Vouloir

by J. D. Chase

  Is this what I’m reduced to nowadays? Getting myself off to security footage from the club? And not even anything juicy . . .

  I’m half tempted to select other cameras . . . cameras that I know will have captured footage that would make most pornos look like daytime TV viewing but I can’t. Sorting out the shit that was heaped on Dean last night has to take priority. Plus, if I can get through it quickly, I might find a few minutes, later in the day to have a little fun. It’s a shame that the club won’t be open at that time but Gabe might be around before opening time . . . if I get desperate, I might have to force him to break his vow of chastity, albeit within the agreed terms since I’m excluded from the terms his Domme laid down. I want to respect his wishes. I know he doesn’t want to . . . well, I know he does want to submit to me, desperately so, but he doesn’t want to break his vow.

  Closing my eyes, I picture the handsome club barman in my mind’s eye. I’ve seen him naked, I don’t have to imagine. That’s more like it. I dip my fingers lower and moisten them before rubbing faster. But still I can’t come. Frustration builds but I push it back, knowing that staying relaxed will facilitate my release. I get close. I get closer. Rubbing for all I’m worth now, a string of curse words falling from my lips when I can’t quite make it. I pause and pinch my clit before giving my pussy a sharp smack. Oh, that feels good. Another. And another. But I still can’t quite get there.

  I realise that I’ve abandoned the task in hand, and for nothing, it seems. Nothing except increasing the level of my horniness and the resultant level of frustration. I glare back at the monitor in front of me, as if it is responsible for my failure to climax. Perhaps if I view the footage and get it out of my head, I can try again.

  I sense a presence behind me. I spin the chair around and find Gabe, looking as turned on as I feel. His eyes flash as his lips part but no words come forth. I swallow when I see further indisputable evidence of his arousal. My eyes can’t move from it. I want it. I want it now. I beckon him closer and watch him struggle with his conflicting desires but he moves forward. My heart’s beating faster now and my breaths are shallow. Once he reaches me, I know there’ll be no going back.

  He’s almost here; this gorgeous, manly creature. This forbidden fruit. I see acceptance in his coffee-bean-coloured irises. I also see respect. And desire. He reaches me and . . .

  My fucking phone starts to ring.

  Neither of us move. Our eyes are locked. Our minds are set.

  But the shrill ringtone is relentless.

  ‘Fuck it,’ I snap, snatching up my phone. Gabe takes a step back. Released.

  ‘Yes,’ I bark.

  ‘It’s me. Dean. I’m at the club but I can’t get in.’

  I know Gabe has overheard because he sets off to let him in.

  ‘Gabe will let you in.’ I cut the call and squeeze the phone in my hand, hanging onto it, lest I give in to the temptation to smash it against the wall.

  I rewind the security footage to the point where Dean is joined by a female. The only feed with a decent view of her is behind her so I can’t yet see her face. There’s something familiar about her. I can see the bright red hair that Dean mentioned but I can’t recognise her.

  Damn, I should have asked Gabe while he was here . . . I can see it’s him serving them. Of course, there’s no guarantee that he’ll know who she is.

  I’m torn. Part of me wants it to be an outsider; I don’t want it to be one of us who did that to Dean. But then, that would mean that our carefully considered security system, implemented to keep members safe, has failed. It would have failed because an outsider—a non-member—should not have been given access to the private rooms as they were not accompanied by a trusted member. It’s the club’s key rule. We all adhere to it but it’s the bouncers who ultimately enforce it.

  To be honest, in my current mood . . . hornier and more frustrated than ever . . . I wouldn’t mind kicking the arses of some of them. They might be big. They might be tough. But none of them enjoy being kicked into shape by me when I’ve a problem with them. I rule this place with a rod of iron. And with Thierri’s blessing. Nobody pisses off Thierri.

  That’s a point, I must find the time to visit Thierri. I miss him. And his long-term sub, Helene. She is sweetness personified. As big and brutal as Thierri could be, she’s his polar opposite. I defy anyone not to like her as soon as they meet her. I will forever be indebted to them, my saviours.

  I drag myself back from the past before it rattles my little boxes, to find Dean hovering in the doorway. He looks anxious. I’m not sure whether it’s because he’s going to have to go over what transpired the night before, or whether it’s from my hostility on the phone. I give him a reassuring smile; it’s not his fault, after all.

  ‘Hey, how are you feeling today?’ I ask, cheerfully, as if to make up for my earlier snappiness.

  He pulls a face. ‘Like I’ve been hit in the balls by a battering ram.’

  Ouch!

  I grab a chair and pull it closer to mine. ‘Here. Come and take a seat.’

  He obliges and I tell him, ‘I’m reviewing the security footage from the bar.’

  Leaning forward, he looks at the split screen display. I feel him tense when he sees himself, sitting next to her.

  I put my hand on top of his and pause the playback. ‘It’s okay, Dean. You’re safe with me. I know this is difficult for you but I need to get to the bottom of what happened. That’s the only way I can take action against the person who broke a fundamental club rule and prevent it happening again. I know it won’t make up for what happened to you and believe me, nobody’s angrier about that than me. And I also need to know what happened so I can help you. Otherwise, I don’t know where to begin.’

  I wait for him to relax before I resume playing back the surveillance video. When they turn to walk to the back, I zoom in on the footage of one of the cameras.

  I wait for the image to sharpen but still I squint. These are the best cameras Thierri could get but, short of having hundreds of the things, they’re still far from ideal. She looks familiar but I’m not sure I know her.

  Then, as I resume the playback, I pull back and select the cameras that cover the rear exit of the room. I select a wall-mounted camera and groan in frustration. The fucking bouncer is standing in front of her, towering over her. I select the overhead camera and pause it when her face is visible, then zoom in.

  I can’t believe it. Any lingering arousal vanishes in an instant.

  It looks like my fellow Domme, Elaine . . . she must be wearing a red hairpiece. Because I’m at least 80 per cent sure it’s her.

  ‘Dean, is that the woman we watched in the playroom the other night?’ I ask.

  He shakes his head. ‘No, I didn’t see her in the playroom.’ He sounds certain so I look back at the screen, doubting myself.

  ‘In the playroom, she had black hair. We watched her and her sub. We watched them last.’

  He’s looking blank and I start to doubt myself even more.

  ‘Dean, she came over and tried to get you to join in. Can you remember? Is it her?’ Even I can hear the desperation in my voice.

  He peers closer. ‘Oh my God. It could be. But . . . she was nothing like how she was with him. With him she was sexy. She gave him a fucking blow job that made my cock so hard, just watching it. She wore totally different clothes. And the other night, I wasn’t exactly looking at her face.’

  He sounds sheepish by the end. I give him a nudge. ‘Dean, I didn’t take you in there to look at faces.’

  I give him a wink and I’m rewarded with a smile.

  ‘Come on,’ I urge. ‘Let’s grab a drink. Gabe will know if it’s her.’

  We head into the bar and find him attempting to explain to a new member of the cleaning staff exactly how he’d like things cleaned behind the bar. She’s about twenty and she’s staring at him so doe-eyed that it’s obvious she’s not listening properly. It soon becomes apparent that he’s had the same conversa
tion with her for the last three days. I can hear the frustration in his voice but he’s a lovely guy so he’s struggling to be polite about it.

  When he catches my eye, I can’t hold back a grin. He looks at me beseechingly and I roll my eyes.

  ‘Did you catch that?’ I ask, my tone firm.

  She blinks as if brought back from a daydream. ‘Um . . . what?’ She’s staring at me now, her eyes sweeping down to my boots and back up to my corset.

  I raise my eyebrows and she blushes. I know instantly that she’s not attracted to me, she just can’t believe my choice of attire. I return the favour, taking in her cleaner’s tabard and scruffy jeans. She almost recoils under my harsh scrutiny. It’s surprising what you can say to someone, without saying a word.

  ‘Tell her again,’ I say to Gabe, before turning back to her. ‘This time, I suggest you actually listen. This is the last time he’s going to tell you what to do. If you don’t do it right from now on, you’re history here. Do you understand?’

  She nods hastily and I see Gabe trying not to smile now. He fills her in while I grab a couple of beers for Dean and me. As soon as he’s done, I call him over.

  ‘Gabe, please tell me it wasn’t Elaine who took Dean out back last night,’ I say.

  ‘I wish I could, Veuve, but it was her. It was busy in here and I didn’t see them go through. Although I know he’s your patient, I wouldn’t have known whether it was with your blessing or not anyway. That’s not me making excuses, by the way. I saw her leave though. She raced through here like the devil was on her tail.’

  Stupid fucking bitch. ‘Oh, she’ll wish it was only the devil. Because now it’s me and I’m going to make her wish she’d never been fucking born. Needless to say, in the meantime she’s barred. Instantly and permanently.’

  He nods his understanding. ‘I kinda guessed. Usual protocol?’

  ‘Oh no. I want to deal with her myself. Have Dec and Slade bring her in as soon as they’re able and tell them to keep her here until I’m free. But from then on in, yes, usual protocol.’

  And to think that I was going to bar her last night. But for the phone call from Bernie, I would have done.

  Dark thoughts begin to converge but I push them back. There’s no point dwelling on the past. I can’t do anything to help Dan now, but I can help Dean.

  We take our drinks out back to my consulting room. I almost collapse into an armchair. I’m so tired; I’m running on empty, yet I need my wits about me.

  Dean sits opposite me on the chaise, looking apprehensive. I note that he sits very gingerly. I’m not looking forward to inspecting the damage.

  ‘I need you to tell me everything, my sweet. Don’t hold back. You need to get it off your chest, not bury it where it can fester. And I need to know so that I can deal with her. Remember, I’m not here to judge, I’m here to help. I’m at fault too—I should have been here.’

  He turns to me with sad puppy eyes. ‘No, you had to be with the kid. I couldn’t believe it when you told me earlier that he . . . that he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry. He needed you more than I did; he was just a kid. I’m an adult—although I didn’t act like one. You warned me not to do anything to take things forward. I didn’t listen. I was impulsive and too eager. I deserved what happened.’

  ‘No!’ I can’t believe that he thinks that and I can’t allow him to believe it. ‘Show me what she did to you.’ I can tell from the way he’s walking and moving that he’s in pain. There will be evidence . . . marks on his skin. I know it.

  He squeezes his eyes shut as if he needs to persuade himself to do it.

  ‘It’s important, Dean. Please?’

  He stands stiffly before gently and cautiously lowering his clothing. I almost recoil in horror at the assortment of marks. Elaine went to town on him with some very nasty CBT. I knew that she must have . . . his body went into shock . . . but being confronted with the evidence is something else. I can inflict pain with the best of ’em if I have a serious masochist in my hands but this . . . fucking hell, it would have hurt. There are militant groups out there whose idea of torture falls way short of this.

  ‘What the fuck was Elaine thinking?’ I see his eyes widen and realise that I’ve spoken aloud. I hadn’t intended to. ‘Fuck, Dean. That’s some seriously messed up shit. What Elaine did is abuse. Pure and simple. You could file charges against her for what she did. She’ll be looking at a custodial sentence—for grievous bodily harm with malice aforethought. You could put her behind bars for years.’

  I stand and begin pacing the room. Being confronted with the evidence is making me reconsider my decision to tackle this myself. Can this week get any fucking worse?

  ‘No, I don’t want that!’ he cries. ‘Please don’t tell anyone.’

  ‘It’s what she deserves! She knew you were inexperienced. Most fucking subs wouldn’t be able to take what she did to you. She’s out of her mind. What the hell possessed her to do that? I’ll never fucking know. She has to be stopped. She’s dangerous and, from the looks of it, out of control.’

  ‘You deal with her. You stop her. I can’t go to the police. I can’t face it. And the shame . . . what if the local press find out? Or worse? Oh my God, my mother. It would kill her. I can’t do it. I just can’t.’

  I take in his panicked expression. I feel for him, I really do. He’s been through enough. But Elaine needs to be stopped. She needs help, for fuck’s sake.

  ‘I don’t have the time or the inclination to help her. I’d find it hard not to fucking throttle her. She needs to be behind bars. I just don’t understand what she thought she was doing . . . or how she thought she’d get away with it. I can have her barred from every club in London . . . and many clubs further afield. But that’s not enough. I need to make sure this never happens again. She’s not done anything like this here before—trust me, I’d know. I just cannot get my head around what she thought she was doing.’

  ‘She was trying to train me,’ Dean says simply. ‘She said she was going to break me. To force me to submit.’

  I feel the colour drain out of my face, right before my vision begins to recede. Images are flashing through my mind. Images I never wanted to see again. I grab the arm of the chair and sink down into it, before I fall down. I feel sick. My little boxes aren’t rattling . . . they’re fucking leaping around. I need to keep a lid on them. I need to—

  I notice Dean looking at me anxiously. I’m hyperventilating now. I just need a minute. I try to tell him but I can’t get my breath. Then he blurs into insignificance. I battle with myself, trying to fend off the rising sense of panic.

  I shriek as something touches me. Common sense dictates that it’s Dean . . . but common sense is no longer in control. The past is. It’s taken me over and I’m struggling to get back to the present.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been waging war against it but I know I’m losing. I’m being taken back to a place of unmentionable horror. I feel my grip on reality slipping . . .

  ‘I’M HERE, MISTRESS,’ A deep voice says, the final word cutting into my consciousness and giving me something to grasp.

  ‘I’m Yours to command. Respectfully, I ask whether You can hear me. La Veuve Noire, my beautiful Mistress, I am at Your service.’

  The roaring in my ears quietens.

  Mistress.

  La Veuve Noire.

  My mind fast-forwards at lightning speed. I feel the claws of terror loosen around my heart. My very soul.

  I open my eyes and Gabe, gorgeous, kind, sexy Gabe, is kneeling at my feet. As soon as he sees my eyes focus on his, he averts his gaze. I see Dean hovering near the door, his face ashen.

  ‘Pass my drink,’ I whisper, as my mind struggles to readjust after its near brush with the past.

  I sip it and wish I’d poured myself a Jack Daniels instead of a beer.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, Gabe,’ I whisper.

  ‘I want to. You need this.’

  ‘Dean, take yourself into the bar. I’ll be
with you very soon. Do not leave the building,’ I say, unable to take my eyes off Gabe.

  ‘Mistress, if I may be so bold . . . I think he should stay,’ Gabe offers.

  The idea holds merit. I know it does. I just don’t know whether the timing is right. And my focus needs to be on restoring the balance inside me.

  Dean makes the decision when he says quietly, ‘I’d like to stay.’

  I nod once. ‘Sit. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Just observe.’

  He readily agrees. I stand, push back my chair and move to the chaise, Gabe a whisper from my feet. I signal for Dean to sit in my vacated chair. I know his interest has been caught. He’s fascinated. I will try to take his needs into consideration, but right now, I have to focus on my own. And, of course, those of the handsome creature at my feet.

  I move to a sideboard on the far side of the room and open a cupboard. I take out my favourite crop and flex it. From my peripheral vision, I see Dean bristle. I picture the welts on his penis then force the image from my head. I’ll show him how else a crop can be wielded. Thankfully, Gabe is not a masochist. He’s not into extreme pain. He has fetishized degradation; he loves giving up control and letting someone else dictate the pace. That stemmed from a time in his life when he took over his father’s company—already half run into the ground and beyond hope.