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We watch for a few more minutes and then it seems that Christina does just that. I see her struggling for a minute, breathing in and out. She closes her eyes and clenches and unclenches her fists, and then she whispers a word I can’t hear, but that her Dom clearly can.
He glares at her.
The guy fucking glares at her.
“Holy dragons,” the submissive next to Tony speaks up. “Somebody get a dungeon monitor right now.”
Tony takes off for the end of the hallway. He doesn’t have to be told twice. I try the handle to the door, but it’s locked. I knock on the door loudly, but the Dom ignores us and starts yelling at Christina. By the time the dungeon monitor arrives, she’s crying and trying to get out of her wrist cuffs, but he’s not helping her.
The monitor unlocks the door, steps inside, and grabs the Dom.
“Hey, we aren’t finished in here,” the Dom says.
“You’re done,” the monitor says. “And unless you want me to file sexual harassment charges for ignoring her safeword, you’ll come with me to the office right now. The owner wants a word with you.”
“Fuck,” the guy grumbles, grabbing his bag. He doesn’t spare Christina a second look. He just walks out of the room.
“Hey,” I step into the room and kneel in front of her. She’s crying loudly now. She might not have had a lot of fun, but she needs someone to take care of her. I might not be allowed to play tonight, but I can administer aftercare for this little sub. “Let me help you.”
She’s silent as I take her cuffs off and then she gets silently to her feet.
“Thank you,” she whispers, and she turns to leave.
“Christina,” I say, stopping her.
“How do you know my name?”
“Your Domme last week told me.”
“Oh,” she whispers, blushing.
“Can I please take care of you for a little while?” I ask.
“No,” she says.
“Do you have someone who can sit with you? Get you a drink? Hold you if you need it?”
“No,” she shakes her head. “I don’t do aftercare, dude.” Then she pushes past Tony and the other people in the hallway and walks away.
“What the hell?” I can’t help but say it out loud.
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“The Damsel of the Dungeon has emotional issues,” one of the nearby Doms tells me in a quiet whisper. “She’s sweet, lovely to play with, a willing participant, but she doesn’t do aftercare. Never has.”
“How can she be allowed to keep playing if she doesn’t take care of herself?” I ask, but the Dom just shrugs, and I look helplessly at Tony.
“What’s going to happen to the asshole who was playing with her?” Tony asks.
“There are cameras,” the Dom points to a couple of cameras in the ceiling. “And even though we couldn’t hear what they were saying, it’s all captured on camera for cases just like this. The owner is a badass who isn’t going to tolerate that guy’s bullshit. His membership is going to be terminated immediately and if he tries to stir up trouble for the club, he’ll be sued. Hardcore. There are enough lawyers who play here to make that guy’s life a miserable one.”
Tony and I exchange looks. I’ve only been here twice, but I’d go to bat for the club, absolutely. No questions asked.
“What do you say we call it a night?” Tony asks. “After all of that, I’m not really in the mood to watch anything else.”
“Yeah,” I say, but I can’t stop thinking about Christina.
I can’t stop thinking about her tears.
