Collaring Brooke (Club Zodiac Book 3)

by Becca Jameson

  Brooke swallowed, a flush covering her face. “Why…Ma’am?” How was it necessary for her to tell Faith anything about her past?

  “Because you’re using me to escape and hide from even yourself. If you don’t let some of that out, you’re never going to make any headway.”

  Brooke hesitated for a long time, uncertainty creeping up her spine. Finally, she nodded. “The whip, please, Ma’am.” It would cause the most pain. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that. She knew from experience. The sting would be sharp. She wondered if Faith would break her skin. So far she never had in their previous sessions together.

  Stepping out of Brooke’s line of sight, Faith took a position behind Brooke, set a hand on her shoulder, and spoke into her ear. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I want to push myself tonight.”

  “Safeword?”

  “Red, Ma’am.”

  “I’m going to start now. Easy at first and then harder.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Brooke clenched her butt cheeks together when Faith stepped back.

  The first strike centered her in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling. The thin leather tip was all that made contact, and it wasn’t hard at all, but the tiny sting felt amazing.

  The second whoosh of the whip caused Brooke to close her eyes, wondering where it would land. Again on her butt cheek. Lower. Only slightly harder than the first.

  Brooke let her mind sink into the scene, her breath leaving her on a sigh. She’d had a horrible day. The worst day of her life.

  No, that was certainly not true, unfortunately. But it had ranked up with the worst. She needed this. The escape. The…absolution. The penance.

  Rationally she knew she had done nothing wrong to deserve the life she lived, but that had never mattered in the past. Even the slightest mistake on her part—intentional or otherwise—would earn her a beating.

  Maybe she deserved it. Maybe she was a bad person. Maybe there was a God in the world and He put her in this club to clean it so she would meet this woman who could give her what she deserved. People said God was not a vengeful being, but if He existed, Brooke saw no other explanation. Why else would she lose her job and her apartment in the same day for no reason?

  She gripped the chains with her fists and held on as if releasing them would somehow end the scene. Even though she was secured to the web, she still liked the feel of the cold metal against her palms.

  She slid deeper into herself as the whip rained rhythmically down over her thighs and then up toward her shoulders. Every swish of leather through the air was followed by the stinging burn of contact.

  Amazing.

  Every once in a while, Faith came in close and checked to make sure Brooke was okay, whispering in her ear and expecting a response.

  “It feels perfect, Ma’am.” It did. It really did. Every strike brought her deeper into her mind, calming her. Soothing. Magically taking away the pain. Replacing the emotional pain with physical pain.

  Physical pain she could handle. Emotional pain was so much worse.

  Thoughts of Carter filtered into her mind. Was he in the room? Was he watching? Part of her hoped he was. She wondered if he realized she deserved this punishment and that he was the subject of her most recent series of offenses. Too many to count. Every day he still managed to get under her skin in one way or another. He didn’t belong there, and Faith was reminding Brooke of that fact with every strike of her whip.

  Faith stopped again, rubbing her hand along the heated welts across Brooke’s shoulder blades. She asked the strangest question. “Do you get aroused when I whip you, Brooke?”

  Aroused? “No, Ma’am.”

  “That’s a girl.” She continued to sooth Brooke’s back with her palm. “There’s no right or wrong answer, you know.”

  “Okay, Ma’am.” The question was baffling. Who would get sexually aroused from a beating?

  “Did someone in your past hurt you, Brooke?”

  Brooke’s breath hitched, and she responded before she could stop herself. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “A man?”

  Brooke’s heart stopped beating.

  Chapter 8

  Carter had never been more stressed in his life. As the scene unfolded, he didn’t move an inch. He had to force himself to stand next to Rowen and watch.

  He trusted Faith. Everyone trusted Faith. And he knew this was the last time she would top another person. She belonged to Rowen. Rowen was permitting her to play this out, and Carter should be grateful to his best friend.

  He’d never seen a more skittish person in his life than Brooke. When she wasn’t playing, she was completely closed off from the world.

  But now…

  Damn.

  There was no way to describe what he was witnessing. It wasn’t as if she was less closed off. She was definitely in a zone someplace where no one could reach her. Except perhaps Faith.

  Carter would give his right arm to know what Faith was whispering to her and what Brooke was responding. He might never know. The scene was private. None of his business.

  But something in his world had shifted in the last half hour. Before, he’d been attracted to Brooke. Something about her had called to him from the moment they first met. That something had grown over the past several weeks. And now…

  Damn, she was gorgeous. She was too skinny. She needed to eat more. He hoped she didn’t have an eating disorder. That would be a bitch to deal with. He knew she had issues. Lots of them. But suddenly nothing else mattered. She called to him like a magnet. Drawing him closer until Rowen had to grab his arm to keep him from approaching.

  “Let them finish,” Rowen murmured.

  Carter nodded. Of course.

  “She’s gonna need a soft touch.”

  Carter nodded again. That was an understatement.

  “You’ve got a soft touch.” Carter glanced at his friend. Rowen was smiling, not condescendingly, but with understanding. “You can do this.”

  “I know I can.”

  “Be careful.” Rowen’s words were loaded. Carter knew he was speaking from the heart, worried Carter would get hurt. It was a possibility, but it was a risk he was willing to take.

  Carter watched as Faith finally removed the cuffs from Brooke’s small wrists and rubbed her arms as she lowered them. She led her to a sofa and sat next to her, handing her a bottle of water.

  Damn, he wished he could hear their conversation.

  Every once in a while, Brooke nodded. She kept her gaze down, but she wasn’t able to hide her face completely because her hair was pulled back in a braid. He liked the braid. Hopefully the next time she wore one, it would be Carter who arranged the curls into submission.

  Finally, finally, Faith lifted her gaze. She glanced at Rowen and smiled, and then she shifted her attention to Carter and nodded.

  Show time.

  Carter forced himself to step forward slowly with Rowen at his side. While Rowen set his hands on Faith’s shoulders and led her away from Brooke, Carter lowered himself onto the sofa next to her.

  He didn’t touch her with his hands, but he did let his thigh slide against hers, and he leaned in close to her face. “I watched your scene. It was spectacular.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She notably did not call him Sir, and for that he was glad. It was too soon. They didn’t know each other. He didn’t want her to feel compelled to so formally submit to him. Yet.

  She lifted the water bottle to her lips, but her hands were trembling, and it slid from her grip.

  He reached out reflexively and caught it before it hit the floor. “You’re in subspace.”

  She moaned softly, swaying a bit his direction. He hadn’t realized she was in so deep.

  He reached out an arm and wrapped it around her, careful not to put pressure on her back. He had no way to avoid the welts since she was so totally covered by the long-sleeved shirt.

  She leaned into him anyway, but he didn’t think sh
e was fully aware of it. She didn’t flinch at his touch, which rang a warning bell in his head. For one thing, no matter how gentle Faith had been, Brooke would still have welts down her back that wouldn’t disappear for a while.

  For another thing, he knew for a fact she was normally adversely affected by contact with other people, especially him. Especially men, most likely. The fact that she was leaning against his chest spoke volumes about her state of mind.

  He wrapped his hand around her biceps and held her closer. Damn, she was tiny. Not just small, but underweight. He tucked her bottle of water between his thighs and lifted his free hand to cup her face for the first time. He stroked her skin. Soft. Smooth. Perfect.

  When he tipped her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze, she blinked, her eyes widening in horror. Her full, pink lips parted.

  The temptation to taste those lips was great. He ignored it. “Brooke? You okay?”

  She stared at him. “Yes. Of course.”

  She was not. It was like her mouth was going through the motions but her mind was in another place. The craziest subspace he’d ever seen. Like she was two people.

  He needed her to snap out of it. “Take a sip of water.” He released her chin to grab the water, glad that her head didn’t loll forward.

  At least she managed to sip the water when he set it to her lips. If she hadn’t done that, he would have panicked. He needed to be careful with her. She was so vulnerable.

  When she squirmed against him and winced, he knew she was coming back. He winced with her.

  Carter was not a fan of whips. Everyone knew it. Inflicting pain on a submissive was not his gig. He was a firm Dom, but his tastes ran toward pleasure, not pain. He didn’t play as often as the other owners or employees at the club, mostly because he preferred a more committed relationship with a woman who enjoyed the more carnal sides of submission.

  A woman on her knees in front of him was his dream. A woman trembling with lust, her pussy wet for him, her obedience given freely in exchange for raw sensual pleasure—that was Carter’s style.

  Watching Faith wield a whip against Brooke had made him grit his teeth. He didn’t normally react so violently toward masochism. It didn’t bother him a bit that others enjoyed that side of BDSM. To each his own.

  But Brooke… She was like a butterfly. Soft. Delicate. Watching her take the strikes and even moan with each one had been his undoing. If she needed that from him, he was in serious trouble. He could only hope he could introduce her to the softer side of BDSM and convince her to submit for pleasure instead of pain.

  Wishful thinking?

  Undoubtedly.

  But a man could dream.

  She swallowed the water over and over until it was gone. Good. She needed it. She also sat up straighter, seemingly returning to Earth from whatever spaceship she’d been traveling on.

  When her back stiffened, and she leaned away from his chest, he released her shoulder. “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” She looked down. “I think I zoned out for a minute.”

  He chuckled. “That’s an understatement. You’re very susceptible to subspace.”

  “Faith said that too.”

  “Well, she was not kidding. You have to be careful.”

  Brooke nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll never be in a position to submit like that again anyway.”

  Carter’s breath caught. What did she mean?

  She flinched, jerking her gaze to his as if just realizing what she’d said.

  “Brooke?” He furrowed his brow. “Any time you submit to anyone for any reason, even subtly, you’ll need to be aware of your propensity.” He knew the entire time he was speaking that she had meant her words literally. She never intended to submit to anyone again. For any reason.

  She nodded. “I’m not coming back.” Again, she winced, lowering her gaze. “I should go.” She pushed off the couch on wobbly legs. “I need to go.”

  He stood next to her, grabbing her arm so she wouldn’t fall over. “You need to sit for a while longer. You’re not yourself yet.” His heart raced.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I feel much better. I really need to go. Now.” She jumped out of his grip and turned toward the entrance.

  He followed her, heart pounding. No way would he let her leave. His gut told him he would never see her again. His gut was rarely wrong. “Brooke…”

  Pulling together amazing strength that shocked him, she shook out of her stupor and nearly ran for the stairs. Seconds after that, she took them two at a time.

  He was on her heels. He didn’t touch her, but he also kept pace. As she pushed through the door and stepped into the parking lot, he kept up.

  She spun around, making him stop short to avoid knocking her down. “Let me go, Carter.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  She humphed, turned, and continued rushing across the parking lot. When she got to an older model, beige Pontiac Grand Prix, she fumbled to get her keys out of her pocket and opened the car with shaky fingers. She ignored him, until he slammed his hand on the door, keeping her from opening it.

  “Brooke, listen to me.” He didn’t touch her, but it was hard.

  She was shaking as though she were cold. She was flushed too. And when she came completely down from her high, her back was going to hurt. And her thighs, and her ass. She needed aftercare whether she understood that or not.

  She was his responsibility now. He’d agreed to see to her, and he fully intended to. No way in hell was he about to let her drive off.

  “Carter…” He liked the sound of his name coming from her lips.

  “Come back inside.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You can’t force me to stay.”

  He sighed, his hand still pressing into her car door. He rubbed his forehead, his eye catching the inside of her vehicle. The back seat was filled with boxes. What the hell? He turned back to face her. “Where are you going?”

  “Home?” She put her hands on her hips.

  “Where is that?”

  “None of your business.”

  “I can easily go inside and look at your paperwork.”

  She flinched, rubbing her arms. After a deep breath as if trying to calm herself, she lifted her gaze. So rarely had she met him eye-to-eye. If he ever had the pleasure of dominating this woman, he would insist she look him in the eye often. In the most even voice she’d used since he approached her, she said, “I’m leaving now.”

  He pursed his lips, holding her gaze. Her pupils were no longer dilated. She was not in subspace anymore. As if she’d been doused with cold water, she had snapped out of it. That didn’t mean he wanted her to leave, but what could he do? She was a grown woman. Stopping her would not earn him any brownie points. In fact, it seemed in order to keep her from leaving, he would have to physically prevent her. Assault was not on his bucket list.

  Fuck.

  He pushed off the car and nodded. “Be careful driving.”

  Her shoulders visibly lowered, and the breath whooshed from her lungs. “Thank you.”

  She climbed into the car and buckled her seat belt while he held the door. As he shut it, he spotted a pillow and blanket next to her in the passenger seat. Every cell in his body went on alert. His spine stiffened.

  She yanked the door shut, leaving him standing next to her Pontiac in shock. When she started the engine, he snapped out of it.

  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

  She pulled forward, heading for the exit to the road, and he turned around and nearly ran toward his own car. No way in hell was she leaving without him.

  His silver F150 might not have been the coolest car on the planet, but it hauled a lot of shit when he was working construction. He wished he’d chosen his sleek, black Mustang instead tonight because it would keep up easier, but he hadn’t.

  It didn’t matter because it turned out Brooke did not peel out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Apparently she didn’t realize he
was on her tail. She took a right turn as he caught up with her, and since she didn’t have a clue what he drove, he followed closely.

  Brooke was a cautious driver. She turned her signal on at every intersection and kept to the speed limit. However, he had no idea where she was going.

  After a few minutes, he wondered if she was onto him because she turned so many times it defied logic. Soon, she headed into the city and then rounded several more corners.

  He dropped back a few car lengths. He even allowed other cars to get between them. Finally, she pulled into a commuter lot next to a highway entrance. What the hell?

  He decided then that she must have known he was following her and didn’t want him to know where she lived. He kept up the charade anyway. She was not going to get away.

  She parked next to the only car in the lot and turned off her engine. It was after midnight on a Saturday. Not much call for ride-sharing. Instead of entering the lot behind her, he decided to drive on by and circle back.

  Five minutes later, he was on the other side of the street, lights off, engine idling, watching her car. She had turned the engine off. There was no sign of life. Darkness. Silence.

  “What is she doing?” he asked himself out loud. “This is insane. And dangerous.” He wasn’t the sort of Dom who used whips or canes or crops, but he wasn’t opposed to spanking a pig-headed submissive who put her life in danger in defiance.

  He waited. Nothing happened.

  He waited longer. Damn, she was obstinate.

  She had to know he was watching, right?

  Five minutes ticked by. And then ten.

  Carter grew impatient. Brooke was crazy if she thought he would leave. Maybe she was watching him, waiting for him to give up. What difference did it make? Like he said, he could just look at her paperwork to get her address. She wasn’t hiding anything.

  At fifteen minutes, he gave up. Impatience ate a hole in him. He put the truck in drive and turned into the lot. He approached slowly, turning his lights off as he got closer, hoping to see in her windshield.

  For a moment, his heart stopped. She wasn’t in the car. He couldn’t see any evidence of her at all. He panicked. Was she so desperate to rid herself of him that she’d taken off on foot?