Tamsyn
Standing in the cold, Merrick’s oversized jacket draped over her shoulders, she stared at the innocuous building and shook her head vehemently. It was just walls and doors, windows and a roof, but the thought of voluntarily walking into it made her want to throw up the soup Merrick had forced into her, spoonful by spoonful, just an hour before.
Her breath spilled into the air in shaky plumes of white, a visible sign of her anxiety.
She knew Merrick wasn’t planning on just examining her arm or any of her limbs—that had been bad enough. She’d spilled too many of her darkest secrets, too many of her fears, and now he felt obligated to guide her through those shadows.
Right now, out here in the dark was the light.
In there was hell.
Yet part of her understood it was just a building, just rooms where atrocities never happened. Still another part was stupidly yearning to please Merrick, to do anything to make him happy.
So many conflicting parts.
By her side, Merrick stood quietly, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of black jeans. When she cast a sideways glance at him, he was illuminated in the soft yellow glow of the security lights. There wasn’t a hint of impatience or frustration on his face; he was just waiting.
“Why?” she whispered.
His gorgeous green eyes were full of understanding. “You know why, little owl.”
She swallowed hard. “What if I promise never to do anything that puts my health at risk? I’ll just sit on the couch and not move. Ever.”
His low, rumbling laugh filled her with warmth. “Wish life was as easy as that, Tamsyn. I really do. Unfortunately, it throws us curveballs every now and then to keep us on our toes. Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re not. Besides, spending your life on the couch isn’t really living, and there’s too much to experience for that.”
“This isn’t an experience I want to go through again.”
He lifted his knuckles to her face, brushing them over her cheek. “Just remember not every experience is the same. What you went through at the community will never happen again. Even if I try to recreate it, there isn’t the same motivation behind it. I’m not Dinan, little owl. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to scare you, although that’s inevitable for now. My goal is to help, one baby step at a time.”
She happened to think several important baby steps had been missed in the planning stages of his goal, mainly asking her what she thought about the whole thing. Of course, Merrick was too intuitive for her liking, so he already knew exactly what her opinion entailed.
“We can stand here for the next ten minutes, little owl, or the whole night. Gonna be damn cold, but one way or another, you’re gonna find the courage to walk through those doors. That’s the next step.”
Oh, she knew how he was going to play this. Just go through the doors; just walk down the hall; just sit down. Just, just, just . Tiny leaps of progress until there was no going back.
The trouble was, she was cold. She also loved the sound of his voice and understood the power it had over her, especially when it was rumbly and soothing like it was now. He had intimate knowledge of all her buttons, some she didn’t even recognize herself, and how to press each one in the right order.
Was that his natural dominance at work, or just a special skill?
She licked her lips nervously before rolling the bottom one between her teeth. Trusting Merrick was easy in some aspects, yet much harder when he tossed her into situations like this. On a base level, right down in the root of her being, she didn’t doubt him, but she couldn’t help the uneasiness trickling down her spine.
“T-There’s no one else in there, is there?”
Merrick’s tone was gentle. “Tamsyn—”
Her feet were already skidding backward on the gravel path. Yeah, she was done here, done with a huge, capital D . No explanations necessary, no further discussion required. She heard it in his voice; he only used that tone when he was telling her something she wasn’t going to like, enjoy, agree with, or understand.
“Stop.” He didn’t follow her retreat, but then, he didn’t need to—his voice halted her feet in their tracks. “Darlin’, there ain’t a firing squad waiting for you. Hell, there ain’t even a stranger. It’s just Fordham, little owl.”
“W-Why w-would he w-want to be here?” She struggled to get her w ’s out as her voice threatened to disappear into the ether again.
“Believe me, he has better things to do than watch us going a round or two over your phobias, darlin’. Evander insisted we have a monitor and, frankly, I’m inclined to agree with him. Fordham was the ideal choice—he’s a good friend, an excellent Dom, and he doesn’t terrify you half as much as the other Masters.”
Her breath shuddered out. “What are you planning on doing to me?”
A laugh huffed out on a burst of white vapor. “I tell you that and it’ll take me three days to find whatever hole you run to and pull you out. Remember that lesson in faith, little owl? Sometimes I’ll ask something of you that seems impossible, even cruel. Maybe you won’t understand why. All I’ll do is hold out my hand and wait.”
True to his word, he extended his arm, offering his palm.
She hated it when he was so calm and patient; it made her seem unreasonable in comparison. Her fears were her own, there was no getting around that—Jedidiah and the elders made sure the community was imprinted in her down to the bones—yet Merrick understood them as if they were his.
Already knowing she was going to take his hand, she squeezed her eyes shut. “Is it going to hurt?”
“You ask me that every time,” he murmured. “No, little owl. I’ll tell you if I’m gonna do something that’ll cause pain.”
Because her only choices were to believe him or run, Tamsyn opened her eyes and stepped toward him. Running was a defense, triggered by a sudden, unexpected event. Maybe that was why he’d told her about this horrible trip down memory lane beforehand, so her flight or fight reflex wasn’t highly primed to the former option.
Merrick linked her cold fingers with his when she laid them on his hand. “There’s gonna be moments in the next couple hours when I push you, Tamsyn. I’m gonna push your limits hard, but right now, you need to find the courage that’s gonna last you until we’re done here. You lead, I’ll follow.”
“I can’t.”
“You can do anything you put your mind to,” he corrected quietly. “Don’t imagine what I’m gonna do to you in there, little owl. Think about what I’m gonna do with you, how the evening is gonna end with you limp, boneless, so sated by orgasms that there won’t be any room for fear.”
She just sighed, defeated. Faith seemed to be the topic of the evening; if he thought she could get wet in that hellhole, that arousal could conquer terror, he was one hell of an optimist.
Silently, shoulders slumped, she trudged forward as though the heavy weight of a noosed rope hung around her neck. Every step felt like a betrayal of herself, as though she was a victim voluntarily walking herself to the gallows.
Her steps were so small, Merrick only had to take one stride for every two of hers.
Even her knees were trembling by the time they reached the short flight of steps, threatening to buckle on the way up. Her skin was hot and clammy, her heartbeat erratic, her stomach tied up in a knot.
The hairs on her arms and neck prickled, rising when she stood in front of the doors.
Idiot. Stupid, gullible idiot .
Bad things are waiting for you…
She couldn’t lift her hand to push the barrier open, even with Merrick’s support. Her left was captured in the sling Jasper had told her she needed to wear, twice as useless than it had been in the cast.
It was Merrick who raised their joined hands to press against the wood, who opened the door to hell. Who, as promised, waited for her to lead so he could follow.
Against her better judgement and self-preservation instincts, she edged over the threshold into the sterile, white hallway. Aside from the décor, the rush of warmth reminded her of the night she stole into the clubhouse like a thief and how her legs had almost buckled.
It seemed like years ago now, yet it was only weeks.
Six weeks of beautiful, frightening freedom.
She jumped when the door thunked shut behind her; the overwhelming sense of panic in her chest and the urge to run, run, run was so strong, she felt her body brace to obey.
“Easy, little owl. One step at a time, remember?”
Her lips were dry, her mouth barren of spit and voice.
“When you’re ready, head down the hallway. First door on the right, Tamsyn.”
She could see it—the open doorway, the light spilling out onto the white, white walls. As far as she knew, Merrick hadn’t had time this afternoon to come over and set up… whatever he wanted setting up, not unless he’d snuck out while she was sleeping.
She couldn’t rule it out, but she couldn’t see him doing that; he stayed with her when she slept, ready to slay her dragons if they crept up on her.
That meant someone else had spent their afternoon in there, making sure everything was laid out to Merrick’s specifications, imagining what the Master was going to do to his reluctant submissive.
Tamsyn wished her body’s natural response to stress wasn’t hurling; she hated feeling nauseous, despised the blatantly obvious signs of weakness. She couldn’t hide it from Merrick, which gave him a distinct advantage over her—not that he needed one when he read her like a book anyway.
Stomach roiling, seeing no way out of the trap, she inched her way along the dark blue-gray carpet, her sneakers soundless on the efficiently firm surface. She supposed it was easier to clean without the plush softness of a residential carpet, able to handle the foot traffic of those who came here… willingly or not.
That portal of light drew closer; her chest grew tighter.
Merrick’s hand couldn’t keep hers warm. A chill scored her bones, cutting deep with each tiny step until she stopped in the doorway. It stabbed deep, sending shockwaves of icy horror rippling from the roots of her hair all the way to her toes.
Dinan’s office had been a basic, simple torture chamber.
This simulated playroom was…
Saliva flooded her mouth, an ominous warning of what was coming next. She swallowed quickly, repeatedly, trying to stop herself from throwing up as her stomach twisted into a fist.
“Breathe, darlin’. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” Merrick swung in front of her, blocking her view. “Don’t be scared. It’s just a room; four walls and a ceiling. There’s a lot of fancy equipment in there that looks intimidating, but it doesn’t have to be. Nothing is gonna hurt you, Tamsyn. Your pain belongs to me every bit as much as your pleasure. Understand?”
Nodding, she wondered if she was as green as she felt. The room behind him was so much more than what Dinan had at his disposal, and was a league away from the medical office in the clubhouse.
Why the hell would anyone want to play in a place like this?
“Look at me, Tamsyn. Eyes up here.”
She lifted her gaze to his face warily, fully expecting to feel the heavy weight of his dominance crushing her, but his green eyes were surprisingly soft.
“I’m gonna go in,” he told her quietly. “I’m not gonna drag you in with me, not gonna force you. This is a decision you have to make, whether you follow me in or not. Just know,” he added as a strange sense of guilt trickled through her, “I’m fucking proud of you getting this far. If this is all we manage tonight, so be it. There are other nights, little owl. We have time.”
Her eyes closed when he bent and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. Even as she leaned toward him, he gently released her hand and stepped back, his warmth and the comfort of his body evaporating in a heartbeat.
When she opened her eyes again, she was all alone in the hallway with nothing but a few generic pictures on the walls and a small table topped with a vase of fake flowers for company.
Didn’t he know she was incapable of making decisions without intense and extensive deliberation? He’d be lucky if she made a choice by the end of the week; it probably wouldn’t be the one he was expecting either.
Shifting her weight from foot to foot, her eyes darted from one door to another.
What was she supposed to do now?
*