In the Zone (2 page)

“You were a good girl,” Master Richard said as he released her right ankle.

“I’m sure I’ll have trouble sitting for the next few days, Sir,” she fibbed. She had to admit, for Master Richard, it had been a robust flogging.

“Let that be a lesson to you.”

“It was. I’ll try to be better.” Although with him, she never even knew what her supposed infraction was. Other doms dreamed up elaborate stories and had her deliberately misbehave so they had something to punish.

He took way too long unfastening her left ankle. He probably just enjoyed being crouched between her legs.

Moments later, her wrists were free.

He gently helped turn her around to face him. He held her for several seconds, making sure she was able to stand. On the three-inch stilettos, after being tied to a cross, that was sometimes more difficult than it seemed.

“Steady, lass?”

“Yes, thanks.” She smiled gratefully and then knelt and directed her gaze toward the floor. “I enjoyed the scene, Sir.” She hoped he was savvy enough to heed her wordless signal that the scene was over, whether or not he had time remaining.

“You were most excellent, Alani. Behave yourself until I see you again.”

“I will try, Sir.” She glanced up to see him hook the flogger onto a belt loop.

Without another word, he headed toward the bar.

She exhaled.

As she stood and smoothed her skirt back into place, she glanced around, looking for Master Nathaniel.

When she didn’t see him, she exhaled gratefully. She snatched up her discarded blouse and started toward the reception desk, planning to tell Willow she wasn’t feeling well and that she was going home for the rest of the evening.

Before she got there, a firm hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in place. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned and looked up at Master Marcus, one of the club’s other owners and her direct boss.

“Alani. My office. Five minutes.”

Master Marcus had addressed her quietly. No one around them would have heard him, but she did. She’d caught the sharpness in his normally modulated tone. The worst was the firm set of his jaw.

Damn Master Nathaniel. Rat. Fink. Bastard.

It didn’t matter to anyone that she’d tried to get into the scene with Master Richard. The owners would only see her failings.

“Did you understand my order?” he asked when she didn’t immediately respond.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll be in your office in five minutes.”

He nodded, then turned and headed toward the front of the club where his office was located. He probably needed time to pull her personnel file and write her up.

“Crap.” Forgetting decorum, she hurried into the ladies’ dressing room.

Her hands were suddenly clammy, and nerves had dried her mouth.

Alani had joined the staff at Zones two years ago. She’d started as a receptionist and then had gone through the training to become a submissive. The first year as a sub, never knowing what to expect, had made nerves and fear collide, leaving her on a near-constant adrenaline high.

It had been a struggle to figure out the exact nuance each dom wanted. Did they want her to be stoic? To struggle? Maybe to thrash? To remain silent behind a gag? Maybe count out the strokes they laid against her well-rounded ass?

For most of her adult life, she’d craved beatings. She lusted after the belt, dreamed of the crop, imagined the paddle. She sought out any man who would give her an over-the-knee open-hand spanking.

But since the horrible incident years ago, she’d avoided anyone wickedly wielding a cane.

Even though she was now part of the management team, she was bored. There were few challenges. Each night had become routine rather than something to anticipate.

Over the last month, she’d toyed with the idea of requesting a leave of absence.

But before she could make a decision, she’d been caught yawning.

It was one thing to think about a temporary absence; it was another to be forced into it.

She splashed water on her heated face and tucked a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear.

She filled a cup with water from the watercooler and tried to pretend her hand wasn’t shaking.

A woman, apparently a sub if her collar was anything to go by, came in and stood in front of the long vanity. She gripped the edge of the sink and stared sightlessly in the mirror.

“Are you all right?” Alani asked. She didn’t have time for hand-holding, but the woman hadn’t even blinked.

When the woman didn’t respond, Alani touched her bare shoulder. “Are you all right?” she repeated. “Can I do anything for you? Do you need a ride home?”

“No. I…” The woman met Alani’s gaze in the mirror. “I had no idea how much it would fucking
hurt
.”

“What happened?” The club had a number of professional monitors who watched every scene and looked out for new guests. If anything had been truly out of bounds, the sub would have been followed in here.

“I’ve wanted to play for a long time,” she said, blinking back tears. “I’ve been begging my boyfriend to spank me. And since it’s my birthday, he agreed to come here.” She gulped in a huge drink of air. “He…he beat me. He sat on a chair and pulled me over his lap. He lifted my skirt, made me call him Master, and then he… Oh my God, he said he liked it.”

Alani crossed to the water dispenser and got the woman a drink. “Here,” she said, pressing the cup into the woman’s hands.

The woman was nearly thirty, a couple of years older than Alani. She was tall and thin with blonde hair drenched with highlights. She wore a PVC jacket that was barely zipped, a micromini skirt, and spiky heels. Only in her dreams was Alani that thin and tall.

A female monitor pushed the door open, her brows arched. Alani waved the woman away before asking the blonde, “Where did he beat you?”

“My butt.”

“Anywhere else?”

“That was bad enough!”

“Let’s have a look.”

The blonde gasped.

“No need to be shy,” Alani said. “I’ve seen plenty of behinds.”

Blushing furiously, the woman put down her cup and hiked up her skirt. She stood still while Alani looked.

“You’re fine,” Alani said. “More the shock than anything.”

The woman kept glancing over her shoulder, trying to see her ass.

“Come here,” Alani said. She drew the blonde into the dressing area and positioned two cheval mirrors. “Now look.”

The woman’s mouth fell open. “It’s hardly red.”

“You have a couple of marks that will fade fast. You won’t bruise. I think you and your boyfriend need to have a talk. And maybe attend a couple of classes if you want to pursue this lifestyle.” She smiled although she was horribly conscious of the passing of time. “Although it may not be for you.” If she knew the club’s monitors, the blonde’s boyfriend was receiving a similar talk. “A spanking can hurt, especially if he hasn’t warmed you up first.”

“Damn! Is it always like that?”

“No.” She wished it were. “Let’s get you fixed up,” she said.

The blonde straightened her clothing, and Alani offered a damp towel. The woman blotted her face, finger-combed her hair, then gave a wan smile. “It wasn’t what I expected.”

“It rarely is,” Alani said. “But it can be wonderful and rewarding, with patience and communication.”

She walked the woman back to the monitor who waited outside the door.

“Daniel’s talking with her boyfriend about aftercare,” the monitor said.

“Thanks.” To the blonde, Alani said, “You’ll be all right.”

Which was more than she could say for herself.

She was more than five minutes late.

For a moment, she considered changing her clothes before the meeting.

Since she never knew what to expect at work, she kept a variety of shoes and clothing in her locker.

Because she was still on duty, her skirt ended midthigh, and she was conscious of the very feminine garter and stockings she wore. If Master Marcus allowed her to sit, bare skin might be revealed. Jeans or dress pants would be better.

Her shelf bra pushed up her breasts and left her nipples exposed beneath her see-through black blouse. And her heels… She’d worn three-inch stilettos because they made her calves look shapely, not because they were suitable for a meeting with the boss.

But she was already in plenty of trouble. After pulling back her shoulders, she headed toward the front of the club.

Willow stood behind the reception desk, checking reservations, making sure paperwork was signed, ensuring club rules were understood. And she did it all with a disarming smile. Lovely and competent.

“Master Marcus said you were to go straight in,” Willow said, looking up from the computer keyboard.

Alani couldn’t read anything in Willow’s expression.

“Good luck.”

That
was telling.

Alani was too well trained to rush. She moved gracefully and purposefully past the reception desk and into a small alcove. No one watching her would have any idea nerves were churning inside.

Three different doors opened to the alcove. Two were office doors, one for Master Marcus, another for Master AJ. There was a private restroom for staff.

Several chairs dominated the area, along with a couple of silk ferns and a handful of magazines, mainly about architecture or things to do in Denver. There was nothing remotely kinky about the area.

She smoothed back her hair, even though she didn’t need to. She’d mostly gotten past playing with her hair when she was nervous, but now, the old habit returned.

After taking a deep breath, she knocked on Master Marcus’s door.

“Come in!”

She hesitated only for a moment before turning the knob and entering.

He moved aside a document and laid his pen on top of the page. “Come in and close the door behind you.”

He’d phrased it as order, not an invitation.

After following his instructions, she crossed the hardwood floor toward his desk, suddenly unsure how to behave. She’d been here two years, and she’d worked with Master Marcus almost every day. He’d told her during her last review that he was pleased with her performance, but that was before she’d started faking it.

Master Marcus hadn’t invited her to sit, and he hadn’t instructed her to kneel, so she stood there, her hands folded at the small of her back, waiting.

He didn’t stand, and she struggled not to squirm beneath his direct appraisal. She hadn’t been this uncertain since the day she’d interviewed for the job.

He folded his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his leather chair.

Rules of decorum dictated that she didn’t speak first. But this wasn’t a scene. And she was nervous. “Yes, Sir?”

“Sit,” he instructed.

Two chairs faced his desk. His framed business degree hung from the wall. A decorator-inspired silver vase sat on top of a credenza.

The space could belong to a banker, lawyer, or oil executive in a downtown Denver skyscraper. On her first visit, it had shocked her that this professional-looking office was in a BDSM club in a renovated Lower Downtown warehouse.

The room seemed to radiate its own energy, as if it had been branded by masculine power. And she was enough of a natural sub to find it intoxicatingly arousing.

She sat on the sleek modern chair, the metal cool against her bare skin. She kept her back straight and crossed her legs. She tugged on the hem of her skirt in a futile effort not to reveal bare skin, and then she finally sighed and folded her hands in her lap.

“Finished?”

The man missed nothing. “Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me what’s going on, Alani.”

“I’m not sure I understand the question, Sir.” Stalling was always a good tactic.

“I told you to meet me in five minutes.” He glanced at the wall clock. “It’s been closer to fifteen.”

“There was a patron in the dressing room. It was her first visit to the club, and she thought she wanted her boyfriend to spank her until he actually did. She didn’t handle it well. I thought you would want me to stay with her until I could get her calm enough to turn over to a monitor. I apologize for being late, Sir.”

He nodded. “You did the right thing."

“Thank you, Sir.”

He allowed the time to drag, and each moment made her stomach tighten. Stalling was fine if she did it, not so great if someone else were doing it, she realized.

“Master Nathaniel has been to see me.”

There’d been no reason to tell on her. “Even before he came to see me, I’d been planning to have this discussion with you.”

She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, Sir.”

“I know Master Richard can be a pompous ass. But you’ve had scenes together before without rolling your eyes and yawning.”

Master Nathaniel had even seen her roll her eyes? Just how long had he been watching?

“We’ve had no complaints about your performance from your doms. But I’ve noticed your lack of attention. Until recently, you were our best professional sub.” He leaned forward and dropped his hands to the desk. He looked at her intently. “I’ll ask you again, and I expect an answer. What’s going on, Alani?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze.

Master Marcus’s jaw was set, and his brows were drawn together. Apparently he was angry, but he seemed more curious than anything.

“I love to be spanked and punished,” she said. “But all of my transgressions have been fake.”

“Until now,” he said drily.

She thought for a moment he might be teasing. But his eyes contained a lethal amount of power, and he wasn’t smiling.

While Master Marcus wasn’t as tall as his two partners, he was broader, a testimony to his construction background and hours in the gym. His blond hair had been permanently streaked by the sun.

More than once she’d wished he weren’t in a permanent, committed relationship. She’d participated in a few demonstrations with him on one of the club’s stages, and she’d enjoyed every scene. He wielded a wicked crop, and his open-handed slaps to her butt took her breath away. But he made it clear to everyone that he was devoted to Karyn, his sub. He taught an occasional class, but he wasn’t available for anything more.