Chapter 8

One Last Shot

FIONA EYED THE LINEsnaking out the front door as she emerged from her Uber. The hum of cars on the busy street couldn't compete with the chattering people—so many of them—impatiently waiting. This was going to take a while.

Sliding her phone from her clutch, she checked the time. She had fifteen minutes until their appointment, but by the time she finished check-in, it would be well past eight. Being prompt was a big deal to some dominants. Master Noah was an unknown entity. The potential consequences for tardiness, whether a deal-breaker or an ass busting, remained to be seen, and left her feeling a little queasy.

As she was standing there, wondering what he would do, four more people joined the line. She hurried over before the couple rounding the corner and heading that way also could.

When she caught the faint scent of rain, she squinted up at the sky. They'd had showers earlier in the day, and more were in the forecast. That's all she needed, to arrive late besides looking like a drenched, bedraggled stray cat.

Time passed at a crawl. When it was finally her turn, she told the girl at the counter, "Valerie, Master Eric's sub, was supposed to leave me a note with instructions."

Celia usually worked at the front desk and was a lot more organized than this new girl. Fiona shifted impatiently while she searched through sticky notes and "while you were out" notices.

Out of nowhere, she exclaimed, "Found it! I'm supposed to call for a DM to escort you. He'll have your instructions."

It took another ten minutes for the DM to arrive, making the time thirteen minutes after eight.

There was no introduction. Big, burly, and completely bald, he just materialized in the lobby, pointed at her, and grunted, "You're with me. Let's go."

After she surrendered her shoes, her surly escort took her by the locker room to stow her things. With the clock ticking relentlessly forward, they worked their way through the main room to the back and climbed the stairs. He led her to room number eight, but she hung back by the door as he walked in and turned up the lights.

"Don't dawdle." His voice boomed in the practically empty room. "You're in enough trouble as it is, making your dom wait."

Oh great. He was one of those sticklers.

"There was a really long line."

"It doesn't matter. You're supposed to take that into account and be on time."

There was no sympathy from his corner, and she guessed she'd receive even less from Master Noah.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she padded on bare feet to the middle of the floor. Her eyes swept the huge spartan room, taking in an armoire in the back, a prayer bench on the side wall, and an aftercare couch in a shadowy corner. But that was it.

"What's the theme of this room? Convent chic?" she nervously joked.

"Funny," he replied, although he didn't laugh. Then he directed, "Look up."

She was almost afraid to, but when she did, she sucked in a breath, seeing chains and pulleys and spreader bars with cuffs on the ends dangling from the high ceiling.

"This is what we call Rigger's Paradise. It's empty because the rope masters require a lot of space to work. Some call it the whipping room because a short tail can be used in here as well." He eyed her curiously. "You've never been in here before?"

She shook her head so hard several long strands of hair fell in her face. With trembling fingers, she tucked them back behind her ears. "I've never been to the second floor except for a peek on my initial tour."

"Then you're in for an adventure." He pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Your dom requested you put this on. He'll be with you shortly."

She looked down at the padded black satin. It had ties instead of an elastic band to hold it in place. A question came to mind. But when she glanced up to ask, the DM was gone, the door thudding softly as it shut behind him.

Angling her head back, she gazed at all the hardware in the ceiling. "Well, Master Noah. I guess I'll find out soon enough if you're into ropes, whips, or both."

With trembling fingers, she tied the blindfold in place, effectively blocking out even the tiniest glimmer of light.

As she waited in the dark, she couldn't stand still. Not knowing what to do with her hands—did he want them behind her head, or her back, or crossed demurely in front?—she nervously folded and unfolded them, trying out all three positions. Behind her head didn't last long. The hem of her too-short dress rode up, and her fingers disturbed the blindfold, the knot pulling her hair. She also nervously shifted on her cold, bare feet, almost falling once because she couldn't see.

Kneeling before she faceplanted on the hard stone floor was her idea.

"Much better," she whispered, when she settled on her knees with her butt resting on her heels.

But then her mind started wandering. Like she'd learned in OT school, taking away one sense often heightened the others. She heard the whisper-soft rush of air through the vent overhead and the muffled voices and soft cries, both of pleasure and pain, emanating from the rooms on either side of her.

A sudden waft of a pleasant scent, either a subtle cologne or a light body wash, alerted her to a presence in the room—definitely masculine. It evoked a sense of déjà vu, leaving her wondering where she had smelled it before. More importantly, on whom since Val said she'd met him before?

She strained to hear, desperate to catch any sound should he approach. A touch grazing her back caused Fiona to startle and jump, her heart racing uncontrollably.

"Easy. Nothing is going to happen you don't want or cannot stop."

The low, seductive rasp in his voice sent shivers down her spine. Her mind whirled, trying to recall if she'd heard it before. But she couldn't put a face to the voice.

"Tell me your safeword, Fiona."

"Red, sir."

Fingers threaded through her hair and pulled her head back.

"I don't recall giving instructions for you to kneel."

"I shouldn't have overstepped, sir, but I thought it would please you."

"I'll teach you what I like, pretty subbie, and will enjoy the lessons. You're trembling," he observed.

"I'm nervous, sir."

"As expected. A little anxiety is good. It adds to the excitement, but I don't want you scared." His free hand cupped her chin, lifting it as he bent near. She knew this to be true by the warmth of his breath on her lips. "Let's see what I can do to allay some of your fears. Kiss me, little one."

His lips touched hers, soft, warm, with just the right amount of firmness at the same time warning bells went off in her head. Blue eyes, silvered temples, and little one said in the same cadence coalesced into an image.

Other words that haunted her months later echoed in her head. Subs like Fat Fiona are fun to play with...when there's no better option.

She refused to be used and then tossed aside because there was no one else, prettier, younger, and thinner, available to him.

"Stop!"

What she'd said wasn't her safeword, but it worked just as well. The next instant the blindfold was gone, and she was gazing into the familiar face of a man who could be tender one moment but intentionally cruel the next.

She jerked, trying to move away from him, but with his fingers still tangled in her hair, pain seared her scalp and brought tears to her eyes. It was so insignificant as she faced her abuser. If not for his watery image, she might not have noticed.

"You!" she accused. "But you're Doc, not Master Noah."

"I'm Dr. Noah. We're one and the same. You're surprised?" he asked, seeming equally stunned by her reaction.

"Disappointed is more like it," she shot back. "I didn't think I was your type."

"What makes you say that?"

"In your own words, ‘Fat cunts are fuckable, but you wouldn't want a steady diet of them, if you know what I mean.'"

This time, he jerked, flinching as if she'd slapped him. "I recognize the insult. Do you actually think I..." His voice trailed off before he stated in wonder, as if having an epiphany, "Of course, that makes sense. Fiona, I said nothing of the kind."

"But..."

"Think back. You were facing away from us, toward the bar. We had never spoken. What makes you so certain, of the three of us, with everyone else crowded into the lounge that day, it was I who said it?"

"Because Jordan told me you did."

Fiona winced as soon as the words left her mouth, and she silently cursed herself as a fool, as he expressed exactly what she was thinking.

"You believed a foul-mouthed, revenge-driven sadist rather than me who has been nothing but straightforward and kind to you?"

"I... That was before he... Then it..." She swallowed hard to stop her stammering then tried again. "I was hurt and upset, and I guess not thinking it through. Then... After that awful night, I ended my membership and tried hard not to think of it again."

"But you still believed me capable of such a thing until two minutes ago."

With his hand still in her hair, she couldn't turn away, so she closed her eyes. "This isn't going well at all. I'd like to go home."

"Now, where have I heard that before?" he drawled, mocking her, which was deserved. "We should sit and talk this out."

"No! I'm done. Please, let me go."

He released her, but only so he could grasp her upper arms and haul her to her feet. "You were mistaken about me this whole time, but now that you've learned the truth, you're giving up?"

"I need time to think."

"Take all the time you like, sweet subbie. But while you do, think on this." His mouth came down on hers in a hot, steamy, intensely arousing kiss. It seemed to go on forever, but when he raised his head, just enough to speak, wasn't nearly long enough.

"The next move is yours, Fiona," he murmured huskily, his lips brushing hers. "The question is, are you daring enough to make it?"

He straightened, his intense gaze not leaving hers until, once making sure she was steady, he stepped back, and his hands fell away. Heart racing with her head spinning a mile a minute, wanting him but also afraid to admit it. Axyl had warned her from the beginning, and the entire club knew he was a one-and-done kind of dom. Heck, he'd told her that himself. She needed to talk to Val and Esme, to see why he'd suddenly applied for their matchmaking service.

Very close to crying out the truth, that she wasn't daring at all, she was scared out of her mind because he, more so than anyone had the power to annihilate her heart, the words evaporated on her tongue as the door shut quietly and she was alone again.