20 comments/ 3854 views/ 12 favorites Finding You Bk. 02: Paradigm Shift By: MysweetDragon1969 CHAPTER 1 Marcus stalked the network of walkways that crisscrossed the ceiling high above Elysium's floor space, the restless need to move forcing him out of his office. Mostly hidden in darkness, the walkways allowed the club's owners and security personnel to supervise almost every square foot of the massive club without disturbing the patrons below. The bar, dance floor and massive dungeon areas could all be overseen from The Heights, as the employees had dubbed the level of overhead walkways. There were only two areas not visible from The Heights: the exclusive VIP section of the club and the private playrooms. Though shielded from view from above, every room in those two areas had a network of discreetly placed CCTV cameras installed that constantly monitored the activities for breaches in legality or safety. At Elysium, privacy was only an illusion; one that could be bought from the general masses, but not from the watchful eyes of the security team who were there to ensure that all members obeyed the club rules, even behind closed doors. As his boot heels rang out along the suspended, metal grates, he should have been watching the various scenes and activities taking place below him, but he couldn't focus through the turmoil in his brain. A craving he was unable to satisfy distracted his mind and occupied his full attention, such that he barely noticed the cacophony rising up from the club floor. The private BDSM social club was full to capacity, as was normal for a Saturday night. Naked, writhing submissives occupied all the play spaces with their leather clad Dominants holding court above and behind them. The huge, horseshoe-shaped bar was crowded with patrons whisking drinks away as fast as the bartenders could pour them. Even with the two-drink maximum, the bartenders were in a flurry of motion to get everyone served. The sunken dance floor was a seething mass of moving bodies, gyrating around the raised DJ pedestal. Even the expensive private playrooms had all been booked out for the night, with people left disappointed on the waiting lists. None of this mattered to Marcus; there wasn't room in his brain to rejoice at his club's success, not with every brain cell dedicating itself to thoughts of her. He moved without purpose along the walkway until he found himself overlooking the alley that housed the voyeur theatres. Looking down, he paid no attention to the various scenes of debauchery playing out in each of the rooms below, entertaining the crowd of avid spectators packed on the other side of the one-way windows. Even the VIP club was full to capacity with the upper echelon of the rich and kinky, spending obscene amounts of money to partake in carnal delights that only Elysium could provide. People swarmed like ants on a picnic below his feet, but her face was the only one his dark eyes could see...and her ghost was everywhere he looked. ...A squealing sub bound to the St. Andrew's cross, writhing under the flying tails of her Dom's flogger. ...A pretty brunette wailing, getting her round ass spanked with her head locked in the stocks. ...A naked, Rubenesque woman, moaning through countless orgasms with her Dom's face buried between her plump thighs. Every one of these sexual creatures had her face superimposed on theirs and no matter what he did; Marcus couldn't clear her image from his mind. Wherever his gaze roved, people grouped into pairs, trios and more, were all having a good time and the only thing he could see, was the one thing he couldn't have. There were a thousand reasons for Marcus to be happy, the proof arrayed like a banquet below him, but the gnawing emptiness in his gut made him feel as destitute as a beggar. Marcus should have been deliriously thrilled with Elysium's popularity. They were thriving in a harsh economy that had sunk many a start-up business before they ever got off the ground, but Elysium had defied the trend and was growing, with plans for expansion looming on their horizon. Money was flowing into his and his partner's pockets in insane quantities and their notoriety had spread such that they could barely accommodate the volume of interested people on their intake tours. In addition to the regular folk who frequented the club, their reputation had attracted wealthy members from all parts of the globe who travelled to the city just to be able to play at Marcus's dream club. He should have felt proud that his club attracted the elite, both in the BDSM lifestyle and in the financial world - people who could afford to buy anything, go anywhere and do whatever their deviant hearts desired - they chose his club to come play at. This fact alone should have provided a sense of satisfaction for the accomplishment he, and his partners, had achieved. Elysium was a rousing success and Marcus should have been ecstatic. He had every reason to be happy...and yet he wasn't. Somewhere on the level below, the sharp snap of a whip cut through the buzz of noise, creating a momentary vacuum of sound, only to be filled a split second later by the high-pitched shriek of the submissive on the receiving end. Marcus didn't even flinch. The air drifting up into The Heights was redolent with the heady scents of sex and sweat as Dominants and submissives of all ages and sizes worked themselves into a sexual frenzy. The sounds of pleasure, pain and the smells of debauchery filled the air, but Marcus was numb to it all. His heart had become a stone - heavy, unyielding and bristling in burrs that grated in his chest, turning every heartbeat into an agony he couldn't ignore. Focusing his attention on the actions below him was pointless, no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept circling stubbornly back to one name and a pair of stunning emerald eyes. Supervising the patrons using the dungeon area was a wasted effort. Whom was he kidding? He'd dragged his ass in to work every day for the last month, but his mind and heart hadn't come with him. Instead of actively running his business, he'd turned most of the day-to-day operations over to his partners and had resigned himself to haunting the club like a ghost trapped in limbo, lost in his thoughts and going through the motions of living. Tonight was no different. Marcus prowled the upper deck, his agitation making him as unpredictable as a starving grizzly. He suffered from a toxic frustration that chewed at his guts like a horde of ravenous parasites, watching but not really seeing the action on the level below him. His mind was a chaotic mess of emotions swirling around the desperate anxiety that something crucial, something vital that he needed to survive, was slipping further out of his reach with every passing day. The reason for his turmoil was painfully simple. Tabitha. ...She was the angel who had stolen his will and woken his inner beast with nothing but a broken smile... ...She was the beautiful siren whose cry for help had enslaved his imagination and tormented his dreams... It had been four, long, torturous weeks since Marcus had last seen his green-eyed angel. ...Four weeks since her demented boss had tried to rape her, thrusting her into Marcus' life. ...Four weeks since Tabitha had bewitched him with her vulnerable beauty and sweet innocence. ...Four weeks since he had chosen to give her the space she needed to heal and then walked away from her. Four fucking weeks... and he had felt each hour pass by like a razor sharp knife slowly whittling away pieces of his soul. As much as he abhorred what that sick bastard had tried to do to her, he felt a twisted sense of gratitude to him. Without his attack, Marcus would never have found Tabitha. He owed the man a debt that he intended to repay with his fists. The need to see her, to touch her, consumed him. His brain dwelled constantly on her: when awake, he saw her ghost from the corner of his eye, when he slept, all his dreams were pornographic wishes brought vividly to life. Every blink brought flashes of her face, her smile, her eyes, so that he couldn't escape his obsession with the enchanting young woman. His memory taunted him with echoes of her enticing scent, tricking him into believing that she was standing right beside him. Even his own hands added to his misery, the memory of the feel of her soft skin lingered in his fingertips, reminding him of the unusual, electric connection he had experienced every time he had touched her. The constant deluge of erotic fantasies blending with his vivid memories had brought him to the point where his dick was hard nearly all the time - awake or asleep, it didn't matter. There was no respite, no safe place, where he could go to escape her. She was with him wherever he went because she lived in his mind. He had lost track of the wasted hours he had spent with his fist wrapped around his cock, coming with Tabitha's name scorching his lips. The blinding hunger that drove him to seek release, immediately morphed into a gnawing loneliness that strangled him as his balls emptied themselves into the shower, or onto the floor, or into his hand. When it was over, in the place where all that lust had burned so hotly only minutes before, was an angry, hollow feeling of being cheated - as if fate had pulled the ultimate bait-and-switch on him, leaving him destitute and wanting. Then an errant thought - the memory of her sweet scent or the soft, lovely curves of her body - would pop into his head and the vicious cycle would start again. His own brain tormented him in the most exquisite form of self-torture any man could concoct, but he was powerless to stop because, no matter what he did, he couldn't hide from his own thoughts. It had driven him to the point where he dreaded every minute of the time he spent masturbating. What had once been a pleasurable pastime had been perverted and twisted into a vulgar compulsion that stripped him of the ability to resist. His body desperately needed the release to ease the painful arousal, but the accompanying depression that followed, attacked his mind like a caustic acid that slowly ate holes into his sanity. He was damned if he did and double damned if he didn't. His hand would never be the warm embrace of his angel's mouth or replace the silken depths of her sweet pussy. It was just a stand in - taunting him with a pathetic imitation of the real thing that his body was yearning for. He had thought that distance would have cured him of the insatiable need for her. Out of sight, out of mind as that bullshit saying went. He had learned during the course of the last four weeks that out of sight definitely didn't mean out of mind. Out of sight had only flung him head long into obsession. As much as he wished that he could forget Tabitha, his greatest fear was that he would do exactly that. He clung to those memories, cherished them, protected them and craved them because they were all that he had of his angel. They were just as much a source of happiness as they were of madness. It was unthinkable to him that he could lose those precious memories...yet it would save his sanity if he only could forget her. Now, he was about as stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place as he could be and it was making him lose his mind. Petra had kept him up to date, feeding him bits of information on how Tabby was doing, but it wasn't enough. In some ways, the tidbits of information only made his situation more unbearable. It had bothered him to know that she still suffered from reoccurring headaches as a result from the concussion she had sustained in the attack. It had ripped his heart from his chest to hear that she woke up screaming from nightmares almost every night. It had almost destroyed him to find out that in the depths of those terrors, it was for him that she screamed for, and he wasn't there to save her from the demons that haunted her dreams. Yes, Petra had tried to keep him informed, but instead of reassuring him that Tabby was okay, as she had intended, the shreds of knowledge had only crippled him. He knew that she was still suffering but couldn't do anything about it because when she was awake, she didn't want to see him. CHAPTER 2 Petra pried and prodded, trying to find out what the reason was behind Tabby's refusal to see or speak to him. "She is definitely interested in you, Marcus, because she asks about you, not directly, but in a roundabout way. It's as if she doesn't want anyone to know that she is curious about you, but she does ask." Petra had told him when he had spoken with her at the club a week ago. She had meant the information to be comforting but instead, her words had spilled a jar of angry bees inside of his chest, the stinging pain coming from everywhere at once. Why won't she speak to him? Why won't she see him? How the hell, was he supposed to live like this? A sharp cry from somewhere on the dungeon floor caught his attention and wrenched him from the agony of his thoughts. The strained tones hadn't sounded quite right to his trained ears and his eyes roved the crowd below looking for the possible source. The crack of a whip split the air and a second later, the submissive on the receiving end cried out in pain again. Marcus pinpointed the location and jogged along the maze of walkways suspended over the dungeon room until he was over top the whipping section where a young Dom was wielding a bullwhip. As the young man flexed his arm for another strike, Marcus took time to study him carefully. He scowled at the man's sloppy, amateurish technique and winced when the lash landed badly, obviously causing the submissive more pain than she could handle. Palming his cell, he quickly dialled the number for Callum, one of the Dungeon Monitors patrolling the floor that night. As the phone rang, the Dom let loose another poorly executed strike that set his bound submissive crying out and pulling against her restraints. Over the din of the crowd, Marcus clearly heard her sob, "Red! Red!" Her Dom was either oblivious or sadistic, because he ignored her use of the club's generic safe word and sent another vicious lash licking fire over her reddened back. Marcus' blood boiled over with fury, just as Callum's voice came over the speaker. "What's shaking, boss?" "Where are you now?" Marcus demanded. "Uh, over by the med play rooms. What's up?" "Get your ass over to the whipping area. There's a motherfucking moron over there that just ignored his sub's safe word. There's no way the asshole went through our training program for whip proficiency, he's behaving like he's beating an ox." Peering over the guardrail, Marcus scanned the crowd, relaxing as soon as Callum's blond head appeared, weaving through the crowd with two other monitors in tow. Marcus grimaced as the asshole Dom unleashed another savage strike and his submissive's body went rigid with the biting pain, a fresh line of bright red welts erupting on her back to join the others that Marcus could easily see even from his raised vantage point. Callum reached the man just as his arm reared back for another strike, grasping him by the wrist and twisting his arm until the whip dropped to the floor from his useless hand. While Callum dealt with the angry Dom, the other two monitors went over to assist the submissive, who hung limply from her bound wrists in shock. "We got him, Boss." "Good, take him to the security office and make sure he doesn't try to leave. Have Dillon and Mace take care of that sub and find out if she needs medical attention. Ask her if she wants to press assault charges on the asshole." "You got it. You gonna come down to deal with this guy?" "No. Cooper's in tonight. Have him review the security footage and impress upon the fucker that his membership has been officially revoked, effective immediately. If she doesn't want to press assault charges, kick his abusive ass out the door. I don't want to see him anywhere near my club again." "Aye-Aye Captain." Callum replied, a hint of query in his tone. Normally Marcus would have handled disciplining misbehaving members himself, but tonight he just didn't have the stomach for it. He ignored Callum's unspoken question, disconnected the call and stalked back to his office. With his temper so volatile, he didn't trust himself to deal with the Dom personally. He was liable to beat the shit to a pulp; he sorely deserved it just for ignoring his sub's safe word alone. If Marcus could have his way, the jerk would find his sorry ass bound to that same whipping pole and treated to a real whipping. Unfortunately, the law would frown upon that and the best Marcus could do was to revoke his membership and kick his miserable ass out of his club. Safe. Sane. Consensual. Those three basic tenets formed the cornerstones that governed responsible play in the BDSM world and separated the kinky from the abusers. They were ones that Marcus strictly adhered to in his club and adamantly weeded out any who violated any of those terms. He and his partners had decided to take matters to the next level and added education on top of those basic precepts. Elysium differed from most public BDSM clubs in that for any member to use any of the dungeon's equipment or scene areas, participants had to prove their proficiency and knowledge beforehand and earn approval. Making sure that all participants had, at very least, basic training, helped to cover the club's legal backside against accusations of negligence and keep their reputation unsullied. He and his partners had decided to take matters to the next level and added education on top of those basic precepts. Elysium differed from most public BDSM clubs in that for any member to use any of the dungeon's equipment or scene areas, participants had to prove their proficiency and knowledge beforehand and earn approval. Making sure that all participants had, at very least, basic training, helped to cover the club's legal backside against accusations of negligence and keep their reputation unsullied. Marcus and his partners wanted their club run in the safest manner possible, especially in light of the inherent risk involved in some of the activities that members engaged in on their premises. Training and education helped to reduce that risk and prevent accidents caused by ignorance. Elysium ran regular training classes from everything from beginner play all the way up to advanced techniques in areas such as rope work and impact play; so that all members could learn the correct way to safely play with their partners. Workshops, classes and social groups brought the members together to learn and share information in an open and inviting manner and their membership fee covered it all. They did everything possible to safeguard against situations such as the one Marcus had just witnessed. Unfortunately, the program wasn't perfect and sometimes an inexperienced member slipped through the cracks, and injuries were usually the result. As much as they strived to keep everyone safe, all players were still required to sign hefty liability waivers protecting the club from blame should something ultimately go awry. Applicants went through a rigorous screening process and background checks before being accepted and had their qualifications posted in a public directory that was available for all registered members to see. Dominants and submissives could log in to Elysium's Dungeon Role website, or use one of several terminals provided in the club, to research prospective play partners to see if their needs matched with the other's skills. Each member could also leave feedback and comments, good or bad, relating to their experience with another member. A rating system had turned it into a veritable who's who in the BDSM community, both locally and internationally, and currently hosted over two thousand entries. The website also allowed private messages to flow between members, setting up meetings, just like a regular on-line dating site and had become a vital way for single members to find casual or serious partners. Finding You Bk. 02: Paradigm Shift The system worked well, preventing members from exaggerating or fabricating their qualifications. Elysium's experienced trainers were the only persons capable of altering that information, giving submissives some peace of mind into the Dominant that they were considering. When a sub went before a whip, they could rest assured that the person wielding that instrument had the proper training to do so, and could double check to see how much experience said Dominant had under their belt without having to take the word of a stranger. Marcus was willing to bet that the naïve sub, that his staff had just rescued, hadn't bothered to check up on her partner's qualifications before agreeing to bottom for him. There was no way that asshole had had any training in whip technique and had been well on the way to causing her serious harm with his arrogant and callous behaviour. Dangerous idiots like him only proved that abusers existed everywhere - even their exclusive community was not immune, in spite of the rigorous screening Elysium did on its members. He pushed angrily through his office door and slammed it shut behind him. His frustration level had redlined at lightning speed thanks to the asshole with the whip and he needed to take a minute to calm down before he went rampaging like a demented elephant. The constant, high level of testosterone in his bloodstream was scrambling his brains and Marcus honestly didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to keep a lid on his violent mood. Closing his eyes, his brain immediately displayed the mental picture it had filed away in Marcus subconscious. Tabitha's sensual, red lips flashing a shy smile and soulful green eyes sparkling from under long lashes as she stared at him. His pulse stuttered, and then began to race as beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead and slicked his back. He licked his lips nervously, knowing what was coming but was unable, or unwilling, to stop it. Suddenly, he found himself imagining her sweet taste and the soft mewls of pleasure she'd make as he nibbled on those lush, cupid's bow-shaped lips. His brain dived south and he saw a vision of Tabitha bound before him and the lips he was feasting on transformed into the delicate ones hidden between her parted thighs. She'd taste like honey. He groaned, losing him in the grips of the erotic fantasy. Instead of relaxing, his breathing had turned ragged as raw lust and unquenchable need surged through him like a narcotic. His cock turned into granite in an instant, pulsing with an angry, insistent beat that made him grimace in discomfort. Tabitha! Goddammit! Why can't I forget about you? One hand fumbled behind him for the door lock while the other deftly popped the button on his leather pants and he yanked the zipper angrily down. His fully erect penis sprung forward and Marcus' hand clamped around it like a vice, sliding in the pre-cum moisture that had already leaked out and slicked the throbbing crown. His back sagged against his office door, he squeezed his eyes tight and held his breath as pleasure shoved him off the ledge of reality and sent him diving head first into a jade green pool, the colour of Tabitha's eyes. He sunk farther down, losing touch with himself, as desire ignited flames that licked over his skin and desperation brought him to the brink of tears. He gripped his cock so hard, hating what he was doing as much as he needed the release. He wanted to stop, if only to prove that he was stronger than the lust that had usurped his control. However, his hand wasn't his to command any longer and his fist remained in a stubborn strangle hold around his throbbing cock, stroking it as if he was trying to rip the offensive organ from his body. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he hissed, feeling the tension building in his thigh muscles and spreading fire into his balls. "I can't...fuck...do...this...oh fuck...anymore!" he ground out through gritted teeth. Tension turned volcanic, burning through his belly and zeroing in on his testicles. They drew up hard against his body and Marcus threw his head back and came with a violent jerking of his hips. "Fuck! Tabitha!" he roared, releasing onto the floor in spasms that left his knees weak and his vision blurry. I need you angel! After his orgasm subsided, he gagged on the despair that rushed in to cool the lust that had fired his blood. He had to find a way to see her. He was going to lose his mind if he didn't. Lose his mind...or end up killing someone. When he could finally move again, he tucked himself back into his pants, grabbed some tissues and quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor. He'd repeated this action too many times to count in the past month and had surpassed embarrassment; now all he felt was disgust. Jerking off was probably the only thing keeping him sane, but the loss of control, every time the need caught him in its clutches, was leaving him emotionally and physically wrung out. The insatiable need had reduced him to being a slave to his cock, which was resolutely fixated on having Tabitha all to its greedy little self. CHAPTER 3 He was just tossing the evidence of his weakness into the wastepaper basket when a hard rap sounded from his door, instantly irritating him. Can't he have five fucking minutes without someone needing him? Blowing his load might have reduced the sexual frustration burning him up from the inside out, but it had only made his mood blacker. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time and Marcus gritted his teeth as he reluctantly unlocked the door, opening it to find a concerned Cooper, staring at him with an odd look on his face. "What's with the lock down, brother? Is everything okay?" Marcus shrugged and waved him into his office. "I just wanted some peace. Got a problem with that?" Cooper sniffed, wrinkling his nose at the scent of sex that greeted him. "Smells like you got it. As I don't see a delightfully naked, just-fucked subbie in here, I'm going to assume that it was another solo act." He shook his head sorrowfully. "That's just sad, brother." He sauntered past a scowling Marcus and dropped himself onto an old, beat-up leather sofa. The thing had seen better days but was still the most comfortable sofa Cooper had ever had the pleasure of planting his ass on. Marcus must have thought so too because he refused to bin the ugly piece of furniture. "You sure you're chill?" Cooper asked him, narrowing his blue eyes skeptically. "I hate to say it, but right now, you're looking pretty jacked up to have just jacked off." Cooper couldn't help needling his friend and gave him a knowing smirk. Marcus glared daggers at him and for a second, Cooper thought that he was actually going to take a swing at him. "Fuck off Coop. I'm not in the mood." He snarled, and then stalked to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair. Cooper sighed, stretched back, extended his long legs and let his six foot two inch frame sink into the lush cushions. "Just make yourself at home, why don't you? Don't you have an office of your own to go loiter in?" Marcus snapped irritably. "Yup. Unfortunately, mine doesn't have a sofa that feels like my ass is sitting on a cloud. One day I'm going to drag this piece of shit over to my hole in the wall and leave you a ransom note. You just don't appreciate it like I do." Cooper grinned, using humor to defuse Marcus' irrational anger and to hide the worry that he was feeling on behalf of his closest friend. Marcus looked tired, worn out and stressed. He'd never seen him so distracted and unsettled by anything, let alone a woman before, but then Tabitha wasn't just any woman. One look was all it had taken for Marcus to become hopeless ensnared by the beautiful, young woman. Hell, even Cooper had to admit that there was something special about her. He had felt the connection too, not as strongly as Marcus had, but enough for him to have taken notice of the girl. Marcus' possessive behaviour towards her had Cooper stepping out of his way and letting his brother stake his claim on Tabitha, even though he had been interested in her as well. All he could do now was stand in the shadows, worry about his best friend's sanity and dream about what could have been. Fed up with Marcus' bad mood, Cooper threw caution to the wind and broached the touchy subject. "Call her." Marcus startled, raised an eyebrow in surprise then narrowed his eyes into a menacing glare. "Shut it, Coop," he growled in warning. "Don't fucking go there with me. Not tonight. I'm not in the mood." "You're never in the mood lately, unless 'murderous rage' is an acceptable mood nowadays. Fucking call her or come down to the club floor, find yourself a willing subbie and relieve some of that toxic stress. You've been acting like a colossal asshat lately and it has to stop. Lydia is here tonight and she's asking about you." Cooper sat up and pinned his friend with a hopeful stare. "She's asking about us, man. It's been a month and people are starting to ask questions." "Are you seriously suggesting that we play with that crazy bitch?" Marcus said incredulously. "Yeah, if that's what it would take to get you back to your fucking senses...which you seem to have lost, by the way. You don't have to ride off into the sunset with her. Just fuck some of that frustration out with her before it kills you." Marcus ran an agitated hand through his shaggy, black hair. He blew out a breath that turned into a snarl, grabbed his empty coffee cup and hurled it at the door. It burst into a shower of ceramic shards, littering the floor like jagged leaves. "Feel better?" Cooper asked quietly, hiding his surprise at the out of character outburst. Marcus looked like he was about to explode, but suddenly deflated, his face going slack with exhaustion. "Not really, no," he replied, shaking his head sadly. "It's a pity about that cup. That was one of my favorites," Cooper sighed. Marcus looked at him as if he didn't quite comprehend what he had just said, and then he scrubbed his face and growled in frustration. "Fuck the cup, Cooper! I'll buy you a dozen if it'll shut you up." Marcus closed his eyes and slumped back into his chair. "Sweet Jesus, I don't know what to fucking do, Coop," Marcus admitted, unable to hide his despair from his best friend any longer. Cooper stood up and pulled a chair in front of Marcus' desk, sitting down directly across from him. "You'd better figure it out soon, brother. You're the face of Elysium and you've been practically M.I.A. for the last month. People have noticed you lurking in the heights and rumors are flying." "Let them talk! Do you think I give a rat's ass about what they think?" he barked. "You should!" Cooper shot back angrily. "At least half of those people come just to watch you - watch us - perform. Not only do we stand to lose thousands in membership dues if they don't renew, but fuck, man - I miss it too! It's not the same, topping a sub without you." Marcus raised an eyebrow at Cooper. "You're not going all bromance on me are you? Because I hate to disappoint you, but I don't like your ass that much." Cooper pretended to gag. "Fuck off, Marcus. You know what I'm trying to say. We make a good team and, as much as I love topping a sub, it's nothing compared to the rush when we work together." He paused, unsure of how Marcus would take his next words. "I like her too, brother, a hell of a lot," he ventured hesitantly, gauging Marcus' reaction. When his friend remained calm, Cooper threw caution out the window and forged ahead. "I think...I think that she could be the one that we've been searching for." Cooper's muscles tensed, bracing him to bolt just in case Marcus went psycho in response to what he had just had the audacity to suggest. Marcus sagged even further into the depths of his chair, a feeling of utter hopelessness washing over him. His subdued reaction surprised the hell out of Cooper, who half-expected a beating for his temerity. Blowing out a breath, Marcus looked up at Cooper, his eyes dull with fatigue. "I can't even figure out how to be with Tabitha on my own. Christ, I don't even know if she'd even be open to the lifestyle, for all I know, she is as vanilla as they come. How the hell, am I supposed to bring up the fact that I'm not only into her, but come with a sidekick as well?" Cooper burst out laughing. "Sidekick? Fuck you, asshole! I'm way too good looking to be anyone's sidekick! I think you got the roles confused, buddy." "Whatever, you idiot. What the fuck am I...are we...going to do?" Marcus honestly hoped his best friend had a viable solution to the problem of Tabitha. Cooper's brain did a furious job of scrambling to process the fact that Marcus had just included him in his potential relationship with Tabitha. He had honestly never expected him to be so accepting, and been prepared to run for his life when his friend flew into a possessive rage. Now, all of a sudden, Cooper had the potential of finding a mate as well, and his stunned brain was still several laps behind, trying to catch up. Think, man! His subconscious coached himself. Run your mouth with something witty to say before he realises that he's included your sorry ass with him and Tabitha. "I dunno, but whatever we do, it's not going to happen with you holding yourself in self-imposed exile. Not to mention, by the time you work up the courage to go after our woman, you're going to be blind from the constant wanking." Cooper stood and extended his hand to Marcus. "Come on old man. Come downstairs, at least show your ugly mug to the masses and have a drink. Let the hoi polloi know that you haven't given up your evil ways to become a boring vanilla. We'll come up with a plan to tackle the Tabitha problem, brother." "Right...because pouring alcohol on the problem is going to solve it?" Marcus grumbled skeptically. "Probably not, but it'll ease the ache for a time and might loosen you up enough to let a sub blow you before carpal tunnel steals your grip. Take my hand and I'll help you to your feet." "Fuck off, Coop. I'm not that much older than you." Marcus chuckled and swatted away Cooper's hand. "Okay, you win, but keep Lydia away from me. She annoys the hell out of me and I'm in no mood for her type of crazy tonight." "Don't worry about her; I foisted her off onto one of the junior Doms and told him to keep her busy." "You're a sick bastard, you know? She'll eat him alive," Marcus replied, mildly horrified at the thought of a hard-core pain slut such as Lydia, paired with a fresh-faced newbie. "The poor bugger's going to be traumatized for life." Lydia was infamous amongst the experienced Doms at the club, for her habit of topping from the bottom - or taking control of a scene through manipulation or outright harassment. She regularly chewed up unsuspecting Doms just for shits and giggles, and then spit them out and went on her merry way, looking for her next victim. She had been after Marcus for five years and though he had played with her on and off over the years, her brand of pain seeking pushed past his limits. She was a masochist of the extreme variety and required a sadist at the same level. Playing with Lydia was always a dangerous proposition, as she had a habit of misbehaving in such a way, that her behaviour would goad inexperienced Doms into losing control, just so that she could receive the kind of punishment that she needed to get off. Marcus found that he enjoyed dolling out pain but with pleasure being the ultimate goal behind it. He didn't do pain for pain's sake and that's all that Lydia craved. Something was so fundamentally broken inside her that she associated extreme pain with love and needed one to feel the other. There were only a handful of Doms that would even consider playing with her and only because they'd set strict limits on what they were willing to do and not do beforehand. Lydia needed a firm hand but once a Dom proved that he could control her and not give in to her manipulative ways, she actually submitted in a most sublime manner. Unfortunately, for Lydia, she made the effort required to get to that point so great that most Doms gave up trying. The only way she gave her submission, was to have it beaten out of her, and that turned off the majority of potential partners for her. It didn't take long for Marcus to see her for what she was: an addict, for pain, alcohol, sex and drugs. She was also vain and childish, stooping to whatever level she needed to in order to get what she wanted. He didn't trust her any farther than he could throw her, but had known her for a long time and, as self-destructive as she was, Marcus couldn't help trying to protect her from herself. He even managed to get her into rehab not once, but three times in the course of their friendship but it had yet to stick. Lydia always relapsed. Things with Lydia had always been intense and that's why Marcus had been trying to distance himself from her. It didn't help that he had met his ex-fiancé through her and that she had known of Daria's infidelity and schemes and had said nothing to Marcus. Lydia would have been more than happy to watch him marry her gold-digging friend just so that she could swoop in and pick up the pieces later for herself. If he hadn't accidently walked into a room in the church on their wedding day and discovered Daria with her wedding dress hoisted over her back and his groomsman balls deep between her legs, he would never have been the wiser. The pain from that betrayal was still a raw, open wound and he had not forgiven Lydia for withholding that knowledge. He rebuffed her advances, but she was persistent and didn't take no for an answer, always trying to wheedle him and Cooper into doing a scene with her. He shuddered. Lydia was no Tabitha and the thought of touching her actually repulsed him now more than ever. He needed his angel. Marcus had a feeling that even if he wanted to take another submissive, his cock would remain stubbornly limp. He was surrounded by the most hedonistic displays of sex but the only times he had gotten hard in the past month was when he was thinking about Tabitha. She had ruined him and didn't even know it. CHAPTER 4 "I thought Lydia was back in rehab?" Marcus called after Cooper, wanting to shift his thoughts away from Tabitha before he found himself dealing with an embarrassing problem...again. He was following Cooper down the stairwell that would lead them out to the main floor of the club. The administration offices occupied the same side of the gigantic, converted warehouse where Elysium had its bar, dance floor and restaurant so they didn't have too far to go. When Cooper pushed through the security door, the noise and commotion from the crowds of patrons rushed in to greet them making Marcus wish that he'd stayed in the relative quiet of his office. He really wasn't in the mood to face all the people and their inevitable questions. Spacious as it was, the nightclub section only occupied about a quarter of the available space in the entire warehouse, but well designed, wide-open spaces situated around the bar coupled with the numerous, intimate seating areas, gave the impression of the space being much larger than it really was. The remaining three quarters of the building were filled by the massive dungeon space, the VIP suites and a partitioned off section that was currently vacant. Marcus had plans for that space to become a proper, fine-dining restaurant sometime in the future, but was still hammering out the details with his partners. The front section of the club looked like an upscale nightclub, complete with velvet-cushioned booths, high tables, and secluded rest areas for those not partaking in the dancing. To anyone not familiar with the intrinsic sexual nature of Elysium's business, it wouldn't have been obvious that one of the country's most prestigious BDSM dungeons lay on the other side of the big wall, separating the two parts of the club. The only give away was the dress, or lack thereof, of the patrons; remove the people and the club could have passed for any normal nightclub. Finding You Bk. 02: Paradigm Shift Full and partial nudity was the norm for Elysium and it wasn't unheard of to find members engaged in acts that would have had them arrested for public indecency if they had been in a regular nightclub. In fact, the designers had skillfully planned the seating areas to provide some semblance of privacy for those that wished it. It wasn't unusual to take a stroll through the lounge and witness numerous acts of intimacy occurring in the semi-secluded groups of sofas hidden behind artfully placed potted plants and decorative screens. Elysium celebrated sex, in every variation possible and just about every aspect of the club encouraged and promoted it. So long as the participants adhered to the club rules, they were free to seek their pleasures wherever or however they wished. For those that didn't, monitors routinely patrolled all areas of the club, ready to enforce them. Groups of happy patrons parted to let the two men pass and Marcus found himself thronged by enthusiastic people and friends that were thrilled to see him back amongst them. He smiled and shook hands, hugged a few of the female submissives and generally pretended to be back to his old self. A few unattached subs tried to get his attention but he ignored them, having no interest in touching another woman sexually, except for his angel. They reached the bar and Cooper flagged the busy bartender over and ordered a whiskey for himself and a beer for Marcus. "Lydia got out of rehab last week," he said, picking up their conversation where they had left off. "Claims she's sober but, as you know, with Lydia "sober" has a very flexible definition." He slid the open bottle along the bar top, into Marcus' waiting hand. "Get that down your neck and then we'll go formulate a game plan." Marcus scowled at Cooper and took a swig from his bottle. "You're hanging around Jaz too much. You're picking up on his English slang." Cooper laughed. "What do you expect? You've been holed up in your office or at home, spending your time with your hand wrapped around your dick." Marcus glared at him and debated whether slugging him would make him feel any better. Cooper caught the dirty look and just grinned back, reading his thoughts. "You could hit me, if you really wanted to, but then you'd risk busting up your hand and there would go your sex life." Marcus burst out laughing. "Fucker." The cold beer tasted wonderful to Marcus as he took another long pull from the bottle. Cooper had moved off, heading for an open booth and Marcus trailed after him, curious to see what ideas his friend was hatching in that active brain of his. They got comfortable and indulged in people watching, both content to sip their drinks and let their minds wander. Marcus had to focus on the semi-clad crowd on the dance floor because if he started thinking about Tabitha, he'd find himself in trouble and he'd had enough of the empty orgasms to last him a lifetime. Cooper's mind was busy churning on how to deal with the problem that was one, unpredictable, unknown woman named Tabitha. He needed to figure out how they should approach her and how to introduce her to their kinky lifestyle, without scaring her off. He was still feeling a little dazed by how easily Marcus had accepted his interest into the mix. He had been hoping that he'd be willing to turn his duo into a triad but wasn't sure after the possessive, obsessive way he'd been behaving where Tabitha was concerned. Broaching the subject of sharing Tabitha had been a risk that could have ended up with his ass beaten to a pulp if Marcus hadn't been surprisingly amenable to the idea. He shuddered. Cooper had seen the damage that Marcus could inflict with his fists and thanked God, repeatedly, that Marcus hadn't reacted badly. What to do? He ran through numerous ideas and possible scenarios in his head, almost every one ending in dismal failure. This was bad because since the moment that Marcus had included him in the potential relationship, Cooper had felt the need for Tabitha growing in strength in his heart. Marcus' unexpected approval had given Cooper permission to acknowledge the attraction to Tabitha that he had felt and then denied, out of deference to his best friend. If it had gone the other way, once he had finished bleeding on Marcus' office floor, Cooper would have backed off and stayed out of their way. It would have killed him, and been the first time in their lives that the two men hadn't shared something - or someone - but he would have bowed out gracefully. Marcus could practically hear the gears grinding in his friend's head and sat quietly enjoying his beer, watching Cooper ponder the problem. He was the analytical one of their small group, talented at figuring out a mess and finding a solution; Cooper loved nothing more than to have a puzzle to figure out. Jaz was their action man, if something needed doing, he was the one to get it done; he had charm and wit and could out talk a politician to accomplish his goals. The last man in their posse was Diego. He was their elder, the one who could always think clearly, when all was going to hell. Diego was their conscious and their voice of reason. His calm, steady temper and cool rationality had kept their collective butts out of jail on more than one occasion. Marcus acted as their leader and motivator; he was the glue that had pulled four men into a functional unit that became a force to be reckoned with when they worked as a team. He had faith in Cooper. If a solution existed to their problem, Cooper would be the one to find it. Cooper sighed and finally seemed to come to some conclusion, sitting forward and steepling his hands together with a serious look on his face. "I think that there is only one way to tackle this, bro." "And that is what?" "There are too many unknowns in this equation that need to be sussed out. You like her and from what Petra has shared, it can be assumed that Tabitha feels something for you too, though I can't figure out for the life of me why," he added cheekily. Marcus let the good-natured insult slip by as he was curious as to where Cooper was heading, trusting that he had a point to his teasing. Marcus smiled and played along. "Okay. I'm with you so far." "You don't want to scare her off by introducing too many variables at once - namely BDSM and multiple partners. You have no choice but to take this one very slowly, I think." Marcus nodded and took another swallow of his beer. "So approach her as a single and introduce her gradually into the lifestyle, unless she's already into it. Petra never mentioned whether Tabitha was into kink or not." "I think that's our best course of action. Let her get comfortable with you first, if she's amenable; train her to be your sub. Once she bonds with you, you can slowly introduce the possibility of a second Dom into her life. "And if she's not into it? How are you going to be with that?" Marcus asked gently, suddenly feeling like they were playing hot potato with a live grenade. "I don't know, but I think that we'll have to cross that bridge if we come to it. I have a feeling that she'll give us both hints long before we get to that point." Cooper hoped like hell that Tabby would accept him. Poly relationships weren't for everyone and he and Marcus had been searching for a permanent sub for them to share for years. Lydia had been a prospect until her instability and insecurity had turned both of them off her. Since then, they had had a string of casual encounters, but no one who had the potential to become their permanent submissive. Then Tabitha entered their lives and everything changed. Marcus already had an undeniable attraction to her and, now that Marcus had opened the door for Cooper and invited him in, he could finally acknowledge that he felt the same way. She would be perfect for them, if only she could overcome society's preconceived ideas on what composed normal relationships. Would Tabitha be able to accept, not one, but two strong Dominants in her life? That was the big question that they needed an answer to, and only time and great care would get it for them. CHAPTER 5 Marcus narrowed his eyes speculatively and regarded his best friend. He could see the uncertainty warring with hope in his expression and had sympathy for Cooper. If they proceeded as he'd stated, Cooper would have to watch Marcus get closer and closer to Tabitha, not knowing if he'd ever be included in the payoff. They would be taking a hell of a risk. Once the subject was out in the open, Tabitha could refuse both of them. He just didn't know how she was going to react to their proposition. "Shit," he breathed, a great weight settling on his shoulders. "Yeah. Shit," Cooper echoed with a heavy sigh. He fixed Marcus with a stare. "I won't stand in your way, if she only wants you, Marcus. What we want may be too much to ask from her. The fact is, she may not want either of us, especially once she finds out about the lifestyle. Who knows where her head really is at?" "I want her, Coop. I want her so fucking badly that it is eating me up inside like a fucking cancer." "I know. You have to go after her and see what happens. All we can do is take one step at a time and see where the road leads." Cooper tipped his glass and let the burn of the whiskey soothe the anxiety brewing in his gut like a bitter soup. His mind kept circling back to the same sentiment: She'd be perfect...absolutely, fucking perfect. "Hey guys," Diego's voice came from behind them just before he slid into the booth beside Cooper. A naked, leashed and gagged Petra sunk obediently to her knees and bowed her forehead to the carpet. Cooper chuckled and peeked under the table. "Looks like someone's little subbie must have gotten herself in trouble tonight." Diego grunted and waved a server over, ordering a beer and a bottle of water. "She had a little trouble controlling her bratty attitude earlier today, so I decided that a lesson was in order." He leaned over and stroked his hand over her upturned ass before giving her a sharp smack that made her utter a muffled yelp. "The only time that gag is coming out of her mouth, is when my cock is replacing it. We'll see how much sass is left by the end of the night." The server returned with the drinks but Diego ignored them, focusing all his attention on the beautiful woman kneeling at his feet instead. He was irritated with Petra tonight, something he wasn't used to being with her, and it had soured his mood. He hated having to mete out a punishment, but she had been argumentative during the day with him and he'd had finally had enough of her stubbornness. "Sit up," he ordered and undid his fly. "I think we'll get started on your attitude adjustment, sweets." He reached around Petra's head and deftly unsnapped the clasp on the strap that held the gag in place. He slipped the rubber, penis-shaped plug from her mouth and his cock stiffened as he watched the silvery strings of drool escaping from her ruby red lips. She glanced at his growing erection and shot him a dirty look, her pretty lips parting as if to speak. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back so that she had no choice but to look him in the eye. "If you speak, it had better be to give your safe word because if it isn't, I will beat that beautiful ass of yours so hard that even the thought of sitting will hurt you for the next week." He lowered his face until he was inches from hers and fixed her with a hard look. "Nod if you understand, Pet" Some of the defiance left Petra's eyes as she slowly nodded in his grasp. Diego gave her a dispassionate smile then closed the distance and kissed her lightly on the lips. She closed her eyes and tried to deepen the kiss but he held her head firmly and pulled her away. "None of that now." His eyes darkened with arousal and he guided her under the table. "I have other plans for that saucy mouth." She shuffled between his legs while Diego used his free hand to stroke his cock until it was fully erect. He lowered her head, pressing the fat crown until it rested lightly against her lips and ordered, "Open." Petra obediently opened her mouth and Diego guided her head down over his dick, sliding along her hot tongue until the head bumped against the back of her throat. He could feel the quivers of her gag reflex trying to kick in and held her still for a moment, impressing the point of who was in control, before allowing her to pull back and take a breath. She looked up at him with watery, questioning eyes. "Remember who you chose to serve, Petra. Now, suck me while I enjoy a beer with my friends." He pushed into her mouth again then settled back, widening his thighs and relaxing while Petra began licking and teasing him. Pleased that she was applying herself to the task, he shifted his attention back to Cooper and Marcus. Both men looked tense and he meant to find out why. "So, you two were deep in conversation when we walked in. What's going on?" God the woman could suck a dick. Diego wanted to groan as she slowly slid down over his shaft, fluttering her tongue along the vein that ran along the underside, using just the right amount of pressure to make his heart stutter in his chest. He wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of hearing his enjoyment though. He wasn't pleased. He was annoyed. The tip of her tongue swirled around the sensitive head and he supressed the shudder that made his belly clench in desire. Annoyed. Remember, you're supposed to be annoyed. Fuck, it was hard to remember anything when she grazed her teeth along the underside of his shaft like that. Diego lifted his beer and took a sip, but just as the cold liquid splashed into his mouth, Petra's warm hand wrapped around his scrotum and gave his balls a firm squeeze. The jolt of arousal that blasted up from his testicles caught Diego by surprise and he inhaled his beer. Coughing and spluttering, Diego remembered fully, why he was perturbed with his submissive; it was behaviour exactly like this, which had pissed him off today. The little minx, she did that on purpose! He glared down and wound his free hand into her blonde hair, roughly pulling her off his cock. His actions were precise and tightly controlled betraying his level of annoyance. Petra's nervous, wide-eyed stare told him that she had finally realised that she may have gone a step too far in pushing his buttons. Angry as he was, Diego would never touch her with violence in his heart so he bottled his temper and gave her his frostiest smile. Her eyes went even wider and she began to tremble. Temper she could deal with, but the calm, calculating Dom staring down at her terrified her. "Pull a stunt like that one more time and I will tie you to this table and let the boys have at you! This is your last warning, Pet. Accept your punishment with grace, or safe word and I'll put you in a cab home right now." He let go of her hair, unwrapped the hand still clutching his balls and moved it to the center of her back. Unclipping her leash, he reached under the table and deftly bound both of her wrists behind her back with it and threaded the rest of the leash between her legs. He looped the slack around his hand and with an evil smirk at Petra, gave it a hard tug. The leather strap went taut, slicing into the crack of her ass and pussy and rubbing against her clit, making her gasp and wince at the same time. She glared at him, seething and aroused, but holding her tongue. "That's what happens when you don't play fair, little pet. Now," he guided her head back to his glistening erection. "Suck." Marcus and Cooper both chuckled, enjoying the unexpected distraction from their problems. Petra was good match for their rigid friend. She pushed him with her demanding, bratty streak, but he'd been happier since meeting her than they had seen him in a long time. Not one for public displays, Petra must have really pushed his buttons to earn such a punishment. "You're a mean, mean Dom, Digs," Cooper laughed. "What did your little subbie do this time to get you all riled up?" "Just the usual bullshit. Someone needs to learn to accept 'No' as an answer and not push, tease and try to guilt her Dom into changing his mind." He was looking down at Petra's bobbing head, making sure to catch her eyes while he listed off her offences. The stubborn glint in her eyes told him that Petra was not even close to being repentant. He sighed, pushing up into her mouth until her throat convulsed around his cock. She may not be there yet, but by the end of the evening, she would be or would be too exhausted to give him any more sass. Marcus ducked beneath the table. "You'd better listen to your Dom, sweetheart. Your man is the last person that I'd want to get into a battle of wills with." She shot him a filthy look and he sat up laughing. "You've got your work cut out with that one." "Don't I always?" Diego groaned and dropped his hand onto Petra's head, caressing her in a manner that betrayed the depth of his true feelings for her. She might have pissed him off and disappointed him, but it was obvious that he was a man totally in love with his woman. It was also obvious that having to discipline her was hurting him almost as much as he was getting off on it. He took a deep breath and couldn't stop the smile. Wafting up on waves of body heat, he could smell the unmistakeably musky aroma of Petra's arousal. He had suspected that his little subbie secretly enjoyed being on display and playing the slut for an audience, and the smell of her arousal only confirmed it. He would have to find more opportunities to push this particular boundary with her, now that it didn't seem to be as rigid as it had in the past. Perhaps an evening in a voyeur room to explore her limits would help him find out exactly how flexible this soft limit had become for his girl. Excitement supplanted the irritation that had been grinding away at his nerves and he suddenly felt lighter and happier. Instead of dreading this evening, he was now rather looking forward to the rest of their night together. "So back to my original question...What were you two looking so grim about?" CHAPTER 6 Marcus and Cooper suddenly looked uncomfortable, each darting guilty glances at one another and remaining suspiciously silent. Diego wasn't an idiot and had a suspicion as to what his two best friends could have been discussing to paste those sheepish expressions onto their faces. "Let me guess," he drawled, leaning into the back of the booth and glancing down to watch as Petra slid her tongue along the head of his cock before enveloping it into her hot mouth again. He gazed tenderly at the top of her blonde head and felt a little guilty, she was probably getting tired by now, but he decided to push her a little farther. The purpose of this exercise wasn't for her to enjoy the task, but to do it without question until he told her to stop. "Tabitha." Two pairs of guilty eyes zeroed in and locked with his. Bingo! Diego thought smugly. Below the table, Petra stopped at the mention of her friend's name. He gave the leash a sharp tug and Petra crumpled forward into his lap with a moan. "Did I say you could stop, Pet?" She had the sense to look ashamed, though only barely, and shook her head, remembering her ban on speech for that evening. Diego gave her a hard smile and waited a beat for her to resume pleasuring him. "So, judging by the hands-in-the-cookie-jar looks on both your mugs, I'm going to assume that I'm correct." Marcus ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "We were just discussing what to do."