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Club Ménage: Fifi
by: Tara Crescent
Something’s wrong at Club Ménage…
After escaping an abusive relationship with her dominant, Fiona Clarke swore off submission for life. But when the private investigator is hired to solve a case of blackmail at the secretive Club Ménage, she finds that she hasn’t managed to leave her past behind.
Adrian Lockart and Brody Payne protected Fiona from her dominant, until the day they disappeared from her life without a trace. When they reunite at Club Ménage, can they convince Fiona to trust them again, and can they protect her from the danger that surrounds them on all sides?
This story explores pet play in a BDSM setting. No actual animals are involved.
I took a comforting sip of my wine. It was excellent. “Then you stopped coming around.” I looked up at them. “I’m so sorry about your submissive. I didn’t know; Raymond never said anything to me. I think he was threatened by the two of you.”
Brody leaned forward. “What made you leave?”
“One week, Raymond went away on a fishing trip with his father. He had no cell phone reception, and no way to reach me. I should have missed him, but instead, all I felt was relief. It was the most wonderful week of my life. I didn’t have to constantly watch myself. I didn’t have to worry about breaking one of his rules.” I shifted in my seat, unnerved by their steady scrutiny. “When he came back, I told him I wanted to end our relationship.”
“There’s more than that.” Adrian’s brown eyes rested on me. “You filed a restraining order against him.”
“You know about that?”
“Restraining orders are public record.”
“He wouldn’t accept my decision.” I wrapped my hands tightly around myself. “After the break-up, I went home to Maine for two weeks.” I smiled without humor. “I’d forgotten who I was; I needed to rediscover myself. Raymond followed me, cornered me on the beach and demanded I come back to DC with him.”
Adrian patted my thigh, his gaze sympathetic. “That must have been terrifying.”
“I survived,” I said shortly. I didn’t like talking about the past.
“And now,” Brody spoke up, “you’re at a sex club, ready to explore dominance and submission again? With two partners?” His Arctic-blue eyes gleamed with a nameless emotion. “I’d say the fact that you are here says you’ve done more than survived. You’ve conquered your fears.”
Except I hadn’t. I was here because Xavier Leforte had offered me an obscene sum of money to uncover who Maria’s blackmailer was. Everything Brody believed was a lie, but I couldn’t tell them the truth.
“My therapist thinks it’s an important stage in my healing process.” That part was true. Though I ignored her advice, Nina York had been saying something along those lines for eighteen months now. I didn’t add that I’d been ignoring her suggestions. “So the demo,” I continued, my voice brisk, “you said you’d walk me through it.”
“Fiona.” Adrian’s voice was quiet. He moved closer to me, so close that our thighs were nearly touching. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Their eyes were boring into me, demanding honesty. “I’m a little afraid,” I whispered. I’d forgotten how easily they could get me to reveal my innermost thoughts. Even back when I was with Raymond, one stern look from Adrian, one pointed gaze from Brody, and I would tell them everything.
They were big men, ripped and strong. They’d both served in the military for many years. The rumors were that they’d been members of Delta Force, the army’s highly secretive hostage negotiation and counter-terrorism unit. Despite that, perhaps because of it, I’d always felt safe with them, protected.
My body was tingling with a mixture of nerves and lust. I wanted to kneel at their feet. I wanted to feel their hands on me, swatting my ass, stroking my pussy. Maria Dumonte had told me to trust my intuition. Did I dare?
Brody rose to his feet in a smooth, fluid motion. His fingers wrapped around the stem of my wine glass, and he removed it from my grasp. “Do you have a safeword?’
“Red to stop,” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the floor. “Yellow to pause and check in.”
“And green to show you’re enjoying yourself.” Adrian’s voice was dark. “Or do you not consider pleasure important?”
“I do what?” Brody asked.
It had been two years since I played, but it all came back. “I do, Sir.”
“Very good.” There was a purr of approval in his voice. “On your knees, Fiona.”
I slid to the floor instantly, taking care to keep my back straight and my eyes lowered. I rested my palms on my thighs and waited for my next instruction.
The two of them circled me. “What do we have here?” Brody asked Adrian. His hand patted my head.
“She seems obedient,” Adrian replied. “But I think there’s hidden rebellion in her. She reminds me of a kitten.”
“I agree.” Brody sounded amused. “A very pretty little kitten. I think I’ll call her Fifi.” His palm caressed my cheek. I shivered, my body quivering with arousal at the way they were discussing me. “Fifi. On all fours.”
I assumed the position. Adrian opened a drawer and pulled out an assortment of sex toys. A flogger, a crop, a fur-covered paddle, nipple clamps, and most embarrassing of all, kitten ears on a headband and a buttplug with a tail.
Adrian moved in front of me. He held the buttplug up so I could see what was coming, and drizzled some lube on it. “Pet,” he said, “are you wearing underwear?”
His eyes gleamed with anticipation. “Let’s fix that.”
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