by M. Q. Barber
“I thought I recognized you two.” Far down the circle, an older woman in a tangerine dress bent forward and offered a wide smile. “Your show last month was fantastic.”
“Our show?” A phantom swat struck Alice’s ass. Meet-the-abuser night. Their reason for being here. Emma mentioning witnesses’ confusion in passing paled beside a stranger praising her for something she hadn’t done and wouldn’t have chosen.
“I saw it, too.” Voice rising as she bobbed her head, Leah flushed bright pink. “That’s how I knew who you were today. And then I got to sit right next to you.”
Emma must’ve known about Leah’s fascination when she put them side by side.
“Your show was so—” Sighing, Leah laced her fingers and tucked her thumbs inside. “I begged Master to spank me afterward, and it was amazing. He’d been wanting me to be ready, but I was too scared. And then I saw your performance.” A dreamy haze filled her pale brown eyes. “I wanted to thank you.”
Holy shit. Thank God for Jay steadying her while she fumbled for words. “But I was sobbing.” She’d lacked control over her reaction. She hadn’t been able to think her way out. “Frightened.” Scattered emotions had magnified her fears. “Childish.”
“That’s how I thought I’d be.” Rocking in the seat, Leah matched Jay at his squirmiest. “That it would hurt, and I’d disappoint Master. We’d watched so many scenes, and all the perfect subs wanted more spanking. What if I didn’t?” Lips pressed together, she curled her arms to her chest. “I got too afraid to try. But your master was so tender with you, and he”—she waved baby-pink fingernails at Jay—“was so protective. That’s what Master wanted me to understand. That he’d be loving, no matter how I reacted. That I could trust him to find my limits.”
“I’m”—astonished the girl had strung so many words together—“happy for you, Leah.” Everyone called confession good for the soul. They never mentioned the aerobic exercise slamming her chest. “But I wasn’t acting. My punishment wasn’t some show we were putting on.”
“Anyone who’s spent ten minutes talking to Calvin Gardner would know he’d never play in a scene Henry created.” Across the circle, Julie draped her arm around Kelly. “Especially not as the villain. His ego’s too big.”
They both knew whom she belonged to, then. Letting her share at her own pace had been simple kindness.
“The mean one?” Wide-eyed, Leah turned toward her. “His part wasn’t scripted?”
Words failed. Alice shook her head.
Fiddling with the tail of her braid, Leah pushed into the corner of their seat. “He really tried to poach you from your master?”
“Cal’s dangerous.” If the bastard tried touching Jay again, he’d lose a hand. As Jay stroked the top of her foot alongside her sandal straps, she scratched the base of his scalp, willing love and security by osmosis. “I sure as hell wouldn’t trust him with my safety.”
From some of the horrified expressions around the circle, a hug-your-neighbor break would’ve gotten a slew of yes votes. Whispering women shifted in their seats, adjusted skirts, and brushed invisible crumbs from blouses.
“Smart.” Julie cleaved the buzzing gossip with a bitter laugh. “He’s a user. He plays nice to establish trust, and then he fucks you over so he can watch you break.”
“Get over it.” Two seats down, a pencil-skirted thirty-something with a pointed pageboy dropped her head back and huffed at the ceiling. “Sadists get an unfair stigma. If you don’t like their style, don’t play with them.”
“Sadists, I like,” Julie shot back. “Responsible ones. He isn’t. He’s all about his own mastery. No aftercare for the broken, no praise for taking what he dished out, just kick-your-welted-ass-out contempt.”
“He doesn’t respect safewords.” Jay held fast, bunching her dress in his fingers. “He wants to make you scream it, not ’cause he cares about testing boundaries, but so he can gorge himself on that moment after.”
As she glanced up, she met Emma’s gaze.
Emma winced and closed her eyes.
Slowing, Jay curled his shoulders inward. “The one when you realize he’s not stopping.” His hair slipped sideways, exposing the back of his neck. “When you know you aren’t anything.” Hollowed and dull, his voice dwindled like a fading song. “You were never anything.”
So fucking wrong. Channeling Henry’s patient courage, she swallowed her protests and reassurances. He’d worked hard to give Jay this chance to grow. Before their return visit, Jay would’ve been horrified and ashamed to share even with his lovers. Now his truths streamed out in front of strangers he hoped to help. Pride shouldn’t hurt so much.
Pixie-haired Kelly tugged at her white Capri pants and clasped her hands in her lap. “I played with him. About seven years ago.”
Before Jay. She aborted her instinctive reach for him. Whatever Kelly meant to tell would be difficult for him to hear. Hard for everyone in the room, even the skeptics, because no one wanted to imagine themselves in a nightmare.
“He hadn’t learned to hide himself yet.” Biting her lip, Kelly traded a glance with Julie. The two women looked at Jay, at her, and at Emma.
“I think it’s time.” Emma, her gentle voice at odds with her pin-straight posture, crossed her ankles and smoothed her dress. “If you’re both ready.”
Jesus. Not only the seating arrangements but the whole guest list had been deliberate. Handpicked for specific criteria—knowledge of Cal, social standing in the club, ability to spread gossip. Factors Emma would’ve accounted for, invisible to the club at large but familiar and intimate for the woman who handled the secrets and tidied the messes.
Rocking forward, Kelly raised her heels and tapped her knees together. “I wanted more pain than I’d been getting, and he had a reputation for delivering. We negotiated limits and went straight into the scene.”
Jay sucked in a deep, slow breath.
Henry had to have known. Since Cal had gone after them in May, Emma wouldn’t have made this move without running her strategy past Henry. Their phones formed Plan B. Plan A—keeping Jay in the salon, his comfort zone, and showing him Cal’s pattern of victimization. Hard as hell when her body shouted at her to drag Jay to safety and her head compiled a list of reasons he meant everything.
“And it was good—the man does know how to handle a whip.” Running her hand through her hair, Kelly shook out the short tips. “But it was also more name-calling and snide remarks than I wanted. Contemptuous, like Julie said. You know.”
Several women nodded, and murmurs rolled through the room. Alice’s couch was an island of silence. Newcomers, her and Leah, with no experience to offer. Jay, harboring experience he didn’t altogether want to share.
Having met Cal made believing dominants defaulted to contempt easy. But Henry and Santa William stood as evidence in opposition. She’d been lucky, falling in with the right crowd. Hard to say which was more common.
“He stayed within the negotiated limits, barely.” Lips twisting, Kelly rolled her shoulders.
Julie rubbed her back.
Kelly shakily exhaled. “I might have played with him again except for his attitude.”
Bobbing, Jay wrapped his hand around her calf and dug in. He’d lived that exact moment. But by then, Cal had become a more experienced, more cunning predator.
“He released the scene, with no aftercare—”
“Red flag,” Julie muttered, and a dozen women mm-hmmed.
Kelly, nodding, smacked her foot on the floor. “And he had the nerve to say my ‘babyish limits’ curtailed his fun. My ass had beautiful bruises that lasted weeks. To tell me I needed to open myself to pain—after one play session?”
Her tightlipped headshake repeated around the circle.
Cal’d probably been a controlling, arrogant ass from birth. If only Jay hadn’t run afoul of him. If only he’d met Henry first. If only, if only, if only.
Eyes hard and jaw tight, Kelly scan
ned the room. “I was noncommittal to get out, but I’ve never gone near him again. He’ll do anything he thinks he can get away with.” As she landed on Julie, her gaze softened. “The charm’s a front.”
“I fell for the charm.” Julie fumbled for her seatmate and locked fingers. “About six years back.”
Again before Jay. The jackass had honed his skills, treating the club as his hunting ground.
Staring across the circle at Jay, Julie slipped her hand beneath her long hair and held the back of her neck. “Did he leave you scarred, too?”
Jay flinched, and she echoed him. The hush in the room could’ve been battering ram or blanket.
“He w—” Jay’s voice cracked. “He would’ve, I think, but someone stopped him.”
He’d gotten out physically unscarred, but he hadn’t escaped unharmed. Her flaring anger at the women who’d gone before and said nothing fizzled out. Somewhere, maybe not in this room, but somewhere, existed men and women who had encountered Cal after Jay.
“I didn’t have anyone around to stop him.” Julie smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Stupid. Basic rule. Hindsight, right?”
Slinging her free arm around Julie, Kelly whispered words too low to carry.
Julie shook her head and clasped Kelly’s hand. “Three good sessions here, and I thought I knew him well enough to meet him somewhere else.”
Jay trembled. Cal might’ve issued him the same invitation.
Henry never would’ve found him.
“I thought I had a good long-term prospect with him. Great skills, lots of charm.” Rolling her eyes, Julie huffed and smacked her fist on the couch. “I had submissive honeymoon euphoria. I went to a private dungeon I didn’t know, and I found out he liked caning as much as he liked whipping, and I found out both leave scars when the wielder wants them to.”
Alice lurched, instinct, like throwing an arm in front of her sister when the truck stopped short.
Issuing a gentle Henry-size smile, Jay kissed the crook of her elbow.
She pried her fingers from his shoulder and ruffled his hair. Hell, she might write herself a prescription. Touching him calmed her as much as it did him, and Henry would absorb the unrest from both of them when he arrived. Every person present deserved the same loving, reciprocal partnership, whatever their tastes.
Head bent, Julie crossed her arms over her stomach. “I should’ve said something. If enough of us had, word would’ve gotten around.”
Hard-earned regret etched half a dozen faces.
Jay folded into a formal waiting pose, one Henry would be proud of. “I was lucky enough to meet someone who insisted I take proper care of myself.”
Henry would never disrespect Jay. Love him, guide him, command and coddle him, yeah, every damn day. Thank God for that.
“Back then I—” He rubbed his palms down his thighs and gripped his knees. “I think I wanted to be scarred, like I’d look at the marks and know I deserved them.” Raising his head, he scanned the room and stopped on Emma. “But he—Master Henry wouldn’t let me think that way. I wanted to please him so badly that I learned to say no for him.”
Emma smiled, brilliant and encouraging, every inch the guide Henry had promised.
“I’m glad I did. That was five years ago, and I—” Jay swayed and steadied himself. “I’ve only recently started being willing to deal with what happened.”
As the sunlight dimmed, silent stares cast a heavy, dark shroud around the circle.
“Don’t play with Cal. You’ll get hurt. The bad kind of hurt.” Jay shifted again, all pent-up energy in coltish legs. “That’s all I wanted to say.”
At home, she’d have invented a task to get him moving. Pouring out his discomfort in physical ways relieved his stress like nothing else. Here, he’d been forced to find another way. To choose to speak for himself.
Standing, Emma drew off the focused attention of two dozen women. “We all may make a difference in the attitudes and behaviors in this club by showing the honesty and courage Jay, Julie, and Kelly have shared.”
Jay sagged.
“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek under the pretext of straightening his tie. “You are everything to Henry and to me, you hear me? He’s gonna be so damn proud of his good boy.”
He burrowed into her hair and pulled a deep breath. “Best part of my life came outta the worst. Henry changed my world.”
He had. Still was. The whole afternoon, orchestrated from start to finish. He knew Emma well enough to trust she’d provide prods. He believed in Jay’s readiness to take this step. He trusted Alice to analyze on the spot and choose the right course for Jay however the tea played out.
Hands clasped singer-style, Emma performed as a soloist on stage. “The board is moving toward updating the club’s policies. Expanding into non-play hours for introductory and ethics classes. Training more monitors to respond to situations with the potential to escalate. Enforcing behavior guidelines more strictly for full voting members.”
Those points belonged to Henry’s agenda. Maybe Emma had taken proposals to the board while he worked behind the scenes.
“Speaking up will make a difference.”
“It’ll give subbies a reputation for being difficult, you mean.” The pencil-skirted woman who’d snapped at Julie over sadism offered Emma the same scorn. “Report, and everybody knows your business. The whispers go around, you get labeled a tattletale, told you’re blaming players unfairly, and suddenly nobody invites you to scene.”
Jay might’ve feared those things. Uncertain of the right move, unwilling to lose what he thought he had. She’d spent far too long stuck in the same silence trap, tiptoeing around him and Henry.
“I know, Iris.” Emma closed her eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry.” Her face hardened into stern lines. “We’re putting an end to it.” She scanned the circle, each woman—and man—briefly subject to her full attention. “Please come to me privately with concerns you feel didn’t warrant stopping a scene and reporting. I’ll increase supervision on members when I have multiple, independent accounts of line-crossing.”
Among the women, glances traveled and shoulders straightened. Even shy Leah uncurled from her tight ball.
“As submissives, we have the strength to protect each other. We have the duty to be mindful and maintain a safe space for all members.” Emma raised her voice to a rich, teacup-rattling roar. “When that isn’t the case, we will take steps no matter how well-respected or longstanding the member.” Muscles corded and angry, she seethed with tension through her neck and arms. “My husband cofounded this club. I will not tolerate abuse under this roof.”
The room ebbed and ticked over like an assembly line shifting from break time to high-speed output. Stories tumbled into the circle. Not just Cal stories, and not just bad ones. Women exchanged recommendations, warnings, and promises to take more care for each other.
Christ. If Emma had been that forceful a speaker on Jay’s behalf five years ago, the voices she’d been up against must’ve rated on a seismic scale. What side had her husband been on?
* * * *
With the last attendee departing down the grand staircase, Alice blew out a breath and sagged on her feet. “That was as emotionally exhausting as a good scene.”
Solid at her back, Jay draped his arms around her waist.
She wrapped her arms overtop. “Too bad it didn’t come with the euphoric buzz.”
He nodded, rubbing his cheek in her hair.
“We used to host two a month,” Emma said.
Whoops. Not quiet enough. She’d meant her comments for Jay.
“First Wednesday and third Saturday.” On her way toward them, Emma patted chair backs and straightened pillows. “Of course, Victor handled operations then, and I had more time to schedule a social calendar for submissives.” She carried herself with the same hostess poise she’d possessed at the start of tea, not a mahogany hair out of place.
“The lifestyle can be isolating. Judging a dangerous situation grows difficult when the master’s commands define the new normal.”
“I had Jay’s example.” She gave silent thanks for his unwavering support. “And Henry never pushed me for anything I wasn’t willing to give.”
She’d clung to independence as a shield, thinking when the relationship sputtered out like every other, she’d decide the moment. Trying to end things the first night she’d safeworded, she’d staggered beneath pain and loss.
Emma shot her a sly smile. “Well, he only wanted everything from you.”
Telling her a month ago he loved her, Henry’d spoken as if he’d always known. Unquestionable. The foundational design element of his creation.
“And it only took months to get.” Sighing, Jay rattled her side to side. “You’re so stubborn.”
Henry hadn’t pressured her because he’d seen the string of quick breakups in her history. She’d been clinging to a failed model. A snort escaped her as she raised her hand to muffle it.
“Not stubborn.” She hadn’t understood what the new model could look like. Now she did. “Clueless. I had no idea what I was doing.”
As she leaned into Jay, he held her up without question.
“Victor used to take on novices to train.” Emma rubbed the ever-present pearls at her throat. “Years ago, before—” Closing her eyes, she canted her head and grimaced. “We invited them into our home. Usually one, sometimes two, living with us full-time.”
“You were okay with that?” Unfathomable. First Santa William stayed with a wife who despised his appetites, and now Emma had indulged her late husband’s desires for more conquests by bringing them home. Accepting Henry could, and did, love her and Jay with equal depth and ferocity had been hard enough—and she’d been the other woman. If she’d been Jay, only not Jay, because jealousy washed through him like water in a sieve, but if she’d been Jay and he’d been her, she’d sure as hell have felt slighted. “Your husband being with other people?”
“Oh, no, not at all.” Settling in a high-backed chair, Emma gestured them toward the facing couch. “The training relationships were nonsexual.”
