Once again, he’d known how she felt. Some men might have shown up on her doorstep. Her heart gave a hard thud at the thought of seeing Sir. But he wasn’t that pushy. Instead, he’d found a smooth way to let her know he wanted to see her. A warm feeling grew in her chest. He hadn’t forgotten her.
Now it was up to her.
She scowled down at his gift. Wear that skimpy thing? Absolutely not.
She stared at it longer. Then, biting her lip, she stripped and slipped on the top. Cool silk drifted around her body. The halter top lifted her breasts up until they almost overflowed, and the bottom… Well, she’d seen shorter. Really. But not much. Although the points of the handkerchief hem dropped in front and back to midthigh, the sides only reached her hips.
She discovered a tiny G-string left in the package and dangled it from one finger. Wear this? What would be the point?
She walked over to a mirror. The nightie really did look pretty good on her, didn’t it? She twirled so the hemline flirted with her legs. She’d seen less modest outfits at wedding showers. He hadn’t sent something that made her look totally slutty.
Actually, she couldn’t imagine Master Z sending anything vulgar.
She turned again. If she left her hair down, it would cover up a lot of the cleavage. For the drive, she could wear a coat and leave it in the tiny coatroom. Her hands started to sweat.
Was she really, really considering this?
* * * * *
Zachary wandered through the club, nodding to the regulars. The place was filling up nicely. Lingerie nights were popular, both with the experienced and the newer crowd. He inspected the theme rooms in the back: the hard-core dungeon, the medical room, the office, the playroom. All were clean and stocked. The dungeon monitors assigned to each area were at their places.
He wondered what Jessica was doing about now. Staring in shock at his gift? Trying to decide what to do? Her confidence in herself and her attractiveness wasn’t strong; that might influence her decision. Was she knowledgeable enough about her desires to set her feet on this path?
Clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled back to the main room. How brave was she?
* * * * *
Stomach aflutter with anticipation, Jessica stepped into the entry of the Shadowlands.
Ben glanced up from his paperwork, and a big smile split his heavy features. “Well now, look who’s back.”
The welcome was sincere, and she smiled at him in return. “Guess so.”
“Master Z will be pleased.” He flipped through his file box, pulled out the papers bearing her signature. “The boss said, ‘This time, read them.’”
She laughed and started perusing the three pages. Several times she stopped to catch her breath at the ways she could have gotten in trouble and the penalties involved. Sir hadn’t lied to her about the punishment for messing up someone’s scene either. If anything, she’d gotten off lightly.
Ben was grinning by the time she finished. “A little overwhelming?”
“A lot overwhelming,” she muttered. If she’d read the forms last week, she’d never have set a foot inside. At least this time she had the benefit of some Internet research.
“Give me your coat, and leave your shoes in a cubby.” He nodded at the built-in shoe storage beside the coatrack.
After tucking her shoes away, she took off her coat, feeling like she was stripping.
He gave a low whistle, making her blush. “You look really nice. Go on in now.”
The club room was more familiar this time, although the crowd’s attire had changed. The female subs were all in lingerie with the males in low-riding bottoms. The Dom types wore dress slacks and shirts, leather or latex. Her nightie was actually one of the more discreet ones. Thank you, Sir.
Although most of the members were in couples or small groups, there were singles also. And as she sidled up to the bar, she noticed the interested looks men—and women—cast her way. She noticed her breasts wobble under the sheer silk. Good grief, this was like being naked.
She glanced at an empty St. Andrew’s cross and winced. Or maybe not.
The bartender was another familiar face. Cullen. He certainly hadn’t grown any shorter; the man positively loomed over the customers. She settled herself onto a bar stool and winced as her all-too-exposed butt hit the chilled wood.
Cullen leaned an elbow on the bar to smile down into her eyes. “Little Jessica. I’m very happy to see you again. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a margarita, please.”
When he set the drink in front of her, she realized she’d left her wallet in the coat pocket. “My money’s in the coatroom. I’ll be back in—”
He shook his head. “Nope. Didn’t make that clear last time, did I? This is a private club; the members’ dues cover their drinks. And you’re Master Z’s guest.”
“That was last time. This time—”
“He’s expecting you, sweetie. This time, too.” His grin was slow and appreciative as he studied her. She flushed. “He also said if you were brave enough, you’d be a treat for the eyes. As always, he was right.”
She actually felt a quiver inside at the appreciation in his eyes.
Glancing away, she realized the tall man next to her was ogling her breasts. With a huff of exasperation and embarrassment, she turned toward the dance floor. Her eyes widened. Leathers and lingerie certainly made for…interesting dancing. The chemises, baby-dolls, and nightgowns offered very little protection against a Dom’s hands.
Wetting her lips, she looked away and tried to see if Master Z was around. But what could she say to him anyway? Hi there, want to tie me up again? Oh, God, she shouldn’t have come. This was too awkward, too embarrassing. She started to slide off the bar stool.
Hard hands grasped her around the waist and set her on her feet.
“Jessica, I am pleased.” Sir’s voice, deep and dark and smooth, sent a thrill running through her from her head to her toes.
She looked up into his intent eyes, then away, unable to meet his gaze. Chuckling, he held her out at arm’s length and studied her. He smiled. “Quite as lovely as I had imagined. The pink suits you.”
“Um.” He wore a black silk shirt again with some of the buttons open, revealing his corded neck and hard upper chest muscles. She had run her hands over that chest, played with the springy black hair. Her fingers tingled; she wanted to touch him again. Wanted to be touched.
“Thank you for the…for the gown,” she said awkwardly. The all-too-thin fabric offered no barrier to the heat and strength of his hands.
He rumbled a laugh. “The gown was for my pleasure, pet.” Pulling her into his arms, he took her mouth in a lingering kiss. When he lifted his head—when her head stopped spinning—she realized he had one arm curved around her waist, and his free hand was rubbing her thong-bared buttocks.
She stiffened, tried to pull away. His grip tightened, tilting her hips into his. Fully erect, he pressed against her pubic area in a way that made her catch her breath.
“I look forward to taking you tonight,” he whispered in her ear, “to hearing you whimper and scream as you come.”
Heat shot through her so suddenly, so fiercely, she almost staggered. With a deep laugh, he released her and set her glass in her hand.
Cullen had been watching. Now he grinned at Sir. “Feel free to share your pet anytime.”
To Jessica’s alarm, rather than laughing and saying “no way,” Master Z inclined his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her mouth dropped open. He wouldn’t… They didn’t… Relief filled her as Master Z curved an arm around her and headed toward the rear of the club.
After a few feet, he stopped. “I almost forgot the rest of your clothing.”
From the glint in his eyes, she didn’t think he was talking about a concealing robe. “What would that be?”
He held one big hand out. “Give me a wrist.”
Oh, God. Asking for a wrist meant restraints, didn’t
it? A tremor rushed through her and she felt herself dampen. “Now?”
“The only acceptable response from you is ‘yes, Sir.’”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir.” Even as she placed her left wrist into his hand, warmth pooled inside her.
He unclipped something from his belt, and her eyes widened. How had she missed seeing what he carried? One side of his mouth curved up as he buckled a suede-lined leather handcuff snugly around her wrist.
“Next one.”
It was harder to give him her hand this time, knowing what he had in mind. But she did.
With an approving smile, he put the other cuff on her.
She turned her hands over and studied the cuffs. Sturdy leather. The right cuff had one metal ring; the other cuff had another ring hanging from the first.
His intent gaze captured hers and didn’t move away as he snapped the rings on the two cuffs together, binding her hands together in front of her. This wasn’t in private. She pulled at the cuffs, her breathing increasing when nothing gave. “I don’t think I like—”
“Actually, you do,” he said, running the knuckles of one hand over her breasts where her nipples had tightened into hard points. When she tried to step back, he merely tucked his fingers around where the cuffs joined and held her in place.
She shook her head as he continued touching her, stroking her breasts.
“What are you feeling now, Jessica?” he asked, as if he wasn’t rolling one nipple between his fingers.
“I—noth—” She stopped. No lies, he’d said. But…
“Just stop and think about your body, little one. Are you excited?”
Her heart beat quickly. Her breasts seemed to have swelled under his hands. Her private areas were wet and throbbing.
People walked around them; she could hear soft chuckles, but couldn’t look away from Sir’s intense eyes.
“Answer me, kitten. Do the cuffs excite you?”
“Yes.” She felt like such a slut. Kinky sex, that was all she wanted.
He smiled slowly, his gaze heating as he leisurely looked her over. “I like seeing you in them.” He touched her neck. “And seeing how they made your heart speed up.” He ran one hard finger across her lower lip. “How your lips tremble.”
He reached under her skirt and touched her so intimately, she choked. He lifted his fingers to his face, then hers. She could smell herself, so different than his scent.
“I can smell your arousal,” he said.
Oh, God.
He chuckled. One hand around her waist, he strode through the crowd nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t walking with a woman whose hands were buckled together in front of her. Reading about this stuff was sure a lot different than doing it.
“Where are we going?” Jessica asked, then grimaced. “Um. Am I allowed to talk?”
“Good question.” He stopped, pushing her long hair back behind her shoulders. So much for her attempt to hide her cleavage. “Normally a sub would ask permission before speaking. But I want you to ask questions, so…” He ran a finger over the top of her breasts. “For tonight, you have permission to speak freely, unless I give you an order or until I take away that permission. Is that clear enough?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His approving smile had the butterflies in her stomach doing loop-de-loops. “As to your first question, I try to do the rounds every hour or so,” he said. “I like to keep an eye on the crowd, the activities. I don’t believe you’ve seen the entire club yet, have you?”
“No.” Jessica’s gaze winced away from a man strapped to a bondage chair. A woman in a metallic blue bustier and leggings was tying ropes around the man’s balls. Sweat poured down the man’s face and chest.
They’d reached the double doors on the back wall. The area she’d avoided last time. Sir led her down a wide hallway where long glass windows alternated with doors on each side.
Z stopped her at the first window. “This is the office.”
She wrinkled her nose in perplexity. Why would he have his office here? And why were people crowded around the window to the room? She edged forward to peek around a man’s shoulder. Oh.
The room had a desk, rolling leather chair, books on shelves, thick dark red carpeting. Nice office. A man sat behind the desk writing while his secretary—a woman with her hair in a bun, and wearing a tight skirt and white blouse—was on her knees, sucking his cock.
Jessica licked her lips, then whispered to Sir, “Guess it’s not your office, huh.”
He grinned, a white flash of teeth, then led her farther down the hall.
The next room appeared familiar, and Jessica jerked to a stop. “That’s a—”
“A gynecologist’s table, yes. This is the medical room.”
A man, bare from the waist down, was being assisted onto the exam table by another man in a doctor’s white coat. Jessica shivered, remembering the feel of a doctor’s hands down there in that private place. How could that man do that, knowing everyone could watch from the window?
Even worse, the next room had the window glass slid open. People leaned over the windowsill, watching avidly as a man dripped hot wax onto a woman strapped to a table.
Horrified, Jessica wrenched away from Sir, backed away. Torture. That was torture, plain and simple.
Master Z held his hands out to her, gaze steady. “Jessica.”
After a moment, she put her cuffed and chilled hands into his warm ones. He smiled faintly, pulled her into his arms, and held her firmly against his chest like a child.
“The lifestyle runs from a little bondage all the way to severe pain. I avoid subs who need pain like that, for I do not have a liking to dispense it. Can you trust me to know how much or how little pain you would find enjoyable?”
“No pain is enjoyable.” She buried her head in his shoulder. “That’s just wrong.”
“And after your bottom was paddled, how did it feel?” he whispered, running his hand over her bare ass, reminding her of how the pain had mingled with excitement, making her hotter.
She couldn’t answer.
He didn’t make her, though his gaze was too knowing. He knew how it had made her feel. Damn him and that mind-reading stuff.
The next room, darkly medieval with chains dangling from a rock wall, contained only three people. A naked blonde lay face up on a roughly hewn bench, her arms and legs shackled to the floor. A woman slapped the blonde’s legs with a flogger while a man sucked on her breasts. Giving thin screams, the restrained woman arched her back, pushing her breasts up.
“The dungeon,” Master Z said. “It becomes more popular as the evening goes on, as does the playroom.”
The last room was huge. One round high bed, at least three times the size of a king, took up almost the entire room. Five people were in there, twisting and turning in various positions, all entangled together. One woman on her knees sucked on a cock while a man pounded into her from behind. Two men…
Jessica’s mouth dropped open as disbelief ran through her, then a thrill of excitement. “How…unusual,” she said, her voice husky.
Standing behind her, Sir put his arms around her, one hand cupping her left breast. He kissed her neck, murmured, “Your heart just sped up. Something interest you here?”
“No. Uh-uh.” She tried to take a step away from the window, but he didn’t move. Holding her with an unyielding arm around her waist, his other hand slipped between her legs and under her thong to the growing wetness there. He stroked her clit with his slickened fingers, over and over, until she squirmed uncontrollably.
“I grow tired of your prevarications, pet.” His voice had turned firm. “Answer me.”
She tried to close her legs, but his hand was there, spreading her pubic lips open. One finger slid into her, and she jerked as warmth shot through her body. He wouldn’t make her—
“I-I… Okay. It… I’ve never seen that.”
“There’s more,” he growled, obviously dissatisfied with her answer. The finger pushed
deeper inside her.
“Sir.” She sucked in a breath and gave up. “It’s exciting.”
“What part did you find exciting?”
“The woman with two men,” she whispered, her face flaming hot.
“Anything else?”
Her hips tilted into his hand as he kept up the slow stroking. “People watching.”
“Thank you for being honest, kitten.” He squeezed her in a brief hug. “I know this is hard to talk about for you. Although we’ve moved past the days when only the missionary position was acceptable, society still insists sex should be only one man and one woman in private. It’s hard to get past that mind-set, especially for someone as conservative as you.”
The matter-of-fact logic was steadying, his understanding of her personality even more so. Just then, the man in the room behind the woman shouted his release, and the woman came, her hips jerking frantically.
And Jessica could feel moisture trickle down her thigh.
“Mmm-hmm, I think you’re getting past your inhibitions nicely,” he said, amusement in his voice. He kissed her neck then released her, leaving her throbbing.
Chapter Nine
They went back to finish their drinks; then Sir ignored her protests and took her out onto the dance floor. The music was slow and romantic. She could do this, especially with Sir holding her warmly against him. He danced like everything else he did, competently with a firm lead.
“How did you get so good at everything?” she murmured, enjoying the soft music, the slow glide of his hand up and down her back. He’d unhooked her wrists, and she savored the feel of his hard shoulder muscles under her fingers.
“You haven’t seen me anywhere but here, pet. Your opinion might be a little overstated.”
Somehow she doubted that.
“What do you do when you’re not here?” He seemed too straightforward to be a lawyer or businessman. Maybe—
“I’m a psychologist.”
She jerked back, stared at him. “You?”
[Masters of the Shadowlands 01.0] Club Shadowlands Page 9
