The Rehabilitation of Master Dillon (The Dom's of the Cage Series prequel)

by Nelson, P

  “Calm down, Tiff. You know your face goes that ugly shade of blotchy red when you’re pissed,” Dillon called out to draw attention away from Tiffany’s unsuspecting victims.

  “There you are, baby.” She turned her big brown eyes on him, and Dillon felt a shudder of revulsion go through him. He had been worried that seeing her again might make him so angry he became violent. The reality was far different. She disgusted him. Good. He could work with loathing. “These assholes won’t let me in to play with you.”

  “You’re not a member here, and we’re no longer together.” Dillon moved from around the desk, careful to keep his distance from his crazy ex-sub. He knew Flynn, Calla, and Frankie were watching the exchange. He felt as if he were on an episode of The Dungeon: What Happened Next.

  “But you always signed me in as your plus one,” Tiffany purred and tried to approach him. He looked up to make sure the security cameras could see that he wasn’t approaching her in any way. The red lights blinking in his direction were comforting.

  “As per new club rules, unless you’re a full member here, you don’t get to play. There are no more guests.” Calla had stepped up to the reception desk and leaned forward. It was as far forward as she could get with Flynn crowding behind her like a guardian angel with a really nasty look on his face.

  Tiffany blinked at her several times. “Who the hell are you?”

  “She’s the new resident psychologist, Miss Moretz,” Flynn’s voice cracked through the reception area and Tiffany took a step back. “If you want to be a member of this club, fill out the forms and pass the psych test like everyone else.” Anyone other than Tiffany would have taken this as a sign to leave. Instead, Dillon watched the mulish expression he had become so accustomed to when they were together spread across her face. She even dug a toe into the polished flooring.

  “But you’re not going to let me join,” Tiffany’s voice had become petulant, and Dillon held his breath. He didn’t want to deal with this bullshit.

  “Why are you here, Tiffany?” Dillon asked her. He wanted to go and have a drink at the bar.

  “Can we speak alone?” she asked and stared at the group who were all staring at her as if she had grown two heads.

  “No.” Frankie’s voice was low, but it held a wealth of authority. “After the accusations you made against my client in the past, it would be more than foolhardy for him to place himself in a situation where you can repeat them,” she explained in a clinical voice, and Dillon wondered for a moment why she was a sub and not a Domme. “That you are here draws me to the conclusion you’re setting him up.”

  “I just want to talk to him!” Tiffany stomped her foot and looked back at Dillon. “You’re ignoring my texts and my calls. Just talk to me.” Dillon felt everyone’s eyes, especially Calla. He never mentioned that Tiffany was still contacting him because he didn’t want to deal with it. He wondered if he would have to go back to having vanilla sex now.

  “We have nothing to say. Go home, Tiffany.” Dillon turned to leave.

  She reached out and grabbed his arm. “I’m sorry, Dillon. I made a mistake. I want you to take me back.”

  “Let me go.” Dillon heard his voice go hard, and the tension in the small space grew thick. Her hand tightened instead.

  “No one will work with me. I’m not making any money, and no one will take my calls. Not even my agent,” Tiffany’s voice broke, and he idly wondered whether it would be the ugly crying or the pretty crying. He looked down into her face and watched a few tears slide down her cheeks. Pretty, then. Tiffany had gone into porn because she liked sex, but she was a shit actress. She could lay on the waterworks like a pro, though.

  Pulling his arm from her grasp, Dillon drew himself up to his full height and stared down at Tiffany. “What the fuck did you think was going to happen? You accused me of abusing you while we were together on national fucking television.”

  “I don’t know.” Tiffany sniffled, unmoved by his outburst.

  “Of course, no one wants to work with you; they think you’re going to accuse them of the same thing.” Dillon threw his hands up in the air. “I give up, Tiffany. You didn’t even break up with me. You were supposed to be down in LA filming, and I woke up one morning and found out I was public enemy number one!”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Tiffany continued to cry softly, and the fake tears really pissed him off. He felt Flynn moving up behind him to make sure he didn’t do anything crazy like pick Tiffany up and leave her on the curb outside.

  “No, you were thinking. You made some plan up in your mind.” Dillon knew the way she worked. She was always looking for the bigger, better payoff. He just wished he had known this much sooner in their failed relationship. “I’m sorry that whatever it was didn’t work out for you, but I’m trying to get my life back. So, go fuck off to wherever it was you came from.”

  He turned on his heel and pushed past Flynn. He heard Tiffany calling his name, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he stalked back into the dungeon and walked to the very back. Opening a door between the two black spiral staircases that led to the privacy rooms upstairs, he entered a utilitarian corridor. The offices of The Cage were located back here as well as the monitoring system for the whole place. He walked down the corridor and used his security card to open one of the doors.

  An enormous bank of monitors dimly lit the room. Three men sat in chairs idly watching the events of the evening unfolding before them. Dillon moved forward and focused on the cameras in the reception area.

  “You want me to turn the volume up so you can hear?” One of the tech guys asked without glancing around. The cameras in the hallway would have shown him approaching and entering the room.

  “No, I just want to make sure she drives away.” Dillon watched as Calla and Flynn argued. She rested her hand briefly on his chest before turning away and speaking directly to Tiffany. It was a short conversation as Calla held the front door open. It looked as if Tiffany screamed something in Calla’s face before marching through the door and out into the inky night. Frankie walked over to where Calla was standing, and the two of them watched Tiffany. They spoke to each other briefly before Calla looked over her shoulder and frowned. Whatever Flynn was saying made her face turn to stone.

  “Those two should get a room and get it over with,” The tech in front of Dillon said under his breath.

  “No kidding.” Dillon agreed and breathed a sigh of relief as Flynn, Calla, and Frankie left the reception area. He didn’t want to face a lecture from Calla. He knew he should have told her that Tiffany was still contacting him, but he thought he could deal with it. No, he thought that if he ignored her she would go away. When had that ever worked in the past? Tiffany had pursued him relentlessly until he finally gave in. At the time, Dillon truly believed they had something special. Now, he knew he was just another step on Tiffany’s road to wherever the fuck she was headed.

  Dillon watched as Flynn touched his earpiece and looked to the back of the dungeon. Shit. He could stay here and get a lecture or he could try and disappear with a sub for the rest of the night and pretend he didn’t have problems. Too late, he watched as the trio headed through the club and opened the door to the secure hall outside.

  “Good luck, man,” The techie said as Dillon sighed and turned for the door. He didn’t comment as he poked his head into the hallway. He’d rather not have his lecture in front of the geeks.

  “Master Dillon, in my office.” Flynn’s voice barked out as soon as he stepped into the hall. He waited until they had walked by him and followed them down the end of the corridor. Flynn used his card to open the door to his office and allowed the ladies to enter first. Dillon followed him in and shut the door. He looked around the space that Flynn rarely used. Large black and white photos of submissives tied up in intricate Shibari designs graced the walls. A large desk stood in one corner with two chairs in front. Calla and Frankie sat down in front of Flynn, leaving him to stand.

  He walked
over to a wall where everyone could see him and leaned against it, folding his arms.

  “You need to get a restraining order,” Frankie announced. “That bitch is crazy.” She added without preamble. “I’ll have one of my clerks set it up for you.”

  This was going to get out of control really fast. “I don’t need a restraining order.”

  Frankie turned her head and pierced him with a stare any Dom would be proud of. “You have a fucking stalker, Dillon.” She put extra emphasis on his name. “You have no idea what that woman is capable of, and I for one don’t want to find out.” She bristled underneath the folds of her robe. “She puts us in danger with her risky behaviour. I do not want to see my career in shreds because she’s pissed at you.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong.” Dillon knew he sounded defensive, but he felt like all the progress he had made during the past few weeks with Calla was slipping away. “I don’t know what the fuck that woman wants.”

  “She wants you Dillon,” Calla said calmly. “That much is certain. She wants a reaction from you. I think you should let Frankie get that restraining order. You don’t know what she has planned.”

  Guilt forced the next words out of his mouth. “I should have told you she called and left texts.”

  “You had your reasons, Dillon.” Calla dropped the Master, and Dillon knew it was because she was trying to connect with him on a professional level. “Listen, this process takes time, and you’re doing really well. But everything you’re feeling right now is normal. A confrontation with your ex is supposed to make you feel vulnerable.”

  Dillon wanted to call her out for calling him vulnerable, especially in front of the others. They were not alone, and he had a reputation to keep. Glancing at Frankie and Flynn revealed neither one of them was judging him. In fact, they wore expressions of sombre disinterest.

  Frankie stood up and everyone’s eyes went to her. “I am going to have that restraining order filled out for you tomorrow morning, all you need to do is call, and I’ll file it.” After a moment’s hesitation, she walked over to stand in front of Dillon. He pushed away from where he was leaning against the wall and stared down at her. “Nobody gets to talk smack about my friends and get away with it. Who cares how you got together with that bitch, but now you’re free, and I’m going to make sure she stays the hell away from you.” Tilting her head forward, Frankie placed a kiss on his cheek.

  “That’s twenty smacks for swearing,” Dillon grumbled.

  “Make sure you tell my Master.” She grinned back at him before nodding Calla and Flynn’s way. Frankie left Flynn’s office, and Dillon felt grateful to the Queen’s Council. He hadn’t had much contact with her since she preferred long-term contracts with Doms, but he had always found her perfectly capable. Now he was more than happy Frankie was on his side.

  “Take my advice and call Frankie tomorrow morning.” Calla, smiling faintly, stood up. “We’ll talk about what happened this evening when we meet Thursday.”

  “You disobeyed a direct order from your boss,” Flynn’s voice cracked out over the office, but Calla merely raised an eyebrow at him.

  “You are not my Dom so I don’t see what you’re going to do about it.” She shot back. “As the psychologist of this establishment, I was doing my job and protecting one of its members. If you want to fire me, go ahead.” The challenge sat heavily between them, and Dillon watched as Flynn’s jaw worked.

  “The safety of every person in this building is my responsibility. When I ask you to do something as your boss, I expect you to do it.” Flynn stood up and planted his fists on the desk looking like a caveman in his tailored leathers.

  “And I will.” Calla walked over to the door. “As long as I think it’s for the best interests of everyone in this building.” She looked over at Dillon. “See you later, Dillon.” Watching the door close, Dillon wished he had Flynn’s problem.

  “Why don’t you just admit you want her already.” He walked over to the now-empty chairs in front of Flynn’s desk and slumped down in one.

  “You want to tell me how you ended up with a sociopathic bitch for an ex?” Flynn opened a drawer in the bottom of his desk and pulled out a bottle of Scotch that was old enough to vote.

  “Who’s deflecting now?” Dillon reached over and accepted the crystal glass filled partway with the scotch.

  “I’ll have to speak with Calla about teaching you big words,” Flynn grumbled as he set the bottle on the desk and took a drink from his own glass.

  “I’m sorry to bring trouble to your house.” Dillon looked over at his friend who seemed a lot older these days.

  “This could have happened to any one of us.” Flynn stared down into his scotch for a minute before he spoke again. “True submission is rare. When you find a woman who gives you the gift of her inner self, grab onto it with both hands. There are far too many little girls like Tiffany who think they’re subs, but really, they just want the lifestyle to give them what they think they want.”

  “Why didn’t you grab onto to Calla with both hands?” Dillon decided to ignore Flynn’s other comment.

  “Tiffany is trouble for you.” Flynn looked up at him with a worried expression. “She’s playing a game, and you don’t know the rules.”

  “She’s a girl with daddy issues who wants attention.” Dillon refused to believe there was anything sinister about Tiffany. She wanted whatever it was the other guy down in LA was selling more than she wanted him. Tiffany made her play, and for whatever reason, she failed. Now, she wanted him back, but he wasn’t that stupid.

  “Be careful, Tiffany had crazy-ass bunny-killer eyes tonight, and they were focused on you.” Flynn warned.

  “You have some experience with bunny boilers, do you?” Dillon laughed as he drank off the rest of his scotch and set the glass down.

  “Yeah I do.” Flynn set his own glass down. “And they will ruin your life and take everything from you if you don’t keep your eyes fucking open.” He pointed a finger at Dillon. “You keep staring at me like I’m some sad sack, and yeah, I am. Take Tiffany fucking seriously, or you’ll end up right where I am.”

  “I knew there was more to the story than you were saying.” Dillon’s heart sped up. “Let me help you.”

  Flynn grimaced and got up from his seat. “You are helping me. Call Frankie tomorrow morning and get the restraining order. I have several PIs I keep on retainer and I think it’s time we do a little digging on our Miss Moretz.”

  “You don’t have to do that for me.” Dillon got up in his seat and followed his friend out of the office.

  “It’s not for you. She showed up at my club and made an ugly scene.” Flynn walked down the hall towards the dungeon floor. “I can’t have women showing up here and demanding to see their old Doms. Bad for business.”

  “Will you tell me what you find?” Dillon’s question was cut off a bit when Flynn opened the door to the dungeon. It was crowded with kinksters, and the industrial music was blaring.

  “Yeah, I’ll keep you in the loop.” Flynn grabbed hold of Dillon’s shoulder and squeezed before quickly letting him go. “We’re going to get through this.” A sub wearing a hot-pink micro mini and two matching pasties over her nipples caught Dillon’s eye. It was Hartley and she was giving him the sweetest come-hither smile. “Go and enjoy yourself, Dillon. That’s why I opened this place.”

  Dillon nodded back at his friend before approaching Hartley; he hoped there was a privacy room open upstairs because he really wanted to spend some quality time with her while she was naked, tied up, and at his mercy. Whatever Tiffany’s plan was, he was here, and Hartley was sinking to her knees like the good little sub she was.

  Part III

  It had been two weeks since Tiffany had shown up at The Cage and tried to force her way into the dungeon. Since then, Dillon had gone against his own gut instinct and told Frankie to get the restraining order against Tiffany. This had caused his former sub to have a minor meltdown, sending him threatening te
xts and posting shitty comments on his blog, all of which were now in police custody. Dillon took no pleasure in this development. As far as he was concerned, this phase Tiffany was going through would eventually wear itself out, and she would feel like an idiot.

  Dillon had also allowed Flynn to get his private dicks to investigate Tiffany, mostly because every time he saw Flynn he liked to ask him about his private dicks. He relished the way it made him feel like his old irreverent self. Both his sessions with Calla had been really good. He had no idea how much better he would feel after telling her about Tiffany’s texts. Calla had firmly explained that he needed to stop defending Tiffany and her behaviour. Just because he didn’t believe it was damaging didn’t mean that it didn’t have an effect on him.

  She had finally given him the go-ahead to scene in public, and he had a grand fucking welcome back to the world of voyeur-viewing scene set up to announce he was back. Dillon looked over the stage he had booked for the evening. His friend Gaige had helped him set up the equipment, but he went over everything again for the third time. He let his nerves rush over him as he looked over the table of equipment he had set up. Everything was in place; all he needed were his two subs for the evening.

  “You all set?” Gaige asked as Dillon stepped off the raised stage.

  “Yeah, man. I think I’m all set.” Dillon nodded back to the stage. “Everything is in place and looking really good.”

  “Perfect,” Dillon replied and they both walked over to where he would wait for Misty and Hartley to come out of the ladies’ changing room.

  “You know Flynn and I will be right there to take over if you need to take a minute at any time. Think of it as tagging out,” Gaige assured his friend.

  “So you have told me.” Dillon didn’t look at his friend. He kept his gaze on the door and took even breaths. All his friends had reminded him of this several times during the past several days ever since he started his comeback plan. He knew it was only their way of showing they supported him, but it made him feel like a baby kitten who needed protecting. “I’m not going to safe word out and leave my subs up there alone.”