Chapter Ten
Merrick
He felt her eyes on him all the way across the bar.
His shift started in five minutes and his schedule was damn near full until ten, so he’d dropped Tamsyn off at the VIP tables with Callie, Tabitha, and Sierra, while trying to ignore the desperately pleading glances she kept firing at him.
The women were kind, compassionate, and friendly; he had no qualms about leaving his little owl with them in general. It just felt as though he’d dropped a loyal puppy off at the pound against his will.
Eli and Evander were always talking about the familial aspect they wanted to create in Serenity. They’d modeled it on their experiences at Avalon, the club Jasper and Anarchy belonged to in Phoenix. The same club they’d appropriated Liam from a few months earlier.
So far, the dynamic wasn’t quite as close knit as his bosses hoped.
Callie and Sierra were both Littles—Callie worked long hours writing her books, being a loving wife and adorably cheeky sub/Little for her Daddy Dom husbands; Sierra spent all her time repairing stuffed toys and selling them in the Nursery before fulfilling her duties as wife and sub in her own Daddy-Little marriage.
Tabitha was more complex.
Now Merrick knew who she was and what she did for a living, it was hard to see her as Grit’s submissive, learning the ropes. Honestly, he was pretty floored to imagine a strong woman who took out society’s trash in the way she did submitting to anyone.
Liam wandered down the bar, sliding a bottle of water over to him. “Your girl looks like she wants to cry, Merrick.”
Guilt churned in his belly. “I’m not looking.”
“Don’t blame you. Those eyes can undermine a Dom’s willpower from thirty feet away.” Leaning an elbow on the wood, Liam pinned him with serious gray eyes. “First time you’ve come to work and brought her in with you. Is she staying with the girls all night?”
“If she makes it twenty minutes, I’ll be happy with it. Tossing her in at the deep end and all that shit.” Cracking open the bottle, Merrick took several swallows. “Gonna have my phone with me, Liam. Think you can keep an eye on Tamsyn, let me know if she gets overwhelmed?”
“That goes without saying, but the girls will take care of her.”
“Don’t doubt it. Tamsyn’s go-to defense is running, and she’s smart. If she wants to get away, she’ll find a damn way. I don’t want her on her own tonight, she’s had a rough afternoon.” That was an understatement; her whole fucking life had been one rough ride.
Liam jerked his chin toward the dais where their girls were sat, and the table below it to the right where his husband was working on a laptop. “Mack’s on protection detail for the next hour. Grit won’t be long until his shift ends, and I think Elias said he and Van just had a quick meeting to finish up before they join the party. Plenty of eyes to watch your girl.”
Merrick drank again, grimacing. Maybe this was a bad idea; he should take her with him, but what fun would she have being tucked into a corner while he flogged his client into subspace? He didn’t want to keep her in the shadows, yet his attention needed to be on his job. “Fuck. That’s a lot of testosterone for her to deal with, Liam.”
“Callie invited Violet—she’ll balance out the equation.”
It wasn’t so much the equation he was concerned about. Mack and Grit were pretty laid back unless pushed. Evander was strict but easygoing, although his size added intimidation even when he wasn’t being a hardass.
Elias would be the issue.
Despite the fact he was a nice guy, he tangibly emanated dominance just by breathing. Throw in that edge of sadism and his dark sense of humor, he had the power to send Tamsyn running for the hills if he so much as looked at her wrong.
“Stop fretting, Merrick. I know it’s hard being apart from her after all these weeks of keeping her to yourself, but this will be good for her. The girls are solid, they’ll make sure she feels included and has fun for a few hours. By the time your shift is done, they’ll all be best friends and you’ll wonder why the hell you tortured yourself with worst case scenarios.”
He wished he could believe that. Unfortunately, worst case scenarios dogged Tamsyn’s steps, skipping along hand in hand with trouble.
Checking his watch, he grunted. He needed to be in the dungeon with his head in the game right about now. “Just… if she tries to run, stop her if you can. Failing that, try and herd her back home safely.”
“She will be fine,” Liam told him, enunciating each word with precision.
Merrick polished off the water and handed the bottle back to Liam for recycling. With a sigh, he braced himself and turned to glance at his little owl—a big mistake, apparently, as she hadn’t taken her eyes off him and he met her mournful stare head on.
Yeah, it was time to go to work before he capitulated.
Giving her a nod, a subtle warning to behave herself, and tempering it with a smile, he tapped a hand on the bar in farewell to Liam and forced his feet to move. With every step, it felt as though he was pulling her heart in two; he could feel her watching him leave.
The sensation only deepened as the swing doors thwapped shut behind him when he stepped into the hallway to snag his jacket before heading out into the cold evening for the short walk to the dungeon.
Head in the game, he reminded himself. It took effort to switch his thoughts from Tamsyn to his first client of the evening, a sub named Gayle from Ohio who he’d had the pleasure of topping three times since Serenity’s opening week.
She was a lovely woman who ran her own business and rarely had time to indulge her submissive urges. The club offered her the opportunity to take a few days away for, as she called it, an internal reset. All the perks of a five-star vacation with the added benefit of tending to her submissive side thoroughly and effectively.
The only issue was, she monopolized a lot of his time, often booking daily slots for two or three hours, usually at the beginning of his shift. By the time he reached the end of the session, his back and shoulders were killing him, which left few resources for his next clients.
Tonight, she was booked for two.
He covered the distance to the dungeon quickly, his boots crunching briskly on the gravel path. It always felt like home when his time was requested here; he loved what Evander’s vision for the old barn had become, the design of the huge space, and the atmosphere it produced.
The medical play area was his second favorite, but here… the moment he stepped through the doors into the anteroom and caught the scent of rich leather and polished wood, something clicked inside him, releasing the darker side of his nature.
Stripping off his jacket, he folded it into a locker. Removing his shirt, he added it before he closed it and pocketed the key, patting his back pocket to make sure his phone was within reach.
Stretching out his arms and shoulders, warming up the muscles in his back, he pushed into the dungeon proper and let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
The layout was a bit different in here to the other sections of Serenity. The moment someone entered, they stepped onto a narrow platform that ran around the entirety of the building so voyeurs could watch scenes from above without being at risk of catching a stray lash from a whip or get in the way of some of the more intense activities.
Sturdy railings prevented anyone from plummeting over the edge, and Evander’s sense of inclusivity extended to all his creations with a platform lift for wheelchairs in the corner. For everyone else, a staggered staircase led the way to the heavenly hell below.
Gayle was waiting for him as agreed, kneeling to the left of the stairway. Slim shoulders squared, back straight and bare. Thighs parted wide enough for Merrick to see the gusset of her panties, with her hands lying flat on those wide muscles.
She held her head up slightly, her chin not quite at its lowest point, and she wore a serene expression that told him she’d been waiting a while to get herself into the right mindset. Her long blonde hair was braided in a way that exposed threads of autumnal red through the locks, curling over her shoulder to drape down between her full breasts.
She didn’t want or need the intimacies of a typical dynamic; she prepared herself the way she required, from her hair to the cuffs already hugging her wrists, and he was just fine with that.
Maybe one day she would find a Dominant who shattered all her carefully thought out routines and switched her submission from pleasing herself to satisfying a Dom’s wishes instead; today was not that day, and he was definitely not that Dom.
Merrick walked up to her, then continued past with a simple, “Come.”
Descending the steps like royalty, he checked his watch again and was pleased to see the timer on their two hours was about to begin. Not once did he glance behind him to see if she was at his heels; she had two choices after all, and his role here was simply to abide by the fantasy she’d ordered.
Knowing her preferences, Merrick veered toward the reserved section he’d booked in advance when she bought and paid for the time on his schedule. She enjoyed light pain on her front, but was positively masochistic when it came to taking a hellish punishment down her back.
The wooden suspension frame was handcrafted from fifty-year old oak, beautifully designed and finished. Every inch of it gleamed, from the support struts at either side to the high bar connecting them. Even the wooden feet bolted into the floor were shining as though someone had spent hours with a cloth and polish.
Chains hung from adjustable deadbolts in the wood, exactly where he’d asked Fordham to set them earlier. Even though his friend had kindly organized the scene for him, Merrick took a few minutes to double check every element of the equipment for his own piece of mind.
Satisfied, he finally faced his client, keeping his face deadpan. “Welcome back, Gayle.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She presented herself exactly as she had at the top of the stairs, only standing this time.
Merrick raked his gaze over her, not in appreciation as he had before Tamsyn wandered into his life, but in assessment. As far as he could tell, she seemed in better physical shape than she had a couple months ago; carrying a bit more weight in the right areas, toned up in others. “Remind me of your safeword system, Gayle.”
“Red means too soft. Yellow is I can take harder. Green stands for go to town on me.” Her lips curved because he did this every time. “ Cotton candy is my actual safeword, sir.”
That hadn’t changed, at least. Nodding, he gestured for her to find her mark beneath the chains. One thing he enjoyed about her was the fact she didn’t expect a great deal of conversation from him. “When you’re ready, arms up. Balance yourself with your feet hip-width apart.”
Her hand reached up to toy with the end of her braid as she went through the motion of inhaling slowly, exhaling softly, until her already serene expression deepened. After a couple of minutes, her chin lowered and she drifted forward as though she was at the end of the scene instead of the beginning.
Merrick wondered if Tamsyn might one day be so relaxed within the club. If she’d trust him so explicitly, even more than she did now, that she would obey his every word with calm grace and excitement.
It wasn’t Gayle who occupied his thoughts as his palms stroked along her forearms to capture the cuffs and snap the D-rings to the quick release hooks on the chains. It wasn’t his client holding court in his head as he nudged her feet a little wider apart with his boot.
It sure as fuck wasn’t the trim, fit body of a paying sub he saw when he stepped back to plan the course of the next two hours.
His obsession with Tamsyn was so fucking intense, she was all he damn well saw.
Merrick made sure the cuffs weren’t too tight once Gayle was secure, pleased with her choice of sheepskin-lined restraints. A wise choice, considering her job. Skimming his hands down her sides, he nudged her hips gently—she swayed but kept her balance.
Crossing over to the rack on the wall, softly illuminated by a trio of spotlights, he ran his fingers across the selection of some of his favorite implements. Tawse, crop, the devil’s tail butt plug he’d found on a very interesting website. A chain link flogger, rug beater paddle, along with the usual array of toys this particular client called pedestrian .
Humming under his breath, he chose a rubber handled flogger, testing the grip with a few practice swings. A dozen ten-inch leather falls would warm her skin and wake up the muscles beneath while giving her the first taste of pain she craved.
Way Down We Go by Kaleo started playing through the speakers built in beneath the viewing gallery, just loud enough for the beat to work its way under Merrick’s skin and set his arm into motion. He didn’t need to tap his foot to the beat; the first stroke of the flogger over Gayle’s shoulders was all he required.
The falls connected on every fourth beat, light enough to coax her body into the flow without causing her damage… yet. For the length of the song, he worked her from shoulders to thighs, encouraging the blood to rise beneath her skin and sensitivity to increase.
When the song switched to Three Days Grace’s Animal I Have Become , Merrick upped his game to a heavier flogger designed for additional thud behind his swings. The grunt of exertion she gave him when the knotted tips pattered firmly over her shoulders was sweet as hell.
His own body finally loosened up and let his shoulders utilize their full range of motion. As the music flipped from Disturbed’s God of the Mind into Orgy’s Opticon , his full attention was on the woman in front of him—or more accurately, the canvas he was quickly painting a shade of dark, lush pink.
She was glowing, her skin heated and ready to step things up a notch.
“Red, Master Merrick.”
There was the signal. A remote part of his brain assessed everything from how fast she was breathing to the position of her feet and legs as he exchanged the flogger for a crop. As the music faded in his head until just the beat remained, he used the thick square of leather on the end of the toy to thwack her shoulders, peppering her skin with sharp, fast blows where he couldn’t harm her.
Slowly, he worked his way around her, crossing to the front while maintaining the same rhythmic motion. The leather kissed her upper arms and chest lightly before biting into the flesh of her breasts and snapping at the rigid peaks of her nipples. Down over her flat stomach, the curve of her hips, the meat of her thighs.
She moaned quietly, her face slack with bliss.
Returning to her back, he lashed the crop over her ass, ensuring it landed precisely where he wanted, leaving red lines spaced evenly from the uppermost curve of her buttocks all the way down to where they met her thighs.
Dropping the crop, he moved close and reached up to check her circulation, squeezing her fingers. Finding them warm and flexible, he set his hands on her shoulders, mercilessly dragging his short nails down her tender flesh until she squirmed and shuddered, finishing with a resounding slap of his palms on her ass.
Gayle responded by leaning forward, straining her arms in the chains as she offered her derriere for more.
As far as asses went, it was well-shaped, firm, toned.
It just wasn’t the one he wanted.
After a moment of deliberation, Merrick chose the devil’s tail butt plug next. Three feet of supple black leather braided into a tail that tapered from thick at the plug to a thinner, whippy end topped with a fat triangle of matching leather.
He couldn’t help imagining Tamsyn’s whimpers as he parted her cheeks and pressed the thin steel plug against her rosebud, forcing the metal through her virgin asshole until the muscles swallowed it whole and held it in place.
Because it wasn’t his little owl bound in front of him, he shook the delightful image away and wrapped his hand around the plug instead, taking a step back and snapping the braided leather at the reddened bottom before him.
It cracked the air, wrenching a holy cry of wonder from the sub when it landed. He swung again and again, testing speed and strength until every blow that fell ripped the same joyous noise from Gayle’s mouth.
When her thighs began to shake and her breath came in ragged pants, it wasn’t a surprise to hear her choke out, “Green. Green please, Master Merrick.”
She was ready for the finale, and so was he. His muscles were starting to ache, his chest, back, and shoulders glistening with sweat. Trapped in his jeans, his cock was frustrated by the constant flitting of his brain interposing Tamsyn in Gayle’s place, throbbing with arousal that didn’t belong to the woman who demanded his attention.
The chain link flogger was heavy in his hand. It was meant to be. In the wrong hands, it was a formidable weapon capable of untold damage against soft, vulnerable flesh. The handle was ribbed steel, giving his palm a solid grip, and the long, thin chains clinked together as he twisted his wrist, reacquainting himself with the momentum of their weight.
Starting high, he flicked them against her shoulders, feeling the links thump against her shoulders. Using only his wrist, he battered her upper body carefully, turning her skin red with pattered welts and making her breathing hitch as the pain she needed burned deep.
It was second nature to avoid the areas that might cause her harm. The metal only connected with flesh, not bone, and he was careful not to land the harsh fronds near her spine or kidneys.
When he reached her ass, he stepped back and paused as a strange feeling washed over him. The hairs on his upper body stood to attention as his skin prickled uneasily.
Frowning, he shook it off and let the flogger fly.
Gayle screamed as the links lit up her ass, layering welts on top of welts as blow after blow landed, some bruising on impact. “Green! Green!”
Merrick had played with her often enough to recognize her tells. He gave her three more wicked strikes in quick succession, then brought the last up between her legs with a brutal flick of his wrist. The chain links lashed across her pussy, biting into the delicate, undoubtedly swollen flesh protected by her wet panties, and her knees buckled.
The flogger crashed to the floor in a musical jingle as he hooked his arm around her waist, catching her before her shoulder joints took the brunt of her weight. He held her tight as she convulsed in orgasm, reaching up with his free hand to release the hooks and lower her carefully to the padded mat beneath them.
Her screams echoed around the dungeon as she writhed, completely lost in pleasure born from pain—she was in her ultimate happy place, flying high and drowning in bliss at the same time.
As her screams dwindled to contented whimpers, Merrick gently laid her down on her stomach, gratefully accepting the blanket one of the DMs brought to him. He shook it out and covered her with it—she always refused aftercare, which didn’t sit well with him, especially when he knew her system was completely depleted.
She wouldn’t even let him rub aloe into her ass the last time he turned it from a perfect white canvas into an artistic study of pinks, reds, purples, and blues.
Gayle came with one goal in mind, and was independent enough to need no one after she attained it.
Dutifully, he sat with her in silence until she regained her wits. Just because she dealt with her own baggage didn’t mean he wouldn’t offer to help regardless.
With a soft, pained whimper, she shifted until she lay on her side, her eyes glazed as they drifted to meet his. A quiet smile of fulfilment curved her lips. “Thank you, Master Merrick. You have no idea how much I needed that.”
“You’re welcome, as always.” He cocked his head. “You gonna let me help this time?”
“Not necessary. I like to let the pain settle in and smooth me out.”
He grunted in disapproval. “I know. Our usual compromise, then?”
Gayle smiled tiredly. “Yes, I will let you summon one of the minions to escort me back to my cabin and sit with me for a while. I know you worry, Master Merrick, although I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Not gonna lecture you on how to take care of yourself,” he replied gruffly, lifting his hand to call over the minion he’d asked to stay on standby. “If you need help, ask for it. That’s what we’re all here for, Gayle.”
“I will, sir.”
When her assigned caretaker approached, she gave him a little finger wiggle. “Hello again, Lucas.”
“Nice to see you again, Miss Gayle.” Lucas grinned at her. “Master Merrick asked me to look after you for the next hour or so. He knows I’m your favorite.”
Merrick stood, stretching out the kinks starting to form in his back. He really should learn not to go from sixty to zero—at his age, things seized up a hell of a lot faster.
For some reason, Gayle was much more receptive to accepting assistance from someone other than him after a scene and, yes, Lucas was indeed her favorite. They’d reached this particular compromise after their first scene together, when Merrick point blank refused to leave her on her own for safety reasons. She might not accept aftercare from him, but he suspected Lucas offered a different brand of it behind closed doors.
As Lucas helped her to her feet, Merrick backed away completely, leaving them to it.
That odd sensation plagued him again as he started tidying up the area, gathering each implement to set aside for cleaning. He wouldn’t be using this station again tonight, so the highly efficient cleaning crew would be here in a few minutes, sterilizing everything ready for the next players.
Frowning, he glanced up at the viewing gallery as an itch formed between his shoulder blades. It transformed from an itch to a deep, dark feeling of dread as his gaze landed on the huddle of spectators above him, recognizing faces that should be nowhere fucking near here right now.
Even in the shadows, he read Tamsyn’s shock as plainly as a neon sign.
He didn’t think twice; striding from the station, he headed for the stairs, blind to the other scenes continuing around him. While he’d been immersed in Gayle’s scene, the dungeon had grown busy, the various spaces occupied with members chasing the same high she’d found.
His boots clomped on each step as he jogged up to the gallery, and he tried to think of a way to explain this to Tamsyn without triggering her bolting instincts.
The hard scowl he directed in his friends’ direction probably wasn’t helping, but he was seriously pissed at all of them for bringing her here when he was working. Hell, the fact he was working wasn’t the issue—the intensity of the scene, the level of pain he’d doled out, was a bigger cause for concern.
Oddly enough, it was Callie and Tabitha who seemed scared of him, although Tabitha hid it better than Callie. Sierra was too busy sucking face with Mack to pay any attention to his approach, and Tamsyn…
She watched him warily, those big eyes tracking his every move.
She’d never seen him in his element, likely never fully comprehended the scope of his physical strength. Of course, she knew he was a big man, a strong one, but being held and comforted by that strength was incredibly different to witnessing that same power being wielded in an alternative capacity.
Merrick stopped a few feet away, wanting to give her the chance to react how she needed. Her history was full of violence, of pain and potential death, and that couldn’t be erased, even with time.
“Darlin’,” he said softly, “I’m still me.”
Evander had her back, he noted, ranging himself behind her for support if she asked for it. Serenity’s owner completely dwarfed her, even more than Merrick did.
She licked her lips, her eyes on his face. “Your job is hurting people? Women?”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was why he hadn’t wanted her here yet. There were so many levels to what his job entailed—levels that required calm, quiet explanation—and she’d been thrust face-first into the highest one without any goddamn context.
Merrick skewered his friends with a single inclusive glare before softening his expression. “Gayle comes to Serenity for what I just gave her, little owl. She has a stressful job and doesn’t have time to nurture certain urges. She trusts me to give her what she needs, without sex or strings. Pain means different things to different people, and for her, it relieves stress and anxiety. Her tolerance is high, which is why she asks specifically for that kind of scene.”
“She was tied up.” Her voice was strained.
“Yes. She wears her own cuffs, and we use quick release hooks in case of an emergency.”
Tiny wheels spun in her head, visibly processing her thoughts and feelings on the matter. She flinched at the sound of a whip cracking from below and the resulting scream, leaning forward as though she wanted to come to him.
“Tamsyn, I’m still the same man who kissed you a couple hours ago in the bar. I’m still the same man who adores you.” Pride and heart on the line, Merrick held his hand out. “What I do in the duties of my job range from simple spankings to what you’ve just seen. Just because Gayle requires that kind of intensity doesn’t mean I’d ever ask you to try it.”
Christ, if she ever figured out what affect her eyes had on him, she’d understand just how under her thumb he was.
“You whipped her…” Tamsyn glanced down at her own crotch uneasily.
Merrick didn’t miss the squeeze of her thighs. Was that arousal he sensed? “Flogged, little owl. I flogged her pussy because she was on the edge of orgasm and needed a push.”
“With a chain… thing.”
“Flogger,” he supplied, shooting Elias a glare when he grinned. “And before you start worrying about me using that on you, the answer is no. A chain link flogger is reserved for subs with a high degree of masochism.”
She shifted, squirming a little as she eyed up his outstretched hand. “W-What would you use on me?”
“Would you like me to show you?”
Trust and curiosity finally won over the wariness. There was nothing quite as gratifying as seeing her take the few steps between them to set her hand in his, or the way her small fingers curled around his bigger ones without hesitation.
He brought them to his mouth, kissing them as he silently blessed God for her.
“Do you trust me to take you down there?” he asked quietly, letting the words whisper over her knuckles. When she blinked at him, he tilted his head toward the noisy purgatory below.
“I… Oh.” Craning her neck, she peered over the rail from a distance as though it might collapse if she got any closer. Her skin was pale under the mood lighting, her lower lip swollen and dented where her teeth had been chewing it. “Do I have to go?”
“Not at all.”
She mulled that over, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll go.”
“I—what?” Stunned, he barely refrained from gaping at her like an idiot.
She tightened her hold on his hand, much like a scared child, and squared her shoulders as she explained the reasoning for her decision. “You said I don’t have to go, which means you won’t make me. When something is important to you, you’re careful not to push me into it.”
Elias chuckled. “She’s got your number, Merrick.”
If he needed any indication of who instigated this impromptu visit, that fucker was his prime suspect, Merrick thought darkly. The goddamn sadistic Brit was a teddy bear in disguise, playing freaking matchmaker.
Unimpressed, especially when it could have backfired irrevocably, Merrick tightened his jaw. “We’ll meet you back at the bar in an hour. If you’re not there, Eli, make no mistake—I will track you down. You and I need to talk about motherfucking boundaries.”
The bastard had the gall to smile wolfishly. “I look forward to it.”
It probably wasn’t wise to antagonize his boss, but Merrick wasn’t going to let him intimidate him either. They were going to have words about what was and was not appropriate when it came to Tamsyn, starting with bringing her to the goddamn dungeon while he was flogging the hell out of another woman’s ass.
Evander cleared his throat and picked up their mutual wife to sit on his hip, gently smacking her hand down as she jabbed two fingers at her own eyes before redirecting them at Merrick. “Don’t threaten the angry Dom when he’s mad at your husband, babygirl. Not the smartest idea, even for a brave warrior like you.”
As he dutifully began to herd the group toward the door, Callie’s accusatory gaze remained on Merrick, silently warning him of dire consequences if he messed up her new friend. She had a tendency to grow teeth and claws around impact toys, often launching to a sub’s defense if she felt it necessary.
Tabitha, on the other hand, didn’t need any encouragement to leave; she was yanking and tugging at Grit to get him moving. Her expression was bored, yet a glimpse of those frosty blue eyes reflected panic.
Utterly, completely in love, Sierra giggled and skipped along the gallery beside Mack, happier than Merrick had ever seen her. Marriage suited her—now he hoped she got the pregnancy she absolutely deserved.
Merrick and Tamsyn followed behind them, pausing at the top of the steps as their friends disappeared through the doors.
“Ready to dabble your toes in the water, little owl?”
She inhaled slowly. “Just so you know, I can’t swim.”
“Down here, drowning is a lot more fun.”
*