Tactical Submission: A Windsor Club Story

  Table of Contents

  TITLE PAGE

  Copyright

  Author’s notes

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  About the Author

  Tactical Submission

  A Windsor Club Story

  Ada Maria Soto

  Tactical Submission (A Windsor Club Story) Copyright © 2017 by Ada Maria Soto. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Tiferet Design

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

  Ada Maria Soto

  Visit my website at adamariasoto.com

  Written in New Zealand

  First Printing: November 2017

  ISBN-13 978-0-473-41806-9

  Author’s notes

  Please note this story contains an act of domestic terrorism on a civic building. It’s not overly graphic and our heroes are fine, but it does happen. The sequence entirely takes place in Chapter 30 if you feel the need to skip it.

  This story also contains spanking, rope bondage, floggers, riding crops, forced orgasms, mild CBT, anal toys, hand feeding, book shelving, and a lot of sex.

  Feel free to contact the author if you have questions about content before reading.

  With huge thanks to Cooper West, my evil enabler. Moya, who said ‘too much sex’. Tina, who wrangled the commas. And as always my love to Nick for giving me the space and time to do this.

  Chapter 1

  If you haven’t read the Author’s Notes please go back and do so. Seriously.

  The deep chairs of the Windsor Club spoke of wealth and civility for those who knew how to listen. Doctor Isaac Bard leaned back, closing his eyes, breathing in the smell of leather and wood polish. The air was warm, a soothing contrast to the cold, antiseptic, fridge where he spent his days.

  Around him the soft flow of indistinct voices acted as a sort of white noise only adding to the relaxed atmosphere. He considered ordering a meal from the top-flight kitchen or a glass from the extensive wine cellar but there were a hundred places where he could get a good meal or a glass of wine. He was at the Windsor Club for something different.

  He scanned the faces on the far side of the room where the unattached boys congregated, each hoping to catch the eye of one of the club's more dominant members. There was nothing flamboyant about any of them, the Windsor didn't do flamboyant, but there were subtle flutters of eyes and particular twists of shoulders and hips, lips lingering on the edges of crystal tumblers. There were a few Isaac had spent time with in the past. They tilted their heads in his direction. He glanced at them, but work and responsibilities had kept him from the Windsor Club for months and he was in the mood for something new.

  The common room door opened and a large man stepped in. Isaac took a quick glance, looked away then looked back. He knew he sometimes had difficulty recognizing faces out of context, and tried not to mingle his life inside the Windsor with his life out, but the face of the man was familiar and it itched at him. He was tall with broad shoulders and light brown hair. He looked like he should be on an army recruitment poster or hocking aftershave. A slight haze of nerves surrounded him. His gaze darted around the room before he sat himself at an empty table near the other submissives. Isaac sipped his water. Even if he was imagining the recognition, it was unusual to see particularly large men spending time on that side of the room. He could simply be looking at a new member who hadn't yet learned the subtleties of the common room.

  A waiter offered the newcomer a glass of water which he hunched over as if he could make himself look smaller. Isaac frowned. He'd seen large submissives try that regularly. The man had to be six foot three if he was an inch. There was no way he was ever going to pass as a five seven twink. And six three with broad shoulders was exactly Isaac's type, at least on a physical level. He wondered if it was less recognition and more simple desire.

  That thought was still niggling at him when Hugh Lancing stepped into the common room. That soured Isaac's mood. There was a smoothness to the man that was closer to slimy. He moved in a way that made his thousand-dollar tailored suit look like something from a 70's swingers party. The little he knew about Lancing's techniques in the bedroom did nothing to improve his image of the man. And what he suspected but could never prove, made it unpleasant to even be in the same building as him. Isaac figured at some point he would slip up enough to have his membership revoked but it hadn't happened yet.

  Lancing paused for only a second to scan the crowd before heading toward the new boy. He leaned against the table and the boy looked up at him. Isaac didn't need to hear to guess at the slightly condescending ooze that must have been coming from Lancing. The boy shied away, not saying much. Lancing leaned in closer to whisper something.

  That was the moment recognition clicked in Isaac's head. Jack Burnside, leader of one of the county's top SWAT teams. As a forensic pathologist, their paths had crossed a few times, mostly in the courtroom, but he had a memorable look to him. Isaac glanced around the room looking for anyone else who might be law enforcement. He could be undercover but the Windsor Club was known for extensively screening its members. Even hearing about it meant you already moved in certain circles. Jack didn't seem like the type to move in those circles, but then he didn't seem the submissive type at all. Isaac was usually pretty good at spotting people with those leanings.

  Despite a tight curl in his shoulders, Jack looked like he might go with Lancing.

  Like hell. Isaac took long strides across the room. A few of the other subs tried to catch his eye as he approached but he was centered in on Jack.

  He stopped next to Jack and rested a hand on his shoulder. It was bad form to touch without invitation, even something as casual as that, but he was not going to let Lancing anywhere near Jack. He tried to put forth an air of calm and control while something primal in him growled.

  Jack turned and looked at him while Lancing all but snarled.

  He frowned, then his eyes went wide. Isaac tipped his head acknowledging the recognition and Jack went pale, even under the club's warm lights. Within seconds his lips became chalky and his hands trembled. Isaac might not be a regularly practicing doctor but he could still spot shock. He squeezed Jack's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

  "Hello," Isaac said calmly and softly before tilting his head away from the table and Lancing.

  Jack dropped his eyes and stood, ignoring Lancing who was scowling at Isaac. Fortunately
, fights were forbidden in the Windsor Club or he was sure he'd have one on his hands.

  At well over six feet Jack towered over Isaac's five foot seven but he’d learned early on that being a Dom had nothing to do with height and everything to do with frame of mind. He turned to the discreet side door off the club's main room and collected a key from the maitre d'. He led Jack down the well-lit and thickly carpeted hall, until he reached room twelve and gestured him in.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Shit, was the only word running through Jack's head while his stomach churned and his hands shook. He swallowed hard desperately trying not to throw up. He'd heard rumors of the Windsor Club. It took him over a year to find, and nearly another year to get in. He picked it because he assumed the chance of someone he knew being there was almost none. Almost wasn't the same as zero.

  He'd seen Doctor Bard giving testimony as a Forensic Pathologist, at trials where SWAT had also been involved. He was on the short side, with well slicked dark curls, and he carried the intelligent authority of a doctor. He certainly didn't seem like someone who'd be a member of the Windsor Club. But people would probably say the same about him.

  "Why don't you sit down, Jack?"

  It was phrased as a question but the doctor's voice was smooth and calm with firmness under it. The room had two plush antique looking chairs to go with the four-post bed carved out of heavy wood. He felt his face flush and took a seat. This was not how the night was supposed to go. Being recognized was not part of the plan.

  "It's good to see color in your cheeks. If you went any paler I was going to have you lay down with your feet up so you didn't pass out from shock."

  Jack didn't reply. There was still a churning in his stomach. He'd had his membership for two months, before he worked up the nerve to come to the Windsor Club. It wasn't the first time he'd gone looking for a quick fix for the desires he shouldn't have, but it had been a while and he'd been nervous as all hell. Rightfully so it seemed.

  "I'd ask what you are doing here but that is blatantly obvious." Jack nodded but didn't want to speak. Speaking had not been part of the plan either. The plan had been to find someone who would take him down and use him enough to fry out the tangled mess of desire and stress his mind had become.

  There was a knock on the door. Jack jumped but he didn't stand. He hadn't been told to stand. Was the club being raided? That was stupid. He knew from experience that police raids don't politely knock. Had Dr. Bard invited someone else? That other guy who was talking to him? The doctor stood and opened the door only half way then closed it again. Now he carried a tray with a teapot and two cups.

  "My standing order." He placed the tray on the small table beside his chair. "Jasmin green tea. Would you like a cup?" Jack shook his head. He wasn't sure if his stomach could handle something even that simple. Dr. Bard poured a cup and the smell took him back to late lunches with his mother at The Golden Palace Chinese Restaurant and Tea Shop when he was a teenager.

  "You would be more comfortable kneeling right now."

  He hadn't taken his eyes off Dr. Bard but now he dropped them. It wasn't a question but a statement of truth. That was what he had come here for, for someone who’d tell him to kneel.

  "Come here." Dr. Bard gestured to a spot beside his chair. Jack didn't move. Yes, this was what he wanted when he followed Dr. Bard into the room, but still he hesitated. He always hesitated, his desires fighting with his rational mind telling him it was stupid.

  He tried to breathe, tried to keep calm but the thread of panic that was telling him to run; screaming that the world was about to know his secret, was fighting with the part of him that was desperate to let the night happen.

  Dr. Bard didn't ask again, he simply sipped his tea with a patient air. Jack stood and took the three steps to the spot by the chair. Dr. Bard gestured to the floor and Jack knelt. His breath came out of him in a rush as his body relaxed while his heart was still racing. With his eyes down, as was proper, he strained his hearing trying to anticipate what might be next.

  He felt Dr. Bard lace his fingers into his hair, petting him softly before gently guiding his head down until his forehead was resting on the doctor's knee.

  "There we go." He pressed two fingers against Jack's throat. Jack started. He didn't like hands or anything else touching his neck. "Easy, I want to check your pulse. May I?"

  Jack nodded but squeezed his eyes as two fingers were pressed against the side of his neck.

  "Take deep breaths. I did become a doctor working on living people. I want to make sure you're okay."

  Jack was not okay

  "Your pulse is too fast. I'm not sure if that's fear or arousal but I'll bet fear." He went back to stroking Jack's head. "Let's start with what I'm sure you want to hear. I'm not going to speak about this to anyone so you don't need to worry. Aside from being against the club's bylaws it would be both hypocritical and petty, and while I am capable of both of those things in certain situations, this is not one of them."

  Jack nodded against his knee. "Thank you," he whispered.

  "I would have left you alone all together but that man who was talking to you is… notoriously sleazy and unpleasant, and that is about as polite as I'm willing to be. I cannot work out how he still has his membership."

  Jack hadn't been getting a great vibe off him, but he’d encountered several Doms over the years who didn’t take him seriously as a submissive. He'd gotten used to taking what attention he could get.

  "Now I would like to ask a couple of questions, if you don't mind?"

  Jack nodded again. There were usually questions. At least at the better places.

  "Have you done this before?" Jack nodded. He had enough experience to please most people.

  "How long has it been?"

  "Fifteen months," he answered quickly. He didn't have to think about it. He knew almost to the hour how long it had been.

  Dr. Bard's hand stilled for a second before he returned to his petting. "Why have you waited so long?"

  Jack shrugged.

  "I'll make you a deal right now, honesty is important in these situations. Don't lie to me and I'll never lie to you." Jack nodded. "Now, why have you waited so long?"

  It was a question no one had ever asked him and in truth he didn't want to answer. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't be the type—" He was losing words and his heart sped up again. The calm that had begun to settle in broke. "I'm too..." He spread his arms but kept his head down.

  "Big manly macho SWAT commanders shouldn't enjoy kneeling at the feet of another man, waiting for orders."

  Jack grit his teeth. It was a blow to his already queasy stomach hearing it laid out so plainly.

  "I promise you, you're not the largest to kneel in front of me and you are very much my type."

  That surprised Jack. He didn't think he was much of anyone's type.

  "In an ideal world, how often would you want to spend time like this?"

  Jack's mind rushed to the two extremes, one part screaming never while the other moaned always.

  "More often," he managed to get out. "Something regular."

  "I see. Something regular requires a more regular person however." Jack nodded. "And a regular person would have to be someone aware of what you do, and have an understanding of things like 'on call' and 'triple overtime'."

  "Yes."

  "That can be a tall order."

  Jack shrugged, more of a twitch. He had never tried to find someone regular, a Dom or even a boyfriend. It seemed like too impossible a goal.

  "Do you have any questions for me?"

  From the corner of his eye Jack could see Dr. Bard's other hand resting on his knee. A simple gold band was on his ring finger. He wasn't sure if he should say something. It might only serve to make Dr. Bard mad and send him away. But it sounded like he was feeling out the possibility of a repeat arrangement. Better to ask now than later.

  "That ring?"

  "I'm married, and my wife knows exactly where I am tonight and
has a good idea of what I'm doing. Heck, she practically kicked me out the front door. Said I was getting cranky. And I know where she is this evening and that is with her other partner of many years. A very nice person whom I am quite fond of and I personally think should be getting more commitment than they are getting, but it has been pointed out to me that I don't actually get a say on that." Jack smiled at Dr. Bard's ramble, relaxing some. "I have certain tastes that she is unable or uninterested in fulfilling and she has tastes that I am unable or unwilling to fulfill. We decided long before we even got married that there was no reason we should deny ourselves our pleasures. You can have more than one flavor of ice cream in the fridge."

  Jack let out a small chuckle of relief at the analogy. There were several things he didn't particularly like about himself and he didn't want to add home-wrecker to the list. Of course, Dr. Bard could be lying. He certainly wouldn't be the first, but then why not simply take off the ring.

  "We do have rules," Dr. Bard continued. "If either of us wants to take on someone long term or bring someone else into our home we have to discuss it, but that might be getting ahead of ourselves." Jack nodded but didn't say anything else. Dr. Bard continued to stroke his head. It was distracting but he didn't want it to stop. It wasn't what he'd come looking for but it had been fifteen months since he'd had physical contact with someone in a non-professional situation. He curled his back up and raised his head, craving a firmer touch.

  "Do you have anything else you'd like to ask me?" Jack didn't, already fading from the sensation of Dr. Bard's fingers running along his scalp. Dr. Bard lifted his hand. "There are other questions you should be asking me."

  Jack tried to focus. Other questions? He didn't think they were that far in. Had he missed some steps? Everyone took things at a different pace. He supposed it was fine. This was what he was there for. Dr. Bard seemed comfortable and sure, which was more than Jack could say for himself. Hell, he was already on his knees. He straightened his back but kept his eyes down. "How may I please you, sir?"