Salvation

by Jane Henry

  “Panties off,” I rasp. I need to claim her, right here, right now.

  “Axle,” she groans when I tug down her panties. Outside the door, Daphne practically runs away, and Veronica’s right fucking there, but I don’t give a shit. Chandra’s mine.

  “People will hear,” she whispers. I pick up a silky red and black scarf in her “keep” pile, tie it around her head and order, “bite down on this. Try not to scream.”

  Her eyes are wide but her pussy’s dripping wet. I glide my finger in and out until she coats my hand. I unfasten my belt and unzip my jeans. My cock springs free. She gasps, knowing exactly what I’m about to do and even though her eyes are wide, she grins against the gag.

  “I fucking love you,” I whisper, before I lift her hips, position my cock at her entrance, and shove her down, impaling her. She drops her head back and moans against the gag but can’t say anything. “I loved you then,” I say with a savage thrust. “And I love you now. I’ll love you until the day I die.”

  We’re panting and desperate, her hands wrapped around the back of my neck while I plunge us fast and furious toward blissful release. She comes around my cock when I lash into her tight, hot cunt. “So perfect.” I kiss the side of her cheek.

  She giggles as I pull out and pull her panties up. I open the door to the dressing room. Daphne’s standing a good distance away, flushed red and clasping at a slim gold necklace at her throat.

  “We’ll take this dress,” I say. “In fact, she’s not changing out of it.” I tear off the price tag and hand it to Daphne, who watches the whole thing go down with her mouth wide open.

  Chandra looks at me in silence but to her credit she doesn’t contradict me. She just slides into her shoes and folds up the clothes she wore in here. I take them from her hand and lean into her. “There’s a woman from the church out there giving me shit. Don’t worry about it. Don’t talk to her. Let me handle it.”

  “Oh, Axle,” she whispers. “Really?”

  I bend down and brush my lips against hers. “Yeah, baby. But it’s okay. Just trust me, okay?”

  A soft smile lights her face, and she nods. Daphne rushes in and helps us gather our things, ushering us back into the main area. Veronica’s waiting like a predator in the shadows.

  “Ah, there she is. My, my,” she says, venom dripping from her lips. “The little hussy you ruined your life over.”

  Ruined my life?

  Hell, I just started living.

  I laugh so loudly and suddenly Veronica literally jumps and blinks at me in surprise. I turn to my new best friend, Daphne.

  “Hey, Daphne? This woman is harassing me. Can you do something about that?”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, shooting Veronica a glare. “Ma’am, we don’t allow customers to harass one another. Please leave, now, before I’m forced to call security.”

  Veronica blusters and fumes, and actually refuses to leave. While I pay for our purchases, a security officer in a navy-blue uniform escorts her out. Back outside, Chandra is quiet.

  “You ok?” I ask her. I thread my fingers through hers and we walk toward the exit.

  “I can’t believe she would attack you like that after all this time,” she says.

  “I don’t care,” I tell her. “We’ve got nothing to hide now. You’re with me, and we’re going to do this together. Understand?”

  She smiles. “And I can’t believe you did that.”

  I lean in to kiss her cheek and whisper, “I’ll take you wherever and whenever I want to. God, you’re stunning in that dress. Wear it tonight?”

  She grins. “Absolutely.”

  We fall into an easy rhythm of days and nights by each other’s sides. She has to work, and so do I, and since the club is easy to access and near both of our jobs, we’re here more nights than not, but I never go to bed without her by my side. I work at the auto body shop and she works at Marla’s. I visit her on my days off, and she texts me on her lunch breaks. I send her flowers at the bookstore so often that customers begin to joke the new name is “Books and Cups and Flowers.”

  Even though she’s with me at Verge, I don’t scene with her in front of anyone else. I’m her dom, and she’s my sub, so she gets a good reminder to behave once in a while. She’ll sit on my lap and hold my hand when I’m DM for the night. But I don’t touch any other women, and no one is allowed to come anywhere near her.

  I don’t like anything between us. Anything. When I play with her, we don’t use toys anymore, not since that one day of role play. We don’t role play anymore, either. There are no more clamps, plugs, or implements. She wants only my hands, my fingers, my mouth, my tongue. Sometimes the tools of the trade heighten the experience. With Chandra, this is what we need.

  She brings her laptop with her as I instructed, and often sits on my lap after we’ve spent some time with each other, and she writes her little fingers off. She’s gotten over her aversion to me reading her books and now asks for my input. Occasionally, I’ll read over a scene and give her some ideas or talk over a plot point she needs to wrestle through. She says her words have never flown like this before. I make sure she gets to bed on time and eats good, nourishing food. I spoil her in all ways but one: she’s never allowed to be disrespectful or disobedient.

  When we arrive at Verge, we go to the bar, but she doesn’t have a drink this time. She nibbles on the nuts in the little bowls and sips a soda while I drink a beer, and I can feel her tension from where I sit. It’s part of my job as her dominant to keep an eye on her emotional wellbeing, and I can feel she’s as tightly-wound as a taut spring.

  “You okay?” I ask. I grasp the back of her neck with my fingers and give her a little squeeze.

  “Better when you do that,” she says with a sigh. I massage her neck and wait for her to talk. She lets out a breath. “I got edits back today, and I have some work to do. There are parts that are very strong,” she smiles at me, “thank you for that. But there’s a major plot hole I didn’t see until my editor gave me these edits back. It’ll take hours and days to get it fixed.”

  “Well, I’ll make sure you have that time,” I tell her. “And it’s also been a while since you’ve had a spanking.”

  Biting her lip, she wars with herself a bit before she responds. It’s hard to admit she thrives under my firm discipline and guidance, but we both know it to be true. She’s fully capable alone, and so am I, but together, we flourish.

  If I let her go too long without being dominated, she gets irritable and feisty until I dom the hell out of her. Tonight’s that night.

  “Is there anything else on your mind?”

  Her eyes don’t meet mine. “Well,” she begins. Her voice trails off, but I’m not letting this go. I wait for her to continue. Finally, with a sigh, she rolls her eyes and turns back to me. “It’s stupid. The whole thing’s so stupid.”

  “What?”

  “I got an email from someone today. Someone who reads my books?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. They went on and on about how morally wrong my books are, because I have all these scenes where women are dominated, and books like mine have not only undermined the efforts of decades of feminist ideology and progress, they create weak-minded individuals who learn they have to depend on someone else to be fulfilled.”

  A clawing anger gnaws at my gut. I can hardly stand when she bangs her toe or has a headache; hearing that someone treated her this way makes me want to punch a damn wall. “Is that right?” I ask, keeping my tone calm. “Well that’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  “Do I?” she asks with a sad smile. “Yes, my books are fiction, but they’re fantasy, too. I mean… it’s what appeals to me. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t write it.”

  I take her hand. “You have full consent here.”

  “Sometimes,” she says. “I don’t always like when you dom me.”

  I tug her onto my lap and hold her for a minute, feeling her settle against me. “Babe, that’s not what consent is
about. Sometimes you need me to take you beyond what’s comfortable. The only way we ever grow is by pushing our limits. But you trust me, and that’s your forte. You willingly give yourself over to me, and it takes incredibly strength to submit to someone else.” I chuckle. “Hell, I couldn’t do it.”

  She smiles. “You definitely do the ‘in charge’ thing better than the submission thing. It’s just that, I wonder about morality sometimes. I hated that I was the one who tempted you from doing what was right so long ago. My parents berated me for it. The people in our town said I was a slut, that the good father never would have fallen from grace if it hadn’t been for me. Just today, that stupid woman called me a hussy. God! I mean, in my heart, I know that you love me. And I love you. But sometimes, my head gets in the way and tells me I need to turn away from this.”

  I wrap my arms around her and hold her. Sometimes, a submissive needs to question these things, and it’s my job as her dom to listen, give her space to hash it all out, then help get her back on track. I don’t have the doubts that she does. I accepted long ago that I was wired to dominate, that pursuing this lifestyle was the pinnacle of fulfillment for what I crave. I’ve long since forgiven myself for failing at my vows, for those vows were never meant for me.

  “We’ll leave the past in the past,” I tell her. “And focus on the now.”

  She seems better now that she’s gotten it off her chest, but before we can finish our conversation, Zack shoots me a text that gets my attention.

  Meet me in Tobias’ office?

  When we arrive, he shuts the door behind us. “You two have a minute?”

  I nod and pull out a seat for Chandra.

  I feel a little guilty. I almost forgot about the investigation he’s been doing, as to my knowledge there’s been nothing else suspicious since that one night.

  Tobias is at his desk, and Zack stands near Tobias with a folder in hand.

  “I’ve done some investigating, and I’ve found a few things out,” he says. “Does the name Fairwood Enterprises mean anything to you?”

  I shake my head, and Chandra furrows her brow. “It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it,” she says. “But I haven’t heard the name in years.”

  Zack pulls out some papers. “It’s an organization run by the Bratva. One of their many sources of income, and their primary headquarters are in Atlanta.”

  This means nothing to me. I don’t know anything about the Bratva or this organization, except some vague idea that it’s organized crime.

  “Well, it’s weird,” he says. “A bunch of our newest members have a history with the Russian military.”

  “Right.” I remember he said that a few weeks ago.

  “Recently, I found out we have an undercover agent who’s been stationed with them for some time, and he’s just relocated to NYC. I didn’t know until yesterday and met with him last night.”

  “Someone I know?” I ask him.

  Zack’s jaw tightens. “I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sorry, but I’m bound to keep names and places confidential.” But his eyes tell me a different story. Yes, it’s someone I know and yes, he wants me to know. His voice lowers. “I won’t confirm or deny. But think about it for a minute.”

  “Viktor.” Chandra’s face pales. “He mentioned his family’s in Atlanta.”

  Zack shrugs a shoulder. It’s confirmation enough.

  “Nothing I say in here gets repeated outside of this office.” He gives Chandra a stern look. “I mean nothing.” She and Marla are tight. I squeeze her hand and meet her eyes, underscoring Zack’s admonition. She nods.

  Zack continues. “The new members of the club are friendly with our agent, and I’ve confirmed they’re all members of the Bratva. He knew they were coming here and made a play so he could join them. It goes without saying, we’re not too keen on having members of organized crime in our club, but our informant says he is unaware of anything they’ve done since arriving. If they did, in fact, have anything to do with covering the surveillance cameras, he’s unaware. His hands are tied being undercover.”

  “Of course.”

  “They’re here funneling sources into their most lucrative business.”

  I fill in the blanks. “Fairwood Enterprises?”

  Zack nods and blows out a breath. “And here’s where you come in.”

  “Me?” I’m baffled.

  “Yeah,” he says. “You. Turns out Fairwood Enterprises was affiliated with a Sacred Heart church in a little town outside of Louisville. And according to my research, that was where you were stationed as a priest when you met Chandra.”

  A chill crawls down my spine. “Yeah,” I confirm. “But it doesn’t make any sense that a church has ties to the Bratva, Zack. C’mon. The diocese owns that property.”

  He shakes his head. “Not all of it. The town’s archaic laws allowed bids to be placed on all property lots, so Fairwood Enterprises was, shall we say, the sponsor of Sacred Heart church. The diocese owns the actual church, but the rest of the property is owned by Fairwood.”

  I shake my head. We have Fairwood members right here, in Club Verge, and they’re somehow connected to the church where Chandra and I met?”

  “Yes. And my sources say because Fairwood Enterprises lost a significant amount of investments during the scandal, the Bratva’s looking to capitalize on that.”

  I frown. “How?”

  “Have you run into anyone you may have known?”

  I shake my head but Chandra puts her hand on my arm. “We did,” she says, her cheeks flushing. “Remember? At the mall?”

  I look to Zack. “She was a cranky old bitch. How could she possibly be affiliated with the Bratva?”

  Zack shrugs. “I’m not saying she is. But someone’s looking for revenge, and sometimes those seeking revenge stop at nothing.”

  “What do they want from me?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” Sighing, he leans his elbows on his knees. “But honestly, I suspect someone working with the Bratva has hired them to seek revenge and nothing more.”

  “This is crazy, man. You think some old bitch is after me and Chandra because she lost her money in an investment?”

  “I don’t know,” he says. “Give me her name and we run specs.”

  Chandra worries her lower lip. “Is…is Marla safe?” she asks.

  “I’m not worried about Marla,” Zack says. “She’s with a dom now who will protect her.” He clears his throat. He still doesn’t want to name Viktor, but we all know. Then he turns to Chandra. “But I’m not sure how far his protection goes. If he’s distracted with Marla... It might be best for you to stay home from the bookstore until we’ve got this sorted.”

  Chandra lifts her chin with a defiant glare I know all too well. She’s got a little brat in her that surfaces sometimes, and at the look she’s giving me now, I know exactly what has to happen. My response to her is as instinctual as breathing.

  “Chandra,” I warn. That brings her eyes to me. I level a steady look at her and reach for her hand to let her know I’m listening to her and I won’t take her away from what’s important to her. By holding her hand, I can silently convey what I need to: a gentle squeeze to let her know I’ve got her, a firmer squeeze to warn her to behave before I have to punish her.

  “This is my lifeline,” she says to me. “I love working at the bookstore. Marla’s my closest friend, and there’s no way I’m going to let some trumped-up fear with literally no evidence to prove there’s danger take me away from what I love.”

  I blink in surprise. She’s being irrationally defiant, more so than I even expected.

  “Chandra, listen,” I begin, but she plows on as if I haven’t said a thing.

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, Zack,” she says, “I just don’t see the need to change anything based on hardly any evidence. So, no, I’ll still go to the bookstore, but I’ll be careful.”

  Zack’s jaw tightens, and he looks as if he wants to say something
, but he brings his eyes to mine and raises his brows. We communicate without words. He’s asking me if I’m going to handle her, and I tell him with a firm nod as I get to my feet that I will.

  “We’ll talk about this privately,” I say to Chandra, tugging her hand. I can feel her defiance radiating off her in waves. She wants to push back, maybe even has to, and she needs to know when she does I won’t crumple. “I’ll talk to you later, Zack.”

  Chandra doesn’t say anything until we’re out of the office. “Axle,” she pleads. “This isn’t fair. You can’t just dom me into giving up everything that’s important to me over the stupidest threat.”

  “We’ll talk when we’re alone,” I tell her. I refuse to have this out here when I can’t do exactly what I need to to stop her from spiraling out of control. I’ve heard enough from Zack that I believe him, and until his people have secured the possible threat to her, she’ll stay safe if I have to spank her little ass every damn day and tie her to my bedpost.

  “Axle,” she fusses, trying to tug her hand out of mine but I only hold her hand firmer and walk faster. Finally, she gets the point, or at least she seems to, as she’s now trotting along beside me instead of trying to get away. I scan the bar area but it’s nearly vacant, only Travis wiping down the counter. He looks from me to her and knows exactly what’s going on, so he just whistles to himself as if to say he’s minding his own business. Good.

  I finally get her to our private room, usher her in, and lock the door. I don’t think of the room as just mine anymore. Girly toiletries and scents are littered throughout the bathroom, her shoes lined up in the closet, and backup changes of clothing neatly folded in the drawers. Other things I brought here myself also belong to her—a silky black blindfold, as well as a wooden paddle with the words For Naughty Little Girls emblazoned across the top. Though I prefer using my hands on her, and she prefers that, too, I got this one implement in the event of a punishment. She isn’t rewarded with a hand spanking when she’s naughty and knows I’m displeased when I take out the paddle.

  I release her hand and point to her clothes. “Strip,” I tell her.