On her first trip to a beach, she’d toddled into the water. A wave knocked her sprawling, and as she tried to stand, another hit, and another. Her world turned to churning sand and water and choking-and then her mother carried her up the beach to safety.
As Master R had done over and over.
She sagged against him, the tight band across her chest easing, her lungs able to draw air again. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“No
Oh, his temper was definitely up, the way he’d slid into Spanish.
“Si, Senor,” she whispered back, getting a huffed laugh in return.
His powerful hands closed on her bottom under her tiny skirt. He gripped her bare cheeks, traced the crack, holding her firmly against him. Oh God, she loved his touch, and it didn’t matter where or when. An arm around her, he tipped her back so he could tease her breasts. Her knees wobbled, and his arm tightened. He yanked her hair, pulling her head back, and kissed her, deliberately rough, biting her lips.
When he released her, she knew her mouth was swollen and red, and her breasts and butt carried red hand marks. His lips curved. “You look nicely used now, mi pequena sumisa.”
She flashed him a nasty look that made him laugh, and then lowered her head properly. He tugged on the leash, and they moved down the room. She returned to watching the slaves. A blonde with terrified blue eyes, surely too young to be here. Two cringing brunettes, one already bearing whip marks. One woman unable to stop crying was next to an older woman, standing straight and defiant, who-
“Linda.” Kim halted, jerking the leash from Master R’s hands.
“Bad girl!” He pointed to the floor.
He left her for long minutes.
A guard appeared, asking if there was a problem. Master R admitted she was still being trained, but he’d needed her for the demonstration the Overseer had asked for him to do. The guard’s voice acquired more deference, and he lingered to exchange gossip and admire her harness.
The polished wood floor was cool against her forehead, and she wished she could stay in the position for the remainder of the evening.
When the attendant finally walked away, Master R snapped his fingers, and Kim rose to her feet, keeping her gaze on the floor, knowing if she saw Linda’s face, she’d give herself away.
“I recognized her, gatita,” Master R said in a low voice. “If we see Sam, we’ll ask him to keep an eye on her if he’s able.” His concern for both her and Linda was clear.
God, she loved him. When he tugged on her leash, her heart as well as her body followed.
They passed a woman in hysterics. When the attendant slapped her and she started to sob, Kim’s hands fisted.
“Raoul.” Sam’s rough voice. “Hell of a place, isn’t it? I already got my eye on three of the beauties.”
“You’re a lucky guy,” Master R said casually. “Maybe after I train this one, I’ll come back and buy another.” He dropped his voice. “One of Kimberly’s fellow slaves is here. We’d appreciate it if you could…keep an eye on her. Especially when things get interesting.”
Kim dared to look up through her eyelashes to see his reaction. Would he agree?
“Yeah, I like them spirited too.” Sam laughed loudly and pointed to a nearby slave. “That one got a good beating for her attitude. Makes me think I’d better test the goods before I plunk down my cash.”
Master R grinned. “You try out enough merchandise, and you’ll crawl out of here.” He pointed down toward Linda. “There’s an older one on that aisle who might give you a challenge.” His voice dropped. “Number ten. Redhead. Linda.”
“Got it.” Sam glanced at Kim, and his light blue eyes were the color of ice on a lake. “I like the harness, girl.” He walked down the aisle, pausing for a moment as an attendant offered a buyer a selection of canes.
When Sam stopped in front of Linda’s spot, hands in his pockets, obviously checking her out, Kim let out a breath of relief.
Well, how was he to be about this business? Sam wondered, studying Kimberly’s friend. Number ten was an older woman, probably midforties, but one of those who only got lusher- erotically softer-as she aged. Her chin- length red hair had been curled back in a smart style, showing some silvering in front of her ears. Freckles up her forearms, lightly tanned legs, the rest of her body a pure white that made the sadist in his soul salivate. She was like a blank canvas for a painter. Think of the marks he could put on her.
Her rich brown eyes had a few wrinkles fanning out from the edges. Would those deepen as she forced herself to take the pain? Was she truly a masochist as her information said?
As with all the slaves, she was naked, her wrists cuffed together in front, one leg shackled to a heavy cable running along the wall. She gave him a calm stare that made his cock sit up and take notice. He could see her terror. Despite the way she’d laced her fingers together, her hands still trembled. She’d start to pant, her gaze would dart around, and then she’d catch herself. Slow her breathing, lower her eyes. So lovely in her control.
Using pain, he could take her deep, make her give up that control-and then he could care for her. His sadistic and dominant sides both yelled for him to move forward.
Now he knew how Raoul had felt when he’d bought his slave. How he must have wanted to explain he wasn’t like the others, didn’t want any of this nonconsensual bullshit.
But a man had to play the cards he’d been dealt. He stepped forward. “Girl.”
Her head stayed bowed. “Yes, Sir?” Her voice was that of a woman, low and resonant. No shrill screaming would come from this one.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her gaze, and he looked into her brown eyes. Soft. She probably didn’t have anything hard about her, not her body, her eyes, her voice. The thought of burying himself in all that softness… His dick had hardened enough to count the teeth on his jeans zipper.
“Are you a masochist?” he asked, more to determine her honesty than to get the facts. The sign posted on the pedestal gave her specifics, including her experience and preferences. Not that any slaver would care, except to design something to rip her to pieces more quickly.
“Yes, Sir,” she said quietly and dropped her gaze, a slight flush on her cheeks. Didn’t like admitting to that need?
“Keep your eyes on mine, girl.” He moved forward, close enough to smell the light scent of soap from her body, to see tiny golden specks in her brown pupils. Her heavy breasts brushed against his shirt.
He’d positioned himself directly in front of her so he could speak freely, and she could react without being observed. Not that he’d reveal anything past the bounds of good judgment. But this would be easier if she didn’t think of him as a total enemy. “Your friend, Kim, suggested I visit you.” He nodded toward the front of the room.
Her eyes followed his.
Kim, Raoul, and the Overseer stood by the stage where the women would be auctioned off. The auctioneer was already tapping the microphone, and two attendants bracketed the first slave. A sign to the right announced SLAVE # 30.
Selling women. Sam’s gut felt as if he’d swallowed a field of thistles.
While Raoul was talking to the Overseer bastard, Kim caught Linda’s gaze and then nodded slightly at Sam.
Damndest referral he’d ever gotten. But the redhead released a slow breath. Her muscles relaxed slightly. Better.
He figured the Feds might take another hour before they got their crap set up. At number ten, this woman would be among the last to be auctioned off. Unfortunately, buyers could abuse her that entire time…unless Sam monopolized her. How many minutes could he waste?
Would she want him to? “I can play with you until”
