Chapter 1 #2
Hawk swiped his hand over his shaved head and in a compassionate tone, he said, “In my business, I need to keep extra vigilant as to the reasons why a member is sporting bruises. I’ve always thought it odd that you never sparred bare-chested.
Knowing that you’ve competed, even in the amateur classes, you knew that shirts are not allowed.
I kept it to myself, but your custom to do so made me wary.
Last week, I thought I spotted a blood stain on your shirt.
I was going to let it go. But then Wednesday evening I was coming out of the toilet next to the locker room and your back was to the open door.
” He scrubbed his head again. “To be honest, I was in a rage and didn’t have the willpower to talk rationally.
Which was why I waited, knowing that you’d be in today. ”
I shook my head so furiously I thought it might spin off. “No…no… You’ve got the wrong idea.”
Hawk raised his brow, looking dubiously at Ethan. “Ethan, if you’re trying to protect someone, don’t. And if you won’t be truthful with me, then I’ll have to bring in the authorities.”
I jumped up, flailing my arms. I didn’t want to tell Hawk the truth.
That meant exposing myself. Revealing a big part of my life that I preferred to keep a secret.
In my panic, I forgot that two thirds of Hawk’s office was made up of half-height partition walls made of glass and I dropped to my knees.
“Please Hawk, believe me. I promise to talk.”
A small gasp escaped Hawk, making me remember where I was. Slinking onto the chair, I blanched at the thought of someone thinking I’d been attempting something sexual. “Fuck,” I said, tears of shame building behind his eyes.
“Ethan,” Hawk said softly. “You can look up. No one saw you. The few people that are here are watching Roman and Nicholas spar.”
“You saw me,” I said barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what got into me. Old habits, I guess.” I knew that Hawk wouldn’t let this go. No matter how upset I became.
Hawk rose and plucking his phone and keys from his desk, he said, “Grab your bag, let’s go where we can talk in private.”
On the way toward the exit, Hawk stopped at the ring. One of the men watching the fight was Oliver, the head trainer and Hawk’s right arm. Hawk spoke low into Oliver’s ear. When he’d finished, Oliver said, “Sure thing, Hawk.”
Hawk patted the trainer’s shoulder and I followed Hawk out. On the sidewalk, he asked, “Where are you parked?”
I indicated across the four-lane road. “That way. By the church.”
“Do you mind talking in your truck?” Hawk asked. “I don’t have enough time for us to go anywhere that would provide us with privacy and quiet.”
“No, not at all.”
We walked in silence until my truck came into view. “That’s mine. The black Frontier in front of the rectory.”
When we were close enough, I used the key fob to unlock the doors. As soon as we got in and opened the windows, I asked, “Do you want the A/C on?”
“I’m good,” Hawk said. “It’s comfortably cool.”
We fell quiet again and I wondered if sitting in the truck was a good idea. I was feeling claustrophobic with Hawk in such close quarters. But then, Hawk’s voice made me jerk. “Sorry, Ethan, but you have to give me something.”
I gripped the steering wheel until my hands hurt. “I put the marks on my back. And since you’re questioning them, my thighs as well.”
“You?” Hawk remarked, sounding incredulous. “How, Ethan? But more importantly, why?”
I glanced sidewards not wanting to look at Hawk directly to see disgust or judgment on his face.
I couldn’t risk Hawk going to the police.
My prior charges six years ago had been expunged.
And although my current boss at the Maserati dealership knew about them, I didn’t want to add more to my police-related resume.
“Before I answer, will my information remain confidential?”
“Yes, of course,” Hawk said. “You have my word.”
I pushed out a heavy breath through my mouth. Then I began. “Do you have experience with BDSM?”
“No, not personally. But I know a couple who belong to the local BDSM club. They’re close friends and when I visit at their home, they’re… I’m not sure what all the terminology is but one of them is a Dom, and his wife is his submissive.”
“I’m a submissive,” I said quietly. “The kind that enjoys pain.” I peered at Hawk under long lashes, unsure of the man’s reaction.
Nonetheless, I inhaled and plodded on. “Not all submissives crave pain. There’s a huge spectrum of ways to embrace and manifest submission.
Unfortunately, I haven’t had a Dom in years, and when life gets overwhelming the only way to ground myself is by hurting myself.
I’ve only been using a flogger but the other night I wasn’t getting the emotional release that I needed.
So, I used a cane on my upper thighs. Those are the newest welts. ”
Hawk stared straight ahead. When he turned back to me, he said, “I’m not sure what to say. Sitting here in front of the church, all I can think about is the Catholic tradition of self-flagellation, which is scourging oneself. But you’re not doing it to cleanse yourself of sins, right?”
“Right,” I confirmed, not being truthful with Hawk. I could only cope with one admission at a time. “In a Dom and sub—or Master and slave relationship—most submissives are driven emotionally… deep down at their core, to honor their dominant whether it’s through pain or
humiliation or whatever ways the submissive is naturally drawn to and has a consensual contract for with their Dom.
In return, the dominant promises to provide care emotionally, psychologically and physically.
I’d come to the end of my rope six months ago when I visited Hard Limit.
Doms approached me, but I found myself caught between a stone and a hard rock. ”
“How so?” Hawk asked.
“The kind of relationship I’m talking about is based on trust and consent.
I fell victim to a manipulative man who called himself a Dom but took advantage of me.
People were hurt. Badly. Me included. As a result, I’ve been fearful that I’ll read a Dom’s intentions wrong again, and I don’t want to risk another trauma. ”
“May I ask a question? Well, two actually,” Hawk said and smiled.
I nodded. “Sure, go for it.”
“My friend’s wife will kneel at her husband’s feet when I’m over.
And when I asked about it, she explained that being in a submissive position gives her husband pleasure because she’s showing him respect as her dominant.
She derives equal satisfaction by just existing and not having a care in the world.
” Hawk squinted, seemingly thinking through what was on his mind.
“Is your desire for pain like her desire to kneel at his feet?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “A good Dom is an anchor for their submissive. Otherwise, like me without one, I feel desperately adrift.”
After a moment of quiet, Hawk said, “You’re an amazing boxer. From what you’ve told me, you’ve been at it for years and your hard work shows. Your skills are the reason I spar with you rather than pass you off to one of the other trainers. But twice you took a punch—”
“That you would’ve expected me to block,” I said, finishing Hawk’s sentence.
“Since I’m being transparent, the hit was on purpose.
But now that you know, I won’t ever do it again.
I felt as guilty as if I’d thrown a match.
Thus, the reason that I started taking matters into my own hands. I apologize, Hawk. Sincerely.”
“It all makes sense now. I didn’t want to accuse you of anything unless I was sure.
One more time and I would’ve been on your ass about it.
Having said that, your back looks raw, Ethan.
You need to give yourself a rest. I’m trying to understand the loss you’re feeling without a dominant to be your support but from now on, you’re not to wear a shirt in the ring.
” Hawk held my gaze. “Ethan, if I decide that your self-abuse is getting out of hand, I will ban you from the premises.”
Hawk must’ve heard me gulp as I tried to swallow his warning. I felt heat traveling from my neck to my cheeks. “I hear you, Hawk. But we’re good for now, right?”
“Yes, except we’re not sparring tonight,” Hawk said, his tone serious. “Like I said, your back has to heal first.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
Hawk patted my arm. “See you next week.”
I didn’t want to leave on a sour note. Attempting to regain a measure of respect back from Hawk, I straightened and said, “Hey, the automotive journal I ordered for you came in. I’ll drop it by later.”
Hawk gave me a warm smile. “You’re a good person, Ethan. Someone else might’ve gotten angry with me.”
“You gave me an opportunity to explain.” I stared off into the distance and then back at Hawk. “Someone once told me that everyone deserves a second chance. I’ve never forgotten and I always make good on them when they come my way.”
Hawk jumped out and as soon as he was halfway up the block, I slammed my hands on the steering wheel.
Oblivious that the windows were open, I let out a shrill “fuck!” that was half scream and half wail.
Then I dropped my head to my hands and muttered curses under my breath.
I hadn’t been fully honest with Hawk. The motivation for self-flagellation was in part to satisfy an innate need for a Dom.
The other reason, however, stemmed from guilt for a heinous act that even after six and a half years, I hadn’t been able to purge.
When I opened my eyes, a flash of blond hair and a black collar caught my attention in my periphery.
Turning my head, I saw Father Donlan on the top step of the rectory.
He must’ve come out to investigate the lunatic who’d screamed his lungs out.
Even from a distance, I saw a mix of concern and curiosity across his beautiful face.
But with embarrassment crushing me, I didn’t want to hang around.
I buckled my seat belt, started the engine, and took off down the street.
I glanced back to find the priest hadn’t moved, tracking the growing distance between us with a startled expression and his mouth slightly agape.