The lights were dimmed while drinks continued to pour. Blair was already in the audience doing her pre-performance best.Half of these people have no idea she’s one of the performers.That was half the fun. Those who knew her through Le Salon might have known she did professional kinky shows for profit, but she didn’t do such things while hosting and convincing clients to buy expensive bottles of wine (that she sometimes broke, naturally.) Instead, they assumed she was drumming up a different kind of business as she flirted with people and bent down to whisper naughty things in their ears, her pushed-up breasts copiously in their faces.
She bypassed Monica and Henry, only flashing them her thong beneath her silk kimono.
“Henry…” Monica lightly pinched him by the front button. “You act like you’ve never seen a great ass before when there’s one in your lap right now.”
“What can I say? I’m mortal.” He slightly moved his head as Blair bent over to flirt with Jasmine, who hooted in excited laughter and almost spilled the ice out of her glass. “You hireverybeautiful women.”
“It’s almost like that’s my job.”
“Anticipating what the horny masses want to see right in front of them? Why, yes, you’re very good at that, Princess.”
“Try not to get too excited about one of my employees. It makes things awkward for our professional relationship.”
“Only if they notice I’ve looked.”
She lightly smacked him on the chest. As their relationship wore on, Henry grew more comfortable teasing her about the beautiful women she hired for her establishments. The trust between them was so strong that she never once worried about him straying, and certainly, her employees had never insinuated that he was untoward with them.Why would he be?The man only had eyes for Monica when it came tosex.They were a specific kind of yin-and-yang that complemented each other too well for there to ever be another person coming between them.
“Stop thinking about work for two seconds.” Henry squeezed her hip as he held her closer. “This isourparty. Lighten up and try to have some fun, Princess. You’re in your element, aren’t you?”
“You know, maybe if we were anywhere else…”
“Sure. We were in a club somewhere in another state, but oh, you’re already in hostess mode because you noticed someone wasn’t having as much fun as they should.”
“I can’t help it,” she whispered. “It’s who I am.”
He laughed. “I’d be a fool to not admit that it’s one of the things I love most about you. You put almost everyone aheadof yourself. Just remember that I appreciate it when you put yourself first sometimes.”
She nestled her head against his shoulder, finally allowing her breath to ease from her.
Yes, this was where she needed to be after everything that had happened recently. When she saw how bustling this party was, and how at ease her guests were as the show started, she remembered why she evenbeganthis business. Monica didn’t just have an eye for erotic entertainment. She intrinsically knew what the submissive mind wanted – what the dominant heart craved. While she best understood it from the perspective of her preferred pairing, like her marriage, it didn’t take much imagination to extrapolate that tootherpairings. After all, Mira and Blair represented one type of BDSM relationship while appealing to many others. Mira’s history of professional sex work on stage and FansOnly was the perfect complement for Blair’s extroverted, diamond-in-the-rough submissive nature that flourished with the right partner. Which was exactly what Monica enjoyed when she detached herself from the professional relationship she enjoyed with both women. She did notdesirethem like she desired her husband, but they were beautiful. Both in body and in what they represented when performing on the dais to the side of the room.
Don’t worry about your guests needing anything.That was for her employees to worry about.Don’t fret about what happens after this.She was the hostess, but she was also here toenjoythe evening. With her husband. Her lover. Her Dom.
She placed her lips on his, tentatively, enjoying the cloak of shrouded darkness that hid them from prying eyes in the back of the audience.
And the hungry way he kissed her back was the refreshing balm she needed on her heart. No, hersoul.Love was almost always enough. Love and safety.
She was safe here. With him. With their friends. Within their lifestyle, which Monica knew first-hand could bear the bloody hand of distrust and abuse.
She briefly thought ofhim.The man she left over a decade ago, before founding this business that had sustained her income in case worse came to worse.I had loved him. More than anyone else.No, she hadn’t just loved the man who became the Beast. She had worshipped him. Adored him. Becameenslavedto him.
And she had told herself that it was what she wanted. She was happy not just serving him, but becoming beholden to him. To his money. His power. His influence over everyone.
Monica’s muscles must have tightened up, for her husband rubbed her arm and purred something delectably inaudible against her throat.
Polite applause rippled around her. Mira and Blair had finished their performance, the former taking questions from the curious audience while the latter excused herself to the nearest restroom. Monica had missed most of the show because she had been living in the past, remembering the ten years of her life she had dedicated to an abuser who made her see stars.
The celestial kind. The damned kind.
Her therapist told her to remain grounded when the intrusive thoughts came. She had given Monica the tools, the mantras to recite whenever Jackson Lyle’s face, voice, andbodyhit her like a stampede of wild, unbridled horses that didn’t give a shit whether she lived or died. Sometimes, she was minding her own business in a restaurant and suddenly smelled his preferred cologne or saw a waiter pass by with a medium-rare steak with asparagus on the side.His favorite meal.One of the first things she learned about her ex-Dom was that it was always the first thing he ordered at a new place, basing his future judgments on one meal.
The second thing Monica learned? How to cut said steak to his standards. Sometimes, she was expected to feed him, too. In public.
At the time, she had loved it. Lived it.Thrilledherself with knowing that man couldn’t live without her tender attention. Making her Dom smile and feel more relaxed was the least she could do in return for every wonder and miracle he performed in return. Monica wasn’t embarrassed by her servitude, but she was appalled at how easily she fell into the role ofslave.
Because, as her therapist had helped her realize, that was how he treated her. And what Henry refused to do because he tacitly understood that indulging in some of Monica’s habits might be too triggering for her PTSD.
So, no matter how much she liked to occasionally cut up her husband’s food and feed him while sitting in his lap, it happened so infrequently that she sometimes forgot about it. Because Henry didn’t like it. He didn’t want to partake in anything that reminded his wife ofJackson.
