TWO WEEKS LATER
A hard-edged Metallica sound blared overhead as I brought the slim cane down over Owen's back. At the stinging contact, his arms jerked against the rope. When I had walked out of the doors of 1740, I never thought I would ever be back. That sentiment had been magnified when I stormed in to confront Calla.
Even though Robert had told me I always had a job there, I didn't believe him. Or maybe it was that I didn't want to believe I would ever need to be back. Yet here I was in my Domme attire of a short, white leather skirt and bustier beating the s**t out of Owen in the dungeon.
While I might've been dressed for the part, I wasn't in Domme space. Instead, my mind festered with dark thoughts. There was worry for my father's rapidly deteriorating health. There was fear that
