Cherise Sinclair - Breaking Free

Masters Of The Shadowlands 3, 2009

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To my readers,

This book is fiction, not reality and, as in most romantic fiction, the romance is compressed into a very, very short time period.

You, my darlings, live in the real world and I want you to take a little more time than the heroines you read about. Good Doms don't grow on trees and there's some strange people out there. So while you're looking for that special Dom, please, be careful.

When you find him, realize he can't read your mind. Yes, frightening as it might be, you're going to have to open up and talk to him. And you listen to him, in return. Share your hopes and fears, what you want from him, what scares you spitless. Okay, he may try to push your boundaries a little-he's a Dom, after all-but you have your safeword. You will have a safeword, am I clear? Use protection. Have a back-up person. Communicate.

Remember: safe, sane and consensual.

Know that I'm hoping you find that special, loving person who will understand your needs and hold you close. Let me know how you're doing. I worry, you know.

Meantime, come and hang out with the Masters of the Shadowlands.

Cherise

cherisesinclair@sbcglobal.net

Music, beer, tie up a willing woman, maybe use a flogger lightlyshould be a no-stress evening. Nolan King leaned an elbow on the bar and took a hefty pull of Corona to wash the sawdust from his throat. With his paperwork finally caught up, hed been able to go on-site and swing a hammer with his crew. Now his back and biceps had the muted ache of a good workout.

The edgy music of Nine Inch Nails from the dance floor mingled with the hum of conversation from the scattered sitting areas around the huge club room. Above the background noise came the sounds of BDSM play: the crack of a whip, a hand slapping flesh, screams and stern commands from one scene area. Just another Saturday night at the Shadowlands.

On the bar stool next to him, Mistress Anne, a tall, slender brunette in glossy red latex mini, sleeveless top, and black vinyl boots, handed her kneeling slave a bottle of water. She glanced at Nolan and patted his arm. Youre looking a bit tired, honey.

Long day. Good day. The office building neared completion, right on schedule. A wail rose from a roped-off area, and Nolan turned to look. The sub being flogged on the St. Andrews cross had finally been permitted to climax. Her sobs of relief continued for a good minute, and Nolan chuckled. Raoul hasnt lost his touch.

Hes not bad at all. Anne stroked her slaves red hair. Were up next, Joey. Finish your water. I intend to use you long and hard. Joey gazed up at her in adoration before lifting the bottle to his mouth and chugging the water.

Arent you monitoring tonight, Nolan? Anne nodded at his black muscle shirt and leather jeans that lacked the gold trim designating a dungeon monitor.

No. Z had enough people. I figure Ill grab a sub and put one of the upstairs rooms to use. Nolan glanced at the women sitting on the nearby couches. All were unattached submissives hoping to be noticed. Each had her own needs and desires. Finding one whose needs matched what he wanted to give was the trick and took not only good assessment skills but a willingness to communicate with the sub, before, during, and after a scene. Oddly enough, hed come to enjoy the pre-scene negotiations: the mixture of attraction, flirting, and discovering the subs wishes even while trying to uncover her hidden needs. Like constructing a house, a scene needed to be built from the ground up, starting with a solid foundation of trust. He snorted at the imagery. Next hed be writing poetry.

Really, Nolan, you should find someone a little more permanent. Its worth it. Anne smiled. When she leaned Joeys head against her bare thigh, the young mans nostrils widened as he obviously caught a whiff of his mistresss arousal.

Been there, done that. Nolan returned to studying the subs. That little curvy blonde had potential. He liked soft under his hands. I had a fulltime slave last year. Uncollared her before I did that consulting job in Iraq. He gave Anne a rueful smile. Damned if it wasnt a relief. I dont like being a master full time.

Anne shrugged. Some people dont. But a different sub every week gets tiring.

Maybe. He glanced at the cross. Raouls cleaned up. Youd better grab the cross before someone else does. The place is busy tonight.

This is true. Anne rose to her feet. She ran her fingers through her slaves hair and tipped his face up to take his lips in a demanding kiss.

When she stepped back, Joey rose to his feet and looked down at her, his lean muscles displayed by the leather harness.

She cupped his balls in her hand, curled her fingers around the jutting erection. Lets see if you can last as long as Raouls sub. Her fingers tightened enough to make the slaves muscles jump. You wont disappoint me now, will you, Joey?

No, Mistress. Never.

Anne walked away, the slave following a step behind.

Thats one mean mistress. Cullen wiped a few drops off his gleaming bar top. Glad my pride-and-joys arent under her care.

Nolan snorted. As if youd 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. Hes 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 redheads 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 didnt project much confidence. Even worse, he kept consulting a paper. What was with that? How-to instructions on topping? Whats 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 wouldnt 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, Nolans eyes narrowed. Some major scarring there. Several wide scars. A few long ones from a single-tail. Shorter, precisely placed thin lines.