B is for… (13 page)

Her stomach churned.

“You’ll have to learn your new limits. And you’ll have to learn to protect yourself. Masochistic submissives are the most vulnerable in our community.”

“Why are you telling me this, Master?” It was the kind of lecture you gave someone before you left them.

“I’m telling you because you need to hear it. And you need to face what it means.” Xavier handed her a pair of simple leather cuffs. “Put these on, count to one hundred, then come outside.”

*****

The torchlight lent a primitive air to the already imposing Iron Court. There were more people there now than there had been an hour ago. Some were seated on benches placed on the paths between the statues, others were kneeling and still more were standing around the outer rim of the torchlight. In the middle of it all was the stage. A few short metal buckets sat on one corner, and a large T-shaped wood structure was mounted to the edge closest to her. Master Xavier stood in the center of it all. He’d stripped off his shirt and his bare chest seemed to glisten in the light. With the dark pants and hood he looked like an executioner waiting for the condemned.

When she emerged all eyes turned toward her. Mae dropped her gaze and swallowed.

Run.

She clenched her fists, fighting back the impulse. She trusted Master Xavier, and as scared as she was, she wanted this—whatever dark thing was about to befall her. If he wanted to do it to her, then she wanted to experience it.

The click of her heels was loud on the tile until she stepped onto the crushed sandstone path that led to the center of the court. She could feel the gazes of the crowd—they were looking at her red and beaten breasts, at her marked ass and exposed sex.

She mounted the steps up to the stage. When she reached the top Master Xavier’s hand was there, guiding her forward. He took her hips in his hands and turned her to face the corner, where the metal containers were. One was a bucket—filled nearly to the top with water.

The other was a brazier, full of glowing red coals. The handles of three branding irons protruded from the fire.

“No!”

Mae jumped back, smacking against Master Xavier. She shouldn’t be shocked—this elaborate set-up and the way he’d spoken to her just moments ago were all clues that this was coming. She’d hadn’t seen, hadn’t wanted to see.

Xavier steadied her, then took a deliberate step back so he wasn’t touching her.

“Branding is one of our checklist items, Mae.”

“No, no.” Panic was clawing at her throat.

“Are you using your safe word?” Someone in the crowd called out the question, clearly concerned for her.

Mae opened her mouth.
Banana.
All she had to do was say it.

Instead she looked at Xavier. “This is on your checklist?”

He nodded. “I can see the beauty in marking a submissive in this way, if she chooses to bear her submission like this.”

“Is this…like collaring?” It would make sense if this were about permanently showing ownership.

“No, Mae. We are not bound. This branding would mean that you submitted fully to me in this moment. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Her heart was breaking and she couldn’t breathe. Mae folded her arms against her chest, only to cry out when her breasts throbbed.

“On your checklist, did you say you wanted to be branded?” His tone was firm.

“Yes, Master.”

“And now you are presented with that opportunity.”

She whimpered and dropped her head.

Xavier touched her cheek. “This is what safe words were made for.”

Though she heard him, all she could think about was his touch. It was nothing more than his knuckles stroking her face, but it made all the difference. Mae exhaled, a trance-like calm settling over her. He’d warned her both about himself and about her own desires.

This was the turning point. She could walk away, or she could embrace this.

And then, when her time with him was over, Mae would have his mark. She’d have a way to remember what it had felt like to dance in the dark. Even if no one else ever touched her the way he had, she’d remember these feelings—the pride and desire of walking through the club wearing the marks of a flogger, the delicious helplessness of being mastered by a man who found release by marking her flesh, and above all the way he’d looked at her.

“No, Master.”

“You have to say your word, Mae.”

“I mean no, I’m not using my safe word.” She raised her voice and heard the crowd mutter. “I’m ready.”

He took a deliberate step back. Doubt bit at her once his touch was gone, but she clenched her fists and firmed her resolve.

“Mae, this is not a challenge. No one here doubts your submission. Least of all me.”

“Thank you, Master.”

He snarled, chest muscles flexing. “Use your safe word, damn it.”

Mae shook her head. “No, Master.”

“Xavier, if you’ve changed your mind, you too have the right to safeword out of this item.” Though Mae couldn’t see the speaker, she recognized Mistress Faith’s voice.

Their gazes met, and in his eyes Mae saw a terrible dark need.

“I want to brand her. I want to mark her.” Master Xavier’s deep voice made the words poetry. “I want to taste her pain and submission and the pleasure it brings.”

There were murmurs from the crowd, but she didn’t care. Her whole world had narrowed, until all that mattered was his green eyes, staring at her from behind the mask that hid nothing of his soul.

Xavier pointed at the T-shaped wood structure. “If you want this, attach your cuffs to the chains. I will not bind you. You will do it yourself.”

Mae looked at the simple cuffs she’d put on. They were one thin piece of leather, held closed by a buckle. A D ring near the closure was the only hardware that distinguished them from a cuff bracelet. It seemed odd that these simple things would be what bound her.

The crosspiece of the T came to just below her breasts. A short chain with a carabiner clip dangled from each end. Using two hands she got her left wrist clip in with no problem. The right took her longer, and she had to stretch and wedge the clip against the wood in order to press the latch and push the D ring in. Her fingers were shaking by the time she was secured, and doubt clawed at her.

She wrapped her fingers around the chains, holding tight.

Footsteps thumped on the wooden stage. “Look at me, Mae.

Turning her head, she watched as Xavier held up a branding iron, the tip glowing red. He pushed it down on the stage and the wood hissed and sizzled. When he lifted the brand, an “X” was burned into the boards.

Mae felt nauseous. The idea of that heat searing against her skin was too much. She shook her head, raising her gaze to Master Xavier’s. There was fire in his gaze, a fierce desire to master her body in this way. The desire to submit warred with fear and she dropped her gaze, struggling to sort out her feelings.

She didn’t want this because it would hurt, she wanted it because he wanted to do it to her. Wanted what would come after—the permanent record of what they’d meant to each other.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of water hissing as he dunked the brand into the bucket, though she couldn’t see it happening. When he touched her ass Mae screamed, then shuddered when she realized it was just his hands.

“Spread your legs, Mae.”

She was shaking too much to obey. He forced them open, then pressed two fingers into her pussy. The penetration sent spikes of pleasure through her. She focused on that—the feel of his fingers inside her.

“I want you to come for me. I want to feel you shaking with pleasure.” He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “Can you come for me, Red?”

His fingers scissored around her clit and Mae screamed, her whole body bowed back. Knowing that there was a crowd looking on only spurred her arousal. She shamelessly pumped her hips on his hand, grateful to have this to focus on—the kinky pleasure that she understood so much better than the dark needs he raised in her.

Her orgasm was still shuddering through her when he pulled back. Mae had a moment to focus, to remember where she was, and what was about to happen.

She felt the heat a second before something hard pressed against her right butt cheek near her hip.

Mae screamed. She screamed in terror and in satisfaction. She screamed as the heat penetrated her. It was hot, painfully hot.

…But it didn’t burn.

She sobbed, falling forward against the wood support as her trembling knees gave way.

It didn’t burn.

That one thought rattled through her. The pressure of the brand was gone from her skin, having stayed there not more than a second or two.

Xavier wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, the other at her shoulders, just below her neck. He pulled her back against his body, holding her as she shook. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The tears came, great sobs wracking through her body. “You… you didn’t?” She couldn’t complete the question.

“The brand was hot, but not enough to scald you. I wouldn’t do that to you, Mae.”

He cupped her jaw, forced her to turn her head and meet his gaze. “It was my choice, and I chose not to mark you permanently. Do you understand?”

She could feel a dull ache on her butt where the brand had touched. Though it hadn’t burned her, she was sure she’d have a mark. His grip shifted, pulling her tighter back against him. The hard line of his cock dug into her, leaving her no doubt as to what effect she had on him.

Xavier released her to undo the cuffs from the chain. The instant she lost full body contact with him she started to shake. Holding on to the T-support, she faced him. Feelings she couldn’t even begin to name rocketed through her, one after another, coming so fast she couldn’t process them.

Xavier reached for her, but Mae held up a hand. He stopped, eyes hot with need as he examined her.

She slapped him. Mae had no idea where it came from, but she hauled her hand back and slapped him hard across the cheek. His head whipped to the side, then slowly swiveled back to her.

Mae straightened, facing him down with every ounce of courage she had left in her body. Her breasts were heaving with her shaky breaths, her whole body ached both from what he’d done to her and the release of tension. His gaze pierced her, his mouth a hard line of anger.

Their eyes met, and Xavier’s expression softened, leaving her to wonder what he could see in her face, if he knew how hard she was trying to rebuild the defenses he’d ripped down.

“Come here, Red.” He opened his arms.

That was the last straw. Mae couldn’t take it anymore.

Whirling, she ran from him. Stumbling down the steps, she lost a shoe, and would have fallen if someone hadn’t reached out to catch her. Pushing away from the helper she kicked off her other heel and ran, tears streaming down her face.

*****

Xavier stood alone in the firelight, watching her go. The crowd was muttering, and Mistress Faith came up to say something. He didn’t hear her.

He crouched on the steps and picked up her discarded heels. Cradling the silly gold things in his hand, he straightened. Without a word, Master Xavier clenched his fist around Mae’s shoes and took off after her.

Mae stumbled into the Conclave. The elegant barn was deserted, the board bearing the alphabet letters the overseers had used to explain this horrible game still in the middle of the open space.

She didn’t know how to turn on the lights, so she left the door open. There was enough moonlight from that and the windows to guide her as she pushed open the heavy doors of what had been horse stalls and were now either elegant “cells” for naughty subs, or pens for horse and pony play. She found one that had a twin bed in it. With a sob she threw herself down on the mattress, grateful for whatever person had left soft cotton sheets in place.

She jerked her ruined stockings off, then removed the corset, dropping both carelessly onto the floor. Rolling onto her side she laid her palm over the hot place on her ass. The skin was sensitive to the touch, the residual pain equal to the deepest marks on her breast.

“Mae.”

She rolled, looking at the open stall door where a man stood silhouetted in the faint moonlight. She wasn’t surprised, but she wasn’t happy either. “Go away.”

He disappeared, and Mae blinked back tears. It was totally unfair of her to be disappointed that he’d left when she told him to, but right now she couldn’t manage fair. Her feelings were too jumbled.

Xavier returned, toting two heavy floor candelabras. The massive iron things went with the elegant Spanish style of the mansion, but when he placed them on either side of the room and flicked a lighter, all she cared about was that he’d made it light when she wanted dark.

“Leave me alone, Xavier.” She didn’t call him Master, using it to push him away.

“I won’t.”

“What more could you want from me?”

He dropped to sit on the floor, back against the wall. “I have no right to ask for anything more.”

“That’s right, you don’t.”

“But I want to know why you ran.”

“You almost branded me. Me.” Mae spread her arms. “I don’t even have a tattoo, because I couldn’t commit to a design. I was going to let you brand me, burn me, with whatever you wanted.”

“Is that why you’re upset?”

Mae clenched her fists, longing to lash out at him, to break that calm until he felt what she did. “Yes. And no.” She ground out the last word.

“Then why?” His eyes bored into her, and despite the walls of anger she’d erected, she felt herself responding to the command in his gaze.

“I ran because…because I was disappointed that you didn’t do it.” Mae leapt to her feet. “I don’t even know you. I’ve never seen your face. But I wanted you to do it. I wanted to have you brand me so that it would always be there. I’d always feel you touching me.”

Xavier rose slowly to his feet. She held out her hands. “No. Don’t touch me. I can’t stand it. Can’t stand that you’re so calm when I feel like I’m breaking apart inside.”

She knelt on the bed, inching back until she hit the wall, now as far away from him as she could be. “You make me feel things that I can’t even understand, and it didn’t mean anything to you.”