The Club 5: Submit (Siren Publishing Classic) Read online

  The Club 5: Submit

  When confident businesswoman Georgia Coburn heads off to The Club for one night only, little does she know what awaits her.

  A very handsome and arrogant man forces his attentions on her. Try as she might to resist him, her body submits under the force of his kisses.

  When he offers her a proposal—spend the day with him at The Club, let him show her the delights of being a sub and if, at the end of the night, she doesn't want to stay with him he will leave her alone—she accepts.

  Georgia is shocked by her responses when she is under his domination, she still cannot believe she is a submissive, but her body is telling her she is. She believes Jackson wants a 24/7 Dom/sub relationship but Georgia can never live that way.

  Jackson knows she is his sub, knows he is in love with her. Now he just has to convince Georgia he is the Dom for her.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary

  Length: 28,503 words

  THE CLUB 5: SUBMIT

  Suzy Shearer

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  THE CLUB 5: SUBMIT

  Copyright © 2014 by Suzy Shearer

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-023-8

  First E-book Publication: July 2014

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of The Club 5: Submit by Suzy Shearer from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Suzy Shearer’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Shearer’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  About the Author

  THE CLUB 5: SUBMIT

  SUZY SHEARER

  Copyright © 2014

  Prologue

  Little Red Riding Hood pulled the door open.

  The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the bedclothes, “Come, get into bed with me.”

  Little Red Riding Hood took off her clothes and got into bed. She was greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her nightclothes, and said to her, “Grandmother, what big arms you have!”

  “All the better to hug you with, Little Rabbit.”

  “What big eyes you have!”

  “All the better to see you with.”

  “What big teeth you have!”

  “All the better to eat you, Little Rabbit…”

  Chapter One

  What on earth was I doing? I honestly had no idea.

  I was no giddy teenager. I was a woman who had just turned fifty, confident, self-assured and strong, a woman who knew who she was and was equal to any man. Yet, I was about to do something so out of character that I could not understand it myself.

  I sat with my head on the steering wheel for a while thinking of my life. I had married at twenty-one, had one child who was now married and lived overseas. My husband and I realised very early on that we had made a huge mistake but stayed together for the sake of our daughter and because it was convenient for us both. I guess we just fell into a rut, a routine. He had his work and I had mine, our sex life was nonexistent. With my husband, the few times we had indulged had been far from arousing. There was something lacking. He was kind and gentle but to be honest, it wasn’t what I wanted. When I had suggested perhaps he could be more forceful he had looked at me as if I was crazy, and maybe I was.

  I knew he had a series of affairs but I did not care. I was too busy. I had our daughter to raise and I had a career. Still, it came as a shock, when, six years ago, he asked for a divorce so he could remarry. Fortunately, we were both civilized and just divided everything down the centre. We were still friends.

  Twenty-three years of marriage and I had nothing. Oh yes, I had plenty of material things. Money was no problem but I had no one to share my life with, and suddenly I was truly alone.

  Then I recognised I had been alone most of my married life, and this was no different. I took stock of my life and realised I had given up my own happiness for the sake of others. I loved my daughter but she had moved on, married and lived overseas. Meanwhile I was still stuck in the same place.

  I had never experienced much of what life had to offer. My sex life for the past twenty-four years was reduced to a battery-operated tool, if I was lucky one orgasm, and that was that.

  Even before my husband, it was not all that exciting. Sometimes I wondered if I was one of those women who just were not interested in sex, other times I wondered if what I needed was to be with a man who knew exactly what he wanted and just took it.

  I set out to prove it one way or another. I went a little crazy and had a few one-night stands. They were meant to be long-term relationships, but I found they did little for me. It was like scratching an
itch. I fucked, I came sometimes, I left. The men I went with wanted things to continue, but without any sort of excitement, no tingles, I could barely get aroused and rarely orgasmed. I thought, why bother?

  Something was missing and I had no idea what. I knew it was not my sexual ability because every one of my partners had been very complimentary and most disappointed when I refused a second date. I was looking for something elusive, something that would rock my world, but I had the feeling that at fifty, it was too late to learn. So I resigned myself to being alone and sexless.

  A few months ago, I had read about a club, a BDSM club, which was in my town with the very unoriginal name of The Club. I never knew it existed, but then, I had never been interested in anything other than pure vanilla and even that bored me. So, I read the article—it talked about members indulging in their every fantasy safely, and it mentioned it was exclusive and expensive. I forgot about it but then every now and again it would surface and I would think about what my fantasies were. What would excite me?

  However, that was the rub.

  Just what were my fantasies?

  Maybe I should go to this club, maybe I should see what other people’s fantasies were, and maybe then I could figure out what it was I wanted, what I was missing.

  So, I contacted them and was sent forms to fill in so I could visit, just one visit.

  If I wanted to join, there would be more paperwork, more questions, more money. I went to a doctor who did not know me to get the standard STD tests done and got a report to show I was all clean. In a way, that reassured me about this club. Everyone who attended had to be tested regularly, and unprotected sex was not encouraged unless between regular partners.

  So there I was, sitting in my car in the car park of The Club, in front of a huge, red-brick mansion, and wondering what the hell I was doing. I took a deep breath. Stupid to sit here. I had to go in.

  The letter I had received, approving my one visit, had mentioned I would have to wear a green kimono, which they would provide, if I was unsure of my preferences. If I was a submissive or a Domme, I could wear appropriate dress.

  I was no Domme and there was no way I would ever be submissive to a man, so it looked like the kimono was for me. I entered the vestibule and admired the understated luxury and expense. I showed my license, had my photo taken and was given a kimono, a temporary ID and a key. I was shown where to change and told I could not take anything into the main club.

  More opulence greeted me in the change area, plush carpet underfoot and lovely décor. I quickly removed my clothing except for my panties and wrapped the kimono around me, tying the sash extra tight. I decided to forgo wearing my shoes. I hated shoes at the best of times and preferred to be barefoot so it would make me feel less uncomfortable. I was nervous to say the least, and not wearing a brassiere made me feel vulnerable.

  I was a well-built woman or, as I liked to think, Rubenesque. My breasts are full and heavy and it felt weird without my bra to hold them. Gravity was cruel to older women with large breasts.

  I stayed in the change area for a while then thought of the money I had paid to be here. Head held high, and hoping to hell my sash would not come undone, I left the room and entered The Club.

  In front of me was a large bar, so I figured I would get something to drink to cover up my nervousness. I ordered an apple juice from one of the people behind the bar. A very cute waiter flirted outrageously with me. He made me feel comfortable so when I finished the juice I started my exploration. He had told me I could wander through The Club and, unless a door was shut, I could go anywhere. I thanked him and headed off.

  An amazing staircase with a very wide handrail led to a second floor but I decided to see what was on this level first. There were sofas and tables scattered here and there. Some people were seated, others wandering as I was. Moving forward, I entered the first “scene.”

  A Domme was standing behind a naked man. He had a collar around his neck and a leash tied to a frame on the wall. She wore thigh-high boots and a leather corset. The Domme was hitting him with a riding crop, his buttocks already glowing red. She moved to the wall and picked up the leash, ordering him to crawl. I was amazed to see he had a hard erection after his punishment, or maybe it was because.

  The woman sat on the edge of a chair with her legs spread and ordered the man to lick her pussy. She encouraged his actions with more strikes on his body with the crop. I watched as she came and made him kneel in front of her, his erection still unsatisfied.

  I moved on.

  As I walked, I felt someone looking at me, I turned my head but no one seemed to be looking in my direction. I must have imagined it. Still, I had that creepy feeling of being stalked.

  The next scene was even more intimate. Two men were fucking a woman, one had his cock in her arse while the other had his in her cunt. A third man was fucking the man who had his dick in the woman. The woman was screaming in the throes of orgasm after orgasm as the men pounded into her. You could hear their balls slapping against flesh.

  I sighed and shook my head. I was envious of her. I had never achieved more than one orgasm and considered myself lucky when I did, and she was having what seemed like dozens. Still I was not sure I could have two men fucking me, and my arse was virgin territory.

  As I moved forward, the feeling of being watched still persisted, and I was starting to feel more unsettled. I kept looking around, expecting to see someone close behind, but there was no one.

  The next scene was so quiet and very erotic. I felt I should hold my breath.

  A man was tying a woman. Already she was enveloped in rope, and it was almost woven across her body. She was hanging, eyes closed, her mouth slightly open, with her stomach facing the floor. One leg was straight out to the side of her and the man was in the process of tying her other leg behind her. It was done so slowly, it was like watching a piece of art in the making.

  His movements were so sensual across her body, he seemed to be worshipping her as he worked. I noticed knots on her clit and her arse. As he worked, her body swung, and judging by the look of unseeing ecstasy on her face, each movement sent a ripple of pleasure through her body.

  Once more I was envious of being the object of such worship, of being so overcome with sensation that it took you to someplace else, of letting someone else decide your responses.

  Maybe that is what my fantasy was.

  I had to admit, being the sole object of someone’s desire would be wonderful. To have someone put my pleasure before anything else.

  I started walking again, thinking how much pleasure the woman must be receiving to send her into a trancelike state.

  There was an empty stage. On my left, I had passed rooms, some open, some closed. Those that were open held beds, frames, strange-looking benches, and all sorts of devices. This place certainly provided something to satisfy one’s every fantasy, and it seemed, every kink imaginable.

  There was a staircase ahead, leading to the second floor. It was not as wide as the main one in front of the bar. I put my hand on the newel, feeling the wood polished by thousands of hands.

  I glanced behind me as I went to ascend the stairs. There was a man walking toward me.

  He scared me.

  He looked feral, even in the way he walked. His eyes were on me, and I could feel them boring into my soul.

  There was no doubt at all that this man was a predator and I was his prey.

  I began climbing, trying to act natural while my heart was pounding in fear, and reached the mid-landing. Coming down the stairs was a group of people. I had no choice but to wait. I turned to look down the staircase.

  Chapter Two

  He was closer.

  He oozed sex, and his look was smoldering.

  He was very tall, maybe six six, muscular and very handsome with salt and pepper hair. He was close enough for me to see the colour of eyes, light, bright blue—hypnotic. I wanted to run but those eyes held me. I was a rabbit and he was the wolf.

>   He reached my side. I was breathing heavily as if I had run ten kilometres. He grinned down at me, not a very pleasant grin. Instead, it was the grin of a wolf looking at his dinner.

  “Frightened, little rabbit?” I was startled. How could he know what I had thought? He whispered, “You should be.”

  His words shook me to my very soul. They held dark promises that I tried to ignore. I tried to look away but was caught in that gaze. I backed against the wall, feeling the hardness at my back. I looked either side to escape but he just laughed and reached out a hand.

  His fingers curled gently around my neck, imprisoning me against the wall. I screamed and he laughed cruelly.

  “Think anyone will come to a scream? Listen.” He cocked his head, inviting me to hear.

  A woman was screaming, two, three times. Then she gave a long drawn-out scream as she climaxed. I slumped against the hand on my neck.

  Suddenly he attacked my mouth. There was no other word for it. He demanded my response, demanded I open my lips to give him access.

  Heaven help me, I did.

  I let him take my mouth but I clenched my teeth together. He heard me mewl weakly against him as I tried to resist. I tried so hard to keep him from entering my mouth. He pulled away and looked down at my face. I tried to look away but he held me mesmerised.

  “What were you thinking when you saw Erin being fucked by those men?”

  I looked at him, puzzled.

  “I saw you. You sighed and shook your head. Tell me now. What were you thinking?” I realised this was the person I had felt watching me. He had been hunting his prey all the time that I walked through the scenes.