“You do look tired. Stressed.” His heavy brows drew together. “What’s going on, love?”
“Work stress.” Almost an honest answer. She’d been moving up the corporate ladder so life was never stress-free. The trouble was…work wasn’t the problem.
“Look, Cullen. I found a bar ornament for you.” At the far end, a Dom dumped a submissive on the bar top. “She’s already gagged.”
Master Cullen held up a hand in a wait gesture before frowning at Uzuri.
His sub Andrea thought he resembled Boromir in Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately, Boromir now looked as frustrated and pissed off as when Elrond refused to hand over the ring. “When your serving time is over, you find me. We’re going to chat about stress.”
“Yes, Sir.” As he moved toward his new bar ornament, Uzuri relaxed. She could talk about stress all day. Other things, no.
Anne pulled off the Shadowlands’ dungeon monitor vest and stuffed it in her locker. Hands over her head, she stretched upward, removing the knots. Her duty was over. Now, she could head home, or coax Sam and Linda into going out for a drink, or maybe find someone here to play with.
Option three might be a good choice.
Find a good boy. Work him over until he was shaking, not able to tell the difference between pain and pleasure. Maybe reward him with a trip upstairs to let him touch her. Have some no-strings-attached sex.
She damn well needed something to erase the memories of Ben in her bed. All those steel-hard muscles. The weight of him on top of her—the feeling of being penetrated by his heavy shaft.
The way his eyes lit as if he held sunshine in his soul.
And then she’d been cruel. Shot down his hopes and wounded his spirit.
The small hurt then had been necessary to prevent a larger one. She sighed, losing the urge to play at all. She just didn’t have the heart to chance flattening another subbie’s desires.
And wasn’t that just pitiful?
One of these days, the sadist police would show up to take her membership card away.
Instead, she’d just get a drink here and forget about playing with anyone. As she walked out of the locker room, she growled low. Cullen had better have gotten over being pissy about her mixing pain meds and alcohol. If he gave her another sparkling water, she’d dump it on his head, even if she had to stand on a barstool to reach the right height.
“Mistress Anne,” Sally called from where she sat between her two Masters. She jumped up and ran over.
Anne had to smile—a common reaction at seeing the vibrant submissive. “You look very happy; marriage agrees with you.”
“I’d given up hope of finding one Dom and here I am with two. It still seems like a dream.” The brunette’s nose wrinkled. “Unless I’m in trouble. Then it’s a nightmare.”
Punishment at the hands of Galen and Vance? Having watched the two Doms co-top, Anne knew a sub wouldn’t have a chance. “Hopefully you’ll learn to stay out of trouble,” she said, spouting the Dominants’ party line.
“But it’s a submissive’s duty to keep her Doms on their toes and well exercised.” Sally grinned. “Anyway, the guys are going to be gone part of next week, and I’d really appreciate some company. Can you come over on Thursday? It’ll just be me and maybe Beth or Gabi. The house still gets scary when my men aren’t home.”
Thursday? That was her birthday. But Anne couldn’t say no. She understood loneliness. And Sally had been attacked in that house; being alone was probably still difficult. “Of course, I’ll come.”
“Awesome. Thank you!” Sally squeezed her hand and hurried away.
Anne continued toward the bar.
Adjusting her long latex gown, she eased onto a barstool next to Sam and Raoul, two of the other Shadowlands Masters. Glancing around, she saw they’d left their women in the subbie area, Raoul even going so far as to chain his slave, Kim, marking her as unavailable.
Wasn’t it odd that Anne had never chained up any of her slaves? Maybe because she’d never felt particularly territorial.
Then again, she hadn’t loved any of them—not in the way that Raoul loved Kim.
“Anne,” Sam said. The dim lighting around the bar gave the sadist’s face a sinister cast and glinted off his silvered hair.
“You look lovely tonight.” Raoul’s light accent showed why Spanish was considered one of the romance languages.
“Hi, lads.” She twisted to check out the available submissives in the sitting area.
There was a nice assortment of male and female, including two appealing men in their mid-twenties. They were conversing while watching the rest of the room. Anne had done a scene with the firefighter in the past. He’d been fun, but a lightweight when it came to pain. She no longer wanted a hard-core masochist, but surely a little endurance wasn’t too much to ask.