Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

She came into the room, her hands clasped in front of her. “Master John doesn’t approve of slaves using the furniture.”

Of course he doesn’t, Eric thought irritably. “All right,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “You may kneel up, hands on your thighs, palms up.”

She lowered herself with reasonable grace onto the mat.

“First,” he began, “a little protocol. I know most folks in the lifestyle enjoy the titles that go with it—Master, Mistress, Trainer, slave and whatnot. I have no problem with that, but I would prefer that you just call me Eric. Or, if that makes you too uncomfortable, you may call me Sir.”

She looked a little startled, but only nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

He liked her voice. It was like smooth honey infused with smoke.

Stop it.

He cleared his throat and continued, “Before we get started with any more physical training, I just want to talk with you a little.”

He leaned forward, resisting the urge to stroke her soft cheek. Whatever had gotten into him, he needed to get it out, pronto.

“We had a rough start this morning, but I don’t want you to let that define your experience here. That said, before we put it entirely behind us, I need to get a better understanding of what went wrong. You said something there at the end. Something about not being allowed? What was that about?”

She ducked her head, her hands curling into light fists on her thighs. She mumbled something inaudible.

“Relax your hands,” Eric quietly admonished. “And look at me when you speak. I didn’t understand you.”

She unfurled her fingers and looked up, splashes of color appearing on her cheeks. She blew out a breath, as if gathering the courage to reply. “Orgasms, Sir. Master John hasn’t allowed me to come for the past couple of weeks.” Her color deepened. “It’s not a punishment,” she hastened to add. “It’s for my own good. It’s to help put me in a more properly submissive mindset so I can get over my resistance to the idea of another woman joining our household.”

She fixed him with a beseeching gaze. “If he knew what happened this morning, that I started to come without permission…” She looked away. “I know you probably have to tell him, but I swear I didn’t mean to. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Eric replied gently.

Those words, “for my own good.” They rankled somehow. Especially when coupled with the memory of the stark terror in her eyes earlier that morning. Was it possible he was projecting? Overreacting?

He needed to get his feelings back under control. His personal opinions regarding another Dom’s methods had no place here. His focus right now needed to be on improving Rowan’s confidence by working with her on things at which she could succeed.

She had indicated during their initial interview early that morning that she loved being bound to a cross, which was one reason he’d chosen this particular training room for their next encounter.

“I’d like to get a sense of how you handle intensive impact play while on the cross. Do you feel ready for another session?”

Her dark eyes widened, her pretty, pierced nipples suddenly perking to attention. “Oh, yes, Sir,” she answered eagerly.

“Excellent.”

Getting to his feet, he held out a hand. She accepted it, allowing him to help her up, though he could see from the lithe muscles rippling under that supple skin that she needed no assistance.

He brought her to the restraint device and directed, “Stand facing the cross.”

That should be the easiest position for her, as she could focus fully on the sensations without worrying about eye contact.

She leaned into the smooth wood, extending her arms along the X and spreading her legs in a similar fashion. He crouched behind her, quickly securing the leather ankle straps. As he rose to his feet and reached up to tether her wrists, he again caught the scent of jasmine and orange. Pulling back slightly to avoid touching her bare back and ass, he clipped her into place.

She settled against the cross with a small sigh. As with many subs, bondage appeared to relax her, as he’d hoped it would. She turned her head to watch as he selected the largest, softest flogger from the rack.

“Face forward,” he instructed.

She obeyed at once.

He moved to stand in front of her. Her expression softened as he ran his fingers through the tresses, pulling them straight. Her lips parted, her eyes shining.

“I’m going to give you a thorough flogging. You may use the Masters Club safeword, red light, if you feel it’s absolutely necessary to end the scene.”

A look of consternation passed over her face, though she said nothing.

“What?” Eric pressed. “Is there a problem? If you’d rather use your personal safeword, that’s fine, too.”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “It isn’t that, Sir. It’s just…” She faltered, trailing off.