A little ways into the room, a woman with her arms restrained over her head was being penetrated by two men. Kim swallowed. Oh God, obviously fucking was allowed in the club. The atmosphere thickened, affecting her air supply.
Master R wrapped his arm around her waist. “Relax, gatita,” he murmured in her ear. “The last dom who tried to force a submissive against her will was tossed out the door. I think someone busted his fingers with a cane before that—probably Z or Nolan. Everything here is consensual. Do you understand?”
Consensual. Not slavery. Only what both people agreed to. She nodded.
“Good. May I have my arm back?” His amusement tipped her fear onto the manageable side, and she realized her fingers were digging holes in his wrist. “Sorry, M-master,” she whispered.
He winced and sighed. After glancing at the Overseer, who was a few feet away, watching a domme attach a chain between her submissive’s hair and clit clamp, Master R said, “Give me a number, Kimberly.”
Her anxiety went down a notch. He’d remember to check her fears. He hadn’t forgotten. She opened her fingers on her bare thighs, showing six, then lowering it to five after another breath.
He smiled at her. “Brave sumisita.” He nodded to tables of food and drinks in the left corner. “Munchies are there which we might enjoy later.”
She doubted she’d ever be hungry again.
In the right corner was a tiny, crowded dance floor pulsing with the Sisters of Mercy gothic rock. An immense bar occupied the center of the room with a bartender equally as big. The roped-off scene areas ran down the left and right walls and across the back. The corners held fancy spiral staircases. “What’s upstairs?”
“Private rooms for people who don’t want to play in public—or who prefer somewhere quieter afterward.” His chin tilted toward a domme helping a sweat-covered, lash-marked sub up the stairs. The man dwarfed the slender woman, but there was still no denying who was in charge. “Z and Jessica live on the third floor.”
Wouldn’t that be cramped? But the clubroom was huge, so the third floor was probably ten times the size of her duplex.
“I see Master Sam has already started,” Master R said to Dahmer. “Why don’t we get a drink and go watch? I can introduce you afterward.”
“A fine idea.” The Overseer glanced at her dismissively. “Do you need to gag her?”
“I have one if it becomes necessary,” Master R said, patting the toy bag slung over his shoulder. “Will it be necessary, girl?”
She shook her head, her fear unfeigned.
“Let’s keep it that way,” he snapped, his voice cold enough to give her chills. To her dismay, he snapped her cuffs together in front of her. But when he clipped a leash to her collar, she felt disconcertingly better. A leash meant they were attached. He’d not be able to leave her.
“Thank you, Master,” she whispered, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes showed he understood.
Behind the bar, the craggy-faced bartender had his arms around a tall submissive whose golden brown latex dress matched her hair. He released her and grinned as they approached. “What can I get you, Raoul?”
“A glass of red for me and a bottle of water for the girl.” Master R gestured to the Overseer. “And a martini for my guest. Dahmer, this is Cullen, one of the Masters here.”
“Welcome to the Shadowlands,” Cullen said and glanced at the submissive. “Andrea, see to it, please.”
“Yes, Señor.”
As the bartender engaged Master R and the Overseer in conversation about the local BDSM scene, the woman filled the men’s orders. Then she set a bottled water in front of Kim.
“Thank—” Kim broke off quickly.
Master R glanced over. “You need to be gagged, girl?”
She shook her head frantically.
He ignored the big submissive’s frown and turned back to the men.
Kim sagged against the bar. How could I forget? If she messed up again, he’d have to gag her. She stared at the bottle of water, knowing she’d heave if she tried to drink.
“Still got Glenlivet back there?”
Kim froze at the familiar voice. Jessica. Oh God. Don’t talk to me.
She didn’t. The little blonde gave Kim the polite nod of a stranger and climbed onto the adjacent barstool. “Hey, Andrea, Master Z sent me to get drinks.” She scowled. “His usual, but I only get water.”
The lady bartender sniffed. “You probably only deserve water.” She leaned an elbow on the bar in front of Kim and faced Jessica, which turned her back to Master R and the Overseer. “Hi, Kim,” she said in a very low voice, looking at Jessica.
Kim’s eyes widened as she realized the submissive knew her name.
“Yeah, we know what’s going on.” Andrea laughed loudly and poked Jessica in the shoulder. “I don’t believe you did that.” Her voice dropped again. “The Masters found keeping secrets from their subs didn’t work out.” She and Jessica exchanged sardonic looks, and Kim remembered Gabi’s hair-raising stories. “Anyway, just know we’ll keep an eye on you.”
Jessica nodded, her voice equally quiet. “One of us will stay beside you if for some reason Raoul can’t.”
That had been Kim’s worst fear, to be left unprotected. Tears stung her eyes.
“Stop that,” Jessica said, half an order and half in sympathy, then slapped the bartop, saying in a normal voice, “Hurry up, or Master Z will think I was gossiping.”
Andrea smirked, setting a bottled water on the bar. “And you aren’t?” She snagged a bottle of Glenlivet and poured a shot, saying quietly, “Master Nolan’s sub, Beth, is here too.”
Jessica opened the water. “Yeah. You’re part of our club now. So you get supported whether you want it or not.” She took a gulp of water, picked up Z’s glass, and told Andrea, “Later, girlfriend,” before swaggering across the room.
Andrea said, under her breath, “That’s one soft-hearted bantam rooster.”
The laugh Kim tried to suppress came out sounding like a sneeze.
Master R gave Andrea a frown. “Don’t bother my girl.”
“No, Sir,” Andrea said. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”
The big bartender reached out a long arm and fisted her hair. “More respectful, love.”
Andrea winced. “Yes, Señor.” Her golden-brown eyes focused on Master R. “Please forgive my rudeness, Master Raoul.”
Master R gave her a cold look. “Maybe add a reprimand from me to your next scene, Cullen.”
“That’d be my pleasure, buddy,” Cullen said with a grin. “I figure an extra-big anal plug would be appropriate.”
Andrea’s eyes turned anxious.
Master R led the way across the room toward the back. Kim was glad she’d left the cap on her drink, since the tugs on the leash made the water slosh in the bottle. She unobtrusively glanced around, trying not to wince at the sounds. Groans from the right where a slender domme in a red latex dress was dripping wax over a man’s engorged cock. Farther away, the rhythmic whap of a cane, and then a woman’s whimpers when her dom changed targets and slapped the cane lightly over her breasts.
Near the end of the room, Master R stopped where a silvery-haired man in well-worn leathers was flogging a sub on a St. Andrew’s cross. “That’s Sam.”
“Very good. Let’s watch him work.” The Overseer took a chair close to the roped-off area, Master R the one next to him. Kim knelt at his feet, keeping her master between her and the Overseer.
Master R plucked the bottle from her hand, opened the top, and gave it back, all without looking at her. Or so it seemed.
She edged close enough to feel his leg against her shoulder and hip. Just the sensation of touching him eased the knot inside her that tightened every time she heard the Overseer’s sleazy voice.
As the doms watched the scene in silence, Kim struggled to ignore the sound of the lash and the submissive’s crying. I’m not here. Open the throttle and hear the roar of the boat; feel the spray cooling my face
, the wind whipping my hair.
After a bit, she tilted her head, able to watch the scene out of the corner of her eye.
The slight movement drew the Overseer’s attention. When he looked at her, the sensation was like foulness brushing against her skin. “She looks very good, Raoul. Good enough I’d like to buy her back from you. With the training you’ve done, she’d bring you a pretty profit.”
He wanted her back? A tremor ran through Kim, and her mouth went dry. Auction her off… Her breathing started to increase despite her attempts to—
A jerk on her hair broke the pattern. Scalp stinging, Kim pursed her lips and exhaled. Slow. Slow. She sagged against Master R’s leg. Somehow he’d seen her panic when he was paying her no attention.
A little pat on her head rewarded her. “Sorry, but I spent too much time training this one. I’d hate to start over.”
“But you could get a beauty of a slave with what you’d make on this one.”
“Not interested,” Master R said, an irritated snap in his voice. When he turned to watch the scene, the Overseer gave up and did the same.
Kim forced her fists to open so her hands would lie properly on her thighs.
The flogging lasted far too long, and the submissive’s sobs turned to screams as she struggled to evade the pain. On and on. When the poor woman eventually hit subspace and no longer felt the pain, Kim could relax.
After freeing the glassy-eyed sub, the dom bundled her into a blanket and sat her on the floor. Unhurriedly, he gave her some water and fed her bites of chocolate before putting the candy in her hand. “You okay for a minute, girl?” Looking like an old cowboy, he had a voice as rough as his appearance.
“Yes. Thank you, Master Sam.” The submissive kissed his hand. “That was wonderful. I feel all…open…again.”
As she nibbled the chocolate, the dom wiped down the play area and packed away his tools.
Kim concentrated on him, trying to ignore the Overseer’s discussion of the scene. Trying to ignore that it would soon be her turn to be watched. And Master R had never told her what he planned.
“All done?” Sam asked the submissive. He helped her to her feet, ran his hand over her abused back, and grinned at her flinch. “Off you go then.”
She kissed his hand again and walked away, only a slight wobble in her gait.
“Will she be all right?” Master R asked, the concern obvious in his voice. Kim wanted to hug him. If he could, Master R would probably take care of the whole world.
Sam looked at the pale man sitting next to his Raoul. Like a vampire, the asshole Overseer apparently didn’t get out in the sun much. “She’ll be fine. She likes to unwind in the sub’s area, listening to the women chatter.” He grinned. “She’s a gay switch, so she’ll probably end up taking one of them upstairs.”
He spotted one of the Shadowlands trainees and held up a finger. The brunette nodded and reversed course to get him a drink from the bar.
Grabbing a towel from his toy bag, Sam wiped the sweat from his face and neck and dropped into a chair across from Raoul’s guest.
“Sam, this is Dahmer,” Raoul said.
The man leaned forward to shake hands and said, “You’re quite skilled. That was a pleasure to watch.”
Sam shrugged. “It was okay.” He’d deliberately picked a real screamer. Although some tops preferred their subs to control themselves, his bottoms knew he enjoyed the sounds of pain. This time, he’d drawn as much noise as he could get out of her. “But the slut went into subspace too quickly. And if she doesn’t, she’ll safe-word out.” He snorted. “They all do.”
The Overseer nodded, as if he now understood why Sam might want a slave. “There are ways around the problem, you know.”
“So I’m hearing.” Sam glanced at his friend’s little slave and caught a flicker of blue eyes before she looked back down. Brave woman, and pretty as hell in the French maid costume. “But I’m not interested in one like Sandoval’s. I don’t need someone to cook or clean, and with what I like to do to them, I wouldn’t trust one wandering around.”
“Actually, the majority of our…clients…have the same idea. Although Raoul’s results with his slave are quite impressive, we have many satisfied sadists on our buyer list, and they tend to keep their toys locked up. Closet or spare rooms work if the windows and doors are remodeled.” The man smiled and added, “Or even dog cages.”
When the girl visibly flinched at the Overseer’s words, Raoul put his hand on her head, and Sam noted a disturbing look in his eyes. The dom was too tenderhearted for his own good. Be hell of a thing if he got attached to an ex-slave. Don’t be an idiot, man. No kidnapped slave is going to want a master afterward.
“Dahmer.” Hoping to pull the asshole’s attention from Raoul, Sam leaned back in his chair and said, “I’m rather interested. What’s involved?”
The Overseer’s smug expression would turn a man’s stomach. “First—”
“Excuse me,” Raoul interrupted. “I’ll leave you two alone now. I reserved the office room for my scene and should get set up.” He rose, picked up his toy bag, and tugged at the leash for his slave to follow.
The Overseer nodded. “I’ll be along shortly to watch.”
The girl cringed. When she bravely squared her shoulders and followed Raoul, Sam had to stomp on the urge to backhand Dahmer onto the ground.
The Overseer watched them walk away and commented, “She was a pleasure to fuck. Never stopped fighting, and I do enjoy a battle. The cage is what finally broke her to heel, no matter what your friend thinks.”
“He’s a fine trainer, but not particularly into pain…unlike me.”
“So I understand.” The Overseer went silent as Sally delivered Sam’s drink.
“Thank you, girl,” Sam said, smiling as the trainee trotted away. Her short skirt bounced over her round ass with every step.
“We almost picked that one up”—the Overseer nodded toward Sally—“but she left town that week. May still get her later, but she’s not suitable for this auction. Did I mention this one is for sadists? All the slaves offered will be masochists.”
“Sounds perfect.” Sam kept his voice level, although the thought of the bastards getting their hands on Sally was like hearing about a puppy being kicked to death. “I enjoy taking a masochist to her limits…and further.”
Dahmer leaned forward and started outlining how the procedure worked.
Sam listened, his face calm, even as anger burned in his gut. When Raoul had asked for help, Sam had agreed simply because the idea of slavery offended him. Now, after meeting Dahmer, his interest had turned purely personal. He wanted to put the guy away for years. Better yet, he’d take a bullwhip to the asshole and leave only a pile of shredded flesh.
Kim obediently followed Master R across the room, and the tiny tugs on her leash were a lifeline in a sea of fear. Yet the choppy waves quieted as the distance from the Overseer increased. She glanced back. People had obscured the sight of him.
If only his existence could be obscured as well. She sighed.
Somehow Master R heard her above the music, conversations, and sounds from the scenes. After setting his bag down, he tilted her face up and studied her for a minute, then unclipped her wrist cuffs. As he wrapped his arms around her, his faded leather vest was soft under her cheek, his body solid. Strong. He rested his chin on top of her head. “You did well, cariño. I’m proud of you.”
Oh, the way her heart leaped at those simple words was worrisome. Very. Once this was over, she’d go back to her own life—yet how much would she be missing this man, this master who held her emotions in his grasp as easily as her body. I don’t care. Think about it later.
Right now, she needed all her worry efforts for the scene. A real scene. In the last few days, he’d played with her in his dungeon, just a little, letting her get used to his style, to the feeling of helplessness, and to the sounds and scents again. Her panic attacks had eased off, so he could restrain her—usually—without
her screaming and losing it. But he hadn’t told her about this scene. “What are you planning, Master?”
“So nervous.” The sound of his voice was sexy and low with her ear against his chest. He didn’t seem worried at all, and his sheer self-confidence was something else she leaned on. “We’re doing a fireplay scene, gatita.”
She stiffened. No way. Absolutely not. She realized with a sinking feeling that she hadn’t added fire to her limit list as something to avoid. And she didn’t really have a hang-up about it, just the normal dislike of getting Set. On. Fire. Drown the man.
He picked up his bag and started walking again, this time with his arm around her, which was good since her balance had gone somewhere. Probably back to Savannah. I need to go there too. Anywhere but here.
“It’s what Dahmer wanted.” He touched the end of her nose with his forefinger. “The good news is I won’t restrain you.”
“No restraints? Really?” A horrible fear tumbled off her chest. The thought of being helpless anywhere around the Overseer had…had been awful.
“Yes. Since this is the only scene we’ll do in public”—he smiled at her—“you might as well have one you will enjoy.”
Enjoy? “Um. Master. No restraints—that’s good, but I’m not so sure about having you set me on fire.”
He laughed. Hearing the rich sound was like being in an outside elevator, rising out of the building into the light. “I don’t intend to scorch you, Kimberly.” He continued walking toward the far end, exchanging greetings with the club members. Was there anyone who didn’t know and like him?
Near the end of the room, Kim saw Master Z. His dark gaze met hers, and he smiled slightly, lifting his chin as if giving her courage.
He had. She took a breath and followed Master R down a hallway. Large glass windows on each side let people observe scenes in the various rooms. He pulled a reserved sign off a door on the left and walked in.
The room pretended to be an office with a six-feet-high filing cabinet on the near wall, a large oak desk in the center, and a couch and coffee table on the far side.