Page 24 of Breaking Free

It was still early, and the club wasn’t supposed to open for another two hours. Today was different. When he checked his email that morning, he found it flooded with notifications about a special event scheduled for today—the inaugural Decadence Vendor Fair—and owners were encouraged to attend. Despite having no intention of going tonight, his curiosity got the better of him.

The bar was dark and the lounge empty as he made his way to the open dungeon doors. Instead of heart-thumping music to set the mood, he heard the hum of conversation and laughter. He joined Eric at the top of the stairs, who gave no indication he noticed, his gaze fixated on the action on the floor below. Instead of the usual stations, display tables and racks offered an array of kinky wares enticing the eager shoppers crowding the circuit. It reminded Tristan of a Middle Eastern bazaar, except this merchandise was kink-inspired, with everything from toys to club wear and custom-made furniture.

Over the din of the crowd, a cry of pleasure rang out. He swiftly pinpointed its source. A woman on her hands and knees on a bondage table with a sizable dildo attached to a mechanical arm pistoning nonstop between her legs.

“You’ve been talking to Axyl, I see,” Tristan observed.

The master dom shot him a quizzical look. “I haven’t seen Axyl for at least a week. This”—he gestured to the spectacle before them—“is my answer to never-ending sales calls and the constant stream of samples vendors send me to try.”

“Yeah,” Tristan drawled, “because what dom doesn’t hate getting free kink toys and BDSM equipment?”

“Says the man who doesn’t have unopened boxes stacked to the ceiling in his office. Why should I be the only one doing the testing and choosing? I thought, why not leave it up to the people?” He handed him a clipboard. “You’re people. Give me your input.”

Tristan briefly scanned the paper. “We’re rating the items?”

“Yes. On a scale of one to five—five being a must-have, and one meaning, don’t bother.”

One item jumped out at him. “Okay, but I’ll have to guess at #6. I’m not climbing on a fucking machine unless there’s serious money involved.”

Eric half grunted half laughed. “No need for that. I have plenty of eager volunteers. Grab a sub and give her a ride while you explore the range of features.”

Tristan grinned. “An excellent idea. Don’t mind if I do.”

“That’s why I manage the club while you run off to tropical locations. Speaking of which... You were due back two days ago. That skip must have given you a run for your money.”

“I was in Hawaii, my friend. I’d have been a fool not to take a day to enjoy it. Or two.”

“And the skip?”

“I turned him over to the locals who had preceding charges. The State of California will have to get in line. With him safe behind bars, I had time to wet a board at Diamond Head Cliffs.”

Eric eyed him for a moment, his gaze lingering longest on his mildly sunburned head. “You don’t look like a surfer.”

Tristan returned his once-over, taking in the master dom’s black button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to expose his ripped forearms, and the leather cuffs clipped to a belt loop of his black jeans—his subbie wife Val’s for later, no doubt. “And you don’t look like an accountant. Where’s your pocket protector?”

“Finance executive,” he corrected. “But I get your point. I shouldn’t judge. What I don’t get is out of here—ever. Axyl had a skip recovery in Aspen a few months back. Keiran had business in Texas recently. He took Esme with him and squeezed in a Gulf Coast trip while there. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in LA, sweltering in a heat wave.” The creases on his forehead deepened, reflecting his growing frustration. “I call the next mission to a far-off exotic location. One of you who’s had some recent R&R can relieve me here.”

“Val surfs?” Tristan deadpanned, knowing full well Eric’s petite wife would opt for a leisurely walk in the waves rather than riding them.

“You’re a laugh riot,” his friend drawled. “It’s our turn to soak up the sun while sipping mai tais beside the Pacific or listen to the waves crash onto the shore from a cozy cabana beneath a full moon.”

That’s what was missing on his trip. Someone soft, curvy, and submissive to cozy up to. The image of Piper in her unforgettable yellow bikini flooded his thoughts, and it took a Herculean effort to push it away.

Tristan cleared his suddenly dry throat before offering, “I’ll cover for you, but you’re going to have to take it up with Keiran. I go wherever I’m assigned.”

“I’m adding master dom R&R to the top of my list for our monthly meeting next week.”

“I did have to haul in a skip while in Hawaii,” he reminded him.

Eric waved his hand dismissively, as if tracking and capturing a dangerous fugitive was trivial.

Without taking offense, with clipboard and pen in hand, he descended the steps. “I’m off to rate some kink paraphernalia.”

The first vendor offered a wide selection of toys—manual, wired, and battery-operated—displayed on revolving racks andshelves that told him this wasn’t his first rodeo. He spotted some models he’d never seen before and gave him a solid five for variety and creativity.

Next up were leather goods—whips, paddles, and handcuffs. The hand stitching and braiding on each item he picked up to examine was exceptional, and the vendor received a well-deserved overall rating of five.

As he kept exploring, he assigned a rating of three to the couple selling fetish wear, finding nothing special among their offerings. Another booth he rated one, their stuff cheaply made. He put a star next to the vendor, wondering how they’d made the cut being there today.

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