The Perfectionist_Sin City Sentries [Book Two]

by Myra Scott

  The lawyers held tight faces, and Zane and I shook hands with Rodney before we all left the room and headed back toward our offices.

  “What happened to you at the end there, Mick?” Zane asked, striding up alongside me. “I mean, I know you’ve been having a stressful month, but—”

  “I’m in love, Zane.”

  I stopped to round on him and say it right to his face, and he couldn’t have looked more surprised if I’d tried to push him down the stairs. Zane’s mouth fell open, and I pressed on when he couldn’t find any words.

  “I’m in love with the most incredible man I’ve ever met. You know what? Fuck it. He’s a Dom. He’s my Dom. He’s caring and he’s assertive and he makes me feel like I’m the only other man in the world when I’m with him, and God help me, if I didn’t screw up our shot at love, then I’m going to go right back to him and tell him that myself.”

  I left Zane standing there more stunned than I’d ever seen him in my life, and I whipped out my phone.

  I was making a rush appointment with Eric, immediately.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - ERIC

  I was walking down a long, dark corridor. Shadows moved and twitched along the walls, whispering voices confusing me and making my heart race. I had been walking for what felt like days, lost in this ominous maze. I was exhausted, my head aching from having to strain my eyes in the darkness. All I wanted was a way out. An exit. I couldn’t remember why I was here or how I had fallen into this nocturnal labyrinth. I felt so dizzy, sick to my stomach. I needed to get out of here, and soon.

  Slowly, I began to notice a faint sound emerging from the silence. A rhythmic thud-thud, like footsteps behind me. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I was mute, the air totally knocked out of my lungs. I broke into a run, my legs shaking as I tried to go faster. But it was like trying to wade out of quicksand. I was hardly moving at all, except for my heart racing.

  Help me, I screamed inside my head. Please help.

  But nobody could hear me. Nobody except for the monstrous beast following behind me, coming up close, nearly on my tail. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. There was no escaping it. Now there was nothing left for me to do except turn around and face it, so that in my last moments of life I could see the face of my attacker…

  I sat up with a gasp, my chest heaving and my forehead beaded with sweat. The alarm clock on my bedside table was ticking softly, my house silent and still except for the faint breeze outside, the tiny branches of my box leaf plant tapping lightly against the window. My alarm wasn’t supposed to go off for another two hours. My nightmare had woken me up too early. I sighed and turned over on my side, clinging to the pillow and forcing myself to close my eyes. I needed the sleep badly. Today, I had an appointment I had been dreading. Phillip Langford was coming back to the dungeon to see me.

  And this time, I was going to play the submissive role.

  It was something I rarely did, preferring to maintain the upper hand in my arrangements. I was good at being a Dom, at keeping my partner in check and leading the scene. Sometimes, on occasion, I would agree to play the sub if my client was easy to work with and upfront about what they wanted out of the scene. Of course, most of the time, I ended up taking back the reins pretty quickly. Usually, that was because my client realized how stressful and potentially embarrassing it could be to try and play the dominant role if you weren’t used to it. Most of my clients were men who needed to be told what to do in a scene, and it was too much responsibility and pressure to have to boss around a self-assured, tall, powerful guy like me. Even when I did my best to egg them on and subtly guide them, they often ended up conceding and giving me back the lead. Which, to be honest, I preferred.

  When I was a sub, I felt out of control and anxious sometimes. I trusted the vast majority of my clients not to hurt me or push too far, but just knowing that they could easily slip up and make a painful mistake was enough to make me a little nervous. Sure, my client would almost certainly never hurt me on purpose, not seriously anyway, but accidents could happen.

  Of course, it was totally different with Phillip. I did not trust him. Not at all.

  As of yet, he had done nothing at all to assuage my fears about him, and I was a good judge of character. From the moment we stepped into the chamber together, I had known he was a dangerous man. He hardly seemed to take our relationship seriously, and I could tell he did not appreciate my strength or professionalism. I had experience, but he scoffed at it as though my years of dedication and training in the industry meant nothing to him. If it was up to me, I would have kicked him out and blocked his number after he first stepped out of line during our scene. But I knew I didn’t have that option this time. Madame Myrina was very clear about that. It wasn’t my decision to get rid of Phillip. If he wanted me, he would have me. Whether I liked it or not.

  I sighed and slid out of bed, wrapping myself in a fluffy white robe as I padded into my en suite bathroom. I flipped on the light and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked exhausted. Bags under my eyes, my cheeks ashen and pale. The past couple of nights I had not been sleeping well. I either tossed and turned all night long, or I fell asleep and had nightmare after nightmare. I kept waking up in a state of pure anxiety and dread, which was unusual for me. Sure, there had been times when I was excited or nervous about a session, especially with a new client I didn’t know very well yet. But this was a new feeling for me: real, authentic fear. Phillip scared me. He was older and not extremely fit, but even though his physical prowess paled in comparison to my abilities, that would hardly matter when he played the dominant role. All he would have to do was tie me up or restrain me in some other way and he would be able to do whatever he wanted with me.

  “Why is this happening to me?” I asked my reflection sadly.

  Deciding there was no point in trying to go back to bed, I ran myself a bath. I had one of those amazing garden tubs, nearly large enough for two people. Not that I had ever gotten a chance to test that out. My job made dating nearly impossible. No man could possibly be interested in a serious relationship with someone like me, who gets up close and intimate with strangers for a living. As I poured a few capfuls of bubble bath into the hot water, my mind instantly flashed over to Mick.

  His image swam in front of my mind, vivid and clear. Those soulful brown eyes, the way his face crinkled slightly when he smiled. I wanted to see that smile more often. I had a feeling he didn’t smile anywhere near as often as he should. That kind of broke my heart a little. I wanted to be the reason he smiled. I wanted to make him happy and relaxed.

  I took off my robe and boxers and slipped down into the warm bath, sighing. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trying to focus on the matter at hand. How was I supposed to get through my session with Phillip today? How could I possibly curb his sexual appetite? Maybe if I made myself less attractive. I could fight back subtly, just ignore his desires and refuse to play into whatever sick fantasy he had cooked up in his mind.

  But I knew that was a stupid impulse. If I didn’t play along, he would just go running back to Madame Myrina to complain again, and my boss had already made it crystal clear that she would side with Phillip. She followed the money, and in this case, Phillip represented one gigantic dollar sign in her eyes. I wasn’t important. I was replaceable. There were plenty of hot young men in this town just itching for a job like mine.

  I sank down into the water, trying to remind myself that I could get through this. I could survive it. No, it would not be enjoyable. It would not be fun at all. But it was just a session, just an hour to spend with an overzealous, smug older man who wanted to see me in chains and at his mercy. I could deal with that. I thought back to something my mother used to tell me when I was growing up, to help me get through a scary doctor’s appointment or an exam or something else stressful. She would tell me, “Don’t dwell on the act itself, Eric. Think about how good you’ll feel wh
en it’s over. Think through it, not about it.”

  Those were helpful words for me. I had often reflected back on that little nugget of wisdom over the years. Just then, as though she had read my mind or something, my phone started buzzing. I reached over to grab it from the counter. It was my mother calling, of course.

  I was hardly in the right frame of mind to talk to my mom, but I knew that if I didn’t pick up, she would just get worried and start calling incessantly until I answered. She had always been that way: a little overprotective, a little paranoid about something bad happening to me. Just a typical mom in that way, I supposed.

  I answered the call. “Hey, Mama.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” she asked. I could hear the faint ring and chime of slot machines in the background. She was calling me from the casino. She often worked overnight shifts there, which would explain why she was awake and calling at six in the morning.

  “I’m okay. Couldn’t sleep,” I replied. “But how did you know I’d be awake?”

  “Just a mother’s intuition, baby,” she answered simply. “You sound sad. Is everything okay? You know, I talked to your auntie the other day about Dr. Morgan.”

  “Good, good,” I said, skipping over her question. “How’d it go?”

  “Pretty well, actually. He really listened to me. Your father is so ridiculous, though, he got all angry about me callin’ the doctor. He said Dr. Morgan has a crush on me. Isn’t that the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard?” she scoffed.

  “I don’t know, Mama. He does seem to really like you,” I chuckled.

  “Oh, not you, too!” she exclaimed. I could hear the smile in her voice. “But really, Eric, you don’t sound like your usual peppy self. What’s goin’ on?”

  “Nothing, Mama. I’m just feeling a little under the weather. And I’m having this problem at work,” I began, biting my lip. It was so hard to lie to her.

  “Oh no. Is someone causing you trouble? I won’t hesitate to come down there and slap somebody around for messin’ with my baby,” she offered, and I knew she was not kidding.

  “Nah, it’s fine. I can deal with it. I just have to get through today,” I said, injecting some false cheerfulness into my tone.

  “Okay, sweetheart. If you’re sure. Well, I need to go home and change. Your Aunt Kay wants me to go with her and your uncle to the doctor.”

  “Get some sleep, too. You’re always on the go, Mama. Take care of yourself,” I told her.

  “Mhmm, I hear you. I will. Promise.”

  I smiled softly. “Okay. I love you.”

  “Love you, too, baby. Bye.”

  “Bye, Mama,” I said, hanging up. I stared up at the ceiling, wondering how the hell I was going to survive this day.

  Hours later, I was dressed and ready, heading into the dungeon for my shift. My stomach was flip-flopping, making me nauseous. But I had my mom’s wisdom in mind.

  I just had to get through this. Make it to the other side. No big deal. I could do this.

  Madame Myrina gave me a curt nod as I passed by her office. Phillip was already in the waiting room, watching me. I beckoned for him to follow me, then walked into my chamber and took a deep breath. I turned around just as the door clicked shut. Phillip came striding up to me and clapped a hand over my mouth, surprising me. My eyes went wide and my heart began to pound. This was not a good start.

  There was that same smug grin on his face, but a fire blazed in his eyes. I struggled to speak with his fat fingers over my lips. I shook my head and tried to push him away, but he clinked a pair of manacles over my wrists with surprising deftness. We were less than ten seconds into the session, and I was already bound, my hands pressed together as Phillip aggressively shoved me backward into the wall. I wasn’t even dressed in my usual dungeon regalia yet, just wearing my street clothes. The room wasn’t set up. It occurred to me with a rush of alarm that the handcuffs weren’t mine. They were a pair he had brought himself. I generally forbade any outside tools, preferring to work with the ones I was familiar with. But Phillip had already disregarded that rule and begun the scene without a word.

  “Let’s see how tough you are now that I’m in control,” he growled. “On your knees!”

  I shook my head and backed away quickly. He looked enraged. “I said, kneel down!”

  “No. That’s not how this works, Phillip,” I told him sharply, even as the fear set in.

  “It works however I want it to,” he shot back, pulling down a flogger from the wall. “I paid for my time, and I will use that time however I see fit. Your body belongs to me right now, and you will do what I say.”

  “Stop it. You can’t run a scene this way,” I protested. He came after me, whacking the air with the flogger, threatening me. There was pure rage in his expression.

  “Stop talking! You aren’t in charge today. I am. Now, get on your knees before I punish you, little whore,” he snapped. I did not like being spoken to this way. He whipped the flogger toward me, and the sharp tips lashed against my shoulder as he backed me into a corner. I cried out in pain and flinched away, making him smile.

  “Perfect. That’s more like it,” he grunted. “I want to hear you scream.”

  “Get away from me,” I barked.

  “No. You will obey me, even if I have to break you in first,” Phillip snarled. “For the last time, get down on your knees.” He held up the flogger threateningly, and I knelt down, feeling utterly defeated. There was nothing for me to do.

  “Good little slut,” he crooned. “Beg for my cock.”

  “What,” I murmured breathlessly. “No. No, no. I don’t do that level of intimacy as a submissive. That’s not—”

  He whacked my arms again with the flogger, and I yelled, shivering with pain. I was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, which meant that my arms were exposed. I looked down to see sharp marks on my arm, prickling with blood.

  “You’re not supposed to draw blood,” I protested, wincing as he lifted the flogger again.

  “Then what’s the fucking point?” he retorted. He reached down, pressing his chubby hand to the back of my head, shoving my face into his groin. He groaned with pleasure as I recoiled and tried to wriggle away.

  “Fuck you,” I hissed.

  “Oh, that is exactly what you want, isn’t it? To fuck me? But you don’t get to do that. This time, I get to fuck you. But you want to know what really gets me off?” he asked, slowly walking after me. I was pressed against the wall, cowering with fear and shaking with hatred.

  He leaned down and spit on the floor in front of me. “I like pain. Specifically, I like causing pain.” Phillip grabbed my shirt and yanked me up off the floor, then spun me around and pushed me against the wall. He tugged down my track pants and boxers, exposing my ass. I was in shock. What the hell could I do?

  He slapped my ass hard and I cried out. “Stop! Now!” I insisted, wincing at how badly it stung. This was far behind playful sadism—this was real sadism. He whacked my ass with the flogger, whipping the backs of my legs until my knees buckled underneath me.

  He groaned with pleasure. “Oh, yes. This is exactly what I wanted,” he growled.

  I closed my eyes. Just get through it, I told myself. Think about how good it will feel when it’s over. You can survive this. You have to.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - MICK

  I’d never felt more energized to do something when I stormed into the dungeon once again, and this time, I felt my heart high and my blood running hot. I must have scared the receptionist half to death when I nearly ran into the lobby, breathing heavily from the trip here.

  “Is Eric here?” I breathed, panting heavily and looking at the receptionist.

  “Oh! Is it that time already? He should be just finishing up with another client. I’m surprised he’s not up here already.”

  My heart sank.

  May
be him waiting for me up at the front was only something he had done when he thought we had something together. Or worse, maybe he was giving me the cold shoulder in hopes that I would get the message and go somewhere else.

  A week ago, I might have at least let that thought eat away at me and get under my skin. Not anymore. I knew damn well what I was here to do, and if all blew up in my face, then it was worth it—I couldn’t keep my feelings pent up any longer.

  “Thanks,” I said hurriedly to the receptionist before heading to the back.

  Even on the walk there, though, something felt off. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was a smell in the air that put my nerves on edge. Halfway down the hallway, another, unfamiliar face approached, and we locked eyes.

  He was an older man wearing a satisfied smile on his face, and we only had to take one look at each other to know we were both Eric’s clients. But the only thing I could focus on was his eyes. There was a kind of dancing malice in those eyes, a cruelty and smug satisfaction he got from seeing me that unsettled me.

  It made me jealous enough looking into the man’s eyes and knowing he’d just been serviced by Eric, but that much I could get over. Eric was a professional, and he knew what he was doing. I respected that deeply, and I wouldn’t imagine getting in the way of that under any circumstances. But this guy made me uneasy, and I usually trusted my gut on this kind of thing.

  I got to the usual door and waited until the other client disappeared into the showers to knock on it. Then I remembered that the room was soundproof, so I rolled my eyes at myself and turned the knob, only to find it locked, of course.

  A few seconds later, though, Eric opened the door and winced back as soon as he saw someone in the doorway. He must not have heard me knocking, because I’d never seen him break character like that.