Prologue
The Velvet Glove was the galaxy's premier BDSM club and had only the best of everything. They had tops and bottoms, whip-wielders and nipple clampers. Piercers, tattoo artists, students of every erotic art form imaginable. They had a badass top to oversee it all and a sweet fluttery bird to soothe feathers and keep everything running smoothly. There were masseuses and therapists and a medical doctor who took care of injuries.
And then there was him.
Dr. Bertoli Lutrell.
He had a medical degree, true enough, and he was a legitimate doctor, but he'd left the practice of medicine behind and instead was now one of the best tops at the Velvet Glove. He knew his own brand of topping was very intense, less whip-y and beat-y and more internally physical. Enemas, sounds, electrical shocks. These were the tools of his scenes. He would top for a very particular kind of sub. And he was good at it. Quite good at it, in fact. He really doubted there was anyone better.
Lutrell was a tall man, with short, short, almost white hair, and a short beard to match. He was thin--some would say gaunt--and his eyes were a piercing light blue, intense. When Lutrell looked at you, you believed he saw you.
He was also terribly happy to be doing what he did where he chose to do it. Life, for Lutrell, was a celebration, with pleasure and pain and intensity, need and fulfillment as party gifts.
Today he was going to see Kestrel, his list of needs written out. He giggled as he walked along the pristine corridor, going over the list. Perhaps he should order another gross of enema tubing. Yes, yes, one could never have too much.
Kestrel fluttered about, hands filled with three commpads. Still, when Lutrell appeared, he received a warm, friendly smile, Kestrel waving him in to sit, the amazing, multi-colored hair fascinating Lutrell. "Good day, dear! So nice to see you smiling."
Lutrell chuckled softly. He loved his work. Very, very much. Smiling was something he had no trouble doing. "Good day to you, Kestrel. You look busy. Do you have time for me today? I don't need a lot of it."
"Always." Little liar. Kestrel's time was more precious than gold. "How can I help you?"
"I have my list of requirements to be ordered." He handed the pad over with a little giggle. "I like to be well-stocked. Just in case, you know?" Yes, just in case someone special happened along. Really, although most of the men he saw were curious as to the pleasures he could bring, very few saw him more than a time or two.
"Of course, dear. I'll have everything you need sent immediately. I did wish to speak with you, while you're here. There's a man ... A rather..." Kestrel's lips pursed. "I'm really not sure how to put it, honestly. But Mal asked for you to free a forty-eight hour period and come see him."
"Oh?" Lutrell moved to the edge of his seat, butterflies fluttering inside. "A man with the kind of needs only I can fulfill?"
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