by Sky Corgan
Once inside, I took a moment to get my bearings. The place was quartered into different sections. The first half of the building was divided between a seating area and food booths. The second half was split between a play area and toy vendors. No wonder the party was so big, it was sponsor central. I rolled my eyes and sighed, wondering why I had even bothered to come at all. Still, I had driven the distance, might as well walk around a bit.
My natural curiosities prompted me to go straight back to the play area, where all I found was disappointment. A group of girls took turns stumbling around a Saint Andrews Cross with beers in their hands, leaning against it and lightly slapping each other with mini cat-o-nine tails that they had obviously just bought from one of the toy vendors. Two of the other Saint Andrews Crosses stood empty, while the fourth one at the end had another group of girls who were standing around it taking pictures as if it was a tourist attraction. The whole lot of them absolutely repulsed me.
Disgusted, I turned around and walked towards the food booths. The least I could do was grab something to eat for coming all this way. I ended up with chicken on a stick, which was surprisingly good, though not worth the eight dollars I paid for it. I sat at a bench and ate while I tried to drown out the bullshit racket around me. As soon as I finished eating, I was out of here. Nothing to see. Nothing else to do.
I was down to my last chicken medallion when I heard a harsh familiar voice address me, “So, the little bitch boy showed up to taint the air again.”
My appetite vanished from recognition, and my mood got ten times worse when I looked up and saw Chet Goines staring at me with his usual demeaning expression. Talia was at his side, but I didn't even bother to look in her direction as Chet sat down at my bench, obviously trying to intimidate me.
“So you did.” I burned into him, throwing his own insult in his face.
“I didn't think you'd have the balls to show your face around here again after our little altercation.” He ignored my jab.
“If you think I'm afraid of you, you're sadly mistaken.”
“Guys.” Talia looked down on us with concern etched across her pretty face. “Is this really necessary?”
“Shut up, cunt!” Chet barked at her, and she cowered. There was that hint of breaking that wasn't there before, and it only fueled my anger. He had laid his hands on her. I was sure of it now.
“Hey,” I tried to draw his attention away from her. “Your beef is with me. Leave her out of it.”
“I'll do whatever the fuck I like. Now, sit down.” His agitation flared, and he quickly gripped Talia by the arm and jerked her down onto the bench beside him.
“So what? Are you just going to sit here and stare at me all night?” I glared at him.
“I'm trying to get the point across that you don't belong here.”
I snorted before looking into the crowd. “You've certainly got me there. I definitely don't belong with this group of women and fakes.”
Was it really worth sticking around? Did I really want to play this game again? Who can outlast who. It seemed a bit ridiculous when I wasn't around people I respected. Then again, I didn't want to seem weak in Talia's eyes. It was the whole domination/submission bullshit, the alpha and omega. The one who walked away with his tail between his legs might as well have his balls lopped off. This was more a game of pride than anything else, and though I hated to play it here, around all of these stupid fucking fakes, it had to be played so that I could save face.
“Women and fakes, huh?” Chet let out a short breathy laugh. “Maybe you'd like a demonstration of what a real Dom is.”
“If I wanted a demonstration from a real Dom, you'd be the last person I'd ask.”
“Come on, slut.” He ignored me, standing and giving Talia's arm a sharp jerk to pull her into a standing position. “Let's show this little cunt what he's missing.”
The second I realized he was guiding her to the back of the room, my stomach twisted with dread. They were headed to one of the Saint Andrews Crosses. He fully intended on doing a scene with her, and I doubted it would be anything less than brutal.
Talia seemed to be thinking the same thing. She glanced back at me for half a heartbeat, and I swear I saw fear behind her large brown eyes, which only made me feel worse. This was my fault. He wasn't just doing this to be cocky, he was doing it to punish us both.
You should go. If you watch, he'll win. But wouldn't he still win if you left? He would have driven you away. I lost either way. It was a shitty thing to admit to myself, but no matter how the cards fell, I had drawn a losing hand. Watching would give him the satisfaction of throwing his ownership of Talia in my face. Leaving would give him the satisfaction of knowing he had driven me away. Which was the less of the two evils?
Just go, my mind screamed at me, yet my body refused to move. I kept trying to work out in my mind how I could get the upper hand in the situation. Maybe one of these soccer moms would be interested in doing a scene with me. Perhaps I could prove that I was the better Dom. Who was I kidding though? None of these women took this stuff seriously. They'd be giggling and flirting and talking through the entire thing. I'd just come off looking like a jackass with no control.
My only real option was to watch and look unimpressed. How could I expect to keep my cool though when I knew his dominance would tip toward abuse? Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about that. Surely, the hosts and sponsors of this event realized that most of the participants were squeamish. If the dungeon monitor saw that the scene was getting too intense, he'd rush in to stop it. Then I would win, because I would be the one who didn't get kicked out. Still, I wasn't sure I could watch knowing what would go on behind closed doors with them afterward.
My body stiffened as they reached the Saint Andrews Cross, and Chet assumed his dominant stance with his legs shoulder-width apart, and his hands held loosely behind his back. From a distance, it looked more like a position that a sub would take, but I knew it was parade rest from his time in the military, a position that he was comfortable in. Talia dropped the bag that she had been carrying at his feet and then took several steps away before turning toward him. Her eyes were trained on his face while she began pulling her shirt over her head. My breath caught in my throat as I watched her disrobe. For as beautiful as she was though, I was too nervous to be aroused.
She stripped down to her bra and underwear, her mouth responding with adorable little 'Yes. Master's after every command. I couldn't hear her say it through all the people talking, but I knew the words well enough to read them on her lips.
When he started strapping her in with her back facing the crowd, the party participants began to take notice. A few women gathered around to watch, perhaps anticipating that they were about to see something very real. Out of all the men at the play party, Chet was one of the few who looked like an actual Dom. His leathers were pristine, high quality, and perfectly stitched. I looked like a noob by comparison. You didn't come to show off.
I tried to focus on Talia as the seconds ticked by like hours. Looking at her back silently enraged me. Chet had definitely been there. His signature was in the bruises and small cuts. The pain would likely be excruciating if he focused on the same area, and I was sure that he would. He was a sadist like that.
Once Talia was sufficiently strapped in, Chet walked back over to the bag on the floor to rummage through it. My heart beat fiercely with anticipation as I waited to see his apparatus of torture. What he pulled out of the bag made my breath hitch, and my body stiffen. This definitely wasn't going to be good.
Instead of starting with something low sensation, like a soft leather flogger, he had gone straight for one made of chain, a high-intensity toy meant for only the most experienced players, a toy that could cause a debilitating amount of damage in the wrong hands—and his were definitely the wrong hands. This was not an exhibition of dominance; this was going to be a display of pain at one of its highest degrees. My muscles twitched as the protective instinct raced through me to stop
this before it even began, to keep the first strike from ever falling.
I exhaled heavily as Chet took his position next to Talia and drew the toy back. It was going to take everything in me to watch, to sit there and do nothing. Already, my eyes were searching for the dungeon monitors, hoping that one had taken notice of what was about to go down. Surely, this would not be allowed. No one was looking though. No one but me and the curious women who were quickly gathering, giving the flogger a queer look, likely having never seen one made of chain before.
The first strike across Talia's back elicited a shrill cry, and I felt my chest tighten as her body heaved for breath from the shock. Many of the women standing around jumped, their expressions disturbed. Chet glanced back, zeroing in on me. He pointed the flogger at me and mouthed something I couldn't make it out, probably some bullshit about this being how a real Dom does things. Then he struck her again.
I tried to look unaffected, but panic was racing through me, and my stress levels were rising by the second. The dungeon monitors weren't paying attention to the play area, probably because they didn't expect anything intense to be going on there. By the time I returned my focus to Chet and Talia, another group of women had walked into the gap of people I had been looking through, obscuring my view. With all the noise from people chatting, I could barely hear Talia crying out over the crowd or the sound of chain crunching against chain with each slap of the flogger against her back. I doubted that the dungeon monitors were as tuned into it as I was.
I thought about going to get one of them and draw their attention to the scene, but I honestly wasn't sure how they would react, and if they did nothing, then I would just look like some pansy that couldn't take a scene. None of the women were reporting it, so why should it bother me? Because I really knew what was going on, and they didn't. That's why. These people had no idea how much a toy like that could hurt, and how much I was certain it hurt when wielded by Chet. With each strike, Talia's cries contorted, moving further from tolerance into unbearable pain. It was something an untrained ear wouldn't catch, but I could hear it, and it clawed at my heart, pulled at my muscles, tugged at my conscience until I couldn't sit still any longer.
I took to my feet, leaving my trash on the table as I made a beeline to the play area. Some of the women who had been watching were beginning to walk away, whispering among themselves with disgusted looks on their faces. This was surely something they hadn't expected to see, the cold cruel side of the lifestyle when someone used it specifically to live out their sadistic side. This is what it was like to see a fake Dom in action.
The closer I got, the louder Talia's voice became, the more intense the sound of the chains slamming against her back. It made a sickening thud accompanied by a clanging. When she finally came into view, it felt like the wind was violently pulled out of my sails. Her body was limp, leaning against the cross in defeat, her back heaving softly from muted sobs. Chet stood behind her, uncaring, a sick grin twisting his lips. He was barely giving pause between strikes now, hitting her repeatedly. Already, her skin was turning a pale shade of purple where the lashes fell. Bile rose up in my throat as I took a deep breath and pushed my way through the crowd, grabbing his wrist as he drew the flogger back to hit her again.
“That's enough!” I said.
Chet spun on his heels, and it only took a moment of recognition for his expression to shift from pleased to angry.
“Let me go, you little cunt,” he yelled, pulling out of my grasp.
It was too late to avoid a fight. I could see what his next move was, and I braced myself, falling into a defensive position. The flogger fell from his hand like an afterthought, and his fist came rushing toward my face. I caught it in my palm, pulling him forward as I slammed my knee into his gut. While he had a slight advantage in size, I made up for it with speed. He choked for half a second before trying to right himself, and I took the advantage, grabbing a fistful of his thin blonde hair and holding him while I drove an uppercut straight into his face. Blood rained down on my fist as I felt his nose crunch from the weight of the blow. I was winding back for a second uppercut when strong arms grabbed me from behind, pulling me away from Chet. That's when he struck, like a coward who needed me restrained. He landed a jab across my cheek before another dungeon monitor got a hold of him. My mouth filled with blood. Damn, that son of a bitch could hit hard. If it wasn't for the fucking dungeon monitors pulling us apart, I probably would have never had to feel it. Worthless pieces of shit. Only coming in at the last fucking minute.
Chet glared daggers at me as he struggled to get at me again. His face was an ugly red mess of flushed skin and a blood trail leading from his nose. Some of the blood was dripping off his chin, but most of it had ringed his mouth. He was screaming all sorts of obscenities too, but I could barely make them out.
It took several seconds before we both cooled down enough to be released. I shrugged out of the dungeon monitor's grasp, immediately focusing my attention on Talia, who hadn't even bothered to turn around and see what was going on. Poor thing. There was a third dungeon monitor unfastening her fetters.
“You have to leave,” the dungeon monitor who had restrained me was saying, but I wasn't listening.
I went to Talia's side, and my heart ached at the broken exhausted look in her eyes.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
She nodded weakly, glancing at me, and then past me to Chet. There was no question in my mind what she was thinking. If Chet didn't blame her for this, he would at least take it out on her.
“You rode here with Chet, right?” I tried to turn her attention back to me.
She nodded again, but still didn't look at me.
“Let me take you home.”
All it took was Chet hearing my words to go ballistic again. He lurched at my backside, but the dungeon monitors had been watching us closely, and one was able to take hold of him before he could get a good punch in, though he still managed to land a weak blow to my shoulder blade. While I was pissed, I knew better than to retaliate. If the dungeon monitors hadn't called the police yet, they were probably on the verge of it, and the last thing I needed was for my already shitty night to end in the back of a cop car.
“Don't you fucking touch her,” Chet screamed at me before looking at Talia. “If you even think of going home with him, it's fucking over. Do you hear me?”
“Calm down,” the dungeon monitor that held Chet was saying in his ear, but the words weren't having any effect.
“If you go with him, you're just going to get it ten times worse,” I reminded her.
“I don't care where you guys go as long as you leave here,” one of the dungeon monitors said, nodding towards the door in indication that we needed to get moving.
“Are you going with him or me?” I asked desperately, feeling like I was fighting a losing battle. These women were trained to love abuse. Not so much love it, but tolerate it. She was just like my mother. There was no getting to her.
Talia lowered her eyes and bit her bottom lip as if she actually had to think about her answer. Then she surprised us all by softly saying, “I'll go with you.”
Relief and disbelief flooded through me. Half the battle was won, the other half was leaving the premises without another fight.
“Excuse me.” I stepped up to one of the dungeon monitors. “If it would be alright, I'd like to hang back for a few minutes, just long enough to make sure he's left the parking lot. Otherwise, this is going to just escalate once we get outside. I promise me won't cause any trouble.”
The dungeon monitor knitted his brows in frustration, looking at us like we were pests. There was reasoning behind his hazel eyes though, and he was smart enough to tell that Chet had no intention of letting this go.
“That's fine,” he said finally. “Gomez, escort that one out, make sure he gets in his car and leaves, then come back in and let me know so that these guys can go.”
The man who was still holding onto Chet nodded, pulling hi
m towards the door until Chet surrendered with an angsty huff, grabbed the chain flogger and his bag of toys, and followed the man out. To be honest, I was surprised that he didn't try to attack me again. I held my breath until they were halfway through the building. The tension in the air began to dissipate the farther away he got, but I knew it wouldn't completely disappear until we were safely in my truck.
“Are you alright?” I asked Talia while we waited.
In the time that I had spent staring at Chet, she had already gotten dressed. Standing there before me, she looked small and insecure, a broken thing barely holding its pieces together. While I wasn't happy about what Chet had done to her, I was glad that she had been pushed to the point of leaving him. All I could hope for now was that she wouldn't eventually go crawling back.
CHAPTER THREE
Pain. It's all I felt, all I could think about, like a monster consuming every part of me, my body and soul. It blazed through me, lashing across my back to bruise, but it went deeper than that. I was in a room full of people, but I was all alone. The world around me didn't care. They couldn't see. This was all just a show to them, but it was very real to me—the humiliation and the pain.
Chet had flogged me before, but never like this. It was because he was there, the man whom Chet hated so much. Micah Payton. The guy looked like an angel, but the second I laid eyes on him, I knew he would draw the devil out.
Please, don't see him, I silently begged when I first noticed Micah sitting in the dining area. He was oblivious to our presence. It would have been easy enough to go about our business and pretend like he wasn't even there—to have a good time.
Chet's hatred burned brighter than the sun though, and once he felt slighted by someone, he never let it go. He charged straight at Micah's table like a bull in a china shop, pushing past people without a second thought. His vision was laser targeted. Everything else in the room disappeared to him from that point on. All that mattered was getting under this guy's skin.
