Cherise Sinclair - Breaking Free

He shoved his Stetson back and slowed to check the whipping post that Z had brought out just for tonight. Using a whip in the main room meant roping off extra space to keep from nailing spectators by accident. Dressed in outlaw black, Sam had Deborah tied to the post. Nolan stopped to enjoy for a minute. The old sadist was a real master with that black snake whip of his. Deborah was already up on tiptoes and well on her way to subspace.

Nolan scanned the room again. No Beth. He’d planned to pick her up, but she’d called to say she was running late, and Z had asked him to monitor the main room. Well, if she got cold feet, he’d just have to go out to her apartment and fetch her. That fucking apartment.

She’d been living there for a week now and damned if he didn’t miss her more than he thought possible. He’d joined her for her first two nights there, and then had let her go it alone. Sure, he still saw her every day, joining her for supper or lunch, occasionally tossing her onto that miniature apartment bed and fucking her senseless. But he wanted her back in his home, padding around in one of his shirts that dwarfed her, arguing with him about how strong a pot of coffee should be, draping that trim little body over him while they watched the evening news. Her laughter…her teasing…her enthusiasm… When she’d moved out, his house had turned as gloomy as if winter had arrived.

He wanted her back.

Did she want to come back? She wasn’t sharing how she felt. Gratitude, sure, she didn’t have a problem telling him all about that.

But what she felt for him was a hell of a lot more than mere gratitude. He knew that. Did she?

Or was the little rabbit just having trouble getting the words out? Talking about her feelings still came hard to her. Of course, it was a Dom’s duty to help little subs past mental blocks like that.

So…

Another scan of the room, and he found her. He grinned, pleasure filling him at the sight. Now that was an outfit. High-heeled black boots, black leather chaps, a shiny blue G-string. The fringe from a matching blue bustier danced over the creamy skin of her stomach and concealed the fading pink scar. Her hair was in two stubby braids.

Nolan glanced at his watch. His time had been up for a good ten minutes. Then again, Olivia never showed up on time. He spotted the Domme at the bar, caught her eye, and tapped his watch. She nodded and sauntered over to take the flashlight from him.

“No problems,” he told her.

“And you have things to do.” Smirking, she slapped his shoulder. “I saw your sub come in. She looks hot.”

He grinned and gave her a warning look at the same time. “Mine, Olivia. Hands off.”

“Oh, I already tried hands-on a month ago. She doesn’t walk on my side of the street… More’s the pity.”

Ben had liked her outfit, Beth told herself as she moved toward the bar. The thought didn’t help much. Her stomach still felt like she’d swallowed a mess of worms. Knowing her abuse was common knowledge made her feel more exposed than stripping her clothes off and walking around naked.

And yet, she’d missed being here, missed the driving music, the sound of sobbing and whips, sex and pain. The scent of leather and latex and perfume. And the costumes tonight… She grinned in delight. Even the most conservative of Doms-the ones who wore suits-had added cowboy hats. The majority of subs favored saloon girl outfits, some of which mixed oddly with spiked green hair and Goth makeup.

The appreciative glances coming her way bolstered her confidence as she searched for Nolan. Surely he’d be done with his dungeon monitor chores by now. Not in sight. Dodging around various groups of people, she made her way to the bar.

Cullen spotted her and abandoned whatever drink he was making. “Little Beth!” He leaned a muscular arm on the bar, and his warm gaze ran over her. “You look good, love. Wish I’d been there to lend Nolan a hand.”

She smiled at him, pleasure running through her. Another friend. “Thanks, Sir. Can you tell me where Master Nolan is?”

“Turning over his DM duties to the compulsively late Olivia.” He tilted his head. “Want a drink? And this time tell me what you’d really like. I bet it’s not a screwdriver.”

“Irish whiskey. Bushmill’s single malt if you have it.”

He roared a laugh. “Pint-sized sub takes her liquor straight, hold the water. Coming right up, pet.”

After he set her drink in front of her, she sipped it slowly, enjoying the smooth burn.

“Hi.” A man in black latex jeans and a long-sleeved latex jacket slid onto the bar stool beside her. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new?”

“Not exactly.”

A hand closed on her bare arm. She almost jerked away before she recognized the grip. Nolan.

“Now here’s a cute little western girl,” he said softly. His dark eyes heated as his gaze ran over her, lingering on her G-string. “Well worth the wait.”

She felt her insides melt at just the sound of his deep voice and the look in his eyes. She touched his cheek with her fingertips. After all the Doms she’d had, only this master could make her feel like an eager puppy, wanting simply to please him.

Cullen walked over and set a Corona on the bar. Nolan started to pick it up but frowned and picked up her glass instead. He sniffed it. His eyebrows rose. “Well, you’re just full of surprises, sugar.”

“She’s hard-core, buddy,” Cullen said, grinning. “So do I get a bar decoration tonight?”

Beth stiffened. God, no.

“Nope,” Nolan drawled. “I’ve got other things in mind. While you’re here, give me some ice, would you?”

Cullen nodded and moved away. A few seconds later, a glass of ice slid down the well-polished bar.

Nolan looked at the man who’d tried to start a conversation with her. “I’m Nolan. You new here?”

“I’ve only belonged a couple of weeks.” They shook hands. “I’m William.”

Sir rested his hip on the barstool, pulling Beth back until she could feel his big erection against her bottom. Her body flared to life at the feel of him, at the memory of what he felt like inside her. They’d made love almost constantly when she’d lived with him, and she’d missed it. As she leaned back, his arm wrapped around her, keeping her tight against him.

“So are you enjoying yourself?” Nolan asked the Dom as he plucked an ice cube from the glass with his free hand. He ran it casually down Beth’s neck and across the top edge of the bustier, making her nipples peak, before playing in the fringe over her stomach.

“Ah.” The Dom’s eyes were glued to the ice moving over Beth’s body.

She’d have laughed, only her mouth had gone dry. She started to move only to realize Nolan’s embrace trapped her right arm against her side, and his hand gripped her left wrist in an immovable grip. The ice traveled lower and paused above her G-string long enough for freezing water to trickle over her mound. She jerked as the cold hit her hot flesh.

“Ah, right. Yes, everyone is very friendly,” William said, his voice a little rougher.

“Good.”

As the ice melted, Beth held still, wondering what the man would do to embarrass her next. And why his actions turned her on so much. Dammit.

Seeming to have read her mind, he started unhooking her bustier one-handed. She tried to pull her wrist from his grip. “Don’t move, sub,” he snapped, and her body froze.

“Have you met some of the subs here?” Nolan asked the other Dom as his fingers continued to undo the hooks.

“Um. Yes. No. I guess not.” William shook his head, took a step back and, with visible effort, raised his eyes to Nolan’s face.

When Beth’s bustier fell open, Sir cupped her breasts. “You know, most of the unattached subs sit over there.” Nolan took one hand away to point to the nearby sitting area.