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She would forget for hours at a time that Beau hadn’t found her worthy of pursuing outside the terms of their very limited training contract. She refused to wonder if he was also on campus at the moment. She didn’t obsessively check her cell just in case he’d had a change of heart. She didn’t send long, agonized texts to Lucia or anyone else about how difficult it was to keep the shattered bits of her heart from piercing her resolve to stay strong.
Lucia, good friend that she was, did check in with her several times over the course of the week. Each time, Lia assured her she was fine. It was Beau’s loss if he couldn’t see past their training relationship to something bigger. Who needed him? Not her.
So what if she burst into tears after ending each call? It was just a release valve, nothing more.
She returned to The Garden on Wednesday, eager for the distraction to get her through another evening. She stopped by her hair stylist for a touch up on her cotton-candy pink hair and groomed herself carefully before dressing for the evening.
After trying and discarding all her scene wear at least once, she finally settled on her favorite black leather bustier and miniskirt. She texted Beau a dozen times, wisely deleting each text before she could hitsend.
What if he was there?
What if he wasn’t?
Her heart pounded as she entered the familiar club. Unable to help herself, she immediately scanned the space for any sign of a tall, handsome Rhett Butler Dom withKinbakuropes in his hands.
No sign of him.
Yet.
Hope is the lottery ticket with “better luck next time” printed on it.
She did run into Kevin, a forty-something scene partner she’d enjoyed intensive impact play with a time or two in the past. Eager for the release and distraction of erotic pain, she agreed to a caning.
They found an empty station with a St. Andrew’s cross. While Lia unzipped and slipped off her miniskirt, Kevin took out a long, strappy cane from his gear bag. She leaned into the cross with a sigh as he strapped her wrists and ankles in place.
He started slowly, lightly tapping her ass with the side of the cane. “You need a good caning, don’t you, naughty girl? You’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
Fuck. She’d forgotten his tendency to prattle.
“Yeah. I need it.”
“Say please.”
She bit back a sigh. “Please.”
A welcome sear of white-hot pain ignited over both ass cheeks.
Yes. More.
“How was that? Good, huh? Daddy Kevin knows just what his naughty girl needs.”
Don’t talk. Just do it.
“More, please,” she managed.
But instead of obliging her with the biting kiss of the cane, his fingers, rough and calloused, moved over her ass. He cupped her ass cheeks as he leaned close, his breath hot on the back of her neck.
“Ask me properly, little girl. Say, ‘Please, Daddy. May I have another?’”
Oh, for god’s sake. She didn’t recall this guy as having a Daddy fixation. All she wanted was a good, hard caning—something to take her totally out of herself.
She twisted back to regard her scene partner. “Look, Kevin. Er, Daddy. Please. Just give me a good, hard caning. I’m begging you.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear,” he replied. “My little girl is begging her big Daddy for what she needs.”
He moved closer and reached for her hair. Grabbing a handful, he used it to yank her head back. “You want it hard, huh? Say, ‘I want it hard, Daddy. Please spank me, Daddy. Give it to me good.’”
It felt like he was yanking her hair out by the roots. As much to make him let go as to get what she needed, she parroted the stilted words.
