Chapter 52

She could tell he was tense, that he didn’t really like being chained up, or she suspected, not having his
mask on.

“You want a sub who’s obedient.” Mae inched back toward the controls.

“Yes.”

“And doesn’t backtalk? Or speak unless spoken to?”

“Yes.” Now he sounded wary.

“Then maybe this is the perfect time for me…” Mae tapped the buttons until she put a few feet of slack
in each of the chains holding up his arms. When she had them where she wanted them, she locked the
controls. Xavier growled and folded his still-chained arms. “To be the kind of sub you don’t want.”

“Right now you’re not being submissive at all.”

“Oh I am, because I know that when you do get free I’m going to be in trouble, but between now and
then you’re mine.” She found a chair and dragged it over in front of him.

“You’re mine,” he countered.

“Then maybe we should belong to each other.”

They stared at one another, tension taking the place of teasing. When he didn’t say anything, Mae took
a seat and forced herself to ignore the way her heart was breaking. She leaned back and braced her
bare feet on his chest.

“You brought me my shoes.”



“You keep leaving them. Like Cinderella.” He grabbed her ankles, jerking her forward until her ass was
on the edge of the chair.

“I don’t mean to.” Mae inched her feet apart and his gaze dropped to the apex of her thighs. She may
have set up the positions, have made it clear what she wanted, but she wasn’t brave enough to order
him to pleasure her.

Luckily, she didn’t have to.

Xavier knelt, the slack she’d put in the chain enough that he could do so, but now his arms were slightly
raised, wrists by his ears, meaning he couldn’t use his hands for much.

“Come closer, Cinderella,” he whispered in that deep voice. For a moment Mae was frozen, unable to
reconcile her mental picture of him, which included the mask, with the face looking back at her. Then
their gazes met, and his green eyes were the same. Mae hooked one leg behind his neck, pulling him
toward her.

“Why don’t you come here?”

Xavier lowered his face between her legs and Mae stopped thinking.

* * *

“Undo the cuffs, Red.”

In a post-orgasmic stupor, Mae reached out and undid the clip on one cuff, her body reacting to her
Master’s command. The sound of chain rattling as it swung free was enough to snap her back into
focus.

“Uh oh.”



Mae looked at Xavier’s free hand and scrambled to get away, but it was too late. Her Master caught
her, dragging her to the ground and pinning her down with a knee over her legs while he unfastened his
other hand. He hauled her up, holding her tight around the waist with one arm as he freed his legs,
then pulled her to her feet.

“How many times did you come, Mae?”

“I lost count, Master.”

He jerked her head back by the hair. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Lost count?”

He growled, but there was a hint of amusement in it. “No, used me for oral sex.”

“I’m…not even a little bit sorry, Master.”

He dragged her back to their little room, and spent the next few hours reminding her who was in
charge.

They didn’t speak about the future, or about their relationship.

* * *

“I want you to wait for me.” Xavier stroked Mae’s thigh. She was cuddling on his lap, her worn-out body
seemingly boneless against him. It was nearing dawn Monday morning.

“Did we finish all the items on our list?”

“No. Not yet.” They could have. They’d spent all day together, but Xavier hadn’t wanted to focus on
anyone’s agenda but his own.



“So next weekend?”

Xavier stroked her hair. “No. I might not be back for at least two weeks.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad.”

“If not it will be nine months. Maybe a year.”

“Oh.” Mae sat up. “You mean you want me to wait for you…for months? I come here almost every
weekend.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t ask me not to play with anyone else when you’ve said that you won’t commit to me.”

“I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

She was tense for a moment, fighting his hold, but then she relented, resting against him once more. “I
can’t imagine being with anyone else. And I don’t just mean for BDSM play.” There was a hint of a
question in her voice.

Hating himself, he said, “You’ll have to remember this can’t mean we have a formal relationship.”

“You mean as a Dom and sub.”

“I mean in any way.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“To be bonded is an emotional commitment, not just a physical one. That I can’t give.”

She sighed. “You’re married.”



Married people were allowed to join Las Palmas, but their spouses, assuming they were not members,
had to sign legal acknowledgements. The process was designed to ensure not only that members had
clear understandings with their husbands and wives, but also kept Las Palmas’s secrets from being
dragged into the light as part of divorce proceedings.

“No, Red. I’m not married. I won’t get married for the same reason I won’t collar you.”

He felt her surprise, but she didn’t say anything. It would be better, for both of them, if he kept quiet, but
he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “There are reasons I’ve chosen to live my life this way, but if I
could change for anyone it would be you.”

They were quiet, but it was not the easy silence of a moment ago. After a few minutes the tension
eased, the physical closeness helping to push away negative feelings.

“It’s only been three days,” she whispered. “How can everything have changed in three days?”

“I wish I knew.” He took a breath, let it out. “Wait for me, Mae.”

“Yes, Master.”

Two hours later Xavier was gone from Las Palmas and Mae was getting dressed. He’d ordered her to
wait for him.

So she would wait.

* * *

“Master Mikael.” James nodded to the older man as he closed his overnight bag into one of the lockers
the Doms and Masters used.



“James.” Mikael scrubbed a towel over his head, then unselfconsciously dropped the towel around his
waist and started dressing. It was just after noon on Friday a week after the checklist game
announcement, and still early as far as the club’s patrons were concerned. Most people arrived
between three and six pm on Friday nights and stayed until Sunday. Those with more flexible work
schedules came on weekdays, though Las Palmas only had catered food in the dining room on the
weekends.

James wondered idly what Mikael had been up to that he was showering at noon. Either it had been a
long night or he’d gotten up early and already participated in a hot and sweaty scene. As one of three
overseers of the club, Master Mikael was a force to be reckoned with. It was a testament to his
personal authority that he was an undisputed leader among this group of powerful people.

When he’d finished pulling on pants, a shirt, and a vest, he turned to face James. “You’re here for your
checklist game?”

“I am. Though I don’t know who I’m partnered with yet.”

“Ah, yes. We have something special for you.” Mikael smiled.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“Leo was going to do it, but since you’re here now…”

Mikael unlocked one of the doors marked “private” and disappeared inside, only to return a moment
later holding another large envelope with the letter “C” on the front, and James’s name in the top
corner.

“Join me?” Mikael gestured with the envelope and James followed him to the Doms’ Lounge, usually
just called the Den. There were areas of the estate that were reserved for Doms and Masters and this



was one of them. There were matching places where the subs relaxed away from the presence of the
Doms.

“A drink?”

James shook his head. Noon was a bit too early.

Mikael poured himself something. Together they selected armchairs near the empty fireplace and sat.

“Here.” Mikael handed James the envelope.

Setting it on his knee, James didn’t open it, sensing that it would be better to listen to the overseer than
to do what he wanted, which was to rip open the flap.

“The game is an opportunity.” Mikael relaxed back in his chair.

“For us, or for you?” James had no doubt that the overseers had ulterior motives embedded in the way
they’d set up the game.

Mikael hid his smile behind his glass. “An opportunity for us to do what?”

“To experiment. To see what happens when you put people together who normally wouldn’t play with
each other.”

Mikael dropped his hand, the smile now fully evident. “And what would you do, if you were us?”

“Maybe the same thing,” James admitted.

“When we realized we needed to do something to break the club out of the rut we’d fallen into, we
realized that whatever we did would involve assigning partners.”



“Because you think we aren’t capable of picking our own?” James was trying not to be offended. He
and the other members of Las Palmas were all powerful and in control of their lives. The overseer’s
insinuation—that they were incapable of making decisions for themselves—rankled.

Mikael shrugged slightly, his body language conveying a sense of “you said it, not me, but yes, that’s
what I think.”

James was tempted to protest, tempted to say that they didn’t need to be pushed. If members chose to
come here and simply observe, or play with the same people over and over, repeating scenes that all
parties enjoyed, then why should they step outside their comfort zone. But he couldn’t say that. Las
Palmas had many of the trappings of an expensive country club, from the elegant interior design to the
five-star catered food and top shelf alcohol, but it wasn’t a place to relax. It was a place to explore the
darkness inside.

The ice in Mikael’s glass clicked as he raised it and took a sip, the sound drawing James’s attention
back to the other man. “We know you’re wary of the more serious play.”

James stiffened. He didn’t like being reminded that they knew what he’d done, and what he’d been
through. And that without them he might not have survived.

Mikael waited for a comment that never came. After a moment of silence he continued. “Your checklist
game partner is someone who knows nothing but serious play.”

“Partner, not partners?”

“There’s a third name in there, but that individual is not really participating.”

“How is that?”



“You’ll see. It’s her information to tell. The reason that we held back your packet was so one of us could
talk to you.”


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