Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am

by Cherise Sinclair

  After giving her a light kiss, he took a deep breath that rubbed his chest against her incredibly sensitive nipples and made her moan.

  Slowly, he pulled out. When the anal vibrator switched off and was removed, her body could only twitch.

  One by one, he unfastened the chains from her legs and arms. When he pulled her arms down, she groaned and gritted her teeth. Sore joints were not a good pain.

  “Easy.” As his powerful hands massaged the ache from her shoulders, her body felt as if it was oozing down into the bed, drenched in satiation. Her emotions felt the same way. He was being so careful with her. Evil sadist had turned to lover.

  “Hurt too much anywhere?” His fingers trailed over her body, his warm gaze checking for any damage. “Tell me, baby.”

  “Uhh-uhhh. Fine.”

  “Good.” With gentle, unwavering hands, he rolled her onto her side and curled behind her. His legs tangled with hers; his chest warmed her back. “Sleep, girl,” he growled in her ear.

  When she’d been a child, an elderly neighbor’s dog had growled at her constantly. She’d been terrified until the owner explained the noise was Bruno’s way of talking. Light growls, low growls, chompy growls. Even happy growls. She’d discovered that the local bullies never appeared when Bruno walked her to school…growling the entire way.

  He’d sounded just like Sam.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On a worn-smooth wooden pew, Linda sat in the church waiting for the ceremony to begin. She’d been disappointed when Sam had called to tell her to go on to Jessica and Z’s wedding without him. Nonetheless, she was delighted to be present.

  How could anyone not love the ritual when a couple formally began their life together? For that one moment, no second thoughts were allowed to intrude. Even the air in the church seemed filled with joyful anticipation.

  She smiled. She’d been so young when she and Frederick had married. If she’d waited to gain a bit more experience, perhaps she’d have made a wiser choice. But then she wouldn’t have Brenna and Charles. And really, her marriage had been more happy than sad.

  A gurgle of laughter came from beside her. Having defeated the other submissives, Sally cuddled Zane, Kari’s adorable baby. He was having a wonderful time tugging on her long hair. Tanner, the male trainee, had squeezed closer, obviously awaiting his chance to snatch the baby for himself.

  The rest of the row was filled with all the single Shadowlands submissives who weren’t serving as bridesmaids. The club had shown up in force, filling the church with the wonderful diversity of the membership—not only a range of ethnicities, but also the wide variety of sexual, gender, and relationship choices.

  Obviously, Z wasn’t ashamed of his friends. Linda shook her head. Once they married, would Z and Jessica still manage to balance the BDSM side of their lives with the vanilla world?

  * * * *

  In the bridal suite, Jessica looked at herself in the mirror. Thank God, Gabi was an expert with makeup. Jessica’s hands had been shaking so hard that she’d have ended up with mascara everywhere…and probably have poked her eye out with the wand. “I’m getting married,” she told herself.

  Her bridesmaids burst into laughter, and Andrea added, “No. Really?”

  Jessica turned on the chair. Damn, she loved these women—the submissives of the Shadowlands Masters. It had seemed so appropriate that their groomsmen and bridesmaids would be the attached couples in the Masters. Kari and Dan, Beth and Nolan, Andrea and Cullen, Gabi and Marcus, Kim and Raoul. She gave them a watery smile.

  Beth set her hands on her hips. “Don’t you start that crying business. Gabi already put her makeup kit away.”

  “No, Ma’am. I won’t, Ma’am.” Jessica grinned at Beth. “You were such a cute Mistress at the party. What did Nolan say when he saw you all Dommed up?”

  “He said I was cute too. But then he wanted to see if I could dominate him. As if.” The slender redhead rubbed her bottom. “Don’t ever let Z get one of those evil stick things. That thwap really hurts.”

  As everyone laughed, Jessica heard Z outside the bridal room. Even after two years, she still got quivers when she heard his deep voice.

  In the hallway, her mother said something that sounded like a protest.

  Z answered firmly. “This is a tradition also.” Ignoring the sputtering response, he walked past her mother and Aunt Eunice into the room and set a large gift bag on the floor. When he spotted Jessica, still in her underwear, his eyes warmed. “You’re absolutely lovely, kitten.”

  Under his gaze… She felt beautiful.

  He glanced at the women. “Give us a few minutes, please.” No matter how politely phrased, it was a command from a Dom to a group of submissives.

  Without a word, they disappeared into the hallway where her mother was having a whisperfest with Eunice.

  What in the world was going on? “Zachary?”

  “Try again.” His eyes had turned a dark gray that melted her insides.

  “Master?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled—the best reward she’d ever found. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “We decided you’d receive your submissive collar in the wedding ceremony instead of a separate one. Since we’re not in a formal Master/slave relationship, that seemed right.”

  She nodded. They’d had a long discussion about how to integrate everything.

  “But I decided I want more.”

  “More?”

  He lifted her to her feet. His faint smile and the glint in his eyes sent a tremor deep into her bones. “You’re mine, Jessica. My submissive. My wife. And the ceremony makes the spouse role more important than the submissive.” He opened the bag he’d brought into the room and took out a…

  “A corset?” A new one of pure white lace and satin that would go from her breasts to her hips and as beautiful in its own way as her wedding dress.

  “Indeed.” His gaze darkened. “Strip, please.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Now?”

  At the slight rise of his chin, she hurriedly pulled off her silky bra and thong.

  “Hands up.” As he wrapped the corset around her, she frowned at the perfect fit. “Where did you get this?”

  “Your wedding gown seamstress used your other corset as a guide and changed your wedding dress accordingly.”

  No wonder the woman had that odd gleam in her eyes during the last fitting.

  Z laced up the corset far more quickly than any man should. With a darkly wicked chuckle, he said, “Brace yourself, little one.”

  She felt tugging and more tugging as the corset tightened. And tightened. “I can’t breathe.”

  “Give it a minute.” He patted her bottom. “Move around the room.”

  As she walked, the corset loosened or maybe her insides were being squashed up against her lungs.

  After a couple of minutes, he horrified her by tightening the laces until she could only squeak. With firm hands, he turned her around to face him, and his face held the stern, caring expression that had dropped her heart at his feet on the first night they’d met. “The way you look at me… I love you, Jessica.”

  To gain his approval, she would let him lace her to the width of a beanpole.

  His gaze heated. Then he shook his head. “Ravishing the bride before the wedding would be bad form.” A crease appeared in his cheek as he ran his finger along the top of the corset where her breasts were pressed upward into X-rated exposure. “Hopefully the tailor calculated correctly, or you’ll give the preacher a heart attack.”

  The warmth of his fingers seared her skin, slid deep inside her.

  “I’m looking forward to freeing these pretty breasts and then taking you. Hard. And easy. And slow. And fast. All night.”

  She closed her eyes as her insides turned to lava, and she dampened. Where was that thong, by the way? She’d definitely need to wear—

  “No underwear, Jessica.”

  What? Her eyes opened to meet her Master’s steel-gray gaze. “But�
��”

  “As you walk down the aisle to me—and for the rest of the evening—you’ll feel the tightness of the corset that I laced you into,” he said, his voice deeper, authority resonating with every word. “You’ll feel the control I have over you. Over your body…and your life.” He brushed her lips with his, leaving her wanting more. “The collar I’ll put on you will be the outward symbol that you’re mine. But as with all power exchanges, the real truth is buried deep within, just as this symbol of my control is hidden from the world under your dress. Do you understand?”

  As if something had slid into place, she felt…right. Balanced. Even if he wasn’t beside her, he still exerted his control. “I love you, Master.”

  * * * *

  Due to a downed fence and scattered cattle, Sam had told Linda to go to the wedding without him since he’d be late. He came in the church’s side door and took a seat at the end of the third row as quietly as possible. Looked like he’d arrived in good time. A shame he’d missed seeing the bride come down the aisle though.

  Stretching out his legs, he watched as the ceremony proceeded with both dignity and warmth, quite typical of Z yet with some of Jessica’s exuberance.

  The Dom had done well in selecting his mate. Had gone slow after meeting her. Sam knew Z hadn’t wanted to push his lover into a commitment, especially since he was older. But she was thirty, and a woman usually knew her own mind by then. Jessica might be submissive, but she assuredly had her own strong opinions.

  As the couple exchanged rings to the usual vows, the bride radiated happiness.

  Sam sighed, feeling on the older side. Jessica had been delightful as she ventured into the club, into the lifestyle, and into a relationship. Although they’d started with playing in the bedroom, Z’s dominance had slowly extended outward. They hadn’t ended up with a Master/slave relationship, but the D/s dynamic was definitely part of their everyday lives.

  He had to admit to feeling some envy.

  His ex-wife had regarded BDSM with loathing, and he’d never tried to change her mind. But in the Shadowlands, he saw what he’d missed as the couples worked out what fit them. Some had gone from Master/slave to a limited power exchange; some went the other way.

  As he glanced across the aisle, his gaze fell on the row of submissives who weren’t bridesmaids. All were beaming, some in tears. Why did women cry at these things? Uzuri, Dara, and Rainie sat in a line. Sally was bouncing Kari’s baby on her knee, while Tanner diverted the boy with the BDSM symbol on his keychain. Next to Sally was… Sam straightened.

  Linda. Like a typical female, she’d primped up. Rather than the heavy makeup she’d worn at the bachelorette party, today she’d gone for quiet and classy. Her hair had grown long enough for her to pull it back in some complicated braid. Her dark green dress hugged her curves and made her skin glow.

  He wished she were sitting beside him.

  In front of the altar, Cullen handed Z a glittering strand—a necklace—and Sam blinked in surprise. Z planned to collar Jessica in front of vanilla guests? That took balls.

  “This chain of links is a symbol of the events that drew us together.” As Z held up a choker of diamond-encrusted links, his lips quirked. “From a car in a ditch to you rescuing women and me rescuing you.”

  Sam heard suppressed laughter at the reminder of how Jessica would charge in if she felt another submissive was in trouble.

  Jessica gazed up at Z, and her voice was soft but steady. “Since I don’t have any jewelry handy”—she gave him a teasing look—“I offer you the gift of myself: heart, mind, body, and soul. I trust you”—everyone in the lifestyle heard the unspoken Master—“and I’ll wear your gift with joy.” Jessica’s need to offer all of herself was obvious to every Dom in the room and one of the most beautiful things Sam had ever seen.

  When she pulled up her hair and bent her neck, Z fastened on the necklace. He lifted her chin. “Kitten, I vow to be worthy of the trust you’ve given me. I’ll protect you, push you to grow, and cherish you with all my heart.”

  Z drew her into his arms, and his voice was only audible to the people in the first few rows as he murmured into her hair, “Mine.”

  Even as Sam felt his eyes sting, amusement trickled through him. Apparently, he wouldn’t be teasing the ladies about their tears after all.

  * * * *

  Linda decided the Florida weather had cooperated wonderfully with the wedding, and sunny skies reigned above Z’s private gardens behind the Shadowlands. With a backdrop of purple fountain grass, a five-person band was playing oldies for the guests at tables dotting the green lawn. Linda hummed along, pleased with the selection of tunes. Thank goodness the happy couple hadn’t gone for the edgy techno music played in the Shadowlands.

  The area was filling with people. Only the couple’s friends and family had attended the wedding, but the reception included business associates and hometown guests as well as all the Shadowlands members.

  She shook her head, feeling at a loss. The ceremony had been lovely, and when they’d given each other D/s vows disguised as a gift of jewelry, her heart had squeezed.

  It still did, because she wanted that kind of relationship for herself and Sam. The time with him, each time with him, seemed to get more serious. He demanded more from her, and she gave it. So, so willingly. The desire to offer him…everything…was terrifying.

  He cared for her. She knew it, even if he didn’t speak the words. But could she give him what he wanted? Needed? He helped her scrape her house, stood up for her, and held her when she cried. He hurt her. He made love to her. What did she do for him?

  He obviously liked her companionship. But she wanted to give him more than a dinner partner or someone to watch movies with. She wanted to support him. And the more she grew to care for him, the more she wanted to offer. But he was so darned self-sufficient.

  Frederick had always brought home his problems. By sharing them with her, he might not have found answers, but his burden was lightened. It had been a gift she could offer. But Sam didn’t talk about his concerns. In fact, very little seemed to bother him. And she wanted not only the closeness of sharing worries, but also the joy of being able to help. To comfort and support.

  Her chest tightened. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d realized she had an insecurity, something new since her kidnapping. Another one, dammit. But she couldn’t ignore the fact that she wanted Sam to talk to her. No one could possibly be more supportive than he was, yet sometimes she needed the actual words. Needed to hear what he felt about her, about their relationship.

  Any woman would want to know how she fitted into a man’s life—and she’d want that no matter what—but she had to admit that the twisting of his silence into something ominous came from her own misgivings. Not his. The slavers had made her feel as if she were an animal. Just an object to fuck. And yes, this was her own screwed-up remnant of that experience, but…it was bothering her.

  Linda shook her head, trying to turn her thoughts to something more cheerful.

  On the lanai, the bride’s mother and aunt and a horde of women from her small town directed the catering crew, who were still setting food and drink on linen-covered tables. Z smiled at the women, making a gesture that he was leaving them in charge, before returning to the informal reception line.

  Linda turned in a circle, marveling at the setting. Jessica had chosen blue and white for her colors, and somehow Z’s garden matched, from the lanai’s hanging pots that spilled over with white alyssum to blue-purple hyacinths and snowflake blooms in the flower gardens. Amazing.

  “Hey, Linda.” Wearing a deep red, ruched satin sheath with a plunging neckline, Sally crossed the lawn.

  Linda grinned. “I really like that gown—and your versatility. I’ve seen you in braids and a schoolgirl uniform, then dressed as a Domme for the bachelorette party, and now you look incredibly sophisticated.”

  Sally gave her a mischievous grin. “I get bored easily.” In much the way that Linda had, she lo
oked back and forth from the nearby cluster of bridesmaids to the matching gardens. “Beth did good.”

  “She did all this?”

  “Yeah. Z was one of her first big clients, and she busted her butt to make the Shadowlands and his private gardens special. Before, the place was pretty, but all formal. Squares and straight lines.”

  “I’d say she paid him back for his trust,” Linda murmured. She’d never seen anything so luxuriant. Even without moving, she glimpsed curving garden paths, splashing fountains, more flower beds, and small, intimate nooks. “It’s like a fantasy garden.”

  Overhearing, Beth turned from the bridesmaids and beamed. “Exactly what I was trying to achieve.” She walked over. “But don’t tell Z, okay? Fantasy sounds far too feminine.”

  As Sally giggled, Linda choked on a laugh. “Got it.”

  “Nolan and I had our wedding here,” Beth said. “It’s nice to see it used that way again.”

  Linda followed Beth’s gaze to her husband. She still had trouble believing the slender redhead had married the cruel-looking man. But while Jessica was saying her vows, Beth had blown a kiss at Nolan, and his cold black eyes had warmed, his face softened.

  I envy her.

  Linda’s marriage to Frederick had been stable, but he hadn’t accepted who she was. To see these loving Dominant/submissive relationships was heartening.

  And attending the reception had certain other benefits. “I must say, the gardens are lovely, but the human scenery is also rather fine.” Her gaze wandered to the lanai where the Masters were talking. How the black tuxedoes could make the men look even bigger, she didn’t understand.

  Standing with the groomsmen, Sam wore a classic cut, dark gray suit with a white dress shirt and a silver-gray tie that matched his hair. Did the man have to look so dangerously sexy in every darn thing he wore?

  “You must be looking at Sam.” Snickering, Beth mimicked wiping drool off her chin. “That’s the way I reacted when I first saw Nolan in a suit.”