Deep in the Woods (3 page)

Lawrence and Marie, the owners, circulated around the room. They maintained a constant presence, making sure everyone was playing safe and playing fair. For a moment, Sophie was afraid they might escort her out. She and Barry had been banned from the dungeon last year. But that had been to keep Barry away, she knew. She never did anything, only took it. Barry had been a hard-core sadist, so the things he liked to do to her weren’t that enjoyable to other people. Slapping, torments, humiliation, whippings that went on and on. They didn’t use safe words. At home, he did worse things. Choking her, burning her. Scaring her with guns and knives just to make her cry and beg for mercy. Once he had nailed her hands to a wall in the woodshed. She’d been surprised that it bled so little, and more surprised that it left almost no scar once it healed. He had done a lot of bad things to her. At that time in her life, she hadn’t considered them bad. It had been all about the rush, the surrender. It was only in hindsight, when she looked back on their activities, that she realized he had done dangerous things to her. Evil things. She could remember in hindsight when their activities changed from games to evil, but by that point she had become afflicted by some kind of mental incapacity. She had wanted only to please him, her terrible Master. There had been no “Sophie” left to utter
no
or ask for negotiations. No will, no self-protective impulses. It had happened so gradually, she hadn’t even realized it.

But she wasn’t like that anymore. She knew now how it had happened. She had experienced the sinister slide and survived it. She would recognize the signs if it happened again, she was almost sure of it.

Sophie smiled. The girl was completely bound to the iron bedposts now. She was standing up, legs spread, hands held out in their cuffs as if she welcomed the coming pain with open arms. Her Dom stood beside her holding a flogger, watching with an enraptured smile. The sub was gorgeous. Blonde hair, tall and curvy. The man started to whip her with steady, controlled movements. She arched, unable to escape. Sophie was certain the woman didn’t want to. Her Dominant was short but fit, and clearly tuned in to her reactions and needs. Sophie thought if she was closer, she could have heard the sounds the sub was making and enjoyed the expressions on her face.

Sophie noticed then that the couple was being photographed. How wonderful, she thought, to preserve something so intimate with the help of a lens. The photographer was a tall, solid man, but he was unobtrusive in his work. His movements were subtle and controlled. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but a few locks had escaped. He brushed them back from his face with a gesture she remembered. It was the man from the munch, Dave. As the scene went on, she found herself watching him instead of them. His plain gray T-shirt was understated and yet somehow very masculine. Maybe it was the way it stretched across his chest and hinted at tight muscles underneath. Each time he shifted and looked for a shot, his body seemed to rearrange itself with a natural grace. His arms flexed and his muscles realigned as he lifted the camera to his eye—

“Sophie!”

Sophie jumped and looked over to see an old friend, Tara, holding out her arms to give her a hug.

“I heard you were at the munch this afternoon. Good for you. You look wonderful, honey.” The bubbly blonde clasped Sophie in a tight hug, then backed away. “Oh god, he’s not here, is he?”

“Barry? No. They wouldn’t have let him in anyway.”

“I should hope not.” Tara looked embarrassed that she’d spoken so sharply. “So are you here looking for another—”

Sophie shook her head. “No, not really looking. Just easing back into things.” Her gaze darted over Tara’s shoulder. Dave was gone. Where had he gone? She subdued the urge to whip her head around and locate him, instead looking back at Tara. “It feels weird being here again. A lot of memories. But I feel sort of happy to be here too. Like I persevered. I survived.”

Tara hugged her again, just before her Sir came and pulled her away with a wink. “You did survive, honey. I’ll see you later.”

Sophie laughed and waved as Tara was dragged away smiling. Tara was in a gorgeous pink and red corset and drool-worthy stilettos, and little else. She remembered Tara’s boyfriend, remembered he’d had a thing for cages. He still seemed to, as he led her to a cage in the corner that was open for use. Barry had caged Sophie a lot. But then, it hadn’t been games at a play party. Once he’d caged her for nearly a week, hadn’t even let her out to use the bathroom. When he’d finally pulled her out, her legs had refused to work. He’d laughed at her for stumbling around the room crying. She had been terrified he would shove her back in and tried to run, but she’d fallen. She couldn’t run. She couldn’t escape. His hands had fallen on her, grabbing her. The terror had been so acute she could smell it. She could taste it in her spit. But he hadn’t pushed her back in. He had held her down and—

Sophie shook her head and turned to the wall.
Not now. Don’t think about it.
She pulled herself together and thought she should circulate a little. Mingle. Get her mind on other things.

* * * * *

Dave watched from across the play space. What was wrong with her? She’d been smiling at her friend a moment ago but now she looked on the verge of tears. He raised his camera and zoomed in on her. Not to photograph her. He only photographed people at Studio Erotica with permission, a requirement of the owners. No, he just wanted to get a closer look.

She was biting her lip with a pained expression. Her eyes were distant, distraught. She turned to the wall. What was she watching that upset her so much? He looked around at the various play spaces and could see nothing overly dramatic going on. A puppy play session, Sophie’s friend and her boyfriend playing in a cage, a few women being flogged, a male sub being paraded around and humiliated. He looked back at her, lowering the camera. She was extricating herself from the corner where she was huddled. Was she leaving? He didn’t want her to run off again. Her shoulder-length black hair fell over her face, hiding her features.

His gaze followed her. She was moving among the chatting, watching groups. Aside from the one girl, Tara, no one else really talked to her. A few people nudged friends and gestured at her. He saw a few D-types sliding interested looks her way and suddenly Dave felt jealous. He could stand around staring at her like some lovesick schoolkid, or he could go try to make something happen. He started toward her, only to be stopped by a couple he knew. They were frequent customers, a handsome Master and his very sexy slave. He spoke to them for a while, trying to concentrate, trying not to spin around and look for her. After an interminable amount of polite conversation, he had set up a time and place the following week to do an outdoor session with the couple. They said goodbye and moved off into one of the private back rooms.

Dave took off his camera and put it in the bag. He was done working. He was going to talk to her. The girl looked like she needed a friend, for God’s sake.

His attention was arrested by a scene developing in the center of the dungeon. A hard-playing masochist was being fixed to the square frame. He recognized the woman, an older slave. Her Master bared her back while she moaned. She looked as if she were already falling down into subspace. He took a few steps back as a crowd gathered in the area, drawn to the drama of the scene. The woman’s Master snapped a single-tailed whip at his side, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Dave watched the scene begin.
Crack!
The sound of the whip was amazing against her bared skin. The whip left red streaks that stood out in stark relief against her pale back. Dave felt his breath coming a bit faster. It was beautiful to him, as a sadist. The amazing dance of pleasure and pain, the way the woman willingly bared herself to be hurt. The trust and care involved. The woman screamed and moaned, but was clearly enjoying the encounter. Dave turned to Sophie to see her reaction.

She was not enjoying it nearly as much. She watched with her hands clutched in front of her. Her chest rose and fell quickly and her lips were set in a tense line. Her eyes were wide open and communicated distress. As he watched, she turned and fled.

The woman’s cries grew louder, more animallike, but Dave wasn’t listening anymore. All his attention was centered on Sophie’s retreating figure. She dodged her friend Tara, who looked after her helplessly. “I’ll go to her,” he said to Tara as he passed. Sophie pushed out the door and started down the street. He followed, his footsteps echoing on the sidewalk. She spun on him with a gasp.

He held out his hands. “It’s okay. It’s me, Dave. Do you remember me from the munch today?”

Her breath was coming in short little pants. She ducked her head and started walking again. He fell into step beside her.

“Sophie?”

She didn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

She just hugged herself and walked faster.

“You know, that woman was fine. She was enjoying herself. Sometimes it can appear as if someone’s going too far with someone else, but usually everything’s okay—”

“Oh, is it?” She spun on him. “Usually everything’s okay? Really? How do you know?”

He was taken aback by the vitriol in her words. “I don’t know. No one knows for sure but her. But I assumed, based on her body language, and the fact that she wasn’t safe-wording—”

“Sure. Whatever.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, Sophie. Don’t get mad at me. I was just concerned when I saw you run out. You seemed really upset.”

“I’m just… I’m just… I haven’t been to the Studio in a while. I just…” For a moment, she looked as if she were about to cry, but then she seemed to master herself. She brushed her hair back behind her ears and raised her chin. “It just wasn’t my thing.”

He looked at her. Not her thing? From what the others had told him, it had been very much her thing at one time. God, those eyes of hers. He had no idea what to say next. People passed back and forth on the street, glancing over at the two of them. What did they think? Did they see two lovers fighting? Her stance was defensive.

“Would you like to go get some coffee?”

“No. Why would you think I want coffee?”

Dave shrugged. “Okay. No coffee. How about a walk? Would you like to just walk for a while?”

“Why?”

“Because you look like you’re in a bad place. Let’s just go walking.” He stood back and gestured to the sidewalk ahead of them. “You don’t have to talk.” She was agitated, anxious. Why did he want to go walking with her? To calm her, yes, but he wanted more than that. He wanted to know her, to learn more about the upheaval behind her eyes.

“Walk where?”

“Anywhere. Nowhere.” He shrugged. “Just walk around downtown for a while.”

“It’s not safe to just stroll around this part of Atlanta at night.”

“We’ll be safe.”

“How do you know?”

“I know because I can defend myself. And you.”

“How?”

His lips quirked into a patient smile. “You’re full of questions, aren’t you? I know because I’ve trained in self-defense, for one.”

She was silent, looking at her feet.

“Come walk with me,” he asked one last time. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Finally, to his relief, she nodded yes.

She was so annoyed with herself. Running out of Studio Erotica, making a scene. It was so embarrassing. They all already thought she was a whack job. Her behavior only reinforced what they already suspected about her.

Take a deep breath, Sophie. Let it go.
The night air was comfortable, warm but not muggy. The streets were quiet. She would never have walked around at night alone, not like this. She slid a look at the man walking beside her. Strangely, she felt secure with him. She believed him when he said he could protect her. The way he’d moved in the dungeon, even the way he loped along beside her hinted at a special physicality, a quiet strength. He finally broke the silence with a casual question.

“So how long have you lived in Atlanta?”

“Oh, years now. When I dropped out of college—” She stopped.
Yes, talk about how you dropped out of college, Soph. Talk about how you work at The UPS Store and live in your hole of an apartment alone.

“What were you studying?” he asked when she went no further. “Why did you drop out?”

“I couldn’t pass freshman biology and chem. Or the math courses I needed to go pre-med.”

She hadn’t thought about college in a long time. One more failure in a long line of failures. She’d wanted to become a doctor since a childhood hospital stay for pneumonia, but the courses, even the introductory ones, had proved too difficult for her. She still remembered the excruciating conference with her college counselor.
You simply do not have an aptitude for this.
Her lifelong dream had slipped away in the space of one semester. Her father’s face when she’d told her parents she was dropping out…

“What do you do?” she asked to change the subject.

He held up his camera bag with a smile. “This is what I do. Photography. Mostly arts photography. Well, kink photography now, but it pays the bills pretty nicely. I teach classes too, every now and again.”

“Photography classes?”

“Martial arts. Would you like me to show you some moves?”