I open my mouth to protest, but because it’s Ben who’s speaking, my boss, suddenly I’m not so sure. Yeah, I made mistakes, but we’re all here, we’re all alive. No one was injured. That’s the main thing, isn’t it? But if I’d done a good job, why would they all be here? It’s a kink club.
Ben’s watching me carefully, “As an employee of Grade A, normally I’d have explained your transgressions, reprimanded you, decided the consequences and put them in place. You would have agreed or disagreed with my ruling and would have been left satisfied or dissatisfied as a result. But you have been collared by your Dom, and have joined a BDSM club which affords us a different opportunity.”
“And I’m a woman.” I spit out.
“No,” he refutes it adamantly, “You are a sub. If you’d been a man we would have done it the same way.”
“You’re a sub,” Jon repeats, “And you wish to please, not disappoint your Dom.”
I cast a look toward Sean, seeing he’s looking worried as though he’s unsure what I’m going to do. But the very last thing I want to do is to disappoint him. He cares for me, there’s no doubt about that. I breathe in, “You really want me to do this, whatever this is?”
His hands come around my face, and his eyes stare down into mine, “I’d like you to try.”
“I don’t know what I’m agreeing to.” It must be the fear of the unknown that’s bringing tears to my eyes, either that or the realisation that these men, all wearing grave expressions, seem to feel I’ve disappointed them. These men who aren’t just people I work with, they’re men I like, respect and trust to have my back. Suddenly I know whatever they’re asking of me, I’ll do it, from just the desire to get back into their good books again.
Sean stands and positions me, so we’re both sideways on to our audience. “Remember you can safeword out. But what we want, what we, as Doms, need you to do, is to get onto the spanking bench and take one strike from each of us by the implement of our choice. Each of us will explain the way in which you let us down. You’ll apologise, and we’ll move on.” He waits for my tentative nod. Seven spanks that doesn’t sound so bad. “Saying we’ll move on means this will be forgotten. Forgiven. Nothing about this night will ever be mentioned again. You can make your decision and give it to Ben and Jon tomorrow, and whatever you decide, we will all accept it. The decision remains yours, and you’ll have our support in whatever way you wish to go.”
I’m starting to understand what he’s proposing. One spank from each man and they’ll absolve me totally? That seems rather strange, totally different to anything I could have dreamed of, but fair. Again, I nod, this time a little more firmly. They are recognizing decisions about my future are mine, and mine alone. I can do this and the end result will be better than I could have hoped.
“What’s your safeword?”
“Red or yellow.” I read in the Club Tiacapan rules that they use the traffic light system, red for stop, or yellow to take it a bit slower.
“There’ll be no slowing down, Nessa. Red is the only word you can say. To stop everything entirely.”
“And then the decision reverts to us.” Ben’s voice makes me look at him. “Or rather to me. I will decide where you go from here. That’s the alternative you can take.”
A touch on my arm draws my attention back to Sean, “Whatever you decide it doesn’t affect our relationship, Nessa. I meant everything I said earlier today. But if you go ahead with this, it wipes the slate clean, and I’ll never reproach you again for this infraction.”
Understanding he means what he says, I bob my head again, an affirmation of my permission.
“We need the words, Nessa,” he reminds me, “Will you submit to us?”
“Yes, okay.” There’s a quiver in my voice as I hope I know what I’m agreeing to.
“Right.” Sean draws himself to his full height, and his hand drops away. His voice deepens, “We will begin.” He takes a breath as he gets fully into Dom mode, the sound making me glance at him. He doesn’t really want to do this. The reluctance in his expression makes me want to give him strength.
“I’m ready,” I say firmly.
He nods, and a fleeting smile crosses his face, before disappearing once again. “Go to that chest over there and open it. There’s a bag of rice on top, bring it here.”
Rice? What the hell is that for? Are they expecting me to cook for them? But I do as he says, finding the item and handing it to him.
He shakes his head, “No, you hold it.” He rolls his head back, and then his stern eyes find mine, and I’m surprised to see moisture in them. “You went out, unarmed in a foreign country. Not once, but twice Nessa. I know you’re not used to carrying a weapon, but you had one assigned to you and you left it behind. In a country where you know I’d been shot and kidnapped, and where you also know we were expecting terrorists to appear at any time. You left yourself, and me, your partner, exposed. And,” his voice falters, “You exposed yourself to danger. You could have been killed.”
The words, the catch in his voice. The thought of how I had worried him. I can’t dispute any of that. It’s fact.
“Take a handful of rice and put it on the floor.” Bemused I do as he says. “While you follow my instructions, I want you to think about how you put yourself in danger. Then you’ll thank me, and apologise to me.”
I eye the rice on the ground and don’t understand what he wants me to do.
“Now, while we sort ourselves out, kneel. On the rice.”
I shrug, not understanding why, but it seems simple enough. So rather inelegantly I do as he’s told me. Ouch! Christ! Immediately I understand the point of this exercise. Hard bits of rice bite into my knees like slithers of glass, it’s biting into me and I realise it’s hurting me, like the worries I’d caused had wounded him.
As I quickly look up, I find Sean’s watching me, and there’s sympathy on his face, but when he speaks he uses that dark voice again, “Stay there, while we prepare ourselves. If you can’t take it, you know what you have to say. But your safeword will stop everything.” His voice shakes, he doesn’t like seeing me in pain, though he knows this will make me think. If only that I’m never going to do anything that will deserve this again.
Gritting my teeth, I try to breathe through the pain, shifting myself slightly from one knee to the other and then immediately back again. Whoever thought this up was a sadist. Yeah, they probably all are. I can’t help glaring at the men who are taking turns delving into the chest and pulling out various items. And then my glare drops from my face, and my eyes widen as I see what they’re taking out. A crop, a cane. A paddle. Shit! I thought they’d be using their bare hands. This is going to be harder than I thought.
As the grains of rice bite into my skin, I pull back my shoulders. You can take this. Don’t show them you’re weak.
They’re talking and showing each other the implements they’ve chosen, seeming to take no notice of me suffering on the floor. Except for Sean, who hasn’t once taken his eyes off me, he’s watching my every reaction, his breathing shallow as though to mimic mine.
My face is flushed, and I’m sweating. Surely they’ll let me up soon? There’s no clock, but time seems to slow down before eventually Sean comes over and stands in front of me. “You may stand.”
Hastily I do so, brushing away annoying bits of rice that stubbornly stick to the indentations formed in my skin. When I’m grain free, I look at him. He’s waiting for something.
“Thank me, and apologise,” he prompts.
Oh, yes. Gritting my teeth, feeling like I’d rather hit him, I give him the words he’s after. “Thank you, Sean. And I’m sorry I was so careless.” Then I see the look of pride on his face, and I repeat it again, this time with more contrition, “I’m sorry. I was careless.”
If I’d had my gun to hand, maybe I could have prevented the men taking Mollie, and I. But it was in my bag and across the other side of the room when I’d opened the door.
His arms come aro
und me and his chin rests on the top of my head, “Good girl, but remember it’s Master when we’re here. And you’ll address everyone else as Master and then their name.” He nuzzles my hair, then stands back holding me at arms’ length, “Ready to continue?”
Doubting anything can be worse than kneeling on rice while casting suspicious glances at the items my colleagues are holding, I nod, then remember he needs the words, “Yes, Sean… Master.”
Gently he prods me until I move toward the bench. With a hand at my back, he pushes me forward until I’m lying on it, my knees on the supports, my head pushed down low and my butt in the air. He pushes up my skirt exposing my almost bare backside covered inadequately in that barely-there thong. My face reddens in embarrassment as I turn my head to one side.
“Master Ryan?”
Opening my eyes I see Ryan’s holding a paddle; it looks like a table tennis bat from here.
“Van, when Nat and I came to the house you opened the door without checking who we were, and flung the door wide open so we could just walk inside. You didn’t use the security system. It was turned off when we arrived. You and your partner could have been murdered in your beds. The system’s there to keep you alive. Yet you never remembered to use it. We could have been anyone. You put both yourself and Sean at risk. And anyone else you could have been working with.” Ryan’s voice is full of emotion, he really means what he says.
“Try not to tense.” Sean’s soft voice makes me realise my body had gone taut. I relax my muscles and then, wham! Christ, that hurt!
“Nessa?” Again, Sean prompts, his tone commanding, but tinged with concern.
“Oh. I’m sorry. Thank you, Master Ryan, I should have made sure it was you before letting you in.” I hadn’t understood how much importance they set on it. I’d been expecting them to arrive, but now he’s pointed it out, they could have been anyone.
And had been, when Mollie was taken. Could I have prevented that by being more cautious? I should have left on the security and not opened the door until I’d been certain who the men were.
Nat’s got a flogger. I’ve heard good things about how sensual a flogging can be, so this time I don’t need Sean’s instructions to relax. Though I don’t get a good view, it seems small and innocent, with thin strands of leather.
Nat clears his throat, his voice chokes with emotion, “Out in the desert, you’d put your gun in your waistband when you saw the helicopters arrive to rescue you. You relaxed and allowed Danielle to get behind you making it easy for her to take your weapon. I was the one who disarmed Danielle. I put myself at risk to rescue you. Not that I wouldn’t do the same thing again, but I wouldn’t have needed to had you remained in control of the situation. Fuck, Van, I put myself in danger often enough without having to do so in situations where it could have been avoided. I might not have been able to save you, you could have been killed. If you’d been a better operative, you’d have kept your eye on the ball and your gun in your hand.”
Of course, it had all come out in the debriefing, I’d had to answer how Danielle had managed to turn the tables on me. And I’d been wrong about the flogger too, each strand of leather bites where it hits, the pain and humiliation making tears leak from my eyes.
“Thank you, Master Nat. I’m sorry you were put in danger.” A sob escapes, as I recognise he’d had to put his life on the line for me. And he’s right, I could so easily have been killed and others injured as well.
“Van, you’re taking this well. Are you okay to continue?” Jon asks, his tone heavy with concern as he steps toward me carrying a cane.
“Yes,” I confirm on another sob.
“I don’t think you know what you mean to us, Van, to all of us. When you were taken, and I had to direct operations from London, it was killing me not to know whether you were alive or dead. You’re one of our best employees, Van, you’ve been with us a long time. With your disregard for your safety, you caused us all hurt and worry.”
He doesn’t make me wait long before I feel the cane come down across me just when my thighs join my bum, smarting and stinging as it lands, a localised pain rather than the paddle which covered a larger area.
Right now, I’m not sure what is worse, the physical hurt from the blows or the mental one, knowing how much these men care about me and how much I’d let them down. “Thank you, Master Jon,” I remember to say, “And I’m sorry for worrying you.”
A movement catches out of the corner of my eye, wiping my tears away I see Ben. He’s not carrying anything, but his hands are going to his belt. Very, very slowly he unbuckles it and slides it through the belt loops. He doubles it and cracks it in the air, the sound making me jump. I swallow, oh God, that’s going to hurt!
“Vanessa, I’ve got nothing to add to what Jon has said, but let me tell you I was just as concerned as him. You scared the shit out of both of us.”
He flicks the belt. It lands across both cheeks, and a yip escapes from my mouth. But still, I remember. “Thank you, Master Ben. And I’m so so sorry.” Tears are flowing freely now, but not from the pain, from the anguish I caused to these men.
Apart from Sean, there’s only one person left, Hunter. Vaguely I wonder why he was left to last. As he comes toward me, like Ben he’s not holding anything in his hands. He must see the question in my eyes, as he huffs a laugh, “I’m going to use the tools God gave me, pet.” Having seen the size of his instruments of choice and his muscular arms, I doubt it will be any the less painful.
“Van, Nessa,” he corrects himself, borrowing Sean’s pet name for me. “My beef with you isn’t that you let me down any more or differently than the others, but that you’re letting yourself down. You’re the best fucking analyst I know. By denying your strengths, trying to do something you’re not geared up to do, well that’s preventing me getting the support I need when I’m out doing my job. That you can’t see the gift you’ve been given and that you’re intent on being something you're not, that’s what makes me angry.”
The palm of his hand slaps down hard, and I jump. My breath hitches as I try to get out the words through my sobs, “Thank you, Master Hunter. And I’m very sorry.”
As if a flood has been released tears start falling down my face, and now I’m crying in earnest. Sean gathers me up into his arms and carries me over to the bed. I hear the door opening and then closing. The others have left.
Chapter 41
Sean
I hold her close, hugging her to me, telling her over and over again how beautifully she submitted to us, how brave she is and how strong. I know it doesn’t matter much the actual words I’m using, it’s the sound of my voice she needs to hear, to know she has the approval of her Dom. I love her so much, more than I ever imagined I’d love any woman.
The ordeal she’s just been through hurting me almost as much as it did her. When Jon and Ben first suggested it, I railed against the idea, never having enacted the punishment clause before, except when a sub acted out on purpose, and the ensuing flogging or spanking had just been for fun. I haven’t cared enough to punish a sub. But care for Nessa I do, and keeping her safe is my role as her Dom. There’s no doubt she had to come the right decision herself, imposing my view on her would not be a good start to our life together.
I care. So fucking much. My recent past might have shaped me, but that I’ve changed out of all recognition is mostly down to the woman in my arms. Her love and support consolidating everything that I’ve become until at last, I know who and what I am. A look in the mirror no longer shows me a man who is lost, a man who lives only in the moment, looking only for play with no responsibilities. Instead, my reflection is that of a Dom, and a father. A man who wants only to care for the woman and child in his life. That I’ve found myself is a revelation.
No, I didn’t want to punish Nessa tonight, and for a moment didn’t know if I had the strength to go through with it, too frightened I might scare her off from the start. But this way allows the slate to be wiped clean and negates any em
barrassment when meeting her colleagues again.
As I smooth my hand over the hair of the woman lying in my arms I’m pleased with the outcome, her reaction was even more than I expected. She’ll be giving Ben the right answer in the morning; I’m certain of that. And Hunter, fuck, he knew the right thing to say. Rather than concentrating on her failures he’d told her what she did well, and which of her services Grade A can’t do without.
Her sobs are starting to slow, her tears drying up. Placing my hand under her chin, I turn her to face me. As she tries to pull away, I tighten my grip, needing to see what’s hidden in her eyes.
“It’s over. Finished. We move on from here.”
A look of hope flickers on her face, “Do we? Can we?” Her gaze drops down, “I didn’t know how badly I’d cocked up…”
“No need to think about it again, Nessa. Don’t beat yourself up. This,” I wave my hand around the room, “This was the end of everything. You’re the only person who’ll ever bring it up again.”
She shudders, “I’ve got to see Ben tomorrow.” Her hand goes up to her face, and she worries a nail, “I’m going to tell him that I’ll go back to my old job.”
I’d hoped that was what she was going to say, but hearing her state it, I let out a sigh of relief. And I’ve also got Ben’s permission to tell her what she doesn’t yet know, “No, you won’t.” As she goes to interrupt me, I explain, “We’ve both got new roles. We’re going to be working with Devil.”
“Devil?”
“Jason Deville. I had a meeting with him today.”
“You’ve met him?” She sits up straighter in my arms, “He actually exists?”
I laugh, her reaction was a mirror of the one I’d had, “Yes, he does exist. And he wants us to form a new team to support him back here. We’ll have some travelling to do, but will mainly be based in London. Perfect for our family.”
“Doing what?” Her eyes narrow.
I shrug, “I’m not sure, but it sounds intriguing. It will play to your skills, and what’s left of mine.”
Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4) Page 37
