Servicing the Target

by Cherise Sinclair

  In the bathroom, as he lit the candles she kept around the bathtub, Jessica disappeared into the toilet stall. Her moan of relief made him laugh.

  “Call when you’re done so I can walk back with you, pet.” Giving her the privacy she preferred, he stepped into the master bedroom.

  A minute later, the sound she made wasn’t his name. More like a groan or whimper.

  “Jessica?”

  “Um.” He heard her whisper, “Oh, God,” and concern tensed his gut.

  He was in front of the stall before she had a chance to step out. In the flickering candlelight, he couldn’t read her face, but her emotions were all over the place. Worry uppermost. And pain. “Tell me.”

  She bit her lip. “Well, I’m in labor. I thought so before, but I’m positive now since”—her skin darkened—“my water just broke.”

  He exhaled slowly and shut down his first instinct—a thorough scolding for not telling him sooner. “I see.” With an arm around her, he guided her out of the bathroom. “How long would you estimate you’ve been in labor?”

  “Weeell.”

  Hell.

  “At first, I thought the contractions were just those Braxton-Hicks. They didn’t really hurt and were far apart. Only the contractions haven’t stopped. And really, I was going to tell you, only you had the group session today, and I didn’t want to mess that up.”

  “Jessica, I’d have rescheduled.”

  “They’re our soldiers. They deserve priority.”

  His stubborn, big-hearted submissive; she’d be the death of him. “Did you happen to time any of the last pains?”

  “They’re close to five minutes apart. I called the midwife right before the lights went out. She said to head for the birthing center now since the rain would slow us down. She’ll leave now as well.”

  “Indeed. In that case, you’ve ruined the lecture I was planning.”

  Her wavy blonde hair glinted in the candlelight as she grinned up, looking like a roguish fairy. “There’s good news.”

  He captured her face between his hands and kissed her, slow and sweet. “I love you, Jessica.”

  “That’s a relief,”—she went on tiptoes to press a light kiss to his chin—“since we’re going to have a baby.”

  * * * *

  Anne parked her car in the Shadowlands parking lot, turned off the headlights, and stared through the pouring rain at the very dark, three-story, stone mansion. No lights were on. Tonight, of all nights, Z and Jessica weren’t home?

  No, wait. Z never left the entire house unlit. Now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen any house lights in miles. The power must be out in the area.

  Through the rain and dark, she glimpsed flickering lights in the third story windows. It’d be worth checking. If the place was empty, she could sack out in the back of her vehicle. She’d slept in her SUV a time or two before, although what’d been cool in her twenties wasn’t so much fun a decade later.

  What a mess of a night. The second fugitive had fallen easily into their hands. But not the third. They’d knocked on doors of his closest friends and family, searched his favorite hangouts, and gotten drenched for nothing.

  Then, after her team had called it a night, Anne had detoured to check out another skip’s home. No joy there.

  To top off the crap night, she’d been blocked by a traffic jam on the Suncoast Parkway where the rain had caused a multi-multi-car pileup. So she’d made her way by back roads to the Shadowlands. A good night’s rest in her bed was obviously out of the question.

  She grabbed her spare overnight bag and a flashlight and made a dash for the back garden gate. I’m already wet—why am I running?

  She ran through the garden, opened the door, and stepped into the lanai. Her soaked hair flopped in her face, and with a huff of annoyance, she pushed the strands away.

  Something huge moved on the dark patio. She turned the flashlight that way. Huge was right. A man—Ben.

  He growled, “Stop right there and identify yourself.” His threatening voice was sexy as hell.

  With a chuckle, she closed her eyes and pointed the light at herself. “It’s me, Ben.”

  “Fuck me, what are you doing out in the rain, Anne?”

  “I—”

  The door above them opened, and Z called down, “Benjamin, may I impose upon you to drive us to the hospital? Jessica’s in labor.”

  “Be my pleasure, Z. Let me get—”

  “Wait.” Anne lifted her voice. “Z, the Suncoast is backed up with a multi-car accident. The news says a rig tipped over and is lying across the entire road. Other cars smashed into it and skidded into the oncoming lanes as well. Because the traffic jam goes in both directions, rescue vehicles haven’t been able to get to the location to clear the mess.”

  Ben started, “We can take—”

  “You can’t even get to Gunn. The roads are flooding. I barely made it with my Ford Escape—and the water’s still rising. I doubt any vehicle can get through now.”

  There was a long silence from above. She could feel Z’s concern. Finally he said, “I’m glad you arrived when you did, Anne. At least we won’t be trapped on the road.”

  “Delivering a baby in a car. Not my idea of fun,” Ben muttered.

  “Apparently, we’ll have a home birth tonight. The midwife lives locally. Hopefully she can get here.” Z’s flashlight moved as he pulled out his cell phone. “Come on up, you two. The door’s open.”

  A baby coming. A storm. No power. A chill crept up Anne’s spine.

  Thankfully, Jessica was strong and healthy.

  Anne glanced at the dark bulk that was Ben. “Let’s get up there and see if we can help.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Ben put a hand behind her back to guide her toward the steps. His palm was warm through her wet clothing. And far too comforting.

  After drying off and donning clothes from her go-pack, Anne talked with Z, then headed into the master bedroom. A myriad of candles lit the room, showing arched windows, pale walls, and dark furniture.

  On the king-sized bed, Jessica sat with her back against the headboard, hands laced over her belly, eyes closed. The grimace on her face said she was in the middle of a contraction.

  First babies never came quickly. Anne’s experience wasn’t extensive, but she’d been her sister-in-law’s birthing partner twice while Harrison was in Iraq.

  By tomorrow, Jessica would have a baby to show for the pain. Anne knew her friend wouldn’t begrudge the work in the least.

  After a half minute, Jessica relaxed and opened her eyes. “Anne. Hey.”

  Anne took a seat on the bed. “I came to keep you company while Z tries to reach the midwife before she gets stuck in the traffic jam. He hasn’t had an answer yet. She’s probably in a poor reception area.”

  A flash of worry crossed Jessica’s face. “There are pockets of dead zones all around here.”

  A diversion was indicated. “So, did you change your mind about knowing whether you’re carrying a girl or boy?”

  “Nope.” Jessica smiled wryly. “Although Z probably bribed the doctor to tell him.”

  “Ah.” Oh, he undoubtedly had. “Possibly.”

  Jessica shifted, obviously uncomfortable, even without a contraction.

  “Girl, there’s no reason why you have to stay in here…not until you’re closer to the big moment. Would you like to move into the living room?”

  Jessica’s eyes lit. “Can I? I feel as if I’ve been stuffed into a cave and forgotten.”

  “Then let’s get that sorted. Couch or recliner? And let me grab some towels.”

  “Couch. There are old towels on the linen closet’s bottom shelf. In the bathroom.”

  “Perfect. Stay put for a minute.

  Anne set things up, added a sheet for comfort, and returned.

  Jessica was sweating slightly, but eager to move.

  Anne helped her up, out to the living room, and hesitated. “You know, as long as you have someone beside you, you can
walk around.”

  “Really? Awesome.” She gave Anne a rueful look. “Since it’s tax season, I missed some birthing classes. Z and I had hoped to make them up this week.”

  “You’re such an accountant. I’m surprised Z didn’t insist on the classes.”

  “I got kind of hysterical, and he caved. Probably because I pointed out that I’d worry more if I had to file tax return extensions for every one of my clients.”

  Anne grinned as she steered her friend around the room. Jessica was one of her favorite people, but totally numbers crazy.

  “Well—oh God, not again.” Jessica swiftly sat on the couch and held her hardening belly. Through gritted teeth, she added, “The pains are down to every two or three minutes.”

  Anne pulled up her memory of when she’d helped with her niece and nephew’s births. Such frequent contractions meant active labor, right? Time for the midwife to get here.

  She took the blonde’s hands in a firm grip and added a touch of command to her voice. “Look at me.” When Jessica’s eyes met hers, she said, “Inhale in through your nose, out through your mouth.”

  As the pain increased, Anne said, “Light breathing now. In and out.”

  Z’s subbie followed orders well.

  After a long minute, Jessica sagged. “If Z wants another baby, he’s going to have to carry it.”

  Anne smiled. Not much kept Jessica’s sense of humor down.

  “It’s better with someone to help. Thank you.” Jessica gave her fingers a squeeze.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Uh, not really, right?” Jessica looked as if she were searching for the right diplomatic words. “We’re friends—and you don’t—won’t—enjoy watching me hurt, will you?”

  “No.” Anne snorted. “First, although I’ve topped female submissives when needed, I don’t find any thrill from seeing a woman in pain. At all.”

  “Well. That’s good. If that was first, is there a second?”

  Anne frowned. She had put it like that, hadn’t she? Because there was more, she just wasn’t sure what. Exactly. “Do me a favor and don’t share this with your snoopy Master.”

  “Girl stuff doesn’t get shared. He’s down with that.”

  Girl stuff. Anne rarely thought of herself as a girl, but in all reality, she was only about five years older than Jessica. “I’ve noticed that inflicting pain isn’t as…satisfying…as it used to be.”

  “Huh. Does that mean you need to hurt someone worse to get enjoyment out of it?”

  “Actually, less. Which doesn’t make sense. Sadists usually escalate.”

  “That’s why you broke up with Joey, isn’t it?”

  Joey—her last slave and a masochist—had wanted more pain from her than she’d wanted to dispense. She’d given him what he needed, but ultimately that difference in their needs had been a major reason for their breakup. “You’re as perceptive as your Master, subbie,” Anne said lightly.

  “Well.” Jessica stopped and groaned.

  They breathed through another contraction.

  After recovering, the blonde frowned. “If you want less—and for only one gender—then maybe it wasn’t the actual pain you enjoyed. Could it be you just have a taste for turning males into gelatin?”

  “Undoubtedly.” Anne gave her a half-grin. Z loved how logical Jessica was. But…she might have a point. Perhaps that was why once she began to care for a slave, hurting him—for just pain’s sake, became more difficult.

  Zachary found his control tested to its limits as he took Anne’s place on the couch.

  The midwife, Fay, had arrived a few minutes before, just in time for what Anne said was the transitional stage. Personally, Zachary considered this level a form of hell. Seeing Jessica in that much pain—pain he couldn’t relieve—made him want to kill something. The contractions were coming every two to three minutes and lasting…he could swear, forever.

  For the first time, he was grateful his previous wife had borne their two sons by C-section.

  God, Jessica.

  He could see the moment when she wasn’t sure she could endure more—even before she announced, “I’m done now. I quit.”

  “There is no quitting,” he murmured. “But each contraction gets you closer to the end.”

  She actually glared at him. “That’s not helping. Damn you, you have children. Why’d you want more?”

  “Jessica, you wanted children.”

  “You’re so fucking wrong. I never—” The next contraction hit.

  “Breathe, little one.”

  “You breathe, you dickhead. How could you do this to me? You told me you weren’t a sadist, you fucking liar.” She dug her little fingernails into his forearm deep enough to draw blood. “You like pain? Does that feel good?”

  Behind him, he heard a snort of laughter from Ben. “She’s gonna regret that later.”

  Returning from the bedroom she’d been setting up, the midwife said with a smile, “Nope. Zachary agreed—as do all my clients—that what is said or done during the transitional stage is forgiven. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

  Zachary pried his wife’s finger loose and didn’t give a damn if he was bleeding. She was shaking and shivering, and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms.

  “Don’t touch me.” She batted his hands away. “I hate you.”

  He winced at the anger and pain filling her to bursting, and felt completely, horribly helpless as she groaned her way through another contraction.

  “Easy, Z,” Anne murmured and squeezed his shoulder, then passed a cooled hand towel to the midwife.

  Fay set the cloth on Jessica’s forehead. “Do you want your husband to massage your back, honey? Or do you want to go onto all fours?”

  “No, dammit, I just want it over.” Her voice lifted in a half-scream. “God fucking, cock-sucking shit damn piss.”

  Even as Z’s shoulders tensed in sympathy, he couldn’t suppress the huff of laughter. He’d never heard her use such language.

  “You…piss-ant shithead. This. Is. Not. Funny.” She went limp, gasping for air, sweat making her skin glow. Her emerald-sharp glare could have sliced through steel. “Your cock ever comes near me again and I’ll cut it off.”

  “Now that’s just mean,” Ben muttered. “I think you’re getting competition in the cock torture department, Mistress Anne.”

  Jessica, a formerly sweet wife turned demon, turned her glower toward the corner where Ben stood. “You…I liked you. I was wrong.”

  The bulky shadow that was Ben seemed to shrink into the wall. He cleared his throat. “I’m going to just go…check on how the rain is falling and, yeah…”

  As he left, Zachary glanced around. Anne had stayed. She gave him a firm nod that said she’d be available as needed. Her presence helped, but nothing could ease his fear. If anything went wrong, there would be no ambulance in time.

  Jessica was already starting another contraction.

  So much pain. Zachary curled his hand around hers, trying with all his might to lend her his strength.

  When Jessica finally, finally, relaxed again, Fay asked, “You need to push, don’t you?”

  Jessica nodded.

  Fay said, “Let me assess how dilated you are. Then we’ll move to the bedroom where everything is set up.”

  The examination resulted in more cursing from Jessica.

  Fay announced, “You’ve reached ten centimeters. Let’s go.” She rose, taking Jessica’s underpants with her.

  “Hey, I want my briefs on.” Jessica held her hand out.

  “It’s time to leave them off, honey.”

  “No. Put them back.” When Fay didn’t move, his beloved kitten turned her scowl to Zachary. “She’s being mean. Hurt her.”

  “Easy, sweetheart. This will be over soon.” His sympathy earned him more fingernails digging into his wrist.

  Fay grinned. “Now, Jessica, we both know you’ve gone without underwear before—or you wouldn’t need my services today.”

&n
bsp; Damned if he didn’t feel guilty himself about his part in getting her pregnant. Before Jessica could respond, he swept her up. “To the bedroom.”

  Even as he carried her, she went into another contraction, and he could feel her bearing down. “She’s pushing, Fay.”

  “Good. It should go fast now.”

  “God, this hurts!”

  “I know, kitten, I know,” Zachary murmured.

  Through a clenched jaw, she gritted out, “I know Masters are conceited, but by no stretch of the imagination are—you—God.”

  He didn’t smother his chuckle adequately, and, as he set her on the bed, he barely managed to dodge her punch.

  An hour later, having called Anne in to hold Jessica’s hands and support her shoulders, Zachary caught his baby as she exited the womb.

  Blood-streaked with white vernix patches, her fair skin mottled, and a few wisps of blonde hair, she was the most beautiful little girl in the world.

  As the midwife dealt with the umbilical cord, he could only stand and hold his child. So tiny and fragile. He’d forgotten how little they were upon arrival. How miraculous.

  “Zachary?” Jessica called.

  He had to blink the wetness from his eyes before he could carry his baby to her mother. “We have a girl, kitten. A perfect little girl.” Carefully, he set the baby in her arms and stole a kiss from his love. “Thank you for our daughter, Jessica.”

  Her lips curved under his, and she whispered, “You’re very welcome, Master.”

  A second later, the baby managed to find Jessica’s nipple, and she jerked slightly as the little girl latched on. “Whoa, and I thought nipple clamps were bad.”

  * * * *

  “We have a girl.” Completely, thoroughly exhausted, Anne dropped down on the other end of the couch from Ben. She’d slipped out of the bedroom to give Z time with his newly enlarged family.

  “Halleluiah,” Ben said quietly. “I’m glad you were here to help them.”

  “Actually, so am I.” She half-grinned. “I think Marcus won the betting pool though.”

  “I was way off, by a good two weeks.” To her surprise, Ben handed her a scone and a glass of milk. “I raided the kitchen and grabbed these for you. Consider it breakfast.”