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With a triumphant smile, he let her go. Finally, he delivered a series of sharp, stinging blows that allowed her to forget, for a precious few minutes, what, or rather who, she really wanted.
The Daddy/little girl scenario notwithstanding, Kevin did know his way around a cane. Once upon a time, what he’d given her would have been enough. Now, it only highlighted Master Beau’s missingKinbakuropes, the feel of his hands moving over her skin, the fiery gaze of those forest-green eyes.
Shit. Had Beau ruined her for other Doms?
Friday evening, Lucia called to invite Lia to a dungeon play party. Several friends of Julian’s from London were visiting, and two of them were single Doms, both easy on the eyes and heavily into the scene. Not to mention, it would be a great chance for Lia to unwind after her first week at her new job.
Lia knew she should accept the invitation. What better way to put Beau out of her heart and mind than spending an evening in the fabulous dungeon at The Enclave? And who knew? Maybe one of Julian’s friends would turn out to be her Master Right, and Beau would just end up a tiny footnote in the story of her life.
Annoyingly, she burst into tears yet again, this time before she could get off the phone with Lucia. “I’m afraid he’s ruined me, Lucia,” she managed between sobs. “I’m doing my best to put him out of my head, but the bastard refuses to budge. If I returned to The Enclave right now, I’d see him at every station and compare every scene to one we’d shared.”
“Oh, honey,” Lucia soothed. “I get it. I do. Clearly, there’s unfinished business between the two of you. You’re a courageous submissive, Lia. You proved that by giving the training process another chance. Don’t let fear keep you from acting. You know what I always say…”
Lia laughed through her tears as she supplied the answer. “Don’t quit before the miracle. Yeah, I know. The problem is, Beau’s the one who needs enlightening. He’s the one who left me at my doorstep like he was delivering a fucking package. I’ve spent a week waiting and hoping he might text or call, but I think I’ve been ghosted.”
“Maybe it’s time you took things into your own hands. Sometimes men, even Masters, can be so dense it makes you want to scream.” Lucia chuckled. “It’s funny. Whether you realize it or not, your story parallels mine with Master Anthony in a lot of ways.”
Lia tried to imagine how her pathetic story had anything in common with the passion and devotion between those two. “Oh, yeah?” she said with a disbelieving laugh. “How so?”
“How much do you know about how Master Anthony and I finally got together?”
Lia thought back to what Lucia had shared previously, and the little she’d gleaned during her first aborted training at The Enclave. “I know that you were widowed and that your late husband was friends with Anthony. You had kids young and they were grown and you were at loose ends, and Anthony took you on as a staff slave at The Enclave. And I know it was a while before you connected romantically.”
She couldn’t help but sigh as she added, “But now you two are more in love than anyone I’ve ever known. Definitely no parallelthere.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Lucia said decisively. “The fact is, Master Anthony was just as thickheaded as Beau when it came to matters of the heart. Even when there was some definite chemistry developing between us, so much so that others noticed, he treated me with kid gloves. I was off limits because I was the wife of his friend who had died.
“And here’s the thing, Lia—the thing I want you to understand. I was in love with him for a long time, over ayear, before I finally worked up the courage to let him know. What I’m saying is sometimes we submissives have to take matters into our own hands, even when it goes against our nature. Visualize the change you seek and you’ll find the strength to make it real. If you want Beau to know how you feel—tell him. What he does with it is up to him. But at least you’ll have tried.”
Lucia’s words were like a splash of cold water that jolted Lia out of the waking nightmare of the past week. Since when had she become someone who forgot how to take matters into her own capable hands?
“Oh, my god, Lucia. You’re so right.” She jumped to her feet. “It’s time I pull up my big girl panties and stop acting like a passive, lovesick teenage girl.” She laughed, feeling suddenly giddy with possibilities. “Maybe Emily Dickinson was right after all. ‘Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.’”
“That’s the spirit,” Lucia said with a laugh. “It’s time for you to fly.”
Chapter 24
Should she text first? Should she call?
Better to just show up and confront him, face to face. It would be harder for him to deny what was between them if he didn’t have the buffer of cell phones and distance. If he blew her off, at least she would have tried. As painful as it would be, she would know for sure that her feelings weren’t reciprocated. Then she could begin the process of moving on.
“Visualize the change you seek and you’ll find the strength to make it real.”
Thank goodness for Lucia. Lia felt energized for the first time that week, empowered by the decision to act, whatever the results.
First, what to wear. As she had Tuesday evening, she tried on every scene outfit she owned. She tossed them aside with increasing frustration. Nothing seemed quite right. Maybe she should just show up in a raincoat with nothing underneath. When she got to his apartment, she would drop the coat and kneel naked at his door.
No. Too dramatic. Too risky, too, in a public place. Not to mention, riding her motorcycle wearing nothing but a raincoat wasn’t the wisest decision. She would just wear her usual jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She’d leave off her bra, though. And when she got to his door, she would tweak her nipples to attention beneath the thin cotton of her T-shirt.
She dressed and then regarded herself critically in the full-length mirror. Something was missing…
With sudden inspiration, she thought about theKinbakurope harness she’d discarded when Beau had so unceremoniously dumped her back at her place Friday night. She’d meant to throw it out in her hurt and anger but hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to do so. Instead, she’d shoved the rope into the junk drawer in her kitchenette. Now she retrieved it, along with a pair of scissors.
She laid the soft strips on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the studio, smoothing them flat against the Formica. Made from undyed linen, this rope wasn’t the rich red of her training collar, but it would have to do.
Selecting a longish piece, she cut it to what she thought was the proper length and took it into the bathroom. It took her several fumbling tries, but she finally got it tied into a knot at her throat that satisfied her.
“Yes,” she said softly to her reflection, her body relaxing with satisfaction at the rightness of the collar she had missed so much. “Let’s do this thing now, before you lose your nerve.” Grabbing her jacket and helmet, she headed out the door.
