Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
LANDON
A fter removing Clarissa’s puppy accessories, he placed them in the shopping bag so he could clean everything later.
While she’d relaxed on his lap earlier, probably against her better judgment, she was back to being rigid and aloof towards him. That was okay for now. It was far better than her yelling and storming out of the place.
Some members milled about the stage, watching several of the Spectacular pairs who’d come back for a second round. Landon and Clarissa waited in line behind another couple. He sent up a silent prayer that their next play was something where she wouldn’t be able to leave once he started telling her the real reason he was there tonight—that is, unless she said her safeword.
When it was their turn, Landon dropped the chip, this time in a different spot. It bounced around before sliding into a slot and coming to rest. “Shibari!” Mistress China announced as Landon thanked his lucky stars.
Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Ian watching them and gave the man a nod, receiving one in return. This was it. Landon’s plan was about to come to fruition.
He held out his hand, and Clarissa placed a limp one of her own on top of it. He wondered if she looked forward to being tied up or was about to bolt because he would be the one wielding the ropes. She loved Shibari—it was in her top three favorite types of play—and he loved how she looked in the designs he’d learned with just her in mind. Shibari Master Stefan Lundquist was a club member who taught rope classes two to three times a year, and Landon liked to attend them to practice his technique.
Leading Clarissa through the club, he made a pit stop at the men’s locker room, leaving her under the watchful eye of one of the Dungeon Masters while he retrieved his toy bag and left behind the shopping bag. After escorting her past several roped-off play areas, Landon found one with a raised platform that was still available.
He helped Clarissa step up onto it and then ordered her to strip. This time, she didn’t give him an annoyed look, which he took as a good sign that she would try to enjoy this scene. Once she was in all her naked glory, he grabbed a nearby throw pillow and tossed it at her feet. “Kneel.”
She followed his command, presenting herself with her shoulders back, her head bowed, and her hands resting on her thighs. While she did that, he dug through the duffel bag, pulling out a blindfold, headphones, a pair of heavy-duty scissors, and several coils of soft jute rope made specifically for Shibari. He also put a ball gag within reach since he had a feeling he might need it in a few minutes.
He tucked the scissors into his back pocket so it would be handy if he suddenly needed to free Clarissa for any reason that might cause her harm. Uncoiling one rope, he ran his hands over the length, making certain there were no rough sections of the braid that might be uncomfortable for her or damage her unblemished skin.
A crowd drew near as he checked several more coils, setting them side by side on the platform next to Clarissa. Once he was ready, he stepped up and joined her. At some point in the last few minutes, she’d closed her eyes, but he would still blindfold her. Before doing so, he told her to expect it so she wasn’t startled when he placed it over her eyes. He knew from experience that removing her sight would help her fall into subspace faster. She must already be getting into the zone because she didn’t open her eyes when he spoke, just nodding once and responding, “Yes, Sir.”
Picking up a length of rope, he wrapped one end around her chest, just under her beautiful round breasts that could still rival those of someone half her age without plastic surgery. His woman was all natural.
On the second pass, he flicked each nipple with the rope, loving how they hardened before his eyes as she gasped softly. His cock was hard in his pants, and it twitched at the sound. God, he missed playing with her. Many times, sex had almost been an afterthought while scening with Clarissa. Watching her fall into subspace during a scene would always top a list of the most erotic and satisfying moments of his life. Everything else was secondary to giving her what she needed. What she craved. What she would beg him for ... what she used to beg him for.
Slowly, he wrapped her in the ropes, twisting and knotting them around her torso, arms, and thighs, creating an intricate design on her body. When he reached the end of one rope, he tied it off and then started with another one. As much as he wanted to hurry and get her all tied up, Landon forced himself to take it slow and ensure he wasn’t making any costly mistakes. Every minute or so, he checked each section and knot to make sure none were too tight that they could cut off her circulation or cause nerve damage. He’d noticed Master Stefan and his submissive, Cassandra, standing in the small crowd observing them. The last thing Landon needed to do tonight was fuck up in front of the Shibari Master, who’d taught him so much over the past few years.
Clarissa remained silent the entire time he worked the rope while the tension once again ebbed from her body as her muscles loosened further.
Thirty minutes later, he tied off the last piece of rope. The design was exquisite, if he did say so himself. From the murmurs emanating from the crowd, they were impressed with his technique. Master Stefan even gave him an approving smile and nod, which was considered high praise from the expert. At least Landon didn’t have to worry about being added to Stefan’s short list of Doms who weren’t allowed to scene with rope play without him being present for safety reasons since they’d screwed up in the past.
The design of the ropes squeezed Clarissa’s breasts from above and below, thrusting them outward. Her hands were behind her back, tied together, pulling her shoulders back. The ropes twisted and winded around her torso and thighs before dipping between her legs. She still kept her pussy bare, which he loved. He’d settled a knot right over her clit, and anytime she tried to shift her weight, it rubbed against her, causing her to gasp or moan.
Knowing he had limited time now—he had to release the ropes within twenty minutes to avoid any nerve damage—he removed the blindfold, pleased to see she appeared to be on the verge of subspace. Her eyes were glassy as she blinked at the sudden change in light.
Removed the headphones. “Give me a color, subbie.” Landon had no doubt what her answer would be, but he still wanted to hear her say the words.
“I’m green, Sir. No tingling or numbness.”
Yeah, she was definitely in subspace if she’d been that polite, called him “Sir,” and expanded on her answer—in fact, she sounded almost stoned. When they used to play together, he’d always wanted more than just yes or no responses from her, so he knew she was in the right frame of mind. Clearly, she was in the zone if she wasn’t snarky with him, and that was precisely what he’d been hoping for. She also wasn’t too far gone for what he planned to do next.
Going down on one knee in front of her, he tapped her cheek, ensuring her gaze was on him. “Good, because now we’re going to chat.”
CLARISSA
It took several moments for Landon’s words to penetrate Clarissa’s foggy brain. She blinked a few more times, trying to bring him into focus. As he knelt before her, Masters Ian, Devon, and Mitch stood just over Landon’s shoulder. She narrowed her eyes at her ex. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s time to clear the air, and you’re finally going to listen to me unless you want to say your safeword.”
Red was on the tip of her tongue, but then she saw a stone-faced Ian subtly shake his head. Whatever was going on, the owners knew about it. What the fuck?
The shock and anger she’d felt earlier when she first spotted Landon at the club and after they were paired together again surged through her body once more. A low growl erupted from her chest, and her subspace receded. Her upper lip curled into a sneer as she glared at Landon. “What is this? A damn conspiracy? Was this entire night a setup, you bastard ?”
Her voice got louder with every question, drawing notice from those who hadn’t been paying attention to her scene. At that point, she didn’t care about anyone else or if she got banned from The Covenant. She just wanted to get as far away from Landon as possible and struggled against the ropes. Unfortunately, the more she wiggled, the more that damn knot rubbed against her clit. And instead of turning her on, it pissed her off more. “Let me out of this! Damn it! Let me out!”
“Calm down,” he pleaded, grasping her shoulders to keep her from falling to the side or onto her face. “Please calm down before you hurt yourself.”
“I don’t give a shit! Untie me now!”
Ian stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. “Clarissa, this is your last warning. If you continue to make a scene, your membership will be voided. You can say your safeword, but—” When she opened her mouth to do just that, he held up a hand, stopping her. The anger eased from his voice, but he was still serious when he continued, “ But! I really think you should listen to what Landon has to say before you go that route. Trust me. Please .”
She rarely heard that last word fall from Ian’s lips in the club—not that he was ever impolite. She couldn’t recall him ever saying “please” to a sub, even his wife, during a scene and definitely not in the soft, imploring tone he’d just used. If he issued an order as the head Dom, it was followed without question unless a safeword was spoken. The BDSM lifestyle was built on trust, and right then, he was asking her to give that trust to him willingly. And to Landon. Could she after her ex’s infidelity?
Her chest heaved as best it could under the restraints as she scowled at both men. Off to the side, she noticed Luna and several other submissives. They looked as confused as she was—clearly, her friends had no idea what was happening. At least they hadn’t betrayed her too.
From her left, Ian’s beautiful wife, Angie, approached cautiously and entered the play space. She wore a revealing sheer red teddy and matching panties, which wasn’t unusual for the submissive. After all, she was an exhibitionist in the club, and her husband had a lingerie fetish. “Master Landon, may I say something to your submissive, please?” When he bit his lip and nodded his assent, her gaze shifted to the bound sub. “Clarissa, please. Listen to them. I swear I didn’t know what was happening until just a few minutes ago. Only Masters Ian, Devon, and Mitch knew.” She shot her husband a brief glare, but he just shrugged his shoulders, his mouth in a flat line of indifference. “But I really think you need to give Master Landon a chance to explain. It’s important, honey. If it wasn’t, I’d cut you loose myself. Please try to calm down.”
Tears of anger and frustration rolled down Clarissa’s face, but there was no way for her to wipe them away. She gasped for air—not because of the ropes, but because she started to hyperventilate. Landon handed Mitch the scissors but then cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His rough fingers stroked her soft skin, and he lowered his voice so only those closest to them could hear him. “ Shh . Baby, take a deep breath with me. Inhale . . . and exhale. Good girl. Again.”
Mitch watched her closely, apparently ready to cut the ropes if he had to. But after a few moments of breathing with Landon, Clarissa calmed. He’d brought her back from the edge of a full-blown panic attack.
Landon wiped her wet cheeks. “Baby, all I’m asking is that you watch and listen to something. After that, if you want to walk out of here without me, then I’ll let you, and I’ll never bother you again. I’ll even surrender my membership, so you won’t have to. Please. Just give me this one opportunity to set things right.”
Through her own tear-filled eyes, she saw Landon’s own eyes water. He looked miserable, and at that moment, her heart that’d been frozen over for all the years since their divorce seemed to crack. Her gaze darted around. Everyone stared at her, waiting to hear what her response would be.
Licking her lips, she closed her eyes for a moment. She had no idea what was going on. What could he possibly show her that would make a difference? He’d always denied having an affair—could that be true? No, she’d seen the pictures with her own eyes. Hell, the entire world had seen them. While her mind wanted her to run out of there, her melting heart begged her to listen to him. If there was a shred of hope that the man she both loved and resented could be her soulmate again, shouldn’t she take that chance? But what if she ended up hurt again? God, it was so difficult to trust him. She’d been burned more than once in her life and was afraid it would happen again.
Slowly opening her eyes, she met Landon’s worried gaze. It was clear he thought she was about to say her safeword. In fact, it was on the tip of her tongue, but after several long seconds, against her better judgment, she finally nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” The relief in those two words was unmistakable, and Clarissa prayed she hadn’t just made a colossal mistake.
Beside him, Mitch held up a smartphone, showed it to those around them, and raised his voice to be heard. “Just so everyone knows, the camera, video, and audio recording apps on this have been deactivated and deleted by me personally, with Master Ian confirming that it can’t take pictures or video. It can only play the one video that was saved to the phone. In fact, every other app was deleted, including the internet browsers. However, the Bluetooth feature is still activated. If anyone wants to confirm this for themselves or objects to me turning it on, say so now.”
Murmurs rolled through the crowd, but no one protested. Apparently, everyone was interested in finding out what was so important about a video on the phone. No one more than Clarissa, though.
Mitch glanced at Ian, who gave him the okay to turn on the device. “It’s a burner phone,” Mitch told the members, “that will be destroyed as soon as we’re done here.”
Landon lifted the headphones, placed them over her ears, and pushed a small button on one side. An electronic voice announced, “Power on. Bluetooth connected.”
Puzzled, Clarissa watched Mitch hand the phone to Landon, who tapped the screen with his finger and then turned it to face her. Since it was now connected to the headphones, she was the only one who could hear the video that began to play.
It took her a moment to realize it’d been taken in a conference room—it looked exactly like the one in an office belonging to a casting agent who both Landon and Clarissa knew well. In the video, Landon paced back and forth but stopped short when the conference room door opened and someone entered. Ice flowed through Clarissa’s veins as a woman came into view—fuckin’ poison Ivy Green, that skanky blonde bimbo Landon had fucked! She looked like a streetwalker dressed in tight black pants, high heels, and a snug, V-neck crop top that showed off her bare midriff and the deep cleavage of her surgically-enhanced tits.
Clarissa glared at Landon, but then his voice, dripping with contempt, came through the headphones, drawing her attention back to the small screen. “Hello, Ivy.”
“What are you doing here?” Ivy asked, obviously confused by Landon’s presence as she glanced around the otherwise empty room. “I was told to come in to audition for a part. Are you directing the movie?”
“Sit down, Ivy. We’re going to have a chat.” Barely contained rage was in Landon’s voice.
The woman smirked at him. “Unless it has to do with a part in a movie, we have nothing to talk about.”
“Sit down—now!”
Ivy’s face turned red with anger. “Fuck you! Who the hell do you think you are?”
She moved toward the door, but it opened, and a huge man entered, shutting it behind him. It was the casting agent’s husband who was the head of security at a well-known, upscale hotel in Los Angeles. He crossed his arms, completely blocking Ivy’s exit.
“Move, you big jerk!”
When the man ignored her, she turned back to Landon. “What the hell is going on? What do you want?” She pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “Let me out of here, or I’m calling the cops!”
“Go right ahead,” Landon replied, an unexpected calmness taking over his demeanor. A large brown envelope sat on the table separating them, and he slid it toward her. “I’ll be more than happy to show them these.”
Ivy eyed the envelope but didn’t pick it up. Instead, she sneered at it. “What is it?”
“Those are the original photos of you and some guy named Frank Harrison. The pictures you then had photoshopped—very professionally, I might add—with me in his place. The pictures you then sold to several tabloids, claiming that we had an affair and I got you pregnant.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Despite her denial, Ivy had paled when Landon mentioned the other man’s name. “Those pictures were real, and you can’t prove otherwise.”
“Oh, really? Well, then, let’s just ask Frank, shall we?”
The guard at the door opened it and gestured for someone to enter. A man Clarissa didn’t recognize walked in, followed by Landon’s attorney—Marsha Han. Ivy suddenly looked like she would faint at any moment, her face devoid of color except for the makeup she wore.
The man—Frank—looked eerily similar to Landon. He was the same height and had a similar build. Their hair, skin color, and facial features were pretty close too. If Clarissa didn’t know her ex was an only child, she’d swear this stranger was his sibling. However, Landon was far more handsome.
She watched and listened as Frank related how Ivy had devised the scheme to become famous for sleeping with Landon and breaking up his marriage. Apparently, she’d blamed him for her not getting a prominent role she’d wanted a year before the scandalous pictures appeared in the tabloids. Clarissa’s tears started once more as it became clear, based on Ivy’s screaming at the man to shut up as she ripped up the envelope and its contents, that it had all been a hoax. One Clarissa and everyone else had fallen for.
How could she have doubted Landon? Back then, he’d begged her—not for forgiveness, but to believe him. He was her soulmate, and she’d given credence to that bitch’s tale over his denial. They’d lost all that time together because Clarissa had failed to follow her heart. How could Landon ever forgive her? Why would he even want to?
Her renewed sobs prevented her from paying attention to most of what else was being said in the video, but she did hear Landon’s lawyer mention something about a lawsuit.
Clarissa shook her head, trying to dislodge the headphones. “Turn it—turn it off. Please, Landon. Oh my God, please! I’m so sorry! Please! Turn it off!”
He removed her headphones and then tossed the phone to Ian, who promptly dropped it onto the floor and crushed it with the heel of his boot. As Landon knelt in front of Clarissa, supporting her while she bawled and buried her head into his shoulder, Mitch and a Dungeon Master quickly untied the ropes restraining her. Suddenly, she was free and collapsed against him.