Chapter 4

He Didn't Give a Flying Fuck

AS RESTLESS AS A CAGEDcat, Noah walked the circuit. The single shot of Jameson he'd had at the bar had done nothing to take the edge off. He considered heading home early, but there was nothing but silence and loneliness awaiting him there. No longer in the mood to play, being shot down by a submissive ten years his junior had a deflating effect on the ego and other manly parts. Maybe it was for the best. She was too tempting by far.

When he rounded the last turn of the circuit, his gaze landed on a woman bound to a spanking bench. Her full ass was bright red.Not rosy but crimson and in stark contrast to the surrounding skin.

As he watched the scene unfold, a sense of unease washed over him. The sub, bound and gagged, skirt up and panties wedged between her cheeks, moaned with each hearty stroke. She tossed her head and pulled at her restraints.

He'd done his share of DM shifts, and years of experience on top of that had taught him the red flags to look for. There were precautions a good dom took when the sub or bottom was gagged. Instead of calling out a safeword to make it all stop, the players usually negotiated a nonverbal safe signal. Either hand gestures or dropping an object or squeezing a squeaky toy to signal distress. But this sub's hands were empty. Correction, her tightly clenched, white-knuckled fists were.

But this could be all part of what they had agreed upon. And it was against the rules to interrupt a scene. Only a DM should, but that wasn't his role tonight. He looked around for someone on duty, but then a wail arose from the station.

Jordan, who was topping her, was more than a little sadistic. He had already progressed from a routine spanking. There were vivid handprints on her ass, and he could make out marks from the edge of a harshly applied paddle, and now he was using a crop. She'd received at least two strokes based on the fiery-red, crisscrossing lines, the ham-handed—or maliciously deliberate—dom using the shaft like a cane instead of the flapper on the end.

Noah pushed through the crowd. A few of the spectators were cluing in that something wasn't right and started getting agitated. He heard another dom say, "Where's a dungeon monitor? I'm not liking the looks of this."

His instincts kicked in. As the dom drew back his arm in a high arc for another harsh blow, Noah shouted, "No more!"

His booming voice commanded everyone's attention in and surrounding the station, including Jordan's. When he saw who had stopped him, a sneer curled on his lips. "You're interrupting my scene, old man. After I'm done punishing this fat cunt, I'm going to the master dom and issuing a complaint. See how you like being called on the carpet and threatened with a month's suspension."

He'd used the slur in his presence before. Directed at...

No. It couldn't be Fiona. But as he took in the sub's full bottom and lush thighs—also marked by the prick—and her long wavy brown hair, he knew it was her. He couldn't see her face, but from the muffled sounds behind the gag and the way she was trying to kick free and pull out of her cuffs, she was the epitome of a sub in distress.

When Jordan's arm arced back to resume the cruel punishment, Doc hurdled the ropes and ripped the crop from his hand. His intervention coincided with Master Eric's arrival. He had Val with him, and her wide, horrified eyes locked on Fiona.

"She's bruised, and he broke the skin," she said, her soft voice carrying.

Doc rushed forward to see to her, but Eric stopped him with a hand flat on his chest. "This scene is over," he announced, fury making his voice cold and clipped. "Val, see to Fiona. Jordan, Doc, to my office. Now. Masters Kai and Jerry will accompany you."

"Excuse me, master," Val called. "But I'm afraid we need Doc to stay in a professional capacity. She's cut in two places and bleeding."

Doc dispatched one of the subs to the bar for the first aid kit. When he turned back, two other subs had stepped forward to help. They were releasing Fiona's cuffs while the subbie guardian pulled the extra-large ball gag out of her mouth. She swallowed hard, took a ragged breath, then screamed, "Red," so loud it echoed off the third-floor ceiling and brought all activity at every station to a dead stop.

Except for Doc, who was seething with fury. He turned on Jordan and, regardless of his hands, dropped the abusive asshole where he stood with a powerful right cross. Then he bent, gripped the front of his shirt, and all but shouted in his face. "You took away her safeword, asshole. A rule you should have learned in orientation. You don't gag a sub unless you provide another way for her to tell you to stop."

He dropped him, furious and disgusted.

When Jordan's head hit the floor with a thud like a watermelon, Noah didn't give a flying fuck. He left him where he lay to tend to Fiona.

"I'M OKAY," SHE SAIDbetween sniffles and stuttering breaths. "I just want to go home."

"Let Doc see to your cuts first, honey," Val urged softly. "After that, Eric and I will take you home."

She felt movement behind her and whirled around, terrified it was Jordan. The quick movement intensified her all-over body aches and the burning pain on her lower cheeks and thighs. Her hand flew to her head as a wave a dizziness struck, and she wavered unsteadily. Val reached for her, but she wouldn't have been able to catch her if she started going down. Doc was there, however, and swung her into his arms.

His deep voice boomed orders. "When the emergency kit gets here, have them bring it to me upstairs in the guest apartment."

"No! Put me down."

"Hush, sweetheart," he murmured soothingly as he moved through the crowd. "You can trust me to take good care of you."

Jordan had alluded to as much—the sadist. She should have never believed him, and she wasn't about to make the same mistake with his friend. Fiona squirmed to get free, but he held her firmly as he strode toward the back of the playroom.

"Be still," he insisted with more bite in his tone. "I'm taking you upstairs to see to your injuries, and you certainly can't walk there."

"I don't want to go with you. Besides, I'm too heavy to carry," she insisted.

"Fiona, stop this, right now!" he ordered sharply, leaving no room for argument. "I am your physician. And what I say goes. We'll get you upstairs, cleaned up, and tended to, then we'll deal with the rest."

Tended tocould only mean one thing; he'd be staring at Fat Fiona's bare butt. In pain and humiliated by her foolishness and misplaced trust in Jordan, she now found herself at the mercy of a man much like him. The emotional wounds he'd inflicted were still raw. It was simply too much.

She couldn't hold back any longer. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed in misery and self-pity.

Val, who rushed alongside them, breathless from trying to keep pace, was seething and focused on payback. "That man needs to be strung up by his toes and beaten until he bleeds. It's only just."

"First things first," Doc replied. "Where's the medical kit? She may need sutures."

Fiona cried harder, imagining him stitching up her butt.

"Eric is bringing it. He sent me ahead with you because both guest apartments are in use. You can take her to ours, but I'll have to let you in with the passcode."

In the elevator, on the ride up to the third floor, Fiona tried to get control of her emotions, but all she wanted to do was go home, curl up into a ball, and cry until she had no more tears left. Since that wasn't happening, she kept her eyes shut tight trying to block everything out.

Although she didn't want his comfort, Doc's arms remained firm and constant. When her breath hitched, and her body shuddered in the aftermath of her torrent of tears, she thought she felt his lips brush her hair. But the doors slid open, and they were moving again, and she couldn't be sure.

Val ran ahead and opened the door for them and led them through the apartment. Fiona didn't lift her head from Doc's shoulder or open her eyes until he laid her on the bed on her belly.

"Stay with her while I wash up," he ordered as he headed to the bathroom.

She gazed up at Val, her vision blurred. "I feel like such a fool." Her throat raw and scratching from the gag and crying, she choked out the words. "And I've never been more embarrassed in my life."

"Oh, Fiona, don't be. This isn't your fault. Jordan is the one to blame. He's been a member long enough to know how this works. He needs to be kicked to the curb and his membership permanently revoked. I'm hoping that's what's keeping Eric."

"Agreed," Doc said, returning with a basin of water and a wad of towels under his arm. "But let's focus on keeping her calm while I get her wounds tended." The mattress shifted as he sat down beside. "I need to get this skirt off you, Fiona. I'll be as gentle as I can."

She felt a tug on the zipper in back.

"Raise your hips so I can slide it down."

Responding to his soothing tone, she did as he asked but turned her head, unable to face him. She squeaked in alarm but stayed still when his fingers curled around the waistband of her bikini panties. Instead of pulling them down too, she heard the snap of the thin elastic band as he tore it in two. Fiona bit her lip to keep from reacting again when he did the same on the other side then tugged the material out from under her.

Although his touch was gentle as he dabbed at the tender spots with a warm, wet cloth, they still burned like fire, and she sucked in a breath as the sting reignited.

"These are open in spots, but not deep enough to require sutures. Val, can you check on the emergency kit? I need supplies."

"I have it right here," the new arrival said as he entered.

Fiona immediately recognized the quiet authority in his voice. She had heard it every visit to the dungeon for a year. Instead of confirming it was Master Eric, she buried her face in her pillow. Having a third person gawking at her bruised and battered bare backside was humiliating enough. Unable to contain it, a whimper escaped her throat.

"I know it hurts, sweetheart," Doc murmured, mistaking her reaction for physical pain, which had surprisingly taken the back seat to her mortification. She suspected that was about to change when she heard paper and plastic crinkling as he tore open packages. "The antiseptic I'm using contains a topical anesthetic that should help—after the initial sting."

He wasn't lying. The instant it made contact, it was like he'd lit her skin on fire. She clutched her pillow tighter, her feet fluttering against the mattress as she squealed in pain.

"I know," he hummed in sympathy. "The numbing agent should only take a second or two to take effect."

After a moment, the burning and pain subsided, and she went limp on the bed. That's when she noticed warm fingers gently stroking her calf. They weren't soft enough to be Val's, and she was sure it wasn't her husband, who she'd only spoken to twice—and briefly.

"That's it," Doc murmured as the fingers gave her a little pat then were gone. "The worst is over. Next comes an antibiotic ointment to prevent infection. I'm using it sparingly, or the Steri-Strips, which are like butterfly bandages, won't stick. It's best to leave them on until they fall off, so you don't disturb the scab forming. Otherwise, keep these areas clean and dry and covered with a nonstick pad so your clothing doesn't irritate them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she croaked, her raw throat dry as dust.

"You poor thing," Val exclaimed. "Everyone was so worried about your injuries, we didn't think about water. I'll run and get you some."

"No. Stay with her," Doc said, the bed shifting again as he stood. "I need to throw all of this out and wash again. I'll get it."

A phone rang as he left.

"That's me," Eric said on the move, too. "I'll take this in the hall."

AFTER DISCARDING ALLthe packaging and the gauze soiled with Fiona's blood, Noah washed his hands. Although when he dried them on the towel, twisting it between his hands, he wished it was Jordan's neck instead.

"Tristan called," Eric said from the doorway behind him.

His enraged gaze met his in the mirror. "Please tell me that bastard is gone."

"Escorted to his car and told not to return. Tristan has removed his security access, and I'll be sending word out to the community and other club owners across the region that he isn't welcome here and they should rethink allowing him in their clubs and at their events as well."

"Blackballing him isn't punishment enough."

"True. But we can't kill him."

Noah arched a brow in disagreement.

"Okay, we could, but Val would be most unhappy about visiting me in prison."

"This was revenge," he said, putting voice to the thoughts running through his head since ripping the crop from the prick's hand. "He chose the last station, far away from the door, bound and gagged her, then punished her because I called him out on his behavior in the bar." He threw the towel in the sink then sank to sit on the side of the tub, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "I should have followed my instincts and beat the shit out of him that night."

Eric sounded equally disturbed when he acknowledged, "And I should have canceled his membership. Probation and repeating a class aren't enough to reform a hate-filled fuck like him. But we can't turn back the clock. We can only learn from our mistakes and keep it from happening again. For damn sure, he won't be repeating a scene like that at my club or anyone else's from here to Texas."

Looking up at his friend, he verbalized another fear. "Leaving his needs unfulfilled could push him into the shadows where he can prey on someone who has no one around to intervene. He needs to be locked up."

"I worry about that too, which is why Rossi has opened an investigation. I already made the call to Keiran."

"And what if we don't find anything?"

"You think he's clean after what you saw tonight?"

"Hell no." He shot to his feet, too agitated to sit still. "I want in."

Eric shook his head. "You know Finn. He'd never agree. You're too close." Cocking his head to the side, he looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Why is that? What's between you and Fiona?"

"Nothing. Although if she'd accepted my offer earlier this evening, this might not have happened."

"Wait. She turned you down?"

At his utter shock, he barked a humorous laugh. "It's been known to happen."

"Not in my club that I recall," Eric returned.

He was probably right, although he didn't keep track. That would be crass. With his frequent absences, when he returned, he was like a novelty, even though he had been a member since the early days of their opening. New submissives vied for his attention, and those who'd been around for a while, and knew his strict no-relationship philosophy, treated him like a challenge.

"She's been a tough nut to crack. Shy, introverted, and very selective, she took part in a few scenes early on then nothing. And it wasn't from lack of trying by our doms. She declined a lot of offers, which was why she often sat alone in subspace. Once bitten, twice shy, as they say. Only a persistent dom or a closeted masochist would go back for seconds of rejection." Eric ran through his observations aloud, like they often did at team meetings at Rossi when trying to weave together the threads of a difficult investigation. "She watched from afar until tonight then picked Jordan. It makes no sense."

"She told me she was looking for long-term, which I can't give her."

"You could—"

He sliced his hand through the air, cutting him off. "Don't you start too. Na?ve newbies, which is essentially what she is, who are looking for permanence aren't my thing. Not anymore."

"It worked out well for you and Claire."

"Until it didn't."

"What are the odds of something like that happening again?"

"More than I'm willing to risk."

"You're forty-three and looking at a lot of lonely years ahead of you, my friend. I was stuck in the revolving door of long hours and time for little else except one-nighters until Valerie came along and made me want to change that. She showed me how good it can be."

Noah had seen the change in his friend. Once strictly regimented and inflexible, he made the perfect CFO for a new company. Tony and Keiran, who ran the Rossi offices, and Dex his counterpart at the San Antonio club all complained about his skinflint ways, saying he squeezed every nickel so tight the buffalo pooped. Although they weren't as polite about it and none had ever said poop.

They also acknowledged he was the right man at the right time for the job, and a huge part of their success. But he laughed more since Val, and definitely bent more since she'd entered the picture, although no one dared point that out to the master dom. He supposed that happened when a hardcore dominant fell in love. It had been the same for him with Claire.

He felt a familiar pang in his chest when he thought about what he'd lost five years before. "I already know how good it can be," he told his friend quietly. "That's my problem."

"What are your plans for the future? To continue juggling your surgical practice, volunteering abroad, the foundation, Rossi, and, when you can squeeze it in, the club so you can go right on revolving in that door and never have to face reality?"

His voice laced with annoyance, Noah bit out, "Your psychotherapist wife must be rubbing off on you. When are you hanging out your shingle?"

"I'm right. Aren't I?"

"So what if you are?" he retorted sharply. "You haven't experienced the pain of having your perfect life yanked away in the blink of an eye. It's a pain unlike anything you can imagine. I'm not a masochist. I refuse to set myself up for that agony again."

"Not even for Fiona?" he persisted, appearing unfazed by the anguish in Noah's voice. "I heard you leaped the velvet ropes like a hurdler to save the maiden fair and tossed the putz who hurt her, who weighed at least 230, aside like a rag doll. Could it be she's weakened those shields you've erected around your heart?"

His head dropped back, and he stared at the ceiling, groaning. "Fuck me. Do you never give up, man?"

"Rarely," he returned without a moment's pause, but then he fell silent. "But I can't understand the pain you endured," Eric said at length. "And while I think you're making the wrong decision, I'll let it go."

"Hallelujah," Noah whispered emphatically.

"Don't expect my wife to do the same," his friend warned.

This time, his head fell forward as he groaned. Val's tenacity rivaled her husband's, especially when she saw a wrong that needed righted.

His friend clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll have a word with her."

Despite the seriousness of their conversation, this made Noah smile. "Yeah? Does that usually work?"

"Here at the club? Yes."

"And outside it?What's your batting average, then?"

Eric's confidence wavered. "If there was a DH rule at my house, he'd be hitting for me in the lineup."

Unsurprised, he sighed. "I should go check on my patient again before I go."

"I got her water because she asked for ice. I hope that's okay," Val said from the hallway behind her husband. He turned from where he was leaning against the door frame and welcomed her into his arms.

"It's fine, and should help," Noah told her.

"She's wired. I don't think she'll be able to sleep here. She's asking to go home."

"She shouldn't be alone tonight. I can give her something, if she's willing," he replied, striding past them.

Noah found Fiona in a loose, flowing satin robe standing at the window, staring out.

"You should be in bed with those ice packs on," he gently scolded.

Continuing to gaze into the darkness, she replied, "I needed a break. My backside was frozen."

"Which means it was numb to the pain; that's the point of the ice, and to reduce the swelling."

She turned, tears spiking her lashes. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble. What I did... I feel like such an idiot."

He moved closer. "I told myself I wouldn't ask, but I have to know. Why did you turn me down but say yes to that heavy-handed sadistic fuck?" He kept his voice low and controlled despite being ticked off, insulted, and not least of all, confused as hell.

"I didn't know that's what he was. He seemed..." She shook her head and said between sniffles, "It doesn't matter. Club Decadence isn't the place for me. Tonight proved it. I won't be back."

"Never say never. You're submissive and can't deny your true nature. You're going to heal and move on from this, but the desire to submit to someone worthy of you will live on inside you. It will burn until you're engulfed by the flames or you resume your search for someone to extinguish it." He reached up and brushed a single tear from her cheek. "When that day comes, call me."

"And when that day has come and gone, what then? When the fire burns in the nights that follow, who do I call about that?"

He had the decency to flush because they both knew it wouldn't be him.

"I appreciate your offer, Doctor, but you'd only be a Band-Aid for my problem. And you're right, I am worthy of more."

He wanted to provide the reassurance and comfort she needed, but he didn't trust that he was thinking straight. With emotions running high, this wasn't the time to make promises he might not keep come morning. Those kinds of wounds weren't visible but could cut just as deep, and doing that to her would make him as big a prick as Jordan.

SILENCE SETTLED BETWEENthem and dragged on until it became uncomfortable.

"Is everything all right in here?"

Val had returned and even though Fiona had never been happier to see anyone in her life, she suppressed a sigh of relief because that would have been terribly rude.

"It's fine," she assured her, Master Noah saying nothing.

"Good. You seem better. Did you take something to help you rest?"

Surprisingly, she did feel better, less panicked, and the ice had eased the pain for now. Having clothes on and not flashing her naked rear end to whoever happened by also helped. "I don't like the way sleeping pills make me feel the next day. So I'd rather not."

"I was going to recommend Benadryl," Doc clarified. "Just a small dose. Enough to make you drowsy."

"Oh," she replied, heat rising in her cheeks that she'd assumed wrong. "Still, I'd rather not. I have to work tomorrow."

"No. You're taking tomorrow and the new few days off," Doc stated firmly, sounding like both a physician and a dominant. "It will take time for those wounds to close, and you'll be tender for a while."

He was probably right, but she hadn't worked there long enough to accrue much time off and would have to muddle through. "I should be getting home."

"You can't mean to drive," he exclaimed, the calm evaporating from his voice and demeanor. "You're in no shape. As your doctor, I forbid it."

Instead of taking offense because he didn't have the right to forbid anything, she smiled weakly. "Val said the same thing—except for the doctor part."

"That's because I'd prefer you stay where I can be of help if you need anything," the maternal sub said with concern.

Fiona's gaze flicked to the doc's dark frown. "I'll rest better at home."

That was true for all patients and recovery. Because he knew that, and because he really didn't have a say, not as her doctor and certainly not as her dominant, he conceded, although not graciously. "I think one night with someone available to help if needed isn't unreasonable, but if you insist on going, that's your choice."

"I do." Staying would be torture. She wanted to go, now.

"Eric and I will take you," Val declared. "And that's not up for debate. Give me a minute to tell Eric. He'll need to arrange for someone to cover the club."

When she left again, Fiona shook her head. "Did you catch that? She's going to tell rather than ask him. I'm not so sure she's submissive."

"I don't think they'd be together if she wasn't. Val is the mother of two with strong maternal instincts. Since her kids left home, she has to direct her caretaking energies elsewhere. The recipients of her attention now include the subs at the club, stray kittens, and lost causes."

Since she pretty much fell into all three categories, Fiona wasn't surprised she'd latched onto her.

"That explains a lot."

"Do you need someone to follow with your car? Or did someone bring you? Tell me who, and I'll let them know you've made other arrangements."

"There's no need. My car is in the shop—again. I came by Uber like I usually do."

He grunted, his disapproval apparent. She'd never had a problem, but then she always followed the precautions, including checking to make sure the driver's picture and license plate matched what was on the app before getting in. Not that it was any of his business.

Val reappeared in the doorway. "Eric is bringing the car around. We'll take the garage exit, which is right down the hall. Do you think you're up to it?"

Fiona nodded and walked over to her, accepting the supportive arm she slipped around her waist. Before they moved down the hall, she turned back, catching Doc unaware, a look of deep concern on his face.

He'd been kind tonight, unlike the rude, fat-shaming man of two nights ago. It was confusing, and more than a little unsettling, but if his mood was this unpredictable, he wasn't the dom for her. Not that he'd offered.

Sadly, no one else was interested in that role either. Perhaps, after tonight, that was a blessing in disguise.

"Thank you again for what you did tonight, Doc." He really had gone above and beyond. "I won't forget it."

He frowned at her words. If they seemed final, it was because they were. Her time at Decadence LA hadn't ended with the happily ever after she'd hoped and dreamed of, but with disappointment, pain, and a heartbreaking whimper.