Faith paused again, stepped to the side, and spoke close to Brooke’s ear. “You doing okay?”
“Yes.”
“You’re slipping into a subspace. Pretty incredible for someone’s first foray into submission.” Brooke could hear the smile in Faith’s voice. “You sure you haven’t been flogged before?”
“I’m sure.” She smiled back. “But I might like to do it again.” When had she gotten so bold?
“You want me to increase the pressure?”
“Um, sure. Yes, okay. Let’s try that.” She could feel the stress leaving her body with every strike to her back.
“Okay. Don’t forget to stop me if you need to with your safeword.”
“I will.” She wouldn’t. She knew instinctively she wouldn’t use a safeword with Faith. She trusted her. And she sensed she could like this lifestyle if she let herself. It was indeed as freeing as Faith insinuated.
Every muscle in her body relaxed when Faith resumed flogging her. As the strikes grew closer together and landed with more force, Brooke felt herself going deeper into her head. It didn’t hurt, but her skin heated beneath her T-shirt and jeans. The warmth was welcoming.
It seemed like only moments passed before Faith set the flogger aside and came to Brooke’s ear again, her palm smoothing up and down Brooke’s back. “You’re a natural.”
Brooke said nothing. What did it say about her that she was a natural? She tensed for a moment, wondering if Faith could tell she had been beaten before.
Beaten, she reminded herself. Nothing like the flogging she’d gotten from Faith. Beaten. Hard.
A part of her wanted that now. She wanted Faith to continue, hitting her harder, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. What’s wrong with me? Why would I want someone to intentionally hit me?
“Deep breaths,” Faith whispered. “Come back to me.”
From where? I’m right here.
“That’s it. Open your eyes. Look at me.”
Brooke blinked her eyes open, facing Faith.
Faith smiled. “That’s it. You’re in subspace.”
“What’s subspace?”
“It’s a place some people can go in their mind when they scene like this. Escape. Release.” Faith wrapped her hand around one of Brooke’s. “Let go of the pegs. Your fingers are going to be sore. You’re gripping the pegs too tight.”
Brooke released the pegs and lowered her arms. She was sore and stiff just as Faith suggested.
“Come sit down. You need water.” Faith guided her over to a leather loveseat and opened a bottle of water for her before handing it over. “Rest a minute. Breathe.”
Brooke drank about half the bottle before shaking herself back into the present as if she’d been far away. “Wow. That was…powerful.” She met Faith’s gaze.
Faith was smiling. “Yes. You slide into subspace very easily. Keep that in mind when you play with someone else. You should tell them. Most Doms won’t expect it.”
Brooke flinched. “I’m not doing something like this with someone else.” The idea had never crossed her mind. She had come here to see what all the hype was about. Nothing else. Now she knew. Right?
Faith nodded, not at all condescendingly. “Okay. But if you change your mind, it’s important to let whoever tops you know how easily you slide into your head. Not every Dom is as knowledgeable as others about handling a submissive who goes in deep like that. It’s difficult to continue to consent when you’re in subspace. Someone might strike you too hard.”
Brooke nodded slowly. Half of her wondered what it would feel like to be hit harder. In a controlled environment like this. With her permission. While the person doing so was not angry.
She shuddered, lowering her gaze to the floor.
Faith surprised her with her next words. “I know you wanted more, but it wasn’t prudent this first time. You need to process what we did for a few days before trying again. If you really want me to use another tool and strike you hard enough to actually hurt or raise welts, we can discuss it another time.”
Heat rushed up Brooke’s face as she continued to stare at the floor. She couldn’t even nod. She was still trying to process what it said about her to crave something like this.
She finally glanced around the room. The entire club existed for people to play like she just did with Faith. So there were others like her. And others like Faith. She was not alone.
Was she a masochist?
And did all masochists have a history like hers?
Chapter 4
Carter made sure he was at the front desk pretending to organize papers and tidy up the entrance an hour later when Brooke and Faith were leaving.
Faith lifted her face to smile at Carter. Brooke kept her gaze toward the floor, allowing her red curls to hide her expression. She was either shy, she hated men, or she was intimidated by him, in particular. None of those things made him happy.
Nevertheless, he greeted them. “Hey, ladies. I thought I heard voices down here.”
While Brooke took a step behind Faith, Faith spoke. “Giving Brooke an introduction to the lifestyle. Do you mind if we use a private room Saturday afternoon before the club opens?”
“Sure.” Though he wasn’t sure what difference it would make when no one else was around and the club wasn’t open. Except you were around. He winced, wondering if the women had sensed him watching.
Faith shrugged. “I just think it might be easier for Brooke to relax in a smaller space. The wide-open main room can be intimidating even when the club is closed.”
“I understand. Use whichever room you’d like. You can lock the door and close the blinds too. Just be safe.” Was he making a mistake? He hoped not. He knew Faith well enough to trust her judgment. She was an amazing Domme who had recently switched her membership to Zodiac from Breeze. The owner of Breeze had nothing but wonderful things to say about her.
But what about Brooke? She was the most skittish person Carter had ever seen. She tugged at his heart strings from behind Faith. He knew so little about her, and yet he was intrigued.
Watching her submit to Faith had stopped his breath in his lungs. It hadn’t taken long for her to slide into a subspace many people were never able to achieve. As her shoulders relaxed and her head slumped forward, his dick had stiffened painfully.
Not only was she gorgeous, but she appeared to be naturally submissive in a way that piqued his interest even further. Ever since the first night he met her, he’d imagined her in positions of submission, but he’d had no proof his daydreams were anything but just that—dreams—until today. Damn, she was fantastic. If only he could somehow get her to work with him instead of Faith. But no way could he suggest that yet. She was new. If she wanted to bond with Faith, he needed to step back and let her.
He decided to engage her, or least attempt to. “You signed the waiver, right, Brooke?” He leaned around Faith a few inches in attempt to put Brooke more fully in his line of sight. He knew she’d signed everything, but what else could he say to force her to speak to him?
“Yes,” she murmured, still facing the floor.
“And you read it thoroughly? No questions?”
“No.” She shook her head, lifting her gaze to approximately his chest. He was not the tallest man alive, but he towered over Brooke. She couldn’t have been more than about five two. She cleared her throat. “I only had a few questions. Faith answered them.”
“Okay.” Shit. He wanted to engage her more, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. “Well, if you ever need anything, you still have my card, right?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips, took a deep breath, and then turned toward the stairs that led down to the exit. “I’ve gotta get going. I’ll see you next week, Faith.” And just like that, she was gone.
Faith sighed, setting her elbows on the counter. “Nice try.” She smiled.
“What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be coy with me. You were practically drooling over her.”
“She’s a hot mess.”
“I can see that.” He didn’t want to pry. It would be wrong to ask Faith to break any confidence she had with Brooke.
Faith sighed again. “I don’t even know what her deal is, or I would ask for advice. All I know is she’s genuinely submissive and eager to learn. So, I’ll do my best to help her find herself. But she’s wound up tight, and there’s no way she’s going to let her guard down fully in the main room.”
Carter wasn’t sure what Faith meant by that since he’d been on the stairwell for nearly the entire scene and from his vantage point, Brooke had slipped easily into subspace. Not only that, but she had absorbed the flogging like a seasoned submissive, and he would bet money she would have asked for more.
He also knew Faith wouldn’t have let Brooke go further this early in her exploration. Faith knew what she was doing. She would not take risks.
“If there’s anything I can do…”
She blew out a breath. “Maybe someday. For now, all I can do is ensure she’s playing safe. She’s eager to learn, as if the entire lifestyle had been foreign to her until now and suddenly she realizes it’s exactly what she craves.”
“That’s usually how it happens. People get a peek and then can’t stop.”
She nodded. “She has some deep stuff buried inside her. If I had to guess, I’d bet it involves a man. Or perhaps more than one man.”
Carter winced. He would have guessed that too, but damn, he didn’t like to hear it out loud. “You think she’s been abused?”
“Maybe. It’s hard to tell. She won’t open up about it, and I don’t want to push her too hard. But she closed off completely when I suggested she come to the club while it’s open. And she nearly lost her shit when I asked if she’d like to work with someone else.”
He hated to point out his next thought, but… “Do you think she’s into you?”
Faith shook her head. “No. I thought of that, but I don’t think so. She pays close attention to the apparatus and the toys when I show her new things. Not me. She’s never come on to me or even gotten in my space. I think it’s the lifestyle she’s curious about, and she trusts me.”
That was promising. “Then perhaps your assumption is correct. Maybe she’s been abused by a man, and she trusts you because you’re a woman.” That was not promising as far as Carter’s interests were concerned.
“Could be. In any case, she’s made it clear she’d like to explore rougher play, so I’ll cautiously give her that in a private setting.” Faith tapped the counter and shoved off. “I need to get going. I’ll see you again soon.” She waved as she made her way toward the stairs.
Carter’s heart beat faster as he stood alone in the silence. He wanted to approach Brooke and straight out proposition her. Ask her on a date or something. He was attracted to her physically. He was also attracted to her shyness. He had a history of dating women who were more introverted and quiet. Loud, obnoxious women with agendas always turned him off.
On the other hand, he had concerns about this particular sexy redhead. If she had a history of dating abusive men, he had no idea how to handle that. His own upbringing did not include witnessing abuse. He was peripherally aware of club members or outside friends who were victims of abuse or abusers, but he could only imagine the challenges they faced.
Another red flag was her apparent desire to experience something rougher with Faith. What did that mean? He knew Faith was talented with a whip, a crop, a paddle, nearly any tool. But what did Brooke desire? Welts? Blood?
He shuddered. He was a Dom in every sense of the word. Hell, he was part owner of this club with Lincoln and Rowen. He and Rowen had bought into the business with Lincoln three years ago.
Carter had joined his first club when he was eighteen, even before he’d joined the army and served eight years. He and Rowen had enlisted in the army at the same time and became close friends in boot camp—a friendship that never faltered. It was Carter who educated Rowen on the specifics of BDSM after realizing they had a shared interest.
But no matter how long he’d been in the lifestyle or how knowledgeable he was, Carter wasn’t a sadist by any stretch of the imagination. He enjoyed the Dominant/submissive side of things. He liked to be with a woman who submitted to him sexually, especially in the bedroom, but he didn’t have a desire to inflict pain on anyone.
He was educated in all aspects of the lifestyle, enough to ensure safety inside the club he partially owned, but his personal tastes did not run toward sadism. If Brooke ended up looking for a Dom or Domme who would fulfill some sort of masochistic need, Carter would never be that man.
Lincoln was the sadist of the three owners. If it came down to it, he might be able to help Brooke or find someone else to help her.
Carter winced. The thought of some other man handling her made his skin crawl.
Finally, he shook thoughts of Brooke from his mind and headed back upstairs to finish some paperwork. There was no reason to create problems that didn’t exist. Maybe Brooke was experimenting and she would eventually find herself to be someone he could dominate.
If she ever looked him in the eye.
The truth was, there were a lot of unknowns about Brooke, and a few of them were pretty important. No matter how physically attracted to her Carter found himself, it was what was inside that mattered. Only time would reveal how compatible she might be with him.
Brooke flopped down on her mattress later that night, pulled the blanket over her body, and stared at the ceiling. She had sold the bedroom set months ago, keeping only the mattress which wouldn’t have been easy to sell anyway.
Her clothes—what few she owned—were in boxes in the corner. The rest of the apartment was as sparsely furnished as the bedroom. She had kept the kitchen table and two chairs only because they too weren’t worth more than a few dollars. But the living room was empty by now. She’d sold the television and sofa with the bedroom furniture.
Closing her eyes, she took a breath and fought the tears that escaped to run down her face. She was out of money. Her job didn’t pay enough to even cover the rent alone. CCS would only permit her to work thirty hours a week so they wouldn’t have to cover health insurance, which also meant she didn’t have health insurance.
This wasn’t something new. She’d never had health insurance in her life. Thank God she’d never broken a bone or needed stitches in her twenty-two years. Although even if she had needed medical care, she wouldn’t have gotten it. She had become a pro at hiding her injuries and pretending nothing had happened at all. Doing so kept things from spiraling into darker places she didn’t want to go.
She shuddered. The tears fell in earnest now. Most nights she didn’t allow herself the luxury of crying. It wasn’t worth it.
She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and tried to come up with a plan. She had no skills other than cleaning. No education. No friends. No relatives. She hadn’t paid her rent in two months. It wouldn’t be long before the building manager kicked her out. He’d left her several notices, sliding them under the door or taping them to the outside. It was only a matter of time. Talking to him wouldn’t do any good. She didn’t have the rent. Period.
Every dime she made needed to go into maintaining her car, and it was holding up by a thread and a prayer. She wasn’t a religious person—in fact, she’d never been inside a church—but she wasn’t above praying on the off chance it helped. So far she had seen no evidence in her life that it did a bit of good. But then again, maybe she would have been homeless before now without it.
The fifteen-year-old Pontiac Grand Prix was her most valuable possession. So far it still ran well, and she managed to keep the bare minimum of insurance on it. At least she wasn’t breaking any laws.
She needed the car. Selling it wasn’t an option. Everything else had been sold off first, because she’d known for months it would be her home eventually. Wandering the streets of Miami didn�
�t appeal to her at all. As long as she worked for barely above minimum wage for thirty hours a week, she could afford to keep the car and live in it. It wasn’t ideal, but not one moment of her life had been ideal.
Brooke rolled onto her side and drew her knees up, curling into a ball. Thank God she’d never needed to run the heat in her apartment because there was no way she would have been able to afford that luxury, but some nights she got chilled anyway. The temperature in Miami rarely got cold enough for most people to heat their homes, but most people weren’t as skinny as Brooke.
Her stomach grumbled and she ignored it. She’d eaten a peanut butter sandwich when she got home. It would have to do until tomorrow because she’d used the last two slices of bread and scraped the jar of peanut butter clean. She knew she would easily qualify for food assistance from a local food bank, but she’d never had the guts to enter one. Perhaps that decision hadn’t been wise. Now that she was close to eviction, it occurred to her that a bit less pride over the last six months might have provided her with enough money to pay the rent a little longer.
The place was a shithole anyway. The walls were paper thin. She could hear the neighbors to the left arguing day and night. The people above her must have been running a dance studio out of their living room, and the old man living to her right snored so loudly she had to cover her head with her pillow at night.
The manager rarely repaired anything until the fifth request, and then only begrudgingly in a manner that usually involved duct tape. The place hadn’t been painted in all the years she’d lived in it, so there was little chance she would get back any security deposit—if one had ever been paid in the first place.
Yeah, her shitty life was about to get shittier.
The only bright light in her world was the woman she’d accidentally met at Club Zodiac several weeks ago. Faith Robbins. The blonde had no idea she was Brooke’s only friend in the world.
Collaring Brooke (Club Zodiac Book 3) Page 3
