Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Rawhide Ranch lounge
Sienna
Sienna rarely ventured to the Dungeon, preferring the solitude of her apartment, but tonight.
.. tonight the loneliness had become a living thing, a twisted vine around her soul that threatened to squeeze the last breath of humanity from her.
The lounge hummed with life as quiet negotiations floated toward her.
Her heart skipped a beat as she listened to the low murmur of aftercare conversations, and genuine laughter mixed with the occasional gasp of pleasure or pain from the Dungeon below.
The lounge sprawled in sensual invitation with amber and purple lights casting intimate shadows across the rich leather furnishings.
Sienna always found peace in the crystalline flecks of mica on the stone floor that caught the light, creating a subtle galaxy of purple sparkles.
From the vantage point where she sat, the playspace below offered tantalizing glimpses of scenes unfolding in the familiar dance of power and surrender.
With a soft sigh, she took another sip of her drink.
She had no intention of scening, but something in her craved to watch the beautiful dance between Dominants and submissives.
It was relaxing to witness the raw trust, and the elegant exchange of power at play.
For a moment, a very brief moment, she could almost remember what it felt like to want that connection instead of yearning for more than just survival.
She noticed him the moment he walked into the lounge alongside Master Derek.
She was startled when her heart skipped a treacherous beat.
He moved with a fluid grace that belied his imposing height, radiating quiet authority and power without the overt dominance many Doms displayed.
Her practiced composure faltered and a low gasp stuttered from her lips as he turned, the hair falling over his forehead only partially hiding a stark scar that traced a line across his brow.
The downlights caught a thread of silver showcasing the scar.
The deliberate highlighting puzzled her.
It seemed defiant, as if daring the world to look.
Her fingers twitched uncontrollably as she pressed one hand against her abdomen while the other clutched her arm with her nails biting into flesh, tracing her own scars.
The familiar spiral of panic threatened to overwhelm her as memories crowded in uninvited.
Forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths, she whispered harshly, “Stop it, for fuck’s sake, Sienna.
It’s been two years. You can’t continue to fall apart. ”
But the words rang hollow. How could she move forward when the past left such visible marks?
She forcibly shook off the dark thoughts as her eyes tracked the men joining the group at the bar where Master Jagger, Moira, and Master Derek’s wife, Sadie waited.
Her eyes darkened briefly as they hesitated for a moment on Moira’s protruding stomach.
She pushed the dark memories that threatened to surface back.
Cherishing a new life was a woman’s prerogative and she was happy for her.
Her gaze returned to the stranger. He maintained a carefully controlled expression.
It was the mask of someone who had learned to hide their scars, and at a guess she would gander they were emotional as well as physical.
The group burst out in laughter… all except him, but he did smile, and for a brief, stunning moment, the mask slipped.
It transformed his entire being, softening the hard edges and hinting at depths that caused her stomach to twist. When his features settled back into their stoic lines, she recognized the retreat…
that instinctive withdrawal to safer emotional ground she knew all too well.
Their eyes met across the room in a fleeting connection that lasted barely a heartbeat.
It was enough. One split second of contact turned Sienna into a confused vessel of want and a desire so profound that it was difficult to breathe.
Heat bloomed in her chest, spreading outward in waves that left her dizzy and disoriented.
Her fingers curled into her palms as she fought the unfamiliar urge to reach out, to trace that scar…
to feel his pain and draw it into her. The intensity of her reaction frightened her.
She hadn’t felt such visceral desire since.
.. since before. The few times she’d wandered into the Dungeon had resulted in what could only be described as mechanical scenes to connect as a necessary reminder that she was still human, still alive. But this? This was different.
She studied him covertly. The tailored suit emphasized his lean strength without the exaggerated bulk favored by many Doms. Her body thrummed with awareness as she studied his.
After so long in emotional hibernation, she didn’t know if she was ready for this awakening, or the vulnerability it demanded.
His lean frame effortlessly carried his height, which she guessed to be over six feet.
He commanded attention without trying. The dark suit, worn without a shirt, leaving a tantalizing peek at his broad chest, was tailored perfectly, hinting at the strength beneath without being ostentatious.
Dark blond hair streaked with highlights was styled with careful casualness.
The lighter streaks caught the light as he moved, complementing strong features and a jawline dusted with a precisely maintained short beard.
“Oh, my.” Her breath caught as she noticed how his movements made the fabric shift across his shoulders, suggesting a warrior’s build rather than a weightlifter’s bulk.
The suit jacket emphasized his broad shoulders tapering to narrow hips, and even from across the room, she could sense the coiled strength in his stance.
What struck her most was the contrast of the refined elegance of his attire against something rawer, more primal in his bearing. His presence seemed to draw the very air from the room.
“That man is dangerous, but not in a frightening way,” she said sotto voice as she became hyperaware of every subtle shift in his posture and slight turn of his head.
“What lies behind your exterior? What stories lay behind that carefully maintained facade, Sir Lancelot?” She caught a giggle as a vision of the actor who had the exact same haircut and had played the role in a King Arthur movie flashed through her mind.
There was something dangerous and compelling in the way he held himself.
A predator at rest, perfectly still but ready to move in an instant.
“Damn, what is this? I’ve never been this affected by a man…
never… and here I am. Breathless from just looking at him.
” Listening to her husky whisper jarred her mind.
She had sworn off men, and yet she had to fight against a magnetic pull to move closer, to see if his presence was as overwhelming up close as it was from across the room.
“Sienna, it’s a nice surprise seeing you here.” Doc Quincy Nelson’s voice pulled her from her trance-like introspection of the attractive stranger. His wife Dolly stood beside him and gave Sienna a soft smile.
“Doc Williams made me promise to become more social.” Sienna’s smile was genuine.
Doc Quincy had earned a special place in her heart during those first awful weeks at Rawhide.
He, Dolly, and Doc Nigel had taken turns, sitting with her through fever-ridden nights, fighting an infection that nearly claimed her after the tumble down the mountain.
The memory of that day two years ago surfaced when her desperate flight ended in a fall straight into Master Derek’s sanctuary.
Rawhide Ranch stood as a fortress against predators who sought out submissives and Littles, exploiting their innate desire to please.
Within these walls, broken souls found healing, protection, and eventual matches with carefully vetted Dominants.
She had stopped running that day and even though she felt safe within the confines of the Ranch… she still looked over her shoulder when she made quick but necessary trips to Porter’s Corner. So far, Master Derek hadn’t found her a match, for which she was eternally grateful.
“Does that mean you are open to a scene tonight?”
Sienna mulled over the question. It hadn’t been her intention when she’d come here tonight but since she had promised to put a concerted effort into mingling with people outside of the university, the Dungeon seemed the most viable way to start.
Her gaze drifted involuntarily toward the bar before she forced it back to Doc Quincy.
Her skin still hummed from that fleeting eye contact with the stranger but approaching him wasn’t an option.
She just didn’t have the confidence or courage.
Doc Quincy was a safe and familiar option since they had scened a couple of times.
He possessed a rare gift, the ability to guide her past her barriers into brief moments of pure sensation.
In those precious minutes, she could float free of her demons, embracing the euphoria that danced along her nerve endings.
But they never lasted. Something always yanked her out of it, back to reality and going through mechanical motions. It was a mystery why she couldn’t stay in that blissful space, and why her mind refused to let go completely.
“Are you offering, Sir?” The honorific came naturally as she slipped into her submissive headspace.
Doc Quincy glanced at Dolly who gave him the slightest nod, knowing he was one of the few Doms she scened with. Turning back to Sienna his answering smile held understanding rather than triumph. He knew exactly what she needed. “I am indeed.”
Crone
Rawhide Ranch Dungeon