Sighing, he pushed away all thoughts that didn’t have to do with the current situation. To make certain they were both on the same page, he repeated some of Cassandra’s words back to her. “So, between school and working at both the hospital and The Covenant, you won’t have time to relax and play?”
“No, Sir.”
While studying her face, he got the impression she wanted to bolt. He’d never seen her this nervous before and tried to soften his expression and tone of voice. “What if I took care of your membership fees? Then you’d be able to give up your job at The Covenant. Once you get your class schedule, we can plan playtime around it.”
Her eyes had gone wide at his offer, but she’d started shaking her head before he’d finished speaking. “No—No, Sir. I-I can’t let you do that. I’m sorry, but I think it’s best that you take your collar back. There are plenty of unattached subs at the club. Several of them have already expressed interest in taking my place.”
Stefan frowned. “You discussed this with the other subs before coming here tonight? Before telling me you want to be uncollared?” Hell, no, he was not happy about that. He should have been the first person to know she was going to use her safeword and return his collar, not the last. “You know better than that, subbie. Your discussing any part of our contract, or the termination of it, with anyone else is not acceptable.”
“I’m s-sorry, Sir.” Her tears welled up again. “I-I just thought it would be easier if I had a replacement ready for you—you need a sub for your Shibari classes.”
That was true. In a few weeks, Stefan was set to begin teaching another course at the club in the fine art of tying a submissive up in designs made from yards of silky rope. When his maternal grandfather had taught Stefan how to create dozens of different types of knots when he was a boy, never had he thought he’d be using the knowledge to decorate naked women with intricate patterns that would put them in subspace.
But Stefan didn’t want a new sub—he wanted Cassandra. He’d gotten used to her, and they’d fallen into a comfortable relationship—superficial as it was. He’d made it clear, when they’d done their initial negotiations all those months ago, they were a Dom and his sub—nothing more. Stefan didn’t want a girlfriend or slave. He’d gone both those routes before—several times—and none had worked out, which was why he avoided those types of relationships now. Less drama that way.
Damn it, he wasn’t ready to give Cassandra up yet. But he didn’t have a choice. She’d said her safeword, and as a respectable Dom, he had to abide by it. That didn’t mean he couldn’t try to get her to change her mind. “We have a few hours left on the current contract. Do you still want to play tonight?”
When she hesitated and bit her bottom lip, his heart sank. He knew without a doubt what her next words were going to be. “No, Sir, I’d rather not. I’m sorry—I know you didn’t expect this tonight, but I-I really should be going.”
He had half a mind to ask where she was going in such a hurry but managed to keep the question in his throat. He didn’t want her to know how disappointed he was that she’d ended their time together. Instead, he stood and rounded the table to stand behind her.
“Lift your hair,” he commanded. When she obeyed him, his fingers went to her nape, but then he couldn’t help himself. Before he unclasped the simple collar he’d given her months ago, he skimmed her bare neck and shoulder with his knuckles, memorizing how soft she was. A shiver flowed through her, and goose bumps appeared across her skin. Damn, he was going to miss her. Taking a deep breath, he undid the clasp and removed the black leather and silver collar from her neck before stuffing it into the front pocket of his navy-blue Dockers. He wanted nothing more than to bend down and kiss his way across her shoulder to her neck and then nuzzle her ear. But if he did that, he’d be left standing there with a hard-on when she walked out the door.
Taking a step to the side, he held out his hand. When she took it, he helped her to her feet, then kissed the back of her hand. “It was an honor to be your Dom, Cassie. I wish you all the best.” He couldn’t resist adding, “As for my offer—paying your membership while you’re in school—I’d like you to agree to it, no strings attached. This way you only have to work one job and can better concentrate on your studies.” When it looked like she was going to turn him down again, he squeezed her hand. “Please accept my gift. It would mean a lot to me.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Seconds ticked by as she held his brown-eyed gaze before nodding. “If it means that much to you, Sir, thank you.”
He knew the smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes, but he tried to keep the tone of his voice light. “No, thank you, Cassie. It’s my pleasure. Maybe it’ll give us the opportunity to play on occasion.”
It didn’t escape his notice that she winced slightly at his hopeful statement. He wanted to ask her about it but thought it was best not to. He’d find out soon but not tonight. She was too upset, and he got the feeling she’d shut down further if he interrogated her. He’d figured out months ago the best way to get Cassandra to open up was to tie her down. And that clearly wasn’t going to happen right now. “I’ll talk to Master Mitch tomorrow and make the arrangements. He’ll probably need two-weeks’ notice.”
“That’s fine, Sir. Classes start next Wednesday, so they’ll only overlap with my club shift for a few days—I’ve already made arrangements for two of my shifts to be covered by other waitresses.” When he didn’t release her hand, she glanced down to where they were joined. “I-I really should go.”
With great reluctance, Stefan let her go then escorted her to the front door, where he fought the urge to kiss her. “Goodbye, little pixie.”
“Goodbye, Sir.”
Ten minutes after she walked out of his life, Stefan sat on his living room couch with an almost-empty glass of scotch—one that had been filled for the second time moments before. He stared at the coiled lengths of rope he’d set out on the coffee table earlier in the evening. There was a new design he’d wanted to try out on her tonight. With the aid of two hooks in the ceiling, the pattern would have looked like Cassie had wings when he was done with it—like a heavenly angel. But now all he had were the memories of their past time together—for once in his life, he didn’t think it was enough.
2
Cassandra managed to hold off her tears until she climbed into her car and slammed the door shut. Once she had her privacy, fat, wet drops rolled down her cheeks. Tonight was one of the worst nights of her life. The last thing she’d ever wanted to do was have Sir remove her collar, but she couldn’t continue with their relationship as it had been.
Opening the center console between the bucket seats, she retrieved a package of tissues and pulled several of them out. As she blew her nose, she looked out her windshield. She’d parked in one of complex’s spots reserved for visitors, directly across the street from Stefan’s bi-level townhouse. The blinds to the living room in his unit were closed. She’d half expected him to watch her leave and wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed he hadn’t. The fact he hadn’t told her she’d made the right decision tonight. She’d been just another sub to him, while she’d wanted to be so much more than that.
She was about to start the engine of her Corolla, when her phone chimed a text. With shaking hands, she pulled her cell from her purse and checked the screen. The message was from her friend and coworker at The Covenant, Sasha Lewis.
S: Did you leave yet? How did it go?
Taking a shuddering breath, Cass typed in her response.
C: Not well. Can I come over?
* * *
S: Of course! I’ll break out a bottle of wine and some Twinkies
Twenty minutes later, Cass lifted her hand to knock on the door to Sasha’s apartment, but it swung open before she could. Her full-figured friend pulled her into a big, warm embrace. “Girlfriend, I’m so sorry. Men can suck moose shit sometimes—even Doms. Get in here and have a drink.”
Cass followe
d her inside and shut the door behind them. As soon as she deposited her purse on one of the small kitchen’s chairs, Sasha thrust a full glass of Pinot Grigio into her hand. She then clinked her own glass against Cass’s. “Subbies unite!”
After they both took a sip of the sweet white wine, Sasha linked her arm with Cass’s and steered her toward the couch. “Now, sit and tell me what happened. What did you say? What did he say? Was he mad? Please tell me you didn’t cry in front of him. I can’t see Master Stefan letting you walk out of there if you were crying.”
That was true. He definitely wouldn’t have let her go in tears, which is why she’d done her best to get out of there before shedding a single one.
Sighing, she took a seat next to her friend and wasn’t surprised when Flash, Sasha’s mostly black cat, with a white streak across one eye and ear, ran over and jumped into her lap for some loving. Absentmindedly, Cass stroked the animal’s soft fur while she spoke. “I told Sir I couldn’t manage working both jobs, going back to school, and being his sub all at the same time. He wasn’t happy, but he let me out of the contract.’
“Just like that?” Sasha’s tone said she knew Cass was leaving a lot out. “Girl, don’t make me get you drunk to get the rest of it. Now, talk.”
She took a large gulp of wine before answering. “He wants to pay for my club membership, so I don’t have to work there while going to school.” Sasha’s eyes bulged, and Cass shrugged. “He refused to take no for an answer.”
“He’s paying your membership? With no strings attached?”
“Yeah, do you believe that? I mean, it’s a lot of money.” Membership to The Covenant, one of the most elite BDSM clubs on the Gulf Coast of Florida, wasn’t cheap. “He said maybe we could play sometimes, but it wasn’t necessary for letting him pay my dues. He said it was a gift.”
Sasha huffed. “Well, that’s good. Otherwise, it would be like you were his call-girl or something.”
Cass hadn’t thought of it that way, but her friend was right. If play and sex had been a requirement, she never would’ve agreed to the arrangement. She’d had a hard-enough time consenting to it in the first place.
“I just don’t get Doms sometimes,” the other sub continued. “I mean, you two were great together—you were just like every other happy couple in the place, so why wouldn’t Stefan sign a longer contract with you?”
A fresh tear rolled down Cass’s cheek. “Because he means more to me than I will ever mean to him. He told me from the get-go that the contract would be month to month and our relationship wouldn’t go further than a simple D/s one. I was just stupid enough to go and fall in love with him.”
Sasha reached over and patted Cass’s knee. “You weren’t stupid, girlfriend. Shit like this happens all the time. You can’t help it if you fell for a dumb-ass Dom. But you’ll get past it, and somewhere out there is a Dom who will deserve your love.”
The problem was Cass couldn’t see herself falling for anyone other than the one man who didn’t want her love. For the first time since a few months after she’d joined The Covenant, she was afraid of the prospect of having to find a new Dom.
3
Five years earlier . . .
Ian Sawyer eyed The Covenant’s new waitress, Cassandra. She was dressed in the outfit all the club’s female employees wore—a black bra and pleated mini-skirt, with a red and gold bow tie. On her feet were a simple pair of black, ballet-type slippers. She was nice, cute, and good at her job, but he was worried about her. She’d been working there for eleven weeks, and, aside from the required basic classes for submissives, she’d yet to play with any of the available Doms. He knew several had approached her to negotiate a scene, but she’d politely yet effectively turned them down.
Ian had given her time to settle in, but as the Dom-in-residence, it was up to him to figure out what was going on with the blonde sub. While he co-owned the club with his brother Devon and their cousin, Mitch, who also managed the place, Ian was more experienced and trained in the lifestyle than the other two men. Yesterday, Mitch had asked him to talk to Cassandra, since she didn’t have to interact with Ian as an employee on a regular basis. They didn’t want her to feel her job was in jeopardy if she wasn’t willing to play. However, from her initial interview for the cocktail waitress position, and her questions in the submissive’s class, they knew she was interested in exploring the lifestyle, but she didn’t seem to have the courage to take that final step. Ian would try to change that tonight.
He watched as she dropped off a few drinks to two Masters and their subs, who were sitting in one of the lounging areas near the bar on the balcony level of the BDSM club. Before she could take any other orders, Ian strode over to intercept her. “Cassandra.”
Her eyes dilated at his deep, rumbling voice as he approached, then her gaze dropped to the floor in submission. “Yes, Master Ian?”
“Please leave your tray at the bar, then meet me in playroom number four.”
“W-what, S-Sir?” Forgetting protocol, she now stared at him in confusion. “I don’t—”
His tone left no room for an argument. “That wasn’t a request, subbie. I’ll be there in five minutes and expect you to be in a perfect present position when I arrive.”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
He could hear the fear in her voice but didn’t address it at the moment. Ian wanted her off guard for their conversation—he’d found that when submissives were keeping something inside, emotionally, they tended to be more forthcoming with the truth about what was bothering them if they were caught by surprise.
As she hurried to the waitress station at one end of the bar, with a few wary glances over her shoulder at him, Ian moved to the opposite end where Master Brody was drawing a draft beer. The club’s regular Wednesday night bartender was at the ER, getting his hand stitched up, after slicing it with a piece of broken glass ten minutes after starting his shift earlier, so Trident Security’s computer geek was filling in.
Brody eyed him. “What’s up?”
“I’m taking Cassandra off-duty early. Kimmy and Miranda can handle things now that people have started heading out.”
Setting the glass of Guinness in front of the Dom who’d ordered it, Brody made certain no one else needed his attention before asking, “You gonna try to get in her head?”
When Ian nodded, his friend continued. “She’s a sweet thing, hot as sin too, but something is definitely bugging her. I mean, she’s turned me down a bunch of times, with and without Marco joining us. What submissive does that?”
“A smart one with taste.”
With a snort and a chuckle, Brody shook his head and stepped over to where he was being flagged for another drink. “Keep it up, Boss-man. Just remember, I have access to all your passwords. The next time someone calls you, don’t be surprised if you have a new ringtone.”
Ian wouldn’t put it past the guy, who was lucky his bosses and teammates at Trident Security knew his worth. They couldn’t kill him but would definitely find new ways to make him suffer. Of course, that would only result in some retaliation, but that was nothing new.
Putting those thoughts aside, Ian headed for the grand staircase that led into the pit. A burly security guard stood sentry, holding a device that checked members’ ID cards. Alcoholic drinks ordered at the bar, or through one of the waitresses, were put on the members’ card, which were then scanned before entry to the scene areas was allowed. There was a two-drink maximum for anyone wishing to play, but most members preferred not to drink at all until after they were done scening for the night.
Ian didn’t have a card to be scanned. The three owners had written the club rules together and practiced the way they preached. He’d only enjoyed two ounces of his favorite whiskey over ninety minutes ago, so he was still in the right frame of mind to mess with the submissive’s mind—something he loved to do. The psychological games of the BDSM lifestyle could be just as fun and satisfying as the physical ones.
Dipping his chin once at
the guard as he passed, Ian descended the stairs and greeted a few members along the way. After crossing over to the other side of the pit, he veered toward the hallway on the left where Playroom #4 was located. Marco DeAngelis, another one of his employees and teammates at Trident, was on dungeon monitor duty, stationed at the entrance to the hallway, and Ian stopped next to him. “Do me a favor and stand outside four. I want Cassandra to be assured that if she yells her safeword, you’ll step in and stop the scene. I’ll have her yell ‘red’ before I start. Just stick your head in.”
“No problem. You going to mind-fuck her and find out what she’s hiding behind?”
“Yeah. She’s had plenty of time to get comfortable and should’ve been playing by now. I think she wants to, but something’s holding her back. She’s scared to scene, for whatever reason, and unless we drag it out of her, she’s never going to move forward.” Ian walked down the hallway to the closed door of Playroom #4, with Marco beside him.
“Think she was abused?”
“Not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised to find out someone’s fucked with her head, at the very least. I’ve seen her watching scenes, and you can tell she’s positively affected by most of them, but then she turns down every Dom that approaches her. It’s time to find out what’s going on in that mind of hers.”
Knot a Chance: Doms of The Covenant Book 3 Page 2
