Only Consenting Adults Ch. 11

[Author's note: Quinn is coming to terms with the passing of his wife and mistress, Alena (AG01), forging a new relationship with Ally/Mistress Candice (WOD05).

This chapter contains depictions of femdom and impact play]

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MAY FLIGHTS OF ANGELS

Cassie could see that Armal was stressed. Things had begun to change at the club; it was busier than the usual Saturday night and even with putting on another bartender, he was hard pressed to keep up with the flow of orders. There had been a shift somewhere and suddenly more people were gravitating towards the Lost and Found. It was as if the Seven Pillars legislation, and the impromptu protests being staged against it, were having the opposite of the intended effect. People were coming out of the woodwork, out of the closet.

Cassie was standing at the bar, watching the flow of customers. She had selected the short white latex dress with the long sleeves from Syn's collection, feeling more and more comfortable in it each time she wore it. There had been a time when she wouldn't have dared even put it on in private, safe from prying eyes in the bedroom, but that was a long time ago, a husband ago, and a lot of hours spent in the gym in the intervening period to transform herself.

Standing in the slick white latex, she loved the feel of the tight material sculpting her toned body, shaping her cleavage and plumping her firm bottom, somehow now part of her identity when she was in the club. It suited her petite frame, making her feel fabulous as she walked around the floor in her matching white high heels. She liked the white, how it contrasted with the black attire of other patrons of the club, like she was the angel among them all. She lifted the bar flap and stepped behind the bar.

"The mixer is fucked," Armal exclaimed, throwing the comment over his shoulder as he reached for a bottle of tequila.

Cassie bent down, carefully, as the tight latex threatened to ride up over her thighs to expose her crotch. She cursed herself silently for letting Syn, once again, argue her out of the need for underwear. But, Cassie knew exactly how much of a distraction she would be to her lover, with Syn fully aware that beneath the glossy surface, the woman she shared a bed with was bare. Cassie smiled to herself.

"Reckon you can fix it?" Armal asked, pausing next to her, cocktail shaker in hand.

"I managed to explain fractions to eight-year-olds this morning," Cassie replied, "How much harder can this be?"

Cassie explored the tubing that connected the mixer gun to the boxes of concentrated soft drinks. She pulled a tube away and checked the end.

"Scissors?" she called.

Armal pressed them into her hand as he strode past. Cassie cut the end of the clear plastic, removing the blockage, and pushed the tube back into place. She stood up, found a glass and poured herself a lemonade.

"You are a superwoman," Armal commented but before she could respond, he was already halfway down the bar serving the next customer.

Cassie sipped her drink, looking out across the floor of the club. She was attracting attention from faces she didn't recognise, newcomers who didn't know who she was. Cassie felt a little thrill though, showing off her stunning figure in the tight white dress to strangers, making a statement.

Across the room, a hand waved and she saw Ally in a booth on the far side. Quinn was next to her and Syn sat in the seat opposite. Cassie flipped the bar flap again and stepped out. Armal seemed to be more under control now, helped by a pretty young woman with dark skin and shocking red hair and tattoos that matched his. It made her realise how much she liked it here, how close-knit the staff were. Even with the influx of new customers, no-one had complained. Instead, they had tapped friends on the shoulders, asked them to help out, coped with the load. Tony's cousin was on the door while Tony patrolled the club. Estelle had roped her boyfriend in on the drinks service, dressed up in PVC pants to look the part even though he was, as Estelle had expressed it, a totally vanilla aerospace engineer geek.

Cassie slipped into the empty seat next to Syn, cradling her drink.

"We must be doing well if the mistress of the house has to pull her own drinks," Syn observed. "You're a woman of many talents."

"I'm a renaissance woman," Cassie replied, "Engineering, accounts, eight-year-olds."

"Twisted domination games," Ally offered.

"Oh no. I leave the twisted part to her," Cassie replied, nodding to Syn and smiling.

She looked across the table at Quinn, who was watching her quietly. Cassie glanced at Ally, trying to determine if they were playing or not. Ally would normally indicate when Cassie arrived, throwing out a word or two to ensure that everyone at the table was aware of his place in the pecking order, but not this time.

"Busy tonight," Cassie said, "Armal's flat out, even with the second pair of hands."

Syn's glass paused on its way to her lips. Her eyes were scanning the crowd. "Yes," she agreed, "it's busier than it's been for as long as I can remember."

"Good news for you," Ally interjected happily.

"Oh, the accounts are looking better. But...."

Quinn leaned forward. "But you're wondering why," he interjected.

Not playing then, Cassie thought, just quiet tonight.

Syn fixed her pale blue eyes on him, a half-smile playing on her lips.

"You have an opinion?" she drawled.

Quinn drew closer, conspiratorial now. He lowered his voice, forcing the three woman to lean in as well.

"It's like I said before. The new law is going to change everything here. I think people are finally starting to realise what it means if that legislation passes. What it means to us."

"You're very negative on it," Syn replied.

"I'm nowhere near negative enough. I think there's an agenda behind the law, a set of values that don't see us as anything more than freaks."

"That's a very strong statement."

Syn's eyes were hard now, the good humour had evaporated. Cassie had seen her do this, switching from the convivial hostess to the cruel, impervious dominatrix. She expected Quinn to register the change and take his role as the obedient submissive, sitting quietly at the table of his mistresses, but he didn't.

"Don't you get the feeling, Syn, that we're going blindly into something, all of us?"

Quinn hardly ever used her name. He was generally not permitted, but even when he was allowed, like now, he would usually refrain out of respect.

"So tell me, Quinn, is that why they're here?" Syn asked, gesturing towards the throng of people with her glass.

"Yes," he replied, but now his expression was grave, "I think they're very quietly but very surely gearing up for the end of the world."

He leaned back, leaving Syn in stunned silence. There was something about his mood tonight that Cassie had never seen before, like he was building himself up to something. But what?

Then, calmly and without warning, Quinn reached out and cupped Ally's breast in his hand. Ally reacted with surprise, her gaze flicking from her partner to the two women opposite.

"What?" she gasped, "Quinn what are you doing?"

She knocked his hand away, flustered at being groped in public. Quinn reached out and touched her again. She pushed his hand away.

"Hey, stop that, or there's going to be consequences."

Syn watched the exchange closely. Quinn reached out for a third time but Ally caught his hand by the wrist.

"Quinn, really, you're ruining a nice night. Stop it."

At that Quinn placed both hands on the table. Ally adjusted herself, smoothing her blouse and jiggling in her seat. She was clearly flustered.

"Sorry," she apologised, "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's been a little off all day."

Then Quinn reached across the table and laid the palm of his hand against Syn's breast. Unlike Ally, Syn made no move to knock him away. Her eyes met his but neither of them moved. Ally looked mortified, as if she was about to protest her partner's outrageous action but something in Syn's expression stopped her. Quinn had committed a flagrant transgression, not only touching another woman inappropriately but Madame Syn, of all people, the one person in the entire club who should never be crossed. It was now up to Syn how this played out.

She seemed to make a decision and turned to Cassie. Quinn's hand was still resting on her chest.

"Cassie, could you bring Tony over please?"

With that, Syn turned back to the man opposite her, folding her arms but making no move to remove his encroaching hand. With a chill of foreboding, Cassie slipped out of the booth and began to scan the floor for the mighty bulk of the Pacific Islander doorman. She found him next to the bar in conversation with Estelle.

"Tony," she called, "Syn needs to speak to you. Now."

She led him across the floor to the booth. When she returned, Quinn was sitting with folded arms, head down. Ally was sitting uncomfortably next to him, in contrast to Syn's icy composure in the seat opposite.

"You wanted to see me boss?" Tony asked. Cassie could see that he sensed trouble, but had no idea what the problem actually was.

"We've had an incident, Tony. The worm has exhibited inappropriate behaviour. I need your help."

Tony's eyes shifted around the table. He was clearly uneasy, but his posture betrayed the fact that he was ready for action. Whatever Syn wanted, he would do. Cassie couldn't understand why Quinn had departed so badly from acceptable behaviour.

"Say the word," Tony said in a low voice. His expression was serious.

"I'm going to need the cross. Down here, on the stage," Syn said, then looked across the table at Quinn. "The worm needs to understand the consequences of his actions."

The shock was apparent on Ally's face, and even Cassie hadn't seen it coming. Tony just nodded and moved away towards the entrance to the upstairs area. Syn slid out of the booth.

"May I?" she asked Ally.

"Of course," Ally replied, flustered.

Syn looked over to Quinn and beckoned him, eyes cold and implacable. He stood up out of the booth and Syn led him away across the floor.

"What's going on?" Cassie asked, seeing Ally's bewildered expression.

"I have no idea."

Cassie's mind was racing through the sessions she had spent with Quinn in her office, counselling him through the aftermath of death of his wife. He was a man with strong morals and the utmost respect; this behaviour was so unlike him. There was one possible explanation.

"Is he on the drink again?" Cassie asked.

Ally reached over and picked up Quinn's half-empty glass from the table. She held it under Cassie's nose.

"Soda water," she replied.

When Tony reappeared the mood of the club began to change, little silences emerging like ripples as the patrons took notice of the huge man carrying a large wooden St. Andrews cross in his thickly-muscled arms. Despite the weight of the wood, he bore his burden easily, parting the crowd as he made his way to the stage. Cassie and Ally slipped out of the booth and followed him.

Estelle's boyfriend was already there and between the two men, they positioned the cross on a circular platform. Tony extracted a set of bolts from his pocket and a socket wrench. Bending down, he began to secure the feet of the cross to the platform. The clicking of the wrench gradually stilled the room until it was the only sound.

Tony stepped back and Syn appeared, shadowed by Quinn. She was carrying a number of implements and put them down on a table at the side of the stage. She turned to face the attentive crowd.

"We had a gross transgression earlier," she announced, "The kind of breach that cannot go unpunished. Now, I know we have some new faces here tonight who may not be accustomed to the dispensation of justice but let me assure you that what is about to happen is both necessary and agreed upon by all parties."

With that, Syn nodded towards Quinn. Cassie and Ally had crossed the floor and were standing next to him now, but his focus was on Syn and what was about to happen. Cassie couldn't understand why he would have brought this on himself. Something told her that she should stop this. If Quinn was having some kind of relapse, what Syn was about to do to him could be catastrophic.

"Quinn," she hissed, "Just wait. We need to talk."

Quinn turned to give her a look that stopped her cold. She saw it in his eyes and knew there was nothing she could do. He stepped up onto the stage and walked over to the cross, standing calmly in the spotlight.

"Are you ready to be punished, worm?" Syn asked.

"Yes, Madame," Quinn answered.

"Strip."

Quinn's eyes never left hers as he disrobed, unbuttoning his shirt, slipping out of his shoes and then finally sliding his pants and underwear down to the floor. He stepped out of the bundle of clothing, standing before the cross naked.

He stepped up onto the circular platform and spread his arms and legs against the cross, his bottom facing outwards and his chest against the wood. Syn bent down, securing each of his ankles to the feet of the cross with leather straps. Once they were secure, she reached up and slid his hands though two loops at the top of each beam, then she stepped back, off the platform. Gripping the arm of the cross, she began to rotate the entire assembly on its circular base until Quinn was facing the crowd, his face visible between the arms of the cross, his manhood on display between the legs of the cross, completely bare and utterly defenceless.

"You have submitted yourself for punishment," Syn stated, "Any last words before I begin? Do you want to explain yourself?"

The room was silent now. All eyes were on the face of the man tied and helpless in front of them.

"Yes," he said. There was a calmness in his voice.

"I have been beaten before," Quinn began, "By various people. I...," he stumbled and his head drooped, "I have been taught to enjoy it," he confessed.

There was a murmur around the room, but it faded away.

"I found out that I needed it. I found out that I will always need it."

He looked up again and the shame and humiliation was plain in his face.

"I have grown to love it. And I love the woman who has accepted that about me, and who administers it to me when I need it."

His head turned and his gaze settled on Ally.

"She has filled a space that I thought could never be filled again."

Cassie saw Ally's posture shift and she placed a hand on the other woman's shoulder. Without taking her eyes off Quinn, Ally entwined her fingers with Cassie's. Syn was standing in silence now, letting Quinn speak.

"In a few weeks, I'm going to ask you to become a criminal. Will you do that for me?"

Ally drew in a sharp breath before she nodded. "Yes, Quinn. I will."

Quinn's head sagged until he rested his chin on the wood, but his eyes never left his lover. When next he spoke it was almost a whisper.

"This is what we have come to. This is what love has come to. Like Romeo and Juliet, all are punished."

Eventually, he raised his head again and now his expression was sombre as he looked out at the faces in front of him.

"You are witnesses. When this becomes a crime, should you not report it, you also become the guilty."

He nodded to Syn.

Cassie could only look on in mute agony as Syn walked over to the table and picked up a cane. She flexed it between her hands, standing behind the cross. Cassie couldn't tear her eyes away from Quinn, sensing the way that he was steeling himself to receive a merciless beating at the hands of a skilled dominatrix.

Syn raised her arm but before she administered the first blow, she paused, giving Cassie just enough time to wonder what words had passed between the two of them in the time between leaving the booth and ascending the stage.

"I am guilty," Syn announced.

Then she brought her arm down, the cane singing in the air until it cracked across the naked flesh of the man secured to the cross. Cassie had expected her to pull her strokes but instead she was vicious, causing Quinn to cry out in shock and pain. The cross shook as his body spasmed against it. Syn raised the cane again, watching as her victim braced himself for the blow. She struck again, harder this time, forcing Quinn's body to convulse with the agony. Cassie had expected Syn to be content to play her symbolic part in Quinn's protest but then the cane landed a third time at full force, and Quinn howled.

Cassie could feel Ally's shoulder tense under her hand, as she watched the man she loved being beaten in front of the entire club.

"Thank you," he gasped.

Syn struck him again. Ally shrugged Cassie's hand away and stepped forward, as if to end this display of vicious public cruelty. Syn landed a fifth strike, making the helpless man's body buck and heave. She looked across at Ally and raised her arm again, but higher than before. She landed the stroke savagely, making Quinn howl and shake.

Ally crossed the stage quickly, taking the cane from Syn's hand. Syn stepped back and Ally took her place. She ran her fingers through the hair of her suffering man, gently caressing his head.

"Does it hurt, baby?" she murmured.

Quinn nodded mutely, then gasped, "Yes, it hurts so much."

Ally stepped back. "Good," she said.

She raised her arm and struck Quinn across the buttocks, making him writhe and churn in the merciless glare of the spotlight.

"Six from Madame Syn, what a gift," she told him, "One from me. I am also guilty."

She stepped back and swiped again, the swish of the cane through the air terminating in a thunderous crack as it met Quinn's exposed flesh. Cassie was trembling, but she didn't know why. The submission of the man on stage, his endurance of the pain being meted out to him by the woman he loved, humiliating him with a flogging in front of an entire room of people, it triggered something within Cassie, a sense of devastation and injustice. It brought to the surface a dark feeling that only Lily had ever been able to expose.

Rooted to the spot, she watched as Ally hit her lover again, inflicting deep torment on his flesh. Cassie could see the intensity on Ally's face, the sadistic streak within her unleashed at last as the normally caring, considerate mother of two unfurled herself in the confines of the glaring spotlight. Each stroke she landed tore a cry from Quinn, but his responses were different now, changed by some animal part of his brain from punishment to reward. Cassie could see how he raised himself up in the aftermath of each stroke, positioning himself squarely for the next withering blow. Before the cruelty of Mistress Candice, her slave was also revealing his true nature.

The sixth blow landed on his rear and Ally stepped back, breathing hard. Her cheeks were flushed but Cassie couldn't tell if it was from exertion or arousal. She had a strange fey smile on her face, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"Thank you, Mistress Candice," Quinn hissed through gritted teeth, still weathering the aftershocks of her last brutal stroke.

"You deserved that, didn't you?

"Yes, Mistress. My actions were unforgivable. I deserve to be punished."

"Deserve?" Ally echoed and Cassie could see she was confused.

"Twelve is not nearly enough," he said and looked directly at Cassie. "Let whoever is innocent walk away."

Only then did Cassie fully understand his behaviour. It explained his intentions, and they were breathtaking in scope. Cassie burned inside with a wild, alien emotion and almost without intending to, she stepped up onto the stage. Her eyes were fixed on his, as if hypnotised, as if he were somehow pulling her forward to the cross. Ally held out the cane as she approached.