Chapter Text
Jaime
The first step to being admitted to the club, aside from the enormous expense, of course, was a private meeting with the club’s founder and director, Ellaria Sand. These meetings were held in a high rise building in King's Landing, in a small suite of offices on the nineteenth floor. A keycard had been delivered by private courier directly to Jaime not long after Tyrion had recommended him for Club Sand. The club only accepted applicants who’d been recommended by current or previous club members. While in some ways this compromised the anonymity of future members, it was a better alternative than recruiting from other high-end social clubs or discreetly advertising in such publications as the Robb Report, a magazine known for its well-heeled subscribers – and wanna-be’s - who could buy a subscription to the quarterly for the price of a pair of designer boots.
At the assigned time, Jaime used his keycard with its stylized sand castle logo to direct the elevator to the nineteenth floor. Keycards were coded to operate only within a short window of time to prevent members from inadvertently crossing paths and learning each other’s identity.
Exiting the elevator, Jaime walked to the only door, which also bore the sand castle logo and the words Sand Ventures, Inc. He again used the card and opened the door to a tasteful reception area. A young blond man behind the desk smiled at him and stood.
“Mr. Lannister, welcome to Sand Ventures. May I fetch you something to drink? Coffee, whisky, a Cognac perhaps?”
Jaime was surprised; Tyrion had mentioned that the corporation would run a background check on him, but had that included knowing what he liked to drink? Of course, finding out he subscribed to Whisky Connoisseur magazine would be no great feat. He wondered what else they might already know about him.
“It’s a bit early for alcohol, isn’t it?” he asked the blond.
“We don’t deal in propriety here, Mr. Lannister,” the boy said, winking at him.
Gods, how he hated people that winked. This pup was flirting with him, no question. Jaime was used to men and women falling all over themselves to flatter him and win his interest. It was a side-effect of his wealth and good looks, and he’d learned to disregard it years ago.
“A cognac then, thank you.” He said, seating himself in a wing chair in the reception area. Jaime gazed around the room; framed oil paintings, mostly landscapes of different sizes from tiny to rather large, hung upon the forest green walls. A leather couch and low coffee table were the only other pieces of furniture. The area was trying so hard to be a drawing room that Jaime was surprised not to see a hearth with a fire blazing away in it.
“I think you’ll like this,” the young man said from the small bar near his desk. He carried the snifter of Cognac to Jaime, “I’m Olyvar, by the way.”
“Thank you, Olyvar,” Jaime said, taking the glass and swirling it to observe the rich amber color. He took a drink. “Courvoisier?” he asked. The boy nodded, smiled, and retreated behind his desk again.
Just a few moments passed before the door behind Olyvar’s desk opened and a tallish woman wearing a suit jacket over a silk blouse and short skirt stepped out. “Jaime? Welcome. I’m Ellaria. Please follow me.”
No problem, thought Jaime, admiring her long, tan legs and the sway of her hips as she led him to her office. She seated herself in one chair and waved at the other for Jaime to sit in. As he did so, Ellaria crossed her legs, giving Jaime a discreet flash of the red G-string she wore under the grey skirt.
He took another sip of his Cognac, wondering if part of securing his membership in the club was getting him mildly aroused even before the interview. This woman radiated a sensual carnality that was at once sophisticated and dirty. Maybe it was knowing ahead of time that Ellaria presided over dozens of people who paid to have kinky sex under her supervision, but Jaime’s cock was already half-hard beneath his tailored slacks.
“As you know, Jaime, this is a very private club and members use pseudonyms at all times. Have you thought about what you’d like yours to be?”
As it happened, he had thought about it, even though he’d still been telling himself he probably wouldn’t want to join the club once he learned more about it.
“Leo,” he told her, smiling.
“Leo,” Ellaria said in her smoky voice, “That suits you. From now on I shall only refer to you by your club name.”
“I haven’t decided whether to join the club yet, to be honest,” Jaime said, taking a sip of his drink.
“Haven’t you?” Ellaria said with a seductive smile, “I quite think you have. Or are you hoping I’ll find some way to convince you?”
Jaime was speechless, wondering if the woman was offering something sexual to secure his business. He was surprised when Ellaria gave a throaty laugh and leaned forward to touch his hand.
“Leo, I read people very well. Someone like you, with power and money and, frankly, the kind of looks that say you could have anyone you wanted, male or female, does not take time out of his day to come meet with me if he hasn’t already decided.” She sat back again, smiling, “I spent many years as an escort, a very highly paid escort. My instincts for what people want helped me build the Sand Club.”
Jaime nodded, smiling pleasantly. He appreciated people that were straight-forward.
“So you’re sort of Inara and Troi all wrapped up together in one incredibly hot package?” he asked with a smirk.
“Very good, Leo,” Ellaria acknowledged. She pressed a button under the armrest of her chair and said into the air, “Olyvar? Please bring in the Courvoisier and another snifter.”
Seconds later, Olyvar appeared with a filled glass for Ellaria and set the decanter on the low table. He departed without a word, his manner subservient.
“Olyvar also works as one of the subs at the club,” Ellaria said, taking a sip of her Cognac, “He loves being part of the training scenes as a submissive. The members quite enjoy him.”
“I’m sorry,” Jaime said, “but I would have sworn Olyvar is gay. Or maybe he’s bisexual? Tyrion told me the club I was thinking of joining was hetero?”
“I understand your confusion; Olyvar does indeed only work the Tuesday night sessions. He is not into women at all. However, we do have a number of bisexual employees that work on Thursday nights. While the club is defined as het, there tends to be quite a bit of same-sex touching if all parties are agreed to it. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“Is it going to be a problem if I don’t participate in that?”
“Of course not, Leo. Many straights find it arousing to see something outside of their normal experience. If you feel judgmental of that, you might find the club a bit too exciting for your tastes.”
Jaime laughed, “You have me there. No, it won’t bother me at all, what other people choose to do.”
“I imagine that, like so many men, you enjoy a bit of porn now and then? Yes? I think you’ll enjoy what you’ll see happening at the club in the flesh.”
“Tyrion told me there was some public sex, but there are private rooms, right?”
“Are you shy, Leo? You’ll get over that. Maybe not enough to fuck in front of a roomful of people watching you, but with your chosen paramour you will be quite exposed, especially if you play the role of a bottom or sub. Are you familiar with the terms ‘Dom’ and ‘sub,’ Leo?”
“I’ve read a little about it,” Jaime said, “The Dom, or dominant, does things to the sub or submissive partner, is that correct?”
“It’s much more than that. The power does rest with the Doms, but it is the power to give their sub pleasure and make them feel safe. The sub relinquishes control to their Dom and obeys them with the understanding that they will be cared for, given pleasure. In turn, the Dom derives pleasure from their role heightening the excitement of their sub and, of course, receiving physical gratification as well. It’s about more than sexual release, Leo; it’s psychologically very powerful to fill either of these roles.”
Jaime nodded, “I see,” he murmured.
“Do you, Leo? Tell me, do you have any idea whether you’re more of a sub or a Dom? No, don’t answer yet. I bet you think you’re a Dom. You have a high-powered job, a lot of responsibility. You’re very masculine, you like being in charge of your destiny. But my guess is that in the bedroom you’ve always been the giver in a relationship. Always one to meet expectations.”
Leo nodded again; it was only the truth. Cersei had always called the shots while he tried hard to please and keep her. He’d always believed that the one who loves the least controls the relationship, and over time the motto had come to represent what his only romantic relationship had been about. One never stood on solid ground with Cersei.
Beautiful, unpredictable Cersei, who always made him come to her so that she could take from him. Did that make her a Domme? But no, according to Ellaria, a Domme took care of their partner. That certainly wasn’t his former lover, not even when they’d both been much younger.
“You don’t have to decide whether you are a sub or Dom now,” Ellaria said, watching the play of emotions on his face, “Some people seem hard-wired to be one or the other, but many people who join the club find they enjoy both roles. I’m only asking you to keep an open mind about it. You may find that having a woman whose focus is on caring for and giving you pleasure through dominant role-play could be the best sex you’ve ever had.”
If the way his cock twitched at the idea was any indication, Ellaria could be correct. It was an odd thought, that he might go into this and not always be the one in charge.
“I’m going to send you home with some bedtime reading material, Leo,” Ellaria was saying, “It will lay out a sort of syllabus for the Season. The first two sessions are for demonstrations and practice. You will pick someone, or someone will pick you, to ‘practice’ basic ties with. Hopefully you’ll get to practice with several people, to learn what you want in your first Paramour. As you know, you may have a different Paramour every week, or you may attempt to engage with just one for the season.
“Our rules are few, but those we do have are strict. This is not a club for sadomasochism, and anyone one practicing it will be asked to leave. A certain amount of painful stimulation is allowed, but safety and a feeling of security are what the club is built around.
“As you know, the Sand protects the identity of all members. As such, you may not share or ask for personal information. Your mask must be in place at all times. You’re joining the club very close to the opening session, so I hope you’ve already considered what kind of mask you’ll wear. I can recommend some fine artisans who can make whatever you like. All of the details of our rules and club etiquette are in the material you’ll be taking home.
“Also, in the club I am known as Madame Sand. If you need to speak with me about any club issues, please contact me at the number you’ll find in your packet. If you have an issue during a session, ask one of the employees to speak to me.”
Ellaria stood and so did Jaime. She held out her hand and he took it; she had a firm handshake. She walked him to the reception door and opened it for him.
“I look forward to seeing you next Thursday, Leo. Call if you have any questions.”
Leo walked through the door and Olyvar stood to hand him an envelope.
“Thursdays,” Olyvar sighed under his breath, looking disappointed.
Brienne
Brienne arrived early for her appointment with Ellaria Sand. She sat on a bench in the lobby of the high rise and pulled out her mini tablet, flipping open the case. She could read one of her many downloaded books, check her MyFace page, play Teeny Wings for the umpteenth frustrating time…she was never going to make it through the fourth island in fever mode to beat the game, and she just needed to accept it. Thank the gods she’d never been tempted to download Flippy Bird.
She wished she were better at backing down from a challenge, but she rarely did. It was one of the few things she admired about herself, that tenacity to see things through once she’d committed to them. She should have told Margaery she wasn’t going to do this, but then her best friend had implied that she was craven, and needed to start living her life again. Brienne had promised to participate, and she never went back on her word.
It was surely the oddest thing Marge had ever gotten her to agree to, and that was saying a lot. Much as she wanted to hide from dealing with real life these days, she never could resist it when Margaery half-coaxed/half-shamed her into having fun. If not for Margaery’s insistence back in college, Brienne would never have dated at all. She’d probably still be a virgin today, hiding out at her quiet job at the lab, grocery shopping after midnight to avoid human contact, and being even more miserable than she was now. Having the force of nature that was Marge in her life meant that she’d taken chances, learned to have fun, and accepted herself as someone that was never happy with half-measures.
Brienne found herself staring at the tablet, barely noticing when its screen went black. She looked up when a woman carrying a howling toddler walked by, jaw clenched with aggravation. An elderly man with a walker thumped his way slowly past, the cut tennis balls on the legs of his device making a muffled scraping sound. A man in an expensive suit came out of the elevator closest to her. He was deep in thought and carrying a plain brown folder, thick with documents. Nice eye candy, Brienne thought, watching him walk past out of the corner of her eye. Not your usual business type, with that longish hair. A couple walked by holding hands, both frowning. Brienne wondered if the gesture were a relic of affection long since guttered out.
Her tablet quacked softly in her lap. The alarm. She put the tablet back in her bag and stood, smoothing her blouse and tugging at her jeans. They were just long enough if she didn’t let them ride up on her thighs. She might be thinking of joining this very elite club, but she wasn’t going to try to dress like she was someone with ten thousand dollars to throw away on sexual adventure.
Less than five minutes later she found herself seated in an office across from Ellaria Sand, sipping Old No. 7 in the middle of the day. The cute gay boy in the front office had offered her a whisky, and she’d quickly accepted, thinking it was nice a coincidence that they had her favorite kind of beverage available.
Madame Sand had given her an introduction, not exactly a sales-pitch, and asked her what her club name would be, and then repeated it back to her, "Sapphire," Madam said, smiling, "Yes, I like that. Welcome to the club, Sapphire."
She found Madame Sand impressive and charismatic, though the intensity of her attention to Brienne was a bit alarming. It was like the woman could cut straight through her protective shell and see her. Not just her weaknesses, but her strengths as well.
“I assume that you’ve planned out a mask to hide your scar, Sapphire,” she said, sipping the whisky she'd poured for herself, “and even though it will probably make you feel less exposed, let me assure you that it wouldn’t matter if you left it uncovered.”
Brienne blushed. Most people avoided mentioning her scar, even as their eyes slid past it, trying to take it in without being obvious.
“Yes, I do plan to have a mask that covers that cheek,” Brienne confirmed, “I’m not comfortable dealing with the way people react to it, and frankly, joining this club is not so that I can ‘be myself.’ Margaery tells me this is all about letting loose of who you think you are and just having fun.”
“I can see why Rose would say that,” Madame Ellaria said, “But you may find you become more of yourself than ever in this environment, once your deepest desires are tapped.”
Brienne nodded, sipped her whisky, and decided not to argue the point. She had a hard time seeing the “real” her as someone who would join a bondage club and fuck strange men.
“As to your scar, I sense that you have issues accepting yourself. Not just the scar, but your height, your build…in everyday society, women of strength, physical and personal, are often shamed to keep them from their authentic power. You have both qualities, and have probably been beaten down for most of your life without a way to own that power. You will be surprised at how appealing you'll be to both men and women at the Sand. Your physicality, your body, which is very sexy, by the way, is going to be very sought after. I see the doubt in your remarkable eyes, Sapphire, but trust me on this. In an environment where we throw traditional mores to wind, people will feel free to admire what you have rather than trying to label it, and that includes your inner strength.”
Sounds like new-age garbage to me, Brienne thought, but only nodded.
“I’m going to come right out and say that I think you would be an amazing Domme, and you would find a lot of satisfaction in taking control in this environment. You might even find the confidence that it gives you permeating your life outside the club, allowing you to take more charge in your life.”
Brienne shrugged and smiled politely. She’d believe it when she saw it, though to own the truth, she had imagined being a Domme was more arousing then the alternative.
“I’d love to see you join our Wednesday night group. I know you’ve marked down your preference as heterosexual, but the bisexual session – let’s just say that I find it personally arousing to think of you in that arena. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to experiment with that?”
“Positive,” Brienne said, thinking sourly of all the times her height and build had let her in for being tagged as lesbian, “I’m open-minded about people’s sexuality, Madame Sand, and that means I have not hesitated to think seriously about what mine is. Pain in the arse or not, I'm only attracted to men.”
“Sadly, I can see that you know what you’re about here. Forgive me for letting my own fantasies get in the way of my objectivity. Hopefully you can see it as a mark of how truly arousing your supple body and quiet strength are going to be. Are you sure you want to hide your scar? It really does make you seem deliciously dangerous. In any case, you’ll have more willing partners than you know what to do with,” Madame Sand smiled, her face transforming into girlish delight, “Actually, if we train you right, you’ll know exactly what to do with all your new suitors.”
Ellaria
After Ellaria had seen Sapphire out, she sat down to sip her whisky and think about the two new candidates she’d seen that afternoon. She’d suspected from the start that Sapphire was straight, but it never hurt to push the limits when it came to her charges. She cared deeply for the experience and growth of everyone in her club, though she seldom let them know that she took such a personal interest.
Leo was an interesting man, too. To be quite honest, she wouldn’t mind teaching him a thing or two. He didn’t seem the type to volunteer, though, and that was the only way it would be appropriate for her to touch him the way she’d like to. But as hot as he was, that Sapphire…
The girl had no idea…
An image of the tall girl and Leo flashed through her mind, and Ellaria inhaled at the sudden vision. The two of them would be fantastic together, wouldn’t they? It might never happen, the two of them hooking up, but if they did she hoped they’d agree to a public scene at some point. Just the thought of watching those two was enough to make her wet with anticipation for the new Season.