Club Velvet - Book 2
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 11
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 11 - Frank Devon from Book 1 continues his life and expanding business. I won't give away what happens, but this is book 2 of 3 with lots of story driven and character driven writing. If you are looking for an erotic story with no character development, keep moving. Otherwise, this is about how Frank keeps his business moving, expanding and the new people he meets along the way.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Exhibitionism
The next morning Frank and Lisa made love again, celebrating their love for each other before the coffee pot had even been turned on. Lisa loved her big strong man and Frank loved his soft and feminine woman. This was just the best way to express that love in a physical way for them.
When they left the room and went about making breakfast, Jane was still fast asleep on the couch and Lisa went over to her and moved a few stray hairs off of her face while smiling gently at her, as a mother would.
Jane opened her eyes and saw Lisa sitting there and she smile right back at her. “Good morning honey.” Lisa said to her, still smiling that tender and loving smile only she could do.
“Good morning Lisa.”
“Hungry? Need to use the bathroom?”
Jane nodded her head and Lisa made sure she made it to the bathroom then returned to Frank’s side as breakfast was started for the whole group.
“Hey, where is Marisol? I figured she would be here or at least back from the club by now.” Frank asked, getting the eggs mixed up.
“Oh, we forgot to tell you. Grant and she left, or Grant sent for her and she left to go and live with him. It seems that he couldn’t live without her, so is with him now.”
Frank paused his mixing, then finished and poured the eggs into the hot pan. “Good for him. Good for her. Grant is a great guy. I’m so very glad to have him as a partner.” He laughed a short snort of a laugh, “They were so cute together, I’m not surprised. He seemed to be very taken by her.”
“I agree, which is why I didn’t stop her or slow them down. I’ll have to make sure I have a dancer to fill her spot, but I don’t think it’ll be too hard. Did you know I’ve had two dozen women come to me wanting to dance at the club? I had no idea that so many women were tired of the daily grind and just wanted to entertain like this.” Lisa said then gave a whistle. “Of course the money doesn’t hurt, but still, I still had no idea.”
“Well good. I know you can do it, I trust you my love.” Frank said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
Jane came back in and stood out of the way, but nearby watching them work together. “Is there anything I can do, Frank?”
“Yes, get the plates and hand me a bowl from under there, these eggs are about done.”
Jane moved to the cabinets and got a bowl, plates out and didn’t drop one or anything. Frank had been told that she was clumsy, but he didn’t see that here.
The other girls came out, got hugs and kisses from Frank and then ate breakfast.
“Quick question, who has to go to work this morning?” Frank said, to everyone.
No one raised their hands, except Lisa, who shyly raised her hand knowing that she had to be there to open at 10am.
“Good. Lisa honey, finish breakfast, get dressed and do your thing. I’ll take this lot to a jewelry store and get Jane a proper collar. This motley lot can help us pick it out.” Frank said, using his fork to point to everyone.
Jane listened, and smiled to his commands. It gave her peace to know that her day was lined out for her and that he was going to be official about it. Official about his ownership of her.
Veronica nudged Jane, “Eat up girl. You need to put some meat on your bones.”
Jane had stopped eating while Frank spoke but quickly finished her eggs, toast and bacon that had been served to her. She felt full and it made her feel good.
Lisa got up from the table, and left to get ready for work. Frank stayed put, chatting with the girls, finding out how they liked their jobs and how much money they were making. It was all good by them, even the private dances were very satisfying.
“So satisfying.” Tiana husked, arousal obvious in her voice and the way she said it.
“Well you saucy wenches, where do we need to go to get Jane a proper collar? Any of you know of a proper store to buy that sort of thing?”
They chatted about this store and that, then finally deciding on a store just outside of the loop, on the west side.
Lisa left the bedroom, dressed in a sharp one piece dress with cut outs across her chest and across her stomach and waist. It struck as being professional as well as sexy. Frank gave her a whistle and then pulled her in for a very loving kiss, using his fingers to trace the cutouts as he loved her with his words and actions. She giggled but told him she had to go and left the apartment after giving everyone else a hug and kiss. She even gave one to Jane who accepted it, but was just a bit surprised by such affection.
“Ok, girls, we need to find Jane something better to wear on our trek, so please, help me out here.”
The girls, Veronica, Tiana and Brianna all jumped into action finding panties, a bra as well as comfy yoga pants and shoes that would fit. A half shirt finished the outfit and after putting her sweatshirt back on, Jane was ready for travel.
They drove to the L station and took the train heading south. They transferred to the red line and got off at Fulton Market. It was just a short walk to a store that the girls knew about and all agreed that they would have the best stuff.
The soft chime of a bell above the door echoed through the quiet shop as they stepped inside.
All five of them fell silent, instinctively slowing their steps, eyes adjusting to the dim, intimate lighting. The space was narrow and deep, lined with glass cases and polished wood shelves that held a wide array of elegant restraints, gleaming metal implements, silk-lined boxes, handcrafted leather pieces, and things that defied quick explanation.
No one spoke. There was something reverent about the place—like entering a gallery or a chapel.
Jane squeezed Frank’s hand. He tightened his fingers around hers in response, grounding her.
They walked slowly, eyes drifting from the velvet-lined displays of cuffs and collars to beautifully detailed paddles, harnesses, posture collars, and more delicate chains that looked more like jewelry than restraint.
A soft curtain rustled at the back of the shop, and an employee stepped out into view.
She was a woman in her mid-thirties but looked 21 like the rest of humanity, with a calm, almost ethereal presence. Her dark hair was pulled back into a braid, and was following Rule 8 without shame or hesitation. Around her neck, a sleek leather collar with a small silver tag rested snugly in place. Matching cuffs adorned her wrists and ankles—not garish, but elegant, like polished accessories. She seemed slightly flushed, distracted, as if she’d been pulled away from something private in the back room.
She noticed them at once but said nothing, simply offering a respectful nod as she observed the group’s energy and waited to be approached.
Frank took a step forward. The girls naturally fell in behind him. Jane still clung to his hand, her eyes wide, but there was trust in her posture. This was unfamiliar territory—but she was not alone.
“Excuse me,” Frank said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re looking for a collar. A real one. For her.” He glanced down at Jane, who met the woman’s gaze with quiet vulnerability.
The employee softened immediately. She stepped forward with grace and lowered her gaze—not submissively, but with deference.
“Of course, sir,” she said, her voice low and respectful. “For a new bond, I assume?”
Frank gave the smallest nod.
The woman smiled warmly, as if she could see more than he’d said. “Right this way.”
She turned, her cuffs gently clinking as she walked, and led them deeper into the store—toward a velvet-lined case filled with pieces that weren’t just functional, but beautiful.
Frank stood at the display case, his eyes scanning the options with quiet intensity. The employee stood nearby, offering guidance only when asked—sensing that this moment needed space.
Jane was quiet, almost reverent. Her hand still rested in Frank’s, her eyes wide as she looked over the options. But then—he saw it.
A collar of soft black leather, smooth and well-stitched, with a subtle shine. It had just enough structure to feel firm, protective, but was padded on the inside for comfort. At the front, a small silver ring—not ornamental, not flashy. Simple. Secure. Honest. And a tag that could be engraved.
“This one,” he said.
The employee smiled. “Excellent choice, sir. Would you like it customized?”
“Yes. Her name, Jane, on the tag.” He looked down at her, and she nodded faintly, emotion glimmering behind her lashes.
As the employee gently removed the piece and carried it to the back for engraving, she paused and turned to look at the other women.
“And for the rest of your companions?” she asked gently. “Would you like something for them as well?”
Frank blinked, surprised. He hadn’t even thought of it. This moment had been about Jane. He turned to look at the girls.
Veronica stepped forward without hesitation. “Yes,” she said, her voice clear. “If you’ll have us.”
Tiana and Brianna exchanged a look, then nodded quickly. “We’d like something too,” Tiana added.
Frank gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright. Not collars, though,” he said. “Not unless it’s what you want.”
The shopkeeper gestured to a nearby case—one filled with beautiful necklaces: sterling silver chains, soft chokers, elegant bands that could just as easily be jewelry as they could be symbols of connection.
The girls leaned in to look, already whispering to each other about what they liked.
Then someone—maybe Brianna—glanced up and asked, “What about Lisa?”
Frank didn’t miss a beat. He held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger with a grin. “She already got what she wanted.”
That earned a round of soft laughter and warm glances all around. They understood completely.
While they were shopping for necklaces for the other girls, the engraving was completed. Frank turned to Jane, holding the finished collar in both hands—open, waiting, offering.
“Jane,” he said gently, “take off your sweatshirt, please.”
Without hesitation, she obeyed, slipping the soft cotton garment over her head and revealing the t-shirt beneath. The temporary collar of zip ties and electrical tape still encircled her neck—crudely made, but meaningful.
The shopkeeper handed Frank a pair of small scissors. He paused, then carefully clipped the makeshift collar away.
Before he could discard it, Jane reached for it with trembling hands and clutched it to her chest.
Frank didn’t question her. He simply nodded, acknowledging that sometimes even crude beginnings deserve reverence.
Then he looked into her eyes and spoke—not just to her, but to the part of her that had nearly faded away.
“This collar means you belong to me now, Jane. As long as you want to. If the day comes when you don’t—when you take it off and walk away—I’ll understand. But until then ... you’re mine.”
Jane nodded slowly, tears shining in her eyes, and then stepped forward—into the collar he held outstretched for her.
Frank didn’t move. He didn’t force. He simply waited.
She stepped into it.
He brought the two ends together, slowly, reverently—and clipped it shut around her neck.
A quiet gasp passed through the room.
It was done.
The shopkeeper returned with the girls’ chosen necklaces—pieces of silver and gold, soft and elegant. Not collars, but something close. A symbol of connection, of choice, of family.
Each girl turned around one at a time, lifting her hair as Frank gently clasped the necklace into place. He didn’t say anything—just placed a soft, warm kiss at the base of each of their necks as a seal.
Veronica giggled. Brianna beamed. Tiana whispered, “Thank you, Frank,” as she pressed her palm to the pendant.
Everyone felt it—that sense of unity, belonging, of having found something better than what they’d left behind.
He paid, thanked the shopkeeper, and turned to go.
Unseen behind the curtain, the shopkeeper’s Master watched.
He’d observed the entire exchange—the care, the patience, the lack of ego, the respect.
A smile curved his lips. This one was worthy.
As the bell above the door chimed one last time, the Master pulled the shopkeeper into his arms, kissed her deeply, and gave her bottom a slow, affectionate squeeze as they vanished back behind the curtain—leaving behind only silence, the faint scent of leather and sandalwood, and the echo of trust well-placed.
The train ride back was calm, even cheerful, but hunger started to creep in even before they got to the station. Veronica led the group toward a small, artsy café she swore by. The smell of coffee and fresh bagels hit them before they even stepped inside.
Frank ordered for everyone. He made sure Jane got an egg and bacon bagel loaded with cheese, plus a latte with extra whipped cream and heavy cream in place of milk. She needed the calories, and no one was going to argue with that.
The rest of the girls got their usuals, chatting about music and makeup and the shift ahead.
After their second breakfast, they walked the short distance to the station, then again to Club Velvet after they arrived in the neighborhood. The building practically hummed with energy as they stepped inside. Music floated down from the sound system, low and rhythmic. The air buzzed with prep and motion.
Frank was immediately greeted by staff and dancers with nods and smiles. Lisa appeared from behind the bar, dressed in a fitted dress with cutouts on her chest, over her stomach and in the back.
She froze for just a beat when she saw the collar on Jane’s neck.
Before she could speak, Frank took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips. He kissed the ring she wore—his ring on her finger.
“You got the most important symbol,” he said, eyes full of affection. “They just got reminders.”
Lisa’s protest softened before it even began. Her mouth curved, and her hand moved instinctively to the ring, brushing the diamond with her thumb.
“Yeah,” she said, a little breathless. “You’re right. I did.”
The girls all grinned, kissed Lisa on the cheek or gave her quick hugs, then disappeared backstage to get dressed.
Frank and Jane moved to a small table near the stage. Jane sat close beside him, content and quiet, her latte in hand and a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
The lights dimmed slightly. Music shifted. And then the dancer stepped onto the stage.
One of Lisa’s newest hires.
Frank hadn’t met her yet, but he could feel the moment her WE introduced her to him. The shift in the air. The slight extra sway in her hips. The way her eyes locked onto him—not flirtatious, not desperate, but deliberate. Recognizing.
She danced with purpose. Every movement was fluid, practiced, a blend of grace and tease. She let the music guide her as layers of her outfit slipped away—first the gloves, then the silk corset, then her sheer stockings.
The last song pulsed through the speakers, bass-heavy and sensual. She moved toward Frank at the front of the stage. Jane stayed quiet, watching with curious detachment as the dancer performed for her Dom—not out of possession, but out of deep awareness.
As the dancer slipped the last of her lingerie off, revealing everything, she knelt at the edge of the stage and bowed her head briefly in front of Frank—a silent acknowledgement of the man behind the club.
Frank didn’t move. He simply watched, respectful and calm.
Jane, for her part, sipped her latte with a look that said, I’m not threatened. I already know who he belongs to.
Frank looked around, not as the owner, but as a customer. The lighting was just right, casting enough glow to see clearly, while also setting a sensual mood, emphasizing the dancers on stage. The staff seemed to be taking good care of the other men, ensuring they were enjoying the show. The bar staff was cleaning everything in sight. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual. Even the dancers who weren’t on stage were working the room, offering private dances and hoping for more, as that’s where the real money was made.
It was then that he caught sight of a dancer sitting off to the side, dressed for work but seeming hesitant. She was pretty, with brown hair and youthful features, wearing a deep red babydoll nightie. She sat with her legs crossed, arms wrapped around her waist, and a look of uncertainty on her face, clearly frightened.
Lisa, honey, who is the dancer sitting off near the east stage in the red nightie? Frank asked through their link.
Lisa’s response came quickly. That’s Michelle. She’s new—18. Why? Is she doing something wrong?
No. I’m just watching her. She doesn’t look comfortable here. What’s her story?
She’s a high school graduate, and doesn’t quite know what to do with herself. She’s had some dance experience, and she’s good on stage. The audience seems to really connect with her performances. She isn’t shy about her body, that’s for sure.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.