Consensual. Not slavery. Only what both people agreed to. She nodded.

“Good. May I have my arm back?” His amusement tipped her fear onto the manageable side, and she realized her fingers were digging holes in his wrist. “Sorry, M-master,” she whispered.

He winced and sighed. After glancing at the Overseer, who was a few feet away, watching a domme attach a chain between her submissive’s hair and clit clamp, Master R said, “Give me a number, Kimberly.”

Her anxiety went down a notch. He’d remember to check her fears. He hadn’t forgotten. She opened her fingers on her bare thighs, showing six, then lowering it to five after another breath.

He smiled at her. “Brave sumisita.” He nodded to tables of food and drinks in the left corner. “Munchies are there which we might enjoy later.”

She doubted she’d ever be hungry again.

In the right corner was a tiny, crowded dance floor pulsing with the Sisters of Mercy gothic rock. An immense bar occupied the center of the room with a bartender equally as big. The roped-off scene areas ran down the left and right walls and across the back. The corners held fancy spiral staircases. “What’s upstairs?”

“Private rooms for people who don’t want to play in public—or who prefer somewhere quieter afterward.” His chin tilted toward a domme helping a sweat-covered, lash-marked sub up the stairs. The man dwarfed the slender woman, but there was still no denying who was in charge. “Z and Jessica live on the third floor.”

Wouldn’t that be cramped? But the clubroom was huge, so the third floor was probably ten times the size of her duplex.

“I see Master Sam has already started,” Master R said to Dahmer. “Why don’t we get a drink and go watch? I can introduce you afterward.”

“A fine idea.” The Overseer glanced at her dismissively. “Do you need to gag her?”

“I have one if it becomes necessary,” Master R said, patting the toy bag slung over his shoulder. “Will it be necessary, girl?”

She shook her head, her fear unfeigned.

“Let’s keep it that way,” he snapped, his voice cold enough to give her chills. To her dismay, he snapped her cuffs together in front of her. But when he clipped a leash to her collar, she felt disconcertingly better. A leash meant they were attached. He’d not be able to leave her.

“Thank you, Master,” she whispered, and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes showed he understood.

Behind the bar, the craggy-faced bartender had his arms around a tall submissive whose golden brown latex dress matched her hair. He released her and grinned as they approached. “What can I get you, Raoul?”

“A glass of red for me and a bottle of water for the girl.” Master R gestured to the Overseer. “And a martini for my guest. Dahmer, this is Cullen, one of the Masters here.”

“Welcome to the Shadowlands,” Cullen said and glanced at the submissive. “Andrea, see to it, please.”

“Yes, Señor.”

As the bartender engaged Master R and the Overseer in conversation about the local BDSM scene, the woman filled the men’s orders. Then she set a bottled water in front of Kim.

“Thank—” Kim broke off quickly.

Master R glanced over. “You need to be gagged, girl?”

She shook her head frantically.

He ignored the big submissive’s frown and turned back to the men.

Kim sagged against the bar. How could I forget? If she messed up again, he’d have to gag her. She stared at the bottle of water, knowing she’d heave if she tried to drink.

“Still got Glenlivet back there?”

Kim froze at the familiar voice. Jessica. Oh God. Don’t talk to me.

She didn’t. The little blonde gave Kim the polite nod of a stranger and climbed onto the adjacent barstool. “Hey, Andrea, Master Z sent me to get drinks.” She scowled. “His usual, but I only get water.”

The lady bartender sniffed. “You probably only deserve water.” She leaned an elbow on the bar in front of Kim and faced Jessica, which turned her back to Master R and the Overseer. “Hi, Kim,” she said in a very low voice, looking at Jessica.

Kim’s eyes widened as she realized the submissive knew her name.

“Yeah, we know what’s going on.” Andrea laughed loudly and poked Jessica in the shoulder. “I don’t believe you did that.” Her voice dropped again. “The Masters found keeping secrets from their subs didn’t work out.” She and Jessica exchanged sardonic looks, and Kim remembered Gabi’s hair-raising stories. “Anyway, just know we’ll keep an eye on you.”

Jessica nodded, her voice equally quiet. “One of us will stay beside you if for some reason Raoul can’t.”

That had been Kim’s worst fear, to be left unprotected. Tears stung her eyes.

“Stop that,” Jessica said, half an order and half in sympathy, then slapped the bartop, saying in a normal voice, “Hurry up, or Master Z will think I was gossiping.”

Andrea smirked, setting a bottled water on the bar. “And you aren’t?” She snagged a bottle of Glenlivet and poured a shot, saying quietly, “Master Nolan’s sub, Beth, is here too.”

Jessica opened the water. “Yeah. You’re part of our club now. So you get supported whether you want it or not.” She took a gulp of water, picked up Z’s glass, and told Andrea, “Later, girlfriend,” before swaggering across the room.

Andrea said, under her breath, “That’s one soft-hearted bantam rooster.”

The laugh Kim tried to suppress came out sounding like a sneeze.

Master R gave Andrea a frown. “Don’t bother my girl.”

“No, Sir,” Andrea said. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”

The big bartender reached out a long arm and fisted her hair. “More respectful, love.”

Andrea winced. “Yes, Señor.” Her golden-brown eyes focused on Master R. “Please forgive my rudeness, Master Raoul.”

Master R gave her a cold look. “Maybe add a reprimand from me to your next scene, Cullen.”

“That’d be my pleasure, buddy,” Cullen said with a grin. “I figure an extra-big anal plug would be appropriate.”

Andrea’s eyes turned anxious.

Master R led the way across the room toward the back. Kim was glad she’d left the cap on her drink, since the tugs on the leash made the water slosh in the bottle. She unobtrusively glanced around, trying not to wince at the sounds. Groans from the right where a slender domme in a red latex dress was dripping wax over a man’s engorged cock. Farther away, the rhythmic whap of a cane, and then a woman’s whimpers when her dom changed targets and slapped the cane lightly over her breasts.

Near the end of the room, Master R stopped where a silvery-haired man in well-worn leathers was flogging a sub on a St. Andrew’s cross. “That’s Sam.”

“Very good. Let’s watch him work.” The Overseer took a chair close to the roped-off area, Master R the one next to him. Kim knelt at his feet, keeping her master between her and the Overseer.

Master R plucked the bottle from her hand, opened the top, and gave it back, all without looking at her. Or so it seemed.

She edged close enough to feel his leg against her shoulder and hip. Just the sensation of touching him eased the knot inside her that tightened every time she heard the Overseer’s sleazy voice.

As the doms watched the scene in silence, Kim struggled to ignore the sound of the lash and the submissive’s crying. I’m not here. Open the throttle and hear the roar of the boat; feel the spray cooling my face, the wind whipping my hair.

After a bit, she tilted her head, able to watch the scene out of the corner of her eye.

The slight movement drew the Overseer’s attention. When he looked at her, the sensation was like foulness brushing against her skin. “She looks very good, Raoul. Good enough I’d like to buy her back from you. With the training you’ve done, she’d bring you a pretty profit.”

He wanted her back? A tremor ran through Kim, and her mouth went dry. Auction her off… Her breathing started to increase despite her attempts to—

A jerk on her hair broke the pattern. Scalp stinging, Kim pursed her lips and exhaled. Slow. Slow. She sagged against Master R’s leg. Somehow he’d seen her panic when he was paying her no attention.

A little pat on her head rewarded her. “Sorry, but I spent too much time training this one. I’d hate to start over.”

“But you could get a beauty of a slave with what you’d make on this one.”

“Not interested,” Master R said, an irritated snap in his voice. When he turned to watch the scene, the Overseer gave up and did the same.

Kim forced her fists to open so her hands would lie properly on her thighs.

The flogging lasted far too long, and the submissive’s sobs turned to screams as she struggled to evade the pain. On and on. When the poor woman eventually hit subspace and no longer felt the pain, Kim could relax.

After freeing the glassy-eyed sub, the dom bundled her into a blanket and sat her on the floor. Unhurriedly, he gave her some water and fed her bites of chocolate before putting the candy in her hand. “You okay for a minute, girl?” Looking like an old cowboy, he had a voice as rough as his appearance.