She wet her dry lip. “Then what?”

“I’m angry with me.” His mouth tightened as he met her gaze. “You are…appealing, gatita. You’re submissive, brave, beautiful. You give of yourself without holding back.”

He really sees me like that? And yet… “Is that bad?”

“I am supposed to push you, but only so you can perform for the Overseer. For that one time, you must show your training, be comfortable in the role of my slave, comfortable with my hands on you, no?”

She nodded, thinking back over the past week or so and… Damn, look at me. Restrained and spanked. Naked. Seeing a pissed-off master and not running for the nearest door. Her spine straightened a little.

His eyes lightened. “Yes, you’ve done very, very well, and I’m proud of you.”

She felt as if she’d swum into a sunny patch of water in a cold ocean. Wouldn’t last, couldn’t see the bottom, but so warm… “Thank you, Master.”

He winced, leaned forward until their foreheads met. “Yes, that is the problem. I forget you are not truly mine. Kimberly, I should not have touched you so intimately.” He straightened, holding her gaze. “There is no need for us to have sex for you to handle a visit by the Overseer.”

“No. There’s not.” Her surge of relief could have been expected, but not the regret. Yet she realized her body was coming back alive, belonging to her. Her pussy still throbbed, and under his controlling hands, she’d felt beautiful. Sexy. Not a thing or an animal, but a desirable woman. Sex with Master R would be…scary. Maybe wonderful.

“It is part of a dom’s nature to push. To give you what you need, to help you past your limits. But I don’t have the right to do that to you.” He turned her around and removed her cuffs. “It will not happen again, and I hope you’ll forgive me.”

God, had she ever heard a man apologize so sincerely—let alone a master? He’d bought her, was trying to keep her safe. That he felt so guilty now seemed wrong. She turned and clasped her arms around him, resting her cheek on his shoulder to hide how her treacherous tears were spilling over again. “There’s n-nothing to forgive.”

He sighed and wrapped her tightly against him, holding her for a long, happy minute. No one in the world hugged as well as Master R. After a kiss on top of her head, he grasped her shoulders to frown at her tears.

Wiping her cheeks, she managed a gurgly laugh. “On second thought, you can apologize for walloping me. I’m going to have trouble sitting.”

His quick smile was like glimpsing the sun on a cold, foggy morning. “You earned the punishment, chiquita. Now go swim a few laps in the pool to cool off.”

“Yes, Master.” As she started out of the room, he didn’t follow. She hesitated. He hadn’t even turned to watch her. His gaze had returned to the wall, and he looked…unhappy.

“Gatita, obedience is required,” he said quietly without moving.

This time, she left.

* * * *

On Wednesday, Raoul walked into the dungeon room. At breakfast, he’d seen the calendar and realized it couldn’t be much longer before the Overseer would call. The thought soured his day but reminded him not to let up on Kimberly. So he’d told her they’d play in the dungeon today.

What could he use that wouldn’t terrify her? He opened the toy cabinet doors and frowned at the shelf where the gags were supposed to be. Empty. Madre de Dios. Eyes narrowed, he surveyed the shelves. In the row of nipple clamps, the wicked-toothed clover ones were missing. The next shelf had lost the midsize and larger anal plugs. The big dildos as well. The posture collar. In fact, anything that might cause a little slave some distress had disappeared.

His laugh broke the silence in the room and lightened his mood. Sneaky brat. Did she think he wouldn’t notice the missing toys? Or had she simply not been able to deal with the nastier implements? He glanced at the wall. She hadn’t removed any impact toys. Then again, he’d mentioned he wouldn’t flog, whip, or paddle her.

When she needed punishment, he’d use his bare hand. As he had the other day.

Such soft skin. He remembered how his hand had left marks on her curvy ass, and his cock stirred. He shook his head. Touching her so intimately had been a mistake, not only in exceeding his promises, but also because he couldn’t forget the silkiness of her bare skin and how wet and hot her cunt had been around his fingers. Her arousal despite her fears.

She’d submitted so sweetly. She hugged him after his apology, showing a nature both giving and forgiving.

And not mine. Keep that in mind, Sandoval.

However, it appeared he’d pinken her pretty ass again today.

He grinned. Warning her of his plans for dungeon time had been a mistake.

* * * *

Kimberly pushed a little farther back in the closet, feeling like a complete idiot. What have I done?

First she’d stolen some of Master R’s toys and hidden them.

God, she’d only planned to check what was in the cabinets because he said they’d use the dungeon today, and she…she needed to know.

Only there had been an anal plug, a huge one, and maybe if she removed it, he wouldn’t notice. A dildo had joined it, and then her inner coward had come unhinged. She’d filled a plastic bag with everything she didn’t want him to use. And then hidden the sack.

How could she have thought he’d be blind to half-empty shelves?

That was bad enough, but to hide. Like, okay, on her first day here, she’d spotted this little corner closet under the stairs—so very Harry Potter-like—and also noted every single place a person might hide and all the exits as well. But she hadn’t thought about any of them since.

Not until today when he’d said “play in the dungeon.” God, with every passing minute, her dread had grown. After hiding the toys, she’d tried to clean the kitchen, to read, to do laundry, but her feet had carried her here as if she had no control over them at all.

Despair filled her as she heard Master R’s footsteps. So distinctive. Not quiet or sneaky, but solid. Even. Unstoppable.

Get up, she told herself. Go out and beg forgiveness. Do it now. Her body didn’t move. Her inner coward shrank further inside its cave.

He wasn’t calling for her. Oh God. Was that good or bad? How mad was he? She started to shiver.

The door opened. Light shone through the spaces between the clothes. Surely he wouldn’t spot her in the corner.

A grunt of satisfaction. His big hands grasped her arms and pulled her out of her hiding place.

She went limp, unable to stand, but he hardly noticed. He lifted her far enough to view her face and sighed.

Her trembling didn’t stop, but tears brimmed in her eyes as she realized his disappointment in her. He wasn’t mad, and that almost…almost made it worse. She firmed her knees, managed to stand, and earned herself a nod.

With one hand firmly curled around her upper arm as if he no longer trusted her not to run, he led her to the tower room. The place he liked to use for their talks.

He took the chair, pointed to the floor.

Blinking away tears, she knelt clumsily and lowered her head. Her throat clogged as the silence turned thicker. Heavier. A tear escaped. Another.

And then, as if a storm surge sent waves crashing over her barriers, she started to cry. “I’m s-sorry, Master. I…couldn’t.” Why didn’t he hold her? The need for his arms pulled at her, shaking her like a loose sail in the wind.

He gave her only a touch, his finger lifting her chin. He leaned his elbow on his thigh and studied her. “Couldn’t what?”

Couldn’t face the dungeon, talking about it, seeing your disappointment. “I—” She cried harder, unable to say any of it.

“Carajo,” he muttered, and she flinched at the Spanish F word. “Tell me—clearly—why you hid from me.” He waited, offering nothing more as she struggled for control.

Her breath hitched, but she managed to whisper, “I was scared.”

“I realize that. Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Talk to him? Her brain stopped as if it had floated to the end of an anchor line. “I-I don’t know.”

His finger stayed under her chin, keeping her face exposed to him. She blinked the water from her eyes, needing to see his expression. Hard…but not cold. He had on the you-screwed-up dom face, but he wasn’t angry. Why isn’t he angry?

“Have I asked you to let me know when you’re getting too afraid?”

She tried to nod.

His eyes chilled.

“Yes, Master.”

“I make you so fearful you cannot speak with me?” She heard his unhappiness in his tone, in the slowness of his phrasing.

Her tears started up again. “No, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

This time, he framed her face between his hands, using his thumbs to wipe the wetness from her cheeks. “Then talk to me now. Explain so I can understand.” Releasing her, he set his forearms on his knees and waited.

Why hadn’t she gone to him? Talked to him before she got too crazy in her head? He always listened. He’d hold her during panic attacks. He’d go slower if she was really scared. But… “I wasn’t thinking. I just hid.” Had he maybe not seen the missing toys? God, let her have a chance to put them all back first.