Stolen Innocence

by Beverly L Anderson

  He drove for a while until he felt he couldn’t drive any longer. He pulled off the road and buried his face in his hands. Panic was starting to creep into his brain and the old urge was coming over him again. This kind of panic attack always happened after a task like this. It was made worse by Jake because he resembled someone Devan didn’t want to remember when he was in this frame of mind.

  With shaking hands, Devan unbuttoned both of his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. He sat for a long time and stared at the inside of his forearms where they rested on the steering wheel. His hands clenched into fists and he looked at the light markings from the tattoos winding around both of his forearms. If under black light, they were visible, but in regular light, there was only a slight discoloration on his skin from the ink. Someone looking closely could see them, and the straight scars lying under them. He focused on the point over his wrist where he could see the deep horizontal scar covered by the broken link in the chain pattern. It was a representation of breaking away from his self-harming habits, and since he had them done he hadn’t picked up a cutting implement to turn on himself.

  At that moment, though, he so desperately wanted to reach into the glove compartment and grab the box cutter. Instead he bit down on his lip hard enough to taste blood in his mouth. He couldn’t. He’d promised too many people he wouldn’t. He’d promised the closest thing he had to a best friend, Lyric. He’d promise his mentor and savior, Danica. He’d promised his parents. He’d promised himself.

  He collected himself and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. He sat back and breathed for a long time until he felt like he could safely drive again. He started the car back up and headed towards the club. He’d be early, but he needed to get there early so he could take the time to get into a better headspace. And he needed to find someone to flog the fuck out of him before the night was over.

  As he pulled into the staff parking lot behind the club, he knew Dragon would be there later tonight. Dragon had been seeking him out a lot recently to scene with him, which considering how much Devan was at the club, wasn’t odd. He found himself responding, and it was unusual for him since he never had regular Dom/mes. Dragon had been rather possessive lately, watching him when he was playing with others while wearing an expression something akin to annoyance. Normally, having a Dom follow him around like that would have irritated him, but with Dragon he was enjoying making the ill-named Dom jealous.

  He really had to talk to him about the stupid name, especially if the man was going to keep coming and scening with him on a regular basis.

  Dragon. Sooo cliché...

  VARICK SAT BESIDE JANET as the sun began to set outside. It was getting late and he was wondering if the doctor was going to come in and check up on her. He thought he’d seen him earlier but wasn’t sure. It was the Saturday after Janet’s surgery, and Clair was working an all-day shift at Randy’s. He’d taken to coming by with Clair, and today was the first day he’d come to the hospital by himself. The staff had gotten used to him since Monday, and he wasn’t getting as many odd looks anymore. He’d heard one of the nurses mutter about the “motorcycle guy” hanging around. She had been speculating he was Janet’s boyfriend. Wouldn’t she be amused to find out not only was he not into women at all, he wasn’t really into anyone.

  Until he met the doctor, and now he couldn’t get the boy out of his head.

  “Leo, you know you don’t have to keep coming up here almost every day,” Janet said with a grin. “I’m doing pretty well.”

  He nodded. “Well, yeah, I know but I want to.” He paused. “And, um, maybe there’s another reason too,” he muttered as the door opened.

  He hid a smile and held his breath. The doctor didn’t look up from his clipboard as he came in and started speaking. “Janet, I am liking the results so far, but I would like to get you in next on Monday for a few follow-up tests to make certain nothing is off with your brain function. Assuming everything looks good, we should be able to let you go home Friday afternoon.” The doctor looked up and to Varick’s amusement, his gaze landed on him for a few seconds before he looked at Janet.

  “Okay,” Janet said and gave him a soft smile. “Whatever you think is best, Dr. Sung. After you saved my life, I’ll do any test you want to make sure everything is to your liking!”

  The doctor nodded, ducking his head back down as he left the room. Varick was hesitating, but Janet put a hand on his arm. He turned to her in surprise, wondering if he needed to get the doctor back in there. She leaned over and whispered to him instead.

  “Go on, before he goes to the next room.”

  He stared at her and nodded once. He got up and ran out the door to catch the young doctor. “Um, hey, Doc!” he called as he walked up beside him.

  The doctor looked up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, hi. Did you need something? Is Janet in need of something?” Varick could feel the tension from him. He still looked like he was wound tighter than a coil of string. His hands shook just slightly where he held his clipboard.

  “Nah, I just wanted to see if you were goin’ on a break soon.” Varick shifted and put both hands in his jean pockets. He made sure to put his back toward the nurses’ station just in case his nosy nurse friend was within line of sight.

  The doctor blinked and stared at him for a long time. “Um, no, actually I just got back from one...”

  “Ah, too bad. Maybe we can go down to the cafeteria if I catch you when you go on a break. I mean, if you want to,” he said, watching him carefully.

  The doctor continued to stare at him blankly for a few more moments before he spoke. “Um, yes, we could. I... I mean... Yes. I take breaks near lunchtime, most days. I must go. I need to finish my afternoon rounds before I go home,” he informed him and turned to walk away quickly.

  Varick watched him go, eyes following the line of his coat where it just bumped out over his ass. He smiled to himself. If he hadn’t arranged to go to the club with Clair and Charles later tonight, he might have asked him to dinner. He didn’t catch the death glare he was receiving from Mary at the nurses’ station when he turned and left. Of course, he wouldn’t have cared if he had.

  DEVAN CROSSED HIS ARMS over his chest and looked around the dimly lit club. He bartended at Strawberry’s Black on a regular basis. Well, the main floor was a goth dance club and bar. The rest of the place, however, was the real reason he came here.

  Downstairs, there were two levels of the club that were harder to access. The first was the Playroom, where the less serious kinksters went to have their light scenes. The lower level, the Dungeon, was only for those very serious about their playtime. The lowest level was where the pro-Dom/mes and pro-subs were based. Both groups were paid well for their services during the day when the club was closed. They had several rooms set aside for private encounters, both on the lower and bottom levels. The upper level, the Mingle Floor, looked out onto the nightclub below, and there were often pro-subs on display for various scenes or demonstrations. Actual play beyond arranged shows was not allowed on that floor. Due to restrictions prohibiting the use of alcohol on the Playroom and Dungeon floors, alcohol was only allowed on the club level and the Mingle floor. Each floor had two separate bars, but the Playroom and Dungeon floors only served nonalcoholic drinks.

  The name of the club was a play on Danica’s scene name, Strawberry, and Marissa’s penchant for wearing all black.

  The owners of the club were a pair of Irish twin sisters, Danica and Marissa Patrick. Danica prided herself on her long curly red hair and dressed in black or green leather which accentuated her large, full figure when she Dommed. Her sister was a Goth girl through and through and had been since they were teenagers. While Danica pro-Dommed downstairs, Marissa ran the club portion and had no interest in her sister’s work. Danica’s previous career was as a professional sex therapist for nearly ten years while living in California. It turned out a lot of her clients benefited from both her knowledge bases.

  When Danica first
opened Strawberry’s, she had given Devan a position as a bartender because he was recovering from his experiences with his last Dom. Danica had already been working with him to heal from the horrible experience. He had been well versed in mixing drinks before he started because of his past, and Danica had provided formal training when he turned twenty-one.

  Due to Devan’s obligations to the O’Brien and Callaghan families, he often had to drop shifts. Thankfully, Danica never specifically asked him what he did during the day and when he had to call off, but she was understanding when he was unable to come in. If it had been any other job, he would have been fired long ago.

  “Ah, feck,” he heard, breaking him out of his reverie. “We’re almost out of tequila.”

  Down at the other end of the bar stood his closest friend, Lyric Seath. Well, more like family after all they’d been through together. Aside from helping Devan, Danica had also helped Lyric heal from her own experiences alongside Devan. She’d given Lyric a job. Given everything they had survived together, he was glad he could still be beside her.

  Tonight, she wore a short leather skirt with a white lacy shirt over a camisole. She was wearing a thick leather belt around her waist with D-rings on the sides, and armbands buckled on her biceps over her long sleeves. Her garter belt held up the stockings she wore peeking above her knee-high leather boots. Devan liked it on her quite a bit. He moved over and bumped his hip against hers. She turned her icy blue eyes on him and smiled. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a long braid to keep it out of her face while she worked the bar.

  “Wyck, loving the black leather look tonight.” He smirked.

  “Oh yeah?” She arched a brow in response.

  “Totally need to wear that the next time you wail on me,” he yelled over the din of the music behind them, sort of wishing she was in that mood tonight.

  She shook her head. “You know I feel bad after I lay into you,” she sighed, looking around the bar. Devan knew she often felt as though she went too far sometimes, but he didn’t think that at all.

  “Hmm, you know I love it, though. It’s what I want you to do. Not like we’re in some not-romance book. But I liked the leather bra last night during the demo. By the way, my fucking ass is still sore, thanks,” he snarked, giving her a wink.

  She shook her head again and picked up the clipboard she’d put down earlier. “You’re the one who said use the biggest strap-on we had for the demo. Besides, your ass could take more than a single fat cock, I’ve seen you take two dicks at once, you feckin’ cock whore.”

  Devan smirked at her. “Well, I didn’t say it was bad sore, just sore...” he muttered as he looked away. “But I need a flogging tonight.”

  “What about the guy who keeps coming in lately asking for you? Dragon or whatever?”

  “He hits like he’s scared of the fucking flogger,” he pouted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s got a nice cock, and he can get me going pretty damn good. He might make a halfway decent Dom one of these days if someone trains him right, but he’s so hesitant,” he commented thoughtfully. “But I need a fucking beating tonight after the day I had. Guess you aren’t in a needing-to-beat-the-fuck-outta-me mood, by chance?” he asked hopefully.

  “Not tonight, I’m meeting with someone...” she trailed off as she started to hurry around the bar. He noticed that she was trying to hide the blush that was rising on her cheeks.

  Just as Devan was about to say something, someone came up to order. “Yo, ah, gimme a scotch on the rocks, huh, man? And a strawberry daiquiri for my new girl over there,” he ordered as he thumbed over his shoulder at the tables behind him. Devan turned to him and grabbed the scotch. Lyric came back down toward him and grabbed the mixers for the daiquiri.

  The guy was a regular on the club floor, and it looked like he had a punk girl waiting over at one of the standing tables where he’d gestured. Lyric set down the red colored drink as Devan shoved the scotch across the bar at him. The customer looked over at her with a lascivious grin. “Say, you got a lot of leather clothes, sweetheart, how do you afford high dollar shit on a bartender’s salary? I mean, you got some sort of hookup for cheap?”

  Lyric gave him a sweet smile. “Beating the shit out of pigs like you pays well,” she stated and once again turned to leave the bar area. Devan snorted and almost laughed out loud as the asshole turned and went back to his waiting date.

  Seeing the arrogant douchebag go back to his date reminded him that Lyric was going to meetup with someone.

  Before she could escape the bar, Devan looped a finger through one of the D-rings on her waist and stopped her. “Is it the guy? The one you let fuck you?” he growled with a concerned glare. “It is, isn’t it!”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fuck you, Lokes. It was just a little head. But yes, it is. He’s bringing his wife by tonight to talk to me. She’s interested in playing; she’s a Domme, and I said I’d consider it.”

  He leaned against the counter and arched both brows. “Really? She? You’re going to sub to a woman? Or are you just fucking?”

  “I don’t know yet, I said I’d think about it,” she grumbled as she grabbed her clipboard where she’d put it down a moment to go to make the drink.

  “I’m not sure about it. The guy’s one thing, but a woman...” He stared. She gave him a look saying to leave it for now. “Alright, alright, but I’ll come by and make sure they know I’m watching them.”

  “Lokes, you were watching when he was fucking me as it was! I think he gets you’re keeping an eye on things,” she said with an exasperated sigh as she leaned up and kissed his cheek lightly.

  He snorted. “Well, I’ll fucking tell her the same damn thing. If she is gonna play with you, she’s gonna be careful or I’ll put on my fucking heels and kick her in the fucking box and knock her down, woman to woman.”

  “Alright, alright, don’t get fucking catty, bitch, you aren’t even in Domme mode tonight,” she snarked with a shake of her head. “I’m going around to the other bars to run stock checks. Anything we need back here in the next week or so?”

  Devan shook his head. “Nah, Ms. Head Bartender. Go do your job. I get off in a half, then I can find myself someone to beat my ass. Before I go get beat, I’m gonna check on this couple of yours.” She nodded in agreement and headed off.

  After she was gone, he leaned against the counter behind him, thrumming his long, electric blue nails on it. Now that he was sure he was going to sub, he needed to find a Dom/me to fill the needs he had tonight. Dragon would be good, perhaps to relax with afterward, but first he needed to find someone to give him a hard beating.

  He was a switch in more than one way; his Dominant side was female, and his submissive side was male. Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t been in Domme mode lately. Tonight, he’d slipped entirely into his male and sub mode, and he was severely masochistic when he was in this mode. He was almost as masochistic in sub mode as he was sadistic in his female Domme mode.

  At least, he’d left his “day” mode, where he in a strange blend of female and male, and those days he didn’t know what to do with himself. He often just shut down and tried to quell the urges he sometimes struggled with to self-mutilate. He wondered if the reason he loved being whipped, tortured, and beat was to deal with this need to harm himself. It took his mind off his body, though.

  Usually, by the end of the night, if he was in his middle space and wasn’t in the mood to beat someone or get beaten, he just went home. Well, home was relative. He usually ended up going to the Callaghan house and crashing in the spare, hoping nothing major happened before the next day. If he didn’t go there, he would sometimes go to his parent’s house here in St. Louis. Liam’s place was a bit far to drive when was tired.

  Devan was happy to be able to come to Strawberry’s Black regularly since it allowed him to engage equally in his Domme and sub sides, and it took his mind off the Callaghan jobs. After this morning, he needed something a bit violent and rough. He needed to be beaten
until he bled, that’s what he needed. He didn’t want sex even though there were plenty unattached Doms around who would fuck him into oblivion while striping his fair skin red.

  Dragon was on his mind the moment he thought of fucking, and he smiled, imagining his pudgy belly and dark skin. But he hit like he was afraid of hurting someone. It was fine for the average kinksters, but not for a Lifestyler like Devan. No, he didn’t want to be tickled. He just wanted pain.

  His gaze landed on Mia. He growled under his breath and grinned. He leaned over the bar and yelled out to the Domme who was his favorite one when he was subbing for the pain alone. It was a bonus that she was a lesbian and a harsh sadist.

  “Mistress Mia!” he yelled, and the tiny, Asian Domme turned and looked at him.

  Devan thought she was perhaps his favorite Domme in all Strawberry’s Black, beside Lyric of course. She wore tight leather almost exclusively. Tonight, her black leather corset lifted her smaller breasts up and showed them off well, and she wore a tight, red miniskirt. He could see the tops of her thigh high stockings peeking out of the tall boots. He usually went without much leather in his Domme mode; usually he wore lacy and sheer things. However, in sub mode, he wore it and liked it on his Dominants. Actually, he and Mia had shared at a sub together a time or two. But today, he was in a very male and submissive mood, which was her favorite type of sub. She was also great at humiliation and being talked down to was something he needed tonight. The small woman made her way to the bar, her trademark crop resting at her hip on a leather thong. He smiled at her, winking his blue eye.

  “Ah, if it isn’t my sweet Loki,” she said with a smirk on her lips. “If you’re looking for me, I take it you want to be mine tonight? Or did you want me to help you lay welts on some unsuspecting subby brat?”

  Mia didn’t have a regular sub, but she was highly sought out by the masochistic ones. She was a cruel and horribly good Mistress, and Devan was surprised she was available this late in the evening. He handed her a club soda and she took it with a smile. Mia, and anyone, really, who was headed downstairs to the dungeons, couldn’t drink. The bouncers wouldn’t let someone in if they thought for a moment they were drunk or taking any sort of drugs. That rule was nonnegotiable.