Somebody’s Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  He paused a moment to finish his bottle of water before continuing. “I was one of the lucky ones. I stared down death and beat the fuck out of it. Just before that grenade exploded, I was talking with Sergeant about this woman.” He stroked Savannah’s cheek, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “About how much I regretted that she wasn’t going to be a part of my life. But then I got a second chance with her, too, thanks in part to this place and you guys.

  “November 15, 2004 used to be one of my darkest days. Then Savannah was abducted March 19, and Marisol nearly was, too. I’d never felt more helpless, much more so than in the aftermath of Fallujah.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks now, too, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they caressed each other. “That was nothing compared to what you all went through.”

  “Hear me out, bebé.” He turned to the men and women in the circle. “Not to take anything away from anyone who served, but PTSD isn’t limited to veterans,” Damián said. “And come March 21, the anniversary of the day Savannah was rescued at that cabin, I want you all to join me in commemorating her first official Alive Day. Her strength, resilience, and survivor instinct need to be saluted, too.”

  Self-conscious of everyone’s gazes on her, several of them nodding their agreement with Damián, she said, “Today is about the warrior heroes in this room. You all went into combat, nearly got the crap knocked out of you, saw unspeakable things, and still returned home as heroes and survivors. I’m so proud to know each and every one of you.”

  Damián caged her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. “Accept the fact that you nearly lost your life that day, querida, and probably came close on other days in your young life as well. This will be an important step for you in putting the past behind you.”

  By dredging it up again?

  But those who had shared their memories tonight seemed to be finding some peace with the event that changed so many of their lives. Each handled the memories from that day differently. Adam still didn’t talk about his own feelings but did help others to open up. Grant remained completely buttoned up, while Ryder still seemed close to the edge but moving in the right direction. Marc appeared to be almost guilty calling this his Alive Day when he came home with all his body parts intact.

  And Damián, who lost his foot that day, seemed to have mostly let it go. Of course, he remembered but didn’t let that moment in time rule his life. He mostly functioned with no real issues because of his sense of purpose and hope.

  Tonight, Damián opened up about things she’d never heard him speak of before. But his mood and body language had lightened up as the discussion progressed. The man amazed her, but she had to admit he often had insights she didn’t concerning herself. It was so much easier to see someone else’s situation more clearly than one’s own.

  But this still wasn’t the time or place to discuss what happened to her.

  “We will talk later,” Savannah whispered. She sounded like she was giving Mari a we’ll see, but this night wasn’t about her, and she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed to have her trials compared to theirs.

  To herself, though, she tried to see where she was on the spectrum.

  Damián and these vets would always be her rock. They gave her hope that perhaps someday she would find her own strength and courage to overcome the horrors of her past. Right now, though, Savannah was anything but strong. Look at how she’d cowered for weeks over her upcoming trial testimony.

  Damián was right about one thing, though. If he and his team—Adam, Grant, and Marc—hadn’t arrived in time, there was no doubt in her mind that Gentry would have killed her when he’d finished torturing her.

  She owed her very life and happiness to the people in this room. Damián most of all, because he’d brought her into this family of choice.

  Chapter Ten

  The group wrapped up their intense session with some claps on the back and a few man-hugs. Another Alive Day almost over. He hadn’t planned on telling everyone about his near suicide attempt—especially not Savannah—but it just came out. Of course, Dad and Marc knew, and he’d told Angelina once when he wanted her to know Marc had helped save his life a second time—by calling Dad to Balboa the day before his release from rehab.

  After he’d confided in Angelina where he’d been at that dark time in his life, she’d admitted to similar thoughts. Her promise to tell him whenever she had a flashback was a step in the right direction for them both. Talking about his anxieties and fears could make Savannah more comfortable about doing the same. Mierda, he needed to remind her he wasn’t looking for perfection, because he wasn’t perfect, either. Being human meant they’d make mistakes. The important thing was to learn from them. Time for him to man up and admit his own shortcomings more often if it meant providing her with a deeper level of trust. If she was afraid of looking vulnerable and imperfect, this might be a huge step in her healing if he helped alleviate some of her fears.

  Despite Savannah’s discomfort about her proposed Alive Day, Damián was determined to give his wife her own commemoration next spring. If he had to do it, then she damned well did, too. Although he had to admit it had been his choice to do this tonight.

  Damián hadn’t just blurted it out, either. He’d thought about suggesting it all week, but had chosen to bring it up tonight so he could cast the spotlight on her to see how she handled it. Uncomfortable to the extreme. He only had from now until she took the witness stand in three or four weeks to condition her to face the monster from her past and remove her fears.

  He couldn’t wait to move on to the next part of the evening. Luckily, talk soon turned to that very topic, lifting everyone’s moods, judging by the laughter in the room. Grant reminded the two guests of some of the rules then added, “Ryder and Megan, you’re welcome to watch anything going on in the great room or any area where you’re invited to do so. Please remember to remain silent unless asked to speak so as not to pull anyone out of their scene.”

  Perfect segue. “You’re welcome to watch the scenes Savannah and I will be doing in here.” While she didn’t say anything, he felt Savannah tense beside him. She needed this.

  Ryder nodded, without consulting with Megan, and said, “We’d like that.”

  After the club owners and their subs headed to the theme rooms they’d reserved for the evening, Damián took Savannah’s hand and led her to the stage area. Karla would be playing with Dad tonight rather than singing, so he and Grant had agreed that the stage would be the best place for Damián to do two of the scenes he’d planned for Savannah.

  Her gaze fell and lingered on the massage chair he’d obscured with a large tarp, which he could later move to the floor to keep things from getting too messy. True to her discipline, she didn’t ask what was under it.

  Good girl.

  He turned on the Nine Inch Nails CD he’d chosen to set the mood and tempo and parted her jacket to reveal breasts tightly encased in a red tank tee, leaving little to the imagination. Savannah’s gaze flitted to the others in the room, as if suddenly shy. This would be the first time they’d done such an intense scene in front of others since the Princess Slut one. Among Damián’s ongoing goals for Savannah was getting her to view her body as the masterpiece it was, but he would have to ease her into it.

  “Eyes, savita.”

  He read concern and perhaps some embarrassment in them but hoped to banish any negative thoughts by getting this scene into full swing as quickly as possible.

  “Remove the jacket, savita.”

  She spread it open farther and let it slide off her shoulders and down her arms to the floor. He picked it up and placed it on a nearby table. Respect the Harley emblem.

  “Now the skirt.” He waved his fingers in the direction of the garment.

  With trembling fingers but no hesitation, she released the bow at her side, and the gauzy material puddled in a cloud at her feet. She lowered her gaze to the floor, her trust and submission greatly pleasing to Dami�
�n.

  “You always make me proud to accept your submission, savita.” He stepped in front of her to take in her sexy body in a slow, sweeping gaze. “So beautiful.” A blush tinged her cheeks, whether from his compliment or because her body was exposed in front of others, he wasn’t sure. The tank tee and thong hid little from the imagination, especially his, because he’d memorized every inch of her.

  Closing the gap between them, he stroked his hands over her belly before bending to place a kiss on the top of her baby bump. Damián whispered to the baby that this would be a good time for a nap. She needed no further distractions. “Daddy will take good care of Mommy over the next couple of hours, Baby Orlando.”

  She giggled at his half-silly remark. Yeah, as if he had control of their baby now any more than he would after he or she was born. But he’d reduced some of the tension she’d been feeling.

  Damián stood straighter to walk around behind her and pulled her against his erection to let her know how much simply looking at her excited him. It had been way too long since they’d been intimate. He placed a protective hand under her belly as he nuzzled her neck.

  Sucking her earlobe between his teeth, he tugged, eliciting a breathy rasp. Releasing it sooner than he wished, he whispered so only she could hear, “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

  Instead of leaning into his body with a sigh as she used to at such a declaration, she stiffened. Well, fuck. Would he be able to reignite the flame inside her tonight? She used to enjoy having sex with him, but the closer they came to the trial starting, the more she regressed. He hoped to get them back to a place where they could enjoy sex again. A night of fun BDSM ought to help him achieve that.

  “Present yourself for me, savita.”

  Damián put some space between them to watch as she moved into one of the first positions he’d taught her. Clasping her elbows at the small of her back, her breasts jutted forward, making him harder. She planted her feet shoulder width apart. As always, her presentation was flawless, and he was lost for a moment in her beauty.

  “Very nice, bebé.”

  She smiled but didn’t relax her stance. Savannah’s gaze zeroed in on the seating area in the great room. That confirmed for Damián that she was still far too preoccupied with who might be watching rather than paying enough attention to her Dom at the moment.

  Well, he grinned, game on. Tonight was all about commanding her attention, and he had a lot to accomplish, so he’d better get started. He walked around behind her, preparing to rock her world.

  * * *

  Damián stood behind her, but she felt the heat of his gaze on her backside. He’d laid out whatever implements he must plan to use tonight on a table covered by a cloth, but her attention went straight to the large piece of equipment hidden by the tarp in the center of the stage. What did he have in mind for her tonight? Would she at least be allowed to wear her thong, even though it hid next to nothing?

  When they’d first arrived at the club, she’d thought the room a bit warm, but stripped bare now, she realized her embarrassment and nervousness only made her hotter.

  Savannah avoided looking in Megan and Ryder’s direction. In the past, Damián had played publicly with her in various degrees of undress, but not when she’d been six months pregnant and with two friends in the room who were new to BDSM and the club. That factor made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  But she reminded herself that Damián found her body beautiful and sexy no matter what, so she pushed away any insecurities or cares about what anyone else might think. If he wanted to show her off to others, then she’d be the most attentive submissive in the club to make her Dom proud. While Angelina and Karla enjoyed being bratty with their Doms, who seemed to love it despite token protests, Savannah preferred to let Damián guide and dominate her without interference. After being controlled by men for so much of her life, that didn’t make sense. But those men hadn’t treated her with the respect and adoration Damián did.

  Realization hit her like a lightning bolt. She’d known for a long time that the primary difference in her relationship with Damián and those other men was that she’d made the choice to surrender her control to Damián. He’d never taken anything she hadn’t wanted to give him. Yes, he’d sometimes pushed her harder and sooner than she was ready, but he would stop if she couldn’t take whatever it was he was doing.

  If she used her safeword, which she still had an aversion to doing.

  Mindful that she was supposed to be focusing on her Dom and her body’s response to his commands and actions, she waited patiently as he came close again. Savannah took a deep breath. Would she be staying here on the stage or moving to another apparatus for whatever he had planned?

  “We’re going to do some impact play first.”

  Thank God. She craved a cathartic whipping, even though she knew Damián wouldn’t give her the intensity she needed until after the baby was born. Still, she’d gladly take whatever he would dish out.

  His use of the word first made it sound as if he planned something more later tonight. Oh, how she needed this time with him.

  “I want everyone to see that pretty ass of yours turn red for me, so we’re going to move this over to the center post.”

  Leave it to Damián to know what his good girl needed most. She smiled, audience or not, and without making eye contact with the Wilsons or Mistress Grant, she let him guide her across the floor. She didn’t care now that all she wore was a skimpy thong that hid nothing but her mound and the skintight tank tee.

  After placing the padded wrist cuffs on her, he hooked them to the post above her head, while keeping her feet planted flat on the floor so as not to strain her legs, always thoughtful of her comfort level. He slapped her bare butt a couple of times with his hand to bring the blood to the surface, alerting her he might be less gentle tonight.

  Sweet Baby Jesus, am I ever ready for this.

  Damián circled her body and the post, letting his fingernails graze lightly over the skin across her shoulders and down her back, raising gooseflesh throughout her upper body. Her nipples bunched, eagerly awaiting the kiss of whatever implement he chose to use. The slight abrasion from the wooden post would intensify once the impact session got under way. Was he going to use the whip? She hadn’t noticed whether the tables and chairs had been moved away to give him ample room. Or could he be planning to use a four-foot whip instead of the eight-foot one he preferred when she wasn’t carrying his baby?

  His nails raked over her butt cheeks. Oh dear Lord. She grew wet, wanting him to touch her more intimately there. It had been so long since she’d been filled with such desire. Getting out of her head for a while helped.

  “I’ve been anticipating this for more than a week, savita,” he whispered in her ear.

  Me, too.

  He cupped her chin and turned her face toward his, bending to kiss her lips. His hand lowered her jaw as his tongue plunged inside her mouth. He stole her breath, and her heart rate ramped up. He ended the kiss way too soon, releasing her and moving to stand behind her, grabbing her butt cheeks and grinding his leather-covered erection against her crack to let her know she turned him on. She couldn’t contain the moan of desire that escaped.

  His fingernails left a trail of gooseflesh up and down her arms, leaving butterflies erupting in her stomach as her chest grew tighter with anticipation. The baby chose that moment to attempt a somersault, which was becoming more difficult for her little one as Savannah’s pregnancy advanced but apparently not impossible.

  The rasp of his fingernails continued their trek, moving to her breasts and belly. He returned to her side and bent down to place a kiss on her belly before his gentle hand caressed her abdomen as if to comfort the baby or perhaps to lull him or her to sleep again while they played. Staring down at the top of Damián’s head, she waited for him to glance her way or show his hand and clue her in as to what he had in mind. Then she realized he had a bullwhip coiled on the belt loop of his leathers. How had
she missed seeing that before?

  So this would be a whip session. She grinned.

  He seemed to be in no hurry, though, as he continued to touch her from her scalp to the backs of her legs and everywhere in between. Savannah wished he would hurry before everyone came out of the theme rooms to join them, although the clock on the wall told her it had only been about fifteen minutes since they’d broken into their separate areas. Most of them would want to play for a couple of hours before having to return home to their responsibilities.

  Curiosity got the best of her, and she dared to glance toward Megan and Ryder. Megan sat curled in his lap, his arms around her as they watched with rapt attention. A flush crept up Megan’s neck and into her friend’s face when her gaze met Savannah’s. If Megan thought she was embarrassed…

  Slap!

  Damián’s hand smacking against her butt brought Savannah’s focus back to her Dom.

  “Where should your eyes and focus be, querida?” She stared into his brown eyes, breathing deeply, feeling ashamed that he’d caught her lapse in attention. Rather than appear disappointed, though, he merely grinned. There was something a little devious about that smile, as if she’d played right into his hands.

  “I see we are going to need to do something about that.” His words only served to ramp up both her anxiety and her anticipation. “I’m going to count backwards from twenty, savita.” Hypnosis? While they’d been playing around with it at home this past week, she thought it was more to help take her mind off the trial and other worries. Had he been trying to see if she was a good candidate for it? She could have told him she was, having been through hypnotherapy on multiple occasions. But never in the middle of a BDSM scene.

  Without another word, he began to induce her. She knew no one could put a person in trance without their consent, but she was more than willing. “Twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen…” With each number, the strain and tension flowed out of her body. While still aware of her surroundings, the sights and sounds in the room became muted and she became hyperaware of her Dom’s eyes, his voice, his touch. “…two, one.”