Freeing Rowan (Masters Club 3)

Chapter 6

The next morning, Dominique stopped Eric on his way up to the training rooms. “Glad I caught you before you got started this morning with the new trainee. John Garfield will be back in town this afternoon. He’s going to come straight here. Meanwhile, you can continue with training. Rowan’s already waiting in room B.”

“Great,” Eric said, impressed in spite of himself that the bastard was apparently putting Rowan first. He ignored the more complicated feelings underlying that thought. “I’ll head up now.”

“Oh,” Dominique added as Eric turned away. “Just a suggestion, but Rowan’s Dom did mention in his questionnaire that her oral skills could use some improvement, specifically her ability to deep throat. Brandon should be free in about fifteen minutes. I’d be happy to send him up if you want to enlist his services.”

“All right,” Eric agreed. “That would be fine.”

The training room had floor-to-ceiling mirrors covering every wall. A suspension rack hung from the ceiling, a cache of impact toys nearby. Rowan was waiting on her knees on a yoga mat in the center of the room, her naked body reflected on all sides. Her head was down, her hair falling in a wavy curtain over her face.

At the sound of him entering, she looked up, color rising in her cheeks. She really was beautiful. Yet, unlike most very attractive women he’d met, she seemed to be totally unaware of her own beauty. There was a doe-like innocence to her face that was both alluring and somehow heartbreaking.

And she belongs to another man, he sternly reminded himself.

“Good morning, Rowan,” he said, smiling down at her. “Brandon’s going to join us in a while for oral training.”

Rowan swallowed nervously. “Yes, Sir.”

He considered telling her of Garfield’s impending arrival at the club, but decided against it. The stark terror in her eyes yesterday morning when she begged Eric not to tell her Dom about her failure had been imprinted on his brain. No one should be that afraid of another person, Master or not. But maybe there were issues at play Eric simply didn’t understand. He should try to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he could persuade the man that gentle encouragement was a better way to reach Rowan than stern commands, punishments and threats.

Look how far she had come in just one day. If this man was worth his salt, he would listen to reason. Maybe he was just ill-informed, and a little guidance would set things right. After all, there were plenty of folks in the scene who thrilled to the spectacle and theater of BDSM, without a real understanding of the consequences of some of their actions. Maybe if he had a heart-to-heart with the guy, he could help him come to a better understanding of just how serious a responsibility it was to assume full control of another’s life. Maybe Garfield would even agree to some training of his own.

Eric was self-aware enough to know he shouldn’t be the one to do that training. But perhaps Grayson or Dominique would be willing to take him on. He would suggest it when they met with him.

As these thoughts flitted through his brain, he decided that, rather than reviewing their slave positions from the day before as they waited for Brandon, he would talk with Rowan a while first. He would see where her head was this morning and try to get a better understanding of who she was as a submissive.

He glanced around the room—not the best space for a chat, but there was a small recovery daybed in the corner.

He gestured toward the daybed. “Let’s sit together and talk a bit before Brandon gets here. I’d like to get to know a little more about your background in the scene. Don’t worry about protocol right now. Let’s just talk.”

She hesitated for a second, but then rose from the mat and followed him to the daybed. As they sat, Rowan crossed her legs at the ankles and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. He could sense her nervousness. To put her more at ease, he asked about how things had gone since he’d left her the afternoon before.

He was pleased but not surprised to hear of her warm welcome by the house staff. The Masters Club was a small, tightly knit community unto itself, and very supportive of everyone associated with it, including Eric. Because of the training work he provided for them on a regular basis, he’d been given a complimentary membership there. He took advantage of it from time to time, but generally preferred Salome’s Lair.

“Brandon took me on a tour of the main dungeon before it opened for the night,” she said, her eyes shining. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It puts the clubs where I used to hang out to shame. I didn’t know where to look next. There were things in there I was afraid to even ask about,” she added with a laugh. “And that submersion tank”—she wrapped her arms in a protective gesture around her torso, but not before he’d seen the sudden stiffening of her nipples—“I can’t even imagine. Being bound in that suspension rig and slowly lowered until the water’s over your head…” She shuddered, drawing in a small, sharp breath. “That’s got to be terrifying.”