When One Day We Are Gone Ch 10

[Author's note: Cassidy Hayes, psychologist by day and mother of two, is struggling as her husband Damian cheats on her with Lily. Blackmailed through incriminating videos into doing what Lily tells her, Cassie finds herself yielding to the domineering sexy blonde younger woman. Meanwhile, Cassie is exploring a strange world, having made a new friend in Madame Syn, the owner of the Lost and Found and a highly accomplished Dominatrix.

Cassie has freed herself of Lily's blackmail, taking Syn as her lover. Now, at last, she has to pay back her cheating husband for making a mockery of their marriage

in front of all their friends.]

---

AN EVENING WITH WOLVES

The cab pulled up but they didn't get out. Cassie and Syn sat in the back seat as the rain pattered on the windscreen.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Syn asked.

In reply, Cassie reached over and opened the door, sliding out of the cab. She was wearing jeans and a long trench coat as protection against the rain. Syn emerged after her, buttoning up her coat against the weather. They crossed the street, threading through the Saturday night traffic, down an alley to an alcove where they huddled together, sheltered from the rain. Syn produced a key from her pocket and unlocked the steel door, but neither woman made a move to enter the building.

"Just remember," Syn said, "Whatever happens, we're just a few seconds away. I'll be watching the whole time."

"You going to make sure I'm safe?"

Syn's mouth set in a firm line, "Don't be coy," she snapped, then turned to step inside the building, leaving Cassie feeling abashed on the threshold.

"I... I wasn't."

Syn didn't reply or turn around, leaving Cassie to follow on behind, into the back of the Lost and Found. The door closed behind them with a heavy thud.

It was dim inside, lit only by a single light above a larger doorway. A shape loomed in the dark.

"They're all in there, boss," Tony said.

"How's it going?" Syn asked.

"Not so flash, to be honest. They're a rowdy bunch."

"Any trouble so far?"

"A wee bit. I had to step in when one of them started to give Estelle grief."

Syn frowned. "What happened?"

"Cheeky fucker wanted a blowie on the house. I had to put him straight, tell him not those kinds of tips for the waitress."

Tony laughed, his big face animated. "He took it alright, but if he tries it on once more it's gonna be a while before he sees sunlight again, eh?"

Syn nodded. "Just Estelle and Armal in there?"

"Yup, and the boys are busy racking up a massive tab."

Syn shot Cassie a glance and then said, "Let's get upstairs and take a look."

Without waiting for a response, she began to ascend the stairs to her office. Cassie followed along behind, flanked by the massive Pacific Islander. At the top of the stairs, Syn paused to unlock her office door, before leading the three of them inside.

She crossed over to her desk and tapped the keyboard, bringing the monitor to life. The screen revealed four camera shots of the downstairs area from different angles. The first angle showed Armal behind the bar, with Estelle waiting for drinks. The second shot showed the empty stage. The other two shots showed the rest of the floor, captured from opposite walls.

"What do you think?" Syn asked Tony.

"I think it could go tits-up real quick."

"Did you tell Armal to put a slowdown on the drinks?"

"Yup. But they were pretty well-oiled by the time they got here."

Cassie watched the screen. She counted twelve men, all dressed up in shirts and trousers, standing around the cocktail tables in the middle of the room.

"Closing for a private booking on a Saturday night is one thing," Tony interjected, "But we're pissing off the regulars for these... fuck-knuckles."

Tony looked quickly over to Syn, hastily adding, "Boss."

Syn fixed him with her pale blue eyes, not speaking. The huge man broke eye contact and looked down.

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Tony. I need to hear your opinion."

Her attention returned to the camera feeds, watching as Estelle served the men at one of the tables. A hand strayed to rest on Estelle's bottom.

"You're right. I'm calling it. I'll go tell them now."

"Wait," Cassie exclaimed.

Syn rounded on her, surprising Cassie with the sharpness of her tone.

"It has all the classic hallmarks of a disaster waiting to happen, Cassidy. This is from experience. It's hard enough dealing with pack mentality when there are only two or three. This is a roomful. It's just too risky, so I'm calling it."

Syn's icy gaze was now locked on Cassie, but unlike the bulky doorman, Cassie didn't flinch. Instead, she replied in a low, measured voice.

"Let me do this, Syn. I know I can."

"But how do you think you are going to get a dozen drunk men to follow your instructions?"

"I'm going to apply Social Influence theory."

Syn rolled her eyes in frustration. "This isn't the time for textbook theories," she remarked, her face resolute, uncompromising, "This is real life."

"Please. I have to do this."

Syn's eyes flicked to the big Islander. "Tony, this is down to you. You're the one who's going to have to wade in if her plan unravels."

"If Cassie wants this done then don't you worry," Tony said, "I'll part the sea like Moses, chop chop."

He grinned, the tattoos wrinkling on his face in a wild, savage smile. His attention shifted to Cassie. "If it goes south, I will bring the fucking darkness down on these boys, no worries."

Cassie regarded them both for a long moment. "Thank you," she said, "Thank you for helping."

Tony smiled again. "Go give these bitches a real show," he said, "Make that shit-stain fucking pay."

---

Cassie closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing. She could feel Syn standing next to her in front of the door to the large downstairs area of the Lost and Found. Syn was dressed in a fitted black leather jacket, unbuttoned just far enough to expose her cleavage, and a pair of tight, black leather pants with four-inch heels in a shocking, luminous red that matched her lipstick. Cassie opened her eyes, surveying her friend's face in profile. Syn was looking straight ahead, focusing on the door and the task at hand.

Cassie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, trying to get used to what Syn had dressed her in. She was wearing thigh-high PVC boots with a wickedly slender stiletto heel. Her breasts were confined snugly inside a shiny black latex bustier and she was wearing a matching latex microskirt, showing off her taut stomach muscles. Beneath, she could feel the slender latex g-string cupping her crotch. Over all this, she wore a PVC jacket that came down to mid-calf with long sleeves and a high collar, buttoned to cover her, but allowing a tantalising glimpse of her toned legs and the tight latex skirt as she walked.

Cassie's face was buffed with foundation until she appeared almost featureless, but her lips contrasted strongly, splashed with blood-red lipstick. She wore a mask over her face, just enough to shield her eyes and cover her nose, leaving the rest of her face uncovered. Syn had been careful to apply smoky mascara, setting off Cassie's eyes behind the mask. Her blonde hair was gathered in a tight plait down her neck. Around her throat, Syn had fastened a thick, black leather collar studded with stainless steel spikes.

"How do I look?" Cassie breathed.

"A little cliched," Syn responded, unsmiling, "But it's important to fit the stereotype. Give them what they expect to see and it'll be easier getting them to do what you want."

Cassie squirmed in the latex, unnerved by the cold, business-like attitude of her friend. Syn frowned, and then relented. She gave Cassie a sudden hug.

"You look fabulous," Syn murmured. "They are unworthy of even the smallest moment of your time, Mistress Grace."

With that, Syn pushed the door open, stepping into the room and leaving Cassie on her own. Cassie watched her cross the floor as she hid herself from view in the doorway. As Syn approached the men, her stride lengthened and her hips began to wiggle with each step. Shoulders back and head raised high, she greeted her guests.

"Gentlemen," she called out, "Welcome to the Lost and Found."

There was raucous laughter from the far table, which Syn appeared not to hear. Instead, she swept towards the stage, stepping up onto the platform and coming to a halt in the spotlight. She smiled and the room fell silent.

"A few house rules before we begin. First, no touching unless given permission. This also applies to the bar staff."

Syn let the last words sink in, making her rebuke clearly understood.

"Second, this is not a brothel, nor is it a strip show. Requests of that nature will not be granted."

Again, she paused in emphasis, then signalled to Armal who began to line up twelve cocktail stools facing the stage.

"Third, participation in the night's activities is purely voluntary. If you do not want to take part, then do not sit on these stools. As you can see, there are other stools behind you from which you can observe instead. An important point here is that if you sit at the back, you will not be permitted to return to the front later on. If you choose to only watch, then that will be what you do for the rest of the night."

Syn stood, one hand on her hip, poised. She had the rapt attention of all the men now.

"Finally, I would ask you to remember this. Mistress Grace is a real dominatrix. This is not some show being put on for your amusement. I have personally witnessed her doing unspeakable things to people in her care. I would ask that you show some respect towards her as she gives you a glimpse into what is quite a remarkable way of life."

Syn gestured to the back of the room with an elegant movement of her hand. "Mistress Grace," she announced.

Cassie felt her heart jump and for a split second, she found that she couldn't move, rooted to the spot with a paralysing fear. But she knew it was too late now, she had set everything up so carefully to get to this moment. Now at last she had to face her demons.

Cassie put one foot in front of the other, propelling herself forward, out of the safety of the doorway and into view. She scanned the faces of the men in front of her, feeling a little shock each time she recognised someone. Robert was there, dark skin against the crisp whiteness of his dress shirt, regarding her steadily as she crossed the floor. Cassie took in the others, seeing faces from the work barbeque, identifying some of them as Damian's friends who she had spent many evenings with over the years. They had always been polite, welcoming, making pleasantries while standing next to their wives at a cocktail event, or across a dinner table at a charity ball. Now, though, their expressions seemed to Cassie to be changed beyond recognition: eyes gleaming, smiles exposing teeth, a feral wildness in their demeanour. This was no fundraising gala, this was an evening with wolves.

The man next to Robert was the last to turn around and her heart jumped in shock even though she knew he would be here: Damian, her loving husband. Cassie had been walking along the side of the bar to the stage but now she angled her path to cut through the middle of them. The men who were on stools stood up as she slinked between them in her high-heeled boots. She placed a hand lightly on Damian's arm, feeling an electric buzz pass through her.

"Excuse me," she said, stepping around him.

Cassie looked into the eyes of her husband of ten years, the father of her children, the man she had expected to grow old with, and smiled. Damian smiled in return, but there was a darkness to it: sinister, predatory. He didn't recognise her behind the mask, even as he moved to allow her through to the stage. No, she thought, and all of a sudden the revelation threatened to rip her to pieces, the emotion surging through her: she didn't recognise him either.

Then she was through the throng, slinking in her high-heeled PVC boots, hips rolling with each stride as she approached the stage. Syn stood in the spotlight watching her, expression unreadable, though Syn knew exactly what Cassie had just done. She stepped carefully onto the raised platform, balancing in her heels, feeling the tightness of the latex microskirt beneath the long PVC jacket as she walked. Her adrenaline surged.

Syn nodded to her and relinquished the spotlight. Cassie took her place and turned towards her audience, feet together and back straight, as Syn had shown her.

"Please," she began, indicating the line of stools with a sweep of her arm, "Be seated."

There was a moment's pause before one of the men, a work colleague of Damian's with a wife and two children, took a stool. Gradually, the others followed. Damian was last, taking a seat in the middle, his eyes never leaving Cassie.

"Before we begin, does anyone have any questions?"

A ruddy-faced man she didn't recognise laughed and called out, "Yes. Are you going to show us your tits?"

Behind the men, in the background, Syn stood by an empty table with her arms folded tightly over her chest. She had done her best to prepare the room, but it was now up to Cassie. She was on her own.

Cassie smiled sweetly. "Are you going to show us your penis?" she replied, "Or just show us that you are a penis?"

The man scowled at the rejoiner, countering with, "Sure, I'll show you my dick."

"Ah, I might have difficulty finding it. I imagine it's tricky when you go to the toilet. The only way to tell it from your pubic hair, I would imagine, is when you start to piss out of it."

She scanned the faces, seeing the smiles from some of them at their friend's expense, nervousness on the faces of others, the glimmer of something lurking beneath the surface in the rest, settling on the man who was first to be seated. Looking at him, Cassie could recall the conversation she had had with his wife at the barbeque. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, how long does it take you to get dressed like that?" he blurted, clearly flustered at being singled out.

"Imagine how long your wife takes to get ready on a night, and then triple it. Anyone else?"

Robert smiled at her, showing perfect teeth. "What's with the mask?" he asked.

"It's to protect my identity," Cassie replied, "Because I might be someone you know. You might have seen me in the supermarket. I could be a friend of a friend."

Cassie paused, meaningfully. "I might even be your wife."

Cassie gave Robert a smile as a ripple of laughter passed through the gathering.

She scanned the faces again. A man she didn't recognise was making nervous eye contact with her, and it gave her a little thrill to see it: he wanted to ask a question but was too afraid of her answer, or of being singled out by the woman on stage. She enjoyed holding the power to make a grown man fearful.

"You look like you want to ask something," she prompted.

"Ah, yeah," the man stammered. "I was just wondering, uh, how did you start, uh, this?"

Cassie's smile faded. She focused on the questioner, watching Damian out of the corner of her eye.

"My husband cheated on me," she stated, simply.

"I bet he regrets that now."

"No," Cassie replied, chancing a look at Damian. Suddenly, her heart ached. "But soon."

The room was silent, all the boisterous chatter fizzling out.

"Any more?" Cassie asked the line of men in front of her, "You will not be permitted to ask any questions after this point."

A few of them shook their heads, others simply remained quiet.

"Then let's begin. Now, by taking a seat, this means that you consent to being a part of a game we're about to play. To withdraw your consent at any point, simply leave your chair, but remember, you can't return. I'm going to set you a series of challenges, and if you pass you move on to the next stage. If you fail the challenge, you must leave your chair and sit behind."

Cassie scanned the faces in front of her again to make sure they understood.

"Oh," she said, "Of course, my judgement is final. Either you comply with my rules or the game stops, for everyone."

One of the men raised his hand, waiting patiently for Cassie to notice.

"As I said, no more questions."

The man's hand dropped.

"Though perhaps you were curious about what the winner gets?"

He nodded.

"As I was about to explain, the game progresses until only two are left. I will set a final challenge to determine the winner, who will benefit from some personal attention from me. So, no more questions, the only way out now is to leave your seat. First round."

Cassie pointed to a blonde-haired, heavy-set man on the far end of the line.

"You don't need to tell me your name because it's of no interest to me, but you have the honour of going first. Please come up onto the stage."

The man shuffled in his seat, looking around at the others in the line. Cassie waited patiently, acutely aware that the entire night hung in the balance if her audience didn't co-operate.

One of the other men cleared his throat and called, "Come on, Joel."

With all eyes on him, Joel carefully stepped down from his stood and made his way up onto the stage. Cassie placed a hand on his arm, positioning him in the spotlight with her.

"There, not so hard, is it?" she smiled. Joel returned her smile cautiously.

"We're going to examine the five pillars of a strong relationship," Cassie announced, "Starting with one of the big ones... respect."

Cassie turned her attention to Joel, her hand still on his arm. He had the look of a man about to run, but instead he was pinned in the spotlight in front of all his comrades. She knew she had him trapped. Cassie unbuttoned her jacket, letting it gape open to reveal the glossy black material of the latex bustier and microskirt. She watched Joel's eyes travel down her body, his expression becoming more intense. Cassie could see that she had control of the situation, that Joel was already struggling to work out what he was supposed to do, off-balance and reeling in front of his friends.

"Where would you like to kiss me?" Cassie asked.

Joel's eyes were on her cleavage now, locked on the soft skin in the cleft between her breasts, pushed up and put on display by the tight latex cupping her chest.

"Anywhere," Cassie prompted.

With agonising slowness, Joel leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss on her shoulder blade.

"Good boy, now you can sit back down."

Cassie's gaze travelled along the line of men, seeing how each of them had responded to the task set for Joel. She found the one she was looking for, the man who had heckled her earlier.

"How about you?"

He shuffled off his chair immediately, striding up onto the stage without needing further invitation. Cassie had picked Joel first because he looked the most likely to do as he was asked. She'd picked this man for an entirely different reason.

"Now, where would you like to kiss me? Or should I guess?"

He grinned, face flushed with excitement and a little too much drink.

"Anywhere, right?"

Cassie nodded, still holding her jacket open. He bent forward and brought his lips into contact with her latex bustier, searching until he had located her nipple. His lips pursed and she could feel him suck.

"Done?"

He nodded, stepping back and grinning mischievously.

"Very good. Next?" Cassie said, turning to dismiss him and selecting another man from the line.

The next man chose to kneel down and place a kiss on the front of her skirt, just over her hip bone, the next, not to be outdone, kissed her thigh. Cassie smiled at each of them in turn, but when she looked over their shoulders, she could see Syn in the background standing resolutely with arms folded.

"Remember, this round will have eliminations," Cassie called out as she pointed to the next man in line.