Taking Over Read online

  Taking Over

  Brandy Ayers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Taking Over

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Brandy Ayers

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Visit me at www.brandyayers.com

  Digital ISBN

  Published in the United States of America

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Also By Brandy Ayers

  About Brandy

  Chapter One

  Lydia

  Lydia shivered despite the warmth in the room. The source of the goose bumps covering her limbs wasn’t the temperature, but rather pure anticipation of the night ahead. It throbbed through her body in great beating waves. Beneath the silk robe wrapped around her body, her thighs were wet with the promise of what lay ahead.

  Stepping farther into the room, she surveyed the space to make sure everything had been set in place just as she liked it. The walls were painted a midnight blue, giving the space a cavernous feel, and recessed lights throughout were dimmed except for one wall. Three spotlights focused on the platform where she would spend the next few hours.

  Lydia approached the wall and smiled in satisfaction. As always, the club had followed her specifications to the letter. Seven feet off the floor, a single carabiner clip hung from a bolt. She gripped the cool metal in her hand and tugged. The simple system held strong; it would need to for the fun she had in mind. On the floor, a small raised platform would put her on display for the entire room, making sure everyone would have a view whether they chose to participate or not. The leather ankle cuffs bolted to the wall exactly four feet apart just above the platform had blood rushing to her clit.

  Five months without a visit to Club Zion was far too long. No wonder she had made three interns cry that day. She needed her fix to find her balance.

  “Ma’am, are you satisfied with the accommodations?”

  Lydia turned to find the club owner, Stephan, striding in from the main hall. The man was tall and lean, and his inky black hair hung down to midback. He had delicate features for a man, but she knew from experience not to be fooled by them. Stephan could be ruthless in his kinks. His pretty looks had been known to lure playmates into a false sense of security, one he took pleasure in stripping away as he worked them over with his toys. Lydia took no pleasure in the more painful pursuits Zion offered, but she didn’t judge those who did. Stephan included.

  “As always, everything is perfect, Stevie.” She fought the desire for her lips to curve into a smile. The shortened version of his name always set the man on edge. Very few people could get away with teasing him and not walk away with a flaming red bottom, but she was one of his most loyal members, and they had grown close over the years.

  “Every time I see you, my hand twitches with the need to work you over. Have you changed your mind yet? The pain I could bring you would feel better than any of the pleasure you’ll find here tonight.” Without fail, each time they saw each other he tried to convince her to join him in the lower levels of the club where those who craved a more . . . intense experience went to fulfill their needs. But each time she denied him.

  “I think you know my answer to that.” She allowed the small smile she had been fighting to show on her face.

  Stephan simply nodded in reply, his disappointment plain as day. Behind him one of the guardians entered the room. “Ronin, I’ll take care of assisting Angel here into position. Please recite for us what the rules of her room are while we get into place.”

  Ronin grunted, obviously not happy his boss was taking over the responsibility of locking her into the restraints. Lydia recognized the guardian immediately. He had assisted her a few times before, and he would be hard to forget. A few inches taller than Stephan, he seemed to loom over everyone. The uniform of black slacks and a tight black T-shirt did nothing to hide the mounds of muscle lining every inch of his frame. His nose had obviously been broken more than a few times and seemed to zigzag down his otherwise extremely handsome face. But rather than detract from his attractiveness, the flaw seemed to only add to it. He had a hard, rugged beauty that sent a rush of moisture to between Lydia’s thighs. She liked knowing he would be watching her all night.

  “After you, Angel.” Stephan held out his arm, ready to receive her thin robe.

  She took one last look at Ronin and held his gaze as she untied the sash holding the silk garment in place. It slithered down over her shoulders and arms, exposing her body to the two men. Ronin held his stony expression, but she didn’t miss the fire that ignited in his eyes as they swept down her body. Her nipples tingled with pleasure, puckering under his intense scrutiny. It disappointed her that Ronin would not be allowed to play. His role in the room was to ensure visitors didn’t go too far, that Lydia was safe at all times. But she longed to know how the mountainous man would use her body for his own pleasure.

  “Ronin, the rules of the room. Now,” Stephan barked at his employee.

  “Apologies, sir.” Ronin brought his eyes back to his employer, though he obviously didn’t want to. “The safe word for Angel’s room is ‘red.’ Should Angel say the safe word, all play will stop, and all visitors will be escorted from the room. No visitors will allow Angel to climax unless she says ‘green.’ If Angel is approaching climax, she will say ‘yellow’ and visitors will be instructed to cease touching of all erogenous zones. Visitors may use manual stimulation, oral stimulation, and toys present in the room. However, no intercourse is permitted. No pain play is permitted. No more than five visitors are permitted to play with Angel at one time. Observers are permitted to masturbate and to climax in Angel’s presence.” Ronin paused, his dilated eyes tracking back to Lydia’s naked form. “Visitors and observers are permitted to come on Angel. All play stops three hours from the opening of her room.”

  Lydia fought the smile trying to inch onto her face. She always found the reciting of the rules amusing, partly because her name while inside the walls of Zion was so opposite her true personality. Her alter ego, Angel, was a sweet, meek woman put on display for the enjoyment of others.

  Lydia was a high-powered billionaire bitch who didn’t take shit from anyone.

  Angel had streaks of pink and purple weaved through her hair, which cascaded around her back and shoulders. Lydia wore her golden-blonde hair in a tight French twist every day.

  Angel allowed herself to be strapped to a wall completely naked while countless people paraded in and out of her room, playing with her body and leaving her begging for satisfaction. Lydia covered her body in conservative power suits. She made sure her pleasure came first in the bedroom, and her partners knew better than to leave her wanting.

  In truth, Lydia was not a true submissive. She did not wish to live the lifestyle of a Dominant/submissive relationship. But occasionally she liked to no longer be in control. Or at least have the illusion she was no longer in control. Club Zion was where she went on such occasions.

  “Very good, Ronin.” Stephan handed the robe to the guardian, who hung it on a hook by the p
rivate entrance. “After you, my dear.” Holding out his hand, Stephan escorted Lydia to the platform and held her steady as she stepped up.

  Lydia turned around, spreading her legs more than shoulder width apart. Stephan secured her ankles into place, the smooth leather of the cuffs sending shivers along her pale skinn. After tugging the restraints to ensure they would hold, Stephan trailed his fingers up the inside of her legs from her ankle to just below the junction of her thighs.

  “Perhaps I will watch for a bit tonight. You are always exquisite in your desperation, Angel.” He traced her slit with his finger in a touch so light Lydia almost thought she imagined it. “Already you are squirming with the need to be touched.” Stephan pushed his finger past her folds, giving her clit one quick sweep.

  Lydia’s hands had not yet been secured, and they flew out to steady herself on his shoulders.

  “Tsk, tsk, Angel. No touching.” Stephan removed his finger from her warmth and sucked the juices from his digit. “Mmm, so sweet.” He winked at her, then grasped her left wrist and lifted it off his shoulder. He toyed with the leather cuff that she wore every day. “Such a beautiful adornment. I admire you wear a symbol of your kink even outside these walls.”

  “It’s a good reminder that everyone has their secrets.” Lydia panted through the words, the need for release already building in her core. The cuff consisted of two circles of leather fashioned to look like a collar. The two circles were connected by four silver chain links. In her everyday life, it looked like nothing more than a piece of statement jewelry. In reality, the piece had been constructed by the most sought-after bondage artist in the world. The leather was soft enough to not leave a mark on her skin, but strong enough to not break no matter how many hours she hung from the restraints. The metal links were stronger than even handcuffs carried by law enforcement. There would be no escaping the cuffs, no matter how much she fought them.

  Stephan removed one of the loops from her left wrist and secured it around the right. Next he brought her arms up over her head, connecting the carabiner to the chain links connecting her two wrists. Once he was satisfied the restraints were secure, Stephan stepped back to admire Lydia stretched out and on display. “You are a vision, Angel.”

  A normal girl might blush at his praise, but Lydia was no normal girl. She took on men twice Stephan’s age and three times his wealth on a daily basis in the boardroom. Over the years, she had stepped on more people than she could count during her ascent up the ladder.

  It had been worth it.

  But being at the top of the business world could be a lonely place. There were more than enough men to satisfy whatever desires she had. But rarely could she find an outlet to display her vulnerability. Not without putting her company at risk. Hence, her need for a place like Club Zion.

  As Angel she could put her vulnerability on display, anonymously. There would be no way anyone could recognize her, despite not wearing a stitch of clothing or a mask. Instead, she used contouring techniques to change the appearance of her face, and contacts to hide the color of her eyes. They would be too recognizable on their own. After all, not many people had one green eye and one blue.

  Stephan stepped to the back of the room, watching Lydia in her exposed state. After a moment, he looked at Ronin and nodded once. Without further instruction, Ronin slid the pocket French doors open.

  Almost immediately, people in various states of undress streamed into the room. There were men in business suits and masks. Women in dresses more suited for a charity dinner than a sex club. One woman wore a latex bodysuit that clung to her curvy body from ankle to neck. Another man donned leather shorts and two nipple rings connected to a leash, which ended in his master’s tight grasp.

  One by one, person after person slinked into the room, most milling around the edges of the space, watching to see what would happen. Who would approach first?

  Adrenaline pumped through Lydia’s bloodstream in time with the pounding of her heart. Every nerve ending sizzled with the need to be touched, to be satisfied. The pressure of dozens of gazes settling over her toned body drove her need higher, until she wanted to beg someone, anyone, to kick off the festivities. But she bit her lip, holding the words back. Eventually, someone would take the initiative. Some nights it might take as long as twenty minutes. Some nights as few as five.

  But eventually, someone would take the initiative. All Lydia could do was wait.

  Chapter Two

  Lydia

  Arousal built low in her belly, pushing down until she felt it throbbing deep inside her pussy. She shifted her hips, trying desperately to find some friction to relieve the ache, but her restraints held tight, not allowing her any movement. Sweeping her desperate gaze around the room, she saw Stephan smirk at her obvious desperation. An irrational urge to stick her tongue out at him overwhelmed her, but she held it back.

  Finally, after what felt like forever, a short, balding, yet extremely fit, man stepped out from the crowd of gawkers. He wore faded jeans, the button undone, and no shirt, putting his near perfect physique on display. Standing before her, he ghosted his open hand over her thigh, not touching, but close enough the heat from his skin radiated onto her own. “Your juices are visible even from ten feet away. It’s obvious to everyone here how much you love being put on display. Trussed up and ready to be used.”

  Lydia didn’t respond but arched her back, trying to push her body into the man’s touch.

  “Tsk, tsk, Angel. You don’t get touched until we say so. Your pleasure is at the mercy of everyone here.” The stranger’s eyes gleamed with delight. “We could collectively decide to stage an orgy in front of your little stage but never once lay a finger on you.”

  Lydia whimpered, shaking her head. God, please don’t let them. But his words were true. Her rules only outlined what people were allowed to do to her. She never specified whether they could refrain from touching her at all.

  “But what fun would that be?” Swooping in like a bird of prey, the bald man enveloped one of Lydia’s nipples with his mouth, sucking and nipping at it until she gasped and writhed in pleasure.

  As always, once the first visitor stepped forward and began to play with her, more followed. A couple approached, the woman in a skimpy lingerie set Lydia recognized from La Perla, the man in sharp navy trousers and a button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows.

  “What do you think, darling? You think her pussy is as tight as yours?” The man pressed his front against the woman’s back, his hand skating down along her shoulder and arm. “Why don’t we find out?”

  The woman—his wife, if the rings on their fingers were to be believed—nodded and bit her lip. They laced their fingers together and rubbed Lydia’s weeping pussy, not penetrating her yet, simply running their joined hands back and forth over her slit.

  “Oh,” the woman gasped. “She’s so wet.” Together, the couple plunged their index fingers deep into her sopping pussy.

  Hell, that felt good.

  The room may have been slow to start, but they weren’t taking it easy on her. Already Lydia could feel the first stirring of her climax building deep in her belly. And there were only three people playing so far. Letting her head hang down, she watched as one stranger sucked at her breasts like a man starved, while the couple alternated pushing their fingers in and out of her pussy. The man licked and kissed along his wife’s neck as they fucked Lydia with their fingers.

  The visual was not helping to keep her impending release at bay. Instead, she peered out over their heads, taking in the crowd that had formed around them. There had to have been at least thirty people held captive by the show taking place on her little stage. Some of the men openly stroked their cocks. To the right, two women were on their knees sucking off another man. Two women stood chest to chest, their hands hidden beneath each other’s clothes as they fingered each other, both of them watching Lydia through hooded eyes. Another couple stood to the side, the man’s arms tight around his partner�
��s curvy body. They weren’t touching in a sexual way, only watching in mild curiosity, but the vibe between them spoke of a deep intimacy, something Lydia found herself longing for.

  The pressure increased inside her swollen tunnel, and Lydia’s eyes flew down to the crowded space between her legs. The bald man had added one of his fingers to the couple’s, and now all three pumped in time in and out of her opening. Wild moans and whimpers rose from her throat, joining with the sounds of dozens of other people in the room racing toward their own climaxes.

  Another couple stepped forward: two big, burly men, one tanned and blond with a beard, one black and clean shaven everywhere. Neither wore a stitch of clothing. Their large cocks bounced back and forth on their thighs as they strode toward her. Anyplace else and they might even have intimidated her with their size alone. But here she knew she was safe and that everyone had been informed of her rules.

  The one with the beard bent his partner over so that he had no choice but to plant his hands on the raised platform on which Lydia stood. The blond spread his dark-skinned counterpart’s ass cheeks and plunged his dick deep into the man’s ass as he stared directly into Lydia’s eyes. “You like that, honey? You like seeing me fuck my husband’s ass while you get finger fucked by three strangers?”

  Lydia nodded enthusiastically. The image of two huge men joining together had always been one of her favorites, and she all too eagerly watched as the couple grunted in front of her.

  “Lick this little slut’s cum off her legs while I pound you in front of everyone.” Without further prompting, the black man’s full lips opened, his wet pink tongue sweeping up the inside of Lydia’s arousal-covered thighs, gathering everything that leaked out between the three fingers of the strangers who had shifted slightly to the side to accommodate the new players.

  Another woman stepped forward, coming to stand directly at Lydia’s side. “You are so beautiful standing up here, flushed and sweating, squirming like an eager little puppy looking to please.” The woman brushed her hands over Lydia’s torso, the touch delicate compared to the intensity of everything happening between her legs. “I could stand and watch these people tease you all day, but I knew I would regret it if I didn’t also participate.”