know what is happening.

  “Submission is an art,” Madam says and we continue past several closed curtains, I guess those who don’t want to be seen at all. “It is a bond created in trust and tenderness. Many think this world is dark and it often is, when cruel minds are mixed with damaged souls. As I said before—there is a difference between causing enjoyable pain and abusing.”

  We continue on our sex bondage tour and my head is reeling. By the time we reach the end of the hall, I think I’ve seen just about every sex fetish known to man. At least, all the ones I ever want to see, and I know for a fact, I’m not meant for this place.

  Madam opens the final door, and it leads into an office-like room with a large bed in black silk linens. “We can start you right away, Ms. Caughlin. This evening, if you prefer.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to fit in here,” I say.

  “I understand if you are hesitant, it is a lot to take—”

  “No.” This time I cut her off. “I mean I’m not ready for any of this ‘cause I’ve never even had sex.” There I said it. Now she knows for certain I don’t belong here.

  Madam tilts her head and her perfect eyebrows lift upwards to her hairline. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

  Of course, she doesn’t. She runs a freaking sex den. “I’m a virgin.”

  Madam takes a deep, almost cleansing breath. “Jess, why didn’t you tell me that last night?”

  I shrug. I have no idea.

  “If you had told me this, I would never have led this tour, Jess.” Her tone is weirdly gentle. “Also, our conversation last night would have gone very differently.”

  Yeah, like she would have kicked me out in a heartbeat.

  “You must be desperate and very scared Jess,” Madam says, but it’s not condescending. If anything, her tone sounds warm and kind. Motherly even. It seems foreign. I’ve never had anyone talk to me this way.

  “I have a week,” I tell her, again. “To pay my mother's debt or we both disappear.”

  “Twenty-two thousand dollars.”

  “Yes.”

  Madam leans against the desk and crosses her arms. She blinks a few times like she’s thinking. “Tell me Jess. How much is your innocence worth?”

  What kind of question is that? “It’s worth my respect, my trust.”

  Madam flashes me a smile. “Do you have a history of sexual abuse?”

  I flat out refuse to answer. That is none of her business.

  “You say you are sexually inexperienced, I’m—”

  “I told you I'm a virgin,” I clarify. “That is limited to my vagina, not my mouth. I’m twenty-two for Pete's sake.”

  Madam nods. “So your trauma was probably a one-time occurrence, and it was molestation, by someone you didn’t know though it was traumatic enough that you have shame and have avoided sex.”

  I’m pleading the fifth on this.

  “Your silence confirms it.” Madam pushes from the desk. “You say your virginity is worth a man's respect and trust. What about a monetary value?”

  I gasp. “I’m not selling myself.”

  “I’m not talking about selling yourself. I’m saying sell your trust and respect,” Madam says. “A woman’s virginity has been valued since the beginning of time. Why is that Jess?”

  “’Cause men are pigs?”

  “Some. But it is because of what it symbolizes. Many think it is about purity, but it is really about the idea of claiming someone, owning a part they will always remember. Owning a woman's most personal experience—she is vulnerable, scared, wanting to please and putting it all in the hands of the man who is going to take it from her. Taking a woman’s innocence is the ultimate control.”

  I get what she’s saying. Really she’s pretty spot on; I would think. “How much do you think that is worth?”

  “We can start sponsorship at fifty.”

  “Fifty dollars?”

  Madam laughs, “No dear. Fifty-thousand.”

  Start? “You want to auction me off?”

  “I think you are missing the point of my club. This is a sexual lifestyle choice. The people who come here are professionals, mothers, and schoolteachers. They come to learn and experience sexual submission or Dominance, not to have every as
pect of their lives controlled. I don’t like the slave and Master mentality that generally comes with the terms. I find it brings out cruelty and the power side is too heavily weighed on the Top.”

  “So these people don’t do twenty-four hour control freak stuff?”

  “No, though many do bring it home and enjoy certain aspects once they have found someone compatible.”

  I think I’m beginning to understand. This is sex play, a lifestyle but with boundaries. “So I don’t have to have someone boss me around all the time?”

  “Only when you are in the club or learning.”

  I nod, catching on.

  “I propose we can start by finding you a training Dom, have you trained in sexual submission with the understanding you are to remain pure. I believe I know a member who will like this. Then, at the end of the week, since you’re short on time, we’ll find a Dom, who wants to teach you the art of pleasing. He’ll help you discover what pleases you and will pay extra for it. This will include taking your innocence and then teaching you, a fresh unstained lamb, how to please in a submissive way and get what you need as well. This, Jess will be unbelievably valuable.”

  “And what do you get?”

  “Thirty percent of the total auction goes to the club, the rest is yours—to spend as you need to help your education and training. Should that require settling a debt, for some piece of mind, who am I to judge? I’ll also receive an insane amount of publicity as members spread the word.”

  “I don’t think I can do that,” I say. “It all sounds too close to prostitution.”

  “Life is nothing but one thing. We can’t define ourselves in a single word. We are made up of many parts, as is life. Various shades of color.” Madam pauses for her words to sink in. “You will be in a safe environment, here at the club, with someone who wants desperately to please and make sure you are satisfied. A man who will cherish the experience with you and will also have your trust and your respect.”

  “How can that be guaranteed?” I ask. “You’re asking me to sell myself to some random group of men.”

  “We have only four main VIP Dom’s here at Madams. Four men who have helped me build this place. If you’d like, I can offer you only to them.”

  “To a group of degenerate’s.”

  “Hardly. These men specialize in pleasing women. Actually, that is what they love most, a woman giving herself over to their control, entrusting them with it.” Madam shrugs. “They are quite incredible. In a world of so many who just want to dominate, these Four get the most pleasure out of pleasing a woman and ultimately gaining her complete trust. These men understand true Dominance.”

  “And teaching them to submit.”

  “These men help women discover themselves. Also, they teach them the basics of the lifestyle, what is expected of them and what to look for when these women start to search for their final Dom. My Four do not have the time to care for a submissive at home. They choose to use their skills as men, and influential men at that, here in my club.”

  “So they are control freaks with commitment issues.”

  “Or they have yet to find the submissive that can handle them.”

  “I don’t know...” I say, my voice trailing off.

  “The women who come to me, Jess, are in need of love and protection. In need of discovering their own power.”

  “Because submitting is powerful?”

  Madam laughs. “You’d be amazed at the power play that goes on.”

  Somehow, I doubt that.

  “I want to help women Jess,” Madam says. “Too many get sucked up and devoured by life. Especially ones who are born into horrid circumstances. You look like you need a bit of encouragement. Do you think you are the first scared doe I have helped discover themselves?”

  Considering she had a woman behind every door, training another—no, I know I’m not the only one. Part of me is now beginning to wonder how much of my conversations with Gin, this Lena woman heard.

  “Fifty-thousand,” Madam reminds me. “Starting bid. These men are insanely wealthy and love to out Dom each other. ”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Do you have time to think, Jess?” Madam says. “You now have six days, correct?”

  Shit. Six days before mom and I are chopped into bite-sized morsels. Can I really do this? I mean, really? I don’t have the time to stay on my moral high road. I’ve only clung on to my virginity because I didn’t want to be my mother. I didn’t want to hand over the one thing that was almost stolen from me to some douche who didn’t deserve it. Madam insists whoever wants it bad enough will pay and then we’ll both be happy, me most of all by the sounds of it.

  “We can start you tonight.” Madam comes towards me and grips my shoulder. “Six days Jess. Trust me. You have to start trusting someone to take care of you. I can see in your eyes how long you have fought and stayed strong. I’ll bet you were the one caring for your mother, when you were the one who needed affection and strength. You’ll find it here.”

  “Alright.” I can’t believe I’m doing this, but like I knew earlier when I walked in here, I was leaving my sanity at the door. I have worked too hard to let go of my degree, and run and live in hiding, knowing Big Boss Jones will eventually find me.

  Madam smiles like it’s Christmas morning and, I guess, for her it is. I can only imagine how hard it is to find a virgin in a sex dungeon.

  “Let’s get you ready Ms. Caughlin,” she says. “We have to find your first Dom.”

  Chapter 6

  I like how all the women here use the word ‘sponsor’. They’ve all twisted the words to fit their set of morals and I find, sitting in front of a movie star quality mirror, I’m doing the same. Honestly, I can see the logic behind it all. Since humans were first able to write words, women have been seen as sexual beings, men lusted after them uncontrollably, barely able to contain their feeble minds and keep their hands to themselves. Why not use what I have for my own profit and procure my own future? Besides. I’m not selling my virginity. I’m going to be sponsored and then trained how to have great sex.

  Justify much? Yeah well, I’m out of time.

  Madam deposited me in this chair in some kind of dressing room behind the stage after I was instructed to bathe and shave my legs and armpits. Some chick who sat in the bathroom with me told me they’d get to wax the other parts tomorrow when I was sent for my makeover. A redheaded woman, roughly thirty-something, stands behind me with a curling iron, adding fat waves to my otherwise pencil straight hair. Another does my makeup, so it doesn’t look like I’m wearing makeup, which I’ve never understood. My new makeup artist keeps smiling at me, I think she knows I’m nervous and is trying to calm me. She has a sweet face. Large almond eyes the color of charred wood and high cheekbones with dark skin that reminds me of Queens of Egypt. She’s gorgeous, but not in the arrogant ‘I’m too beautiful to talk to the likes of you’ way. Somehow, she manages to be approachable, which only adds to her appeal.

  “What’s your name, Kitten?” she asks me. The bordello nickname throws me for a loop, but I remind myself I’m in the process of being initiated into their fetish house.

  “Jess.”

  “I’m Cara,” she tells me and puckers her lips. I follow suit when she holds up the tube of pink lip-gloss. “I bet I know who is going to win you.”

  Win. Like I’m a prize. And maybe that is how they view the women, these guys who sponsor and train for their glorified cat house. I swallow the thoughts down and Cara pets my head.

  “Don’t worry, Kitten,” she smiles. “You’ve got gold between your legs. Madam won’t let anyone steal your money pot.”

  Cara leans up and walks out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

  “Ignore her,” the redhead says. “Cara’s just upset she’s no longer the new girl.”

  The doors swings open and Madam strolls in with a clipboard stacked with papers. When she sees me, she gasps and hugs the papers to her chest. “You look fa
ntastic.”

  I glance to the mirror in front of me. My dirty blonde hair now falls in soft waves over my shoulders, and Cara, Queen of the Nile, succeeded in giving my cheeks a pink and healthy glow. My blue eyes seem to shine bright, but I suspect it’s terror rather than a virginal glow that makes them big.

  Madam pulls me from the chair and holds me at arm’s length. She opens the white robe I wear, exposing my naked body. Immediately, I cover myself. Madam tsk tsks, displeased. “Never hide yourself in shame, Jess,” Madam scolds. “Your future Dom will be allowed to punish you for such behavior.”

  Punish? No one said anything about punishing.

  Madam sees my expression and smiles. “Jess, you are safe here. Buy punish, I mean discipline, and by discipline, I mean usually depriving of orgasm or spankings, sometimes lashings, though all of these forms often leads to great fun for subs.”

  Madam pulls the robe away and instead of covering myself, I close my eyes. I’ve known her all of twenty-four hours and I’m already worrying over her disapproving tone. “Open your eyes, Jess.”

  I open them. Madam holds out a silk nightie and robe, both white and trimmed in lace. I slip the nightie over my head, trying to ignore the fact I’m naked in front of two strange women and wait for the panties, but they never come. Only the robe which I try to tie tightly around me, but Madam pulls it back open.

  “Before you go out to the dollhouse, I have a few papers for you to sign and some playhouse rules to go over. Since we don’t have much time, we need to go quickly.”

  I nod and straighten my nightie.

  “You are going to be a shareholder of the Playroom. You will be treated with respect and I expect you to treat our guests the same. As a shareholder, you are to make sure our guests get what they came for, and ensure they play out their scenes in a safe, and sane way. You are here because you want to explore your sexual side in a safe environment and members pay for exclusive rights to use our playroom for privacy. Do you understand?”