“It is. I was so impressed with the design of this one and the initial interest that I immediately got the second club underway. It opened a few months after this one, but it’s currently doing significantly more business.”
“And the one in New York?”
“If I’m lucky, it’ll be open by the end of the year.”
“You looking to make this a worldwide phenomenon?” I could totally see Master taking over the world with places such as this.
“No. Probably not. The third one’ll likely be my limit. I can only spread myself so thin. Since I insist on being an integral part of all of them, I know I have my limitations.”
He turned to face the open area. “This is the main floor. It allows for interactions amongst club members. More of a social setting than a play area.” He nodded toward the far wall. “There’s one bar—it serves pretty much anything except alcohol—and it’s managed by two in-house submissives and monitored by one of the Masters nightly.”
“No alcohol?”
“Alcohol affects consent,” he informed me. “In my world, consent is critical. I won’t allow anything to dull the senses and confuse that.”
Considering some of the things I’d read about, I could only imagine alcohol hindering one’s ability to make rational decisions. Since they were fond of things such as whips and floggers, it was probably better to be safe than sorry.
“Over there is a lounge area.” Master pointed toward the section complete with a big-screen television and a wide array of seating. “My intention was to create an atmosphere where people would come to hang out and relax.”
He directed my attention toward the large area along the left wall.
“That section is reserved for submissives. They have their own space to spend time if they aren’t invited into the lounge. That way their Masters can rest assured they won’t be sought after by others.” He shifted his hand to another area. “And for those unattached submissives who are looking for playtime, the lounge has a sectioned-off area where they can respectfully kneel while anticipating an invitation.”
“Do they?”
Master turned to face me. “Do they what?”
“Kneel and wait?”
“Of course.”
That was interesting. I had assumed the kneeling thing was only a Dom’s personal preference. Apparently, it was par for the course.
“Well, I like this space,” I admitted. “Not what I thought it would be, though. It’s clean and modern, open and airy.”
Master grinned. “That was what I was going for. Open and airy.”
When he headed for the stairs that descended into what I assumed was a basement, I followed close behind.
“This is what is referred to as the dungeon.”
Now, this was more of what I’d expected for a BDSM club. “A dungeon? Really?”
“Yes. And because I like the idea of a legitimate dungeon, I had it designed accordingly.”
Stone walls and concrete floors added to the ambience. The lanterns flickered as though they were lit by fire, but I could tell there were LED bulbs designed to mimic flames. No fire hazards there.
“How big is this place, anyway?” I walked from one end to the other while Master stood near the stairs and watched me.
“Each floor is four-thousand square feet. It’s only slightly smaller than the Chicago club.”
That was quite a bit of space. Not that I knew what an average club floor plan entailed, but it seemed Master hadn’t skimped on anything.
He motioned toward some of the things against the wall. “The equipment throughout is top of the line, designed for safety and convenience. Those roped-off areas allow an added measure of safety when necessary. Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”
As we started up the stairs, I glanced behind me once more. I wondered if Master had plans for me and Clarissa in this space. And if so, what did he intend to do to us?
We bypassed the first floor, then went up to the next. Master gave me a brief tour of the second floor, which, as he explained, had various themed rooms, ranging from a standard bedroom, the Wild West, Cleopatra’s inner sanctum, and everything in between. Some of the rooms were windowless while other rooms had glass walls.
“I assume the glass walls are for the exhibitionists?” That was how he’d explained the glass rooms at Devotion.
“Exactly.”
“And these rooms?” I nodded toward one of the smaller rooms. This one had maroon walls, a large recliner, sink, and shelves full of towels and other supplies.
“Aftercare. We’ve got an area that’s public, but I added the smaller rooms for those who may need privacy.”
He grinned when it was obvious I didn’t know what that meant.
“After a scene, a submissive requires care. These rooms allow some privacy for the Dom to ease any emotional stress that might’ve occurred during the scene. Some subs require time to come down from subspace.”
“Subspace?” I’d read the term, but I didn’t understand what it meant.
