Club Velvet 4
Copyright© 2026 by Kynlas_DK
Chapter 15
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 15 - Frank Devon, his pack, his club and the people who come to his club for connection and entertainment, this is their story and this is book 4 of the series. I would suggest starting at book 1 to understand the background and the world this club resides in.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft mt/Fa Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Science Fiction Incest Brother Sister BDSM DomSub Light Bond Polygamy/Polyamory
The drive through the state of Illinois was a labor of ... not love, but a labor nonetheless.
Endless miles of cornfields and flat land stretched out in every direction, broken only by the occasional gas stop, a bathroom break, or a surprisingly decent burger in Springfield.
When she wasn’t driving, Sofia reclined her seat, propped her feet on the dash, and closed her eyes, trusting Ezra to keep the Jeep from drifting off the road—or drawing the attention of local police with a heavy foot.
When they switched, Ezra flopped into the passenger seat, pulled out his phone, and let his mind drift across the WEnet. He watched videos of people doing stupid things—falling off ladders, sneaking up on friends with air horns, failing spectacularly at parkour—and laughed so hard he had to share them with Sofia just to keep her awake and focused.
When their car arrived in Chicago, Ezra took over driving and got them home to the welcome embrace of their moms and dad. Isabella greeted them warmly, but her whispered statement of ‘you owe me tonight at bed time.’
Ezra had to look at his sister more closely, even looking at her intentions through the WE and blushing at what he found. She was looking for sex with Ezra and she wanted lots of it before they fell asleep. Isabella for her wish that evening from both of them.
Frank was in his office reading reports, trying to see patterns that may not be there, but patterns usually found their way into these reports nonetheless and he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss anything.
Business was good, but he didn’t want to miss anything that could lead him to failure. He had too many mouths to feed to fail. Too many people who rely on their work for their living. He had to stay on top of things to keep anything from happening to his business.
Lisa strolled in seeing his stress through their link and moved to stand next to him. Her business dress looked great on her, fitted with wide shoulder straps that seemed to hug her figure in all the right places. Her feet were in a new pair of high heels that clicked on the hard floor when she walked and were nearly silent on the carpet in his office.
Lisa reached out to him through the WE, sending a gentle touch to his stressed psyche, trying to soothe his mind.
She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, finding his tension and with an expert touch from years of taking care of him and pressed it with her thumbs.
He made an audible groan as she massaged his shoulders.
Thanks honey. he sighed through their link, letting his mind go toward something other than numbers and profits and feedback from patrons and employees.
Lisa leaned forward and rested her chest on the top of his head as she continued to rub his shoulders.
Do you need a sucking honey? Something to take your mind off work?
Frank put his hands on hers then carefully moved back and turned around. He helped her to sit on his lap. One arm around her back, the other went to her breasts without thought. He squeezed her and she sighed at his touch, then leaned down to kiss him lovingly.
I love you Lisa. So, so much.
I love you too honey. You are a good man, a great man, someone that is doing a really great job at taking care of us. Everyone at home loves you and everyone here respects you. You are amazing.
He smiled at the praise. Her loving comments seemed to fill his heart with something he didn’t know how to put a name to, but they resonated within him.
Veronica and Jane both joined Lisa, adding their own praise and their own love, making sure that Frank’s love tank was completely full.
Lisa touched him with her tongue and fingers as they kissed. Lisa made little noises as Frank held her, felt her up, and rubbed her back. His touch was so familiar, but it still made her body light up with arousal. She parted from his lips, opened her eyes, and gazed into his. Their love flowed back and forth between them; the passion they started years ago was still alive and well, not just between them, but among all of the wives as well.
“If I stay here much longer, we are going to need a towel,” Lisa said, her voice laced with arousal as she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek and the nape of his neck.
“I know where they are stored,” he replied, still holding her while reaching for the zipper along her spine.
As the zipper made a soft zzzzzip, Lisa shivered. Frank slowly undressed her, and the thought of making love in the office stirred naughty, forbidden, and delicious desires.
They returned to kissing and touching as the zipper kept going lower and lower.
Lisa had to stop this. The door was open, and there were people downstairs who might need her. Her mind said wait, but her body was crying ‘YES!’
Frank had moved his hand from her breast to her lap and had started moving up her leg. The higher it got, the wider her legs opened, until the zipper was all the way down and her legs were wide apart. Frank had gotten his fingers under her panties, sliding them along her pussy lips, finding her hot and wet.
He found her opening and slid a finger into her, eliciting a soft, breathy sigh from Lisa.
“Oh Frank,” she sighed, reaching for his hand and holding it steady as pleasure coursed through her body.
Frank kept at it, moving his fingers in and out of her body, making her sigh and moan as he expertly touched her. Years of familiarity made it easy to bring her to orgasm, and Lisa tightened her grip on his wrist as she crested.
She relaxed, letting go of his arm and wrist, then carefully stood up. She smoothed her dress, turned her back to him, and silently asked him to zip her back up.
Once the zipper was all the way up, he kissed her on the back of the neck. She smoothed the dress and stood up straight. She then focused her gaze on him and said, “You are evil.”
She then turned around and strutted out of his office, going downstairs to the club. She had responsibilities to attend to.
Frank had to shift, adjusting the hardness pressing against his pants—both to ease it and to hide it.
He drew in a deep breath, then made his way to the bathroom to wash his hands and regain his composure.
Downstairs, he took a seat at the bar, ordered a sweet coffee, and tried to relax. Dancers moved fluidly through the crowd—some escorting customers to the private booths, others returning nearly naked from their sessions to freshen up before doing it all over again.
Men were tossing money onto the stage, cheering loudly for the dancers who gave them everything they had in each performance. On the surface, business looked good. Satisfied for now, Frank moved to a corner booth near the stage, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
He focused on the WE. How is everyone?
Define everyone, Frank.
My people—the dancers, the wait staff, the guys behind the scenes, and the pleasure consultants. How are they?
For the first time, Frank thought he heard the WE sigh.
Your people are working hard, Frank. All of them. Across every club, they’re putting in the effort and making good money. But even rewarding work is still work—and it wears on them.
What should I do for them? Frank asked. A day off? Vacations? What do they need to feel appreciated for all their hard work?
The WE went silent for a moment as the question rippled through their collective awareness.
What everyone needs, they finally replied, is time off. Some want other things, of course—but generally speaking, rest is what they need most.
Frank opened his eyes, looked around the room, then glanced at his calendar. Nothing pressing—no VIPs, no special events. Just another regular night.
He finished his drink and made a decision.
The club needed a break. Everyone did.
He stood up and returned to his office, already forming a plan in his mind: shut down for a week, deep clean every inch of the place, reupholster the booths and chairs, and give everything a fresh start. Not just this location—all of them.
He picked up his phone and started making calls, checking schedules, and messaging Grant to keep him in the loop.
A moment later, Grant’s voice filled the room. “I heard you thinking, Frank. How are you?”
“I’m good. But I reached out through the WE, asked what our people needed—and what they need is time off. So I’m closing the clubs for a week. While we’re down, we’ll do a full refresh—deep clean, new upholstery, the works.”
“How much is this going to cost?”
Frank chuckled. “No idea. But who cares? Our people need rest. That’s worth more than any line item on a spreadsheet.”
Grant didn’t argue. “I agree. Go for it.” He paused. “Want me to take a look at the work downstairs?”
“Only if you want to. Don’t let it pull you away from your usual responsibilities. We’ll make sure it all gets done right—you can count on that.”
They hung up from each other and Frank continued to work on his plans. The designer who helped with the club the first time was called and she quickly headed over to the club right after hanging up.
Elena Voss arrived at the club, spoke briefly with the doorman, and was escorted inside.
She walked through the main floor, taking in the surroundings—the dancers, their sensual movements, the lights, the ceiling, and even the floors. Everything spoke to years of consistent use. She wandered toward the coffee bar, ordered a latte, and continued her quiet survey. When she reached the private dance area, she examined the booths and the easy-to-clean fabric that had been installed years ago. It was holding up better than expected, and she smiled with quiet satisfaction.
As she lingered, several dancers performed for the patrons seated nearby. Laughter and soft moans floated in the air, blending with music and murmured pleasure. Through her WE connection, Elena reached into the shared emotional network and felt the current of arousal running through the space. She gasped softly as the wave of collective pleasure surged into her mind and body.
Her knees went weak. She rubbed her legs together, trying to mask her growing arousal, but couldn’t stop the deep blush spreading across her chest and neck.
Frank appeared behind her and, through the WE, gently asked permission to touch. Elena’s WE responded affirmatively and also warned her of his presence. A moment later, his arms slipped around her, steadying her.
She leaned into him instinctively, body melting against his, and kissed him deeply—mouth to mouth, breath to breath—before pulling away, flushed and breathless.
“Frank, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I had no idea...” she gestured vaguely toward the booths behind her.
Frank shook his head. “It’s alright, Elena. No harm done. I’ve learned to keep my input filters off when I’m here—it’s a lot, I know.”
She nodded and let her arms drop from around his neck. “I’m alright now.”
They walked the club together, Frank pointing out areas he wanted refreshed—upholstery, fixtures, decor, and lighting. Elena made mental notes as they moved from room to room until they ended up in his office, where Lisa had joined them.
Lisa leaned forward. “So, how long do you think it would take to get it all done?”
Elena tapped her finger against her lip thoughtfully. “Assuming I have enough fabric in stock, we can get it done in a week.”
“Great,” Frank said. “What about the other locations? Would you be able to help with those, too?”
Elena’s face softened. “I wish I could, but my pack is expecting our first baby any day now. I can’t risk missing the birth. I hope you understand.”
Lisa smiled warmly. “We do. Completely.”
“Then I’ll place the fabric order today, and we’ll start next week.”
They shook hands. Frank walked her to the front door and gave her one last warm hug before Elena exited the club.
Later That Night
Frank stood at the bar, eyes distant, and sent a message through the WE: Please notify everyone we’ll be holding a quick meeting at closing. If the morning shift comes in a few minutes early tomorrow, I’ll give them the same update.
The WE responded, Message delivered.
As employees looked up from their work, a wave of concern moved through the room. The barista behind Frank leaned in with a furrowed brow. “Boss ... are we closing for good?”
Frank blinked, startled, then quickly reviewed the message he’d sent.
“Oh—no! Gosh, no.” He laughed awkwardly. “WE, please update everyone—we’re remodeling, not shutting down. Just doing a deep clean and reupholstering the furniture. Everything is fine.”
Relief spread across the room. Frank caught the barista’s grateful nod, followed by smiles from the others.
He chuckled to himself and went back to his office, already drafting next steps.
The Following Week
The rest of the week passed without incident. Then Monday arrived.
Frank and Lisa came in early to unlock the doors for Elena and her crew. A large dumpster was delivered out front as workers got to it—dismantling booths, stripping fabric, stacking old materials for disposal.
Meanwhile, Frank reached out to the other clubs. Each had found its own decorator and was sourcing the same new fabric Elena had selected, creating a sense of unity across the brand. After a week, the updates would be complete, and the clubs would be ready to reopen with a fresh new look.
All except Velvet Reserve.
That club was still pristine—newer, modern, and in no need of updates. For now, it would continue as it was.
When the work was finished and the refresh completed, a line stretched from the front door of the club along the side of the building and into the back parking lot. They had decided to open later in the day, skipping the usual morning hours to build anticipation and ensure the biggest crowd possible.
Frank opened the doors with a broad smile, personally welcoming each guest as they entered.
Inside, the music pulsed through the air, dancers moved confidently across the stages, and the wait staff lined the bar, all wearing bright, eager smiles.
Rather than rushing to the stages, many guests wandered through the space, admiring the updates. Others went straight to the bar, eager for their favorite drinks. The turnout was strong, and Frank watched the crowd with quiet satisfaction.
Lisa stood nearby, sharing the moment with him. She too was pleased by the turnout and the energy. Through the WE, they received a wave of positive feedback—guests commenting on how fresh the club felt, dancers feeling newly energized, and even the drinks tasting sweeter after a week away.
Sometimes, absence really did make the heart grow fonder—even for the simple pleasures that Club Velvet offered.
The dancers were nonstop, each one booked for private dances again and again. By the end of the day, they walked out with tired bodies and pockets full of cash. The fatigue was real, but the money made it all worthwhile.
The summer turned to fall, and school began again for Isabella—but this year, she was the only Devon in the building. Ezra and Sofia had graduated, leaving her alone as a sophomore in high school for the first time.
She stepped into the familiar halls carrying only her phone and a purse slung over her shoulder. Her schoolbooks were already in the building—not that they were needed much. Teachers passed information directly through the WE, a process Isabella had grown used to.
Her fifteen-year-old body was still developing, but she no longer looked like a child. Her B-cup breasts and narrowing waist hinted at the woman she was becoming. Boys at the pool had taken notice all summer. Her father told her often how beautiful she was, and her moms echoed the sentiment regularly. Even so, doubt lingered. Praise was nice, but it didn’t erase insecurity. She managed anyway.
Finding her locker, she opened it and peeled off her t-shirt and shorts, stuffing them inside along with her purse. She kept only her phone handy.
Nearby, her friends were arriving. The soft buzz of teenage chatter filled the space.
The boys were stripping down too, some louder than others, teasing and joking about who’d “grown up” over the summer referring to the girls in school.
Isabella scrunched her nose at one of the louder comments. “Boys,” she muttered.
“So true. Some of them are just gross,” her friend Angie said, rolling her eyes.
The small group of girls drifted away from the worst offenders, laughing softly.
When Isabella got to her first class, English 2, she flopped into a beanbag chair near the middle of the room. Other students trickled in. A moment later, Britney—an old friend from last year—spotted her.
“BELL!” Britney squealed then ran to her. “I looked for you at the pool all summer but kept missing you! How are you, girl?”
She dropped into the neighboring beanbag, and the two hugged, talking excitedly as the classroom filled.
One of the boys, Gavin, slipped into the room and chose a spot a few feet away. He wasn’t gross—far from it. He’d kept his shorts on today, he didn’t want to be too eager on the first day. He was quiet by nature, a little shy, and didn’t want to offend anyone.
Isabella noticed him right away. Their eyes met, and they shared a smile.
“Hey, Bell,” he said softly.
“Hi, Gavin.”
Her body warmed at the sound of his voice. She didn’t fully understand the feeling, but she liked him—drawn to his gentle presence.
Just then, the teacher entered. “Welcome, everyone!”
He’d been standing outside, observing as students arrived, none acknowledging him. “This is English 2,” he continued. “Check your schedules and make sure you’re in the right place.”
No one moved.
“Good. Last year I had a kid sit through half a class before realizing he was in the wrong room.” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, but quickly gave up. “I’m Mr. Morrison. Please use that name when addressing me.”
He looked around, his WE interface silently labeling each student. He paused at familiar names, asking a few questions.
“We’ll be writing a lot this year while reading several books. I’ll ask you not to rely on the WE for everything—don’t just download the texts or let it write your essays. That feels like cheating to me. I want you to read.”
There were a few murmurs.
“Our first book is ‘Have Space Suit—Will Travel’ by Robert Heinlein.”
Isabella perked up. Most of last year’s books were boring. This one sounded different.
“I know this isn’t what your older siblings read,” Mr. Morrison said. “But I’m trying something new—books that are exciting and maybe even a little weird.”
He stopped in front of Isabella. “Isabella Devon—how are your brother and sister? Graduated now, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Morrison. They’re fine. I think they’re going to work for our dad before college,” she said, blushing at the attention.
“Good kids. Had both of them in class.”
He moved on, retrieved a stack of books from a cabinet, and began handing them out.
“First assignment: one-page report about your summer. What did you do? Did you travel? What do you miss now that school’s back? What are you looking forward to? One page, due before you leave today.”
He passed out composition notebooks and pens. Students got to work.
Isabella placed the notebook on her lap and stared at the blank page. What had she done this summer?
She began slowly.
“This past summer, like many of my past summers, my pack went to the city pool. My mom Jane took us every day because the weather was nice. When it wasn’t, we did things around the house or just chilled...”
As the time in class ticked by, Isabella’s pen kept moving, the words about her summer flowing out with surprising ease.
“My brother and sister got to travel alone—without me. I missed them and was jealous of their freedom and everything they got to do and see. Dad called them interns, but I think they got something special from him. I hope he gives me the same kind of opportunity when I’m their age.”
Her thoughts filled an entire page and spilled over onto the back as she wrote about her summer—the things she loved, and the quiet disappointment of being left behind while her siblings supposedly worked for their dad.
“Okay, everyone—pens down,” Mr. Morrison announced. “Make sure your names are on the outside of your notebooks since you’ll be using them all year.” Once everyone was finished, he asked them to bring their notebooks up to the desk and stack them.
Isabella joined her friends as they walked together to their next class: gym.
No need to change, just sit in the gym today, the WE informed her.
Cathy, another friend, was in her gym class too, and the two girls found seats beside each other on the bleachers as other students filed in.
“Yo, what’s up, Bella?” Cathy grinned, pulling her into a quick hug before settling in.
Coach Carter entered the gym with practiced ease. She was 45 years old and had been a gym teacher since she was 23 and fresh out of college. A knee injury had cut short her promising softball career before it could truly begin—but her education had saved her from despair.
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