“I saw some of the house while working an event last week, and earlier Julia showed me the playground.”
“What about the playroom and the theme rooms inside? They’re Dev’s latest additions. So new, the second coat of paint has barely had time to dry.”
“No, we were, um, interrupted.”
“Servers usually stick to the kitchen and patio,” he said with a low chuckle. “I think you mean discovered.” He nodded toward the house. “Since you’ve seen the playground, we’ll skip it. The side door’s this way.”
It was nearly invisible behind the thick palms and tropical plants. Alec held it open and let her step in ahead of him. Music hit first—a dark, pulsing bass—followed by the sharp crack of leather on skin, and the unmistakable sounds of pleasure drifting from within the house.
His hand, both supportive and possessive, guided her forward. They didn’t make it two steps down the hall. Members were packed three and four deep in front of the theme room windows.
Alec let out a low whistle. “Good thing Dev widened this hallway. Until the novelty wears off, it will stay jammed with everyone wanting to see the shows.”
“What shows?” she asked, curiosity and nerves making her voice tight.
“Role-play mostly,” Alec said, steering her through the crush. “Headmaster and naughty student. Boss and secretary. Dungeon master and captive. Whatever the players dream up.”
He saw the glimmer of interest in her eyes and smiled. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s give you a peek.”
The crowd parted for him—the orange DM band on his arm doing some of the work. Within moments, she stood front and center at the first window.
The short table, stirrups, stool on casters, and gooseneck lamp—straight out of a GYN exam room—made Emily gasp.
“Dev took a poll,” he said. “Medical play ranked second. The clinical setup, an intimate inspection, the power dynamic—it pushes a lot of people’s buttons.”
“I’m afraid to ask what came in first.”
He angled his head toward the wide, glassless window. “You’re not even a little curious?”
“I’d rather get a root canal,” she whispered, shuddering.
He chuckled. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, little newbie. But there’s more to see.”
He guided her to the next window. When the couple ahead of them moved on, Alec slid smoothly into place, bracketing her with one arm to keep the crowd from pressing in.
Inside were gray walls, stone-patterned tile, flickering sconces, and a bound submissive suspended from the ceiling, rope wound intricately around her body. Her dom, bare-chested and glistening, wielded a red-and-black braided whip. As she slowly revolved, he applied measured strokes to her back and ass, alternating with rapid flicks across her breasts and pussy from the extension on the end.
Emily stared, barely breathing. “This was number one?” she asked. “It’s a torture chamber straight from the Inquisition.”
“It placed third, and it isn’t quite that extreme,” Alec murmured. “See the hardware overhead? Its rigging for suspensions. The open space makes it ideal for flogging or short-tail impact play.”
They watched in silence for a moment as the woman writhed in her bonds, thrusting her breasts and hips forward for more of the whip.
“I expected it to hurt more,” she whispered.
“Don’t underestimate the flicker whip,” he warned her. “In the wrong hands, it can do damage. But Jacob has years of experience. Notice he switches to the tassel for delicate areas and keeps the full whip to a minimum. He’s all about sensation. Sometimes he brings out a fluffinator at the end.”
“What’s that?”
“Fur,” he breathed, running his hands up her arms and feeling the shiver that ran through her.
She glanced up at him, lips parted, then she snapped them shut and looked back at the scene.
“You have a question. Ask it,” he gently insisted.
“Are you the right hands?”
He fingers tightened on shoulders. “The whip has never been my taste.”
