“That’s right,” Violet says. “Camille, there’s nothing I’d like more than to see you on your knees, but it will be a choice. Whether you kneel or not is up to you. Everything Atticus and I do with you will be safe, sane, and consensual.”
Consensual. Ares never asked. He just took, took, took, until there was nothing left to take. Until he sent me away.
I nod, and this time I don’t hold back my tears.
“Please, Sir, can we keep her?” Violet whines. I snap my head up to look at her. Violet is no sub. I would not have had that reaction to her outside if she were. They seem oblivious to my confusion. “She’s so sweet, it breaks my heart.”
“You called him Sir. Why?”
“Because he is my Sir. He is my husband, and my Dominant.”
“But the security guard outside called you Mistress Violet.”
“I’m a switch, sweetheart.” Her words are confident, not cocky, or condescending. Her tone is laced with contentment. “I can be sub or Dom, and I love both in equal measure.”
“And you? Are you a switch?” I ask Atticus.
A low chuckle resonates through the room. “No, dear one. I don’t kneel for anyone.”
“It’s true. He doesn’t. He would look rather nice on his knees though, wouldn’t he?”
I smile despite my tears.
“You don’t need to make a decision right this minute. Go home, think about it. Or you can stay for the evening’s festivities. It’s your choice.”
I don’t want it to be my choice. There is no freedom in choice—not for me.
“Camille, your comfort in my club will be our main priority. If you choose to return and take my lovely wife up on her offer, then we will need a list of ground rules and expectations. I want to know what you like, what you loathe, what you expect from us, and exactly what you need. For tonight, I’d like to know how you feel about spanking?”
I close my eyes, draw in a sharp breath, and remember all the ways Ares spanked me. At times I hated it, like when he put me over his knee in those first few days, spanked me raw, and made me come afterwards. The smarting flesh, the utter despair and humiliation I felt at the abuse, and then shame for coming. I’d hated him for it, for all of it. Then I think of the flogging and the copper-infused rope he’d tied me with in Texas’s dungeon when I’d told him I loved him. How my whole body had been electric with his touch and the use of a body-contact probe, and how each blow from the leather had set my soul all aflame.
“I love it,” I blurt.
Violet claps excitedly.
“Darling,” Atticus warns.
“I’ll go slowly.” She rolls her eyes.
“I’m going to put you over my knee for that later.”
I suck in a sharp breath, and they both turn to look at me. “May I . . . may I watch?”
They share a look, and I lose all my courage.
“Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“Would that make you feel at ease? If I spanked my wife in front of you?”
I glance at Violet. This is not a decision I can make lightly. If I say yes, I’m ensuring she gets a beating. Then again, Ares never would have let me get away with such a blatant display of disrespect.
Violet’s smile is mischievous and daring. She wants this. She wants to be spanked by her husband in front of me. I look at Atticus and nod.
“Very well.” Atticus pulls the chair into the center of the room, right in front of me. He points to his knee. A pang of jealously and remorse twists my stomach. I just met this man, but already I wish it were me in her place. “Violet, remove your dress and get your ass up on my knee.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her velvet gown falls to the floor and she steps out of it. Underneath her dress, she wears a corset made solely of black mesh and boning, what look like crotch-less panties, and stockings with suspenders. She lays herself across her husband’s lap. Her deep violet hair falls down over her face like silk ribbons. “Spread your thighs so Camille can see how wet you are.”
“Yes, Sir.” She widens her legs as far as his lap will allow.