Scott King had retired from his life as a Marine Corps engineering officer at the age of 42. Really, the movies and media made a military career seem a lot more exciting than it really was and, for the most part, he'd come out of it with just a few scars from his point of view.
Well, okay, he also lost an eye and had it replaced with a milky fake.
Also, it took six months after he got home to realize he had to find something to do with his free time besides hunting, first person shooters, and Dungeons and Dragons on Saturday nights at the comic book store, or he'd go fucking insane.
And then a week after that he'd run into a guy named Dominic Santiago who had a disposition to seriously kinky sex, who introduced him to another person named Foxx Wyte. Foxx took one look at Scott King and asked him how he felt about bartending for a somewhat rowdy crowd at his clubs.
Scott had laughed at that. "I'd almost pay you to let me do it at the moment."
Foxx's club took the edge off the boredom like a charm. For the most part, people didn't give Scott any problems. All they had to do was look at him to know they didn't want to cross him. What was more, he found that he wasn't just mildly interested in the kinky play. He found himself at Wyte's more often than he actually had to work. He also discovered the joy of spending a night or two with a soft female submissive, teaching her how to please him. And it wasn't hard, not at all, at least not for him. Maybe it was his personality. Maybe he just had a dominating air. As for structure and rules for little submissives, well that he had down easily. He'd spent over 20 years with structure and rules. The softness of a female beneath him, bowing to the rigidity that he couldn't rid himself of... well, it was just heaven.
His favorite night was Monday nights, oddly enough. They were a bit more quiet than the wild weekend. On the first Monday of the month, Foxx opened his doors to new clients too, which was always fun. Some of them found exactly what they hoped for when they came to a club like Wyte's. Some of them blushed adorably. Some of them looked like they found themselves through the looking glass in a kinky wonderland.
And of course the older clients could return as well. Everything was supervised by monitors just like it always was.
He always worked Monday nights. The rest of the week days he traded off with a firecracker of a girl named Hunter, but Mondays were his.
He mixed a Jack and Coke for a girl who had spent a solid 20 minutes staring at him, trying to figure out if she had enough courage to approach him and ask for more liquid courage. Poor thing had finally turned around to see Troy Howell flogging a little female across a pommel horse by the back wall and decided she'd face Scott for the alcohol.
"Going to survive?" He smiled at her playfully.
At last, a little tension seemed to leave her. "I think so. This place is... weird."
Scott laughed and set the small glass in front of her. "Not too fast now, little one. Why not just look around and come back to explore some more?"
The girl grinned shyly. "I like that idea."
Scott winked with his good eye. At least she seemed like she liked Wyte's even if she seemed shocked to fear at the moment. When he turned around, though, the girl he saw next was definitely not okay.
For starters she didn't even look old enough to be at any bar, let alone Wyte's bar. For another she had her hair tied back to reveal pink hearing aids and a set of glasses with a crack on the bridge that looked like she'd superglued for a quick fix.
And last and most obviously, she looked like she was shell shocked.
Honestly, he couldn't even begin to guess how the tiny little stray had found herself in the club in the first place. No real friend of this girl would bring her to this place. If he didn't know Wyte's doorkeeper, Brian Conway to be solid as hell at keeping strictures, he'd wonder if she wasn't too young to be here. Christ she didn't even seem like she'd ever be in a normal club, let alone a goddamn fetish one.
"Can I help you?" He said it as gently as possible, but still she flinched in fear and she couldn't seem to stop staring at his eye. He didn't think she was ever going to get around to answering until she opened her mouth and quietly mumbled something under her breath. Scott willed himself patience. "I'm sorry, honey, what was that?"
She managed to raise her voice to the squeak of a mouse. "I said I think I can help you." And then she held up his wallet.
Scott stared and checked his pockets. Now how the hell had she gotten that? The only place he'd gone before work was...
Suddenly, he recognized the little girl. The comic book store. She picked up graphic novels and played dungeon board games sometimes. He could just barely place her. In all the times he'd been at the store, he'd never heard her talk. She never came or went with anyone. She hung out a little and was social as much as she was able, which didn't seem to be much.
Scott reached across the bar and took his wallet from her. "Thank you, honey. Did you venture in here solely to give this back to me?"
She bit her lip and looked around and Scott knew what the answer had to be. She nodded to confirm it. "Uh huh."
He rubbed his hand through his hair in frustration. The girl didn't seem to talk. He knew a few people with hearing problems, though, and most of them didn't seem to like too much excess noise. "Dominic!"
The burly porn star crossed to him in monitor leathers. He glanced at the tiny girl with a raised eyebrow and then back at Scott. "What's up?"
"Mind bartending for a bit?"
Dominic looked back at the little girl and then smiled at him. "Not at all. Go for it."
"Thanks." Scott walked around the bar and took the girl's hand. She blinked up at him like she was this side of an anxiety problem. "Come on. Let's go somewhere less chaotic, so I can say thank you and you can calm down."
She still didn't say anything. She just nodded and let herself be led. Scott took her back to the hallways and passed the back playrooms up. He went to the back offices instead, the tamest place in Wyte's building.
When he held the door open for her and she stepped inside to the quieter room, she smiled with relief and Scott felt a rush of pride.
He'd guessed one correct count at least. "What's your name, honey?"
Now she grinned up at him and pushed her glasses delicately on her nose. "Cassie. You're Scott."
He smiled back. "That I am, little one. Brave of you to come into this heathen den to give that to me." She giggled at that and Scott had to smile at the sound. Like a fairy, a tiny pixie creature.
"I always sat at the table by yours to play our board games. The owner, David, wasn't sure what to do when he found your wallet, said you would need it by the end of the night some time."
Scott sat down in an office chair and patted the seat of a fold out across from him. Cassie didn't think twice, just obeyed the unspoken invitation and stared up at him with guileless crystal blue eyes. Lord, this girl didn't need to be in this place. It was like seeing a mouse walk into a cat house. "He wasn't wrong. I do need that."
She looked down and fidgeted with something. When Scott looked closer he realized it was a Hellraiser puzzle box keychain on her car keys. Right beside that was the cutest little kitten keychain. "He said you're a marine."
Scott chuckled. "Guess that is the most notable bit. I was one. Retired."
"Oh. You're scary."
He laughed at that one. "And why am I scary?"
"Because you were a marine." She said the word like it made him a god. "And you do this stuff in your spare time."
Scott shook his head ruefully. "I'm stuck being scary forever then." And yet she was still in the room with him. She could have easily left after giving him his wallet and even shy and quiet as she was, she seemed happy to stay in the room and speak with him, even if her speaking seemed to be like pulling teeth. And there was another thing... Scott liked that she was still there. She made him feel protective.
She looked up at him. "Er. Do I need to go, sir?"
Scott grabbed hold of his control, caught off guard that he might need it. "No, little one. Do you want to stay and talk with me? How do you feel about the club?"
She blushed. Furiously. And then a slow little odd grin spread across her face like she just couldn't help it, no matter how shy she was. "It's different," she answered with a giggle.
Scott laughed and his spirit soared. So she might have been scared to bloody death over it at first but something in her seemed to like it the same way a sheltered child liked seeing their first rated R movie. "Different is probably an adequate word. Would you like to see some toys?"
Her eyes widened. "T-toys?"
Scott had no idea what he was thinking. Actually, he did. He wasn't thinking. And he was feeling a lot like he wanted to see that shy, mischievous grin spread across Cassie's face again. He smiled. "Toys." There was a larger armoire in the corner of the office space. Scott opened it, grabbed a few things, and walked back to her. "For instance, this is a ball gag." He held it out to her and Cassie blinked.
She reached out and took it tentatively. "I know what these are."
Scott smiled. "Do you know what they feel like?"