Cardinal's Rule (2 page)

Tilly spent the next several days in bed in Ross and Loren’s house, not speaking, only eating, drinking, and getting up to use the bathroom when Loren made her. Her beautiful long, dark reddish hair hung in limp strands.

Then Sunday morning, they awoke to find Tilly already in the kitchen, making coffee and

preparing to fix them breakfast. Loren and Ross exchanged a nervous glance before walking up to the counter.

“Honey, are you okay?” Loren asked.

Tilly nodded and smiled. “I’m fine.” She’d showered and pulled her damp hair back into a low ponytail.

Ross wasn’t convinced. “Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?”

“Talk about what?” Tilly briskly mixed pancake batter with a hand whisk. “I’m fine. I need to see if I still have a job. If I don’t, I need to get a new one. I’ve got a lot of things to do. I need to get with my teachers and get caught up on my classes, too.” She checked the electric skillet, found it hot enough, and poured out batter. “Oh, can I get a ride back to my place after breakfast?”

Loren walked around the counter. “Sweetie, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go home

alone yet.”

Tilly faltered, then regained her smile. She pointed to Loren’s leather collar. “I meant to tell you, I think that one’s pretty. I like it.”

“Tilly, it’s okay,” Ross assured her. “You can talk to us.”

She took a deep breath and vigorously shook her head. “I’m done talking. I spent the past, what, six years talking? Look where the hell it’s got me. Nope, talked out.”

“What are you going to do?” Loren asked.

“I told you. I’m going to get my shit together. I’m not looking back. He can walk away from me like that without a second thought? Fuck him.” She flipped the pancakes. “
Fuck
.
Him
. He’s dead to me.

Right? Just as good as dead, walks out without explaining why or a chance to say good-bye.” Without thinking about it, her hand stroked her fluorite pendant. “It’s a whole new world out there.”

Tilly managed to maintain her façade until after they’d eaten. That’s when she collapsed on the kitchen floor and cried while her friends held her. This time, she pulled herself together ten minutes later and stood. After washing her face she forced another smile. “See? I can do anything I put my mind to, just like…”

Tilly couldn’t finish the sentence aloud.

Just like Cris always told me I could.

Ross held her in his arms as she started crying again. “Til,” he softly said, “we love you. You know that. You’re scaring me.”

“What am I going to do without him?” she softly cried. “He’s my life.”

He tipped her face to his. “Make me a promise.”

She sniffled and nodded.

“You love us, right?”

She nodded.

“It would kill us to lose you. All I’m asking for is you to wear my collar. Not for play, not to Top you, just so I can take care of you and know you’ll listen to me. You and Loren are like sisters anyway. And all you have to do is promise me you won’t take it off until you can swear to me you won’t hurt yourself, that you can take care of yourself. When you reach that day, I’ll gladly take it back.

Wear it as long as you need to. Until then, I want to know that I won’t have to worry about you hurting yourself, and that you know you can always come to us, no matter what, and we’re here.”

Tears spilled down her face as she laid her head against his shoulder. “Okay,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes and heard Ross whisper something to Loren, sensed her friend leave the

room. Loren returned a moment later with something in her hand and handed it to Ross. He gently buckled the collar around her neck before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re free to stay with us if you want, honey. You know that.”

She sat up and wiped at her face, sniffling. “No. I need to go home.” She looked at Ross, then Loren. “Thank you. Both of you. I couldn’t do this without you. But I need to start somewhere. I have to go home sometime.”

“I’ll drive you,” Loren softly said. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

In the bathroom before they left, Tilly looked at herself in the mirror, her long hair.

An image flashed through her mind, of before Cris left, him fisting his hand in her hair and pulling her to him, kissing her and going through their usual ritual, telling her…

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will the memory away.

Tried to forget the sound of his voice as he said, “I love you, Redbird. Always and forever.”

Chapter Two

Mistress Cardinal.

The man, naked except for his custom-tooled leather collar, knelt on the floor in the breakfast nook, his forehead touching the cool tile that he’d finished hand scrubbing and towel drying minutes earlier. He didn’t speak, simply waited on her. She let him kneel there for ten minutes while she read her
Sarasota Herald-Tribune
.

“Are you finished?” she eventually asked without looking up from her newspaper.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Baseboards?”

“Yes, Mistress. As you instructed.”

“Very good.” She finally looked down at him. “I’m in the mood to play.” She glanced at the

time. “Our session ends in ten minutes. I haven’t selected a partner for tonight. If you’d like, you may go with me.”

He nodded without looking up. “Yes, Mistress. I’d be honored to go with you.”

“This is outside of our business arrangement. I’ll be harsh.”

“Yes, Mistress. I understand.”

“Very good. You may get dressed. Come back here tonight at eight to pick me up.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” He crawled over to her, kissed her feet, then backed away before

standing and leaving the breakfast nook. He was one of only two clients she let touch her at all, even though it was only to kiss her hands and feet.

She examined her nails. She had them done earlier that morning, a deep metallic blood red.

Perfect for playing.

Standing and stretching, she went to examine his handiwork. The kitchen appeared utterly

spotless. He’d left his “tribute” on the counter, one hundred dollars. Cash.

Smiling, she took the money and tucked it into her jeans. He was a good client. He also never 

asked to fuck her. She’d quit counting the number of clients she’d dropped because they became too emotionally attached to her or started pressuring her for sexual acts. That wasn’t part of her services.

She was a pro Domme.

They wanted sex, they could hire a prostitute. She gave them more.

She gave them what they needed, not what they wanted.

He returned a moment later, dressed in jeans and a light blue button-up shirt. Head bowed, he walked over to her. His collar was still locked around his neck. He was one of the few clients she’d specially ordered a collar for. Most of them got one of the pet store generic play collars that made them feel submissive. Bob had been using her services for over three years now, one of her oldest clients.

Every two weeks at least, sometimes more often as his schedule allowed. In fact, she gave him every fourth visit for half price, and every tenth one free.

She fingered the collar. “Do you have anywhere else to go today?”

He shook his head. “No, Mistress. Straight home, then back here to meet you.”

She smiled. “Keep the collar on then.” With an elegantly lacquered finger, she tipped his chin so she could look into his blue eyes. Even with her stiletto heels he stood taller than her. He had nice eyes.

Nice body, too. Nicer than average. “Tonight is special. Social. Not business. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You’ve been an exceptionally good boy for me. I like to reward good behavior. You want to

bear my marks with pride?”

“Yes, Mistress. Please.”

“No tribute from you tonight, but I will expect you to pay our cover charge. It’s twenty per person. You can pay that?”

“Yes, Mistress! Gladly.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you tonight then.” She offered her hand and he kissed it before hurrying out the door.

Would her neighbors notice his collar? Probably not. She watched through the living room

windows as he scurried out to his Mercedes parked in her driveway. Five years old, but he kept it detailed.

Nice guy. Divorced, no kids. He ran a mortgage firm and had no time for a girlfriend. He wasn’t into humiliation, but he craved strict service, obedience, and discipline. While not a pain slut, because 

of his need to obey he would take a lot of heavy impact play.

She looked around the house.
Her
house, almost paid off. Another six months and she would own it free and clear.

She had time for a work out. She changed clothes and cranked her music loud on the stereo

before tackling the elliptical machine for an hour. By the time she finished she was drenched with sweat and her legs trembled.

In the shower, she rested her head against the cool tile and let the water run over her and tried not to let her mind wander. Over the years she’d gotten a lot better at not thinking about her past.

* * * *

Two men sat in a dim corner of the club. They’d arrived nearly an hour earlier. The Master,

Landry, sat on a leather sofa and watched players on various pieces of equipment. The other sat on the floor at his feet, his head bowed.

“Closer” by Nine Inch Nails thumped on the stereo. “You see anyone you know?” Landry asked

from the sofa.

The man on the floor shook his head without looking up. “No, Master.”

“No one at all?”

“It’s been over five years.”

“True.”

They sat and watched people play.

* * * *

Ross led Loren by the hand into the club’s entryway. “Tilly coming tonight?”

“Yes, Sir. I talked to her this afternoon. She’s bringing her boy, Bob.”

He looked surprised. “She must be serious about him. That’s like the third time she’s brought him to the club.”

Loren snorted in amusement. “Um, yeah. I don’t
think
so. This is
Tilly
we’re talking about. He’s her best client. She wanted to reward him, that’s all.” She remembered herself. “Sir.”

He overlooked her little bout of sarcastic tone and checked them in. Shouldering their gear bag, he led Loren inside the dungeon play area where they found a place for their gear. Before they could make a run at the buffet table, their friend Ed shuffled up and pulled them close.

“Guess what I heard?” His voice sounded a little muffled because of the black leather hood he wore, but they recognized him from the red stiletto heels and ankle shackles his wife made him wear.

Ross grinned. “Scientists finally found your nads?”

“Asshole. No. Scuttlebutt is Cristo was spotted at the club in Ybor last night.”

Ross and Loren exchanged a look. “That’s not funny,” Ross said.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Not that they could tell one way or the other with his hood.

“They said he was there with some guy. Get this, the guy was his fucking Master and topped him in a pretty heavy scene. They got really intense.”

Loren snorted. “Okay, now I know someone yanked your chain besides your wife. Count

Craptastic being topped? By a
guy
? No
fucking
way.” Count Craptastic was only one of the many nicknames Loren had come up with for Cristo over the years, and it was one of the nicer ones.

It was the only PG-rated one.

“I’m serious!” Ed insisted.

“Who’s your source?” Ross asked.

“Kim and Kylee.”

Ross and Loren froze. “What?” Ross asked, certain he’d misheard. “No shit?”

“Yeah. And Kim and Kylee knew him.”

“Did they talk to him?” Loren demanded. “Ask him anything? Oh like, maybe, what the
fuck
?”

Loren’s face reddened in anger.

“They didn’t talk to him. They weren’t sure it was him at first. Not until the guys were scening, but Kim and Kylee had to leave because they rode up there with someone else. They saw his tat. They said they’d swear it was him.”

“Who else knows?” Ross asked. Kim and Kylee couldn’t make it to the club that night because

of work.

“No one. They wanted me to tell you because they couldn’t find your phone number.”

“If you fucking breathe a word of this to anyone, especially to Tilly, I’ll fucking crush your nuts myself,” Ross threatened.

“Dude, I’m not brain dead. Kim and Kylee wanted you to have a heads up about it. So you

could, you know, keep an eye on Tilly.” He shuffled away, mindful of the short chain joining his ankles, to rejoin his wife.

Normally, people within the scene didn’t usually talk about others. One of the unwritten

protocols.

However, everyone in their small circle of friends remembered how fragile and broken Tilly had been at first. They’d witnessed her transformation into who she was today.

They all wanted to kill Cris for abandoning her, even this many years later.

Loren looked at Ross. “What do we do?”

He shrugged. “Nothing we can do. We don’t even know for sure it was him, despite what they

said.” His face darkened. “If he does show up, I’ll deal with him. He’ll wish he’d never come back.”

* * * *

The slave sat at Landry’s feet and watched. Ross and Loren talked with another man in the far

corner. Then Ross looked angry for a moment before he regained his composure.

Loren, however, appeared homicidal for several minutes.

He cringed. Perhaps simple paranoia, but maybe he and his Master had been spotted at the Ybor club the night before.

Landry leaned forward and stroked his hair. “Talk to me. Who do you see? Do you know

them?”

“Yes, Master.”

Landry tightly fisted his hand in the slave’s hair and wrenched his head back painfully. “Who?”

He told him who they were.

“So we chose well tonight. Good.” Landry released his grip on the slave’s hair.

“May we please leave?”

Landry laughed. “No. I can’t believe you’d even ask.”