by Poppy Flynn
Charlotte felt a sharp pang of sadness. None of this had been fair on Jake, either. But in the end, it had opened up her eyes and forced her to re-evaluate the things she thought were important. It had forced her to realise that she was doing herself a great injustice because, in the following of her self-imposed rules, she had limited herself almost as much as the disciples had tried to. It forced her to see that she was so busy protecting herself, she had forgotten to actually live the life she had liberated.
Standing in the modest garden at the back of her house, Charlotte smoothed out a ragged, dog-eared piece of paper, faded with age, and placed it into the shallow, metal dish she had found in the shed. Striking a match from the box she'd purchased the day before, Charlotte held the blue and yellow flame to a corner of the paper until it caught alight, then watched as the glow flickered, singeing the white and turning it brown before the flare chased it across the page, gathering momentum and shrivelling the edges until all that was left of the rules she had written so many years before was a tiny pile of black and white ash. It might have been nothing more than a purely symbolic gesture, but to Charlotte, it opened up the door to the rest of her life.
This evening, she would take the first step through that door when she went to enroll herself at the new Club Risqué.
The BDSM club had previously been called 'Perversions', but recently, it had been sold on to a new group of investors and they had renovated and refurbished it. It had reopened in its new guise a few days after Joel and Desi's wedding, and Charlotte knew that her friends frequented the establishment, although she wasn't sure of the depth of their involvement.
She had, however, discussed the idea with Desi. Her brief time with Jake had spawned a curiosity within her that she was desperate to pursue, though she didn't quite understand why it would appeal to her since it was one of those things that should have sent her running for the hills.
Desi was adamant that Charlotte didn't understand the subtle nuances of the way control was offered and received in the BDSM sub culture and had vigorously encouraged Charlotte to explore it for herself.
She cast her mind back to those early days in University when Desi had first embraced the lifestyle. How Charlotte had always been able to tell when her roommate had performed a 'scene', as she'd called the negotiation of D/s sex play with Joel, because of how relaxed and serene she had always been afterwards. Certainly, her friend had never seemed subjugated or oppressed; quite the opposite, in fact.
Desi was adamant, however, that the practice was one that had to be experienced first-hand to be appreciated in any depth and that Charlotte would need to immerse herself in the philosophy before she could properly understand whether she was suited to that way of life which, Desi insisted, was not to be taken lightly or without proper insight.
Luckily, the new owners took their obligation to the lifestyle quite seriously and the freshly evolved Club Risqué required training courses and psychological profiling for all their prospective members. Applicants who, under the new management system, could often only join easily with the referral of a current member.
Desi had made that possible and set up Charlotte's membership interview with the club's manager, Micah Flynn.
The rest was up to Charlotte.
Chapter 4
Charlotte tried her best to channel all those positive vibes from the afternoon as she sat in the manager's office at Club Risqué later that evening.
Then again, she wasn't sure it mattered how much confidence a person had. Sitting in a sex club, about to answer some seriously personal questions about sex and kink and all that kind of stuff for the very first time, was just plain guaranteed to knock the confidence out of anyone, even self-assured Mr. Confident, himself. Or Ms. Confident, for that matter. And she had to remember to stop thinking of it as a sex club. Desi had told her that intercourse was not always assumed and that many people scened without having penetrative sex at all. Just another thing that Charlotte didn't understand. Goddesses, she was so out of her depth here that she was metaphorically treading water above the Mariana Trench and could only hope that she managed to stay afloat. She wondered if she could get some water wings, or would that just make her a bigger target for the sharks? They had sharks?
"Miss Chapman?" The very attractive Micah Flynn sat across from her with his eyebrow raised, and Charlotte's stomach dropped to her feet. Damn, she was doing that 'off with the fairies' thing again!
She cleared her throat and took a steadying breath. "Sorry, please call me Charlotte. Did you say something? I guess I was kinda daydreaming."
Thankfully, Micah grinned. "This place can have that effect on people."
Whew! She'd managed to dodge that one, at least. She gave the well-built man, who looked like his muscles had muscles, her undivided attention. He wasn't hard to look at with his overlong, curly blond hair and chocolate heaven eyes. He looked like your stereotypical surfer dude. Charlotte grinned back and suddenly felt better.
"Your referral came from Desi Blackwood," Micah stated, looking impressed. "They don't rate much higher than that."
Charlotte was surprised. She hadn't realised her friend was quite so well-known at this place.
"Of course, that aside, you'll still have to satisfy the membership requirements and psych evaluation, but I'm sure Desi wouldn't have given you the reference if she thought there was a problem."
I've discussed this at length with Desi," Charlotte confirmed. "But what exactly does the psych evaluation involve? It sounds kinda scary!"
Micah chuckled. "I'm glad you've had the chance to talk this over with someone who has experience; that's a good first step, and I know Desi will have told you like it is. As for the psych test, it's not really as bad as it sounds." He smiled, leaning back in his chair and crossing one ankle over his knee. The movement moulded his snug, faded jeans to his long legs, giving Charlotte an eyeful of solid thigh muscle. Damn, the man was ripped!
He studied her, and Charlotte felt a moment's discomfort, as if he was peering into her soul and saw everything.
"Basically, you just fill out a short questionnaire." He nodded to the papers in front of her on the wide mahogany desk. "And based on that, you and I get to have a little chat. It's nothing too in depth," he reassured her. "Just a safety net, really. BDSM and D/s interactions are extremely intense. The evaluation is simply to ensure that you can cope with that intensity, to highlight any triggers that might be an issue and to ensure that you have the right motivation."
Charlotte frowned. "Triggers?"
"Anything from your past that might have a detrimental impact on what takes place here and engender a negative reaction to some of the stimuli."
Charlotte nodded but still frowned. "And what do you mean by the right motivation?"
Micah smiled and steepled his fingers. "Well, to put in in a nutshell, Charlotte, we like to ensure that our members are here for the right reasons and not, for example, because they were beaten as a child and have a guilt complex that leads them to believe that they still deserve to be punished."
Charlotte's frown deepened, and she looked down at the floor. Disturbing thoughts raced through her head. Was that what had drawn her here? Was it a remnant from the controlling life in the cult that had lured her to a place where she might be forced to give up control again? She didn't think so. It hadn't even crossed her mind, and it certainly wasn't what she wanted. In fact, it was the very thing she had fought against her whole adult life. She could even see how unhealthy that mind set could be; but what if she was wrong? What if her subconscious had led her into a trap?
But, no. Desi had said this would help her take back her control. She trusted Desi.
Micah's huge, warm hand covered Charlotte's which lay fisted together on her lap, her knuckles showing white. The warmth of his touch, a simple human kindness, was enough to gain her attention.
"You look troubled," Micah stated softly, his sharp eyes taking in her expression, her body language and missing noth
ing. "Do you think there might be an issue?"
"No…maybe…I don't know," Charlotte stammered, finally looking up and seeing nothing but support in Micah's dark eyes. "I didn't think so. I certainly didn't see it that way, but…" she trailed off.
Micah gave her hand a squeeze. "I tell you what, why don't you fill in the evaluation form and then we'll talk it through? That's what I'm here for. That's what this process is all about," he said encouragingly.
"You're the psychologist?" Charlotte squeaked in surprise.
Micah shrugged. "What can I say? Looks can be deceiving." He winked, a mischievous glint sparkling in his expressive eyes.
"But I thought you were the manager!" Charlotte blurted.
Micah just laughed outright. "I'm that, too," he replied with a grin.
Fifteen minutes later, Charlotte had filled in both the membership and the evaluation forms and sat nervously while Micah looked through them.
Finally, he placed them on the table between them. "Okay, Charlotte," he began. "There's nothing in your answers that leads me to think that your membership should be an issue, but clearly, something I said set off alarm bells earlier, so why don't you tell me about it?"
Charlotte nodded and gathered her thoughts, wondering where to begin. Then she took a breath and dove straight in. "I was brought up in a commune from the age of thirteen, when my mother got sucked into it after the death of my father, right up until I managed to escape shortly before I turned eighteen."
Micah nodded but didn't seem to understand the connotations. "Escape is a very extreme choice of words," was all he said. "Would you care to explain that?"
Charlotte closed her eyes tight, lifted her face to the ceiling and started again. "It wasn't one of those happy hippy, grow your own veggies and spread the love type of communes," she clarified. "It was controlled by a cult called the 'Disciples of Modesty'."
Micah's face had been unusually expressionless since she'd started to speak. It still was, but the slight tightening around his eyes had her wondering if the name meant something to him.
"Freedom of choice was not an expression that was in their phrasebook."
"I see," was all Micah said. And Charlotte had the overwhelming impression that he really did.
"How did your experience within the commune affect you, do you think?"
"I have issues with control," Charlotte stated shortly. The years she'd spent talking to other shrinks had highlighted the issue and 'the list' had been their idea of taking control back. But that hadn't been the root of the problem as Charlotte had come to understand as she had matured. To Micah, Charlotte admitted something that she had never divulged to another human being.
"The problem is that I'm not actually comfortable with having control, myself." There, she'd said it! Her deepest, most shameful secret. "I think it stems from too many of my formative years being lived in a situation where I had no control. Now that it's available, I just don't know how to handle it. It makes me feel out of my depth."
There was no thunder and lightning. The ground didn't open up under her feet, and Micah didn't look horrified at the admission that so appalled her. Charlotte heaved a sigh and continued. "The trouble is that I'm also terrified of giving up control to anyone else, for the very same reasons."
Charlotte felt tears prickling the backs of her eyes. After so many years, just saying the words seemed to take some of their impact away. She scrunched up her face to stop the tears from falling and Micah scooted over and ran a soothing palm up and down her arm. Somehow, the action strengthened her resolve and calmed her enough to carry on.
"My friend, Desi, says I am naturally submissive and that's another one of the reasons I don't like having control. But she also says that I need to take back control of the submission that was stolen from me in my teen years and learn to give it freely on my own terms."
Charlotte's voice had lowered to a bare whisper.
"I don't know if she's right. I don't know that I fully understand what she means. All I know is that I have difficulty forming relationships, especially with men, because I fear the control they might gain over me," she gulped. "I've had years of therapy. So many that I understand all of the logic and all of the diagnosis, but that's not the same as living it in reality, so right now, I'm willing to try anything."
Charlotte hoped she didn't sound quite as desperate as she felt. Suddenly, she didn't want Micah Flynn to turn down her membership. Relating the conversation with Desi had rekindled that streak of confidence she had been enjoying. She wanted this; she truly believed it was the right choice.
Micah was quiet for a while, but Charlotte didn't know what to say, so she let the silence envelope them.
The man looked at her with that all-seeing gaze, pinching his full bottom lip between forefinger and thumb repeatedly as he considered her. "In the majority of ways, I agree with Desi's insight of your situation, Charlotte. Clearly, she knows you very well and still thinks that being here wouldn't freak you out," he said finally. "But do you think we might uncover an excessive number of triggers on this journey?"
Charlotte swallowed. "I don't know…" She changed her mind. "No, not an excessive amount," she decided firmly. "This may be unorthodox, but then, I had a pretty unorthodox upbringing. And you're right, there may be triggers, but I figure triggering them and getting them into the open and working them out is better than bottling them all up and only living half a life. I lived half a life throughout most of my years. I'd very much like to try and live a full one."
"I'm…aware…of some of the practices used by the Disciples of Modesty," Micah confirmed her speculation that he was familiar with the cult. "Will you have a problem being naked in public?"
Charlotte considered the question carefully before she spoke. "I don't know. For years, I was forced to strip down twice a day with all the other members and bathe in a lake that provided our only washing facilities. There was no choice involved." From the direction of his question, she imagined this was one of the aspects Micah had admitted to being 'aware' of, and it was a valid one, but…
"I think it might actually be cathartic to reveal my body on my own terms," Charlotte finally decided.
Micah made no comment, simply nodded and threw out another question. "You say you're not comfortable with having control, but you're scared to give it up. That's a significant insight and it's profound that you understand that about yourself, even if it does pose a conundrum."
The small praise bolstered Charlotte's confidence further and she found herself far more relaxed than she had expected to be.
"Do you understand the concept of the power exchange? It is one of the most pivotal aspects to Dominance and submission."
"Power exchange?" Charlotte wrinkled her brow. "No, I don't know what that is."
"Then it's something you need to learn and understand well. It is the founding concept of a healthy BDSM relationship. It works on the premise that you offer your submission and, therefore, your trust, within strict guidelines and negotiations so that both parties understand the parameters and limits of your offering, and in return, the Dominant party agrees to abide by those parameters which you have set out and not to overstep them, to offer you as much as he or she is able to provide within the boundaries that you have agreed. But ultimately, all the control is handed back to you, because you are the one who has all the authority in the scene; you are the one with the final say. If you want things to stop, they stop. No arguments, no questions, no recriminations. One word—your safeword—and everything stops. So, in return for your compliance, the greatest power is yours."
Micah smiled broadly and his already striking face became breath-taking. "Or in your specific circumstance, it could be true to say that you can hand over the control you're so uncomfortable with but, in reality, you lose none of it. A win-win situation, as I see it."
Micah patted the hand that still rested in her lap. "And hopefully, somewhere in between, both parties find a unique liberation and a fulfilment tha
t goes beyond the constraints of a conventional relationship."
Charlotte said nothing for a long while. She just sat and contemplated. It seemed almost too good to be true and, in her experience, when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was, the Disciples of Modesty being a glaringly huge case in point. Her mother, at a time in her life when she was grieving and anxious, had been taken in by a clever sales pitch which portrayed the commune as a place where she could find support to share her responsibilities—ease her financial burden, live with like-minded people, avoid the pressure of having to find a job and be provided with a place to live in a beautiful countryside setting away from the rat race. Of course, that rather depended on who you considered the rats.
"What are you thinking, Charlotte?" Micah asked gently.
"That it seems too good to be true, just like the commune," Charlotte answered honestly.
Micah rubbed a hand over his shadowed jaw. "I can see where you're coming from, but think of it this way—we're not asking anything major like giving up your home or your financial independence," he reassured. "Yes, there are aspects and activities that are intense, but it is your choice and yours alone whether you choose to participate in those. We have a limit list that covers absolutely everything that might happen in here and you fill it in to show whether you will or won't take part. And, regardless of what you initially negotiate, you will have a safeword so that you can stop anything you're not comfortable with, even if that is something you previously agreed to, something you thought you might enjoy but find you really don't like or maybe something you've participated in before and decide you just can't engage with for some reason, at any given time." Micah patted her hand. "Everything that happens here is 'safe, sane and consensual' and we have monitors who keep an eye on what's going on to make sure nothing untoward happens."