Chapter 15

She twisted in his grasp, and when she did, her tee shirt twisted and rode up, exposing her back. It took every bit of Zane's self-control not to gasp out loud or mutter a curse. He had applied the whip to his subs. Lily loved it. But lightly, so that although there were red stripes crisscrossing her skin, the lotion they used soothed them and made them fade. He didn't use it to create permanent marks on her or any other sub.

In contrast, Dara's back was crisscrossed with visible scars, a network of welts that combined both old and new marks. This was not the use of a whip for erotic pleasure. This was the work of someone determined to cause the most pain possible. Looking at her back made him sick to his stomach. Unable to stop himself, he coasted his hand over the dRafecate skin, fingers tracing each and every one of her marks.

With unexpected strength, Dara pushed off his lap, yanking herself away from him.

"Don't." She bit her lip, her eyes cast downward. "Don't look at them."

"Whoever did this should be whipped himself." Zane could barely control the fury in his voice. "Tell me who did this, Dara."

"It...doesn't matter." She refused to look at him. "I deserved it."

Zane had to get hold of himself before his blood pressure went through the roof. If he stroked out, he wouldn't be good to either of them. He wanted another beer in the worst way, but he knew alcohol would only impede what was needed of him. Besides, if he focused on Dara's situation, he didn't have to think about his own.

"No one deserves that." He pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to where she stood. "Not for anything. And I'm damn sure you in particular couldn't inspire that kind of punishment."

"You don't know that." She still would not look at him, just stood there, eyes downcast. "I was disobedient. I disrespected my Master. I needed to be taught a lesson."

Zane knew all about that. He'd seen men with cruel streaks who got off on the punishment, on dispensing pain, on an extreme situation that had nothing to do with sex or affection or anything the least bit erotic. They were satisfying a bloodlust and showing no respect for their subs. He counted to ten before he spoke again.

"Dara." He pitched his voice low and even. "There is absolutely nothing you could do that would justify this kind of treatment."

"My Master said pain is cleansing." She sounded as if she was repeating it by rote.

Who the fuck was this guy, anyway?

"Only if both parties agree to the level of pain." He sighed. "It's a contract, Dara. A verbal agreement. Whether you are playing for one night at a club or involved in a full-on relationship, everything has to be agreed to. Everything," he repeated.

"Have you not punished subs before?" Curiosity laced her words.

He nodded. "I have. But never in a way to mark them permanently. Not unless it was with their complete agreement. I'm guessing you didn't give your permission for those scars."

"Could we talk about something else? Please?"

"One question. Answer one question and I'll leave it alone." For now.

For a long moment he was sure she would refuse to answer him. Then she nodded. "One question."

"What did you do to make you think you deserved it?"

Another pause. A sigh. "I burned his dinner."

What the fuck?

He had to be very careful here because he was ready to shake this guy's name out of her and strangle him with his bare hands.

"Dara." He used his best Dom voice but softened just a little. "Look at me."

She turned so slowly he had to rein in his impatience. "Yes, Sir?"

He didn't correct her use of the honorific this time. If it made her more comfortable, he would deal with it.

"That is not punishment. That's abuse. One of the first rules in a D/s relationship is never to raise a hand in anger. Only for erotic pain and pleasure. Didn't you know that?"

She shook her head. "No." Again, the word was soft, as if she was ashamed of her lack of knowledge.

"I'm going to assume something happened that pushed you over the edge and sent you out on the bay in this hellish storm. When you feel more comfortable, you will tell me what it was."

He was playing a dangerous game here, assuming the role of a Dom when in fact they had no relationship. But it seemed to be her only comfort zone and, right now, his main focus was making her comfortable and less afraid of - whatever she was so afraid of.

Dara stood there, hands clasped in front of her, face still pale, as she waited for whatever came next.

"Let's have some rules." God, he was so not ready for this. "It's obvious you're comfortable with rules and restrictions, so let's set some down. That work for you?"

She dipped her head.

"I want to hear the answer," he insisted. "There will be no mistake here."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. So, rule one. Do not walk or sit around with your head down. We are not on a high protocol here. I want you to behave in a normal fashion, as if you were just visiting a friend."

She looked up at him, eyes filled with confusion.

Then it struck him. She might not have any idea what a normal relationship was.

"That means don't wait on me unless I tell you to. Don't hide in the corner with your head down. If you want something, I give you permission to take it or ask for it." He sure wasn't ready for any of that yet.

She frowned. "Sir?"

"Dara, was this your only D/s relationship? Your first? How long were you involved in it?"

"Yes, to the first two questions. And f-five years. Sir."

Jesus!

A hell of a lot of damage could be done in that time with a Dom who was just pretending and whose single goal was to have a servant and inflict pain.

"The man you were with? I promise you he's not a real Dom. True Masters respect their subs and treat them accordingly. I hate it that the one big experience you've had was with an asshole like this. There are plenty of good Masters around, you know."

She stared at him. "If you say so."

"I do. If I - " He gave himself a mental shake. "Never mind. So, you have the first two rules. We'll have to make up the rest as we go along. To begin with, I'm going to teach you to relax."

She wrinkled her brow again. "Relax?"

"Yes." Of course, he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that since he was a jangled ball of nerves himself. But he was smart. He'd think of something. Then it came to him. "In fact, I order you to relax."

She looked confused. "I don't know how to do that, Sir."

Neither did he, anymore. Yet, here he was, in the middle of the storm of the century, with a scared submissive who needed his help, whether she wanted it or not. He could barely take care of himself these days, much less another person. And a damaged one at that.

Suck it up, asshole. Make it about someone else for a change.