Breaking Free

“That’s one mean mistress.” Cullen wiped a few drops off his gleaming bar top. “Glad my pride-and-joys aren’t under her care.”

Nolan snorted. “As if you’d put your balls anywhere near a Domme.”

“Not in this lifetime.” The huge bartender shook his head and grinned. “By the way, Z was looking for you. He’s over by the chain station.”

“Thanks.” Nolan picked up his beer and rounded the bar to the left, heading toward a roped-off area midway down the wall. A few club members were watching the scene-a slender, redheaded sub, probably around thirty, with her arms chained over her head.

Seated on a couch nearby, the owner of the club looked up as Nolan approached. From the grim expression on his face, Master Z was in a mood dark enough to match his black clothing. He nodded at the adjacent leather couch.

Nolan sat and propped his boots up on the coffee table. “Problems?”

“A few.” Z motioned to the chain station. “See what you think.”

Nolan leaned back, sipping his beer. The redhead’s arms had been shackled to the hanging chains but obviously not tight enough to jeopardize her sense of control. No spreader bar to keep her legs apart. Although obviously without underwear, she still had a corset and miniskirt on. The scene sucked already.

In his mid-twenties, the Dom didn’t project much confidence. Even worse, he kept consulting a paper. What was with that? How-to instructions on topping? “What’s he looking at?”

“Elizabeth has a few hard limits,” Z said in a dry voice.

From what Nolan could see, her list of what she wouldn’t do took up the whole paper.

The Dom spent a few minutes playing with her breasts, then used some ice and a spiky Wartenberg wheel without eliciting much response from the redhead. When he spun her around so her back was to the room, Nolan’s eyes narrowed. Some major scarring there. Several wide scars. A few long ones from a single-tail. Shorter, precisely placed thin lines.

As the Dom turned the sub to face them, Nolan leaned forward. There were ugly, knotted scars on her right shin. The round shiny marks on her breasts suggested cigarette burns.

All the marks were white, so nothing had occurred within the last few months. Nolan’s gaze traveled up her body to her restrained arms. More scars. “How bad are her hands?” he asked Z, his gut twisting.

“About what you’d expect from the rest. Old fractures, old burns. Puncture wounds in her palms.”

Some bastard had played crucifixion games? “Hell, Z, have you killed the guy or are you saving him for me?”

Z rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers. “It happened before she moved to Florida, and she won’t discuss the Dom or her relationship with him.” He nodded at the young Dom unfastening his leathers. “Can you see the problem here?”

Nolan took another sip of beer. The sub looked calm. Too calm, with her color even, eyes clear, muscles relaxed. No anxiety. No arousal from what he could see. The Dom’s distress when he touched her dry pussy could be seen in the way his shoulders stiffened as he stepped back.

“Is she his sub?” Nolan asked, motioning toward the Dom. For all the synergy between the two, they might as well be on opposite sides of the club.

“No. She takes a new top every week with the same dismal results.” Z sighed. “Elizabeth has a gardening service that she started about a year ago without any help. I hired her a couple of months ago, and she does a superb job.”

“And this is leading up to?”

Z rubbed his eyes, looking tired. “She’s a good person. Honest, full of enthusiasm. But when she gets here, she turns into a mouse. She’s not just submissive; she’s terrified. She comes to the club because she requires more than the vanilla world can offer, but we’re not meeting those needs.”

Nolan studied the scene some more. Pretty obvious what the problem was. She was too scared to give up control, but she needed to give up control to get her needs as a submissive met. “She wouldn’t be an easy sub to top.”

“Exactly.” Z tilted his head. “You up to the challenge?”

As a boy, Nolan and his brothers had pretended to be Knights of the Round Table. Now Z had just thrown down a gauntlet. Wasn’t that nice. Nolan scratched his jaw, thinking it over. He’d been back from Iraq for a few months now and had settled into his life. He had work he loved and good friends. Had subs and sex here at the club. Did he want more?

His gaze drifted back to the redhead. The Dom was working her clit and getting nowhere. Nolan shook his head. Nine-tenths of sex was in the head, and that little sub’s head wasn’t into the scene at all. What would it take? First her idiotic list would have… He stopped and scowled at Z. “You are one manipulative bastard, you know that?”

“Thank you, Nolan. Might I say, you’re not an easy mark?” The corner of Z’s mouth lifted. “You in?”

The club owner was smooth, sleek…and as easy to stop as a steamroller. “She has a Dom already,” Nolan pointed out. “She might not want to change.”

“I will handle that.” Z rose to his feet and moved to a place outside the roped-off area where the young Dom would catch sight of him. Most of the people watching the scene had already left, lured to the next station down where Jake was caning a wailing blonde restrained on the spanking bench.

Leaving his beer on the coffee table, Nolan joined Z.

“Master Z.” The Dom walked over, trying to not show any relief.

“Patrick, I hate to interrupt, but I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“Of course, Master Z.” The Dom turned to check on the sub, and Nolan nodded approval at his conscientiousness.

“Our trainee, Sally, is unhappy that she scored poorly on a college exam, and I wish to give her a treat. Since she’s enjoyed your use in the past, would you mind taking her under command tonight?”

After a second, the Dom reluctantly shook his head. He waved a hand toward the redhead. “I have-”

“No problem, Patrick.” Z nodded to Nolan. “We were discussing Elizabeth a bit ago, and Nolan professed himself interested in a challenge. If you want to take care of Sally, he can relieve you here.”

The young Dom was no idiot. “You’re a sneaky bastard, Z, but I can see that I’m not the Dom she needs.”

Z squeezed Patrick’s shoulder, his face sober. “To be honest, Patrick, that Dom may not exist. But we’ll try. Come, make your regrets and find Sally. She’s expecting you.”

As they walked over to the sub, Z said in an undertone to Nolan, “That’s twice in five minutes I’ve been called a bastard. My mother would be extremely upset.”

Nolan snorted. Despite being richer than God, Z’s mother had a down-home sense of humor; the old woman would probably laugh her head off.

What was going on? Beth watched as Master Patrick talked with Z and a strange Dom. They all looked at her. Her uneasiness grew when Master Patrick picked up his toy bag before returning to her.

“Beth,” he said. “Master Z has a suggestion for you.”

A suggestion? She glanced at the bag filled with his BDSM equipment. “Are you stopping the scene?”

He nodded. “I’m sorry, but it’s not coming together for us. Maybe this will work better.” He gave her an apologetic smile. Beth’s stomach clenched when he handed her limit list to the stranger before walking out of the scene area, leaving her still chained to the station.

She turned her gaze to the two big Doms. Master Z was impeccably dressed in his usual black silk shirt and tailored slacks. In contrast, the other Dom looked rough in black leathers and a skintight muscle shirt that showed off a powerful build.

Fear ran through her. Why had Z sent Patrick away? And why was that other Dom here?

Master Z studied her, then lips compressed; he shook his head. “Beth, I fear the Shadowlands is not the best place for you. I think-”

“No!” Horror rolled through her. He would kick her out? Cancel her membership? She’d have nowhere to go except the Tampa clubs where no one would watch out for her. She would have no real safety, would never be able to relax knowing Kyler could walk in at any time. Stupid to need this so much, but she did. “No, please, Master Z.”