Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

Once she'd used the toilet and managed to wiggle her skirt back into place, she retraced her steps, using the St. Andrew's cross as her heading.

Halfway there, a hefty Dom in battered leathers stopped her. “Brown top, red skirt, medium height, yellow-brown hair. You must be MacKensie.”

Mac blinked. “Um. Yes.”

“Good enough. I got your safe word and conditions.” He snapped a metal handcuff on her, whipped her around, and put one on the other wrist, just like in a cop show. And just like a show, he pushed her forward.

“Hey, let go!” Mac tried to jerk away, but he had a good grip on her and must have outweighed her by a good hundred pounds. She raised her voice. “I don't know you. Let go of me.” She kicked out at him without managing to hit anything vital, and suddenly the hand clamped around her arm felt like Arlene's. Dragging her to the closet.Helpless . Her hands chilled. “No no no!”

He cut off her screams by stuffing a rubber ball into her mouth, securing the elastic band behind her head. With her hands restrained, she couldn't fight, couldn't get it off.

“C'mon, little bitch. Time for punishment.” Letting go of her, he shoved her ahead of him toward a scene area that held a stockade-like thing.

Horror ran through her at the sight of the single hole in the board. Not designed to restrain a person's hands, but their neck. A short whip lay on the floor beside it. No nono . Whirling, she kicked out at the man and nailed his thigh.

He yelled and grabbed her arm, one huge hand raised. Turning her face away, she braced herself for the blow. For the pain.

It never came.

“I believe we have a problem here.” Alex's voice. He had caught the man's wrist, held it frozen in the air.

Relief swirled through Mac so fast, her head spun. She tried to tug away.

The man gripped her arm tighter. “No problem, dude, except your interfering in my scene.” Her assailant yanked her out of Alex's reach.

“It may be your scene,” Alex said. “But that is my sub.”

“Hey, man, she came to me.” The bastard had the nerve to shake her shoulder as if to prove his point.

Mac shook her head frantically, tried to speak through the gag.

“She doesn't appear to agree.”

“Just part of the scene. She wanted a rape scene, set it up special. I didn't hear her using her safe word either.”

Alex's eyes on her were cold. Furious.

He believed the man. Oh please, no . She shook her head again, her eyes filling with tears. He'd leave her here, let her be hurt, and—

“Remove her gag,” Alex said. He glanced at an old man standing nearby, watching the show. “Find a dungeon monitor.”

“On his way already,” the old man said.

“Now listen, asshole—” The cruel-faced man dragged her farther from Alex.

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?” Another man wearing a bright orange vest over a black shirt frowned at the men.

“This little bitch set up a rape scene with me, and now this asshole says she's his sub and butted into my scene.”

The dungeon monitor raised his eyebrows. “Considering Alex is one of the founding members of this club, I have trouble believing that.” He jerked a chin at Mac. “Let's hear from the sub. Remove the cuffs and the gag.”

The bastard unlocked her cuffs. When he let her go to pocket them, Mac shoved him as hard as she could and ran straight for Alex. His arms closed around her, holding her to him. After a breath, she pulled the gag off and turned far enough to throw it at the man, then tried to burrow into Alex even farther. His scent of subtle, rich cologne and soap surrounded her, and his firm embrace held her against his solid body. She'd found her shelter.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let's have a seat and discuss this,” he said.

She stiffened, cold fear rising inside her. Clutching his arms, she stared up into his forbidding face. “Don't let him take me. Please, Alex, don't.” Now that she was free, an uncontrollable shaking started deep inside her. The feel of a fist hitting her jaw, the shock of being slapped, pain from… No. No memories. Not now . Her tears spilled over, and an ugly sobbing noise escaped. She put her hands over her mouth.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Alex scooped her up in his arms and cuddled her to his chest as if she were a puppy. “No one is taking you anywhere. But I need to know what happened.”

She buried her face against his shoulder, unable to stop the violent shudders racking her body. A minute later he sat down on a couch, but he kept her in his lap, one arm fixed around her waist, one hand stroking her back. Her cheek rested against him, and she heard the slow thud of his heart, felt the easy rise and fall of his chest.

He wasn't worried. He could take care of this. Of her.

Footsteps. Then the dungeon monitor said, “Alex, this is Steel, and Steel says the sub's name is MacKensie. He asked her if that was her name.”

“Asked?” Alex questioned. “Why did you need to ask her name?”

“I wanted to make sure I had the right sub, and she was. Brown top, red skirt, yellow-brown hair, name of MacKensie.”

Alex's body tightened, and anger turned his voice to ice. “Then MacKensie didn't set this up with you. Someone else did.”

“Well, yeah. She wanted a stranger to grab her and whip her. That was the scenario. Wouldn't work if she knew me, now would it?”

Clutching Alex's shirt like a security blanket, Mac lifted her head to look at Steel. He had a perplexed look on his face as he ran his hand through shaggy hair.

The dungeon monitor scowled. “I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.” He looked at her, started to speak, and then frowned at Alex instead. “Permission to speak to your sub?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ask someone to set this up, MacKensie?”

She shook her head, her throat so tense, no words could escape.

“Well, fuck, look at her shake,” Steel muttered. “Are you telling me I grabbed the wrong person?”

“No,” Alex said softly. “I think this was a setup. Just not the one you'd planned.” He turned Mac in his arms until she faced him. When she tried to bury her head, he used a finger to raise her chin. “We need you to talk to us, little cat.” His eyes pinned her gaze to his. “I left you kneeling beside the chair. Why did you leave?”

She tried to swallow, but the spit stuck in her throat. Her grip tightened on his shirt, and she breathed in, trying to find the calm place inside herself, the one where she used to hide. Another breath. “I-I had to…bathroom.”

His lips curved, and his voice softened. “I have a bad habit of forgetting you women piss three times as often as men. So you went to the bathroom. Alone?”

“I thought I could get back before you returned.”

“How did you know where the bathroom is?”

“The other sub told me.”

“Describe her to me, MacKensie.” Alex's eyes had turned the color of polar ice.

“Brunette. Beautiful.” Mac closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Tall. She looks like a model. A dark red corset thing.”

“That who you talked with?” the dungeon monitor asked Steel.

“Nah. I'd remember someone like that.” Steel pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the monitor. “A barmaid gave me this. It spells it all out. Even safe words and gestures. She didn't use either.”

The monitor glanced at Mac. “What's your safe word?”

Safe word? She looked up at Alex and whispered, “What's a safe word?”

“Fuck me,” Steel exploded. “How the hell can she not—”

“She's so new to the scene that she should be glowing green,” Alex said. “We haven't even done anything that would require a safe word.”