Page 87 of At Her Pleasure

She caught their attention with a “wait here one more minute” gesture, before she stepped inside the space with Cyn.

* * *

When Cyn noted Vera’s reappearance, she was at the table, wetting a clean cloth with a jug of distilled water. As Vera approached, Cyn cast a critical look at Mick, slumped against the cross.

“If Tiger’s still here, bring him in. Mick is solid muscle, and he’s going to drop when those cuffs are taken off, no matter what he thinks.”

Vera headed back out while Cyn approached the subject of their discussion. When she touched the damp cloth to the edge of one of the cuts, the blood leached into it like red dye. Mick stiffened, but she put her other hand on his shoulder.

“I’m here,” she said.

The tension eased. A lot of things were happening here, but they’d deal with it later. Right now, she’d do what she rarely did. Aftercare. Because no matter how much she wanted to kick his ass, she refused to let anyone else do it.

Olivia had brought a chair inside the panels and sat unobtrusively a few feet away. Though it indicated she thought her oversight was still needed, that was fine with Cyn, as long as she didn’t interrupt.

Vera returned with Tiger. Skye was with him, but moved to stand with Olivia. Tiger took in the close-up of Mick’s back, but his expression remained neutral. “When you take off the cuffs, I assume you want him on that mat you’ve rolled out over there. Face down, or are we still going for maximum pain?”

Tiger knew his Mistresses. Though she couldn’t feel any amusement herself, she appreciated the dry male humor.

“Session’s over,” she repeated. “Just be ready to take him to the ground. His knees aren’t going to hold him.” She bent to remove the ankle manacles.

“Fuck they will,” Mick muttered. Even phasing in and out, he had picked up on the exchange.

She unlocked the cuff on Mick’s right wrist, and was in enough of a mood to drag her arm against his sensitive back as she reached across it to unlock the other. After she pulled the other cuff free with a rough yank, she rammed her knee into the back of his. He folded like a house of cards, into Tiger’s ready grip.

She’d barely pushed, knowing it wouldn’t take much. The way Tiger’s biceps bunched told her how much of his weight he was holding, despite Mick’s belligerent, “I can walk.”

When Tiger turned him onto his stomach on the mat, he made a quelling noise to Mick, equal parts reassurance and warning. “Easy. Don’t get crazy on me, man.”

Mick blinked. Something clicked, drawing him out of his head. “Just don’t grab my ass,” he said distinctly.

Another smile crossed Tiger’s face. The relief that came with it was mirrored on Vera’s. Cyn didn’t know what her own face showed. Mick’s voice was tired, but the edginess was draining away fast. Perhaps it was the removal of the bonds, a physical reinforcement that the scene was over. Telling him it was time to pull his shit back together.

“It’s a nice ass, but it’s the wrong gender,” Tiger said. “So it’s safe from me.”

As he’d been lowered to the mat, Mick winced at the effect on his battered body, but made no protest. Tiger put a brief hand on his shoulder, then straightened.

Cyn’s attention moved to the base of the cross, where dripped blood had created what looked like a smeared dance pattern. She turned to Skye and communicated by sign, not wanting Mick to be privy to the conversation.

“He’ll need help getting to his vehicle when I’m done. I’m going home after I take care of him. I don’t want to talk about this tonight.”

“Understood,” Skye responded. “We’ll wait outside the screens. Let us know when you’re ready.”

Translating the exchange and anticipating her next move, Vera had called in the two subs. Cyn passed them her first aid kit, though she saw one of the girls had the club’s kit as well. “Cleaning and dressing with pressure bandages,” she told them. “Last chance, Mick. Do you want stitches?”

She didn’t have to draw his attention. His gaze had remained on her ever since he’d hit the floor.

He shook his head.

“Then close your eyes,” she said. “I’m not dealing with your shit right now.”

He looked ready to argue, but let out a sigh and closed his eyes. As the women followed her direction, she noted his fists were still clenched, and it wasn’t because it hurt, though she knew it did. She squatted at his side and straightened the fingers there, tapping them.

“You fucked up. It’s not the end of the world.”

His fingers twitched in response, but remained pressed to the epoxy floor.

Her world would go back to what it was in a couple days. She’d eventually remember what had been good about this session, until it wasn’t.