To Command And Collar

Chapter Eleven

“I love you.” Remembering Kimberly’s soft avowal, Raoul abandoned the brewing coffee and walked outside to stare at the water. The brisk morning air ruffled his hair but didn’t bring him any clarity of thought. How could he have let her get emotionally involved with him? This wasn’t-she shouldn’t love him. Dios, she should be running the other direction.

Only he knew better. She was tough, brave, and resilient. He’d known women who reacted with hysterics to a fender bender. Had her father taught her to be so durable? Or her mother? Had Kimberly lived with an example of how to survive abuse?

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. She was confusing emotional dependence and need with love. How should he handle this? Carefully, Sandoval. Like walking a girder with no safety line.

The problem was he cared for her, and he had no excuse that he’d been mistreated. No, his mistake was to have let her into his house, his life. His heart. He’d grown so fond of her that he had trouble imagining his home without her bubbly presence.

Don’t go there, Sandoval. She’d leave as soon as the auction was over, and according to the Overseer, that might occur in a week or so.

The realization was like a gut shot from a steel rivet. He’d miss their showers. The workouts in the weight room. The fighting as he taught her to cripple and maim, and the unholy light in her eyes when she’d mastered a technique. The evenings watching television, arguing over movies. Her snippy backtalk, and how she tried to hide her pleasure at serving him.

The way she softened under his hands when he kissed her. He felt himself harden. Good job, Sandoval.

Well, he’d see this through. And try to keep them both from being stupid.

As he turned to go back in, he wondered if she’d want to stay with him when this was over. No. She truly was submissive, but she’d made it clear, over and over, that she didn’t want to live the lifestyle. And she needed to heal. Once her head was on straight, she wouldn’t want a master. Not soon, probably never.

Even if miracles occurred, he wasn’t ready for a relationship either. It was far too soon. And this time, he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a full-time Dominant/submissive relationship with someone who wanted it as much as he did.

Over the waves, a gull gave a long screech as another stole its fish. He headed into the house. He’d need a massive amount of caffeine to figure out a way to pull back before he hurt her further.

Kim frowned at the sunlight streaming in the balcony window, then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Noon? No wonder Master R had already gotten up.

The empty space beside her in bed sent a pang through her. She’d come to like waking up with Master R’s solid body next to hers, or for him to awaken her as he had almost every morning since they’d had real sex. His hands would caress her breasts, and his cock would ease between her legs from behind. He’d hold her in place, gently, firmly, and push into her. She’d start off groggy, but when his clever fingers would slide over her clit, she’d be right onboard with early morning sex. Who knew it could be so much fun?

Not this morning. She sighed and climbed out of bed,

But last night, she’d said she loved him, and he hadn’t exactly looked thrilled to hear she cared.

With a frown, she stepped into the shower, missing his presence there too. The teasing, his laughter. The one morning he hadn’t taken her in bed, he’d made up for it a few minutes later.

Her lips curved. That time she’d told him she wasn’t interested in shower sex. “Not today.” God, so not the thing to tell a dom.

“Really,” he’d said with that amused-stern-look in his eyes. “Does a submissive have that choice?”

Before she’d realized how much trouble she was in, he’d grasped her around the waist, walked out of the shower, and laid her on the cold counter. He pinned her legs to his shoulders, put his mouth on her pussy, and forced her to have an orgasm, waited a second, then did it again. She was dizzy when he pulled her back into the shower. And then, being the dom he was, he’d firmly bent her over and taken her from behind. Hard.

Why did she get off on that control? She soaped her body, snorting at how her nipples had bunched up. Yep, just thinking of him did it for her.

But he doesn’t want my love.

Was he right about her? Did she imagine love when it was really only need? Maybe. She dried off. She didn’t feel needy. Well, perhaps a little.

A pair of her jeans, underwear, and a tank top lay on the towel bar. Apparently Master R had decided she could wear clothes today. Her hand hesitated over the clothing. Today-or every day now? Her job was done, wasn’t it? The entire charade had been to get Sam referred during the Overseer’s follow-up visit.

Even if Sam failed and Master R had to attend the auction, he’d use an FBI agent as his submissive. Not me.

Her relief was balanced by the ugly vision of Master R with another woman. Would he spank the submissive? Make her come? Of course he would. The flood of sheer jealousy appalled her. God, I need to get out of here.

When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Master R sat on a bar stool at the island, newspapers and coffee before him. She started to speak, then saw the phone he held to his ear.

“That’s right,” he was saying. “Sam said Dahmer called a few minutes ago. His background check passed, and he should get an invitation to the auction sometime this week.”

That meant the job was done. Kim hugged herself, trying to process her emotions. After her first scuba dive, she’d hauled herself up the boat’s steps, shucked off the heavy air tank, and dropped the belt with twenty pounds of lead weights. She’d felt as if she might float away. Very much like now. My part is over.

Master R listened and then grinned. “Yes, he put on quite a show. Had one of the better screamers.” He glanced at her, his eyes shadowed but approving. “Kimberly did her job perfectly.”

A glow sparked to life and was snuffed out with his next words. “Since Sam is accepted, I think she should move to Gabi’s house.”

Kim stared at him. A slap in the face wouldn’t have hurt as much. What had she done wrong?

“No, she didn’t do anything wrong. But keeping her in a Master/slave relationship as she recovers from being kidnapped would be foolish. She’s getting dependent on me, Kouros.” He met her eyes squarely, not trying to hide anything.

Anger started to overtake the pain. Yes, she could hate him.

“No, she doesn’t need to stay here. Her job is finished. Even if Sam’s invitation falls through, I’d use one of your people for the demo, not Kimberly. I would never take her to a slave auction. We discussed this already.” His eyes turned cold. “Send her to Gabi’s. She’s done enough.”

Good to know. Trying not to scowl, Kim poured herself some coffee.

Master R straightened suddenly. “When was this?”

The sharpness in his voice made Kim jump, and she hissed as coffee scalded her fingers. She set the cup down hastily, shaking her hand. Ouch.

“Kimberly!” Master R pointed to the faucet.

She hesitated. But I want to hear. Caving in, she ran the cold water over her reddened fingers. Over the noise of the water, she heard him say, “I’m putting you on speaker. She has a right to know.” He set the phone on the island.

Know what?

“You’re a stubborn bastard, Sandoval,” came a man’s sonorous voice with the broadened A sound of someone from Maine. “Miss Moore, I was telling your master why I don’t want you to return to Gabi’s house.”

She swallowed. I don’t know this man. “Why?”

“I don’t know if Raoul ever told you, but we planted surveillance devices around the neighborhood. A simple precaution to keep you safe.”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at the walls. What had they seen?

“No, gatita,” Master R said. “They’re only outside-the front and sides of the house, and one on the patio pointing toward the beach.”

The FBI agent snorted. “He wouldn’t permit anything else. We’ve spotted a few people watching your house since Raoul bought you. Very casual. But earlier today, a private investigator checked you out and took pictures.”

Kim wrapped her arms around herself, a chill running through her. The outside world wasn’t safe. She already knew that.

“With the prior surveillance they did, they’d know you spend a lot of time outside. If you suddenly disappear, but Raoul is still in the house, they’d wonder why.”

Watching the house. Ice crawled up her spine. “What if they try to take me back?” God, that was stupid. They wouldn’t steal from their own buyer.

“Kidnapping a slave they’d sold wouldn’t be good for business.” The FBI agent paused. “If it helps your worries, though, the neighborhood is well policed and has a neighborhood watch. Raoul has a hell of a security system on both the house and grounds, much better than the one at Marcus’s place. Nobody in their right minds would try to breech it.”

Master R gave her a small smile and whispered, “I grew up on the streets, remember?”

Huh. She’d seen him making the rounds before bed, checking on stuff, and hadn’t bothered to ask why. So she was safe here. But to stay?

Master R remained silent, obviously giving her the choice. I hate making decisions. She wanted to go to Gabi’s…yet even if he didn’t care for her, she wanted to be with him.

With an effort, she pushed her personal baggage to the side. Her wishes were irrelevant. No matter what she felt, she mustn’t do anything to cause suspicions and blow the investigation. “I guess I’ll be here for another few days.”

“Thank you, Miss Moore. I look forward to meeting you later this week.”

With a low curse, Master R slid the phone shut; then his eyes narrowed on her. “Will you be all right with this?”

I might never be right again. “Of course.” She winced when his brows drew together. Telling the complete truth surely sucked at times. “All right, it’s difficult, being so unsettled. I want to go home and get on with my life. See my mom.” Stay with you. Run from you. Love you.

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee, and the release of his intent gaze was like escaping a riptide. “You must miss your mamá very much.”

His voice held a wealth of understanding, and the tenderness with which he’d said “mamá” told her a lot. And left more unexplained. She frowned. “I thought your family lived in Tampa. Did you tell them not to visit?”

His mouth tightened. “We do not…speak.”

“How come?”

“They don’t approve of my BDSM lifestyle. At all. When they found out… They’d probably have reacted better if I’d been gay.” He rubbed his face. He might have thought his expression unreadable, but it wasn’t. Being alienated from his family hurt him.

“I’m sorry.” He was so loving. To have his family push him away must have been terrible.

“It’s not your problem, gatita.”

“I s’pose not.” She watched the coffee in her cup, making the black liquid swirl in circles. Like my life. He said she shouldn’t be in a Master/slave relationship, and that she’d become dependent on him. Maybe he was right. “Master R?”

He tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Can we live together as…as friends? No more of the master-sumisita stuff?

His frown cleared. “We can. It’s a good plan.” He tapped his fingers on his papers and then looked at her again. “You may have the guest bedroom as before.”

No more being wrapped in his arms at night? The kitchen seemed to darken. “Great. I’ll go move my stuff.”

Her knees held up nicely all the way to Master’s-no, Raoul’s-bedroom. She bundled together the clothing Gabi had given her and left the French maid’s costume in the closet for him to return to Z. After tossing everything on the bed in the guest room, she went back for her toiletries.

She turned her eyes away from the shower, refusing to remember how his big hands felt moving over her soap-slicked body. Warm and firm. No. One more week; then it was over. She’d go home and…do what? Aside from wanting to see her mom, she’d never thought about after that.

Her knees went weak, and she leaned on the counter, staring at herself in the mirror. I should want to go home. To take up my life again. Her friends would be overjoyed at her return.

Had her position at the marine lab been filled? Probably not-admin moved slowly. She’d go see them first thing and… A chill ran through her. What if she stepped out of the office or her house and…they took her again? I have to go back to work. No choice. She’d manage. She always did.

But she’d be so far from Tampa. How could she stand each day without Master R in it?

Her hands clenched. Getting a little dependent, missy? Or a little in love? Her inner cynic was so sarcastic that if it’d been a person, she’d have slapped its face. Because the answer to both questions was yes.

He…lifted her heart. She wanted to take care of him, put that special smile on his face, be there for him the way he’d been here for her. And why not? He obviously cared for her. He did.

Only…he hadn’t exactly said “I love you” back to her.

Even if he did, they had differing goals. He was a master, and eventually he’d want a real slave, not a pretender. Cold seeped like a chill morning fog into her bones.

I’m not a slave. That wasn’t the relationship she’d dreamed of-to kneel at a man’s feet, to take his orders, to serve him. She hauled in a shuddering breath. I don’t belong here. Not really.

She needed to not pine after something that would never work. They’d be friends like she said.

After she finished moving her stuff, she went back downstairs. Master R-Raoul, dammit-was still in the kitchen, making notes on a legal pad. Why did he have to be so…so wonderful? The broad shoulders, the strong hands, the stern jaw. Why wasn’t life fair?

He looked up, and his smile faded as he got a I-can-see-right-down-to-your-secrets expression on his face. “Gatita, what is wrong?”

She shrugged. “Leftover nerves, I think.” She rubbed at a smear on the floor with her shoe and asked casually, “Do we have any plans for this week?”

“Only one. To keep you safe until you go home.”

Go home. How strange he’d mention that after she’d been thinking about it. Go home to what?

“For today, I thought we’d celebrate surviving our evening with the Overseer. I keep a sailboat at a marina nearby, and we can pick up a picnic lunch.”

Be on the water again and be with Master R? Could anything be better? “Oh, yes. Please.”

“Good enough. After I change, we’ll head out. Meantime, can you get my toy bag out of the car?” He tossed his keys to her. “I don’t like driving around with it…just in case of an accident or police. The car’s parked in front.”

She managed to stifle the yes, Master and said, “Sure, I’ll get it.” Why hadn’t he parked in the garage last night? Because he’d had to carry her upstairs. Duh. And the garage was on the opposite side of the house.

As she crossed the great room, Master R started up the stairs.

She stopped. Wait. Go outside? By myself? “Um. I’ll… I’m not sure I know what your bag looks like.” Her chest felt as if someone was wrapping ropes around her ribs and kept drawing them tighter.

He leaned one hip against the stair railing. “It’s the only bag in the car.”

“But-”

“Get the bag, gatita.”

She didn’t move.

His eyes narrowed, and then he came back down the stairs.

She relaxed. “You’re going to escort me to your car?”

“No, I don’t think so.” His hand closed around her upper arm. He led her to the front and pushed her out the door.

She stood, stunned at his actions. Stood and stared down the curving drive. She could see the street-the street where anyone might wait. Where someone could shoot her and hurt her and cage her. “No!” No no no. She spun around and plowed into an immovable body.

He blocked the doorway, the light framing him, a dark angel. “Kimberly.”

“No. No, I won’t.” She was trembling so violently that her knees buckled.

His arms closed around her, and he held her firmly. “Take a slow breath, gatita. Now.”

She was cold, so cold. That was why she was shaking. Her fingers had even gone numb.

“Another breath. Let it out slowly.” He made her take a few more.

Her heart slowed. And she realized she’d just had another damned panic attack for whatever reason.

“Now look at me.”

The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze to his intense dark brown eyes. His expression seemed strange. Concern and anger and…pity?

How the hell dare he pity me? She straightened in his arms and took a terrifying step away. “I’m just stressed from yesterday. Sorry.”

“Then perhaps you should try again?”

No!

But he held his hand out, and she set her fingers in his.

He walked to the car, and she was all right. Yes, she was fine.

He released her hand. “Stay here for a moment, gatita.”

When he started toward the house, somehow she was beside him, so close she was almost crawling into his clothes.

“Hmm.” Without speaking further, he led her through the house, out the back onto the patio. He stopped by the pool, watching her closely. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to figure out why she was still shaking and why she couldn’t go outside. She’d been outside before.

He pointed to the beach ball on the other side of the pool. “Bring me that.” No problem. She’d only gone halfway when he called her back.

“You’re afraid of being outside-on the street side-by yourself?”

“I-I-” She pulled in a breath of salt air, turned away from him. The waves rolled onto the shore; clouds puffed high in the sky. Normal world. Abnormal Kim. Her voice came out so tiny, he leaned forward to hear her. “When I went out to the front, I just knew they were there. They’d take me back. It’s not safe outside.” Everything inside told her that was truth.

“The patio is all right though? And the beach?” he asked softly, still holding her hand.

“I…guess so. It’s got a fence. An ocean. No vehicles. They can’t get me there.” She blew a lock of hair away from her face. “It sounds stupid.”

“Kimberly, where did they kidnap you?”

She remembered all too well. Every month, she’d drive from Savannah to Atlanta to spend the day with her mom. Then she’d spend the evening at the BDSM club. The highlight of her month. “Outside a club. When I reached for the handle of my car, I-I… The man Tasered me.” Horrible pain, every muscle spasming, convulsing, screaming silently in agony. “They tossed me into a van.”

He stroked her hair. “Now you figured out why you panic, does it help?”

“A little.” Yet the thought of walking out a door again made her whole body tense in dread. She straightened her spine. “Try again?”

“Brave gatita.” Hand on her arm, he led her to the front door as if she were a blind woman. “Let’s see how far you can get.”

She forced her feet to step outside. A long drive. The street. Something squeezed her chest, and black wavered like ghosts around the edges of her vision.

“Kimberly!” The command in his voice was as effective as a vicious slap.

She jolted and looked over her shoulder.

“I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to you.” Fury came from him in waves, but it wasn’t directed at her. “Take three steps. Then we’ll go back in the house. Can you do that?”

She shook her head. Too far.

“Kimberly.” He met her eyes, raised his chin. “Do it-for me.”

For Master R. Her need to please warred with the fear. She eyed all the open space where she’d be exposed, the places someone could hide, and something tiny inside her quailed. Yet she took a step. Another. Her courage failed. She could only stand and shake.

“One more, gatita.”

Her air was gone, and red streaked the lawn as she pushed a foot forward. One more.

“Good. Eyes on me.” He was in front of her so quickly, she realized he’d been right behind her for each step. His face blocked the dangerous open lawn. “I’m very proud of you, Kimberly.”

His praise released the last few bands around her chest, and she hauled in a breath.

“Next time you’ll go four steps. In the meantime”-he held his hand out for hers-“we’ll get my toy bag out of the car. Together.”

Three days of being friends wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. With a silent sigh, Kim watched the morning sun move across the bedroom carpet, her hand over the wide palm cupping her breast. Contentment was being held in Master R’s arms.

But…she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

He’d made love to her. She grinned. She’d kinda started the process when she’d sneaked under the covers, run her hands up his thighs, and fondled his cock to hardness. At first, she’d thought he was asleep, but after a few minutes, she realized he’d been awake all along, waiting to discover how far she’d go.

Far. Giggling, she’d climbed on top of him, and it had been fun. He’d kissed her and stroked her. Sucked her nipples. But he hadn’t taken control, hadn’t demanded anything from her. His hands had been gentle, not firm. They’d both gotten off, but… She sighed. The sex hadn’t been exciting at all. Kind of like piloting a motorboat instead of sailing in a strong wind. You’d get to your destination with the one; the other was sheer exhilaration.

I want that kind of sex back.

Master R was still asleep, one arm over her, spooned around her from behind. His morning erection pressed against her bottom. So…

They could have boring, we’re-just-friends sex, but she wanted more. How far could a girl push a master before he lost his temper?

He didn’t get angry easily. She bit her lip, unease quivering her nerves, and then rolled out of his arms. “No!” she snapped as his eyes opened. “No sex. You can’t make me, and I don’t want it.”

When his darkly tanned face turned stern, her stomach spawned wiggly minnows. But then he relaxed. “No, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want, Kimberly.” He put his hands behind his head, although his muscles were tight. “Go shower. I’ll stay out of your way.”

Dammit. After flipping her braid away, she poked his shoulder forcefully enough to hurt her finger. “You don’t tell me what to do, Ra-oool. I’m not your property anymore.” She’d expected the blaze in his eyes; she hadn’t anticipated her regret at verbalizing the fact. I’m not his. She poked him harder to make the sense of loss go away.

He grabbed her hand, preventing more abuse, and sat up. “That’s enough. Get out of the bed before I lose my patience with your rudeness.” His voice had lowered, and excitement shimmered deep inside her.

She felt her nipples bunching into peaks, saw his gaze drop to her breasts, and her anticipation increased at the flare of heat in his eyes. “Stop bossing me around.” She planted herself deliberately, kneeling with her butt on her feet. “I’m not going to do anything you say. Ever. Even if you beg me.”

“And what if you beg me?” he asked softly, the increasing Spanish accent an obvious clue to his temper. “If you stay in this bed, I will take you, Kimberly, the way I want, as rough as I want, unless you scream your safe word.”

His dark voice flipped a switch inside her, and she was suddenly very wet, her clit throbbing as if he’d stroked it with his tongue rather than his words.

But her mouth had gone dry at the threat in his voice. He would… He could hurt her. Only, she wanted that. Kind of. She took a breath. Besides, backing down would make her a coward. “Take me, Ra-oool? Pfft. You’re all talk and no-”

He grabbed her. She squeaked as he flattened her on her belly, her face on the mattress inches from the ornate ironwork of the headboard. She felt a pull on her hair. Tugging.

“That should keep you out of trouble.” He yanked her up, onto her hands and knees.

It was going too fast. Unable to help herself, she attempted to rear up and…couldn’t. She tried to lift her head, but her braid was caught on something. She stared at the mattress, three inches from her nose, and fumbled at the headboard, trying to find what he’d hooked her braid on.

His ruthless hands closed on her wrists and secured them one-handed at the hollow of her back.

“Damn you!” She struggled, totally helpless, her head caught, her hands caught. He shoved his knees between her legs, pushing her legs apart, exposing her. With his free hand, he explored her intimately and hummed in interest. “You’re puffy, gatita. And very wet.”

His fingers moved over her clit, so very assured, touching her in the way he knew turned her on. Although she kept fighting, the more she fought, the more her need grew. His chuckle showed he realized exactly what was going on-and his ability to read her so easily increased her arousal as well. Dammit.

He positioned his cock at her entrance and swirled it in her wetness. His grip on her wrists tightened, warning her. He plunged into her, all the way to the hilt.

Her body froze in shock, and she gasped as her pussy strained to accommodate the invasion. Yes, yes, yes. Pushing her forehead onto the mattress, she let him take her over.

He did. He took her, roughly as he’d promised, slamming into her, thick and hard and uncomfortably long.

Not satisfied, he released her hands and gripped her hips, angling her for greater penetration until he nudged her womb with every thrust. Yet the roughness and discomfort increased her arousal, pushing her toward climax in a way she’d never felt before. He wasn’t touching her clit, the stimulation only from his rigid erection. Everything inside her started to tighten, her entire lower half a fiery ball of nerves.

As he yanked her back onto his cock, over and over, her braid pulled at her scalp, reminding her she was restrained. Her hands fisted the covers as the pressure inside her grew. The air thickened until she cried out with each stroke, each demanding thrust wonderful, perfect, keeping her teetering right at the top.

And then he moved differently, his shaft circling her entrance, making her folds tug on her clit. The fire inside contracted into a whirlpool, blasting a tsunami of sheer sensation over her sea walls, flattening everything in front of it until an ocean of pleasure streamed to every far nerve. The room echoed back her scream, then her gasps for air.

He somehow hardened, thickened even more. Short, brutal thrusts sent more waves through her, and then he pressed, deep, deep, and the spasms of his cock made her insides clench over and over around him

His grip on her hips released-she’d have bruises there tomorrow, and she didn’t mind in the least. No-she gloried in the thought of his marks on her. Every nerve in her body was singing, and satisfaction flowed with each beat of her pulse. And happiness. More than from her climax, but caused by the feel of his hands, demanding, controlling, merciless. Dammit, why?

She’d been dominated before; he gave her…more. Or she surrendered more. Anxiety rippled through her. How much would she surrender to him?

He ran his hands down her sides in long strokes, reached under to fondle her breasts, and chuckled when her vagina spasmed around him. When he finally pulled out, she moaned at the loss. Without speaking, he flattened her on the bed again to unhook her braid, then rolled her onto her back like a puppy.

Throat exposed, belly up. At his mercy. Her anxiety increased as she realized annoyance still tightened his jaw.

“Is this what they call friends with benefits?” he asked, holding her chin.

She felt her face heat and closed her eyes.

“Look at me,” he growled.

Her gaze met his, and she couldn’t escape from the anger in his eyes. She swallowed.

“If you wish rough sex or D/s sex, then tell me. I took you hard this time, so we could both discover your response.” His gaze softened, his thumb stroking over her lower lip. “There’s no question as to how you respond. You think about it and what you want.”

He swung off the bed and turned, his expression dangerous. “And then you will talk to me honestly and openly.”

Dammit.

That afternoon, Raoul pushed back from his desk, rubbing his exhausted eyes. If he was going to continue designing at home, he needed a bigger screen.

On the left, Kimberly worked her way through the stacks of filing he’d accumulated. He hated paperwork. Normally, he’d summon his secretary to do the tedious business. But for now, it kept Kimberly occupied.

My friend, Kimberly. Smiling slightly, he watched her examine a paper and put it into a folder. Even lacking any power exchange, he liked having her in his house.

After she’d crawled into his bed last night, he’d discovered he still enjoyed making love to her. Then again, he was a man. Was fucking ever bad? Yes, the normal sex with Kimberly had been pleasant, although lacking any rich flavor or bite, as if someone had made tacos without adding cayenne or cumin.

She’d also felt the lack. He grinned, remembering how she’d goaded him, trying to make him lose his temper. He hadn’t-barely-although he’d given her the roughness and control that she needed. She’d come like a dream.

He shook his head. It was amazing she tolerated sex at all after her experiences, let alone with a man dominating her. Would she admit she wanted his control in the bedroom? Could she be that honest with herself-and him?

For a minute, he simply studied her. Pretty gatita, her black, shiny hair loose over her shoulders, her curvy ass filling her shorts nicely, reminding him of the feel of her soft hips under his hands. His eyes narrowed as he looked more intently.

Pretty…but not happy. The quiet content she’d shown in the weeks prior to the Shadowlands had eroded away over the past three days. Her body now lacked…grace…as if she were no longer comfortable with herself. Tension simmered under her jerky movements and tensed muscles.

Yet she wasn’t looking around nervously. He opened and shut a drawer loudly-no jumpiness. Not fear then.

He rested his elbow on the desk and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Serving her dom and others filled a need in her-whether she admitted it or not-but she was also more comfortable when she had rules. Boundaries. Consistency. Apparently, her erratic father had been loving, then not-stern when sober, nasty when drunk. She’d never known what to expect from minute to minute. Rules probably felt…safe.

When she’d requested that they be friends, she’d not only lost his domination, but the consistency that came with it.

She glanced over her shoulder, and his eyes met hers. He held her gaze, looking for-Dios, stop it, Sandoval. He turned away, disgusted with himself. Her need called to his, but she had said no. No meant no.

However, she wasn’t happy or at peace, and he wasn’t sure how to fix that. Not as friends. Hopefully, she’d discuss the problem with Gabi or Faith, but knowing Kim, she’d probably avoid discussions on dominance and submission.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

She was kneeling at his feet, head down, nape beautifully exposed. Begging for a collar. No, stop dreaming.

“You don’t have to kneel to talk to me, Kimberly,” he said. “We’re friends, are we not?”

“Yes. Kind of.” Rather than her hands resting open on her thighs, her fingers were laced and white-knuckled in front of her. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but being friends isn’t working for me.”

Well, apparently she was learning how to share her emotions. He smiled ruefully, then bent and tilted her chin up. “Do you have a request?” He winced, wanting to punch himself. Even when he told himself not to, he couldn’t speak or touch without dominating someone, especially this little one.

“Can we go back to the way we were?”

He stiffened. “What way, gatita? Explain more clearly.”

“I want…want to be your submissive again, like before. Until the FBI lets me go home or to Gabi’s.” Her blue eyes were earnest, without any apparent reservations.

The rising pleasure warred with his sinking feeling of dismay. How much more agonizing would it be to see her leave after she’d been his willing submissive? “Why?”

“I… It’s silly, but I can’t settle. It’s like when I know I’m doing what you want, I relax and let you do the worrying. I can concentrate on the one thing you’ve told me to do.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m just stressed over the past stuff and with not knowing what’s going to happen. But…” She huffed out an unhappy breath. “I liked it better when you were in charge.”

Kim stared up at Master R. His expression had changed to one of consideration. She loved how he’d take the time to think things through. Damn him. If he wasn’t so very smart or if he made hasty decisions or bad ones, she wouldn’t be here on her knees. But she trusted him to steer a straight path…as much as any human could.

She dared to lean forward, wrapping her arms around his legs and resting her cheek on his knees. A warm spring of contentment welled up in her heart. He could think as long as he wanted if he’d let her stay here, just like this. When he stroked her hair, she closed her eyes and enjoyed.

Sure, she still had a niggling worry that he or the slavers had brainwashed her into a weakwilled real slave, but right now she didn’t care. Once this time was over and she went home, she’d get her life straightened out. And until then, well, she’d consider having a master to be a unique kind of pill-a tranquilizer or something.

“You need this?” he asked gently.

“Yes, please.” She kept back the automatic Master because he hadn’t agreed to assume the role again. But inside, she was whimpering, Please, Master, yes, I do. Please.

Would he agree? He liked being in charge. She bit her lip. Was she asking more than she should? The silence seemed to stretch, reaching to the horizon. Please.

“All right then.” He paused. “I agree, sumisita, and I think you’ve overdressed for this house.”

She smiled and rose. But the anxiety, the worries…didn’t go away even with the relief rushing through her, and she still felt as if a rope was wrapped around her lungs, keeping her from taking a full breath. But, surely everything would settle down. Surely this was what she needed. “Yes, Master.” She stripped her clothing off, folded it, and placed it on a chair.

He leaned back, one elbow on his desk. His fingers rubbed his lips as he studied her. She stood beside him, shifting her weight, and…if anything, feeling worse. What have I done? Maybe this was the wrong decision. She realized her hands were clasped in front of her. Should she-

“Kimberly, stop.” He shoved his chair away from the desk and patted his knees. “Come.”

Yes, she needed to be held. That was all. She started to sit on his lap, and he ruthlessly turned her and pulled her stomach-down over his thighs instead.

“Wait.” She tried to push up. “No-I haven’t been bad. What’s wrong with you?”

His left hand pressed on her back, keeping her pinned down despite her struggles. “No, you haven’t been bad, gatita. This isn’t punishment.” His right hand stroked over her bottom. “This is about a little submissive’s needs.” He smacked her, barely a sting, then gave her five more before pausing and rubbing her butt again.

She sucked in a breath as her insides started to shake. “Do you want me to count?”

“No. Since this is not punishment, there’s no number, mi cariño. I continue until I decide to stop.”

“But-”

The next set of swats hurt. He hit one cheek, then the other, waiting only for the stinging to die before giving another. She started to struggle again, trying to escape. Her eyes filled as the pain grew.

A pause, and he stroked over her bottom. Gently, not mean. How could he be loving and cruel at the same time? A gasping sob of frustration escaped her.

“Bueno,” he said under his breath and started again. Slap-slap, slap-slap, and it hurt. It really hurt. Pain with each hit of his big hand, and then she was kicking and screaming as the wave of pain rolled over her. And continued. And continued.

When the nightmare didn’t stop, sobbing tore through her. She beat on his legs and kicked, crying hysterically, until finally she went limp, unable to fight any longer, just taking the pain.

He stopped, oh God, he stopped and was stroking away the hurt, his hand tender on her burning flesh. “Very good, sumisa mía.” As tears streamed down her face, he helped her to her feet and pulled her onto his lap. Pressing her face against his chest, he held her firmly, engulfing her in security.

Her pain had changed to mere throbbing, but she couldn’t stop crying. What was wrong with her? Tears and choking and then…her worries dissolved. The noise and tension inside her receded with the tide, leaving only clean emptiness behind.

She lay still, lulled by his heartbeat, not wanting to move. After a while, she took a long breath. Another. The tight band around her chest had gone, washed away with the storm. She sniffled and lifted her head, felt the chair turning. A tissue was pressed into her hand.

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and with a sigh of regret, pushed to a sitting position to toss the Kleenex in the wastebasket. Her cheeks were probably all purple, her eyes puffy and red. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop crying.” Feeling humiliated, she dared a look.

“I know. That was the point.”

She frowned at him. “You spanked me so I would cry?”

“Sí, sumisita.” He kissed the top of her head. “Pain can be used for several purposes.” She heard the note that came into his voice when he was instructing. Not like her pompous professors-maybe this stupid person can be taught-Master R had an undertone of gentle humor as if to lure a person into learning. “As you know from the clubs, pain can be erotic.” He pulled her against his chest, and she snuggled closer with a sigh of content. Just listening to him and being held was sheer heaven.

“Or used to punish,” he continued. “But some people bottle up their feelings, their worries, fears, emotional pain. If they are physically hurt enough to make them cry, then sometimes the crying serves for the emotional pain as well. They can release it all.”

Bottle it up? Me? Well, maybe. She lived enthusiastically, but her inside feelings were her own. Sharing emotional problems was…not her thing. The counseling sessions had been difficult, even with Gabi. She inhaled slowly, savoring the scent of soap and man. Maybe she did suppress things a bit. Her father had wanted perfection, not emotions. “A Moore doesn’t show fear.” “Stop that bawling. It didn’t hurt that bad.” “That’s lousy. It looks like a five-year-old did it.” “You can do better than that.”

Like her mother, she’d learned to bury her feelings. The counselor had disapproved. Kim snickered.

“Share that thought.”

“Faith told me I bottle stuff up and need to learn to let it out. Maybe I’ll teach her to spank her clients.”

He laughed. “This is, perhaps, more direct than she’d like.” He sat Kim up so he could frown at her. “I expect you to learn how not to reach this point. And we, you and I, will work on you sharing those emotions before you need to be hurt to get them out.”

His smile creased his cheek. “Write about it in your journal-and starting today, you will again fill a daily page to share with me.”

Hell, back to doing homework. But, okay, so maybe she’d missed their bedtime chats when they’d talk about what she’d written for him to read. Long-term boyfriends, even her fiancé, had never known her as well as Master R did now.

“That reminds me-I want you to start practicing the dances you learned. Show me one before bed tonight.” He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “If it is adequate, I will take you and please us both. If not, I’ll beat on you first for a while and then take you anyway.”

She gave a sigh of utter content and leaned back on his chest. “Yes, Master.”