"Same time Monday?" The instructor, or Mr. Sam according to Faith's mini ninjas, asked. He tilted his head. "You aren't about to punch the wall like earlier. I thought you'd do well with the little ones. Enough energy to keep you too busy to think. And it's hard to lash out at someone who's giving you everything they have and giggling the whole time." Mr. Sam's grin changed his normally stern expression.
He was right, damn him. Faith would be grinning all night thanks to those kids and their non-stop laughter. She refused to let Sam know that, though. "I ain't teacher material. Never had lessons in fightin' until I got Called."
Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter. You know more than most of the other students, including the advanced ones. Lyn and I aren't looking for an expert in specific movements for the kids' class. I'll teach new material when it's time. You can learn along with the Cubs and work with them on the repetitions." His next words blew Faith away. "They loved you. While you were changing, I had a line of shrieking Cubs and their thrilled parents wanting to know why I hadn't advertised my awesome new instructor."
None of Faith's usual sarcasm came to her defense. While Faith gaped at him, Sam strode away to talk to one of the advanced students coming in for the next class.
"Ms. Faith?" One of the Cubs appeared at Faith's elbow. "Did Mr. Sam say something mean to you? Like the time I accidentally forgot to take my shoes off before I stepped on the mat. He was mad and made me do a million pushups."
More like two pushups. The kid's arms were toothpicks with no sign of muscles. "Nah. He…uh…" Sam had what? "He kinda asked me to come back next week."
"Cool." Before Faith had time to react, the kid grabbed her in a rib-breaking hug before dashing away.
Cool. Yeah. It was wicked cool. Faith stuck her hands in her pockets and sauntered out the door.
Not even the memory of the dojo and her new band of tiny warriors helped Faith as she arrived at the club. All of her earlier happiness was absent as she took a spot in the line snaking around the building. Top of the World was packed on Friday night. Thanks to karate class and a quick stop at the DMP for a snack, Faith was late. She'd obviously missed Tara and her crew since they weren't anywhere in line. And Trish's car was in the lot.
With a sigh, Faith leaned against the brick wall. A few of the Dominants (and a few of the submissives) tried to catch her eye. Faith ignored them. She wasn't here for them. She was here for Tara.
That was a problem. As she inched closer to the entrance, Faith replayed her confrontation with the Mayor. He'd threatened Tara. Not in so many words, but Faith knew the score. No way was Faith letting that happen. She finally reached the front entrance and glared at the bouncer, who checked the mark on her cuff and her ID card before slapping an "under-21" stamp on her right hand. Great. No booze. She needed a drink. Maybe several drinks. Alcohol just might help her get through this fucking party. Unfortunately, thanks to the stamp, Faith would have to face her problems without alcoholic assistance.
Pausing just inside the clubroom, Faith immediately located Tara and her group of friends. Trish, Brian, and Monica sat with Tara in one of the conversation areas. Three other Dominants that Faith didn't recognize were there, too. Each of them had a submissive at their feet or draped in some fashion on their lap. They'd been nice enough to save a spot for Faith. A deep blue pillow, the same shade as Tara's eyes when she was in Dominant Mode, rested on the floor next to Tara.
Faith had never knelt willingly, except with Tara. Tara made her want to kneel – without asking. Stroking the butter-soft leather cuff on her right wrist, Faith stared at the pillow. If she walked across the room and dropped to her knees, what would Tara do?
Would she smile? Just a little, the way Faith liked? Would her eyes brighten and then chill until Faith turned into a puddle of need at Tara's feet from nothing more than a single look? Or would Tara continue talking and laughing with her friends, idly running her fingers through Faith's hair?
Either scenario sounded like Heaven. Too bad Faith lived in the real world. A world far closer to Hell than any paradise. Faith couldn't kneel on that blue pillow. Tara and her friends were here to celebrate a claiming, a bond that could never last. A bond Faith had to destroy.
It had always been her plan. Staying with Tara was impossible, more now than ever before thanks to the Mayor. The first step into the room was the hardest. Faith stumbled over her own feet, bumped into submissives and Dominants alike as her mind and body fought over her decision. The club wasn't so large that Faith couldn't force her way to Tara's side. She ignored the pillow in favor of the couch.
No one batted an eyelash. Faith ground her teeth. Why couldn't Tara's friends be like the Dominants she'd serviced in Boston? They'd made sure Faith knew her place was on the floor, sprawled or kneeling. Tara, though, smiled and twined their fingers. Maxie cuddled close on Trish's lap and winked. Only Monica reacted at all, and her glare was muted. Most of her attention was for Drew.
He knelt. Crouched, actually. Faith winced and nearly crossed her legs protectively over a phantom cock and balls. Drew's scrotum was stretched, his balls held firmly in the grip of a humbler. One wrong move, an attempt to straighten… Sweat caused Drew's skin to glow in the low lighting. His eyes remained glued on Monica, who scraped a single fingernail over his nipples. Left then right, in a repeating rhythm.
Faith followed Monica's finger, warmth blossoming over the back of her hand in time with Monica's movements. Her hand. It wasn't Monica turning Faith's skin hot. It was Tara. She'd matched Monica's heavy touch with a lighter one of her own over the back of Faith's hand. Her gaze, like her stroke, was gentle. If only. Faith's determination wavered. She wanted this. Wanted Tara. Wanted what the cuff and the blue pillow represented.
Her "set in stone" decision cracked and then crumbled entirely. Fuck the Mayor. She'd talk to Tara in the morning. Come clean about the Mayor and his freaky invincibility and his threats.
The pillow beckoned, and this time Faith listened. She slid off the couch and took the position Tara had taught her in her apartment: back straight, hands palm up on her thighs. She heard Tara's sharp intake of breath and felt a warm touch on the link. Gentle fingers combed through her hair before guiding her head to rest against Tara's knee.
Contentment settled around Faith like that warm blanket she'd once sensed in her mind. Mayor? Who cared? Not Faith.
"Did Trish tell you she has an interview with a law firm in LA?" Maxie was far too much like Willow, in Faith's estimation. She always talked when Faith was enjoying the quiet.
It was fun to watch Trish's reaction, though. She blushed and rolled her eyes. "It's not a big deal." She squeezed her arms around Maxie and nipped the back of Maxie's neck. "It's an unpaid internship, and I don't know that I want to spend the summer in LA anyway."
"Why not?" Los Angeles was a far cry from pathetic Sunnydale. Faith shifted a little, rubbing her cheek against Tara's leg. "Way more fun than here."
Faith's comment won her a double-thumbs up from Maxie. "That's what I told her, too. In case you haven't figured my Great Lady out yet, Faith, Trish is a big old stick in the mud."
"Max…" Trish closed her eyes in what appeared to be pain.
"When are you going to listen to me, Trish, and gag her?" Monica's voice was cold and cutting. Faith noticed that Maxie wasn't fazed by the threat. She stuck her tongue out at Monica. "I have the perfect one in my bag. She'll not only be quiet but completely available for whatever you decide to do to her." Glancing down at Drew, who was still in his uncomfortable crouch, she yanked his head back with a cruel grip on his chin. "I bought it for princess here and haven't had a chance to use it."
Brian joined the conversation. "Before Trish takes you up on the offer," he grinned at Trish, "we have a few things for the new couple." Bags and gaily-wrapped boxes Faith hadn't noticed were pushed toward Tara. "Congratulations, both of you. I hate to lose my first and most promising student. I'm sure you and Faith will continue to learn and explore together." He took a bag and held it out to Tara.
Rather than take it, Tara poked Faith's shoulder until she accepted the gift. Faith hesitated. Brian didn't know her. The gift was really for Tara.
"It won't explode. Or bite," Sue said. "Bri wouldn't let me get anything fun. Trish isn't the only stick in the mud in the room." She carefully avoided the narrow-eyed glare Brian gave her at the comment.
Digging through the pale blue tissue paper, Faith pulled out a set of matching lined wrist and ankle cuffs. Each of them bore the same mark as Faith's cuff. Tara's mark. "Thanks," she said, tracing the design. Glancing up, she caught Tara's heated gaze. "Wanna put 'em on? See if they fit?"
Her head dropped and her back straightened at the first hint of frost in Tara's eyes. "Not right now, my Faith. As much as I might like to see you bound and ready for me, we are here to celebrate. Aren't we?"
"Yes, Tara." Faith shivered as Tara rewarded her answer with a gentle caress at the back of her neck.
By the time all the gifts were open, Faith knew Tara's friends were crazy. The cuffs were the only serious item on the table amid discarded wrapping paper. A fuzzy, heart-shaped padded. Nipple tassels with a matching clit clamp shaped like tiny bows.
Faith's favorite was a book of cutouts for her very own paper-doll Dominant. Drew had grinned impishly and told Faith he had a paper Mistress hanging in his work cubicle. He wouldn't divulge what Paper Mistress had been wearing. However, it was the first time Faith had seen Monica lose her usual arrogance.
Unexpectedly enjoying the party, Faith relaxed. She forgot all about the Mayor. The Mayor, though, must have anticipated that. As Faith scanned the clubroom, watching some of the scenes and listening to the group's chatter, she saw a familiar face. Familiar yet far from friendly. Zajicek, one of the applicants Faith had interviewed for the Mayor's security detail. He bared his teeth and saluted Faith with his glass – and all of Faith's contentment disappeared.
Her insides knotted; her hands clenched, seeking a weapon that wasn't there. She'd fucked up. This would never end. The Mayor would always be watching. And while his minions watched, Tara wasn't safe. Closing her eyes, Faith soaked up the warmth of that leaked through the lid over her bond one last time.
Faith had rarely utilized her bond with Tara. She had relied on Tara to stay safely in her own mind. Tonight, Faith needed to be sure Tara could not sense Faith's intent. She had to make sure the cracks in the barrier over the bond were gone for good.
Surging to her feet, she glared down at Tara with all the caged anger she wanted to unleash at the Mayor. "Think I need a little action. You still not signin' off on heavy toys, T?" Anger couldn't drive the edge in Faith's voice. Losing the first and only dream of happiness she'd ever had was more than enough to make her question as sharp as a dagger.
"What?" Tara hadn't understood. She glanced at Faith, her sexy half-smile inviting Faith to resume her spot on the pillow.
Keeping their conversation private wouldn't do what Faith needed. She had to have an audience when she shattered Tara's heart. Raising her voice so that none of Tara's friends would miss their exchange, she snapped, "It was a simple question, T. I need a little action. You got what it takes to string me up and mark me?" From the little Tara had mentioned about her father, Faith was betting Tara would run a mile rather than pick up a whip.
Faith had the group's attention. Maxie frantically shook her head and wiggled her hands as if to give Faith a heads up that she was about to cross a line. If Faith hadn't known exactly what she was doing, she might have appreciated Maxie's attempt to help.
The confusion and hurt in Tara's voice made Maxie's warning pointless. Faith had already crossed that line. "You w-want me to wh-whip you?" The stutter. Fuck, the stutter. The floor, not the pillow, beckoned. Faith should have collapsed to her knees begging for forgiveness when Tara continued. "I won't do th-that." Shy Tara and Lady Tara both managed to be in that short refusal.
"Whatever. If you ain't Dominant enough, I'll find someone who is." Turning away from the now-silent partiers, Faith stalked across the club room. The need to take back her cruel words pressed on her chest. Tara didn't deserve what Faith was about to do.
Zajicek was still in the club. He still represented the Mayor's threat. She had to go through with this. Top of the World was a classy club, however. It wasn't as easy to find the perfect mark. A patsy Dominant who would hurt Faith and walk away without asking all the wrong questions. Harder didn't mean impossible. No matter how clean the floor and the equipment, despite the Dungeon Monitors patrolling, Faith found just the right Dominant for the job.
The irony wasn't lost on Faith as she stopped next to Zajicek. "You tired of holdin' up the bar? 'Cause none of the pussies here can manage me."
The open challenge did nothing. Zajicek's expression never changed.
And then he looked at Faith. He must have been on his best behavior during their interview. Faith locked her knees and refused to back away from his soulless gaze and the cruel twist to his lips. "Let's play," Zajicek announced. A hard, heavy hand gripped Faith's upper arm, nails digging into the skin.
Being manhandled. Forced to walk toward certain pain. They weren't new for Faith. The ballooning pressure behind her eyes, however, was a surprise. As was the clear feel of Tara in Faith's mind despite the still-present barrier.
Not Tara. Not now. Faith shut down as best she could. She locked away any sense of self. It had been a survival technique during her childhood. A way to deny the Dominant johns the final satisfaction of breaking her. The trip to the whipping post took on a dream-like quality. Faith floated. People passed in fuzzy blurs of color and sound.
The cool waft of an air conditioned breeze brushed her skin as Zajicek stripped off Faith's clothes. Cold hard cuffs enclosed her wrists before Faith was pulled up and onto her toes. Against her will, she turned her head and watched Zajicek take a rubber cat o' nine tails out of the toy bag he carried. Metal glinted at the tip of each fall.
Only the sturdy whipping post and the obligatory chains kept Faith from running. She didn't want this scene on any level. She wanted to call it off. To safeword. Difficult to do when she and Zajicek had never discussed one. Harder still since Faith had to go through with this. Tara had to think Faith had repudiated her in the most public way possible.
Zajicek moved out of Faith's line of sight. She heard him drag the tips of the falls over the floor, the metal clicking audibly. The tips would tear…
Son of a bitch! The whip would never even reach Faith's back because of Tara and her fucking magic. Faith had no choice. She reached for Tara through the link and prayed Tara was too upset to do anything more than hear Faith's mental "Take down the fucking shields!"
There was no response. Not one that came with words, anyway. Faith's skin tingled for an instant, some energy she hadn't really registered draining away. The magical barrier was gone like Faith had demanded.
One blow and Faith wanted the scene to stop. Whip Masters and Dominants who cared about their submissives could leave no more than mild red marks, tiny scratches, with a metal-tipped whip or flogger. Zajicek wasn't there to make the pain mix with pleasure, and Faith had no illusions that he gave a flying fuck about her well-being. He swung the whip with no finesse and a whole lot of brute strength. Experienced with pain, Faith still cried out. The rubber falls were stiffer than leather. Heavy. That was bad enough. Then the metal pieces on the tips dug and tore into her skin.
The crowd that had gathered to watch the scene disappeared under the wave of agony. Instinct drove Faith to yank against the chains. The wooden post creaked, withstanding her enhanced strength only because Faith's tip-toe position left her little leverage.
Another blow fell. The lashes tore Faith's other shoulder as Zajicek followed the first throw with a backhand toss.
Roaring filled Faith's ears. She couldn't call the scene off. She'd told Tara to pull down the magical barrier. Tara had to believe Faith wanted what Zajicek offered. Somehow, Faith had to get through this without breaking free and killing Zajicek or shrieking the club safeword like the terrified, helpless submissive she was.
Heat flickered in and around Faith as the cat o' nine landed twice more. Something trickled down her back as she waited for Zajicek to strike again. Blood probably. There would be more before this nightmare was over.
The roar in Faith's head grew louder. Faith wondered if she'd pass out while Zajicek played to the crowd. Except…The cluster of people on the outside of the rope around the play area had backed off. They were still there. But they weren't staring at Faith anymore. They had found something else to watch. All of them had turned to face away from the scene floor.
That's when the roar became an explosion that echoed in Faith's mind. She screamed again as the barrier Tara had erected over their bond was ripped away just like it had the night on the apartment roof. No joy followed. No stern voice told Faith to drop a knife.
Instead, raw pain spewed from the link. Tara's pain and humiliation.
It did what Zajicek's whip could never, would never, do. "Red. Red!" Frantic, Faith ripped at the cuffs binding her wrists. She had to get loose. She had to get away.
"Tara. Come on, honey. Whatever you're doing, you have to stop." Monica had a death grip on Tara's arm, and Trish and Brian blocked her path.
They all needed to get out of the way. If they wouldn't move on their own, Tara would help them. Just the way she'd helped that man stop hitting Faith with his whip. Magic rippled in a visible aura around Tara. That magic held that horrible whip upraised and frozen in the air.
Tara reached across her body with her free hand. Blue fire streaked across her palm and threatened to explode. She had to get to Faith. Now! Faith was hers. Hers. That man had no right to chain Faith up and hurt her. Tara could feel Faith's pain. Faith's fear…and Faith's decision to let that man do exactly that.
The flames in her palm flickered, and Tara slumped against Monica for an instant. Faith had chosen that man. She'd asked Tara to pull down the personal shield Tara had erected for her. With her actions, Faith had publicly repudiated Tara. In front of Tara's friend. At their claiming party.
Everything was so wrong. Tara couldn't make sense of anything. Only minutes ago, Faith had been at her feet. She'd felt a trickle of Faith's happiness through the link. Faith had been on the verge of reaching for her, of letting her into her mind. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she'd been holding Faith's hand and staring at collars. Dreaming of their future.
Tara's emotions raged so wildly she felt dizzy from the inner maelstrom. At the center of the storm, Tara's heart stretched and twisted, waiting to be pulled completely apart. "Let me go," Tara said quietly. There was nothing she could do if Faith really didn't want her. Tara was not her father. She wouldn't threaten and cage to keep their bond.
Until Faith officially signed the repudiation documents, though, that man would keep his whip to himself. Stepping around her friends, Tara walked across the play area. Her aura still visibly glowed; people stared at her. Backed away. They didn't realize Tara's magical display was all for the man with the whip.
They'd know soon enough.
Tara's emotions slowly settled. Each step helped stop the frantic whirling. Now Tara could feel Faith again. So scared. Trapped. In pain. Tara's shoulders blazed with sympathetic pain. As she'd thought before, something about this entire scene was wrong. Faith's emotions, easily discernable even with the bond blocked, only cemented that. She needed to understand, and only one person had all the answers. Faith?
The trickle of Faith's emotions stopped. The block was thickened from Faith's side. The message was clear. Faith refused to share. Faith didn't want Tara or the bond.
So be it. From blistering rage to snow-covered emptiness; Tara's emotions changed with Faith's deliberate actions. All the pain. The anger. They stopped.
For the first time, Tara noticed two orange-vested Dungeon Monitors had confronted the man with the whip. He was red-faced with anger as one of the Monitors ripped the implement from his hand, not knowing that Tara had already made it impossible for that man to use the whip again.
The man shouldn't be angry. He should be relieved. If the Dungeon Monitors hadn't stepped in, Tara would have gotten to him. It didn't matter that Faith had repudiated Tara. Tonight, in the club, Faith still belonged to Tara. Tara's mark of ownership was clearly burned into Faith's cuff. The man should have at least asked for Tara's permission to scene with Faith.
Faith should have asked, too. She should have told Tara she craved something Tara couldn't provide. Any one of their friends would have willingly stepped in, and they would have taken care of Faith.
The man hadn't. Now that Tara was close, she saw the blood on Faith's back. Parallel gashes marked both of Faith's shoulders. They might scar if not doctored properly.
An invisible roped tugged her off her charted course toward the man. Faith was her new destination. Tara's hands raised, hovering, yet not touching, the wounds. Tara knew the terrible fire a whip left behind. She would have cut off her own hands to keep Faith from experiencing it, too.
Faith stirred. The chains and the post kept her in place. "Stand still." Faith might have chosen this path; yet Tara had to help her. It was her duty as Faith's Dominant until the moment Faith removed Tara's cuff.
Brian, Monica, Trish, and Josh joined them on the clubroom floor. They fanned out, blocking Tara and Faith from view of the increasingly large audience. Tara didn't care one way or the other. The ice inside encased her heart. Tara cared about nothing.
Except Faith. She'd never stop caring about Faith, no matter how many times Faith shoved Tara away. Tara wanted to close her eyes and slump to the floor. She was so tired, tired all the way into her spirit. "Brian, please help Faith down." Tara stepped aside as Brian rushed to unfasten the cuffs and release Faith from the whipping post. Jay was a half-step behind with a warmed blanket from the club's ready supply.
It should have been Tara with the blanket. It wasn't and never would be. Easily reading the tight line of Faith's lips and the tension in Faith's muscles, Tara made no move to assist. She stood and watched Faith shrug off the blanket and push past Brian and Jay.
She did raise one hand in a silent command to her friends, keeping them from halting Faith's departure. Faith made her own choices. Walked her own path. Tara would never cross the boundaries Faith set again. That had happened too often, if Giles was right about Faith's past.
A little of the ice encasing Tara's heart cracked, though, when Faith glanced at her for the first time. So much pain and a silent plea. Faith wanted Tara. It was there for a split second.
And then it was gone, hidden behind a mask of cocky indifference.
Needing an outlet for the new flare of anger, Tara turned to the man. He'd been staring at them, and his lips curled in disdain.
"Ma'am," one of the Dungeon Monitors began.
Tara cut him off. "Let him go." Knives were not as sharp as her command.
Few clubs employed submissives as Dungeon Monitors. Dominants were better equipped to withstand the will of other Dominants. However, both club employees immediately released the man. They didn't leave, though. They probably thought Tara was about to be run over by the much larger, clearly much stronger man.
The Dungeon Monitors had it all wrong. Tara was stronger in the only way that mattered. When the man grinned and stepped toward her, Tara stood her ground. She wasn't running away. She wasn't angry anymore. Her frozen emotions hadn't thawed enough for anger. Or pain. Tara knew exactly what she was doing as she raised her right hand, palm out. "Stop!" Only another witch would notice the way Dominance and magic infused the single word.
As if he were a marionette under Tara's control, the man jerked to a halt. "What the Hell? Who are you?"
More of the ice around Tara's heart cracked. Heat curled around her as she unconsciously pulled in power. Sweat gathered at her hairline and dripped down her forehead. She could kill him with a flick of her wrist. Turn the entire club into a raging inferno. Spells in several arcane languages trembled on Tara's tongue. Energy rippled on air conditioned currents blowing through the room.
The man was blind to the warning signs. Towering over Tara he snarled, "The little bitch wasn't as tough as she pretends. Never figured she'd safeword."
Safeword. Faith had safeworded? The magic inside continued to gather force.
With a muffled curse, the Dungeon Monitor holding the man's whip threw the rubber implement to the ground where it smoldered and finally melted into a blackened puddle of goo on the floor.
"Be very glad of that safeword," Tara told him softly. "It's the only reason you aren't on the floor along with your whip."
More orange-vested people were pushing through the crowd. This time, they headed for Tara and not the man. They sensed what this man was too stupid to understand. He was no match for Tara. Quelling the magic inside in spite of the lingering urge to teach the man a lesson he would never forget, Tara turned away.
Stepping around the man, Tara met Brian's worried gaze. "Please, let's go home."
