by Selena Kitt
Tilly swallowed, thinking of Beast, an ache in her chest so deep it felt her heart was breaking in half. She had to stop, or she would cry.
“That’s beautiful,” Mark murmured.
Tilly looked up at him sharply, seeing from the look in his eyes that he meant it. He was watching her, chin in hand, looking thoughtful.
“But… I don’t know what that has to do with this.” Tilly felt the ghost of a smile flutter on her lips.
“You like to please people, don’t you?” Mark asked.
Tilly shrugged. He’d hit far too close to home.
“Why did you come to The Block that first night we met?” he asked, changing tactics. “Do you remember?”
“Curiosity, I guess,” Tilly lied. She figured, the less she said about Beast, the better.
“Curiosity? What were you expecting? Who told you about The Block?”
The tone of Mark’s questions wasn’t hostile or aggressive, but Tilly felt he was already taking control. It was like he was attempting to establish his dominance psychologically, and Tilly felt herself pushed into a corner where lying would become increasingly difficult.
She thought about telling him that Frankie had told her rumors about The Block, but then she knew she’d have to tell Frankie she’d told him that, so Frankie wouldn’t inadvertently reveal her lie. It was beginning to get complicated.
“I... ah... I can’t remember where, but I heard a rumor about The Block. That it was this kind of place, so… I got curious.”
Mark nodded. This seemed to satisfy him.
Then he asked, “Why would a club like The Block pique your curiosity? Did you really come here without any thought of sex?”
Tilly tried to think of an answer to this, but thankfully, Mark continued. “Lots of people know about BDSM, but most of the mainstream is either repelled or amused by it. You have all the typical images—you know, the jokes about ‘whips and chains?’ Take someone who’s vanilla—they read Fifty Shades of Grey and they now think they know what it’s all about. But they don’t, not really. You can learn all of the lingo, you can research all the equipment, but that all comes from outside. That’s just knowledge. The desire—that comes from inside. If you don’t have that, you tend to look at the community and the lifestyle kind of the way tourists look at animals in the zoo, or scientists look at lab rats in a maze.”
Tilly couldn’t help but remember her first night at The Block. That had been exactly what she’d thought, hadn’t she? Like it was some weird sort of sex zoo? She flushed but didn’t say anything.
Mark smiled. “I’m not criticizing you. When we get to know each other better, I’ll be telling you what to do, not analyzing why you did or didn’t do it. But… speaking of curiosity, I find it curious when you say you have no submissive tendencies that you know of or can remember. If that was the case, you wouldn’t have come here at all.”
Tilly didn’t answer him.
“You know…” Mark folded his hands on the desk. “In the 19th century, people used to be allowed to tour mental hospitals. There was a tour guide and everything. Like going to the zoo. Did our club seem like a zoo to you, Tilly?”
Tilly bit her lip, chewing thoughtfully. Goddamnit, that exact thought had occurred to her. But only because it was her first time—and to be fair, there had been a lot of people dressed as animals! But she hadn’t laughed or sneered at it. She’d made more fun of Fifty Shades of Grey with Frankie than she had of what she’d seen at The Block.
She looked at Mark, wondering if this whole questioning thing was part of the “act?” What did he want from her? She wanted to just ask him. Would he give her a blank stare and confirm her darker interpretation, or would he slip the mask off with a wink and a smile as if to say, of course, it’s part of the training, just play along?
Struggling with what to say, Tilly hit upon the brilliant idea of answering with the truth. Or, at least, part of it.
“Well, I was spanked once,” she said softly, seeing Mark’s eyes brighten at that. She cleared her throat. “I mean… recently. And I got really excited. That surprised me. So I guess… that’s why I came here. To see if there was more.”
“Ah.” Mark nodded. “Yes. I understand.” He said that as if he had finally gotten to the heart of the matter he’d suspected all along. “Tell me more about this spanking.”
She told Mark how it felt—physically and mentally. How her body had responded, how something had lit up inside of her. But that’s where the truth ended, because of course she couldn’t tell him who had given her the spanking. That part she made up. When he asked who had spanked her, she claimed it was her ex-boyfriend. She said he’d wanted to try an experiment, that the spanking was consensual.
“Ex-boyfriend.” Mark raised his eyebrows. “Did the spanking end the relationship?”
“Ah, no.” Tilly waited but Mark didn’t say anything, so she lied again. “There were… other issues.”
“You know, there are people who know all their lives—even from childhood—that they’re different. Their desires are… odd, let’s say, at least compared to everyone else,” Mark told her. “But you don’t seem to be one of those people.”
Tilly shook her head. Aside from being spanked by her grandfather, she couldn’t remember being corporally punished by anyone. Her mother didn’t spank. Her mother didn’t hug either, but that was a whole other can of worms. Her stepfather had given hugs—great, big bear hugs she remembered quite fondly—but he wasn’t a disciplinarian.
“Then there are people who, those of us in the lifestyle would call ‘vanilla’—you know what that means?”
Tilly nodded. She’d read the handbook.
“Those people are strictly vanilla all their lives until something happens—something like a spanking.” Mark cocked his head at her, giving her a knowing look. “And it acts as kind of a trigger. It unleashes something that was probably there all along… just dormant.”
“Yes,” said Tilly, glad he was buying this. Was she buying it? Had the spanking been a catalyst for something deeper? Or was it just because the person giving the spanking happened to be a man she was desperately in love with? “I think the spanking was the trigger. It was disturbing, but, well… fun. And then, at the club, when I saw more extreme versions of the same thing...”
Mark nodded, letting her know he fully remembered the intensity of her response—her confusion and ambivalence. To Tilly’s relief, the therapy session had seemed to come to an end. Instead of asking her more questions, Mark began to go over how they would conduct the sessions of their training. At least this whole dominant/submissive stuff seemed to have so many rules, that you’d always know where you stood—or knelt, for that matter.
Then he took her downstairs to The Bottom Floor and showed her the rooms off the dance floor there and how they were equipped. There were fairly simple rooms, and more elaborate ones with St. Andrew’s crosses and tables with restraints. Out on the dance floor were the cages and St. Andrew’s crosses Tilly had seen the first night she was there. These items, Mark explained, were for those who wanted their activities to be a little more “public.”
Tilly found herself shuddering with a peculiar delight at that.
Then Mark started to talk about various procedures and what he called “the rules” of their relationship. On the surface it seemed simple. Bondage was tying someone up, right? But she’d read the handbook, she knew there was so much more involved than that. She hadn’t understood, not when she first went downstairs to The Bottom Floor, but there were safety issues to consider. Mark had told her everything was consensual, and it was—and to that end, there were “safe” words, so a submissive could sort of tap-out of the action, like a wrestler tapping out of a match. There were also comfort issues—Mark said there was a big difference between erotic and non-erotic discomfort or pain—where a safe word also came in handy.
One of the rules was that the two of them—now entering into a dominant and submissive relationship—were
not allowed to date each other. This came as a relief to Tilly. She wasn’t actually looking forward to doing anything with Mark, and wasn’t sure she’d come back if Erich hadn’t made the arrangements he promised. But she wasn’t going to tell Mark that.
Mark went on about the proper etiquette between dominant and submissive. “I won’t go into great detail. At least, not yet. That you’ll learn on the floor.” But he did talk about a few things, such as the use of safe words, how he adjusted the tables, and some of the more common instruments of discipline.
Tilly listened, but she was only half listening. Something had occurred to her, a thought she turned over, slowly, something heavy and hard to move. She began to see there really might be a connection between who she was—Frankie always said she was too rule-bound, too afraid of doing “the wrong thing”—and her attraction to this… lifestyle. Mark had called her a “natural.” In that sense, submission was Tilly to the core.
But how did that explain Frankie’s interest? Unless it was only about Erich—which Tilly reasoned it could be, considering her own motivation—something had to be driving Frankie toward wanting to do this, too. If the rule-bound girl enjoyed an erotic expression of her submission in bondage, what was the more free-spirited type girl seeking?
Tilly was still thinking about this as she left, blinking at the bright sunlight as she came out of the dark atmosphere of the club. She almost didn’t see Beast as he pulled into the parking lot. Tilly had told her mother that she and Frankie were taking a “hot yoga” class. Liv was thrilled that Tilly was doing something physical and had happily approved.
If she only knew…
Beast recognized the car she was standing next to first—Frankie’s—frowning at its shiny silver surface, before lifting his gaze and seeing Tilly. Then his expression changed from confusion to anger in an instant. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside him.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” he demanded. He crossed the parking lot, several car lengths away, in just a few strides, grabbing her by the upper arm. “Goddamnit, Tilly, I told you I didn’t want you coming back here!”
“And I told you—you don’t get to tell me what to do.” She lifted her chin, glaring back at him. There was no point lying to him, she decided. She’d signed up, knowing she was putting herself in his way, on purpose. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Well here he was. She might as well tell him the truth.
“Go home, Tilly.” His jaw tightened. “Go home and stay home!”
“I’m coming back tomorrow,” she said, ignoring the way his eyes flashed at her. “And the day after that. I’m training to be a submissive. I signed up with Frankie—and I could care less if you disapprove.”
“If?” Beast was livid. The hand on her upper arm tightened, and she worked hard not to yelp in pain. “If I disapprove? No, Tilly, absolutely not.”
“Are you deaf?” Tilly jerked away from him, and he let her go, scowling. “You don’t get to say! It’s a free goddamned country, and I can do whatever I want!”
He just looked at her for a moment, his eyes dark, unreadable. Then he sighed, crossing his big arms over the expanse of his chest with a slow shake of his head.
“Tilly, I can’t protect you here.” His words were low, urgent. “Please, just… don’t do this. You have absolutely no idea what you’re getting into.”
“It all seems on the up and up to me.” She shrugged. “I’m interested. I want to do it. Can’t you understand that?”
She had made it clear enough that she’d enjoyed the spanking he’d given her, so if she had inclinations that way, why did that come as such a shock to him? The hypocrisy of it galled her. As usual, Beast got to do something, but she wasn’t allowed. The double standard made her grind her teeth and clench her fists. And she couldn’t point it out to him. He wouldn’t see it or he wouldn’t care. There were never any words that made him stop, scratch his chin, and say, “Hm, you know, maybe you’re right.”
His failure to understand basic logic and reason, sometimes, was infuriating.
“Beast…” Tilly sighed, not wanting to get into a fight, not here, not now. “Can’t you just...”
“No.” He shook his dark head, holding his hand up, dismissing her entirely. “I can’t do this now.”
“Beast!” she called after him as he stormed away.
“Later,” he called over his shoulder with an angry shake of his head. “I’ll deal with you later!”
Deal with me?
She wanted to go after him, pummel him, scream at him.
Instead, Tilly sighed, leaning against Frankie’s car.
Why did things always have to go wrong?
First she finds out her inspired plan to become his submissive is thwarted, and she doesn’t even know why, or how to rectify that. Then she has to somehow handle his reaction over finding out she wants to become a submissive—when, in fact, the reason she’s doing it is for him! Not that he had any idea of her real intentions.
Was that why Erich hadn’t paired her up with him? Tilly wondered. Because Beast objected? But no, he’d been surprised to see her here. Surprised and angry, as usual. Maybe Erich was just hedging his bets? Didn’t want to chance making Beast angry? Not that she could blame Erich for that.
She wished somebody, somewhere, could be both open and reasonable.
All she wanted from Beast was his love. But all she ever got was his anger, judgement, disapproval, control...
Ah, that’s ironic, she thought, control.
She wanted him to stop controlling her efforts to get him to control her.
Tilly felt like crying as she sank down against the side of the car, sitting on the pavement to wait for Frankie. She was undergoing her first session with Erich. Tilly hoped they wouldn’t get carried away and leave her waiting forever. She thought about getting out her cell phone to call, but she was too afraid she would interrupt something.
Then, the door of the club opened and Frankie came out, looking ebullient.
“Did you happen to see Beast?” Tilly stood, waiting for Frankie to unlock the doors with her key fob.
“Beast? No. Is he here?”
“I just saw him.” Tilly got into the passenger seat as Frankie got into the driver’s side. “I told him about what we’re doing.”
“Why?”
“I had to tell him something.”
“Was he mad?”
Tilly nodded as Frankie started the car.
“Well hell, when isn’t he mad?” Frankie snorted, putting the car into gear and pulling out of the lot. “He’s an angry man. Especially about stuff that’s none of his business.”
Tilly nodded, noticing that in spite of the vitriol aimed at Beast, there was a glow about Frankie.
“So, how was your session with Erich?”
Frankie gave the distinct impression that Erich had not only “shown her the ropes” but used them as well. Tilly was really hoping to be spared too many details. She was in no mood to hear yet again of the many excellences of Frankie’s new beau, especially when Tilly was so currently lacking in that department.
“We didn’t really do much, of course,” Frankie told her. “He just laid out the ground rules.”
Those must have been some exciting ground rules, thought Tilly.
“That seems to be the standard procedure. Same playbook, I imagine. Oh, speaking of which...” Tilly pulled her copy of Handbook for Submissives out of her purse. “You have one of these, right?”
“Oh yes.”
“Take a look at this picture on page fifty-seven,” Tilly said, opening to the page to show her and Frankie glanced over as she stopped at a red light. “Do you think they’re going to do that to us?”
Frankie shivered with delight. “Oooh. I certainly hope so.”
They both laughed.
“Wait a minute,” said Frankie. “Who is your dom?”
“Mark.”
Frankie’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, he’s cute.”
&nbs
p; “Yes,” Tilly agreed mildly. “You seem pretty excited.”
“I am. Oh, Erich and I are going to have such fun,” Frankie gushed. Tilly normally enjoyed Frankie’s “new-boyfriend” phase when she was head over heels, practically tripping over herself, but this time, it bothered her for some reason. “He’s going to train me personally. I think he’s crazy about me.”