Club Velvet 3
Copyright© 2025 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 23
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 23 - Book 3 of the Club Velvet story series. Frank Devon, his pack and the stories that come out of his strip club in the world of the WE and their 10 rules. See book 1 for background on the WE stories and the author who created them.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Consensual Heterosexual Fiction
Everyone returned to Grant’s house and quietly retired for the night. The tour, the emotional weight of the evening, and the realization that one of their most valued employees had buried a need so deeply it took someone just like Jane to draw it out—it had worn them all out.
Jane had been the center of attention that night. Frank and his mates had given her special care, offering a reward worthy of the skill and heart she showed in helping Thomas.
The next morning, as Frank and his family were finishing breakfast in the kitchen before their flight back to Chicago, a knock came at the door.
Grant excused himself to answer it, and the sound of muffled joy echoed down the hallway. Moments later, footsteps approached, followed by Grant’s cheerful voice.
“Frank! We’ve got visitors!”
He led Tasha and Claire into the kitchen.
Frank stood quickly, as did Veronica, both greeting the women with warm hugs and kisses, welcoming them like long-lost family. Lisa and Jane were quick to follow, offering their own greetings and thanking them for the kindness they’d shown Frank during his last visit.
“It was our pleasure,” Claire laughed.
“I’m just glad he’s got three wives—don’t think I could keep up with him otherwise,” Tasha said, eyeing Frank playfully.
“Daddy, who are they?” asked Isabella, the youngest of the children, curiosity plain on her face.
Frank smiled. “Good question. Everyone, this is Claire and Tasha. They were very kind to me a while back—showed me around town, introduced me to a few clubs, and stayed to keep me company. Claire, Tasha—this is my family, my pack. You know Grant and his wife Marisol, and that’s their baby, Jessica. These are my wives—Veronica, of course, and this is Lisa and Jane. You didn’t get to meet them before. And these are my kids—Ezra, my son; Sofia, my oldest daughter; and Isabella, the baby of the family.”
“Well ... she’s the baby until these two are born,” Veronica added with a grin, placing a hand on her belly.
“Twins?” Tasha and Claire said in unison.
“Yup,” Veronica replied. “Turns out it runs in my family—who knew?”
“Congratulations, big guy,” Claire said.
“And to you, honey. Children are a blessing,” Tasha added.
Once everyone was seated again, Grant steered the conversation forward. “So, ladies—what brings you by?”
Claire and Tasha exchanged a quick glance before Claire spoke. “We want to work for you and Frank.”
“Yeah!” Tasha added, practically bouncing. “I asked the WE and they confirmed—you’re opening a super-exclusive club here in Manhattan, and we want in!”
Now it was Frank and Grant’s turn to share a look. Frank leaned back slightly and smirked. “Just for my own curiosity—why do you want to work for us? And why do you think you’d be a good fit?”
Claire and Tasha hesitated, caught off guard. A few awkward seconds ticked by—until they both noticed Frank’s lips twitching as he fought back laughter.
Their jaws dropped in mock offense as they realized the tease. Everyone burst out laughing, the tension breaking completely.
“Of course you can work for us,” Grant said warmly, picking up where Frank left off. “We’d be lucky to have you.”
Lisa, more composed than her still-laughing husband, asked, “Would you prefer regular positions on the dance floor, or are either of you interested in something more?”
Claire shook her head lightly. “Honestly, we hadn’t thought that far ahead. Tasha and I have been dancers for a long time. I know I’ve never even considered managing people. Did you?” she asked, turning to her friend.
“I didn’t either,” Tasha replied. “I’ve been a good—” she paused, catching herself just in time as her eyes darted toward the kids, “—dancer. Managing? No clue. Maybe we could start on the floor and see if we earn something more?”
Lisa nodded. “That sounds fine.”
Frank, still grinning, added, “I’ll bring you on as regular dancers—tips and all. If you show promise, Lisa will pull you off the floor and make you wear a suit.”
Claire and Tasha squealed with joy at the chance to move up in the world—finally stepping into a place where the money was good and the respect real. As they gathered their things and prepared to leave, each of them wrapped Frank in a tight hug.
“We were both ready to sleep with you again to earn a spot in the club,” Claire whispered.
“Yeah,” Tasha added with a smirk. “A good whore knows her place.”
Frank froze, visibly bristling.
His smile vanished. The word hit him like a slap.
He gently took them both by the hand and led them aside, away from the others—especially out of earshot of the children who were still watching him with innocent eyes.
“Claire. Tasha,” he said quietly but firmly. “I want to make something very clear.”
He paused—his jaw tense, the next word dragging out of his throat with visible effort.
“That word,” he said, “whore...” He nearly choked on it. “I hate it. With every fiber of my being, I hate that word. I hate what it’s done to people I love. I hate what it’s been used to justify.” His voice cracked slightly, but he steadied it.
“I never want to hear that word from either of you again—not about yourselves, not about anyone else. It has no place in your minds, no place in your mouths, and no place in my club. You are not that word. Not now. Not ever.”
They stared at him, surprised at the sudden gravity in his voice.
“You are dancers. Entertainers. Pleasure consultants. You bring light into people’s lives. You help them find what they’ve lost—what they couldn’t find out there, in the cold. You don’t sell yourselves—you give something beautiful. Kindness. Connection. Comfort. Joy.”
Frank looked between them, his voice still firm but laced with tenderness now. “Anyone who sees themselves as that word doesn’t belong in my club. But you—you are too valuable to ever think of yourselves that way again. You have a HUGE responsibility to the club members to take care of them, to show them kindness or just to hold them when they need it.”
At first, Claire and Tasha stood frozen, stunned by the power of his words. But as the silence stretched between them, something cracked. Tears welled up—unexpected, unguarded.
“I’m so sorry, Frank,” Tasha whispered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t know...”
She fell into his arms, and Claire followed a heartbeat later, both crying now, the shame they hadn’t even known they carried melting away in the warmth of his embrace.
Frank held them close, an arm around each of them, gently rocking as they cried.
“It’s all right,” he whispered. “You didn’t know. And I’m sorry, too. If I hurt you—please forgive me.”
They clung to him, and in that quiet, tangled moment of tears and truth, something began to heal.
As their tears faded and the warmth of Frank’s words settled in their hearts, Claire and Tasha each leaned in to kiss him gently—an arm around his neck, holding him not with desperation, but with gratitude. Then they turned to his wives, thanking each woman sincerely for letting them into their lives.
Lisa walked them to the door, her tone friendly but businesslike. “I’ll be in touch when it’s time to call the dancers,” she said. Then, with a slight smile, she added, “And if you know anyone else who wants to be more than that word, bring them. We need all the pleasure consultants we can find.”
Claire and Tasha stepped out into the Manhattan morning, the city alive around them. As they climbed into a taxi, they shared a quiet moment of reflection—hearts still full, minds turning over everything they had just experienced.
“I feel like we’re part of something real now,” Claire said softly.
“Yeah,” Tasha agreed. “We’re lucky. So lucky we met Frank and his family.”
Hope bloomed between them—gentle but unmistakable—as they rode back home, their futures looking brighter than they had in years.
Frank and his pack hugged and kissed Grant, Marisol, and baby Jessica at the airport before making their way through the busy terminal. Lisa held one of Frank’s hands while using the other to guide Isabella as they navigated the crowd.
When they reached their gate, the family settled in to wait. During a quiet moment, Lisa stayed close and gently reached out to Frank through their shared WE link, her thoughts brushing against his with tenderness and curiosity.
I’ve always wondered ... Why do you hate the word ‘whore’ so much?
Frank didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, his thoughts came with calm honesty. I’m not really sure. I don’t remember anything in my past that directly caused it. But I’ve heard that word far too many times in the clubs—seen the damage it’s done to people I care about. It’s become a word I’ve come to hate.
Lisa turned to him, searching his face. Her thoughts were quiet but full of feeling.
I had no idea. I knew you didn’t like the word when we first met, but I never realized how deeply it affected you. I’m sorry for bringing it up, honey.
Sadness and regret flickered through their connection, sincere and soft.
Frank squeezed her hand. Nothing to forgive. You didn’t know, and it was a fair question. I just ... I’ve seen too many people hurt by that word. If I never hear it again, it’ll still be too soon.
Nearby, the children waited patiently, flanked by Jane and Veronica, their eyes bright as they watched the planes come and go.
Back in Chicago, life returned to its steady rhythm. The clubs were running like finely tuned watches—business was strong, the dancers were thriving, and every employee was well cared for.
But inside Frank’s home, things were anything but routine.
As Veronica’s due date crept closer, she began to nest with the intensity of a woman on a mission. The spare bedroom quickly transformed into a nursery—family storage items packed up and hauled out, replaced with carefully arranged bassinets, soft lighting, and shelves lined with tiny onesies and neatly folded blankets.
Though they already had plenty from raising three children, Veronica insisted on new things: specific baby bottles she’d researched for hours, soft swaddles in patterns she adored, and a rocking chair that felt right when she sat in it. She cleaned constantly—baseboards, windowsills, even organizing kitchen drawers that had nothing to do with the baby—driven by an overwhelming need to prepare, to make the space perfect for the two little lives soon arriving.
Everyone gave her space, offering help when she’d accept it and quietly stepping aside when her eyes took on that laser-focused gleam of maternal purpose.
To complicate matters, the grand opening of Velvet Reserve loomed just as large—casting a shadow of logistics, deadlines, and last-minute decisions over an already full household.
In the cool calm of the evening, the pack huddled together on the cuddle couch. Frank, his voice low and steady, asked the big question—both to Veronica and to the WE.
“When are you going to deliver?”
Veronica was rubbing her belly, humming softly as the twins stirred and shifted inside her. Her gaze was distant, dreamy.
“Any day now,” she murmured with a peaceful smile.
The WE, ever more clinical, offered a more specific response.
Veronica is currently at 32 weeks gestation. Based on all prior twin pregnancies the WE have monitored, reaching 35 weeks would provide a high likelihood of survival without major complications. Before then, the need for neonatal care increased significantly.
The whole pack fell quiet, taking in the news. Jane glanced at the calendar on the wall. Lisa did the math.
“Three weeks,” she said aloud. “That’s just a few days before the soft opening. You know Grant’s going to want you there.”
“I see that,” Frank said, placing a hand gently on Veronica’s belly, feeling the push and roll of their children from within. “Just a little while longer, you two.”
“WE,” Jane asked, her voice thoughtful, “how are the twins? Are they healthy? Safe? No birth defects or anything we should be worried about?”
The twins are perfect. Veronica is doing very well. She is, of course, uncomfortable—as both you and Lisa well remember—but her body is strong, and her WE are providing full support. Your pack has nothing to worry about. You will soon have two beautiful babies to hold in your arms.
Jane shifted closer and leaned over to Veronica. “I love you, honey. You’re doing a wonderful job.” She kissed her tenderly on the cheek.
Lisa followed, mirroring Jane’s words and giving Veronica her own gentle kiss of encouragement.
The weeks passed quickly. When Veronica reached 35 weeks, a noticeable calm settled over her. The milestone brought peace—not just for her, but for Jane and Lisa too, who quietly relaxed alongside her.
Frank, on the other hand, remained completely focused on one thing and one thing only: the upcoming opening of Velvet Reserve.
The babies arrived on a Wednesday.
A sharp contraction woke Veronica that morning, and within moments, she groaned through the pain and nudged Frank hard with her elbow.
“Honey—Frank!” she gasped, grimacing as another wave hit.
The whole house sprang into action. Bags were grabbed, Veronica was gently helped to the bathroom, and then into comfortable clothes for the trip to the hospital. Frank stayed close, steady and focused, though his heart was racing.
The doctor was notified immediately. He headed for the hospital with relief—it was a good sign that Veronica had made it this far.
At the hospital, Frank and Veronica were taken straight to a delivery suite. Lisa and Jane had stayed behind to take care of the children and tend to work, since it was still midweek.
Nurses quickly made Veronica comfortable, attaching standard labor monitors: A fetal heart rate monitor for each baby, carefully positioned around her belly. A contraction monitor (tocodynamometer) to track the strength and frequency of her contractions. Her own heart rate and blood pressure were also continuously monitored to ensure her safety.
Everything was calm, efficient, and quietly intense—the room humming with quiet voices, soft beeping, and the rhythmic thump of two tiny heartbeats pulsing through the monitors.
“Good morning, Veronica. How are you feeling today?” the doctor asked as he stepped into the delivery suite, dressed in scrubs with a calm, confident smile on his face.
Veronica grimaced as another contraction surged through her, lighting up the monitors beside her bed.
The doctor moved to the machines and reviewed the record tape, then washed his hands and pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. “Let’s check your progress,” he said gently, positioning himself at the foot of the bed. He examined her cervix with practiced care, then nodded and patted her knee.
“You’re already at 10 centimeters and fully effaced. This is excellent,” he said with quiet encouragement.
He immediately called for his gown, cap, and sterile gloves as the delivery team filed into the room. Nurses brought in additional equipment while Veronica was guided into delivery position. Frank stood at her side, his presence steady and loving. He kissed her one more time, then wrapped one arm around her back and the other around her leg to support her. A nurse took position on the opposite side to help hold Veronica steady.
“Okay, Veronica, give me a good push,” the doctor said from between her legs, hands poised and ready. The nurses were dressed and standing by with warm blankets, scissors, and everything needed.
Veronica bore down, gritting her teeth through the effort as her body shifted with purpose.
“Good, that’s it—baby A is almost here,” the doctor said with excitement. “Just one more big push.”
Veronica pushed again with all her strength, and moments later, their first son slid into the doctor’s waiting hands.
“It’s a boy!”
Frank gasped, joy flooding his face as pride swelled in his chest.
He was called forward to cut the umbilical cord, his hands steady despite the emotion in his throat. Their son was gently placed on Veronica’s chest, warm and squirming, as the doctor looked up and smiled.
“All right, Veronica—one more time,” he said. “Let’s meet the second one.”
With another strong push, their second baby emerged, just minutes after his brother.
“Another boy! Congratulations, Veronica! You did beautifully.”
The doctor cut the second umbilical cord and placed the second son on her chest beside his brother.
Tears streamed down Veronica’s cheeks. Frank couldn’t hold his back either, overcome by the sight of his wife cradling both of their newborn sons. The babies were briefly taken to the warmer to be cleaned and checked, their tiny cries filling the room with life.
Veronica delivered the placenta while the doctor performed a post-delivery check, assisted quietly by the WE who ensured her care was thorough and efficient.
Once the babies were wrapped and returned to their mother, Veronica opened her gown and guided them to her breasts. Both boys latched on naturally, nursing side by side as her milk flowed freely. The moment was raw and tender—a perfect reflection of love and life.
Frank kissed her softly, praising her with quiet reverence. “You were amazing. I love you so much.”
The word was sent to the rest of the pack. Cheers echoed in return.
The doctor finished his checks, satisfied with mother and babies, and stepped out to leave the new family in peace.
After nursing, both boys drifted to sleep with soft, contented sighs. Frank gently moved them to the bassinet and tucked them in. Then he lowered himself into the chair between his sons and his wife, completely still.
He sat there, heart overflowing with love and awe, feeling both immeasurably proud ... and just a little overwhelmed.
At the end of the workday, after school let out, Jane, Lisa, and the kids arrived at the hospital in a flurry of excitement and emotion. The moment they stepped into the room, the joyful chaos began.
The kids gasped and cooed over the twins, drawn in by their tiny fingers and soft baby sounds. Even Ezra—usually the quiet one—couldn’t hide his smile as he looked at his new brothers.
Sofia and Isabella gently climbed onto the hospital bed with Veronica, each carefully cradling a twin in their arms while Veronica watched with a tired but glowing smile. Ezra climbed onto Frank’s lap, leaning into his dad’s chest for a quiet hug.
Lisa and Jane took turns holding the babies, their eyes misty with pride and love as they praised Veronica.
“You were incredible,” Jane whispered, brushing a hand through Veronica’s hair.
“So strong,” Lisa added, kissing her on the forehead. “We’re so proud of you.”
The whole room felt wrapped in warmth—togetherness, tenderness, and the overwhelming beauty of a growing family. Laughter mixed with tears as everyone took turns snuggling the newest members of the pack.
And in that moment, surrounded by love and life, they were whole.
The next day, Frank boarded a flight to New York for the soft opening of Velvet Reserve, leaving behind his family—his pack, his home, the very reason he breathed.
Grant was tied up with last-minute business, so Marisol met him at the airport with baby Jessica in tow. The infant was wide-eyed and alert during the ride, making soft, curious baby noises as she looked around at the world from her car seat.
Marisol offered warm smiles and easy conversation, helping to fill the quiet that Frank felt deep in his chest. He missed Veronica already. He missed all of them.
Once they arrived at Grant’s home, Frank took a long shower to clear his mind. Then, with quiet precision, he dressed in a tailored suit—dark, clean lines, perfect for the evening ahead.
By the time he stepped out the door and into the car bound for the club, he had tucked his emotions away behind calm focus. Tonight wasn’t just a party—it was a beginning.
When he arrived at the building’s garage, he walked in and then around the lobby to the elevator that would take him to the lobby of Velvet Reserve. He pushed the button but the elevator didn’t move or close the doors. He then realized that the floor was security controlled and pulled the security card from his jacket pocket, swiped the card against the reader that blinked greed and then pushed the button and the doors closed.
Frank arrived at the club’s lobby and was immediately greeted by a large man in a tailored suit, his expression a mix of pleasant professionalism and subtle intimidation. The man stepped forward with a practiced smile.
“Credentials, please.”
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