Uncollared (4 page)

By your Master’s command…

Mia sat at the bar at Club Restraint, as nervous as a bride. She’d arrived early, wanting to give herself some extra time to calm her nerves. Though those around her in the lounge and on the dance floor wore leather or latex or nothing at all, Mia dressed in satin. An ivory corset hugged her slim shape. A matching thong completed the outfit.

She had taken every care with her appearance tonight. Although her costume had been expensive, Mia didn’t regret the cost. The ruffles on the bodice of the corset made her breasts look fuller. Never big, they’d gotten even smaller thanks to her recent weight loss. Her brown eyes were highlighted with smoky gray eye shadow, her full lips glossed with lipstick, her dark hair smoothed back to emphasize her high forehead.

She should have been uncomfortable sitting here on display like a strip steak in a supermarket butcher’s case, but tonight it didn’t matter. She’d been summoned here by her Master.

But why, after two months of silence, had he decided to contact her? The question niggled at her, no matter how she tried to ignore it. And should she have responded so eagerly?

No. She mustn’t let doubt confuse her. There was only one reason Master Philip would have summoned her tonight. He’d changed his mind about letting her go. All that mattered was that she had another chance to make him happy.

Her heart thumped in rhythm to the heavy base of the techno playing in the background. Her gaze skimmed the dimly lit area, barely registering the stocks, the cages, the St. Andrew’s cross, and other implements of torture on display. She paid no mind to the players enjoying themselves on the stage. She wanted only one man.

She heard someone’s low voice behind her. “What’ll it be, hon?”

Mia turned and smiled at the bartender, a tall large-boned beauty in a black bustier. Long, dark hair fell past her shoulders, and a wide black velvet ribbon was wrapped around her throat. “Hi, Venetia. Can I have a cranberry juice?” Only juice and soft drinks were served at the club. Liquor and BDSM play did not mix.

Venetia’s bright red lips curved in a smile. “You got it, doll. We’ve missed you. What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, this and that.” Mia wondered how much Venetia already knew. Not that she was a gossip, but bartenders were always in the loop. To deflect any more questions, she remarked, “Hey, I love your lipstick.”

“Thanks.” Venetia paused and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice sounded lighter. “Thanks. Cherries Jubilee. You don’t think it’s too flashy?”

“Not at all. It looks good on you.” With her olive complexion Venetia could carry off a rich shade that might overpower someone else.

“That’s a relief. It set me back twelve dollars. Shows you what we girls will do for beauty, huh?” Venetia placed the glass of cranberry in front of Mia and gestured to a woman seated to her left. “This is Jenelle.” She leaned forward with a mischievous smile. “She’s a
newbie
.”

Mia smiled and introduced herself to the newcomer, who shyly smiled back. An attractive woman with light brown hair and a mature figure, she was older than Mia, maybe in her forties.

“Your first time at Restraint?” Mia asked the other woman.

Jenelle nodded and laughed. “My first time anywhere like this. I’m just too old to be so green. It’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t feel that way,” Mia said. “It takes guts to make the first move. It can be scary, I know.”

Jenelle’s warm gaze took Mia in. “A pretty girl like you has nothing to be scared of. I’m sure plenty of men are lining up to…well…”

Mia shook her head and pulled a face. “Not quite. And I wouldn’t be interested if they did.”

Janelle mouth twisted with embarrassment. “Oh. Well, I’m sure you’re just as appealing to the ladies.”

Mia just laughed. “You’ve got it wrong. There’s only one man I’m interested in. My Master. I’m here to meet him tonight.”

“Your Master?” Something lit in the older woman’s face. Curiosity, certainly. But also wistfulness and longing. Mia’s shoulders drew back and her spine stiffened with pride. She belonged to someone.

“Ooh, now this is an interesting development,” Venetia murmured. “I’ve been wondering why we haven’t seen you around for a while. You’ve hooked up with a new Dom? Girl, good for you!”

Mia shrank back. “Of course not! I’m here for Philip. He’s supposed to meet me. Have you seen him?”

Venetia’s eyes went wide. “Oh, my bad. No, hon, sorry. He hasn’t been around tonight.”

“He will be.” Mia glanced at the clock above the bar. “It’s still a little early.” Her throat suddenly went dry. She took several deep swallows of her juice.

Someone called to Venetia from the other end of the bar. “Excuse me, girls.”

Jenelle watched the tall bartender walk away and turned to Mia with a puzzled expression. “I don’t mean to be rude, but is that… I mean, is she a
she
?”

“I believe Venetia considers herself very much a woman,” Mia replied. “But she’s never volunteered anything personal, and some questions you just don’t ask. Especially here at the club. People have a lot of reasons for wanting to protect their privacy.”

The older woman nodded. “I understand. I certainly never expected to find myself here.” She sighed softly. “To tell you the truth, I’m scared spitless.”

“Well, just remember you can take it as slow as you want. You don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing. You can just sit and chat, meet people.” Mia remembered how nervous she’d been the first few times she’d been to Restraint, how awkward and unsure, even though her Master had accompanied her. She liked Jenelle and wanted to ease the newcomer’s way.

Venetia had returned. “That’s right. The lounge is for socializing only. No playing allowed here.” She waggled her carefully groomed eyebrows. “Though I can’t promise a cutie like you won’t be hit on.”

Even in the darkened room, Mia could see Jenelle’s blush.

Mia took a cocktail napkin from the bar and asked Venetia for a pen. “This is my e-mail address,” she said, writing the information down and handing the napkin to her new friend. “I know how scary things can be at first. If you ever want to talk…”

“Thank you.” Some of the tension melted from the older woman’s features. “I feel like I’m back in the eighth grade at one of those awful middle-school dances. You know, where the boys are on one side of the room and the girls on the other, and only the prettiest girls get asked to dance.” She shook her head. “I was always one of those who hugged the wall all night. I never got to dance unless it was with one of my girlfriends.”

“Well, if none of these fools has the sense to ask you, tell you what,
I’ll
dance with you,” Venetia told her.

“Me too,” Mia piped up.

“You’ll save me the humiliation of being a wallflower? You’re real friends.”

The words sent warmth through Mia. Though she had friends in her vanilla life, it felt good to have them in this part of her life as well—people who understood her needs, who shared them, who wouldn’t call her perverted, unless it was with a wink and a smile. People who needed no explanations.

A compactly built man in a black T-shirt and black leather pants approached them. He was well muscled and stocky but not fat. His square-shaped face and pugnacious jaw put one in mind of a prizefighter, but with a gentle gaze.

“Good evening, ladies.” He nodded politely to the two women seated at the bar. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thank you, Sir,” Mia replied. “I’m having cranberry juice.”

Jenelle’s eyes widened, and it took her a moment to find her voice. “Um…ginger ale, please…” At the man’s raised eyebrows, she remembered to squeak out, “Sir.”

Venetia didn’t move. “Does that include me too, Master Damien?” she asked quietly.

Damien hesitated for only an instant. “Of course.” His glance darted away.

Venetia poured the drinks, including a diet cola for herself. A subdued mood seemed to descend upon them. The bartender silently watched Master Damien making small talk with Jenelle. Mia wiggled on the towel that kept her from sticking to the vinyl stool and again glanced at the clock. “Master Damien, you haven’t seen Master Philip, have you?”

Damien looked at her in surprise. “No, Mia. I don’t think Philip’s been here in months.”

In months? Had Philip really not been at the club in that long? A wave of gratitude washed over her and left her weak. Maybe he hadn’t replaced her with another submissive. Maybe he missed her just as badly as she missed him.

Reflexively she touched her bare throat. The necklace Master Philip had given her lay nestled between her breasts. It was his job to place it again around her neck. Unless he had a different collar for her—a permanent one.

An unexpected spark of anger flashed through her. Why had he let them both suffer for so long? He let her go with no explanation and now, without the slightest apology, commanded her to appear.

She tried to tamp down the rebellious anger. It wasn’t her place to second-guess her Master, but a small, hard kernel of resentment remained, irritating her like a stone in her shoe.

Someone spoke. “Sub Mia.” Snatched from her thoughts by the commanding voice, Mia glanced up. Chess Ryan stood before her.

“Master Chess.” Mia shouldn’t have been surprised to see him here—Chess was a frequent player at Club Restraint. He wore black jeans and a short-sleeved shirt of the same color. A silver stud winked in his earlobe. Mia’s mouth went dry. He was gorgeous. Though just a moment ago she’d been dreaming of Philip, her pulse spiked as Chess’s gaze traveled her body.

“Please come with me.” Though his gaze had been warm, his voice was cool and remote.

Mia balked but tried to do so politely. Did the absence of a collar make him think she was available for play? “Sir, I’m expecting—”

“I know what you’re expecting.”

She didn’t know what to think. Where was Master Philip? Had he asked Chess to escort her to a private playroom? He’d never done anything like that before.

She glanced at the others. Master Damien and Venetia watched curiously while poor Jenelle was as still as a mouse in the presence of a cat. Chess eyed Jenelle also, his lips quirking for a moment at the woman’s expression.

Then he turned back to Mia.
Well?
his look said.

She followed him through the club, even as her head spun in confusion. But she saw no reason not to trust him. He was one of the most respected Doms at Restraint. Plenty of subs longed to be owned by him, but Chess had never collared anyone long-term, and showed no interest in doing so.

Not that Mia cared.

Chess led her up a narrow set of stairs to private rooms where people could play without an audience. She’d been up here a few times with Philip. Chess opened the second door on the right and walked inside. Mia hesitated in the doorway. The room was empty but for a chair and a table.

Disappointment hit her with a
thud
. “But—”

“I already told you I know what you’re expecting, Mia. I don’t like being kept waiting. “

Mia hardly registered his warning. Where was Philip? Her mouth dry, she entered the room. Chess closed the door, and she jumped as the heavy wood thunked in the jamb.

The Dom crossed his arms over his chest, his manner distant. His gaze drifted down her body. “Your shoes?”

It was customary for a sub to be barefoot in the presence of her Dom. But Chess
wasn’t
her Dom. Mia decided not to argue the point. The quicker she conformed to expectation, the sooner she’d see Philip.

She toed off the satin pumps. That left her in the corset, thong, and thigh-high ivory stockings with lacy tops. She risked a look at Chess. His gaze was neutral, but all the same it sent a lick of flame over her skin.

He gestured to the floor, indicating that she should kneel. But she would kneel only to her Master. It was unnerving, though, how her body instinctively wanted to respond to his commands.

Pushing away that traitorous impulse, she took a stand. “You’re not my Master. Where is Philip?”

Her shoulders tightened as she steeled herself for Chess’s displeasure, but instead he smiled. “You’re no doormat, are you?”

Fury jolted through Mia. If she wasn’t against violence, she’d have loved to slap the grin off his face. He was playing some kind of game with her. Bitterness burned in her chest like acid. “What’s going on?”

“You received a message, didn’t you? Telling you to be here tonight.”

She blinked. “Yes. From Philip. He said he’d meet me—”

Chess held up his hand. “No he didn’t.”

Mia opened her mouth to argue, but fell silent as the truth sank in. The text had only ordered her to be at Restraint by nine o’clock. Philip never said he would be here himself. She’d jumped to that conclusion because she wanted it so badly.

Chess told her what she already knew. “He’s not here, Mia.”

Mia’s stomach cramped with disappointment. If Philip wasn’t here, why had he ordered her to appear at the club? Why had Chess brought her to this room? Was this just some cruel mind fuck?

Chess looked as though he could hear all the questions running through her mind. “He didn’t tell you to be here tonight. I did.”

A red wall of rage almost blinded her. He
was
just fucking with her. She stalked to the exit. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t touch that door,” he commanded, his tone harsh. “Stay right where you are.”

Mia froze without thinking, the hairs on her arms prickling.

“You obeyed me, Mia.” This time he spoke evenly, almost curiously. “Why?”

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, but she wouldn’t answer.

He persisted. “I think you know. Admit it. You’ve missed it, haven’t you? Serving a Master.”

Yes
. But not any Master. She missed Philip.

“Of course you miss Philip.”

She startled, her eyes flying wide. Had he read her mind?
Don’t be stupid, Mia. He knew how tight you and Philip were.
At least, she'd thought they were tight…

“But he’s not all you miss. He introduced you to BDSM. But the need to submit is in
you
. Part of you. And you’ve deprived yourself of it for two months. Why, Mia?”