Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Paula hadn’t been this nervous before, not even when taking the detective’s exam.
She shifted uncomfortably, too restless to stay still beside Jackson, but well aware of how she pleased him showing her submission by kneeling beside him.
At his house it helped her get into the zone, but here?
Exposed in Club Indigo for the first time—as his sub, his Melda—was disconcerting.
Why couldn’t she relax? They were with friends and people who wouldn’t judge. She swallowed and shifted again.
Jackson was chatting with Connor and Henry, Suzie and Lincoln kneeling beside their Doms in silence.
Both were naked, since Paula didn’t think Lincoln’s wrist cuffs, cock ring and leash counted as being dressed.
She was thankful Jackson had given her a baby doll nightie to wear, although he hadn’t deemed it necessary to provide her with underwear.
She was in good shape, but her breasts could do with some support, damn it!
She struggled to keep her hands as Jackson had taught her.
If she could cross her arms, she could at least hide them a bit.
A firm hand tangled with her hair on the back of her head.
Little pinpricks of pain on her skull helped return her focus to the present.
“You worry too much, Melda,” Jackson said.
“That’s my job.” He forced her head to the side and grazed sensual lips over the delicate skin under her ear.
Her eyes drifted closed, and she relaxed in his hold.
She could swear her body temperature had risen ten degrees.
The mix of his harsh hand and soft lips was erotic.
A low chuckle had her opening her eyes, and she took in Henry’s amused regard.
“Looks like she needs some bondage to remember her place.” The handsome man grinned, and Paula realized her hands were no longer behind her back.
She had clutched the fabric of Jackson’s shirt in both hands and was holding on for dear life.
She looked up at Jackson, whose eyes didn’t betray what he was thinking. Jackson maintained eye contact with her but addressed Henry. “You know, I think you’re right about that! She definitely needs something extra to get her out of her head.”
Jackson removed her hands from his shirt and pressed a kiss to them before letting her go.
He rose and ordered. “Follow me, Melda.” Paula engaged her stomach muscles in order to rise gracefully.
The Tai Chi she did every other morning as a part of her contract with Jackson had improved her core strength and balance.
Jackson smiled. “You’re beautiful and strong, and I am so proud of you, Melda.” His praise settled some of her restless energy.
“I want you to know your safewords apply if you need them. Can you repeat them for me?”
“Green to keep going, yellow for slow down or pause, and red to stop everything immediately.” Her answer came without hesitation.
“Good girl,” Jackson praised. “You can also use ten-codes if that feels more natural—whatever comes to mind first. I’m going to push you tonight. Don’t hesitate to use them if needed.”
What was he planning? Pushing boundaries, that meant soft limits, didn’t it? She tried to remember her limit list until a stinging swat burned on her ass cheek. Ouch!
“Stop worrying. You’re not in control. There’s nothing you can do wrong. All you have to concern yourself with is pleasing me and remembering to use your safewords when needed.” His tone was severe, his face serious.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” Jackson was right. At home, she relished ceding control, but here it was somehow different. Paula forced herself to focus on Jackson. She wanted to please him so much.
He studied her for the longest time and seemed satisfied with what he saw because he nodded, and they continued.
Paula followed him, making sure she stayed in touching distance.
Jackson roamed the club, and she was certain there were chambers they visited two or more times.
After a short while, she relaxed in his care, and her vision narrowed to only him.
Following Jackson, pleasing him was her goal.
Finally, he halted at a St. Andrew’s Cross.
“Take off your dress and fold it twice before putting it in my bag. Then take out the black fur-lined wrist and ankle cuffs and bring them to me.”
The tension left her body, and she folded the dress neatly and removed the required items from the bag. Naked except for her delicate golden necklace, she turned to Jackson and sank to her knees. She held up the cuffs on outstretched hands.
“Thank you, Melda.” Jackson took the items from her and pressed kisses to the center of each palm.
“You did very well, and you look beautiful.” She smiled at his compliment.
“Stay still.” He buckled the smaller cuffs around her wrists.
“Color?” he inquired while testing the fit with a finger between her wrist and the fur-covered leather.
“Green, Sir.” Her response came automatically.
“Rise, please, and stand in front of the cross, face to the wall.”
Jackson might have used the word please, but it was an order nevertheless. Apprehension trickled through her. It went against her instinct to turn her back to a public room.
She trusted him, didn’t she? Of course she did!
Paula drew a deep, fortifying breath and positioned herself in front of the cross.
She felt the material of Jackson’s dress shirt against her back as he lifted her right arm and attached the first cuff to the cross.
He trailed his fingers over her arm to her shoulder and continued along the back of her neck.
He lingered over the clasp of the necklace for a moment, and she imagined his face.
Was he happy she wore his collar? Did it make him feel possessive? Wearing it made her feel connected to him. Was it the same for him?
Without her noticing, he’d traveled on to her left arm, which he’d buckled to the cross as well with the snick of its hook. She startled, the sound loud in an otherwise quiet room. It seemed as if they were alone here.
“Because I’m going to push you, I’ve asked Kate to join us tonight. She’ll be helping me monitor your responses.” Jackson sounded casual as he squatted next to her left leg and tapped the inside of her ankle. “Lift.”
Wordlessly, she did as he ordered, and he maneuvered her leg to the side to attach her leg to the cross as well.
Hold on a second. Kate? Paula turned her head, and sure enough, in a throne-like chair off to the side sat the redheaded Domme.
How on earth could she have missed that?
What if she had been a perp with a gun? She’d be dead by now—like ten times over dead!
Kate leaned forward and braced her elbows on her knees. She watched Paula with narrowed eyes and said, “You look panicked. Do you need to use a safeword, Paula?”
Jackson stroked her calf, which soothed and reassured her that he was in control.
Paula shook her head. “No, I was startled that somebody was in the room. I have no problem with you being here with us, Kate.” Her answer ended in a shocked scream as Jackson bit down on the sensitive underside of her left ass cheek. What the ? —
“How do you address a Dominant in the club?” Jackson’s voice was like a bucket of ice water.
How could she have forgotten? “Sorry, Mistress Kate.”
And the woman was a Mistress!
Not Kate in jeans and a hoodie, sitting across from her at a diner, trading stories over stacks of pancakes. Not Kate the casual friend, warm and familiar.
This was Mistress Kate.
Tall and straight-backed, she stood with confidence, her glossy red hair pulled into a severe braid that made her sharp features even more striking.
The leather corset dress sculpted her frame like armor, emphasizing every inch of authority she carried without needing to say a word.
The wickedly spiked platform boots gave her even more height, making her presence feel larger than life.
But this wasn’t about a leather outfit or even about the whip coiled neatly at her hip. It was the command she exuded and the effect it had on Paula.
Kate’s dark red lips curved into something just shy of amusement, as if she could see the exact moment Paula understood the power of the dynamic she’d been circling around, hesitant and unsure.
Being around Dominants made her feel safe and relaxed, without any cares.
“Mistress Kate, would three strokes with an implement of your choosing be sufficient for Paula to atone?” Jackson sounded as though he’d asked Kate if she wanted fries with her hamburger.
So much for being relaxed. The woman was a damn sadist!
Kate’s smile was breathtaking, and she rose to her feet with the grace of a cat and disappeared from Paula’s view.
She couldn’t see Kate unless she craned her neck, and she didn’t think she was supposed to look.
Paula shuddered as Jackson moved his hand to the top of her leg, and she felt him rise as well.
He massaged her buttocks for a while, and Paula had to bite her lip to stifle a moan.
Her butt was sensitive, and he knew how to touch to get her aroused.
All too soon, he moved to her right leg and made quick work of hooking her remaining limb to the cross.
With a final caress, he stepped away to be replaced by a much cooler, smaller and softer hand.
Kate!
“If you don’t want me to punish you for your transgression, you can use ‘red’ now, Paula.”
She chewed a bit on the notion. She didn’t want to be punished, but then she did. She’d broken a club rule and had disappointed her Master. Paula drew a deep breath and exhaled before answering. “Punish me as you see fit, Mistress.”
Soft lips pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Thank you, sub. Your Master can be proud of you.” Kate stepped away, and Paula braced for a blow that didn’t come.