by Linzi Basset
None of them knows. They have no idea what I’ve had to endure the past six years.
Although he was struggling with the same emotions his team were, Keon was irritated when he noticed the look on their faces.
“I am prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt and I’ll appreciate the same consideration from all of you. She’d been forced to wear that bracelet. That in itself should tell us that her association with Baxter might not have been all consensual or willing, for that matter.”
“Yeah, but he’s been taking care of her for fifteen years. How do we know she’s not under his spell? A classic case of Stockholm Syndrome, you know,” Max argued with an apologetic glance in her direction. “She’s not going to admit to it, we all know how that works.”
“We don’t, but I’m keeping her close at hand all the same. The moment she puts one foot out of line, I’ll be the first to know.”
Everyone accepted Keon’s assertion. He was sound judge of character.
“I assume Rhone is still at the hospital?” He asked.
“Yeah, but only to make sure Samantha doesn’t get up and come home in a cab. She’s been demanding to be discharged from the day she came to,” Lance said. “He asked me to Skype him . . . ah, hey, mate,” he greeted Rhone as he connected with him.
“Right, Lance. Feedback, please,” he asked immediately. He seemed more relaxed and was clean shaven.
“We have scoured the entire countryside where the accident occurred. No sign of Baxter. We did, however, find this,” Lance flicked on the TV on the wall and linked the uplink to Rhone’s address.
“The farmhouse exploded and burned to the ground in the early hours of the morning following the accident,” Jack explained what they were looking at. “The owners, Will and Suzie Dunn were trapped inside. Fire investigators have found explosives among the debris. Remnants of C4 and a detonating device.”
“Yeah, more innocent people suffering at the hands of that bastard.” Max couldn’t keep the anger from his voice or the hard look he slanted at Lauren. “They obviously played Samaritan to the poor, bleeding man who arrived on their doorstep in the middle of the night. They paid the price for their empathy—with their lives.”
Lauren winced. It sounded like something Adam Baxter would do. She’d stopped thinking of him as William Blake. That had been a lie. Like everything else he had ever told her—used against her over the past six years to keep her in check.
“As far as Lauren Francis is concerned,” Lance continued which drew her attention back to them. “She doesn’t exist. At least not in theory. All her old records have been locked and secreted under the witness protection program.”
“What are you saying?” Lauren asked. Since the night they’d arrived at Keon’s, no one had used the name Cynthia Marsh. To be called by her real name sounded so good.
“He buried you. According to all records, Lauren Francis died on . . . fuck,” Lance cursed when he glanced at his iPad to confirm the date. He looked apologetically at Keon. “The second of July 2011.”
“The day of Amelia’s death,” Keon confirmed.
“A day before he brought Beckie to me,” Lauren said quietly. She was devastated. “Does that mean I am Cynthia Marsh and can never go back to who I was? Who I really am?”
“Not necessarily. We need to apply to have the death certificate declared invalid. It’ll be a long process but I’m sure Alex might be able to help us with that,” Max contemplated. “Do you want to, though? Your life has become Cynthia Marsh. Your qualification as a teacher is under that name. The house belongs to Cynthia Marsh.”
Lauren was pale. “Yes. I want nothing to remind me of . . .” she swallowed the name back. “The house is immaterial and although it had been a home for Beckie and me, since we moved to Charlottesville, it also holds memories I’d rather forget. I’ll sell it if I have to and my teaching certificate—I still have the original one issued to me, Lauren Francis.” She dragged in a deep breath. “I just want to be me again. Me,” she stabbed her finger into her chest.
“See what you can arrange with Alex, Lance,” Keon said.
“Who is Alex?” Lauren queried. She’d become wary of who to trust.
“Alex White, a very good friend, as well as the governor of this state. He’ll be able to pull some strings.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek. Everyone stirred and watched the tender gesture with interest. Keon was physically the strongest among them but he also had the gentlest touch. What held them captive was the conflict in his gaze.
They knew why. He’d gone through hell thinking his child had died, only to find the woman who had been taking care of her all the time. He might be thankful it was someone kind and loving like her but it was clear he was struggling with the resentment it filled him with at the same time.
“Relax, Lauren. Alex can be trusted. We’ve known him since we were at school.” Keon turned to Max. “Did the search at medical facilities help at all?”
“No, but what we did find, and I have to credit Richard’s brilliance for that, was a flight plan that had been logged for a chopper from the outskirts of Washington to the farm area, the night of the accident. It seems Baxter has his own secret little CIA team at his disposal. It’s safe to say that he would have access to a private medical facility.”
“Have you managed to obtain the flight plan?” Rhone’s voice crackled sharply from the laptop.
“We tried but they refused to release it. Says it was logged as a covert mission and therefore they are obligated under government protection laws not to divulge any information. They were highly annoyed that we’d managed to find the entry in the first place.” Max smirked, “But, we haven’t given up. Richard and I have been working on a program that might help us unlock the encryption and by way of a mirror log, retract the original one without being detected. As soon as we do, we’ll have the bastard’s location.”
“How much longer is that going to take?” Keon grated while pacing in front of the large window overlooking the maze.
“We’re close. Another day or two and we should crack it.”
“Good. In the meantime, keep searching. You never know, we might just get lucky. This time, that bastard isn’t going to get away from us,” Rhone promised.
Yes! And I’ll be first in line when you do. He’s mine. I don’t care how many of you have just cause to kill the bastard but none has as much as I do.
Lauren was careful to avoid Keon’s penetrating stare, lest he deciphered her thoughts and tried to stop her.
No one was going to have the pleasure of looking into Adam Baxter’s eyes and have the pleasure of watching his life force seep from his body.
No one—but me!
Chapter Five
“We use the term emergence to describe the process of a person emerging from vanilla into the BDSM lifestyle. You can liken it to the evolution of a caterpillar into a butterfly.”
Lauren listened intently. She shifted uncomfortably. “Why do I need to know this? I’m not a complete novice when it comes to dominance.”
“Aren’t you?”
“You’ve seen . . . you know what I was to him,” she intoned defensively.
“Yes, but from what I can gather it was anything but a proper Domination and submission. Tell me, Lauren, did he ever offer you choices or discussed what he was going to do to you beforehand?”
Lauren’s lips pressed tightly together was answer enough. Keon’s voice lowered. “And a safeword? Did you ever use it?”
“I didn’t have . . . he made it clear he was my Master and that I had to submit to him. It was my duty and if I wanted . . . needed . . .” She swallowed hard, doing her best not to allow those humiliating memories resurface.
“I rest my case. You have no idea what the true dynamic is between a Dom and a sub.”
“To be honest, after the introduction I had from him, whether it was right or wrong, I have no desire to know.”
“Unfortunately, for as long as you are under my c
are, you will have to. As one of the main shareholders, I spend most weekends here. You will accompany me and I need to ensure you know what to expect when we enter the dungeon. If you overstep any line, it will be construed as misconduct.”
“I’m not that stupid,” she snapped.
“Maybe not but I’m not going to take any chances.”
“Look, LeLuc—”
“That’s two.”
Lauren frowned at the interruption and tsk’ed irritably. “I don’t need to be lectured in what dominance is. I’ve heard that sermon often enough.”
Keon laughed.
“Ah, kitten, it proves my theory of your ignorance even more so. Baxter wasn’t a Dominant’s ass to begin with.”
“What do you mean?”
“Domination is self-evident or an unquestioned state. You don’t need to tell anyone you’re a female, my pet, it’s there for all to see. To tell or profess your dominance is incidental and if he felt the need to, he had no idea how to exert himself in that way. A ruler rules. A Dominant—dominates. It’s as simple as that. The exchange of power is what rules a D/s relationship but it comes with consent and drives the boundaries of such a relationship. The sub is the one with the power.”
“Oh, please!”
“Open your mind to what I’m trying to tell you and get that fucking asshole out of your mind,” Keon snapped. “In a proper BDSM or Dom/sub relationship, communication is the key and a Dom will always check with his sub to ensure she is doing fine. We strive to care and protect any sub in our care, Lauren, not destroy their spirit. Everything is consensual and based on trust. The sub, ultimately, is the one allowing the Dom to dominate her but once agreed upon, the Dom will be in charge, make no mistake about that. Which brings us to the limit list.”
Keon handed her a list which she examined. He noticed her bottom lip disappearing between her teeth.
“Are you . . . am I expected to do all of this with you? Is that why you want me to look at this?”
“No, Lauren, and if it’s something you’ve never seen, you need to understand that the relationship you had with Baxter was nothing but abuse.”
“I had a suspicion he was being untruthful. I did some Google research but he got angry.”
“A limit list is the indication of what you would or wouldn’t allow a Dom to do and to what extent you are willing to explore the things you’re not comfortable with.” He circled the chair she was sitting in to lean against the side of his desk. “And no, I’m not going to expect you to do any of these things with me. It’s purely to keep you safe once we step inside the dungeon. No Dom in this club will overstep the boundaries of this limit list; unless you consent to otherwise.”
“I see,” she said listlessly. By way of elimination it meant that whatever he usually did in the club, he would continue to do with other subs. Not that he would even consider that she might want him to do some of the things on the list with her.
Keon didn’t miss the shift in her expression.
“Unless you want me to.”
Lauren didn’t respond immediately but continued to study the list. Eventually she lifted her eyes to his.
“Why would you even consider it? You’ve made no effort to hide your mistrust and resentment toward me.”
“Maybe because I feel you owe it to yourself.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lauren, you might deny it but you despise yourself for what he did to you or rather, what he made you do and the sensations you experienced. It’s there in your eyes. You hate that there were times he made you beg him to fuck you, don’t you?”
Lauren’s eyes widened before she dropped her gaze in shame. She hadn’t wanted him to know that but she should’ve known a compelling Dom such as him would realize what the shadows in her eyes meant.
“I want to show you that there is no shame in submission—if done correctly. I want you to see the power you, as a submissive, will have over a Dom.”
“A Dom like you? Highly unlikely, Master Blade.”
“Why do you say that?” Keon asked gently.
“You’re even stronger than he was. What chance do I have against you?”
“Have you listened to anything I’ve said? I might be strong but I only have the power you allow me to exert over you in here. I will never force you to do anything, least of all, use my physical strength to do that, Lauren, or sexually, should something develop outside of the club.”
“Are you saying it could?”
“I am saying I’m prepared to help you overcome the emotional abuse he put you through by showing you what is real and what isn’t.”
“But you don’t like me.”
“I never said that.”
“But—”
“Don’t assume you know what I think or feel, Lauren. For future reference, if you want to know something, ask.”
Lauren continued perusing the list, desperately trying to overcome the joy she experienced at Keon’s suggestion. She couldn’t understand her attraction to him anymore than she could control her libido when he was near. All she knew was that she wanted what he offered. She’d felt the excitement, the intensity in the air, the moment she’d stepped inside the club. It was something she wanted to explore. She desired nothing more than to find a way to obliterate the constant memories of Adam Baxter’s touch and deviousness from her mind.
Keon LeLuc could give her that. She instinctively knew that.
As long as you don’t so something stupid. Like fall in love with him. Well, there was no chance of that. Adam had rendered her incapable of trusting any man. She was in no way ready for a relationship with any man. Not even one as hot and sexy as Keon LeLuc.
“And you won’t be angry if I say no to some of these things?” She asked in a small voice.
“Why would I? Once you agree to what’s on that list I won’t expect you to do what you’ve said no to. I will push your boundaries on the ones you’re willing to try but that’s it. Understand the difference, Lauren. D/s is about power based play and sharing experiences. SM is for sensation based play, which could include some level of pain. Again, limited to the level you decide you’re willing to go. A Dom is just as invested in his sub’s pleasure as his own. It’s not a one dimensional experience. In here, communication is of the utmost importance. If you want more, it’s up to you to ask for it. If you want to revisit your boundaries, we can discuss it. And always, no matter the scene or what was agreed to beforehand, you have the right to use the safeword. We use the universal traffic light system. Green—for go, yellow—I need to talk or go slow and Red—stop all play.”
“Do you have a pen?”
Keon considered her carefully. She was flustered and his gut instinct told him it was because she was drawn to him as a Dom. She craved to experience her submissive side. It was in her nature to please, to offer herself over and above what others expected. It’s what Baxter had tapped into. But instead of cherishing it for the gift it is, he abused it and used it against her.
He didn’t question his desire to be the one to teach her the difference, to tap into her inner submissive and bring out the best she could be. He might not fully trust her or the situation that had brought her to his door but he wasn’t fool enough to deny his lust for her. He had been drawn to her from day one and the longer he was in her presence, the more his desire spiked.
It was time to expunge himself of that need. A couple of hard rides between her thighs should cure him of the constant itch to fuck her. He never considered that it would ever be more than sex. He’d loved and been loved, it was enough to last him a lifetime and although he’d never believed falling in love again would be a betrayal of that love, he just wasn’t interested.
Period.
Keon watched her carefully go through the list. There were a couple of listed items she drew thick black crosses against, which told him to what extent Baxter had gone to hurt and humiliate her.
She turned the page around and looked at him.
&n
bsp; “Is this all? What about suffocation and . . . knives,” she asked timidly while rubbing the plaster on her hand.
“Jesus! Don’t tell me he used a scene . . . a knife scene when he . . .” Keon began pacing his office. He looked like a trapped tiger in a cage, ready to pounce and devour his pray. “As God my witness, when I find that fucker, I’m not going to cut off a finger, I’m going to tear his useless cock off with my bare hands and ram it down his goddamned throat!”
Lauren decided to keep quiet, worried that if she said something, he might explode. She watched as he made a visible effort to bring his anger under control.
“We don’t allow hard core acts in our club, Lauren. No fire, knives, needles, urinating, suffocating . . . to name a few. We do allow wax play as long as it’s controlled and the sub’s skin isn’t burned. No Dom using any impact tool is allowed to draw blood. If he does, he gets suspended or in severe cases, we’ll even ban him or her. In here, it’s about SSC—safe, sane and consensual. Always.”
Keon handed her a thin file. “In here are all the club rules and dos and don’ts about the actions of a sub once you step inside the club. There are also details about my expectations from you as a sub. I want you to read through it before we go downstairs and then take it home and study it properly. I don’t want any misunderstandings. You will be punished if you disobey me or break any rules. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I do,” she said quietly as she became engrossed in the material for a few minutes. Once done, she looked up at him.
“Your expectations are quite explicit, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are. I haven’t taken a permanent sub since my wife died and I have no interest in doing so now. I do, however, expect any sub who scenes with me, to know what I expect from them in a D/s environment.”
“I see.” Lauren chewed the inside of her lip. Although his rules weren’t unfamiliar and she’d seen similar ones during the time she’d investigated domination and submission, they weren’t nearly as restrictive as the ones Adam had forced onto her.
“So, Lauren, do you wish me to be the Dom to teach you about submission? Provided that you accept my ways and know that I will always take care of your needs and expectations.” He hesitated briefly. “Or do you wish to choose someone else?”
