Concede

Part One: An Alternative

She looked at the simple business card in her hand, flicking a corner, testing the weight of it. The fibers bounced back defiantly. It had taken more than a pretty penny to create this card. Its embossed surface was testimony to that. No ink; just the impression of the company name and phone number in elegant script.

M. Cara's

for alternative fancies

Damn you, Puck. Quinn sighed shakily, returning the card to her blazer pocket. How she ever let that man-whore talk her into booking an appointment at this place was beyond her reasoning. A chance to let go, he had explained when he offered her the card. Again, she sighed and remembered.

"Baby Mama, it's been almost two years! When are you going to take that damn vacation and get laid?"

The blonde merely continued her steady walk to the parking lot, thanking the fitness center receptionist as her membership card was returned. "Puck, why is it that you fail to not mention me taking a vacation every time we meet? And I've told you not to call me that anymore!"

"Sorry, Fabray. I'm on you about this 'cause your planner," he motioned to the sleek smartphone she'd removed from her purse, "always seems to delete those Take A Break entries I put in every time we meet. I mean, c'mon! I'm not the only one who's noticed your salary and sex drive's gone up but not your social or dating life."

Rounding on him just as they reached her car, Quinn nearly growled out, "You better not be saying what I think you're saying."

Not one to back down, the mohawked man pressed on. "Oh, you bet I'm saying it." With a hiss, the blonde turned her back on him, fumbling with her car keys, trying to escape the words that she'd heard time and again. "Woman, when was the last time you got some, huh? Better yet, when was the last time you went out on a date? Or to a party?"

She was on auto-pilot again. "I go to lots of events! As the assistant director, it's my job to attend—"

"—various parties and social events. Yada, yada, yada. Has it ever occurred to you that all those so-called parties are for work?"

The blonde steeled her resolve and continued, "My job is demanding and requires a lot more time than you and everyone else thinks! I'm this close to becoming gallery director and if I don't put in—"

"Oh, shut up, Fabray!" Puck snarled, slamming his hand on the car roof.

That stopped the script.

"Look," he continued in a gentler tone, "I—I just…" Closing his eyes and opening them on a long exhale, muttering about being a fucking sap, Puck softly said, "Quinn, we've known each other since before Ms. Pillsbury's sex and health workshop, right?" She crossed her arms and looked anywhere but at him. "I know we've gone through some serious shit with each other." Quinn cleared her throat. "And you know that I—"

"Care about me?" she interrupted.

"I promised I'd take care of you."

"Ugh." She rolled her eyes and was about to open her car door when a muscled and tanned arm blocked her. Quinn immediately kicked herself for looking up and into Puck's concerned brown puppy eyes. For a moment, Quinn let herself be absorbed into his gaze. She felt her shoulders slump and slowly uncrossed her arms before letting them drop to play with the hem of her shirt. She closed her eyes to prevent her tears. The blonde fought the urge to rub her hands over her stomach and fortified her mental dam against the flood of memories threatening to break her calming countenance.

"Here," Puck whispered. She felt a small prick against her arm and opened her eyes to see Puck holding out a cream-colored business card.

"Ma'am?"

Startled out of her thoughts, the blonde turned her attention to the freckled youth holding a brass tag out to her.

"Please keep this with you and, when you're ready to leave, present it to myself or another of the valet staff. We'll fetch your car immediately," the young man instructed. Wondering if he could sense her nervousness and anxiety, Quinn merely nodded. "Enjoy your visit."

Quinn Fabray stood before a rather clichéd stately English manor. Hazel eyes took in the red cement brick exterior, large half-glazed windows and immaculate Doric columns, which made its two stories deceptively towering. She knew what business occurred behind the walls and wealthy façade.

Enjoy my visit? Indeed, she thought as she rang the doorbell and a pretty tall blonde woman opened the door.

Quinn thought the other blonde was tastefully dressed considering the type of services that Cara's offered. The taller woman wore black leather pants that fit her long, slender legs like a glove and a white leather halter top that showed off her smooth, pale shoulders. An amber bauble hung low on a thin silver chain, bringing attention to her slight cleavage. Her long blonde hair was swept up in a high ponytail, drawing Quinn's eyes to matching earrings and barely noticeable make-up that made the woman's brown eyes that much darker and enticing. Shiny black stilettos only made the woman appear more domineering.

Averting her gaze from Quinn's, the woman stepped aside to reveal an impressive foyer complete with white marble flooring, bright wood paneled walls, heavy green velvet curtains, crystal chandelier and an ascending staircase off to the far right.

The echoes of the other woman's steps derailed her study of a nearby landscape painting, making her practically jog to the door she stood before. The taller blonde knocked quietly before slowly opening and holding the door for Quinn to enter.

Like the foyer, this room also screamed power and prestige; however, it was the two women—another blonde and a brunette—who exuded even greater waves of power than any of the décor. Quinn was certain. This new blonde woman was seated behind a large, dark wooden desk while the brunette stood just beside her, a scowl marring her pretty features.

"Thank you, Brittany," the seated woman spoke. Quinn's eyes widened slightly at the husky and gentle, yet authoritative tone. It baffled Quinn that this woman managed to be heard from that distance without raising her voice.

"You're welcome, Mistress Cara," Brittany replied, her voice even softer and her eyes slightly downcast. "Will you need anything else?"

"No," came the answer. "You may return to your duties."

"Yes, Mistress." Quinn watched as Brittany exited the room, trying to figure out exactly what kind of situation she had gotten herself into. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, to even set up this appointment. When the door clicked shut, Quinn slowly returned her attention to the woman addressed as Mistress Cara.

So that's where the M comes from.

"Please have a seat."

Quinn nearly tripped over her heels. She hadn't noticed that the marble flooring from the foyer had turned into plush carpet. As she sank into one of the two armchairs in front of the desk, she finally noticed that her hands were sweaty and shaking and that her heart was about ready to break a rib from its heavy, quick pounding. She focused on taking quiet even breaths.

From up close, Quinn noted Cara's green eyes, full red lips, sharp cheekbones and jaw. Her gaze had softened, which only calmed Quinn's nerves a fraction. Her blonde hair was pulled tight and fell in a plait down her back, not a hair out of place. Like Brittany, she also wore form-fitting leather. Instead of a halter, Cara wore a long-sleeved top with a high collar and plunging neckline. A corset only enhanced her ample bosom. On the desk lay a pair of gloves. Her entire ensemble was crimson red. It nearly made her shudder.

"I believe proper introductions are in order," Cara began. "I am Mistress Cara. This is Mistress Santana." The blonde barely tilted her head in the direction of the dark-haired woman standing beside her. Santana wore an outfit exactly like Cara's in black and without the high-collared long-sleeve. She wore leather gloves that covered halfway up her forearms.

"Quinn Fabray." She mentally chided herself for sounding so demure. Santana's scowl only deepened.

"Welcome, Quinn. I'd like to welcome you and thank you for your interest in our services."

"Well, I don't really know if I'd say I was—uh—interested. Maybe intrigued or—or—"

"Curious?" offered Cara.

"Yes, curious." Quinn cleared her throat. "I've never done anything like this before, nothing—um, you see—well, uh…" She began to gesture mildly with her hands, looking between Cara, Santana and her fidgeting leg. "I mean this is new and I'm not sure how to—to go about it all. I've never thought of myself as…as…"

Santana let out an irritated sigh. Quinn kept her gaze on her lap, biting her lip to keep from rambling even more. Cara held up a hand, effectively silencing her companion. "Quinn, let me ask you a few questions." She looked up into green eyes and an amused smile. "Are you a virgin?"

"No, of course not!" Quinn consciously sat up straighter, lifted her chin higher.

Cara's smile grew Cheshire-like. "Have you ever had sex for the sole purpose of procreation?"

"No."

"Tried more than standard missionary?"

Quinn blushed and nodded. Her chin seemed to lower under Cara's intense scrutiny.

"Had erotic fantasies that you would be too scared to even write in a journal for fear of someone finding it? Perhaps you thought they were kinky?"

Again, a blush and a nod. This time, her chin met her chest.

"Do you consider yourself to be a logical lover, someone who knows their likes and dislikes?"

"Honestly, I'm not even sure what I like," she answered. Quinn felt like she was fifteen years-old all over again.

"Let me tell you this, Quinn. While what we do may not be for everyone and even within this community there are various levels of comfort for all play. Unless you have sex purely for procreation and get no form of pleasure or satisfaction from the sexual act itself, then you are a sexual being. As such, engaging in sex that is physically, mentally and emotionally healthy for you is not a crime."

When Quinn furrowed her brows in confusion and in mild disagreement, Cara spoke before she could express her argument. "Like power, sex is only wrong when misused or abused. Many people are led to believe that the sex industry is for the immoral and wicked; and think especially cruelly of those of us who prefer even more unconventional means of gaining sexual and emotional satisfaction."

"Unconventional? As in painful? Violent?" That earned Quinn a growl from Santana, which in turn earned her a sharp look from Cara. The blonde Mistress stood and walked slowly around the desk. Quinn felt like prey that was about to be pounced on.

"What we promote here is not violence or abuse. We encourage respect and trust. There are two things that are essential for both Subs and Doms—respect and trust. Without either, there is no growth or satisfaction."

"Subs?"

"Submissives," Cara clarified.

"You mean slaves."

"Slaves? Hardly," the Mistress smirked. "There is a control in submission just as there is a vulnerability in domination."

Cara was now seated in the armchair beside Quinn. Santana had not moved. Quinn's brows furrowed as her head tried to process Cara's words. "I still don't know what I want."

"It's a matter of both want and need. You've already taken a few steps towards figuring that out." Cara held her hand out to Santana, her gaze never wavering from Quinn. Santana placed a black folder in her open palm. "You've admitted your curiosity. You haven't run out the door threatening to bring God's wrath upon us. And you admitted to not quite knowing what you want."

Cara gave her the file and she flipped it open to find a fairly thick packet of papers. "Homework?" she inquired.

"Hardly. More like a general user's manual for that new toy you bought and haven't told anyone about." Quinn blushed (Again?) at the use of the word 'toy'.

"Easy, isn't she?" Santana only received a deeper blush and smirked.

"Mmm, I'm already envious of her future Mistress or Master," Cara commented. "Anyway, please read those at your earliest convenience, preferably before your first official session should you choose to go through with this. Also know that your first session is at no charge. We want to make sure you get what you pay for."

"Mistress Cara?" Both blondes looked up at Santana. "I'm expecting a client in twenty minutes. May I please be excused to prepare?"

"Of course, Mistress Santana," Cara replied. "Is it the gentleman?"

"No, one of our prospects wanted to get reacquainted," she rolled her eyes, "with being a Sub. Forgive the insult, Mistress Cara, but this one could make a thesaurus obsolete with all that rambling."

Cara chuckled.

"If you'd like, Mistress Cara, this may be a good opportunity for us to show Q here what kinds of services we provide." Quinn huffed a little at the nickname.

Cara hummed a little as if considering the idea, but Quinn saw the look in her eye that indicated she'd have no choice in the matter. Green met hazel and Quinn had hurry out of the armchair after the two Mistresses who were already out the door.

"What do you think?" Cara attempted to make small talk as the two blondes waited for Santana's client to enter what Cara had called the playroom. They sat on a loveseat across the room from a massive king-sized, four-poster bed. The Victorian furniture and décor was something Quinn wasn't expecting.

"It's beautiful."

"Were you dreading black walls, no windows and a flogging post?" Quinn's silence only made Cara's amused smile wider. "Maybe one day I'll show you the dungeons."

Dungeons? "You have those?"

"Yes, for our more experienced clients and for some who prefer that kind of atmosphere."

"What do you mean?"

"Some people like the darker aspects—dungeons, heavy bondage and some of the more pain-eliciting practices—to satisfy their needs and wants. We have to be able to provide that for them. Some only like the darker atmosphere but milder play." Quinn studied the vine carved into the wood of the armrest, processing and digesting what Cara had to say.

"Then why not just do these things at home? I mean, if what people want is rougher sex, then…well…can't someone they know—uh—do it?"

The Mistress quirked an eyebrow. "Would you be able to ask a friend or lover to tie you up and spank you? Or to tie you up and dangle you from the ceiling?"

Quinn sighed, "I guess not. At least, not without feeling—I don't know—judged or embarrassed."

"Exactly. Here, we can provide people with the environment and play they need and want without judgment. I am extremely serious when it comes to respecting everyone's confidentiality, including my employees. If anyone sees someone outside of this place, we understand that this may be a part that they haven't told their families or friends about.

Our clients and my employees are people who have reputations, jobs, loved ones and emotions that may be hurt if knowledge of their business here gets around." The Mistress' eyes took on a dangerous look. Quinn fought to keep her gaze steady with Cara's.

"Then how do you get business if secrecy is so important?"

"This business is known by certain select members of the industry and we receive clients by word-of-mouth only. You won't find advertisements of any sort."

Quinn took a deep breath. "And what if I decide not to go through with this?" She released the breath she held.

"Then, I'll ask you to sign a contract outlining your legal promise to not exploit this company, its employees and our clients. In return, we'll also keep our lips shut about your visit."

Quinn sighed. There was no point in exploiting Cara's business. There would be nothing to gain and her already fragile image couldn't afford another blow. Too much shit had hit the fan too many times. Besides, she'd lose Puck. She knew he was a client. Whose she didn't know, but he was one of her best friends. He'd stuck by her when times had gotten tough.

"I still don't understand what it is I'm supposed to learn from watching this."

"To find beauty in all things, including pain, death and tragedy. To understand that what one calls normal may be another's abnormality." There was no hesitance, almost as if Cara had said the lines thousands of times.

"Wait," Quinn turned her head sharply to see Cara's profile, "Did you say death?"

At that, Santana entered the room, dressed in what Quinn could only describe as cliché—a cheerleading uniform. A white long-sleeved shirt under the red and white top with the letters WMHS across her chest. A pleated red skirt showed off her tanned legs and white shoed feet. Her hair was still up in a high ponytail.

"Why is she wearing that? I thought leather was the standard."

Cara simply answered, "Just watch."

Quinn felt her pulse quicken when another young woman entered. Cara noted the pink that dusted the other blonde's cheeks with a raised brow.

The new woman wore a matching uniform, but without the white long-sleeve. Quinn wished the woman wasn't blindfolded, so she could see her face. Not that the visible part of it was unbecoming. Even the nose is okay, the blonde appraised. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders to the middle of her back in soft waves. Full lips parted slightly, letting out a barely audible gasp, as Santana led her to stand before Cara and Quinn. That's when the assistant director noticed that she had a few inches on the woman. Her legs would suggest otherwise.

"Okay, Man Hands," Santana began, her voice deeper and huskier than it had been in Cara's office, "you've always wanted to be a star. Well, here's your chance." Quinn noticed how the woman fisted her hands at her side when Santana called her Man Hands. "Today, Mistress Cara and a new client will be observing how much you want my touch, my voice, my pleasure."

"Yes, Mistress. If it pleases you," the woman replied. Her voice was demure, but Quinn sensed a strength and stubbornness beneath it.

Santana produced a pair of leather cufflinks, gently strapping the woman's wrists behind her back. She led the bound woman to the side of the bed. Quinn swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat and crossed her legs, barely concealing her growing arousal.

"It would please me very much."

End of Part One

Thanks for reading! It's been years since I wrote any sort of fanfiction. A lot of the plot content and characterization in this story is based on both the events of the TV show and my inference of those events and the characters. I've been reading a lot about how Rachel comes to Quinn's rescue by either offering her a home and/or friendship. I wanted to try a more mature and unconventional approach to their potential as a romantic couple.

I am attempting this story with a few years of personal and academic experience and knowledge of various "alternative" communities and always consider the opinions and experiences of others. So, if you are/were an active member of these particular communities please feel free to leave constructive reviews or a private message. For now, I'll keep all play relatively soft and mild.

Let me know if there is an interest in the continuation of this story by leaving a review. I'm looking for a beta.

XOXO-Miss Evrae