Not that the lad couldn’t take care of himself, but goddamn it, Avalon was Braun’s pride and joy, and as its caretaker, Liam was more than an employee. He was a fucking good friend and part of the family. Braun reserved the right to brawl for moments just like these, which were thankfully few and far between.
Jacob had passed the vetting with flying colors. References had been glowing. Braun’s friend on the force had confirmed no criminal record, no suspicious activity, but the longer the Dom had been in Avalon, the more aggressive and belligerent he’d become as the months went on.
The events of tonight had been brewing for a while; Braun just wished Bodie hadn’t been witness to the nastiness. He definitely wouldn’t have put her in the position of taking on a one-hundred-and-eighty-pound asshole to defend her best friend’s honor.
Not that she’d hesitated to do so.
Rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over his mouth, Braun bided his time and observed her as she paced like a trapped tiger around his office. The profanity coming from her lips warranted a good soaping, and her disobedience would ordinarily be punished with a good belting, but she wasn’t his. He had no right to take her over his knee and spank her until she couldn’t sit down for a week or wash that dirty mouth out with soap before he fucked the bad words back down her throat.
More’s the pity.
“Boadicea.” He used his Master’s voice, the one every submissive in the club knew and respected. One subbie claimed her orgasm had stopped in mid-climax when he’d wielded it to admonish another errant sub. He doubted it, but it added to his reputation. “The threat is over now; you can calm down and take a seat.”
She glanced at him, her eyes wild. “Your hand is bleeding.” She continued to stalk the room, every step vibrating with anger. “Should have let me at him.”
Idly, he studied his hand and noted the bruising beginning to show and the trickle of blood where one of Jacob’s teeth had nicked the skin. Braun’s smile was slow and vicious; the bastard would need a trip to the dentist to replace his two front teeth. “If I’d let you at him, I’d have had to kill him if he landed a single blow on you, little one. I’m too busy to go to prison.”
“That’s where he belongs, the scum-sucking asshole.”
“Not our call to make, darlin’. I can promise you he’s in a world of hurt right now, and I have no doubts Liam will get his licks in before they drop him off at the road.”
That seemed to mollify her somewhat; her pacing slowed, and the profanities dried up. She was shaking now, adrenaline rocketing through her veins, but her fury wasn’t quite as lethal. “Good. Liam deserves a chance to kick his ass.”
Braun let silence blanket the room for several minutes. After five long ones passed, Bodie stopped walking about and flopped bonelessly into the visitor’s chair, evidently exhausted by her exertion.
Note to self: temper tantrums burn her out.
“Are we calmer now?” he asked quietly.
Heavy blue eyes rolled toward him, still a bit pissed off but otherwise tired. “Yes, sorry.” Her tone was respectful, her attitude on the other end of the crazy scale. “Liam was bullied a lot when he announced he was bi. Idiots like Jacob who don’t, won’t, can’t see the brilliant mind in the man. They don’t take the time to get to know him. He’s not a pervert.”
“No,” Braun agreed. “I know he’s not.”
“I got so mad I think I fried my brain.” She pressed a hand to her forehead and closed her eyes. “I hate losing my shit like that. It takes so much effort to lock it all down again, but this was worth it. Would’ve been worth it,” she corrected with a scowl, “if someone hadn’t interfered.”
Confident she wasn’t going to go ballistic on anyone now, Braun pushed off the jamb and sat behind his desk. “I interfered because you disobeyed a direct order. That’s something we need to discuss before you go back out.”
“He made me mad.”
Yes, his shins could attest to that fact. “Gathered that, little one. But when a Dominant gives you an order under this roof that pertains to your health and safety—whether you identify as submissive or not—you obey it. When in Avalon, you become my responsibility. That responsibility extends out to all the Masters, Mistresses, and monitors when I’m not within sight. Are we clear on that, Boadicea?”
Now she looked contrite, and her eyes turned to shining blue pools of apology. “I didn’t see it that way, but I can see where you’re coming from, yes. I didn’t actually disobey you willfully. When he started spouting that shit about Liam being diseased and infecting people, my control just winged out of my hands.”
“Understandably.”
Bodie sighed and sadness blossomed around her eyes. “How much trouble am I in?”
How much indeed, Braun wondered. “Do you really need me to list the infractions, Bodie? Because we might be here for a while.” He lifted his hand and checked points off on his fingers. “Disobeying a direct order. Hitting a Dominant. Putting your safety in danger. Using bad language. Is that enough for you?”
Her wince was adorable. “I’m thinking that’s a lot of trouble.”
“Yeah, darlin’, that’s a lot. Had you been in a dynamic with a Dominant, you’d certainly be feeling the consequences.” When her brow creased, Braun leaned back in his chair. “BDSM isn’t just about someone whaling on another person for shits and giggles, Bodie. There are rules, and if those rules are broken, there are ramifications.”
“Ramifications like shouting and hitting?”
Oh boy, the girl had the scariest misconceptions about the lifestyle. Well, maybe it was time she learned something new. “Punishments aren’t fun for either party, Bodie. Trust me, as a Dominant for nearly twenty years, I take no pleasure in disciplining a subbie for bad behavior.”
“So why do you do it?”
At least she was asking sensible questions, he mused. Engaging that smart brain and thinking over his answers rather than dismissing them through fear. “For me, personally, I take pleasure and pride in guiding a submissive. Teaching her how to explore herself and watching her flourish. Discipline is part of that. If I give an order, I want it done. There’s nothing more enjoyable than knowing another person has the faith in me to take care of them, to offer themselves to me to do whatever I want with them. That takes balls of steel.”
“Could you do it? Submit?”
Braun laughed and shook his head. “God, no. My balls are tough but they’re nowhere near steel. Fortunately, I was meant to be a Dom. Submissives demand a certain level of respect. To kneel in front of someone and surrender themselves is a beautiful thing, a brave thing. They have all the power, Bodie,” he told her gently when she stared at him with those huge blue eyes. “Any scene can be stopped with a single word.”
Well look at that. Something stirred behind her eyes. Was it too much to hope her submissive side was slowly raising its head and peeking at him? He’d piqued her inquisitiveness, that was for sure, but would she have the courage to acknowledge her inner sub?
Bodie chewed her lip. Knotted her fingers into a pretzel. Squirmed in the chair until it squeaked in protest. Finally, she exhaled shakily and said, “What...consequences are there for breaking your rules?”
“Are you offering to pay penance?” Braun kept his voice easy but firm.
“This is your club. I broke your rules. There are laws out there,” she muttered, gesturing with her hand toward the world outside his walls, “and if you break the law, you go to prison. Maybe I don’t understand what goes on in here, but if I’m going to work for you, I should be held accountable for my actions.”
In his forty years, Braun had never been so taken aback by a moral compass. In his experience, ninety-five percent of people would do anything—anything—to avoid accountability for their decisions. Yet this complex young woman, with the weight of the world on her slim shoulders, took full responsibility for hers.
She really was a world apart from any other sub he’d known.
Eyes
on hers to watch her reaction, he reached down to the second drawer of his desk and opened it. Her nostrils flared, her body stiffening with uncertainty, and he could read her thoughts like a book spread open in his palms.
What’s he doing? Have I done the right thing? Is he going to hurt me?
The writing pad clapped down on the desk in front of her and he tossed a pen on top of it. When she blinked in surprise, mouth slightly agape, he damn near grinned before he remembered he was supposed to be coming across as authoritative and stern. This was a punishment, after all; just not the one she feared.
“Thirty minutes on the clock,” he told her, calculating the time before the club got into swing. He was praying Loki and Atticus had already arrived with what he’d asked them to bring, and that they were busy setting it up where he’d requested. Those two Masters could assemble an Ikea bookcase in ten minutes, so he wasn’t too concerned. “I want you to write If Master Braun gives me an order, I will obey it. Over and over again until your thirty minutes are up.”
“I’m doing lines?”
“As many as you can manage in the next half hour,” he confirmed. “There is to be no talking, no fidgeting, no bathroom breaks or stalling. Pen to paper, darlin’.”
“I thought...”
Braun waited patiently. Struggling to form whatever she wanted to say, she had the look of a small, lost child. For a woman who could switch from raging Amazon to hesitant female in seconds, she sure was cute as a damn button.
“I thought you’d hit me,” she mumbled.
“Punishment comes in many forms, Bodie. Spankings, floggings, canings, whippings. But sometimes the crime doesn’t fit the implement. A clever and creative Dominant will use all the resources in his possession to reprimand his submissive accordingly.” He flicked his fingers toward the pad and pen. “Until you open yourself to the possibility you’re submissive, I can’t chastise you as one, Bodie. So, no spankings.”
She picked up the pen, tapped it agitatedly on the pad.
“When you’re ready, you can begin.” Braun’s lips twitched as she continued to look conflicted. But he stood by his decision—until Boadicea explored herself and her desires, until she made the choice to open herself to new things, he wouldn’t lay a hand on her.
Well, not in chastisement, anyhow.
He’d be lucky to wrestle his control into any kind of order if she stayed working at the club for any length of time. That lush mouth of hers called to him, teasing him to taste those lips and see just how fucking sweet they were.
The pen scratched over paper.
Braun noted the time then turned his attention to his computer. Thirty minutes gave him enough time to go through the liquor order for Monday’s delivery, and if Bodie followed his terms of punishment, she wouldn’t make a peep until he called time.
For ten minutes there was only the clack of the keyboard keys and the occasional trill of his phone. Nothing urgent, but he was pleased when Atticus messaged to confirm his and Loki’s mission was complete. There was only Connie left to arrive and his plans for the evening would be ready to go.
The first sign of her itching to test his rules was the soft huffs and long sighs. Technically not violating his no talking rule but close enough he slid his eyes toward her.
She wrote quickly, neatly, but her eyes kept flicking toward him as though willing him to take the initiative and speak before she did. Her huffs grew louder, more frequent, when he ignored her and resumed his work.
He finished the liquor order, then switched to his emails and responded to a few inquiries about membership, then opened the private folder he kept hidden on his computer. His secret folder for the idea he’d had in mind for a while but kept mulling over.
Expanding Avalon was always at the forefront of his mind. Membership was better than good—the club had a good ratio of Doms to submissives, experienced members and novices. Braun strived for quality over quantity, and aside from the odd fuckwit like Jacob sneaking in despite all the precautions Braun took, he felt he’d succeeded in making Club Avalon become a home to many in the kink community. A safe place, where everyone who genuinely held a love of the lifestyle was welcome.
Financially, he was running in the black. Even after taking a wage for himself and paying Liam a hefty whack for his part in making Avalon what it was, even after the fucking extortionate taxes, the club was turning a profit and Braun had the resources to grow his empire just a little more.
The question was, with what?
He’d given serious thought to adding on a restaurant-type building. There was enough space between barns two and three to slot in an additional building, joining the entrance onto the walkway. Just a small affair, something intimate and cozy.
Members would be able to have dinner before relaxing in the social area for a time, then moving on to scening. It would’ve come in handy this afternoon for feeding the little waif currently scowling at her task.
Of course, a restaurant meant sourcing staff—there was the matter of a good chef, kitchen and front of house workers—and anyone he hired needed to go through the same strict protocols as any member, not to mention had to be kink-friendly.
It upped the game considerably and he wasn’t sure it was worth the headache, in all honesty. He could just as easily put the money toward an indoor pool or build a specific area for the...wetter activities such as blood play and watersports.
Reading the notes he’d already made, he began adding to them. When his screen began to judder and vibrations hummed through the keyboard, he scowled over at Bodie, who looked far too innocent for her own good. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was kicking his desk. Not hard, just enough to annoy.
If she wasn’t careful, her bid for attention was going to work too well—and once she had his complete focus, she might well wish she’d sat quietly and concluded her timeout in the spirit with which he’d intended.
Without a blisteringly sore bottom.
Braun continued to ignore her, intrigued as to whether she would escalate her attempts to brat or remember where she was and who with—he was damn sure once she got an eyeful of how a real subbie was dealt with, she’d remember just fine.
Nine minutes left.
The kicking grew faster, a bit harder, but the innocent expression didn’t change and neither did the speed at which she dutifully scribbled down her lines.
His cell phone bleated, saving Braun from reaching over the desk, hauling Bodie onto his lap, and paddling her insolent behind until her squeaks and squeals of protest turned into moans and tears. He answered the call, pulling up his screensaver as he said, “Fitzpatrick.”
To really piss off his subbie—because, hell, if she decided to admit she swayed that way, he would do his damnedest to claim her before anyone else got a shot at her—he spun his chair around until his back was almost, but not quite, facing her. He could just see her out of the corner of his eye.
“Braun, it’s Michael.”
“Michael, it’s been a while. How are you and that sassy sub of yours keeping?” Honest pleasure rang in Braun’s tone. “We’ve missed seeing you around these parts.”
Michael was a longstanding Dom at Avalon. In his middle sixties, the lawyer had been a regular before he’d had the good fortune to meet his submissive—now wife—in the middle of a wax play demonstration in barn three.
Kathleen was a sweet woman in her late fifties who’d come to the club to tick off an item on her bucket list after her husband of thirty years passed away in his sleep. She and Michael had hit it off straight away, and what might have been simply a dalliance for her turned into something from a romance novel.
They’d been absent from the club for nearly three months; Braun wasn’t lying when he said they were missed. Kathleen’s laugh could light up a room and her sense of humor was both dirty and limitless.
“As we’ve missed you. Had a health scare,” Michael admitted slowly, almost uncomfortably. “Turns out I haven’t been taking good enough care of my tick
er. Needed some time out from life after I had a minor heart attack.”
“Well, fuck. I’m sorry to hear that, Mike.”
“Nothing a change of diet and some bedrest hasn’t fixed. I got the all clear from the hospital last week to resume normal activity, and normal for us is...well, Avalon.” Michael cleared his throat. “Kathleen and I would like to come back, Braun.”
Swinging around to the computer, Braun dismissed the club logo and quickly accessed the membership records. “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’d love to have you back. Membership fees for you both are up to date,” he noted, scanning names and payment dates. “It’ll be great to see you.”
“Well, ah, that wasn’t the only reason for me calling.”
“Oh?”
“Kathleen turns sixty next week. She’s coped remarkably well since this nightmare kicked off three months ago. Looking after the house, taking care of me in hospital and again at home. It’s been harder on her, I think, than it has on me. The woman hasn’t faltered in her devotion, Braun.” The love and wonder in the older man’s voice was humbling. Romance novel, indeed. “I was hoping you might consider doing me a favor.”
Braun frowned. “If I can help, Mike, you know I will.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you be willing to hire me Avalon either this Saturday night or next? Money isn’t an issue. I’d like to throw Kathleen a birthday party, something special as both a gift and a thank you for everything she’s done. God knows I wouldn’t still be on this earth if not for her,” Michael muttered before clearing his throat sharply. “She loves Avalon and the people in it. I can’t think of a better place, or people we like more, to celebrate sixty years of her life with.”
Good job he was sitting down, Braun thought as the request hit him in the gut. He knew he’d built a community here, brought people from every kink of life together as a family unit, but sometimes reminders like this forced him to see just how true that was to some members. It humbled him to think Michael and Kathleen thought so much of the place and the people.
Now it was his turn to clear his throat, emotion deepening his voice by an octave. “Well, that’s some favor, Mike. One I’d be honored to help you with, of course.” He pulled up the calendar, the scheduling. “I’ve got a series of demonstrations booked for this Saturday, but the one after is free.”
Dance for Me Page 7
