He fortifies himself with a deep breath. “When I returned, Amy had been gagged so she was unable to use her safe word or cry out to get help. Unable to prevent him doing whatever the fuck he wanted.” He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “It was only later I knew he’d beaten her with a crop, forced a butt plug inside her.”
I forget to breathe.
“He was raping her, despite the rules of the club.”
I stand and fly at him, but he’s big and fast, and younger. He pushes me back against the wall and capturing my hands holds me prisoner.
“Sit the fuck down, Heart.”
“You fuckin’ bastard. You left her when you knew something was wrong. It’s your fuckin’ fault.”
“Heart!” Drummer tries to call me off.
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I think about that every fucking day?” Xander’s a strong motherfucker, he must work out. I struggle but can’t get free, all I can do is throw words at him.
“So what are you doing about it? Keeping close so she doesn’t make a complaint? So you’re fucking club doesn’t get sued?”
“It doesn’t work like that,” he spits out, and I take some pleasure that he’s at last getting riled. I’ll take more pleasure when I’m able to do to him just what was done to her, stick a butt plug up his ass and then cut off his fucking dick.
“No.” He eyes me, then Drummer. “Like your club, the BDSM community is close-knit. We sort things out our own way. He won’t get membership at any decent club that we have contact with. But no, no one sues and we don’t involve the authorities. Despite BDSM being around for years now, it’s still kink and viewed with suspicion. Cops don’t understand, and if he’d said she’d consented, it would have been his word against hers.”
“Kicked out of the club? When he hurt my little girl?” I’m beyond angry.
“What did you do when you found her?” Drummer asks, his tone more reasonable than mine.
“She was my concern, I let the other dungeon monitor deal with him. Amy was distraught. I freed her, comforted her. Christ, all other play in the club came to a halt.” He’s staring at me as though willing me to believe him. “He’d used a condom at least, she refused to go to hospital. But I saw she couldn’t be left alone. I took her home, stayed with her. She’d been violated and abused, had her trust taken away in the one place she should have been safe.”
“You’re still with her,” I throw at him, and add sneeringly, “From fuckin’ guilt?”
A dismissive shake of his head. “No, not from guilt. Because I care for her. Because I want her to learn to trust again. Because she needs someone to comfort her when she wakes from nightmares most nights. Because she needs someone there for her. Someone who understands and someone who—”
“Someone who…?”
Xander lets me go and turns to face Drummer. “That night, Flint had gone crazy when I dragged him off Amy. The other dungeon monitor took him from me, but as he was taken off, he was screaming that she’d asked for it, and he wasn’t going to have her ruin his life. Then, that he’d see her around.”
“And has he?” Drummer asks, tersely.
“He’s stalking her. Giving her no chance to recover when she keeps seeing him in the places she frequents.”
“He make contact with her?”
Xander’s voice goes grim. “Flint hasn’t done anything that he could be arrested for, but he’s been scaring her. He appears at places she goes to and has her phone number.”
“She got a new number…” She’d texted me it. It had been a couple of weeks back.
“He found it out.”
Every word Xander says is tearing at the heart of me. Amy is mine to protect, why hadn’t she come to me? Because she thought I wouldn’t approve of the lifestyle she’d chosen. Because yeah, I don’t like the thought of my little girl going to such clubs, having sexual encounters with random men. I have to admit Xander’s right. If it was her in front of me trying to explain, I’d make everything worse.
Xander’s continuing, “She’s got so bad, she’s terrified to go anywhere on her fucking own. She goes to work, but I make sure she gets there and back safely. If I can’t do it because of my shifts, another dungeon monitor who I trust, steps in for me. When she needs to get groceries, she waits for me to get home.”
“So this Flint’s still a problem.”
His face says yes, and his next words chill me. “My fear is that Flint’s behaviour will escalate. He must know by now he’s banned from other clubs, and he blames her. If he gets hold of her…”
“She’s in danger? Why the hell hasn’t she gone to the cops?”
“As I’ve said, there’s been no threat, no basis for him to be arrested. Even the phone calls are innocent enquiries as to how she’s doing. Flint could say he was a caring Dom wanting to check up on her.”
“But he’s not.”
“He’s not. For her to heal, he’s got to get out of her life.”
“And what have you fuckin’ done about that? You say you care about her, why haven’t you taken him out?”
Xander takes a deep breath. “I called him, told him to back off. He denied he was doing anything wrong. He said she was imagining things.”
“And you left it at that?”
For a moment his eyes close, then he opens them and flexes his hands. “It’s not enough, I know that. I’m a heart surgeon, these,” he opens his palms, “these are my tools. I save lives, I don’t take them. If he approached her while I was there, I’d see him off, and never mind the damage, but he’s too clever for that. So I stay by her side, keep her safe. It’s all I can do. I’m hoping in time he’ll give up and stop. In the meantime I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”
Drummer’s staring at Xander. His eyes narrow, and I wonder, if like me, he wonders why Xander hasn’t stepped up. But he’s a civilian. He might take on this Flint if there was a confrontation, but wouldn’t start something, wouldn’t approach a man from his rear. Unlike us, who don’t play by the rules.
After a moment Drummer slams his fist on the table. “Sounds like a job for us, Brother.”
It does. I’m just wondering why the fuck it’s taken so long for Amy to ask for our help.
Then I remember, she didn’t. It had taken her Dom to stand up for her.
Xander looks from me to Drummer, then, gives a sharp nod. If I could read his thoughts, I’d say he looked relieved.
Chapter Five
Amy
When I’d left Dad, Drummer and Xander, I hadn’t gone to the kitchen as I’d said, fleeing up to the suite instead. I’d paced from side to side, and as the minutes passed and my protector hadn’t reappeared, I realised Dad wouldn’t have let him go without interrogating him.
Will Xander tell him my secrets?
I know how the Satan’s Devils can be. While I doubt they’d use force to get Xander to talk, they won’t make it easy for him to refuse. Xander himself thinks they should know. Of course, he can’t see anything wrong with our chosen lifestyle, and being a good Dom, is hot on honesty and communication. Hence, his view I should come clean with my dad.
But what woman wants her father to know she’s into kink?
He could just say I was raped.
But that’s misleading. Facts are, I was there. Until it went wrong, I was an active participant. If I hadn’t gone to a BDSM club, it would never have happened. It shouldn’t have happened there.
What will Dad say?
It shouldn’t matter. I’m an adult. I can do what I want. But what child wants to disappoint the people they’re loved by?
Will Xander calm him down? Or will Dad try and find Flint? That’s the other reason I didn’t want to tell him, worried that he’d take matters into his own hands. What if Dad gets arrested?
I realise I’m going crazy just waiting here, and to keep up appearances should go down to the clubhouse. It’s Christmas morning, and everyone else will be there. But do I still need to pretend I’m
okay?
I stand stock still in the centre of the room as I consider the question. Dad will have got as much out of Xander as possible and maybe Drummer’s heard too, he always made sure he knew everything that was going on. But will they be so ashamed they won’t want anyone else to know? Or do I? Dad’s bad enough, but the whole club?
I’ve grown up with these men, know what they’re like, know their sense of humour only too well. It’s that that decides me. I definitely don’t want to be the butt of any jokes about being tied up or flogged, which I’d risk if they all found out.
Only one thing becomes clear. I need to show my face and keep up the pretence.
Can I go down there without Xander?
Looking down, I see my hands are unsteady. There’s no way Flint could get onto the compound. I repeat that, then repeat it again, managing to open the door on my second attempt.
It’s a hive of activity in the kitchen. There will be over thirty people sitting down to Christmas dinner later on, which means there’s a mountain of potatoes to prepare. When I enter, Sam sighs with relief and puts a peeler straight into my hand. She sits me in a corner, out of the way, with a sack of the vegetables beside me.
She couldn’t have done anything better. She’s given me a mind-numbing task that means I have two choices, stay quiet and think, or join in with the conversation going on around me.
I choose the former, but in the background, the sounds of joking and chattering is a comforting one.
I can only assume the worst, that by now Xander will have spilled the beans, and my father will know exactly what his daughter is up to in her spare time. I can only hope that he won’t be too disappointed. These men think women and men behave differently, one rule for them, one for us. While I know Dad was faithful to my mom, then to Marc when she came along, before that I don’t doubt he made full use of the club whores. But heaven forbid, women should enjoy putting themselves into a sexual environment moving on from one man to the next.
These men I’d grown up around certainly aren’t shy or try to hide that sex makes the club go around. I’d walked in often enough to full-on sexual activities unashamedly going on in the open. As I grew older, their exhibitionism didn’t turn me off, but had turned me on.
When a college friend, my roommate, drunkenly pointed out an ad online for a BDSM club, and jokingly suggested we go, I was intrigued. I wasn’t a virgin in any sense, but none of the men I’d been with had given me the satisfaction I was seeking.
I decided to do some research before diving in. I’d read up online about what happened in such clubs. I didn’t think I’d enjoy being spanked, definitely not whipped, but sensual play? That sounded like fun. The idea of putting myself into the hands of a dominant man was definitely arousing, even just reading about it.
I’d looked up the club my friend had found and then searched for what I could discover about others. I settled on one that emphasised safety and consent, and which had a play party coming up for newbies to attend.
We’d gone. I hadn’t known what to expect, but quickly found I was in my element. The Dom I was paired with was fun, but knew what he was doing, and more to the point, how to arouse me to the point he’d made me come harder than I’d come in my life, and in doing so sent me soaring into subspace, where I was completely and totally relaxed, knowing nothing more until I was coming to in his arms as he provided what I understood was aftercare, gently bringing me back to myself.
My friend, not a natural sub like I found I was, didn’t want to return. I, however, had.
I’m submissive, but I’m a confident person, comfortable in my own skin. For the past five years, I’ve spent at least one night a week being tied up and sensuously tortured. I love it. Even when play means I’m instructed to give service to my Dom, such as massages, I enjoy being told what to do, and bringing him pleasure. In that environment, I can give up all control, and my worries and day-to-day concerns disappear.
Do I want my dad to know that? Of course I don’t. I doubt he thinks I’m still naïve and innocent, but knowing I’m sexually active with a variety of men, and that countless members of both sexes have seen me naked? Or, when I do wear clothes, it’s fet wear, and worse than that worn by the sweet butts. No, I don’t think he’d ever want those visions in his head.
A year ago, I heard about a different club, one more expensive, but hey, I’ve not much else to spend my money on. So, I joined and loved it, until Flint came along.
I’ve worked in a number of different wards while I’d been training, and now I give end-of-life care. It’s hard, dreadful, when you’re doing the little you can for a terminally ill child. That day, we’d lost a young man who’d been in a car accident and had suffered a severe brain injury. A lot of the time he’d been unconscious, but in his lucid moments, I’d talked to him, and found him cocky and amusing, despite his situation. When he’d gone, I’d felt a loss.
I’d needed somewhere I could go and forget, recharge my batteries for the next day, so I’d gone to the club.
That night had started normally enough. A Dom, new to me, had approached and asked if I wanted to play. He was in his thirties, a debonair attitude about him, and not bad looking. I’d said yes, then entered into the negotiation. Giving me no hint of what was to come, Master Flint, as he’d introduced himself, said he wanted to tie me up, and was I into sensual play? It sounded ideal. I’ve a weakness for the violet wand he was proposing to use, and excited to begin the night, like any good sub, I’d given myself totally over to my Dom.
He’d taken me to a private room, private except for the viewing pane in the door, so I knew our play would be monitored. After all, it’s why I’d chosen that club, for their deference awarded to safety.
I allowed myself to be bound. While Flint was tying the velvet ropes, I’d glanced at the door and saw a dungeon monitor observing. I’m safe. Once I was blindfolded, my anticipation had started to build, and I felt secure in the knowledge that I could trust this Dom to get me out of my head and forget the young man’s death.
The first sign something was different was when a ball gag was forced into my mouth.
I’d waggled my fingers in the safe gesture the club uses when gags are applied, but he hadn’t seen. Stop, I was telling him. I frantically waved my hand again. Then again.
But he hadn’t stopped…
“You want some help?”
I’m dragged out of my thoughts as Sophie sits down. “That’s a bloody big pile of spuds to get through.” She’s also waving a peeler.
Still half lost in the past, I just nod.
“You hear about Olivia and Eli?”
I had. I force myself to speak. “It was always in the cards.” I attempt to smile, pushing bad memories behind me. “I think they were meant for each other from the time they were born.”
“Yes. It’s strange to think of my little girl as an old lady.”
She picks up another potato. With two of us we’re getting through them faster now.
“Hey, you might be a grandma soon.” Starting to relax I feel able to joke.
Her eyes widen. “Fuck that shit. No bloody way. I’m too young.”
“Better tell Hawk to keep it wrapped up then.”
“What’s my son wrapping?” Sam overhears.
“His dick,” says Sophie. “Don’t want any grandkids anytime soon.”
“Grandkids?” Sam stops with her hands on her hips. Then lets loose a chuckle. “Well, I suppose they’ll come in time. Just as long,” she points her wooden spoon at Sophie, “as they know when to stop, unlike some.”
“What can I say? Wraith wanted a boy.” She winks at me. “Talking of kids. Let me just go check on Eliza and Hilda, fuck knows they’ve been quiet too long.” Putting down the peeler, she gets up and walks out.
“Teenage girls,” Sam laughs. “I swear they’re worse than boys.” She takes Sophie’s place and swaps the spoon for the implement Sophie had been using. For a moment I’m uneasy, knowing she’d witnessed t
he start of my panic attack earlier, but her warm smile shows she’s purposefully keeping the conversation light. “Xander seems a fine man. So caring and attentive. Things serious between the two of you?”
How can I tell her it’s all a pretence? How can I tell her there’s nothing going on? How do I explain that Xander was the one who I saw as my rescuer that night, and that once he’d taken me home, I hadn’t wanted him to leave, and he hadn’t? He’d become my protector, the one I leaned on to keep me safe, pushing down he was only doing it out of guilt, that he hadn’t stayed watching me. I didn’t blame him at all, it hadn’t been his fault.
Once Flint started stalking me, Xander had been there, keeping me out of harm’s way. How can I tell her he’s my safety net? How? When I don’t understand what I feel for him myself. Do I like him because he’s a Dom? Because he’s keeping me out of harm’s way? Or, do I feel more? Either way, I don’t want him to go. So I settle for, “He’s a good friend.”
She eyes me carefully, as if she knows there’s a hundred things I can’t bring myself to say. But having witnessed my freak-out earlier, she doesn’t press. All she says is, “Look, I know you’ve got your stepmom, but I’m here as well if you ever want to talk.”
“You’re my proxy-mom.” I smile, remembering when Drummer and Sam had taken me in when Dad hadn’t been able to cope. “Hey, remember that bike you bought me that Christmas?”
“Do I, heck?” she laughs. “Couldn’t stop you riding it. You were a right little pest. Insisted on riding it around the clubroom. Kept bumping into people’s legs.”
“It had training wheels on. It was bright red.” I show I remember it well. At the time I hadn’t understood why Dad had left me as well as my mom who’d had no choice as she’d been killed. Drummer and Sam had anchored me, opened up their home and hearts to a lonely three-year-old girl.
Now I better understand how loss and grief had almost destroyed my father. I haven’t been a fully functional adult since the night Flint had raped me.
I don’t want to think about him. “What time are they going on their run?” I ask, knowing it’s what happens on Christmas day.
Amy's Santa: Satan's Devils MC Second Generation #1 Page 6