Owned (Office Intrigue Book 8) by Nicole Edwards (year 2 reading books TXT) 📗

I care to hear about the intimate details of a scene they’d had/would have/hoped to have with one of the willing and eager submissives available for the taking.

Not that I was entirely unsocial. I had a handful of friends whom I would do just about anything for. Several belonging to the fetish club known as Dichotomy, of which I was a member. On occasion, I would venture out to the club to catch up with those I hadn’t seen due to my reclusive nature. In truth, that was the only reason I paid someone else for access to furniture, toys, and equipment I had readily available in my own home.

As for the New Year’s gathering TJ had amassed, I came tonight to check in with a few people and to get a glimpse of whatever new tools of the trade he’d commandeered before they went to market. Although, I got the feeling I was going to be greatly disappointed with his inventory. It appeared tonight’s display revolved around caging the variety of human pets he maintained for his guests’ personal pleasure. And as much as I appreciated someone wanting to keep their human play toy in a kennel, it just wasn’t my thing.

Trading my empty glass of champagne for a fresh one, I ventured toward the stairs leading down to TJ’s prized dungeon. It rivaled that of any club I’d ever been in, more of a glorified stage than anything. Think of Cirque du Soleil, only with naked, writhing bodies strapped down, tied up, and ultimately being used for the pleasure of many. The man had even installed spotlights and some intricate light show set to music to help his guests maneuver their way through.

It might’ve appeared as though I was checking out the males and females on lockdown, but my interest was solely in what bound them. Sure, I admired TJ’s creativity, but I was always looking for new things to spark my own. The submissives were of no interest to me. Although most of them were available for the taking, they would not be able to provide me with what I needed. When it came to playthings, I required mine to be of an entirely different caliber. At the top of my list of requirements: strict obedience and complete silence. Since I had that at home, I would not be partaking of the flesh making itself available to me.

As I moved around the room, checking out the variety of slings and swings, metal cages and rubber hanging ones, pillories, impalers, and stockades, I made a mental note to reach out to a friend of mine who manufactured things of this nature. A design was forming, and perhaps it was time for me to entertain some new furniture for one of my many personal playrooms.

I lingered from one station to the next, observing the scene in an attempt to appear as though I was having a good time. I knew from experience that ducking out early and avoiding the highlights TJ maintained deep in the earth would only get me harassed at a later time. And since I had no desire to listen to anyone go on about my lack of social skills, I had learned to play the game.

“Sir, if you’re interested, I would like to avail myself for your pleasure.”

I paused, glancing down at the young woman who had stepped up to my side.

My brain immediately catalogued her features. Her hair was blond and shiny, her shoulders bony, breasts high and firm, nipples tight and brown, waist narrow, hips equally so. As for her costume, her toothpick legs were adorned with sheer white, crotchless stockings, feet encased in a pair of white, heeled knee-high boots. She looked the same as every other female submissive I’d encountered tonight and appealed as much as the others, which translated to not at all.

I didn’t speak, not even to acknowledge she had approached. This was the very reason I preferred to engage at Dichotomy when I was in Chicago. At least there the submissives were trained not to speak to me. Under any circumstance.

Evidently, that memo hadn’t made it to TJ’s party this time around, either.

Ignoring her, I made a wide berth around her scantily clad form, letting her know she was in my way.

A few minutes later, when another young woman did the same, I gave up the ghost, returning to the main floor, where the Dominants were congregating. At least they would not be propositioning me.

Shortly after I returned to the chaos, I noticed Trent Ramsey engaged in a conversation with four of his partners who ran the highly successful Chatter PR: Justin Parker, Benjamin Snowden, Landon and Langston Moore. The five men were congregating off to the side of the main walkway that would take me out of the house. Since I had yet to engage anyone in conversation, save for a quick hello/goodbye with Ransom upon his hasty retreat a short time ago, I figured it was imperative I do so before I took my leave.

Landon let out a booming laugh. “I can actually see that. Clarissa dressed up like a Christmas tree.”

“Sounds appealing,” Justin said.

“Troy came up with the idea of dangling ornaments. She wasn’t impressed,” Trent explained.

“I imagine not.”

When I noticed another submissive making a beeline in my direction, I inserted myself into the conversation without haste. “Are they with you tonight?” I asked, looking right at Trent. “Clarissa and Troy?”

All eyes shifted to me in greeting. Pleasantries weren’t necessary as these five men were some of those close friends I’d mentioned.

“They are not,” he answered with a grin. “Clarissa was not willing to take that chance.”

“Luci tried to get out of it,” Langston stated. “We wouldn’t allow it.”

He nodded in the direction of a buffet that had been set up. All the food was black and white, as was the theme. All of it was also laid out on Luci’s trim, naked form.

“Keeping a close eye on her, are you?” I teased.

“Not for the