by Joey W. Hill
Wolf looked up at her. All she wanted was to drop into his grip. But the audience was still too uncertain. She needed to do her part to show that everything was fine.
Plus, Anwyn was watching. Damage control now could make this a much better conversation later.
“Come on down, kitten,” Wolf said, raising his voice. “I won’t let the dogs get you.”
She made herself waffle, prance. Channeling her feline side, she lifted a paw and licked it, as if casually taking a bath. Laughter rippled through the bar. Wolf’s face creased in a mock scowl and he shook the tree, lightly. She meowed piteously, went up another two feet.
“If I have to come up there to get you, you won’t like it a bit,” he promised.
“Maybe she’s a little concerned, a cat trusting herself to a wolf,” one of the older Doms called out. Master Dorian had been part of the lifestyle since the Leatherman movement. His way with submissives of all ages, his colorful stories and confidence made him a club favorite.
Wolf cocked a challenging brow in his direction. “You want to come get her down?”
No. As much as she liked the other Dom, she wanted Wolf to bring her down. Fortunately, Dorian’s response aligned with her wish.
“I’ll add to the donation. Double it, in fact.” Dorian grinned through the whistles of appreciation and applause that swept the area, taking a little bow. “But I’ll leave the honor to you. She has claws, and you have younger knees.”
“Pussy,” Madelyn said through the megaphone, which she’d turned toward him. Since she was only three feet away, Dorian made an exaggerated wince at the noise, but shrugged, spreading his hands out wide in acceptance of the good-natured censure. “It’ll happen to you, too, hot mama,” he told her. “Just wait a couple decades.”
Wolf returned his gaze to Ella. “Come here, kitty.” His voice dropped to a gentle rumble. She had to dig in her claws, literally and figuratively, to keep herself from melting out of the tree into his grasp.
Shit could get real, yes. In a scary way, but in other kinds of ways as well. Wolf had a faint smile on his lips to play to the crowd, but the expression he had locked upon her contained something different. A Master’s look. His lips straightened into that serious, firm set.
“Come to me,” he repeated, low. He raised a hand, fingers spread. Not reaching. Waiting.
She had a knee hooked over one branch, and was holding onto another with one suddenly less sure hand. She tightened her core to lower her upper body toward him. Just like a cat, she nuzzled his knuckles, then dipped her head to rub it against his fingers. Very lightly at first, not too close, but as his hand turned, stroked, she leaned more into the touch, rubbing her whiskered face against him.
Play. Role play, kitten play, it was all about play. Everyone here knew play was an avenue to the deeper, real heart of this. The sudden quiet in the bar area told her she’d brought them into that space again.
She reached for his shoulders, letting go, and dropped into the cradle of his arms. The relief that flooded her was absurdly immense.
More applause, and Madelyn said something in the microphone, thanking Charley and Dorian for their donations. Ella missed most of it. Wolf carried her through it all, skirting the bar. She thought he nodded to Anwyn, a wordless reassurance, but he didn’t pause.
He didn’t let her down when they were clear. He took them through the main public play area, but used a staff door to access a cut-through. It brought them back into the club at the wax gallery.
The wax gallery was a section of the club that had three long tables arranged in an open horseshoe shape around a counter. The counter was where paraffin could be heated in crock pots. None were plugged in right now, since the area was vacant, but the sweet smell lingered. A multi-colored wax sculpture the size of a school volcano project covered one end of the prep space. It consisted of softened bits of wax broken off of the subs who’d been decorated here.
Wolf put her down in a sitting position on one of the tables. Ella did her best not to cling, but she didn’t have to worry that he was moving away. He stood between her knees, and braced his hands on either side of her hips, dominating her personal space.
“I should strap your ass black and blue.”
“I’m good,” she said. “You didn’t need to carry me all the way here.”
“You’re still shaking,” he said darkly.
“Just adrenaline. Everything’s fine. It went great.”
She licked her lips. Apparently, she was channeling nervous cat gestures. She had her hands in her lap, his arms caging her so closely, his forearms brushed her elbows. She wanted to lift her hands and curl her fingers around those solid biceps, but his expression told her that doing anything without his permission would be even less advisable than normal.
“We discussed lying to me. I always wear a belt, Ella. Keeps it close to hand for when it’s needed.”
His formidable tone brought the words out of her she’d told herself she wouldn’t say, so she could pass it off to Anwyn the same way she’d just attempted with him.
“It got a little too real,” she said.
“You think?” He surveyed her with exasperation. “And you would be a black cat.”
What did that mean? That she was bad luck? Then he was back to pinning her with a look that told her to brace for a lecture.
“A group can become a mob faster than a fired shot. If you set up the right situation to see the wrong side of human instincts, you will. Primal play works pretty good when it’s structured, and directly supervised by the Doms in charge of those submissives. But it should never, ever be let loose like that in a pack. And Christ, particularly not a group channeling their inner canine. That made those instincts come to the top way faster. Especially with a trigger like chasing live prey.”
With a low curse, he shoved himself from the table and paced away from her. The vehemence shook her, but it gave her a little more breathing room to marshal her thoughts. All staff Doms got worked up if they thought a sub was in danger, because they were wonderful that way. It was a reminder to her that she’d never been in any danger, and she needed to assure him of the same.
“It didn’t get that out of hand because it did happen in a supervised setting. Madelyn was there, you, Dorian. I just let that weird energy get into my head, and you and Madelyn picked up on me being unsettled by it. Everyone else seemed okay, like they were having fun. I mean, our mantra is risk-aware consensual kink. It’s like jumping out of an airplane. Scary at times, but mostly exhilarating and positive. I’ll bet a lot of people are considering puppy play who hadn’t before.”
He pivoted and stared at her, making her swallow what else she’d been intending to say. “You’re a smart woman. Which is why I can’t figure out why you act so oblivious about certain things. I don’t know if it’s a cry for attention, a lack of common sense, or I’ve overestimated your intelligence.”
Before he could see her stung reaction, he bent and retrieved a bottle of water from the small fridge under the counter. Bringing it back to the table where she was sitting, he put it down next to her with an abrupt movement. “Drink that before you get up off the table. You’re done for the night.”
“Oh. I have two appointments with members. And I told Lars I’d help in the bar after—”
“I’m not in the habit of repeating myself,” he said, with a hard look that made her stomach quake. “Reschedule. I’ll tell Lars he needs to get someone else’s help tonight, since he couldn’t be bothered to be there when he said he would.”
“He couldn’t help getting caught behind the bar. It’s busy tonight. And…” She made a helpless gesture. She hated to argue with him, didn’t want to disobey. This was the part of being a sub that could be so difficult, especially when it involved a Dom who made her feel the way Wolf did. She wanted to please him, wanted to obey his every word without question. But she couldn’t.
He crossed his arms and leveled a stare on her that she expected could make grow
n men quake. But she knew beneath the intimidating exterior, he was trying to take care of her. That gave her the courage to speak.
“I really can’t break an appointment, sir. It’s unprofessional, and there’s no reason for me to do so. Both of them are Doms I’ve worked with before, and I’m helping them, participating in the scene as a facilitating third party. Neither one is edge play.”
As he continued to give her that stony look, she dropped her gaze. “Please, Wolf. Anwyn probably already thinks I screwed up tonight. I can’t have her thinking I’d skip out on appointments, too. I want her to know she can count on me.”
He moved toward her. She heard the firm tread, saw him stop in front of her knees. They were still spread from when he’d stood between them, because she’d stayed that way, remaining open to what he wanted from her.
“Look at me.”
She did. He framed her face with one hand, his thumb sweeping her chin and the upper part of her throat, then stopping there, applying a firm pressure. He had one of the most intense expressions she’d ever encountered in a Dom, almost inhuman sometimes. It was capable of capturing her gaze in the lock of his, or snapping it downward with no more than a one-word command. He was leaned in so close, her nervously curling hands ended up resting on his abdomen and that belt he’d threatened to use on her.
“What if I forbid it anyway?” he said. “What would you say to that?”
Her stomach jumped. “I’d want to obey, so very much. It would tear me up inside not to, because…” She moistened her lips. “I don’t belong to you, sir, but when you talk to me like this, it makes me feel like I do. It messes me up, but I have to honor my promises.”
He studied her a long moment. He’d begun a slow glide over her throat with his thumb, forward, then back, pressing on the pulse, stroking it.
A massage of the carotid artery. It made her slightly dizzy, particularly when he put his head and mouth down there, breathing on the racing pulse. She felt the sharp scrape of his teeth, and realized he was putting his mouth on the area he’d bitten. She tightened her hold on his belt, feeling the intimate strip of his flesh beneath it. Pumping heat, rock hard muscle.
Abruptly he straightened and stepped back, but he held onto her until her pulse leveled out and the fog cleared. “I’ll be talking to those two Doms on your schedule tonight, to ensure you’re not pushed further than you should be. If what they’re planning crosses the line of what I know you can handle, they’ll find a substitute. Take it or leave it.”
She didn’t have to ask him for the consequences. If she refused to accept his dictate, he’d likely take his concerns to Anwyn, adding to the weight of that post-event briefing she had coming. She wondered if the range of concerns about the event would only involve her actions, however. She remembered the tension in Anwyn’s face, in Gideon’s body language, when they’d watched Wolf face off with Toby.
He moved toward the archway leading out of the wax room. That was it, he was leaving. He hadn’t responded to her assertion about him acting like he was her Dom. He’d just continued to do so, and nothing about his behavior said he was ready to have a discussion about that.
She was clinging to a precariously spinning top, and everyone knew how that ended. Her best course of action, for her head and heart, was to assume status quo. Not because that was entirely true, but because he hadn’t officially offered anything more. He was a staff Dom looking out for a staff sub. End of story.
Just like that time, a little while back, where he’d unexpectedly shown up at a bookstore she was at. He’d left her a sandwich in her basket. She’d wanted to make more of it than it was, then. But it all fit under the umbrella of a staff Dom caring for a staff sub. Mostly.
“Um, thank you, Wolf. For taking on the rescue bid part of things. I really do think Lars got held up at the bar. He’s very dependable usually.”
Wolf paused, glanced at her, offered a spare nod. Then he was gone. He let the curtain at the entry fall back in place as he departed. It gave her another few minutes of privacy, though it wouldn’t be for long. By midnight, all rooms would be full. They’d done the puppy skit early.
So. She took a breath. She needed to get on with things, never mind that he’d left her aching. When his arms had been around her, and he’d carried her away from the pack, she’d felt rescued, in all the right ways. But the shaking in her lower belly returned in the immediate wake of emotions following his absence. Okay, so he might be right that she’d been a little freaked out by tonight, in ways that could be brought back out if she engaged in a demanding session.
I don’t know if it’s a cry for attention, a lack of common sense, or I’ve misinterpreted your intelligence.
But he’d also said she was a smart woman.
She pushed that away. “He thinks of you as a child.” She said it aloud, no matter that it hurt. It hurt a lot less than a heart pummeled by the disappointment of wishful thinking.
She should label him patronizing, judgmental, and adopt a “who cares if you don’t approve of who I am” attitude about it. But that wasn’t who she was.
It was hellishly hard, pushing herself off the edge of the table, but she did it. After she drank the water he told her to drink.
Life went on, even after knee-weakening moments with mysterious Doms. Particularly one who seemed to want something even more mystifying from her.
Chapter Six
For the next two days her other jobs took priority. She spent one morning at the salon, doing manicures, and the other waitressing. The afternoons and early evenings were filled with bike courier work for the neighborhood gourmet grocery store.
But on day three she was back at the club, and had the unpleasant but rare experience of dreading the first part of her night there. Anwyn had scheduled a meeting to discuss future “social events,” which included a review and discussion of how the puppy play event had unfolded.
Fortunately, Ella had gone over it in her head enough to feel somewhat prepared and secure in her own evaluation. It didn’t keep her stomach from being a little unsettled as she took a seat in Anwyn’s office.
It wasn’t overly large, since Anwyn didn’t spend much time here, but she had a backlit picture of Tiffany glass mounted behind her desk. It featured muted red poppies interspersed with shades of purple, blue and green, drawing the eye. A floor lamp made of intertwined bronze poles had sensual curves and a tulip shaped ivory glass shade. The walls were painted a soft blue and the floor was polished wood. There were two matching guest chairs whose upholstery picked up that same blue.
The desk had the usual debris of a busy business owner—computer, bills, paperwork—but the surroundings were in keeping with the Mistress of Atlantis’s appreciation for lovely, unique things. A bouquet of fresh, blood-colored roses in a cut crystal vase was on a side table, next to a dish of chocolate candies.
Fresh roses had been there as long as Ella could remember. Even before Gideon’s arrival. As soon as they began to fade, they were replaced, though Anwyn wasn’t the one who replaced them. An ongoing mystery to the staff.
“Security suggested a pre-event review of the puppy play event,” the Mistress of Club Atlantis said. “Was that done?”
Ella perched on the edge of the chair, trying to look relaxed, her hands folded in her lap. “Yes, ma’am. Stan and I went over it. We also went over the rules with the participating puppies, particularly about not letting things get so out of hand that club facilities were damaged. At the time, we believed that would keep everyone mindful that it was play. I apologize. It’s difficult, when things are in the moment, not to get lost in it, and think it’s something it’s not. I’ve thought a lot about how to address that, without taking the life and energy out of it.”
Anwyn remained silent, her blue-green gaze fixed on Ella. The woman’s sable hair was clipped on her nape, the waves framing her precise features. Her delicate beauty didn’t fool anyone who knew her. Ella needed to be honest. Anwyn couldn’t be bullshitted.
Anwyn digested that. She hadn’t moved, maintaining a stillness that sometimes seemed eerie, as if she’d become a statue, though the sensual energy that vibrated off of her said she was very much alive. That dense, tingling field around her reminded Ella of Wolf. Particularly when Wolf had locked gazes with Toby and backed him down. Or when he leveled his intense look upon Ella.
That expression said she wouldn’t be making a move without his say so, because he considered her entirely his.
She immediately relegated the latter part of that thought to the “Ella’s private fantasy” part of her head, since it wasn’t based in any reality whatsoever.
“I really like being the Minion of Play,” Ella said, looking down at her folded hands. “I apologize if I did something to abuse that role, and I hope you’ll continue to let me do it. If you need me to do something differently, I’m more than willing to do that. I never want to cause you problems, though I know I do, way more than I should.”
“That’s the damn truth.”
That came from Gideon, as he slid into the office. Rather than sitting in the guest chair next to Ella, he moved to stand against the wall behind Anwyn’s left shoulder. Not an unusual position for a submissive to take, except Gideon didn’t give off a sub vibe. But service and protection? Those vibrated off him in spades.
