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The look he shared with Atticus held no censure, so he told the truth. “Her father is a religious fanatic who beat her with his belt. And then she had the misfortune of finding a Dom who was more of a charlatan than a true Dominant, who broke her with a cane.”
Behind the tears, her eyes hardened to blue steel. “Assholes.”
He was tempted to remind her that dirty mouths received a certain punishment, but his balls were still pulsing with pain. “Indeed. We’ve thrown a lot at her in a short period of time, so there’s a lot of issues we need to work through.”
Elias already had some ideas in how to do that, and was beginning to think Avalon was the place in which to set things in motion.
While he hadn’t accompanied Evander to the rebuild site often—he’d been back at the hotel organizing several new projects in his boss’ stead—Evander swore the club offered everything the BDSM community depended on.
Safety, acceptance, experience, friendship, trust.
Building something like it was why Serenity was coming to life.
“Connie could help,” Alicia suggested.
“She could, but sometimes a person needs to ask for help before you throw them at a professional, princess.”
She snorted and cuddled into his side. “How many of our friends have been shanghaied into sitting down with her for a chat without asking them first?”
“More than one.”
“Eli.”
He turned, saw Evander jerk his head. “Excuse me.”
For the most part, he concealed his limp as he walked across to the people he hoped were becoming his family.
Evander pried Callie away from him and transferred her into Eli’s arms. “She needs both her Daddies.”
Her limpet grip attached to him, plastering her half-naked body tightly to his front. Shaking, keening under her breath, it was a wonder she didn’t crawl inside him.
Instinctively, he swayed from side to side, holding her secure. If this was an intrinsic part of the Daddy regime, he was all for it.
There was something fulfilling about just having her in his arms. No sex, no other motive than offering comfort and receiving some in return.
“I’m so sorry.”
“You’d be sorrier if there was lasting damage. Lucky for you, my dick is made of stronger stuff.” He rubbed his nose into her hair. “The belt made you mad, little minx.”
She shuddered. “He was going to hurt her.”
“With punishment comes pain, you know that. Be it physical or emotional, there’s always a price to pay when rules are broken.” He sighed, meeting Evander’s dark eyes. “What’s a key rule of the lifestyle, Callie?”
“Don’t use belts?”
“Some subs love the belt, and the cane.” The next shudder rippled into him, strong and fearful. “Hurt, not harm. A Dom can do anything within a sub’s limits so long as he doesn’t cause harm. Do you understand the difference?”
She hesitated, then nodded against his shoulder. “Yes, Daddy Eli.”
“Good girl. When we go to the club here, we’ll teach you exactly what that means so you don’t forget it in a hurry.”
A soft, miserable sob. “Punishment?”
“No, little minx. We won’t reprimand you for things done through fear. That would be decidedly unfair.” He shifted her until he could see her face, blotchy and tear-streaked. “Consider it a lesson; the first of many. A lesson in trust.”
“I’m not showing my face to anyone here ever again,” she mumbled. “Not after this.”
“Yes, you are. You’re going to apologize to Atticus, and move on without shame or embarrassment.”
