What We Say in the Dark Ch. 09

[Author's note: Cassie's husband is cheating on her with a younger woman, Lily. Instead of confronting him, Cassie has been blackmailed by his lover into doing what she she's told. Cassie makes friends with the enigmatic Syn, the Madame of the Lost and Found, and begins to embark on a journey to learn about dominance and submission, about how Lily takes control of her, and how she can win her husband back from the younger blonde's clutches.

Syn decides to give her a demonstration of female domination, and asks for her help]

---

QUESTIONS IN CONFIDENCE

Sam and Hope were together, skipping along the path in front of them with Charlie dragging his heels behind his brother. Cassie observed the body language. Being a twin was hard sometimes; certain things couldn't be shared fairly.

Billie hefted the school bag over her shoulder.

"You're too soft," Cassie said, pointing at her boys, "You should make her carry her own bag home."

"Boys are different," Billie replied, "They're built to lug heavy loads."

"Ah, so you're saying girls are the weaker sex?"

Billie leaned in close, speaking in low tones so as not to be overheard by their children.

"Fuck off, Cassie," she said with a smile.

"That's not very lady-like."

"You going all feminist on me?"

"Yes."

Billie laughed again. "I'm more feminist than five of you. I put my money where my mouth was."

"Almost."

Billie frowned, "What do you mean, almost? I even got paid less for the same job at work."

Cassie smiled again and poked her friend in the ribs. "Sure, when you worked, but you just couldn't let that one thing go."

"Oh, now really fuck off."

"That's the trouble with boys. Always fascinated with penises."

"Morgan doesn't mind. A lot less fucking around than a strap on."

"You mean, less likely to detach unexpectedly."

"Absolutely."

"Just not always as likely to be hard when you want it."

"I refer you to my previous comment."

"Which one?"

"The one regarding fucking off."

It was Cassie's turn to laugh. Billie brushed her hair back from her face and pouted theatrically. Cassie's smile softened.

They crossed the street to the play park. Her boys dumped their bags at her feet and ran over to the climbing frame, Hope tagging along behind.

"How are things at home?" Billie asked.

Cassie shrugged. "Okay, I think."

"You talked to him yet?"

"No."

Billie groaned. "Cassie, honey, you gotta do it."

"I'm waiting."

"For what? For him to get bored of the bitch? For her to get bored of him? For a fucking asteroid strike to solve your slut problem?"

Cassie held up her hands. "I'm just waiting for the right time."

Billie turned to watch the kids, her lips pressed together, hesitating.

Cassie broke the awkward silence. "Say it."

Billie shook her head dismissively.

"Really, I can take it," Cassie said.

Billie took a deep breath, and began to speak, her eyes never leaving her daughter.

"I'm trying not to offload, I'm trying to hold it all back and be constructive, but you're not making it easy. You're trained in this stuff yet you behave like you're living under a rock."

Billie turned to face her.

"I'm just saying denial is not just a river in Egypt."

"Billie, I've got a plan."

"Are you sure?"

Cassie nodded and Billie reached out, sliding her arm around Cassie's shoulders.

"How can I help?"

"You can't."

"At least tell me. What's the plan? What are you cooking up?"

"I'm not cooking anything up. I'm fixing my marriage."

Cassie sighed, feeling suddenly weighed down, but she owed Billie an explanation.

"He's cheating because he wants something that I don't provide. He needs the passion, the excitement. That's what he sees in her. I'm showing him I've got a lot more to offer. Last night, for example."

Billie rolled her eyes. "What about last night?"

Cassie hesitated.

"To the grave?"

"Of course, to the grave. Not even Morgan," Billie said, miming the locking of her lips.

Cassie told her about the previous night, the outfit she wore, the rope, the way Damian had erupted inside her, how hard he had felt. She left out the last little detail, the way Damian had finished, leaving her still needing her own climax. She didn't want to tell her closest friend about needing to finish herself off in the bathroom. Instead, she put a positive spin on it all.

"He went to work this morning with a spring in his step, that's for sure," she concluded.

Billie gave her a quick hug. "Sounds fabulous," she said.

Cassie could see it in her friend's face, the unspoken part. Billie knew how Cassie felt; she had read between the lines.

"You're the smartest person I know," Billie told her. "I'm sure you can figure this out."

She gave Cassie another hug.

"Look at me. Remember when you showed me yours, and I showed you mine, behind the shed at school, all those years ago? Did you ever think this is how it would all have turned out? Those years where I use to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling at night, trying to work out who I was and why I felt like I did. Feeling like I was broken."

Billie paused, a faraway look in her eyes.

"You know, sometimes in life we find out that what really matters, the real things, they're not the same as what we tell ourselves in the dark."

Cassie laughed softly. "You know, that's pretty astute. Maybe you could do my job."

"Oh no. I'm a receiver not a supplier. I guess...."

"What?"

"I guess it's just nice. After how you helped me back then, it's nice if I can help you back."

---

Cassie was late, hurrying along the street. She felt bad, wanting to make a good impression on her new friend. Syn was already sitting at the table against the back wall of the café, an elegant finger scrolling through her phone.

"Sorry," Cassie blurted, "I got held up."

Syn smiled, "Not a problem. I daresay your day is considerably more hectic than mine."

"I just wanted to get here before him."

"Goal achieved."

Cassie went to sit down next to Syn at the chair with her back to the room, but Syn indicated that she should take the seat opposite. Cassie hurried to comply.

"You look nervous," Syn said.

"Does it show?"

"Yes, very. Take a deep breath."

"Sorry."

"And for the love of God stop apologising."

"Uh. Yes."

Syn leaned forward, taking one of Cassie's hands in hers and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Just follow my lead. I'll do the talking while you get your bearings."

"Okay," Cassie replied, feeling slightly awkward as Syn pressed her hand again. She looked into the inscrutable pale blue eyes of the woman in front of her and began to feel her pulse rate slow. Withdrawing her hand, she indicated the waitress.

"Shall I get the coffees?"

Syn folded her hands together and sat up straight in her chair, looking over Cassie's shoulder. "No," she replied, "That's not how this goes."

Turning, Cassie followed her friend's gaze. At the doorway, a tall, middle-aged man had just entered. He stood by the front counter, scanning the room until his eyes locked on them. He fussed with his jacket for a moment and then approached.

Syn's eyes were now on Cassie, a faint smile on her lips.

"So, what did you think of the club?" Syn asked.

Cassie blinked, struggling to follow Syn's lead.

"Uh, I thought it was nicely, um, styled. Very exclusive."

"Yes, I do like to try and make it a welcoming environment, but," Syn broke off to note that the man was now standing behind the empty chair, "The balancing factor is that it has to feel discreet at the same time. As I said to you, privacy and discretion are very important."

Syn paused, but her eyes never left Cassie's face. She waited for Cassie to fill the silence. The man didn't make a move from where he was standing, unacknowledged, behind the empty chair.

"The barman was very polite," Cassie said.

"Yes, he's been with us a while. I knew from the start that he would be a good fit."

Syn's eyes flicked up to the waiting man.

"I'm a very good judge of character."

She waved a hand. "I'll have a long black, and...?"

"Uh, cappuccino," Cassie stammered.

The man turned and left.

"There. Not so hard, was it?" Syn smiled.

Cassie watched her friend's body language carefully. Where she had been previously open and relaxed, now each movement was precise, formal. Even her speech patterns had changed, becoming less conversational. They chatted about the club, making small-talk until the man returned with two cups. He carefully set one down in front of Syn and the other in front of Cassie. He hadn't bought a drink for himself.

Syn picked up the cup and blew on it, propelling wisps of steam into the air in front of her face. She sipped the dark liquid and then replaced the cup on the table.

"Acceptable. You may sit," she said.

The man pulled out the chair and sat down hurriedly. He rested his hands on his knees, eyes fixed on Syn.

"Introduce yourself."

The man became agitated. "I'm sorry, Madame, I...."

Syn crossed her legs, taking time to rearrange the folds of her skirt over her knees.

"Of course. This is Mistress Grace."

The man nodded, looking studiously down at the table. "The worm is humbled to be in the presence of Madame Syn and Mistress Grace."

"Good worm," Syn replied, smiling, "Now let's begin your confessions."

Syn picked up her coffee again, blowing on it to cool it down. She took a sip, waiting for the man to speak.

"I have been very obedient since our last meeting," he began, "I have kept myself clean. I have exercised every day. My meals have not deviated from the diet you have graciously set for me."

"And what about your drinking? You have been sickeningly disgraceful in the past."

The man shook his head nervously. "I acknowledge my lack of control in the past and I thank Madame for correcting me. I have not touched a drop."

Syn took another sip of coffee. "Are you sure there isn't something you want to confess there? What are the consequences of not telling the complete truth?"

The man began to look nervous. "The crop, Madame."

"How harsh would I need to be?"

"Very harsh."

"How harsh was I when you had a drink the last time? Let Mistress Grace hear."

The man's eyes flicked up to Cassie's face.

"I was unable to sit down for a week without discomfort."

Cassie could see the anguish in his expression.

"Eyes down, worm," Syn snapped, and the man's eyes went immediately to the table again.

Syn regarded the man, taking her time to study him. Cassie wanted very much to know what she was thinking.

"The worm has come a long way from the time he first came into my care. We had to impose all manner of corrections," she explained.

Syn leaned back in her chair.

"He was burdened with such filthy thoughts and inappropriate tendencies. Extreme measures had to be taken."

Syn waved a finger at the man's crotch and said, "Show Mistress Grace."

The man glanced nervously around the café, but his back was to the room. Cassie realised why Syn had been so particular about the seating arrangements. She felt her pulse quicken as the man's hands moved to his lap.

He undid his trousers, opening up the flap just enough to expose a silver glint between his legs.

"Show her properly."

The man hesitated, before fishing into his trousers with his hand, pulling out his manhood, trapped inside a steel cage.

"Explain."

The man's head bowed and he began to mumble in a low voice.

"Clearer, worm."

He cleared his throat and began again.

"I have urges to satisfy myself, so I need to be prevented. The cage is to help me overcome my urges."

Syn turned her attention to Cassie now, saying nothing but waiting patiently.

"And how long have you worn it?" Cassie asked.

"Nine months and six days, Mistress Grace."

"Really?"

The man hesitated, head drooping lower.

"My apologies. Nine months, six days and four hours."

"Tell her who put it on you," Syn prompted.

"Mistress Alena."

The man seemed to crumple at that admission, hands laid slack either side of the metal cage. His eyes shone with sudden tears.

"And where is the key?" Cassie asked.

"She locked me up, Mistress Grace, and I don't know what she did with the key."

Syn reached into her handbag and extracted a large brown envelope. She placed it on the table, face up, so that Cassie could see the words, 'For Madame Syn,' scrawled in pen in a woman's handwriting.

"Mistress Alena gave this into my safe keeping, to be opened a year to the day since she sealed it. It may contain the key, although it may simply contain further instructions for the worm's punishment. It came with this letter."

Syn pulled a single sheet of paper out of her handbag and unfolded it. Cassie could see the same handwriting.

"She was very specific about the treatment of the worm, especially regarding the regularity of his discipline beatings. But I find myself in a predicament."

Syn took another sip of her dark coffee, regarding the contents for a moment.

"I find the worm to be a burden to me. He is of little interest and an unworthy recipient of my precious time."

The man sat quietly, head down, listing to Syn's judgement.

"Mistress Alena was very thorough. She laid out the means of disposal of the worm from my care very succinctly. Mistress Grace, would you like to read the letter?"

Cassie nodded and Syn passed her the paper. One side was completely covered in neatly written instructions, covering off the opening of the envelope and the man's treatment. She read the last lines very carefully.

"He may be disposed of to another Mistress?" Cassie enquired.

"Yes. There are one or two who may be persuaded."

"Have you asked them?"

"No. Certainly not. The worm isn't worthy of their attentions. His repeated need for my crop is testament to that."

Cassie frowned, looking up from the letter at Syn, puzzled. The man's head was still bowed, staring down at his caged genitals.

Syn replied smoothly, "Your talents may be a better fit in the interim. I certainly have no more use for him. The constant need to remind him of his place is taking up more of my time than I believe him worthy to receive."

Syn picked up the coffee, but didn't drink this time. Instead, the cup remained poised in her fingertips.

"For example, the way he looked at you without permission just before."

Without warning, Syn tipped up her cup, pouring the coffee onto the man's genitals. He hissed in pain, jaws clenched to stifle a yell.

"Hopeless," Syn murmured casually.

Cassie's eyes flared wide in shock, her attention fixed on the man's body, squirming as the hot liquid ran over his trapped manhood and exposed crotch, seeping into his trousers.

Syn tutted loudly, examining the mess. "Get cleaned up," she ordered.

The man staggered to his feet, hurriedly zipping himself back up. Cassie could see the dark stains of liquid seeping into the fabric of his pants. He staggered away carefully towards the toilet, clearly in pain.

Cassie was aghast.

"Why did you do that?"

Syn carefully mopped up splatters of coffee from the table with a napkin, making sure she soaked up all the drops before she answered. When her face turned to Cassie, her expression was mournful.

"Alena and Quinn were... a very beautiful couple. They certainly didn't deserve what happened to her. Alena's only concern at the end wasn't for herself. It was for him, and she made me promise to take care of him after she died. He's a rare breed, a pure masochist submissive, and a very dear friend."

"She inflicted such pain on him," Syn sighed, "He meant the world to her, and she was the entire world for him."

Syn folded her hands on the table.

"But that's the problem, Cassidy," she continued, "I thought I was capable, but really, I'm useless. I can't give him the help he needs; I can barely maintain and try and keep him functioning. He needs someone with specialist training, but he won't seek help so it's been left up to me."

She threw the stained napkin down on the table, her mouth curling in contempt. Cassie realised with surprise that it was directed at herself.

"At least I managed to stop him drinking himself to death."

Syn folded the letter carefully and placed it on top of the brown envelope. It sat between them in the middle of the table.

"I have a good friend who would love to take him on, but he needs to be in a better place before that. So, I'm asking if you would want to help. You would need to provide structure and discipline but also to work with him, you know, in a clinical sense. He still needs to have pain inflicted on him, but I could administer the punishments if you think we should maintain a separation of the two. Honestly, I'm lost and I know this is your forte, so I will be led by you."

Syn lapsed into silence, her eyes on the envelope between them.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and quiet. "Losing her nearly destroyed him, and I have tried to step in. Alena was an artist, but I do what I can. It's not enough."

She rested her hand on the paper.

"Cassidy, would you? There's no-one else I would trust."

"What makes you think I'm the right person?"

Syn smiled sadly. "Do you know what the most important character trait is in this business?"

Cassie shook her head, still trying to come to terms with what had just unfolded.

"Strictness? Uh, determination? I don't know. Nerve?"

Syn shrugged, and suddenly she was fragile, open.

"Empathy," she said, "It's empathy."

---

[This chapter crosses over with Quinn's story in Alena's Game. The contents of the envelope Syn produces can be read in To Whom It May Concern.

Next, in the final chapter in this series, Cassie confronts Lily. Will she resist and take back her life from the merciless, sexy blonde who has begun to dominate her, or will she be forced into submission?

Follow me for updates to this and my other stories. If you like what you read, please leave a comment or a star rating. Constructive feedback is always welcome. If you want further adventures, or to check out my other stories, my story page is here]