My Liege of Dark Haven

by Cherise Sinclair

  “You didn’t take any pain meds, did you? Or use ice packs.” She glared. “Or let anyone help you.”

  He looked taken aback for a second, then burst into laughter. The admin and guard seemed appalled.

  “Abby, you are a wonder.” He held his hand out. As his fingers closed around hers, she realized she’d automatically crossed the room. The man could command her without a word.

  “And you’re too stubborn for words,” she said under her breath. She turned. “Mrs. Benton, could you get him a glass of water?”

  “Of course.” The woman studied Abby. “You mentioned ice packs. I can contrive one of sorts, if you’d like?”

  No wonder Xavier had her. “Two, if you could? That would be wonderful.”

  After giving Xavier a deferential nod, the guard popped back into the elevator.

  As Abby searched her purse for ibuprofen, Xavier chuckled. “You, little fluff, are fully as stubborn as I am. If you don’t mind waiting for about ten minutes, I have one last call to finish.”

  “No problem.”

  “You can come in with me or wait out here, wherever you’re more comfortable.”

  Wait in the reception area? Not a chance. When he tried to turn his wheelchair, she gave a snort of exasperation and pushed him back into his office.

  “Nice place you have.” From the waist up, two whole walls were glass, opening to a spectacular view of the city. His desk was gleaming walnut with matching chairs in front. A dark leather couch and chairs sat off to one side. She approved of the huge painting of a French café. She’d had a glass of wine there last time she’d been in Paris.

  “Thank you.” He smiled at her. “Did you get the pups settled in?”

  “Moved and fed and sleeping.” Since his office chair had been pushed into a corner, Abby maneuvered Xavier behind his desk. With a frown of concern, she raised the foot part of the wheelchair to elevate his leg. “Your ankle is swollen again.”

  “Is it?” Laughter in his eyes, he ran a finger over her scowling lips.

  “It’s not funny, you—”

  “Maybe these will help.” Mrs. Benton handed Xavier the water. Abby received two plastic bags filled with ice.

  “Thank you very much.” Abby gave the admin a smile and Xavier another frown. After positioning the packs, she retreated to the couch while Xavier took his pills and made his phone call.

  A minute later Mrs. Benton brought a pile of magazines and a tray with a cup and tiny pot of tea, sugar, and lemon slices. “When the receptionist downstairs called up, Mr. Leduc mentioned you enjoy tea with lemon.”

  He’d not only thought about her comfort, but remembered what she liked. The knowledge made her feel fuzzy and warm.

  Then again, considering he knew her so well, how badly would that come back to bite her at the club? Her insides clenched as she remembered the plan for Friday—punishment at Dark Haven.

  No point in imagining herself into hysterics, though. She picked up a magazine, leafed through the pages, and eavesdropped on his conversation.

  He was trying to get a woman into some kind of a job, but her reading skills weren’t up to the employer’s qualifications. In fact, the woman sounded functionally illiterate.

  With a growl of frustration, Xavier ended the conversation.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked.

  He rubbed his face, looking tired. “Rona took an interest in a patient in her hospital and wanted us to find her a job. She’s had recent surgery. Unfortunately she has no skills and can’t read. It’s not looking good.”

  I am so confused. “Who’s us, and what exactly do you do here?”

  He glanced at her, then smiled. “We never discussed my occupation, did we?” He leaned back, making the wheelchair look like a throne. My liege, indeed. “Leduc Industries owns a variety of businesses. I prefer to acquire hotels, cleaning and landscaping services, food prep—places that can employ women who are down on their luck, like those who are newly divorced or support themselves and their children.”

  Amazing. “But how can you screen for that kind of background?”

  He grinned. “A nonprofit organization, Stella’s Employment Services, has the first few floors of the building. They handle applications, training, and referrals. Their applicants are encouraged to keep learning, to move up and out, going on to better jobs and better lives.”

  “Don’t tell me—you own the employment service as well? Isn’t that rather altruistic for a hard-nosed businessman.”

  He gave her a Gallic shrug. “I saw the struggle my mother went through to find a job after my father divorced her. The employment market isn’t friendly to the unskilled.”

  A light was beginning to dawn. “What was your mother’s name?”

  “Clever professor.” His lips quirked up. “Her name was Stella.”

  First he was the owner of a kink club, then a big-shot CEO, and now a tenderhearted man running a charity because of his mother. She felt dizzy. Intimidating on the outside, but inside? This was the man who’d insisted on helping her feed puppies. Who let a little boy check out his long braid. Who let a punished submissive cry on his shoulder.

  “I haven’t run into the literacy problem before.” His frown turned to concern. “Women must fill out applications in the office. I didn’t realize the restriction might be a problem, but someone who couldn’t read wouldn’t even apply.”

  “’Fraid not. Around twenty to thirty million Americans lack the reading ability to fill out a job application.”

  He eyed her. “The professor checks out statistics on literacy?”

  “I told you I teach reading. That’s why I couldn’t attend the club’s classes.”

  Elbow on the side arm of the chair, he rubbed a finger over his lips. “Well, Professor Bern, at the time I assumed you were a grade-school teacher. Teaching subjects like reading, writing, and arithmetic.”

  How mixed up could things have gotten? “I volunteer for a local literacy project, teaching women to read.” She smiled. “The program is booked solid, but I’m allowed some leeway. Want me to add your person to my class?”

  “You’re full of surprises.”

  “Back at you, my liege. You might have mentioned you do more than own a BDSM club.”

  “True.” His gaze heated. “We have a lot of…exploring…yet to do.” Giving her that imperial stare, he crooked a finger at her.

  Her pulse started to speed. When she reached his chair, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her down for a long, hot kiss. As her head spun, she braced herself on the arms of his chair.

  He gave a rumbling sound of satisfaction. “Keep your hands right there.” His deep voice had roughened. He released her hair and slid his hand under her shirt. By tugging her bra upward, he freed one breast to fondle. His gaze on her face, he rolled a nipple between his fingers.

  She pulled in a hard breath, caught his exotic scent, and felt the dampness growing between her legs.

  “I have plans for you, little fluff,” he murmured. “Let’s go home.”

  After straightening her clothing, she wheeled him out. When they reached Mrs. Benton’s desk, the woman bade him a polite good night before turning to Abby. “He said a power chair wouldn’t fit in a car, but there’s no law against keeping one here. I’ve ordered one, and he’ll use it, even if only for a few more days.” She shook her head. “I have two teenage boys, and I know the drill for injuries: ice, elevate, and pain meds. Tomorrow I’ll ignore his growling and take better care of him.”

  “You’re a brave woman, Mrs. Benton. Thank you,” Abby said sincerely.

  As the elevator doors closed, Xavier frowned. “Now you’re corrupting my staff. I’ll need two hands to beat you adequately, but be assured I’m keeping count.”

  After a second of worry, she relaxed because the look in his eyes wasn’t one of anger, but…something else.

  Two could play at this game. She set her hands on the arms of his wheelchair. “Considering what you plan to do at ho
me, you should be more polite, Mr. Leduc. You might need someone to do all the work.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his hand fisted the front of her hoodie. “You’re correct—about someone working. As I recall, you have some lessons coming in the fine art of sucking.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and he released her hair to trace a line around it. “Yes. My cock between those pretty lips.”

  The elevator door slid open.

  As she pushed his wheelchair past the bulldog receptionist and the guard, she could feel the wetness between her legs.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I don’t want to do this. Abby was shaking with fear. As Xavier limped into Dark Haven, she wanted to stop him and tell him that she changed her mind.

  At the reception desk Lindsey handed a waiting Dom a bright-green wristband and looked over with a smile. She spotted Abby, and her face turned cold.

  Abby closed her eyes and swallowed down tears.

  “Good evening, Lindsey,” Xavier said.

  “Good evening, my liege.”

  In the locker area, Xavier took Abby’s coat and hung it up, leaving her naked except for her glasses.

  She stopped at the door to the main room. I forgot to put on my big-girl panties. “Wait.”

  “No, pet.” He pushed her inside.

  She tried a calming breath. It didn’t work.

  “Stay brave.” He led the way across the room.

  Staying a step behind him, she focused on the backs of his boots. The temperature took a decided drop as whispers whipped around her like sleet, stinging her skin.

  He climbed the stairs to the left-hand stage, leaning heavily on his cane.

  She hesitated. I’d really prefer to stay down here, thank you very much. He glanced back, motioned, and she followed. Clasping her numb hands in front of her, she stared at her bare feet.

  “If I might have your attention.” Xavier’s voice held no emotion. He wasn’t gloating about her punishment. If anything, his attitude was sympathetic—although inflexible.

  Someone at the bar cut the music to the dance floor, and silence spilled across the room.

  “I posted on the members’ Web site and sent you all an e-mail about Abigail’s research. By doing her fieldwork here without my knowledge or the consent of the members, she has broken club rules…as well as the unspoken ethics of our community.”

  The angry murmuring was in agreement. Guilt washed through Abby again.

  “However, I read the ethnography essay as well as the notes she kept. She presents our community in a good light. No names appear. Dark Haven isn’t mentioned by name or location. Members are not described. No scene descriptions are used. Basically she’s looking at the club dynamics in an interesting way, like an extended family, showing the social network, the interactions, and the hierarchy.”

  The crowd was silent.

  “Since I’m at the top of that hierarchy, I rather enjoyed it.”

  Mild laughter.

  “If she survives tonight and still wishes to be a member of this club, I’ve given her permission to finish her research here tomorrow and next weekend. I’ll post a sign in the reception area and send an announcement to the members, so you can stay away if you wish. Once the paper is finished, a copy will be available online for anyone interested, and concerns can be addressed before she sends it to the journal for publication. Questions so far?”

  “What do you mean if she survives tonight?” A woman’s voice, strong and self-assured.

  “I’m speaking of her punishment, Angela. It’s divided into two parts, and the members who were wronged are invited to participate.”

  That started a murmur of approval.

  Abby bit her lip. Xavier hadn’t told her what he planned.

  “Are you talking blood sports, Xavier?” DeVries’s rough voice was all too recognizable, and Abby shivered. Blood? She’d have stepped back, but her feet were frozen to the floor.

  “No blood. Sorry,” Xavier said.

  “Well, now I’m really disappointed.” The Enforcer’s voice didn’t match his words—he didn’t sound upset.

  “Members present on the same nights as Abby should have received a green band,” Xavier said. “Abigail’s first session is on the spanking bench. Any Dom or submissive can trade me their green band and administer one swat with the paddle.”

  Abby felt a tremor run through her and stiffened her spine. It’s just pain.

  “She’ll get a short recess. Then, since she was ‘observing’ people, Abigail will be blindfolded and hooked up to the fucking machine. Any Dom can exchange the band for one minute with the controls. I’ll monitor and stop the machine before she can orgasm. At the end of that time you’ll see—and undoubtedly hear—her climax. Since she observed yours, you may now observe hers.”

  Applause broke out.

  Oh no, absolutely no. She wrapped her arms around herself as her whole body shook.

  “When her punishment ends, she will apologize, and then, as we do for a properly penitent submissive, we forgive her. Questions or complaints?”

  Murmuring.

  “Sounds quite fair, Xavier,” a Dom called.

  “Thanks for letting us participate in her punishment,” another said. “We know you didn’t have to do that.”

  Xavier’s boots appeared in front of Abby. His calloused hand cupped her chin. “Look at me.”

  She lifted her eyes to his dark ones.

  He studied her for a minute, then nodded. As he ran his thumb along her jawline, the simple caress made her shudder in her loneliness. “Follow me downstairs.”

  In the dungeon he guided her to lie facedown on what they called a sawhorse. It resembled a warped picnic table with the tabletop only the width of a torso. The leather was cold under her belly, adding to her frozen feeling. Her breasts hung on either side of the narrow board. Padded benches supported her knees and lower legs and forearms.

  Xavier put wrist cuffs on her and secured her arms and legs, adding another strap over her lower back. Her bottom stuck out over the end. She tried to move, couldn’t, and her fear grew. It’s pain. I can handle pain. They’d hit her only on her butt.

  He took an incredibly wide paddle from his toy bag. When he laid the weapon on her back, she shivered at the cold hardness of it. She turned away from the room, then realized the wall in this section was mirrored. Her face would be visible, no matter what. Her breathing hitched, and nausea roiled inside her.

  “Do you feel as if you’re on display, pet?” Xavier asked, squeezing her shoulder. How could she be so desperately grateful for his touch?

  “Yes,” she whispered. I don’t want to do this. I want to go home. I wish I’d never met you people.

  ANY LINGERING ANGER at her had died the minute the little fluff had followed him into the club. A submissive who took responsibility for her own actions was one to be cherished. Xavier went down on one knee so his face was level with hers. Leaning in to keep his words for her alone, he shared his body warmth. “You’re being very brave, Abby. I’m proud of you.”

  Her eyes sheened with tears, and his heart ached. She was a true submissive; her Dom’s approval overshadowed everything else.

  “Red is still your safe word, but using it means the punishment is at an end—as is your membership here.”

  She nodded.

  “If you feel more than pain or embarrassment, as in muscles cramping, dizziness, sickness, your hands or feet going numb, then use yellow, and we’ll see what’s up. Do you understand? Say it aloud.”

  “Yellow means you’ll check on me. Red means I”—her face twisted—“I lose my membership, but the punishment will stop.”

  He saw her determination to see it through. “Good. Abby, I’ll be here the entire time, never more than two or three feet away. You’re mine, little fluff, and I won’t leave you.”

  Her tears spilled. “Thank you, my liege.”

  They were both going to hurt before this was over. With a silent sigh, he pulled her glasses o
ff and set them at her fingertips where she could touch them. “Let’s begin. Remember, if you keep your muscles relaxed, it won’t hurt as much.”

  Her huffed laugh, and the look she gave him—easy for you to say—lightened his heart. He ruffled her hair and moved to one side.

  Despite the cluster of people standing around, no one stepped forward until Simon gave an exasperated snort. He handed Xavier a green band, picked up the paddle, and dealt Abby a mildly stinging swat across both cheeks.

  Abby jerked slightly but didn’t make a sound.

  “I forgive you, pet.” After handing the paddle to another Dom, Simon asked Xavier in a low voice, “Will she last?”

  “She’s more stubborn than you’d think.”

  “How about you?”

  Xavier wanted to kill every single person who looked as if they’d pick up the paddle. “I want to protect her. Instead I’m the one who arranged to give her pain.”

  “I know the feeling.” Simon squeezed his shoulder. “But she needs forgiveness from more than just you. Her pleasure in the friendships she made here was obvious, and she’ll be able to recover them now. You know that, or you wouldn’t have included the members.”

  “I do know, but your approval helps.”

  “I also noticed you picked a paddle so big that even deVries couldn’t do any damage.”

  Very true. Xavier gave him a half smile. The large size of the paddle would spread the impact over a wider area. She’d hurt after this, but the pain would be superficial.

  Time dragged.

  He accepted several more green bands from Dominants in closed relationships and from submissives. The Doms usually administered a blow just over the edge of painful. Exactly what he considered appropriate.

  Unless they were switches, submissives rarely struck another person, and their blows varied widely. Most gave Abby a light tap, their sympathy obvious. Seeing her in tears had dispelled their anger, even before they picked up the paddle. However, a few appeared openly vindictive and hit much harder.