To Command And Collar

“until you’re sold, or you can take your chances with the other buyers. It’s up to you, girl.”

“You’ll hurt me,” she stated.

Keeping his eyes on hers, he nodded. “That’s right. That’s what I do.” He paused a second. “It’s what you need-although this isn’t the place. But I won’t hurt you past your limits.”

Her mouth twisted slightly. “And you would know those how?” She winced and lowered her head. “Forgive me, please, Master.”

He barked a laugh that had her eyes jerking up to his. “I like plain speech. Honesty.” He pinched her chin roughly enough to keep her attention focused on him completely and saw- felt-the smallest of easing in her muscles. Yes, she was a masochist and submissive as well. His favorite combination. If she responded to pain and domination sexually, well, hell, she’d be perfect.

Use your brains, Davies. You’re in the middle of a bunch of slaves. This one would knife you and spit in the hole given half the chance. “I know this because I can read you, little girl. Right down to your toenails.” He leaned forward, still holding her chin, keeping her mouth available for his use, and he took her lips with no teasing, just sheer domination.

Forcing her response and feeling her response before pulling back.

Without Kim’s okay and if he hadn’t given her the choice of being with him, he knew this self-possessed woman wouldn’t respond to him at all. But she did.

“I won’t scar you. I won’t go past what you can take. If you can trust me that far, this will be much easier for you.” He met her eyes straight on, letting her read his body, hear the truth, and see it in his face. “But, Linda, I’m going to hurt you. You’ll hate me when I make you take it, and you’ll hate even more that you need it. That it fills that hole inside you and cleans away the clutter.”

The shudder ran through her, telling him she’d heard him on all levels. Her muscles were still tight, her eyes blazing, yet he could almost smell the subtle perfume of submission.

She yielded. Now he would give her what she wanted and finish that surrender.

Chapter Fifteen

Raoul was grateful when Dahmer finally showed up in the ballroom. Following the Overseer, he steered Kimberly toward the doors. She didn’t need to see any more. Bidding had started on the third woman whose screaming and fighting caught the buyers’ attention like bloody flesh attracting sharks. As he walked into the quiet foyer, Raoul gave a silent sigh of relief. The crying slaves had kept him tensed with the need to protect.

“Before you set up for your scene, I need you for a moment upstairs.” The look in Dahmer’s eyes was still… off.

Raoul tightened his hand on Kimberly’s leash, pulling her closer. “Is there a problem?”

“No. Well, yes, in a way there is.” Dahmer led them up the wide stairs, the dark red carpeting like a waterfall of blood. He opened a door directly across from the staircase and motioned them inside.

Raoul glanced around at the richly furnished sitting room. To the right was a small table and chairs on an Oriental rug. Against the far wall was a hand-carved buffet with a serving tray and the remains of a meal. Oddly enough, the corner held a portable dog kennel. On the left…ahhah. A lean man waited in an armchair by the window, the lamplight glinting off styled light brown hair. Two men-bodyguard types-stood behind him. He would be the reason for Dahmer’s detour.

As Kimberly stepped into the room, she gasped and gave a thin moan.

Raoul spun, grasping her shoulders. “What?”

“Lord Greville,” she whispered, her eyes going glassy with panic, her breathing like a steam engine.

Raoul slapped her sharply across the face, rocking her back on her heels. Fisting her hair, he pulled her head back so the only person she could see was him. “You are mine. You do not react to any other master,” he told her through gritted teeth…and saw reason return to her eyes.

She blinked tears of pain away, and he let her lower her head. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“Better,” he grunted. He glanced at Dahmer, letting his irritation show. “What’s this about-aside from trying to destroy the work I’ve put into this slave?”

“I apologize for not explaining earlier, but I wanted you to view the undamaged beauties downstairs first.” Dahmer’s gaze lingered on the scar visible beneath Kimberly’s harness. “Which ones did you find interesting?”

“I have a slave, thank you.” This wasn’t going well at all. Kimberly’s former owner had given Raoul a dismissing look, then hadn’t taken his eyes off her. From the hand-tailored suit, the Italian shoes, the sheer pampered posture, Greville wasn’t used to being denied anything. And he wanted Kimberly.

The hatred burning in his blue eyes sent cold streaming up Raoul’s spine. He saw murder in that gaze.

Raoul took a firm grip of Kimberly’s arm and whispered in her ear, “He seems a little angry. Some people are poor sports about being poked with a knife, no?”

Her shocked laugh lightened his spirit. Brave, brave Kimberly. “Dios, I love you,” he said under his breath, not realizing he’d spoken until he saw her face. The dawning glow outweighed her fear.

When she looked down hastily, he squeezed her arm lightly. She needed to hold up awhile longer. Somehow.

And he had to keep her away from Greville. The FBI would arrive eventually, but if her previous owner got his hands on her, she might not survive that long. Stall. Stall and stall.

Dahmer took a seat on the couch and motioned to the chair across from Greville. “Please sit. I’m sure we can reach a meeting of the minds. Raoul, this is-”

“Greville, I assume.” Raoul assessed the bodyguards with a glance. One had puckered scars across his face and neck. The other had a shaved head with a death’s head skull tattoo on one side of his neck, a swastika on the other. They wore white shirts, dark slacks. No weapons visible. They’d probably received the same pat down as the buyers-so weaponless-but from their stances, they were well trained.

Not good odds. He was no Chuck Norris. Stall. He took the chair, caught Kimberly’s gaze, and glanced at the floor beside him.

She knelt at his feet and kept her eyes lowered.

“Hello, fuckhole.” Greville spoke directly to her, trying to get her to meet his gaze.

“You do not address my slave without permission,” Raoul snapped.

Greville’s face reddened with rage.

“Raoul.” Dahmer held up a hand.

“This is not the professional standards I was led to expect from the Harvest Association. What kind of shoddy scam are you running here?”

Dahmer drew himself up. “Not a scam. Lord Greville simply wishes to repurchase his slave. During his…illness, his staff returned the slave for a refund. He wasn’t aware and had no intention of returning her to us.”

Raoul forced himself to lean back in his chair. “Perhaps he should keep closer track of his staff. They sound incompetent.” This is not going to end well. If he got Kimberly out of the room, could she hide until the FBI arrived?

* * * *

The attendants were too damned efficient, Sam thought. In answer to his request, one had quickly wheeled a mobile St. Andrew’s cross into Linda’s slave space. So much for his attempt at stalling.

After turning the woman to face the X shape, he secured her wrist cuffs to the upper rings. The other blank- faced attendant handed him a cane and dragon’s tongue whip.

He set them down, out of his working area, and considered how to go about wasting time until the FBI arrived. Unfortunately, anything he did would have to be genuine. The assistant had positioned the cross so bystanders could see the marks he’d put on the slave’s back.

Well, then. He had a masochist who preferred him to the others, he had equipment, and he obviously had time. Apparently he had a scene to do.

His concentration narrowed.