by BJ Wane
Goddamn it, I won’t go there, Nan swore, forcing herself to maintain the pelting spray aimed between her legs until the painful memory slipped away. A few moments later, she released her pent-up breath as her roiling stomach settled back down and the shivers ceased. Flipping off the water, she brushed her fingers across the newly exposed flesh, proud of herself for putting mind over matter as the dormant sensations of the past months tingled to life under her light touch. Still shy of what she used to feel, the pleasant shivers nevertheless gave her the small rush of pleasure and boost of courage she needed so much.
Baby steps, sis. Promise me you’ll take it slow when you return to your club. Jay’s words played through Nan’s head as she dried off and padded naked into her bedroom to search for something to wear. She knew she should go slow and had promised her brother she would. But frustration and a long-denied ache kept pushing her to get going, to hightail it out to the secluded, renovated barn and latch on to the first Dom who caught her eye before she changed her mind. Or the memories could change it for her.
As she flipped through the fetish clothes and lingerie she was so fond of, she knew she wouldn’t be wearing any of them. Nan hadn’t shied away from public exposure since her first few nights under Master Clayton’s tutelage, but she also hadn’t been naked in front of anyone since her rescuers had covered her bloodied, abused body upon her rescue. She couldn’t expose her scars until her friends knew about Gerard and she was prepared to answer questions. With longing, she recalled the illicit thrill of wearing the leather corsets that exposed her nipples and the thongs that drew eyes to her butt, the excitement of being stripped, or ordered to strip off a sexy teddy in front of others, of loving their eyes on her nudity.
Maybe not tonight, but she’d get all of that back, somehow, someway. Tonight would start the journey.
Nan settled on a short, snug white leather skirt and silky, sapphire tee. Goosebumps raced across her skin as the supple leather stretched over her buttocks left bare by a white thong and the soft silk caressed her braless nipples. After leaving on several lights, both inside and out, she slid behind the wheel of her sporty Nissan. Ignoring the steady rapid beat of her heart as she drove down the highway, she tightened her hands on the wheel and made the turn onto the narrow, unpaved road that led to The Barn.
By the time she parked in the tree-shrouded copse, her sweat-slicked hands were white-knuckled with her taut grip. She gazed with longing at the familiar structure, the wide double doors and the large, upper window with its faint yellow glow. She wanted to rush inside and see everyone again, to hear the sounds of play resonating and smell the pungent odor of leather mingling with sex so bad she could taste it. But still, she sat there.
Another car pulled in and Nan watched Master Brett open the door for his wife, Sue Ellen. The petite blonde leaned into her husband and there was no mistaking the look of yearning, excitement and contentment reflected on her face. He clasped her nape and kissed her, long and hard, his free hand sliding down to grip her left buttock.
The ache settling between Nan’s legs spread to her chest and propelled her out of the car to follow the couple inside. “Hey, you two. How are you?”
Master Brett smiled in welcome as he held open the door. “Nan, it’s good to see you back. We’re doing fine. You?”
“Happy to be home. Sue Ellen, I love the dress.” Nan eyed the slinky satin sheath held on by two, thin ties at the shoulders with envy.
“Thanks. Master Brett surprised me with it tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your open house today,” she said as they both slipped off their shoes and stowed them in cubicles under Master Brett’s watchful eye. “I promise I’ll come by this week.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Nan’s throat closed up as Master Brett opened the door into the playroom and a lifestyle she craved to embrace again. She waved the couple off as she scanned the tables between her and the center-placed bar for her friends, praying for the sudden inner quaking of her body to cease.
As she stood rooted where she was, she didn’t understand the hesitancy and nerves assailing her. Unlike the BDSM mixer where she’d met Gerard, she knew these people. They were friends, both the men and women, some she’d known for decades, others since they’d become members. They weren’t strangers plotting to seduce, kidnap and traumatize her. They were people she cared about, and who cared for her, whom she could trust to be herself. They had nothing in common with the man she’d been foolish enough to fall for every lie and conniving suggestion out of his mouth.
Nan spotted Tamara and Sydney seated at the bar and when Tamara waved her over, she forced her leaden feet to move. Her gaze shifted up to the dimly lit loft, and the apparatus she favored being bound to the last time she was here. Longing and fear battled for supremacy inside her head as she wound through the tables and seating areas, pasting on a smile and returning greetings she hoped hid the turmoil raging inside her.
“I was starting to think you weren’t going to show tonight,” Tamara greeted her as Nan slid onto the stool next to her.
“Sorry, a few last-minute customers kept me late and then I had to get ready. Hey, Caden. Do you have a beer for me?” She found it easy to smile at Sydney’s husband, a local rancher who had grown up in Willow Springs the same as she but was years ahead of her in school. He still wore his Stetson, but she could make out enough of his rough-hewn face and blue eyes to see he hadn’t changed since their wedding.
“Damn, it’s good to see you again, Nan.” Reaching across the bar, he cupped the back of her head and drew her forward for a quick kiss. “We heard you were back,” he said after releasing her and grabbing a cold bottle from under the counter.
“I hadn’t planned on being away so long and I’ve missed you guys, and this place.”
“It wasn’t the same without you, Nan.” Sydney lifted her beer in a toast to her return.
Nan smiled down at her, noticing the nipple huggers adorning her breasts through the thin tank she wore. It was easy to conjure up the pleasure those clamps could wreak despite the length of time since she’d worn a pair and recalled how effective they were in making her tips throb and ache for more. “You look like you’ve gotten along fine without me but tell me. How many times did you get lost while I was gone?” Sydney’s poor sense of direction landed her on the club’s doorstep instead of at the Dunbar Ranch over a year ago, where she was due to report for her new job as their cook. She met her boss, Caden, only neither knew it at the time he confronted her spying in the window.
“Ha, ha. I’ve been finding my way around now for some time, as I told you the other day.”
Caden handed Nan a beer, smirking at his wife. “Didn’t I have to come find you just yesterday when you went riding with Tamara and got turned around coming back to our place?”
“I gave you explicit directions,” Tamara said, surprised. “How’d you manage to get turned around?”
Sydney shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m good at it. Besides, you didn’t say anything about that pond. That threw me off.” Shifting on the barstool, she groaned and glared at Caden. “Wasn’t the spanking enough? You had to use the plug, too?”
“That reminds me. As soon as Connor arrives, I need to remove it. But since you’ve been so good, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”
Sydney sighed, her green eyes going soft as she watched her husband saunter down the bar to serve someone else.
“Quit looking like that, Syd. My Master isn’t here yet,” Tamara groused, but with a small smile curving her mouth.
Nan laughed, her initial tension easing the longer she sat there surrounded by friends. Good memories assailed her for a change as she listened to the teasing banter and sipped her beer as music, low conversations and laughter resonated around the room.
“Where is Connor?” she asked Tamara. “I’m surprised he’s not glued to your side.”
“He and Jason, you remember my foreman, went to an auction in Bozeman, so he’s running late. Amy and I spent t
he day shopping in Billings, looking for her dress. Oh, I forgot to tell you. My stepmother and Jason are getting married in a few weeks.”
“That was… is great. I’m happy for them.” She was about to say that was fast, but that news was just another reminder of how long she’d been away.
Taking another swig of the cold brew, Nan let her eyes wander around the room and spotted Master Greg and Master Devin on the dance floor, a tall blonde sandwiched between their gyrating bodies. The best friends were already enjoying a reputation for indulging in ménages the last time she’d been here, and it appeared they still did as she watched Greg reach around and cup the woman’s naked breasts, lifting them for Devin’s descending mouth. Heat curled low in her belly as Greg flipped up the girl’s skirt and ground his denim covered pelvis against her bare ass while Devin slid a hand between her legs and tugged on one, turgid nipple.
“God, they are so freakin’ hot.” Sydney sighed, fanned herself and then took a long drink from her amber filled glass. “You were with them once, weren’t you, Nan?”
“Yes, and yes, it was as good as you would think watching them.” Nan shifted as her pussy softened and dampened, the response surprising her. She hadn’t felt an ounce of arousal in so long, she’d despaired of ever getting the pleasant feeling back.
“I’ve never indulged in a three-way. I wonder if Connor…” Tamara squealed when hard hands plucked her off the stool and brought her up against her husband’s tall frame. “Oh, hi.” She flipped him a sheepish grin with a toss of her midnight hair.
“If Master Connor would what? Let someone else touch you? No fucking way, sweetie.” Lifting his head, he tipped his hat back and his small grin spread into a wide smile as he looked at Nan. “Damn, it’s good to see you again.” Keeping one hand on Tamara, he leaned over and pinched Nan’s chin, tilting her face up for a quick kiss, much like his brother greeted her with. Releasing her, he cocked his head and a glint appeared in his blue eyes, “I think I recall a number of Doms promising retribution for your long, silent absence.”
Nan winced, her tension returning, and knew Master Connor thought it was because of his emphasis on silent, not the thought of a Dom’s retribution. She used to respond without hesitation when a Master hinted at punishment and to the idea of a long, over-the-knee, bare-butt spanking with excitement and longing. Before she’d left, everyone here knew how much she enjoyed the bite of pain, and the pleasure it always led to. But that was before Gerard showed her what real agony was, how deep the pain could go, how devastating, mind-numbing and terrorizing it could be.
Nan chugged the beer, looking away from Connor’s keen, appraising gaze as suspicion clouded his eyes. The cold against her palm helped steady her under his probing look, the long pull she took of the alcohol aided in calming the sudden jitters tightening her abdomen. Swallowing, she lowered the bottle and released an exasperated huff. “I guess I’ve got that coming, but give me tonight to just settle back in, would you?”
Caden frowned as he strolled up in time to hear their exchange, his gaze shifting behind her as he drawled, “What do you think, Master Dan?”
Nan stiffened, something close to panic threatening her composure. Tamara reached out and squeezed her arm, her and Sydney seeing more than she wanted them to from the looks of sympathy and puzzlement on their faces.
“I think the sub I remember would have vibrated with excitement at the mention of punishment and jumped to embrace the prospect.”
That deep voice, the only one to slither past the fear and pain numbing her mind during three days of huddling in cold, complete darkness, now drew a wave of rippling uncertainty. After taking another long drink, she swiveled to face Dan, leaned forward with a small grin and managed to pull up the old Nan still struggling to re-emerge.
“Master Dan. For you, I might change my mind.”
Apparently, she wouldn’t make a good actress. His narrowed dark eyes and tight set to his mouth signaled he saw through her attempt to flirt with and tease with him. She didn’t like the calculated gleam that entered his eyes as he removed his hat and tossed it on the bar top. He fisted his hands on his hips, drawing her gaze to the thick, wide belt around his waist and she recalled the sting of the supple leather snapping across her buttocks. The quick, welcome rush of heat subsided as he held out his hand, a silent invitation he’d issued, and she’d accepted, countless times before.
Nan started to reach for him, ignoring the churning in her gut, determined to move forward no matter what, when the sudden whoosh and snap of leather striking bare skin followed by a high-pitched screech echoed down from the loft and pitched her back into that dark space where the same sound had delivered waves of excruciating agony. Bile pushed up to clog her throat and freeze her acceptance of Master Dan’s offer. She squeezed her eyes shut, the only way to keep from looking up at the source of another flesh-connecting snap. Jerking as if struck, the memory of searing pain splitting her skin and blood dripping swept back to haunt her.
“Breathe, Nan.” Master Dan emphasized that command by pushing her head down and massaging the tight muscles of her upper back.
She fought the swell of despair and humiliation as hard as she struggled to breathe in. I’m still as much of a pathetic mess as I was months ago. The thought pissed her off as fast as that sound hurled her back to a place she never wanted to go again.
“Nan, are you okay?”
The soft concern lacing Tamara’s voice and Dan’s soothing touch broke through the final dredges of icy blackness threatening to keep her prisoner back in that horrible time. Nan sucked in a deep breath and nodded, pushing against Dan’s hand as she strained to rise. He removed it without hesitation and she lifted up, clenching her hands and jaw until her bearings steadied.
“Sorry,” she croaked, forcing a self-conscious laugh as she reached for the beer again. “I guess I’m still exhausted from traveling and the busy week of getting the shop re-opened. Whew!” She drew an exaggerated hand sweep across her brow and took a fortifying, guzzling drink that emptied the bottle. “It’s going to have to be an early night for me, I’m afraid.” Forcing herself to look up at Master Dan, she tried not to react to his scowl as she asked, “Raincheck?”
He nodded, reaching for her elbow as she slid off the stool. “I’ll hold you to it. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
Shaken by her reaction, especially after feeling so good and positive, Nan pulled away from Master Dan’s grasp and turned her back on his astute, watchful gaze. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Catch you guys later.”
He caught up with her halfway to the front doors and she stiffened as he took her arm again. “I insist,” he stated in a cool, rigid tone she knew well.
Annoyance with both herself and him rose to the surface, shoving aside the remnants of her mortification. “Look,” she snapped, rounding on him as he opened the door to the foyer, “I didn’t agree to scene with you, so back off.” Yanking her arm free, she strode to the wall of cubbies and grabbed her sandals.
“I’m well aware of that, Nan, but I would be remiss in my responsibilities if I let any sub leave when upset without assuring she was all right to drive.”
A muscle ticced in his cheek, drawing her eyes to his taut, five o’clock shadowed jaw. She’d always found the contrast between his sandy blond hair and dark eyes and face as attractive as his hard Dom persona here at the club. It was another blow to her resolve to get her life back that she wasn’t pulsating with needful lust to submit to her favorite Master’s strict dominance.
Looking down to slip on her shoes, she managed to return in a steady voice, “I’m not upset, just tired. As I said, it’s been an exhausting week of trying to catch up.” Straightening, she pasted on a calm expression and prayed he didn’t see her still jumpy nerves. “I may have been away for a while, but I’ve driven home from this place plenty of times after an intense night of play without a problem. A little fatigue will not hinder my driving. Good night, Master Dan.”
Nan made it th
e few steps to the front door and grasped the handle before he asked a question she wasn’t prepared to answer. “Who hurt you, Nan?”
She didn’t dare turn around; he would be sure to see the revealing shock reflected on her face. Damn it, what made her believe she was ready to return tonight, to face the Doms who knew her best and would be sure to see more than she wanted, than she was ready for anyone to see? Shaking her head, she walked away as calmly as possible considering her racing heart, feeling his eyes on her as she got into her car and drove away without a backward glance.
Dan waited in the open doorway until Nan’s taillights disappeared from view, suspicion forming a cold knot of dread in his gut. The way her face turned sheet-white upon hearing the strike of Master Devin’s single tail hand whip and Mindy’s cry had taken him aback. There had been an indefinable panicked flash in her gold eyes that caused him a moment of dread before he took control and pushed her head down. Her excuse of fatigue sounded reasonable, but somehow rang with the hint of evasion, as proven by the way she kept looking away from him. He remembered how she pulled back with a startled jerk when he’d gone to tug on her hair at the diner and didn’t like where his thoughts were going.
Nan was an experienced sub, he reminded himself as he returned inside with different scenarios of possible reasons for her uncharacteristic reactions running through his head, none of which sat right with him. She liked the bite of pain and where it led her, and all but begged for a rough fuck whenever they took a scene that far. But even so, he couldn’t imagine her allowing a Dom to go further than she was comfortable with. She was flirtatiously open and brazen, never holding back or shying away from what she wanted, and she was just as delightful when she rebuked a pushy man who didn’t interest her or in ending a scene that was either not enough or leaning toward too much. At least, she had been before going to New Orleans.