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Ivy sighed. She knew Penny was right. The woman who sat holding her hands was fierce, confident, all the things Ivy wished she could be. With Penny or Becca next to her, she felt strong, like she could stand up to Battle-axe Barbie and come out on top. But the second she stepped away, she lost the confidence their presence gave. She was grateful both of these amazing women would be beside her at her wedding. They would be her shield, deflecting anything her soon-to-be mother-in-law would assault her with. And she knew that woman would do anything she could to ruin the day. Just like she’d said, Miles marrying her would ruin their family name. He deserved better. The thing was, she loved him. It took her a long time to realise it wasn’t her place to tell him what he did or didn’t deserve. That was his choice to make, and for some inexplicable reason, he’d chosen her.
“Hey, if you’ve got a minute, I want to show you something.” Ivy knew it was an abrupt change of conversation, but she couldn’t talk about this anymore. Her nerves were raw. She needed to focus on something else and there were only a few other things she could focus on right now outside of the wedding.
“Sure.”
Grabbing her backpack, Ivy’s fingers skimmed over her wedding binder before removing a red plastic folder that came almost everywhere with her. Unlike her wedding plans, this was just a red sleeve, stuffed full held closed with elastic bands after the press stud fasten gave up the ghost.
“Oh my God, is this what I think it is?” Penny’s eyes lit up. Ivy had spent so much time talking with her about this project that she never expected the little red folder to summon such enthusiasm.
“It is.” Ivy matched the smile with one of her own.
“Have you found a location?”
“I’ve a few viewings lined up. But I want to make sure you think it’s—”
“Ivy, this is fantastic!” Penny had already dived in, flipping through the papers, and opening the floor plan ideas. Ivy had everything in there, from lesson plans and layouts, to equipment lists, training schedules, and even plans to have rooms where people could stay on-site. “There’s so much potential. Is this your list of trainers?”
“They’ll need more vetting first, but, yes. I wondered if you and Devon may like guest slots.”
“Ivy, we’d like more than that. We’d like to be investors. What you’re trying to do here is amazing.” Penny’s eyes were positively alight with excitement as she turned page after page of one of the tatty notebooks, unable to tear herself away. While Ivy sat in silence, trying to decide if she’d really just heard Penny right. They wanted to be investors?
After her ordeal was made public, people in the fetish community had rallied around her, recognising the injuries for what they were, offering support. She’d found those in the scene to be a tightly-knit community, but until then she’d never known how tight or how protective they were of their own.
When she’d discussed opening a training school, a place where both Doms and Subs could go to learn skills and how to play safe, she had been met with nothing but positivity.
She hadn’t even found a location yet, but already master riggers, and impact play experts had approached her, offering to host workshops. And they weren’t just local people, either. Overseas professionals had contacted her with enquires about guest spots. She’d been worried she’d offend people, instead, she was rewarded by even experienced Doms and Subs saying there’s always something to learn, and people asking when booking slots would be open.
Ivy herself had been taking online counselling lessons. She knew there’d be people who could benefit from her experience, those who may be open to talking to another survivor. That was why there was another part to her project. Alongside the training school, she planned to open a shelter for abuse survivors. A safe place for men and women to shelter while they tried to get their lives and themselves back on track.
This was easier than the training school. With Miles’ help, she’d already purchased a small apartment block, which she had allocated a portion of her father’s estate to fund. Renovations were in place to bring the abandoned building up to code, and create a secure segregation between tenants. She’d approached several charities, and with her name being synonymous with abuse since her story had been leaked to the press, she’d even secured a promise of support once she was up and running.
After everything that happened with her owner, even after she regained her sense of self, Ivy had felt lost, separated from the world like a huge wedge had created a chasm between her and everyone else. She was hoping to help others bridge that gap.
Owner had blacklisted her name to all potential employers, and his death didn’t remove that tarring. No one would hire her, although after the story broke about her engagement and abduction, a few offers had come through, likely from people who wanted to hear things first-hand or sell more information to the media. She just didn’t know who to trust, and who only sought to exploit her.
She had felt useless. She had thrived on working, sunk herself into a thankless job yet loved every frustrating second as she excelled. She missed that. She loved gaming, but even that could only hold her focus for so long. She didn’t want to be the kind of person who sat around, waiting for her partner to come home. She wanted to be out there, doing something, making a difference in some way.
She was listening to Miles one night, telling her how Devon had spent hours upon hours of his time teaching him to do things safely, when the thought had come to her. She’d got her MBA, so maybe it was time to start putting some of the knowledge and some of her experience relating to the difference between BDSM and someone using the tools for abuse to good use.
She knew there were loads of fake Doms out there, dangerous ones, and Subs could have as many red flags. If there was a place where people could go to learn or hone their skills, or even just to escape, then wasn’t that something worth doing?
She didn’t remember feeling this excited about a project ever. It just seemed right, like a calling, and everyone she discussed it with thought it was a brilliant idea. Everyone had suggestions, from ways to vet clients, to workshops. It was going to be amazing.
She’d never admit this to Miles, but since his mother had taken over the wedding, and was changing everything to meetherdesires, she’d found herself more excited about this than the wedding. She wanted nothing more than to be married to him. She loved him beyond death. His image, his love, had saved her, kept her going when she wanted to quit. But she only wanted him. She didn’t need the trappings and trimmings.
Penny had spread out the roughly sketched room plans, blueprints, schedules, and calendars across the table. Ivy had sunk hours into everything. She’d thought of every detail her mind could conjure, drawing inspiration from events she’d attended, conversations she’d shared, and fantasies she’d harboured. She wanted this to be the best damn school and event venue the kink world had seen.
Finger snacks appeared on the table, as Penny and Ivy chatted about ideas and brainstormed, both women losing themselves in chatter and ideas as snacks disappeared and one open bottle of wine became two.
“Did you mean it, about wanting to be investors?” Ivy asked finally, taking a slice of cheese from the platter the two of them had prepared. Switching her wine out for water since the slight tingling of her nose warned her she was but a few sips away from tipsy.
“Of course.”
“Well, how about partners instead?”
“Are you serious? This is your baby.” Excitement mingled with disbelief as Penny’s eyes grew wide.
“It’s so much bigger than me. I mean, you don’t have to meet my share or anything, but you and Devon have so much knowledge and wisdom to bring to the table. If it’s something you’d be interested in, I’d be honoured to have you as partners.”
