“Q. No, no,” she backpedaled. “Play with him if you want to. I just wanted to warn you that he’s getting a reputation for playing too hard. For pushing limits to scary places. A few subs I’ve talked to lately have said he ignored their safewords the first few times. Maybe leaving with him now isn’t the best idea?”
“Why is now an issue?”
“Just a friendly warning, Q. I’m worried about you. This isn’t the Q I know. The fact that he’s new to the scene here means there’s no one to vouch that he’s safe, and early reports about him aren’t good.”
She’d rattled that off fast, like she had to get it off her chest in case she was stopped. Ivy hated confrontation.
Q exchanged stares with her. “Thanks for the concern, Ivy, but I need this tonight. If he lands me in the hospital, feel free to tell me ‘I told you so.’”
Ivy bit her lip. The Rubanesque submissive looked disconcerted. “At least let me be your safe call, then.”
“Fuck! You just don’t give up, do you?” Q grumbled.
“Or call Sabrina if you don’t want to use me. Is she home?”
It was like being stabbed in the chest. She caught her breath. A string of profanity escaped, actually making Ivy recoil. “Leave Sabrina the fuck out of this.”
Big brown eyes came to mind – sad ones. Sabrina was always sad when she talked to Q lately, perhaps because Q had a hard time talking back to her. Her throat felt swollen and she fought down tears. She’d promised Sabrina that their experiment wouldn’t fuck up their friendship, but seeing her and not being able to hold her was hell on earth. Sabrina didn’t want her like that. She wanted a vague, happy, shopping-buddy love. The type of love Q felt was tearing her heart out.
It had been two months but, if anything, it was getting worse instead of better. At first, she thought living almost on top of each other in the small apartment would get them back together – that maybe Sabrina would come to her senses. But Sabrina didn’t want her. Eventually even Q had to admit all the things she’d thought she’d seen there, between them, had been pathetic delusions on her part. It was impossible to move on and forget her when they even shared toothpaste.
Lee didn’t look pleased about giving Ivy his full name and address, but her friend stood her ground under his intimidating glare. When the exchange was complete, he turned away from Ivy without wasting breath on pleasantries.
As Q grabbed her jacket at the coat check, she avoided making eye contact with several regulars she knew. She hoped no one else would talk to her. Cross walked in. He was so quiet, she always forgot how huge and dangerous he used to seem – like a Titan dropped into the mortal world.
Cross nodded at her, unsmiling.
She nodded back as he checked the coats of the two new girls he’d brought along. He was in the zone – which, for Cross, meant even less talking. Not that he was the type of guy to prattle. The girls were hot and cowered behind him a little. Fresh meat.
“Yours?” Q asked as she passed him.
“I wish,” Cross murmured back.
She stifled a laugh until she remembered that the last time they’d been talking about... She blocked memories of Sabrina and focused on the low level of pain her body was feeding her.
Lee gestured Q out the door ahead of him. It felt more like a prison guard keeping an eye on an inmate, rather than something gallant or gentlemanly. It was a continual struggle not to compare Lee to Jude. Jude would have opened the car door for her. Jude would have teased her, flirted, and made jokes on the ride. But Jude had cast her off. How had she ever believed that he’d had feelings for her? Easy. She’d wanted to be fooled. Happy in her own little delusion, she had probably missed any number of hints that she was temporary in his life. Like the fact that he’d actually said so.
By the time they pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse where Lee lived, it was starting to feel more like a business transaction than a date. She wanted pain – he wanted to hurt her. Q had negotiated there would be no touching and no sex, and he said he was fine with that, for now. He’d mentioned that he didn’t believe in fucking brats he hadn’t mastered – whatever the hell that meant. The flask he’d had in the glove compartment mellowed her out. He didn’t look at her much. Some Doms she’d played with were like that though. They thought paying too much attention to a sub gave them too much power. She missed the way Jude looked at her – like she was eye candy.
The decor was Spartan. There was no pretence of normalcy once you passed the kitchen. In the living room, a huge double St. Andrew’s cross was bolted to the wall. The coffee table had built-in restraints. Cuffs dangled from ropes that were O-ringed to the ceiling, along with some other things that Q couldn’t identify. With no neighbors close by, there was no one to hear her scream. A loud instinct screamed to get out while she still could. Lee went to the kitchen and made that pesky instinct another drink. It was quiet after that.
She wobbled a bit as he hooked her into some O-ring cuffs and adjusted the rope length so she could stand flatfooted. More cuffs went around her ankles, and were clipped to another ring recessed into the floor. She hadn’t noticed the floor rings at first. Even with the booze-goggles on, she was happy she didn’t have to have sex with him. He wasn’t bad, but compared to Jude’s angelic countenance, Lee was a bit of a troll.
They had a short conversation about what toys she was willing to try. It was about as intimate as telling the guy at the pizza place what toppings she wanted. Lee seemed to care about as much.
He began. A beating from someone who didn’t care about her wasn’t the same – like masturbation versus sex. He slid needles under her skin. She had to remind herself that she’d agreed to try it. Maybe it was different with someone you trusted? Subspace found her eventually, despite their lack of connection, and the relationship became all about her and the flogger, with Lee becoming incidental. She lost all sense of time, only vaguely aware when he switched to the crop. It pulled scream after scream from her, until she felt empty.
Pain changed and ramped up. The cane and single-tail vied for her attention. Her comfortable haze abandoned her. She hung from her wrists, hands numb. Shoulders ached. He was saying cruel things to her. Skin was fire. Whore. Blows stopped waiting for her, and she couldn’t process the pain. You deserve to suffer. Agony rained down. “Red! Red! Red!” she screamed. Did the words come? It didn’t stop. Red ran through her head, but she didn’t know if it came out of her mouth. You’re a waste of flesh. Did only she hear red? But red was universal. Red worked everywhere. He didn’t understand her? He didn’t care. She was going to die here. She stopped screaming. She didn’t care either.
Chapter 19
Sabrina
Sabrina grinned, staring at the email message on the computer screen. The photo of the apparition from Jude’s house was a finalist in a photo contest. A professional paranormal investigating organization wanted to buy her photo. Two hundred dollars! She couldn’t hold back a little squeal. Q would be psyched. And Jude would –
Her grin faded. It’d been two months. Why was she still thinking of him as if he was still here? Even Q – who was technically living with her, wasn’t really here.
Her gaze fell to the photo in the cheap colorful frame on the desk. She’d left it next to the computer despite Q’s protests. She’d hoped it would make her smile – the three of them making goofy faces at the camera – but more often than not, it made her cry. Especially when Q had started pulling away in earnest.
And Jude…he didn’t answer her emails. Yeah, the experiment was over but she’d hoped they could at least remain friends. He hadn’t replied to a single one, even when she’d attached photos that he’d asked for before he’d left. She wanted to hate him, to yell at him, but she dissolved into tears before the words became clear in her head.
Every little thing reminded her of him. Half the time his fucking song was stuck in her head. The alert on online chat reminded her of conversations between him and Q. Even her solace, her special place
at the beach wasn’t safe. All she saw was Jude carrying her over his shoulder into the waves and feeding strawberries to Q on a blanket. Small moments – snippets of a different time and place. People who’d changed, drifted in and out of her life.
But Q. She was supposed to stay. Forever. She hadn’t been eating much, despite Sabrina cooking her favorites and bugging her every night. She’d barely even been home this past week.
She’d randomly dyed her hair blue – not so unusual for Q. But then she’d gone out and pierced almost every spot on her face – and who knew where else. She shuddered. When Sabrina tried to engage her, she pulled away. She ignored her texts. She acted gruff and uninterested when they were in the same room. But then, when she thought Sabrina wasn’t looking, she’d gaze at her with a longing expression. It broke her heart and made her angry all at once.
Q had promised they’d stay friends after the experiment, no matter what happened. Damn her for going back on her word. But then, Sabrina was having a hard time with that herself. She had to fight the impulse to wrap her arms around Q from behind when she made her coffee in the morning, kiss her pouty lips when she looked sad, ask her to cuddle on the couch and watch a favorite movie. But nobody did those kinds of things with platonic friends. Were they even that anymore? One thing was for sure – her best friend and favorite person in the world was slowly slipping away. And the only person she might have turned to for help was gone. Jude.
Not for the first time in the last few days, tears ran down her cheeks. Ridiculous! She’d just gotten great news and she was crying!
“Look what you’ve done to me, Q.” She cursed her out loud.
If things were different…if her family were more accepting…they’d probably be sitting on the couch, giggling and cuddling right now. If life were simpler, she’d follow her heart. She’d happily live in her own little world with Q, oblivious to the judgment and scathing looks around her.
The summer had been the best time of her life. Was it worth it – giving that up to do what was proper according to her family? Even if it meant she suffered? Where was the trade off? She’d sacrificed Q, now where was her prince charming and house and 2.5 kids and perfect, normal life?
Normal, suddenly seemed highly overrated.
What she really wanted was her unconventional, odd, sometimes stubborn, often sweet, sexy girlfriend. What she really wanted was Q – in her arms, laughing at her silly jokes, kissing her after a bad day, standing over her with a crop in her hand. And her prince charming? Well, he came in the form of a good-humored, blond Dom with a thing for turning old houses into kinky, well-decorated dungeons. She craved his hand in her hair when giving gruff commands, the gleam in his eye when he’d caught her being naughty, his beer-flavored kisses, his laughter booming off the empty walls of the house.
More tears fell. The best time of her life had passed in only a summer. It wasn’t fair.
But neither was famine or slavery or war or way worse predicaments than hers. Nobody got what they wanted in life without big sacrifices.
Her phone rang. The name Ivy flashed across the screen. Q’s kinky goth friend? What did she want?
“Hello?”
“Sabrina? This is Q’s friend, Ivy.” They had talked a few times just after Nico had kicked Q to the curb. She seemed to know more about how Q was feeling then than Sabrina had. More recently she’d learned it was because Q had been keeping her kink life in the closet. “Is Q home yet? She was supposed to call me and she hasn’t been answering her phone.”
“No.” She glanced at the time. Midnight wasn’t late for Q, but Ivy sounded alarmed. “Why? What’s wrong?”
She hesitated then blurted, “I knew I should’ve have let her go with him. I’m so sorry. God, if anything happens to her I’ll just die!”
“Whoa! Slow down.” Her heart started to race. “Where is she?”
After an audible breath, she told her Q had gone to play at a private residence with a stranger who had a bad reputation.
“I’m sorry.” The girl sobbed. “She assured me she was fine. And, well, you know Q. She doesn’t back down easy.”
“Okay. It’s okay. Just tell me where she is.” Shaking with nerves and anger and…fucking desperation, she grabbed her purse and keys and headed to the car while Ivy rambled off an address. “You’re at the club right now?” At her affirmation she took control. “I’m swinging by to pick you up. I’ll need help getting Q out. You may be a sub but I’ve heard you can put a wayward Dom in his place.”
Tires screeched as she peeled out of the parking lot and let her inner bitch take over. If Q went and died because she was too hung up on a guy to use common sense, Sabrina was going to kill her.
After collecting Ivy, she followed the GPS out of town and into a sparsely occupied wooded area. The long driveway led to a house up on a hill. The outside lights were on but it still looked sinister. Or maybe it was all in her head.
She jumped out of the car and stared at the old farmhouse. “Come on. We have to make sure Q is okay.” Damn her for not listening to her uncle and getting a handgun permit. That’d be helpful right about now. She looked back at Ivy, who seemed to have swallowed her guilt and replaced it with determination. Good. She needed the back-up. “Call the police if this guy threatens us or Q at all, okay?”
She nodded.
They walked to the door and stopped. “Should we knock?” Sabrina asked.
Ivy shrugged.
The sound of Q’s voice answered her question. “Red… red…pleeease.” It was little more than a whimper, but she could hear it clearly through the door. There was a loud crack and Q sobbed.
Oh hell. She burst through the door and followed the heart-wrenching sounds through a kitchen and straight into a nightmare of kinky proportions. She barely registered the man standing to the side, whip in hand. The only thing on her mind was Q, hanging limply from her wrists…and bleeding.
“Hey!” The man yelled. “Who the fuck are you?”
Ignoring him, she choked back a sob and rushed to Q’s side. “Q! Are you okay?”
She stared at the wall, moaning. Needles had been slid under her skin, making a line down her un-tattooed side. Blood oozed to the surface on the back of one thigh where it looked like a cane had hit too hard and split the skin. Bruises marred her back and breasts.
Anger welled up in Sabrina’s chest. She grabbed Q’s face. “Wake up, honey. Tell me you’re okay.” More moaning that tore at Sabrina’s heart. “We’re gonna get you out of here. Just hang on.”
The man placed himself in her line of sight. “I said, who the fuck are you?”
Sabrina whirled on him. “Her fucking girlfriend. I’d suggest you stay the hell out of my way before I decide to call the state deputy. Also known as my cousin.” It was a lie but he didn’t need to know that. Sometimes bullshitting was the best way out of a situation.
“You just trespassed on private property. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re stealing something of mine.” He took a step forward, tapping the whip handle on his leg.
Ivy moved to Sabrina’s side, looking between them nervously. “Don’t antagonize him, Sabrina,” she whispered. “He looks like he might have a few screws loose.”
She was beyond caring. Anger outweighed any sense. “Start taking out the needles,” she told Ivy before addressing the fuck that hurt her Q. “You have a girl strung up in your torture chamber, barely conscious. And she’s bleeding. Do you really want to invite law enforcement in here?”
He looked at Q, still dangling from the ceiling then shrugged. “Fine. Take the bitch. I’m finished with her anyway.”
Fucking asshole. She released a breath. Good that she wouldn’t have any trouble, but how she wished she could pound the living daylights out of him. She turned to Q, who barely registered that Ivy was carefully pulling needles out of her skin.
She searched the room for her clothes. At least she had underwear on. A t-shirt would be fine for the car ride home. She grabbed the black shi
rt off the floor. Ivy placed each needle on the coffee table. Sabrina did a double-take. Not a coffee table – a restraint system.
She shuddered. When the needles were out, she handed Ivy the t-shirt and unbuckled the cuffs. She barely caught Q when her knees buckled.
“Stand up, Q,” she gritted out, crushed under the weight of her taller friend. “You have to stand so we can help you.” Sabrina gave her a shake and Ivy patted her face.
Q seemed to come to a bit. She nodded and straightened, on wobbly legs but at least standing. Sabrina helped support her with an arm under hers as Ivy tugged on her shirt.
“Grab her jeans,” she told Ivy, guessing Q had stashed her wallet and keys in her pockets. Headed for the door, she spared a glance at the bastard who dared call himself a Dom. He’d just sat down on the couch with a beer and was about to turn on the TV – as if it were an ordinary Saturday night and nothing had happened.
“Asshole,” she muttered. “Let’s get you home, Q.”
Ivy and Sabrina shuffled Q out to the car barefoot, not wanting to stop long enough to buckle her knee-high boots. Sabrina motioned for Ivy to drive but she was already one step ahead and opened the back door for them. The shout of pain when Q sat down in the car was like a knife to Sabrina’s heart.
“Fuck. What were you thinking, Q?” Sabrina grumbled to herself. She pulled Q sideways so her upper body lay in her lap. Her shoulders trembled and at first she thought Q was crying, but when she rolled her face up, her teeth chattered. “Shit. She’s gonna go into shock. Ivy, there’s a blanket in the trunk, can you get it?”
A moment later, Ivy draped the blanket she used for beach trips on Q’s body, then she slid in the driver’s side and blasted the heat. “To the hospital?” Ivy asked.
“No!” Q tried to sit up but Sabrina held her down – or tried to. The girl was fucking strong, even when barely conscious. “No hospitals. I just need to sleep.”
The Dom with a Safeword Page 26
