Chapter 5
Chapter Five
That weekend, Ben sat at his desk in the Shadowlands entry…and planned.
Anne hadn’t been in last night…but she was here now. He had a chance.
In that one afternoon with him, Anne had gone from a warm, willing woman to one wearing more armor over her emotions than a soldier wore to protect his guts.
Okay, he understood the slave versus submissive stuff to a degree. But…she’d sure seemed to be enjoying herself while they were interacting. And fuck knew, he had. Then she’d totally shut down.
His best guess was that her exhaustion—and the exhilaration of Sophia’s birth—had lowered her defenses, and she’d let him get too close. Over the past years, he’d watched her with her slaves, and she’d always been in control. Always reserved. Emotions always guarded.
Just as Z had said.
Hell, when she’d come in tonight, unfortunately with a crowd of other members, she smiled at him politely. As if he didn’t know what she felt like beneath him, how she tasted, how her coolness hid passion and…sweetness.
Yeah, Ben wanted the woman—and the Mistress—beneath those barriers. He’d seen her, held her, made love to her.
He’d analyzed his target. Studied that fucking armor of hers, evaluated her strength and her reserves, considered her possible choices for action.
Unfortunately, he’d have to operate on her terrain, the Shadowlands.
But he had a tentative plan for tonight, initiating movement and making a personal reconnaissance.
After talking Holt into babysitting his guard station, Ben strolled through the main clubroom and watched for her, his slender brunette with a body to die for and sleek curves that hid the muscles beneath.
He saw Mistress Olivia with a new submissive, a woman close to her own age—an executive type with classically styled hair, carefully applied makeup, and a beautiful, expensive leather dress. Since she’d worn the prettiest stilettos he’d ever seen, he’d allowed her to keep them on.
When he located Mistress Anne, he’d have to point them out.
If he ever found the woman.
He spotted Galen, Vance, and Sally watching a wax play scene. “Have you seen Mistress Anne?”
“You want Anne?” Vance’s eyebrows lifted.
Ben nodded.
“Sorry, Ben. I haven’t seen her,” Galen said with a frown.
Their reaction made him wonder if they disliked the thought of someone so big and ugly playing with their pretty Mistress. Too bad.
He headed for the bar. Cullen would probably know where Anne was.
The bartender was moving fast, swamped with the crowd around his long oval bar. The only empty barstool was beside the barmaid station. Uzuri stood there, waiting with her tray and a list of orders.
Ben studied her. When she’d come in at the start of the night, she’d seemed…off. Her coloring tonight was more gray than brown, and she moved as if she was exhausted. It wasn’t his job to babysit the submissives, but maybe he’d give one of the Masters a heads-up.
All of the other Shadowlands trainees had found their Doms, leaving the little prankster behind.
The single Doms had tried their hardest to win her over though.
And she was damned pretty. With her wide-set dark brown eyes, skin the color of lightened coffee, and high cheekbones, she reminded him of Brandy in the Cinderella musical.
Z had said he didn’t know if she had it in her to pick a Dom—that she might not be willing to take the risk. Ben hadn’t understood his reasoning at the time.
But last winter an altercation had occurred at a bachelorette party. Whereas Rainie had been upset about her obnoxious friends, Uzuri had been terrified at the potential for violence. She must have some ugly shit in her past.
In the years Ben had worked here, he’d discovered how often abusers preyed upon submissives.
Those unfamiliar with BDSM didn’t always realize that dominance and submission wasn’t a competition—it was a waltz.
One person got to lead. But if the other partner was being trampled, then it sure as hell wasn’t a dance.
Uzuri looked up as he slid onto a stool beside her. “Ben, what are you doing in here?”
“Lookin’ for Mistress Anne. Have you seen her?”
Her eyes grew wide. “I didn’t believe them when they said you and she were… Ben, that’s not a good idea. Sure, she’s pretty, but she’s also a—”
“I know.” Fuck, there was no end.
Cullen came over and damned if his mouth didn’t thin at the sight of Ben. “Tell me you’re not here looking for Anne.”
Well, hell. He’d thought he and Cullen were friends.
They went drinking now and then. Had shared job horror stories—Cullen from being a cop and firefighter, Ben from the military.
After imbibing more alcohol, they’d even ventured into uglier tales—how Cullen had lost his fiancée to a fire, how Ben had been dumped by his wife when deployed.
Ben gave him a level stare. “I’m telling you I’m looking for Anne.”
“Buddy, listen—”
“Nope.” Ben rose and then hesitated. “Rather than worrying about a woman fully capable of caring for herself, you might check out the trainee who obviously can’t.”
He glanced at the little submissive to show who he meant, then turned his back on both of them and continued scouting.
Well, honestly. Why did Ben have to sic a Master on her? Uzuri frowned after the big security guard, then—keeping her gaze down—pushed the drink tickets toward Master Cullen. “All these and Master Sam’s Linda wants a glass of white wine.”
Ben and Cullen were equally huge—and in some ways, they both made her nervous. Some people preferred big guys. In fact, her fellow Shadowkittens sometimes teased their Doms saying, “Size really does matter.”
Maybe a bigger cock was a good thing—she didn’t particularly care—but when it came to men in general? She’d far rather have a smaller one.
A punch from a smaller man didn’t break bones.
“Uzuri, eyes on me.” Master Cullen’s gaze felt like the pressure change before a storm moved in.
Bollocks, as Mistress Olivia might say. She looked up obediently.
“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.