Finding Their Balance

by M. Q. Barber

  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 th
e 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.”