Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
To Paula’s disappointment, James and Laura had left the club, but Henry had moved behind the bar and was talking with a Black woman and Chris.
Lincoln was sitting at a barstool with a glass of clear liquid in front of him and smiled in greeting.
It was disturbing to see the legal shark in nothing but leather boxers with a harness encasing his torso.
She fixed her eyes on his face, determined not to let them wander over his body.
“Permission, Sir?” Lincoln asked Jackson as they approached, and Jackson nodded. What was that about?
Lincoln got up, took her hand and kissed it. “Hello, Paula, so nice to see you here. I’m sorry I didn’t greet you before. When I’m on my knees, my Master takes care of everything,” he explained in his courtroom voice. “What’s your impression of Club Indigo so far?”
She looked over to Jackson, who inclined his head at her. “You may answer him.”
“Sir! Yes, Sir.”
She came to attention but before she could salute, a stinging swat came down on her ass as Jackson turned her toward Lincoln.
“It’s not only the words you use, but your tone of voice as well.
” He pulled her close and bit down on her earlobe long enough that she froze.
After holding on for another moment, he let go.
“You’re allowed to talk with Lincoln. You’re going to answer his questions with either an honest answer or you tell him you’re not comfortable responding.
I’m going to sit next to you.” With that, he steered both her and Lincoln back to the barstools.
Lincoln smiled and prompted, “So, what do you think of the club?”
“Er, it’s… different. Interesting. It’s a lot to take in.”
He nodded his understanding.
“It isn’t what I expected. I thought there would be whips and chains.
Pain and humiliation. Everyone in black leather.
I thought BDSM was about hurting women.” Shame washed over her.
Had she been so full of stereotypes she’d ignored the evidence of her own eyes?
“I guess I didn’t understand.” She sighed. “I still don’t understand.”
Lincoln patted her hand and gave a genuine smile that made the lines beside his eyes crinkle.
“What you need to know is that everything that happens in this club is consensual. Even if something happens that makes your skin crawl, you have to remember the sub has the ultimate power to begin and end a scene.”
That surprised her, and she frowned. “Okay, starting a scene I understand, but isn’t the Dom in charge after that and the one who ends the scene?”
“Oh yes, he—or she—is, but a sub always has a safeword.” Lincoln settled in, his expression serious. “When a safeword is used, the scene ends, whether the Top is ready or not. Even in a 24/7 TPE relationship like Henry and I have, I still have a safeword.”
Before Paula could ask him what he meant, Henry’s voice behind him startled the both. “And he will use it when in mental or physical distress.”
Lincoln turned abruptly toward his Dom and tipped over his glass in the process. Henry shot out his hands, took Lincoln’s nipples between thumb and forefinger, and turned the flat discs until Lincoln went on his tiptoes and their faces were close together.
“Do you think I have a need to clean the bar? Don’t you think I’m busy enough manning the damn thing?” Henry said in a low tone.
“No, Sir. Sorry, Master. I’ll be more careful,” Lincoln squeaked.
Henry let go of his nipples and took Lincoln’s chin in his hand to place a kiss on his mouth. “Thought so.” He used the dishtowel from his shoulder to mop up the mess and gave Lincoln a new glass of water.
Henry smiled at Paula, and she couldn’t hide her scowl. Before she could give him a dressing down for his abuse, he tenderly touched Lincoln’s face. “Did you want to safeword?”
Lincoln was radiant. “Safeword, Master? More like come on the spot.”
Paula’s mouth dropped open. “W—what?”
“I’m a masochist as well as a submissive. I get off on both dominance and pain. I also like a bit of humiliation in the mix. So what you just witnessed was very hot, and if not for the damn chastity cage Master made me wear tonight I could be pounding nails with my dick.”
“Oh, okay.”
Jackson hugged her from behind and placed a kiss on her shoulder. “All people are different and like various things. I can’t wait to discover the things you like.”
She relaxed against him. She liked the physical connection he had established and maintained all evening. His touch wasn’t overtly sexual all the time but nevertheless made her feel sexy and alive.
“Do you have questions you want to ask Lincoln?”
She took a moment to think and remembered what Lincoln had said earlier. “You mentioned something about your relationship before that I didn’t understand. 24/7…” She could not remember the rest.
“24/7 TPE,” Lincoln repeated. “Total Power Exchange. It’s deep D/s dynamics. Some couples still use the Dominant/submissive labels, but most go further. Henry is my Master, and I am his slave.”
“Slave?” Paula exclaimed, horrified.
Jackson squeezed her shoulder. “Relax, nothing to do with slavery. He has a safeword, remember?”
Lincoln nodded. “Actually, I’m called the slave, but I often think I get more out of our relationship than I ever have to offer him.”
“You mustn’t think like that, Lincoln, you know better,” Jackson said sternly. “To have a person rely one hundred percent on you is very rewarding. It gives us a feeling of control we might not always feel in our professional lives. It’s wonderfully balanced between a Master and a slave.”
This sounded appealing to Paula, his passion tugging at her in a way she couldn’t decipher. The rational part of her mind wondered if he had somehow hypnotized her.
His grin big, Henry sidled up to them and slapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Spoken like a true Master.”
As Henry’s words sank in, Paula felt like the time she had faced a drugged-out suspect waving a gun in her face her first week on the force.
Jackson was into this lifestyle way deeper than she’d assumed.
Realization hit her that she might be in over her head and without a partner to save her ass this time.
Jackson saw how Paula paled at Henry calling him Master. Damn it, she wasn’t ready to know that.
Hell, I’m not ready for her to know it.
He had wanted to ease her into it. He had intended to start with a lightweight contract. They could go deeper when she was ready, if she ever would be. Right now, he needed to do some damage control and try to repair the fragile bond of trust they’d built.
Paula glanced rapidly between Jackson and the exit. To have her run off in fear now would be his worst-case scenario. She would likely never return to the club or consider exploring their attraction.
“Paula, breathe.” He invaded her personal space.
The need to soothe her fear and the desire to push her boundaries so she would stop thinking warred within him. He had no rights to her yet, but the need to have her tied to him with a contract was so palpable, he swore he could taste it.
He took Paula by the hand and guided her to a nearby cluster of chairs. “Sit down, sweetheart, you’re so pale you might faint.”
The usually self-aware, controlled woman followed his command. Jackson didn’t know if she was numb from shock or reacting to him as a Dom like the innate submissive she was, but he was dying to find out.
“Paula, what just happened?” He managed to make his question kind and low without giving away how important her answer was to him.
She looked up at him, her normal cool demeanor gone, leaving a pure vulnerability that hit him like a blow to his solar plexus. “Y—you’re a M—Master? You keep s—slaves?”
“I don’t ‘keep’ slaves, as if I owned someone, but yes, I had a collared slave for almost two years. I uncollared Monica when she moved to Boston eight months ago.”
“What does that mean? Laura is collared. Is she James’ slave, too?” Paula asked.
“Not really, although the dynamic between Laura and James may be a little deeper than just BDSM in the bedroom,” Jackson replied. “A collar means different things to different couples. Each defines their own relationship, just like vanillas do. That’s what the contract is for.”
“How so?” Some of the color had returned on her cheeks.
“Hmm.” Jackson considered his answer. How could he explain it to her so she could understand? “When vanilla couples start living together, they have a lot to learn, right?”
She nodded, but he couldn’t tell if that was to encourage him to go on or if she agreed with his assessment.
“They have to get used to each other’s habits, decide who will do which tasks, and a host of other things.”
“Tasks?”
“Yeah, you know, like grocery shopping, cooking, doing the dishes, cleaning, and doing laundry.”
“Yeah, right. The ‘woman’ tasks in the household.” She emphasized her sarcasm with air quotes. “So a Master puts that neatly in a contract and everything is hunky-dory.”
Fuck, what kind of asshole had her ex been?
“No, that’s not what a contract is about. I’m not hiring a housekeeper or a maid.”
“No?” She sounded incredulous.
“Paula…” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going so badly. Why couldn’t she understand the beauty of it? He raised his voice. “Henry, can you join us for a moment?”
Henry came over from the bar right away, and Jackson watched as Paula crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away from him.
Henry took one of the vacant chairs and waited for Jackson to direct the conversation.
Paula might not be his sub, but she was his guest, and as such he acted as her Dom tonight.
Jackson appreciated being surrounded by people who were knowledgeable about the lifestyle and didn’t stumble around blindly.
“Henry, would you please explain to Paula the basics of your contract with Lincoln?”
A puzzled look marred Henry’s beautiful features, but he replied, “Of course.” He turned toward Paula.
“Every contract is different because every couple is unique. Without going into details about the arrangement between Lincoln and me, I’ll explain the part that’s basically in every BDSM contract.
” He stroked his goatee. “Every contract defines the balance between what a Dom will provide and take and what a sub will receive and give.”
Paula shook her head. “Sounds nice as a concept, but I don’t get it. How can there be a balance if somebody in the relationship is a slave?”
“The way you say the word slave, I see that it upsets you. Why is that?” Henry asked. As a cop, Jackson might not always like lawyers, but he admired Henry at that moment.
“I’ve worked on two human-trafficking cases. The word is offensive to me, and I can’t change that.” She spat the words. “Slavery is wrong. People shouldn’t be owned or sold or forced to work or have sex against their will.”
Henry didn’t react to her outburst, and Jackson hoped he hadn’t either, but her reaction felt like a punch to the gut.
Does she really think I would force a woman to have sex with me?
“You’re absolutely right, and that’s not what a Master/slave relationship is about.
” Henry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.
“If you would think calmly for a moment, I think you would understand. I know there’s slavery even in this day and age, and I think it’s despicable.
However, a BDSM slave isn’t a possession.
The word merely indicates a deep submission.
I cherish Lincoln, as all Masters and Mistresses should cherish their slaves. ”
Henry’s gaze moved to Lincoln, and the submissive male inclined his head in acknowledgment of his Master.
Henry continued. “As you can see Lincoln is attuned to me, as I am to him—at least I try to be. Our roles and responsibilities might be different, but our dedication to each other is very much the same.”
Paula’s features softened, her whole posture becoming more relaxed, and Jackson thanked Henry.
“Thank you for explaining it to me, Henry. I appreciate it,” Paula said.
Paula had forgotten her role as a submissive, but Jackson realized now was not the time or place to call her on it.