by Poppy Flynn
Instinct had her checking his wrist, which showed the yellow band, the same as her own, signifying having been served a single alcoholic beverage at the bar downstairs, but even to her own untrained eye, she could tell all three of them had indulged in much more than that.
The bar was strict. Everyone with second floor access had to have their membership card scanned if they imbibed, even if someone else was buying the drinks. Tricking the system by having drinks tabbed to someone else's card was almost impossible, since it limited that person's access to the second floor and was also an infringement of the strictly enforced membership conditions that would impose an immediate ban. Something that no serious club member would risk. If you wanted to drink, you simply stayed downstairs. In all of the weeks she'd been here, she had never known anyone to oppose the regulation. They all knew it was for their own safety.
"Don't run away now that we've finally caught you without your minder," one of the others snickered.
"Us three can show you a good time if the old man is too busy to see to you." The third one crowded against her and nudged her with his pelvis suggestively.
"Not sure he's up to it, anyway, since I've never spotted him giving you a good seeing to yet," the first interjected as the three of them circled her, crowding her personal space and making it impossible for her to get past them.
"We can show you a much better time…" Charlotte lost track of which one said what as the panic that had been bubbling beneath the surface threatened to erupt when they all started pawing at her. She felt rough hands trying to sneak inside her top and another pulling at the knot on her halter neck while more hands groped under her skirt. Her breath was coming in short, flustered gasps which only seemed to egg them on. She tried to scream, but the only sound to leave her throat was a broken squeak.
"Please…" she begged as she tried to bat the many hands away. Scanning the room in alarm, she realised, too late, how she had trapped herself by sticking to the shadowy recesses of the dungeon and how the three men—no, they were more like boys—had manoeuvred her into an even darker corner, shielding her from view of the rest of the floor with their clamouring bodies.
"Oh, we'll please you all right; there's no need to beg, my pretty."
Charlotte pushed ineffectually against the chest directly in front of her. "My Master…" she tried.
"Is not here," someone finished for her.
Charlotte stopped pushing at the body in front of her when she suddenly felt the tie at her neck come loose and grabbed, instead, at the front of her top in an effort to prevent her breasts from being bared.
"No! Stop!" Instinct kicked in and she found her voice, drawing a couple of looks but still no sign of rescue.
Charlotte cursed as she struggled. Saying no or stop in this place didn't have the same connotations as they did in the outside world, she realised as her mind whirled. That's why they used safe words.
Safeword! Charlotte seized on the concept as she vainly tried to extract herself from the pawing hands, groping fingers and stale smelling mouths. Could she safeword, even though she wasn't in a scene?
"Red!" In her mind, she screamed it, but what came out of her mouth was only a pathetic croak.
One of the trio cursed, and in the next second, a hard hand descended to cover her mouth.
Charlotte didn't hold back her impulse to bite as full-blown panic clouded all her other senses. Suddenly, she was a wild thing, desperately trying to keep herself covered with one hand while pushing, struggling, clawing and kicking. She tried to scream, but all that left her throat were panting chokes and sobs. Tears blurred her vision, but they were more of anger now than fear. How dare anybody invade her personal space and jeopardise her hard-won independence!
Charlotte landed an elbow in the gut of the guy who had manoeuvred behind her in an attempt to trap her arms and the sharp 'oomph' that accompanied the jab spurred her on, buoyed by that small success.
"Get away from me, you oafs!" Charlotte demanded, suddenly feeling stronger, mentally if not physically, as her mind cleared of terror and determination took its place. "Keep your fucking filthy hands to yourselves!"
"That's no way to talk to a Dom," an angry voice declared. "You need to be punished for that, bitch!"
Charlotte felt a nasty pinch on her arm and yelped. Whirling to glare at the perpetrator, she yelled, "You are not my Dom, and you can't do anything I don't agree to, so back off, buster, before Micah comes back."
"He can't do anything to us," the bruiser bluffed. "We know the owners!"
Hands followed the words, ripping at her top, and instinctively, Charlotte pushed again.
"I don't think that's going to help you, this time." A new voice, deep and commanding, brought a hush to the group surrounding her and reverberated out to the wider crowd of patrons as an eerie quiet descended nearby and slowly spread throughout the room.
This time, the sweaty, alcohol reeking body suddenly fell away from her, causing Charlotte to stumble forward with the momentum, the grip on her modesty slipping.
Before she could embarrass herself, strong arms righted her, then enveloped her in safety. Somehow, Charlotte knew those arms were there to protect, despite her befuddled brain, and she curbed the impulse to fight them. A moment later, she felt the ties of her halter top secured once more and that small kindness reassured her like nothing else could have, giving her back her control.
Charlotte took a shaky breath and resolved to calm herself, not wanting to be the centre of this kind of spectacle any more than necessary.
"I believe the lady had cause to safeword," the deep voice stated, now tight with barely restrained anger. "Even though she was not scening, even though she's wearing a collar that puts her off limits to you pieces of scum, even though she told you to stop, first and foremost!"
"She's just a fucking sub…" one of the three whinged, and an echo of shock whispered through the onlookers at his words.
He should have kept his mouth shut. Moving faster than his huge frame seemed capable of, Charlotte's rescuer swept out his foot, then towered menacingly over the wannabe Dom as he landed on his back—all without letting Charlotte out of his protective hold.
"No one in this club is 'just a sub'," he roared, causing the other two to capitulate, the fight going out of them, rapidly replaced by trepidation. The pair of them backed away, then turned as if to leave, only to be stopped in their tracks by a dark voice and the angry sea of patrons that now surrounded them.
"Oh, no, lads, you don't get off that easily," he ground out as the third scrambled hastily to his feet and backed up to his buddies at the same time as the crowd parted to allow a furious looking Micah and another man through.
Charlotte barely had time to register the presence of Jake Blackwood next to her Dom before strong fingers gently cupped her chin and she was forced to acknowledge her knight in matt black leathers.
"Are you okay, darlin'?" Connor Griffin asked quietly, smoothing a big hand soothingly over her hair, then rubbing his thumb across the small hurt that had started to bruise on her arm with surprising tenderness.
Charlotte nodded dumbly, vaguely aware of a couple of curses issuing from Jake's lips as he finally caught sight of her, while Connor moved his attention to her hands where her knuckles were red and sported a few small scrapes and several of her fingernails had broken.
Despite the commotion around her as Micah and Jake attempted to make sense of the situation amidst the strenuous denial of the three drunken members and the general confusion of the onlookers who all put forth different scenarios, Charlotte found herself mesmerised by Connors startling grey-green eyes as he kissed her knuckles and fingertips.
Despite her shock, Charlotte desperately tried to merge the impression Laurel had given her of the jerk who had treated her so callously with the reality of the gentle giant who had come charging to her defence and was caring for her so sensitively right now.
Sighing, she sagged. Suddenly, it all seemed too much for her
overwhelmed brain, and as the kick of adrenaline started to dissipate, she was aware of a fine tremor overpowering her slight frame.
Jake watched as some sixth sense had Micah swivelling away from the crowd, the cacophony of voices all talking over each other at once and the robust rebuttals of each of the baby Doms, who were denying any wrongdoing, despite all three appearing to be in a state of intoxication strictly forbidden in their dungeon and zeroing in on his submissive.
The renowned Cha-Cha, it seemed, was none other than Desi's friend, Charlotte Chapman. And wasn't that an eye opener?
Jake was barely getting his head around that turn of events when Micah suddenly clapped his hands loudly over the drone of the crowd, drawing Charlotte's attention, before he gestured her swiftly with a series of hand signals which had the drooping Charlotte immediately straightening, taking her leave from Connor and hurrying to Micah's side, where she gracefully slid to her knees and adopted a comfortable pose. Once she'd taken her place, to the murmur of approval from the watching crowd, another signal had her resting her lowered head against Micah's muscled thigh as his manager proceeded to sooth her with gentle strokes.
Jake watched as she visibly relaxed under Micah's direction and care and felt a sharp stab of envy so harsh it made him suck in a breath, drawing Micah's attention back to him.
"Problem?" Micah queried.
Jake scowled, the psychologist was too perceptive for his own good. "Yeah," he redirected his friend's attention. "Three of them I could do without after the day I've had!"
"Well, you can help me take out the trash and then we'll see what we can salvage from the evening," Micah shot back, eyeing his old mentor with renewed speculation.
Jake stood by, his anger bubbling as Micah questioned Connor on the situation in which he had intervened, while the younger men blustered and refuted his story despite Micah's curt reminder that they should never have been hustling a collared sub in the first place. Especially his collared sub.
Jake found the other Dom's possessiveness every bit as irritating as the three youths who had abused Charlotte, as well as his establishment, and struggled to keep his features blank against the frequent knowing looks Micah kept throwing his way.
Finally, Micah squeezed Charlotte's shoulder and she lifted her head. Holding out his hand, she accepted his help and rose gracefully to her feet. Jake couldn't help the pang of jealousy at the beautiful synchronicity of their silent communication. Never mind the way he took her in his arms and held her tight as she buried her head in the crook of his neck before he swept her into his arms in one swift movement and settled her on his knee as he sat them both down on one of the dungeons viewing couches across the room.
Jake fisted his hands at the sight of Micah whispering in Charlotte's ear and stroking her back with one hand, threading the fingers of his other hand with hers while he encouraged her side of the story. Then he gritted his teeth at the look of absolute trust on Charlotte's face as she gazed up at her Dom. The desire to rip Charlotte out of Micah's arms—away from the bunch of other Doms who watched her with a mixture of lust and reverence, out of the sight of lads a good ten years her junior who had overstepped the mark in their eagerness to have her, and spirit her away somewhere there was no competition for her affections—took him by surprise and irritated him further. He didn't like the implication. He had walked away from this woman and anything she had to offer, certain that she would never accept his lifestyle. To find her here, not only on his own turf but in his own club, left him confused and off kilter. And angry. Though he couldn't be certain of what…or who. Certainly, the situation in which she found herself, and the young men who had put her there, in an environment where she should have been safe. But aside from that, he couldn't decide if he was angrier with Micah, Charlotte…or himself.
Micah finished digging through the details of Charlotte's account of events, soothing her all the while and taking care to stay alert to any shifts in her manner. He didn't want this evening's events having a detrimental effect if there was any way to avoid it. He'd already lost Fluff and guilt ate at him for that. There was no way he was letting Charlotte down, too.
Shifting her from his knee, he settled her into the comfortable cushions of the couch, then cupped her face in both hands before taking her lips in a tender, lingering kiss, all the while aware of Jake staring daggers into his back.
There was a story to tell there, that was for sure. He just couldn't work out what the angle was yet. Jake was giving off some pretty possessive vibes along with a whole lot of anger. Maybe not obvious to everyone, but certainly to someone as observant as the psychologist in Micah. He just couldn't quite make sense of it yet.
The anger could just be at the situation. He was pretty pissed off, himself, that the club he was responsible for had been compromised. He guessed Jake must feel the same, but it seemed like there was more to it than that and Micah didn't like the feeling that some of it was directed at Charlotte. None of this could even remotely be construed as her fault and she'd been through enough tonight. He certainly planned to get to the bottom of it before he let Jake near his sub, that was for certain.
"Okay, baby. I'm going to make sure this lot leaves the premises." Micah gestured to the three baby Doms, all looking sullen and brooding, flanked on either side by Connor and Jake. "I'm going to send Connor over here to sit with you until I get back," he assured. "I'm not going to leave you on your own again."
Charlotte nodded her head, grateful for his forethought. She didn't want to deal with anyone else right now. She was sure none of the other Doms would trouble her after this little display, but neither did she want to deal with well-wishers and commiserations, either. Connor would be a formidable bodyguard.
Micah made his way back to his bosses, though, in truth, no one knew them for what they were.
After asking Connor to watch over Charlotte, he turned to Jake. "Okay, buddy. Come and help escort these gentlemen out of the building."
Jake was glad of the distraction. He needed something to take his mind off of Charlotte, and a change of scenery might help him get his head together.
The two of them frog marched the lads back to the office where Micah read them the riot act, revoked their membership and helped them clear their lockers. There, they found a bottle of spirits in each man's belongings and a further search produced a hip flask from which they'd been imbibing.
Closing the door of his office behind Jake, when the three were finally taken care of, Micah, figuring that Joel and Desi had to be the common denominator, decided to play his ace.
"So, Charlotte…" He wasted no time beating around the bush. "You know her," he guessed, though he phrased it as a statement.
"How do you work that one out?" Jake deflected.
"It's a reasonable assumption." Micah shrugged. "She's close friends with Desi, you're Joel's cousin. You'd have met at the wedding, if not before." He pinned Jake with a hard stare, and Jake knew he'd messed up, trying to keep his response evasive.
"The fact that you've just tried to avoid a direct answer tells me there's obviously more to it than that."
Jake scowled, his irritation peaking once again, but instead of finding a reply, he pressed his lips together in a tight line.
Micah's eyes narrowed on Jake. Since his friend wouldn't furnish the answers, he'd fill the gaps himself. He was certain Jake wouldn't hesitate to correct him if he was wrong.
"The curses you threw out when we hit the dungeon were aimed at seeing Charlotte, not at the situation we found there," he began, all too perceptive for Jake's liking.
"A lot of the irritation you were showing was aimed at me as well as those three lads," Micah continued, and Jake found he couldn't look his friend in the eye as he resumed marking off his observations. And that was yet another 'tell', as far as Micah was concerned.
"I'd put money on the fact that the irritation at me had its basis in jealousy, since it was most significant when I had Charlotte kneeling at my side or on my
knee."
Jake shook his head. It never paid to forget just how perceptive his manager was. It was one of the main reasons they'd employed him.
"And I didn't even need to be a psychologist to feel the daggers you were aiming at me when I kissed her," Micah continued shrewdly. "Which brings me to the conclusion that you were involved with her, probably even cared for her. What I can't work out yet is why it didn't work out. I've known for a long time just how keen you are to move into a committed relationship. That was another one of the reasons you first came to mind when I was considering a training Dom for her. And I know Charlotte well enough to know she's not comfortable with bed hopping and needs something with more permanence, even within the parameters she encounters here," Micah finished bluntly.
Jake continued to sit silently, but Micah knew that silence meant that his deliberations were spot on.
Jake shifted uncomfortably, drawing Micah's gaze to the coiled signal whip hooked onto his belt. His eyes narrowed on Jake in a way that caused a frisson of alarm to tickle the back of his neck.
"Of course!" Micah exclaimed with a surety that had Jake's eyes snapping back to his.
The two of them held their gazes for a couple of beats before Micah broke the tension. "You're the Dom she hooked up with. The one who whetted her appetite and then walked away. The guy who pissed her off so much because he wouldn't allow her the opportunity to decide on the lifestyle for herself."
Jake closed his eyes, breaking the knowing stare Micah gave him, the temptation strong to form the lie of denial, but the only word to come out of his mouth was… "Fuck!"
Charlotte curled up with her head in Connor's lap, feeling safe and protected by the huge Dom who tenderly stroked his hand down her hair and her back, soothing and gentling her ragged nerves. This was one of the aspects Charlotte loved most about the BDSM lifestyle, this thoughtful consideration the Doms effused, not just for their own submissive, but to all of the subs under the protection of the club. This concept of 'aftercare' that seemed to mean so much to them that they offered it freely when it was needed, even if it was for someone they hadn't played with. Just like Connor offered it to her now, even when there hadn't even been a scene. Well, not a 'play' scene, anyway. It felt nice but a little strange to accept this intimate kind of care from someone who was as good as a stranger, but she took it because it had all become too much. Venturing into the dungeon on her own, trying to extract herself from the youths who had accosted her, seeing Jake again…