Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Eyeing the submissive, Razor reminded himself that there in the dungeon he wasn’t Dr. Clermont.
He wasn’t Razor with the Royal Bastards.
He was a Dom and the woman before him standing on the raised platform was his for as long as the scene lasted.
They were both there for the same thing. A release from the world outside.
With the viewing area full of spectators he settled behind his playmate for the evening. This was his playground, and he was a master at seduction. The outside world slipped away when he was in the club.
He enjoyed the moment a sub settled into surrender, when negotiation turned into trust. His control was subtle—voice, touch, presence—and it always matched the dynamic they had agreed on. Shannon was his partner for the evening.
It had been her choice to be there. If she wanted to leave, she only had to say so—no one stopped anyone from walking away. She had requested him, after all.
Razor had taken time deciding on her. She wasn’t an easy submissive; she pushed, tested, provoked. Some Dom’s lost patience with that. He didn’t. He read it as defiance looking for structure.
He prided himself on control—on never letting a scene slip beyond what he intended. And Shannon wasn’t a weakness in that control.
She was a challenge.
His last sub wanted more than Razor was willing to give. She wanted in his outside world. Razor liked things compartmentalized. For lack of a better word, he was private. And private seemed too simple when it came to some of the females who came to the club.
Razor liked his personal life to remain secret for many reasons. There were too many people who didn’t understand the world of Doms and Subs. They judged out of ignorance.
The Red Door wasn’t just any sex club; it was an elite club. You had to be invited, vetted, and pay a membership to obtain entrance. He trusted that his place there was secure. Because this information in the wrong hands could give someone ammunition to ruin his career.
Looking at the female splayed before him, he realized if the evening had a chance of going as planned, he had to get out of his own headspace, or he wouldn’t finish the session.
Leaning over he whispered in her ear, “Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
Her hands were palm out facing him. Razor allowed Shannon’s hand to feel his leg as he brushed against them. He watched as her breathing became ragged. He knew why. He told her not to touch him, but her fingers danced across his thigh. That would cost her.
“Do you want this?” Razor loved the sensuality of his hands running over a woman’s skin. He loved how the skin pebbled with every touch. Finding sexual pleasure in them. He found peace in their submission; he would give Shannon what she wanted.
“Yes, Sir.”
“How long have you wanted this?”
“Months, Sir.”
“Why?”
“I want to quiet my brain, Sir.”
“Do you have a safe word?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tell me.”
“Trust, Sir.”
Razor could see her shiver. He watched as her skin pebbled and she physically shook. It happened sometimes with anticipation. That was why he rarely took on a new sub or one who continually begged to participate in a scene. He never knew how they would handle a scene the first time.
For him, it was the trust she gave to him.
The trust created between a Dominant and a Submissive was important.
It didn’t work without it. She had to trust that she was safe in his care.
Razor never forgot those things, although when with a sub like Shannon, he pushed them further than he sometimes should because they tested him.
Walking around Razor crouched down in front of Shannon where her eyes met his. “Can you do this?”
“I can, Sir.”
Giving someone else the reins for an hour or two was powerful. Sex was a buy product for some. Sex could be wielded as a weapon for others. For Razor it was a balance. A delicate one.
Pressing her forward Shannon rested on her elbows and knees, Razor stepped up behind her. Watching as she leaned her body forward a small moan escaped her lips meeting his ears. Razor smiled seeing her skin pebble under his touch.
“Open your eyes.”
When her eyes opened, Razor once again crouched in front of his sub.
It was all about the buildup. The anticipation.
Using his finger, Razor lifted her chin so Shannon looked into his eyes.
He knew she was aroused. Tilting his head to the side as she almost looked down.
He smirked when at the last-minute Shannon lifted her chin.
Shaking his head no, her eyes went wide. She knew she had just been defiant.
Pulling a black leather mask from his back pocket, he placed it over her eyes taking away one of her senses. Standing up, Razor walked behind Shannon, kneeling behind her.
Running his hands over her ass, he slipped his fingers under the edges of her pink lace panties. Dragging them down her ass, he left them right below her cheeks. Brushing a finger along her seam, Razor felt how ready her body was.
His knuckles rubbed over her mound applying pressure against her clit. Sliding his fingers into her, she was already soaked, Razor leaned over her wrapping his free hand around her neck.
Somewhere between his fingers thrusting into her pussy and his hand pressing against her throat, she struggled to keep an orgasm from erupting from her. The tension eased from him as he brought Shannon to the first orgasm and then pulled her back.
Releasing her, Razor unbuckled his belt and pulled it from his waist. Laying it across Shannon’s back, he unfastened his slacks and let them slid down his thick muscular thighs.
He could hear the audience’s whispers. Their anticipation of seeing him fuck his sub echoed in the room.
Everything went quiet as he fucked her. No whispers.
No moans. No noise. It’s just his body and hers.
Both getting what each needed. Snapping out of the quiet, he plunged into her harder, she broke beneath him crying out in pleasure.
He didn’t stop until his own climax washed over him.
The mulling whimpers from the female beneath him had Razor caressing her ass as he pulled out.
Redressing, Razor broke the dynamic with deliberate ease. He lifted Shannon from the platform, his grip steady but no longer commanding, and carried her to the sofa for aftercare. Only when he was satisfied she was steady did he release her from his attention.
In that moment his eyes locked on movement from the center row. A woman in a red gown was quickly moving from the crowd. When she looked back at Razor, she almost stumbled. What the fuck was Lottie doing at The Red Door?
Lottie locked eyes with him. Swallowing hard, her entire body flush, she couldn’t help but be slightly turned on.
Her heart raced as she made her way carefully…
cautiously towards the door. Her stomach was in knots…
her hands were sweaty. All she needed to do was get to the door, get outside, and into her car.
The second the door shut, the noise of the club dropped away. Lottie sat in the driver’s seat without starting the car. Her hands stayed on the wheel, unmoving.
Only then did she breathe.
What she’d seen kept replaying in fragments she couldn’t fully organize—Razor’s control, the woman responding to him, the way the space around them seemed to bend to what he said without him ever raising his voice.
It wasn’t what she had expected. It didn’t feel like anything she had a name for.
Her stomach tightened again, different this time—less nerves, more something she didn’t want to define yet.
Leaning forward she rested her forehead on the steering wheel.
How would she look him in the face at work?
How would she forget how magnificent he looked having sex?
She exhaled slowly, leaned back and finally turned the key.
The engine started, but she didn’t move right away.