“Red, sir?” Caitlyn reached under the counter.
With a sharp slashing gesture, Henry cut the air. “No, thank you.”
The young staffer sneaked a glance at Alice. “Of course, sir. I should have remembered. Yellow?”
“No ribbons tonight.”
Despite a week of preparation, with nightly interrogations and quizzes, Henry’s words cranked her pulse. Jay had to be shaking in his skin. But he had to confront Cal without restrictions. She blessed her fidgety lover’s knuckles, one leisurely kiss at a time.
“Graduation,” Henry murmured. Damn straight. Jay’d made valedictorian, and he’d fucking ace this ceremonial sendoff. “Alice and Jay have attended the dominant ethics class twice. They won’t be granting anyone control over them this evening, Caitlyn.” As Henry tapped the counter, two hard clicks echoed off the high ceiling. His bare left wrist edged out from his cufflinked dress shirt. “Please mark them as my guests without the submissive notation in the ledger.”
Wide eyes flashing toward them, the green-ribboned girl inclined her head. “Master Jay, Mistress Alice. Please accept my apology for not greeting you upon your arrival.”
“An unintentional oversight.” At least she sounded cool and collected, for all the frenzied adrenaline pooling in her muscles. Kicking the shit out of Cal and stepping over his fetal body would’ve been her preferred opening move. “No apologies needed.”
“We’ll overlook it, of course, Caitlyn.” Jay, voice rolling naturally after hers, poured out sincere understanding. Henry’s watch glinted on his wrist. “You couldn’t have known.”
A sigh escaped the girl’s parted lips.
Alice held in a laugh. She’d sighed, too, when her men had exited the bedroom in their matching stone gray suits and Henry-green flourishes coordinated with her dress. “If you like the ties”—Jay unzipped his fly and waved his favorite green undershorts at her—“check out my extra layer of protection.” She pecked his cheek. No ribbons, but hers and Henry’s all the same.
Caitlyn pivoted at startled-bird speed. “May I render you another service, sir? Sirs? Madam?”
“No, thank you, Caitlyn.” Ushering them aside, Henry delivered a fond smile. “Your service has been carried out to perfection as usual.”
“Have an enjoyable evening, sirs, madam.” A wistful twinge lightened her tone.
Halfway up the curving staircase, Alice caught Caitlyn staring after them. “Poor girl.” As the bend led them out of sight, Alice exaggerated her sigh and squeezed Jay’s hand. The more lighthearted they started the night, the less nervous Jay would be. “You’ve given her another fantasy. Now her crush isn’t only on Henry.”
Jay snorted. “If she wants me to dominate her, she’ll have better luck with fantasies than the reality.”
Nudging his hip, she dropped into a sultry purr. “And if I want you to dominate me, sir?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sly-voiced and straight-faced, he managed a credible Henry impersonation. “Just tell me exactly what you want me to do to you. In great detail.” He hung back a step and gazed up at her. “Then order me to do it.”
Straight faces collapsed. Her giggle spurred Jay’s smirk into full-blown laughter and converted Henry’s smile into a chuckle.
She patted Jay’s chest. “You got it, stud.”
A shared glance filled her with Henry’s pride in them. He’d been extra firm with Jay all week, demanding and challenging, and put him to sleep wrung out and relaxed nightly. Shared Jay’s shower tonight, her men’s growls and whimpers vying with the pounding water for her just-home-from-work soundtrack.
Arriving on the third floor, she schooled herself to seriousness. Greetings and introductions blurred. Henry presented her and Jay to every face he recognized in passing, and he recognized a solid eighty percent. By the time the hallway opened up into the main demonstration room, she’d offered two dozen gracious hellos in as many feet.
Jay held up beautifully, confining his fidgeting to a respectful handclasp. If his strokes across his watchband stood out to her and Henry, no one else would know.
Henry’d gotten the old-fashioned timepiece from his grandfather at his prep school graduation. Fastening the watch around Jay’s wrist, he’d shared the advice that had come with the gift. “A man of honor keeps his word, even in so small a thing as arriving on time. Truth ought to be as quick as the minute hand, trust as hard-won as the hours. When little truths grow into large trust, the satisfaction of a life well-lived is sure to follow.”
The demonstration hall teemed with players. Rows of chairs lined one side of the main platform, where the spotlight beamed down on an empty X-shaped frame. The spillover grazed a trio standing nearby.
“I see Emma.” A distraction might break Jay’s staring contest with the padded wood. “Do we know those guys with her?”
“Board members.” Henry’s dry tone added in Cal’s corner to the plain pronouncement. “Those two will expect an impressive show, particularly when they’ve granted him the night as a personal favor after Emma’s repeated refusals.”
Emma tugged her ear. The men with her laughed, one gesturing at his brow.
“Are they talking in secret code?” Maybe Emma wanted them to ride to her rescue. “Is someone stealing second base?”
Gaze straying to Jay, Henry hummed soft and low. “Talking shop, most likely. Victor scarred his ear in a single-tail accident. He always said he was lucky he hadn’t lost an eye. He insisted on safety gear for anyone he trained.”
She scanned the crowd for a non-whip-related topic. Jay hadn’t bolted, and Henry kept a subtle watch over him, but still. Cal would show up with whips soon enough. If the jackass invited Jay on stage, she’d need more than Henry’s strong arms to hold her back.
“Santa’s here, too.” Much closer than Emma, he stood chatting with a gray-haired man the size of a toothpick beside the North Pole. “We should say hello.”
Ending his staring contest with the equipment, Jay raised an instructive index finger. “Ah-ah, he’s Master William tonight, Mistress Alice.”
She claimed his arm, linking their elbows. “As you say, Master Jay.”
He giggled with her. Giving him time to acclimate had been a smart decision on Henry’s part. She offered Henry her other arm, and he gamely joined their promenade to Santa’s side.
Turning, the gray-haired stick revealed himself.
“Master Laurence.” Henry dipped his head. Protocol prevented him from greeting Will first. Courtesy, or seniority, or something else in the complex web of etiquette in play. “The board appears well-represented tonight.”
Santa William eyed her with unusual care. Not ogling, though the teardrop cutouts in her pine-dark dress left her back and stomach bare. Will’s tie made a subtle show of solidarity, its cheeky pattern of golden nautical knots resting on a deep green background. While Henry and Master Laurence exchanged small talk, he scanned Jay with searching intensity.
He knew. His pursed lips and rounded cheeks held back a jest—she’d stake her dress on it.
“And your pets, of course.” Like a stone skimming still waters, Master Laurence skipped his gaze across them. “I see you’re traveling with both today.”
She slipped her arms free and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Master Laurence.”
The old man’s stuttering eye-dance almost ruined her straight-faced determination. She clenched her tongue between her teeth.
“Ah.” The gray-haired master stiffened. “Mistress Alice.” With a quick tilt, he shifted her hand from shake to lift before grazing the back with papery lips. “An unexpected pleasure.”
Expelling a jolly laugh, Will grabbed Henry in a burly, backslapping hug. “You’ve armored up your little ones. I must say, they wear it well.” As he twinkled sea-blue eyes at her, he greeted Jay with a solid handshake. “How does your new power feel, Master Jay?”
Jay, grinning, shook his head. “It chafes a little, sir. I mean—”
Will hugged him with the manly embrace he’d given Henry. “You’re a credit to your master, Jay, in any guise.” Gruff whisper delivered, he released a blinking Jay.
Ostensibly brushing out wrinkles in his suit, Alice rubbed Jay’s back. “There you go. That’s better.”
Jay rocked to equilibrium, his gratitude tucked beneath his sheath of charm. “It’s a night for the emperor’s new clothes. Just my luck, I got stuck with real fabric.”
For now. They hadn’t discussed the night’s end, but Henry undoubtedly had plans for every outcome. In the best, Jay’s courage would be rewarded with a full weekend of heavy submission and plenty of exercise.
“Master Laurence, if I might ask—” She scuttled the question she most wanted answered, about why the board would allow Cal to present, as nosing too far, too fast, into club affairs. “What are your thoughts on proper attire? You wear such handsome vests.”
As the older man launched into his answer, Henry graced her with an eyebrow salute. Master Laurence took roles seriously. Gender roles, maybe—he carried old-fashioned women-are-children notions—but mostly lifestyle roles. She’d presented as a submissive at their first meeting, and he’d accorded her less status. Now she presented as a mistress, and he spoke to her with an accommodating, if pedantic, attitude.
“My guests of honor have arrived,” Cal called. With black leather pants, a whip holstered on his belt, no shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat, he overshot sensual power and landed on cartoon ringmaster.
Jerking to attention, Jay returned to fidgety watch stroking while Master Laurence halted his dissertation on patterned socks.
“The emperor himself,” Will muttered. “Someone ought to burn his closet.”
Snickering with Jay, a welcome crack in his tension, she sidled closer. He’d have to project his strength in front of Cal, but she could buttress him.
“How exciting.” Cal approached, his shark smile gleaming. “I suppose you simply couldn’t stay away.”
“No, not with your thoughtful invitation, so painstakingly worded.” Henry studied Cal. “Though I do apologize. I missed the directive to don costumes.”
As she bit her lip, Jay ducked his head and Santa turned a chortle into a cough. Only Henry and Master Laurence maintained polite neutrality.
“You miss many things, Henry.” Cal sneered with pretty-boy ugliness. “But I’ll demonstrate them all.” He flung his arm in a grand sweep. Toss in a handlebar mustache and a red coat, and the ringmaster illusion would be complete. He probably thought he looked fantastic. Blind to his flaws—in dress, in mannerisms, in recognizing the basic humanity and dignity of other people. “I’ve reserved you a place so you’ll have an unobstructed view of the proceedings. I know how you love to watch me work.”
How dare Cal bring up the night he’d assaulted Jay as if his grotesque betrayals belonged amid casual chatter over cocktails. As if Henry hadn’t castigated himself over and over again for not stepping in sooner.
In silence, Henry weathered the jab with a stone’s equanimity.
“Do try to keep your jealousy in check tonight.” Sneer reappearing, Cal glanced at Jay. “Stealing is bad form.”
“So is continuing without consent.” She darted into the conversation with more righteous anger than conscious thought.
“You’ve brought the kitten who clipped your balls.” As Cal ogled her, his slippery ice-blue eyes threatened freezer burn. “Is she growing a cock now?”
Palming her back, Henry lent her his calm. Goading Cal would be ineffective if she lost control. She had to keep hold of herself if she meant to keep hold of her men.
“Don’t need to.” She slid her hands past the edges of tailored suit coats and cupped Henry and Jay. “I have two perfect specimens right here.”
As Henry kissed her temple, Jay brushed his lips against her neck. Warm breath and nuzzling noses eased her surging blood pressure.
“I’ve always been an overachiever.” Dual twitching cocks more than gratified, but she chased other quarry tonight. Releasing her gentle hold, she pasted a bored glaze on her face. “Not everyone has”—she eyed Cal’s skintight pants with disdain—“impressive enough qualifications.”
“Your pets are bold, Henry.” Irritation flickered in Cal’s eyes and rippled through his voice, but he held himself together with frequent glances at Master Laurence. Impressing the board might rank higher in his goals than knocking her, Henry, and Jay down a peg. “They’ve forgotten their manners.”
Someone had. Sniping at Henry and her without so much as a hello for Master Laurence, Cal had misstepped. But the older master issued no reprimands, answering with bland neutrality all but the initial surprise she’d handed him in her ribbonless state.
Narrowed eyes and lowered brows suggested Cal had caught on. “And you’ve forgotten to tie pretty ribbons on your pussies. How will we know they’re yours? You’re too soft for anyone to know you’re a dominant otherwise.”
Emboldening Cal with his silence, Master Laurence sharpened her hunger for details of the master’s talk with him after the business with Leah.
“They’re dominants in training today, Cal.” Henry, naturally, ignored the slur against his own skills. Only jabs at his lovers merited attention. The rest flowed beneath his concern like so much sludge to the sewer. “May I present Master Jay and Mistress Alice?”
As Cal’s amusement crumbled, his lips twitched in a proto-snarl. “Are you making a joke?”
The old man might support Cal—or he might be observing how far Cal would go if no one steered him back. Master Laurence hadn’t objected to Will’s characterization of Cal as a naked fool. But he sat on the board, and the board had agreed to tonight’s demonstration.
“Speak to my partners all you like.” Warning scraped along Henry’s neutral lilt. “You may be assured they’ll respond in kind.”
Equal footing. A hard place for Jay to stand, but a necessary one. The freedom to recognize he owed nothing to Cal beyond the barest courtesy required of all club members.
“You make a mockery of dominance. True masters would be appalled.” Cal’s scowl deepened, his twisted mouth an angry red scar beneath the glass-sharp shards of his eyes. “The cunt maybe has fight in her worth beating out. But this bitch?” He waved at Jay with five fingers she ached to grind beneath her heel. “He was born to live on his knees. He’s a whining, cock-hungry fuck-slave, and that’s all he’ll ever be.”
Rage darkened her vision, turned the lights fuzzy. An iron band enclosed her wrist.
Henry.
Sweet Christ, she’d almost hauled off and decked Cal.
Fist pinned to her side, she unclenched trembling fingers. Henry had silenced his cutting insights. Will had muted his diversionary humor. She had to settle her anger and let Jay shine. If he stumbled, they’d all be in place to help—but they had to let him go, first. To feel his worth himself, not handed to him in others’ praise. To acknowledge his value, real and distinct from their love.
Jay stood unbowed. Quiet sincerity flooding his deep brown eyes, he met ugliness with faith. “I’m not a slave.”
“You’re a slave dressed in a master’s clothes.” Cal fingered the whip hanging at his hip. “Purely because your so-called master enjoys being dominated by his fucktoys.”
“I decide what I am and who I’m with.” In his unblinking stare, Jay carried Henry’s implacable grace.
Like a defensive dog expecting the snap of teeth, Cal raised his chin sideways.
“I made the wrong choice a long time ago.” Hands clasped behind his back, Jay measured his truths by the minute hand. Slow, steady strokes. “I respected someone unworthy of my respect.”
Leather flicked at Cal’s hip. A single brass snap kept his bloody threat holstered.
“I know better now.”
Henry threaded his fingers in hers.
“And when I choose to serve—” Jay breathed deep and thrust his shoulders back. “It won’t be you, Calvin Gardner. It’ll never be you.”
Elated, she throttled the urge to thrust a triumphant fist into the air. To shout until her throat went raw and her cheers dried to a rattle.
The whispers of nearby eavesdroppers would have to suffice. Jay hadn’t raised his voice, but he hadn’t tempered his tone, either. A low roar raced away, fueled by the perpetual motion of the rumor mill.
A red flush ruined Cal’s icy composure. “You aren’t fit to lick my boots.” Pitching his voice overloud, he spilled adolescent insecurity, a thirtysomething who’d never grown up. “I have a better class of slaves waiting. It’s time to prepare them for their debut.” His abrupt spin slapped his whip against his thigh. “Master Laurence, I appreciated your vote of confidence at the board meeting.” With his sidelong sneer, he targeted Henry. “It was well in keeping with my father’s wise decisions when he ruled here. If you’ll excuse me.” Scurrying off, he pushed his way through the crowd.
Henry, glancing after him, hummed quietly. “How like Cal to believe the board rules rather than serves.”
Wrinkles overtaking his face, Master Laurence pursed his lips. If God were gracious, the just-enough-rope approach dangled in his head. He’d seemed disappointed over the Leah situation. Maybe he’d grown tired of managing an old friend’s sociopathic son.
“That was—” Like autumn leaves fluttering to ground, tiny tremors rippled through Jay. “That was amazing.”
She flung her arms around him. Fuck the watching crowd. Impetuous and eccentric could be a good look for her. “I’m so goddamn proud of you.”
Over her shoulder, Henry claimed a rough kiss. Brief enough for decorum, long enough to send relaxation cascading down Jay. As Henry drifted back, a wisp of happy-Jay-whimper floated by her.
The lights flickered, two times. The milling crowd shuffled toward the waiting seats.
Henry squeezed Jay’s shoulder. “We may go if you like.”
Tucking his lip in his teeth, Jay eyed the platform and its St. Andrew’s cross. “The victory would be just mine. He’d target other people here.”
“He would.” Low-toned and serious, Henry smoothed Jay’s lapel from the mess her clinging embrace had left. “Whether his bad behavior is your responsibility to obstruct is a question you must decide for yourself.”
Fidgety nods escaped first. “I want to stay.”
They claimed seats in the so-called place of honor the staff had roped off. Delicate short couches acted like box seats to the front and right of the filled rows of sturdy wooden folding chairs. Master Laurence and Santa William claimed one couch, and Emma and her board-member escorts a second.
When all had settled, Alice sat between her men. Henry laid his arm across the sofa back in a masterful stretch. As tight as the men hedged her on either side, Henry’s hand rested square against Jay’s back. She’d have rather snuggled Jay between them, but the appearance of independence benefited him. He’d get his snuggles at home.
The overhead lights dimmed. Striding into the spotlight came Cal, his booted feet thudding up the three steps to the platform. Behind him trotted two hooded figures on leashes.
He blathered on, playing the ringmaster in a showy, arrogant speech devoted to a litany of his own talents. “And, of course, hold applause until the end, lest your appreciation impinge upon my concentration.” He strutted to the front and tipped his hat toward them. “Welcome to our honored guests from the board, who require no introductions. If I may, I’ll dedicate tonight’s demonstration to Henry—excuse me, Master Henry, our beloved coddler, who prizes safety over pleasure. What a wonderful mother he makes.”
Henry remained unmoved. A handful of chuckles spilled in a crowd approaching a hundred, ten rows of ten seats of awkward shifting and silence.
As if he expected a cape to swirl behind him, Cal spun about and stalked away.
“Cal’s mother wishes she had such a hard cock for her pleasure.” Will’s whisper heralded low, spreading laughter as the quip traveled.
Back stiffening, Cal clicked his heels to a stop. “Not all appetites are so tame.” Standing between his subjects, facing the crowd, he spread his arms wide. “There’s pleasure in danger when I hold the whip.”
He stripped the subs’ cloaks to the floorboards.
Snatching her hand, Jay wrapped them together on his knee. “I’m not leaving.”
The man on stage shifted lean, muscular legs, the lanky strength in his calves and thighs leading to a trim waist and firm abs. Sparse hairs dotted his chest, and he boasted a thick, shaggy mop of black strands falling across his forehead. With his soft brown gaze, he surveyed the crowd in a state of attentive calm. His waiting pose.
Jay looked out from those eyes.
Oh God, she was going to be sick.
Henry tightened his embrace. A deep inhale brought her the gentle bite of citrus, light and fresh and oh-so-welcome.
“Not leaving,” she echoed. But Jesus Christ.
Flickering beyond Henry’s solid bulwark, audience members rotated their stares between the stage and their resolute trio. No fucking wonder. The woman, dark blond and curvy, carried attributes a smidge more generous up top than her own, but Cal more than made his point with the pairing.
“Step forward and be seen, slave.” Cal scooped up a short crop and slapped the man’s thigh with it.
Yelping, he skipped front and center. His brown eyes flashed below the fringe of his hair before he bowed his head.
“Seen, I said. Not heard.” With the crop, Cal prodded between the slave’s legs. “Spread.” When the man widened his stance, Cal drew back the crop. “Be still.”
Balls swaying from the hit, the slave confined his flinch to a silent grimace.
“What’s this? No thank-you for your master?” As Cal switched him, rapid strikes on his inner thighs, he targeted Jay with his stare. “What an ungrateful slut you are.”
Though the slave shuddered, his cock rose. “Please, master, this slave is sorry and thanks—”
“Too late. You’ve been ruined by impotent masters who dole out praise when punishment is deserved.” Cal’s shit-eating grin at Henry made adding fuck you redundant. “Retraining is a must.”
As Cal delivered punishing slaps, the crop whirred like playing cards tucked into bike spokes. Jay’d shown her on his spare bike one Saturday. They’d ridden up and down the street, building up speed, fake-revving their “engine” as the turning back wheel snapped the cards over and over. A fun sound. Sickening, now, when thighs glowed exit-sign red and tears streaked the slave’s cheeks.
“Proper order must be maintained. Slaves are a carpet of bones and flesh for my amusement. When they rise above their station?” Twirling his crop, Cal glared at Jay. “Well, it’s the cross and the whip for you.”
Jay turned her fingers white, but his face masked the distress leaching from his grip. He and Henry sat unmoved as matching bookends, a mix of boredom and faint disapproval graven in straight lips and slow blinks.
Scowling, Cal circled his slave and studied him face to face.
Anticipation. Henry mastered them with their own excitement most days. His murmured promises—
Cal straight-armed the slave in mid-chest. Grunting breath billowed out, and the slave stumbled back. His shoulders hunched as he sucked in air.
Arm extended, hand raised like a stop sign, Cal laughed. “To the cross, slut.”
The biddable Jay-copy complied. Cal manipulated him into position with flicks of his crop. Red splotches rose along outstretched arms and legs.
Henry had taught her to follow his tune with teasing feathers and gentle hands. When they played, her heart sang a giddy harmony with his and Jay’s.
The man strapped and padlocked to the heavy frame met his master’s training methods with gritted teeth and wide, rolling eyes. Skittish as a horse confronting a prairie rattler.
Cal unsnapped his whip. The coils thumped at they dropped to the boards, and the slave flinched. Stepping closer, grasping handfuls of muscled back, Cal grinned. He raised the whip handle—a fat, foot-long leather-wrapped club—and extended his arms over the bound man’s shoulders.
“A slave serves at his master’s pleasure.” Jamming the handle against the slave’s throat, Cal throttled him with a two-handed grip. “The animal’s own enjoyment”—he kneed the gagging slave in the balls—“though sport for laughter, is unnecessary, and ought to be strictly controlled.”
The whip hung around the slave’s neck, the weighted handle and stinging tail dangling down his back. His breath came in pained wheezes.
Cal abandoned him. At the corner nearest their seats, he slowed his swagger and stroked the bulge in his fancy pants. “A master, of course, is free to indulge his appetites where and when he will.”
He must have trapped Jay long ago with the seductive charm he poured into the smile he targeted her with now. His lone trick, useless when he couldn’t resist showing the serrated teeth waiting to tear into fresh meat.
As he leered, his eyes lit up. “He compels obedience from mouthy bitches using every tool at his disposal.”
Calling on her is-this-boring-ass-lecture-over-yet face, she gave him no edges to gnaw or scabs to pick. Audacious jackass. As if she’d jump out of her seat and beg to join him.
Cal worked his jaw sideways and stalked away.
A hmpf sounded behind their couch. “He cheapens his gifts—”
Holy shit, the quiet, gentlemanly resignation was coming from Master Laurence.
“—with such a distasteful attitude.”
The nude woman on stage remained in the spotlight. She’d watched the cropping and binding with nonchalant interest. Either she’d perfected her mask of indifference the way Alice and Jay had at home all week, or she truly didn’t care about her co-submissive.
Cal passed behind her. Without a word, he yanked her by her hair, twisted her neck until she faced him on her knees, and ground his crotch against her cheek.
Nothing of Jay’s worship or her own love for sucking Henry’s cock came through the woman’s dead-eyed gaze. She allowed Cal to mash himself against her, but she wore the vacant stare of a clock-counter. How many minutes until her shift ended and her life would be her own?
In Cal’s hands, a pile of leather and buckles became bonds for the woman. Sleeves captured her forearms behind her back, and straps secured her wrists to her ankles. She rested on her haunches, immobilized.
Cal kicked her knees wide. “The animals must know who is the master here.” He dragged his boot, a scuffing rasp on the boards, and probed her sex with the black leather toe. Grabbing her by the hair, he jammed her face into his groin.
The woman uttered muffled groans and swung her shoulders, a pendulum out of balance.
“Their fear and struggle is the master’s reward for his toil.” Paying no attention to the woman at his feet, Cal reserved his sadistic glee for eye-fucking Alice. No telling how often he’d jerked off to this scenario with her in the key role.
But anger lived in the growing furrows across his forehead. He pumped his hips, violent thrusts rattling the rings on his slave’s gear and knocking her knees against the platform.
“They quake in terror, as they should.” Cal glared. The jackass had loved her quaking and crying the night they’d met. Her indifference almost seemed to offend him. “Their fate is mine to command.”
She faked a yawn and leaned into Jay. “Smile like Henry stepped into your shower.”
Jay laughed. He sure as hell hadn’t expected her whisper, and his surprise bolted through an all-natural grin. “He did.”
With a low hum, Henry declared the recollection a happy one.
Cal sealed his slave’s nose and mouth.
Escalating violence. Every time she and Jay refused to respond with pain and fear, Cal upped his cruelty and lost another piece in his powerful image. He couldn’t safely control partners. He barely controlled himself.
Oxygen-deprived, unable to wrench free, the woman writhed in futile, awkward jerks.
Cal’s truth ticked by. Thirty seconds. A minute.
Murmurs washed through the crowd. A striking redhead in steampunk chic, leather-and-buckle Victorian, stood and snapped her fingers. The man beside her jumped up.
“We’re going.” Leading him by a leash attached to his collar, the mistress exited the row. “This isn’t the brand of obedience I want you to learn. We’ll stop at the desk and sign you up for Master Henry’s next class.”
Squealing, Cal backhanded the slave at his feet. She landed sideways, thumping in a heap on the hardwood stage, and spittle flew as she choked.
“Try that again, and I’ll knock every tooth out of your smug-bitch mouth.”
Holy fuck. In her struggle for air, his scene partner’d left teeth marks in the crotch of Cal’s leather pants. She didn’t act near as cowed as the man he’d left tied. Part of imitating the “fight” Cal ascribed to Alice? The insolence he was so damned determined to beat—or fuck—out of her.
“Fuck you. You didn’t say fuck-all about choking.” The bound woman wheezed and rasped, her voice raw. “And I like air in my lungs.”
Cal dragged her back to her knees by her hair. “You’ll take what I have for you, wherever I put it, and if air can’t get through, you’ll learn to breathe cock.”
Wresting her head back, the woman laughed. “With that?” She nodded toward his groin. Her bite had deflated Cal’s interest.
“His cock must be allergic to laughter,” Alice whispered. “He’s melting like a wicked witch in water.”
As Will’s bass guffaw boomed behind her, Jay laughed and Henry snorted. He’d been reading them The Wizard of Oz on storytime nights for the last month.
Cal swept up his cast-aside crop. “This is my show. I will have proper respect.”
The woman flinched from Cal’s slapping strikes at her breasts. “Knock it off, asshole. I agreed to this submissive role-play shit and the hair dye because the money was—”
Cal belted her with his closed fist.
Gasps rippled from the front row to the last. Henry tossed a pointed glance at the board members behind them. No money exchanged hands at the club. Professionals played elsewhere, by different rules.
“Calvin, did you pay this woman?” Master Laurence’s words came creased with disappointment, a napkin folded around a distasteful bite of a dish better left uneaten.
“A thousand bucks.” Rocking on her bound arms, the woman managed to roll sideways. “Three hours’ work, he said.”
Membership fees covered upkeep for the building and equipment. The charter forbade payments between individual members for activities inside the club. Pay for play violated the community spirit.
Behind her, hushed voices rose as board members argued. “—appalling lack of judgment.”
The whole place operated as a nonprofit social club. The philanthropic arm supported programs to end sexual assault and domestic violence. Too bad they’d taken so long to cut out the spreading rot in their own house.
“No, no, Master Laurence. All part of the scene.” Face flushed, Cal turned his back on the woman and stalked toward the cross. “Surely my word of honor has more worth here than that of a poorly trained submissive.” He unlooped the whip from the male slave’s neck. “She’s been coached, of course, to be deserving of punishment. I meant to show the sort of behavior other members’ submissives get away with.” Glaring at Henry, he cracked the whip. A testing stroke.
Locked to the cross, his slave shuddered. In a worm-wiggle of hip and elbow, the woman crawled toward the far side of the platform while eyeing Cal.
Alice battled the heart-galloping urge to interfere. “I don’t think she’s lying.”
“Nor do I.” Henry swept his knuckles down her arm and squeezed her fingers.
“—childish grudge turned tantrum.” The whispering among the board members intensified. Cal’d fashioned his own noose.
Cal raised his voice over the growing din. “But some few still understand what it means to submit.”
The whip snapped.
Moaning, the slave drove forward and sagged back. “Th-thank you, master.”
Jay, pressing hip to hip and knee to knee, stared unblinking as the whip fell. Cal’s strikes outpaced the slave’s supposed gratitude. Distinct thank-yous grew into a droning mumble.
The flood left the slave cringing from the onslaught, each crack the impact of a tree trunk, the slamming pain weakening a tenuous hold on safety. In his destructive nature, Cal cared nothing for limits. He smashed his toys and reveled in the pieces.
Blood beaded on a long diagonal.
The whip fell again, and the slave’s scream broke the chain of chanted thanks.
Cal bared his teeth in a fierce smile. Panting and sweaty, he raised his arm.
Tears and spit dripped from the bound slave’s chin. “Please.” He gulped for breath. “Please, I didn’t know.”
“I give it what it deserves.” Cal flicked the whip and raised a fresh cry. “Its fear spills forth. Submission is weakness—”
“Please, no more.” The slave’s shaking suggested a precursor to shock. “Please, master.”
“—suitable for animals who cannot attain mastery.” The whip descended.
Acid seething in her stomach, she forced herself not to look away. Jay hadn’t. The demonstration needed to end. The woman’s admission should’ve been enough. What more did the board members need to recognize Cal didn’t play by the rules?
Swinging his head, the slave squinted with dark, pinpoint eyes. “Please.” His voice cracked.
Cal laughed. “The fun has only begun. Do you imagine you have a voice here?”
The slave sagged. Cracks caused by Cal’s chilly disregard and stinging games might be racing through him, hidden stresses surging to the brittle fracture point when a final touch would shatter him. Once broken, a man—
Shooting to his feet, Jay attracted a hundred gazes. “There’s no shame in stopping.” On a cautious slant toward the stage, he approached the slave from the side. “Whatever he told you, whatever he promised, the choice is still yours.”
—only found himself again with hard work. And so much bravery.
“Do you see this interference?” Playing to the board, Cal swung his arm toward Jay. “This time is mine. Granted to me.”
“A master with true control doesn’t fear pausing to check his partner’s health and safety.” Hands clasped tight behind his back, Jay rubbed Henry’s watchband. “He understands safewording isn’t cowardice or a slight against his skills.”
Cal cracked the whip. The tip danced shy of the front row. “Eyes on the stage. I’m the one you came to see. Unless you’d rather watch me peel the arrogance from this fuck-slave parroting his owner’s philosophy.”
Sidelong glances and low retorts spread.
Raising his head, the shaking slave stared at Jay.
“You can say ‘red’ when you’ve had enough.” Jay dominated the hall, the crowd quieting as though he spoke to them all and not his curious mirror. “He won’t admire you for taking a beating. He won’t listen for what you need. But we’re listening.”
The whip shot between them. Braided leather curled around the slave’s ribs from back to front and scored his stomach. He screamed. “Red.”
“No. No, that’s not fair.” Cal yanked the whip to his side. “It doesn’t get to say. My slaves don’t have safewords. I haven’t allowed that babyish whining in years. I decide when the game ends. I decide.”
Will vaulted onto the platform and ripped the whip from Cal’s hand. “No, you don’t.”
The leather thumped to the boards.
Emma issued commands in a low alto, and black-banded play monitors took charge of unbinding the woman huddled on the platform and the man draped over the cross.
The man fixed his gaze on Jay.
“Do you see, now, how deep the insubordination and disrespect run?” Stepping away from Will, Cal spread his arms for the crowd. “I demand redress.”
“Paying for submission? Disallowing safewords?” Will gripped Cal’s upper arm and jerked him to face the board. “That’s two stains against the fundamental tenets every master and mistress here commits to follow in their membership agreement.”
Unable to shake loose, Cal struggled. Wild panic showed in his darting eyes.
Will clamped a second hand on his shoulder. “I’m satisfied with Calvin’s demonstration of his own unsuitability for continued membership. At least one of his partners will require medical attention, and neither appears to have been an entirely willing participant. Gentlemen and lady of the board? What say you?”
Cal’s laughter reeked of hysteria. “It’s not enough for Henry to jump up his fucktoys and flaunt them in my face, now he has his bulldog interrupt my demonstration without cause. He can’t stop my show. He can’t—”
“He can.” Master Laurence pushed himself to his feet. “He is obligated to do so, both as an honorable master in this club and as the newest member of its governing board.”
“What?” Cal’s screech reached the rafters.
“Master Jacob’s retiring,” Will drawled. “I’ve been appointed to fill the remainder of his term until the next election cycle. The board finalized the decision this afternoon. Did I neglect to mention that? Silly me.”
The crowd roared with acclamation and congratulations. Henry’s suggestions to Emma hadn’t gone unheard. The board seat had gone to Santa, and the power and prestige—and responsibility—had gone with it.
With gracious thanks, Will nodded even as he kept a firm grip on Cal. Hell, his smile probably owed more to having the bastard’s arm twisted behind his back.
Beside the platform, Jay helped his lookalike into a robe. Henry’s steady competence showed in his smooth motions. Calming the skittish colt he’d once been. His lips moved, though his voice didn’t carry. Two black-ribboned monitors stood by and let him work.
Grasping Henry’s hand, she turned up his palm. The lines traveled far. Eyes on Jay, he hummed a rising note as she traced them.
“You’ve been playing chess.” Tinkering with the guts of the machine, in her parlance, an infinite machine with uncountable and intricate moving parts. “Long game.”
His dark gaze grew less opaque, as if he’d invited her into the green wilds and she’d stumbled onto a cleared path. He pressed his lips to her brow in blessing. “The most satisfying ones always are.”
Henry set pieces in motion and found satisfaction watching others step into positions he’d cleared for them. Jay discovering his strength, Will joining the board, and Cal being removed. Henry didn’t demand a place in the spotlight for any of it. He’d mastered invisibility.
“You could’ve been the one standing up there.” Though Santa had a good handle on the situation. And on Cal. Sulky, struggling rage was fast becoming her favorite look on him.
“Victor would have had it so.” Henry glanced at Emma, who stood conferring with the other board members on stage.
“Not you, though.”
“Had it fallen to me in years past, I might have taken up the mantle. Running the club has never been my dream, though I might have settled for the task had you and Jay not come into my life.” Standing, he smiled broadly and offered her his arm. “Will has long desired this, and the timing is right. He deserves the leadership role. He’ll make an excellent guide.”
“He just needed to be seen as one.” Taking down Cal made for a hell of a first day on the job. Santa would build a reputation as a decisive but fair governing master.
“Appearances.” Henry tucked her arm into his elbow. “Real or illusory, much rests on them. Over time, the image one projects may sink deep enough to become the person instead of the role.”
Following his gaze to Jay as he shared his deep well of compassion and wisdom, she basked in the reflected thrill. “And they finally see the strength and beauty in themselves that others see in them.”
The robed slave threw his arms around Jay. A nanosecond of surprise flashed in Jay’s eyes and stopped his mouth before his empathetic reflexes took over. He shot the pair of them a brilliant grin.
Wandering closer, Henry chuckled. “Our boy does take after you, dearest.”
“Me? What’d I do?”
“Inspire others.” He nodded toward Jay and the man huddling against his chest. “He has his own Leah.”
Yeah, he kinda did. The younger man clung to Jay for stability the way Leah had done to her until her master had arrived. He’d be adrift until he found a Henry like Jay had. “You know this means you’ll have to find him a nice playmate who isn’t Jay.”
“Actually, I believe that responsibility falls to Will.” Humor lurked in Henry’s eyes. “We’ll simply offer a suggestion or two.”
“—me through the front desk.” Disentangling from his unexpected embrace, Jay chattered like they were at home. Comfortable and safe being himself. “Emma will make sure I get the message. Do you shoot hoops? I know some other subs you should meet. We might start a regular pickup game.”
Radiating self-confidence, he shone brightest in the room. Jay took fucking fantastic strides with adorable swagger. Maybe the day when he’d kiss Henry courtside in the park had grown closer.
“Immediate expulsion, then.” Master Laurence’s declaration wafted over the crowd. “A unanimous decision.”
Will marched Cal to the stage steps. “Walk or fall, I don’t care which.”
With noisy, booted disdain, Cal clomped down the risers. His sweeping glare encompassed them all.
She shot back a sunny grin. Emperor’s new clothes. They’d pantsed the bully and paraded his flaws. Word would spread to those who hadn’t attended. And the best part was that he’d done it to himself in a Henry-engineered design.
“We’ll have your belongings boxed up and delivered. You’ve forfeited your privileges.” Handing Cal off to a pair of play monitors, Will stared him down. “You’re no longer welcome here.”
“My father—”
“Your father.” Command swirling, Henry dropped into his dominant voice and paused the world. “Your father was an arrogant but respectable man with an enormous blind spot for the flaws of his offspring. Your behavior caused his rift with Victor. You cost him the goodwill of his friends and drove him from his home, and still he defended you. You’re a disgrace, Calvin.”
“I am a master.” Cal ground out the words between clenched teeth. “You will treat me with respect.”
“You were never a master.” Jay, his hand on the former slave’s shoulder, mimicked Henry at his blandest. Delivering facts so obvious they needed no emphasis. “Your title is as empty as you are.”
With Emma’s wave, the play monitors hauled Cal away. He hurled invectives and pleaded for a hearing but received turned backs and silence. Fitting for Jay to utter the definitive statement of Cal’s tenure at the club. He’d earned his right to pass judgment in blood.
Emma, Master Laurence as her escort, gathered up Cal’s demonstration partners and sent them on their way. Medical care and statement-giving awaited them downstairs.
“Well done, Master Jay.” Emma straightened his tie with a teasing smile and a touch of fussy mothering. “Master Henry.” She inclined her head. “Mistress Alice.” The smile she shared with Alice and Henry carved a harsher edge of grim satisfaction.
With Cal ousted, his clique would follow him into exile or learn to play by the rules. The club would regain its balance. Santa would reinvigorate the board, and Emma would reclaim her place shepherding submissives.
Master Laurence patted Emma’s arm. “Time to tend to the last of this nasty business.” With farewells for them, he steered her toward the exit. The other two board stalwarts fell in behind. “Will’s been telling me he has some thoughts for making certain this ugliness isn’t repeated. I thought we might fit in an extra meeting.”
The crowd thinned as the excitement ebbed. The area behind the stage had quieted to the three of them and Santa William.
“Plenty of good ideas.” Will clasped Henry in a bear hug. “I wonder where I got those.”
“I’m sure I haven’t the slightest notion.” Henry hugged back, hard, and disengaged. “It does me good to know you’ll be at the helm. Your guiding hand is sorely needed. You’ll do wonders for Em.”
Will snorted and shook his head. Stepping in front of her, he threw his arms wide. “Mistress Alice, may I?” At her nod, he boosted her off the ground in a hell of a hug and planted a bushy beard kiss on her cheek. “You keep these men in line, now. I don’t want complaints about them running wild in this club.”
“Oh, they know”—she landed in the gentlest of set-downs—“when to be wild and when to be gentlemen.” Her glance at Henry met his. “Might be what I love most about them. They’re both a two-for-one deal. I never have to settle.”
Jay got the same polite inquiry and hardy hug with less floor-leaving.
Shrugging his suit coat into place, Will sighed. “I hate to run, but I have shiny new responsibilities waiting downstairs.”
“And I’ve a date with two deserving submissives at home.” Henry draped a dark, hungry net over them with his gaze.
Will winked. “I’d offer to trade, but I doubt the world holds enough of anything to sweeten that deal.”
Not for her. She reeled in Jay and claimed a kiss. Threading her fingers in his hair, she pushed every ounce of her love into him.
“No, not anything.” With an intimate murmur, Henry wrapped them in boundless affection. “I possess exactly what I want.”