Mistress's Master: Men in Blue, Book 3

by Jayne Rylon

  “God damn, JRad.” Razor bundled his girl closer. “He’s no joke.”

  “I got that, kid.” He related the important facts—about Lily, Zina and his new buddy, Morselli—while skirting the darker flavors of his evening out. His friends didn’t need his proclivity for bondage spelled out. His aptitude for dominance wasn’t relevant. Well, not any more than they already guessed at.

  “So now you have to fill Agent Sterns in.” Clint referred to their DEA handler.

  “Convince him to allow you to take Morselli up on his offer. Better if you could rope us in too. If we can work this from the inside…”

  “It’s dangerous, JRad.” Worry lined Matt’s normally jovial face.

  “What about our job isn’t?” Jeremy stood and resumed his pacing. No one bothered to stop him this time.

  “This has nothing to do with your career, does it?” Isabella peered up at him from the shelter of Razor’s arms, which banded around her chest, keeping her close.

  “Of course not.” He crouched beside her. “I’m desperate. Lily’s sticking her neck out too far. She can’t avoid disaster forever. There are so many land mines surrounding her, I can’t believe she’s made it this far.”

  “Then I’m glad you went tonight. Even if you should have told us first.” Such a tiny thing shouldn’t be able to cow a man three times her size. In that regard, she and her sister were a matched set.

  “I promise to keep you all in the loop from now on.” He looked from person to person, his gaze landing last on Mason, who smiled. “As long as you’re aware I will do this. Nothing can stop me from following her.”

  “Then you better decide quick if you want me to answer this, JRad.” Clint held up his vibrating phone. “I have a feeling Sterns is about to rip you a new one.”

  “Fuck.” No sense in putting off the inevitable. “I’ll take it.”

  Chapter Four

  If Jeremy had to say, “Yes, sir,” one more time, he might crack a molar.

  Somehow, Sterns had discovered his foray into Black Lily. To say the news displeased his superior officer might have been the understatement of the century. Like claiming he was attracted to Lily when his craving was more on the order of magnitude of the gravitational force of the sun.

  Ten billion suns.

  “As long as we understand each other, Radisson.”

  “Yes, sir.” He’d stopped listening to the man’s rebukes.

  “Then I have to admit, an inside line could be the break we’ve been waiting for.”

  “What?” Jeremy held the phone away from his ear and squinted at it. Had he imagined the go-ahead?

  “I’m not a complete moron, you know.” Sterns coughed up a gruff chuckle. “You’re uniquely qualified for this task. I’ve heard rumors. Seen some history in your government files.”

  Stuff Jeremy had dusted off and planted in plain sight in preparation for this exact moment. Still, having that info become common knowledge after so long in the shadows made his skin crawl. Exposing himself didn’t come naturally.

  If that’s what it took to protect Lily, he’d do it a hundred times over.

  “Right. I’m glad we’re on the same page, sir.” He barely kept himself from growling. “How do you feel about Ludwig and Griggs working with me on this?”

  “Well… Huh. Not sure they’re the type to do what it takes, no matter the cost.” Sterns’s veiled implications sat a little funny in Jeremy’s gut. “I know you won’t let us down, JRad. You’ll get the job done, whatever perverted shit might be required. Hell, I suppose it ain’t so disgusting to some. Like us. There are worse things than forcing a woman to obey, I say.”

  The agent’s twisted tone spiked the hair on Jeremy’s forearm. He bit his tongue to prevent himself from informing the jackass of the true nature of a Dom/sub relationship. It had nothing to do with the filthy innuendo loading his boss’s contempt.

  In some regards, the man had it right. Jeremy would do just about anything for Lily’s safety. Even if it meant playing along with the dumbass’s misconceptions. He focused on achieving his goal and forced an empathetic chuckle.

  “I’m glad you agree, Agent.” He infused his request with the steel he used when commanding a reticent partner to do what they yearned for but feared. “So trust my judgment on this. Having the two of them around will give me more chances to take down The Scientist and track the drug. Morselli will lead us to the source.”

  “It’ll be difficult enough for you to convince him to allow you into his network, never mind two other strangers.” Sterns’s confidence made Jeremy wonder what he hadn’t shared. What did he know? “He’s not the gullible sort, and he likes to be in charge. Three of you might be too big of a threat to his ridiculous ego.”

  “Trust me. I have it covered. We’ll prove our worth if we have to.” Jeremy sighed. “I’ve laid the groundwork. He can check me out. He’ll find what he needs to be satisfied of my genuine interest.”

  “Agreed.” The agent whistled. “I can’t believe your squad has never questioned your suitability for your position. Then again, the locals probably never unearthed what we have.”

  Clint’s phone creaked when Jeremy nearly crushed the device. How dare this fucker insult his division?

  Deep breath.

  “You don’t seem to mind my…talents.” Jeremy couldn’t resist slipping in one itsy dig.

  “Sometimes an instrument presents itself when you least expect it.” Sterns took on an edge Jeremy had never noticed before. “I’ve learned not to underestimate men. That doesn’t mean shit for when we’re through here. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Don’t forget to write home. I expect progress reports daily.” Sterns sneered. “And don’t leave out any juicy details to cover your ass.”

  More like the agent wanted to jerk off to the debauchery occurring inside Morselli’s stronghold. Fuck.

  Sterns saved him from doing anything stupid when he ended the conversation. “Don’t fuck this up. Bury yourself in their organization. Take the two locals with you if you can. Blow your cover trying to get too fancy and I’ll have your badge faster than the snap of a whip. And, Radisson?”

  “What?” He couldn’t bear to placate the man with his title any more.

  “Don’t choke.”

  Jeremy stared at the darkened phone, grateful for the severed connection. Otherwise he might have gone postal. Could Sterns know? Had he connected the dots between the few puzzle pieces Jeremy had scattered in the dark? Or had it been a harmless coincidence?

  Son of a bitch.

  A soft touch on his heaving shoulder had him rounding in a flash.

  Isabella stumbled backward a step or two. Moisture made her eyes shine even in the dim kitchen. He hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on. His conversation seemed better suited to darkness.

  “Shit. I didn’t mean to frighten you, Izzy.”

  “I’m not scared for me.” Her whisper cracked. “It’s Lily I’m worried about. And you. God, look at you.”

  Isabella set the tray she carried on the counter then crept closer until barely an inch remained between his flexing abdomen and her breasts. She reached upward as she rose onto her tiptoes. He bent forward into her embrace, allowing the warmth of her arms to dissolve the knot at the base of his neck.

  “We’re going to end this once and for all.” He whispered into her hair. “I’ll get her back. Make her safe.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “Promise me you won’t sacrifice yourself in trade. I’m greedy. I want you both. From what I saw at Malcolm’s funeral, and after, I doubt my sister could be truly happy without you. Something happens when you two are together, when you touch. Something powerful. Special. The past year has taught me to believe in fate. You’re meant for each other. I know it to the bottom of my soul.”

  Jeremy couldn’t bear to hope the universe had his back. It never had before. No, he made his own destiny. Try as he might, sometimes he crashed and burned,
no matter his intent. “I hope you’re right, Izzy.”

  “Ah, Jeremy. Come in.” Morselli rose from behind his polished desk, crafted of some exotic wood Jeremy had never seen before, when a servant showed them into Morselli’s office. “I’d started to think you wouldn’t show.”

  More like Jeremy hadn’t granted the fucker excess time to pepper him with inquiries about his past or to stir up trouble. He strode toward the scum, repressing a grin when the supposedly fearless proprietor of the private establishment avoided offering another handshake.

  “I’m a busy man.” Jeremy didn’t announce his companions, dressed entirely in black. Instead he pretended not to notice Matt—with his arms crossed over his massive chest—take up his post by the door or Clint sliding discreetly into the space to his left.

  “What exactly is it that you do?” Morselli settled into his slick, modern chair, folding his fingers over his not-quite-flat belly.

  “I’m an independent trainer. I fulfill requests from women who wish to seek a Master but need experience first or those who aren’t sure if the lifestyle is meant for them. Sometimes I instruct other Doms or Dommes. Occasionally, a Master will hire me to take their slave beyond boundaries they’re comfortable exploring without expert guidance.”

  “I see.”

  “Why ask me questions you already know the answer to? I’m sure you’ve done your homework by now. If not, perhaps I should be going. I only work with the most reputable enterprises.”

  “There’s surprisingly little information available about you, Master Radisson. I did, however, speak to Gunther Spadius.”

  Despite the lurch in his chest, he couldn’t stop his smile. The notorious trainer would have Jeremy’s back. His mentor had begged Jeremy to return after the accident. The legendary Dom hadn’t held the tragedy against Jeremy.

  He wished he could say the same of himself.

  “An impressive recommendation. He assured me you’re an asset to any organization with a flair for…our specialties.” Morselli leaned forward, resting his elbows on the gleaming surface of his desk. “I invited you here today as my guest. However, if you’re interested in a new position, I’m sure I can find a use for you.”

  “I wasn’t aware you offered services. I thought you invited friends to indulge their common ground and potentially make a new acquisition for their collection.”

  “For the most part, yes. Some, like Mistress Lily, will have their stable of paying slave-clients hosted here as well. An audience for other menu items I plan to market.” Morselli paused, weighing his options. “There are special cases. Sometimes a prospective customer can’t afford to pay cash. I think we’re generous, allowing them to work off their bills. Lately, we’ve also taken a few shipments in trade. They need a touch of cleaning up before I can offer them to the more discerning buyers in good faith.”

  Jeremy gritted his teeth. He had no method for separating legitimate participants from the rest except by monitoring their reactions closely. Then again, how many of those who volunteered did so for access to Sex Offender? Bad enough to prey on people’s addictions. How could Morselli assume anything he did to unwilling women, and probably some men, was in good faith?

  “There are times, like today, we require a special set of skills.”

  “By that you mean…” Jeremy clenched his jaw.

  “I hope you’ll understand. When we bring new members into our circle, we have to be certain they share our values and will uphold our traditions.” Morselli grinned. “I think having you and Lily joining us on the same day lends us some interesting opportunities.”

  Jeremy didn’t trust himself to speak. He waited.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy her show the other night. I saw how hard you came while admiring her scene.”

  “She’s talented.”

  “Wicked and gorgeous as sin too.” Morselli’s leer set Jeremy on the cusp of rational thought. “I had planned to test her myself, a delicious opening act before tonight’s main events. Now I think I have a better idea. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Jeremy stood. Matt and Clint flanked him.

  Morselli nodded toward the bulky men. “I hope one day you’ll find precautions unnecessary.”

  “We’ll see. I’m a conservative sort of man.” He allowed a shred of reality to shine through, enhancing the believability of his story. Subtle shifts melded honesty into something twisted beyond recognition. “Truth be told, they’re more friend than protection most times. Today, a little of both.”

  “Never can be too careful.” Morselli clapped him on the back.

  Jeremy wished he could show the jackass they were anything but pals.

  “Let’s see how tonight goes before we indulge in the full facilities tour. We’re transferring a bunch of Lily’s bootlickers to our campus. They’re all rich, kept men, willing to pay for room and board and…whatever else it is they desire. She insisted I pamper them before she would abandon her playground despite my assurance we were state of the art compared to her joke of a shop. Still, things are a bit chaotic in her wing just now.”

  “I’ll look forward to checking it out. It’s been a while. I’m not sure anything can top Gunther’s setup. I’m curious to inspect your attempt.”

  “Don’t worry, I guarantee you’ll be impressed.”

  They strolled along a marble hallway. Ostentatious and cold, it could never approach Jeremy’s dream home. No matter how much money he had, he would never choose to live somewhere so lifeless. So uncomfortable.

  “We don’t have much time. I was hoping to meet with you earlier today. Our guests will arrive within the hour. If all remains on schedule, Lily’s preparations have already begun.”

  “What is she arranging?” They descended a wide spiral staircase, the echo of their footsteps reverberating along the corridor.

  “Oh, you misunderstood. It’s her we’re getting ready. See for yourself.” Tony stopped before a heavy wooden door covered in intricate scrollwork. He punched in a code on a pinpad beside the portal. When the panel swung open, a balcony loomed before them. They approached the curved banister.

  The wide room below reminded Jeremy of a pit at the coliseum where gladiators would wait for battle, some fired up and some resigned to their fate. Staff members adorned with uniforms made of slender chrome chains and black leather—tan, oiled skin peeking between—swarmed at least a dozen women and a handful of men. Each slave was held at a station where several attendants fussed with their hair and applied elaborate makeup to hide any marks from prior events. Bright red lipstick, vivid eye shadow and lots of rouge painted life into the victims who’d ceased to fight.

  Matt cleared his throat as an inspector approached the team closest to them. The man chuckled as he worked through an extensive checklist, verifying the smoothness of the woman’s waxing and breathing deep against her skin to test her fresh scent before finally signing off on his clipboard.

  His nod to one of the attendants incited a flurry of activity. The woman who’d passed muster was unstrapped from the chair confining her. A brute squashed her weak attempt at rebellion without putting a hair out of place. He toted her to the next staging area while the original team plucked another shivering woman from the holding zone and tossed her toward the tiled wall in the corner. Fine mist filled the air when they blasted her with a strong spray of water from several hoses. Her shrieks and chattering gasps testified to the chill of the liquid.

  Tony adjusted the bulge at his crotch when the prisoner danced in an attempt to evade the cruel shower.

  Clint hissed a curse beneath his breath, low enough only Jeremy could hear. He followed his friend’s gaze to the original subject, who was forced to conform to the outline of a contraption along with the rest of the slaves who’d already met physical standards.

  The wrangler pressed his charge to her back on a small square platform a few inches below waist height. The supporting surface ended at her ass. Her captor locked the top half of a thick wooden stocka
de board around her neck and wrists, which were pinned beside her face. Several chains and clips secured the board with half-moon carve outs to the matching side bolted to the platform.

  The woman’s back arched at an extreme angle. Her abdomen rose as her thighs dangled and she sought to relieve some of the pressure by balancing on her tiptoes, which barely reached the floor. Her fingers clawed at the binding on her neck though she stood no chance of freeing herself. Hoarse shouts along with her struggles earned her a bright red ball gag between her matching lips.

  Before she could cause herself damage or muss the carefully crafted illusion of glamour the prior team had cast, her attendant lifted two thick supports and tightened the bolts so they remained parallel to her legs at a forty-five degree angle to the platform surface, pointing backward at her body.

  He grasped another plank—this one sported two larger holes—from a shelf under the main surface of the unit then knelt to guide her feet into the openings. He lifted the board until it hovered just above her knees. The leather-hooded man pressed the restraint toward her torso, bending the woman in half until the board rested on the two supports at her hips. He hammered the wood into place.

  The woman reclined, her arms and neck pinned to the platform, her body folded as though stuck in an obscene crunch. Her legs spread wide, kept in place by the stockade engulfing her thighs. The position left her stretched, opened, her pussy and ass on display.

  She released a keening cry when the man attempted to plunge two long fingers into her pussy. He shook his head then called over his shoulder, “Spreader plugs.”

  Before he’d finished his request, someone wheeled a cart to his side. He rummaged through various supplies before finding what he sought. He lifted a moderate plug from a box and dunked the plastic object in a pail filled with thin lubrication before aligning it with the opening of the woman’s pussy. He slipped the insert between her puffy lips then held it in place with one hand while he repeated the act on her tight ass with a bit more difficulty.