by Joey W. Hill
“I’ll take you home,” he said. “And I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
Chapter Eighteen
A Few Months Later
Marius leaned against the wall of The Zone’s public play room, studying the scenes currently in progress. Some interesting needle play was happening at station three. All the Dominant players on the floor were veterans, though Mistress Zee had a relatively new male sub still figuring out his own head. She was showing the right amount of patience with him, taking it slow and staying alert to any cues that he might not be safe wording when he needed to do so.
Marius shifted his attention to the smaller playroom behind him where a punishment was reaching critical mass on the versatile oak frame housed there. Red marks were multiplying on the bountiful pale ass of the woman bound to it. She was moaning with a mixture of obvious pleasure and reaction to the pain, so she was enjoying the scene, but he’d keep an eye on it because breaking skin was only permitted if approved in advance, and Sir Todd didn’t have that clearance.
Marius didn’t anticipate having any problems with him. Todd was a good guy and an intense Master. He just sometimes got caught up in Dom space and had to have a gentle reminder of the rules to bring him down to earth.
“I’d say about ten more strikes with that thing before one of us has to step in,” Alex said, stepping next to him. He kept his voice low to avoid disruption of the sessions.
“Yeah. You here to relieve me?”
“Yep. Your shift’s up, buddy. Your Mistress said to get your ass to her as soon as you were done. She has plans for it.”
Despite the instant leap of blood, heart and cock, Marius sighed with dramatic effect. “Work, work, work. She’s a slave driver.”
“And you’re her one and only favorite slave to drive.” Alex paused, looking toward Todd’s scene. The casual tease took Marius by surprise. Since Marius had come back to work at The Zone a few weeks ago, Alex had been reserved but cordial. Rumor was he was visiting Siren. Not in the dating sense, but as if the man kept checking in on her out of guilt for her state of mind. Marius carried the lion’s share of that, and wished he could visit her, but Regina and Tyler had made it clear she wasn’t ready for that. At least right now. He sincerely hoped Alex’s visits were helping, though.
He’d pushed up from the wall, ready to take his leave, when the other man spoke.
“Thanks for saving my job, man. Tyler gave you a second chance for the right reasons. I didn’t see that, but since they reinstated you, I’ve seen the difference.” He cleared his throat. “Siren let me read the apology you wrote her. I also heard about the tea party you threw for the Dommes. And the afterparty.”
Marius remembered that afterparty vividly himself, so he was glad Alex didn’t expand on it. Though he wished he could ask how Siren had reacted to the apology, his Mistress had forbidden him follow-up of any kind. But Alex did throw him a bone.
“All good steps, man,” the DM said. “My thanks is way overdue, but I mean it. It’s good to be working with you again.”
It felt damn good to hear it said straight out, but Alex wasn’t done. “I’m sorry I let my feelings for her interfere with my judgment. I should have verified with Regina when she told me Regina knew about the plan. I should have called someone to take over monitoring you when I saw the situation in the other room was going to take longer to resolve. I fucked up on every level. Even with your input, I’m surprised Tyler didn’t fire my ass. Not so sure I wouldn’t have fired me if I was in his shoes.”
Marius shook his head. “You were trying to help out a Mistress you cared about, who needed to get her confidence back. You didn’t realize how far she was going to take it that night. So you deserved the second chance far more than I ever did. If we’re talking degrees of asshole.”
Alex digested the comment. “Just so you always remember who’s the bigger asshole of the two of us,” he advised.
That was that. The switch flipped, male conflict resolution accomplished in that simple way that always mystified women. He and Alex were good again. Nothing else necessary but male razzing.
“I know a Mistress or two who’d be willing to don an elephant dick strap-on and stretch yours out some.”
Alex chuckled. “Yeah, that’s never happening. You sub boys have bigger balls than I do.”
“Don’t you forget it. Pussy.” Grinning, Marius gave him a nod and headed toward the exit to the public play area. He paused at the door, though, doing Alex the professional courtesy of keeping an eye on the other sessions as he moved to talk to Master Todd. When the Dom nodded agreeably and put down the whip to pick up a soft flogger instead, Alex came back to the post where he had a full view of all scenes and gave Marius a thumbs-up. He was clear.
Management had hired Marius back, but he wasn’t a full member again. And he wouldn’t be, by his own choice. He was part of Regina’s family membership, a membership dependent on her being his Mistress and him always being in her company when at The Zone on his leisure time. He had no interest in playing with anyone but her, unless it was under her direction and driven by her desire.
That had been part of what the counselor had helped him understand. He needed the structure of that one-on-one relationship, the safety of it. Learning how to handle one very important relationship and all its many variables was plenty to manage. Except for that afterparty Alex had mentioned, Regina rarely invited another Mistress into their play. When she did, she remained in control. As long as that constant never changed, he was good with that. He’d learned it was okay to put his hard limits out there. His Mistress encouraged him in that, made him feel proud of himself for doing so, for not risking his soul to prove he could be more badass than was good for their relationship, or himself.
Marius had advocated for Siren as he had for Alex. While Tyler had heard him out and thanked him, she’d still been expelled. It had bugged Marius deeply enough that Regina had made a point of helping him understand why Tyler and the other owners had made the decision. And that had led to the things Alex had just mentioned. The apology, tea party…the after party.
As he moved through the club now, Marius remembered that conversation. They’d been out on Regina’s sunporch on a Sunday morning, shortly after the ruling about Siren had been made. Regina had made him breakfast and then ordered him to strip out of everything but his collar and bracelet. Following her commands, he’d lain on the cushions of the chaise lounge on his stomach, soaking up the sun on his backside. She’d said him being naked enhanced her view of the canal, as she propped her feet on his bare ass and read a book. But at length, she’d realized he was stewing about The Zone decision, and had set the book aside…
“I’m not going to ask why it bothers you so much,” she said quietly, fixing her gaze upon his brooding face. “Because I do understand that. But maybe you’re too focused on your own need to make reparations, and missing that the decision was a necessary one.”
He had his arm over the side of the lounge to play with Dot, moving his finger in circles around the tile floor while she batted at it. “But Alex didn’t lose his job.”
“No, he didn’t. He should have, and probably would have, if not for you, and a couple other factors Tyler took into consideration.” His Mistress’s lips pursed, her eyes flashing.
He rocked his hips, moving his ass under the soles of her feet to tease her. “He’s a good guy. You really should forgive him, Mistress.”
She would in time, he knew. She was a hardass, yeah, but she also had a good heart. She was as protective as a mother bear, which gave him some mixed feelings, knowing it was on his behalf she still held a grudge.
She sniffed. “I told him if he’d let Mistress Helen do electric play on his testicles, he would earn my forgiveness. He’s still deciding if my forgiveness is worth that. That’s neither here nor there. Alex made a stupid, terrible judgment call, but he was misled as to Siren’s intent. She told him she wanted you in the cell to make you listen, and that they were simply g
oing to talk about the way you’d treated them. Like an intervention. Still inexcusable, since he didn’t clear it with me and I was supposedly the arbiter of the whole thing, but intent was the key difference.”
She took a breath. “Siren lied to Alex and forced you into something against your will. That made her infractions worse than Alex’s, but it wasn’t that which prompted her expulsion. Tyler said he banned her for essentially the same reason he banned you. She needs help to work through what happened and get her head straight about it. Yes, you broke something inside her, but something in her let it escalate to where she took it. It’s up to her to address that in the right way, with counseling, like you’re doing.”
He frowned. Even if he’d found a weak spot in her behavior as a Mistress, he’d exploited it, stuck a knife into it and twisted, making the wound bigger.
“If I apologized to her, really apologized, do you think that would help her get back to a better place?” Maybe he could find out where she lived and go mow her lawn for about five years. Take out her trash, do things to make her life easier. A spurt of frustration told him that wouldn’t work. Rumor had it she was extremely wealthy, so she’d have landscapers and other people to do those things for her.
Regina tilted her head. “Turn on your back and start stroking your cock,” she said with gentle firmness. “What’s the rule?”
As she adjusted her feet to the edge of the lounge’s long seat cushion, he complied, his hand gripping his shaft. His cock was already starting to come to life. All it took was his Mistress’s command. “I don’t come until you say. If you take me all the way to the edge, but pull me back, over and over, I still don’t come. Because it’s your cock, your ass, your body, to do with whatever you want.”
Her lips curved. “Yes. Good. And every time I order you to say that, you get harder, even if you’re not touching yourself.”
“Yes, Mistress.” He looked at her as he stroked, because she hadn’t said he couldn’t. He stifled a groan as she slid the loose neck of her bathrobe to the side, exposing one full breast. She began to play with the nipple and the full curve.
He was trying not to be a selfish bastard, but when she answered his question, he had to remind his lust-fogged brain what the question had been.
“Yes. If done right, a sincere apology would help.” She leaned forward and met his gaze. “Stop. I want you to hear this.”
His hand stilled. He wanted to fire off more ideas, ways to convince Siren of his intentions, yet with the one word and her direct look, his Mistress stopped the words from leaving his lips. “Sometimes penance is as much about having to carry guilt and regret, as it is about fixing what created the guilt,” she said. “Those feelings can serve more than one purpose. They help drive the type of person you truly want to be.”
She sat back, tapping her long fingers on the table. “Later down the road, once she’s at a different place in her head, you might have the opportunity to do more for her. For now, you’ll prepare an apology and I’ll deliver it to Tyler to pass on to her. That will be the end of it, for the time being. Do you understand?”
She didn’t usually pull the Mistress card on something like that, but her tone of voice said she meant it. And forced him to face the truth.
She was right. His desire to fix it was as much because the gnawing ache in his gut about it woke him in the middle of the night, or hit him when he thought he was doing better, knocking him down again with self-incrimination. Learning to live with that, manage it, was part of getting better. While that seemed counterintuitive to his male need to fix, he was also learning to trust her when he couldn’t make sense of things on his own.
Trust was the key. His heart and soul struggled with it, but when he met her gaze once more, and connected to all the emotions he saw there—her care for him, her understanding of what was inside him in ways even better than he sometimes comprehended them himself—he capitulated.
“Yes, Mistress.”
She nodded. “So the question is what can you do in the interim? What other things can you do to make things better, right now? Start stroking your cock again.”
“I hurt her the worst, but I think…” His breath caught in his throat as she opened the robe fully. Sliding her touch down to her cunt, she played with her clit, her lips parting in aroused reaction. Her gaze was on the movement of his hand, the flex of his body as he pushed up into his grip. Fuck, she knew he didn’t multitask well. It was why she did it, though. Dommes were sadists, after all…
“I want to say I’m sorry to all of them in some way. And I’d like…your help. You’re a Mistress, so you’ll know the best thing. Will you help me figure out how to do that?”
She rose from the chair, leaving the robe behind for Magenta, who immediately transferred from the cushion on the adjacent chair to curl up on body-warmed terry cloth. Regina moved to straddle him, one leg folded up against his side, the other braced on the floor. With no more than a look, she had him move his hands out of her way. “Hold onto the top of the lounge,” she instructed.
When he did, she pushed herself down on his cock, a nice slow, Sunday morning slick glide. “Fuck, you feel good,” he growled.
“Same goes, sweet boy.” She began to ride, up, down, squeeze, rotate, as his hands flexed on metal and his body thrust up into the heated wet grip of hers. His gaze stayed glued to the quiver of her breasts, the sinuous motion of thighs and stomach, the glint of the silver spiral charm at her navel.
“Yes,” she said breathlessly, right as the orgasm took her. “Yes, I’ll help you. Always.”
Making amends. It was a lot harder than it sounded, because it wasn’t some stupid-ass politician standing up and saying, “I’m sorry if I offended someone,” arrogant words that didn’t express regret at all.
But Regina helped him figure it out, just as she’d said she would. He did the written apology to Siren. After about a hundred painful drafts, he passed it on through Tyler. It felt inadequate, but it was something.
As far as the other Dommes, with some suggestions from Regina, he worked out an idea, then consulted with her and Marguerite to set up the whole thing. The first step was renting Marguerite’s place for a tea party with all the trimmings.
Since the organizers of that last fight had made plenty of money on him in the initial free-for-all, they hadn’t thrown too much of a shitfit about him ducking the scheduled fight. He and Tal had settled with them with some left over, and Marius used those leftovers to pay for the event.
Tal didn’t act too mad that he’d decided to retire. He seemed pretty pleased for Marius and told him that he and his wife would have them over for barbecue sometime soon.
Regina had at last made him tell her what he did with the money he won from his fights. For years he’d dropped big chunks of it anonymously at one of the local animal rescues. Some of the rest went via money order to the shadow’s sister to help with…his mother’s care. It had taken time for him to finally call her that, but the counselor had helped.
After that pivotal night where he’d learned his father’s pro-bono lawyers anticipated losing their fight to keep him from lethal injection, Marius had started giving almost all of it away to both those causes. He hadn’t really cared about where he lived, what he ate. That gray pall had stayed on everything.
Until Regina had helped him start seeing, feeling and tasting in vibrant color again. Calling the shadow what she was—his mother—and telling Regina about the gray curtain and what he did with his money? Those types of breakthroughs made him feel better than he expected.
He also discovered a pleasurable kind of nervousness with her, a desire to please, to not fail her. Even as he also enjoyed yanking her chain sometimes. She knew how to get rough with him. She liked setting a bad dog back on his heels…and he liked it, too.
A different kind of nervousness started manifesting when Marguerite issued the invitations to the tea party, and almost all the Dommes RSVP’ed that they’d be there.
The da
y of the event, his Mistress chose his clothes. A white dress shirt, black slacks and jacket, shiny shoes. Dark brief shorts and a cock harness under the slacks. Though he wasn’t sure the latter was needed, since he felt like his privates wanted to turtle right up into his body, Regina proved otherwise when they arrived at Marguerite’s and his Mistress took him into the back room to give him another once-over.
Once there, Regina removed the light wrap that had denied him a full view of what she’d chosen to wear. All he knew before they left her place was it was red satin and short, and she was wearing elbow-length black gloves. His saliva had dried up, looking at how the fabric molded her long, feminine fingers and forearms like a second skin.
The dress she revealed was a short wrap-around style that hugged her curves. The black bra she wore beneath pushed her breasts up on tempting display, the lace edges providing a trim to the deep vee neckline of the dress. Her necklace was a delicate gold chain, the pendant a tiny gold and black kitten playing with a ceramic red rose. She wore strappy red heels with black soles.
That cock harness was going to get one hell of a work out.
He was still nervous as hell, but the surge of lust and alpha mine vibes surged up over that like a wave, making him restless enough to want to push through limits and take her against the wall, here and now.
She saw it, moistening her crimson-painted lips, her brown eyes measuring him as she tested his self-control and came closer. “Turn around,” she commanded.
He pivoted, slow, not wanting to take his eyes off her any sooner than necessary.
As she stepped behind him, he smelled her perfume, a haunting scent he wanted to taste on her skin. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his back and under the jacket tail to mold her hands over his ass, his hips, and press her body against his. He drew in a breath, and it sounded like a growl. She chuckled, a low, husky note.
