Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella

by Cherise Sinclair

  All eyes were on her attire. Becca frowned.

  Gin’s heart sank. Well, spit. Even after days of trying to decide what to wear, she’d obviously picked wrong. But, how could she not? She owned clothes suitable for nightclubbing in a big city. But this party was going to be held in a barn. And yet, Kallie had said to wear something sexy.

  Honestly—a barn?

  Gin had managed fairly well, she’d thought. Her best lo-riders were paired with low-heeled boots—barn, right?—and a frilly, somewhat cowboyish, shirt.

  Trying not to pout, she checked the women’s attire. The corsets and bustiers showed off breasts. Kallie had on a short, short skirt; Becca’s was ankle-length, but slit every few inches so ample amounts of skin teased the eyes. Rona wore fishnet stockings and a skintight, leather skirt that molded her ass.

  Gin’s gaze turned to Kallie. “I do believe our perception of what constitutes sexy must be worlds apart.”

  Every woman burst out laughing.

  “Becca.” A tall, black-haired man strolled in the room. “Are you ladies about ready to leave

  At first, Gin thought he was Jake, but no… Jake was easy-going, his attitude relaxed. This man was the opposite. In fact, he could give the hard-faced inmates a run for their money in sheer intimidation. Surely this wasn’t Becca’s Logan.

  As if in answer to Gin’s concern, he curved his arm around Becca.

  Becca was still frowning at Gin. “I’m going to need another fifteen minutes—someone needs better clothes.”

  “No,” Gin protested. “I don’t.”

  Ignoring her completely, Becca confided in her husband. “You know how much I love to dress people up.”

  A brief smile transformed Logan’s face as he squeezed his wife. “Sugar, you must not have had enough dolls as a girl.”

  To Gin’s dismay, he turned to look at her. His steel blue gaze did a slow head-to-foot of her clothing—and he was obviously unimpressed. He walked over. “Logan Hunt. And you’re Virginia?”

  “Um, yes. But it’s Gin.” Just being friendly, he was as terrifying as Atticus in a bad mood. She had to force herself to meet his gaze. “It’s very nice to make your acquaintance.” Lie, lie, lie.

  He took his son, ignoring the tiny fist bouncing off his chest. “Your first BDSM party?”

  Oh no, he wanted to talk? She gulped. “Aside from the camping trip, my first everything.”

  Not only did his face have scars, so did the powerful hands holding the baby. Yet, Ansel chortled and kicked with no fear of his father. “I heard you had an introduction to rope. Would you like me to set you up with Atticus again?”

  “No!” When Logan’s eyes narrowed, she realized she’d been overly emphatic. “It’s really fun to meet new people.”

  “Is it now.” His tone said he knew she was bullshitting him.

  Lordy, Atticus should be his brother instead of Jake.

  “Well, pet, since I’m one of those in charge of the party, why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for in a play session and—after Becca dresses you up—I’ll help you find someone.”

  “I…” Talk about being put on the spot. Shi-sugar. “No rope.”

  “You didn’t like being bound?”

  Oh, but she so had. She could still feel how Atticus had trailed the ropes over her skin, his gaze watching as her whole body roused. The way he’d wound the strands around her, taking more of her will with each binding, returning pure sensation. She shivered.

  An eyebrow went up, and Logan smiled slowly. “But not this time, I see. Perhaps something simple. Flogging?”

  She shook her head.

  “Spanking is about as basic as it gets.”

  Her cheeks turned flame-hot. Dear heavens, she didn’t even know him, and he asked if she wanted to be spanked? Even worse, her thoughts had immediately gone to Atticus. Of being held… Stop that. “Um…”

  Logan waited her out, second by second, until she nodded.

  “It’s a start. I’ll help you negotiate a scene with someone.” As he left the room without waiting for her answer, Gin gaped. His statement had sounded more like a threat than a promise.

  Too late to go home. “Oh, dear,” she said faintly and dropped down onto the couch next to Abby.

  Abby took her cold hand. “I know how you feel. The first time I met Xavier, he told me he wanted my breasts and showed me what nipple clamps were all about.”

  Gin stared at her. “Seriously?”

  “The funny thing was…” Abby tilted her head. “The clamps didn’t fluster me nearly as much as my first experience with a Dominant.”

  Across the room, Rona was nodding. “Exactly. After talking with Simon the first time, I almost tripped trying to retreat. Needing to get my head back on straight.”

  Gin felt the muscles in her shoulders relax. “I’m glad I’m not alone.”

  “Not even close.” Abby patted her hand. “As for the clothes, Becca dressed me up the first time I came.”

  “Me too.” Kallie grinned at Becca. “Besides, there’ll be city submissives there, flaunting their fetwear at us backwoods types. We have to pull out the stops to keep up. So you can’t let the home team down, right?”

  “Well,” Gin said. “When you put it like that…”

  * * * *

  Atticus had commandeered a corner of the barn to think and watch the BDSM scenes from a distance. Apparently, Gin wasn’t going to take him up on his invitation. He hadn’t wanted to pressure her after he’d been such an asshole, but maybe he should have tried harder. Dammit, every time he saw her, he wanted her more.

  If he showed up at her house and asked her to accompany him here, would she shut the door in his face?

  Undoubtedly.

  Then again, nothing chanced, nothing won. The worst she could do would be say no.

  Before he reached the door, he was intercepted.

  “Atticus. It’s good to see you again.” One of Dark Haven’s most powerful Doms was accompanied by another man.

  “Simon. Did you bring your pretty wife?”

  “Of course.”

  Of course would always be his answer, Atticus knew as they shook hands. Simon’s love for his submissive was a legend among the Dark Haven people.

  Simon motioned to the man beside him. “I don’t think you’ve met Xavier Leduc. He owns Dark Haven.”

  Atticus had heard of the owner of the BDSM club who was called my liege by the San Francisco submissives.

  “Good to meet you,” Xavier said. He stood a good couple of inches over Atticus’s six-two. With black eyes and hair braided almost to his ass, he probably had Native American ancestry. His bearing said he knew his way around a fight.

  “Heard a bit about you. I hope to get a chance to visit your club someday.” Atticus held a hand out.

  “You’d be welcome.” Xavier shook his hand. “I appreciate the assistance you gave deVries and Lindsey last winter.”

  “Part of the job. It’s good when things come out right.” And kidnappings so rarely did. Atticus glanced at the well-populated barn, seeing Doms and subs he didn’t know. “I see you brought a number of your members.”

  Xavier smiled. “We all enjoy getting out of the city.”

  “Some of our submissives hoped for a introduction to you, by the way,” Simon said.

  Atticus grinned. “You on babysitting duty tonight?”

  “Always. As is my Rona.” Simon studied him. “So, are you free this evening?”

  Atticus hesitated. Although he’d noticed several pretty submissives, he didn’t have any interest in taking them under command. He’d rather talk a southern magnolia into—

  The barn door opened, and Logan escorted in five women, all flushed with laughter. Their bright spirits lit the area. Kallie and Becca came in first, then Simon’s wife and a blonde submissive he didn’t know, then…Gin.

  The women pulled off their coats revealing corsets and bustiers, fishnet stockings and high heels, skimpy skirts.

  Atticus w
aited impatiently for Gin to unveil.

  Now that was worth the wait. She’d gone with leather, and not the brightly dyed kind, but in natural shades. A dark brown bustier with matching short skirt. Leather wrist cuffs. High-lacing sandals with his favorite kind of heels. When a man bent a woman over something—like a hay bale—the extra height tilted her ass just right for entry.

  His dick stood up and shouted for attention.

  Simon nodded to the group. “I see Becca has picked up another nervous stray.” After a second, he added, “My Rona likes her.”

  Atticus studied them and agreed. From the way the women clustered around Gin, teasing her, fixing her hair, giving gentle pats, they all liked her. Of course, Kallie’s wilderness tour clients had liked the little Southerner as well. She did have an appealing sweetness.

  That sweetness would be his tonight.

  But when he straightened, the motion caught her attention. Her eyes widened. She retreated an involuntary step, nodded at him briefly…and turned her back.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “Did you upset a little submissive?” Xavier asked in amusement.

  Hell. With a grunt of frustration, Atticus manned up. “Seems so. I did a scene with her. She’s new, but the chemistry was fantastic. Then I discovered she’s a counselor—and I judged her by old shit and kicked her to the curb. Made a mistake.”

  “Most counselors are good people,” Simon said mildly.

  “You took her trust, got her vulnerable, then dumped her.” Xavier summed up the story brutally and succinctly.

  “And then blindsided her at her work. I screwed up.” He needed to apologize. But a frontal approach would get him blasted down, especially since she was braced to rebuff him.

  “Let her ease down.” Xavier confirmed his thoughts. “Give her time…maybe enough time to play with another Dom.”

  When Atticus scowled, Simon nodded agreement with his friend. “It’s a risk, Atticus. But if there’s chemistry between you, she’ll feel the lack with someone else, and that might give you a chance. If not, then maybe she’s not the one you need.”

  Let someone else touch her? His gut tightened.

  And yet, the advice was excellent, no matter how unpalatable.

  * * * *

  Bent over a hay bale, Gin rested her forehead on her hands. She’d asked for a breather from being spanked. This sure wasn’t any fun.

  Everything here seemed unreal, as if she’d wandered into one of her kinky books. The location added another dimension of unreality. This was a barn complete. Straw was scattered on the ground, adding its fragrance to the scent of leather. Rather than the sounds of horses, the building was filled with gasps and moans and an occasional scream and the smack of implements on bare flesh.

  “Ready for more?” Garret’s voice drew her attention back.

  When Logan had started introducing her, she’d shot down his first two choices. Then, when he was called away, she’d found this Dom named Garrett who had appeared less intimidating—if anyone could say that about a man who’d spank a woman.

  Garrett flattened his palm between her shoulder blades again and pressed her chest onto the straw bale.

  His hand hit her bottom and she flinched. Lordy, her butt was getting tender. He continued—and she heard her own bare flesh being struck and it still didn’t seem real.

  She gritted her teeth as the Dom spanked her faster. The stinging grew to a red-tinged pain, and tears filled her eyes.

  When he eased off to rub her bottom, she pushed upright and wiped her eyes.

  “You can cry, girl,” he said, his voice gruff. “That’s the point for a lot of submissives.”

  No. She firmed her chin and shook her head. She didn’t cry in front of strangers. In front of anyone.

  This spanking stuff wasn’t what she wanted. None of it. She’d been wrong. Inside she ached, as if her spirit were being compressed into a tiny fishbowl of sadness and frustration.

  Anger whirled up from nowhere, as if her body was finally reacting to being hurt. To being trapped.

  She took a step away from the hay bale, relieved she hadn’t let him tie her down. “I’m done now.”

  “Done?” When Garrett touched her arm, she pulled away. “Gin.”

  “I’m fine.” She controlled her voice. “Thanks for the time.”

  “Let’s go over to the corner and talk then. Girl, you—”

  “No.” She took two more steps back and bumped into a man.

  Turning, she recognized Rona’s devastatingly handsome husband. The Dom was in his forties, with silver flecking his neatly trimmed black hair. A submissive stood on his left.

  Master Simon curled his right hand around Gin’s upper arm, preventing her from further retreat. “Garrett, Jacqueline watched you play with Gin and hoped you’d give her some time.” He smoothly guided the submissive toward Garrett while moving Gin away. “I have somewhere else Gin needs to be.”

  “You’ll make sure she has aftercare?” Garret asked.

  “I will.”

  Moving on, Garrett looked down at the thirty-something submissive. “What did you have in mind for a scene?”

  As she was led away, Gin felt her anger fade, leaving her empty inside. Time to go home.

  “Did you enjoy your spanking?” Master Simon asked.

  Compared to his confident baritone, her voice came out thin and shaky. “It was fine.”

  He shook his head, stopped her right in the center of the room, and tilted her face up to him with a finger under her chin. “Has no one ever told you not to lie to Doms?”

  “First lesson for tonight: be honest.” Atticus’s voice spiraled down the well-worn path in her memory and brought tears to her eyes. She’d wanted Atticus to be the one to spank her and how stupid was she?

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice shook slightly. “I guess I’m not cut out for this BDSM stuff. I-I thought it was worth a try.”

  “You’re cut out for it, pet,” Simon said gently. “You merely picked the wrong Dom for you.” He looked over her shoulder at someone behind her. “Atticus, I’d say she needs a good cry. You have my permission to spank her until she does.”

  Gin whirled around—and right into Atticus’s solid body. His arms closed around her, trapping her. It really was him—Atticus. For a moment, she sagged into him, staring.

  Oh, her memory hadn’t been nearly adequate, had never blown this stunned feeling into her chest. His eyes were still a mesmerizing dark blue; his black sleeveless T-shirt showed off a body ripped with muscles. Colorful tats covered each deltoid.

  When his gaze released her, she managed to inhale…and realize why he held her. She glared over her shoulder at Simon. “You-you don’t have the right t-to give me to someone. Your permission isn’t…” Her brain misfired, messing up her words.

  “Thanks, Simon. I’ll take care of her.” And then, as he had before, Atticus scooped her up like a baby.

  Oh, the sensation of being wrapped in his rock-hard arms was like coming home. Thrilling at his strength, her body softened into his.

  No, she mustn’t feel this way. “Put me down.”

  “In a minute.” He walked over and sat on one of the hay bales lined against a wall. Her bottom rested on his thighs, his jeans abrasive against her tender skin.

  She struggled to stand.

  Holding her with one arm, he cupped her face in his rugged hand. “Before we begin, I want to apologize.”

  The surprise halted her fight.

  His intense blue eyes bored into hers. “I was a dick to you. And, even worse, made your job harder.”

  She pulled in a shuddering breath and gathered her composure. She was a professional. A social worker. Act like one. “You were,” she agreed. “You thought I wasn’t helping Sawyer. But…why do you have it in for the whole counseling profession? Was there a psychologist who hurt you or someone you care for?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Got your shrink hat on, I see.”

  “I don’t like tha
t word, okay?”

  He heaved a sigh. “Sorry again. All right, it’s like this. Some of my boys in the Marines came home fucked up and didn’t get shit for help from the pros.”

  “Well, I know the V.A. system is over-burdened and understaffed, but still—I’m sorry. It’s not right.” Where was a better place to put money than in treating the soldiers who’d served their country?

  “Then the last prison shr—uh, therapist did more than not help my brother. She messed up his head.”

  “His last counselor was male,” Gin muttered, making him blink.

  “Either way. Sawyer wasn’t bad off when he got here, before getting ‘help.’ But he got worse with every so-called session. I complained to the prison administration and was blown off.”

  Gin closed her eyes as sympathy and a kind of guilt assailed her.

  “I’m sorry, Gin. I was wrong to take it out on you.”

  True. Still, she understood needing to protect family. Being angry for them. So she shared. “I guess no one told you that Mr. Slidell was removed from Sawyer’s case.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded. “So your complaint was heard. Eventually. In admin’s defense, I have to say they’re so used to inmates drowning the system in complaints and grievances that they probably didn’t move very quickly—especially since Sawyer didn’t say a word.”

  “They brought you in to repair the damage.”

  “I’m trying.” Not always succeeding. Her sense of urgency and frustration with Sawyer and her other cases pulled at her again, filling her head with everything she should be doing. Not sitting here and—

  “Whoa, look at you disappear.” The voice came from— “Eyes on me, subbie.”

  The rough-edged command whipped every thought from her head. She blinked and met Atticus’s intent gaze.

  His dimple showed. “Fuck, you’re cute.”

  Her expression of disbelief and disgust made him chuckle.

  “Simon gave me orders. Since I see where he’s coming from, I’m going to follow them.”

  Orders? What… Make her cry? Her mouth fell open.

  “Virginia.” His hand curved over her jaw, holding her so she was forced to look into his blue, blue eyes.