If only

Chapter Four

Sally parked at the side gate of the Shadowlands, turned off the car, and wearily leaned her head back against the seat. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to meet Jessica and a couple others for the afternoon. She was seriously short on sleep.

Why the punishment demonstration would give her nightmares all week, she didn’t know. Or perhaps the cause was the poor police officer that the Harvest Association had killed? She’d been unable to keep from watching the funerals for him, his wife, and her mother. At least he hadn’t left little children behind—but his boy and girl were about Sally’s age.

Damn the Association. According to their e-mails, they were still planning an auction. She’d sent a warning to the New York police about another woman targeted for kidnapping. Hopefully the cops weren’t blowing off her information.

This Robin Hood business wasn’t for the faint of heart.

Since she’d be working as a trainee tonight, she picked up her diet soda and finished off the last few sips. Come on, caffeine.

Her cell phone rang, startling her. After a glance at the display, she accepted the call. “Hi, Father.”

So stiff a word. Father. Back before she was ten, she’d called him Dad. But then her mom died and the world changed. Darkened.

She shook her head at the maudlin thought. Gonna get all self-pitying now? But…it was true. That year, the sky over the cornfields had seemed to turn from an Iowa royal blue to a cold gray.

“Sally.” Her father’s voice was as frozen as usual. “I received the message about your graduation. I will attend the ceremony.”

Very dutiful. God, but it hurt to know he only came because his absence would look bad to the people in their small Iowa town. They’d undoubtedly told him: Take lots of pictures at her graduation.

Everyone else in the town liked her. Just not her father. Because she wasn’t supposed to have been born. Because it was her fault Mom died. Sally closed her eyes and pulled in a slow breath. “Would you like directions to—”

“No need. I can find my way to the ceremony.”

They weren’t alike at all; she could lose herself walking around the block. Thank God for GPS and smartphones.

“Then I’ll see you there.” She ended the call. With a gentle hand, she opened her car door and slid out. The Confederate jasmine covering the fence was in bloom, the white flowers scenting the air with sweetness, dispelling the bitterness of the conversation.

Inside the gate, in Master Z’s private backyard, she hesitated. No one was on the veranda behind the mansion. Would the others be on the third story where Z and Jessica lived or…

Laughter came from the other direction. Back somewhere in the extensive gardens. Sally turned and followed the sound.

Under a huge umbrella, three women—all Shadowlands submissives—sat around a patio table. Jessica, blonde, short, and curvy. Kim, black-haired and slender with a day collar around her neck. Linda, probably in her forties, fair-skinned, with red hair. A slight silvering showed at her temples.

“There she is!” Jessica held up a glass. “Finally!”

“Sorry about being late.”

“Girl, you look overheated and tired.” Jessica pointed to the pool. “Jump in before you join us.”

Jessica knew her too well. Veering toward the pool, Sally shed shirt and shorts, leaving on her bra and thong. She dived in. Clear and cool—not the bathtub temperature it would reach later in the summer. Just right. The whoop she gave as she surfaced shattered the unhappiness that lingered every time she talked to her father. Put him out of your mind, girl. She swam a couple of laps to wash away all the nightmares and sadness and anger.

Maybe after she graduated and got a good job, she could afford a place with a pool. A small one would be okay. After climbing out, she squeezed the water from her hair and left it to hang in tangles down her back.

A glass pitcher, beaded with moisture, sat on the table. She eyed the contents warily. Jessica often got pretty creative with beverages. “What are we drinking?”

Jessica poured and handed the drink over. “This, my child, is a screaming orgasm. And Z says to be sure to sober up before the Shadowlands opens. I heard him leave a message for Ben to not let us in if—how did he put it?—‘if he doubts our sobriety.’”

“Only Master Z could say that with a straight face.” Too thirsty to sip, Sally drank about half before slowing and savoring the flavors. Yum. “I’m tasting Kahlúa and amaretto and…?”

“Baileys and vodka. Be warned—the drink packs a kick,” Linda said.

“A kick is good.” Sally dropped into a chair and considered the older woman.

Linda’s creamy sundress was the perfect backdrop for her thick, shoulder-length hair. Her toenails were painted a sparkling raspberry color that seemed to match the glow of happiness about her.

“I think living with Sam agrees with you, although I’m not sure how. Sadists are just plain scary.” Sally shook her head.

“I like his brand of scary.” Linda gave the others a slow smile. “Besides, I always wanted a cowboy, even if my rancher considers himself a farmer.”

“Ugh. I grew up on a farm.” Sally leaned forward and refilled her drink. “Cornfields and beans and pigs.”

Kim toasted her. “And now you’re a city girl getting a master’s.”

“In what?” Linda asked.

The alcohol buzz had hit already—maybe because she hadn’t had any lunch. Stupid, but she’d relish the feeling for a few minutes before digging into one of the deli sandwiches piled on a platter. “Computers. Digital forensics, actually. Does that sound sexy or what?”

“What—like crime stuff?” Linda tilted her head.

“Kinda. Like if someone’s dead, I do an autopsy on his hard drive instead of his body. So much more sanitary, right?” But she could still do good. Be a hero, even if a nerdy one.

Jessica snickered. “God, yes. I’d rather deal with a pile of papers any day than a stinky corpse. But computers… Is that like legal hacking?”

“It really is.” Sally tipped her head back, enjoying the balmy early evening. Enjoying the alcohol. She felt relaxed for the first time in ages. “I used to be a hacker, you know? Snoopy Sally, the nerd.”

“Seriously?” Linda narrowed her eyes. “I never thought of you that way.”

Woo-hoo, I’m good. “My sorority sisters taught me how not to look—or act—like a dork. Bless them.”

“Huh. I figured you as smart, but a teenage hacker is a whole different level.” Kim swirled her drink and eyed Sally. “I’m trying to visualize that. Did you make viruses or something?”

“Well…” Sally set her empty glass on the table. Maybe she should eat. Nah. She poured herself a refill. Screaming Orgasm. Awesome name. “Not exactly. Um, stuff like—a college jock figured he could assault a girl because she was black.” Sally scowled, remembering how angry she’d been. “She wouldn’t press charges. So I copied and sent his racist, sexist—and porn-ridden—e-mails to the college faculty and dean. He was gone a week later.” The asshole. “I’ve improved the program a lot.”

And it’s working just fine on some true douche bags. A bit of caution made it through the blurring in Sally’s head, and she kept the revelation from spilling out. “Don’t tell anybody, okay?”

The other women nodded, and she gave them a happy smile.

Linda patted her hand. “You, my dear, are already blitzed. Eat something or Z won’t let you into the Shadowlands tonight.”

“But it feels good,” Sally grumbled. How long had it been since she’d felt so…open. Free. With a sigh, she obediently accepted the sandwich Jessica handed her. “Hey, as anyone talked to Kari recently?”

Jessica shook her head. “Some teacher went out on maternity leave, and Kari is filling in more. Between extra work and the baby, she hasn’t had any free time.”

“Oh. No wonder she isn’t at the club these days.” Perhaps a visit should wait until the Hillsborough elementary schools started their summer break in June.

“Probably,” Jessica said. “But I miss seeing her and how content Dan looks when he plays with her.”

Sally smiled. “Yeah, he really does.” Working in the police station, she saw an awful lot of cynical cops. Master Dan had been headed in that direction until he’d met Kari. But no one could stay bitter around the sweet-hearted schoolteacher.

“Speaking of the club, what happened with the Feds last week?” Kim asked. “Jessica said you were punished.”

“Christ on a crutch, it was awful.” Sally giggled, pleased the pain of the memory seemed so distant. “I’d faked coming and got caught.”

Galen walked down the outside steps from the third story to the veranda and leaned on the railing to pacify his aching leg. Damn knee. The gunshot wound from years past had healed, but the underlying damage had slowly surfaced. Getting older didn’t help. Soon, he needed to man up and get surgery. Maybe he’d have the time once the case was wrapped up, if that ever happened.

“Nice of Z to help out,” Vance said as they reached the bottom.

“Ayuh.” They’d asked the psychologist to counsel a recovered slave—a girl so young Galen couldn’t think of her kidnapping without getting enraged. She’d been so traumatized she’d stopped speaking, and Z specialized in nonverbal communication. God knew the Dom understood the psychology of slaves, voluntary or involuntary.

Galen and Vance had swung by to drop off the girl’s information, as well as a thank-you bottle of Aberfeldy 21 single malt, which Galen had picked up during a Scotland trip.

Near the gate, Vance halted. “Listen.”

Women were laughing somewhere in the gardens. One giggling voice was like water over a stony creek bed. “Is that Sally?”

“I’ve never heard her sound like that.” Vance headed toward the gaiety.

Galen noiselessly followed him down a path into the gardens, remembering his hunting days. Stalking the prey.

Words became distinct, and Vance stopped.

Galen leaned against a convenient tree and listened. Not very gentlemanlike behavior, Kouros. But how could a Dom resist? After a minute, he laughed silently and mimicked tipping up a bottle. The ladies were drinking and had been at it for a while.

Vance nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in.

“I was so mad,” Sally told the women. “I mean, yeah, I shouldn’t have, but sweet Jesus on a pogo stick, they announced to everyone I’d been faking getting off.”

Yes, he could see how that would bother her. But why had she needed to pretend? And it hadn’t been her first time. He and Vance had spoken with Z about that very matter.

“You and the Feds?” Galen recognized Kim’s voice. “What do you think of them?”

Interesting question. He leaned forward as the pause continued.

“Well, one minute I think they’re nice, and the next I think they’re total dipwads. Manipulative bastards.”

Galen bit back a laugh.

Jessica snorted. “Sounds like the definition of a Dom?”

“Well, maybe. And their two-to-one stuff is…”

Galen sighed and jerked his head at his partner. Not fair to be listening to private conversation, no matter how interesting. But the draw of Sally’s open laughter had been irresistible.

Vance gave him an annoyed, then rueful expression, and they retreated quietly.

“You ethical bastard. She’d just gotten to the good stuff,” Vance said, holding open the gate to the parking lot.

“True.” Galen smiled. “But I like to think we’re honorable—even if we are dipwads.”

“Pretty sure she only meant you.” Vance frowned. “She sounded different.”

“Yeah, she did.” Galen limped across the concrete, as always, annoyed to see his partner shorten his stride and slow. “Notice she talked about how she felt?”

“Because she was intoxicated.”

“Exactly. She certainly doesn’t share if not under the influence.” Galen frowned. “Why would a lovely woman close herself down?” And why did the vulnerable expression he’d seen on her face last week pull at him?

“Good question.” Vance slid into the driver’s seat. “Let’s find out.”

Oh boy, she should’ve stopped drinking a lot earlier. After a quick shower and change in Jessica and Z’s guest room, she took their private stairway into the Shadowlands. Carefully. Screaming orgasm—the drink that kept on giving, cuz she sure wasn’t sober. Ben would probably turn her away if she went in the front door.

A long gauze skirt and a makeshift scarf tied around her breasts served as her outfit. Thank God Z preferred the trainees barefoot; she’d have busted an ankle in heels.

She’d missed the trainee lineup and inspection. Master Cullen would be displeased. But since she didn’t barmaid until the second shift, her lateness wouldn’t upset service.

Members packed the room. To her fuzzy brain, the music and conversations sounded awfully loud, and people moved too fast.

At the bar, she waited for Cullen to see her. On her left, a Domme in a motorcycle jacket, black latex pants, and boots was chatting with a couple of newer submissive women. On her right, a group of older Doms discussed service protocols.

“’Bout time you arrived.” Master Cullen in his brown leathers gave her a long look. “You’ve still got an hour to play before your shift starts. Do you have a Dom lined up or someone in mind?”

Sally winced. How many of the Doms would think—or know—that she’d faked getting off? “I—”

“She’s been drinking and can’t even walk in a straight line, Cullen.” The word drinking somehow had changed to drinkin’; can’t had been transformed into cahn’t.

At the sound of Galen’s down-east accent, Sally stiffened and turned.

As usual, he wore black slacks and shirt—similar to Master Z—but Galen’s dress shirt was broadcloth rather than silk. Kouros wasn’t a silk kind of guy.

He continued, “Perhaps she can wait tables now and have the second shift off.”

Vance’s big hand came down on her shoulder. “Galen and I would like to play with her. But not until she’s sober.”

“I’m not—” Sally knocked Vance’s arm away and turned back to Cullen. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Fuck, I hate when she lies,” Vance growled. He gripped her hair, tilting her face up. His eyes were cold. “Are you seriously telling Cullen you’re sober?”

“I…” She couldn’t lie. “No. I’m not completely sober.”

“No one does a scene if under the influence.” Frowning, Cullen rested his thickly muscled forearm on the bar. He said to Galen, “Thanks for the heads-up. Sally, you’re assigned to cleaning tables. Check back with me in an hour.”

Stupid, interfering, know-it-all Feds. When she glared at Galen, a line in his right cheek deepened, showing his amusement. She realized he had more than a five-o’clock shadow, as if he hadn’t shaved earlier.

Andrea, Cullen’s submissive, who’d been listening, set a big mug of coffee in front of Sally and winked.

“As for later,” Master Cullen said, “Sally, I’ve heard what the members think of a trainee playing them for fools. There won’t be more punishment, pet, but I can’t do anything about your reputation with the Doms.”

Master Cullen usually had a smile, but not now. He was serious and…unhappy with her. Everyone was unhappy with her. Like in the beginning of the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy realized she couldn’t do anything right.

Sally stared at the bar. Why didn’t I just stay home? “I understand.”

“Tonight, you’re assigned to Master Galen and Master Vance. They can work with you on honesty.” Master Cullen’s expression was troubled. “I know you didn’t fake an orgasm with any of the Masters, love, but we also never pushed you for more than light submission. We don’t usually. Emotional vulnerability is given to a long-term Dom, but we should’ve caught on to how much you were hiding from us.”

The sting of tears had her dropping her gaze again. She’d disappointed everyone.

Cullen set a tray on the bar next to her mug. “Finish the coffee; then get to work.”

Vance ran his knuckles over her cheek. “It’s not that bad, sweetheart. This will pass.” Sympathy warmed his eyes. “We’ll find you in a couple of hours. Here at the bar.”

Even as a thrill ran through her at his touch, she couldn’t suppress her glance at the door.

His hand curved under her chin, and he tilted her face up. “Sally, don’t try to leave early.”

Bossy Dom. “No, Sir. Wouldn’t think of it, Sir.”

When Galen raised an eyebrow, she flushed. Dammit, he’d probably gag her again.

Seated near the middle of the club room, Galen smiled as the little black trainee handed him a bottle of water. “Thank you, Uzuri.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.” Watching her trot away, he shook his head. Her smile had been one of the sweetest he’d ever seen, but her dark eyes said watch out for pranks.

He looked forward to the upcoming scene with her fellow mischief maker, the imp named Sally. Propping his feet on the coffee table, he watched Vance work with a newer Dom, showing the knots best for rope bondage. For the past couple of hours, they’d wandered through the main room, helping out, answering questions, even demonstrating. Part of Z’s purpose in establishing the Shadowlands had been to provide education to the BDSM community, and the Masters were expected to put in their time. He and Vance would start as dungeon monitors next month.

He checked the clock. Sally should be getting off duty about now. Galen caught Vance’s attention and tilted his head toward the bar.

Smoothly, his partner finished his instruction and walked over. “Time to pick on a sassy brunette?”

“That’s the idea. If you run down the girl, I’ll get my toy bag from the locker room and meet you in the back.” Anticipation was a swift stream in Galen’s veins.

“Good enough.” Vance grinned.

A few minutes later, Galen walked across the main room to the far side. Murmurs of low conversations, sounds of sex, the slap of a hand on flesh were louder than the music coming from the front. Tall containers of plants divided the sitting areas into secluded niches for aftercare and quiet talks.

It was like wandering through a maze.

At the sound of Vance’s rough voice, Galen headed in that direction.

His partner had found an unoccupied area with a leather couch and two comfortable chairs. On her knees, Sally waited, her hands on her thighs, her back straight, gaze down. Vance sat on one of the chairs.

“Very nice,” Galen said.

After her initial start of surprise, she relaxed. Her lips softened in a submissive’s deep-rooted pleasure at receiving approval.

By God, she was pretty. He bent, tilted her chin up, and took her lips—not demanding, but wanting a taste of the sweetness that was Sally.

And she gave it to him.

Moving away, Galen set the bag down. They didn’t expect to use any toys, but the bag held water and chocolate and a blanket.

“Time to start,” Vance said. “Remove your clothes, Sally.”

“Um.” She glanced around as if expecting to see bondage equipment magically appear. “This isn’t a scene area.”

“No. It’s not,” Galen said agreeably. He took a seat on the couch.

She rose, taking a step back so she could face them both. Confrontational—or defensive?

“I prefer to play in the regular areas,” she said.

Galen exchanged a glance with Vance. Wasn’t it a pleasure to keep this one off balance, little Miss Sassy who’d ruled over less experienced Doms.

“This spot is better for what we have in mind,” Vance told her.

Her eyes narrowed. She was obviously considering how far she could push them. Damned if he’d figured her out. Despite her impertinent behavior, she was submissive. Given no choice, she’d relax into giving up control.

“Clothes off now, Sally. Not next week.” Galen leaned back and extended his legs.

After a long hesitation, she stripped off her almost see-through skirt and the scarf she’d wound around her pretty breasts. She wasn’t a big woman but was solidly built. Amply padded with a curvy ass, heavy thighs showing she had some muscle underneath. He smiled as she bent to pick up her clothes. Jiggly, lush ass—Vance’s favorite kind.

As for Galen, he simply liked women’s bodies. Skinny or lush, muscular or soft. Full breasts or thimble-sized.

Naked—beautifully naked—Sally set her hands on her hips and frowned at Galen.

“Is that posture one Master Z teaches the trainees?” Galen asked levelly.

Her face flushed, and her arms dropped. “No, Sir.”

“There’s a relief,” Vance said.

Galen had to suppress a laugh at the flashing anger in her expression. “Come and sit on my lap.”

Her mouth flattened. She really didn’t like them, did she? Then again, he doubted her feelings were personal. She wouldn’t like anyone who’d punished her as they had—and she wasn’t going to enjoy what they’d planned for tonight, either.

With obvious reluctance, she seated herself on his thighs. He let her sit there, rigid as a pissed-off cat. Probably as dangerous.

“Now what?” she asked.

“We’re going to talk a bit, Sally.” Vance pulled his chair closer. “Nothing painful.”

“Lean against me, please,” Galen said. He enjoyed the hell out of making her comply with his voice alone.

Without relaxing a mite, she shifted until her shoulder met his chest.

“You smell good, pet. Like springtime.” He put his arm around her back, holding her still so he could rub his jaw along her neck and inhale the clean fragrance. Almost like green apples. “What’s the name of your perfume?”

“Be Delicious,” she muttered.

He chuckled. “Sounds like an invitation to me.” When he nibbled the top of her shoulder, she jumped.

Vance lifted her legs onto the couch and slid his chair close enough to rest his hand on her thigh. They wouldn’t tie her down. But she was a small woman, and their large sizes and positions would give her the feeling of imprisonment.

Now, the true point of this not-scene would begin. “I heard you’re going to get your Master’s degree. In what?”

Her disbelieving stare made him smile. She acted like a mouse cornered by a cat that didn’t immediately pounce.

Galen waited.

“Um. Computers.”

“A master’s in computers?” Vance prodded. “That’s vague.”

Her cheeks darkened slightly. “Master’s of Digital Forensics.”

Galen blinked at the unexpected answer. The girl was not only smart, but she might be pointing her sights at criminology. “Why that?”

“It’s interesting.”

“What exactly interests you?” Vance asked.

“Oh please, I’m not going to talk computers with someone your age. You probably think a mouse pad is where a rodent lives.” She scowled at them. “Is this an interview or what?”

“No, it’s a conversation between two Doms and a rude submissive,” Galen said, barely managing to keep from laughing.

She froze as if shocked to be called on her behavior. After a second, her head bent. “I’m sorry.”

SALLY FELT GALEN’S warm hand stroke her shoulder. She’d annoyed him, but he still handled her gently.

And under his slow touch, her body responded in a way these Doms achieved far too easily. To her unease, Vance moved her legs apart before running his palm up and down her outside thigh.

Two men at once. She’d enjoyed threesomes in the past, but…not with these two. They were—

“So, trainee, what kind of a Dom are you looking for?” Galen asked as if not too interested in her answer. He seemed more engrossed in the way his fingers ran over her collarbone. Her nipples tightened as if begging to be touched as well.

Vance moved his hand higher on her thigh so his fingers dipped into the—dammit—wetness of her pussy. A brush against her clit made her jump.

She tried to move away.

“Stay still, pet,” Vance warned as he pressed a finger up inside her. His thumb rested beside her clit.

Biting her lip, she didn’t move, although her center quaked like force screens were disintegrating. Shields up, Scotty.

“That’s a good girl,” Galen said. Approval turned his voice to velvet.

When he cupped her breast, she realized they’d restrained her in an incredibly intimate fashion.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Vance’s sapphire eyes met hers. Held hers as he slowly pulled his fingers from her pussy and then thrust deeper.

Despite Sally’s anger at them, heat blossomed in her core.

“Galen asked a question. Answer him.”

Question? Oh, right. Vance’s thumb pressed into the flesh above her clit, so close to where it would really feel good. Question. “Um, I don’t want a Master-type Dom.” I don’t want a Dom at all. Not anymore. “Not if he needs a real slave. I like to play.”

“A Dom just for some fun times in the bedroom? To tie you up and fuck you but not dominate in any other way?” Galen plucked her nipple, then recupped her breast as he waited for her answer.

Her body shimmered with heat. Damn them, they were doing this to her again. She tried to remember what she’d once desired. Before Frank. It didn’t really matter though. She could say anything. “Just for the bedroom.”

Vance slid his fingers in and out. “Odd. Her pussy lie detector says she’s lying.”

Sally stared at him. “You can’t—can’t tell anything like that.”

“The technique isn’t one we’re allowed to research.” Vance smiled. “But it works fine.”

He couldn’t possibly tell if she lied. “Let me go.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Galen played with her breasts. The center of his palm was more calloused than Vance’s. Because of the cane?

She realized her not inconsiderable weight rested on his legs. “Let me up.” When he lifted his eyebrows, she lowered her voice. “I’ll hurt your leg.”

His hand stopped moving for a moment, and then he shook his head. “No, you won’t. The damage is already done—you’re not going to make it worse.” He smiled and touched her cheek. “I’m glad to know you care.”

“I don’t.” Angry she’d been so stupid, she tried to push his hand away. Shoving an eight-foot Wookiee would be easier.

“Haven’t you ever wanted a Dom at home to worry about you?” Vance asked. “To spank you for not carrying your cell phone? To push you to try harder? To force you to share what’s bothering you?”

Yes. At one time. Back when she was naive. Now, she really didn’t. “No.”

“Z did a piss-poor job of training you. I had a wife who lied constantly, and I have a low tolerance for it,” Vance said with disgust. “What part of honesty don’t you understand?”

Her chin came up. “I honestly don’t want to answer your questions.”

“No isn’t the answer we’re looking for.” Galen pinched her nipple, a short, painful reprimand.

She winced.

“You’re obviously comfortable with physical intimacy.” Galen ran his hand over her, proving his point. “Why are you so guarded with your thoughts?”

“I feel left out and worried if you don’t tell me what you feel,” Vance said, apparently trying to demonstrate how to share.

“I like you, Sally,” Galen said softly. “We’ve been watching you. Have wanted to play with you for quite a while. But we worry you. Why?”

“Don’t give yourself airs,” Sally snapped. “I’m not worried.”

“Lie,” Vance said softly. When his thumb brushed over her clit, she couldn’t help squirming.

“I talked to the other Masters about scenes they’ve done with you,” Galen said. “They’ve realized that, although you submitted physically, they’d never pushed past your emotional defenses. Never reached your feelings. Normally, that’s not a concern since deeper emotions are best explored by a long-term Dom.”

“Exactly. You’re not that, are you?” she muttered. How dare they talk to Cullen and Nolan and Dan and Raoul? The thought of them discussing her was…humiliating. Terrifying.

“No, we’re not.” Galen pushed her hair off her forehead, then laid his hand along her cheek to stop her from averting her face. “However, you have a problem other subs don’t. You’re not honest or even revealing a hint of your emotions. That’s disturbing, pet.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” she said. “Yeah, maybe I don’t meltdown after a scene like a PMSing teen without a prom date, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me. I enjoy playing. What more—”

“Enjoy playing?” Galen pinned her with those dark eyes again. “Then last week, why didn’t you tell Casey you weren’t getting anywhere?”

The question was an unexpected bull’s-eye. She stiffened.

“We’re not going to judge you, sweetheart,” Vance said. He sounded so…concerned. “Just tell us why.”

“I don’t know.” She blinked away the dampness in her eyes, her stomach twisting uneasily. What was wrong with her? “I just couldn’t.”

“All right, pet,” Galen said, his deep voice soothing. “Maybe you can make some guesses?”

Neither of them was going to back off.

Why had she let Casey continue? Usually, if a scene wasn’t working out, she’d annoy the Dom enough to end it early. But that evening… “I was just too tired to fight, I guess.”

Galen’s eyes narrowed. “To fight? Why would telling a Dom you weren’t into a scene have to be a battle?”

Her mouth opened. Closed.

“You never do tell them if a session isn’t working, do you?” Vance asked. “Instead you prod until the Dom gets annoyed and lets you go.”

Her cheeks felt too hot.

“Why, Sally?” Galen hadn’t moved, and yet she felt as if he was in her face. “We’re here to listen to what you have to say.”

His statement flattened her with its weight, compressing her chest and lungs. She couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t even be a good submissive after so long. She began to fight Galen’s hold, and when he didn’t release her, she glared at him. “Red. Red, red, red. Let me go now.”

Galen lifted his hands. Vance moved back.

Sally jumped to her feet and snatched up her clothing.

Before she could run, Galen gripped her arm. “You safeworded, so I’m letting you go, but pet, the problem you have won’t disappear. Talk with someone about this. Master Z, if no one else.”

Never. “Just stay away from me. I don’t like you.” She glared at Vance. “Or you. Is that honest enough for you?” Wrenching her arm from Galen’s grasp, she fled.