MINE AT MIDNIGHT
Boys of Sinn Island 1
Copyright © 2014
“Welcome to Breakers of Sinn Island.”
Marcus Stark gave the doorman a short nod, proceeding through the custom-made glass-and-steel door into Breakers. He finished reading the text that had just come up on his phone, the news starting his evening off on an exciting note. Signed contract on Midnight to be a sub.
The crowd started early this weekend. Surveying the exotic and beautiful guests that filled the club in their risqué designer outfits brought his semierect cock awake. A woman twirled by him, the sheer toga draped over her like flimsy leftover scraps of chiffon, pronouncing her hard nipples and the dark patch of hair between her legs.
A grin twitched the corner of his mouth as he continued toward the Plexiglas staircase that led up to the private offices belonging to his two brothers, Alexander and Julian, and himself.
Business before pleasure.
Tucking his phone in his pocket, he climbed the first set of stairs and paused to gaze out over his crowd.
When he and his brothers decided to go into business together, most of their friends said they were foolish. After all, when had any billionaire brothers bought a private island and turned it into a fantasy world for the elite? “You’ll lose everything.” “There’s no way you’ll get guests to an isolated pleasure island.” “Are you guys fucking nuts?”
“Wouldn’t you like to have your nuts fucked here,” Marcus said under his breath with a smirk.
Oh, their friends weren’t mocking them now. In fact, they would barter for discounts to the island fun, discounts the Stark brothers gave only if they convinced a full-priced friend to accompany them on their mini vacations.
All about marketing.
Marcus observed the flow of guests. The club had four floors. On Temptation, the first and most innocent floor, guests arrived and mingled however they wished, sampling their company, testing possible candidates for a wicked and wild night. Several private nooks allowed guests to engage in acts of foreplay without the mess. Temptation was the beginning, the preparation, in a club Marcus and his brothers had designed around a journey that descended into a person’s deepest and darkest fantasies.
The second floor was Fantasy, where guests could head if their fantasies became a little more than just acting and play. The third floor, Crave, pressed the boundaries for many guests. Men wore nothing more than boxers or briefs, and women were allowed only a thong. If guests ventured to the third lowest level of Breakers, they were required to come into the club ahead of time to review the rules of the floor, and sign a contract and consent. In addition, the guest’s first night was accompanied by one of the club’s many security guards for extra precautions.
Then there was Midnight, the fourth and final floor. Marcus’s cock swelled against his leather pants. Midnight was their version of a dungeon, and it was his favorite floor to play.
One of the women hanging out on the platform—an extension from the landing of the stairs over the entrance—leaned back against the gold railing, sipping a martini with color-changing plastic cubes. She perused him with heavily made-up eyes, the tip of her pink tongue running along her red lips. Her attire evoked a pleasurable response from him, a sheer item that clung to her curvy frame. She might tease other men’s senses with only a skimpy pair of thong and demi-bra on beneath, but not him.
Shame he wasn’t interested in the fairer sex, especially tonight. He had a special guest awaiting his unannounced arrival.
Marcus climbed the last set of stairs to the off-access business floor. He punched in the code on the touch-screen keypad and scanned in his fingerprints. The bulletproof glass door clicked and pulled back slowly, allowing him entrance. He closed the door behind him and walked down a hallway that oversaw Temptation from every angle. Beneath his feet, the thick bulletproof Plexiglas. To his left, another wall of the material. To his right, rich, dark wood gave way to a door leading into one of three offices.
Marcus knocked on the first door and entered before an invitation was given.
Sitting around a round table off to the side, Julian, the oldest brother, and Alex, the middle brother, looked up, both wearing smiles. Alex raised his tumbler, the amber Scotch shimmering as the track lights over his head reflected off the sloshing surface.
“Good evening, Marcus. Yacht delayed?” Alex asked.
“Dealing with the FBI isn’t exactly convenient,” Marcus said, crossing the room.
“Before we left the office, the latest reports weren’t up.”
“Oh, they’re up, and they’re pretty damn incriminating. Agent Diaz feels confident they’ve collected enough evidence to press charges and win this thing in court.” Marcus’s lips curled. “Johnson’s in the target zone, that bastard. It’s only a matter of time before they pick him up. Any day.”
“Good. That scoundrel has cost us tens of thousands of dollars trying to make up for our clients’ losses.” Alex took a healthy drink and brought the glass down with a sharp clap. “At least we caught it before it got nasty. Those clients are thankful for what we’ve done.”
“It’s been a long investigation. It’ll be nice to bring it to a close.” Julian slid a black portfolio with the monthly finance report across the table. Marcus remained standing, foregoing his usual seat and his usual drink, which earned him a brow raising from both men. “In a hurry?”
“Have something that’s calling for my attention,” Marcus offered. The sly grin that edged across his lips gave only a hint to his agenda as he flipped through the pages of the report. “Wow, our clientele has increased almost threefold in the last quarter.” He fingered along until he came to the breakdown of visitors for each level of the club. “Hmm, interesting. A spike for Midnight.”
“Seems to me our place is bringing out the naughtiest in people,” Alex said. He smirked against the lip of his tumbler. “Love a fearless crowd.”
“Sinn is booked from now through the end of June. The only availabilities will be the cottages we’ve reserved for our lottery draws,” Julian said. He tapped the calendar beneath his glass. “We’ll be starting the end of this month. I think it’s safe to say between the three of us, we’ve compiled enough information about the chosen clubs in the States and have built an impressive reputation with their staff and clientele. I do not think we’ll be disappointed with the winners.”
“I’ll get on Theo to draw up an electronic version of our rules, regulations, and contracts so possible candidates are made fully aware of our strict policies,” Alex said. He tossed back the rest of his Scotch and dropped the glass on the coaster. “Speaking of getting on, I need to get in on some of the action I hear is happening on Crave.” He unfolded out of his chair and imitated a tip of a hat. “Brothers.”
“Behave, Alex,” Julian ordered. Alex rolled his arm in a mock bow, winked, and disappeared through the side door that allowed the brothers access to the club by more inconspicuous means. Julian came to his feet and tapped the portfolio. “One-year anniversary of Sinn is approaching. We’ll need to come up with a way to celebrate.”
Marcus slapped the portfolio shut, having seen the numbers he was looking for, and handed it back to Julian. His oldest brother was an ultimate Dom, even when dealing with Marcus and Alex. The man held a firm grip on everyone’s reins, needing control more than wanting it.
Marcus scowled inward. Thank you, Dad, for breaking my brother.
“I’ll play around with some ideas and we can discuss them tomorrow.” His cell vibrated in his pocket and he slipped it out, glancing over the text. With a short wave of the phone, Marcus nodded and headed toward the door in Alex’s wake. “Enjoy your evening, Jules.”
Marcus’s anticipation rose with each step that brought him closer to a potential prize. He grabbed the door handle, his cock stiff and achy, images of strapping one particular sub to a spanking bench and—
“Trevor is visiting this weekend,” Julian said. Marcus turned down his growing smile and glanced back at his brother. Julian folded his arms over his chest. His hair was in deliberate disarray, the longer strands brushing over his cheeks and teasing the corners of his eyes. Those dark blues took on a navy tinge. “Visitors remain anonymous, Marcus. You can’t give his identity away, even in the privacy of a room. Remember that.”
“I have no intention of telling him whose house he’s prowling.”
Marcus hurried down the narrow hallways between Julian’s and Alex’s offices, down the private staircase until he reached the lowest floor. Nathan, the head security guard for Midnight—and his personal informant—opened the nearest door into Marcus’s private room.
“Where is he?” Marcus asked once the door was closed. He flipped on the red lights and turned down the intensity of the white. He loved the color scheme, creating a place of heat, edge, and the essence of pain and pleasure.
“Waiting. He’s been flagged, Sir,” Nathan said.
Good, only I can request him.
Marcus circled his playroom. His prized spanking bench sat as the main attraction in the center of the room. Two suspension bars hung from the ceiling, both fitted with leather cuffs. Below the bars, a set of cuffs were chained to the floor. Mirrors were placed strategically along the walls, and gave him the optimal view of his subs and their reactions.
In the far corner of the room, he kept his play wedge. Although he never engaged in sex at his club, he didn’t mind cuffing a sub to the triangular piece and spreading them wide. He enjoyed watching the newer subs wriggle as he described everything he saw.
“He belongs to me,” Marcus said, looking over at Nathan and imbedding his point to his guard. Nathan lowered his eyes, his hands folded behind his back, the lines of full muscles in his arms and chest taut.
Marcus turned away, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He shook free of the fabric and hung it up on a hook behind the black and red screen divider.
“My fridge is stocked?” Marcus asked, reaching down to the small fridge and pulling it open. Bottles of water filled the small enclosure.
Marcus flipped open the tiny compartment of a freezer. A devilish smile came to his mouth. “What a good boy you are, Nathan. You put new toys in the freezer.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Marcus fingered through his collection of masks, finally deciding on a simple leather masquerade mask. He came out from behind his screen, settling the soft material against his face.
“Fetch me a sub, boy,” Marcus commanded. Nathan bowed his head and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Marcus gave his room one last walk around. He chose his methods of punishment, laying out a new paddle, flogger, and crop on the simple black lacquer table at the head of the spanking bench. Stroking the hard knot in his pants, he picked out a single collar and laid it on the table next to his toys. If he ever came across a sub that was on their best behavior and begged to return to his room, he gifted them with a thin, red collar, the dog tag engraved with “Sir’s toy” and a fancy letter “S”. The guards knew the S stood for Sinn, and knew Marcus considered his subs “toys.”
He gave his cock a squeeze, heat rushing down his tense thighs. This collar was different. He chose it months ago when he learned from Alex that Trevor made reservations to visit Sinn. Whether Trevor knew he and his brothers owned the island and everything on it remained to be seen. To the public, the Stark brothers were merely high management. Paparazzi had yet to catch on to their game.
Here, they made dreams come to life. They allowed for otherwise reputable socialites who had kink in their blood to take off their clothes and let loose, for a very steep price.
Trevor certainly did not have enough to buy him a trip to Sinn.
Marcus traced the collar—black and red leather with flat silver studs and a single ring at the throat—and began to fall into his role.
If his plan worked, by the time Trevor was scheduled to leave Sinn, the man would be begging Marcus to stay.
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