June saved the spreadsheet, then called up a find box, her fingers paused over the keyboard.

  He grabbed a pen and sticky note and spelled the woman’s name, and there it was, one of the entries into their spreadsheet from that evening.

  He wrote DNA on the sticky note, and she highlighted the row in red, adding the DNA—Do Not Admit—tag next to her member number, then tabbing the cursor over to the Notes box.

  Tony stepped in and typed the day’s date, followed by his initials, and the reason.

  PERMANENT FULL BAN. Rude to volunteers, tried to order them around, rude to Tony when he confronted her, disobeyed direct DM commands, pulled her phone out in the dungeon after reprimand, evicted.

  He scanned it for typos, then hit CTRL+S to save the spreadsheet.

  Meanwhile, Cali had returned to the office, but he ignored her while he finished all that.

  Then he grabbed the sticky note, shredded it, and tossed it in the garbage can under the counter. He pulled off his badge and handed it to Cali, as well as Shayla’s, which was also tucked in his back pocket.

  “I think you need to hold on to those for me. I…” He couldn’t even finish and headed inside.

  Chapter Ten

  Tony had a rule—actually, more like an inviolate law:

  He did not play when upset or angry.

  Period.

  Except…tonight.

  His rage wasn’t directed at Shayla.

  In fact, he was amazed that in that short amount of time, she’d somehow managed to set up the implement stand exactly the way she knew he liked it and had returned to her kneeling position on the fleece throw.

  He pulled up short in the doorway to the new side and took a deep breath as he watched her from there.

  My beautiful pet.

  He turned on his heel and strode over to the kitchen area to grab not just bottles of water, but a couple of chocolate chip cookies for her for after. Then he returned to the bench and set it all on his bag, out of the way.

  Breathe.

  The headache was back with a fury.

  He walked around the bench to stand directly in front of Shayla. When he tapped his left boot once, she immediately kissed the top of it, nuzzling her cheek against the leather.

  When he tapped the right, she moved to it and kissed it.

  Breathe.

  He finally knelt and caught her chin, gently tipping her head up. “I am not upset or mad at you, pet,” he forced himself to whisper.

  She smiled. “I know, Sir.”

  “This will probably hurt. A lot. If you want to call it now, I wouldn’t blame you at all. I’ll put everything back and we’ll go cuddle. Your choice.”

  Hurt flashed across her face, but she quickly schooled it. “I want to scene, Sir, but it’s your choice, not mine. I trust you.”

  Brushing his thumb over her lower lip, he met her gaze for a long time, studying her.

  Her trust in him.

  “I love you so much, baby,” he whispered. “Thank you for setting the stand up perfectly.”

  She smiled, flicking her tongue against the tip of his thumb. “You’re welcome, Sir.” She sucked on it.

  Breathe.

  “I mean it, that this will likely hurt a lot.”

  Her smile widened around his thumb. “I hope so, Sir.”

  In his jeans, his cock made its presence known, hardening and surging, uncomfortably straining against his zipper despite his headache.

  His control snapped, and for the first time in…ever, he allowed lizard brain to control the show.

  “Naked. Bench. Now.”

  Her smile flashed over to a grin he’d murder thousands for without hesitation. She jumped to her feet, yanked the sundress off, and nearly levitated onto the bench.

  Standing, he grabbed snap clips to attach her wrist and ankle cuffs to the bench, then picked up her favorite bit gag and blindfold from where she’d hung them on the end of the implement stand.

  “Color,” he whispered.

  “Green, Sir.”

  He leaned in, eye-to-eye. “That’s the last time I will ask you for a color tonight, pet,” he whispered. “You get black, or nothing. Understand?”

  His cock throbbed again at the challenge accepted gleam in her eyes. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  Breathe.

  Lizard brain still had a conscience. “Last chance, pet. No penalty, no punishment. Green, or we can stop.”

  She stretched forward to kiss him. “Green, motherfucker,” she whispered before her lips curled into a smile.

  Oh, no, she didn’t.

  Sometimes at home when they scened, or even in bed, she would get…not even bratty, because it wasn’t.

  Playfully challenging.

  She knew exactly what phrases and what tone of voice would trigger him into that mode, too, and she took great pleasure in engaging it when she was in the mood to receive a harder than usual beating or rougher than usual sex. She called it his “predator” mode.

  Were they at home when she did this, or maybe at one of the private parties, he’d already be stripping so he could fuck her brains out as part of the scene.

  He reached down and adjusted himself in his jeans. “Challenge accepted, pet. May god have mercy on your ass, because I won’t.” He fisted her hair, yanking her head up and back to claim her mouth in a crushing, bruising kiss that left her whimpering and gasping.

  He buckled the bit gag around her head, tightly instead of set to the usual hole where she could spit it out of she needed to. Followed by the blindfold.

  Rooting around in his bag, he found one of the tennis balls he used with her for puppy play. He put that in her right hand and closed her fingers around it.

  That was her safeword, and she recognized it. If she dropped it, scene over, period.

  She clutched it like she held the most expensive diamond in the world.

  He stood, his gaze sweeping over the implements.

  Breathe.

  Instead of a light flogger or a slapper, he grabbed one of the thin, whippy riding crops that he knew stung like a motherfucker.

  He stood to her left side and trailed his left hand slowly down her spine, pausing at her lower back where he splayed his fingers over her bare flesh.

  His cock jumped again as she flinched when he touched the crop to her ass, holding it.

  Tonight would not be a subtle dance between them, gradual crescendos and tender valleys.

  Tonight would be full-throttle sadism, a hard horse race, right out of the gate.

  He started with the riding crop, not hitting her with it as hard as he could, but making her squirm and squeal, all those little noises that completely bypassed every other nerve in his body and gathered right in his cock.

  He switched to a paddle, back to a cane, another strap that was stingy as fuck, a different riding crop.

  And not once did his gorgeous pet falter. She moaned and cried and took every stroke, every mark, every bit of it, his headache still there but fading a little as he breathed and hit, breathed and struck, breathed and lost himself in his perfect slave’s body, her pain, her sounds of agony, every little moan and squeak, and the way she desperately clutched the ball to make sure he didn’t stop.

  He decided to mix in a little pleasure with the pain and took a pause, grabbing the battery-powered wand vibrator from his bag. When he pressed it against her pussy without turning it on, she knew what was coming and eagerly whined, arching her back, trying to stick her ass out and make it easier for him to get it in there.

  Just as he was about to switch the vibrator on, there was a loud boom that shook the building, and the power went off, shutting down the lights and the music.

  Oh, motherfucker!

  * * * *

  Tony couldn’t scare her. She trusted him and knew he would never go too far, no matter how upset he was.

  If anything, she knew how much he desperately needed her right now to let loose some of his pent-up anger, grief, guilt—everything he’d been dealing with.

  It was her job to let him take it out on her. She loved him, she belonged to him, and as far as she was concerned, it was a win-win. He’d playfully warned way back at the very beginning of their initial dynamic that the brain was ridiculously easy to rewire to crave pain with pleasure.

  He’d delivered on that warning, and then some.

  With every impact, her clit throbbed, her pussy grew even wetter, and she was glad she had a towel under her or she’d likely have a puddle there instead.

  Then he paused and as she sucked in a shaky breath, she felt the cool, unmistakable head of the wand vibrator pressing against her cunt.

  Yay!

  She’d started to breathe, to suck in a long, slow breath to hold it in anticipation of the vibrator springing to life when she felt and heard the loud boom, followed by the music shutting off.

  “Nnnoooooo!” she nearly howled around the bit gag as the vibrator disappeared.

  She suspected the lights had gone off, too, based on the sudden groans and mixed chatter around her. Then she heard Max’s voice rise above the din.

  “Everyone stay where you are, please,” he called out. “That sounded like a transformer. We’ll get some flashlights.”

  “I’ll get the LED candles,” Sean called out from what sounded like the other side.

  Shayla groaned in frustration. It was like the world was conspiring against her and her husband.

  You gotta be shitting me!

  Tony’s hand stroked her back and he muttered something she couldn’t hear over everyone else, but she lay there, trying not to grumble and complain.

  She heard June’s voice. “Everyone okay?”

  “What the hell was that?” Scrye asked, sounding like he’d walked over toward where her voice had come from.

  “Cali went outside to look and call FPL,” June said. “We think maybe a transformer blew.”

  “Motherfucker,” Shayla muttered against her bit gag, and she fought the urge to bang her forehead against the bench in frustration. It took everything in her to not throw the damn ball that was in her hand.

  Not that she could have thrown it far, but she was pissed.

  And every last bit of her subspace was fucking gone.

  The sound of sirens approaching filtered in from outside.

  “I have a Bluetooth speaker in my car,” Axel called from the other side. “We can hook it in to Pandora on my phone.”

  “Go get it,” Max called back.

  “Do we have to leave?” someone asked.

  “No, not if y’all want to keep playing,” Max said. “Just please be careful and try not to walk around too much until we get more lights up.”

  She was aware of Tony moving, and his hand disappeared from her back. “I’m not stopping. Hang on, pet.”

  After a minute, she heard Three Days Grace start up nearby, and realized he must have taken his phone out and called up one of his scene playlists.

  His hand returned to her back, as did the feel of a riding crop or cane against her ass instead of the vibrator. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” she grumbled around the bit gag, her mood totally shot to hell now.

  * * * *

  Under any other circumstance, Tony would have been laughing at Shayla’s frustration.

  Except, yet again, life interfered with their fun. She probably wouldn’t be able to come right now even if he tried it. He needed to get her back into subspace first.

  Shit.

  Knowing he was going to owe her big later, he swapped out the vibrator for a riding crop and wondered if she’d even be able to sink back down into subspace, or if he’d have to call the scene and just take her home and make love to her to make up for the subspaceus interruptus.

  After a few swats he watched how she was trying to shift around on the bench, but she hadn’t dropped the ball yet.

  Pausing to help Axel connect the Bluetooth speaker to his phone, Tony then walked to Shayla’s head, fisted her hair, and yanked her head back again. He trailed his tongue around her lips, where the bit gag held them apart.

  “Hope you’re ready to take your Sir’s load up your ass when we get home, baby,” he whispered. “Because before I have to leave on Tuesday, I’m going to make sure I leave several loads in every one of your sweet holes.”

  She whimpered, rocking against the bench a little.

  Good.

  She didn’t sound quite needy enough, but it meant the night hadn’t been totally borked.

  Yet.

  “Does my good pet want to beg to take a load up her ass?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she mumbled around the gag.

  He pressed his lips to her ear. “Going to hogtie my pet in bed tomorrow morning. I’ll start my day by putting the first load down that sweet mouth of yours. Then I’m going to bury one in your pussy. The third will go in your ass while I’ve got a vibrator humming away in your sweet cunt. In fact, I think after I fuck your ass tonight, you’re going to wear a vibrating butt plug to sleep.”

  That whine was much closer to the frequency he was trying to dial in.

  Excellent.

  He licked her cheek and released her head, beginning some bare-handed pummeling along her back, shoulders, upper arms, and down to her ass and thighs. He’d tried to keep the bare-handed impact play to a minimum tonight, because his hands were sore enough as it was.

  But it worked. When he buried two fingers in her dripping pussy, she rocked against him, whining, groaning, desperate.

  Then he grabbed the vibrator, switched it on, and pressed it against her clit.

  He stood there watching her as she came beautifully unglued for him. She strained against her bonds, a long, low moan rumbling from her as the vibrator did its work.

  It also allowed him a moment to breathe, to reach down with his other hand and adjust himself—again—and regroup.

  The rage had dissipated at some point, he didn’t know when. Running his hand over her ass and thighs, feeling the hot welts there—yeah, she was done. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been playing total, but it was time to end this scene on a happy note.

  Switching hands with the vibrator—because she was grinding against it now and probably on orgasm three or four—he reached up and took the ball from her, tossing it into his bag. She wouldn’t need that now.

  She didn’t get a safeword for this part. If she was in the bad kind of pain, she’d start waving her hands at him or something.

  After another ten minutes of that, he finally switched off the vibrator and set it aside.

  Shayla’s body trembled before she went limp on the bench, a fine sheen of sweat covering her.

  As he came back to himself, he realized more than a fine sheen of sweat covered him, too. It was getting damned hot in there without A/C.

  Shit.

  He unclipped her wrist and ankle cuffs from the bench but left her lying there as he quickly tossed everything into his bag. He could organize it at home, and would likely be using it there before he left on Tuesday, anyway.

  Once that was ready, he wrapped her in another fleece throw and scooped her into his arms, carrying her over to one of the couches. “Wait right here, pet.”

  He hurried back to the bench, moved the towel and wiped the bench with one of the antibacterial wipes, then dragged his stuff over to the couch to clear the bench. That included juggling his phone and the Bluetooth speaker, but Max came over to help him before leaving to answer someone’s question. Cali had put stickers over the front and rear cameras on his phone for him to reassure others of their privacy.

  After settling on the couch with Shay, now that he was paying attention, he realized some people had left, but not many. He tipped his head at Rusty, who was DMing on that side, to motion him over.

  “Why isn’t anyone leaving?” he whispered.

  “Can’t. Power lines are down. Unless you have a vehicle tall enough to drive over the back curb and swale. Gilo’s bringing a genny and fans.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  Shay shifted in his arms. “Sir?”

  “Shhh, baby. It’s all right. You surf your zen.” He kissed the top of her head, closed his eyes, and just…breathed.

  Although, yeah, it was growing uncomfortably warm in there now.

  With his eyes still closed, he tried to visualize the parking area and understood exactly what Rusty meant. That side of the complex, you had to drive around the back side of the building and around another to exit through the main entrance. It was why this location was perfect, because Venture’s unit didn’t face the main road the complex sat on. Their unit faced west, and was shielded from view from the road by a fence and landscaping put in place by Kel.

  But that section of the parking lot, the swales were bordered by concrete curbs. He thought he could make it over them, though, but wouldn’t know for sure until he could go out and take a look at them and compare it to his SUV.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Eleven

  Once Shayla had recovered, Tony helped her get dressed, made sure she’d had plenty of water, and left her at a table in the social area with another friend while he took their bags outside and went to scope the situation.

  Gilo had brought the generator and fans, but it was already cooler outside than it was inside despite the warm June night.

  Rusty walked over with a flashlight to shine on the swale. There were some tire tracks through the grass where others had risked it, and where Gilo had come and gone with his truck. “Well?”

  Tony rubbed at his chin. At least he’d been able to take his time getting ready today, a good shave for the first time in over a week, able to trim his mustache and goatee and shave everything else. While in Denver, he’d been letting stubble sprout and only shaving on Sunday mornings, when he’d let them sleep in a little while longer than the other days.

  “What do you think?” Tony asked him.

  Rusty laughed. “Nooo. You’re not fooling me. I’m not making that call and then you rip your oil pan off.”

  Tony turned to look at his SUV. It wasn’t meant to be an off-road vehicle, just a comfortable driver, but he thought he could make it. “I’m going to risk it. I need to get her home and collapse.”