To Command And Collar

Chapter Twelve

Black clouds blocked the late-afternoon sun as spatters of rain hit the windshield. Kim grabbed the seat belt as a gust shook the car, and debris swirled across the tiny country road. “I didn’t notice how isolated the Shadowlands was last time.”

“It was dark,” Master R said. “And you were busy worrying.”

“Well. Yeah.” Her brows drew together as she stared through the rain at the palmettos and swamp. “How many members do you lose to alligators?”

“None, except for the occasional smart-ass subbie who we toss to them for their supper.” He turned between open iron gates, drove up the long, palm-lined drive, and parked in the lot adjacent to a six-foot wooden fence. “Let’s make a run for it, gatita.”

An umbrella wouldn’t have helped, considering half the rain was traveling sideways. They ran through the gate into a huge landscaped yard.

Ten or so people congregated under the covered, screened lanai, watching the storm. The FBI agent, Vance Buchanan, and a black-haired man with an olive complexion sat at a table. The rest were in chairs around a long oak coffee table.

“’Bout time you got here,” came a yell from the giant bartender from the Shadowlands. More greetings followed, a hash of male and female voices.

When Kim stopped, overwhelmed at being the center of attention, Master R pulled her next to him as if to remind her she had support. After a second, she realized she’d met most of them. By the coffee table was the bartender, Cullen. Next to him were Gabi and Marcus. When Gabi tried to get out of Marcus’s lap, he wrapped his arm around her, keeping her in place. She rolled her eyes and gave Kim a smile of welcome.

Kari sat beside her husband, looking even more pregnant than before. She grinned and waved, not attempting to get out of the chair. Next to her was Master Z and then the meanestlooking man Kim had ever seen.

Master R nodded toward the men at the table. “Do you remember Vance from the FBI?”

Her stomach tightened at the reminder of why they were meeting today. “Unfortunately, yes.”

She got a nip on the neck. “Until you move from under my roof, sumisita mía, you will observe respect.”

His submissive. An unsuspected knot in her stomach loosened. “I’m sorry, Master. Yes, Sir.”

The stranger at the table regarded her with eyes even darker than Master R’s. The man’s white button-down shirt didn’t hide his lean musculature, but he was smaller than the other FBI agent who was built like a Viking warrior. Yeah, she could see Vance leaping off a boat, heavy axe in his grip, or-with a name like Buchanan-maybe wearing a kilt and swinging a claymore.

The dark-haired man rose and walked over, leaning on a cane. “Ms. Moore, I’m Galen Kouros. We talked on the phone a few days ago, but it’s nice to see you in person. Vance and I are in charge of this investigation.” After a glance at Master R, he offered his hand.

“I’m glad to meet you, Agent Kouros.”

“It’s Galen.” He kept her hand in his for a minute as he studied her. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you had to endure what you did, but I’m pleased you’re looking so well.”

“Thank you.” Wow. Actual pleasantries. And everyone wore casual clothing with no collars, no BDSM equipment, no floggers in sight. Being in the normal world seemed unreal.

Galen gave her fingers a squeeze, smiled at Master R, and limped back to the table. Although polite, he was as intense in person as he’d been on the phone.

“Everyone here is either FBI or Shadowlands Masters and submissives,” Master R said in her ear. “Since Kari’s husband Dan is a cop, Galen asked him to help with coordinating the raid.”

Dan’s gaze moved over her in a lingering look, as if the cold-faced cop was memorizing her. He nodded but stayed beside his wife.

Master Z said something to the others and then crossed the patio. He glanced at Master R, then held his hand out to her.

Her fingers were in his before she had a second to think. Damn. Like Master R, the man simply exuded power.

“It’s nice to see you again, Kimberly.” His gray eyes held hers for a moment, then narrowed, and he gave Master R an unreadable look before smiling slightly. “I can tell you and Raoul are…getting along. You look good together.”

“You’re here!” Jessica trotted down the steps from the third floor, followed by Andrea and a slender redhead. The small blonde started toward Kim, then detoured to thump a tray of sandwich makings on the table by the FBI men.

Carrying a big bowl of chips, Andrea got snagged by the giant bartender who pointed at the coffee table in front of him. “Put it there, love. If anything’s left when I’m through, the others can help themselves.”

Andrea did exactly as he said and then pushed Cullen far enough sideways on the love seat to snuggle beside him.

The redhead added her bowls of dip before deliberately moving the chips to the center.

“Beth, those are mine!”

Grinning at the bartender’s loud complaint, the slender woman knelt beside the meanlooking, scarred-up man. Kim’s heart quailed as she waited for him to reprimand the woman. Instead he tugged Beth’s red hair lightly. A smile lit his darkly tanned face when she kissed his wrist.

Kim relaxed.

“C’mere, girlfriend.” Jessica pulled her away from Master R to give her a hug. “I wanted to visit you, but the feebies said I couldn’t.” She gave the FBI agents a disgusted look.

Galen frowned at her, although amusement turned his lips up. “New little slaves like Kim don’t entertain friends,” he said. “If Raoul didn’t normally have employees coming to the house, Gabi wouldn’t have been permitted there either.”

“Pffft,” Jessica said under her breath.

Master R grinned and murmured, “You may talk for a bit, Kimberly.” He kissed the top of her head and joined the others.

Kim clasped her hands together, annoyed at how her anxiety rose without him beside her. Dependent. You’re getting as dependent as a clown fish needing an anemone to hide in. She hauled in a breath. I’m a strong, independent woman… At least, I’m getting back there.

She deliberately turned away to talk with Jessica. “Hey, I saw you at the club when that dom slapped the brunette. I can’t believe you actually broke into a scene.”

“My bad. I should have called the dungeon monitor, but I was too mad.” Jessica scowled. “Sally’s one of the trainees, and when I saw her crying, I lost it. She’s so not into the faceslapping stuff.”

Kim understood completely. Being hit in the face was a shock. Horrifying in a way. Her stomach tightened as she remembered how Lord Greville had backhanded her. Unable to help herself, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Master R was close. Just the sight of him calmed her nerves. “What did Master Z do?”

“Oh, Master Calm and Levelheaded. He was mad at the dom, since Sally hadn’t okayed face-slapping, but she hadn’t used her safe word either. She said she was too weirded out, and I believe her. She’ll sure be more careful with setting hard limits on her play next time. Z made the dom apologize, but he couldn’t do much else.”

“Uh…it looked like you bit Master Z. You didn’t, did you?”

“Well.” Red swept into the blonde’s face. “Maybe a nip. It’s not like I made him bleed or anything. I hate being gagged.”

“God, Jessica. You need lessons in behavior.” Kim bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and glanced at Master Z. A little older than the others and with the elegant, pulledtogether appearance of someone who was wealthy and accustomed to it. “What did he do to you?”

Jessica lowered her voice. “He made me strip and put me on my back at the end of the bar.” She sent a fulminating glare across the patio at Z. “There I am, whining, ‘We’re engaged. You’re not supposed to want to share me,’ and he laughs and says he’s never minded sharing my beauty or even my punishments. God.”

At Gabi’s house, Jessica had mentioned Z’s inventive discipline but always with a rueful expression, never like a woman who’d been brutalized. He couldn’t have done anything too cruel. Could he? “Go on, before I burst.”

“That’s not sounding much like sympathy to me.” Jessica turned her frown on Kim. “You’re supposed to feel sorry for me.”

“Oh. Right. Lost my place for a moment.” Don’t laugh. Kim wrapped her arm around Jessica’s shoulders. “Awww, you poor, poor baby. What evil things did your mean dom do to you?”

“That’s much better. I knew I liked you.” Jessica grinned. “So-the bar top has recessed rings here and there. He tied my hair to a couple, so I couldn’t lift my head, blindfolded me, and used knee cuffs to spread me open for everyone to see.”

Kim couldn’t decide if she was horrified or turned on. She checked on Master R. He was talking to Z…and watching her and Jessica, his eyes filled with laughter. What was Z telling him? She turned back to Jessica. “Mmmhmm. Ah, go on.”

“He has this miniflogger with three soft strands-a pussy whip. He lent it to every dom at the bar and let each one take five lashes at my pink bits.”

“That douche bag,” Kim snapped, her mood changing abruptly.

“No, it didn’t hurt.” Jessica pulled Kim farther away from the group. “Dammit, that was the problem. Getting lashed like that, off and on, got me hot. Really hot. God, I think it lasted an hour or more. He sat and lectured me on proper submissive behavior and calling dungeon monitors and not barging into scenes, and all the while the doms kept me right on the edge. I swear, he waved them off every time I got close.”

Putting her hand to her throat, Kim tried to imagine being so exposed. Being excited and having something hitting her pussy. Oh boy.

“Look at those jerks,” Jessica muttered. “He’s sharing again, isn’t he?”

Kim glanced over her shoulder. Master R was leaning back in his chair, studying her. He had an erection he didn’t bother to hide, and he laughed when Z motioned like…like a whip. Oh Lord, don’t give my master ideas. “Uh.” What had she planned to say? Right. “Did one of them finally, um, ever…?”

“When I was a heartbeat away from a stroke, Z took over.” Jessica shivered. “His other little flogger has a different leather. Not nearly so soft, and his aim-” Her color darkened. “I came so hard the entire room probably heard.”

Even as heat flared through her body, and her clit throbbed in response, Kim choked with trying not to laugh.

“Oh, go ahead, everybody else laughs.” Jessica scowled and giggled as well. But then her lips turned down. “Sometimes I wonder what kind of sleaze I am that I get off on something so public.”

Kim blinked. She knew those self-doubts only too well. That this brightly intelligent and sweet woman also worried was incredibly reassuring. She gripped Jessica’s shoulder. “You’re no sleaze. Remember, before…this…I played in clubs a lot, and there’s, like, an increased hotness, knowing people are watching.”

“I guess so. Thanks.” She tilted her head. “You know, at Gabi’s, you’d never have said something like that. You’d have been too busy shivering. I think you’re healing.”

Kim’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t paid attention to her progress recently. She still got uncomfortable at times but maybe because Master R kept increasing the stakes. But she was coming along. She’d had sex. Done a public scene. Could talk about stuff. Definitely improved. “You’re right.”

“Of course.” Jessica gave her a smug look. “I’m always right. Ask anybody…well, anybody but Z.” She wrinkled her nose at her dom and got a flashing grin that changed his lethal appearance into simply gorgeous. “So what do you and your lord and master want to drink?”

Easy answer. “Supposedly Z picked up some ale from someplace-the Swamp Head Brewery?”

“Oh, the 10-10-10. It’s a malty brew. Be right back.” Jessica grinned and headed up the steps to the third floor. The blonde might be fluffy, but her legs were in good shape. Shaking her head, Kim made a beeline for her lord and master.

He looked up, and his smile, just for her, made her spirits bubble like sea foam. Oh, I’m in trouble. God, she loved him. She walked over and waited, unsure if he wanted her to kneel or pull up a chair or-

He nodded at a large flat pillow lying between his feet.

When she knelt in perfect position, he leaned forward to murmur in her ear, “Be comfortable, cariño. You need not stay kneeling. Sam called to say he would be here in about ten minutes.”

As she shifted to an easier sitting posture, his legs closed to rub against her shoulders, holding her in safety between them. She leaned on his thigh with a happy sigh.

And then, as if he did nothing unusual, he fed her chips and dip, alternating his and hers as they often did at home.

She whispered a thank-you, received a light kiss on top of her head.

Gabi’s disbelieving look made Kim avert her gaze, only to see the slim redhead’s dom feeding her little sandwich bites from his hand. The sub looked perfectly content.

Kim considered the woman. She didn’t appear like a kick-me slave; in fact, she’d deprived the bartender of his chips.

After Jessica delivered their beers in frosty mugs, Master R handed one to Kim. Before she could drink, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “What’s wrong, gatita?”

How could she possibly say?

“Tell me.”

The others were arguing over the benefits of involving the various law enforcement agencies. No one was paying attention to her. “Is the redhead a slave? A housewife?”

Master R rubbed his cheek, already slightly scratchy, against Kim’s. “Beth isn’t a slave, but she’s definitely a submissive. I think they started in the bedroom, expanded outward, so to speak, and now they’re probably living the lifestyle more often than not. She’s not a housewife. She has a yard maintenance service and does landscape design. She did the grounds here for Z.”

From her vantage point, Kim saw hints of flowerbeds, towering hedges, and tiny footpaths. The sound of at least one fountain. The place was as gorgeous as its owner. So this Beth owned her own company, had an independent life outside of serving her dom…like Master R’s previous slaves had.

He turned her pillow-and her on it-to face him, then leaned his forearms on his thighs, ignoring everyone else to focus on her. “Does being at my feet in a gathering bother you?”

“I-” She bit her lip under the disconcerting weight of his regard. He was always aware of her, frequently watched her, but when he wanted an answer, an honest answer, his intensity changed. The pressure on her grew as well, like the difference in playing in the pool or diving down sixty feet. “No. It doesn’t bother me,” she whispered finally. “It’s just confusing. I’m not like this. I’m not.”

A shadow crossed his face. “I understand.”

“Do I act this way because of my kidnapping? The slavery?”

He sighed. “We will talk about this more later. But, Kimberly, dominance or submissiveness-or the need to serve-isn’t typically created by circumstances. It’s part of a person’s personality.

She stiffened. Was he saying she had a slave’s mentality?

Before Kim managed to phrase the question, Master Sam strode across the yard to the lanai, dressed in well-worn jeans, boots, and a pale blue cotton shirt the color of his eyes. He was older than everyone, with silvery hair and skin tanned to leather. He nodded to the men, smiled at the women, then looked at her.

“You two didn’t get a chance to really meet the other night,” Master R said to her as the man walked over. “Sam, this is Gabrielle’s friend, Kim. Kimberly, this is Sam.”

The sadist who’d flogged the sub so mercilessly that she’d screamed. Kim swallowed.

“Nice to meet you.” Sam held his hand out, waited until she gave him hers, and squeezed gently. “You’re a brave girl. Raoul is very proud of you, you know.”

When her mouth dropped open, he winked at her and took the chair next to them.

“My friends,” Master R said, stopping the various conversations. “Since Sam will attend the auction, I plan to tell Dahmer I’ll be out of town this weekend.

“We did discuss that as a possibility.” Galen’s fingers made a staccato sound on the tabletop. His black gaze held hers for a moment. “Although I like some redundancy in an op in case of oh-shit moments, I’d as soon not put more civilians in harm’s way.” He glanced at Vance, who nodded.

Galen grinned and tapped the table with his knuckles. “Agreed.”

Knowing she wouldn’t be involved, Kim sipped her beer and paid intermittent attention to the talk around her. Various plans were discussed with the police dom, Dan, contributing here and there. Outside the patio, the rain and wind increased, shaking the palms and bushes, sending the bright flowers to lie in soggy heaps in the grass. They hadn’t had their day in the sun. Their time had been cut short, she thought. Like Holly. Her throat tightened, and she concentrated on the conversation again.

“Can’t you get there sooner?” Sam asked the FBI agents in his sandpaper-rough voice. “Dahmer said the vans deliver us buyers early, so we can check the merchandise, do a miniscene, maybe even fu-” He bit off the word.

“You going to be able to do this?” Vance asked. “You look more nauseated than Sandoval did.”

“I have some lines I’ve never crossed,” Sam snapped. “So I’d like your raid to be sooner, not later.”

“We’d prefer that too.” Galen rubbed his face. “But after you lead us to the place, we need time to set up roadblocks.”

Vance added, “A lot of the buyers will leave after their purchase. Arresting them on the road means there’ll be fewer in the auction house-and less chance of the innocent getting hurt.”

“Except buyers will be hurting them while we’re testing the merchandise,” Sam growled.

Master R’s phone rang. He pulled it off his belt, frowning at the display. “Private.” He held up his finger for silence. “Sandoval.” He listened, then said, “Hold on-my hands are wet. I need to put the cell down.” He flicked the setting to speaker.

“I’ll wait, Raoul.” The Overseer’s voice bit into Kim like fire coral yet made her think of rotting fish.

Nauseated, she silently set her beer down.

After positioning the phone on the coffee table, Master leaned down and wrapped his arms around Kim, holding her between his legs in a prison of security.

Every person on the patio had gone still, barely breathing.

“We’re on for this Saturday,” the Overseer said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your scene again. I think the buyers will be very pleased.”

“Saturday?” Master R paused. “Dios, Dahmer. I’d hoped the auction would be Friday. I’m going to be out of town Saturday and Sunday. I have a consult in Venezuela.”

Silence.

“I’m afraid your absence isn’t acceptable, Raoul. It’s too late to get another demonstration set up.” Dahmer’s voice had sharpened, sending a shudder through Kim. That was what he sounded like when he’d ordered a slave to be whipped. Oh God.

Master R’s arms tightened. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice. Business must come before pleasure.”

“I see.” More silence. “Well, I do understand how inconvenient it can be to rearrange appointments. Let me sweeten the pot, starting with your friend.”

Galen’s eyes narrowed.

“Go on,” Master R said.

“One of the…shipments…fell through, which means less merchandise available this week. So the last batch of buyers-including Sam-will have to wait for another auction. But since I believe in a favor for a favor… If you do the demonstration, I’ll put your pal back on the list so he can attend. Hell, I’ll even give you both a twenty percent discount on anything you buy.”

Master R inhaled slowly. After a second, he said, “That’s tempting, Dahmer. I might manage, but my timing would be extremely tight. After I fly in, I won’t have time to fetch my…pet…from…storage. So if I do rearrange my schedule, I’ll have a different pet with me.”

“Absolutely not. Only previously purchased merchandise can be brought into an auction.”

Kim put her hands over her mouth. He’d have to take her? Not the FBI agent? A chill ran up her spine.

Master R started to speak, but Galen made a cutting-the-throat motion.

“Well, that complicates matters. Give me a second to figure out if I can juggle things,” Master R said. He set the phone to mute.

A violent tremor shook Kim’s body.

Galen’s eyes turned to her, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll have to go,” she whispered.

Master R growled something foul in Spanish. “No. No, you will not do this. You’ve done enough. No más.”

If he really loses his temper, will he shift completely to Spanish?

Why couldn’t she think of anything to say in any language? Needing not to think, Kim stared at the ground. An ant was trying to drag a fragment of chip to its home. The piece was too big, but it tugged and tugged. So stubborn.

Sam broke the silence. “Galen, I think this would destroy the girl.” His pale eyes were cold as ice, but he gave Kim a small smile. “I’m rather fond of this one, even if she does reduce Raoul to swearing in Spanish.”

“I don’t understand why Dahmer’s so adamant about Sandoval doing this demo,” Vance muttered.

Galen didn’t speak.

“No.” Master R said, although no one had asked anything. “Dan, you know how often something goes wrong. I will risk my life. Not Kimberly’s-or her freedom or her well-being. Would you take Kari to such a thing?”

Dan’s hand opened, conceding him the point.

An auction, filled with slavers, filled with women being sold. I’ll never escape, will I? Kim leaned her forehead against Master R’s thigh. Everything in her was struggling, drowning in fear, sinking. Deep in the ocean, colors would fade away until everything turned gray. Turned cold. Like death.

I can’t. But could she sleep at night, live with herself if her absence meant a woman would get bought by another Lord Greville? She lifted her head; it felt too heavy to support.

Master R looked directly across the table. “Z?”

Z had a low voice, as smooth as Master R’s, but without the spine-tingling accent. “No, Raoul, I wouldn’t agree.” His arms tightened around Jessica, and his brows drew together. “But I’ve discovered some foolhardy submissives have steel spines.”

Raoul remembered too well how Gabi had forced the FBI agents to let her work undercover, trying to catch the slavers. Although Kimberly might be terrified, she was no less brave than her friend. But surely she wouldn’t push to do this.

Rising onto her knees, she twisted around to face him, her hands on his thighs. Her wide blue eyes could pretzel a man’s heart. “Gatita, no.”

She swallowed. “Sam called me brave. It’s not brave to hide, knowing that if you do, other women will suffer. Might die.” Her lips trembled. “Linda will be at the auction. When she’s sold, she might never get free.” Her cold hands tightened on his legs.

Raoul shook his head. “No.” When her lips pressed together, he shook her. He didn’t care if every slave in the world died. She wouldn’t-couldn’t do this. “No.”

Her arms closed around herself at the loss of his support, and he grunted and pulled her onto his lap. He’d worked all his life to be strong and powerful so he could guard the ones he loved-yet he couldn’t keep this little bit of female safe?

She buried her face in his neck. “We must,” she whispered.

Kouros cleared his throat. Raoul would have punched him if he hadn’t seen the pain in the man’s eyes. The agent didn’t want to ask this either, but he would, just like he’d allowed Gabi to go undercover in the Shadowlands.

Raoul held Kimberly against his chest, wanting only to shelter her. But he remembered what his mother had said when he’d tried to keep his younger sister, Lucia, from going to the mall…starting to date…driving a car. You can’t protect her against her will, Raoul. It’s her life; you don’t own her. He didn’t own Kimberly.

“Gatita mía, are you sure?” he whispered.

“Yes.” Shivers ran through her soft body.

“You still there, Raoul?” Dahmer’s voice came from the phone.

Kouros looked as if he wanted to kill something. But he nodded.

Raoul pushed the Mute button. “I’m here. If I move some appointments, I can attend,” Raoul said, unable to manage a friendly tone. “I hope you make it worth the inconvenience.”

“Oh, you’ll be pleased. You have my word.” Dahmer chuckled. “So I’ll be in contact sometime on Saturday night.”

“Until then.” Raoul snapped the phone shut, barely managing to keep from throwing it across the patio.

Kimberly was very quiet that evening, pulling away from him as if she couldn’t bear to be close. Yet when she moved away, she’d watch as if afraid she’d lose him. He finally took her to the tower room to see the stars appear in the darkness of the sky.

“I’m sorry, sumisita. This was not how it should have gone,” he murmured into her hair. Dread had lodged in his bones, yet he wanted nothing more than to sit here with her in his arms. Soft and fragrant and warm, and appallingly brave.

“It’s not your fault. Sorry I’m being weird.” She rubbed her cheek on his shirt. “I keep remembering how helpless I felt. How trapped. I wish Saturday came faster. Can you keep me busy tomorrow?”

“I can, yes.”

Her eyes started to drift shut. “I hope Gabi comes over tomorrow. Some noise would be good. She’s like a one-woman party.”

A party. As he held his little sumisa, Raoul considered possibilities. At the auction, Kimberly might have to endure another public demonstration. If she felt more comfortable with being exhibited, her concentration might stay on him, not on the slavers.

A party would be a good idea.