How Cassie Got Her Grind Back (35 page)

As they walked toward the VIP seating area, Bunny held up a hand and ticked off one finger. “Joseph can’t take control of me unless I allow it, meaning that I submitted to his silence edict.” She ticked off another finger. “I love seeing the sadistic bastard enjoying himself while torturing me, and, yes, it is torture, even though it’s with pleasure. I could take off this damned motherfucking toy any time I wanted, but I won’t because it cranks his tractor to have me at his mercy.”

“But aren’t you worried he’d take the torture to the next level?”

“You mean to punish me with pain? He could, but he won’t.”

“Why not?”

Bunny stopped her and said, “Because this is supposed to be mutually enjoyable for both of us. I’d trust him if he put me in a stock or bound me to a table—although I hate that exam table. It makes me feel so vulnerable.” The hint of a smile twitched on her lips. “But even then, I trust him. He’s never harmed me.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Bunny said with confidence. “Everything we do is safe, sane, and consensual. End of story. Come on. Samson needs to hear this from your lips before that…that… I can’t even think of a good description for her. Before Jillian pays Samson his visit. I can’t wait to see Samson’s face.”

“Well, shit,” Samson muttered when he saw Cassie’s grim expression.

“I recognize the avenging angel light in my wife’s eyes,” Joseph said as they watched the women approach.

The lights played on Cassie’s serious face, and Samson stood as she returned to the seating area. “What’s the matter?”

Bunny returned to her cushion beside Joseph’s chair, and Cassie stood before him, her back ramrod straight and her jaw firmed. She met his gaze and said, “Before I tell you, I want to apologize if I’ve overstepped the boundaries.”

“Which boundaries would those be, Cassandra?” Samson asked, noting the goose flesh that shimmered over her forearms at the use of her full name.

“I invited an acquaintance of yours to join us here.” She went on to explain the conversation she’d shared with Jillian. Samson had been of a mind to let Jillian’s earlier infractions slide, even the lying, hoping she’d gotten what she’d needed from Brandon. The Master was an expert in impact play. His skills were sought after by many of the club submissives, and he was even adored by a few.

Manipulation was a human behavior, and people employed it for good or ill in all aspects of human relationships. He’d been willing to make allowances for human feelings and frailties. He hadn’t thought they’d had much of a connection, but there evidently had been on Jillian’s part if she’d been willing to go to such lengths to get Cassie out of the way.

Jillian hadn’t had a hope in hell of filling the void in his existence when they’d played together once earlier in the year. And now that the place in his heart was filled with the one it had been created for in the first place, whether Cassie ever submitted to him or not, it was time to declare to one and all that she was his.

He was also righteously pissed off on Cassie’s behalf for all the insults leveled at her, as well as the additional lies Jillian had spoken about him. Shae had shared exactly what she’d heard Jillian say to Cassie, and Cassie had corroborated her almost word for word. If confirmation had been needed for what had been said, he had it.

Joseph toyed with his lip as he listened along and Samson knew there would be a phone call to Hector in the near future. Jillian was a poor reflection on him and Juno, and he needed to know. He sighed and met Samson’s gaze and nodded.

“Club guests, especially submissives, deserve to feel safe within the walls of Hazelle House. I’m sorry, Cassie,” Joseph said.

“No apology is needed, Sir. And I’m used to dealing with manipulators.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Cassie, but within Hazelle House, I don’t tolerate liars or manipulation, especially not over such a simple thing as not getting her way. Samson, I’ll allow you to handle this in the manner you see fit.” He nodded in the direction of the main entrance. “Your brother has arrived.”

Thinking on his feet, Samson took Cassie’s upper arms and said, “Have a seat in my spot.”

“You don’t want me to kneel?” she asked, a trace of amusement in her eyes. The fact that she saw any humor in the situation was reassuring.

“No. Why?” he said and then lowered his tone. “Would you if that was what I wanted?”

She nodded without a trace of hesitation. “My knees would sound like Rice Krispies as I went down, and I’d probably need your help getting back up, but I’d do it if it’s what you want.”

He nodded once. “Shoes off and kneel in my chair. That would make me happy. I’ll be right back.”

Ivan was scanning the room searching for him. Because he knew his brother’s face better than his own, he noticed his slightly widened eyes as he caught sight of the play areas across the club—and the bounce of his eyebrows as he reacted and just as quickly hid it.

“You’re a little hairy for me to refer to you as Dorothy, but you look as if you’ve realized you’re no longer in Kansas.”

Ivan turned at his voice and laughed along with him. With an encompassing gesture at the room, he said, “This is not what I’d expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Not the monolithic structure this place resembles from the outside, certainly not the high-end architecture and attention to details in the interior. I suppose I was thinking urban gothic, all painted black, with the scent of pain and sex heavy in the air.”

Samson nearly choked in his laughter. “You sure you didn’t miss your career as a writer? All I smell is herbal disinfectant and Tiger Balm, with just a wispy top note of angst. Come on. Cassie is waiting for us with Joseph and Bunny. We have a situation I need to apprise you of first, though.”

They stepped into the entry hall, and he explained and enlisted Ivan’s complicity.

Shae, Randall, and Mona had joined their group by that time. Shae looked nervous to be seated in the VIP section, but her presence might be necessary. Samson was glad she’d felt comfortable enough with him to come forward and tell them what had been said to Cassie in the ladies’ room.

Cassie smiled up at him, rising from where she knelt in his chair with her hands folded in her lap. “Sir,” she murmured as he tipped up her chin and kissed her. After greeting Ivan with an embrace and a warm kiss, she turned away, and he knew what she was doing before she got very far.

“No,” he said, halting her when she bent to kneel beside his chair. “For this, I want you in my lap.”

Bunny smiled at her and tipped her head toward Samson, and when she looked Samson’s way, he winked at her.
Good girl.
Considering how challenging and sassy Bunny was, she had turned out to be the dream submissive for his close friend.

Joseph nudged him after he’d directed Ivan to the seat nearest his and pointed to the club floor, where the troublemaking submissive walked, dressed in high heels and nothing more, through the seating areas, which were now filling up with club goers conversing. Jillian was regal as a queen, purposely drawing attention as she headed toward the VIP section.

“Oh,
look at me, look at me
,” Bunny quipped with jazz hands and rolling eyes. A raspy, disembodied chuckle met Samson’s ears. Joseph lifted the ball gag he held in one hand, his phone in the other, and she grimaced and made a lips-locked-throwing-the-key-over-my-shoulder gesture, and he nodded.

Jillian didn’t pause and kneel at the bottom step with eyes averted, waiting to be noticed. No. She walked right up the steps to the edge of the group of seats. Bunny’s jaw dropped, but she wisely said nothing as Jillian stood there. In his peripheral vision, Samson noticed Cassie kept her eyes on him.

“Have you forgotten yourself, sub?” Samson asked as he stroked Cassie’s luscious hip. Jillian’s gaze rested on Cassie far too long before she frowned and finally kneeled down. He’d give Jillian that much. She was smooth as butter in all the outward signs of submission, when she remembered them, which should’ve been always, considering how long she’d been in the lifestyle.

“Sir,” she murmured as she bowed her head and assumed the correct posture. No tinge of color signifying embarrassment at her gaffe graced her cheeks. She was utterly cold. “It’s good to see you again, Sir.”

She shot a quick glance Ivan’s way, her brows arching slightly, and Samson noticed her inch just a little closer to them both on her knees. Ivan sat silent as stone, resting his chin on his fingers, probably attempting to hide a smirk.

“Doms are always interested to hear how they’re perceived. I understand I have ‘horrifically rough edges’?”

Jillian cast a quick glance around the seating area, looking not quite as poised, before dropping her gaze. “Yes, Sir, you do.” Fair enough, but he’d be willing to let Cassie—and only Cassie—rub some of those rough edges off if she wanted to. He caught the look when Jillian shifted her gaze to Ivan again. Goose flesh rose on her forearms.

Playing along with her obvious interest, Samson gestured to his twin. “This is my brother, Ivan. You may have heard of him.” Smiling, he decided to jack with Ivan a bit. “He’s well known in his circles for his expert use of a knife.”

“
Really
?” She dragged the syllables out, and Ivan cast a murderous glance his way as she purred, “I’m pleased to meet you, Master Ivan.”

Samson didn’t even care that she’d offered the higher form address to Ivan. He knew what Hector, who was a stickler for forms of address, would think of such an infraction. “Jillian, did you enjoy Master Brandon’s attention?”

She blinked her eyes, giving him a limpid gaze. “My time with Brandon was fine. He was not my first choice, though. The caning was all right, but I think he needs a few more lessons with the whip. I was led to believe by your…
guest
that you would welcome my attention up here.” She glanced at Cassie, quirking her eyebrow haughtily. A subtle shift in the energy of the nearby Doms didn’t escape his notice.

“I understand you told
Master
Joseph that I’d indicated I would scene with you if you visited again. Is this true?”

Jillian stilled, calculating. “Well, Sir…Master Samson, I mean…”

“Come now, Jillian,” Joseph said as he sat forward. “Did you not tell me that he assured you he’d love to play with you again anytime? I recall those were your words.”

Jillian squirmed a bit, but Samson cut her off as she opened her mouth to equivocate.

“Even if I overlooked that fib, I understand you insinuated to a club guest that, through my attentions, I might put a sub in the ER,” Samson said, feeling as if his chest was expanding as he growled in affront.

Joseph’s disgust was mirrored his tone as he said, “That is a slanderous accusation implying actual harm, Jillian.”

Jillian’s jaw dropped as she looked between them. “I never implied that! I would never say a horrible thing!”

Joseph looked across the group at the diminutive sub trying unsuccessfully to hide behind Mona. “Shae?”

“Yes, Sir?” she said, unfolding herself and inching forward from her spot.

“What did you hear her say?”

“In the ladies’ room, she told Cassie that Samson’s attentions would probably put someone soft and vanilla like her into the ER.” Shae glanced at Jillian, and a frown of disgruntlement knit her soft brown eyebrows. “Master Samson?” she added in her genteel southern accent.

“You may speak up, Shae.”

“You would
never
do something so horrible. You might tan a sub’s hide for them, and you might scare the crap out of me every so often with that growly tone you use, but none—and I do mean
none
—of the other subs would ever be afraid that you’d put one of us in the hospital. And Cassie shouldn’t worry, either. You might be a sadist, but you’re still a gentleman.” With a nod, she backed into her spot, having said her piece with eloquence.

“Thank you, Shae. I appreciate that, and I’m sure Master Joseph appreciates your protectiveness of the Hazelle House Doms and sadists. You can rest assured they will all want to thank you in their own way for such loyalty.” He took sadistic enjoyment as Shae’s eyes bulged and her cheeks turned red as a beet.

“What have you to say, Jillian?” Joseph asked.

Finally letting out an irritated-sounding sigh, Jillian nodded. “I said that to her because I believed it to be true. She’s soft and overweight. In my opinion, she couldn’t handle what you can dish out. And it’s been several months since the last time I was here when you used your whip on me. I could barely walk afterward.” She shot Cassie a nasty smile. “Perhaps that might be why I didn’t remember the invitation clearly. When we parted, I was still in need of aftercare and in subspace.”

A distant, muffled voice, sounding disgruntled, said, “You parted with a nod, having refused to allow Samson to give you after care when he offered, and you never hit subspace, Jillian. You were relaxed from the play session, yes, but you were stone cold when you walked away.”

Jillian startled at the voice. “Master Hector?” Her voice had a slight break in it as she stared at Joseph and then noticed he held his phone in his hand. He turned it so she could see Hector’s rather irate face.