by Diana Hunter
“That’s it exactly!” Sarah grinned back. “That’s exactly what it felt like. It was wonderful.” She let out air she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. “I don’t think I’d like it as a daily meal but as a treat now and again? Oh, yeah…”
Jill’s face became serious. “Yeah, well…there you’ve hit the point. Sarah, when you were brought in, the doctors checked you over…all of you.”
Sarah shrugged her good shoulder. “So?”
“All over, Sarah, even your tush.”
Color seeped into Sarah’s cheeks as Jill’s words registered. “You mean…they found…”
“Three cane stripes across your ass. Yes.”
Sarah looked away. “Oh, my glory. What must they think of me?” Her eyes went wide and she pulled at the hospital gown, looking down at her breasts. Barely visible pink lines still showed against the whiteness of her skin. In panic, she looked up at Jill.
“Yep. They found those too. And the fingerprint bruises on your upper arms.”
“Fingerprint bruises?” For a moment, Sarah had no idea what her fellow slave was talking about. Then she remembered. Saturday night, when she was blindfolded and at the mercy of the hands that caressed her. One man had stepped between her spread legs, his hands tightly gripping her bound upper arms. It hadn’t been Phillip. The Master who had pressed against her had had an aura of cruelty in him. The fabric of his pants had brushed against her mound, his hardened cock taunting her. Dominance and brutality had oozed from his touch.
But then he had stepped away and hands more soothing and caressing had taken his place. In the wake of so many touches, so many sensations, she had forgotten him.
Now Sarah turned to Jill. “There was a man Saturday night who held me hard. I didn’t realize he’d given me bruises but that’s the only place I could’ve gotten them.
“Will and I decided that as well.” An explosive sigh came from her. “Look, I have no idea what Phillip has told the police. Will and I have managed to say very little so far because really it’s you who has to call the shots on this one.”
“On what one? Jill, I still don’t even know what we’re talking about.”
“You came in with marks of a beating, Sarah. Marks you couldn’t possibly have gotten in a car accident. Phillip was right there, pacing, pestering the desk nurse about you. What were they going to think?” She snorted, disgusted. “You weren’t even out of surgery when they arrested him on suspicion of domestic battery.”
Sarah sat straight up, ignoring the shooting pain that sliced through her shoulder. “Arrested? Phillip? Is that why he hasn’t been here?”
Jill looked at her like she’d grown another head. “You didn’t know?”
“How could I? I’ve been doped up and stuck to this bed.”
“But Beth was here earlier, wasn’t she? I thought that was who the nurse told me…”
“Yeah, Beth was here.” It registered and Sarah’s voice dropped. “You mean Beth knew Phillip’s sitting in jail somewhere and she didn’t tell me?”
“Beth knows Phillip was arrested on suspicion of battery, yes?” Jill shook her head. “Maybe she just didn’t think you were ready to hear the news, though.”
“I’ll be asking her that question. In the meantime, get that detective down here. I have a few choice words for him.”
Jill stood and grabbed her coat from the chair. “You got it, babe. But be warned—the police don’t look kindly on our activities. Not all of those who were there Saturday night want to be ratted out to the police.”
Sarah’s mind flashed to the man who’d gripped her arms and leaned his body so possessively against hers. That was a man who definitely wouldn’t want to be ratted out, even if it meant Phillip sat there for years. “I can tell him we played with others but remember…” Her mouth turned up in a wry grin but there was no mirth in her eyes. “I was hooded the entire night. I have no idea who was there and who wasn’t.” Although, from the look on Jill’s face, it was pretty obvious she and Will had been two of those in attendance. Sarah could make some educated guesses about the others but decided to keep that information to her herself.
The interview with the police did not go well. Sarah’s headache had blossomed and the food she’d eaten earlier roiled in her stomach. She tried to tell the nurses it was just because her fiancé had been arrested for no reason but they wouldn’t listen to her. As a result, she found it difficult to concentrate on the detective’s questions and knew her answers rambled. She remained adamant, however. There were no charges to press and they had no reason at all to keep Phillip in jail.
“I’m afraid that isn’t your call, Mrs. Simpson–Parker,” the detective informed her. “In these cases, the state can step in and make an arrest. He’s already been charged.”
Sarah stared at the middle-aged man who stood beside her bed, his staid complacency frustrating the hell out of her. A few strands of gray colored his temples but other than that, he still looked like he was a force to be reckoned with. Built like a quarterback, his sturdy frame had undoubtedly been in more than one altercation. He’d introduced himself as Detective Hassini. Sarah wondered if he were Greek or Middle Eastern. But then he’d started talking, the news just getting worse and worse as he informed her about “the man she was involved with” and Sarah decided she didn’t care what his heritage was, the man was nothing more than a block for her to beat her head against.
“Because he had a recent previous incident with the police, I suspect the judge will set quite a high bail for Mr. Townsend at his hearing this afternoon.”
“Bail? He’s got to post bail? Why did you arrest him? I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t need you to. I’m fine. He’s not beating me.” Sarah punched the mattress beside her with her good fist. The other still lay bound to her side, just one more frustration.
The detective sighed. “In cases where domestic abuse is suspected, the officer at the scene can make the arrest for the state. Often the person abused is too frightened to post the charges herself, so the state gave that right to the police a long time ago. As I already told you, Mrs. Simpson–Parker, the charges are already brought against him. Now he goes to a hearing, bail is determined and if he can pay the bail, he’ll be out on the streets again until his trial. If he can’t make bail, he’ll stay in jail until the trial.”
Sarah shook her head absently, wishing Will were here. She had so many questions she just couldn’t ask about the law. What they did was consensual. Was she going to have to testify to that in a court of law? “Please stop calling me ‘Mrs. Simpson–Parker’. Mrs. Parker all by itself will do fine.”
“What I need from you is a statement about those bruises.”
“No. I’m not going to say anything. You can’t make me, either. Isn’t there some double indemnity thing between spouses?” She was feeling decidedly grumpy and didn’t feel like being pleasant. She forced herself to remain civil, however. Phillip’s life hung in the balance.
The detective chuckled. “I’m not sure that holds here, Mrs. Parker. But I also wanted to inform you that you have the right to an order of protection if you want it. The judges in this county usually give an automatic order of three weeks unless the victim asks for a longer period.”
“Three weeks?” Her voice rose to a shrill shriek. “I don’t want any order of protection, do you hear me? Not three weeks, not three days! What I want, Detective, is to see the man I love.” Her voice cracked and tears filled her eyes. “I don’t want him in jail, I want him here, in my arms. We’re going to be married…” A vision of her wedding day flashed through her mind. Only the ceremony wasn’t being held in city hall but in the city jail. She didn’t finish the thought.
Detective Hassini pulled a tissue from the box beside the bed and handed it to the woman. He’d seen hundreds of cases like this over the years but he had to admit, this one did seem different. Her bruises didn’t look like any other beating he’d ever seen. Three thin stripes across her breasts, another three ac
ross her ass. No accident put them there, however, and he was inclined to err on the side of the woman’s safety, whether she wanted it or not.
He checked his watch. “The hearing’s going on right now, if everything’s on time over there. Which means the judge will use his or her own judgment about the length of the order. I’m just offering you the chance to lengthen it, which,” he added quickly, “I understand you do not wish to do at this time.”
Pulling a card from the notebook he had been consulting, he held it out to the woman. He had to admit, she was stronger than she looked. Those tears had formed but only one had fallen before she had herself under control again. “If you have any questions or decide you do want that order of protection extended, just give me a call, all right?”
Sarah took the man’s card, realizing it wasn’t right to hate the messenger. He hadn’t been the one to arrest Phillip. “Thank you for your concern, Detective, but let me make it plain. I do not want an order of protection at all, let alone extended.”
Her head hurt. She closed her eyes and rested her throbbing head against the pillows, turning the card into her palm, almost as if she wanted it to disappear. With a few more banalities, the officer finally left the room and Sarah allowed her tears, held back far too long, to course down her cheeks.
Chapter Ten
Expiation
“Just stay away from her. Right now, that’s your best course of action.”
Phillip looked at his lawyer as if he’d grown a third head. “The wedding is only two weeks away. How am I supposed to stay away from Sarah and marry her at the same time?” He balled his hands into fists as the two of them hurried down the courthouse steps, alternately wanting to punch something or hurl useless obscenities into the air.
The expensive lawyer put his hand out, stopping Phillip. “Look, the courts don’t care about that. They don’t care about anything except the fact that Sarah Simpson–Parker was beaten and they think, by you. Don’t jeopardize your bail or your trial by making stupid mistakes. Stay away from her.”
Taking a deep breath and forcing his hands to relax, Phillip finally nodded. “All right. I’ll send her a letter instead.”
“No!” Exasperation sounded in the lawyer’s voice. “Don’t you get it? No contact. Period. None. No visits, no letters, no emails. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. You have to act as if she doesn’t exist. For three weeks.” He turned and threw up his hand. “Then you two can do whatever the hell you want.” The lawyer stopped two steps down. “But until then…nothing.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Phillip saw Will waving to him from across the street. “All right, Ray. You’re the boss. No contact of any sort for three weeks.”
The lawyer’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Why are you suddenly so compliant?”
Phillip clapped him on the back as they reached the sidewalk. “Let’s just say you’re persuasive. That’s what I pay you the big bucks for, isn’t it? To persuade people to our causes?”
A taxi waited at the curb and Phillip opened the door, ushering the counselor inside before he could protest. Shutting the door, he waved as the cab pulled away from the curb. Will came up beside him and watched the taxi disappear into traffic.
“So what’s the verdict?”
“It wasn’t a trial, just a hearing to set bail.”
“I tried to get here faster but as you can see…” Will gestured to the street before them, packed with rush-hour vehicles. “And the accident over at the corner of Seventh and Elmcrest just made things worse.” He looked his friend over and decided the man needed a drink. “Come on, we’re going over to Maxi’s and you’re filling me in.”
* * * * *
Phillip sat back and sighed. He hadn’t been to Maxi’s Gentlemen’s in months…ever since he and Sarah had started dating. The dark oak paneling, the color deepened on the ceiling from years of cigarette and cigar smoke, surrounded him, enclosing him in a manly embrace. Looking more like a library reading room than a bar, the plush leather armchairs and thick-piled Orientals on the floor gave comfort to the soul. Life might have wild swings but Maxi’s would always be a place for the relaxation of men of elegance and class. Phillip’s eye caught an ornate oak door off to the side of the fireplace and his lips curled in a nasty smile. If the courts ever found out what happened on the other side of that door or found out that he had, on occasion, participated in the events that took place on the other side of that door, they would put him away for sure.
“Here. Whiskey, straight up.” Will took a chair beside Phillip’s, setting two glasses on the low table between them.
Phillip picked up the shot glass and downed it in one gulp. He looked around. Even as the liquid fire burned his throat, he wanted another. “You only brought me one?”
“One is all you need right now. I see that look in your eyes.”
“What look?” Phillip frowned.
“The look that says, ‘I’m pissed off and just want to get drunk’.”
“I am pissed off. And I do want to get drunk.”
“But you’re not going because I’m your friend and I’m going to keep you out of jail so you can get your girl back.”
“Sarah’s never going to want me back. Not after what she’s going to go through.”
“What are you talking about?”
Phillip motioned to one of the unobtrusive waiters. “Another whiskey.” He saw the look on Will’s face and added, “A double this time.”
“They brought up my traffic ticket. Damn cop who gave it to me showed up at the hearing and told them all about her being hooded and how she seemed scared.” He slammed his palms on the arms of the chair. “Of course she was scared! I was locked up in the back of the damn police car and wouldn’t have been able to protect her if he’d tried anything with her. Stupid!”
“Is that word for you or the cop?”
Phillip shook his head. “Both.” He looked around. “Where’s that drink?”
“Just because you needed one drink doesn’t mean you need more.”
Phillip waved his hand dismissively. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushioned chair. “If Sarah never speaks to me again, I don’t blame her.”
“That’s the whiskey talking. Sarah loves you and is very concerned.”
“Sarah hasn’t been awake enough to be concerned.” He sat up, his voice rising unconsciously. “I should be there, Will. Not here, not sitting in some damn jail cell. I want to be with her.”
“And you will be. In three weeks.”
“Shit.” Phillip got up and marched over to the bar. “Another.” He slammed the shot glass down, not missing the glance the bartender shot at Will before pouring the single shot. Still standing at the bar, Phillip tilted the glass, again downing the entire contents in one swallow. He savored the burn this time, letting the fire punish him for his sins.
His gaze landed on that arched oak door again and he came to a decision. Determined, Phillip pushed away from the bar and started across the room. The expiation of his sins lay on the other side of that door. Will’s hand on his arm was but a small deterrent. He brushed of his friend’s protests as if they were gnats that buzzed around his head and opened the door.
An empty anteroom, lit only by a table lamp, glimmered in tones of burgundy and cream. On the far wall, a small sliding panel at face height reminded Phillip of a confessional. Exactly what he looked for right now. To the right of it, another arched doorway with no handle. The only way through was by permission. Permission he would willingly beg for right about now.
The two shots of whiskey buzzed in his head as he knocked on the sliding panel. It slid open, revealing blackness. A grillwork, designed to make it difficult to see through, added to the feeling that one was in a church, a holy place where all problems could be solved if one prayed hard enough.
“What is it you seek?”
The voice, soft and promising comfort, was neither male nor female. Or maybe it was both. Phillip dropped his head. “I s
eek forgiveness.”
“Have you committed a crime?”
“No.”
“Then what is the sin you have done?”
“By hooding my slave, I put her in jeopardy. By marking her, the law has forced us apart.”
“Neither is a sin, my son.”
“I need forgiveness.” His voice, hard as steel, threatened to break.
He lifted his chin defiantly at the long pause from the other side. Finally, it spoke again.
“You feel guilt because you gave your slave six small marks. Society at large sees that as beating, we see it…differently. Why do you seek expiation from us?”
“Because only you know how to give it properly.” Phillip didn’t ask how the speaker knew the cause of his guilt. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that here he could get what he needed.
“And you are prepared to take whatever punishment we deem appropriate?”
“I am.” The steel was back in his voice.
“Enter.”
The panel slid shut at the same moment the door snicked open. Another hooded figure stood on the other side, holding the door for him. His eyes glittering, Phillip stepped through.
A second small room met him. He’d been here only once before but then he’d come as the Master and had walked straight through this tiny area. This was for slaves, and today it was fitting that he be here. The robed figure shut the door. The only way now, was forward.
“Stand still.”
Phillip did as he was told, the glory he felt in dominion a tarnished memory. He deserved to be ordered about, deserved to be treated as a common object.
Light blazed on from above and he put his hand up to shield his eyes.
“Hands down!”
With an effort, and still blinking in the sudden brightness, Phillip put his hands at his sides. The voice of this figure, while unfamiliar, definitely belonged to a man used to being obeyed. A bit of the rebel blossomed inside Phillip. Taking orders from a woman would be easier today than from another man. He clenched his fists but kept them at his sides.