The Dungeon Fantasy Club

by Anya Summers

  His jaw hardened and he narrowed his gaze. "I don't give a shit about the fucking ball. You and the baby are what matters. I don't know where this is coming from, but I'm not leaving you. I'll sleep on the couch if you don't want me in your room."

  "The choice isn't up to you, Tobias. I'm not your wife. You don't own me, and you said it yourself, I'm just the mother of your child, which means I have every right to ask you to leave my home. And right now, I need you to go," she begged him; she didn't want to do this tonight when she was still so raw.

  "I won't let you shut me out like this, Lia. Not when you do it to everyone who might hurt you."

  "What?" She reeled back as if he'd struck her. "What the fuck do you mean?" She hadn't been angry when they had first pulled up. More resigned and exhausted than anything, but she was livid now, in a smashing, evil lizard destroyer of cities way.

  "You think I can't see it, that your sister doesn't, how you shut people out of your life when they show any inkling of being human. You cut off your emotions, not allowing yourself to feel anything, not remorse, or pity, or joy, or even love."

  "Get. Out. Now," she chewed out.

  "Or what?" he challenged her, advancing toward her and then stopping just shy of reaching her.

  The bastard was probably thinking she needed a fucking spanking. She exploded, spewing vitriol so fast and furiously she was panting as she did so. "You're an insufferable ass. I don't want to do whatever this is between us anymore. I'm not a sub, can never fully agree to live in your lifestyle, and you will never fully fit into mine. It's done, finished. You can get your things this week. Or I can ship them. Either way, it's over. Shut the door when you leave."

  She turned and strode to her bedroom door, closing and locking it, before collapsing on the bed. She heard Tobias moving around in the living room, more like stomping back and forth on her hardwood floor, for a few minutes, before she heard his feet walk to the front door, close and lock it as he shut the door behind him, and then he left.

  Ophelia didn't realize she was crying until she heard the door slam shut.

  Chapter 11

  Ophelia spent the weekend in bed. She figured that, after the night she'd had—hell, the last few weeks—she'd earned a little rest and relaxation. She avoided anything that reminded her of Dungeon Pleasures, avoided her phone, avoided going outside, and just puttered around the house for a few days.

  She went to work and her classes at the university, but they didn't soothe her like they had in the past. Lucy still hadn't made it back stateside, saying something about a race somewhere that she had to attend. Which was fine by Lia; she didn't really feel like explaining herself to anyone right now anyway.

  It wasn't until she received the mail on Thursday that her world turned in on itself once again. The lovely, buttercream-colored envelope had been expertly addressed with a flourish to her, and was postmarked from Scotland.

  Ophelia shut the door, allowing the rest of the mail to fall to the floor as she ripped open the envelope. Inside was an elegant wedding announcement, inviting her to her sister's wedding in Scotland. There was an RSVP response card inside that had her name plus one, with a request to respond by November thirtieth.

  A fissure cracked inside her, then another, and another, with heart wrenching sobs escaping her mouth with each break. Her sister was never coming back. Lia was alone, more alone than she'd ever been, and it was exactly how she had engineered her life. Into a safe, emotionless void of existence.

  Her phone chose that precise moment to buzz in her pocket. As she fumbled to answer, seeing her sister's image pop up on her screen, Lia controlled her hyperventilating.

  "Zoey, I just got your—"

  "How could you do this to me? Do you hate me this much?" Zoey's voice blared through her smartphone.

  "What are you talking about? I don't hate you, Zoey. I love you, you're my sister, and I'd never do anything to—"

  "First, I receive my entire life packed up in boxes yesterday. Then today, I find out my wedding might have to be postponed because Tobias has withdrawn his security firm from the renovations Declan wanted in place. And it's all your fault." Her sister was in tears; Lia could tell from the hiccupping noises she was trying to hide.

  "How is Tobias my fault? I sent your stuff to help you out, since you so clearly wanted nothing to do with me when I flew to Scotland. You're the one who didn't want to see or talk to me after I flew five thousand miles, who kicked me out and told me the house here was mine. And as for Tobias, things didn't work out between us. If he decided not to work with Declan that's not my fault, nor will I accept the blame for his actions," Ophelia said.

  "Lia, I love you, but ever since Mom and Dad died, when anyone in the slightest even attempts to make you feel something, you shut them out. That's why you sent all my stuff over here without consulting me first, even though it was a huge favor in the long run, and now you break things off with Tobias when things get a little rough. Are you going to cut this baby off the first time it breaks your heart? Because they will at some point, you know that."

  "I do not, I just like things a certain way, that's all. It's easier."

  "But it's not living. And you weren't like this until Mom and Dad died, ever since their deaths, Lia, you've been hiding from life," Zoey scolded her.

  "Because I killed them, Zoey. How am I supposed to go on living when it's my fault they died?" Ophelia gasped as her horrible truth spilled out into the open. Grief and guilt wracked her frame. She couldn't believe she'd finally admitted her darkest secret. She must be feeling low for it to finally emerge.

  "Oh, Lia, you didn't kill them."

  "Yes, I did. I picked that horrible fight with Mom and Dad because I wanted to go on my senior fall ski trip that weekend. When they said I had to find other transportation to get to the bus caravan, I threw a fit and they caved, saying they would cut their meeting short. They rushed on the way back from their meeting to pick me up, and died in the crash. It's my fault they died." She cried as tremors wracked her frame.

  "Jesus, Lia, why didn't you ever say any of this to me? I know we were both just kids, but—"

  Ophelia interrupted Zoey. "Because I knew you'd hate me and leave me too if you knew the truth, and I—"

  "Lia, you are not responsible for Mom and Dad's deaths, do you understand me? Do you remember how much they fought when we were teenagers? Mom and Dad were going to marriage counseling, and were on the verge of filing for divorce before they died. I know I never told you because I wanted to protect you from the truth, you just took their deaths so hard and you were so depressed that I thought if I told you it would only make things worse, which I now see was the wrong way to go. In the police report, their therapist stated that Mom and Dad were arguing when they left the office. Do you understand what that means?" Zoey said.

  Lia's head swam. Her parents had been headed for divorce. She didn't know what that meant or why Zoey was telling her all this now. "No, what are you getting at?"

  "Do you remember how Dad would drive like the devil was on his heels every time he was pissed?" Zoey asked her, and Lia tried to recall any of her memories of him driving.

  "Yes, a little bit, so what?"

  "It means Dad was in a bad mood and chose to drive at unsafe speeds, Lia. They weren't rushing back to take you to your senior ski trip. Dad was letting off steam. The highway patrol estimated he was doing ninety on the freeway when he lost control of the car and rolled it down the embankment," Zoey explained.

  "What? You can't be serious." Ophelia couldn't believe it. If it was true, then… she'd been living a lie for six incredibly long, arduous years; one of her own making, because she'd been too afraid to confront the harder stuff.

  "You didn't kill Mom and Dad, okay? You need to deal with that and start living a little. I'm sorry I didn't understand exactly what the cause of your emotional blockade was, I just figured you shut down out of grief. If I'd known about this, that you were blaming yourself and were carrying this m
uch with you, I would have said something sooner and explained things to you," Zoey said.

  "This changes everything, Zoey. Thank you for telling me. I don't know what I want to do personally about Tobias, but I will ask him to reinstate his company to finish the security detail before your wedding."

  "I'd like you to be my maid of honor, and he said he doesn't want to see you. Or is it the other way around?" Zoey tried digging for information.

  "It's my fault and I will fix it. You'll see." Lia just didn't have any idea how to at the moment.

  "I love you. Instead of fixings things, why don't you live a little and see how it feels?"

  "I love you too, Zoey. I miss you, so much. And I'm so sorry for the things I said to you."

  "I love you too, brat. Come for Christmas, okay, and stay the week. Get to know Declan, and be my maid of honor."

  "I'd like that." Ophelia sniffed.

  "Gotta run and deal with the caterers. Oh, and I'll send you the plane tickets, okay? Bye."

  "Bye." Ophelia sat on the couch, staring out the window as her mind raced, and tears that she had bottled up for six years fell. By three in the morning, she knew what she wanted, and had an idea of how to get it.

  As long as Tobias didn't slam the door in her face.

  Tobias studied the inventory list in his office beyond the bar. It was Saturday night and the LA scene had turned up in droves. They had a line of people a half-mile long waiting to enter the club, the booze was flowing freely. His bartenders were thrilled at the tips. His Lair and Dungeon monitors were hard at work ensuring not a single sub was injured. Tobias should be happy. He had two successful businesses, and was considering a third business venture that would take him out of the country, away from certain people. Music from Nine Inch Nails pumped through the loud speakers in the club, suiting his mood perfectly as he reviewed the numbers, filling out the orders for next week which he would adjust after tonight's tally.

  He rubbed his hands over his face; he hadn't slept well since the night Lia had been attacked not forty feet from where he was sitting. It had given him some awfully bad moments. Especially if he thought too hard about how horribly wrong things could have gone that night had he not reached her in time. It didn't help that she'd ended things with them that night. He'd still be there for his child, but he didn't think he had a shot in hell of making it work with the two of them. Between that and the fact that his PTSD had reared its ugly head with a fucking vengeance, he'd eked out no more than four hours a night. Why her presence had helped to quell his symptoms made him rethink his whole approach to his battleground tactics in trying to win her. His episodes had returned, meaning he was exhausted, angry and hurt, walking around biting people's heads off. He had snarled at one of his bartenders, Stan, an hour before, when he had asked him to move out of the way. That was when he had chosen to remove himself from the main floor. Well, that, and his business manager threatening to quit if he didn't remove himself.

  It had been far easier to retreat.

  "Bossman." Stan poked his head through the door.

  "Yes?" Tobias attempted to keep the annoyance from his voice.

  "You're gonna want to come take a look at this." Stan nodded toward the club.

  In the mood he was in, Tobias should have had Bret run the whole show tonight and stayed home. "Can't you or Ethan take care of it? I'm a little busy here."

  "No can do, Bossman, this is something that needs your expertise entirely," Stan said, a slight grin framing his lips.

  With a curse muttered under his breath, Tobias left the office, going through the bar hutch—and skidded to a halt. On the other side of the bar, Ophelia stood dressed like a nympho goddess in form-fitting leather. She wore a short, barely covering her beautiful pussy, black leather skirt, and the leather halter plumped her beautiful tits so that they looked even fuller. About her wrists and ankles were black leather cuffs, and she wore a collar with a gold chain attached. Her eyes, which had always drawn him in with an urge to protect her from the wounds he spied just beyond, were remarkably clear, and held something in their depths that gave him pause.

  In an act of complete submission, she knelt at his feet, holding up a black leather flogger in one hand and the chain to her collar in the other. He was about to turn away, unwilling to play any games. What he wanted, what he needed from her, he didn't think she would ever offer him. Then she rocked his world when she spoke.

  "Please, Master," she murmured.

  Tobias looked in her eyes and spied tears in them. He took a deep breath, and then accepted the offerings from his sub. He wouldn't let her leave him again. She was his and, more importantly, he was hers.

  He led her into Devil's Lair, an arena-shaped room with sections cordoned off with black velvet ropes. She followed behind him. Unlike on the main level of Dungeon Pleasures, the heavy rock music was subdued so it wouldn't interrupt the scenes between Masters and their subs. He took her to an open area with a suspended St. Andrew's Cross, and turned toward her.

  "Strip," he ordered. His eyes held a cold glint. He would brook her no quarter this night, not after everything that had happened, not after the names she'd called him out of fear and shame. His gaze ran over the small swell of her abdomen, the rounded ball that was their growing son or daughter, noting that her breasts were fuller.

  Ophelia knew that tonight would test her boundaries in ways she couldn't imagine, and felt her fingers tremble as she followed his decree. She was here to prove to him that they did belong together, and to apologize for everything she had done.

  She was obedient to a fault, removing every stitch of clothing until she stood naked before him. With every piece of clothing she removed, she bared a little more of her soul to him, until there was nothing between them but the truth. Taking a deep breath, she focused on Tobias, not the cacophony of moans, groans, and slapping of flesh resounding around the room. He led her over to the black cross and strapped her to it, with the front of her body against the smooth black leather—first her wrist cuffs, and then the ankle cuffs followed. The move left her elevated off the ground, completely suspended to his ministrations. Then he added a leather strap slightly above her midsection, careful to avoid her pregnant belly. The move secured and restrained her more fully on the cross. He positioned the moveable cross so that it faced the crowd of viewers lounging on black leather couches and chairs strategically placed in the center of the arena.

  That way she could watch the crowd while they watched them. Shivers raced down her spine.

  Masters reclined with their subs and slaves, waiting for their turn at certain stations. The stockade room directly across from her location seemed to be popular spot. There was a ménage scene underway, with a buxom redhead receiving some double penetration action. There was a Master on the couch not fifteen feet from their station whose sub was giving him head right in the open. He answered a question from a nearby Master like it was any other day, nonchalant about the fact he was receiving a blowjob.

  Tremors ran down Ophelia's spine. She had agreed to this. Would Tobias take out his anger on her? Would he try to shame her even more than she felt?

  "Relax, sweetness," he murmured as he extracted some items from the armoire behind her. The ripping of packages made the sweat bead at her temples. As much as she wanted to shut her eyes, as much as she wanted to run from here and never look back, she knew in her heart she would regret it forever. She had to prove, not just to Tobias, but to herself, that she could stick around even when things got messy.

  Ophelia jumped, biting off a moan at the feel of his calloused hand tracing over her back.

  "Remember your safeword?" he asked, rubbing his hands over her chilled flesh. She loved his hands. They were strong, capable hands, just like the man who owned them.

  "Yes, Master," she responded on a sigh as his hands brushed the sides of her breasts, which were smashed up against the leather cross.

  "Good girl. No matter what, do not close your eyes, do you understand, sweetnes
s?"

  To drive his point home his right hand slid between her splayed legs, palming her pussy, running his thumb inside her hood to the little nub of pleasure beneath. A zing of desire pulsed deep in her pussy at the touch. He wouldn't allow her to shut out the world by closing her eyes. Could she do this? She watched as the Master on the couch, the one with the sub bobbing her head over his dick, pulled her head off his member, made her kneel on the carpeted floor, and was now savagely fucking her from behind. It was the look on the sub's face, the one of utter ecstasy, that gave Lia courage.

  "Yes, Master," she replied, and a connection between her mind and body clicked into place. He would never hurt her. She trusted him implicitly.

  Then she felt lube being slathered over her anus. He coated the tight hole, inserting his finger inside her back entrance. Once he was certain there was enough lubrication, she felt him place the tip of a plug at her back channel. She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly just like he had taught her as he slid the plug past the resilient muscle into her ass. The tight muscle resisted the intrusion and she felt him work the plug in and out, easing the way in until her body accepted the full length and width of it.

  Then he surprised her when she felt him place a vibrator at the entrance to her pussy. Just like with the butt plug, he worked with her body, stretching the walls of her vagina until the vibrator was fully inserted. It had a remote switch, which he positioned inside the leather strap at her waist. He turned it on a low hum setting, not enough to make her cum, but enough to set her on edge, begging for an orgasm. His hands moved to the plug in her rear, and she gasped when it began vibrating as well. The dual sensations almost made her close her eyes.

  "You all right there, sweetness?"