“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Very pretty.” He kissed the top of her head and set her on her feet. “Off you go now…and, Kimberly?”
Trying to remember what all she’d taken-
His lips quirked as if he was trying not to smile. “Next time when I say we will play, I do not mean hide-and- seek.”
Chapter Seven
A few days later, Raoul practiced in his dungeon with the door locked. Using a whip was a skill a dom couldn’t afford to let grow rusty, not if he didn’t want to mark up the bottom.
He’d watched from the tower room as Kimberly walked on the beach with Gabi. The sun had glinted off his sumisita’s dark hair. Her tan had darkened from her frequent walks, and her skin glowed with the return of her health. Kimberly had shoved Gabi into the frothing surf, her face alight with laughter. To see her so carefree lightened his heart.
And having her out of the house meant he could practice. Although the crack of the whip probably couldn’t be heard outside the dungeon, he’d take no chances. She didn’t need to know how much he enjoyed bullwhips.
After stretching up until his arms and shoulders were loose, he started. An empty space on the wall held various practice targets-today newspapers were between the wide clamps. He worked on slicing delicately through only the top layer of paper. At intervals, he’d lash the adjacent piece of suede, checking that the cracker on the end barely raised the nap.
What was there about the crack of a whip that was so erotic?
His phone rang. After finishing his swing-only a fool pulled a stroke-he took the cell from his pocket. A private number. His gut tightened as he answered. “Sandoval.”
“Raoul, it’s nice to hear your voice. This is Dahmer…the Overseer. Is this a good time to talk, or should I call back?”
“Your timing is excellent.” Raoul reminded himself of what must be brought up. The location. Referring Sam.
“How is the merchandise working out? Any problems?”
Raoul forced a laugh. “Well enough, although buying…used…wasn’t my smartest choice. The previous owner left some dents.”
“Not surprising. The prior owner has a temper. But I’m happy everything else is good.”
“Yes. In fact-”
Dahmer cleared his throat. “Phones are-”
“Not a problem.” Paranoid bastard, as Buchanan had said. “I have a friend who admired the merchandise. He’s rough on his playthings and hopes to purchase something sturdier.”
“Well.” A pause. “We do have an upcoming event. Perhaps if he qualifies, he might attend.”
“He’d enjoy that.”
“As I did with you, I’ll need to see your friend in action. It decreases the chances of…ah…unexpected visitors.”
He meant cops. “Speaking as a buyer, I appreciate the precautions.”
“Is there a location you prefer? Your house or a Tampa club?”
Raoul didn’t want to foul his home with Dahmer’s presence, yet taking Kimberly to a regular BDSM club with no safeguards in place was totally unacceptable. A few days ago, he’d discussed an alternative with Buchanan and Kouros…and then Z. “Since public clubs are noisy, perhaps you would be my guest at the Shadowlands?”
“The Shadowlands.” Dahmer paused. “I’d like that. The club has an amazing reputation.”
“Well deserved.”
“About the audition scene you planned to do at this visit…”
“Yes?” Raoul’s hand tightened on the phone. He’d hoped Dahmer would have forgotten. How to blow him off?
“The master scheduled to do the fireplay demonstration this month is unavailable, and I’ve had difficulty finding fireplay scenes erotic enough for our buyers. Someone mentioned you give a fine show.”
“For your audition, I’d like to see a fireplay scene with your new toy. If you do as well as I’ve heard, I’ll book you for the coming auction.”
If Kimberly could manage the scene in the Shadowlands, the FBI could find an agent to play his submissive at the auction. It might work.
“Let me check my calendar.” Silence. “Next Saturday would be good. Ten o’clock?”
“Fine. We’ll meet you in the parking lot and go in together.” Raoul punched the Off button. He tightened his grip on the bullwhip. A crack, and he slashed through every layer of newspaper.
Master R had been awfully quiet since yesterday, Kim thought as she took her beach walk. Was something wrong?
Had he gotten upset that she’d retreated to her private sitting room right after Gabi’s visit? But after talking some fears over with her friend, she’d needed to regroup. Maybe Gabi had told him to give her time alone?
He hadn’t seemed upset at supper last night. Just silent.
Still, before bed, he’d read “his” designated page in her journal and laughed at her insulting description of his temper. He’d hugged her for sharing how she felt like a piece of meat in the
Okay, she wouldn’t worry until he told her she needed to. Instead, she took a breath, enjoying the tang of the salt air. In the distance, laughing gulls circled over something on the shore, squabbling and diving. Farther out, pelicans flew in a line, probably heading toward Clearwater.
The air off the water tugged at her T-shirt, blew her hair in her face, and lightened the humid heat a little. The wind off the Atlantic in Savannah was much more effective. She remembered the welcome ocean breeze when she’d go out on the trawler with her father. Her father…
She frowned, remembering Master R’s questions about him. Had she ever run to Father for comfort? Hardly. He’d been a gruff man, dark in both nature and appearance. His Native American mother had gifted him black hair and wide cheekbones; his father had left him the fishing boat.
She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts. His life had revolved around the trawler, and until her rebellion, so had hers. But she’d hated how horribly he treated Mom.
One day, Kim had yelled at him for calling Mom names. He’d backhanded her into the wall. After that, Kim stopped pretending to be his
She stopped and frowned at a small sand castle. A red bucket lay nearby. High walls, a moat around it. No bridge. Smart kid. Keep the world out and stay within. Much safer that way.
Kim turned and headed back, shaking her head. Odd how she’d hated her father, yet her mother never had. It
