Apt [Running to Love 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) by Allyson Young Page B

family, and she’d broken the very first rule he’d imposed on her. The other rules were around not coming without permission, not speaking without permission, and the like. Not always easy for her to obey, but the consequences for failure weren’t really related to disappointment. Fiona knew that he wouldn’t cut her out of his life and his family, but she’d actually disappointed him, and it felt bloody awful. So, here she was, ten to ten on Friday night, about to be put on the St. Andrew’s Cross and disciplined for the world to see until he deemed her capable of taking her self-deprecating comment back. She wondered if it would happen before or after an orgasm. Probably before. The big Dom was also big on reward.
    The door opened, and there he stood, larger than life itself. He was such a huge man, and while stern and oh so firm, one of the kindest men she’d ever known. Fiona instantly knelt.
    “Good evening, Fiona. I’m pleased you came.”
    She didn’t reply. There really wasn’t anything to say, just as there had actually been no real choice. Fiona loved this lifestyle, the certainty, the routine, the expectations, and above all, the safety. It might make no sense to others who weren’t involved, but she felt embraced by it. She even dared hope that someday she would have her own Dom and her whole sexuality would be explored and celebrated. She so wanted to please and serve.
    “We’ll leave in a moment, little one. But first, a couple of things. I had thought to use the flogger, but I believe I’ll employ the single tail tonight, and I’ll plug you before we go.”
    Andrew wasn’t asking. Fiona didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Sir.”
    “I was going to blindfold you, but we have some new people here tonight, and I think the lack of anonymity will serve to underscore the lesson.”
    Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. The single tail didn’t worry her. He was an expert. But she’d expected a blindfold, and while she trusted Master Andrew with her life, Fiona panicked. She had met the other members many times. She’d seen them doing scenes and knew that being displayed had been in the cards eventually. She secretly wanted it. But she’d thought to avoid seeing their faces, even as she wanted the blindfold to enhance her senses to the absolute maximum. She was so conflicted. And there would be newcomers! People she didn’t know. Her breath whistled in and out of her lungs, and Andrew moved quickly to calm her.
    “Fiona. Breathe. Gently now. It will be fine. You may have the hood.”
    Her pulse dropped instantly, and she settled. He simply knew her, knew what she needed, even if Dave didn’t. Although he did, in fact. She remembered one instance in particular.
    The big storm had hit while her parents were in town, and Fiona freaked out. She had been visiting her cousins in Kansas when a tornado struck. The childhood memory of being in that storm cellar, while all the world above went insane and the doors of the cellar had lifted and creaked as if with Satan’s baleful breath, had resulted in what could have been a lifelong phobia of any storm. She was convinced they would all spawn tornadoes, and her reaction to even a hint of one bordered on psychotic, building from a difficulty to draw a full breath to curling in on herself in any available corner, screaming into her closed fists. Fiona had understood Dave’s PTSD because she had her own, even if the two probably weren’t nearly the same. They both got triggered and reacted in incomprehensible ways that distressed most people around them because it made them feel so helpless in the face of it.
    And on that day of the first storm of the season Dave had scooped her up and held her, murmuring against her hair and rocking her gently. Fiona simply relaxed and let him take care of her, the threatening weather forgotten and the tornado phobia fading like mist before the sun. He’d inherently known what she needed. She needed him, him to ride