Chapter 1
PIERCE
“If you’re not here to learn, I can’t help you. Are you wasting my time? Do you already possess the skills to save this man’s life?”
“No, sir.”
I hate interns. They come in here cocky as hell, thinking they’re ready to wield a scalpel. If I did that as an intern, I’d have been shown the door quicker than the crack of a whip.
“Then please explain to your fellow doctors why you were talking about your dinner plans while I operate on someone’s brain. I’m sure this poor man would love to know your burger and fries are more important than his ability to speak, comprehend, and remember his family when I’m done. Please, hotshot, step up and show us how it’s done.”
Intern—whatever—I don’t need to know their names. They come through here every year, and it’s the same damn story every fucking time. There’s the guy who thinks he has the balls to be a surgeon, who inevitably suffers from micro dick. Then, there’s the teacher’s pet, who wants to climb so far up my ass they could examine my larynx. My least favorite are the ones who fawn over me. The way a doctor drops in my estimation, is to try and sleep their way through their intern year .
There are no prizes for a good lay. I love to fuck as much as the next man—I’d venture to say much more than the average—but surgery is the one area of my life that isn’t ruled by my dick. When I’m in the operating room, I am at my most peaceful. Holding someone’s life in my hands is an honor and a privilege I don’t take lightly.
“I apologize, Dr. Harrison.”
“Don’t apologize. Just be better.” I address the other interns as I prepare to close. “There is no room for apologies when you’ve got a patient open on the table. You’re in the big leagues now. All that book learning means nothing if you don’t have what it takes to step up and focus in this room. Until you’re ready to take it seriously, you can all go and sit in the gallery.”
They filter out like petulant children, and I can’t see them as anything else. Was I this green when I was an intern? I’d like to think not, but I’m sure my attendings saw me as a cocky young idiot with no concept of what it takes to be the best of the best.
I finish suturing my patient, thankful for another successful outcome. Then comes the best part of my job—telling a family their loved one will be around for birthdays, Christmases, and many years to come. That’s what I live for.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Harrison. You are an angel sent from God.”
I clear my throat, amused by their observation. It’s amazing that I’m an angel in one person’s story and a devil in others. All I can do is exist in the space between and find happiness where possible.
“Your husband got through surgery like a champ. He’s in recovery right now, awake and responsive. One of the nurses will take you back to see him. I’ll be by to check on him before I leave for the night.” I offer a firm handshake and a tight smile.
As much as I love giving good news, I don’t particularly enjoy interacting with people. I have a few select friends, and I’m good with that.
When my shift is long over and I finish writing up my charts for the day, I decide to head to the club for the rest of the night.
Venom is my safe haven here in Manhattan. It’s a place where I can exist outside the hospital, kick back and relax, and it’s not a life or death situation. I get to be someone completely different within the walls of Venom, where pleasure is king, pain is consensual, and orgasm is guaranteed.
The moment I walk through the doors, I’m greeted by my small group of friends—people who don’t know me as Dr. Harrison, the most prominent neurosurgeon in the country. Here, I’m just Pierce.
“Brother! Come and settle our argument.” Flex slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me toward their table.
“Can I order a drink before you bribe me to pick whatever side of the argument you fall on?”
“Eli!” he shouts. “Send over Pierce’s usual.”
Apparently, there’s no time for niceties this evening. I take a seat alongside some of my friends. Dalton is in with his sub and new wife, Nadia. Flex has his latest sub at the table, and Genevieve seems to be pretty cozy with Ryder tonight.
“What are we all fighting about tonight?”
“Virgins.” Holy shit. I came in at the wrong time.
“Sacrificial? Hypothetical? Or is Flex turning up to freshman dorm parties?”
Flex shoves my shoulder. “Thanks for the support. No, in fact, we were just gagging over the fact that Nad and Dalton popped each other’s cherries back in the day.”
“ What? Didn’t you guys just get together?”
“Have you been living under a rock? They’ve known each other their entire lives and were each other’s first.” Dalton bristles at his private life being the topic of discussion. I’m surprised he hasn’t shut it down already.
“So, what’s the question?”
“Do you think virgins can make good submissives? I said no because I’m all about teaching a first-time submissive, but I don’t want to explain the fucking mechanics of sex and hold her goddamn hand through the first time. Way too much pressure and not enough pleasure if you ask me.”
“Okay. ”
Dalton continues, “Viv says yes. She likes those virgin boys. Fresh meat.”
I look to Dalton. “And what did you have to say about it?” There’s a hint of laughter in my voice because I can guess his answer.
“I told him to shut the fuck up about Naddie’s cherry before I punch him out.”
Flex just finds it funny, and I stifle my amusement.
“Sounds about right.”
“What about you?” Flex asks.
“As much as I hate to agree with you, Flex, I think it’s a no from me. I don’t want to be holding a woman’s hand through cashing in her V-card. I was clumsy the first time. Collected a few more cards through med school, and I’m not going to lie, they were not my favorite sexual experiences.”
“Okay, but…” Viv interjects, “… think of the potential now that you’re a Dom. It’s different. I get not wanting a one-night stand to be a virgin, but a sub… think how much easier it would be to train a virgin. No bad habits. No expectations. Definitely less bratty to train.” She looks to Naddie with a sly grin. “Sorry, friend.”
Dalton wraps his arm around Nadia, pulling her close. “I love you being a brat, kitten. Viv just can’t tame a sub the way I can.” Genevieve rolls her eyes, laughing as she does.
“Yeah, right. You wish, Master Callaghan ,” she says with an overexaggerated flourish in his direction. I’m not touching that argument.
“So, what’s happening? The new floor seems to be a success. Any plans for further expansion?”
Flex jumps in, more animated than I’ve seen him in a while. “Yes! Carter and I are working on plans for a training suite right now. Actually, I wouldn’t mind picking your brain about a few details.”
Now we’re talking. As beautiful as the new floor is, I’m not a voyeur for the most part. I don’t mind dipping my toe in the water once in a while, but I train submissives. They are short-term, and I’m strict. I help newer subs find their hard limits as well as their preferences.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” I exclaim.
“I thought you’d be happy,” Dalton interjects. “Don’t you get tired of training? Training doctors, then training subs in your spare time.”
“Could you picture me as a sub?”
“Fuck, no!” they all say in unison.
“Exactly.”
We chat back and forth for a few hours, the day’s tension dissipating as I sit back and watch my friends, chiming in when I feel like it. Next to the operating room, this is where I feel most myself—here, in this club, with this band of kinksters. There’s no judgment when I step through these doors.
Expectation is something that’s never really bothered me. When I went to med school, I was different than most. I clawed my way into an Ivy League university, scraping for financial aid and working whatever jobs I could fit around my grueling schedule.
Luxury wasn’t in my vocabulary, and no one expected anything more than a basic nine to five from me. After my dad died at her hand, my mom ended up working three jobs just to keep a roof over our heads. In the end, she became an alcoholic, and I was a burden she couldn’t cope with anymore. I was put into foster care and learned to depend only on myself.
My mom drank herself to death when I was ten, and the sad thing is, it didn’t impact my day-to-day life.
I left the group home the second I could afford to find a shithole apartment to live in until I got a full ride to college through every academic scholarship going, and moved into the dorms at Princeton.
When I found BDSM, it was a lightbulb moment—a way for me to exact control in every aspect of my life. I need order, balance, and, above all, consent. I know my mom was plagued by the abuse my dad subjected her to for years. I don’t want any part of relationships, not even with my subs. That’s why I train. I’m a safe space for women to explore their sexual desires and figure out what they want in a Dom. When they understand their wants and needs, they move on, and so do I.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Earth to Pierce.” Flex’s voice brings me back to the group.
“Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“How can you hack into people’s brains all day?” His vernacular makes me laugh.
“If I hacked , all of my patients would be dead or in a vegetative state. What I do is poetry in motion, my friend.”
“Most guys with your kind of job pressure are subs. It always amazes me that you want control of every fucking minute of your life.”
“I had very little control growing up. I’m a walking cliché, Flex. I like everything to be perfect. I teach doctors. I operate. I teach submissives. We fuck. All is right in the world,” I say as I drain my drink and signal for another.
Dalton nods in my direction. “Not on call tonight?”
“Nope. I have the weekend off, which virtually never happens.”
“Then you can wade in on the training floor tomorrow?”
“Sure. I have a last session with my current sub tomorrow night. I can swing by a few hours early, and you can walk me through it.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Another round of drinks arrives, courtesy of Dalton. “Are you coming to the masquerade?”
“Did I miss the memo?”
“We’re having a masquerade ball for new members and prospective members who’ve been waitlisted. It’ll be a fun night.”
“Depends on when it is.”
“Two weeks from tonight.”
“I’ll check my schedule. I have a few subs to interview for training.”
“Take a night off, brother. Masquerades are for no strings, no training, no rules fun.”
“Does that mean you guys are going to lose yourself in the crowd?” I anticipate Dalton’s answer, amused by the furrow of his brow .
“Anyone so much as looks at my kitten the wrong way, they’ll require a doctor in the house.”
“You’re too predictable, Dal.”
“Says the robot Dom!” He chuckles.
“Is that what you guys think? That I’m a robot? My submissives would beg to differ. Literally .”
“I don’t think that,” Nad speaks up. “I think you can be unpredictable. Sensitive even.”
Where the fuck did she get that idea? The only other person who thought I was sensitive was my father, and he was sure to beat it right out of me.
“You’ve got him all wrong, kitty kat.” Flex throws it out there, and I watch as Dalton just about explodes.
“Call her kitty kat again, Flex, and I’ll break that pretty face of yours.”
“Jesus, bro. You need to calm the fuck down. What happened to easy-going Dom Dal?”
“He packed up and left the building. Kitten is mine.”
“God, Pierce, I think you’ve got it the right way around. Teach ’em and street ’em. This true-love thing has Dal ready to pop a blood vessel over here.”
“I’m so glad I have your approval, Flex. How did I ever live without it?”
“A piece of sound advice for you, Pierce… you should have multiple subs on the go. You’re so highly strung.”
I rub my palm over the scruff on my jaw. “My latest group of interns is pissing me off. They don’t know how to do anything.”
“Isn’t that why they come to you? They have to learn to be doctors,” Viv offers.
“Yeah, I’m just fed up today. It’s a bunch of rich kids whose daddy bought them a ticket into the program. They’re entitled with no skills to back it up right now. They are the bottom of the food chain, mouthing off like the apex predator.”
“And we all know you’re the predator, Pierce. That’s why I love you.” Viv gives me that knowing grin. Maybe I’ll take her to my private room tonight. She might be a fierce Domme, but we occasionally engage in a little friends-with-benefits action.
Being a trainer affords me the freedom to roam as I see fit. I sign contracts to teach, not for monogamous relationships. It’s a one-sided transaction. The sub in training must be faithful only to me. Not because I care if they fuck around, but because learning from a single Dom gives better results.
Leaning back in my chair, I mull over the idea of a masquerade ball. “So this party is for new and prospective members?”
“Yes,” Flex confirms.
“Any new submissives?”
“Of course. Everyone will be given the option to wear a tag that’ll show their kinks. Doms, subs, voyeurs, teachers, students, toy play, pain, pleasure. A unique QR code you can scan with your phone and know all of the relevant information, except their name and occupation. Hot, right?”
“Wow. QR codes. That’s new.”
“Nad’s friend, Jenna, is a computer whizz kid and has been working on a portal for members. It will allow for contracts, hookups, matching… the whole nine yards.”
“Nice.”
“You’ll like this feature. For trainees, we’ll have an application for new subs from various clubs we network with nationwide. You’ll have some fresh, shiny new subs to play with.” Sounds perfect. Just what the doctor ordered, pun intended.
“I didn’t realize Jenna was hopping on the kink train.”
“She’s not,” Nad says with conviction.
I hold my hands up to show innocence. “I get the message. I won’t go near her. You made it pretty clear last time.” I give it a year max before sweet best friend Jenna starts sniffing around the lifestyle. I have an eye for potential subs, and she’d be a delectable treat to train. Not by me, obviously. I value having my nuts attached to my body, and the way Nad is staring me down is enough to make them wither.
“Good. Anyway…” She giggles. “How are things with your latest sub? Training going well? ”
“Yeah, we’re pretty much done. She’s ready to find a long-term Dom or someone to fool around with who compliments her kinks. She’d be perfect for someone like Mateo, but I think he has a regular right now.”
“Maybe she’ll find someone at the masquerade.”
“I don’t see why not. I’ve trained her well. Whoever makes a contract with her will be a lucky man.”
“Wouldn’t you ever consider a sub outside of training?” Nad looks lovingly at her Dom, his shit-eating grin saccharin as the rest of us fade into the background while they lose themselves in each other.
“I don’t have time. My hours are grueling, and my focus is singular. The club is where I let off steam. I’m not looking to find the love of my life.”
Dalton whispers something in Nad’s ear, her body shivering before they excuse themselves and head for their private room.
“Good talk, guys,” I shout after them.
Throughout the evening, everyone pairs off at different times, leaving me to drink alone at the bar, with only the bartender for company.
“Another scotch neat?” Eli asks as I pull up my latest trainee’s number.
“Yes, thanks.”
Me: Can you meet me at the club in 30?
Sub: Yes, Sir.
Me: See you then.
I may as well have some fun before I have to find a new sub to play with.
Eli sets my drink down before leaning against the bar, his arms folded over his chest. He talks a big game, but his body language says otherwise.
“So, Eli, how are you enjoying being the manager of this place? ”
“It’s unlike anywhere else I’ve worked, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, I doubt you had to sign an NDA at your previous job.”
“You’d be surprised what Carter expects of his bartenders.”
“Really?” I shouldn’t be surprised. Carter De Rossi has a reputation for discretion.
“This is definitely next level.” He’s curious.
“Has it got you wondering what goes on behind closed doors?”
“Me?” He blushes. “No. Of course not. I’m not a Dominant.”
“I didn’t say you were.” I take a sip of my drink, watching him squirm.
“You’ve never wondered what it would be like to let Genevieve take you to her private room? You might not want to dominate, but I get the feeling you’d enjoy being submissive.”
His cheeks flush as he starts cleaning the bar, avoiding my gaze.
“Nah. I’m an old-fashioned guy. A man’s man.” I think he doth protest too much.
“You’d be surprised by how many ‘men’s men’ enjoy giving over control in the bedroom. High-pressure jobs. Major leadership roles. They take a toll, and for some men, they find an escape through someone like Genevieve. She’s very good at what she does.”
“How would you know? Aren’t you a Dom?”
“Yes, but she and I have worked together. I’ve trained male submissives before.” His eyebrows rise so high they’re almost in his hairline.
“Oh. I didn’t… it’s none of my business.”
“Eli, can I give you a word of advice as the weekday manager of V?”
“Of course.”
“Lighten up. And I say that as one of the most serious men in this club. I’m a Dom in here and out in the real world. Surgery is high stakes. I mess up, and someone dies. I’m about as tightly wound as they come, and you’re stressing me out right now. When was the last time you got laid?”
“Two days ago. Trust me, getting laid isn’t an issue.”
“Maybe it’s not as fulfilling as it could be. It’s natural to be curious when you see kink from the outside. I promise you won’t burst into flames if you dip your toe in the water.”
He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable thinking about his obvious interest. “You’ve got me all wrong. I’m vanilla, and it works for me.”
“That’s what they all say.” I sling back the rest of my drink and drop a twenty on the bar as a tip. “If you ever have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. Sex… kink… don’t knock it till you try it.”
I leave him to think about what I said. He has submissive written all over him. Genevieve would eat the poor guy alive, but he’d love every second of it.
Entering my private room, I get to work setting up for the arrival of my current trainee. I’m intrigued by Flex’s ideas to expand and create a sizable training floor. I already have thoughts on equipment, toys, and a stage for group training. With the number of new members increasing, we have to make sure that patrons engage safely and within the parameters of their contracts. The potential is endless.