“We're off to a great start.” Abe leered. “We both have drinks. You're not done with yours-”
“I'm not here alone,” I replied, barely glancing at them.
“Call me Abe.”
“I'm really not here alone.”
“Look, we're gonna talk for five minutes. If you don't like me by the time-”
I zoned out, hoping Quinn would be back soon. He felt dangerous to me, the type that didn't ever hear the word 'no.'
“Hey,” he tapped my shoulder. “You listenin' to me?”
“No, because I don't like you. You should really go away.” I moved over a chair when he leaned on the back of mine.
He paused, his bloodshot, light blue eyes wide with surprise. But then I saw stupidity. I ducked away from his grasp and got into another chair. He sneered at me as I called for the bartender, coming out of the kitchen with clean glasses.
“I'm so sorry,” I pointed in Quinn's general direction, off-balance because Abe was an asshole. “He has my wallet. Is it cool if I step outside for a smoke?”
“Yeah, sure. No problem.”
“One other thing?”
“What's up?”
“Those two guys over there have been bothering me. Can you see that they stay in here, just while I'm out there?”
“Sure thing, hon.”
“Thanks so much.”
I breathed a sigh of relief once I was outside. The lighter Quinn gave me was still alive. When the wind blew, the front of my body went cold while everywhere the flogger hit felt warmer. I moved further away from the door while two new customers went inside. Glancing down at my cigarette, I smiled when I saw the red line on my wrist. It was a normal mark, left from the wrist restraint, and I knew it would fade far too quickly.
“Hey,” I grinned when the door opened, “I was waiting for you--- Not you. What the-”
“Can I bum a smoke?” Abe asked, eying mine. And my chest. “What kind do ya have?”
“The bartender really cares about his customers.” I threw what was left of my cigarette into the street.
“Hang on'a minute,” he said, putting his hand above mine on the door to keep it closed.
“Why won't you leave me alone?” I snapped from frustration and regretted it. He seemed happy that I was aggravated.
“You've got better manners, I know you do.”
“Where are yours?”
“I know where you're comin' from, I was there earlier.” He leered at me and tried to learn in closer. “I saw what you were doing. It's a fuck-fest in there.”
“The bouncers have standards. You're-” Abe grabbed my arm, moving more quickly than I thought he could, and pulled me toward him. My skin crawled. I felt my stomach turn. “What you want will never happen with me.” I twisted my arm and broke his hold.
He almost had me pinned against the wall. And I noticed a new, dangerous glint in his eyes. I hid behind the rush of aggression that drove panic back. Abe looked at the bar's door when I did. It was further away from me than it had been. A sudden burst of fear had me reach into the side pocket of my jacket. The lessons I'd learned in bad areas hadn't been forgotten. Feeling my knife's hilt helped me focus. He was taller, more than twice my weight, a leech who preyed on submission. That wasn't a good combination.
Abe didn't seem to realize I was studying him like prey. I knew all that places it was safe to cut someone, and also where major arteries were. No stabbing, I reminded myself. Slicing, however? I could get away with that, provided he didn't bleed all over the sidewalk. Experience reminded me how long it had taken for that to happen.
“Your last warning,” I said, making sure I spoke clearly. “Get away from me.”
“You teasing little slut-”
My mind glazed over after I heard slut. Whatever he was saying, his eyes promised pain I'd never let him deliver. My hands were ice-cold and growing colder as I decided between fighting or making a break for it. But my body moved, deciding for me as he squared his shoulders. Survival-mode took over. I felt his intent before he used his strength against me.
“You feel that?” I held his head against the wall, my forearm digging in and up against his Adam's apple.
The sharp point of my knife pricked the left corner of his pubic bone, yet not hard enough to make him bleed. I felt the tension gather in his body and quickly let the knife slide against a more sensitive place. His arms froze where they were, slightly outspread from his sides. He wasn't going to get the weapon away from me, or move until I let him.
“I'll stab you before you touch me, I promise.”
“You fucking bitch,” he growled.
“If you can move before I take your balls... try.”
My hand shook, wanting to stab, then stab again. Before that became necessary, I wanted to let him go and get out of his grabbing range. How, when I was afraid to look away? Panic made me feel light-headed. Going for the door would let him grab me from behind. That was something I wanted to avoid more than stabbing him in the leg.
When he abruptly let his arms drop, I jolted backwards and forced myself to keep moving. The knife was parallel to my arm, ready to slice skin if he tried to get his arms around me. I turned, the knife brought forward in an arc when he reached for me. Abe avoided the blade, and I ducked when he lunged, though not fast enough. He got a handful of my hair. Immediately falling to one knee, I lunged for waistband of his pants and dug the blade into the crease of his inner thigh. We both froze, staring at one another.
“I'll do it. You'll bleed out.” He jerked my head back, which brought my hand over a few inches. “You'll never fuck again.”
He brought both hands down between his legs. I had used the dull side of my knife, swiping it over his balls, not the sharp side. There wasn't any blood drawn, but I heard him yelp in pain. He swung his left fist outward as I started to stand up. The involuntary reactions I normally hated forced me backwards and down, blinded by fear as I braced for the hit. It was going to hurt so much--
Shock left me unable to do anything except stare when he was wrenched backwards, hard enough that he fell. My blade clicked shut and was immediately hidden in my sleeve. It was Quinn, I took a moment to feel relieved. I had been ready to see the dark blue of a cop's uniform. Scrabbling backwards, trying to fight the numbness in my legs, I got my back against the wall to stay out of their way. Relief faded when I saw how cold his eyes had become.
“Did he hurt you?”
“I'm okay. You can let him--”
“What did you just say?” he leaned down and dragged Abe high up onto his knees, then up so he was standing.
Abe shook his head helplessly, obviously not expecting Quinn to be so strong. He pointed at me, but I couldn't hear him. The bar door opening again caught my attention. I cringed back, ready to be trampled when the bartender and two servers rushed out. They ran outside to help fast enough, but all of them froze when they saw what was happening.
What had been said to make Quinn so much angrier? His fist pulled back, faster than I could follow. Abe's head snapped to the left and he landed back on the ground again. His bottom lip was split wide open. I stared, frozen and impressed, yet on a deeper level, I felt the slightest twinge of fear. He made it seem like Abe weighed nothing, and he didn't show any pain after the punch... That pain wasn't something I took well.
“Go, break that up,” the bartender said to his servers. “I was busy for five minutes--!” He turned to me, sounding angry, until he realized that my rage far surpassed his anger. “Abe must've sneaked out... I told him to stay put.”
“Did you even see him bothering me inside?”
“I saw him and his friend approach you.” One of the servers said, hanging back.
“You did?” I turned on him, feeling feral. “Why didn't you do something, then?”
“I, uh, you moved, so- You there! Stay where you are!” The server quickly turned his attention to Abe's nervous friend, who had just come outside.
“So you say it again? You
stupid fuck,” Quinn snarled, maneuvered around so that his back was to us. He pulled Abe up so fast, I thought his feet would leave the ground.
“Don't!!” I yelled, desperately wanting to avoid screaming his name. There was a lot of damage about to be done, and far too many witnesses. He immediately glanced over, freezing when he saw that we had an audience.
“Can you let him go?” the bartender asked carefully.
Quinn looked incredibly dangerous for a moment. He made eye-contact with me, making sure I was okay, and gently shoved Abe forward. I didn't feel any anger toward him anymore. I couldn't, after seeing him heavily fall onto his knees. He wasn't going anywhere.
“This is just not my night. You,” one of the servers nodded, being pointed at by the bartender, “stay here and watch those two.”
“You gonna call the station?”
“That's the plan.” He turned to us. “Mind coming inside to tell me what happened?”
“Yeah, I do,” Quinn replied. “We're staying wherever they are, so I can keep an eye on them.”
“We'll have a couple officers sent over and get everyone's statement. I'm sorry about this accident... I was only in the back for-”
“You call this an accident? Do you have any idea what my lawyers could-”
“Hey!” the bartender paled. “Wait, now. We don't need to-”
“You knew the guy was a problem,” Quinn interrupted, pointing to him and his server. “With the cameras you have inside, I can have so many lawsuits filed, it'll-”
“No, hey! I thought we agreed--” He looked lost, shaken, “Look, I'm really sorry about this. There's no need for lawsuits, lawyers-”
“That's really what you think?” I felt fear curl in my stomach from his low, menacing tone. The bartender was suddenly really busy, making sure Abe and his friend were being watched. “You're okay? Are you sure?”
“Yes, I'm fine.” I let him hug me and quickly whispered in his ear, “We should go before they call this in. …that wouldn't be good.”
“While they're distracted.”
I was still awed, distanced and worried, but once we disappeared around the block, I didn't feel waves of his aggression prickling over my skin anymore. He didn't release his anger through s/m. I finally understood, really understood, what he had meant. That level of anger would never be turned my way. I winced, remembering the sound of his fist hitting Abe's face. Those few seconds where I waited, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be stupid enough to hit Quinn back... I hadn't been afraid for Quinn.
“How are you?” I asked, trying to get a look at his hand.
“I should have thrown him into traffic for what he said. Are you okay?”
“Yes, it's you I'm concerned about. Your hand's alright?”
“I feel like you.” He grinned. “No pain.”
No blood or unaligned knuckles, either. The quiet after we got into the car was strained, but neither of us spoke. After he had smiled, the lethal edge I'd felt from went away. I relaxed the slightest bit. Smoking helped pass time again. He lit up shortly after I did, smoking less angrily than he had been when we left the bar.
“You mad?” he asked tersely.
“I'm worried you are.” I couldn't bring myself to check. “Are you?”
“No. I'm not. … I don't want you to think I go around assaulting people all the time.”
“I'm not afraid of you because of what happened, Quinn.” What was happening in his head? “What did he say that was so bad? I couldn't hear anything.”
“Good.” I let the silence tick by for a few seconds.“He called you something you're not. It bothered me.”
“You've got amazing self-restraint, you know.”
He snorted quietly. “You have odd definitions for self-restraint.”
“You could have hurt him a lot worse than that, but you didn't. I'm sorry I didn't handle the situation sooner, myself.”
“You would have done a lot more damage with your knife than I did, I'm sure. What were you doing with it?”
“Scaring him into letting go of me. I hoped it would give me the time to get back inside.”
“Did he hit you? You were on the ground.”
“No, he didn't hit me. You got there before he could try. ...I really am very, very sorry that happened.”
“He didn't land any punches.” Quinn shrugged casually.
“Your hand?”
“I've had them look worse. This is nothing. He might not have scared you, but you're okay? Really?”
“I'm fine. He didn't get the chance to hurt me. I just really wanted to get away from there.”
“Yeah... I didn't want to deal with any of that either.”
I leaned my head back against the head-rest, thinking back to our first conversation. “You told me you're worried about finding another unbalanced submissive. I don't think I've made the best impression.”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Have I-- what?” I asked dumbly. “No. No, not ever.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. … Why?”
“I was just curious.”
“Have you been?”
“Once. Twice,” he amended. “For pot.”
“That doesn't count anymore.”
“Exactly.”
Quinn parked and got out without looking at me. He waited at the end of his car, but the silence was tense as we walked to his door. Fear was white-hot, churning low in my stomach. He wasn't going to change his mind about having me stay his submissive...? The surety I felt wavered in and out, though I tried to trust what I had seen and heard, how he reacted.
He was quiet in a different way once we got inside. We both excused ourselves, me into the bathroom to shower while he... I wasn't sure what he did. My reaction time had been slowed because of the pain I'd taken at Rack's, I tried to rationalize. High heels and a short dress were bad for fighting large men on concrete. If police had been patrolling, or if they had been called... but they hadn't been. Quinn had been hurt, I winced, mentally seeing the bruises on his hand. So, I'd use every bit of my submission to... I adjusted the water so it ran hot, a cloud of steam smelling like soap, the strong, spicy scent of his shampoo... do something that would make him feel better. I was ready to try.
The towels held traces of his cologne. I left the two new ones he had put out for me, for him. Without letting myself think about it, I opened the door and went into the living room.
“Hey there.”
“Hello, Sir.”
Quinn got up and went into the kitchen again just as I was thinking about moving closer.
“Drink?” he asked.
“A second of whatever you grab is fine.”
He left a bottle of water and a large can of iced tea on the coffee table.
“I'm not going to leap on top of you,” he warned me.
“Uh- Okay.” There went every plan I had.
“Relax. Unwind. I'm going to shower quick, too.”
Before I could say anything, he was gone. I laid sideways on the couch, tired, feeling something that was close to sadness. He was mad. But innate submission told me he wasn't. Not really. His shields were stronger than mine. When he didn't want me to read him, I couldn't. Why didn't he want me to?Because he was mad, the endless debate raged. When I heard the shower stop running, I made myself sit up and put the pillows back where they belonged.
Quinn seemed much calmer when he came out in boxers and a black t-shirt. He breathed in slowly, sitting down, and looked at me with inscrutable eyes.
“I want to thank you for intervening. You didn't have to, and... thank you.” I said, unable to find better words for what I felt.
“But?”
“That was all.”
“Are you still suffering from sub frenzy?” he asked at last.
“Not after the first few sessions we had, Sir.”
“It really wasn't supposed to get that intense, at Rack's. You kept correcting your position against the pillar. It made me want t
o see you break a little. Just a little...”
“That happened.” Remembering those few moments of unbearable arousal made me shudder. “When you give me pain, it makes me want you so much...”
“I know it does, baby.”
Taking it with Rhys had been cathartic, an outlet for my frustration, dissatisfaction. Fighting to take pain that made the clawing darkness go away was more effective than screaming into a pillow, or investing in a punching bag. Once I felt confident in my threshold for pain, I had reached a calmer, more accepting state of mind. It was one I struggled to hold onto, no matter how sub frenzy had pushed at me. Shields had raised over my normal defenses, walls were built to help me retain control. Quinn, in only a few sessions, had shaken them down to the foundation.
Submissive standards would have had me stay in position for him and take punishment pain without complaining. Quinn had made me want to do so much more for him than that. He made me want to stay in position, just because he wanted to see me that way. I wasn't afraid to take punishment pain from him, because I wanted to be a better submissive for him, around the new, higher standards he set. I liked hearing him laugh in surprise when he thought I'd safeword, when I remembered to thank him for pain. When he decided to have me say it, I knew he'd feel pleasure from hearing it. He wouldn't be disappointed or mock me for not being able to take more.
“I can feel when you're close to safewording. You were right, I-- What?” He noticed me staring at him.
“I was thinking about safewording, too, Sir. You knew I was close to saying it, at Rack's?”
“I knew when you needed me to slow down, and when you couldn't take anymore. but did anyway. I was worried the floggers would make you bleed. Can you handle pain sessions that last longer than an hour?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You really trust me a lot.” He kissed the top of my head. “We'll have one, soon as the marks are gone from tonight.”
“Yes please. Thank you, Sir.”
The warmth I had hoped to feel from him was back, but Quinn watched me without reacting. I was ready to kneel in front of him when he leaned back, his arm resting on top of the couch. He wanted me sitting next to him? I slid over and got to my knees, trying to understand what he wanted me to do.
Subfrenzy (the Subfrenzied Series) Page 14