Safeword (The Decadence Club Book 3)

by Alyssa Clark

  It was a Friday, just as I was leaving, that Simon decided to add his two cents to it. “Your series is doing well.” He looked proud but kept a distance as he spoke. I guess he really was scared of Liz. “I want you to consider another as soon as you wrap it up. It's not gone viral, yet, but I imagine it won’t be long before it starts hitting the social media circuit. As the views come in the ad revenue increases. I think this voice you’re writing with can definitely be appealing. I hope you have a good idea for another introvert series.”

  It was a pressure that I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with when I was already dealing with meeting Michael after work. But, I’d have to do it anyway. At least it gave me something to contemplate as I got ready for that night.

  He had me on a routine, even on weeknights where I had pled off visits to the club. I made an effort to be attractive and when I had the funds to spare I increased the number of skirts and dresses in my closet, all with the hope of keeping him interested. I hadn’t really thought outside what would happen when I finally wrapped up the series.

  I didn’t take into consideration whether or not I would need to keep seeing him when I was done or how I was going to continue to pay the club’s pricey monthly fee. I’d figure out something for the latter. Even if it meant writing term papers for college students. It would be easy enough to find a way to supplement my income just for the sake of a toe-curling night with him.

  He had me hooked for nights like that.

  16

  I thought I’d been over thinking things. I’d been analyzing every detail that involved me going to this sex club that I forgot one little detail about it all. The articles I’d been writing were being published on the internet for the whole world to see. I didn’t think about how this could all come back to bite me in the ass.

  I’d mentioned Michael, it's hard to not mention him when he’d been leading me through everything. I was smart enough to not mention him by name. I never figured he’d go investigate the site that I worked for, the name alone made me confident enough that I was safe from discovery.

  Of course, I was wrong. Like I was with most things.

  I didn’t realize there was an issue with it. He saw me that Friday like our usual routine. He brought me to a room of his choosing. This one had what looked like something out of the middle ages. It was a wood board with three holes that could only be for one thing. Well, three things.

  “What is that?” I didn’t bother to hide any sort of fear that I might have.

  “A pillory, I believe. Or they could just call it stocks now, I don’t know.” He sounded nonchalant as he spoke. “That’s a lesson from history class that I don’t particularly remember.” He took off his jacket and then his tie. “I have a lesson for you, but it's not about this it just involves it. Strip if you will.”

  He sounded so reasonable like we were talking over dinner. But there was never a moment during our ‘experiments’ that ever really involved a lesson. It seemed like every time we were together sexually it was about me doing something he wanted and getting a reward. That was what I was used to.

  I didn’t verbalize my concerns, I was just hesitant to undress as I looked at the wooden thing. He didn’t express any impatience, he just took the dress I’d been wearing and even plucked up my shoes from the ground. He deposited them on the wrought iron bed that seemed to occupy every room. From there, he led me to the pillory.

  “There’s no lock,” he said as he stepped away and went about pulling the top part off. There was a hinge that kept the top connected to it. “So there’s no struggle to get you out of it. Merely say the safe word,” he said it like it was the simplest concept.

  The only problem was I could see myself choking, the hole that was supposed to restrict my head looked way too small for me. Just the idea had me wanting to run.

  But, I didn’t get the chance to run. He urged me forward, and I drug my feet, but that was as much resistance as I gave him. He had me bent into position when I decided I couldn’t do this.

  “Red,” it came out in a hurried gasp before he could even close the contraption over my neck.

  There was a grunt then an irritated growl. “Why does that not surprise me?” He said it low enough that it was clear that he was talking just to himself. He stepped away from me and went back to the bed, he picked up his button down and slid it back on.

  I didn’t know what to make of it. I stayed by the pillory and watched him dress. What happened? Did the safe word completely shut down the night? “Does it have to come to a complete stop?” I asked carefully.

  “I don’t know, Stacey Charles.” He didn’t bother to turn back to me. He was busy buttoning up his shirt. “Why don’t you tell me? Or will I have to wait until the next article to find out?”

  Oh. Shit.

  I didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t even bother to look at me. I left my mouth hanging open as I struggled to think of something to say. Was there a way to salvage this? “I meant to tell you,” I breathed like it was a good excuse. A million other excuses proceeded to clog up my brain. I couldn’t say anything better.

  “Yet, you didn’t.” He shrugged into his jacket and finally turned to look at me. “You had plenty of opportunities.” I could feel his eyes moving up and down my form. I couldn’t read anything past the anger. “You have written six articles about what we do here.” His lip curled a little bit as he spoke, he didn’t bother to hand me the dress that I’d worn in. He didn’t step closer. “Give me some credit here, Charlie.” He released a breath. “It would have been a whole lot easier to take than finding it on my own.”

  “I’m sorry.” It came out in a rushed breath. I’d never felt so naked and there was no way that I could cover up. I didn’t want to get closer to him, all I wanted to do was to hide.

  “If your not willing to trust me,” he began slowly, “what is the point to any of this?” His expression twisted then, going from angry to something that looked like hurt.

  Did I really wound him?

  He didn’t give me the chance to give him any sort of reasoning, even though my mind was blank and I had no idea what I could possibly say to sway him. He stalked out of the room with a scowl so dark that looked like it could put a rumbling storm to shame.

  I stayed standing near the pillory well after he left, I was so caught up in the fact that he had been angry. I didn’t rush to dress, I took my time to make sure every piece of my dress was in place. It didn’t help.

  I wouldn’t feel better until I got home. But I found that even there, it wasn’t by much.

  I opened up my laptop, it was like I was on autopilot. Before I knew it, I had the next, and last, article ready. It wouldn’t make things better, but I knew now what I’d done wrong.

  17

  The final article published by ‘Stacey’

  Trust.

  Every time we were together he mentioned it, he emphasized its importance. Normally, you might not think much about it. For most people, it comes naturally. An extrovert might have a little problem trusting the person they connect with. They follow their instincts and anxiety probably doesn’t strangle them near as much.

  I know what you’re probably thinking, too. You had sex with him willingly. You let him tie you up in multiple ways, spank you, and other of varied depraved things that would make your mother blush. Come on, Stacey. After all that how could you not trust him? What’s the problem?

  Sex was mind-blowing, the guy was hotness at the highest level. Why is it so hard to give in? What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe the L-word, is that really a horrible level?

  Well, the short answer to all of that is, I don’t know. The long answer? It's a whole lot more complicated.

  Trust is important when you’re giving control of certain aspects of yourself to another person. When you’re doing that you’re trusting him to not physically hurt you beyond what you're comfortable with. That’s a lot.

  So, what’s my problem?

  I
gave in as much as I could, but there was this edge that I danced on and couldn’t get over it. How do you get close to someone and let go of the fear that they’ll see you for what you really are? I am so aware of all my flaws. Wearing flaws makes you realize just how little value you have as a person. Or that’s the way I see it.

  So, with as flawed as I am, how could I expect someone like M to keep wanting me?

  It was a real fear, and there was never a right way to ask for any sort of validation. Or I think the best way to put it would be to say that I never had to nerve to ask. Rejection is a hard pill to swallow for anyone. And I was so sure that it was something it would be something I would have to face with a man like M. It was always in the back of my mind about how he was way out of my league.

  And I wasn’t wrong.

  You want this to work? You want to explore things that are out of your ordinary? Learn to trust the person you do it with, even while it makes you feel so terribly vulnerable.

  18

  I was dreading the reaction to the last article. I was sure that there’d be some objections to me ending it so abruptly, but there was no way I could continue without having someone leading the way. I wasn’t overjoyed at the idea of re-experience everything with Liz or Ms. Winters. Nothing against them, I just didn’t think I wanted to explore that side of me.

  Not with this ache I felt.

  Why did I ache? I guessed it had something to do with that last night I had been with him. I went home with a burning between my legs and a twist in my gut. It had been the inspiration for the last article, and I submitted it to Simon, Ms. Winters, and Liz Saturday after I finished it. I hadn’t gotten any sort of feedback from anyone. I’d spent all of Sunday worrying that it was far too introspective, it wasn’t good enough.

  “Charlie!” Liz came into my cube, her dark eyes wide and concern was written across her face. “Are you okay? She came to sit beside me in my extra chair. She took my hand from my keyboard and looked at me. “What happened?”

  I swallowed a lump that seemed to come out of nowhere. I tried to ignore the sudden burning that replaced it and focus on the screen in front of me. “Eh well, you know everything has to end at some point. That felt like a good point to end on.” It was a lie, one that would be obvious. As long as I didn’t look at her, maybe she wouldn’t know better.0

  She scooted the chair closer. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”

  I glanced at her, seeing something searching in her eyes. I grimaced and shook my head. “He was way too good for me. There was no way something could happen outside of what we were already doing.” I pulled my hand from hers and brought up my email, looking for my assignments for the day. “It couldn’t go anywhere.”

  “What happened?” She asked again.

  I could feel my chin wobble, I didn’t want to crack. I didn’t want to cry at work. “He found my articles,” I admitted.

  “He didn’t already know about them?”

  I shrugged a little, I still couldn’t bring myself to look at her. “I never got around to telling him.”

  “And you got attached,” she summarized as she leaned back into her chair. “I saw that coming in the beginning. But I can’t say that I expected you to not tell him about being a writer. I thought that would be something you would be excited about.”

  “He’s a stranger.” I turned to her then. “I would gush to you about it, but not to a stranger.”

  “The dates didn’t make him not a stranger?” When I glanced at her, I saw the incredulous look she was giving me. Of course, she didn’t understand. She was used to people accepting her as she was, she was used to being loved. She was beautiful and confident.

  I was just me. There were no words that I could string together, with someone that was aspiring to be a writer it was sad.

  Eventually, Liz gave up on getting an answer from me and stood. She released a breath. “Despite all that, it was good. I doubt Simon will have any problems letting it end there.” She lingered in the doorway of my cube, making me nervous. What else was there to say? “Maybe if he’s really interested he’ll understand.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled. It didn’t make me feel better.

  She knew what I was going through, I was sure, especially if she resorted to going to joining a club to gain any real sexual satisfaction. I could see where she was coming from. Personally, I hadn’t felt anything close to gratification before that first night.

  That first night, there was so much that I was afraid of and so much that I should have put more research into what I had been getting into. It was hindsight, all of it.

  All it rewarded me with was a taste of what sex was supposed to be like. Or at least enjoyable sex. I don’t know if I really knew what regular, ‘normal’ sex was.

  I shouldn’t have let my first experience with sex dictate how I led my life.

  “Hindsight is a bitch,” I grumbled to myself as I went about my work day.

  I got a few other calls that I expected. Simon’s was short and to the point, he didn’t give a clear critique of the article. “It’s a good point to end on if a bit… sappy if I might be frank. Have you got another idea for a series ready?”

  “Not yet,” I answered truthfully. “I was considering maybe a short one-shot here and there until I can hammer out an idea that could draw for a string of articles.” I’d just finished proofing an article, and I was setting it up in the template that seemed to fit the content, so I had been distracted through the majority of the conversation. “I was thinking I could draw from past experiences, write about the difficulties of the regular club life.”

  “That seems like a step backward, doesn’t it?” He sounded like he had stopped working long enough to focus on our conversation. “To go from a series of sex articles to a normal club? Think a little be racier then get back to me.”

  I grimaced and nodded, even though he wouldn’t be able to see me. I hung up and refrained from calling Liz. It was another occasion of me blaming her. If only I had the will to tell her no. I would have saved myself a lot of grief that would, apparently, continue well after the initial first visit.

  I could blame her all I wanted, but she didn’t write the articles. She didn’t go on the dates. She didn’t make me sleep with the man.

  She didn’t make me continue to think about him.

  I groaned and went onto the next assignment. I could brainstorm later, the chances of me getting sleep was slim anyhow. Sleep had been fleeting since the night he confronted me. I couldn’t blame that on anyone but myself.

  If I was an optimistic person, I would see this as personal growth, and I could move on to finding a healthy relationship. But that’s asking too much. I couldn’t do a better shift in character like, especially in a positive way. I wasn’t one for that kind of growth, I had been comfortable in my little shell in my lonely little life.

  The phone rang, and I felt irritation turn my stomach. I chalked it to being so intent on my introspective view of what had happened that I was beginning to regret all of it. I was getting by in editing, and this massive change wasn’t likely to help, though getting the royalties might make things just a tad bit less stressful. I answered the phone with a little bit of hostility in my voice, instantly I was put back in my place.

  “Well, hello Ms. Atkins,” she said it politely, the only thing that changed with a slight hardening of her voice. “It’s Angela Winters, I was hoping you had a moment to speak with me?”

  I stalled out with my anger, I didn’t realize I should have been expecting this call from her. Ms. Winters had been on the copy to list for the articles since I first started writing them. After the first one she didn’t really give me any sort of feedback, I assumed that she wasn’t reading them.

  “Y-yes,” I stuttered as I sat back in my chair. “Yes, Ms. Winters,” I corrected myself. “I’m available to talk right now. How can I help you?” For some reason I felt nervous, I couldn’t think of a reason for her to call unless it involved her d
isliking something I wrote. Or maybe he complained about me to her. That left a sinking feeling in my gut, waiting for her reply.

  “I just wanted to say that it has been a pleasure reading your work.” She sounded pleasant again, there was no harsh tone to her voice now. “But this last one had a sense of finality to it. Am I correct to assume that it's done?”

  I took a breath to try to even out my own tone. I was going to try for confidence now. “Yes, ma’am.” I swallowed hard. “It seemed like a good point to end it.”

  “Really?” She hummed like she wasn’t sure that she believed me. “Do you think so? There’s a vast amount of different kinks that you can find in this community. If you want to, you could use your voice and the popularity of the website you work for as a way to educate people about them. You have an entertaining way of telling a story, so there is still a lot you could do.”