I Need You Too

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  IT HAD BEEN FOUR weeks since we’d returned back to our normal work routines. It was nice being in the office, but I felt my mind always wondering toward Marjorie. I know I must have bugged her a thousand times the first week, always sending instant messages, wondering if she was okay.

  I didn’t expect her to find the emotion icons I’d been working on to express her enjoyment at my messages. Imagine my surprise when I asked if everything was okay and her response back was a hand flipping the bird, with the message, “I can’t work if you keep bothering me every five seconds. I love you, but I need to focus.” God I loved this woman!

  It took a while to relax and give Marjorie her space. The first week back was the worst, but eventually I put my faith in the security team, knowing they were experts at this sort of thing and would keep us safe.

  By the second week I’d arranged to have my first look at the inside of the club and have my first training session with this Master Marshall guy, who was supposed to be some kind of expert on various whips. I was shocked to find out it was my second in command at work, Marshall the IT guy.

  “At work I’ll call you boss, but when you’re here, you’ll show me some respect and call me Master Marshall.” The transition in his demeanor from work to here left no question in my mind that this guy was a dominant. I mean who knew? It made me realize there are more people around who were into this stuff than I’d first believed.

  I showed my respect. “Yes, Master Marshall.”

  He came over shaking my hand and then slapping me on the back. “Actually, when no one’s around, you can call me Marshall. But when the club is open, you will need to show me some respect by addressing me properly. I’ve worked hard to earn that status. I was just seeing how far I could push you.”

  I remembered hearing that he was the one who helped the older crew set up the club. I waved my hand in the air gesturing around the club and asked, “So how did all this come about?”

  He pulled me over to the bar, got us a couple of waters, and started to explain. “I’d been down in the Tampa area working in the IT department for a former military buddy of mine. He had a club similar to this one where I learned from some of the people he brought in to train the newbies. After a while, we became the trainers and opened the doors for people to join.

  “That’s where I met Alexander and his wife, the Bradford’s, and the Lombardi’s. They were curious, wanting to add a little kink to their lives, so they began frequenting the club at least once a week.” He took a drink of his water, before continuing. “After a while, they got tired of the drive and asked if I knew of any clubs closer to the Orlando area. At the time there were none, so I proposed the idea of them opening a club here. They were a bit skeptical at first, but I offered to help manage and guide things if they’d help me find a job in this area so I could be closer to my sister.”

  All this time I’d been working right next to Marshall and had no clue about who he was. But then again, I’d kept myself closed off to everyone with exception of Marjorie. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  He nodded. “My sister was married to a marine who was on a tour of duty while she was pregnant. I felt the need to be close to her since our parents moved up to the Carolinas after they retired.” He paused for a moment, deep in reflection. “It was a good thing I came up because she experienced some complications during the last month of her pregnancy, putting her in the hospital. The baby was born healthy, but he gave us quite a scare for a while.”

  “Was her husband able to come home to be here for her?” I had to know.

  “Affirmative. You’ve met him – Tanner Young. He works both at the office and at the Prescott homes.” Marshall placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “One thing about this group of families is once they accept you in as part of their own, you’ll be looked after. Just look at the whole security team, myself included. We were all part of elite teams within the military, so much so that most of our abilities are classified and can’t be listed on resumes, which made it hard to get employment. But Mr. Prescott seemed to look past that, offering us jobs that fit our needs. In return, we provide him the best of the best in our line of work.”

  My jaw dropped at his admission. “You were military?” In a way, I could see it with how muscular he was and the way he handled both the computers and business.

  “I worked my way up to Master Drill Sergeant, United States Marine Corp. Spent ten years in the service but was then wounded and given an honorable discharge. I can’t talk about what happened, but I’m happy to have met guys like Mr. Prescott and Mr. Tennyson who gave me my initial break. Without men like them, many of our servicemen would be without jobs. You’d be surprised, if you knew, how many of the employees at Prescott International are former servicemen and women.”

  Marshall seemed so sure of himself. I felt guilty that I’d come in and took his lead position away. “Would you rather I step down so you can have the IT lead back?”

  He motioned for me to follow him. “Not at all. You can have the lead. I was actually getting tired of all the stress associated with it. I know my skills are good, but I’m learning a thing or two about you and how your mind works. Had it not been for you and Nate, no one would have ever discovered the bogus software and virus running on our system. It pulled the wool over this old bird’s eyes.”

  He took me outside and pointed to all the cameras located at all angles of the building, including the parking lot. “We lucked out with this building being vacant and available, right next to Kent and Carol’s office.”

  We walked back in, where he showed me how the cameras blended into the scenery, looking like speakers and part of the building décor. He showed me the private area, stating, “The only ones who get back here are those with special passes and the people who work here. The private rooms are an extra expense that people pay through the nose to enjoy.”

  The control room was a technological marvel. I discovered that all the cameras in regular areas, as well as outside the building, were all motion activated. They’d even gone to the extreme of having them wired to a backup generator should the power go out or get cut. Marshall assured me, “Bad shit happens when the lights go out. I’ve seen things in other clubs that you wouldn’t want to deal with. This place is as safe as they come.”

  I could hear Marjorie, Carol, and Dane talking as we entered into the main room where the dance floor was. I noticed Dane had a couple of Styrofoam coolers set up to the side.

  I looked at him questionably, when Marshall spoke up. “I see Dane’s set up your practice targets for today. Go ahead and take your shirt off. We want full use of your upper body, nothing impeding your ability to extend your arms with the whip.”

  As I started taking off my shirt, I noticed Dane and Marshall removed theirs too. Dane came over and took the whip first, setting up a few empty beer cans on top of the coolers. I watched as he stood back, picking up the whip and letting it unwind onto the floor.

  “Let’s give Dane some room to focus, throw a couple of lashes, and then aim at his targets.” He motioned me over toward Carol and Marjorie who were sitting at the bar. “We can watch from here and wait for Kent to join us.”

  I watched as Dane slowly moved the whip forward and backward. Marshall started explaining the process. “The single tail bull whip Dane’s using, stretches out a good seven feet, so you need to make plenty of room all around when using it. Anyone who’s within the seven foot reach could get marred by it.”

  I swallowed hard at the realization this thing could hurt. I felt a pat to my shoulders. “It’s all a matter of common sense, Ethan. You wouldn’t turn someone loose with a gun or a car without some form of training. The same applies here. When done right, you get the ultimate rush of control and focus for the user, while the submissive feels the pleasure of kisses raining down on their back, legs, and ass.”

  “And you know this how?” I looked at him in shock.

  He pointed to the cross at the side of
the room. “Before any Dom is allowed to deliver the whip onto a submissive, they have to feel it for themselves first. It’s not enough to go through the training. Many of us decide to use other implements to bring our women pleasure, but some of us do like to push the envelope. You have to have total respect for the whip, becoming one with it mentally.” He tapped the side of his head. “If you don’t, you could seriously injure the person you’re with.”

  I jumped at the first flick of the whip. The sound was shocking. You could definitely hear the strength behind it. A few more flicks and I watched Dane’s face transform even more. He was definitely in a zone to himself as I watched him hit one can after another, knocking them to the side with extreme precision, not even coming close to the coolers.

  Dane took a couple steps to the side and managed a couple more test flicks of the whip, before stepping forward. What he was aiming at I didn’t know until Marshall pointed it out. “See the small squares of paper over on the wall?” I nodded, not quite understanding why they were there. “That’s several layers of tissue wrapping paper. It’s the thinnest stuff we have to practice with. If you break through a few layers, then there’s no way in hell I’m letting you loose with it on someone, because that means you’ll have cut through a layer of skin. The goal is to barely touch the top layer.”

  I knew, from experience, tissue paper was fickle. Every time I tried to wrap something for my mom during the holidays, I’d poke my fingers through the paper just trying to get it in the box. I couldn’t imagine just barely touching it with the whip. But to my astonishment, Dane flicked the whip at the paper. Once he was done, he dropped the whip to the floor and asked for Marshall’s approval.

  Marshall walked me over to inspect the wall and found each one barely touched with a small tear, but not separated. I’d once feared Dane was too rough with Marissa when I found out he’d used the thing on her a few times. She quickly assured me that he’d never use it in anger and refused to use it on her while she was pregnant.

  “How’d I do?” Dane asked from behind us.

  Marshall was all smiles as he patted his back and praised his pupil. “You definitely have your focus intact. It was damn near perfect. You only have the top sheet torn in half over here, but that would only equate to a little pink skin on the wife.”

  I didn’t need a mental image of Nate’s sister being on the receiving end of the whip. Dane quickly offered, “I mainly use the whip for my own focus and feel of control. Marissa likes it to help her get out of her head sometimes, but I prefer to find other, safer ways, for us to play. It’s a good tool to know how to use, but I love my wife’s skin too much to mar it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. However, it didn’t last long when Dane picked up the whip and handed it over to me. “Your turn, man.”

  I just about freaked, but took in a deep breath and looked over at Marjorie. I reminded myself that I was doing it to find balance in my life. Dane found focus and control, so can you. Do it for yourself and for Marjorie. She needs to see you have an outlet for your emotions.

  I jumped when I heard Kent’s voice behind me. “Feel the whip in your hand, get a sense of its beauty, of its destruction.”

  The leather was hard in my hand, not too heavy and not too light. I wiggled it forward and backward, getting a sense of its weight, watching as everyone, with exception of Marshall, stood back by the bar.

  Marshall came up behind me, his hand over mine as he guided me forward and backward. “Let your arm become an extension of the whip, and focus your mind and your eyes to the end of the room where you imagine you’d like it to hit. I’ll help you with the first few lashes and then let you try a few on your own.”

  I could feel my arm fuse with the length of the whip. I focused on the Styrofoam at the end of the room, letting him guide my hand back as I flicked it at my target. It made contact right where I wanted, though it was probably more to do with Marshall guiding it than my own hand.

  We tried it a few more times. It was surreal knowing that this much power could be at my fingertips. Marshall moved back so I could try it myself. I felt like a kid driving his dad’s car for the very first time, knowing that if I did something wrong, I’d get a tongue lashing.

  “Focus your mind, Ethan. Remember how it felt when I was guiding your hand. Try to replicate that feeling on your own.” I let the whip fall forward and back a few times before flicking it to the point in my sight. It was a bit off, but it connected, sending a piece of the cooler off onto the floor.

  “That a boy.” Kent praised. “Now tell me how did that make you feel?”

  I couldn’t deny it. “I liked it. I felt in control.”

  “Are you holding in any anger?” He went right to the heart of the matter.

  “Yes.” I could feel my blood start to boil. “I would love to get my hands on Marjorie’s ex and show him a thing or two. I’d also love to find the bitch who’s messing with my woman’s life.”

  Kent’s voice was calm and controlled. “Good. I want you to fuel that anger deep within you; let it fester and build to the point you feel you can’t control it anymore and then focus on your target and let it out. When that whip connects with the cooler, I want your rage to be released into the air, never to enter you again. Let the world deal with it, not you.”

  My breathing kicked up and I could feel the pulse of anger vibrating through my chest and my arm as I started to move the whip forward and back, swinging it toward the place I’d release it. I flicked the whip forward and felt the rush of anger pulse away from my center, down my arm, and connect to its target, exploding the cooler and cutting it into two.

  I jumped back in shock by what I’d done. “I’m sorry.” I offered at destroying the cooler.

  Kent reassured me, “You did exactly as I’d asked. You released your anger on the cooler and the world, not on anyone else. How are you feeling?”

  I thought about it for a moment and realized it’d worked. “I feel as though a weight has been lifted on one portion of my life.”

  “Good, now what else is bothering you?” Leave it to Kent to get right to the point.

  I blurted out, “I hate that bastard Tom Reynolds. I keep having visions of the accident. I know I had no control over my body because of the drug he used on me, but my mind was still active. I knew what I needed to do, I just couldn’t. I hate that I couldn’t prevent things from happening.” I looked over to Dane. “I’d give anything to bring your sister back.”

  I was surprised by Dane’s comment, “Focus the energy toward that bastard, focus on how he makes you feel to this day and aim it at the other cooler. Take a lash at it for me, for all of us. It wasn’t your fault; it was his. Now destroy that bastard.”

  I repeated the process I’d done before, feeling the rush of energy spiral down out of my arm and into the whip as it connected with the other cooler, shredding it into a million pieces. I dropped the whip onto the floor and started to buckle. I felt Marshall grab hold of me, to help me keep upright as Marjorie ran into my arms, circling me around the waist.

  “It’s okay, Ethan.” Marshall’s voice was strong beside me. “We all have our hang-ups and breakthroughs in life. It’s time you let go of your past, so you can live again.” He gave my arm a squeeze, still holding onto my shoulders to help support me. “I’ve seen how bright you are. I know you can figure it out; you just need to find your balance. I wouldn’t have believed it, but I think we’ve found your calling. I’ve never had anyone with that sharp of precision in my life. Hell, you should’ve seen the mess when Kent and Dane first started.”

  I finally found my footing, feeling Marshall release me into Marjorie’s care. “I’m in awe of you, Ethan. I won’t ever let you use that thing on me, but I love watching you. You are definitely in your element here, my alpha man.” An endearing smile spread across her face.

  Who’d have thought that I’d find a calling in the world of kink? It sure wasn’t me, but somehow everything felt like it was slipping into place.
I knew there was still a long way to go. Hell, I still needed to see if I could come to some understanding with Jackson, at least reach a point where we could be in one another’s company. I knew he was starting to see things in a new light and coming to terms with them. It would take time, but at least I had hope that we could one day be friends. I now accepted that there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent the way things happened. I wish I could’ve, but life moves on and I can either stay stagnate or learn to live and love life again with Marjorie.

  We gathered our things and were about to leave, when we heard the gasp of a woman. We all turned to see a lady walk in, wearing a tight shirt that had “The Shanty” displayed above the left breast area.

  Kent spoke up. “What are you doing here, Karen? You know we don’t open for another couple of hours. We have a private training session going on.” He spoke to her with a bit of hostility, something I’ve never heard from him before.

  “I’m sorry, Master Kent. The water main at my apartment broke and I wanted to see if I could sneak in and take a shower in the locker room before my shift started tonight.” Her voice was strong and I noticed she tried to turn on the charm and bat her eye lashes a few times, which no one seemed to care about.

  Kent crossed his arms, straightened his back, and stared her down, causing her to look toward the floor. “I’ll let it go this time, but you know company policy. This session was scheduled in advance and has been on the books for days. Next time you have an issue with your water, call one of us first; you have our number.”

  She didn’t bother to look up, but I could tell she was upset about needing to ask for permission. “Yes, sir.” She responded snappily.

  When she turned around and marched toward the locker room, I noted that she seemed close in height and build to Marjorie, but lacked the curves and appeal that my girl had. My girl! I’m liking the sound of that.

  This Karen was definitely no Marjorie, even pushing her nose up in the air as she walked away. What nerve.