To Command And Collar

hadn’t intended to send you so deep, and I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Stay quiet. “Yes, Master.”

His lips curved. “Good girl.”

As he held her, she rubbed her forehead against his muscular chest, wondering fuzzily when she’d come to feel so at home in his arms.

“That was an excellent scene, Raoul. Exactly what I need for the auction.” The approaching voice was horrible, greasy, making her feel wrong…ugly…as if she wanted to run. Run and hide. The Overseer.

She made a sound, and Master R’s arms tightened. He pulled her up slightly, setting his chin on the top of her hair. She pressed her face into his neck, breathing in his clean scent, like a wind off a stormy sea. Masculine. Safe.

The voices continued to talk around her. She turned her head, determinedly not looking at the slaver. Resting her cheek on Master R’s shoulder, she watched the people and play areas.

In the closest one, an olive-skinned dom was caning his male sub. The next-a black domme used vampire claws on two subsmissives, male and female, who were wiggling with pain and pleasure.

Then a six-foot rope spiderweb had a pretty brunette sub tied to it. When she wiggled a foot loose, her face lit with laughter, and she said something-undoubtedly sassy-to her older dom. Without warning, he viciously slapped her face, snapping her head around. The sub turned back to him, her lip bleeding, expression holding pure, horrible shock. And she started crying.

Kim tried to sit up to go help, but Master R held her too firmly. “Shhh,” he said under his breath.

Jessica stormed over to the scene. The short blonde walked right into the area, said something to the dom, and started to undo the submissive’s restraints. The man, a lean Englishlooking type, shoved her away. She pushed him back, shouted something. And he grabbed her.

“No.” Kim fought the arms around her.

“Stop. Now!” Master R growled in her ear.

She obeyed automatically, then was horrified at her idiocy. What am I doing? She went limp.

“I thought we’d taught her not to interfere,” the Overseer said in a nasty voice.

“After a scene, the girl doesn’t think too clearly.” Master R added coldly, “She’ll learn.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered against his neck.

A tiny pinch on her butt said he wasn’t angry.

A hefty dom in a gold-trimmed vest walked over-probably the dungeon monitor. The cruel dom scowled, talking to him. Jessica ignored them, busy trying to release the little submissive.

When Master Z showed up, all activity in that area came to a stop. Man, he was more effective than a police siren.

Relieved, Kim glanced around. Master Sam had left and was almost to the scene. The Overseer studied the commotion with an…odd…expression on his face.

Kim turned back. Nothing much different. The English-looking dom pointed at Jessica. Color darkening, she yelled back.

Master Z covered her mouth. A second later, he jerked his hand away, and his expression turned to granite. He moved, and Jessica landed hard on her knees. Fisting her hair, he ruthlessly trapped her head against his thigh. Oh boy. She’d actually bit Master Z? God, was she in trouble.

Master Z didn’t look down. Face still frighteningly cold, he spoke to the jerk of a dom. The man took a step back.

“Appears the situation is under control,” the Overseer said. When he glanced at Kim, she closed her eyes, burying her face back against Master R’s neck and tuning everything out except the feeling of strength surrounding her. Breath goes in. Breath goes out.

“It’s been an interesting visit,” the Overseer said. “Especially seeing your slave so obedient. Really, Raoul, you’d net a handsome profit if you sold her back to me.”

Master R laughed lightly. “Not worth the work it would take to start over again.”

A pause, as if Dahmer wanted to keep trying; then he said, “Training is a bitch, isn’t it? I’ve been doing some recently, since I still have one of the slaves you met. The redhead didn’t get bought. Older slaves don’t sell well, so I can only hope training will make her more enticing.”

Linda-going to auction? Oh God. But maybe that was good. When the FBI took them down, she’d be rescued.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Master R said. “I take it the young one got sold?”

“More’s the pity.”

Holly. He’s talking about sweet, hopeful Holly. Kim tried to sit up, and the arms around her contracted until she had trouble breathing.

“Oh?” Master R asked politely. “What happened to her?”

“Far as I can tell, the idiot owner got carried away with seeing blood. He beat her to death.” The Overseer gave an exasperated sigh. “We made a profit, of course, but-”

“Yes, that’s a waste.” Master R sounded as if he didn’t care at all, and Kim hated him. Tears spilled from under her eyelids. How could he be so cold?

She slowly realized his muscles under and around her were rigid. He was holding himself in check, holding her there as well. His anger was almost palpable.

“Until the auction then,” the Overseer said. “I’ll have an area set up to your specifications.” A thump sounded as he set his drink down. “I’ll call you a day or so before to give you the specific date and time. I look forward to seeing how impressed the buyers are with your scene.”

Silence. She tried to hear if he’d moved away, but the room was too noisy. So she kept herself stiff and quiet. Waiting.

A minute later, Master R let loose, cursing long and low in a stream of Spanish.

She’d never heard him sound like that or seen him so furious.

When she moved, he stopped, and the fury faded from his face. “Gatita, I’m sorry about your friend.” He wiped away the tears sliding silently down her cheeks.

The loosening of his grip released the sobs that had piled up inside her like a thunderstorm. Oh God, Holly. Please God, not Holly. She was too young. She’d told stories about the antics in her dorm at college. About her mother who lived in Alaska. She’d been so homesick and scared; she’d cried herself to sleep every night. How could she be dead?

Kim tried to curse like Master R but could only cry. She wanted to leave, to hide somewhere quiet, and he wouldn’t let her go. Anger rose, engulfing her. He hadn’t saved Holly; he was a man. I hate you. Her fists stung as she hit him, harder and harder. She choked on the names she called him. As he muffled her screams against his leather vest, she cried some more.

“What the hell happened?” A man’s voice.

Kim tried to stop crying, to shut up, and couldn’t.

Master R didn’t tell her to be quiet, simply kept holding her. “The bastard told us a slave was whipped to death. The women were friends.”

Kim shook, inside and outside. She knew how a whip felt, the tearing of skin, the slicing agony. How scared Holly must have been, pain and more pain. Better it had been me.

“Hell.” The man paused. “You want to get her out of here?”

“No. I can’t drive and hold her. She needs to be held right now.”

Kim’s crying slowed to hiccups, and she leaned against him, exhausted.

“Be careful, buddy. You look too concerned about a slave, and everyone nearby heard you swearing.” His voice lowered. “Don’t forget we still don’t know who selected our subs for the Harvest Association. He might not be here tonight, but…”

“A good reminder,” Master R said softly. “Thank you, my friend. I did forget.”

Kim pulled a shuddering breath into her lungs and sat up.

The giant dom bartender was frowning down at them, heavy brows drawn together. He tossed Master’s toy bag and her clothing onto a chair, then met her gaze. “Back with us, love? Good. Keep your master from letting his