I Will Not Beg Page 9

  Once done, he rose, set her on her feet, and took her by one wrist. “Time to go play.”

  “DeVriessss.” Her whine of protest went nowhere.

  Motioning to a male submissive sitting at the end of the table, deVries went up on the raised stage on the right.

  Piper watched as he fastened the male to the St. Andrew’s cross. He put Lindsey in a kneeling position to the side, cuffing her hands behind her back. Was that a punishment or a reward, not getting caned? To be left out of a scene?

  Not wanted. Ignored. Forgotten.

  “Please, deVries. Zander, Sir, Master, I want to play, too.” Lindsey was whining. Begging. “Please, pretty please, Master?”

  Begging.

  Cold chilled Piper’s skin. Chained to the doghouse. Naked. No food, no water. Stupid worthless slave. Not good for anything. Maybe I’ll leave you out here until only your bones are left.

  Was that grass under her palms? The icy cold of the night wind? Her voice, begging for food, for water, for warmth. Begging…

  The weight of the memories compressed her ribs until her chest wouldn’t expand. Where was the air? There was no air in the room. Blood roared in her ears, filling her world with only that sound.

  Something gripped her waist. Lifted her. A hand cupped her chin. “Easy, Piper. There’s nothing here to be afraid of.”

  There was. There was.

  “Eyes open. Look at me, Piper. Right now.” The voice held the steely edge of command.

  Training took over. Her eyes opened.

  A burning gaze met hers. Held hers. “You’re having a panic attack, poppet. It’ll pass soon, and you’ll be fine. Now breathe with me—only with me.”

  “Can’t get air.”

  “There’s air enough, sweetheart.” Total assurance in his voice. Total authority. “Breathe in. One-two-three-four. Out. One-two-three-four.”

  Fighting the terror of no air, she forced her lungs to match his pace. In. Out. Slowly, the crushing feeling around her chest eased off. Each breath was a bit deeper. The roar in her ears diminished.

  Crinkles appeared at the edges of the keen eyes. “Better. That’s better, poppet.”

  Poppet. It was Sir Ethan. She blinked and realized she was sitting on a table with his discarded jacket beside her. His unyielding hand was curled around her left upper arm. Her chin was firmly held in the Dom’s palm, forcing her to look at him.

  Oh…God. She closed her eyes as humiliation replaced the panic attack. Yes, she’d had a panic attack, one that had swept her up so fast and hard she hadn’t had a chance to fight it off. Her voice came out a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  To her surprise, he chuckled. “You’re back to normal if you’re apologizing.”

  Releasing her chin, he ran his hands up and down her arms. “Still cold, though.” He put the jacket back around her shoulders, scooped her up, and resumed his seat, this time with her on his lap.

  “No, wait.” Her feeble effort to rise was curtailed easily as his incredibly muscular arms tightened around her.

  “This might help.” Master Simon tucked a subbie blanket around her before resuming his seat beside Rona.

  Rona. Master Simon. Turning her head, she saw Abby next to Xavier, both watching her.

  Her whole body shriveled with embarrassment. Her head bowed. She’d made a spectacle of herself. Interrupted the Masters. Too humiliated even to apologize, she turned her face against Sir Ethan’s hard chest and wished she could disappear.

  “Ah, pet, it’s not that bad,” he murmured. Anchoring her with one arm around her waist, he ran his hand up and down her back with long firm strokes. “You’re not the first person to have a panic attack here. You won’t be the last.”

  He’d called her a person.

  “I’m not a person. I’m worthless.” The whispered words came from deep inside, from painful, horrendous training. She was so worthless it’d become her name.

  The hand stroking her back stopped. “Bloody hell.”

  To her dismay, Sir Ethan sat her upright, gripping her upper arms and holding her out so he could see her face. She dropped her gaze under his intense scrutiny.

  “No, Piper. Look at me.” The steel-edged command was quiet…and impossible to refuse.

  Her head lifted.

  “There we go.”

  * * *

  Ethan stared at the little subbie on his lap. Worthless. The name brought back memories from years before. Back when that plonker Serna had abused a slave he’d called worthless.

  This was her.

  If Piper hadn’t whispered and said she was worthless, he wouldn’t have recognized her. When he’d met her—it’d been in Kansas, hadn’t it?—only stubble had covered her scalp. She’d been so emaciated that her ribs had looked like a washboard. A previous beating had left her eyes and mouth bruised and puffy.

  Worthless. What kind of git names a slave that?

  Ethan ran his finger over her stubborn chin, remembering how she’d saved Yolanda’s cat from being crushed. She must have known how her Master would respond and had acted anyway. Brave soul.

  When he’d told Serna about the runaway and that slave contracts weren’t valid, he’d felt as if he was planting a seed—the idea she might be free. He couldn’t presume to know what she wanted; perhaps she was content with Serna. But he’d given her a direction and a potential ally. Years before, Yolanda’s cook had escaped an abusive husband.

  Piper wasn’t the first woman the cook had taken to safety, but she might be one of the bravest. Far too often, mistreated slaves lacked the courage, drive, and optimism to leave, because those were the traits that an abuser would first destroy. Somehow, Piper had kept enough of herself intact to be able to get out. To make a new life—a good life.

  But abuse always left wounds behind.

  His mouth tightened. He’d not let those scars hold her back from whatever she wanted to accomplish here.

  She was still trembling as he cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you really worthless, Piper?”

  Her flinch showed how deep the question hit. Her jaw firmed. “No. No, I’m not.”

  “Correct. In fact, I’d say you’re rather amazing.” Gently, he tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. “No matter what Serna told you.”

  Just the bastard’s name made her tense up. Then her eyes narrowed. “You know who I am.”

  “Yes. I’m proud of you for having the courage to leave.”

  She must have been able to hear his sincerity. Her body relaxed.

  “I’d also say a part of you still believes the lies he fed you.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  Ethan waited.

  Her gaze fell. “Yes, a part of me does.”

  “How often do you have panic attacks?”

  “I didn’t have any…not at first. Now, for the past year or so, I’ve had…some.” She bit her lip. “It was worse here. Being around so many Dominants.”

  Good. She saw the cause and effect. “I’m not surprised. Everything here, from power exchanges to impact play, would remind you of your time with Serna and how you were brainwashed.”

  At the simmering rage in his voice, she drew back slightly, realized the anger wasn’t at her, and curled back into his embrace.

  It pleased him immensely that she felt secure enough with him to take comfort from being in his arms.

  But her hands were clenched, her muscles still stiff. “What’s wrong, Piper?”

  “This might happen again. Maybe anytime I’m around Dominants. I thought Chatelaines would be a good match for people in the lifestyle, but it’s a totally bad idea.” Despair was a low hum in her tone, like a mountaineer who used his last breath to surmount a peak only to find it had concealed a higher summit.

  Pity wrenched his heart.

  Pity was not what she needed now. “I don’t agree.”

  A sound captured his attention.

  Abby was drumming her fingertips on the table and scowling. “No, nope.
Sorry, Piper, but if you think you can escape being our chatelaine because my husband has a bossy personality, you have another think coming.”

  Piper froze, obviously having forgotten their conversation wasn’t private.

  As Ethan loosened his hold, she sat up to look at Abby. Xavier set his hand on his wife’s shoulder, showing he stood behind what she said.

  “You nailed it, Abby. That’s exactly what I was going to say.” Rona’s voice made Piper twist that direction.

  Simon’s grin appeared.

  Even aside from Chatelaines being a fantastic service, Ethan doubted the women would have let Piper back out. She might not know it, but she’d just gotten adopted.

  With a visible effort, Piper pulled herself together. Breathing deliberately. Pulling her shoulders back. Straightening her spine. Her head lifted.

  When she looked at Rona and Abby, her smile was genuine. “Of course, Chatelaines wouldn’t abandon you. We have a contract.”

  Bloody brave. He hadn’t known the young woman long, but she made a Dom proud.

  Seeing the same stubborn courage as Ethan was, Abby blinked away tears. “I really like you.”

  Piper’s breathing stuttered for a second. “I like you, too.”

  She turned to Rona. “I’m sorry I messed up this visit. But at least I know this isn’t a good place for me. I should—”

  “Should return here over and over until it no longer affects you,” Ethan stated. Ignoring her wide eyes, he gave her a stern squeeze. “You’ve come this far. Finish the journey.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m liable to have a meltdown at any point just from seeing or hearing something that sets me off.”

  “Yes, you probably will. I’ll be beside you to pull you out.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You?”

  “Me.” Ethan frowned, somewhat disconcerted at how resolved he was. He’d normally consider the pros and cons before making a commitment like this. But the thought of anyone else helping Piper wasn’t palatable.

  He glanced at Xavier. “I will need to cut back on my enforcement duties.”

  The club owner nodded. “Mitchell isn’t the only enforcer who needs a break. You’re off until you say otherwise.”

  “Very good. Thank you.”

  “Visiting here is a fine beginning. Dark Haven should provide ample opportunity to defuse quite a few triggers,” Simon said. “But as a chatelaine, she must associate with Dominants on their own grounds.”

  “True.” At his home, he had tried to set her at ease, yet she’d still been quite anxious. “Being alone with unknown Dominants isn’t, perhaps, wise at this point.”

  Piper’s color had improved. “Usually I conduct the intake interview so I can decide which chatelaine will be the best fit.”

  She gave Abby a wry smile. “I continued as your chatelaine this month, because your assigned one is on bereavement leave.”

  “And we’re enjoying having you.” Abby grinned and added, “Maybe you should take an assistant with you for the initial interviews. Having someone else present might help.”

  Piper nodded. “I’ve considered training someone else to do intakes. This would be a good time.”

  Excellent. Ethan smiled. Her mind was working again, figuring ways to work around the handicap. “That’s a fine temporary solution. But there will be times you won’t have someone with you. What will you do about relieving this fear permanently?”

  “Do? There’s nothing to do. I can’t risk having a panic attack at a client’s.”

  Having followed Ethan’s reasoning, Simon exchanged glances with Xavier. The three of them had been friends for so long that spoken communication wasn’t always needed. Both nodded at Ethan, agreeing with his solution.

  “No, you can’t risk panicking at a client’s.” When she frowned at his ready agreement, he cupped her chin and tilted her head up again. “Unless the client is me.”

  “You…” Her breathing sped up.

  “Uh-uh, poppet, stay with me.” He tightened his grip on her chin, keeping her gaze trapped with his. “Breathe in…. Slower. Breathe out. What color are my eyes?”

  “Wh-what? Blue.”

  “What do you smell?” He kept his voice stern. Demanding.

  She gave him a startled look. “Um, leather. Perfume. Sweat.”

  “Very good.” Mindfulness and staying anchored physically could help derail increasing anxiety.

  “Breathe with me again.” He kept her under control for a minute.

  “I’m…I’m okay.”

  “Yes, you are.” He released her and brushed her hair back out of her face. “We can work on your reactions at my home. One-on-one. However, an hour or two won’t suffice.”

  “What?”

  “Piper, are you willing to give up your Saturdays to try to get past this?”

  “I don’t understand. What are you asking?” she asked.

  He almost smiled at her appalled tone. “Saturday morning through late Saturday night. At my home.” Ethan tucked her back against his chest, feeling the fine trembling of her small frame. “We’ll work through what sets you off and help you learn to either avoid or avert your reaction.”

  “No. Absolutely not. Never.”

  Of course that would be her initial response. Quite understandable. Nonetheless, he could see how much she wanted to get past this weakness. He waited, feeling the way her tense muscles started to relax. How her breathing slowed again.

  “Don’t…don’t you have a slave already there? Angel?”

  There we go. Her mind was working. “No, she’s not staying with me any longer.”

  “Well…” When Piper stiffened again, he knew what new worry had surfaced.

  “No sex, poppet. You’ll serve as a submissive, but you don’t need the complication of anything sexual.” Not yet and probably not with him. No matter how appealing she was.

  His interest in a serious relationship had died years ago in betrayal and blood.

  Chapter Eight

  Happy first day of summer. Carrying a caramel macchiato and a cappuccino from Starbucks, Piper strolled back to her office. She breathed in the salty sea air and smiled at a gaggle of tourists who were staring up at the Transamerica pyramid. Even after five years in the city, she still marveled at the pyramid. The spectacular skyline. The energy in downtown San Francisco.

  God, she loved living and working here.

  Inside the commercial building that housed Chatelaines’ offices, Piper went up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall to the reception area she shared with four complementary service businesses. A good location was the price of doing business with a prosperous clientele, and the Financial District was pricey. Sharing the reception area, conference room, and kitchen space had made it possible.

  “Hey, Margot, I brought you a coffee.” She set the cappuccino on the silvery-haired receptionist’s desk.

  “You’re a doll. I was perishing for caffeine.”

  “I know the feeling. A couple of friends and I had a Pride and Prejudice movie night and stayed up way too late. But”—Piper heaved a sigh—“Mr. Darcy, right?”

  “Mmm, no question.” Laughing, Margot sipped her coffee. “Thank you for this.”

  “You looked as if you were starting to slow down. How’s your husband doing?”

  Margot rolled her eyes. “He’s intelligent, strong, brave—and the man-flu turns him into a whiny two-year-old. He woke me up at 3 a.m. to find the aspirin for him. The bottle was on the bathroom counter right where he’d left it four hours before. If the flu doesn’t kill him, I might.”

  “No woman would convict you.” Grinning, Piper headed through the door marked Chatelaines.

  The large room to the right was filled with cubicles for her chatelaines and contractors. Her office was to the left with a solid oak desk and a subdued gray-and-white color scheme.

  Every Monday morning, her staff would meet in the conference room to get everyone in sync and exchange complaints and hints.
She’d have the opportunity to dispense encouragement and direction as needed.

  Boy, she herself could use some encouragement and direction right about now. Only the subject matter wasn’t one she could broach with anyone. Hi, I’m going to go be a slave on Saturday, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea. What if I have a panic attack? Or the stress makes me even more neurotic than I am already.

  And what in the world should I wear?

  As she sat down at her desk, a buzz from the receptionist made her jump. “Ms. Delaney, I have a visitor for—Wait, you can’t go back there!”

  The Chatelaines’ door opened, and a slim, blond man strolled through and into her office. “Hey, sis.”

  The receptionist was right behind him. “Ms. Delaney, should I call for security?”

  It was Jerry. “No, it’s all right. Thank you.” As the receptionist walked out, closing the door behind her, Piper stared at him. Along with the surprise at seeing her stepbrother came the usual unhappy feeling…at seeing her stepbrother.

  She rose to her feet. “What do you want, Jerry?”

  “Can’t a brother want to see his sister?” Lean and handsome and smiling, he started to come over to her as if for a hug, rethought, and leaned against the wall.

  Once upon a time, she’d worked so very hard to earn a smile from him.

  “You’re my stepbrother, not really a brother. Or so you told everyone.” When her mother married Gideon, Piper had been ten and thrilled to have a big brother. Three years older, Jerry had hated his new stepsister and used her hero-worship against her every chance he got. When not ripping her ego to shreds, he’d conned her into doing his chores, into giving him money, into taking his punishments. The only times he was ever nice to her was when he wanted something.

  “Oh, Pipsqueak, we were just kids, and teenaged boys are jerks.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry for those days. Can you accept my apology?”

  She breathed out, torn. He had a point—he had been a teen. He was apologizing. It’d be rude to just blow him off. She sank into her chair. “I…”

  “May I sit?” He motioned to the chair in front of her desk. When she nodded, he sat. “Our parents are gone, Piper. You and me, we’re the only family we have now.”