The Favor (16 page)

“I can wait, Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now, could you reserve me a private room for this evening. No windows or viewers, as I need complete isolation.”

“Y-yes, I'd be happy to, Mistress Kayla. Thank you.”

He rose from his position and scurried off into the crowd, his bare feet disappearing into the sea of legs that surrounded us. It was easy to tell the subs apart from the Dominants, as their exposed appendages were a dead giveaway. Most of the ankles, however, had no cuffs to define them, and a peek from under my lashes revealed very few of the ones closest to us actually wore cuffs. This suggested that they were single subs all vying for Jared's attention.

I wasn't sure what I should be feeling in this situation, but I was certain that jealousy shouldn't have been the most prevalent emotion to claw its way from my gut. Jared was a free agent, a Dom that had all the entitlement in the world to find a submissive he wanted to play with. He'd known from the start that I had a Mistress and was probably making the most of the attention for when the time came to play with another sub. I knew it was greedy to want to claim him when I already had the attention of the most coveted Domme in New Orleans, but stopping my attachment to him was like trying to change the color of the sky. It was impossible.

I tried to convince myself that this devotion was because his training was my responsibility. I'd put all the work into finding his inner Dom and I should be the first to reap the benefits. Mistress had entrusted me with this task and I intended to take it seriously. I wanted to please her.

“Are you sure about this, Jared?”

“You said it was the only way to fully understand,” he said, the contradiction in his voice pulling me from my own thoughts. I wanted to look up at him and search his eyes, but I hadn’t been invited to, which meant I would be forced to listen closely.

“It is, but it doesn't need to be done now. You have plenty of time to decide what's right for you.”

“Please don't try to talk me out of it, Kayla.”

“I just want to be sure you've thought this through.”

Curiosity was going to kill the Kit if I wasn't careful. The conversation had not been addressed to me and though I knew they were aware I was in earshot, I also knew Mistress expected better of me. Just because I could hear what was being discussed didn't mean it was for my consumption. How many times had I heard that over the years? Enough to know that I was, in fact, being disobedient and shameful. I needed to tune it all out. It was something that had been so easy for me in the past, but was proving difficult tonight.

I busied myself by identifying the feet of the people I knew. The cowboy boots that belonged to Master Larry, a bull-riding Dominant from Texas. The patent leather heels of Mistress Eloise, who, I’d discovered by accident, was one of the most successful ghost tour operators in New Orleans. The beautiful angel wings tattoo on the ankle of Chloe, which was a contradiction as her personality was lacking in most areas. Her exterior appearance seemed to lure Dominants in but they soon discovered her true colors and generally steered clear afterwards.

There were so many familiar sights that kept my mind occupied right up to the point that Mistress touched my shoulder in indication that I should rise to my feet. I did so quietly, my head down and eyes on my toes as I once again felt Jared’s eyes touch me curiously.

I followed Jared and Mistress Kayla through the club to the door that led to the single rooms. Many of them were viewing rooms, some more muted than others. I may have been a slight exhibitionist, but there were subs out there that were shy. Their masters, however, enjoyed showing their skills, so they did it tastefully and the subs were eased by the lack of blatancy. At the very end of the hall were the private rooms. There were no cameras, no peepholes and no viewing windows. These rooms were for absolute privacy and I'd never once been inside one.

Until tonight!

The click of the door was loud in the silent space; not even the music seemed to infiltrate it. In the middle of the room was a St. Andrews cross, but other than the cabinet full of toys, a cast iron bed and a small bathroom door at the back, it was barren.

“Kit.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“I need you to undress Jared for me. When you're finished, you will place his folded clothes in the cabinet and kneel next to it and wait for further instructions.”

I'm not sure when it all started to make sense for me. Somewhere between leaving my place and reaching Jared, I knew what was about to happen. There were a few of Charles' words echoing through my head as I reached the middle of the room, my suspicions falling slowly into place. It was as I was unbuttoning his crisp white shirt that it all fit together with absolute certainty, though.

Jared was subbing.

Jared was going to be Mistress Kayla's sub for the night.

Their words at the table all fell into place. Charles’ story and warning rang in my ears.

“
I don't want to go against my word, but I want you to be prepared.
”

He'd said that being a submissive had made Mistress Kayla a better Mistress. Had he told the same thing to Jared? Was that why he was doing this?

Pushing Jared's shirt over his shoulders, I leaned in against him to pull his sleeves over his wrists, absorbing his warmth through my thin shift dress as a chill began to settle. His mouth was so close to my ear that I could feel his breaths, and I closed my eyes for just a second. I was glad I did or I would have missed it – his quiet words uttered only for me to hear.

“It's the only way to learn.”

No. It wasn't. He was a natural at domination.

For the first time since discovering my own needs, I felt fear and uncertainty over what was about to happen. I didn’t want to be in the room for this. I didn't want to see Jared broken. Deep behind the panic, I knew that there was a valid reason for my being here, that I was needed, but fear made me retreat. Unfortunately, my presence wasn't my decision to make, so I accepted it and let the logic of my being needed settle in.

Unbuttoning his pants, I moved slowly, my hands trembling as I pulled them down his thighs and saw him beautifully naked when he stepped out from the legs. Pulling back with his clothes in my arms, I heard Mistress Kayla breathe out in surprise as I turned my back on them both and folded his garments.

I was here to pick up the pieces and I couldn't be sorry about that. I was familiar to Jared, so I would be the one he wanted to be there when it was all over, and I understood that. Of course I understood that. I’d lived it every day for almost four years. It was just harder than I’d ever imagined it could be to see someone so strong about to accept a beating from a woman who was seen as his equal. I did as I was asked and set his clothes inside the cabinet before kneeling. I was so torn. I wanted to be there, but at the same time I wasn’t sure I could be. I couldn’t understand his need to do this. Maybe if I’d known, if he’d talked to me about it and I knew it was more than a need to learn, I could have set the record straight. Then again, maybe I was thinking about it too much. I liked and respected Jared; I just couldn’t understand why this made my blood run cold.

Maybe I didn’t want to.

I couldn’t seem to lift my eyes. The tension in the room grew with every breath I took, and my heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I was sure the two of them could hear it. There was a bigger reason why seeing a man like this being broken upset me, but if I allowed myself to think about it for even a second, I knew there would be no finding the strength I needed to get through the scene. So I kept my mouth shut and my head down, the click of Mistress’ heels moving around the room holding my focus as I kept my mind empty. I could do this. I could be here for Jared and help him get through it even if it killed me.

“Kit. Come here, please.”

I rose to my feet in one swift, graceful movement and made my way to my Mistress. I kept my eyes on my feet and my hands behind my back, following the sound of her voice across the room.

“You calm him.” She breathed quietly, her fingers running through my hair. “I need you to stand on the other side of the cross and keep him at ease while I do this.”

Her uncertainty was worn in both her voice and the request she’d asked of me. She didn’t want to do this either, which told me that the plan had more than likely been hatched between Charles and Jared. As much as I loved Charles, in that moment I damned him to hell. What worked for one did not necessarily work for another. Mistress Kayla had been an anomaly – she still was – which meant that her submission leading to her grace and power as a Dominant also could have been an anomaly. It certainly didn’t mean that it would make Jared a better master. Yet, who was I to talk him out of it? I was nobody. No one.

I wished she hadn’t requested me to do this. Yet, it wasn’t a request at all, but a command, and before I was even conscious of accepting the order, I was making my way to the cross and slipping behind it, mirroring Jared’s pose on the other side.

So many words filtered through my head. Most of them pleaded with him not to do it, but none of them passed my lips. Instead, I uttered words of encouragement, my hands stretching along the lines of the cross, my fingers skimming over his strong arms before linking with his awkwardly.

I stayed back from him with my head turned to the side, even though I could feel his eyes on me as his breaths came quickly against my cheek. I couldn't look him in the eyes, even if we were equals for the evening. I couldn't stand to see the pain in them once Mistress began. I had no idea what she had planned for the night, but I knew she wasn't going to go easy because it wasn't in her nature.

She approached from behind Jared. I caught her in my peripheral vision as she ran her hands down his back, to warm his skin. I knew what she was feeling – the softness of his skin, covering the hard and taut muscles that were currently flexing in anticipation. No matter how confusing my own contrary emotions were, I held my breath, my mind following the path of her hands as she explored. Jared’s breathing picked up, each exhale brushing strands of hair over my shoulder while his fingers tightened around mine, looking for reassurance.

“Easy, Jared. I know we haven't had time to build trust, but believe in Kit's faith in me. Understand that she trusts me with this and her body to do as I please. If you've built trust with one another, you'll hear this and let it sink in.”

It took a moment, but I could have sworn his breathing eased and his fingers loosened around mine.

“Good boy, Jared. I'm going to use the whip on you tonight. We only have one opportunity to show you how a submissive feels and the intensity of the whip will make you feel the most vulnerable. Embrace it, learn from it, and you will understand why trust needs to be had.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he murmured, his voice husky and hoarse.

She must have run her hands over his body a few times before stepping away with her heels clicking across the floor. The whisper of the whip dragging behind her was almost deafening to my ears. I’d heard it often in the time I’d been her submissive. I’d always coveted it in the past, but now the sound tangled my emotions. It was only when I realized I was feeding my anxiety to Jared that I took a breath, putting myself in his shoes until I felt the calm wash over us. Mistress snapped the whip twice to the right of us, and the crack echoed against the concrete walls.

The whistle of the leather flying through the air immediately brought back the tension in my body, this time in anticipation before I exhaled and relaxed as my eyes closed. The groan and blast of air from Jared came quickly, heating the side of my face that was closest to him. She had gone easy, warming him up, practically caressing rather than causing pain.

A stuttered breath fell from my lips and my selfishness melted away. This wasn’t about me. This was about Jared and something he wanted, and I had to be present for him. When the cracks came harder, and his groans turned to grunts, my head turned, my forehead resting on his as his harsh breaths washed over me; and yet, I still couldn't open my eyes.

Sweat soon dusted his skin, the biting cracks in his flesh making his body bow toward mine. I squeezed my eyes tighter as the combination of whistle and cracks surrounded me completely. It was a symphony of sound, and there was only one conductor. I would normally be reveling in the beauty of it, wishing I was the one spread eagerly against the cross and earning the stripes on my back, and then it was there, the ghostly finger of want tickling the nape of my neck lending me strength as I leaned into the cross and Jared. Somewhere between that moment of self-awareness and the next set of harder, punishing snaps, I heard my name whispered on his lips. Jared needed me. He needed me and I had to open my eyes to let him see the confidence and trust there, while offering him encouragement.

I took two breaths, another unrelenting crack of the whip against his skin sounding out before my eyes fluttered open and found his. It was my worst fears confirmed. All I could see was pain. There was no pleasure in this for Jared as there would have been for me had I been in his place, and the knowledge of that made me want to cry out and beg her to stop, but doing so would be wrong and neither of them would thank me for it.

I started breathing for him, my eyes pleading for him to copy the repetitive inhales and exhales that I hauled in and released rhythmically. His breath stuttered and shuddered before he squeezed my fingers and found the pattern. The session felt like it was going much longer than normal but that was more than likely because I was so unnerved. Holding Jared’s eyes, I finally lost myself inside of them, our synchronized breaths intertwining between us and sounding more like we were having sex than him being beaten. His eyes soon warmed with my encouragement, his body pushing forward as each lash landed.

Then it stopped.

I heard the click of heels, felt his body bow as Mistress Kayla ran her hands over the welts I knew had to be littering his back.