Chapter Eleven
Once she was mine
Thumb sweeping across her bottom lip, Kevin was speechless with delight. He was certain it was her. Aurelie. She had matured since he last saw her, but the perfection of her beauty remained the same. Everything he remembered, everything he had dreamed about, right here in his hands. The only thing that marred the experience was the overwhelming terror staring back at him from her eyes.
He remembered the last thing she had said to him as they walked out of the apartment, headed to the airport. “Mon ami, I shall miss you far more than you can know.” Her hands had smoothed down his arms, gripping and lifting his hands between them as she shook them for emphasis. “You are destined for many things, Kevin. Please know I shall watch from afar.”
She was dressed for service duty at the club, the narrow straps of the uniform covering slender strips of flesh. With a twist in his belly, Kevin saw thin, reddened scars on her back and flanks, the signature marks of a carelessly wielded single tail. Kneeling, her posture was perfect, obeisance evident in every line of her body, the fear on her face the only jarring discord. It was palpable, leaving her trembling in his hands. He wasn’t sure she had looked directly at him yet; frequently subs would train themselves to not raise their eyes above a Dom’s throat, so as not to give offense. Bent over as he was, stooping and crouching to her level, he couldn’t afford to hold this pose for too long. If this was not Aurelie, it could give the wrong impression to any tops watching because he was certain his posture gave the appearance of a scolding.
“Aurelie,” he called her name again quietly, scarcely stronger than a whisper, but he pushed a thread of steel into his words, and watched as her reaction was delivered with an undulating shiver. “Look at me.” Her eyes slid shut in apparent rebelliousness, but wild nerves were revealed in the way she rolled her lips, running her tongue along first the top, then the bottom. “Look at me.” Slowly her lids lifted, and those beautiful eyes shone in her face, still directed down and to the side. Chin in his hand, she couldn’t turn away. “Look at me.” He watched as, after a moment or two, they darted to him, then away, then back to him where they lingered for a longer moment. Then away. Then back to him and they stayed, pupils dilating wide. “Aurelie.”
Her lips slowly parted, and soundlessly they formed his name. Kevin.
“My Aurelie.” Here. In Chicago. In my club. His fingers tightened, thumb sweeping her lips again. In my hands.
“You seem to know the misbehaving kitten.” Kris’ question was phrased as a statement, and Kevin glanced up to find him watching the interaction, eager anticipation pulling his features taut. Expecting an active scene with a naughty brat, no doubt. Shit. The thought of his friend’s hands on Aurelie twisted Kevin’s gut again. Mine.
“We are old—” The briefest of hesitations on his part caused her to flinch, and he wondered what she feared. “—friends.” He swept her lips again, his own parting in what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Softly, he murmured, “Once she was mine.” Straightening, he tried to urge her to rise with him, frowning when instead her chin slipped from his hand, and she remained kneeling on the floor, her neck retracting, chin tucking towards her throat protectively. That graceful column his hands knew so well. “I would like to know what happened between times.” Glancing up at Kris, he asked, “Can you secure me a private room?” And to make things perfectly clear, he added, “You’ll have to play alone tonight, brother.”
With a nod and a knowing grin, Kris sauntered away, leaving Kevin looking down at the beautiful French woman who had introduced him to the world of Doms and Dommes, and exquisitely giving submissives.
When Kris returned, he stopped a short distance away and flashed Kevin a puzzled look, likely because he and Aurelie were in the same positions. Kevin hadn’t tried to talk to her, hadn’t touched her again, hoping to leave any further interactions for a more private setting. Using discreet hand signals, Kris directed him to a room two levels down, which meant quite a bit of club to navigate. Kevin winced at the idea of parading her through the growing crowds like that.
Walking to Kris, he muttered, “Nothing on this level?” The brief headshake in response led him to ask, “Did you talk to a monitor?” He hadn’t asked for that specifically, but since she was on service duty, she would have to be excused before she could enter a private area. Kris’ mouth pulled to one side, and he shook his head. Glancing around, Kevin decided on a different strategy. Jerking his chin towards an empty grouping of seats nearby, he said, “I’ll take her there. Need you, brother.”
He looked back to Aurelie, sucking in a deep breath before he spoke. “She’s Paris,” was all he said, knowing Kris would understand what that meant. “Something is different in a very wrong way.” Looking back to Kris, he saw sympathy and decided to expand on his statement. “It’s gonna eat at me until I know what happened. You don’t know her, but to see my bubbly beauty like this, kills, brother. Aurelie was always sweetness wrapped up in a bit of a brat. Not a masochist, she never was. Just giving and gorgeously submissive. It’s just wrong that she’s reduced to this.” He shook his head, lowering his voice. “A scarred, flinching, frightened-out-of-her-wits sub. Kris…she’s Paris. I have to figure this out. Can you talk to a monitor, explain she’s an old partner, then come back and stand guard?”
“You got it. Anything you need.” Kris’ immediate response was gratifying and supported Kevin’s long-ago decision to join the Rebels. Maybe he and Kris had a different, somewhat deeper bond than most of the other men, but he knew he’d receive the same response from any of them. Full support without any questions regarding motives or need.
Kevin took his time making his way back to where Aurelie knelt on the floor, head bowed, hair again hanging in curtains, keeping her face hidden. Now that he was past the shock of seeing her again, and the blow of seeing her scars, he looked closer, finding possible evidence of more play gone bad that turned his stomach. Faint bruising around her ankles, deeper discoloring around her wrists, and concentric rings of bruising up her legs spoke to a recent bondage scene. He reminded himself that bruising didn’t always mean abusive. He knew from experience Aurelie liked seeing more lasting signs of her submission, and in the past, he had watched with pleasure while she moved in ways she knew were guaranteed to bring those proud marks to her skin.
She had been kneeling on the hard floor for several minutes, and her knees and ankles should be complaining by now, but she didn’t move, didn’t fidget or shift. Complete stillness; the only movement her hair slightly swaying from her full-body trembling.
Stopping in front of her, he stared down, finding his attention again focused on the marks that extended the length of her back, small puckers alongside some of the scars showing she’d required stitches to close the wounds. Those vivid stripes of sadism broken by the black strips of her service uniform together created an unpleasing pattern that made him swallow hard. As he stood there, the shivers rippling through her began to subside, and he realized her fear had worsened when he stepped away to speak to Kris. She found his proximity soothing. Still, Kevin was unsure of himself for the first time in a while, hesitating to give her a direct order because she had disobeyed the request for service earlier. Maybe if couched as a need…something she could help fulfill for me?
Testing, because her response would tell him a lot, he moved one foot backwards as if he meant to walk away again and watched as a swell of strain passed through her body. She was struggling to hold herself in place, afraid he was leaving, but more afraid to move or ask for what she wanted. Should work, he thought, twisting on his heel so he was facing away from the seats he wanted to move her towards.
“I’ve been on my feet all day. I’m going to sit down.” One step backwards, towards the chairs. Firm, ask without pleading. “My friend is ensuring you will be relieved of your duties for the night.” Sliding his shoe backwards, he took another small step. She still hadn’t moved. Shit. “I want company, Aurelie.” At her name, the trembling increased, more of a constant shuddering now. Shit. Fuck. Casting around in his mind, he pulled out the pet phrases he had used when they were together. “Mon amour, I will be immensely pleased when you join me. My lap is lonely without you.” That would set the stage for her, expose his expectations, now to wait and see if she could bring herself to grant his wish.
Another sliding step, the sole of his shoe never quite leaving the floor, met by movement on her part, finally. Thank fuck. Rising to all fours, she—fuck him, slunk was the only word—towards him. Moving faster now that she was matching his motion, he glanced back to see he was only a stride or two from the grouping of furniture. Selecting the largest chair, the one with the most room for multiple occupants, he took a final step backwards and allowed himself to slowly sink to the cushion. “Mon amour. Bebe. Aurelie, come join me.”
A moment later he felt the first tentative touch of her hand on his leg, relishing the heat from her body as she climbed up, softly settling herself into his lap, fitting there as if she were made for him. Feet tucked between his thighs, she curled small, knees balanced on one leg, ass on the other. Head tucked to his chest, hand against his belly, she molded herself against him. With a sigh, he wrapped both arms around her, holding her in place. One hand slipped up and into her hair, cradling the back of her head. His other hand slid down her leg to rest just above her knee, and he allowed himself a possessive grip, reading that it would give her reassurance she’d never ask for, knowing he got it right when she relaxed minutely. “Mon amour.”