Masters of the Shadowlands 8 - If only

by Sinclair Cherise

  Vance tilted her chin up and took a blatantly possessive kiss before smiling into her eyes. “Be a good girl now.”

  He headed off to the back before she finished sighing. As dungeon monitors, the two men would stroll through the room, checking each scene for safety, making sure the submissives were being treated well. Master Z was a great believer in the safe and sane practices, especially for the newer players. More experienced, hard-core players would practice RACK, and although “Risk Aware Consensual Kink” didn’t exactly mean safe or sane, everyone agreed on the consensual part.

  “Want a drink, Sally?” Master Cullen asked.

  She looked up, up, up at the craggy-faced bartender. He and Ben sure made a girl feel height challenged. “How about a diet…” No, on second thought, any drink that sent her bladder into overtime was a bad idea. She still had trouble asking for stuff, and unlike Vance, Galen would probably make her wait until she ended up with her legs so tight together that she wouldn’t be able to walk. “I’ll grab some water from the munchie tables.”

  “You were told to stay—”

  “Hey, Cullen, need a first-aid kit,” a Domme called from the end of the bar.

  “Coming,” Cullen grabbed a white kit from under the bar and headed toward the Domme.

  Galen had said to stay put. Sally sat for a second…considering. Doubtful that they’d notice if she visited the food tables.

  The munchie table in the front corner was stocked with water, soft drinks, and finger foods. Master Z said having food available was not only healthy but also encouraged the community spirit of the dungeon, which was why the corner also had tables and chairs. The scenes were far enough away that people could talk without disturbing anyone.

  Sally picked up a bottled water, cast her gaze over the table spread, and yo baby, there were quiche bites. God, she loved those. Just a few though, girl. Eat or drink too much and she’d totally regret it if the guys went for a heavy scene.

  She was on her second bite when a couple of the younger Doms approached—although she probably shouldn’t call them younger. They were her age, after all. But after being with the Feds, these two seemed…unfinished.

  “Hey, Sally. Long time no see.” Carter was tall and lanky. His glasses flashed in the light from the wall sconces.

  “Hi, Carter.”

  Like Vance, Donald was football-player-sized. He moved a step too close, looked down at her, and the derisive twist of his lips made her uncomfortable. “Guess you wanted time off after your faking-it performances. Did you come back to give everyone another shot at getting you off?”

  She straightened, anger flaming through her veins. Yes, she’d fooled him. Now she had to wonder why she’d ever agreed to play with him at all. “No, there won’t be another shot.”

  His sneer was ugly, and he’d obviously taken her words as an insult.

  Smart boy.

  “Bet I can get Cullen to let me scene with you, trainee.”

  “I’m not—”

  “This submissive is not a trainee. She’s mine.” A hand curled around her arm, pulling her away from the two men, and Sally looked up to see Vance. His blue eyes had turned the color of gunmetal—hard and cold and deadly.

  The startled look on Donald’s face was—Sally bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snickering—wonderful. “Uh. Sorry. We didn’t know.”

  “Now you do.”

  Sally’s moment of pleasure lasted only a few seconds until Vance dragged her away from the quiche bites. “Wait. I wanted—”

  “Disobedient submissives don’t get their wants met.” He stopped beside the bar and saw that Dan had replaced Master Cullen as the bartender.

  Dan smiled at Sally, his eyebrows lifting at Vance’s grip on her arm. “Got yourself in trouble, sweetheart?”

  “I—”

  “She did,” Vance said, interrupting her with a stern look.

  He hadn’t given her permission to speak. Got it. Maybe she’d let him get away with the restriction, considering he’d just rescued her from asshole Donald.

  Vance asked Dan, “Z still have collars in the spares basket.”

  “A collar? For Sally?” Master Dan’s brows drew together as if he didn’t approve. After a pause, he moved down the bar and pulled a laundry-sized basket from the bottom shelf. “Here you go.” He set it on the bar.

  Still holding Sally as if she’d run away, Vance poked through the items before pulling out a dark red collar. “This should work.” He fastened it around her neck.

  And as he fastened the buckle, as she felt the encompassing touch of the leather, her heart started to hammer. A few Doms had collared her as part of their idea of a scene, but she’d never felt like this. Like the collar was pulling her toward him, like his intense eyes were seeing past the leather and past her skin, like his hands were tying a leash on her soul. She could feel the tug of the attachment deep inside her. “Vance,” she whispered, unable to look away from his hard face, his high, wide cheekbones, the jut of his strong chin.

  He cupped her chin. “Look at you,” he said softly, and the feeling of being possessed engulfed her.

  As he straightened, he released her. “I like the way you look in a collar, sweetie. I think we’ll put one on you every time we’re here—and you can consider yourself collared by Galen and me until we take it off.”

  Words like that shouldn’t make her heart feel as if it were break dancing inside her chest.

  His lips turned up. “Silence from our little subbie? Do you understand, Sally?”

  She swallowed. “I understand.” Her voice came out so hoarse that he ran his finger around the inside of the collar again, checking to be sure it wasn’t too tight. But it wasn’t the collar that was choking her. It was the way her heart was pushing at her throat, as if it wanted out. Wanted to give itself away.

  When had he become so…so important to her? So dear. God, she was such an idiot. He’d collared her for an evening; she wanted more.

  “Sally, what’s wrong?” He touched her cheek as his eyebrows pulled together.

  No, don’t be a fool. Players, the both of them. But they’d never stayed with a submissive this long. So…what did that mean? “I— Nothing.” She forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “Thanks for keeping the other Doms away.”

  “My pleasure.” He gave her another long look, making her want to drop to her knees and beg him to keep her. To love her.

  Sally, you’re a disgrace to your gender. “I should be fine now.”

  “Let’s just make sure of that.” He picked a leash—a damned leash!—out of the basket and clipped it to her collar.

  Love him? She’d rather kick him right in his pride and joys.

  He led her around the bar to the area where the subs liked to hang out. Sure enough, there were a few there now, including Gabi and one of the trainees—Maxie. If Gabi was in the subbie area, Master Marcus must be around somewhere. He didn’t let her come to the Shadowlands without him. Maxie was probably taking a break and figuring out who she wanted to play with. The pretty blonde was totally sweet, although a bit on the insecure side, always trying to disguise what she called her fat ass.

  “Ladies,” Vance greeted them politely. “Sit, Sally.”

  She settled herself, and he picked up a chain from the floor beside the chair. One end of the chain was attached to an eyebolt in the floor; he secured the other to her collar. When in grade school, a 4-H friend had a pet goat that she’d tie up in the backyard. Yeah. Would Vance notice if she baaaed at him? She scowled at him instead.

  “You have the prettiest face, even if you try to look upset.” He tucked one finger under her collar to hold her as he kissed her. Softly, then completely aggressive. He tilted his head and took it deeper. Taking until her scowl melted, until her bones melted. Until her heart melted. Demon Dom.

  Finished, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Stay put. Right here. If you unclip that chain, I’ll paddle your ass—and not in a fun way.”

  She hadn�
�t forgotten the sting of the wood or the unhappiness of disappointing him. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Oh yeah, that sounds nice,” he murmured, running a finger over her wet lips before he strode away. Back to his DM duties, leaving her stuck in subbie-land. Well, at least the company was good.

  “Stay put?” Gabi was giggling. “Miss Mouthy Sally gets an order like that and says, ‘Yes, Sir’? Oh. My. God.”

  Maxie fanned her face. “I think it was totally hot.”

  “You’re both right,” Sally muttered, unable to keep from glancing over her shoulder at her Dom. She even liked the way he walked. Not graceful. Not aggressive, but…powerful. Darn football player with that linebacker’s confidence of knowing he could flatten anyone in his path. People picked up on it and cleared out of his way. With a sigh, she turned back to the women.

  “I wish I could find someone with that confidence. And authority. Some authority would definitely be nice.” Maxie pouted. “In my last scene, the guy asked every two minutes if I liked what he was doing. ‘Are you sure that’s okay, Maxie? Not too tight?’ He must have flunked out of Dom school. Seriously.”

  “Don’t you hate that? When you give them the right to command, and they don’t?” Sally shook her head. “Would you believe one man put nipple clamps on me…and the second I squawked, he took them right off. No Dom cookies for that wussy.”

  But her Feds…her majorly dominating Feds would earn an entire box of chocolate chip cookies.

  “Oh man, I think I did a scene with that wimp. Totally forgettable.” Maxie slouched back on the leather couch. “Last month, Master Sam put clamps on me. When I whimpered, his eyes lit up, and he tightened them until I was up on tiptoes.” She gave a happy sigh. “There’s no one like a Master.”

  “Well, even the Masters have weak moments.” Gabi toyed with the blue streak in her shaggy red hair. “Marcus actually brought me breakfast in bed last weekend.”

  Sally considered. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

  “I guess.” Gabi shrugged. “But I was in a bitchy mood; I told him he was a failure as a Dom. A disgrace to the world of masterly men.”

  Maxie’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. “No!”

  Sally shook her head. Knowing Master Marcus, he’d probably laughed and—

  “He spanked me so hard I had to eat breakfast standing up. I almost threw the eggs at him, but”—Gabi grinned—“even bratty submissives know there’s a time to stop. And that’s the wonderful part about it all.”

  Sally bit her lip, remembering the cabana. Her punishment. Or how Galen had pinned her facedown on the kitchen counter and taught her what ice felt like. And each time, how…settled…she’d felt afterward. She’d never felt like that before in her casual playtimes here. “Yeah. It is.”

  Gabi leaned back on the couch. “Since Marcus is helping out with a suspension scene, you have plenty of time to tell me what’s going on with you and the Feds. Spill it, girl.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Waiting beside a freestanding St. Andrew’s cross, Galen smiled as Vance brought Sally into the dungeon. She displayed the bravado that had initially attracted him, but now he could see the underlying vulnerability, which she’d concealed so well.

  She’d done the homework he’d assigned. The essay. Even though she hadn’t documented all her father had done, he could see the effect of the bastard’s actions. And because she’d been writing—thinking rather than reacting—Sally realized how her thought processes had been twisted. She was an incredibly intelligent woman—but even under the light of her intellect, the problems weren’t going to disappear overnight.

  He’d been impressed at how doggedly she was trying. She had guts, all right.

  And she also had a bubbly-as-champagne personality. Merely being on the receiving end of one of her smiles could lift his mood…and he found it disturbing how much she’d come to mean to him. Christ, where was he going with this?

  He didn’t want a permanent submissive. Or a lover. Or anyone who could be hurt by his job or actions…or anything. And yet the thought of losing her made him feel as if he’d run into a wall.

  He and Vance needed to talk. Soon.

  As the two approached, Galen crossed his arms over his chest. “Nice collar, pet.” He ran his finger over the leather, brushing the satiny skin of her neck, listening to the hitch in her breathing. Her lip trembled slightly, and he paused. The collar meant something to her, didn’t it? Did she want to be claimed? By them? Possessiveness surged through him like a rising tide.

  “She looks good in a collar, doesn’t she?” Vance had his hand on her shoulder, displaying the same ownership Galen felt.

  Odd how they’d never run into problems with territoriality. But Vance felt like the brother Galen never had—sharing with him felt…right. “She does.” Galen lifted his eyebrows. “Was there a reason she needed one?”

  Standing behind Sally, Vance winked and said gravely, “I’m afraid so. Tell him, Sally.”

  Her lip poked out. “I didn’t do anything that awful. I just detoured to get some food before I went over to be with the other subs.”

  “I see.” Testing her limits, was she? Was this just a normal response of someone independent to getting orders—or was there a need he and Vance weren’t meeting and she was acting out to get their attention? The imp wasn’t easy to read sometimes; she kept a lot buried deep. From the sulky set to her mouth, she wasn’t going to share right now.

  But maybe they could get her to a place where her reticence would be set aside. He started to speak before realizing something else. Vance wouldn’t have collared her for just straying. “How did that work out for you?”

  A flush crept up her face, and she dropped her gaze.

  Vance said, “Some Doms weren’t happy that she’d faked her orgasms. And the word that she isn’t a trainee hasn’t gotten around.”

  “Uncomfortable situation, eh, pet?”

  Without looking up, she nodded, all defiance gone.

  And his heart ached for her. She might have dug her own hole, but— “Sally, you took your punishment. As far as Vance and I—and other experienced Doms—are concerned, your slate is clean. A good Dom won’t throw past mistakes in your face.”

  Her gaze lifted, her eyes a liquid brown. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “No thanks needed.” He glanced at the cross. “We’re planning to play with you a bit. I have a craving to dispense a flogging. Vance will warm you up and decide on your restraints.”

  Vance smiled and turned her around. “Hold still now.” He slipped her top off, his eyes lighting as her breasts were exposed.

  Galen shook his head and leaned against the wall, facing her, and settled in to watch his partner play. He’d seen the clothespins case in the toy bag. Galen might like impact toys, but Vance definitely enjoyed teasing breasts.

  After Vance had savored Sally’s breasts for a while, he started placing the clothespins, taking a pinch of skin several inches from the nipple and putting the clothespin on, then moving down an inch to set another one. By the time he finished, Sally had a circle of clothespins on each breast.

  Brave pet, she’d only whimpered once and suffered through the rest. She looked a little glassy-eyed now, but not in subspace. Galen planned to get her there…eventually.

  Vance unzipped her short leather skirt and yanked it off her hips. Sally’s eyes widened at the move, and Galen grinned. Apparently she expected that kind of aggression from him, not Vance. Surprise.

  “Open your legs,” Vance ordered her. He stepped behind and reached around her hips. His fingers opened her labia, exposing her to Galen’s sight. “She feels wet and swollen. What do you think?”

  He thought her flush now included embarrassment as well as arousal. Experienced submissives were used to being naked…it was fun to give them back that exposed feeling. And he loved keeping Sally off balance. As he studied her silently, her flush increased.

  But he did enjoy the view. Her inner labia were puffy and gl
eaming slickly. Her clit was already swollen, a dark, glistening pink and poking out from the hood. I think she’ll get off quickly. But that wasn’t the plan. “I’d say she’s ready for me.”

  An obvious tremor shook her short body. Yes, she was definitely ready for him. He tilted his head toward the St. Andrew’s cross.

  “Wait, sweetheart. I want access to your breasts.” After eyeing Sally’s height, Vance adjusted the footboards—pedal-like boards that could be screwed into the bottom of the X frame to position the submissive higher on the cross. In this case, so that her breasts wouldn’t be pressed into the center of the X.

  “Up you go,” Vance said and helped her step onto the boards, facing the frame. She reached up and closed her hands around the eyebolts, putting her top half into a V position. With the higher position, her stomach rubbed on the center of the X, and her breasts pushed out between the wooden arms.

  Vance walked around in front of her and smiled. “You know I like restraints. I consider them a visible symbol of the trust between a Dom and a sub. But tonight, I’m not going to use any. You’ll stay in position—because we want you to. Can you do that?”

  Her breathing had slowed as her body unconsciously prepared itself, as her mind slid her down the path to submission. “Yes, Sir.”

  “We’re going to start light, baby girl,” Galen said. After moving behind her, he ran his hand through her rich brown hair and used an elastic hair tie from his pocket to anchor it on top of her head and out of his way.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes held a touch of anxiety and—

  His heart seemed to expand into a glowing ball of pleasure. “You trust me, don’t you?” For that was what he saw in her eyes. Open, defenseless trust.

  “Yes, Sir,” she answered without thinking.

  This was the wonder of being a Dom, that someone would let him have control over her, that she trusted him to care for her when she did. “Remember you have a safe word. This time I want you to use yellow if I get close to your limits. Is that clear?” He ran his hand up her neck, kissed her slowly. Soft, sweet lips.