Page 51 of Breaking Free

“I’ve heard similar comments from just about every club member,” Tristan murmured from behind her. “Which is why the Sultan’s Chamber always has a waiting list.”

“Which took almost two months. If you’ll excuse us.”

An older dom and his beaming submissive entered when she and Tristan stepped aside. Then the door closed, the red light blinked on, and the blinds snapped shut in short order.

“That leaves us peons to proceed,” Tristan drawled.

Did Master Grump, the man who rarely smiled, just make a joke? If it was an unexpected moment of levity, it came and went in a flash because, when she glanced his way, he’d already started toward the next door.

“Are you coming?” he called.

Piper hurried and caught up with him at the window. This room had hardwood floors and a web of ropes hung from the ceiling. A floor-to-ceiling wooden pole stood in the center, while behind it, the black walls shimmered with white dots resembling stars in a night sky. The space was lit by a radiant full moon. It wasn’t until she noticed the wooden railing encircling the room, the colorful parrot painted so it looked perched on top of it, and the skull and crossbones on the black-and-white flag in the corner, that Piper realized it was a pirate ship.

“What game is this? Blackbeard and the Stolen Maiden?”

“Or any other swashbuckling privateer. The conquered captive is a popular fantasy.”

Ducking beneath the web of ropes, Tristan sauntered to a closet that blended seamlessly with the mural on the wall. Whenhe turned to her, he held an 18th-century ball gown in one hand, a bit tattered and the bodice slightly ripped, but that was undoubtedly intentional. In the opposite hand, a black eye patch dangled from one finger.

“We’ve found that props and costumes help the players get into character. There’s plenty of rope for dealing with an uncooperative prisoner. If that doesn’t encourage proper behavior, there’s always the cat.”

“The cat?” she echoed.

“Short for cat-o’-nine-tails, a nasty whip commonly used back in the day, something no pirate ship can be without. And the mast is perfect for a flogging.”

“What? No plank?” she quipped.

“No room,” he replied without missing a beat. “Besides, if the maiden is sacrificed to the sea, the game is over, and where’s the fun in that?”

An image took shape in her mind. Of Tristan in a flowing white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his powerful chest, and a patch covering one eye. No hat concealed his smooth head, and a rakish grin curved his full lips as he bound her to the mast facing outward. She wore the ball gown, her breasts close to spilling out of the ripped extremely low neckline.

Again, they’d thought of every detail. She could easily get caught up in a swashbuckling fantasy starring Tristan as the sexy, dominant buccaneer pirate.

“Do we stay here for your taste or continue on?” he asked. “It is unusual, but I saw two other green lights on down the hall.”

Each room seemed to get better, and her curiosity drove her decision. “I’d like to see more, please, sir.”

“You are the guest, and, since you answered so politely, how can I say no?”

He returned the costumes to the closet then steered her farther down the crowded hallway. A few of the occupied roomsthey passed had their doors shut, but the blinds were open, inviting observers. The bodies crowded in front of the windows made it difficult for her to see what was happening inside. She could hear leather creaking, the whoosh and crack of something hitting bare skin, as well as moans and passionate cries, which gave her a fairly good idea.

Piper picked up on a familiar scent she couldn’t quite place as they stopped before another room. Stone pillars lined the walls, flickering torches in between, and a red light in the center of the ceiling bathed the linen-draped altar beneath it.

“This is the Forbidden Temple. It’s one of our newest additions.”

“It’s very...um...realistic. All the rooms are.”

“Eric believes in living up to our name.”

The scent filling the air tickled Piper’s nose. “Is that patchouli and cinnamon I smell?”

“Your nose is better than mine. All I know is that it’s incense.” Standing so close, she could feel the warmth of his breath gently rustling her hair, a sensation that sent shivers down her spine. “Imagine yourself laid out naked on the altar as part of an ancient ritual or as a sacrifice to your master.”

Piper’s pulse pounded in her ears, drawn to the forbidden, but a sense of irreverence washed over her. “What kind of sacrifice?”

“That’s up to the master. No blood, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“People actually do that?”

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