“Sorry, boss.” He sounded anything but. “Excited.”
All the other slaves laughed as he adjusted his pouch. Her nerves appreciated the levity.
“Ready, boss.”
Tore gave a quick nod of satisfaction. “Hannah,” he snapped. “Eyes on me.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
He gave the chain a massive tug as he led them onto the stage.
This time, Hannah was unclipped and placed on the platform that was in the middle of the semicircle. She was thankful she didn’t falter, and she wasn’t trembling as hard.
The spotlight was shined on each participant, and the heat made a droplet of sweat trace down between her breasts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re running out of time and slaves, as well as the opportunity to do good in our community,” Jaxon announced. “Keep in mind, we’re all watching you. At the end of the night, you will be a hero or a wannabe. Which are you?”
Laughter rippled through the room, some of it nervous.
“Next up is number eleven. As a reminder, this beauty is looking for a sadist to complement his masochist.”
With his incredible skill, Jaxon drove the bidding up to almost twenty thousand dollars before shouting out, “Sold!”
Too soon, the twins came for her.
They each offered a hand as she stepped down from her podium. Hannah paused to take a shaky breath before making her way to the front of the stage.
Even though she knew what to expect, she was hyperaware of her sheer wrap and the string bikini barely covering her. Her image was projected on the big screens, making it impossible for her to hide the way she was twisting her fingers together. Though she’d played at clubs numerous times, she’d never been this exposed.
“This is Hannah’s first time on our auction block. You know what that means? I want a premium price for her. Dig deep, gentlemen, because I’m starting the bidding at seven thousand dollars. Who will give it to me?”
She froze, mortified when no one responded.
“Okay,” Jaxon said. “You cheap bastards. In that case, bidding is going to start at eight thousand dollars. Who will be first?”
What the hell was he thinking? She bit her bottom lip, wishing she could run away. Suddenly, the event with Liam was looking even less humiliating.
“Eight,” a man called.
She exhaled, her shoulders hunching forward.
“Thank you,” Jaxon replied. “Who will give me eight five?”
From the right of the room, another man responded.
The music became louder, thumping, adding to the tension as the number went over twelve, then thirteen.
“We have thirteen,” Jaxon announced. “Fourteen? It’s not often that you have the opportunity to play with someone brand-new. Open your wallets.”
“Twenty.”
She gasped. The unseen voice was firm with command. Master Mason? More than anything, she wished she could see past the edge of the stage.
“Twenty thousand five hundred.”
The bid had come from the opposite side of the room. Hannah wanted to pinch herself.
“Excellent,” Jaxon approved, circling her. He pointed to the right side of the spectators. “You’re going to give me twenty-one.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Twenty-one.”
Jaxon played the men off each other until they reached twenty-four.
Then the man on the right calmly said, “Thirty.”
Several people in the audience gasped. Hannah’s knees wobbled, and the twins raised their hands to steady her.
“Thirty thousand. Thank you. The bid is to you now, Master Kilgore. Thirty-one?”
She sucked in a breath. No response came.
“Going once.” He gave a long, dramatic paused. “Twice.” He waited even longer.
Her heart thundered.
“Sold! Thank you, Master Mason.”
Master Mason? She clasped her hands together on top of her heart. How was this possible? If she could have scripted an evening, it couldn’t have been this incredible.
“You may claim your slave at the end of the segment.”
As if it were happening outside of herself, Hannah was aware of the twins assisting her back to her podium.
“Congratulations,” the slave next to her whispered.
Time slowed as she searched in vain for Master Mason. The One Night Dom. Now that it was becoming more real, a million thoughts crowded her mind. She didn’t know much about him. He was devastatingly handsome. But that was hardly the best trait in a Dom. Liam, too, had been gorgeous.
The door to the reception room opened, flooding the threshold with light, enough for her to see the back of a tall man with dark blond hair.
Without a doubt, it was Master Mason.
No one else had that kind of presence.
She pushed out a hot, anxious breath. Was he lenient? Fair? Demanding? Would his touch be gentle or harsh? What kinks did he have?
God. She could no longer tell where one thought ended and the next began.
The rest of the auction dragged on for another thirty agonizing minutes.
When they were backstage, Daveed grabbed her up in a big hug. “Oh, Hannah, baby! You are so lucky. One Night Dom is dishy.” He batted his false eyelashes. “I wish I were you.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Do all the things. All the things.”
“Daveed!” Trinity shouted.
Tore and the twins left to help reset the dungeon with the equipment that had been stowed away.
Tension turned her tummy into knots when a dungeon monitor called the name of another slave, leaving just Hannah and two others backstage. Again, she regretted asking to be in the final group.
She paced to the far end of the area, and when she turned back, he stood there in his black tailored tuxedo, with his legs spread wide and his arms folded. Hoping to appear confident, she paused. But then she betrayed herself by grabbing hold of the sarong that was knotted at her shoulder.
Master Mason pointed to a spot in front of him as if he didn’t doubt—even for a moment—that she would obey. “Come here.” His tone was rich and firm, turning her insides into a river of compliance.
Her pulse hammered, drowning out the noise around them. Power emanated from him, drawing her toward him. A now familiar instinct to save herself urged her to walk a little slower, stay outside his force field.
Hannah stopped precisely where he had indicated.
The scent of his alpha male pheromones stamped the air, and her.
“I couldn’t wait to meet you.”
Hannah tipped her head back to meet his shadowed, haunted eyes. Then she wished she hadn’t. If she’d lowered her head, she wouldn’t have seen the pain written in the jade-colored depths, wouldn’t have had an urge to heal him flicker through her.
No doubt she wasn’t the first woman, sub, to be tempted by that ridiculous thought.
This was a weekend. Nothing more.
“What should I call you?”
His voice was hypnotic. Steel and silk. For a moment, she considered using a scene name, but she’d had too many lies told to her in the past. “Hannah.” Then because she was trusting him with her safety, she opted to share her full name. “Hannah Gill.” Then, belatedly, she added, “Sir.”
His lips curled in a small, slight smile. It didn’t make him appear any less formidable. “Sir is fine. Mr. Sullivan. Mason.”
“Master?”
He shook his head and moved his hand toward the leather cinched around her throat. “May I touch you?”
Unable to find her voice, she nodded.
“Master is a much more formal term. Something”—he traced the buckle—“much more permanent. It speaks of commitment, doesn’t it? Responsibility. A person who is honorable.”
“Which you’re not?”
“It depends on your point of view, I suppose. What you consider honorable. Where’s the line between duty to your sub and duty to someone you love?”
He skimmed his finger lower. The moment his hot, rough skin touched hers, awareness shot through her, scattering her thoughts and leaving raw need in its terrible wake. “But I take care of the women who submit to me.” He pressed against the hollow of her throat. “I offer nothing more.”
“I understand…Mason.”
“Good.” He nodded.
He was warning her not to get attached. No expectations. One Night Dom. The earlier words and giggles from the slaves ricocheted through her mind.
Trinity peeked around the corner. “Master Mason!”
With a smile, he pulled his hand back in achingly slow measurements, and Hannah’s skin instantly cooled.
“We have a few details to handle.”
Money. Thirty thousand dollars. The sum was beyond her wildest dreams, enough to pay off the note on her car and some of her credit card debt. And he’d offered it for a couple of nights with her.
“Because you’ve never met me before, I suggest we spend some time here, getting to know each other a bit. Then, if you’re willing, we can make use of a private room on the second floor, giving you a chance to be sure you want to leave with me.”
Mistress Aviana had strict rules for what happened in the main dungeon and the quieter, more secluded area tucked behind it. But upstairs, almost anything was permitted, including nudity and sexual contact. The club’s safe word still applied, and the scenes were monitored.
“What do you say?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll see you up front when the formalities are handled.” He brushed hair back from her forehead, and his touch was achingly gentle.
For a moment, she was tempted to wrap her hand around his, but that would imply a familiarity they didn’t enjoy.
He followed Trinity from the space, and Hannah couldn’t take her gaze from him.
Daveed hurried over. “That man is a honeypot. I’d like to dip my fingers in him.”
She laughed, and it was then that she realized she’d been holding her breath.
“Girl, enjoy your weekend, but don’t get your heart all wrapped up in that broken mess.”
“I won’t.” She wondered which one of them she was reassuring.
It was less than ten minutes until Trinity returned. “Ready?”
The same instinct that assailed her earlier flashed through Hannah’s brain again. Red. Danger. Not physically. Her body was safe in his hands, but her emotions? He overwhelmed her senses. Yet, as if compelled, she ignored her internal warning system and followed Trinity to the reception room.
On a side table, a slave was signing a piece of paper, and her temporary owner stood next to her.
Mistress Aviana stood behind the podium, flanked by two gorgeous—and mostly naked—young blond men on all fours.
Aviana gestured for Hannah to approach.
Master Mason was in the corner, talking with Jaxon. The moment Mason noticed her, he excused himself and walked toward her.
“Be gone,” Aviana said, waving him away. With a scowl, she added, “And this time follow the damn rules before I have you thrown out.”
“Of course, Milady.” He inclined his head, but his smile betrayed him. He charted his own course.
“He thinks he can get away with murder,” Mistress Aviana said when he returned to Jaxon’s side. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “The truth is, with the right people, he can. Which is why I wanted to speak with you alone. Despite his generous bid, you are not obligated to anything. The choice is entirely yours.”
Hannah risked a glance his direction…to find him watching her. Excitement and fear slammed together in a potent combination. He’d brought arousal to life for the first time in years.
“Hannah?”
“Sorry.” She turned back to the club’s owner.
“Would you like to proceed?”
Whatever the weekend held, Hannah wanted the experience. “Yes, Milady.”
Chapter 3
Mistress Aviana signaled for Mason. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Jax, anxious to make his escape and claim Hannah.
“I’m going to invite you to all the fundraisers I emcee for. You make me look good.”
“Check your ego,” Mason told his longtime friend with a grin. “Had nothing to do with your skills. I would have paid anything for the weekend with Hannah.” He looked over at her again. She was still clutching the sarong tightly. But if he had his way, the material and everything else hiding her would be lying on the floor in the next ten minutes.
“I know how it is.”
Mason had never seen a man so besotted with his wife. The cynic in him no longer believed in happily ever after. Love sometimes meant being selfless. He’d never met a woman capable of it.
“Enjoy your weekend,” Jaxon said.
Mason fully intended to.
“Let’s get the formalities out of the way, shall we?” Aviana began when he joined her.
“The sooner the better.” Time was ticking.
“Hannah, do you consent to spend the weekend with Master Mason? Please know that while you’re at the Quarter, the word red will end any scene, trumping the agreement you’re about to sign.”
He rocked back onto his heels in a mostly useless attempt to rein in his mounting impatience.
Hannah nodded. And that soothed his inner beast. For the moment.
“If at any time you wish to end the weekend, please call the number on your agreement. One of our monitors will fetch you, day or night. Your safety and well-being are of utmost importance to me.”
“Can we hurry this up?” he demanded.
“No, Master Mason, we can’t.” The club owner didn’t even glance in his direction.
While he appreciated Aviana’s concern, there was no way Hannah would want to end the weekend early. He’d make sure of it. “She’s safe with me.”
“To reiterate, your limits include”—Aviana glanced up and shot Mason a look that warned him to remain silent—“canes, humiliation, isolation, being shared. Is there anything else you’d like to add, Hannah?”
“No breaking the skin or permanent marks, Milady.”
Which I would never do with a weekend sub.
As Aviana added to her list, he swept his gaze over Hannah’s slender body. He’d never been tempted to pierce or tattoo a sub. Maybe because it was suddenly taboo the idea intrigued him. Perhaps something subtle, in a place only he knew about?
“Nothing else, Hannah?”
“No, ma’am.”
“In that case, I need you both to see Trinity. She’ll print out your forms, and you’ll both need to sign them and acknowledge receipt. Then you can get on with your evening.”
“I’ll want a private room in about half an hour.”
Aviana raised one of her carefully crafted eyebrows. “Hannah?”
“Yes, Milady. I’d like that too.”
While Mason drummed his fingers on the table, Aviana scanned a computer in front of her. “Room seven will be available.”
He nodded. Then, unable to contain the primal possession that thumped into him, he placed his fingers in the small of Hannah’s back.
Her body trembled, and his dick hardened. He liked her being nervous, and he intended to exploit that until he was her whole world.
It took Trinity less than two minutes to process their paperwork. After they’d both affixed their signatures to the bottom of the pages and accepted their copies, he folded the papers and tucked them inside his tuxedo jacket and then escorted Hannah to the cloakroom.
Since he hadn’t shown up intending to bid or even play with a sub, he hadn’t brought his toy bag. Fortunately, a couple of vendors were in attendance, offering all kinds of fetish toys and clothing, including a woman who made exquisite chain mail. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” he asked Hannah.
They wandered to the first table, and he picked up a heavy black flogger with thick strands. Since she was so small, they would wrap around her body, allowing him to cover a lot of her with each stroke
.
He offered it to her.
“Sir?” She didn’t reach for the handle as he expected.
“What do you think of it?”
“I think it’s an unfair question. What if I think it’s too much? Not enough? Does my opinion matter? Isn’t it for you to choose?”
“I like it. But before I spend that kind of money”—it wasn’t a lot for something so well crafted, but if it was going to hang forgotten in his armoire, he’d rather select something else—“I want to be sure it intrigues you.”
She accepted it then. “It’s heavy.” She fingered the falls, then lifted it up in front of her face. “I like the way it smells.”
“An aphrodisiac.”
“Maybe.”
The black was sexy next to her pale skin. “Are you wondering what it will feel like?”
She met his gaze. This close, her amber eyes were startling, and easy to read. But he wanted her to say the words.
“I can imagine it taking my breath away.”
“It might.”
“If it pleases you, then yes.” She offered it back to him.
He let the craftsman know they would take it. “What else do you like, Hannah?”
“That’s quite enough, Sir.”
Under ordinary circumstance, he might agree. But he intended to make this weekend memorable for her. “Canes are on your limits list.” He took her hand and led her beyond them. “Paddles?”
Her mouth parted, and he wasn’t sure whether it was with delight or fear.
“I tried Lexan, and it was a little extreme.”
“Wood? Leather?” There were numerous options from something fun to something harsh.
She looked at a number of items, then fingered a thick wooden one, glossy enough to gleam in the overhead light.
“It could deliver a hell of a wallop.” And make a very satisfying thud.
Hannah swallowed hard.
For a moment, Mason considered buying it but then changed his mind. She should have one, but he intended to make it himself.
“I just finished up some of these dragon tails.” The craftsman selected one and handed it across to Mason.
This he liked. The handle was braided red and black leather, and it was a beautiful piece. “What do you think?”
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