Chapter 27
My baby dollwould be in the last place I looked.
The rule of the Hunt is that prey who don’t get caught after thirty minutes win. I’ve got three watches on my left wrist plus a pocket watch in this costume and they were all telling me the same thing: I had four minutes left when I remembered the Spa vent behind that bloody awful Hudson River landscape. It may be worth a million but it’s the most boring painting ever. Shade after shade of brown, green, and gray. In fact, I think the club had it appraised on the basis of being one of the most boring paintings ever.
When Tessa climbs out of the vent and Emily isn’t behind her, my eyebrows shoot toward the brim of the hat I crushed climbing into the cramped passage.
“Where’s Emmy?” I ask.
“She’s gone back for Georgie. He panicked when he heard your voice. It’s okay. We were in the branch of the passageway that leads to the Stocks. They can’t get lost.”
I look over at Maude, who is having an intense-looking conversation with Twitch. “Maude, Emily and Georgie haven’t come out.”
She immediately breaks off whatever she was saying to Twitch and comes to stand beside me at the mouth of the vent. “He may have been spooked. Blunts is still somewhat unfamiliar territory.”
“The passageway they’re in lets out into the Stocks,” I say. “You stay here. I’ll head to the Stocks.” I take out my phone and waggle it at her. “Call me if they come out. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get in at the Stocks entrance and herd them back this way after checking they’re okay.”
Maude nods. She looks doubtfully at the vent. She’s wearing a black leather skirt suit and four-inch heels. Getting up into that vent, much less crawling down it, is going to be a challenge for her.
“If I speak to him from here, can he hear me?”
“Possibly. It’s an air vent but it’s not making that much noise.”
“Right.” She squares her shoulders. “I’ll try to talk him out from here. Call me if there’s trouble.”
I nod and head off to the Stocks. It’s a short walk but I pick up company. As soon as I start off, Dana and Austin follow me. As we walk down the hallway toward the Nursery, we bump into Max and Cynnie coming toward us. Max takes one look at my face, reverses course, and falls in beside me.
“What’s happened?”
“Emmy and Georgie crawled into a damn duct during the Hunt and haven’t come back out.” As I say it, heat crawls up the back of my neck. My little girl is not safe. “My Daddyness is not happy.”
Cynnie pushes between me and Max and links arms with us in a shower of glitter. “We’z can’t have unhappy Daddyness,” she says. “Lez find them.”
She begins to skip, which forces Max and me into a jog to keep up with her. My Mad Hatter costume isn’t built for jogging and the toys tucked into various pockets bang against me unpleasantly but I keep pace. A bruise or two is a small price to pay for getting to my baby faster.
As we open the door to the Stocks, I hear Emily shout, “Stop it!”
My blood freezes, then rushes through my veins, pounds through my ears.
I break away from Max and Cynnie, accelerating into a sprint, which gets me around the corner and pushing through a group of people standing on the far side of the room, near an open armoire. I assumed the armoires in the dungeon held play equipment, although I admit I haven’t investigated this one. There are some sheets and towels lying on the floor near the armoire, and a group of maybe ten people.
“Emily, come to me,” I growl.
She pushes between the bodies and all but leaps into my arms. Her eyes are full of tears. “Make them stop. They’re scaring Georgie. He’s too frightened to safe word.”
I hug her tightly with one arm and shove two people out of my way. I barely take note of who is around me until I see Georgie. He’s standing, trembling, his paws over his mouse-face. The bottoms of his fursuit are around his ankles, baring his pale legs and a loin-cloth with a cock-cage poking out of it.
I put my little girl down, keeping my body between her and the crowd, and kneel to pull up Georgie’s fursuit. Emily helps me find the tiny snaps that fasten it to the top. When we have him covered, Emily wraps her arms around him. I turn to the group.
Bull’s standing behind me with his arms crossed over his chest, a flogger dangling from his wrist. There are a few faces I don’t recognize around him but too many that I do. Franco. Shedo. Emmett. Al. Naz. Drew.
“What the bloody hell’s going on here?” I ask.
“Georgie and Emily came in the middle of my scene,” Bull responds, nodding at the Stocks where Al’s submissive, MacKenzie, is pilloried. “It’s a closed scene. They have no right entering. You know the rule.”
I do know the rule about submissives entering closed scenes. They’re fair game. I grind my teeth. My brain scrambles for an exception and latches on to a thin one.
“In case of emergency, any submissive can enter any space in the club and seek help. Emily, did you make it clear you and Georgie were in trouble?”
Silence behind me.
I look over my shoulder and find Emily worrying her lower lip with her teeth. “Not exactly, Daddy.”
“In her defense,” Al says. “We didn’t give her a chance. Their appearance was unexpected.”
“Georgie is on loan to Maude,” Bull says, his voice rough. “I had every right to demand proof that the terms of the loan were being observed.”
I grind my teeth. There’s clearly shit going on between Maude, Georgie, Bull and his trio that I don’t know about. I haven’t heard fuck all about a loan, although that’s not an uncommon way to deal with submissives who are playing with more than one Dom. The club keeps a register of subbie loans but I admit I haven’t checked it in over a year, not since I started dating Rachel.
I don’t want to get into the middle of their drama. But I’m also concerned that I just scared a vulnerable submissive half-to-death by playing with my little girl without thinking about the impact it might have on him.
Swallowing my pride and my irritation, I bow to the group. “I apologize for the interruption to the scene. It was my fault that Emily and Georgie came through the passageway. I didn’t consider the impact playing with Emily might have on Georgie?—”
“So, would you say that’s a consent violation, Master Logan?” Drew asks with a smirk.
Rob and Emmett may have the best hair in the club but Drew’s not far behind. He’s a good-looking bloke all around. Wavy, dark blond hair carefully styled. Lightly tanned despite the cold weather. Runner’s physique. Ridiculously cut jaw. He’s dressed formally: black tuxedo pants with a satin stripe, burnt-orange waistcoat over a white dress shirt, black bow-tie undone and hanging loose around his strong throat. It all looks good on him.
But I have to wonder what’s behind those preppy good looks because this guy was on my shit list before he opened his mouth. I’m not sure if Emmett’s running this bullshit Wolfpack and Drew’s just along for the ride or what but I hate everything about what I’ve heard about them in the last few days.
I glance around the group and don’t find any support. Bull’s glaring at Georgie and won’t meet my eyes. Is this how Shannie felt surrounded by Drew’s guests? There’s a gut-ruffling sense that I’m in the minority and it could all go very bad in an instant.
I bow again. “I’ll submit myself to Maude and Georgie’s judgment of whether I broke the rules of the Hunt or committed a consent violation. Again, gentlemen, my apologies for interrupting the scene. Emily, Georgie, come with me.”
I reach a hand back. Emily’s small fingers immediately wrap around mine. I lead them out, shouldering my way between Franco and a man I don’t recognize. I glance at MacKenzie as we pass her pillory. She’s wearing a ball-gag, a lot of red stripes, and nothing else. I know she and Al do gang-bangs but there are ten men in the room and she’s the only submissive. Is she really going to let all ten of them fuck her? That’s a lot by anyone’s estimation.
Shaking my head, I push toward the door.
“Is that disapproval, Master Logan?” Drew calls after me. “Do you not like our scene?”
A mutter of male voices chases me out of the room as Dana, Max, Austin, and Cynnie fall in around me.
Once we’re out in the hallway, I let myself relax. That was tense but I deescalated the situation. Emily looked outraged on Georgie’s behalf but not upset. I don’t know what rules Georgie has in place, so I don’t know if he’s traumatized or just humiliated by being exposed in front of the group. I’ll get him back to Maude and let her evaluate him.
The door into the Stocks bangs open behind me. “Oh, Master Logan?”
Drew. Again. He’s really getting on my wick.
I stop and turn to face him. Max stops at my right. “Get Emily and Georgie out of here,” I mutter to him. “Take Georgie to Maude. She needs to evaluate him.”
Max meets my eyes, then nods. He takes Emily’s hand out of mine and leads her away.
Her uncertain, “Daddy?” pierces me straight through the heart.
“Go with Max, little girl,” I say without taking my eyes off Drew. He leans in the doorway to the Stocks, smirk firmly affixed. I really want to smack that expression off his face. Emmett and Al come up the doorway and stand behind Drew.
I have a lot of time for Al. He’s been at the club longer than I have. He was one of the very first members of Chinese descent, which he’s told me made him feel isolated for years. He’s the club’s doctor and I’ve found him to be progressive and caring as a physician, which many doctors in today’s managed health care system don’t have the time or opportunity to be.
Seeing him standing literally at Drew’s back is a cold slap to the face.
“Yes, Master Drew,” I say.
“Nice costume.” His smirk widens, showing the benefits of fluoride and orthodontics. “Your hat’s looking a little worse for wear, though.”
I nod, acknowledging him and encouraging him to get to the bloody point.
“You didn’t answer my question, Master Logan,” Drew continues. His voice is really beginning to grate. “Do you disapprove of our scene?”
“Gang-bangs aren’t my thing,” I say. “But I hope you enjoy yourselves.”
Drew pushes off the door frame and takes two steps toward me. “So that head-shake was disapproval. Will you be banning gang-bangs along with other forms of play you don’t approve of as you push the club toward caregiver play?”
He sneers as he says “caregiver.”
“I’m not aware of any forms of play that are banned by the club,” I respond. “So long as its role-play and everyone’s consenting, we’re open to extreme play such as simulated necrophilia and vore. I don’t yuck on anyone else’s yum, Master Drew.”
He snorts. “But you’re steering the club toward pet and age-play.”
“The only direction I’m steering the club, with the assistance of the rest of the membership committee.” I nod at Al. “Is toward embracing all types of consensual play.”
“Ah, right. So you’ll be exiling Bull and Sean soon, then, the same way you did Sante? Their submissives don’t have safe words. Surely you think their scenes aren’t consensual anymore.”
I grind my teeth. This is a topic that’s debated in the community frequently. Emily and I have skirted it, too, since she wants to give up her safe word in some situations and I was the one who wanted to take it slowly since I’ve never played without a safe word.
“I’m perfectly comfortable with submissives giving up their safe words inside of established relationships?—”
“But not outside them?” He lifts his eyebrows. “That seems limiting. I thought you didn’t yuck on other player’s yum, Master Logan.”
Another man comes to stand behind Al. I don’t recognize him but he’s a very tall, African-American man with precisely-trimmed hair, mustache, and beard. He must be someone’s guest, and we cannot be giving him a good first impression of the club, between the scene interruption and this confrontation.
I bow again. “Master Drew, I think this conversation should be tabled until a time when we’re not further disrupting an ongoing scene. I don’t want to distract Al from monitoring his submissive, particularly when she’s restrained. I’ll apologize again to everyone for the interruption?—”
“Do you think I’d leave my submissive restrained without anyone monitoring her, Logan?” Al asks, his tone sharp.
Goddamn, now I’m pissing off someone I consider a friend.
“Absolutely not,” I say quickly. “My apologies if it sounded that way, Al. Gentlemen, good night.”
I turn and walk away quickly, knowing that I’ve lost that round.
Behind me, the door to the Stocks slams.