Cherise Sinclair - The Dom’s Dungeon

It never came.

“I believe we have a problem here.” Alex's voice. He had caught the man's wrist, held it frozen in the air.

Relief swirled through Mac so fast, her head spun. She tried to tug away.

The man gripped her arm tighter. “No problem, dude, except your interfering in my scene.” Her assailant yanked her out of Alex's reach.

“It may be your scene,” Alex said. “But that is my sub.”

“Hey, man, she came to me.” The bastard had the nerve to shake her shoulder as if to prove his point.

Mac shook her head frantically, tried to speak through the gag.

“She doesn't appear to agree.”

“Just part of the scene. She wanted a rape scene, set it up special. I didn't hear her using her safe word either.”

Alex's eyes on her were cold. Furious.

He believed the man. Oh please, no. She shook her head again, her eyes filling with tears. He'd leave her here, let her be hurt, and—

“Remove her gag,” Alex said. He glanced at an old man standing nearby, watching the show. “Find a dungeon monitor.”

“On his way already,” the old man said.

“Now listen, asshole—” The cruel-faced man dragged her farther from Alex.

“Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?” Another man wearing a bright orange vest over a black shirt frowned at the men.

“This little bitch set up a rape scene with me, and now this asshole says she's his sub and butted into my scene.”

The dungeon monitor raised his eyebrows. “Considering Alex is one of the founding members of this club, I have trouble believing that.” He jerked a chin at Mac. “Let's hear from the sub. Remove the cuffs and the gag.”

The bastard unlocked her cuffs. When he let her go to pocket them, Mac shoved him as hard as she could and ran straight for Alex. His arms closed around her, holding her to him. After a breath, she pulled the gag off and turned far enough to throw it at the man, then tried to burrow into Alex even farther. His scent of subtle, rich cologne and soap surrounded her, and his firm embrace held her against his solid body. She'd found her shelter.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let's have a seat and discuss this,” he said.

She stiffened, cold fear rising inside her. Clutching his arms, she stared up into his forbidding face. “Don't let him take me. Please, Alex, don't.” Now that she was free, an uncontrollable shaking started deep inside her. The feel of a fist hitting her jaw, the shock of being slapped, pain from… No. No memories. Not now. Her tears spilled over, and an ugly sobbing noise escaped. She put her hands over her mouth.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Alex scooped her up in his arms and cuddled her to his chest as if she were a puppy. “No one is taking you anywhere. But I need to know what happened.”

She buried her face against his shoulder, unable to stop the violent shudders racking her body. A minute later he sat down on a couch, but he kept her in his lap, one arm fixed around her waist, one hand stroking her back. Her cheek rested against him, and she heard the slow thud of his heart, felt the easy rise and fall of his chest.

He wasn't worried. He could take care of this. Of her.

Footsteps. Then the dungeon monitor said, “Alex, this is Steel, and Steel says the sub's name is MacKensie. He asked her if that was her name.”

“Asked?” Alex questioned. “Why did you need to ask her name?”

“I wanted to make sure I had the right sub, and she was. Brown top, red skirt, yellow-brown hair, name of MacKensie.”

Alex's body tightened, and anger turned his voice to ice. “Then MacKensie didn't set this up with you. Someone else did.”

“Well, yeah. She wanted a stranger to grab her and whip her. That was the scenario. Wouldn't work if she knew me, now would it?”

Clutching Alex's shirt like a security blanket, Mac lifted her head to look at Steel. He had a perplexed look on his face as he ran his hand through shaggy hair.

The dungeon monitor scowled. “I'm getting a really bad feeling about this.” He looked at her, started to speak, and then frowned at Alex instead. “Permission to speak to your sub?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ask someone to set this up, MacKensie?”

She shook her head, her throat so tense, no words could escape.

“Well, fuck, look at her shake,” Steel muttered. “Are you telling me I grabbed the wrong person?”

“No,” Alex said softly. “I think this was a setup. Just not the one you'd planned.” He turned Mac in his arms until she faced him. When she tried to bury her head, he used a finger to raise her chin. “We need you to talk to us, little cat.” His eyes pinned her gaze to his. “I left you kneeling beside the chair. Why did you leave?”

She tried to swallow, but the spit stuck in her throat. Her grip tightened on his shirt, and she breathed in, trying to find the calm place inside herself, the one where she used to hide. Another breath. “I-I had to…bathroom.”

His lips curved, and his voice softened. “I have a bad habit of forgetting you women piss three times as often as men. So you went to the bathroom. Alone?”

“I thought I could get back before you returned.”

“How did you know where the bathroom is?”

“The other sub told me.”

“Describe her to me, MacKensie.” Alex's eyes had turned the color of polar ice.

“Brunette. Beautiful.” Mac closed her eyes, trying to remember. “Tall. She looks like a model. A dark red corset thing.”

“That who you talked with?” the dungeon monitor asked Steel.

“Nah. I'd remember someone like that.” Steel pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to the monitor. “A barmaid gave me this. It spells it all out. Even safe words and gestures. She didn't use either.”

The monitor glanced at Mac. “What's your safe word?”

Safe word? She looked up at Alex and whispered, “What's a safe word?”

“Fuck me,” Steel exploded. “How the hell can she not—”

“She's so new to the scene that she should be glowing green,” Alex said. “We haven't even done anything that would require a safe word.”

A noise came from Steel, a grating sound as his teeth clenched. “Did she—Did you—Hell. Permission to speak to your sub?”

Alex snorted. “Granted.”

When Steel leaned forward, Mac couldn't help but cringe back, her bare feet scrambling uselessly on the couch. Alex's arms tightened, trapping her on his lap.

Steel winced, and his face turned to concrete. “You didn't want this at all, did you?”

Mac shook her head as the shaking started again. She shoved her face in the hollow of Alex's shoulder.

“Girl, look at me.”

Silence. The men waited. For her.

Okay, Mac, show a few guts. Suck it up and handle it. Her fingers ached from her grip on Alex's shirt, but she managed to turn.

To her surprise, Steel looked more tired than terrifying as he said, “A safe word is a word not usually used in everyday talk, and if a sub uses it, everything stops. A gesture is used if the sub is gagged. If you'd used either, I'd have stopped. Right then.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. Since you didn't know about them, you wouldn't use them. I'm sorry, girl.”

He fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to the monitor. “If you catch the asshole who did this, I'll be pleased to do anything needed to take him down. Very pleased.” He handed one to Alex. “If there's anything I can do to help her or you, call me.”

Catch the asshole? Coldness ran up Mac's spine as everything began to make sense. Someone had set her up to be whipped. Why?

“You got any idea of who did this, Alex?” the monitor asked.

“Oh yes. The trouble is, there's no proof,” Alex growled. “But I know. A sub wants me—obsession-type want.”

The dungeon monitor frowned. “You were with Cynthia last time I saw you here. The society girl.”

Alex nodded.

“Hell.” The dungeon monitor glanced at the paper. “Drake's going to blow his stack when he hears about this. But he'll investigate up one side and down another. If the barmaid remembers anything… But they're so busy tonight, I'm not holding out much hope.”

“Do what you can. I'll do the same.”

Alex could barely control his rage as he carried MacKensie back to the group. He considered leaving immediately, but letting her flee the club would reinforce her fears, legitimate as they were. And she needed to face the real assailant.

Dammit. Although Cynthia should be arrested, no BDSM club welcomed publicity, and few members would volunteer to testify.

Alex settled in a chair, pulling Mac closer to him. He'd never felt such satisfaction as when she had hurtled herself into his arms, knowing he'd protect her.

Her shivering had disappeared once Steel left. Tough little sub—his jaw tensed—who had been hurt because of him.

“Sir?” One of the subs approached warily, her eyes wide.

Alex took a breath to smother the anger and gave her a smile.

The sub relaxed. “Sir, I have drinks for you and your sub.”

“Thank you.” Alex nodded to the table beside the arm of the chair. “Right there, please.”

The sub obeyed and trotted away. Alex handed Mac the gin and tonic he'd ordered earlier for her and picked up his scotch.

She sipped, blinked, and sipped again. “I haven't had one of these since college,” she said and actually smiled. Two more sips and she looked at him full in the face. “Thanks for the rescue. And for believing me.”

He nodded. Such big brown eyes. To see them filled with terror and tears had seared his heart. A ball of anger still burned deep inside him, one with no place to go.

“What are you going to do about her?” she asked quietly. She glanced at Cynthia, who knelt at Brian's feet two chairs down.

“If a witness turns up, we'll look at prosecution. I'm going to talk with the management here and at the other clubs. And with the Doms. She'll discover the BDSM world is smaller than she knows and a lot more unfriendly.” He stroked MacKensie's golden hair. “I'm sorry, MacKensie. Our lifestyle has many safeguards, but none that could prevent this kind of end run around them.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” She leaned her head against him. The gesture, now, when she wasn't terrified, showed her trust in him had grown.

“Sir, permission to speak?”

Alex looked up at the sound of the smooth, rich voice. Cynthia knelt at his feet, eyes downcast. He knew she wouldn't incriminate herself; she was a very smart woman. But he'd see what she had to say. “Speak.”

“Master Bob said you've taken that sub on for training, but I can see that you are not intimate with her. I would be pleased to serve the needs that she can't.” Cynthia opened her corset, letting her full breasts spill out. Tall and slender and with those augmented breasts, Cynthia was a walking wet dream. And in his case, a walking nightmare.

Alex suppressed a growl. “I don't—”

Giving a tiny duplication of his growl, Mac glared at Cynthia. “He doesn't need you, you overbred cow; he has me.” And she grabbed his hand and shoved it between her legs.

“Well, now,” Alex murmured in a low rumble that sent nerves racing up Mac's arms.

Oh frak, what have I done? Mac froze, shocked at her own behavior.

Alex's lips curved, and then he gave Cynthia a dismissive look. “I'm more than adequately served. Leave.”

The sub jerked back as if Alex had slapped her. Mac almost laughed as Cynthia stalked away, rehooking her corset, heading toward the front of the club. Apparently the Dom she'd accompanied had left. Smart man.

Suddenly Alex's hand pressed against Mac's pussy. She jumped, her gaze shooting to his amused eyes. His hand felt huge between her thighs, and hot against her bare labia.

“If you keep rearranging our bargain,” he said, “I might not be able to keep up.”

“I…” Trapped by his blue gaze, she couldn't find the right words to say. I didn't want you to take her? I was jealous? I wanted to be mean? All of them were true. “But…”

His eyes crinkled. “You, little cat, do not have permission to speak.” He lifted his hand from the juncture between her legs. “And you're not ready to be played with down here…yet.” His fingers threaded through her hair, and he leaned forward, tipping her back against the arm of the chair. Her gasp opened her lips, but he didn't shove his tongue down her throat, didn't grab her breast.