by M. S. Parker
Tanner was like that too, in his own way. Not hiding behind a mask or pretending to be anything he wasn't. He was rich and had friends in high places, but he never behaved that way. He was as down-to-earth as anyone I'd ever met.
A knock at the door caught my attention.
“Come in.”
Tanner gave me an appreciative once over as he stepped inside the bathroom. That was another thing I loved about him. We'd been together long enough that we were completely comfortable seeing each other in various stages of undress. We were far from the honeymoon stage where everything still had to be nice and neat, but we never barged in on each other when in the bathroom or when one was dressing alone. There was always a knock first, the courtesy of waiting for the other to answer.
“You look amazing,” Tanner said.
“So do you.”
He was wearing my favorite pair of dark jeans, the ones that really showed off what a nice ass he had. His shirt was the same color as my dress, and I was pretty sure it was silk too. It clung to his torso and made me want to rub my hands across the defined muscles I knew were there. Tanner was in the best shape of anyone I knew, but he didn't go the whole personal trainer route. Instead, he played racquetball and basketball and tennis and swam and did a hundred other things that kept his body in deliciously fuckable shape.
He held out his hand to me and I took it, loving the warmth that spread across my skin as he laced his fingers between mine. Neither of us spoke as we made our way outside to where he had a town car waiting. Most of the time, he drove everywhere, but when we went out, he liked to have a driver in case he had a little too much to drink. His mother had been killed by a drunk driver when he was nine, so he never took that risk.
Yet one more reason to admire him.
* * *
Black Masque was one of San Antonio's best-kept secrets. Beneath one of the city's finest and most expensive restaurants, it could have played into the whole 'dungeon' aspect of this world. Instead, it was tastefully decorated in reds and blacks, set up to look more like a social club than anything else. Instead of a packed dance floor with writhing, sweating bodies, membership was steep and well worth the price.
The main area was carpeted, with booths lining three of the four walls. A long bar was at the far end with hallways on either side. One hallway led to a discreet back-alley exit. The door behind the bar led to the kitchen, directly under its upstairs counterpart. The other hallway led to the club's private rooms. Clean and well-stocked, they were nothing like the seedy S&M places I'd imagined when Tanner first suggested bringing me here.
The hostess was dressed in a long, elegant dress that alternated black silk and sheer red lace, allowing glimpses of her skin beneath. Everyone employed here was dressed in the club colors, with varying degrees of skin showing. Some had piercings. Some had tattoos. All were tasteful. Some of the members here liked to wear leather and chains, but even those weren't garish.
The main thing that made it clear Black Masque wasn't a normal club or restaurant, however, was the circular raised platform in the center of the room. While they didn't always have a show going, it was Friday night, so there would be very little pause between acts. At the moment, it looked like Tanner and I had come just as one act was ending and another was preparing to take the stage.
We settled in our usual booth in the back right corner. When we'd first come here, we'd sat in the same place. Tanner said that this was his favorite spot because it gave him the ability to see around the entire club and to watch the shows unobstructed. Before he and I had gotten together, he'd used the position to see if there was anyone he wanted to take to a room. Now, he said it was perfect for just the two of us.
I slid around the circular booth until I was right next to him. I didn't have to wait long before he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me tight against him. I relaxed almost immediately. There was just something soothing about his touch, about having his arm around me. It was like, no matter what I went through in a day, no matter what problems I might've had, they couldn't touch me when I was with him.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice pitched low so that no one else could hear him, even if anyone had been inclined to try.
I shook my head. “Just the same old shit,” I said. “Nothing specific and nothing new. I just need to get out of my head for a while.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I'll take care of you.”
“Yes, Sir.” I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself enjoy his closeness, the scent of his detergent and shampoo.
There were times I wondered if he and I had gotten to a place in our relationship and simply stopped growing, stopped moving forward. I wondered if this holding pattern we’d had for the past few years was healthy. We didn't fight, and the sex was still great, but I couldn't help wondering if this was what we really needed.
This wasn't one of those times. Being here, like this, with him, reminded me of what was good about the two of us together. How well we did fit, how we complemented each other's personalities and needs.
“Open your eyes.” His voice held that note of authority that I wasn't to disobey.
I did as I was told.
“I want you to watch,” he said, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of my arm. “And I want you to think about what it's going to feel like when I do those things to you.”
Even as a waitress set a glass of wine in front of me, I focused in on the stage. Two people were climbing the steps. A man and a woman. I'd seen them both around before, but I'd never seen them perform.
The man was tall, muscular and blond. His face had a sort of rugged handsomeness to it, rough edges and a strong jawline. I was pretty sure Tanner had called him Alan. The woman was petite, barely hitting five feet tall. She had long dark hair that was pulled back in a complicated set of braids. Her skin was flushed beneath her normal caramel tone, and I wondered if it was embarrassment or arousal. Probably both. Her name was Melanie, I knew. I'd talked to her once or twice. She was a physical therapist, so we'd conversed about our similar fields and some of the extra classes I'd taken.
They were like Tanner and me – she being a Submissive to his Dominate, and a couple outside as well. And also like us, he had been the one to introduce her to this world.
We weren't, however, like them in one way. I was okay with some touching in public, but I wasn't an exhibitionist. Neither was Tanner. He'd never once asked me to perform with him on stage or anything like that, and I was grateful. Then again, a good Dom would never force his or her Sub into something they were truly uncomfortable with. There always had to be that little edge of excitement to the anxiety to make it okay, but there were limits.
“Alan's been planning this for weeks,” Tanner said, his lips moving against my ear. “It should be quite a show.”
I nodded, more in acknowledgment than agreement, though I didn't doubt his words. I was just too mesmerized by what was happening to form much of a response.
A bench was on the stage, but not just any bench, and definitely not the kind that a person sat on. It was the sort of bench that people in our circles used for...other purposes. Purposes that were about to be thoroughly displayed very soon.
Melanie was wearing a wraparound dress, overly modest for this sort of setting. Alan was wearing a pair of low-cut jeans and nothing else. Since the last time I'd seen him, he'd gotten his nipple pierced. The gold hoop glinted in the overhead lights.
“Kneel.” His voice wasn't loud, but it carried well. The acoustics in the building were amazing, allowing the audience to hear everything.
She knelt on the padded rail in front of the bench, her head down.
“Strip.”
Alan's voice held authority similar to Tanner’s, but the Sub inside me didn't respond to him. I hadn't come into this world alone, exploring my desires with different people. Tanner had taught me, groomed me, but he'd made me his girlfriend as well as his Sub. I'd never been with anyone else
, never felt the need to. I knew some Subs felt like they had to submit to all Doms, but that wasn't me.
It didn't, however, mean that I wasn't enjoying watching Alan secure Melanie's wrists and ankles to the bench. Her breasts hung over the edge, her ass in the air, legs spread. As I watched, he walked around to the front of the bench and leaned down. Melanie made a small, whimpering sound, and then he straightened, revealing a pair of silver clamps now hanging from her nipples.
My own hardened, throbbed, in both sympathy and anticipation. Tanner had told me to watch. That he wanted me to imagine what it would be like if he did any of those things to me. So I was thinking about it. Focusing on it. Imagining how it would feel to have those little metal teeth digging into my flesh. How it would feel to be bent over like that, unable to do anything except wait to see what he’d do next.
I jumped at the loud crack of Alan snapping a crop against his hand.
“Now, where do you suppose he's going to use that?” Tanner asked, his hand sliding up my arm and around to the back of my neck. His fingers kneaded the tight muscles there as he continued to talk. “You think he's going to use it on her ass or her cunt?”
A shiver ran through me even as Alan brought the crop down on Melanie's ass. Tanner’s fingers kept up their firm pressure, working through all of the knots in my neck as we watched Alan turn Melanie's ass a deep shade of red.
“I bet that'll be nice and hot against his skin when he fucks her,” Tanner murmured. He brushed his knuckles against the side of my breast. “You want me to use the crop or flogger on you when we get back to my place?”
My body tightened as I gave the proper response. “Whatever you want, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my temple. “Now watch. I think he'll start on her pussy next.”
Chapter Six
Xavier
I grinned as I told another joke, this one dirtier than the last. If my mom heard me saying any of these things, she'd wash my mouth out with soap. Probably beat my ass too. But it made my friends laugh, and that was all I cared about right now. These guys were my only friends, the only ones who hadn't made fun of me for coming to school in ratty hand-me-down clothes. They didn't question my stories about why I had a black eye, or any of the bruises, the sprained wrists and elbows, my dislocated shoulder.
I pushed those thoughts away. I was having fun with my buddies. We'd had a great game. Beat the shit out of the other team. I snickered. I'd said a bad word. Some of my friends said it and worse. Sometimes they said damn and fuck. Bobby Ringwalt said 'cunt' the other day, and I pretended to know what it meant. I'd heard Dad call Mom that, but he called her a lot of things. Some of them were bad words. Some of them I didn't understand either. I didn't want to ask anyone so I let them think I was cool and knew what they were saying.
My steps got slower, my feet heavier with every inch I moved closer to the building. I kept the smile on my face, but it felt fake. Probably because it was. Before, I'd been laughing and joking with my friends, but now I was just pretending to smile. I wasn't even really listening to what they were saying anymore.
No, I was straining my ears for something else. Straining to find out if it was safe to go home.
Safe.
Now that was almost a joke.
Except it wasn't funny.
We stopped at Bobby's building first and shot the bull for a bit until his older sister came down and yelled at him to come up for dinner. We all watched her go. I was just starting to appreciate watching a girl walk away. I wasn't really sure what it meant yet, but I was pretty sure that when I was a little older, I'd want to spend more time with Bobby's sister than with him.
My building was next, and I was torn between wanting to linger downstairs and being scared my sister would come down and start talking. Madison was only six. She didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. She got in a lot of trouble for that.
So I didn't stay. I grinned my fake grin and told my buddies that my mom would tan my hide if I was late for dinner. They grinned back and crossed the street to the building where Grady and Jimmy lived.
I trudged up the stairs alone, thankful that no boys my age lived in my building. If one had, he would've wanted to walk together, talk. And if he'd lived on my floor or above, he would've wanted to come to the door. Maybe try to sneak in, see if what my mom was cooking was better than what he had waiting for him.
I heard them as soon as I stepped off the landing. My gut felt like I'd gotten punched, but not because I didn't expect it. More like I'd been hoping that this time would be different. That this time, when I got home after Dad, I wouldn't know he was here because of the yelling. I'd actually have to walk inside and see him sitting at the table to know he was there.
But that was too much to ask. No matter what Father Bailey told us in catechism, miracles weren't real. My damn father was proof of that.
Rage swirled inside me as I dragged my feet down the hall. I hated him. I knew we weren't supposed to hate anyone, but I hated him. The more I heard him yell at my mom, the deeper the hatred grew.
But I couldn't do a damn thing about it.
The swear words weren't funny now. I meant them. Meant them as much as I'd ever meant anything.
And it was all because I couldn't do anything except listen to Dad scream and call her horrible names. Then I heard him yelling at Madison too, and the hall got longer, went on further, forever and forever.
I didn't want to hear him yelling at Maddie. She hadn't done anything wrong. She was just being a kid.
Why couldn't we just be kids?
It was so damn unfair!
Then I heard something else, a different sound. And I shouldn't have been able to hear it, not as far away as I was. But I did. And I knew what it was.
The thump of flesh against flesh. A cry of pain.
I couldn't tell if it was Mom or Madison, and I knew there was nothing I could do, but I also knew I couldn't just let it happen.
I started to run, determined to burst in, to at least distract him. He'd hit me, I knew. Maybe even break some bones. I could take it though. Madison couldn't.
I ran forever, putting each foot in front of the other, but I stayed in the same place. I didn't feel like I was standing still, but I had to be since I couldn't get any closer.
I kept hearing them, blows coming down over and over. Madison and Mom crying. Screaming in pain. But the door didn't get any closer. I couldn't get to it. Couldn't stop him from hurting them.
I couldn't protect them.
He was going to kill them...
I jerked awake, heart racing, drenched in sweat.
“Fuck me!” I swore as I ripped off the covers and jumped to my feet. “Fuck!”
I ran my hands through my hair, grateful I'd decided to spring for a hotel room after I'd left Nance's place. Yet another reason why I rarely stayed the night with anyone. Soldiers didn't really think much of nightmares. And we didn't talk about them either. No one wanted to force a fellow soldier to relive the things that plagued him when he closed his eyes.
Sure, sometimes I had nightmares about things I'd done as a soldier, but not very often. Most of the time, when something haunted me, it was from further back. Like tonight – way back.
I looked at the clock. Not even five.
I knew myself well enough to know I'd never get back to sleep. Nearly a decade in the military meant I'd have been getting up in a bit anyway. No matter how much leave I had, I'd never been able to sleep for more than a few minutes past the time I normally woke up.
I couldn't stay here though. Check out wasn't until ten, but I didn't want to just sit around here and wait, stare at the television. I'd come back before then so I could get my things packed up, but for right now, I needed to be somewhere else.
I pulled on my jeans from where I'd left them on the floor, then my shirt. I didn't care if they were dirty. It wasn't like I was going for a booty call or something. I stuck my feet into my shoes and headed out. I'd been in San Antonio a w
hile, but not to this part of the city. This seemed like as good a time as any to explore.
It was nice weather tonight. Cool, almost chilly, but to my overheated skin, it felt good. I picked a direction at random and went with it. I'd always had a good sense of direction, so I knew I'd be able to find my way back, even if I didn't pay too much attention to my surroundings.
I didn't want to pay attention, didn't want to think about anything. Except I knew that wasn't going to happen. My head was too busy, too full to not think.
And it was all the wrong things to think about.
The elements of my nightmare wanted to come back, wanted to remind me of all the little facts that had been hidden in the distortion of memory. And there were plenty of them.
The sounds of him yelling and hitting. Those had been real.
The dread in my stomach every time I'd come home after playing with friends, knowing he'd be there.
The way I'd had to fake things to keep people from figuring out the truth.
All of those were real memories.
What wasn't real was my failure to get to them in time. Sometimes I wasn't there, but when I was, I got between them. Stopped him from hurting them. Got myself hurt in the process.
But I'd always gotten there.
And he hadn't killed them.
No, the fucking bastard had left before he managed that.
The only decent thing he'd ever done was walk out that day and never come back.
I didn't know what happened to him, but I hoped he'd died in a painful and slow manner, preferably getting the shit beat out of him.
Because it hadn't done us a damn bit of good.
He'd left, and they'd died anyway.
Both of them. Mom and Madison. My whole family. Gone.
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and tipped my head back, looking up at the stars. I needed to stop my thoughts before they went any further down that path. My past was far darker than the sky, and if I got lost in it, I didn't know what would happen.