Page 52 of Breaking Free

“You’d be amazed by what some people do. But we don’t allow extreme play at Decadence.”

“Good to know,” she whispered.

He glanced down the hall. “We’re almost at the end. There is only one open door left. You need to choose.”

“I’ll take what’s behind the last door.”

“As you wish, but room twelve is where your tour becomes interactive. Unless what you’ve seen so far has changed your mind.”

She would have accused him of showing her the worst, but he didn’t pick and choose. They’d stopped at all the open rooms, and he’d always given her a choice. What if the last stop was the worst of the worst?

Forcing a smile, she shrugged. “I haven’t changed my mind. Besides, I was born on the 12th. I’ve always considered it my lucky number.”

“You’ll have to let me know at the end of the night if your luck held true.”

This time, he took her by the hand and threaded them through the sea of people. Good thing. Tristan was tall enough to see over them; she’d have gotten quite lost. She only had to follow, which she didn’t mind doing in the least.

Unlike the other rooms, the last room was awash with bright light. She had to squint to allow her eyes to adjust after the darkness of the hall. Then she almost wished they hadn’t. After a medieval dungeon, pirate ship, sultan’s bedchamber, classroom, and coming close to being laid out on a sacrificial altar, she couldn’t imagine what fantasy was left. She never dreamed, when her vision cleared, she’d be standing in front of a prison cell.

Stunned, she stared up at Tristan.

“Have you figured out the common theme? Every fantasy we’ve helped to create, whether opulent or innocent or dark, involves a power imbalance: teacher/student, pirate/captive, and warden/ prisoner. There is one difference, however. In our world, the true power lies in consent. If you give it, you can also take it away. Do you know how?”

She licked lips suddenly gone dry before answering. “It was in the reams of paperwork I was required to fill out in advance.”

“Tell me, so there’s no misunderstanding,” he insisted.

“The club safeword is red. If I say it, I take my power back.”

“Wrong. In this safe play space, you’re free to explore the depths of your desires and surrender to your most primal urges. But it’s always your choice. If you say red, you’re rescinding your consent, and everything stops immediately.”

With all the rules that seemed skewed toward the dominants, like the lofty titles, no shoes in the playroom, escorts required, and restraints everywhere, it hadn’t occurred to her that the submissive was the one who held the power. Knowing that as an owner and her dom for the evening felt so strongly about consent was reassuring.

“So, tell me, small-town preacher’s daughter, do you consent to a small taste of pain, pleasure, and submission?”

As they stood facing each other, their eyes locked in a heated gaze, and Piper didn’t dither over her answer. This was what she’d yearned for. Not just the club, the kink, and the thrill of the taboo. She wanted all of it, but more so, she wanted it with Tristan.

If someone else had brought her to a prison cell for a taste of BDSM with the same carnal look in his eyes, she’d have run screaming for the door. But she trusted him. Even though he could be a jerk, she’d seen glimmers of the man she’d always dreamed she’d be with someday. A strong, confident, take-charge, sexy AF hero who cared more for those around him than himself. Most folks wouldn’t give two cents if their neighbor was receiving threatening letters, but he’d stepped up without being asked.

She suspected the glimmers were Tristan’s true self that he hid behind the hard, standoffish exterior, protecting him from something in his past. Piper would give anything to know what it was. In fact, she now had a new mission. Not only to see himsmile, and perhaps laugh, but to help him break free of whatever it was.

“Your answer, Piper?” he prompted.

“It’s yes, sir. I’d like a taste.”

The creak of hinges echoed through the small room when he opened the cell door. “Inside then, brave girl.”

Piper’s heart raced as she nodded, her body trembling with excitement but also anxiety—more specifically, fear of the unknown—as she walked inside the 8x8 metal cage. She reached out to touch the bars to prove they were real, that all of this wasn’t just fantasy, but she jumped and pulled back her hand at the sudden loud clang of the door swinging shut. Alarmed, she spun right into Tristan’s arms.

“My prisoner is on edge,” he observed. “But you have nothing to fear from me—if you’re cooperative.”

His finger glided along her cheek, the gentle touch foreign compared to the cold metal bars and the austere surroundings.

“Look at me, Piper.”

When her gaze met his, the expression on his handsome face reflected the tenderness of his touch. At that moment, she caught another glimmer of what she believed was the true Tristan.

“A bit of edginess is good during a scene, but it shouldn’t escalate to fear or panic. Is this too much for you?”

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