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The Subs Club
Cover of The Subs Club
The Subs Club
The Subs Club Series, Book 1
by J.A. Rock
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A year ago, my best friend Hal died at the hands of an incompetent "dom." So I started the Subs Club, a private blog where submissives can review doms and call out the douche bags.

A perfect example of the kind of arrogant asshole I mean? The Disciplinarian. He has a pornstache. He loves meat, stoicism, America, and real discipline. And he thinks subs exist to serve him.

But...not everything about him is awful. His Davy Crockett act just seems like a cover for his fear of intimacy, and part of me wants to show him it's okay to get close to people. And, I mean, sue me, but I have fantasized about real discipline. Not role-play, but like, Dave, you're gonna be thirty in four years and you still work in a mall; get your ass in gear or I'll spank it.

Not that I'd ever trust anyone with that kind of control.

I'm gonna redefine "battle of wills" for the Disciplinarian. Or I'm gonna bone him. It's hard to say.

— Dave

A year ago, my best friend Hal died at the hands of an incompetent "dom." So I started the Subs Club, a private blog where submissives can review doms and call out the douche bags.

A perfect example of the kind of arrogant asshole I mean? The Disciplinarian. He has a pornstache. He loves meat, stoicism, America, and real discipline. And he thinks subs exist to serve him.

But...not everything about him is awful. His Davy Crockett act just seems like a cover for his fear of intimacy, and part of me wants to show him it's okay to get close to people. And, I mean, sue me, but I have fantasized about real discipline. Not role-play, but like, Dave, you're gonna be thirty in four years and you still work in a mall; get your ass in gear or I'll spank it.

Not that I'd ever trust anyone with that kind of control.

I'm gonna redefine "battle of wills" for the Disciplinarian. Or I'm gonna bone him. It's hard to say.

— Dave

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  • from the book

    Chapter One

    Skrillex was blaring when Miles, Kamen, Gould, and I walked into Riddle — one of two BDSM clubs in the city, and the only one we bothered hanging out at anymore. Riddle's owners had a real hard-on for dubstep. Even tonight, at the Kink by Candlelight party, which had the potential to be a wonderfully atmospheric event if someone would just swap the violent sub-bass for some monastic chanting or Vivaldi. Or Enya. Bitches love Enya.

    The place was already packed. The couches were full, so we had to stand. Most people weren't even using the changing area; they just peeled off their street clothes there in the lounge and put on their harnesses and corsets and...capes? Yep, someone was definitely wearing a cape. Candles had been set up in the three playrooms as well as the lounge, and we were just waiting for the DMs to light them and turn off the overheads so we could get to the fun. Or at least what I hoped would be fun, though I was already starting to doubt it.

    At the very least we might get to see a cape catch fire.

    I glanced at the entrance to Tranquility, then made myself look away. Checked out the dry bar instead.

    There was a guy standing at the end of the bar, rocking a glass-bottled root beer. In his forties, probably. Big-boned, a little paunchy even. Fucking pornstache, which normally would have been a deal breaker, but his was combined with some additional rugged facial hair that mitigated the situation. And he was mountain man-ish enough that the 'stache seemed not only right, but also necessary. His face was wide, his jaw square, and he wore his light-brown hair in an uneven crew cut. I was digging the long-sleeved polo, jeans, and loafers in a yeah, daddy kind of way. He caught me staring, and his pornstache twitched slightly. Then he turned away with a vigorous sniff, rubbing under his nose with one finger. He seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn't figure out why. He looked up again. Made eye contact.

    What da fuck, Pornstache?

    "It's been seriously forever since we were all here together," Kamen said over the music. I turned away from Burt Reynolds Stars in Boogie Nights and faced my friends.

    "Uh, yeah." I scratched my neck, which was inexplicably warm. I'd never met a mustache that made me feel this way. "I know."

    It wasn't the first time we'd come to Riddle since Hal, but it was the first time we'd attended an event, and the first time we'd wordlessly committed to trying to enjoy ourselves. I felt responsible for how the night went, like an enthusiastic dad overseeing a lame family vacation. I'd hustled everyone into the car this evening and sung along too loudly to the radio and pointed out a new special on the Golden Corral billboard as we'd driven by. But now that we were here, my gaze kept finding Tranquility's doorway, and I could tell Gould was having the same problem. So I focused on the other attendees.

    "Oh my God." I tried not to point too obviously. "There's Rachel. They'd better keep an eye on the candles."

    Kamen's gaze followed mine. "Wait, what?"

    Miles glanced at him. "She's the rope top who turns people into human menorahs. You've seen her. She does the rigging all across their arms and makes rope candleholders...?"

    "Oh, yeah." Kamen nodded, but I didn't think he had any idea what Miles was talking about.

    "I let her do me last Hanukkah. It was fun." My gaze flicked back to Pornstache, who drained his root beer and threw the glass bottle in the recycle bin for plastics. This bad boy made his own rules. Rawwwr.

    Yeah, I put my glass in with the plastics. Yeah, I have a mustache even though it's no longer...

Reviews-
  • Publisher's Weekly

    November 2, 2015
    In this alternatingly poignant and scathingly witty BDSM erotic romance, which opens a series, Rock (The Grand Ballast) tackles some difficult questions. After popular submissive Hal dies during a BDSM scene at a well-known club, David and his fellow subs Kamen, Miles, and Gould begin a blog, the Subs Club, as a safe space for submissives to discuss dangerous dominants. Soon the blog spirals out of control. Meanwhile, hilariously sarcastic David meets a dom who calls himself the Disciplinarian. He initially dismisses the man as “Pornstache” and fights against his attraction to him, given their many differences—but he soon finds redemption and peace in a relationship with the Disciplinarian and begins to understand that no matter how much he loves his friends, he’s not responsible for all of their life choices. Rock skillfully handles tricky topics, and readers will adore this group of appealingly flawed and deeply affectionate characters.

  • Publishers Weekly — "[A]lternatingly poignant and scathingly witty. . . . Rock skillfully handles tricky topics, and readers will adore this group of appealingly flawed and deeply affectionate characters."

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J.A. Rock
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