Heart of Submission

by Claire Thompson

  "Maybe," she tried, "we can negotiate something for tomorrow night."

  "We can negotiate right now, Ashley. I have a beautiful new cane I want to introduce to you. I can take you places you never dreamed of, little girl. Trust me."

  Again he lifted his hand, stroking her cheek, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Kate blew out a tremulous breath. A part of her wanted to accept his offer. She'd always been curious to feel the sting of a cane, handled by someone who knew what they were doing. But she just wasn't ready, not tonight, not in front of all these people.

  "I'm sorry. I'm not ready," she said. "Not tonight."

  Master John pursed his lips, something almost like anger sweeping his features for a moment so brief Kate thought she must have imagined it. Then his mouth eased into a wry smile and he shrugged.

  "Okay. A gentleman knows when to back off. Tomorrow then.

  You'll have a whole twenty-four hours to get used to the idea, and a day chock full of seminars and workshops to prepare you.

  Sound like a plan?"

  "Yes, thank you."

  Kate realized she'd been tensing all the muscles in her body. All at once she relaxed, relieved she'd handled the refusal without totally closing the door on the guy.

  Her attention was diverted by the piercing wail of a woman tethered spread eagle to the spider web with rope at her wrists and ankles. She was a slight woman, stark naked, her

  pubic mound shaven smooth.

  A man was striking her small breasts and thighs with a flogger, the whoosh of leather against skin audible even

  from a distance. Kate gasped as the force of the blows rocked the woman in the rubber webbing. Her skin was mottled red where the leather struck, her mouth opened in a perfect O. All at once the man slapped the woman's cheek with an open palm, causing Kate's own hand to fly to her mouth. She was

  both upset and excited by what she was watching, her

  emotions pinging through her like a pinball in an arcade game.

  Master John put his arm around her shoulders, and instead of shrugging away his unfamiliar touch, she leaned into him, grateful for the contact.

  "He slapped her," she found herself saying.

  "Is that okay, what they're doing?"

  He squeezed gently.

  "Of course. For some women, face slapping is a powerful erotic trigger. It places them almost immediately in a submissive headspace. Look at her, Ashley. Look at her expression. Do you think she doesn't want what's

  happening to her?"

  The woman's head was back now, resting against the webbing.

  Her lips were parted, her eyes closed, the

  expression on her face one of intense pleasure, almost as if she were experiencing an orgasm right in front of them, pulled from her body by the kiss of leather and the hard caress of the man's palm.

  Kate imagined herself there, bound and flogged, naked for all those in the room to see. She realized her own breath was shallow, and she could feel a vein pulsing at her throat. Her nipples ached and her pussy felt swollen between her legs.

  She leaned weakly against Master John, who held her tighter.

  He spoke softly, his breath tickling her ear.

  "It's what she wants. It's what she needs. You understand that. I know you do. It's why you're here, Ashley. It's why you're watching tonight. It's why you'll be participating tomorrow night. Just like her, you need to feel the pain to find the pleasure, the ultimate pleasure of surrender."

  Kate opened her mouth to refute him, but no words came.

  ****

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  Chase realized Justin had been saying something, but he'd zoned out, thinking about her.

  "Chase, what the hell is the matter with you, man? You're off somewhere in the ozone tonight. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were in love."

  Chase glanced sharply at his friend.

  "Yeah, right."

  His voice must have come out more harshly than he intended, because Justin's face crumpled into an apology.

  "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

  "No, no. Nothing to be sorry about. If anyone's sorry, it's me. You're right. I'm distracted tonight."

  Justin nodded sympathetically and took a long swig of his beer. Chase knew Justin assumed he was in one of those funks, brooding over Lisa, but tonight at least, that wasn't the case.

  He was thinking about Ashley, the bewitching girl who'd sat front and center at his bondage seminar, her long, lovely legs tucked up under her, those emerald green eyes sparkling at him when she smiled.

  He realized with a start that until this evening he hadn't even thought about another woman since Lisa. What had it been now ... a year? Was a heart he was sure had been shattered beyond repair actually showing some signs of life?

  It probably had less to do with his heart and more to do with his dick, he told himself. Though that in itself was something. The curve of her soft cheek had so distracted him, he'd nearly forgotten how to tie a simple square knot. All that wavy copper hair and long, lean limbs. She was elegant, yet something in her face was innocent, almost yearning. He had gotten the sense she was new to the scene, but eager. His cock stirred at the thought of introducing her to sensual bondage.

  Oddly, she was nothing like Lisa, who was dark and petite with a smile, the rare times she bestowed it on him, that could melt a glacier. He'd prided himself on winning those smiles, delighted when he could make her happy, even if the

  happiness was fleeting. If only he could have done something more, been something more. If only his love had been

  enough.

  Chase was distracted from his musings by Justin punching him quite hard on the arm.

  "Ouch. What was that for?"

  Chase rubbed the bruised muscle.

  "You're lost in space again, my friend. Maybe you need to call it a night."

  "Man, I'm sorry."

  Chase ran his hands over his face and up through his hair.

  "Maybe you're right."

  He looked at his watch. It was nearly ten. The play party would just be getting started.

  Chase never attended BDSM play parties, at least he hadn't in a long time. Lisa had enjoyed them, and to humor her he would sometimes take her, but as a rule they weren't his style. Most of the folks, or so it seemed to him, were players and posers, putting on a show for each other and themselves. He supposed that was fine, as far as it went, but for Chase, D/s mattered too much. He didn't want to put it upon parade.

  He paid his tab and left Justin at the pub. Fortunately there was a table of guys nearby they both knew, and Justin moved off to join them. Chase began to walk toward the subway station that would take him to Queens, but instead found himself passing it by.

  He was headed, he realized, for the converted warehouse where the Power Play party was taking place. Maybe he'd just walk by, see if the lights were on upstairs. After all, he'd see Ashley tomorrow. Maybe she'd sign up for his Shibari

  workshop, and he'd convince her to volunteer. Maybe he'd get there early enough this time for the breakfast, and just happen to find himself standing next to her.

  Yes, better just to call it a night, as Justin suggested. He had a good book by Walter Mosley waiting to be read, and a bottle of Heineken with his name on it.

  His feet ignored his brain, walking on toward the SoHo neighborhood that housed the dungeon. The doors to the old warehouse were locked, a wise precaution, but happily, Chase had a key, courtesy of M&M. He used it, entering the place and locking the door behind him. Upstairs was empty. He could hear the sound of music below, punctuated by the occasional crack of leather and sharp cry. Was she down there now, bound to the web, or chained to a whipping post, those long legs bare, arms lifted high overhead?

  He moved quietly down the stairs and stood at the bottom, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. After a moment he spotted her, and was both relieved to see she wasn't actively participating in a scene, and annoyed to see that she wasn't alon
e. John Brighton was with her. They stood in profile, John's arm proprietarily around her, leaning down to murmur

  something as they watched a scene.

  Though Chase barely knew the woman, he couldn't help the barb of jealousy that hooked into his heart. For some stupid reason, he'd hoped she'd have more sense than to associate with that poser. Though he knew that wasn't fair. Most people in the scene liked Brighton, or at least respected him. Women were blinded by his pretty boy good looks and charming manner, but Chase had his doubts. He'd watched Brighton scene a few times, taking his women to the brink of nonconsensual play in a way that had disturbed

  Chase on more than one occasion. He'd even broached the subject once with the guy, and had been dismayed by his response.

  "She wanted it, Saunders.

  They're all the same, these sub girls. They say, 'no, no, stop, please,' but they want you to beat the shit out of them.

  Trust me. I know women."

  He'd placed a subtle emphasis on the word "I", as if to imply that Chase didn't. Even worse, in Chase's estimation, was the sneer in his voice, the evident lack of respect toward the women who put their trust in him in a way Chase viewed as sacred. That was the only time Brighton had shown what Chase believed were his true colors, but he'd never trusted the guy after that.

  And now the bastard had his hooks into Ashley, who Chase was pretty sure was way out of her league. He felt an urge to protect her, to rush over and push Brighton's arm from her shoulders, to warn her. Of course he did no such

  thing. She was a grown woman, and one he knew next to nothing about, other than that she was the first woman since Lisa who had piqued his interest. It was just his own jealousy talking, he told himself. She could take care of herself. Her choices were her own.

  Aware he would have been better off never having shown up, he turned away, dispirited, and climbed the stairs. In the thirty seconds he'd stood in shadows no one had seen him

  and that, at least, was a good thing. He'd go home, get a good night's sleep and see what tomorrow held. After all, if John could make a bid for the girl, so could he.

  Whoa. Where had that come from? Was he ready to leap back into the fray, just like that? Was a pretty smile and sparkling eyes really all it took? Lisa loomed into his mind, bringing with her the familiar aura of guilt and regret. But instead of embracing the feelings, wrapping them like a hair shirt around his heart as he'd done for so long, tonight, with a supreme act of will, he shrugged them away.

  By the time he came outside into the warm evening air, Chase felt a little better. Coppery hair, green eyes, the curve of a breast, that's all he really knew of this woman called Ashley. He knew nothing of her mind or heart. Yet, though he'd probably already lost her to Brighton, he recognized

  that his attraction to her was in itself a good thing.

  Though Lisa was gone, Chase found himself ready, just maybe, to begin to feel again. After all, at thirty-five, he was still a man with appetites and desires, and the world was

  waiting for him to rejoin it.

  Forcing a bounce to his step, Chase walked away, jingling the change in his pocket and whistling. He was alive, and life, while not always easy, was good.

  CHAPTER 4

  Stacey poured brandy into the plastic cups she'd found in the motel bathroom and handed one across the narrow

  space between their two beds. Kate took it and sipped.

  It was nearly two in the morning. Both women were dressed for bed, Kate in her favorite pink cotton nightgown,

  Stacey in a black lacy camisole and matching panties.

  "I got this new just for the weekend,"

  she'd commented when she came out of the bathroom.

  "In case I got lucky."

  "Weekend's not over yet."

  Kate smiled, wondering if she too would get lucky.

  Wondering if she had the nerve to find out.

  "That's the only bad thing about these BDSM events,"

  Stacey said, taking a sizable gulp from her cup.

  "No alcohol at the play parties."

  "I guess a drunk guy with a whip in his hand isn't the best idea,"

  Kate offered.

  "Yeah, I know. But I look better the more my partner drinks."

  Stacey laughed. She finished off her drink and poured herself another.

  "So, what'd you think? Did you have fun being the voyeur?"

  "It was quite a show, I have to admit," Kate replied.

  "Kind of sensory overload after a while, watching all those different scenes going on."

  "Well, you should have participated in one. When you're in the zone, all of that background noise just disappears. It's only about you and your Dom then. What he's doing, and

  how you're responding."

  Kate nodded, thinking about Victor. They'd had fun as far as it went, but she'd never achieved the sort of sublime serenity she'd read about in her research. Would she ever find that? Did she want to? Stacey was watching her, apparently expecting a response, so Kate said vaguely,

  "It's been a long time for me."

  Stacey tilted her head.

  "I kind of got that feeling. You're not a total novice to the scene, but certainly not a regular."

  She held out the brandy bottle. Kate drank the rest of hers and held out her cup, her eyes watering from the strong liquor. As they each settled back against their pillows,

  Stacey said, "So what's your story? What do you do to make ends meet?"

  Stacey patted her teased hair, which she'd covered with a net scarf for the night.

  "As you probably guessed, I'm a hair and makeup artist. I work for a very chic salon in Brooklyn."

  Kate didn't comment on this, instead swallowing more

  brandy. The liquor was spreading nicely through her body now, easing along her limbs with a satisfying warmth. Why not tell Stacey the truth?

  After all, Kate was proud of her work.

  "I'm a writer. I write erotic romance novels. Quit my day job two years ago and never looked back."

  "Wow, how cool is that?" Stacey enthused.

  "You got any with you? Give me a signed copy. How many books you got out? What's your full name? Ashley..."

  "Ashley Kendall. But that's my pen name. My real name is Kate.

  Kate Alexander."

  Now what in hell had made her admit that? She was supposed to be incognito! Oh well, Stacey was nice and sweet, and it was fun to share secrets with a girlfriend. It had been ages since she had, she realized. It felt good to connect with someone, however fleeting the connection.

  "Kate." Stacey nodded. "That name suits you much better. Why the secrecy?"

  Kate shrugged. "I don't know. I don't usually make a habit of going to BDSM weekends..."

  "So? No law against them. You're not doing anything wrong."

  Kate was silent, realizing a part of her must hold at least some of Victor's assertions that BDSM was perverse—a

  deviant behavior that had to be hidden, denied and kept in check. Maybe that's why she hadn't made any attempt

  during the two years that had passed to find another partner with the same kink. This realization bothered her.

  "I was with a guy, Victor," she said, aware her tongue was probably being loosened by the brandy.

  "This was two years ago. It was the first time I ever did anything with bondage and erotic pain and all. I'd always had fantasies of a dominant man taking control, but I'd pretty much rejected them as not worthy of a strong,

  independent woman.

  "At first he was into it. He liked the ropes and the sexy little outfits he got for me to wear. It was an exciting, naughty game. When I brought home a flogger and a riding

  crop, he started freaking out. I wanted to go further than he did, I guess. I wanted to press the envelope more, experience more than just a sexy game."

  She shrugged sadly.

  "He did this one-eighty on me. Told me I was a sicko, and he'd just gone along with the games in order to try t
o salvage a failing relationship. The ironic thing was, he was right, in a way.

  Our relationship had been kind of faltering, and the BDSM play gave us something new to focus on, to try. But in the end it wasn't enough."

  "Two years!" Stacey exploded.

  "You haven't played in two years? We have got to fix this situation, pronto. You aren't leaving this weekend until you've done a scene. A real scene with a real Dom."

  Kate smiled, immediately thinking of Master John and his proposal.

  "Yeah, okay. We'll see."

  "Yes, we will, missy. Might as well get used to the idea, because it's happening."

  Kate drank the last of her brandy and nestled into the pillows, closing her eyes. Maybe Stacey was right.

  Maybe it was time to experience what she craved. Why not tomorrow at the party? What, after all, did she have to lose?

  ****

  Chase arrived early the next morning, in time for the breakfast.

  He'd already consumed three cups of coffee and eaten a Danish he hadn't really wanted, cornered most of the

  time by a couple of bondage enthusiasts, when she finally appeared. She looked even lovelier than the day before, wearing a silky sky blue sundress, matching sandals on her pretty feet, her long, shapely legs bare.

  He waited while she got herself some coffee and a bagel, feeling for all the world like he was fourteen again and trying to get up the courage to ask a girl to the school dance.

  "Good morning," he said, approaching her.

  She stood with Stacey and a couple Chase recognized as Amber and William, both active players in the scene. He joined the group, engaging in their small talk, wondering

  how or when he could get her alone.

  While William was telling Chase how much he'd enjoyed the suspension bondage workshop, Brighton suddenly appeared, wearing a muscle T-shirt over his sculpted torso, flashing a white smile of greeting, his eyes raking

  Ashley with an insolent stare. Pleasantries were again exchanged, and a few of last night's scenes discussed.

  "I didn't see you there last night,"

  Ashley said, turning her pretty smile toward Chase, who couldn't help but smile back.