To Command and Collar [Masters of the Shadowlands 6] Read Free

you terrify her.
She returned, knelt silently, and held the glass up.
As he sipped his drink, he studied her, learning how she breathed, how she shifted her weight as her anxiety grew. In her late twenties or early thirties. Average height, skin slack rather than taut, so she was normally rounder. Softer. Her nipples a pinkish brown and large. A long, almost-healed red scar wound along her left rib cage, reminding him of his gang-member days. Knife scar.
Tracing a finger over her scarred remnant of violence, he saw the momentary vulnerable quiver of her lips before her mouth flattened. Gabi had described her friend as exuberant, and he could see lines of past laughter bracketing her mouth and veeing out from the corners of her eyes.
She was joyful no longer. Grief at the loss was a smudge on his soul.
“She dances, you know,” the Overseer said, stopping at Raoul’s chair. “Intelligent. An excellent cook. Not a particularly good singing voice, but you forget that when she dances.”
Raoul glanced down at her. “Dance for me then, slave. Something seductive.”
She rose gracefully. As she hurried away, he noticed whip scars on her back. “Tell me more.”
“A marine biologist from Georgia, middle-class background. Healthy, single, no children. A lightweight in the lifestyle before.”
“Whip marks. A recent knife cut. Was she sold before?” Raoul asked.
“Well.” Dahmer cleared his throat, smoothed his black suit. “She was picked up for the ‘rebellious slave’ auction.”
Raoul raised his eyebrows as if confused, although he knew exactly what Dahmer was talking about. His best friend’s submissive, Gabi, had been one of those kidnapped to be sold.
“Ah, each sale event has a theme. The last one featured feisty slaves with prior BDSM experience. Sassy. Bratty. Designed to give a master a challenge. I’m afraid she didn’t live up to her promise. The owner was displeased and requested a refund.”
The buyer had obviously taken his displeasure out on Kimberly. “So she’s used merchandise. What’s wrong with the other two?”
“The blonde is…awkward. She would do well in a comfortable environment, but she exhibits poorly.” The Overseer turned, and the young woman cringed at his frown. “The redhead is older. She wasn’t on our list, but since she witnessed a pickup being made, the deliveryman Tasered her and brought her along as well. She has a few sellable talents, but her age puts her in a lower price range.”
The bargain basement for slaves. Exactly as advertised. Since he hadn’t known if the slavers investigated a buyer’s financial status, Raoul hadn’t tried to fake extreme wealth. Instead during the interview, he’d asked about lower-priced slaves, figuring it would consolidate his story.
“Well, Blackie has possibilities,” Raoul said.
“Excellent.” Satisfaction oozed from Dahmer’s voice. “But test her out thoroughly this evening. We’ve found that buyers make better choices and are more satisfied if they take their time and put the merchandise through their paces.”
“Makes sense.” He thought about playing with a nonwilling participant, and his gut tightened.
Raoul looked up as Kimberly reentered the room, now covered in veils. “Well…” he let himself say with an appreciative murmur.
Dahmer laughed. “She belonged to a modern dance group that put on shows for charity. I had an experienced slave give her lessons in erotic dancing and… You’ll see.”
The music started.
    Concentrating only on the Middle Eastern music, Kim walked in a slow circle as the chiffon material trailed behind her. The other veils covering her body fluttered delicately against her skin. Barefoot, she turned slowly, presented a hip, rotated, letting her hair swing. Slow turns. Arms moving to emphasize her body’s curves. She let the scarf in her hand float away and replaced it with the one covering her face.
    Knowing her stamina was poor, she’d chosen a short tune. To heck with