Someone to explain that what had just happened to her wasn't, or shouldn't have been, part of the scene.
The last thing he wanted was a fist fight with this asshole, especially not while Ashley needed him. He ducked just as Brighton swung, and it went wide. He edged toward the girl, his eyes trained on his assailant.
Brighton swung again, and again Chase tried to dodge out of range, but this time he wasn't fast enough. Brighton's punch caught him on the side of the head, setting off a ringing in his left ear.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?"
Brighton's tone was outraged. The raw fury might have given Chase pause, if he hadn't been so angry himself.
"What the hell, Brighton!" he snarled back.
"You went way over the line this time. You're done. You have no place in the scene. You're dangerous."
"She wanted it, you jackass. She's a pain slut, same as the rest.
She needs to learn to take what's coming to her. You have no right to interfere with a Master and his sub."
Brighton lunged again and this time Chase raised his fist, taking way too much satisfaction as it sank into Brighton's solar plexus.
Brighton grunted and doubled over, finally giving Chase a chance to turn to Ashley.
She had managed to pull herself upright and was
reaching for the skirt still puddled on the ground. Her hair was wild over her face, and tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Chase's heart ached for her, beneath the seething rage reserved for Brighton. He tossed him a glance to make sure he wasn't up and ready for more action, but the man remained kneeling, clutching his gut and gasping for air.
Chase picked up the skirt and held it out for Ashley. She grabbed it and stepped into it, stumbling a little as she pulled it up, her eyes flickering constantly toward Brighton. Chase saw her fingers were trembling as she fumbled with her zipper. At least the circulation had returned to her hands, which were no longer purple from the too-tight cuffs. Who
used police cuffs for a scene, lined or not? What the fuck was wrong with John Brighton?
Chase forced his tone into something approaching calm so as not to upset Ashley further.
Gently he said, "Please, let me help you."
Mutely she turned her back to him, but dropped her
shaking hands.
"Thanks," she said in a tiny voice.
Relief surged through him that she'd finally said something, anything. He examined her welted ass surreptitiously as he zipped her skirt. The welts were pretty severe and would leave marks for easily a week or more, but at least the prick hadn't broken the skin, and there shouldn't be any scarring.
When she was dressed again, her shoes on, Chase said,
"Ashley. I'm so sorry this happened. It's not supposed to be like this, I promise you. He took advantage. He didn't pay attention to your body or what you needed. He betrayed
your trust."
He tried to get her to look at him, but she kept her face averted, refusing to make eye contact. He could see that her cheeks were flushed and still stained with tears.
Worried, he said, "Let me take you back to the motel. You need some aftercare, some down time to process all this. Okay?"
He reached for her arm, thinking how he'd fantasized so much over the last two days about being alone with her, but not like this. Not cleaning up the terrible mess another man had made.
She shrugged his hand away, shaking her head violently.
"No," she said, her voice wavering.
She took a breath and said with more force, "Leave me alone.
Just leave me be. I can take care of myself. I don't want you or him."
She shot a venomous look in Brighton's direction that would have made
Chase whoop in triumph if she weren't also rejecting him in the process.
She moved toward the entrance, her gait unsteady but
determined.
"This whole thing was a mistake. I don't belong here. I never should have come."
"No," he tried, moving toward her, again reaching for her, unable to accept that she was going to leave without him.
"You need someone right now. If not me, someone. Stacey, where is she? I'll get her."
But Ashley hadn't stayed to listen. She pushed past the still kneeling Brighton and disappeared beyond the screen.
Chase started to follow her, but Brighton chose that moment to reach for Chase's ankle, jerking him off balance. They began to tussle again, knocking a screen over in the process. Brighton was smashing his fists again and again into the side of Chase's head, but Chase barely felt the blows.
Helpless fury over the turn of events had lent him a strength he wouldn't otherwise have had.
Chase was easily six inches shorter and forty pounds lighter than Brighton. Nevertheless he managed to knock the other man to the ground, straddling his chest and pinning him with his knees.
He smashed his fist into Brighton's nose,
taking furious pleasure as he heard the unmistakable snap of bone.
Suddenly the area was swarming with people, and both Chase and Brighton were hauled to their feet and pulled away from each other. Blood was gushing from Brighton's
nose and Chase couldn't hear what was being said around him over the steady ringing in both ears.
Marty was waving his arms and yelling something, his
face mottled with anger. Chase struggled against the strong grip of whoever was holding his arms pinned back. He craned back to see it was Jacob Presley, all three hundred something pounds, with plenty of solid muscle beneath the fat, intent on holding him still.
"Let me go," he said, his voice echoing in his head.
"I need to find Ashley. It's urgent, damn it."
Jacob loosened his grip enough for Chase to shrug him off.
"You two need to calm down,"
Marty was saying, and Chase was relieved to realize he could hear him now. The ringing had subsided for the most part, though his head was a box of pain and there was a knot the size of a small apple below his left ear.
Marty was mopping at Brighton's bloody nose with a large bandana.
"I can't believe you guys. Here I expected to find some newbie idiot wannabes fighting over some girl, and I find out it's my two pros. What gives?"
"That bathtard," Brighton began, the righteous indignation clear in his tone, though his broken nose was affecting his ability to enunciate.
"He broke my nothe. I'll thue, Saunders. I'll thue your butt!"
Brighton began to babble about Chase attacking him and ruining his scene. Though a part of
Chase knew he should stay and defend himself, he was too worried about Ashley to worry about himself at that moment.
"Sorry guys, I'd love to stay and chat, but there's a girl who might be really hurt, courtesy of dickwad over there." He pointed at Brighton, who glared at him.
Without waiting to hear Brighton's retort, Chase pushed his way through the gaping crowd that had gathered around them, desperately seeking the girl who'd fled the scene. He moved quickly through the room, scanning it for any sign of her flying red hair, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Though many folks had continued to scene, unaware of the fight that had taken place in the back, a small crowd of people surged toward him. He knew it was a matter of
minutes before the news of the big fight rippled like wildfire through the place.
Chase shrugged off the questions, intent on finding Ashley if he could. His gut told him she was gone and he had a sinking feeling it was for good.
CHAPTER 7
It had started to rain, the droplets pelting against Kate's face and bare shoulders as she walked the two blocks from the warehouse to the motel. She hurried along, clutching her
purse protectively to her side, anxious to get away from the dungeon and the people inside it.
Her ass and thighs still stung, but at least she wasn't bleeding. She'd reached back gingerly while pulling on her skirt, half-afr
aid when she looked that her fingers would be bloody.
The hurt was less in her body and more in her spirit.
Tears welled again as she unwillingly relived the last hour in her mind. She'd trusted him. So much for safe, sane and consensual. How had he forgotten what should have been second nature to a so-called pro? And what
was her part in all this? What was it about Master John that had blinded her reason?
Usually she was so good at figuring out a person's character and discerning their true intentions. Well, if she were honest, she had been aware he thought he was god's gift to sub girls, but she'd suspended her usual contempt for ego, blinded by his good looks and the whole adventure on which she'd embarked. She'd gone along, allowing Stacey and Master John to convince her, instead of following her initial impulse to refuse. She'd let his persuasive manner and his very
handsome face disarm her. She'd been a fool.
Finally at the motel, Kate used her card key to gain access into the building. She waited impatiently for the elevator. When it finally came, she was forced to share it with two seedy-looking guys who kept staring at her. She hugged herself, keeping her eyes on the numbers until the elevator arrived at her floor. She stepped out with relief and walked quickly to her room. Once inside, she leaned a moment against the locked door, careful not touch her tender bottom or thighs to the wood. She took several deep breaths. Her heart, which had pounded so hard toward the end of the caning that she'd very nearly passed out, still hadn't returned to its normal pace. She needed to calm down. It was over. She was safe. She would be fine, eventually.
She looked around the small room, for a moment wishing she'd taken Chase up on the offer of company, but the prospect had been too humiliating. He'd warned her in advance not to scene with Master John, even if he hadn't come right out and said so in so many words. But she had ignored him, confident she could handle whatever Master
John meted out, never dreaming he'd betray her trust.
"I said my safeword," she murmured aloud, her voice cracking.
"Why didn't he stop?"
Kate closed her eyes, refusing to succumb to more tears.
She took another few deep breaths, shook back her wet hair and made a decision. She would leave tonight. She would
leave now. She noticed the room phone was blinking, indicating a message. No one knew she was there, so it must be for Stacey.
Kate didn't like the idea of leaving without saying goodbye, but there was no way she was staying any longer than she had to.
There were trains out of Grand Central back to the valley until at least one in the morning. She'd catch the next one to Beacon where her car was waiting. Though the event didn't officially wind down until brunch the next morning, as far as Kate was concerned the event was over, for good.
She grabbed her few items of clothing from the rickety bureau, and from the closet with the hangers that were permanently attached to the rod. She just wasn't cut out for this BDSM stuff.
Yeah, it intrigued her, but this was twice now that things had gone horribly awry. She was better off sticking to fantasy. What had possessed her to think she needed to feel the stroke of the cane in order to write about it? That's what imagination was for, and she had plenty of that, too much, she'd often been told.
She made a quick tour of the bathroom, grabbing the toiletries that were hers, smiling slightly at the sight of Stacey's huge collection of makeup, most of it strewn over the small countertop beside the old-fashioned sink. She returned to the bedroom, sweeping the room once more, again noticing the blinking red light. She decided to check the message, just in case. Stacey's smoky voice said,
"Hey, Ash. Hope you had a great time tonight with the gorgeous Master John. I'm calling because I got lucky!"
Stacey giggled and Kate could hear the low rumble of male voices behind her.
"Look, I gotta go. Ben and Matt are taking me to this way cool underground club. I don't know when or even if," another giggle,
"I'll be back to the room, so definitely don't wait up. Talk to you in the morning."
Kate found a notepad by the phone, though there was no pen.
Rooting in her bag, she retrieved one and scribbled,
"Something came up. Had to leave early. It was great meeting you. Take care, Kate."
She realized she'd signed her real name, and started to crumple the page and start over, until she remembered she'd confided already to Stacey about her true identity. And who cared anyway? She'd never see any of these people again. This scene was most definitely not for her.
****
It was already after nine before Chase managed to haul himself out of bed the next morning. The knot below his ear had gone down some, but he could see from the bruising in the mirror that he was sporting the makings of two black eyes.
"Yeah," he said, trying to smile at his reflection, "but you should see the other guy."
After Ashley had fled, Chase had tried and failed to find Stacey in the dungeon the night before. Someone had finally
volunteered that they'd seen her leaving a while earlier with Ben and Matt, a gay couple who were both Doms.
Frustrated, Chase had appealed to Jacob Presley for Ashley's room number at the motel, but Presley said he didn't know. Not knowing what else to do, Chase had gone over to the motel and settled himself in the lobby, hoping maybe she'd show up eventually, if she wasn't there already, and if she was, maybe she'd come down for a soda or something.
Apparently he'd eventually dozed off while waiting, and was embarrassed to be awakened by the night clerk, who informed him there was a homeless shelter three blocks over, and he needed to move on.
Chase had looked blearily at his watch. It was three in the morning. Ashley wasn't going to appear and he knew it.
Skipping the subway, he took a cab from Queens to Manhattan for the brunch, hoping against hope she'd be there, though he knew the odds were slim to none. He was glad to discover once he arrived that at least Brighton hadn't shown up either. Stacey finally appeared toward the end of the morning, still in the company of Matt and Ben.
Chase hurried toward her. Eyeing his face, Stacey said,
"Jesus, Chase. What the hell happened to you?"
"Is she okay?" Chase burst out, ignoring the question.
"Is who okay?" Stacey looked blank.
"Ashley! Who else would I be talking about?"
Chase frowned with impatience.
"Oh, why didn't you say so? She had to leave early. She left me a note. I didn't, uh, make it back to the motel until this morning."
Stacey beamed at the two men standing beside her and turned back to Chase with a comical leer.
"Hey, Stace," one of the guys said.
"We're going to grab some breakfast before it's all gone. Can we get you something?"
Stacey glanced at the couple.
"No, that's okay. I'll get something in a minute. I want to talk to Chase."
They wandered away. Chase felt his heart sink. Ashley was gone, as he'd feared. Stacey reached for his face, lightly touching his cheek.
"I repeat the question. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit."
"Gee, thanks." Chase tried to grin but didn't quite manage it.
"I got into a fight. With John Brighton."
"Master John! How come?"
Stacey put her hand to her mouth.
"Oh my god, it wasn't over Ashley, was it? Wow, two guys actually coming to blows over who gets the girl..."
"No, nothing like that. Brighton botched a scene, big time.
He took her way past consensual. She was nearly unconscious when I first found them."
Chase closed his eyes, trying to keep the rage still seething just below the surface from boiling over.
"It's not the first time I've suspected he oversteps, but it's the first time I had definitive proof. He doesn't respect women. He's a bully in Dom's clothing."
Stacey's eyes wide.
"Oh my god! Poor Ashley! I
left early with the guys. I should have checked on her first. It never occurred to me ... I can't believe it. And you guys had a knockdown, drag out fight? I bet M&M were livid."
"They weren't thrilled, but we didn't really fight until after Ashley had run away. By the time I extricated myself from the asshole, she was gone. That's why I need your help. I have to find her. I need to make sure she's okay."
Stacey nodded. "Well, she swore me to secrecy, but I agree with you. We should track her down. Ashley is her pen name. She's a romance author. Ashley Kendall. She used her pen name for the event. Her real name's Kate."
Chase took a moment to absorb this. It would take some mental adjustment to rethink her as Kate, though the name suited her better, he thought.
"What's her last name? Kate what?"
Stacey pursed her lips and studied the ceiling, as if the name might be printed up there. She stroked her chin.
"Hmmm," she said slowly. "I can't remember. Something with an A, I think. Anderson. Yeah. I think that was it. Kate Anderson. Or wait." Stacey wrinkled her nose in
concentration. "Allen." She paused. "No, it was Anderson. I'm pretty sure."
She didn't sound very sure to Chase, but at least it was something to go on.
"She's from Manhattan?" he asked.
"No. Somewhere upstate. Some valley. Hudson Valley. Yeah.
That's it. But Chase,"
Stacey put her hand on his arm, her voice suddenly gentle.
"Did it occur to you maybe she doesn't want to be found? She's a grown woman. She was obviously well enough to leave me a note, pack her stuff and skedaddle. Maybe it's best to leave well enough alone."
A part of him knew Stacey was right. Ashley, or rather Kate, hadn't asked Chase to intervene. Maybe he'd misread
the whole scene, and she'd wanted what was happening to her. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, the flushed cheeks with tears streaming down them, and the hurt and confusion palpable in her eyes. No, he was sure it had gone way beyond consensual. He had to reach out to her. To explain it wasn't supposed to be like that. She'd been cheated by Master John. She'd been betrayed. He would find a way to connect with her. No matter what.
Heart of Submission Page 7