by Zoey Marcel
Finally someone picked up and a male voice answered on the other end. “Hello?”
Her heart rate accelerated and her hands shook at the thought of hearing her daughter’s voice for the first time. “Is this Alf Garvin?”
He hiccupped and then groaned. “Not so loud. I have a hangover. Yeah, this is Alf. Who is this?”
A hangover? Was poor Katelyn there?
“This is Melanie Laurie, Katelyn’s mother.”
He was quiet for a moment, either from shock or a forgetful stupor. “Oh yeah, I remember now. It’s been a few years. Why are you calling me?”
A few years? Try over a decade.
“I’m calling because I want to speak with my daughter. That was part of our agreement if you recall.” Mellie told herself to remain calm so he didn’t hang up on her. All she really wanted to do was explode and unload a few swear words on him for breaking their promise to let her have visitation rights with her daughter.
“I don’t have her. If I did I’d let you have her, though. You probably should have just kept her in the first place. I had no idea it would turn out like this.”
She went speechless and felt a cold tingle creeping like a millipede up her spine. Her scalp got a cold, prickly sensation and she felt as chilled with horror as she was numb with disbelief. “What?”
“My wife and I split years ago.”
It was sad to think of Katelyn being raised without a dad, but single moms were tough cookies, and Mellie knew her daughter might still be okay. The chilly cloud shrouding her body and spirit didn’t diminish any.
“Denise has Katelyn?”
Alf hesitated. “Well, not exactly.”
A vicious wall of terror slammed into her. The emotional turmoil crumbled into sharp fragments of anger. “Where is my daughter?”
“Denise had some kind of identity crisis and wanted to find herself. She didn’t enjoy motherhood like she thought she would. Apparently she prefers screwing around and getting high. I divorced the cunt.”
It was probably for the best, but god only knew where Katelyn had ended up.
“Where the hell is my daughter?” Mellie shrieked into the phone.
Emmett and Hunter burst into the room, looking worried about her.
“Damn it, bitch! Not so loud,” Alf grumbled. “I handed her over to the state. I figured she’d be better off with them than being raised by a cynical single dad.”
Tears streamed down her face and she put a hand over her mouth. Her baby was gone and she couldn’t protect her, couldn’t comfort her.
Emmett grabbed the phone from her and barked into it. “What did you say, asshole?”
Hunter pulled Mellie into his arms and rocked her. “What is it, angel?”
“Katelyn’s gone,” she said in between sobs. “He handed her over to the state. I don’t where she is or who has her. What if she’s scared or unhappy?”
“Shh.” He squeezed her tight and breathed in her hair. “We’ll find her.”
* * * *
Mellie lay quietly on the bed in one of the private rooms at Leather & Lace while Diego set up. He’d had her wear a becoming light blue bra and panty set with thigh-highs in the same soft shade of blue and matching heels that sparkled a little in the light.
Diego’s black T-shirt and black leather pants showed off his body in the most appetizing of ways. He generally wore his regular clothes whenever he did a scene with her. This time he wore leather and it made her hot as fuck.
She felt relaxed with him now and trusted him completely despite the fact that he had her on her back with each wrist handcuffed to leather cuffs secured to her ankles. He did enjoy his bondage.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.” She knew he meant in regards to her daughter. It weighed heavily on her mind, but she agreed with his suggestion to utilize the club as a means of distraction while they searched and figured out where Katelyn was.
When Diego was finished with what he was doing, he lay on the bed with her on his side and gazed down at her. “You remember I told you what I would require of you, little submissive?”
Mellie swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
“I want you to tell me about your history with your ex.”
“Danny had his good moments, but he neglected me a lot because he was into drugs. I stayed with him to try to help cure him. I eventually broke up with him and then he overdosed and went into that coma.”
Diego gave her a firm, knowing look. “I know. I want you to tell me about your first boyfriend.”
Her eyes drifted from his and sorrow tugged on something soft and compassionate in her. “I couldn’t save him. I wanted to so bad. I tried. I really tried.”
“Save him from what?”
“Himself. People said he had schizophrenia and that those things never happened to him. I was the only one who believed that he was telling the truth about his past. I gave him peace. He told me I did.” A cloud of regret moved in, overshadowing the hope of changing him that she’d once clung to.
“I want to know everything, Melanie.”
She drew in a deep breath. “He was so tormented. I gave him my virginity partly to get pregnant for that couple, but mostly because I thought he could find healing in sex. It seemed to help. We went out for over a year and a half. When we weren’t having sex he was really good to me. He called me his little David because I gave him peace from his inner turmoil. He nicknamed me L.D. for short.”
Diego looked at her curiously.
“His name was Saul. You know how David played the harp for the Saul in the bible to bring him peace? That’s why. He was a good boyfriend when we were just spending time together, but whenever we had sex…” She shivered, not wanting to go there.
“Tell me.”
“He was really rough.”
Diego’s voice gentled as he played with her hair to calm her. “Did he rape you?”
“No. I always gave him whatever he wanted because I wanted him to have catharsis and heal. I think he was a sadist. His brand of S&M scared me. When we were in bed he was never gentle or sweet. He didn’t call me by name or any pet names. It was always Mel. The things he said frightened me.”
Diego brushed her cheek and lightly directed her attention to him. “Tell me what he said.”
“I think he was role-playing with me. Sometimes it sounded like he was pretending I was him and that he was whoever hurt him in the past. Other times it seemed as if he acted like he was executing vengeance on someone. He would say things like, ‘how does it feel to be the weak one’ and ‘now you’re going to pay for what you did.’”
Diego unlocked the cuffs and then pulled her into his arms. Mellie clung to him and wept silently.
“I felt so bad for him. No one believed him but me. I tried to heal him, but he seemed to get worse. He was so great outside of that, like I really did give him peace, but then in the bedroom he looked like he wanted to hurt me or whoever he pretended I was. I never even came with him. I told him up front that I just wanted to heal him and have a baby for that couple. He agreed to it. Later he started talking about keeping the baby.”
“He wanted to get serious with you?”
“Maybe. One night…” She shuddered. “One night I woke up and he was standing over me watching me sleep. He told me that the voices said our baby was in danger. I told him it was fine, but he said we needed to get an abortion so no one ever harmed our baby or made it go through what he went through.”
Diego rubbed her back while she cried softly onto his shoulder.
“I tried to tell him it would be fine and that we’d protect it. He pulled a knife out and some liquor. He said he was going to protect our baby and then sew me back up so everything would be fine.” She sobbed harder. “I was so scared. I tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let me. I had to pretend I would go along with it, but I told him he’d have to get something to tie me down so I didn’t get seriously injured while he worked. He fell for it
and while he looked for binds I fled. When the police came, Saul was gone. I moved. He killed someone shortly afterward and then went into hiding before the law caught him and locked him up in an institution.”
“That was the last you saw of him?”
“No. It always bothered me that I couldn’t save him. After I had the baby and gave her to that couple, I started going out with Danny, thinking it would fill the void my daughter left in me. We went out for years. I visited Saul a few times in the asylum. Danny didn’t like that. Saul seemed normal and nice to me like he used to be. One day when I was visiting him he attacked me. It was when he found out that I’d been going out with Danny. He must have told him. Saul wanted to have anal sex. It made him angry that I didn’t hear voices like he did. He said I needed to be scarred like him so I could understand him. Some of the staff stopped him before he did anything. I never went back.”
“Thank you for opening up to me, dolce.”
She hugged him back, feeling comforted in his strong embrace. “I shouldn’t have stayed with him for so long. He made me feel guilty for having a baby for someone else and promising to give it away. I visited Saul because I didn’t want him to be alone in the world. I wanted him to know that someone believed in him and would always be there for him. I just really thought I could heal him.”
“The way you tried with your other ex?”
She nodded.
“Did you love either of them?”
“No. I never loved anyone until the O’Neils…and you,” she added timidly.
Diego smiled down at her, dark eyes filled with affection. “I love you back, Melanie. You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met.”
Tears blurred her vision again. Diego loved her. The words made her feel whole. “Thank you.”
They held each other for a while in a peaceful state of reflection.
“Have you given any thought to how far you are willing to delve into BDSM with me?” he asked.
Her pulse picked up and her fingers curled against his shirt. “I don’t want to have anything less than what the others had with you. It would forever haunt me if I knew that two other women in your past had your complete domination and I was just your bedroom submissive.”
Satisfaction pulled the corners of his mouth back into a sexy smile. “You want a twenty-four-seven Master/slave relationship with me?”
“I would like to try it, Sir, but I can’t guarantee that I’ll be any good at it or that we won’t decide it’s not for us.”
“I think we will find it perfectly satisfactory between us, but you’re right. We should give it a trial run first. Consider your decision carefully, Melanie. It’s a serious, long-term commitment. I will be completely in command even outside of our scenes. You will be required to submit to me in all things. I would respect your safe word, though, as I do now.”
She smiled. “I’ve never had to use it, Sir.”
“Master,” he corrected her.
The word made her warm and tingly. “Master.”
“Well?”
“It sounds hot.”
He chuckled. “It does. You don’t have to call me that until we discuss our relationship more. I confess I was hoping that you would eventually come to want a power exchange relationship.”
“Does Greyson?”
Diego sighed. “He is complex and confused. He doesn’t admit to his true feelings for someone very easily.”
She frowned. “Then how will I ever know if he cares about me?”
His eyes glazed into another dimension. “When the dominance and submission between the two of you blends so seamlessly in and out of the bedroom that you can’t even tell whether you’re his sub or his slave, when he treats you as his equal and you put the light back in his eyes, then you’ll know he loves you.”
“So basically never?”
Diego smiled. “So negative. Give yourself some credit. Now rise. I’m going to flog you.”
She laughed. “Just like that, huh?”
He slapped her lace-covered ass cheek when she stood. “Aren’t you forgetting something, little submissive?”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“That’s better. Press yourself against the wall. I won’t bind you this time. I want you to be still of your own volition while I flog you.”
“Yes, Sir. It will be difficult I imagine.”
A smile hovered over his voice. “I do not doubt it. What do you think of the flogger I bought for you?”
Mellie admired the flogger with fake red roses made of leather that were attached to the tails. The braided strands had tiny silver metal chunks here and there to represent thorns. “I love it, Sir. It’s very romantic.”
“It is,” he agreed. “It will hurt.”
“I’m ready, Sir.”
“Are you?” He arched a skeptical brow.
She quickly turned and plastered herself up against the wall for him like he’d ordered her to. The surface felt cool and refreshing against her bare skin. He unhooked her bra in the back and the straps slid down her arms, but because of how they were positioned, the garment stayed on.
“I thought you would try to take the bra off rather than leave it hanging on you as I left it,” he marveled. “You’re a good submissive, Melanie.”
Her heart swelled with tenderness and pride in being his when he moved her hair around to the front of her and kissed her neck. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Spread your legs apart.”
She obeyed, feeling a steady rush of moisture seep into her folds when he eased the blue lace down her meaty thighs. He left the panties clinging to her legs and lightly tapped her exposed rump with the chunky roses.
“Are you ready, my dolce?”
“I’m ready, Sir.”
Sir slapped her bottom with his hand instead of the flogger. He spanked her a few times, using the flat of his hand to deliver the stinging smacks and then employing the flogger in a light brush over her warmed up skin. The harsh slaps from his hand and the gentle glide of the flogger were the stark opposite of what she’d expected. The flogger was the intended tool of discipline and his touch was supposed to comfort her. In his skill he reversed them, somehow made her want him to use the flogger on her to chase away the sharp stings his hand provoked.
When her rear end glowed with warmth and felt sensitized, there was a pause that spelled trouble—sweet, delightful trouble for her derriere. Just as she’d suspected, the deceptively sweet use of the flogger faded into something swift and thuddy. He’d used a regular flogger on her before and that had stung upon contact. This flogger had big red leather roses on the end of the tails. There was still a bit of a sting, but the out of place thud was the most prominent sensation.
Heat and pain engulfed her as Sir flogged her upper back, rump, and the backs of her thighs, taking care to avoid her spine, joints, and kidneys. He’d never struck the back of her legs before. That was new and even more painful than she’d anticipated.
Still, she craved it. The unruly fire that burned on her skin whenever the thorny flower flogger retreated, the shocking thud that caused intense pain and an overwhelming sense of submission as she made herself endure it for him. He flogged her longer than he had before. After a series of brutal strikes, he stopped and smoothed his consoling palm over her inflamed skin to lessen the pain he caused.
“You’re doing so well,” he murmured against her flesh.
She answered him with a feeble moan of gratitude and melted into the steamy trail of hot kisses he bestowed all over her neck.
“I will let you experience headspace this time, but it will require more pain and touching before you get there.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
More pain sounded dreadful and oddly welcome at once.
The roses pelted her all over like angry little bitches with a vendetta against her. She didn’t seek to get even with the pissy little flowers. She simply took what they gave her and accepted it because Sir wanted her to.
In the past he�
�d used bondage to hold her in place. Here in this moment he used his word, his will. Nothing held her here save his desire, hers. She wanted this as much as he did, needed to please him.
“The thorns now,” he informed her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His calming touch and the flogging had her pussy soaked.
“It will hurt. Your skin will be scratched where the thorns touch it, possibly even cut. Do you want to be marked by me, Melanie, even more than you already are now?”
Mellie let out a strangled sound that stuck in her throat. Her legs shook and her palms sweated. “Yes, Sir. Please, do what you want to me.”
He let out a deep, guttural groan and then used the sharp part of the flogger to have his way with her. The silver thorns came down on her hard, though lighter than the slap-happy roses had. The metal dug at her flesh, scratching it upon contact. The pain shocked her. The part where each subsequent blow felt harsher and somehow more bearable at the same time fascinated her.
His touch made her tenderized skin rejoice. When his hand reached down between her legs to cup her swollen mons, she choked on a breathless outcry. His searing palm felt so good against her private flesh she thought she might pass out.
“You are drenched with lust for me. Such a good, dirty submissive.”
She mewled softly, hoping he’d get her off. Alas, his hand moved and the flogger was reinstated. After a while she stopped apprehending the coming flogs and felt like she was floating out of her body, flying high.
“You were unsure before whether or not you were a masochist. You are not,” he informed her.
Despite her sexual buzz she managed to respond to his comment. “I’m not?”
“No. You are truly submissive to the point of power exchange. I’m certain of it.”
The words thrilled her. “How can you tell I’m a slave and not a masochist?”
“Your pain tolerance is decent and you enjoy some pain for sexual pleasure, but when I’m using pain on you you’re not thinking about how much you like the way it hurts, are you?”
“No, Sir.”
He sounded like he expected her to answer that way. “What are you thinking about?”
