If only

Chapter Three

“Hey, Ben.” Along with Vance, Galen walked into the entry of the Shadowlands. “How’s it going?”

The oversize security guard lifted his chin in greeting. “Going good. You two are running late.”

“You suppose there are any interesting submissives left in there?” Vance asked.

“For you two? You bet.” Ben grinned. “Hey, you ever hear Nolan grumble about how much work is it to say ‘Shadowlands submissives’?”

“Christ, Nolan bitches about any sentence over two words long,” Galen said.

“Yeah, well, Cullen started calling the submissives ‘Shadowkittens.’ Says even Nolan can spit that out.”

“Shadowkittens?” Galen exchanged an amused glance with Vance. The term certainly fit one little sassy sub.

“I like it,” Vance said.

“Let’s see if we can catch one, eh?” Galen lifted a hand to Ben and opened the door. His ears were assaulted by dungeon music and the enticing sound of impact toys hitting flesh. The room held the distinctive sex and pain scents of a BDSM club with the added fragrance of leather. Z had a preference for expensive equipment. The ambiance of the Shadowlands washed over Galen, pushing him into a different zone. No longer an FBI agent, but a Dom.

Near the front of the room, he spotted Nolan. His submissive—and wife—stood quietly in front of him as he tied her in an intricate rope bondage. The dark blue rope was a marked contrast to her fair skin. Her eyes were closed, an expression of peace on her face. Galen shook his head. Although many submissives said rope restraints could be as comforting as being wrapped in a toasty snug blanket, he didn’t have the patience for long, involved bondage sessions.

Z was sitting on a bar stool. Galen and Vance joined him.

Z’s wife, Jessica, was perched on the bar top. The submissive’s wrist cuffs were clipped to a leather waist belt, keeping her arms at her sides. The low neckline of her knit dress had been pulled down far enough to expose her full breasts. Brows together. Eyes filled with fire. Spitting mad.

Galen felt grateful she was gagged.

Out of kicking range, Z sipped his drink. “I expected you two earlier. Problems?”

“The good kind of problem, but time-consuming,” Galen said. He rested his hip on a bar stool and lowered his voice. “A New York police station got an anonymous e-mail tip with the name of a young woman targeted to be kidnapped.”

“Interesting. Why not the FBI offices?” Z asked.

Vance scowled. “The cop who’d been working the case died in an arson fire earlier this week. The e-mail was addressed to ‘Tillman’s Captain.’ And the sender went to considerable trouble to ensure he wouldn’t be traced.”

“Do you believe the informant is someone on the inside?” Z set his glass on the bar.

“Probably. The information seems accurate—the named woman fits their target parameters.” Galen rubbed his chin. “A New York special agent will see if she wants to help. Even if not, we might be able to discover if anyone has done a background check on her.” Every cog in the wheel called the Harvest Association would yield up more information. Galen was determined to get all the way to the top of the organization. And bring the bastards down.

“Good.” Z eyed the agents. “But while you’re here, let go of the police work. Whatever submissive you play with deserves your complete attention. And you both need the break.”

Vance snorted. “I bet they call you Mama around here, don’t they?”

“Not within my hearing.” Z rose and pulled his wife off the bar. “Perhaps you can speak in a polite tone now, kitten?”

When she glared at him, he chuckled and fondled her breasts. The color in her cheeks heightened in a charming mixture of embarrassment, fury, and arousal.

A loud laugh drew Galen’s attention.

“’Tis our favorite Feds.” Behind the bar, Cullen grinned. “What’ll it be, gents? You playing or drinking?”

“Play first,” Galen said. “Hopefully with a little brunette.”

“Sally anywhere around?” Vance asked.

“She was negotiating a scene with Casey,” Cullen said. “You might check the dungeon room.”

Well, hell. He’d looked forward to taking her another step further this evening. “She’s obviously not jumping at the chance to play with us. You owe me fifty bucks,” he said to Vance.

“Fuck. You’ve got the soul of a loan shark.” Vance rubbed his face. “Might as well go watch.”

“Ayuh.” When Galen turned, he saw Jessica on her knees, delivering a sincere-looking apology to Z. Very nice.

Vance grinned. “Aren’t spitfires cute?”

As Galen led the way to the back and down the theme room hallway, he saw a Dom and short Uzuri cleaning the medical room. On the other side, violet-wand play cast intriguing lights and shadows in the darkened office theme room. The dungeon was the last room on the right.

Vance stepped in beside him and leaned against the wall. After a few minutes, he murmured, “Well, damn.”

Exactly so. Sally had her arms restrained above her head from the rafter chains, legs open. In between flogging sets, the Dom was finger fucking her. His face held the dark red of arousal, and a hard-on bulged the front of his jeans.

Sally didn’t look excited. At all. Even worse, the flogging appeared to be hurting her. Over the last few months, Galen had observed that the girl wasn’t a masochist. She needed an erotic component to enjoy pain. And right now, the arousal wasn’t there.

He saw her open her mouth, undoubtedly for one of her unsublike orders, but she said nothing. Weariness tugged at her features, then disappeared.

The Dom was jamming his fingers into her cunt and rubbing frantically at her clit. Her movements—that he undoubtedly took to be of arousal—looked more like discomfort to Galen.

“As Masters are we allowed to intervene in that debacle?” Vance asked in a low voice.

“I prefer you leave that to me unless there’s some urgency.” The owner of the Shadowlands stood in the door, his face tight. “But it does need to be—”

The moaning scream cut off his words as Sally had a noisy, obviously quite satisfying orgasm.

A very, very fake orgasm. From the way the Dom puffed up, he’d been taken in completely.

Z growled under his breath. “That I didn’t need to see.”

“You plan to let her get away with that bullshit?” Vance’s lips pressed together. Galen knew dishonesty in any form eradicated his partner’s laid-back nature. Good thing Sally hadn’t faked an orgasm during their scene, or she wouldn’t have been able to sit down for a week.

“No.” Z sighed. “But I prefer the newer Dominants not discover their shortcomings in such a public fashion…especially from a trainee.”

Yes, that would hurt.

The grinning Dom finished freeing Sally and ran his hands over her body. She had a sweet smile on her face. Wasn’t mouthing off. What was wrong with the girl?

Z walked forward. “Casey, I’m afraid we have a problem.”

Galen leaned a shoulder against the wall.

As Casey turned, Sally saw Z, and her face turned white.

“Sally, explain what you did and apologize to the Dom.” When she seemed paralyzed, Z added coldly, “From your knees, trainee.”

She dropped to her knees and stared at the floor. Her voice shook as she said, “I didn’t get off. I faked it. I’m very sorry.”

Casey’s mouth fell open, and the flush of arousal faded from his face and left him looking as if he’d been punched.

Galen felt a fair amount of sympathy for him. They’d all been inexperienced at one time, and it took a while before a man’s cock didn’t lead him around. Casey had been a sloppy Dom for not paying attention, but Sally had been a worse submissive for not simply telling him she wasn’t getting anywhere.

Odd she hadn’t. He’d seen her ream out Doms if they botched restraints, flogging, or other BDSM techniques. Yet he couldn’t recall her complaining about sexual techniques or saying she wasn’t aroused. Galen frowned. Had she ever shared how she actually felt?

She was so mouthy he might have missed those times. He rubbed his chin.

Casey started to speak and then bit the words back, taking the time to think first. Two points to the lad. “I’m disappointed in you, Sally, both for faking and for not telling me your head wasn’t in the scene.” He said to Z, “I screwed up, obviously, in not paying closer attention.”

“Let’s go talk about that now.” Z’s voice chilled. “Sally, remain there without speaking until someone returns for you.”

Her shoulders hunched slightly, but she didn’t move otherwise.

As the Dom cleaned the equipment, Z rejoined Galen and Vance. “Masters, I think it’s time to put you to use. Do you feel up to giving a class on how to detect if a female is faking an orgasm?”

Vance shrugged. “Sure. Just let us know when and the location.”

A slight smile appeared on Z’s face. “The when is now. The medical room has the best lighting.”

A theme room? Galen stiffened. “I take it this isn’t a whiteboard and lecture venue?”

“No. A demonstration.” Z glanced at Sally. “Use her.”

Vance smiled slowly. “We can do that.”

“Sally.”

Sally looked up to see Uzuri in front of her. She didn’t know how long she’d been kneeling in the dungeon room. After a few minutes, misery had simply swarmed up and buried her. Faking an orgasm was one of Master Z’s crash-and-burn offenses. The time Andrea had pretended to get off, she’d been forced to ride the fucking machine.

Unfortunately, Master Z would know that getting off with a machine wouldn’t be much of a punishment for Sally. “Hey. What did Master Z choose to do to me? A whipping?”

Uzuri’s gentle brown eyes filled with sympathy. “You might like that better.” The trainee held her hand out.

Sally winced as Uzuri pulled her up. Her knees hurt like hell. She stretched and worked the kinks out, wishing she could just go home. At one time, she’d have been excited and scared about what might happen. Now…now her punishment was just something to suffer through.

She had a feeling she was nearing the end of her time as a trainee. The Shadowlands Masters had been almost the only ones who could give her what she needed—who were dominating enough to compel her surrender. Now they all had their own submissives, and any hope Sally had was gone.

Of course, the Feds weren’t attached. Doubtful they’d ever be, considering what the other submissives had said. Players. She huffed a miserable laugh. At least they were new enough that Master Z wouldn’t use them to punish her.

She pulled on her short, stretchy minidress—she hadn’t had the enthusiasm to come up with flashier attire—and followed Uzuri into the hallway.

Uzuri stopped at the medical room.

Surprised, Sally bumped into her. “Here?”

The beads in Uzuri’s braids clattered softly as she nodded. “Good luck.”

This really didn’t look good. There was already a crowd in front of the oversize window into the room. And the window had been opened so everyone could hear. Sally pushed her way through and stopped two feet inside the room. She felt the Masters’ eyes even before she saw them. No. No no no. It wasn’t fair.

Vance and Galen were waiting for her.

She took a step back.

Galen shook his head and held out his hand. “Come here, trainee.” His gaze was…direct. Firm. But she saw sympathy in his expression.

However, Vance’s eyes held the warmth of a frozen lake. He’d never looked at her like that, and the loss hurt her inside. “I’d thought better of you,” he said.

She pulled in a miserable breath, wanting to run. Knowing she wouldn’t. A trainee knew the rules. She’d lied to a Dom; no matter what nasty punishment the Feds’d planned, she deserved it.

Her feet took her forward, and she set her wrist in Galen’s grasp.

Palm under her chin, he studied her face with a frown. “I don’t know what’s bothering you, but you should’ve discussed it with your Dom. Or refused the scene. Lying—verbally or physically—isn’t permitted.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Somehow his words—no matter how soft—were like a slap in the face. He pulled her dress over her head, then patted the table. “Put your bare ass here.”

I don’t want to. With a lowered gaze, she climbed onto the table. Dammit, she did scenes in public all the time. She liked the thrill of being observed, of taking what a Dom had to give. And at the Shadowlands, she didn’t worry about her safety. So why was facing this so difficult tonight?

“Head in the game,” Vance said, his rumbling baritone as authoritative as Galen’s resonant voice. “Lie on your back.”

She complied, and he positioned her with her butt at the edge of the table, then set her feet into the stirrups and strapped her legs to the supports.

Vance spread the leg rests widely apart, exposing her pussy, then lifted the stirrups until her pelvis tilted upward. Undoubtedly wanting her asshole available.

She glanced nervously at the tray tables. No needles. Not even the urethral dilators. Thank God for that. She’d far rather be whipped than punctured or dilated. But no floggers or whips or canes were visible. What did they plan?

Vance tightened a strap over her waist, lifted the head of the table slightly, and clipped her wrist cuffs to the top. He tied an elastic satin blindfold behind her head and then shoved it up onto her forehead. Not using it yet, but…obviously he planned to.

Galen addressed the viewers through the window. “As you undoubtedly know, Master Z asked us to give a short talk on how to tell if a female fakes her orgasm. I see no need for any submissives to be present, so please have them wait for you elsewhere or chain them in the subbie section.”

Several submissives, including Rainie and Jessica, left. A couple of Doms led their collared slaves away. Most of the remaining observers were male with a sprinkling of Dommes.

Sally felt a sinking in her stomach. There was only one reason they’d have strapped her to this table.

“Sally, you are going to show them how a submissive fakes an orgasm.”

What kind of a punishment is that? A flare of anger bit into her. “My pleasure. It’s not as if fooling a Dom is difficult.” You asshole.

Galen actually grinned. “So you fooled everyone?”

“Well, yeah. Sure, Master Z could tell, but others…?” Her shrug lost its effectiveness with her arms over her head.

“Actually, pet, Master Galen and Master Vance noticed your dishonesty even before I did,” Master Z said from the doorway. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze less disapproving than disappointed, and she felt tears sting her eyes. “Thank you, gentlemen, for giving up your time to teach this class,” he said.

Murmured thanks came from the other Doms.

Vance’s easy nod of acknowledgment was annoying. Damn Feds. Like they were all knowing and all powerful? What would they do if she made their scene into a farce? A When Harry Met Sally hammed-up orgasm. Oh yeah. Her lips curved.

Galen moved into Sally’s line of vision. “Trainee. If your performance isn’t convincing, you’ll get another chance. But before then, we’ll use the toys in the drawers to motivate you. Is my meaning clear?”

The meaning made her impulse shrivel into a tiny screaming ball. The equipment in the medical room drawers was ghastly—needles and urethral sounds and enema kits. The bastard must have noticed her anxious look at the instrument trays. Then again, he was good at screwing with a submissive’s mind. “Yes,” you fucking, “Sir.”

“Good.” Galen ran one finger over her cheek, gently enough to surprise her. “Oddly, we don’t enjoy humiliating submissives, even for punishment. I’m sorry you earned this, pet. We’d hoped for a different kind of play this evening.”

Her lips trembled. The sympathy in his low voice was far more difficult to take than his uncompromising tone.

He took a step back, his features turning unreadable again. “For realism, we’ll play with you briefly. Your job is to pretend excitement—whether you are or not. When you see me say, ‘Now,’ show everyone how wonderfully you can fake arousal and an orgasm.”

See him say? That didn’t make—

Vance put noise-canceling earphones over her head. The white noise they emitted drowned out everything.

Galen turned away from her and spoke to the audience.

She couldn’t hear a word he said. And she began to feel like…an object. A nothing.

This was so different from the last time she’d been with the Doms. Before, they’d been sweet to her. Not like this. Ice formed inside her.

Even more tears welled up. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the leather padding.

Hands ran over her body, cupped her breasts, and pinched her nipples lightly. A finger carefully pushed inside her. She was fairly dry, and under the weight of their disapproval, not even their hands could get her to moisten.

Her mouth tightened, and she set herself to suffer. This felt all too much like her time with Casey earlier.

The fingers pushed in and out. Then the Dom—Vance?—grabbed one buttock and pulled on it, more fully exposing her asshole.

A tap on her cheek made her open her eyes. She stared into Galen’s face.

His lips formed the word, Now.

She’d rather hit him than perform for him, but had no choice. She mouthed, I hate you.

His gaze softened. Then he pulled the blindfold down from her forehead and over her eyes.

Couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. A shiver ran through her. But she had a chore to perform. She took a second to gather her thoughts, then let out a low, aroused moan.

VANCE’S LIPS TIGHTENED as he watched the pretty submissive go into her act. Fuck, he hated liars. His ex-wife had been a master at it. And he’d been too young and gullible to realize what she was doing. Even divorcing her hadn’t stopped the damage. By the time she finished, his best friend had been convinced he was an abuser. His buddy had eventually figured it out, but their friendship hadn’t survived.

Do the job, Buchanan.

“Aroused women are usually flushed. Their lips are redder and often more swollen than normal,” Galen said from his position near the top of the table. “See how her nipples are flaccid rather than peaked as they should be.”

“She’s barely wet,” Vance said, “although a woman’s vagina can moisten somewhat in sheer self-defense.” He separated her labia to show her clit. “Still hooded.”

And then Sally went into her orgasm.

Vance tightened his jaw. All fake. But, he had to admit, the sound would have made him erect if he hadn’t been so pissed off.

“Her moan is good theater,” Galen said. “The way she arches her neck and back is typical of orgasm—although, if you check her face, it appears oddly slack.” He grinned. “Think of when you get off. Facial muscles will tighten—in fact, most of us look like we’re dying.”

Laughter ran through the crowd.

Vance caught Galen’s glance and took over. “The pumping of her hips was usual for a woman coming. Her cunt and asshole would also pulse and clench. Being a very smart—as well as sneaky—submissive, Sally deliberately tightened her vaginal muscles—rather like those Kegel exercises they recommend for women.” He pulled his slightly damp fingers out and held them up. “However, at this point, she should be thoroughly soaked inside.”

“Her nipples never spiked,” Galen pointed out as Sally lay, panting slightly. “She does the after-orgasm limpness well. But…do you see any flushing anywhere?”

Another murmur came from the crowd.

Vance said, “Usually you’ll find redness over the sternum, cheeks, upper thighs, lower stomach, and ass. Her labia and clit would be more swollen and pink as well.”

“Hellfire,” one daddy Dom muttered. “I think my baby and I are going to have a chat.”

“Now,” Galen said. “The second half of this demonstration is to show you what she looks like when she really does get off.” He turned and started stroking Sally, running his hands over her breasts.

Vance smiled as she stiffened. Not ready to be aroused, were you, pet?

“Bear in mind,” Vance said to the crowd. “Women are all different. Every sign may not be present, but you should get some of them.”

He bent and licked over her pussy, not trying for finesse or teasing. One part of the punishment was to teach her that her body could be used against her…despite her anger. Some women might be able to resist, but this little one was accustomed to submitting in public.

And she was fucking responsive, whether she wanted to be or not.

Under his lips, her clit swelled and pushed out from its hood. He took a step back to show the Doms. “That’s an aroused clit. See how her inner labia have puffed up and darkened with blood.”

Galen motioned to her face. “Her lips have reddened, cheeks are pinker. And, even without direct stimulation, her nipples are tight. She’s aroused”—he chuckled—“although she doesn’t want to be.”

Normally, Vance enjoyed such a challenge, but, like his partner, he’d started to feel sorry for her. Although Z’s choice of punishment was appropriate, Sally was a sweet little sub. It would be best to find out why she had a need to fake her orgasms.

He and Galen had decided not to drag the lesson out. Vance said to the Doms, “We don’t want to keep you here, so we’ll finish this up.” He pulled a condom-covered bullet vibrator from his pocket and applied it to Sally’s clit.

As he teased her for a bit longer, just for his own pleasure, he heard Galen point out the changes in her breathing and the increasing rigidness of her thigh and stomach muscles.

A second later, she climaxed.

“Her eyes would be dilated, but you can’t see that from where you are,” Galen lectured.

Pretty arch she had. Attending to the job at hand, Vance pointed out the visible contractions of her entrance and asshole and how a light red flush covered her thighs and belly. As Vance slid his fingers into her cunt, she jerked and spasmed around him. He held up his hand to show the ample amount of glistening fluid.

“Questions?” Galen asked.

The applause was quiet to avoid disturbing other scenes, and then their audience moved on.

Vance rubbed his hand up and down Sally’s soft inner thigh. “That went well enough.” He glanced at her face and saw the anger and unhappiness, despite the lingering glow of her orgasm. He sighed.

Galen gave him a wry glance. “Don’t think we won her over by punishing her.”

“The lecture we’ll give her won’t improve matters.” Sally could fill an entire room with her bright spirit; darkening her light felt wrong. “Fuck, I hate making submissives cry.”

“For punishment, yeah.” Galen tilted his head. “Have we ever seen her cry?”

Vance paused, trying to remember a time. “Maybe not. I can say for sure, though, that she now hates our guts.”

“Ayuh,” Galen said. “So let’s end this on a better note.”

SALLY LAY QUIET, waiting for them to set her free. What was taking them so long? Damn them.

She’d given demonstrations before but never as part of being punished. It galled her that she’d deserved the punishment.

But they were complete douche bags to make such an example of her. To show everyone what she’d been doing. Some of the Doms she’d played with had been observing, and they’d looked…disillusioned.

One side of the earphones was pulled off, and she heard Galen’s flat New England voice. “The audience is gone, and the curtains are closed, pet. This orgasm is just for you, because you took your punishment like a good girl.”

What? Her whole body went stiff. “No. No, I don’t want anything else.” She growled and tried to bring her hands down. They’d left her arms chained. Left her legs strapped, her pussy open. “Let me…”

A demanding mouth closed over her left nipple; another over her right. Their tongues circled her nipples as the men targeted one of her most erogenous zones. When they sucked rhythmically, her back arched up as if to offer them more.

Their hands were stroking her stomach, her waist, and her upper thighs. So different from when they’d picked on her before, teasing her out of her head. This time, they headed in a straight line—arousal to climax. Do not stop at go. Their determination and single-mindedness was terrifyingly erotic.

Her body seemed to sink into the table as one Dom moved down. The other played with her breasts. Pinching mercilessly, licking softly, rolling one nipple, and sucking on the other. God.

Cloth—probably someone’s pants—brushed against her inner legs, and then powerful hands fondled her butt cheeks and squeezed her thighs. She couldn’t control anything they did. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t even hear. Heat rolled over her skin as if she were sinking into her bath.

Determined fingers pulled her labia open. His lips closed around her clit, hot and wet, and his skillful tongue was ruthless.

There. No there. Even better. Pressure grew inside her, driving her toward an orgasm, and she hated that they could manipulate her so easily. A few minutes ago, they’d forced her to climax; somehow this wasn’t the same. Their hands were gentle, more teasing. Their coldness had disappeared. She felt almost as if they were truly treating her.

The coil in her belly grew as need climbed within. Tighter, tighter.

Someone pulled her headphones off. Lifted her blindfold. Galen stood above her.

She tried to close her eyes, but he gripped her chin. “Look at me, pet.”

Vance’s tongue skittered across the top of her clit, and he slid two fingers inside her. Three fingers. Stretching and pressing, thrusting in and out. Pushing her toward the top. His tongue never stopped.

Her breath caught as Galen’s burning eyes kept her pinned to his gaze, and she felt the surge as her moorings broke loose, as her climax threw her into the riptide.

Somehow Galen was in there with her, pushing past her defenses to see who she was.

She shuddered and, as she came down, tried to turn her head.

“Not yet, pet,” Galen murmured, his thumb stroking over her cheek. “I like that you can’t hide from us. Not when you come.”

She couldn’t look away, was held by his gaze, his voice, his hand as her being dissolved.

“Shhh.” The lines at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile. “Relax for a minute.” He kissed her lightly. Lingeringly. His spicy, masculine scent wrapped around her.

When he moved away, she felt the invisible restraint of his determination snap.

As Galen released the straps, Vance took his place, laying his big hand along her face. His eyes were dark, deeper than sky blue. His light brown hair angled past his broad cheekbones to end slightly below his collar. “Pretty Sally,” he murmured and kissed her, slowly, surely, coaxing a response she didn’t want to give.

Smoothly, Vance pulled her to a sitting position. The straps were gone. His arm braced her, and he fondled one breast, almost absentmindedly. “Blanket?” he said to Galen.

Blanket. Like for aftercare? She shook her head. “No. I don’t need— My dress is there. I need to get back to work.” Surely they wouldn’t know she’d finished her trainee’s shift.

Galen pulled a blanket from the white cupboard over the sink. His displeased stare shut her up. “You’ve already worked your stint, and I find your attempts at prevarication annoying.”

Oh poop and shit and crap. Her chin lifted. Too bad for him that she annoyed him. “I don’t need any aftercare. Not for this kind of scene. And I don’t want you to touch me.” She gripped Vance’s wrist and tried to push him away.

“I like touching you, and since I’m the Dom and you’re the trainee, guess who gets what they want?” Vance didn’t move. “You’re with us because you fucked up, Sally. Maybe the club members got a treat, but this demonstration happened because Z thought you needed a lesson.”

She waited until her voice would emerge without quavering. “I understand. Lesson learned. I’m sorry, Sir, and I won’t do that again.”

“Good to know.” Vance had seemed the more even-tempered of the two, but boy, he changed when he was pissed off. His square chin looked like a chunk of granite. He still didn’t move.

Instead Galen came to stand in front of her. Although the sympathy he’d shown her before was gone, he wasn’t furious like Vance. He looked as if nothing would upset his confidence. His black hair in a conservative business cut wasn’t mussed. No wrinkles showed in his black shirt or slacks. Totally in charge.

The assholes. She never had any trouble with scenes until the Feds showed up. They made her feel stupid. As if she didn’t have any say over what was going on. Which seemed strange, because she wanted to give up control, but not to them. The other Masters, yes, but not to these two.

Two. Maybe she could deal with one—although she’d begun to wonder about that—but both of them? She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind.

Gregorian chants drifted in from the main club room. Sweat was cooling on her body, and a trickle ran down the hollow of her back. Vance stood close enough she caught whiffs of his aftershave. Old Spice maybe. The one that smelled like the outdoors with sex added. He shouldn’t smell so good; one more strike against him.

Against them both. Galen wore something rich. Amber and sandalwood. Damn them.

Okay. She pulled in a breath. “I apologized to Casey and you. I did as you asked for my punishment.” Her voice came out level and reasonable. She couldn’t help the way her teeth clenched before and after.

“You aren’t a new trainee, pet,” Galen said. “Surely you’ve learned honesty is integral to a BDSM scene.”

“Yes. I know. And I messed up.”

He pinned her with those dark eyes again. “I’d like to hear why you weren’t honest.”

The two of them kept backing her into a corner, and she scrambled for a way to escape. One came to mind: fight back. “You’re not my Dom. Neither of you. I didn’t negotiate with you for a scene, and I wouldn’t have volunteered to do this.”

Vance narrowed his eyes. “You feel you didn’t earn it?”

“I did, but the punishment is over now. And I don’t know you. Or trust you enough to want to talk to you.” That was a hit. As new Masters, they probably wouldn’t push a trainee—and they were digging deeper than the others ever had. “I have some say in who I want to work with.” Kind of. Unless Master Z stepped in.

“Sally—”

She jumped off the table. “Thanks for the lesson. Sirs.”

In his New York condo office, Drew Somerfeld frowned at the e-mail from one of his managers. What the hell? Two of the women chosen for his Harvest Association summer auction had disappeared before they could be abducted.

Suddenly. Without any advance notice to their family or employers.

Could they have been warned?

He uncurled his fingers and forced them flat on the black desktop as he considered possible reasons. Complications. What his next step should be…

Perhaps one of the contract agents had talked or been compromised. The overseers occasionally hired less than ideal individuals, after all. Kidnappers weren’t exactly at the top of the character charts.

He’d have to play a wait-and-see game for now. Meantime, he’d put in an order with a different manager. He not only needed more women for the auction, but Ellis had used up his slave when he’d slaughtered that cop. His twin needed to be rewarded for his excellent work—and his favorite bonus was a new slut to play with.

A shame Ellis went through them so fast.