Breaking Free

Chapter Two

Beth managed to keep the previous night’s events out of her mind until she reached the Shadowlands, her last job of the day. After she finished with the bed of ferns, she moved her kneepad under one of the live oaks and started weeding the caladiums. The heady scent of lush growth and rich earth enveloped her, filling her with contentment. She loved her work.

And this place. She glanced at the three-story stone mansion behind her. Of all her jobs, the Shadowlands was her favorite. God, she’d been so lucky to snare the yard service contract. In the right place at the right time… How often did that happen?

On her first night in the club, she’d heard Master Z complain that his gardens looked ragged. Shaking in her stilettos at the audacity of interrupting a Dom’s conversation, she’d spoken up. Instead of dismissing her, he’d not only hired her, but threw in a club membership as part of her payment. Considering she wouldn’t have been able to afford another month of the hefty fees, she’d been thrilled.

She edged a little farther into the shade as the sun’s slanting rays burned her legs. Summer in Florida was so different from California. Both hot climates, but California was a dry sauna and Florida a very wet one. She glanced at the black clouds building in the sky and heard the low rumble of thunder, a warning of the daily afternoon downpour to come.

A bird swooped past in a flutter of wings, probably heading for one of the fountains scattered throughout the Capture Gardens. She leaned forward, patiently working her way through the bed, piling weeds beside her.

Weeding was a nice routine chore that left her plenty of time to think about how frightened she’d been last night. She could still feel Master Nolan’s fingers stroking her so intimately, and her response… A shiver ran through her.

For the first time in a year, she’d felt truly alive, none of her emotions frozen. She’d felt like a woman, something she wanted and needed, but not from someone like Master Nolan. He was too experienced, too powerful. He wouldn’t permit her to retain any defenses.

And although she didn’t judge people by their appearance, his rough looks frightened her. His cruel face actually made Kyler look sweet. She stared at the puncture scar in the center of her hand. Kyler wasn’t sweet.

Her mouth twisted, and she pushed aside the ugly memories. Stay in the present. She pulled another weed and tossed it onto the growing pile. Why did ripping plants out of the earth feel so satisfying? Because she could restore order to at least something in her life? Have control over one thing?

She sure hadn’t been in control last night, not after Master Z had sent Patrick away. Master Nolan had been totally in charge. He hadn’t asked her what she wanted or needed. Nothing. Too much like Kyler…only not quite.

Just wanting to hear her scream, Kyler had only been interested in her response to pain. She didn’t know Master Nolan’s goals, but he’d watched her response to everything. He’d seen when she began to panic, but he hadn’t offered comfort like other Doms or changed his plans. He’d just waited her out.

She could hate him a little for that.

She definitely hated him for leaving her so aroused that she’d whimpered. How could she be so thrilled to have actually felt desire and so humiliated at the same time? Sitting back, she pulled her legs up and laid her head on her knees. God, she was a mess.

“Hey, Beth.”

Beth jerked her head up and looked around to see Jessica walking through the garden’s gate. The pretty blonde in khaki shorts and a golden top looked crisp and cool, a far cry from Beth’s mud-stained appearance.

“I saw your truck and trailer. Don’t you ever take a day off?”

“Now and then. The Shadowlands has such extensive gardens that I’m here almost every afternoon except Saturdays when I’m getting ready to play and Fridays when…” She grinned. “Much to our mutual embarrassment, I discovered that your swinging crowd shows up early on Fridays.”

Jessica laughed and sat down on the nearby stone bench, avoiding the iron rings embedded in the sides where a sub could be restrained. “They’re sure enthusiastic. Z keeps threatening to drag me there, but he’s kidding.” A frown creased her brow. “I think he’s kidding.”

Beth huffed a laugh. She’d never met anyone as difficult to read as Master Z. Jessica was a brave woman to have him for her Dom. Then again, Master Nolan had been just as impassive. Nothing in his face had revealed his emotions. “How well do you know Master Nolan?” she asked before she could stop herself.

“Nolan? Not that well.” Jessica leaned back, tipping her face to the sun. “He and Z are friends, but he just got back a few months ago from Iraq and apparently has been occupied with catching up on his business.”

Keeping her face averted, Beth leaned forward and tugged out a volunteer impatiens. “Isn’t he a bit old to be playing soldier?”

“Z said… Let’s see…” Jessica thought for a moment. “Right. He had a military contract as a consultant for construction or engineering or something. He was only gone a year.” Jessica leaned forward and stared down at Beth. “You’re not planning to ask Nolan to top you, are you? I mean, you always seem to like the less exp… He’s not an easy-going… Uh, I’m digging myself into a hole here, I think.”

“You didn’t get to the club till late last night, huh?” Beth gave her a rueful smile.

“Yeah. Cullen said you’d been in and left. So did you meet Nolan?” Curiosity gleamed in Jessica’s green eyes. “Tell me, tell me.”

Beth hesitated. It had been a long, long time since she’d had someone to really talk with, not since she married Kyler, and he’d systematically cut her off from everyone. Did she even know how to be a friend anymore?

“You don’t have to tell me anything, you know,” Jessica said gently. “But I get lonely for girl talk sometimes; no one in the vanilla world really gets what BDSM is all about.” And that was as open an offer of friendship as Beth had ever received.

“I take it Master Z didn’t mention me.” Beth pulled a dandelion carefully, trying to get the entire long root. Master Z didn’t allow herbicides. “He said Nolan would top me in the club, and if that didn’t work out, he’d cancel my membership.”

Jessica blinked in shock. “He can’t do that.”

“He can.” Beth shrugged, although her heart warmed at the outrage in her new friend’s eyes. “No, don’t go yell at him. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He wanted to help; I know that. It’s just…Master Nolan’s a bit scary.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the year.

“Oh, please, that’s like saying Hannibal Lector only eats low-carb meals.”

Beth felt a giggle escape her, then another when Jessica rolled her eyes, and then she was really, really laughing.

Tears filled her eyes, not from the laughter, but from the bittersweet joy rising in her. So she still had some emotions besides fear left; Kyler hadn’t killed all the bright ones.

Saturday night, Beth walked through the open doors of the Shadowlands, head high, shoulders back. Although her stomach was in knots, she knew her appearance was adequate. Since Kyler had been out of town when she’d run, she’d had time to load her car with her clothes and the few mementoes he hadn’t broken. Most of it was totally unfit for a lawn service, but, hey, she had some nice fetish wear.

Tonight, she’d tried on every last piece before settling on a golden PVC bustier with matching short skirt and thin golden wrist cuffs. Would Master Nolan approve? People said the color brought out the highlights in her red hair, but she never felt very pretty. Not anymore. God knew Kyler hadn’t found her attractive. Titless, bony, stick-figure, dead-fish white. She’d known he liked hurting her, and still the derogatory comments battered down her ego as inevitably as the ocean turned cliffs into rubble.

She felt like rubble sometimes, but she wouldn’t let him win. No way. Tonight she had gazed in the mirror and knew she looked all right. Even if she couldn’t really believe it.

“Good evening, Miss Beth,” said the guard standing behind the desk.

“Hi, Ben,” she said. Ben was so big and ugly and sweet. He reminded her of Andre the Giant.

He grinned. “Nice outfit.”

The compliment was a stake propping up her sagging confidence. She beamed at him. “Thank you.”

He checked her off the membership list and waved her toward the door to the bar. As she stepped into the main club room, the ambience of the Shadowlands washed over her, pulling her into its lure. In the right corner, the dance floor churned with people, mostly the younger crowd moving to London After Midnight’s music. Later in the night, Z would change the music to slower tunes, easing the mood down.

The circular bar loomed in the center of the room like a massive mahogany ship with the bartender, Cullen, at the helm. Scattered around the bar were sitting areas with leather couches and coffee tables, some hidden behind plants and low walls. Beth headed for the area where single subs tended to congregate, a place near the bar where the Dom/mes could look them over and vice versa.

Spotting Beth, a plump blonde sub waved, her long nails sparkling in the light from the chandeliers. Looking down at her own hands, Beth winced. Despite the lotion she continually rubbed into her skin, her hands still had the roughness of a gardener. She rubbed her fingers together, felt the calluses, and sighed. The scent of strawberries and lemon came to her, improving her mood. One of the few things she’d left behind had been the heavy, musky perfume that she’d hated. Now her lotion might make her smell like something good to eat, but it never failed to make her smile.

Beth approached the group of subs and then hesitated. What did Master Nolan expect her to do? Sit and wait for him to find her? Or try to search him out? She knew, with a sinking feeling, whatever she did would be wrong. That’s how it always worked. What kind of punishment would that harsh Dom inflict?

When a painful pang ran up her arm, she realized she was wringing her hands, twisting fingers smashed a couple years ago. The memory of that agony filled her head like an oily black river, dragging her deeper. Helpless.

She turned as sickness rose into her throat. She couldn’t do this. He’d hurt her, and she-

She ran right into him, slamming into his muscular body like a bird hitting a mountain. Master Nolan’s hands closed around her upper arms, steadying her. Unable to breathe, heart pounding, she tried to wrench away. He held her easily, his fingers like metal clamps around her arms, but not tight, not painful.

“Gently, sugar.” His rumbling voice surrounded her, strangely calming.

She managed a deep breath, then another, before looking up. No anger showed in his face or, even tougher to disguise, in his eyes. Patient as a stalking cat, he waited for her to get her act together.

Some act-she’d lost control completely and panicked in the middle of the bar. “Please forgive me, Sir,” she said to her feet. “I…” Her voice trailed off. What could she say?

Releasing her arms, he tilted her chin up with his fingers until she had to meet his gaze. “You lost your nerve for a minute”-his eyes studied her-“and now you are all right.”

Not a question, just a statement, but she nodded anyway.

“You look good in gold,” he said.

She blinked. A compliment? Maybe he wasn’t as inhuman as she’d… She looked down. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” he asked evenly, his scarred fingers slowly unlacing her bustier. Her hands rose, and she forced them back down to her sides, although she couldn’t keep her fingers from curling into fists. He finished, and the front of her bustier flapped open, displaying her breasts.

His hand curled around her arm, holding her in place so he could run his other hand over her exposed skin, right there in the center of the room.

Her chin tilted up as she forced her expression to show nothing. He’d get his jollies, and then they’d get on to business.

“Very pretty breasts,” he murmured, his black gaze on her face. “You’re a little underweight, and we’ll discuss that later, but I like touching your nipples. The pink is the color of your lips. Look, don’t you agree?”

Forced by his understated order, she tipped her face down and saw his hand hold one breast up. He circled the pink nipple with his thumb. His dark skin against her whiteness was startling. Erotic. Suddenly, she felt every little roughness on his thumb, the warmth of his palm under her breast. His thumb rubbed against her peaking nipple, and the sensation zinged right down to her crotch. Her stomach muscles tightened.

She jerked her head up, trying to school her face back into no expression.

Satisfaction flickered in his eyes. “Come, sub.” He curved an arm around her waist and started walking toward the front.

Her hands pulled the bustier front together.

“Leave it open. I will be playing with your breasts off and on this evening.” His words made something inside her tense and curl into itself.

He took her to the food tables and set a thick turkey and ham sandwich in her hand without taking anything for himself. “Eat that.”

At the crowded bar, he pulled her against his hard side and waited silently while she ate. Too nervous to eat supper earlier, she discovered her appetite had returned…as long as she didn’t try to think about anything that might happen tonight. As long as the Dom was quiet. Within a few minutes, she’d actually finished the whole thing and earned herself a “Good girl.”

The place was busy, not that the bartender moved any faster. Master Cullen worked at his own pace. By the time he strolled over to take their order, Beth had grown comfortable with Master Nolan’s arm around her waist, with the feel of his solid body against hers, the sound of his deep voice as he talked with other Doms.

“Evening, Nolan. Got yourself a redhead tonight?” Cullen leaned an elbow on the bar and grinned.

“Pretty, isn’t she,” Sir answered.

Her? Pretty? Beth closed her eyes for a second to savor the compliment. This pitiless Dom wouldn’t bother trying to butter her up, wouldn’t bother to lie. He meant it.

“I’d have to agree.” As the bartender’s gaze traveled over her, she grew way too conscious of her exposed breasts. Why did that bother her? She’d been fully nude in front of people before. But she’d never felt so…naked.

Nolan watched the color rise and fall in the sub’s cheeks, her lips no longer tight but soft. Vulnerable. Her fragility worried him, not just her mental state but the physical too. She was only skin and bones. He preferred pillowy women with ample mass to cushion his big body, with soft hips to grip. Beth had no padding, and he’d need to be careful.

Nice breasts, though. What he’d call perky. Keeping her trapped against his side, he ran his hand over her nipples again and smiled as they came to little points. She’d left her hair loose, and the dark red strands danced over lightly freckled shoulders left bare by the bustier. The freckles ran down past her collarbone then faded away, leaving her breasts a creamy white.

He’d thought of her often over the past week, trying to figure out the best way to deal with her. And he’d decided he needed more information before anything else could happen.

Cullen set a Corona down for him, and glanced at the sub. “Beth?”

Nolan looked at her in surprise. If Cullen didn’t know what she drank, then she’d never ordered anything in here. Interesting. “Tell Master Cullen what you would like.”

“I don’t need a drink,” she said and added a belated, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Do you have a problem with alcohol?”

“No, Sir.” She was back to staring at the floor. “I just prefer to have all my senses.”

“I prefer you have a few less. One drink only and you will finish it all.” He grinned when her little fists clenched and released for the second time tonight. So there was still a fire burning down there. The asshole who’d damaged her hadn’t wiped that out. “Cullen, bring her a screwdriver.”

When the drink came, Nolan handed it to Beth and led her to a couch. He took a position at one end. She started to kneel, and he stopped her. “Sit beside me. We’ll leave high protocol for another time.” To be clear, he added, “I will tell you when I want it observed. You won’t have to guess.”

Her mouth relaxed slightly, just enough to tell him she’d been disciplined before for guessing incorrectly about…probably everything. Some Doms kept their requirements impossible to meet so they had an excuse to mete out punishment. He might say he didn’t work that way, but he could see she didn’t believe a Dom’s words. Her trust would have to be earned. His gaze ran over the scars on her breasts; she had good reason for fear. He patted the cushion beside him and, as she sat down, slid her closer until her thigh touched his. Her fragrance drifted to him, a hint of strawberry and lemon, pleasingly light compared to the heavy scents of the club.

He nudged the drink toward her lips, watched her take a sip before pleasing himself and taking her breast into his hand again. Odd how satisfying her little breast was, perching like a dove in his palm. And like a captured dove, she froze in his grip. Under his fingers, the tiny thud of her heartbeat accelerated. He ran his thumb over one of the shiny burn marks. “You were with the bas-person who did this to you for two years, right?”

She stiffened, her mouth flattened into a line, so he waited. She didn’t seem to know how to deal with patience or silence. The asshole must have been both impatient and a shouter.

Her tongue wet her lips. “Yes, sir.”

“Long time.” Bet it seemed like a lifetime. And from the way her muscles tensed, she wouldn’t willingly discuss that period. Another item they’d work on later. Hell. Topping her was like walking blindfolded through a minefield. “Drink,” he growled, and she started.

She took a sip.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asked.

She choked, and red stained her cheeks.

He smothered a smile. In the lifestyle for years and still modest? Amazing. “Answer me, sub.”

She took a hefty swallow of her drink. “I don’t.” After a second, she managed to look him in the eye. She had lovely eyes, the color of the turquoise jewelry his mother collected.

“Why not?”

The red deepened. Normally he enjoyed seeing a sub flush, but this was almost painful.

“I… It didn’t… I couldn’t get off, and I can’t explain why.”

But oddly enough, he could understand. He’d come to a few conclusions about her. He figured her last relationship started off well, even with good sex, but as it turned ugly, she’d probably shut down her response to pleasure as well as pain.

Could her arousal be dependent on being dominated? “Could you orgasm before those two years?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Good. “Was that just from masturbation or also with a man? And, if so, what kind of men?”

Her brows, thin arches of reddish-brown, drew together.

“What?” he asked.

“This isn’t what I expected. Questions. Talking.”

“A conversation of sorts?” Nolan ran his fingertips along her jawline, noting the stubborn set to her chin despite the delicate bones. “Didn’t any of the other Doms talk with you?”

“I…” She stared down at her hands. “They tried. I didn’t want… I just wanted to get started.” She glanced up at him hopefully.

He stomped that hope to dust. “Not gonna happen, sugar. You’re going to learn to talk to me. Answer my questions.”

“Yes, I could get off with men before,” she snapped, then turned dead white, flinching away from him.

Leaning back, he set his boots on the coffee table and took a slug of Corona. He’d almost forgotten he had the damn drink. “I’m not going to haul off and hit you, Beth. During a scene, I expect proper respect. During a conversation, as long as you refrain from outright rudeness, I will tolerate more.” He smiled and toyed with the half-curls touching her shoulder. Apparently the fiery glow of her hair was matched by her spirit. “It’s rather fun to see you flare up. What kind of men got you off?”