A/N: The Sub Club Meets

Sub Club reunites for a meeting

Candace (Candy's PoV)

"Candy, have you heard? That girl pictured with Mr. Grey has been rushed to Seattle Grace Hospital!" Beatrice came shouting, with paper held aloft, as she entered the meeting.

"What?" exclaimed Candace. "Let me see that! Oh, details seem pretty damn sparse if you ask me. What's the big deal anyway?"

"Well… Maybe Sir would like some comfort. Any takers?" offered Bella with a salacious grin.

"Not me, I have a Dom. You should try to get in contact with Leila. She'd be all over that like white on rice. Her nose is so open you could hook a harness to it," Nanette replied.

"Me, either. I'm engaged!" Carrie shouted with glee, brandishing her left hand in triumph, giving everyone a good look at her bling. Her long-term Dom, now fiance, worked in management for the Seattle Seahawks.

"I would've called Susie, but she's somewhere in Barbados, running interference during some guy's family vacation," said Candace.

"Wait a minute. She's on call during some dude's vacation with his family? That's pretty fucking cold if you ask me," replied Jeannie. Jeannie was a receptionist at a highly sought-after entertainment company.

"Yeah, makes you wonder how many trips a man can take to the loo before wifey gets suspicious," supplied Betty, a London transplant, in her arch Cockney drawl.

All the women sitting around the round table burst into laughter at her ridiculous scenario. Suddenly, as it had just come to her, Becky Ann looked around, worried.

"I wonder what Mistress has to say about this," she finally said. All of the subs knew that Mistress Elena and Becks had a rather contentious relationship as she was constantly on her to watch her weight. While it was true that she leaned a little towards the doughy end of the scale, Master never complained because he liked the cushion. Mistress, though, was thoroughly pissed, harassing Becky relentlessly to diet. Hell, that's actually how Becky got the nickname 'Becks' because Mistress claimed there was enough of her for two people.

Her arrangement with Mr. Grey crashed soon after she ended up fainting in his playroom. Turned out, Becky had been maximizing her diet by using weight-loss supplements. Master despised all drugs except birth control. He even disapproved of vitamins. It was a hard limit for him, so she had to go, though he did help send her to a fat farm so she could learn to lose weight in a healthy fashion.

"So, where's everyone else?" Polly asked, looking around. Three women came rushing in, all brandishing papers or smartphones.

"The Nooz claims a woman was brought into Seattle Grace unconscious and bruised from head to toe!" one exclaimed excitedly. "They don't give her name, but there's some college photo that looks just like the girl Master was with during that graduation ceremony."

"Um, guys, do you think it could've been a scene gone bad?" asked Dawn, timidly. It was no secret that Grey had broomed her quickly after the suspension mishap. I was also well-known that she ended up with keys to an office building in Tacoma soon after.

"How fucking bad could a scene have gone to have her knocked out and bruised all over? He's brutal, no doubt, but this?" Candy inquired incredulously.

"He has been getting more and more demanding in the playroom, and selecting subs with fewer and fewer limits. Do you think that's why he was showing her off in public? She must be one hell of a sub to garner all of that!" Patricia surmised musingly.

"Have they mentioned Mr. Grey at all?" inquired Pamela.

"No, he's not directly mentioned, though they've dropped more than enough hints leading to him. He'd own their asses soon as they could blink if any of their shit directly implicated him.

The women looked at each other wordlessly then went back to the game of rummy that had been interrupted. Much better choice than Never Have I Ever, as some bitch always had to ask if we've fucked, slept or scened with Mistress Elena, Elliot Grey or anyone else currently in the room. As separate questions. Not good times especially when some idiot drags out the hard liquor.

How the Sub Club originated is steeped in urban legend. Someone claimed Master's first sub founded the club, but she was married now, and could never come to the meetings. A few of the earlier subs claimed the founding sub had to be Mistress Lincoln, but he would've had to be a toddler when she fucked him.

Another rumor bandied about was that a bunch of the subs had arrived at the same munch, and the valet had gotten a few of their red Audis confused. A couple of us had met in BDSM clubs wearing our Tiffany bracelets, and they weren't a common thing. All we had to do was ask a few innocuous questions like: Did you sign an NDA? Was there an extensive food list? What color was his playroom? What was his most intractable hard limit?

After an impromptu questionnaire, it wasn't that hard to figure out the identity of our shared Dom. And for some reason, we seemed to gravitate to one another. Our shared experience and mutual loss had bound us together and a twisted sisterhood was born.

Our secret sorority was beyond the purview of Doms. Doms came and went, but our tight little group prevailed. Some of us realized we had shared other Doms. It was an enlightening moment to know that we had so much in common. Enough to attract some of the same guys. We were all somewhat driven; we just preferred someone else to take the wheel and drive to get our jollies.

The bottom line is that we supported each other. Some Doms don't like to spend downtime with their subs, but they tend to be a rather possessive lot nonetheless. So spending time with a large group of women who also have rules to follow and respect reassured them that we wouldn't be stepping out of line.

We still got a thrill from the looks on people's faces when we arrived at any venue en masse. Imagine a cavalcade of red Audis driven by a squad of brunettes who could pass for sisters pulling up to a club. We haven't paid a cover charge in months. Let's just say all the bouncers loved us and velvet ropes proved no hindrance. Especially when we were all dressed in similar designer ensembles furnished courtesy one Master Grey.

But tonight we all worried that one of our own, whether she knew it or not, had been assaulted by the man we had all loved and trusted at some point in our lives. None of us could believe that he would beat a woman badly enough for her to require hospitalization. The thing with Dawn had to have been an isolated incident. No other sub had ever claimed that Master had abused them in any way.

What if it was all a lie? Master was condemned by his absence. And if the rumors were to be believed, he'd disappeared from public view soon after Anastasia Steele, as she was now identified, was rushed to Seattle Grace. Was he at her bedside, holding her hand? Had she been transferred to another hospital under the cover of darkness? Our regularly scheduled hen party had turned into a vigil as we waited for more news. And hopefully vindication of the man who'd brought us all together.

As days passed, there was still no sign of Master. According to several sources, he had not reported to GEH for over two weeks. Even ill, he was known to drag himself to work without fail. This was an anomaly, and the whispers persisted. By now, we'd discovered that the identity of her assailant was still unknown. How was that possible? Was this the beginning of a cover-up?

Though no-one had seen hide nor hair of Master, the Greys were out in force, though. For the first few days after Anastasia was identified, they'd visited her like clockwork and made sure to remain in the public eye. And the news outlets had been saturated by all persons Grey. We began to feel we were being sold a bill of goods.

Betty, though, made a stand, calling the idea of Master being some kind of demented Kennedy cousin a "load of tosh" and reminded us how stupid it would have been for him to damage her since their relationship had been made public. After all, it was one thing for him to swat asses in the privacy of his own home, and quite another to put Cinderella in the hospital.

E/N: Notice how simple it was to circumvent Grey's NDA? Easier than a game of charades. Why should Grey's former subs worry about possible consequences? It didn't materially weaken the NDA. It's already tissue paper, so poorly constructed, it's barely substantial enough for bathroom use.