to the dining room.
“Seven full days. We bring them here, wine them, dine them, put them at ease. It’s more of a way for us to get to know them better. For those who are new to the island, we’ve only had limited interactions. I’ll speak with them right after they submit their application, but then there’s not much communication until they’re vetted. If they’re approved, they eventually end up here for a week, multiple if they choose.”
“And the rest of the time they’re here?”
“This is a vacation for them. Aside from the once-a-day event, which, as I said, is optional, it’s at their leisure. The Owners mainly watching their possessions as they tend to their needs, interacting as they see fit.”
Braelyn was staring up at me, and I could tell she was curious as to how it all worked. I liked that she was.
“The majority of the time, when we have guests, we’re outdoors, enjoying the pools, the recreation areas, the beach. Meals are provided. Sunday morning, before they’re scheduled to leave, I’ll meet with each Owner separately, get a feel for their intentions. Will they take a possession or choose to continue interacting for a bit longer? Sunday afternoons they leave.”
“Definitely sounds like a vacation. With the added benefit of kinky sex if they want,” Braelyn mused.
“If you want to look at it that way.”
“But it’s business for you.”
“It is.”
“Are they permitted to interact with other possessions? The ones they aren’t here to acquire?”
“Not unless arrangements have been made.”
“Arrangements?”
“If they have a curiosity about another, and we’ve given permission, they’re free to interact.”
“But it’s not the norm?”
“No.” I glanced down at her. “Keep in mind, many of the possessions are interacting with Owners via the app. It’s possible they’ve already been claimed. It’s not about the highest bidder.” I smiled. “At least not unless that’s what the possession is looking for.”
“Has that happened before? A bidding war?”
“Twice,” I admitted.
“And?”
I grinned. “The highest bidder won both times.”
TWENTY-NINE
Braelyn
Dinner was a formal affair, complete with a plethora of possessions who brought out and cleared away the five courses. Wine was consumed, conversations were had, and up to this point, it had been an interesting yet relatively, and like I’d told Talon, tame endeavor.
I had always gotten the impression from Ransom that events such as this were, for lack of a better term, raunchy. Naked bodies writhing, other people watching.
Didn’t seem to be the case here. It was your average dinner party, complete with a banquet-sized table, more food than necessary, conversation, laughter, and a few stories being told.
I was expecting something a bit kinkier. I mean, I wasn’t a fetish connoisseur or anything, but my brother was unashamedly into BDSM, his focus on sadomasochism, and I’d heard his stories. Plus, after seeing the possessions passing hands from the resort to the Owners, I’d expected … more.
And, yes, maybe I had some personal knowledge relating to Domination and submission. There for a while, I fancied myself a submissive, thought perhaps the lack of it in my life was the reason I’d never found true happiness. I mean, who wouldn’t question it? My brother always seemed content.
While I had never visited a club, didn’t really have the desire to, I had delved into the online sites and forums. In the beginning, it was a safe way to traverse, to learn, to explore. I met some interesting people, those who claimed they were Dominants, Sadists, even Primals. Others who were submissives with various fetishes. I’d spent months on one site, making some friends, reading their inner musings, even entertaining the idea of making the leap to the real world. I couldn’t count the number of munches—how the BDSM community referred to face-to-face social interactions—I’d been invited to. It was at the first and only one I went to that I met Jake.
I could still remember the day clearly. Walking into the room, it had felt surreal. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but the reality had been … not a letdown, but perhaps less exciting than what I’d thought it would be. Granted, it had been as they promised, an informal and safe opportunity to put faces with online personas, to interact face-to-face. To put it simply, the get-together had been the meet-and-greet they’d advertised it to be.
Jake and I had maintained contact afterward, opting for text messaging versus returning to the website. When he finally asked me out, I agreed without hesitation. One dinner turned into two, then three, then half a