Nobody's Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  Get a grip, man. Savi wasn't here to experience sadomasochism tonight. More than likely, she just wanted to satisfy her curiosity about the lifestyle he'd told her about—see how it differed from what she'd experienced in the past.

  Dios, he'd missed them. Damián had been floundering like a ship bobbing in a hurricane since Savi and Marisol moved out last week. He couldn't believe how quickly they'd become his rudder. He'd barely been able to sleep, even though he'd finally returned to his own bed for the first time in months. The scent of Savi's hair on his pillow kept him awake—and hard—every night.

  "Here you go."

  He placed the tall "Sex on the Beach" in front of her. Figuring out why this drink was the first thing that popped into his head wasn't hard. But he was, just remembering that time with Savi.

  Her eyes grew large when she looked at the drink. "That's huge! I'm not much of a drinker."

  "You asked for fruity. I told Grant to go easy on the vodka. No worries."

  Savi picked up the curvy-shaped glass and took a sip. "Mmmm. That is good. What is it?"

  Damián squirmed a minute trying to figure out how to answer without showing her where his mind was. "Peach Schnapps, O.J., cranberry juice, and a little vodka."

  She took another draw. "If she'd gone heavier on the vodka, these could be dangerous. Tastes too good."

  "You don't have to worry about getting drunk. We limit people to one or two drinks for the most part—someone with your tiny frame only gets one. Just enough to be social. Drinking and BDSM don't mix."

  Savi's gaze became fixated on some of the implements hanging on the wall. Most were just for show; Dominants all had their own toy bags filled with their favorite playthings. Judging by the queasy look on her face, though, Savi expected someone to grab something off the wall and beat her with it at any moment. He needed to focus her mind on safer ground.

  "What did Marisol do in school today?"

  Fuck. Here he was sitting in the club with Savi and all he could think to talk about was Marisol's school day. But, as he listened to her response about school, he realized how much he'd missed hearing about his daughter's escapades. Dios, he'd missed them both so much.

  When Dad had come over this afternoon to talk with him, Damián was more anxious to hear about Marisol's playing in the snow. News of his daughter's happy, relatively normal day helped calm Damián's nerves and lift him out of the downer he usually felt after a post-traumatic stress episode. Still, he wished he wanted to be the one playing with her in the snow.

  Damián realized Savi had stopped talking. He took a long swig of his beer. More silence ensued. Why was he so fucking nervous around her? He felt like a teenager on a date. Only he didn't know of any teens who took their dates to a kink club.

  "So, what do you think of the place so far?"

  Savi looked around again. Damián was glad that the only members present, so far, were dressed casually, probably having stopped by right after work. Some would venture to the theme rooms or dungeon later. Adam had announced earlier and posted signs on the door leading upstairs and to the kitchen that the bedrooms were off-limits while his granddaughter was here. Damián grinned. The man would become a grandfather and a father in the same year. He seemed to be embracing both new roles.

  But Damián appreciated his doing that, and he knew it helped put some of Savi's worries to rest, too. He and Karla continued to look for a place to move to before the baby arrived, but hadn't found anything yet. The baby probably would be here in four months.

  "Other than the…décor," again her gaze went to the whips and chains on the wall, "it's not much different than a bar. Maybe even a little quieter, nicer."

  Her compliment made him smile. He wasn't sure what people expected in clubs like this—and maybe there were some that were a lot wilder. "Most of the people who come in here just want to get away from the rat race and hang out with people who share a common interest."

  "Whips and chains?"

  He grinned. "Some do. But those are just play implements. That's not what this is about."

  She leaned forward. "Tell me what you get out of all this, Damián. You seemed very…turned off by those sadists back at the hotel all those years ago."

  His mind returned in a flash to that penthouse in the hotel where he worked as a bus-boy. When he'd found Savannah in that bed, bound, splayed open, he'd wanted to string those men up by their balls. In retrospect, he'd probably inflicted much worse pain on women since then—but the difference was they'd always consented. Most of the bottoms he worked with needed that level of pain in order to reconnect and feel something, or to get past some emotional block.

  Nineteen-year-old Savannah had been begging the two men to stop, had probably screamed her safeword, and they'd ignored her. When he's entered the room, they were using a violet wand. From what he'd learned about wands later at the club, the mushroom head they'd been using on her shouldn't have caused such an extreme pain response from her. A red demon's tongue or smaller head would have been much more intense. Yet, she'd been terrified of it.

  Damián had no idea what they'd done to elicit that much fear in her. Maybe it was an accumulation of things. They'd beaten the soles of her feet bastinado style until she could barely walk on them. The insides of her thighs had been bloodied with a quirt.

  Damián remembered how he'd panicked at first, wanting to get her out of the fucking ropes, but not having a knife handy to cut her loose. When he'd finally freed her, she'd escaped across the bed, terrified of him, as well. And then she'd fallen into an exhausted sleep, mentally escaping from it all. He'd watched over her, careful not to touch or disturb her. Damián had been nineteen, too. He'd had no fucking clue what to do with her, just knew he couldn't leave her there alone, even if it did cost him his job. What if one of those bastards had come back to hurt her again?

  "What they were doing to you in that penthouse wasn't consensual, Savi. Your handler coerced you into that scene. Those men were torturing you. When I heard you screaming—and I knew it wasn't because you liked it either—and saw what they'd done to you, I had to interfere."

  "How did you go from that sensitive, gentle man to owning a club where people beat on each other like this?"

  Damián took another draw on the bottle, as he formulated his response. How much did he want to reveal about where he'd come from to get here? He took a deep breath and released it. "When I left the Marines, I was fucked up. Being in this scene has helped me regain some control over my life."

  The puzzled look on her face told him she didn't understand at all, but he found himself wanting to assure her she didn't need to be afraid of him ever hurting her.

  "Savi, we talked a while ago about monitors and how they keep things SSC in here—safe, sane, and consensual."

  She nodded and sat back. "Dungeon Monitors?"

  Damián nodded. He wondered where she'd heard the full term. Had she been reading up on BDSM? Maybe Dad explained the safety measures in place to get her in here. "Marc was on duty as a Dungeon Monitor last August when he rescued Angelina from an abusive Dom in one of the rooms here."

  Anger flashed in her eyes. "Was she badly hurt?"

  "Bad enough. We didn't expect her to come back to the club, but Marc found her eventually and showed her how a real Dom treats his sub."

  "Too bad it didn't work out for them. She seemed to adore him."

  She still did, according to Karla, who'd kept in touch with her after she'd gone back to her house in Aspen Corners. Sounded like she was going through a really rough time since she'd left. So was Marc. Damián knew how it felt to be separated from Savi for just a few days. He didn't know what he'd do when she and Marisol left Denver, but he knew she wanted to get back to her life in California, once the threat of her father and his partner had been eliminated.

  Remembering the point he'd wanted to make about Angelina, he leaned across the table, but Savi retreated against the back of her chair. Stop flitting away from me, Savita. "There are some so-ca
lled Doms who take the gift of submission they're entrusted with and go far beyond a sub's limits or endurance, with no care for their sub's needs. They may call it BDSM, but that's nothing but abuse. Selfishness."

  Savi nodded, her expression wary. With all this talk of abusive, out-of-control Doms, he'd scared her more than put her mind at ease. Damn. Why was this shit so hard to talk about with her? Why couldn't she understand they might be freaks, but they weren't abusers?

  Of course, Savi's past abuse and trauma was the polar opposite of what went on at the Masters at Arms Club. Give her time, Orlando. She just needs time. He drained his beer and set the bottle down. "Can I freshen your drink?"

  She reached for her glass of now watered-down vodka-flavored juice. "No. I'm going to make this last me most of the night, then I'll switch to soda."

  Damián had a two-beer limit on nights he was scening, but even tonight, he planned to stick to that limit.

  "Damo, sorry to interrupt, but Patti needs you. It's bad."

  Fuck. Not tonight. He looked up at Victor, then over at Patti, kneeling on the floor beside the table where he'd seen Victor sitting earlier. He'd thought she seemed a bit withdrawn tonight, but Damián had been so focused on Savi, he really hadn't paid her much attention. From the look of her, this wouldn't be an easy session.

  Fucking-A.

  Patti was terrified of the dungeon because some of her abuse had taken place in a cellar. Most times, he did their scenes right here in the great room.

  No way was Savi ready to see this.

  He needed to get her out of here.

  Now.

  * * *

  Savi sensed something was wrong when the tall, bald African American, who reminded her of Mr. Clean, came over to their table and spoke to him. She followed Damián's gaze to a petite blonde kneeling beside a table across the room with a catatonic stare in her eyes.

  What was wrong with her? And what was Damián supposed to do about it? She looked like she needed to talk with someone. Not a mechanic, but a professional therapist, like herself. Maybe she should offer to help.

  "Something happened while I was at work today, Damo. Some trigger on the TV, I think, but she won't even talk to me. We had a session at home tonight and I thought she was better, but I went ahead and brought her here in case someone could help. I've never been so glad to see you, man. I know you can help her."

  The man looked at Savi, who suddenly wished she wasn't here. Still, Savi's heart went out to the woman kneeling across the room. "Would you like me to talk with her? I'm a therapist." Well, I was anyway, once upon a time.

  The man stared at her as if she'd grown a second head, then turned to Damián with a silent question in his eyes.

  "Sorry, Victor. She's not in the scene. Just a guest tonight."

  Now she felt unwanted, by both of them. Apparently, she'd broken some protocol. Oh, yeah. Wasn't there something in the contract about subs not speaking to Doms unless spoken to? How was she supposed to remember all these archaic, sexist rules? Of course, there were female Dominants here, too. But, as with most places, it was primarily a man's world within these walls and this community.

  "If you'll excuse me—" She would have gotten up and left, but the man named Victor turned to her.

  "Sit. Down." He spoke as if commanding a dog, and she planted her butt back in the chair. Satisfied, he turned to Damián and continued.

  "I know you're here with someone. Patti told me not to bother you because of your lady friend, but she needs you bad. You know me. I can't get her to that level."

  Level of what? Curiosity, despite the feeling she wasn't wanted here anymore, won out. Savi chose to remain.

  Damián looked at her, emotions warring on his face, then turned back to Victor. "I don't think I can tonight, Victor."

  He was refusing to help because of her, so she leaned forward. "Help her, Damián. I'll wait here."

  Karla began her opening set on the stage, an edgy tune that distracted Savi for a moment. She'd been so involved in the drama at her table, she hadn't even noticed Karla had come downstairs. Savi had been unsure about Grant's ability to relate to kids at Christmas. The woman barely said two words to Mari. Over the months since, though, Savi had gotten to know her a little better. She and Damián had a strong friendship and had been to the apartment at least once a week.

  Grant had even bought Mari her first GI Joe. The woman was quiet and intense, but after seeing her teaching self-defense skills to Mari using Barbie and GI Joe as models, Savi believed the woman would be a good influence on her daughter. She'd also protect Mari as well as anyone in their surveillance team. Heaven help any man who tried to overpower Grant.

  Still, old habits die hard. Savi would go up later to check on them, but couldn't leave now. She needed to know what Damián was going to do for this woman. With this woman.

  When she turned to look back at Damián, his attention was on Adam, who stood near the stage looking like a bouncer, arms folded. As if tugged by an invisible string, Adam tore his gaze from Karla and turned toward Damián who made several hand gestures toward Adam. What had he just conveyed? Whatever it was, it looked like he wanted her to take a hike. When he realized she'd seen him, he looked a little sheepish at being so rude, but didn't seem to want to back down. He wanted her out of here.

  Adam started toward their table, but didn't even speak to Damián. "Savi, join me over at the stage. Karla wants you to be front and center during her show tonight."

  It wasn't an invitation, but a command. Karla didn't seem the type who would demand such attention, but Savi didn't know how to refuse the man politely. She looked at Damián to see if somehow that's what he'd signaled to Adam, but he was glaring at the older man. Without waiting for a response from her, Adam pulled her chair out with her still in it, as if she were nothing more than a stuffed animal at one of Mari's Teddy-bear picnics.

  He picked up her glass, still more than half full, but in which the ice had melted.

  "How about a refill? What were you drinking?"

  Savi wasn't sure and looked at Damián for the answer. He didn't make eye contact with her, but said to Adam in a voice she could barely hear, "Sex on the Beach."

  Savi's face grew warm. The rat. Why couldn't he just forget about that day?

  Adam grinned. "One 'Sex on the Beach'—coming up."

  "No, Adam." She reached out and took the glass from him. "Anything diet for me. I know my limit."

  Adam took Savi by the elbow. "Come with me, hon."

  Savi didn't like being told what to do, or treated like a child, but she was a guest here and could easily be asked to leave if she didn't do as the Doms said, especially the owners. It was written in the damned rules she'd agreed to follow. That one she remembered, because it was unbelievable to her that people actually followed such dictates in this day and age. The subjugation of women was alive and well in Damián's kink club.

  While Damián wanted her out of the club, Adam planned to let her stay. Good. If she could manage to remain here, she could see what Damián planned to do with—or to—Patti.

  Adam led Savi to a table next to the stage, but positioned her with her back to the room. Karla made eye contact and winked, and Savi decided not to push the issue, for the moment at least.

  "One diet coming up." He bent down to her ear. "Eyes on Karla. She likes the attention and most folks here are too busy with their scenes and partners to watch the show."

  Savi tuned in to Karla's beautiful voice a moment. Unfortunately, curiosity got the best of her and Savi turned her head to find that Adam wasn't at the bar at all, but back at Damián's table. Damián shook his head vehemently, and she could read the "No way" on his lips, but Adam just squeezed his shoulder in a paternal way and walked over to the bar to retrieve the soda waiting there. Her face flushed again.

  When Damián turned toward her, a frisson of electricity coursed down her spine. Busted. She quickly turned her attention back to the stage, but couldn't focus on Karla. She needed to k
now what was going on. Savi turned again and watched as Damián crossed the room to the woman kneeling on the floor. The blonde didn't look up or acknowledge him in any way. He bent down to her, placing his hand on the back of her head, and said something. The woman nodded without opening her mouth or looking up, and he reached down to take her elbow to help her to her feet. She kept her gaze cast downward, but let him guide her to the center post.

  The woman wore a red halter dress that hugged her curves. Damián reached up, pushed her long hair over her shoulder, and undid the knot at the nape of her neck. He let the top drop to her waist, then took her hand and fastened a cuff to her wrist. Savi couldn't help but notice the scars on Patti's back. Had Damián inflicted those marks?

  Victor came up beside them and did the same with the other wrist, then each fastened one of her ankles to cuffs. All four cuffs then were attached, two at a time, to chains on the post.

  Oh dear lord. He was going to beat her! The acid from Savi's stomach rose in her throat.

  "Where did I tell you your eyes should be?"

  Savi jumped and looked up at Adam, feeling a little guilty at having disobeyed. Wait! She wasn't his sub or slave or whatever it was called. She was just a visitor. A visitor who wanted answers.

  "Tell me what's going on."

  "Is that how you address one of the club's Doms?"

  It was all Savi could do not to scream. "Please tell me what's going on, Sir."

  He smiled. "Acceptable. For a first-time visitor." He set the glass on the table in front of her. "I thought you might be curious." Adam took her chin and turned her head toward Karla again, then sat down beside her.

  "Why doesn't Damián want me here?"

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Adam lift his bottled water to his lips and take a long drink, then placed it on the table. "Because there are some things he doesn't want you to know about him. But I think you need to know, and that you can handle that information."