Truly Helpless: A Nature of Desire Series Novel Page 15

  “Stay away from his childhood.”

  Regina’s brow creased. “But if that’s where the root of the problem is…”

  Marguerite shook her head. “I’m not saying overlook or ignore it in the decisions you make. Stay away from it in scene. It’s a place that holds no safety for him. The submission he knew there was forced, cold and dark, the kind no one wishes to experience. Introduce him to the pleasures of submission and safety in the here and now to get to the treasure beneath. There’s a trove there.”

  Regina felt an absurd push of jealousy. “Oh? What kind of treasure?”

  “It wasn’t mine to plunder or enjoy. Just as he wasn’t mine to heal.” Marguerite met Regina’s gaze. “I felt that cold, dark place from him, but I didn’t compel him to speak of it, nor did I push past it. The details I provided are the details I have.”

  “So how did you know it was there?”

  “Intuition. You stand outside an abandoned building in a bad part of town, you feel the opposite of what you feel when you enter the gates of a spring carnival. Energy has its own language that can be read without the details.” There was a faint note of rebuke in Marguerite’s tone. “You’ve done enough sessions to know that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re putting it into context for me. Don’t do the Morpheus Matrix thing. I know you’re like a Domme guru, but it’s annoying.”

  Humor flitted through Marguerite’s gaze, but she inclined her head in gracious apology. “You’re correct. You’re a formidable Mistress, and I was reacting to what I know of that, rather than being sensitive to your own energy. When someone gets into our heart or soul, it circumvents our knowledge and experience, and plays havoc with that logic.”

  “But he hasn’t gotten into my head, fucking me up the way he’s done the other Mistresses,” Regina mused. “He’s trying hard to do that, and he gets points for effort, but it’s something beyond that. Something I feel from him. Something I recognize that I don’t think anyone else has. Except maybe you. It’s an ego stroke, I don’t deny it, but it’s also a challenge.”

  “A challenge can also be a warning.”

  “Is that from your husband?”

  Marguerite’s lips curved again. “He is concerned about his role in this, but I told him he made the right call.”

  “Thank you.” Regina lifted her tea cup to take another sip. “Okay, stay away from his childhood in session. Got it. But you said ‘introduce him to submission.’ He’s already an experienced sub, and I know you know that, so what did you mean?”

  “He knows how to act like a sub. I’m not sure he’s ever allowed himself to embrace it as his true nature. I expect that would be a wondrous thing to see. The Mistress who can get him there will receive a gift, but it will be a hard-earned one.”

  Marguerite broke a cookie into three parts and put them in a line on her plate. She wiped her fingers on a napkin and rested her hand on the table.

  “Marius is an accomplished, self-aware split personality. At one time, he excelled in any structured role that didn’t challenge what lies deep inside him. It allowed many Mistresses to enjoy him. In turn, they likely provided him an outlet that kept the darker things managed. But at a certain point…”

  “A switch flipped.” Regina nodded. “He couldn’t do it in session anymore. But he also couldn’t submit, so he started to push back harder and harder, until it went into the unhealthy area. He can’t stay on the surface of his submissive cravings anymore, but he can’t let go enough to do the deep end, which is really where he wants to be.”

  She blew out a delicate breath. “I was trying to narrow down when it happened. The first time I noticed it was the session he did with Lyda. That was what, about seven or eight months ago?”

  “Yes.” Marguerite appeared to be running through the timeframe in her head. “Soon after that was when he started coming to work with more injuries from his fights.”

  “So you knew about that?”

  “Not at first. As long as we’ve known him, Marius has trained in different fighting styles. He’s also competed, but they’ve been events through his local gym, well-monitored and legal amateur sports. When Tyler realized he was starting to participate in the underground circuit, he confronted Marius about it. Marius explained it was to make extra money and refused Tyler’s offer to help him find additional work, less hazardous to his health. He is proud, as most men are. He also told Tyler it helped him manage aggression. As I said, he is self-aware, and likely realized his sessions were turning sour.”

  Marguerite sighed. “Since it is illegal, Tyler debated whether he should terminate his employment then, but decided not to do so, if it did not negatively affect his work performance at The Zone.”

  “Tyler realized if he fired him, Marius might turn to it as his sole income and he’d end up with his brains as soup.”

  “Yes.” Wrapping both hands around her tea cup, Marguerite dipped her head without drinking, as if inhaling the aroma deeply. She was quiet a moment before she continued. “Tyler has a particular soft spot for…lost souls. It was difficult for him to make that decision. While it was far harder to fire Marius, the decision was more clear-cut. Endangering members of The Zone is something Tyler won’t tolerate.”

  “Nor should he,” Regina agreed. “He did the right thing, both in making that decision and in giving me the choice to get involved.”

  “I’ll tell him you think so, and perhaps he’ll realize he’s not expected to be God.”

  “If you’d stop calling him that during sex, he wouldn’t be such a megalomaniac.”

  Marguerite chuckled dryly. “You are very inappropriate, Lady Regina.”

  “But I am right.” Regina grinned. “It’s one of the few ways we other Dommes confirm you’re human. You blush when you’re teased about him. Not lobster or anything. More like light pink roses in your cheeks.” She paused. “I followed him to one of his fights. Marius, that is.”

  “Oh?” Marguerite’s gaze lighted with interest. “And how was that?”

  “It was terrible, horrifying. Marius was both train and wreck. I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. In movies and professional sports, it’s so choreographed. This was like watching a snuff film.” Regina offered a grim smile. “Though my primal female side didn’t care about my moral outrage. I was so turned on, I had a marathon evening with my Hitachi. Just imagining that amazing, powerful body wrestling, flexing, pounding…”

  “We’ve had several members propose gladiator events at The Zone for just that reason.” Marguerite’s eyes gleamed. “The suggestion is still under review, but is receiving favorable reaction, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Regina sighed. “I’ve grilled myself as hard as any interrogation scene I’ve ever done, trying to figure out why I have my eyes wide open and I’m still walking right into a mine field. I’ve told myself I’m not in deep enough to worry about it yet, that I can stop it at any time, but I did stop, didn’t I? And yet here I am.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Give me a sanity check. Am I addicted or on a mission? Even if it’s a mission, is that the right reason to pursue this?”

  “Perhaps it’s neither. Perhaps it’s something even more unsettling.” Marguerite gestured with her tea cup. “When I said you’re formidable, it’s not because you are a formidable Mistress, though you are. You are a formidable woman, probably the most balanced one I’ve met within The Zone walls. You said yourself you’re going into this with your eyes open. You won’t allow anyone to destroy your sense of self. If that becomes a danger, you will drop him immediately. But someone that can add to your sense of self, that challenges you to grow and welcome a man into your heart? You’ll embrace that, and not fear the cost or the fight to make it happen. You also won’t mistake the conflict for something negative.”

  “Wow.” Putting another cake on her plate, Regina stepped off the subject long enough to scowl at the three pieces of cookie on Marguerite’s, still untouched. “Will you please put that in your s
kinny body before I jump over there and force feed you? It’s rude not to eat with a guest. What is it with white girls and being thin? Don’t you know how much men like having an actual ass to grab?”

  Marguerite’s expression flickered with surprise, then amusement again. Picking up one of the pieces, she put it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Better?”

  “Tons,” Regina said dryly, then returned to topic. “You’re right. That is a scarier proposition than drug or calling. But I think there’s an interim step before I get all googly-eyed. He’s a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve, and that drives me crazy. I know there’s something more there, and it interests the hell out of me. When it doesn’t, I’ll back off, but right now it’s in that nice zone of physical attraction, emotional interest and simple, ‘man, I’d like to crack that fine ass and fuck him up until he begs for more.’”

  “A goal understood and approved by Dommes everywhere,” Marguerite agreed. Two more bites of the cookie had disappeared.

  Regina looked beneath the table. “Do you have a dog that snuck through here so you could feed the rest of that cookie to him?”

  “The hummingbird is trained to take morsels from my fingertips without being detected by the human eye.”

  Regina snorted. “Wise-ass.” She settled back with a fond look at Marguerite. “Okay. So what do I do about that line in the sand I’ve drawn?”

  “Erase it with the toe of one of your magnificent thigh high red boots. Then put that same boot up the orifice where it will do him the most good.”

  Regina appreciated the visual. “I don’t feel approaching him again is the right thing. So he has to come to me, but it may take him a while. Tyler forbid him to do it, which won’t stop Marius, but he’ll need time to fight with himself over it.”

  “Maybe. But I think he will approach you for another chance, sooner rather than later. If he would with anyone, it would be with you.”

  That surprised Regina. “Why?”

  Marguerite blinked. “I’m not in the habit of answering questions another Mistress already knows.”

  “Unless it’s a request for a sanity check,” Regina reminded her. “Which we’ve already established is why I’m here. And for the company and sweets.”

  Marguerite acknowledged that with an amiable nod. “You already understand him better than other Mistresses who have reached this stage. They figured out his game, and discarded him. You figured out his game, but you looked beyond the game to the reason he’s playing it. He interests you, and not for the reasons he has interested others, which gives him no frame of reference for dealing with you. That’s probably good, because he has no time to come up with a suave new routine. The broken part might be able to take the lead, which will be ugly, but honest.”

  Regina thought of the way he’d acted at Safe Word. Belligerent, petulant, angry. Very little evidence of the charm he used as his mask.

  “Okay. That tracks for me.”

  “I should ask a different question, one that I’m sure you don’t get asked any more often than I do, given the type of women we are, the personalities we project. What do you fear, Lady Regina?”

  Regina cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “To work with difficult subs, a Domme must have the right blend of self-confidence, creativity and arrogance. And the arrogance is a potent part of the recipe. Too much and you blind yourself to warning signs. Too little, and you won’t risk enough to change anything. You’ll question yourself, wonder if that’s your role at all. It’s a tough call, and it gets more difficult when your heart gets involved.”

  Marguerite adjusted the pot further to the right of her elbow and then folded her arms anew to square off with Regina. “You are not as in control as you wish to be. Not as detached.”

  “Yeah.” The woman was good at hitting the nail on the head, Regina gave her that. “I’ve always been reasonably sure of who a sub is, and what I want from him.” She shook her head. “With him? Soon as that energy starts to spin, I don’t want to play it safe. I want to push, I want to challenge, I want to tear into him…and I want to let him tear into me. That’s new.”

  She grimaced. “Good old-fashioned fear, that’s what it is. Maybe he’s drawing me into his fucked-up self deeper than I realize, but I’m usually not an easy mark. The alternative is I’m taking this path knowing it’s going to get dark and twisty, and I’m worried about getting so carried away by it that I misstep…and he turns me into the final straw. The agent of his destruction. He gets pissed, out of control, runs off to one of his fights and ends up dead.”

  The silence drew out between them. Regina finished her cake, mentally computing how much she’d have to add to today’s workout. It was a good distraction, helping her rein in the uneasiness that her own words had caused her, or handle how Marguerite was looking at her now.

  “I think Tyler might be the better person to discuss that fear.”

  That surprised Regina. She saw the other Domme’s eyes had become even more somber. “He has walked that path with a submissive, and had to take extreme measures to save her soul,” Marguerite said. “Measures that could just as easily have resulted in her being immolated by her path.”

  Regina expected it would take a big measure of arrogance—which yes, Tyler had in copious quantities—for a Dominant to tell him or herself that unearthing a person’s darkest needs and exposing them to the light of day was worth the risk of the potential consequences.

  In Regina’s estimation, Marius was a man on a cliff, half of him wanting to fall to the sharp rocks below, while the other part grimly hung on, hoping someone would come by to pull him back to solid land. A wrong step could make the former a tragic reality. She could end up being the boot that stepped on his hand.

  Marguerite’s hand covered hers, startling Regina. The woman rarely indulged in casual touch. In her eyes, Regina saw equal parts disturbing shadow and reassuring light. Suddenly the world was just the two of them. The intensity in Marguerite’s gaze reflected what Regina had glimpsed in Marius’s a few times, so similar it startled her.

  “I will tell you what I have told Tyler,” Marguerite said quietly. “Sometimes a person needs to be destroyed. For some people, that’s the only path to love, walking out of the ashes of a fire that consumes us. But if that fire happens, it will be set by Marius himself. Even if it’s from so down deep in his soul he can’t acknowledge it, that choice is his. You protect yourself enough to move out of the way if it’s too late.”

  Regina locked gazes with Marguerite. “That’s not the choice Tyler made. He would have burned in hell with you for an eternity rather than leave you there.”

  Marguerite went still. Regret jolted through Regina. She couldn’t set aside the Domme intuition, but sometimes it was better to keep that shit contained. There was a code, and she didn’t want to disrespect that with anyone she considered a friend, or respected as a Domme, the way she did Marguerite.

  Before she could form an apology, Marguerite’s expression altered. The million emotions it reflected tied Regina’s heart strings in a knot, connecting to that indefinable pit-of-her-stomach feeling about Marius.

  “Sometimes, deciding there is only one choice is a choice, too.” Marguerite lifted the pot. “More tea, Lady Regina?”

  They didn’t talk much more about the topic of Marius, but not because things were strained. Regina had what she needed and, apparently sensing it, Marguerite turned the flow of conversation to shared interests. BDSM practices they both enjoyed, new techniques they’d observed in recent sessions, and a smattering of fun, not mean-spirited, gossip about other Dommes. That part of the dialogue was initiated by Regina, but Marguerite’s dry wit proved she could keep up when the subject was lighter fare.

  At the conclusion of the tea, Marguerite walked her back up front. Chloe was ready with a package of more cakes and another hug. In true Southern fashion, the leave-taking took another quarter hour as Regina chatted with the women and several of the regular customers
. Marguerite’s clientele were mostly women, so the environment had that pleasant women-bonding, hen-house feel. The soothing cadence of cluck-cluck-cluck from multiple feminine conversations was punctuated by the occasional cackle of laughter or squawk of surprise at an unexpected reveal.

  Marguerite bid her good-bye with a curious gleam in her eyes. “When he does come your way again,” she said, “you’ll be ready for him.”

  “Probably because I’ll have had months to think about my strategy,” Regina said. “Though I retain some slim hope he’ll try sooner, just because his Zone membership is so important to him.”

  “That will be his excuse for approaching you again. Not the real reason.”

  Regina eyed her. “Do you have to practice that, saying things like they’re indisputable fact, when it’s really speculative bullshit?”

  Marguerite assumed a demure expression. “You’ll have your answer when you confirm it as indisputable fact.”

  “It’s obvious as a brick in the face why you and Tyler are together,” Regina noted wryly, but she touched the woman’s arm. “Whichever it is, thanks for the vote of confidence. And for the tea.”

  “Your company is a pleasure. Good luck. Not that I think you’ll need it.”

  As she emerged from Tea Leaves, Regina puzzled over the emphasis on those final words, but she didn’t have long to wonder. Marius was across the street.

  “That crafty bitch.”

  Regina looked through the screen door, but Marguerite was giving instruction to Chloe and the new girl, to all appearances oblivious to what was happening outside the door.

  “Yeah, right,” Regina muttered, but moved down the steps and walkway, toward where she’d parked her car on the street. She kept her peripheral eye on him, though.

  He was sitting on a low brick wall, keeping company with an elderly woman sitting on her porch and a trio of young men playing a card game on her stoop. A little girl rode a bike carefully up and down the sidewalk.

  Tea Leaves operated out of a restored historic home surrounded but not overcome by a low-income district that had had its battles with drugs, gangs and petty crime. Marguerite was part of the community watch group taking it back house by house. The elderly woman looked like another active member, if her protective demeanor toward both the young men and the little girl were any indication. Her property was well-tended, despite the age and small size of the simple box of a house.