Missing Ink

by E J Frost

  There are murmurs of greeting all around the table. Chess nods to everyone but keeps his attention focused on us. “DirtyGurl, any chance we could move that meeting to this afternoon? I may need to go out of town tonight.”

  Bren glances at me; I nod.

  “Of course, sir.”

  Chess twists his wrist to look at his watch. “How about in an hour?”

  She checks with me again before agreeing. Each glance, each gesture she makes to show she’s mine, under my hand, fills me with so much warmth I’m not sure what’s going to explode first, my chest or my balls.

  After Chess says his goodbyes, I catch Bren with my fingers under her chin and look into her eyes. “I’m very pleased with you, girl.”

  She absolutely lights up. “Does that mean I get multiple orgasms, Sir?”

  “You do. On your knees now, girl.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She salutes with two fingers to her forehead and the world’s sassiest grin before she slides under the table and moves between my knees. As the warm heaven of her mouth envelops me, I slide my hand under the tablecloth, trace my way up the arm she has draped over my thigh, and cup her nape. I can’t see her and somehow the disconnection makes the sensation of her wet tongue licking my shaft, her hard palate clasping my head, all the hotter. And she just knows how to work me now, my well-trained girl, bringing me to a fast peak with her tongue stud working into the sensitive join between my head and shaft, teasing me with the heated clutch of her throat until my hips are pumping up off the chair, but not taking me over. She keeps one hand loosely cupped around my balls, teasing them with little rubs and pinches, until she feels them draw up. Then she backs off. The third time she works me towards white bliss, I growl at her and squeeze the back of her neck. With a laugh I feel as a near-painful vibration on my overstimulated cockhead, she sucks hard and tears me over the edge. I silence the entire table by screaming “Fuck!” as she yanks my soul out of my balls. I nearly face-plant into the remains of my lunch as I pant and groan through an eruption so violent it leaves me shaking.

  The table, and several others nearby, break into applause.

  Bren gives me a sweet kiss on my tip and each thigh before wiping my dick with the robe, sliding out from under the table, and taking an exaggerated bow.

  As soon as she sits, I grab her and smother her in kisses, tasting my own musk on her tongue. Finally, she bats me off and seeks refuge in her water glass.

  “A baker’s dozen orgasms for you, girl,” I growl at her.

  “I won’t be able to walk, Sir,” she laughs.

  “I don’t give a single fuck. You’ve earned them. I’m so pleased with you, my girl.”

  She gives me a look so open, so vulnerable, that it winds me almost as thoroughly as that orgasm. “Good BJ, Sir?”

  That is not what this moment is about. Not in the slightest. “Am I your Sir, girl?”

  She nods, that aching openness still filling her eyes.

  “Does one blow job make me your Sir?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Does one fuck make me your Sir?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Is any Dom you submit to your Sir?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Then don’t cheapen this by making it about one blow job or one fuck or one scene.” I cup her nape and draw her to me so I can rest my forehead against hers and look into those soft, brown eyes. “I’m your Sir, girl, and you’ve pleased me.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “That’s my girl.” I release her neck, slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her tightly against my side. Instead of maintaining her own space, she tucks in, melting against me, and when I offer her a bite of cracker dipped in the restaurant’s spinach-artichoke dip, she eats it off my fingers. I hand-feed her the rest of the food on my plate while the conversation laps and flows around the little oasis of my girl and her Sir.

  Chapter 15

  No matter how nice the Chairman is, no matter that he’s never even raised an eyebrow at me, reprimanded me in any way, he will always intimidate me. Even as he sits at his desk, peering into the small bag with two donut holes that I’ve brought him. He’s a powerful man, a powerful Dom, a powerful figure within the club and the lifestyle, but more than that, he took a chance on me when I was twenty-one and so desperate to get out of the clubs that if he’d stomped through dog shit and told me to lick it off his shoes, I would have.

  I never, ever want to disappoint him.

  And that’s what I feel like I’m doing, sitting across from him in his beautiful office on the penthouse level of the club with its three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, barefoot, in my club robe, with the taste of Mac lingering in my mouth, and my heart still stapled on my sleeve for everyone to see after Mac loved me up.

  That’s what makes me blurt what comes out of my mouth next.

  “Sir, I just want to say thank you so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Chess chews down a donut hole before he asks, “Who are you and what have you done with DirtyGurl?”

  I laugh and he smiles gently.

  “You don’t owe me anything, Bren. Not even these.” He salutes me with the second donut hole before he eats it. “You’ve been an incredible asset to this club for the last five years. I’m gutted we’re losing you and I want to make you an offer that lets you remain part of the club.”

  I swallow hard. I didn’t expect this. Probably a dozen house submissives have come and gone while I’ve been here. None of them remained part of the club after they resigned. Even Master Ryan’s submissive barely showed her face at the club after he collared her.

  “Uh, yes, sir?”

  “Would you stay on the roster as a dancer in nightclub two nights a week? Obviously, you wouldn’t be available for scenes. It’d still be full pay. Same benefits.”

  I swallow again but for a different reason. My throat’s filled up.

  “Sir, I’d love to, but are you sure? I mean, I know my dancing’s a draw, but that’s not what the members want out of me.”

  Chess shrugs. “I’m not really concerned about what they want when it comes to you. They had their chance. None of them were smart enough to take it. I have hopes that Mac will join us, but if he doesn’t, I want to keep you in the Blunts family however I can.” Chess taps his fingertips on the mirror-polished top of his cherry desk. “You’re not just a good dancer, Bren. You’re a good influence on the other subs. You’re everything we want in a house submissive. Honest. Enthusiastic. Giving. It killed me to see you becoming more and more withdrawn over the past few months. I’ve had words with Ten about it, not that he listened to a single fucking thing I said. I’d never do anything to drive a wedge between you and Mac when I can see how happy he makes you, but I hope he’ll return the favor and let you remain part of our family.”

  “I’m sure he will, sir. I’ll ask permission, and I do think he’s going to apply to join, but I’m sure he’ll let me stay and dance.”

  “Good.” Chess taps his desk again. “That was the easy part. Now for the hard part. Please give me your collar, Bren.”

  My hand flies up to the plain leather nestled around my throat. “Sir?”

  “I’m sorry, Bren. I know what it means to you. But it’s a sign to the members here that you’re available to them and you’re not. Besides, I think it might have outlived its usefulness, don’t you?”

  No, I don’t. Not at all. I wake up with the security of the leather around my throat. I get through my day feeling its warm clasp. I go to bed at night in its embrace. It’s my collar. I’ll be naked and lost in the world without it.

  “Sir, please, don’t—”

  Chess shakes his head. “I’m insisting, Bren. Don’t look so heartbroken. If Mac’s half the Dom I think he is, he won’t leave your neck bare for long. But I can’t let you walk out of here today wearing the club collar.”

  Biting my lips to keep the stinging in my eyes from spilling down my face, I nod and reach around to the
tiny metal clasp. There’s a trick to opening it and it takes me two tries, even while I lose the battle with the stinging and hot tears roll down my cheeks.

  When I finally get it off, I hold it in my palm for a moment. It’s so worn—I hardly ever take it off, even when I’m in water like today because it’s treated and the oils from my skin keep it supple—it hangs limp in my hand like a dead thing. Squeezing my eyes closed, I offer it to Chess.

  I hear him move in a rustle of cloth. When I open my eyes, he’s kneeling by my chair, without regard for the pants of his ten-thousand-dollar suit. He gives me another gentle smile as he takes the collar from my hand and leans in to kiss my forehead.

  “I’m sorry, Bren. There are some rules not even I can break.”

  “No, I—”

  What do I say? It’s okay? It’s not. It’s totally not. Even with the gentleness of his smile and the warmth of his kiss, I want to punch him in the throat and grab my collar back.

  “I know,” he says, running a soft hand over my still-damp hair. “It’s a nasty shock and I am sorry. If it makes you feel any better, your reaction makes me even happier I fought to keep you in the club. I wish all of our house submissives were as attached to their collar and what it means as you are.”

  He fought for me? With who? Probably the rest of the management committee that runs Blunts. Logan’s on the committee, but I doubt he likes me enough to break whatever rules of secrecy they have to warn me this was coming. Ten’s on the committee, too, and I can’t see him fighting for me, or giving me a head’s up.

  “Thank you for that, sir. For everything. I really am grateful. I just—” I glance at my collar and choke up again.

  Chess pushes my collar into his pants pocket, out of sight, and gives me another kiss on the forehead before he rises.

  “We’re the ones who should be grateful for everything you’ve given us, Bren. Mac doesn’t look like a man who takes his good fortune for granted, but if he does, you send him to me. I’ll straighten him out.”

  That pulls a weak laugh out of me. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Have him text me with any questions. If he gives you permission, just a yes would be nice so I have a record of his consent. Then I’ll let Tee know to put you back on the schedule for next week.”

  “I’ll tell him. Thank you so much, sir.”

  Chess gives me a warm hug goodbye and walks me out to the elevators. I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand as I follow him. No one needs to know that I’m affected by either the nice things Chess has said and done for me, or by the loss of my collar, until I get to Mac. Then I plan to have a long fucking cry.

  Of course, Ten is waiting for me at the elevators, his arms crossed over his chest, his heavy boot propped up against the wall behind him, probably leaving a mark on the cream wallpaper.

  Chess stops a few feet away, turns to me, and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you here.” He apologizes with his eyes for letting Ten ambush me and kisses my forehead. “Talk soon.”

  “Yes, sir.” I can’t really be angry with him, since he did suggest I speak to Ten and it was my decision not to.

  Ten waits until Chess has walked back into his office before he growls, “You went through with it, then.”

  I touch my bare throat before I can stop myself. “I’ve resigned, yeah.”

  “Without one fucking word to me.”

  “What did you want me to say?”

  “How about, I’m thinking of quitting, sir? I’m thinking about walking away from the thing we’ve had for five years and giving you the bird on the way out the door?”

  “What thing , sir? I’m your slut for a scene, nothing more. You’ve told me so a hundred times. You’ve never offered me your collar or even any commitment.”

  “Because neither of us is built for monogamy.”

  I lift a shoulder. “That may have been true once, sir, but it’s what I want now.”

  “With who?” Ten grinds out, like he’s chewing rocks. “That friend of Logan’s? That old man? You don’t need one Master and you sure as fuck don’t need a daddy. You’ve been spending too much fucking time with Logan and his damn little if you think so.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from bristling at his insult of my Sir and tamp down my rising temper. Blowing my lid at Ten never gets me anywhere except riding a wooden horse for an hour.

  “Age is just a number,” I say through my teeth.

  “And Viagra is just a vitamin. Hope he has a refillable prescription.”

  That’s it. “You are such an asshole sometimes, sir. This is not about Mac. I’m not happy here. I haven’t been for a while. You’ve known it and you didn’t do anything about it because you don’t give a fuck about how I feel, and you never have.”

  He pushes off the wall and gets up in my face. Glowering down at me. My instinct is to submit, to cower. Instead, I harden my spine and glare back at him.

  “You want me to chase you, is that it?”

  “No, sir. I’m not Briar and I don’t play those kinds of games.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought it of you, girl, but this is definitely the kind of thing Thorny’d do. You want me to treat you like I treat her?” He reaches for his belt. “Get on your knees.”

  “No, sir. No. I do not consent to that.”

  He leans down so his hot breath licks my cheeks. “On. Your. Knees.”

  “No, sir.”

  “I will not tell you a third time, slut.”

  “Then don’t.” I step away from him. Around him. Not turning my back on him, because with those three words, Ten turned himself into a threat, and you don’t turn your back on threats. “Red, Ten. Red. This is not cool.”

  He turns with me, pulling off his belt and looping it around his hand. I swear to the fucking Benevolence if he hits me with that, I will kick his nuts up into his neck. “What’s not cool is you thinking you can just walk away from me without any consequences.”

  “You are not my Master, Ten. You don’t get to give me consequences. Did you hear me? I said fucking red. Hit me and I’ll scream so loud you’ll need to be treated for tinnitus.”

  “Walk away from me and you will not like what happens, girl.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen because I used my fucking safe word, Ten! Put your goddamn belt away. I’m out of here.”

  He snaps his belt onto his palm and my flesh recoils. Not because I fear the pain. I fear him . For the first time in five years of knowing this man, of letting him hurt and fuck me in ways that made me ache for days afterwards, I am afraid of him .

  “When you come back,” he growls. “And you will come back, it won’t be on your knees, girl. Crawl to me on your damn belly like the fucking worm you are and lick my boots for a day and I’ll think about scening with you again.”

  “You are on fucking crack,” I snap as I edge in front of the elevator doors and slam the button with the heel of my hand. Thank the Benevolence, the elevator is on this floor and the doors swoosh open behind me immediately. I step back into the elevator, keeping my eyes on Ten, who continues to glare at me and snap his folded belt against his palm until the doors slide shut.

  I slump against the back wall of the elevator. When the doors open again, I stagger out and cling to the far wall for a long moment, fear playing Chopsticks on my spine, my heart still hammering against my ribs. Did Ten really just ignore my safe word?

  “DirtyGurl?”

  I turn as a small hand takes my elbow. Austin’s Domme, Dana, looks at me with concern darkening her big, brown eyes.

  “I’m okay, ma’am.”

  “Are you?”

  I straighten my spine and let go of the wall. I’d be taller than Dana, who is Emily’s size, except that she’s wearing five-inch stilettos, so she’s looking me in the eye. “Yes, ma’am. I’m just on my way to the Blue Harem room.”

  “Then I’ll walk you there. Would you like to tell me what happened and why you’re not wearing your collar?”

 
I touch my bare throat, feeling the loss again as fresh and sharp as a scalpel’s cut.

  “I, um, resigned from the club. As a house submissive. I’ll still be dancing, but no more scenes.”

  “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?” Dana asks as she steers me down the long central hallway of the club’s dungeon level.

  “It’s a good thing, ma’am. Mac’s asked me to be exclusive.”

  “I see. That happened quickly, didn’t it?”

  She’s one to talk. She got her collar on Austin a whole two weeks after their first scene together, although they’re not exclusive, from what he’s said.

  “I guess, ma’am.”

  “I know everyone will be very sorry to see you go. You’ve been a staple of the club for years.”

  Is that how she sees me? Rachel and her Drow always made me feel like I was here on sufferance.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Here we go,” she says, stopping in front of the door to the Blue Harem room and knocking. Logan’s voice calls for us to come in and Dana steers me into the room with her hold on my elbow.

  As soon as I walk through the door, Mac stands from where he was lounging on one of the blue-draped beds. His eyes search my face and all the steel in my spine dissolves. I droop in Dana’s hold and feel fresh tears run down my cheeks.

  He crosses the room in five quick strides, opening his arms and pulling me tightly against his chest. “He took your collar. I should have anticipated that. I’m sorry, girl.”

  I sink into him, resting my head against his shoulder and letting the tears flow. “Five years, Sir. I’ve barely ever taken it off. That’s still the same one . . .”

  “I know,” he soothes. “I know, my girl. It’s okay. I’ll fix this. Let me fix it?”