Page 41 of Serving the Mogul

As we moved into the club, the music was loud, a pulse in the air that echoed in the blood. It was deep and soulful, not the typical EDM music you’d hear when going clubbing. But then again, this was my first time at a fetish club.

We stepped into a corridor, bracketed on both sides by high walls. Lights flashed, the strobe light effects popular at many dance clubs.

The club’s main floor spread out beneath us, staircases on either side that lead down to the dance floor.

A woman approached, dressed in a form-fitting black velvet dress that fell straight to the floor. Her warm golden skin glowed against the ebony, and her smile was warm as she greeted Maximus. He dipped his head to hear her and then glanced at me, angling his head to the side, showing me we should follow her.

She led us to a booth near the railing. It had a perfect view of the dance floor and something I hadn’t noticed until now.

A stage.

I couldn’t look away.

A woman stood there.

Black rope bound her.

Like a kinky costume, the rope twined around her breasts before rising to twist around her shoulders and neck. The man next to her wore a three-piece suit as he adjusted the rope in one spot, then another. My breath hitched in my chest as he stopped behind her, cupping her breasts in full view of the entire club. He tweaked her nipples before letting his hands glide down to her hips.

As he urged her to her knees, Maximus shifted his chair closer to mine. “Are you intrigued?”

“Um.” I had to clear my throat twice, and even then, my voice was hardly loud enough for him to hear. “Yes.”

Onstage, the man sank behind the woman. He’d bent her forward over a chair, her face no longer visible. The position exposed her hands bound behind her back; the rope winding up to her elbows.

He caught her hips again and rocked against her, pantomiming the actions of sex.

A hard pulse went through my core, and I squeezed my knees together in reaction. The pressure on my clitoris from that simple movement was so intense, I groaned, the fierce sensations so strong, I felt like I was on the verge of climax.

Maximus put his hand on my leg, just below where the skirt ended.

“What are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure.” Licking my lips, I tore my gaze away from the stage and met his dark, hypnotic eyes.

He leaned in, closer and closer, until his face was all I could see.

I thought he might kiss me, but then he dipped his head and pressed his lips to my ear. “Are you wet?”

Embarrassed, I tried to duck my head, but he cupped my chin in his hand and brought my gaze back to his.

“Yes.”

He kissed me deeply, and I was panting when he ended the contact and trailed his lips to my ear. “I want to feel for myself.”

Stunned, I jerked back, staring at him.

His lips curved in a smile. “Don’t look so shocked. Nobody would know. And look…look down on the dance floor. Look at the other tables.”

Dazed, I did as he suggested. It took a few seconds to focus, and I couldn’t unsee what I saw.

A woman was wearing a lace and leather catsuit with a mask covering the upper part of her face. She held a leash in her hand, connected to the collar of the man dancing with her.

Well. The two weren’t dancing––more like swaying.

He was on his knees but still able to take her nipples into his mouth. I doubted she topped five feet.

The man trailed a hand up her thigh, and she wrenched his head back with a fist in his hair. She gave him a stern look before pushing him back, then pointed at the floor. He knelt in front of her, on his hands and knees. Subservient.

---