Safe Haven

by Red Phoenix

  I feel a jolt go through me when he stares into my eyes. It seems like he is looking straight into my soul and I shiver unconsciously.

  “I trust you will find tonight’s class enlightening,” he tells me.

  I simply nod, completely tongue-tied.

  When the doors open, he surprises me by escorting me to the class. “Mr. Gallant, we have a student who has come early tonight. Is it okay if she remains here, or would you prefer she go to the commons to wait?”

  A smaller man with silver highlights in his hair and a sinewy frame walks over to us. Mr. Gallant’s smile is warm and compassionate. “You are welcome to choose a desk and wait for the others to arrive, Miss Cox.”

  Although the man is not that much taller than I am, he has a commanding voice and demeanor that gives me butterflies. “Thank you, Mr. Gallant.”

  I look over at Marquis Gray and blush—he’s just so intense. “Thank you for showing me to class, Mr. Gray.”

  “You can call me Marquis.”

  “Thank you, Marquis.”

  He nods, looking at me thoughtfully. “I expect great things from you, Miss Cox.”

  I tremble as he leaves, hoping desperately I don’t disappoint him.

  During class with Mr. Gallant, I am shocked to learn that submissives maintain control and are allowed to voice preferences and set limits.

  “A submissive offers her submission to a Dominant. It is a gift that should be treasured.”

  My heart skips a beat.

  Mr. Gallant also explains the different types of subs and tells us that even with a full-time Master, although the sub may set very few limitations on the Dominant, the submissive still has control—she just chooses not to use it.

  I’ve never understood how much power a submissive really has until now, and I realize it is an important piece missing in my relationship with Liege.

  Mr. Gallant explains to our class, “A submissive finds pleasure in serving the needs and desires of another. When that is coupled with a Dominant who seeks to guide and care for the submissive, it makes for a harmonious partnership.”

  I feel my heart starting to beat faster. What he is saying makes sense to my soul. My desire to serve is not wrong, but the man I’ve chosen most definitely is. I touch the collar around my neck.

  It feels like a noose now.

  We head off to class where I meet Marquis Gray again, along with three other trainers. Headmaster Coen, who is extremely muscular and seems to be very serious when it comes to following instructions and rules. Master Anderson, who is very tall and deliciously well built. He comes off a little strict but, every now and then, I see a twinkle in his eye that makes me think there is more to the man. The last Dominant on the panel is a woman named Ms. Clark, who is stunning with her long, blonde hair, red lips, and sexy business suit.

  I’m thrilled when I finish my first lesson. Because Liege filled out my application and claimed I didn’t like bald men, I’m partnered with a sexy Dom with no hair to play out the scene. I have no issues with bald men and thoroughly enjoy myself.

  The practicum, however, turns out not to be so easy.

  “Miss Cox, you say here that you do not like punishment,” Headmaster Coen states.

  I lower my head. “I do not, Headmaster.”

  “It should be easy enough to avoid if you simply do as your Dominant commands.”

  I squirm where I stand, not sure how to answer him.

  “Perhaps you could name a tool you find challenging,” he suggests.

  I immediately blurt, “His belt.”

  “His belt?”

  “I don’t like when my Master punishes me with his belt.”

  “Why do you give him cause to punish you?” Marquis Gray asks.

  I look at him and say meekly, “I try not to.”

  Marquis Gray writes something in his notes, and I feel my heart drop when the trainers start whispering amongst themselves. When they come to an agreement, Headmaster Coen addresses me again.

  “We agree that the belt would be an appropriate challenge for you. The Dom we would have normally chosen for such a scene is not here because you failed to fill out the application correctly. However, Master Anderson has offered to scene with you. Is that acceptable?”

  Although I want nothing to do with belts, I’m surprised they are asking for my input. Remembering Liege’s warning, I instantly consent.

  I stand there, alone on the stage, as Master Anderson gets up and leaves the room. He returns fifteen minutes later, no longer dressed in a suit. Instead, he wears only jeans and a cowboy hat. His muscular chest makes my heart flutter but, as soon as he unbuckles his belt and slides it through his belt loops, I feel like crying.

  He tells me to strip and ready myself. I obey, holding my breath as I wait for his onslaught.

  The trainer surprises me, using the leather belt to caress my skin and stimulate my desire with the gentle touch of the hated tool. I’ve never dreamed a belt could feel pleasurable. He takes his time, igniting my passion with focused attention on my breasts and pussy as he continues to caress my body. Before he’s done, his belt is slick with my wetness. I find myself wanting to know what the stroke of a belt under his control feels like on my ass, and I voice that desire aloud. He grants my wish by manually bringing me to orgasm before giving me several stokes of the belt. The sting of it somehow enhances the last pulses of my climax, and I am left awed by the experience.

  Before class ends, Headmaster Coen commands me to join him in his office. I suddenly feel sick, wondering if he is going to kick me out of the program for filling out the form wrong.

  The thought of facing Liege tonight if they do has me terrified.

  Headmaster Coen opens the door to his office and tells me to take a seat while he moves behind his large desk and sits down. He opens a drawer and pulls out a file with my name on it.

  Taking out my application, he places it on the desk before me. “Your honesty is imperative.”

  I swallow hard and nod.

  “Did you fill out this application?”

  I know my answer will disqualify me from the Training Center…

  I close my eyes with a pained expression, building up the courage to answer him. “No, Headmaster.”

  “Who did?”

  “I wrote down what my Master told me to.”

  He makes a tsking sound, and I open my eyes. I’m surprised to see a look of compassion on his face instead of anger. “This course is meant for you, not your Dominant, Miss Cox. Tonight, it was easy to tell that you weren’t challenged in the way we were expecting.”

  I lower my head and the tears start falling. “I’m sorry, Headmaster.”

  “There is no need to cry,” he tells me, handing me a tissue.

  I take it from him and ask hesitantly, “Are you going drop me from the program?”

  “I need to ask you a few more questions.”

  I tremble in fear, but I nod.

  He pulls out a note, and I instantly recognize Liege’s handwriting. He looks it over with a critical expression. “Are you happy as a submissive?”

  I falter when I answer him, wondering if it is meant as a trick question. “I want…to do better.”

  “Let me rephrase that. Are you happy under your Master’s care?”

  The tears suddenly threaten to start up again, and I shake my head.

  “Then why do you wear his collar?”

  I look at him in confusion because the answer seems obvious. “He collared me.”

  Headmaster Coen sits back in his chair. “Explain the history between you two.”

  I look at him with concern. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  I stare at the floor. Everything in me wants to tell him, but I care about my parents too much.

  “Rest assured, everything you tell me will remain between us, unless you say otherwise.”

  I start shaking, terrified I am making a mistake when I start telling him about Liege. How we met online, the tasks h
e had me do, and what happened after I came to visit him here, including the fact he’s locked up my purse and phone until I’m trained properly.

  Headmaster Coen nods throughout my explanation but does not comment until I am done.

  “You mentioned you were looking for a distraction when you agreed to be his sub. What exactly were you running from, Miss Cox?”

  Ethan’s face suddenly comes to mind, and I embarrass myself by sobbing. After wads of tissues, I finally calm myself enough to share about Ethan and his tragic death.

  The Headmaster surprises me by standing up and holding out his muscular arms to me. I walk into his embrace, feeling safe in those strong arms.

  “You have suffered greatly.”

  I nod, unable to speak without crying again.

  He pulls away and looks at me with sympathy. “Do you wish to continue with your training here?”

  I gaze up at him and beg, “Please don’t make me leave.”

  He furrows his brow, saying nothing for several moments before walking back to his desk and sitting down. Opening the drawer, he pulls out a fresh application. He picks up the old one and throws it in the trash, sliding the new one in front of me.

  “I need you to fill this out tonight.”

  “I will,” I promise.

  “Fine.” He picks up the phone.

  “Rachael, I need you to book a room for Miss Cox at the Grand and charge it to my account.”

  I shake my head. “No! I must go home with Liege.”

  He covers the speaker of the phone and asks, “What will happen if you do not?”

  “He’ll…” I close my eyes, drowning in shame. “He says he’ll send the sex tapes to my parents.”

  Headmaster Coen’s eyes narrowed. “Where are the tapes?”

  “In his apartment.”

  “Fine. We’ll take care of that. You should have them in your possession tonight.”

  I stare at him in disbelief as I listen to his conversation. “Let me know when Mr. Liege arrives to pick her up. Tell the man I want to speak with him personally.”

  He hangs up the phone and asks, “Would you write down the address of the apartment?”

  I take the pen and paper he gives me and quickly write it down.

  Headmaster Coen makes another phone call. “Hello, Baron? Are you free tonight…? Excellent. I have a new student who needs her things delivered to the Grand Hotel. Could you go to this address?” He reads off what I have written. “You’ll find her purse and cell phone locked in a drawer next to the computer. Also, there are some personal tapes of Miss Cox that are being used as blackmail. If you could bring them, along with her suitcase in the closet, she should have all she needs.” He pauses for a moment as he listens. “That’s right. I’ll be detaining the man until I hear back from you.” After another long pause, he says, “Much appreciated, Baron. Miss Cox will be greatly relieved to get her things back.”

  After he hangs up, Headmaster Coen commands, “Come here and kneel.”

  I walk over and kneel before him, wondering what he is about to do. I stop breathing when I feel his hands around my neck as he unbuckles the collar.

  He throws the hated thing in the trashcan and declares, “Liege no longer has power over you.”

  It feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders, and I look up at him, too grateful for words.

  “Head upstairs. Rachael has ordered a car. It is waiting to take you to the hotel. We want to ensure every student has a safe and healthy environment in which to learn.” He stands up and hands me the application.

  This man has just saved my life, and all I can think to say is, “Thank you.”

  He nods. “Before you settle in for the night, I suggest you call your family.”

  I can’t contain my happiness and wrapped my small arms around his beefy waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  An hour later, I am lying on a giant bed in a hotel that overlooks downtown LA. My heart is bursting with joy, but I still look nervously at the door when I hear someone knock—terrified Liege has found me.

  “Miss Cox, it’s Baron,” a deep voice states from the other side of the door.

  I rush over to open it.

  An extremely handsome black man stands there, holding my things.

  “I don’t know how to thank you…” I gush. “Please come in.”

  He enters and puts his hand on his chest. “It pains my heart to know you have been treated so poorly. When an abuser uses BDSM to exploit someone, it tears at the fabric of this community. I am here to assure you that the man has been dealt with and will not harass you again.”

  I have no idea what Baron had done to Liege, and I don’t care. I’m just eternally grateful I am free of him.

  “It’s late, so I won’t keep you any longer,” he tells me.

  I give him a bow, the way I was taught to at the Training Center tonight and feel my heart flutter as I look up at him.

  He graces me with a charming smile. “Take care, Miss Cox. Perhaps we’ll get a chance to scene together during your training.”

  “I would like that,” I tell him.

  I shut the door slowly after he leaves, not quite believing my luck. Just this morning, I was fighting to survive another day.

  As I look out the window at the city, I suddenly have the feeling that Ethan is with me.

  I start to cry again.

  But this time, they are tears of joy.

  Chance Meeting

  Captain

  2012

  I start today, like all the days before it, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

  Every scar on my body reminds me of that horrific day. I pick up the leather patch and cover the area where my eye used to be. Half of my face was obliterated when the grenade hit, leaving behind unsightly scars and a sunken cheek and eye socket.

  I wear the patch to protect others. I may have grown used to the looks of shock and the quick turning of their heads when adults come across me, but I will never grow used to the look of terror I see in the eyes of the children I pass.

  My life ended on the battlefield. The pain of losing my entire battery rips at my soul every second of every day.

  If only I had died with my men…

  I honor their sacrifice by going to work every day to study satellite photographs for the National Reconnaissance Officer. It is an empty existence, but it is all I’ve come to know since being rescued and honorably discharged.

  I have become hard—a shell of the man I used to be.

  The severity of my wounds makes me an outcast, but I understand.

  I am the stuff nightmares are made of.

  I stand in line for my lunch order, anxious to return to the office. A little girl hides behind her mother, terrified of me.

  I’m startled by a familiar voice behind me. “Excuse me, are you Captain Walker?”

  I turn to see Gallant standing beside a stunning woman who is much taller than he.

  Gallant holds out his hand and shakes mine firmly. “It is good to see you again, Captain.”

  I nod uncomfortably, feeling the heavy gaze of the woman next to him on me.

  “How long has it been, Captain Walker?” he asks cordially.

  “A lifetime ago,” I answer, looking at my watch and wishing my number would be called.

  Gallant turns to the woman beside him and introduces us. “Ena, this is Captain Walker. Captain, this is my wife, Ena.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Captain Walker,” she says, holding her hand out to me.

  I’m taken aback by the gesture. Women avoid any physical contact with me. I take hold of her hand and shake it firmly.

  “My husband has only the highest regard for you. Thank you for the difference you made in his life.”

  I shake my head, saying gruffly, “I did nothing.”

  “On the contrary,” Gallant declares. “You gave me the value of your expertise, both on and off the battlefield. I owe my life to you, Captain.�
��

  “You know I disagree,” I growl, remembering when he’d come to visit me in the hospital soon after I was rescued. He’d foolishly made a similar claim, and I’d set him straight then by telling him, “If you had been part of my battery, you would be dead.”

  I look at Gallant now, grateful the man was promoted and reassigned before our battalion was sent out to meet our fate.

  “Captain, can you spare a few minutes?” he asks. “I would love to sit down and talk.”

  “I’d rather not,” I answer tersely. Seeing him again only reminds me of the past.

  “Please, Captain,” Ena begs earnestly.

  I find myself moved by her open acceptance of me. It’s rare to be treated as if I have no scars, and it is solely because of her that I agree.

  During our conversation, Gallant asks about my life since. I explain that I work as an intelligence analyst, but I keep it at that. I learn from him that he is not only married, but also the father of two young girls. He then goes on to share that he works as a teacher at a school called the Submissive Training Center.

  “You teach about whips and chains?” I snort, assuming he is joking.

  “Among other things,” he replies.

  I look to his wife, who smiles pleasantly, and decide Gallant must be telling me the truth.

  My curiosity piqued, I ask, “What do you train your students for?”

  “We help submissives discover their strengths and limits through instruction and practicums.”

  “It sounds…interesting.”

  He turns to his wife and says proudly, “We don’t often share this with others, but Ena is not simply my wife, but my beloved submissive.”

  I glance at her and notice the necklace she wears is actually a delicate collar with a lock. “I never would have suspected.”

  Gallant wraps his arm around his wife. “We choose to live it out quietly because of the children, but I must tell you that the open and honest exchange between a submissive and Dominant has made for a very fulfilling relationship.”

  I nod, genuinely happy for them, although I can’t imagine such a thing.