Collingwood School

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Collingwood School ISBN # 1-4199-0656-9 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Collingwood School Copyright© 2006 Jessica Brandt Edited by Linda Carroll-Bradd. Cover art by Willo. Electronic book Publication: June 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

COLLINGWOOD SCHOOL

Jessica Brandt

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Armani: GA Modefine S.A. Corporation Southern Living: Progressive Farmer Company Taser: Taser International, Inc. The Washington Post: The Washington Post Company Treasurer Cigarettes: Chancellor Tobacco Company, Ltd.

Collingwood School

Chapter One In the Hothouse January 14

At 5:15 a.m., her eyes snapped open. She slipped from her soft bed, blinking away sleep and with the practiced ease of three years’ routine, she padded from her room to the master bathroom. Turning on the taps, she felt for the right mix of hot and cold water, then began the ritual of adding the specific mixture of salts that were his favorite. Everything had to be just right. Today was special. His birthday. By 5:30, she had laid out all the tools for his shave along the edge of the marble vanity top. His bathroom reflected his organized, meticulous nature. She loved the warmth of the Italian marble and its soft shades of brown and red. Even the fixtures, simple chrome with graceful lines, mirrored his simple, elegant tastes. She plugged in the electric shaving foam warmer, then checked the tub again. Just this side of scalding. Perfect. She made her way down the stairs in silence, careful to avoid the fifth riser, which made a horrible squeak. She smiled, shaking her head. He always said he would have it fixed, but he never had. He preferred the clean, uncluttered look of hardwood and tile flooring. His master suite had the only carpeting in the house. His sense of style made wandering through the house with bare feet a sensual experience. In the kitchen, she prepared his breakfast tray—orange juice that she squeezed fresh every morning, strong tea, no milk and three sugars, organic almonds and two slices of raisin bread.

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At 5:45, she stood outside the bedroom door. Balancing the tray with one hand, she raised the other to tap lightly. “Good morning,” he called, still sleepy-voiced but alert. “Come in, little one.” She grinned and pushed open the door. She was almost thirty, perhaps a bit too old to be called little one, but he was so endearing when he said it. He was seated against the mahogany headboard of the king-sized bed that dominated the room. He was surrounded by pillows, the bold pattern of the comforter complementing his smooth, pale skin. She dropped her gaze, before he could see her reaction. He was a gorgeous man— muscled and toned as a marble statue, but the warmth of his gray-blue eyes softened his austere beauty. Nestling the breakfast tray over his lap, she waited for his motion before sitting near his feet. “Do you know what today is?” he asked in between bites. “Your birthday.” He smiled. “And what will you give me for my birthday, apart from this breakfast which is so delicious?” “Anything you desire,” she replied, without hesitation. “Hmmm…” He seemed to consider that statement as he sipped his tea and finished his toast. When he was done, he put the tray on the side table then threw back the covers. She couldn’t help staring from beneath her lashes. After three years together, just looking at him could still make her pulse race. Naked, as he was always in the morning, he made a handsome picture. “Then come here, Isis,” he commanded. “And bring me to life.” She stood and slipped her dressing gown from her shoulders, as comfortable in her nakedness as he. She always thought it sweet and strange that he would call her by a goddess’s name, but what he desired today was all she desired ever, and if there was ever a day to please him—then shouldn’t it be today?

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She crawled toward him, on hands and knees, over the bed. His cock was already stirring before she drew herself between his legs and slowly dropped her head to taste him. Her tongue darted out from between parted lips to flick over the purpling head, then she slid her mouth over the tip and down the length of his shaft. “That’s right,” he growled. “Suck my cock, get me ready.” His whispers intensified as she worked her mouth up and down his everhardening, soon impressive erection. As he lifted his hips against her, she dropped a hand to circle the base of his cock and pumped in rhythm to her mouth’s motions. He moaned, fisted his hands in her hair and pushed his hips hard, fucking her mouth. She pressed her lips tight around his cock, reveling in the sensation of pleasure she felt. His responses always urged her further. She wanted to do more for him, give him more, show him more, to take herself beyond what she’d done before. She felt limitless when she gave pleasure like this. “No,” he groaned. “I don’t want to…not yet…too soon.” He pulled her off his cock, then dragged her across his body, lifting her at first by the shoulders, then dropping his hands to cup her ass. “Ride me.” His demand was like a symphony to her ears, but instead of sheathing him inside her already wet cunt, she took her time—prolonging the moment until he squirmed beneath her. “Oh, you slut,” he breathed, his tone taking the sting out of the words. “Get on my cock, now. It’s my birthday and I want to fuck you.” “Like this?” she asked, teasing, as she took him inside, inch by inch, until he squirmed beneath her. “Oh God, yes,” he moaned. She squeezed her inner muscles tight, gripping his cock and milking it with her pussy as though it were her hand. Closing her eyes, she ground her pelvis into his.

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“No,” he said, breath ragged. “Look at me.” Their gazes locked. “Do you love me?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” she sighed, feeling her orgasm starting to build. “Will you do anything I want?” “Ask, and it’s yours,” she whimpered, urging him to writhe beneath her. “Then fuck me now,” he nearly shouted. “Like it’s the last time, my Isis…like you’ll never have my cock inside your pussy again!” He sounded almost desperate, and it drove her to a place she’d never been with him. All she wanted, all she ever wanted was to make him happy, and she was determined to give him everything he desired. He groaned, forming incoherent words, his movements beneath her jerky and awkward. She threw herself over him, slamming her hips against his, bringing her own release crashing down, just before he shouted her name and thrust up into her one last time. She felt his orgasm like a shot and it exploded throughout her entire body. Long moments passed before either of them moved. He recovered first, shaking himself, and nudging her until she lifted herself off his lap. Staring, she wondered if she looked as dazed as she felt. “That was beautiful, baby,” he said. “You know, it’s times like that when I almost believe you really love me.” “But I do,” she said, protesting the implication. She felt guilt well up in her chest. How could he think she didn’t love him? She hadn’t been perfect, but surely she’d never given him reason to doubt her affection. He stroked her cheek with his knuckles. “I know you do.” He shook himself again and motioned. She got off the bed entirely and slipped into her robe. 8

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“What’s on your plate today?” “I have a deposition at nine, but my secretary has cleared the rest of my schedule, so I’m available for whatever you desire.” She moved the tray out of his way, making room for him to move. He smiled. “What I desire right now, my dear, is a bath and a shave. Will you attend me today?” “It would be my pleasure.” Following him down the hall to the bath, she thought she had never seen him happier. She admired his strong, tight back as he slipped into the water. “Ahhhhhh!” He leaned back, smiling and content. “The water’s perfect, my dear, and now…how about that shave?”

***** “Sage.” His voice was feather soft. “Sage, Sage, Sage.” He turned her name into a lament. “In all the years I’ve run this school, I’ve never had a graduate returned.” She remained still, though she felt each of his words like a ten-pound weight added to the thick, heavy chain of guilt she’d wrapped around herself. “Open your eyes, Sage.” Even though he sounded as though speaking was pointless, Sage understood the tacit command. Poised between breaths, and keeping her body motionless, she opened her eyes. “Present left.” She slowly turned her face until her right cheek touched the thick, padded carpet. From her position, on her knees, her ass resting on her heels, arms stretched forward far above her head, she could see only his feet. His bare feet. And the hem of his white, cotton trousers. She knew from experience the fabric swirling at his ankles was soft as eiderdown. She remembered kissing his hem, when he had been especially generous… 9

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When she had been a good girl. “You’ve put on weight, Sage. How did that happen? Did your master command you to put on twenty pounds?” “No, Sir.” Sage kept her voice even. “He did not reprimand me for it.” His pacing feet stopped. She watched his toes dig into the carpet. “And she feels free to talk, to speak out of turn. Sage, where are your manners?” The only warning she had was a slight hiss in the air and a flutter of movement before the strike, the sound registered before the pain. Years of training that had somehow not been forgotten helped her retain her composure. She flinched. One stripe. “As a woman of the law, you should know better than to answer questions that have not been asked. Now listen carefully, Sage. A woman of your age may have added five pounds to her frame in the time you’ve been gone, but you’ve managed twenty-one point five. Why did you put on weight?” “I ate scraps, Sir.” She clamped her teeth together and would say no more until prompted. “I know your previous master. He gave you your own table, did he not? Your own plate? Tell me about your meals.” “I did have a plate, Sir. A gold plate. And a table of my own in the kitchen. My Master preferred me to show my obedience by eating without use of my hands, and whenever I was in the kitchen, I must go about on all fours. There were times…” she trailed off, ashamed to admit her transgression. “Go on, Sage.” She felt the caress of the crop across the line of her spine. “There were times, especially just before the Master would host a party, that I would…take food from the counter, Sir. I ate that food.” “So, like the dog you have become, you robbed your master of his provisions. And

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there were other infractions, the most serious charge, however, levied against you is that you were caught stealing. Is that so?” She forced her eyes to remain open. “Yes, that is so.” “Tell me. Tell me all of it.” “My Master took me on a trip to New York City. We flew. First class. He allowed me to look over his shoulder while he browsed the in-flight magazine—the one that details which items are sold duty-free. I noticed my Master particularly admired a pair of platinum cufflinks. After we returned from New York, I opened a small savings account and deposited all of the money my Master gave me to buy my lunch during the workday into the account. He was generous, and so I had saved enough to buy them within two months. I ordered them, and had them delivered to his office.” “Oh, Sage. You embezzled your master’s money, took steps in secret to secure an unsolicited item and then had the temerity to present it to him—as though you were equals?” “Yes, Sir.” She was barely able to choke out the words. “And what happened then?” She felt the tears sting the back of her eyes. “The car my Master sent to my office to return me from work arrived at five sharp, as always. When I approached, the driver did not get out and open the door for me, as he always had before. Instead, he raised all the windows and released the trunk latch. I realized something must be there for me, so I walked to the back of the car. I opened the trunk fully and saw two things…the dossier I gave to you when I arrived, and a box.” “What was the purpose of this box?” Sage hesitated, forcing the lump in her throat down with a swallow. She murmured into the carpet fibers. The feeling of moving air again, and the sharp smack. Two stripes. “Speak up, Sage. Make yourself understood.”

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“The box was for my collar. The note on the front of the folder read simply, ‘Remove your collar, place it in the box, then find your way back to Collingwood.’ I followed the instructions, and present myself here.” “Just so.” His voice was barely audible. Sage watched as he paced, his feet appearing and disappearing from her limited view. Finally he stopped, just in front of her face. “Oh, Sage. What am I to do with you now? Do you know what you’ve done to me? What you’ve done to Collingwood? Do you know how many times I’ve praised you in high places, calling you one of the best—no, my best—student? I always thought that you were the special one, the one who understood what it is to sacrifice. How could this have happened?” She was silent. “That was not a rhetorical question,” he whispered. “I love my Master, Sir. I was wrong to do what I did without consulting him, but it was his birthday and I only wished to surprise him.” “What is the first tenet of the training?” “Perfect love is perfect submission, Sir.” Sage didn’t hesitate and she believed that had been exactly what she’d given her Master. “You speak the words, but still you do not understand them.” She remained quiet, still confused. What was he going to do with her? As if reading her thoughts, he crouched down beside her and she saw his eyes for the first time. His face was just as she remembered, strong, determined, but tinged with sadness she hadn’t seen before. “Sage, I must meditate on this matter, and consult with the board. I am very, very disappointed in you.” He stood again. “Present first position.” She shifted to her knees, then leaned back into her heels. She kept her chin bent toward her chest, eyes cast down, and placed her hands, palms up, on her upper thighs.

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“You will think on these matters until I return,” he said. Then he turned on his heel and walked out the door, leaving her very much alone.

***** February 25 Derek Riddle stood in the only shadowed square of pavement remaining outside the townhouse. He stared at the building, thinking, as he always did that he could smell the money inside radiating from the very bricks and mortar that made up the place. It was an understated, elegant edifice. Usually, the house blended into the surroundings. Situated on a quiet street in Georgetown, comfortably nestled between homes of equally wealthy, equally private owners, the house was rarely decorated to draw attention. Tonight, however, the windows gleamed with the glow of countless candles and he imagined every chandelier and light was burning inside his parents’ house. The Riddles were throwing a party. Derek took a long drag off his cigarette. The silver foil wrapped around the filter winked in a shard of light. “If not for you,” he muttered, “I could have skipped this whole thing.” Sometimes timing was a strange thing, though. The sequence of events that had eventually led him to this section of sidewalk was harmless enough. He’d run out of his brand of cigarettes—Treasurers—and had stopped in at Georgetown Tobacco and Pipe to buy several packs. Of course T&P, as it was known to locals, was the only retailer of Treasurers this side of Baltimore, so he’d had little choice. It was just unlucky coincidence he’d run into his father’s old friend, Judge Macintyre. The old man was in buying his usual, a case of cheap cigars, and eight nice cubanos. Derek knew the judge filled his expensive humidor with the three-cent knockoffs and put the eight quality smokes on top, for show. Just like everything else around here, he thought. Flash and glitter on the outside, cheap and sleazy on the inside. 13

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But the meeting threw a wrench into his plans for the evening. As he was leaving, Macintyre had called over his shoulder, in that paternal and cheery tone Derek hated, “See you at the party tonight, son. Many happy returns of the day!” And so, he was stuck outside his parents’ house trying to think of a reason, any reason, not to attend his own birthday party. “Derek? Is that you standing over there in the dark? Good lord, I thought you were a burglar casing the joint.” He shaded his eyes against the glare and looked toward the front steps. Charles, his older brother, was framed in the doorway, and while the backlighting obscured the expression on his face, Derek could see his brother assume his usual, relaxed pose. This was Charles’ element, these gatherings and social soirees. He was mellow and at ease. “Are you coming in? You’re the guest of honor, after all, my lad!” Derek suppressed a shiver of irritation and came out of the shadows into the light. He crossed the street and mounted the steps, striving to appear detached, calm. “I hear you saw Judge Macintyre,” Charles said as Derek reached out to shake his brother’s hand—a gesture more from habit than warmth of feeling. “Did the old boy ruin your plans for a quiet escape from town?” “Something like that,” he admitted, turning to flick the butt of his cigarette into the flowers at the side of the house. A ghost of a frown waved over Charles’ mouth. “Mother hates cigarettes in the roses.” Derek shrugged. “It’s my birthday, isn’t it?” “Right,” his brother said, his expression dismissing the event. “Come inside and look at your cake.” “For fuck’s sake, Charles, I’m forty. Please tell me there isn’t a cake.” His brother leered. “Oh, but there is, with little chubby angels on the top and everything. Mother’s outdone herself for her baby boy.”

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“Let’s just get it over with.” The party was everything he expected and worse. Rather than a celebration of the day of his birth, Derek realized that this fete was merely an excuse for his parents to strengthen their social and political contacts. He also knew by the sheer volume of hothouse flowers and greenery that his mother was still locked in stiff competition with Mrs. Connors for that piece in Southern Living Magazine. Showcasing her horticultural achievements for the features editor—a thin, pale woman who spent more time staring at her scotch than his mother’s flowers—was essential, and he suspected her attendance at this gathering was more important to his mother than his own. He had half an hour’s conversation with his father. It was enough to reconfirm his dad’s opinion of his recent personnel changes at the company. Although his father had officially retired, and Charles was now the president and CEO of Riddle Corporation, Derek was, effectively, the boss. Power didn’t necessarily depend on position, and Charles had long ago proven to be more interested in his personal pursuits than his career. Derek had ambition, charm, and that elusive quality—charisma. He’d used all of his talents to secure his position within the company. As long as he made vast amounts of money for himself and his family, his father was content to grouse and second-guess from afar. The culmination of the evening was the obligatory family photo, which he knew would be splashed all over the lifestyle section of tomorrow’s Washington Post. He wondered what people would think when they saw it. Two aging, yet still handsome parents. Two tall, blond, athletic sons—complete with square jaws and broad shoulders. Charles’ wife, Sophie, an exotic French beauty. And his name would be linked with the beautiful, vapid brunette who was currently draped over his shoulder. He thought he might have met her before, but couldn’t remember her name… Brett, Briana, Brigette? Some Br name, he thought, but it hardly mattered. Her eyes glittered with the same

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hard, calculated brightness as the faux diamonds in her ears. He suspected she was looking to change them for the real thing. Later, as the guests thinned out, he was bored enough to let her lead him to the upstairs master bathroom. She’d contrived to make it appear spontaneous, an expression of desire brought on by his irresistible personality. “Mmmm,” she said, releasing his semi-hard cock from his tailored Armani slacks. “I’ve been waiting for so long to get my hands on this. I’d thought you’d forgotten me.” “I had, Brenda.” He’d finally remembered her name. She laughed, a tinkling sound, to show she didn’t believe him, then ran her hand up and down the length of his shaft. “Oooh, you’re so big,” she breathed as he came erect. He wasn’t, he knew it, but she seemed determined to put on a show, so he didn’t stop her. He played along. “So, what do you want now…” he said, reaching his hands up to untie the strings at the nape of her neck that held the halter-style dress in place. The fabric fell away, revealing two perfectly balanced, aesthetically beautiful breasts with large, pink nipples already erect. He waited for her to answer as he passed his hand over the right, then the left upturned crest. She squeezed her eyes closed, panting, as he brought both hands up to massage the firm flesh. But the flesh was a little too firm, and her skin was cool. He hoped she’d paid her surgeon handsomely for the breasts he was now fondling, but he doubted she had any sensation in them at all, despite her vocalizations to the contrary. A fuck, however, is a fuck, he thought, as she moved away from him long enough to hike her skirt up over her ass, turn around and bend over the polished vanity top. “Come on,” she said on a moan. “I want you to fuck me with that big cock of yours until I come. I want you to make me scream. Give it to me, now.” He bent over her back until she was pressed between the cold marble and his chest. “And…the condoms?”

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She froze beneath him, the hesitation was brief, but noticeable, before she started to grind her ass against his cock. “It’s okay,” she said, still panting. “Just this once, please. I want you so bad, I don’t care about protection.” “I bet you don’t.” Derek pressed himself up, keeping his hands on either side of her waist, holding her against the bathroom sink. “It’s a good game, Brenda, really, but I’m bored now. Though, some notes…just for the next time you set your sights on a wealthy man. Do your homework, we don’t all want to be told what to do. Cut back on the aggression, and a little more makeup and a lot less talking.” He stepped away, marveling at the insistence of the male anatomy as he stuffed his cock, painfully, back into his trousers. When he looked up, she was staring at him in the mirror, then she spun on her heel in a flash and let her hand fly. He caught her wrist before she could connect the slap with his face. “You’re a real bastard,” she gritted out. “If it weren’t for your money, no one would give you a second look, you know.” He shrugged. “Cover yourself, my dear, your breasts defy gravity in such a way as to be unnerving.” Then he walked out of the bathroom and down the steps. Charles caught him in the front hall, just as he was taking his coat from the hired maid. “Why, little brother…things not turn out the way you planned?” Derek allowed himself a tight grin. He didn’t answer Charles, but watched with him as Brenda stalked down the stairs, barked an order to the maid, then snatched her coat and strode out of the door without so much as a look at anyone. “Perhaps they didn’t turn out as the fair Brenda expected, then…” Charles drawled as he helped Derek into his coat. “I just want to go home.” “Yes, you need your sleep. You’ve got an early day tomorrow.” Charles winked. “Be up and ready at six, little brother. We have a long drive ahead of us.”

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“What are you talking about?” “Now, Derek, you didn’t think I was going to let your birthday pass without getting you an appropriate gift, did you?” “Oh, Christ! Charles, what’s all this about?” His brother winked again, but the set of his shoulders let Derek know he was determined. “Let’s just say, I have decided what to give the man who has everything.” “And what is that?” “Complete control, little brother. Complete and utter control.” “What the hell does that mean?” Charles shook his head and grinned his enigmatic little grin—the one Sophie found so appealing. It got on Derek’s nerves. “I’ll be at your place at six, Derek. But before I get there, you might just ask yourself this… What would you do if you were given complete and total responsibility for another person? Are you man enough to be a master?” With that, Charles opened the front door and gave Derek a gentle shove. “What the fuck kind of question is that?” Derek asked aloud. His only answer was the distant sound of city traffic. He shoved his hands in his pockets, ignoring the cab parked at the curb, and followed the impulse to walk home.

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Chapter Two She felt, rather than heard, his approach. “What is your name?” he asked. “Sage, Sir.” “You have always sought this place whenever you’ve needed to think,” he said. “Have you never wondered how I came to choose your name?” “Often, Sir.” He nodded toward a winter-bare flowerbed. “Do you know what is planted there?” “No, Sir. The gardens have been redone since I was last here.” “Salvia nemerosa Marcus.” He paused, waiting. “Perennial sage,” she said, staring harder still at the bare earth. “You remember your horticulture, then? Very good. Tell me about Salvia nemerosa Marcus.” “In early summer, the plants will blossom with blue-violet flowers, Sir. They are fragrant and attract butterflies and hummingbirds. They make an excellent bordering plant and promote pollination.” “That is true.” His voice took on a soft, lecturing tone. “I named you for them, however, because they are hardy and strong as well. Salvia nemerosa Marcus always lasts the winter—a plant that thrives under adverse conditions. It’s beautiful, with fragile blossoms, but strong in its roots.” Sage bent her head, aware of the compliment, but she knew it was undeserved. It had been over a month since she had been returned to the school, yet she had no more idea what was going to happen now than she did that first afternoon. She had expected punishments, harsh discipline. In truth, a part of her longed for the exacting strokes of a 19

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fine whip, but he had not allowed her that pleasure. That was it, she supposed. She had not been allowed any of the things that brought her pleasure. “Let’s walk.” His suggestion interrupted her thoughts. She knew he noticed her distraction and she felt blush rise on her cheeks. After all this time, she should know better. He wore a heavy, gray overcoat, under that she knew his chest would be either bare or covered with a tight, white t-shirt. Of course, he was wearing the same soft, cotton pants. His only real concession to the cold was the shoes on his feet. Indoors he was always barefoot. She stole a glance at his face, but his dark eyes were fixed on a point in the distance. “What is your trouble?” he asked, as they rounded the edge of the winter garden to follow the path that led back to the school. “Your students, perhaps?” “In part, Sir.” Sage longed to cross her arms against the brisk wind, but he’d not given her leave to do so. “I am wondering, rather, why I’ve been given students in the first place. I’m not a master.” “Certainly not. And I don’t believe you aspire to be.” His words were a sharp slap. “No, Sir. That is not my calling. So, you see, I am confused.” “Yes, I imagine you are.” He didn’t need to add that confusion is nearly the worst emotion a slave can experience. “And as you say, you are no master. What you are, now, is a teacher.” “But…I failed you. Why would you trust me with uninitiated students?” He stopped, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “You didn’t fail me, Sage,” he said, his manner grave. “You failed your master…and by that you failed yourself.” Tears threatened again. He gave her shoulders a warning shake. “I’ve given you students in the hope that by teaching others, you will come to understand the lack in yourself. Somehow, you

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were not fully prepared when you left us the first time. The board has seen fit to accept you back, it is for me to find the way to reach you.” She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” He resumed his walk toward the building, motioning for her to follow. “How do you find your students?” “I question the motives of some of the girls.” “Pansy and Lily?” “Yes, Sir.” Sage shouldn’t have been surprised at his anticipating her thoughts. “As the years pass, I find we have more weeding to do in the first year. Many candidates who come to us, men and women, aren’t here because of a vocation. It is a downside of our voyeuristic society, Sage. Many young ones are titillated by the idea of our lifestyle, but there are only few with the calling.” She thought about what he said as they passed into the school. The rush of warm air that greeted them as they stepped inside almost took her breath. The temperature indoors was kept at a constant seventy-six degrees and compared to outside, it made her feel as though she’d stepped into a sauna. “Attend me.” Without hesitation, Sage took his coat and hung it in the closet on the left. She made every effort to glide, despite the protests of her stiff joints, to her knees before him. He balanced his weight on her shoulders as he lifted one foot, then the other, allowing her to remove his shoes. She spent long minutes massaging his feet and ankles with the lotion kept near the entrance specifically for that purpose. He was, in fact, bare-chested, and had no need of her to take any other garments. “That will do.” She dropped her hands and pushed back into first position. “Remove your things and follow me,” he said, stepping past her.

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She rose, stripped off her coat and shoes, hiding them in the small closet which was reserved for that purpose, and fell into step three paces behind him. He threaded the corridors of the house, stopping from time to time to look into one room or another, checking the progress of students and classes. Sage watched the movement of his broad shoulders as he walked, measuring the distance between them, striving to attain his rhythm. When he stopped at the door to the salon, he motioned for her to stand next to his side. Three candidates were staring at their teacher as the man, dressed in the same cotton-style pants, though their color, too, was green, lectured them on various styles of restraints and whips. “But, Sir,” one of the young men questioned, holding a gruesome-looking lash, the heavy leather studded with sharp metal spikes. “How can one take that kind of punishment quietly? If you’re beaten, you will scream, no matter what.” He nudged Sage with his shoulder. “Watch them.” She took care to notice the details of each student. Without warning, she felt a jolt shoot through her body as her clitoris was stimulated. As the rest of the female teachers, she was nude beneath her clothing, except for the small butterfly device strapped to her pelvis, the tiny latex vibrator skimming her sensitive flesh. Each male teacher had a small, vibrating egg inserted in his rectum, and each teacher was assigned, by remote control, to one of the masters. Her knees shook. The movements intensified as he pressed the remote. He leaned close to her ear. “You may not speak. You may not make any sound. And you may not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to orgasm, is that understood?” Sage nodded, biting her lip against the pleasure the little device sent pulsing through her. She could feel her body responding, her nipples hardened and pushed against the thin material of her dress. She felt wetness between her thighs and bit her tongue to keep from moaning. “May I have your attention, please?”

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Sage used all her strength to keep from leaning into the doorframe to push the vibrator harder against her aching clit. It felt like a hundred tongues lapping at the very center of her body. The class responded to his voice, four heads turned in unison to attend what the headmaster would say. “Observe this teacher,” he said. “While you are all thinking about those whips and the pain they can produce, I will give you a caution. Sometimes, pain is made sweeter when it is not inflicted, but when it is caused by internal struggle. You must all learn mastery of your bodies. Regardless of what stimulation may be practiced upon you.” He reached down, grabbed a fistful of the soft material of her gown and yanked it to the side. The material rippled off her body like a slipcover pulled from a chair, laying her bare before the shocked gazes of the new students. “Spread your legs. Let them see.” Sage stepped her feet apart, watching the students’ eyes round as they saw the vibrator moving against her flesh. She schooled her features into a placid mask, even though her cunt was tight and pulsating with need. “You want to come, don’t you, Sage?” “No, Sir.” “No?” His surprised tone was for the class’s benefit. “Then what do you want?” “I want nothing, Sir.” It wasn’t true. She wanted him to command her, to relent and let her orgasm flow, to bring her the release she needed. “You must want something,” he pressed her further. She saw his hand move in his pocket. The vibrator ramped up to full and the delightful sensations were replaced with a painful burning. She wanted…she wanted… “I want only to serve you, Sir.” “Present fourth position, Sage.”

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She immediately turned and grasped the doorframe with both hands, raising her hips for his inspection. Then he lectured the students, but she didn’t follow his words. While he spoke, he reached out and stroked her ass with his left hand, occasionally tracing a path between her thighs, up over the butterfly vibrator, and pausing to push two fingers into her slippery warmth. “You see her excitement,” she heard him say. “Her body is begging for release. She needs to come. She needs to orgasm, but I have forbidden her that.” He paused, swirling his thumb around the puckered aperture of her backside. She begged him silently not to do it, but she soon felt him pushing into her ass. The temptation to scream in pleasure and frustration consumed her. Her breasts were tight, her nipples pinched and painful, but she couldn’t disappoint him. She knew he was teaching and she was to be the visual aid for the class. “What will happen if you come without permission, Sage? And speak so the class can hear you.” “I will be punished, Sir.” “Are you afraid of the punishment?” “Yes,” she answered honestly. “And no.” “Why?” “I am afraid,” she said, “because I won’t know what the punishment is, and we fear the unknown. But I am not as afraid of the punishment as I am of failing you, Sir.” The effort to speak took all her will, but it helped to clear her mind from her overwhelming need to orgasm. All the pleasure was gone from the sensations she was experiencing now. All she felt was sweet pain. “Good girl.” His other hand was still on the remote control, and as suddenly as it began, the vibration ceased. He leaned over her back, still thrusting his fingers into her pussy and stroking her ass with his thumb. “Very good. Come for me, now. Be loud.”

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It was all she needed to hear. Sage ground her hips back, pushing against his hand and moaned as the orgasm waved up from her belly and radiated through her arms and legs. She felt her body shake, and thought the trembling might never stop. She was still whimpering, gasping for breath when he withdrew his fingers. He gathered her into his arms and held her against his chest as the tremors coursed through her. He held up two fingers to her lips and tapped. She sucked them into her mouth, tasting herself on his skin. She was aware of the stares from the candidates in the room, their shocked, slack-jawed expressions were almost comical. She wondered if any of them yet understood that regardless of what they’d seen, it wasn’t about sex. He stepped back, still holding her, and closed the door to the salon. He handed her the remains of the dress, though it was torn beyond any hope of wearing. “What do you want, Sage? Now that the students cannot hear.” “I want to be…a slave.” She hesitated only to prevent herself from saying your slave. She knew it was just transference. She was without what she needed most—a master—and her desire for him was merely an attempt to seek an anchor. She knew he wasn’t for her. “One day,” he said thoughtfully, grasping her chin with sticky fingers and searching her face with his gaze. “Maybe you’ll be ready one day.” He dropped his hand. “You did well just now, and you’ve earned a rest before your next class. I give you leave to return to your quarters.” He didn’t wait for a reply or thanks. He turned and walked away.

***** Middleburg, Virginia is commonly held to be horse country. So while Derek was familiar with the area—being the playground of many of the landed elite, he’d had his fill of rolling pasture lands, and cavorting thoroughbreds racing with cars against miles of white fencing. How much of the picturesque was one man supposed to take?

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“You have now, officially, brought us into the middle of nowhere, Charles. Would you please tell me what’s going on?” Seated across from him in the spacious interior of the limousine, Charles looked up from his paper. Derek was surprised to see his expression—shrewd and studied. “How happy are you, Derek?” “What are you talking about? Since when have you been concerned about my happiness? But, since you’re nosing around, I’m fine.” “Are you?” Charles folded the newspaper and tossed it on the seat beside him. “When’s the last time you actually had a girlfriend, or spent any significant time away from the office?” “Female attention has never been lacking in my life.” He folded his arms over his chest. “And if I didn’t spend all my time at the office, then what would happen? Both you and father are absentee shareholders at best.” Charles laughed. “Is that what you tell yourself? Riddle will go on making money, Derek, whether you spend every minute of your life watching the balance sheet or not. Money’s funny that way, it likes spending time in its own company and breeds quickly. Besides, if it all tanked tomorrow, there’s still more there than we can spend in a lifetime—put together.” “Someone has to mind the store.” Derek turned to look out the window. The hint of his reflection in the glass stared back. He looked sullen, petulant as a reprimanded schoolboy. What did Charles know about his life anyway? “You didn’t answer my other question.” He shrugged, choosing to ignore his brother’s observation. “Don’t you like women anymore, Derek? Not that it matters, there are young men where we’re headed, too.”

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“What are you talking about?” Derek growled, then cursed himself when his brother’s grin widened. He’d never been able to resist rising to that fraternal bait. “Seriously, little brother, when was the last time you had a real relationship?” Derek paused and thought back. He discounted the one-night stands, and the dalliances which lasted little more than a week or two. Neither did he count his brief sojourn into the land of highly paid professional sex workers, nor the two affairs he’d had with comfortably married women. With those factors all removed, his love life looked pretty bleak. “I can’t remember,” he said finally. “Women tend to bore me after a while.” “Maybe you’re just not meeting the right women.” The limo slowed then made a right turn. Derek glanced out the window and saw they were driving up a shaded, tree-lined lane. “Christ, Charles, you’re taking me to a whorehouse? I assure you, I’ve been to the best.” His brother laughed. “Not in the least. Nothing here is for sale—except training. No, everything that happens here is consensual.” Derek studied the landscape through his window—a large property, well tended, expensively appointed. The car rounded a circular driveway, affording him a glimpse of the building. A large stone and brick mansion of in two wings came into view. It was either a private residence, or an exclusive retreat. He spotted a discreet sign posted near the entrance. “The Collingwood School?” he asked, turning to his brother and lifting his brow. “Am I in need of education?” Charles nodded. “We’re going to see if you qualify for the masters program.” Two hours later, Derek sat in the headmistress’s—Laura’s—office, and he suspected the shock was still visible on his features. The titian-haired, green-eyed woman seated behind the antique desk watched him, ready it seemed to wait until he absorbed what he’d been told. “Is there anything you would like to ask, Mr. Riddle?”

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He tried to put the pieces together in his mind. “So this place…this school…is where sexual subservients come to be trained?” “That’s a little blunt, and not altogether accurate,” she said, her voice quiet. “But Collingwood does offer a safe place for women and men to explore that side of their personality, if they so choose.” He looked at his brother, but Charles offered no help beyond his amused smile. His brother, it seemed, had knowledge that far surpassed Derek’s own in many areas. “And men, men like me, come here and choose…a partner?” “Partner is a term which implies equality.” The tall, dark-eyed man, Gervais, shook his head. “If you are interested in our masters program, Mr. Riddle, then a partner would not be what you find.” Derek felt a strange sensation in his stomach, unease coupled with…excitement? The urges he’d always shied away from, his desire to wholly dominate another person had always been kept carefully under control. He’d assumed all men felt that way at one time or another, and he’d also assumed that in these advanced times men channeled those feelings into their work—as he had done. He closed his eyes. From the time he’d first stepped into the place, he’d felt as though he was in another world, another time all together. At first, he’d thought he was just in some kind of rich guys’ sex club. The first thing he’d noticed, while taking the tour of the facility, was the nakedness of everyone. The young men and women who’d been pointed out as students were all nude, and formed like perfect models. The women wore slender, gold chains around their waists, which passed through rings attached to ornate chastity belts. The men wore thin collars of dull, gray metal. Iron, he’d guessed, and cages strapped over their cocks. Only in the first year, it was explained, when the temptation to masturbate without permission was at its height. He just couldn’t put all the information together into a picture that made sense. And his brother, Charles, had walked through the place with no more surprise or wonder than he would have had he been browsing through a department store. 28

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That’s what it had been, too, a department store filled with any type or size of person to meet any desire or demand. He’d been introduced to—no, he’d interviewed— at least ten young women. Each was exquisite in her own way, but there was something about every one that wasn’t quite the right fit. One petite blonde had nearly groveled and begged for him to choose her—she reminded him of a puppy, so slavering was her attention. A tall redhead had tried to devour his cock before he’d even learned her name, which might have been intriguing at another time, but not anymore. Laura had ordered her removed by one of the teachers, and her expression of displeasure was enough to make the rest of the young women stare at their feet. They were all too fast, he decided, in anticipating what he must want. “These students are only in their second phase of training, Mr. Riddle. Proper attention will come…with time,” Gervais explained. “I didn’t even know this place existed,” he said, coming out of his private musings. “Our school has a long history,” Gervais said. “For well over one hundred years, Collingwood has existed and thrived. My great-grandfather funded the initial institution. I’m the fourth headmaster.” “And those…submissives? Are you telling me they pay tuition?” “Tuition is charged, yes. The students are not always the ones who write the checks.” That explains something, he thought. Several inquiries he’d made about specific young women had been rejected, firmly but politely. They must already be spoken for, he guessed. “I never seriously considered such an idea,” he said, looking toward his brother. What had Charles been thinking by bringing him here? What did he know that Derek didn’t? “It is not a choice for everyone,” Laura said, moving from her chair to stand beside Gervais. “But we thought you might be looking for the kind of program we offer. Your name was mentioned by several of our clients.”

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“How did you…who?” he asked, not quite able to form the question. “Some of our clients are known to you,” Gervais answered, holding up his hand to forestall any questions. “I assure you, we regard confidentiality as our first priority here, Mr. Riddle, so I won’t give you names. It was merely suggested you might be interested.” Derek searched his brain for who might have put him up to this. He glanced at Charles, but his brother was engrossed in filling out some sort of paperwork. Then he remembered. The three months he’d spent in Italy. What had he told himself? While he was in a foreign country, why not experiment a little? There had been clubs, parties, and sexual adventures he thought might finally satisfy the need he’d never quite been able to name. But something hadn’t been right, it had all seemed so…forced. Women enjoying two men with just a little too much enthusiasm, and he’d ended up telling himself he’d wanted to be there, more than actually wanting to be there. It had been new, even startling and exotic, but certainly not perfect. However, he’d seen people there he’d recognized…people as interested in privacy as he was…maybe one of them? “I need to walk,” he said. “I need some air, and a good think.” “It’s a lot to take in,” Laura said, a congenial smile suffusing her pretty features. “Come, let us show you the gardens.” Derek couldn’t argue that the grounds were beautiful and quiet. If it weren’t for the naked people inside, and the new understanding he had of what went on there, he wouldn’t have thought twice about booking a room for a long holiday in the place. He walked through the garden, listening to Gervais explain about the layout and occasionally interrupting to ask questions about the school—none of which bothered his guides. As they strolled through the grounds, he had a strong image of himself covering these grounds in quite a different way. He almost felt he should be wearing tall, black boots and carrying a whip. There was an almost Victorian air to the place.

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“This is the winter garden,” Laura said, as they came to stand at the gate of a walled section of the property. Derek looked over the low barrier and imagined what the barren patch of ground must look like in summer. Enough of his mother’s influence remained that he could easily envision the flowering bushes and plants blossoming into a rainbow of colors. Movement attracted his attention and stopped him from making a polite observation about the layout of the garden. A woman was on her knees, using a hand tool to remove some of the winter growth. She moved but he sensed a stillness in her that she wore like a coat. As he watched, he saw her hands were employed but every motion was taken with care—nothing wasted. If the garden was a peaceful place, the woman embodied that peace. She stood, then, her task accomplished. She was tall, and when she turned, Derek saw she was more mature than the other young women he’d met. Dark green fabric swirled around her ankles, peeking out from beneath her long coat. She had long, ashblonde hair and the biggest violet-blue eyes he’d ever seen. She was lovely, not as classically beautiful as the other women, but his throat still tightened in anticipation as he watched her move. “What about her?” he heard himself ask. What was he doing? He hadn’t even met her and he’d already half decided she was the one. Suddenly, he was no longer just observing. He was involved. “No.” Gervais barked the word. “She is not available.” There was a quality to the man’s voice that made Derek’s heart beat a little faster. “Is she spoken for? Does she belong to someone?” he challenged. Gervais frowned, his lips thinning into a tight line. “No. But she is not ready.” The possessive, angry tone of his reply was enough to make Derek’s decision. “I don’t care.” Derek turned to face the man, arms folded over his chest. “I want her.”

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Chapter Three Sage was aware of the tension between the men in the room when she stepped into Laura’s office. Gervais, her teacher, her surrogate Master, was standing with his back to her, gazing over the grounds from his vantage point of the window. The other man, the one she’d noticed in the garden, was seated in a leather armchair, his fingers laced together over his chest. His eyes followed her movements, his expression shrewd, calculated. He was blond, but his eyes were dark, so brown they were almost black. She had seen that he was tall, taller than she by a good four inches and from the shape of his strong jaw and set of his broad shoulders, and had a strong resemblance to the only other man in the room—an older man absorbed in the newspaper. “Sit, Sage.” She glided into a seat at her teacher’s soft command. He still had not turned around, but anger radiated from him in almost overwhelming waves. She’d never sensed that emotion from him before. “This is Mr. Riddle, Sage.” She turned her gaze to Laura’s softer voice. Laura trained the masters, not the subs, and Sage had never had more than passing contact with her. Laura nodded toward the blond man. “How do you do?” She liked his voice—warm, not accented, and musical. She nodded in response. For a brief moment, his mouth wrinkled at the corner, into a sort of grin. “Can’t you speak?” he asked. “Of course, Sir,” she replied. “Then,” he said slowly. “How do you do?”

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“Very well, thank you, Mr. Riddle.” He arched a brow, his smile broadening, but the reason for that escaped her. “Mr. Riddle, it seems, has taken an interest in participating in our masters program, Sage. It also seems he has taken an interest in you.” Gervais didn’t sound as angry now, but he still refused to turn around. Sage felt her heart pound. An interest…in her? She felt panic wash over from her. After her last disastrous relationship, she was certainly not ready for another so soon. “We have explained to Mr. Riddle that nothing happens here without consent,” Laura said, her voice almost soothing. “It was my idea that perhaps you might take a walk with him, Sage, get to know each other a little. Perhaps in this way you will both be able to make an informed decision. Is this acceptable to you?” Sage stared at her feet for a moment, not from shyness or embarrassment, but in calculation of what was happening. Despite her need and desire for a certain kind of relationship with a master, her trained legal mind was ever working. “Are we talking about a bonded contract?” she asked. “You will be offered the three choices.” Gervais turned. “It will be for you and Mr. Riddle to decide which, if any, you will choose.” “I see.” “Mr. Riddle has also been briefed on our program, Sage, but if he has any questions you are able to answer, you may answer him honestly.” She nodded, more interested in the look to which Laura treated this Mr. Riddle than she was with the dispensation of the strict adherence to privacy that was customary at the school. Clearly, Laura thought the handsome Mr. Riddle was worth more than just a casual glance. Sage’s panic turned into a small flare of jealousy. She envied Laura’s boldness, that quiet privilege the woman exuded. Laura was confident of her place in the world, and Sage was just drifting. She had no place, at least none that she felt suited her.

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“So will you agree to spend the afternoon with me?” She looked up to see Mr. Riddle smiling. She mirrored the gesture before she could stop herself. “Yes.” “Mr. Riddle has yet to take the Shaded Walk. Why don’t you show him?” Laura suggested. “I’d like to see that,” he added, standing. He reached out a hand. Sage hesitated then put her fingers in his. He had a warm grip, his fingers strong and smooth. She was glad he didn’t have a wet, clammy palm, even as she reminded herself that such an observation was not hers to make. “You can call me Derek,” he said. Gervais cleared his throat, a harsh sound that drew her attention away from Derek Riddle’s impressive smile. “You may address him in this manner, Sage,” he said. “For now.”

“How long have you been here?” Derek asked as he walked with Sage down a wide, shaded path that she assured him would open out to a stunning view of the rolling valley. “A month,” she replied. “This time.” “You were here before?” “Oh, yes.” She stumbled on a loose stone and instinct made him reach out to steady her. She nodded her thanks and when he threaded her arm through his, she didn’t object. He liked the warmth of her, the close contact. She cleared her throat. “I began my training at the school almost seven years ago.” “Seven years? How old were you?” “Twenty-three. I was taking a break between undergraduate studies and law school.” 34

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“How did you find out about this place?” “I became involved with a man who’d already been through the masters program. He was very experienced within the community, and as our relationship developed, he offered to send me here.” Derek felt a surge of jealousy course through him. Of course, he hadn’t expected her to be a virgin, but for some reason the idea of anyone else being a part of her past—her intimate past—didn’t sit well. He checked the emotion, though he was surprised. It wasn’t like him to react so strongly. It wasn’t as if he’d ever cared before. “Why did you come?” She gathered herself inward, thinking about her response, he supposed. Of the little he’d learned about her in this half-hour he’d spent with her, he’d already discovered he admired her thoughtfulness. She strove to answer every question he asked her thoroughly, honestly. “I was intrigued, I think. And I was also assured it would be a safe place for me to work out whether or not a deeper involvement in this world of domination and submission was what I really wanted for myself.” “But I understood you to be a slave. Do your desires matter?” “Not always within certain contexts, but yes, I make the choice to accept this lifestyle. Of course my desires matter. At least they do to me.” “You’ll have to forgive me,” Derek said, “I’m still a little taken aback by all of this.” He spread his free arm to indicate the expanse of Collingwood’s grounds. For a moment, the woman beside him smiled a secret, amused expression. “What?” he asked. “Did I say something funny?” “You are here for the masters program, aren’t you?” There was a definite current of humor in her tone. He nodded. “Then, please forgive me, but I’ve never heard a master apologize for anything, much less his own surprise.”

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He had to laugh, but something in her eyes curtailed his mirth. She studied him, as though she were trying to make up her mind about something. “Sir?” “Derek,” he interrupted. “Derek.” She conceded the point with a gentle incline of her head. “If you will permit me to speak freely?” “Of course.” “Are you here only because you like kinky sex?” He choked off a groan at her husky intonation. No woman should be able to affect him with just her voice. “How do you know I even like kinky sex?” “Would you even be here, thinking about taking the course, if you didn’t?” “I suppose not,” he answered. “Until a few hours ago, though, I didn’t even know this place existed.” “Well, you look like someone who’s used to commanding, used to power. Isn’t that so?” He thought about his job, the pressure and the vast number of people for whom he was responsible at the Riddle Corporation. “Yes, that’s a fair statement.” “Then I suspect you’re here to explore another side of yourself. Perhaps even discover if the person you think you are really is the person you want to be.” “That sounds pretty philosophical for a lawyer who’s into bondage,” he said, trying to lighten his words with a smile. She was hitting much too close to home for his comfort. “Bondage is only a beginning.” She stepped out of the line of trees and waited until he’d had a chance to look at the scene that spread open before him like the opening to some expensive Hollywood movie. “And there’s nothing saying a lawyer can’t think beyond the letter of the law.”

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As she spoke, he turned to face her, caught again by the expressive beauty of her violet eyes. He knew, somewhere in his brain, that what he was feeling was chemical— a combination of the pheromones of attraction. As he stared, watching her eyes widen, her pupils darken, he was sure she was affected, too. “Sage, I’m going to kiss you now.” He was no longer interested in playing the gentleman. The subtle scent of her skin, her fresh soap-and-water smell had been taunting him from the moment he’d taken her arm. She took his announcement without any outward show of surprise, and in a move that made his toes tingle, she pressed herself along his body and lifted her chin to offer her mouth. He moved in closer and her eyes fluttered closed. The small gesture was his undoing; the complete and utter femininity of the soft, curves of her shape combined with the innocent, almost shy smudge of her lashes against her cheek removed his doubts. He wanted her. And he was going to have her. He touched her lips, softly at first. She tasted of vanilla. She moved beneath his mouth, matching his movements, then opening beneath his probing tongue. When he pressed into her mouth, she sucked the tip of his tongue, flicking it with her own. The kiss turned from questioning to passionate in a heartbeat. His hand came up into her hair and fisted there, dragging her against him. He couldn’t get her close enough, fast enough. When his lungs burned, demanding he let her go long enough to breathe, Derek came back to himself. He ended the kiss, even as he’d begun it, without hesitation. If he expected her to look up with bemused, stunned admiration, he was surprised to see her eyes open to reveal a cool expression. Suddenly, he felt very unsure of himself. She wasn’t unhappy, he could see that much, but she hadn’t been transported by passion either. His gaze lingered on her swollen, kiss-stung lips. He hadn’t meant to kiss her with such…athleticism, but she was just irresistible. His pride, however, felt as battered as her mouth looked. “I’ve been told I’m skilled at kissing…” 37

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“It was very nice,” she said, her voice soft but her breathing appeared neither uneven or in the least bit labored. “I don’t know that I’d call it nice,” he said, frustrated enough to take her hand and press it against his erection. “Moving, but not necessarily nice.” She molded her hand around the impression his cock made against the front of his trousers, her gaze never leaving his. He swallowed hard and his hips moved of their own accord against her simple touch. “If you don’t stop that,” he said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to forget my manners, haul you up against one of those trees, and fuck you against my better judgment.” “Are you telling me to stop?” He could tell her question was serious, and he heard the implied offer underneath the words. “No.” She leaned in close, her fingers lightly stroking him through the cloth. “Then tell me what you want me to do.” He couldn’t articulate his need, and all the events of the morning crashed down around him at once. What was he doing here, with a woman he’d only just met, but who turned him on in a primitive, visceral way. “It’s all right to say it,” she whispered. Her soothing tone, at odds with his pounding pulse, convinced him what he was doing shouldn’t be overanalyzed. “I want you to wrap your legs around me while I sink my cock into you.” Sage shivered, responding to his gruff command. It didn’t matter that he was driven by his obvious physical need—he’d given her an order and it felt so good to have a boundary—an instruction again. She relaxed and walked backwards, drawing him forward by her light hold on his erection.

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He followed, his face a mixture of raw desire and confusion. She knew he was at war with what his nature was telling him to do and the restrictions of what he might call decent behavior. She had empathy, but she was too well trained to dare sympathize with this man. Whether he knew it or not, he was definitely a master. As she moved, she shrugged out of her coat, leaving it to fall in a tangle at her feet. When she felt cold, rough tree bark against her back through thin fabric, she hurried to release him from his pants. Words were useless, but his body responded with harsh need. He reached down and grabbed the hem of her dress, bunching the fabric around her waist, holding it with his forearms as he grabbed her ass in both hands and hauled her against him. Using the tree as support, she leaned back then wrapped her legs around his waist—just as he’d said. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, his chest heaving as though he’d run a mile. “Yes,” she sighed, clinging to his shoulders and burying her face in the curve of his neck even as he thrust into her, burying his cock deep inside her cunt until she felt his balls pressed against the curve of her ass. He groaned, nudging her cheek with his until she lifted her face and accepted his kiss. His tongue played with hers, twisting, exploring until he plunged it in and out of her mouth with the same rhythm his hips ground against hers. The uneven, cold tree bark bit into her back, tearing at the skin through the thin material, but that was nothing against the wave of desire she felt from the man himself. She welcomed the pain, and the clarity of thought it brought. She knew he was using her. She could feel his intensity with every sharp jerk of cock and when he whispered the word tighter, she knew just what he meant. She squeezed him between her thighs, flexing her inner muscles in time to his thrusts. “Oh God,” he moaned. “You’re…you’ll make me come.”

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The praise in his tone warmed her air-cooled skin and she brought her hips up higher to force his cock deeper into her pussy. She willed herself to accept him just as he was and to obey the commands of his mouth and his body. The joy of giving herself to someone again was too intense, and despite her intention to wait for his command, her orgasm was too powerful to control. “Yes,” he growled as she bucked against him. “That’s right. That’s what I want. Come for me. Come all over me, Sage.” She cried out, the freedom to let go was all she needed, and she felt it when his climax came fast on the heels of her own. He thrust one last time, penetrated her deeper than she’d ever felt before, then his body seized into that orgasmic spasm which the French have always called le petit mort—and it truly was a little death. For that instant, she felt life, even time, had stopped. He held her against the tree until her legs quaked with fatigue. “Oh God,” he said, withdrawing his now softening cock and helping her regain her footing. “Here, is that better?” She nodded, straightening the skirt of her dress. He put his arms around her again, and before she could stop it, she winced against his hands. “Turn around.” She spun on her heel, with careful deliberation, and though she was pretty certain what he would find, she was surprised to hear his sharp inhalation of breath. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding,” he bit out. “Why didn’t you say something?” “I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t important.” He looked as though he would like to object, but he shook his head instead. “This is going to sound like a very corny line from a very corny movie, but I’d like you to know I’ve never done anything like that before.”

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“You’ve never had sex outside?” She was trying to make him laugh, to erase the dark look on his face. She knew it was no good for him to be at a place like Collingwood if he couldn’t get past even the simplest of inhibitions. “Of course I’ve had sex outdoors, but I’ve never been so selfish.” He shook his head again. “I’ve never used another person without any regard for her feelings before—not like that.” “And now that you have? How do you feel about it?” He stared into the distance for a long moment. She watched him as he adjusted his now flaccid penis into his underwear, and pulled his trousers back up to button and zip them. Then he looked at her and grinned. “I have to say, I liked it.” “I…I pleased you, then?” She hated to ask, but part of her needed to know. She wanted him to choose her, she realized. She sensed something in him, perhaps it was his ability to manage or his casual aura of power, but something told her this man could give her what she wanted. And right at that moment, what she wanted was his satisfaction. “Oh, yes.” His grin was smug, self-satisfied. “You pleased me, Sage, and I think we’re going to get along very well indeed.” “So you’ve decided to stay?” “Yes. This course is four weeks long, I understand. And if you will agree to be my…companion for that length of time, then I will stay. So will you?” She thought of the moment when he’d finally accepted what he wanted within himself. She couldn’t remember ever having been so excited. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I will.”

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Chapter Four The masters’ quarters were in the west wing of the large house, and Sage had never been inside. While the slaves and submissives were housed in Spartan comfort, the interiors could be described as opulent and the masters’ side was simply elegant. Elegance and style were something to which she had been accustomed in her life outside the school, so she felt at home with the sculptures and artwork on the walls— most of which she noticed were not reproductions. Her room, a small antechamber off a cavernous suite of rooms that had been assigned to Derek, was spacious and light. According to his instructions, it had been decorated in a comfortable, understated style. She had a queen-sized bed of her own, which was ostentatious in comparison to the narrow single mattress that had been the sole adornment in her small bedchamber in the other section of the house. There were impressionist paintings on the walls, an overstuffed armchair with a matching footstool, and a dressing table large enough to house almost everything she had ever owned. She found it already well stocked with lingerie in the prettiest, most expensive styles. Any fantasy Derek might want to explore could be accommodated in terms of makeup and accessories. Inside the walk-in closet, she found a full wardrobe along with rows and rows of glorious shoes. Surrounded by pretty things, she felt more in her element. With these tools she felt she could bring life to his unspoken desires, but a small doubt lingered in her mind. She knew he had no experience in a contractual relationship based on the exchange of power. He was no experienced master. Would he be able to tap into her desires? The unknown factor. The variable x that had yet to be defined.

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Sage reminded herself that she was here as part of his training program and she shouldn’t have aspirations for her own satisfaction, but when he’d fucked her in the woods, she’d sensed something in him. What should she call it? Potential, perhaps. “Are you settling in?” She looked up to see Gervais standing in her doorway. “Present sixth position.” She stood from the low stool in front of the dressing table, where she’d been sitting, clasped her hands in front of her, casting her gaze down to the floor. “This is going to be a little different for you, of course,” he said, pushing off the doorframe with his shoulder and walking a slow circle around her, looking her up and down. “Even though your first master sent you here for training, you’ve never been in this side of the house, as I recall.” “No, Sir, I’ve not.” “It will be twice the responsibility. I advised Mr. Riddle, before he made his choice, that there are slaves here whom are better equipped to serve a man just coming into his role as a real master. You are talented, Sage, but you’re also used to masters who know what they’re doing. Do you think you can serve him without topping from the bottom?” “I have no desire to control him, Sir. It isn’t my place to control a master—even one who’s inexperienced.” “That’s a wise answer,” he murmured as he passed his hands over her naked shoulders. Sage felt the answering tug in the center of her stomach. She had always been attracted to Gervais, certainly because of the easy assurance of command he exuded, but his physical presence was no less disturbing. He was a handsome man. Not quite as handsome as Derek Riddle, she thought, surprising herself. She didn’t normally make comparisons.

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“There are some instructions you will have to follow, regardless of Mr. Riddle’s desires, so I thought I’d take the time to talk with you while he’s occupied with Laura.” Occupied with Laura. She pushed the thought out of her mind. “Make yourself comfortable now, Sage.” Gervais moved to the armchair, sat and steepled his fingers over his chest. His lecturing pose. Sage sat on the floor, leaning against the footboard of the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. “In the masters’ wing, you’ll belong exclusively to Mr. Riddle, but you will also make yourself available to the other masters-in-training. You will be expected to quickly and efficiently comply with any requests that do not violate the terms of your agreement with Mr. Riddle. In other words, anything that is nonsexual in this context will apply. Understand?” “You mean any instructions or demands or services that aren’t penetrative?” He smiled and she answered with a grin. “Exactly. Also, for his own benefit and training, he may be required to perform exercises with you that seem a little unusual—even for you.” “It’s hard to imagine that.” “You have been through the wars, haven’t you?” Gervais’ manner changed from lecturing to a gentle, almost sympathetic understanding. “Come here, Sage.” She moved to stand in front of him and he pulled her onto his lap, cradling her against his chest. “So many people don’t understand you,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “It hurts, doesn’t it? I think of you, often, you know. I think of you in your office, a titan in the courtroom, with such an exacting legal mind. It must be frustrating when those men you meet on a daily basis want to compete—never understanding it’s your need to serve that must be nurtured.”

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Sage closed her eyes and leaned against his petting hand. “Being strong in my work isn’t a challenge. I’ve always been the dominant one, and I accept that in order to be successful as a lawyer, I must be hard.” “But you’re soft on the inside. Compliant.” His hand smoothed over her hair, down her arm and over her bare breasts. “Even I am included in the rule, Sage.” Gervais stroked his thumb over her nipple then tweaked it between his fingers. She felt an answering pull in her pussy and moisture slipped down her thigh. He nudged her cheek with his nose and she tipped her face up to accept his kiss. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, and she answered swirling hers around his, savoring his taste. “I’m not going to take you,” he said, drawing back from her finally. She squirmed in his lap, feeling the frustration of denial grow in the tension of her limbs. “But you want it, don’t you?” She nodded, unable to form the words. She wanted release. She wanted to lose herself in the strength of someone else. “For now, at least, you belong to Derek Riddle. I don’t want you to forget that in your heart, you’re simply a slave. Nothing more than property.” “I want a master,” she sighed, fingers against his lips. “You have one.” Sage jerked her head around to see Derek framed in the doorway between her room and his. She felt guilt wash over her thinking about what the scene must look like, then reminded herself that she didn’t really belong to him, not yet. But she wasn’t independent, either. “Get off him.” Sage responded without hesitation, leaving the comforting familiarity of her teacher’s arms and moving to stand beside Derek. 45

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The men stared at each other, power crackling between them. Sage felt another blush steal over her cheeks, this time from anger, when she realized Gervais had set up the entire scene to provoke Derek. What kind of reaction was he looking for? Was he testing her ability to follow the rules? There was no need to explain to Derek. Gervais hadn’t fucked her, after all, but she couldn’t deny that she would have let him had he wanted to. Something snapped the tension, and Gervais stood, shrugging in that oddly elegant way he had, setting him apart from the situation a little—giving him that superior air he wore as comfortably as a tailored suit. “I’ve been explaining Sage’s new responsibilities.” Derek jerked his head toward the door to the hallway. “Thanks, but if there’s any explaining to be done in these rooms, then I’ll handle it.” Gervais smiled, a gesture without warmth. “There is no place for jealousy between masters,” he said. “It’s a little petulant, don’t you think?” “There is only one master here now,” Derek said, opening the door leading to the hall. Gervais stopped long enough to cup his hand against Sage’s cheek. “Remember what and who you are,” he said. Then he was gone. She waited, her eyes focused on the plush carpet beneath her feet. “One thing I know is that punishment should never be retaliatory.” Derek closed the door and turned to face her. “Look at me, Sage.” She looked up to see his blue eyes darken, his expression and stance radiating anger. She wondered if he was master of himself enough to control his emotions or if the next four weeks, despite his words, would be a lesson in abuse. “Therefore, I will say two things,” he continued. “First, I don’t care what he told you—while you’re mine, you will submit to my will alone, and I forbid you to let him touch you again. Second, you will have to accept that regardless of what should be…I

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am a jealous man when it comes to you. If you deliberately provoke me again, or allow yourself to be used as a tool to provoke me, then you will be punished. Is that clear?” “Yes, Sir. Very clear.” “Good.” Derek pointed to the bed. “Now, I want you to take a nap and rest yourself. I’ve been given an itinerary for the day and evening. It promises to be a late night.” Sage slipped beneath the covers as he watched. She had already been informed she was to remain naked at all times while in their rooms, unless otherwise instructed. “Are you going to rest, too, Sir?” she asked, nestling against the pillow, striving to appear calm and relaxed. “No.” He walked to the door adjoining their rooms. “I’ll call for you when I want you.” He stepped through and closed the door, leaving Sage alone with her thoughts. Regardless of his command, it was a long time before she slept.

The evening began with an auction. The large salon had been converted from a place for pleasant conversation into a staging area reminiscent of the old slave market in New Orleans. There was a large, stable block upon which the slaves would be displayed, their merits discussed and the masters currently without companions would be allowed to bid on those who sparked their interest. Derek felt uneasy even though he knew everything happened by consent. Two men stood by the auction block, heads bent in discussion. He’d seen them both in the halls during the day, and felt he recognized the bigger man. He was an inch or so taller than Derek’s six feet two inches and thick with muscles. He was handsome, in a brutish sense, but what disturbed Derek was the way his gaze slid over Sage with frequency.

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He turned his head slightly to watch Sage without appearing obvious. She was, as he’d instructed her, preparing his plate from the buffet that had been set up alongside the east wall of the room. Every movement she made flowed with grace. Even her hands, occupied with choosing delicacies from the fruit bowls, mesmerized him. She was dressed in a simple, cream-colored linen pantsuit he’d chosen. She balanced on the steel-heeled, tan velvet pumps with ease. He felt his hands tingle with memory. He’d enjoyed slipping them onto her shapely feet, stroking his hands up her stocking-clad legs. He thought of her as she’d been, lying supine on the bed, her golden hair spread over the duvet and a look of anticipation in her violet eyes. She attracted him with her beauty, of course, but it was what lay behind her expression that was starting to obsess him. She guarded any show of emotion, or individual opinion. He knew it was part of her desire—to efface her being into complete subjection to another, but there had to be something underneath—something he felt he had to discover. She crossed the room as though floating, to offer him a plate filled with all manner of temptations. “Thank you, Sage.” He took the plate and chose a strawberry. Aware the big man was watching them, he motioned for her to lean forward and he pressed the berry to her lips. She opened beneath his fingers and snapped her white teeth around the fruit. A small droplet of juice clung to her lips. “Kiss me, gently.” She leaned closer and pressed her mouth to his. He flicked out his tongue to trace the seam of her lips, lingering over the strawberry taste of her. “Very good,” he whispered, smiling. “Now, it is not permitted, I understand, for you to be with us tonight, so you will take your place with the others.” “Of course, Sir.” She inclined her head and melted away.

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He wondered how she could make herself so unobtrusive, hardly making a ripple in the air when she moved, yet her presence filled the room like a fine perfume. The only other time he’d ever seen that skill embodied had been on one of his trips to Japan for the Riddle Corporation. His host had been what might loosely have been termed as his counterpart in a partner company in Tokyo. Derek had spent a week as a guest in the man’s home, and had been stunned by the quiet elegance of his wife. Mr. Taka explained that his wife had trained as a geisha, fully absorbing the ancient training as part of her lifestyle. Sage reminded him of her. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you will take your seats, the auction will commence.” Derek looked up to see Laura standing at the lectern just to the left of the block. There were several women also taking part in the program, one of whom sat next to him. She was pretty in a delicate sort of way, petite, with black hair and equally dark eyes. “I noticed your slave,” she whispered, leaning toward him with the confidence of an old, trusted acquaintance. “I should warn you, you’ve got your hands full there.” “I like a challenge,” he said, noncommittal. “I know her previous master. He was never able to control her. She disobeyed him at every turn.” “I’ll keep an eye on her.” “And a whip too, if you’re smart.” She winked then held out her hand. “I’m Jennifer.” “Derek,” he said, shaking her hand. The loud rap of a gavel prevented further pleasantries. “The first slave will be brought to the block,” Laura said. The side door opened and a young man was led into the room. He wore a pair of loose-fitting trousers. The rest of his costume consisted of a leather collar and cuffs. A

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leash was attached to the metal ring fitted to the front of the collar. He was young; Derek guessed him to be about nineteen. His chest was well formed, though lacked the full breadth it would have when maturity filled it out. He was all arms and legs, but his face was almost beautiful. He had blond, curly hair and bright blue eyes. He looked like a Greek statue. Jennifer made an unpleasant sound of dismissal under her breath. “Not your type?” he whispered. “Hardly. Too pretty by half.” “This is Kevin,” Laura said as the young man stepped up onto the block. “Aged twenty years, fully vetted and trained as a houseboy. He is available for full consideration. I will open the bidding at five hundred.” “Full consideration?” he asked. “He swings both ways,” Jennifer answered. Several of the masters left their seats and took their time circling the block, studying the young man. A burly, rough-looking man reached out and cupped his palm between the boy’s legs. Derek shifted in his own seat, uncomfortable as he watched the man heft the young man’s balls in his hand, then stroke his stiffening cock through his pants. “There’s something of interest,” the man said, stepping back. “I’ll bid five hundred.” A voice behind him, female, chimed in. “Five fifty.” A few more halfhearted bids followed, but the burly man topped them all. As he continued to rake the boy with his gaze, Derek could see the young man’s growing discomfort. He was uneasy, yes, but excited too. The bidding stood at eight hundred. “I’m going to enjoy striping that beautiful skin,” the man said, his growl filled with promise. The potential slave shivered on the block, but his cock was erect, making an impressive outline against his trousers.

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“Anyone else?” Laura raised the gavel and hesitated. “Once…twice…sold.” She brought the gavel down on the lectern. “This slave belongs to Master Gunther once payment is received. Take him away to the pens.” Several more slaves were dispatched in similar fashion, before a young woman was brought in. She was tall, at least six feet. Derek felt the woman at his side come alive with expectation. He glanced at her. She was sitting forward on her chair, a new gleam of interest in her eyes. He realized why she had let the handsome boys pass by without so much as a second look. “This is Christine,” Laura said, in her familiar introductory remarks. “She requires a firm, feminine touch. I’ll start the bidding at—” “One thousand,” Jennifer interrupted. A smile flitted over Laura’s mouth and the corners of her eyes crinkled as though she was trying to contain her laughter. “Very well,” she said. “The bidding begins at one thousand.” Derek watched as two other women competed with Jennifer to secure possession of the flame-haired girl on the block, but the petite woman would not be denied. Her final bid, five thousand, carried the day. He was surprised when a serious-looking man in a suit appeared at her side. Jennifer was slumped back in her chair, looking as satisfied as a cat who’d found the cream on the counter. She acknowledged the man near her shoulder, and opened a small, black leather case, flipped through it and brought out a roll of cash. She counted out five thousand dollars in one and five hundred dollar notes. She exchanged them for a receipt that she tucked into the bag. “I hadn’t noticed,” he said. “This is an expensive hobby.” She shrugged and grinned. “It’s a donation, of course, and fully tax-deductible. Collingwood’s gardens are part of an historical trust. I wonder what the fine people on the board would say if they really knew what kind of flowers they grow here.”

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He was about to reply when Laura announced the end of the auction. “Wait. I believe there is one more slave on offer?” a man called out from somewhere in the room. “No, Master Evan. There is no one else.” “Are you certain? What about her? The blonde with the strange eyes.” Derek felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. The man, Evan, who was speaking was the same big Neanderthal who’d been stripping Sage with his gaze earlier in the evening. He fought the impulse to jump up and interfere. He made himself wait to see what Laura would do. She looked toward the back of the room. Derek followed her line of sight and saw Gervais standing in the far corner, his arms folded over his chest—observant as ever. “As I understand it, that one isn’t under formal contract.” Evan addressed himself to Gervais. Derek stole a quick glance at the opposite side of the room where Sage stood with the other slaves. Their gazes locked. He understood two things in quick succession. This was not the first time Sage had come across this Evan character. And she was afraid. Derek turned in his seat so he could see both Gervais and Laura. Jennifer, at his side, had arched her eyebrow all the way to her hairline. She, like everyone else in the room, was riveted to the scene. “There is no formal contract between Mr. Riddle and Sage at present,” Gervais said. “There is, however, an understanding.” “I have an understanding with the boy who parks my car, too, but it doesn’t mean I own him,” Evan challenged. “We were told that all available slaves would be put on offer tonight.” “You have purchased a slave this evening, Master Evan,” Laura said, a frown marring her pretty mouth.

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The man strode up toward the slave block. “There is nothing stating I can’t buy more than one.” “Put her on the block,” Derek spoke, surprising himself, before Laura could answer the brute. What was he thinking? It was madness, he knew it, but he was not about to hide behind Laura’s tailored skirt, or rely on Gervais for anything. Somehow the idea of owing that man anything made his pulse pound. “Lost your mind, have you?” Jennifer whispered. He didn’t answer. Finally Gervais nodded. Sage was led to the block by the same man who’d received Jennifer’s payment. Laura shook her head, but lifted the gavel and said in a steady voice, “This is Sage. She is a fully trained slave and experienced. She is a gentleman’s delight.” Laura looked at Evan, her expression mocking. He had started this, so she was waiting for him to make good on his boasts. Derek smiled. He approved. Evan began the bidding at two thousand. Derek offered three. No one else dared intervene between the two men. Jennifer made no other comment than to gasp as the price rose. “Eight thousand,” Evan growled, his exasperation showing. “Nine.” Derek didn’t even look at his rival. Sage’s gaze was fixed at a point somewhere over his head. Even though they’d known each other such a brief time, he felt he knew what she was thinking. She was as stunned to be on that block as he was to see her there. “Fifteen thousand, full stop.” Evan turned then, his eyes dark and flashing. He dared Derek with his body to bid any higher. Derek allowed himself one small flash of a smile. “Twenty.” 53

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The room erupted into a hum of whispers and surprised exclamations. Evan looked as though he was going to have a stroke, then his face returned to its normal color. The tension released from his shoulders and he laughed. It was forced. “No bitch is worth that kind of money,” he said, waving his hand and walking back toward his chair. “Twenty thousand,” Laura said. “Going once…twice…sold. Sage will be the official property of Master Derek once payment has been received.” “Goddamn!” Jennifer muttered and clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope she knows what you just did.” Derek watched Sage as another man helped her from the block and she returned to the other slaves. He could see the fear ebb from her like water sluicing off her skin. “She knows.” Derek stood and made his way to Laura’s lectern. Gervais was already at her side. “I’m not sure that was altogether necessary,” she said. “I understand it’s a charitable donation.” Gervais was still frowning. “The slave contract is not financially based. All this does is ensure you Sage’s companionship for the duration of your stay here—which you may have had without this gesture. It doesn’t extend beyond this course, neither does it buy you anything other than what you already have.” “You’re not going to turn down my money, though, are you?” Then Gervais smiled. “I’ve never turned down twenty thousand dollars, no.” Derek held the other man’s gaze for a long moment. “I thought not. I assume you’ll take a check?”

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Chapter Five I paid for this woman. I paid twenty thousand dollars for this woman. I wrote a check. What the hell was I thinking? These thoughts played in a repetitive loop inside Derek’s head for the rest of the evening. Supper, which took place in the long, formal dining room after the auction, became a surreal affair. He was reminded of the scene in The Godfather where the heads of the five families meet, each with an advisor, or lieutenant standing just behind his chair, ready at a signal to deliver a fresh glass of Chianti or a nice plate of cheese and crackers. This was almost exactly the same. Except it wasn’t a movie. The table was set for a formal affair—with enough silver and china to impress any head of state. The mastersin-training were seated on the long sides of the rectangular table; Gervais and Laura were seated at opposite ends, the consummate hosts. And the slaves… Each master was flanked by his or her slave. Dressed according to the whims of their owners, Derek counted several strapped into liquid latex or patent leather harnesses. Jennifer had either poured, or painted, her Christine into a catsuit of such restrictive proportions that Derek wondered how the girl breathed. He had not insisted that Sage change into some kind of outrageous costume, preferring, instead, to watch her move in the chic lines of couture. Somehow, her suit made him feel underdressed. He slipped in and out of awareness in terms of the conversation. The topics ranged from the superb quality of the food, with which he agreed, to the nature of those who would be masters compared to those who chose slavery as a vocation. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 55

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But he was aware of Evan, even though he never spared him a direct glance. The man was still spoiling for a fight. It was Jennifer’s voice, however, that drew him from his thoughts. “Of course not. Deep down, every submissive is searching for the same thing—a release from the social restrictions that demand we all be responsible for ourselves. I think it’s a master’s obligation to help their submissive—especially a submissive who seeks a slave relationship—build a safe, nurturing environment where he or she can explore release and all it entails. A slave who’s unable to believe her master can build that kind of haven for her will never truly submit to the will of another.” “It’s not up to the slave. Submission, in the end, will be forced,” Evan said this as he speared another slice of ham with his fork. “I believe the difference in what you’re saying is that there are two types of submission—that made by active consent and that which is forced,” Derek said. Evan shook his head. “You’re wrong. There’s only one type of submission—simply to obey. Sooner or later, every slave bucks the reins. Ultimately they all want to be beaten, to be reminded that they’re nothing.” Derek looked over the row of six slaves standing behind the masters opposite the table from them. He was waiting for one of them, any of them, to object—to assert their humanity, their identity. But no one moved or spoke, not even the dark girl Evan had purchased earlier in the evening. “I can’t agree with you there,” Laura said, placing her fork on her plate. “A slave is the most precious property—fragile, human property, with a mind, heart and soul. In this relationship that explores dominance and power, there always must be a balance.” “Anyone who seeks out this lifestyle knows what they’re getting into. Strong training is the only way to ensure that your slave obeys the first time, every time. If they didn’t want punishment to go with the game, then they wouldn’t be here,” Evan said. “What do you consider strong training?” Derek asked. “I mean, for an infraction— something minor.” 56

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Evan smiled. “For example, if I tell my slave I want all my shoes polished before I return from work and I come home to find out she hasn’t lifted a finger?” Derek nodded. It was a crude example, but it would suffice. “I’d lash her once for every shoe she neglected to shine. Then I’d tie her to the table leg and let her think about her transgression.” “No matter the reason?” Evan laughed harshly. “That kind of light treatment is a gift, and she’d only receive it if there was a good reason she hadn’t obeyed. I don’t know if it’s polite to discuss more severe punishments while we’re eating.” Gervais interrupted the conversation by calling for dessert. A cart was wheeled in piled with confections. Derek had no appetite for any of those temptations. The dinner conversation had left a metallic, sour taste in his mouth that sugar wouldn’t fix. The slaves served the masters, which was unsurprising. When Sage approached him and asked for his choice, he asked her to find some coffee. She nodded and moved to the large sideboard. She returned and handed him a mug, not a cup and saucer. He sipped at it. “Who told you I prefer café au lait?” he asked. “You were drinking it when I first saw you in Laura’s office.” She colored, her cheeks turning a delightful pink when he complimented her memory, then she melted back against the wall. Derek forced himself to remain at the table, but all he wanted to do was take her upstairs and explore her skin—to see that flush over the creamy expanse of her chest. He glanced down the table. Christine kneeled by Jennifer’s chair, feeding her mistress small bites of cheesecake. After each bite, she licked the corners of Jennifer’s mouth—a human napkin. At the left corner of the opposite side of the room, the burly man—Gunther—had ordered his slave, the thin young man, Kevin, to assume the position of a table. The boy 57

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was on his hands and knees, his back rigid and flat. In between bites of chocolate mousse, Gunther lifted a cup of tea to his lips. Derek watched as the master placed the cup back onto its saucer, precariously balanced on the small of Kevin’s back. The young man held his head up, his eyes closed. Sweat was visible on his upper lip. Derek wondered how hot that saucer might be. After the meal was finished, most masters wandered into the sitting room. Derek waited for the stereotypical brandy and cigars, still somewhat shocked by the events of the evening and his part in them. But for the leather and collars, he might have been in the drawing room of any of his wealthier clients or friends. The surreal mixture of antiques and fetish-wear was more than he could take. He knew there was an entertainment planned, but he didn’t want to stay for it. He approached Laura, under the guise of hunting another cup of coffee. “Is whatever’s going to happen next something I really need to witness?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “You make it sound as though you’re being forced to stay.” Laura’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Or do you just want to get to know Sage better?” “I’m still processing everything. Everyone else seems so comfortable—in their element.” “You’d be surprised. You’re not the only first-timer here, Derek. I’d like you to stay, if you will. I had hoped, even, to borrow Sage for tonight’s demonstration. She’s participated previously in the scene I’ve planned.” He hesitated. “Will she be hurt?” Laura smiled. “You’re very protective of her already.” She held up her hand when he started to object. “No,” she said. “I think that’s a good thing. And to answer, no, I

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don’t think she’ll be hurt—not unduly, at any rate. Give it a chance. You might even like it.” He almost called Sage over to discuss the idea, but thought better of it. If, indeed, he was her master then why would he consult her opinion? “Very well. But I don’t want her injured or damaged.” “Of course not.” Laura fairly purred. “Besides, she’s not my real target tonight.” Laura left him standing near the coffee station. He watched as she spoke first to Gunther then to Sage. The three of them left the room. During the next twenty minutes, the room was altered. He’d noticed the curtain at the far end of the room and had assumed it was just a large drapery, but as men moved the chairs and sofas into a rough approximation of a semicircle, the curtain took on a greater prominence. He guessed there was another room or stage behind it. He was right. Gervais directed the masters to take seats, and most did, keeping their property close at hand. Derek wished he hadn’t agreed to whatever demonstration was about to be given. He wanted to feel Sage under his hands. By some prearranged signal, Gervais drew back the curtain at the end of the room. Laura stepped forward, now dressed in a white leather outfit so bright it almost hurt his eyes. Her face was overly made-up, dark eyeliner drawing attention to her green eyes, giving her a cold, cruel look. She was holding something in her hand. Some kind of whip. “Tonight, as part of your training as masters,” she said, “I feel it is important for you to see what discipline can mean to one of your own. A good general never asks his men to go someplace he will not. A good master, or good teacher, instructs by experience.” She nodded to Gervais. “I’m ready for them.” Gervais clapped his hands, a door opened in the shadows behind Laura. Gunther and Sage appeared. They had been stripped. Sage was clad in a sheer, lacy white bra and miniscule, equally sheer, thong panties. Gunther was wearing nothing at

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all. Sage appeared comfortable, as though she might still be fully clothed. Gunther squirmed on the end of his leash. Laura paced back and forth in front of them, her movements slow and deliberate. “This is a nine-inch rubber flogger,” she said, stroking her left palm with the instrument. “There are seventy individual tails attached to this six-inch handle. I’m sure many in this room are familiar with the tool. You’ve either used it or felt it. So I imagine you know that the merest flick of my wrist can release quite a lot of force.” Murmurs sounded from the observers, and even Derek had seen something like it before—though he’d never beaten anyone. He’d administered a few vicious spankings in his past, but had never wielded a potential implement of torture. “Now, Master Gunther, you’ve used one of these?” The man eyed her with suspicion. “Yes.” “And you’re a pretty big man, aren’t you?” It was hardly a question that needed an answer. Gunther towered over Laura, so he nodded, a smug smile in place. “And you’re strong, too, aren’t you? Pretty impervious to pain?” “I can handle anything you can dish out,” he boasted, warming to what he must think was merely a lecture. “I’m so glad to hear it,” Laura growled. “Then assume the position.” “What? I thought…” “That you were going to be administering the flogging?” Laura laughed. “Oh, no. In this room, Gunther, I’m your mistress.” “But—” Her hand flew so fast, Derek almost missed the blow. But the slap resounded through the room. The imprint of Laura’s small hand blossomed across Gunther’s cheek. “I didn’t tell you to speak.” Her voice was hard enough to silence any further protest. “Now bend your ass over that table and hang on to the handles.”

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Gunther turned and stretched out over the large pine table that had been fitted with a series of iron handles along one side. He gripped a pair of handles. The position supported the whole of his torso across the table, leaving his bare buttocks on open display. A young man approached and locked restraints on his wrists, then came around the table to place matching cuffs on his ankles, then bolted them to the floor. “Sage, you will assume the position as well.” Laura’s voice was almost a caress. Without hesitation, Sage turned and bent herself over the table, turning her head to rest her cheek against the wood. She and Gunther faced each other, and Derek saw her give him a reassuring smile. It probably wasn’t allowed, but he thought it endearing all the same. Unlike Gunther, Sage wasn’t shackled either to the floor or the table. Laura drew the flogger down the length of Sage’s back, the tails fanning out over her skin. She let them slide over the cheeks of her ass and down the backs of her thighs. Derek leaned forward, following the motion with his eyes. It was a seductive caress, slow and sensual. Then, without warning, Laura snapped her wrist. The flogger made a popping noise as the tails smacked against the pale flesh of Sage’s thighs. Derek winced with pain. Sage uttered nothing more than a soft sigh. She flexed her hips, as though moving back into the blow. With her legs spread wide, the thin, silken strand of her thong left nothing hidden. It accented her near nakedness. In quick succession, Laura brought the flogger down four times against the smooth cheeks of Sage’s bottom. He heard her moan, but the sound was one of pleasure, not pain. The flogger left bright red streaks across her milky skin. “Pain,” Laura said, as she left Sage to mimic the same motion over Gunther’s back and legs, “is often a catalyst for pleasure. But never forget that a sensual experience is

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shared. When a master administers punishment, care for the slave must still be exhibited. And unless you know pain, how can you hope to understand what your slave needs—or can endure?” Laura repeated the same blows she’d mapped across Sage’s body with Gunther. After the second strike, the big man howled. There was no pleasure in the sound. His groans made no impact on his mistress. In fact, she grew even colder. Four more blows rained over his ass and thighs. “Fuck!” he shouted, pulling against his restraints. “It burns. Stop it.” Laura whipped him every time he spoke, until his words mutated into yelps and squeals. “I’m not impressed,” she said, her tone dismissive. She turned back to Sage. “Have you had enough?” “It is not for me to say, Mistress.” She stroked Sage with the flogger again, this time brushing it against the soft skin— Derek knew just how soft—of her inner thighs. “What are you here for?” Laura asked. “Your pleasure, Mistress.” Laura raised her arm again, this time landing two blows on each side of Sage’s ass. Sage groaned, louder, but almost as though she was releasing tension—the same sound he would expect her to make if she were stretching. “Such a sweet thing, isn’t she?” Derek swayed forward in his seat, and noticed almost every other person watching had as well. He saw Evan from the corner of his eye. Lust glittered in his eyes. He’d taken his girl’s hand, placed it over his cock, and was stroking himself—his fingers threaded through hers. Laura struck Sage again. This time she arched her back, raising her ass into the air as though she wanted more. 62

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“Harder,” Evan urged, his voice taut. Derek was disgusted that he, too, was excited by the scene. He was amazed by her capacity to accept the punishing lashes. While he could see pain etched in the line of her back—her face, what he could see of it, was peaceful and serene. Gunther squirmed against his bonds. Laura turned and struck him with two savage blows across his back, where the skin is thickest. “Bus!” he cried out, shuddering against the table. Derek assumed that was his safe word, because Laura immediately stepped back. “Very well, Gunther. Open your eyes. I won’t strike you again.” Laura moved to the side of the table. Derek watched Gunther’s face, twisted in agony, as he opened his eyes to stare into Sage’s unlined countenance. She smiled, sympathetic, nonjudgmental. “So you see,” Laura said, handing her flogger to the same assistant who then came forward and released Gunther from his bonds. “Gunther was not able to withstand nearly so much as Sage, who has been trained in this method. She knows how to submit to pain, to turn it into pleasure for herself. Of course, each of them has a safe word and a master must always respect that. A slave’s limits must be tested and pushed if that slave is to grow in his or her craft, but punishment can easily be perverted into abuse if every care is not taken.” Gunther pushed off the table, raising up and wincing with the motion. “And what have you learned, Master Gunther?” Laura asked. “Dominance isn’t dependent on size. It’s dependent on control.” Laura nodded. “No matter who you are, there will always be someone else out there stronger, more implacable, and more capable than you. In fact, even masters are subordinate to someone. We all are.”

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She turned to Sage, smoothing a hand down her back where the red welts mingled with the scratches that were already there—thanks to Derek and his zealous outdoor activities. “You may stand up now.” Sage stood and turned to face the room. Derek smiled, proud of how she managed to control herself. She found him with her gaze, and smiled back.

“This must hurt something fierce,” Derek observed as he gingerly stroked his fingers over her back, applying an antibiotic cream. Sage rested her cheek on her folded arms and closed her eyes. It did hurt, but the throbbing she felt had more to do with his touch than the marks on her flesh. “Am I too rough?” “Mmmmm…no.” She felt sleepy and tense all at once. “I didn’t know what Laura had planned when she asked my permission to include you in her scene.” “Would it have changed your answer if you had known?” His hand stopped moving on her skin. She supposed he was considering his answer. “Probably not. She promised me you wouldn’t be injured.” “You asked her that?” “Of course.” His voice had deepened. She already recognized the husky timbre of his desire. “You’re my property, at least for now, and my responsibility. I wouldn’t be a very good master if I didn’t take care of you.” “I think you could be a very good master.”

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“I want a contented slave.” His voice was playful. “An obedient slave. A happy slave. This slave.” “You certainly paid enough for me. I will do my best to please you.” “You already do.” She shivered as his mouth touched the sensitive spot beneath her ear. He kissed her neck, licking with soft strokes over the tender flesh. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let that…man get his hands on you. I wanted to make it clear, to everyone, that you’re mine.” She opened her eyes and lifted her head to look at him. “Thank you for that.” He nodded, his eyes dark and his expression serious. “You know him, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Did you belong to him at one time?” She shook her head slowly, turning the memories over in her mind. “No, I have never been his property, but I do know him.” “Tell me about him.” “I will,” she said, sobering, the warm feeling leaving her. “And I will tell you now if you want me to, but I would ask my Master if it may wait until tomorrow? I…” He stopped her words with a gentle kiss pressed to her lips. “You’ve been through enough tonight, I think. Of course you may tell me tomorrow.” She bit her lip. Was it even her right to ask? Shouldn’t she accede to his requests instantly? Sage studied him from beneath her eyelashes. He was handsome, and so seductive. She knew his ministrations to her welts stemmed from his inherent kindness, but there was an element of foreplay involved as well. She knew he was intentionally stroking her, teasing her, to bring her more than comfort. She was flattered that someone who could demand her instant performance would take the time to prepare and test her limits. She had an idea that if she asked to be allowed to sleep, untouched, in her own bed that he would grant her request without a moment’s thought.

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It made it that much more important to please him. “Is there something you would rather talk about instead?” he asked, smiling. “You’re staring at me as though you have a question in that head of yours.” She felt a blush rise on her cheeks. He always caught her little imperfections and transgressions. “I quite agree,” he said, his lips hovering over hers. “Talking is often overrated.” Then he kissed her, a tender, probing question asked by his lips. She answered by leaning into him, rolling to her side to offer him easier access to her mouth. He gathered her into his embrace, solicitously avoiding her back, brushing his fingers over her cheeks, then cradling her face in his hands. He kissed her mouth, her chin, the tip of her nose. He breathed over her closed eyes, trailed his lips over her neck starting at the hollow of her throat moving up to her chin, pausing to lick her, then kissed her mouth again. This time he opened her lips with his tongue. He sucked her tongue deep in his mouth and she reveled in the delicious taste of him—cinnamon and mint. He dropped one of his hands to grasp hers. He put her hand on the taut skin of his stomach then left her to explore his chest. He worked his hips against her. She felt the ridge of his erection push into the yielding flesh of her belly. Feeling him hard and ready turned her on as much as his melting kisses. He rolled to his back, pulling her with him. Sage straddled his thighs, rising up over him despite the pain in her back. Taking his cock in both hands, she stroked the length of his shaft. He jerked and bucked against her hands. “You’ve got a magic touch,” he groaned. “But your hands aren’t enough.” “Tell me what you want me to do, then,” she whispered.

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“I want to feel your pussy clench around my cock while you ride me. Then I want you to fuck me until you come all over me. What more could a man ever want?” Sage came up on her knees, still holding his cock in her hands, and poised herself over him. Slowly, as slowly as she could, she guided him into her hot, wet cunt. Her sighs of pleasure mingled with his as she sank down. He held her hips as she rocked against him in a slow rhythm. “I should be ashamed of myself,” he bit out as he thrust his hips against her. “I knew you were in pain, but I was so proud of you at the same time. You’re an amazing woman.” She warmed to his praise, feeling emotion expand in her chest. “I want to please you.” “You want to please me?” he asked, eyes closed and a smile playing about his mouth. “Yes.” She bent forward, still moving her hips and bracing her hands on his chest. “Then get that ass moving, and fuck me ‘til the bed breaks.” “Anything you say, Master,” she promised.

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Chapter Six “You present the picture of a man with a problem.” Derek looked up from his coffee to see Jennifer perched like a little bird on the back of a chair, her feet resting on the seat cushion. He hadn’t heard her come into the drawing room. He frowned. He was usually more observant than that. “So something’s bothering you. Anything you want to talk about?” Her smile was quick, inviting and reminded him further of her avian qualities. Over the weeks that he’d spent at Collingwood, he’d come to like Jennifer—Jenny—and hoped they could be friends outside this artificial atmosphere. And that was at the heart of what was troubling him. “We’ve only got another week here at the school.” She nodded. “Your slave Christine, are you taking her home with you, after all this?” he blurted out. Jenny’s eyes widened a fraction, but she regained her composure. “No, I don’t think so. I’m…involved, and my partner wouldn’t be interested in inviting another woman into the arrangement.” “Does your partner know you’re here?” “Let’s take a walk.” Jennifer slipped off the chair and waited for Derek to finish his coffee. In a few minutes, after retrieving their coats to ward off the February chill, they were walking along the tree-lined path that he’d first walked with Sage. Derek remembered everything about that morning—how she’d stumbled, her scent, the first

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time he’d thrust into her warm, willing body. He was half hard thinking about her, but his uncertainty dampened his enjoyment of the sensory images. “My partner, Ellen, is an art professor and she has no interest in dominancesubmission games.” Jenny turned her head to meet Derek’s gaze. Her gaze was steady, unapologetic. “I love Ellen, with all my heart. We’ve been together since college— almost twenty years now and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.” “So she knows you’re here?” Jenny nodded again. “Yes, she knows. Ellen accepts that this is a part of my character that I’m discovering, that I’m exploring.” “She must be a very strong woman to give you this kind of freedom.” “We negotiated it out, between the two of us, but yeah, she is. Ellen’s amazing, but…I need this, too.” Derek thought about the past few weeks he’d spent in Sage’s company. Although she attributed it to the training they’d both had in the artificial setting of the school, he was certain she brought out an aspect of himself that he hadn’t known existed. “How did you know this was what you needed?” She stopped, glanced at him and then stared into space for a few minutes. “About five years ago, Ellen and I split up for six months. As a newly single woman, I found the dating scene had changed a lot. I was a little annoyed, really, by the fact that many of the women who seemed interested in me turned out to be just experimenting in our new bi-friendly culture. Then I met a woman in a club. She bought me several drinks, and even though she was a bit older, she acted happy when I took the lead. Almost before I knew what was happening, I had taken her to a cheap motel. I mean, a really cheap motel—you know, one of those pink-and-brown monstrosities that slowly decay into abandonment beside the smaller highways.” “Yes, I know what you mean. What happened?”

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“Well, when we got to the room, I was already pretty turned on. She looked a lot like Ellen, just younger, and I was still angry at how things had ended between Ellen and me. You see, she’d come home one afternoon, and just packed a bag and told me she was taking off to ‘get her head together’. No discussion, no dialogue at all—just Ellen making a decision and following through without even asking my opinion.” Derek thought he might have been blushing. He’d ended more than one relationship in similar manner. “Did you punish her for what Ellen did?” Jenny hesitated then nodded. “At first, I just told myself I wanted a bit of rough, passionate sex, and this woman wouldn’t break. But as things got heavier, I pushed the limits further. I bit her nipples, dug my fingers into her hips—not gentle at all, but she never protested. In fact, the harder I was with her, the more turned on she became.” She paused to pull a pack of cigarettes out of her coat pocket. Derek breathed a sigh of relief and took out his own. After he lit them both, and she’d taken a long drag, he watched as she blew out a harsh cloud of smoke. “Finally I told her to turn over. And she did, but not fast enough to suit me. So I yanked her until she was up on her knees, then, as I was stroking her with my right hand, I started spanking her, hard, with my left.” “You’re left-handed,” he replied. “I noticed.” “That’s right. I am. So it went further. I degraded her, verbally, and let her ass have it. I thought my hand was going to break, but the redder the cheeks of her perfect little bottom got, the more I wanted to see. And, yeah, I was thinking about Ellen, and how much I wanted her on her knees in front of me—like that girl was a few minutes later. The power, the erotic power, was more intoxicating than any cocktail. And the girl was begging me to be harsher with every slap. She confided in me, after, that she deliberately set out to pick me up because she thought I was a Domme. The next morning, I was done with her. I didn’t have any interest in seeing her again, but the scene kept playing in my mind. I couldn’t get it out of my head and I wanted to learn more. So, after a week or two, I called her and the sex was better than the first time.” 70

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“Why didn’t you stay with her?” “I was still in love with Ellen.” Jenny shrugged. “And a few days after that second session, El called me. She wanted to talk and work things out. Part of what we discussed, when we were getting back together, was my new interest in this lifestyle. It intimidates El, but she handles it. She has no interest, as I said, for herself. But in this kind of scene where there are set limits—and as long as I don’t bring it home—she supports my position. I come here twice a year, for a few weeks of play. After this, I’ll go home and Ellen and I will be together again. So that’s the long answer as to why there’s no room for a Christine in my life outside of this school.” Derek tossed his cigarette down into the gravel then crushed it beneath his foot. “But I don’t think you were asking just because you take an interest in my love life, Derek. I’m assuming you’ve grown attached to your own slave?” Jenny disposed of her own cigarette. “Yes, and I don’t know what to do about it.” “I suppose that depends on your level of attachment. You could always propose a longer-term contract. I have to say, I’ve been surprised.” “How do you mean?” “I told you that I knew her former master, remember? Well, I’ve watched the two of you carefully and she doesn’t seem to show any of the disobedience he mentioned to me.” Derek laughed. “You might be able to recognize it, certainly better than me, but she’s never said no to anything I’ve demanded. She has far more experience of being a slave than I do of being a master, but we all know that, don’t we?” Jenny reached out and put her hand on his arm. “You remember what Laura said, the other morning at breakfast? She said that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been doing this—every new relationship puts you both back at the starting point. Sage has only as much experience with you as you have with her. You seem well suited, though.” 71

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“I like her, quite a lot, as a person, as well as admiring her abilities as a slave.” “Are you…are you ever jealous of the services she performs for the other masters?” “You mean like last week, when you ordered her to polish your boot collection that took four hours of her time—time that could have been spent in bed with me?” He laughed at her impish grin then shook his head. “No, I’m not jealous of the other masters,” he continued. “She’s got a way of making it clear whose property she is.” “Mmmmm…Evan, for one, is clear on that. I think there is a story behind his interest in her.” “Yes, there is.” Derek lit another cigarette. “We’ve been so busy, I’ve not discussed it further with her, but Sage let me know that there’s some history there.” “Well, I’d watch him if I were you. He’s taken quite a dislike to you.” “I know it. Did you see the mishap yesterday morning at breakfast?” It was her turn to laugh. “Oh, yes, we all saw that! Sure, it was an accident that his slave spilled scalding coffee on your back. It was an ingenious way to do it, too, because he knew there was no way Laura and Gervais would let it pass without the slave being punished.” Derek thought about it. He wondered why Gervais and Laura allowed a sadist like Evan to return to the school, time after time. For the most part, he made his slave—a tiny, brunette woman—walk two steps behind him, naked. Everyone was able to see her bruises and the marks he left on her. Most of the masters seemed excited by watching her, and Derek might have been, too, if he weren’t convinced the girl was terrified of the man. The idea of consent nudged him again. He wondered if she had any idea what she was consenting to when she agreed to become Evan’s purchase. It seemed such a different relationship than the one he had with Sage. Of course, he realized, that was what he wanted. A relationship. Something beyond the school. Outside the school.

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“You’re frowning hard enough to freeze water,” Jenny said, grinning. “Penny for your thoughts.” “When we first began this course, I figured it would only be about some intense sexual encounters. I see now, that for me and Sage, it could be a lot more. I can imagine fitting her into my life,” he replied. “Fitting her into your life?” Jenny repeated, frowning. “Derek, don’t forget to ask her what she thinks about all of this. She may well have plans of her own—for herself— after this time with you is finished. Have you asked her opinion?” “No, I haven’t asked her yet. Maybe I should.” “And the sooner, the better. We only have a week left.”

“Do you enjoy gardening?” Sage looked up from the bulbs she’d been planting to see Derek walk through the door of the greenhouse. She relaxed when she noticed his easy, unhurried motion. He wasn’t angry with her, though he’d been distant and reserved for days, and she hadn’t been sure. Sunlight streaming into the greenhouse from the brightly polished panes surrounded him in a glow. “Yes, very much. I knew nothing of it when I first came here. Master Gervais taught me everything I know about horticulture.” Sage wasn’t sure, but she thought his eyes narrowed at the mention of the headmaster. He shrugged out of his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his silk shirt, and plunged his arms elbow-deep into a tub of potting soil. “My mother’s passion is gardening. I remember, when we were children, my father used to call her his hothouse flower. I thought it was silly then, but it strikes me as a bit risqué now that I’m older. What do you think?” “Are they very much in love?”

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He didn’t answer immediately, but worked on repotting an orchid. He moved without hesitation, his fingers strong but gentle against the delicate stems. She stood there, transfixed by the play of muscles in his forearms, watching his hands. She’d never given much thought to the sensual aspect of gardening, but she was beginning to alter her opinion. “They might have been,” he said. “I’m not sure now. My parents have very different lives, I think. But they still rub along well together.” “It sounds like you have a nice family.” He shrugged, setting one plant to the side and starting on another. “At times.” “Have you ever considered marriage?” His smile was wry, and he didn’t look at her when he answered. “Sure, for about thirty seconds and then I come back to my senses. A man in my position has little time for a family, and I wouldn’t want a woman to tie herself to me only to discover that I won’t change.” “That seems very cynical,” she ventured, watching him from the corner of her eye. She was inclined to speak, but this was personal ground and they hadn’t discussed much on that topic. It was always dangerous to bring reality into a relationship that was meant to be both temporary and based on the exchange of power. Sage thought most masters relied on fantasy as much as anything else to spur their satisfaction in a scene. “At least, I’m honest enough to admit it. But I wouldn’t mind it so much, no.” “Mind what?” she asked, confused. “Having someone around who rubs me the right way.” Despite the fact she’d been naked in front of him more times than she could count, and had done things to and for him that were new—even for her—Sage blushed at the intimacy of his tone. “I think you and I fit well together. Don’t you?”

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She looked up from her studied perusal of her hands. “Yes, for my part. I’ve enjoyed serving you.” “You’ve been a good servant, Sage.” His voice dropped another octave. “Would you like to serve me now?” She made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. Sometimes, he was so handsome, it took her breath. His eyes were dark—unusual, she thought, for a blond, and they drew her in. For days, she’d worried over her increasing attachment. It was too soon for her to seek another, more permanent, master, and his inexperience would probably disqualify him as a viable candidate anyway. Regardless, whenever he spoke, whenever he smiled or scowled, she reacted. It took nothing more than a few suggestive words from him and her body responded as though wired to some switch in his voice. She could already feel that familiar tug in the pit of her belly—the uncoiling of desire tingling along all her nerves. “Take off your gloves, Sage,” he commanded. She felt as though she was moving through honey. Her actions seemed delayed, as though in slow motion, but she pulled the soiled gloves off and put them to the side of the table. “Come here.” She stepped into the circle of his arms. He stroked his bare hands over the front of her cream-colored blouse, leaving streaks of black dirt from her shoulders to her breasts. She didn’t care about the mess. She was too busy arching her back to fill his palms with the heavy flesh of her breasts. “These are gorgeous tits,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear. “Bare them for me.” Fully aware that people were about on the grounds, she stepped back and fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. The intensity of his gaze felt like sunbeams on her already

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heated skin. She trembled beneath his stare and tangled the buttons in the fabric of her shirt. Impatient, he reached out and grasped the collar, ripping the cloth as though it were tissue. Buttons flew across the greenhouse, but the damage was immaterial. All that lay between his gaze and her naked flesh was a filmy lace bra. With a flick of his fingers, he released the front clasp and she shrugged the remnants of her blouse and bra from her shoulders in one fluid motion. “So beautiful,” he murmured, massaging her breasts with his strong hands. The dirt transferred from his skin to hers. He pinched her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, tweaking them, rolling them a bit, pulling them until they darkened and thrust out in sharp points. “Feels good?” “Oh, yes,” she answered, closing her eyes. Moisture dampened the soft skin of her thighs, but even that paled in comparison to the sensation in her breasts. When he finally dipped his head and took one rigid peak into his mouth and bit down, she cried out in both pleasure and pain. She gasped, as though she could pull the sound back into her throat, but instead of reprimanding her for making noise, he murmured encouragement. He dropped his hands down to her waist, his fingers toying with her navel ring. As he moved between her breasts, lavishing attention with his mouth, his hands stripped her of her skirt in seconds. In moments, she was naked before him. He pulled back to look. Sage caught a glimpse of movement over his shoulder, and tried to focus. Master Evan stood outside the greenhouse, his little slave just behind him, and he watched them. “We’re being watched,” she said. Her Master didn’t bother to turn around. “Good. Now, you know you’ve pleased me, don’t you?” She nodded. “You’ve said so.” 76

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He leaned down and kissed her again, his lips lingering over hers as though he were savoring the finest wine. “And I judge that you’ve earned a reward.” She felt a thrill run down her spine. Even though Evan was still watching them, Sage knew she was safe as long as she was with her Master. His tone took away her fear, and his words caused her pulse to race. All she could think about now was pleasing him. He took her hand and placed it on his zipper. She felt his erect cock twitch, even through the heavy cloth. “Harder, Sage,” he growled. “Now, tell me, what will you have for your reward?” She shifted, aware that the scent of her arousal perfumed the air around them. What did she want? Did he even need to ask? “If Master would permit, then I would like to spend tonight on the fantasy rack.” He pushed closer, urging her to stroke his cock by rocking his hips. “And what would you like Master to do to you, while you’re on the rack?” She shivered. The time they’d spent together was short, but she did trust him not to take a scene beyond what she could reasonably handle. There was an edge to him, though—a hint that he was still unpredictable. “Would you like me to use you as an example?” he asked. “If I put you on the rack, could you please me, do you think, by being a good slave and demonstrating for the others what true submission really is?” “Yes, Master.” She rubbed his erection faster, pressing her thighs against his. “Mmmm,” he said, stepping back to release his cock from his trousers. “I want something to tide me over before tonight.” Sage dropped to her knees, ready to worship his gorgeous cock with her mouth. His smell and taste were better than any other man she’d been with, and his promise to work her hard that night spurred her imagination. She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock.

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He pushed her away. “Put your hands behind your back, Sage, and lace your fingers together.” She obeyed him immediately. He placed his hands on her head, and guided her toward his cock until she flicked the tip of her tongue over the head. As he nudged her lips with his erection, she opened her mouth as wide as she could, accepting his slow entry with a groan of pleasure. She felt a corresponding ache in her pussy, slick moisture flowing freely over her thighs. “That’s right,” he ground out, thrusting his hips faster. “Suck harder, Sage. You know what I want.” Her neck ached, but it didn’t matter. The head of his cock pushed against the back of her throat but she breathed slowly to overcome her gag reflex. His skin was delicious and the warmth of his flesh in her mouth was perfect. He twisted his hands in her hair, pulling and pushing her face back and forth as he caught his rhythm. He wasn’t rough, neither was he gentle. She craned her neck to see his face. His eyes were closed and he had an almost blissful expression on his face. It made her that much more determined to give him the pleasure he wanted. Working with him, Sage took his cock deep in her throat and swallowed against the shaft. He gasped, muttering something that she couldn’t understand but was clearly encouragement. It was all she could do to keep her hands clasped together behind her back. She wanted to touch him, to stroke him. She loved the firm muscles of his ass, the taut skin over his stomach, but if he refused her that pleasure then she would accede to his whim. “Enough,” he grunted, taking her by surprise. Sage stumbled as he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She fell against his chest and he held her close for a moment. The tips of her nipples brushed his chest, and she nearly climaxed from the friction. He picked her up and sat her on the table. She could feel the gritty silkiness of the potting soil under her ass and the rough surface of the plywood, but none of it mattered. Before she could stop and get her 78

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bearings, he’d parted her thighs and pulled her ankles up to his shoulders. Without a word, he rubbed the tip of his cock against the outer lips of her pussy. She moaned before she could stop herself. “You want it?” “Yes,” she begged. “Yes, I want it.” “Hold the edge of the table,” he commanded. Sage wrapped her fingers around the lip of the table and held on tight. She was aware that Evan was still outside, still watching, with his slave. And she didn’t think he was alone, there were others, but she was too intent on taking in every detail of this moment with Derek. She knew she wouldn’t be his much longer, but for now…oh for now, he was going to give her the release she needed so much. “Are they still watching?” he asked, as though reading her mind. Sage opened her eyes again and peered to the side. “Yes, there’s a small group of them.” “Is Evan there?” “Yes, he’s still there.” “Does he look angry?” “He looks like a cat caught in a rainstorm.” “Good.” He nudged her with his cock again then pushed his hips forward. Sage gasped as he filled her with one deep thrust. “I want him to watch me fucking you, Sage. I want him to know that you’ll never be his. You’re mine. You’re mine!” She closed her eyes, unable to speak. Her whimpers echoed through the greenhouse as his thrusts brought her to the edge of orgasm. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that his words were part of the scene, part of the fantasy, but they awakened

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a deep need. She could barely admit it, even to herself, but she wanted to belong to this man. “Let go now,” he said, grinding his hips against her. She hadn’t felt him like this before, buried so deep inside her body. There was a connection, and she knew he felt it too when he stared into her eyes. Words were no longer necessary. She knew he wanted to feel her climax, to let go of herself while he pounded into her. Her moans turned to shrieks as he adjusted his hips so his grinding stimulated her clit. Her legs shook against his chest and she let go of every inhibition, dropping her head and back onto the table, writhing in the warm earthy soil as she rocked her hips in time to his. “Louder,” he said, urging her on. He stroked his hands over her legs. Then she was flung out into a different space. The orgasm ripped through her on a powerful wave. She felt his cock swell and with one final thrust, he planted himself inside her body and she felt his orgasm come hard and fast. A bellow erupted from his throat, some kind of deep, primal sound that frightened her as well as pushed her into another smaller climax of her own. Derek pulled her legs apart and wrapped them around his waist. He kept his cock inside her, and she clenched around his softening flesh, as though holding on to a life preserver. He covered her with his body, his chest heaving as though he’d run a marathon. Without thinking, Sage reached up and stroked his sweat-damp hair. She thought about that inhuman sound he’d made. She could still feel it resonate somewhere deep inside her. Civilization, she thought, was nothing more than a thin veneer over a more bestial form of humanity. “Are you okay?” he asked after long minutes. She nodded against his shoulder, feeling his semen dripping down the cheeks of her ass. 80

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He pressed a kiss to her forehead then he looked over his shoulder. She could see, through a small space between them, the small group had dispersed, all except for Evan and his slave. He was locked in a staring war with Derek. She could catch a hint of the smug expression on her Master’s face. In that moment, she had an unpleasant thought. Could this entire scene, all that passion, have been solely for Evan’s benefit? She had the sensation of being territory. Territory that had been marked and claimed. She wondered why she even had the thought—she was used to being property. She had lost herself in his desire, claiming it for her own. Her lack of awareness was what bothered her the most.

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Chapter Seven The opulence of the room sat in juxtaposition with the purpose of the furniture it contained. Implements of torture, whether sensual or used for a darker purpose, were visible throughout. Clamps, electrical devices and harsh-looking floggers sat on tables, displayed in artistic groupings. Canes, paddles, whips, gags, collars and leashes had been hung on the walls, the darker colors blending in with the paneling. In the midst of the comfortable, overstuffed sofas and chairs, strangely constructed furniture—not all of it familiar to Derek—had been strategically positioned to give the greatest visual access to the observers of the night’s entertainment. For his part, Derek still felt sated from his afternoon romp in the greenhouse with Sage. After he’d finally removed himself from her, remembering not to apologize for his weight on her body, he’d taken her to their rooms, allowed her to shower, then pulled her into his bed for a long nap. The woman had become his favorite pillow. In fact, the only complaint he had about the day was that he’d never gotten around to discussing his plans for them both after their time at the school was over. There had been opportunities, of course, but he’d allowed his baser instincts to interfere in the greenhouse—she really was irresistible. Afterwards, he hadn’t wanted to spoil the quiet closeness he’d felt when they were together. It was another uncertainty—a variable he couldn’t assign a value. Was she as happy with him as he was with her? Would she even entertain an offer of a contract, or some other kind of relationship, outside the school setting? He was happy, ensconced in the closed world of Collingwood School, but his business—his life—wouldn’t wait forever. Masters and slaves drifted into the room as dinner finished. Sage had been assigned to clear the table, along with two others, so Derek chose a small sofa and waited. He accepted a coffee from Christine. Jenny had dressed the girl in a leather collar, white

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rabbit fur cuffs and nothing else. As he let his gaze wander over the young woman’s curves, Derek had to admit she was beautiful, but she didn’t have Sage’s maturity, or thighs. Another fifteen minutes passed before Sage entered the room. The group waited for Gervais and Laura before the evening’s demonstrations would begin. Until they arrived, Gunther amused them by taking his boy through a series of simple, but degrading, exercises. Derek noticed that Evan sat close to Gunther, urging him to push the boy further. It wasn’t enough for him that the young man crawled across the room on all fours, picking up twenty-dollar bills with his teeth. Evan convinced Gunther to slap the slave’s ass with an intimidating leather paddle covered in blunt metal studs. The other masters smiled, but Derek thought they found it as uncomfortable as he did. The boy was a good sport though, and reached somewhere deep inside himself to muster both grace and self-control. When the show was over, Derek thought the young man’s poise put him in better light than Evan’s overt cruelty had intended. Derek wondered if anyone had ever had the guts to tell Evan that he was a sociopath and not a master at all. “Before we begin tonight’s play,” Gervais said as he came into the room, Laura at his side, “there is a small matter that needs to be settled.” He clapped his hands and the two other slaves and Sage came in from the dining room. “Sage, you will come before me and present first position.” Derek frowned, but watched her as she crossed the room, and dropped to her knees in front of the headmaster, sinking into her hips until her beautiful ass rested against her feet. She dropped her chin to her chest then put her hands on her thighs, palms face up. “You had an assignment today, did you not?” “Yes, Sir.” “What was that assignment?” 83

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Tension filled the room as the others, all of whom had either witnessed Derek fuck her, or had heard about it, swayed forward to see what would happen next. “I was employed in the greenhouse, Sir. I was to finish the repotting of the orchids and plant the tulip bulbs.” “Did you complete your assignment?” he asked, his voice as soft as a caress. “No, Sir.” Derek hated hearing that tone in her voice. She sounded sad, embarrassed and penitent. What the hell? It was only a few flowers! “I realize, of course, that you might have been distracted at the time. This is no excuse to fail to comply with a simple order. Wouldn’t you agree?” “Yes, Sir.” “And now, there will have to be a punishment, won’t there?” “Yes, Sir.” “Just a minute,” Derek interrupted. “It’s not her fault. She was obeying me when she left the greenhouse. I am responsible.” If his outburst did nothing more than force the headmaster to stop ogling Derek’s property, then he was satisfied. Gervais gave him a cold look. “I see, Master Derek. After your exertions, then, you are telling me Sage informed you of her duties and you prevented her from completing them? Did you restrain her in some way?” “Well, no.” Derek folded his arms. “I wanted to sleep and I made her stay with me.” “Did she ever ask to return to her work?” Derek hesitated for a long moment, staring at Sage’s back. Her shoulders were even, and she didn’t seem tense. He thought about lying and telling the smug bastard that she had requested permission to finish her work but he hadn’t allowed her to leave.

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He discarded the idea when he realized Gervais would simply ask Sage for confirmation and Derek knew she wouldn’t lie about making a transgression. That strange honesty was part of her character. “No. No, she didn’t.” “I see.” Gervais reached over to a table and picked up a delicate-looking whip. “I understand your desire to protect your property, Master Derek, but you must know that to do so will, in the end, serve to make matters worse. If a slave knows she has control over her master to the extent that he will intervene to prevent what is a just and reasonable punishment, then that master will soon discover that he has reversed roles. He will lose his authority.” “But it isn’t her fault.” “You demean Sage by taking away her personal responsibility.” Laura nodded to the room. “What do the rest of you think?” “They’re right, Master Derek,” Jenny said, her smile sad. “Sage is a slave. It’s a choice she made. You can’t undo that because you want to spare her. She knew what she was meant to do, and she had the chance to tell you, right?” He shrugged, knowing he looked like a petulant teenager, but it was answer enough. “Sage, present second position.” In response to Gervais’ command, Derek watched his slave put her hands on the carpet, then stretch, elongating her body until she was lying on her stomach, her face turned to the right, and her arms extended above her head. “Not only did you not complete your assignment, but the greenhouse was left in utter chaos. It took two students from the slaves’ wing to clean it properly. And, three of the orchids you were meant to replant died as a result of the, shall we say, vigorous activity undertaken on the table. What is your answer to this?” “I accept my fault, Sir. I am sorry for my inattention, for my forgetfulness.”

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Gervais flicked the whip by his side. It made a hissing sound in the air. Derek flinched, but Sage made no move at all. “I’m sorry, too. But your master has made intercession on your behalf. While that does not excuse your transgression, I do think there may be mitigating circumstances. Therefore, instead of the normal punishment I would mete out for this—thirty lashes—I will drop the number to twenty. Is that clear?” “I understand, Master Gervais.” “Very good. And after each lash, you will kiss the handle of my whip, and thank me for my benevolence.” Derek felt jealousy spring to life in his chest. There was a ripple in Gervais’ words, a current in his voice that connected with something in Sage. As the man spoke, promising her pain and humiliation, her tone changed, deepened, until it became a husky drawl. In spite of himself, he was aroused, and it made him angry to know it was the interplay between Sage and Gervais that excited him. Gervais commanded her to stand and remove her dress. Derek had dressed her, so he knew the only thing she wore beneath the simple sheath were lace-topped stockings and matching garter belt. She slid the zipper down her back, shifted her shoulders, and the light fabric fell from her shoulders to pool at her feet. A furtive glance around the room confirmed his fear. Masters, slaves, they were all affected by the sight of her beautiful body. “Leave on the stockings and shoes,” Gunther suggested with a grunt. He preferred young men, but apparently he, too, was getting into the scene unfolding before them. Gervais nodded. “Sage, use the table, and present fourth position.” Her long legs, enhanced by the stockings and the stiletto heels trembled. Derek didn’t know if it was fear, anticipation, or muscle fatigue that made her shake so, but it was all he could do to keep seated.

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She was bent over the table, her palms pressed to the surface and her back arched so that her breasts thrust forward. Her hair tumbled over her back in a blonde curtain. Laura reached over and swept it to one side. Her ass, the part of her over which Derek had spent hours in exploration, was raised up into the air as if in invitation for a hard fuck. Instead, he was about to watch her endure a whipping that he still saw as his fault. Just before Gervais raised his hand, she turned her head. She caught his eye, and winked. She winked. Derek’s mouth fell open and he shut it with an audible click of his teeth. Had she known what was going to happen? Had she planned this? The first blow fell before he could give the question any consideration. “One,” Laura said, as Gervais presented his whip to Sage. She pursed her lips and pressed a kiss to the leather handle, then looked up, her violet eyes wide and shining. “Thank you, Master.” She made no movement at all, other than to kiss the whip, for the first seven strokes, but at the eighth flick of the whip, Derek saw her flinch. Before his eyes, the creamy skin of her bottom flared up with a nasty-looking red welt. She made a sound that might have been a whimper, or a purr, he couldn’t tell, but her expression was content as she kissed the whip and thanked Gervais. By the twelfth stroke, he had a raging erection. He ached to put his hands on her red, sore flesh and soothe her with a gentle massage and ointment. As much as he hated Gervais for marking her, he could also see her experience was not one of degradation. She looked almost blissful when she kissed the whip. He remembered something she had told him, after they’d made love, just before he drifted into sleep. She’d said that when she was pushed to subject her body to punishment, and when she was successful in enduring it, she felt a sense of accomplishment. It was the same reason, she told him, that she enjoyed rock climbing—she liked to see how far she could push herself.

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When Laura counted eighteen, tears pooled in Sage’s eyes. Gervais didn’t pull his punches, Derek noticed. He snapped the whip with the practiced ease of a man confident in his art, and of course, that made sense. He was proud of Sage when Laura counted out twenty and a single tear had slipped over her lashes to trail down her cheek. He was half out of his seat, thinking the demonstration was all over, when Gervais released Sage from the fourth position. “Thank you, Master,” she said, kissing his hand when he presented it. Gervais nodded. “You did well, Sage. And now the punishment will be completed by two hours on the rack, so that you may reflect on your actions and the consequences stemming from them.” “What? I thought you said twenty lashes,” Derek countered. “Master Derek, I believe you will find it beneficial if you allow your slave some time for quiet reflection after punishment has been meted out. A break is good for both master and slave.” He glared at Gervais but realized that it wasn’t the time to start another argument. “Okay—but let me put her on the rack myself.” Gervais nodded. As he secured the cuffs to her ankles, then her wrists, Derek checked for any serious injury. She smiled when he asked how she felt. “I deserved it, Master,” she whispered. “But, just so you know, I really did forget about the flowers.” He felt another kind of warmth expand in his chest, replacing the jealousy. She watched him, her eyes soft and a smile still on her lips. He didn’t kiss her, but he thought about it. Instead, he made sure he had secured her to the rack correctly. The fantasy rack worked on the principle of gravity. The victim, attached by wrists and ankles with his or her lower back supported by a padded board, could be rotated to

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any position by means of the dials on the sides. For now, he left Sage in the upright position, her feet a few inches above the floor and her arms raised above her head. He could have, if he’d wanted to, pushed the backboard until she rotated around the axis bar and ended up with her head pointed to the floor and her feet in the air. The rack accommodated any position in between on that 180-degree scale. “Are you ready, Master Derek?” He nodded to Laura as she came into the room. “Very good,” she said. “The other masters have gathered in the blue room for a movie. Why don’t you join us?” It wasn’t a request. Derek passed his hand over Sage’s hair, feeling the heavy silk of the strands between his fingers. “I want to talk to you later, okay?” “Of course, Master.” He did kiss her then. She closed her eyes, smiling. And he followed Laura out of the room, leaving his property there, to consider the events of the day.

The effort of retaining her composure during Master Gervais’ punishment exhausted her. While she was meant to be reflecting on her actions, Sage had drifted off to sleep, despite being on the rack. She startled awake, instantly aware she was no longer alone in the rack room. “Master?” She stifled her fear. Even though the room was midnight dark, she was still in the school and safe. “Yes, Sage. It’s Master.” The deep voice settled over her like a smothering blanket. She yanked on her wrist restraints, but it was no use. Derek had secured her just the way he was supposed to. “What are you doing in here?” she asked, hoping she sounded brave and not as terrified as she felt.

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“I came to see you, of course,” Master Evan replied, with a bark of a laugh. “I was hoping I might find you in the mood to play a little more.” His tone sent shivers down her spine. “Did you ask my Master?” She heard the zing of a whip before she could pinpoint where Evan was in the room. Pain exploded in her head as the lash landed over her cheek. Her shriek bounced off the walls. “I don’t ask that asshole anything, you understand me? He’s a little punk.” In quick succession, he landed three lashes over her naked breasts. The sting of the thin lash burned long after the initial strike. “Stop it,” she cried, struggling against her bonds. “You have no right to do this.” “I’ll do what I please, you cunt.” He struck her again, this time on her thighs. “You’re just a slave, a no-good, piece-of-shit slave, and you have no say. You forget, I still owe you a beating.” “Well, you still stink, Evan,” she gritted out against the pain. “I remember that much about you. But you have no authority over me, and I never did anything to you.” “That’s bullshit. It’s your fault—everything that happened in California—it’s your fault. You don’t think I owe you a beating for that?” She shook her head. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she could see him, shadowed, looming over her. “You managed that all yourself, you sick bastard. Do Gervais and Laura know about it? What lies did you tell them to cover it up?” “Shut up,” he screamed, spit flying into her face. He dropped the whip and slapped her, hard, across the face. Her head snapped to the side and she tasted blood. “You say another word and I’ll make you sorry.” He pressed himself on her, his lips on her ear. “I won’t kill you, but you’ll wish I had.” “You’re sick.” 90

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“You have no idea.” Sage sucked in a breath as he slapped her over and over again. Her cheeks were numb and the taste of her own blood made her gag. She whimpered in pain, and tried to shout but Evan squeezed himself against her, as though he wanted to crush her with his massive body. He was still crushed against her, pushing his weight into her when light flooded the room. “What the hell is going on here?” “Derek?” she tried to scream but Evan’s massive neck was blocking her mouth. Suddenly his weight was gone, and through blurred vision, she saw Evan struggling between Gervais and Derek. She felt movement around her face. A gentle touch. “Sage, are you all right? What’s happening here?” Laura whispered. “Master Evan came in, and he started beating me.” “Shut up, you fucking cunt,” he growled. Sage ignored him. She’d been quiet long enough. “I’ll tell you,” she whispered. “But first, please, could I get down?” The school employed two doctors in case of any accidents, and a registered nursepractitioner was on the grounds twenty-four hours a day. Their services were rarely called for—in fact, Sage’s case was only the second that required professional intervention in three years. After treatment, two hours after Evan had attacked her, she was tucked back into the big bed in Derek’s room, pillowed against his chest. From the moment Evan had been taken away by security, Derek gathered her into his arms and refused to let her go, shifting as the nurse needed to examine her. The examination showed her injuries were superficial, and she would heal in a few weeks. For the moment her face had been bisected by a large welt, and her breasts and thighs were mottled with bruises and welts.

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Gervais and Laura sat in chairs at the foot of the bed, while the nurse gave her two pills—painkillers—and a glass of water. When the nurse closed the door, leaving the four of them alone, Derek cuddled her closer to his chest and stroked her hair. “Sage, do you want to press charges against Evan? It’s clearly a case of assault.” Gervais’ voice spooked her. He seemed too calm. “No, thank you. I’ll heal from this, and I don’t want to bring any negative attention to the school.” “Honey, he was beating you…and it would have been much worse if I’d not heard you screaming. You have to press charges.” She reached up a hand to stroke Derek’s cheek, comforted by the strained quality of his voice. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said. “It’s a small community, Derek, and I expect Evan will have a hard time finding another partner for his kind of play.” “I don’t care,” he muttered. “The man is crazy and he will do this again. He’s done it before, hasn’t he?” She blinked. Gervais nodded. “We heard some of what he was saying when we came in. What happened in California?” Sage leaned back against Derek’s chest, feeling drowsy, but still shaken. “It was a long time ago, of course, and I was very young, but I attended a leather party in San Francisco. I met Evan there, and he was with a pretty young girl. During the course of the party, she hooked up with another young man, and no one thought anything of it, since she wasn’t bonded to Evan. Later, when I went upstairs, I found her crying in the master bedroom. I was looking for a bathroom, but found her instead. She said nothing was wrong, but even as inexperienced as I was, I could see that she’d been hurt and she was really scared. I told my Dom and he said he’d look into it. Then, later, Evan enticed the boy that had hooked up with his date to enter a scene with him. It got very violent, but it wasn’t too far out of bounds. I wouldn’t have thought too much of it, if I hadn’t put the pieces together myself. I went to my Dom again, who was hosting the party, 92

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and he stopped the scene, asked Evan to leave, and pretty soon word spread. The West Coast closed to him fast after that. He blames me for having to move out here, because he says I poisoned the community against him.” She drowsed, tired out from talking so much, as Derek stroked her hair. “Sleep now,” he said. “I’ll be right here.” She nodded and curled into a pillow by his side, asleep almost as soon as she settled. Derek watched her as she drifted away into sleep, then he pulled himself out of the bed. He motioned for Gervais and Laura to follow him into the corridor. “Look,” he said, cutting off Laura before she could speak. “I don’t know what kind of people you usually let into this place, but Sage could have been seriously hurt, or even killed. I know she feels some kind of loyalty to you, but I’m going to continue to urge her to press charges.” Gervais gave him a murderous look. “You can toss around accusations, Mr. Riddle, but you’re not the only one who cares about Sage. I don’t give a damn what it might do to the school, and I happen to agree. She should press charges. Evan has been coming here for years, but I can’t recall that he and Sage have ever crossed paths before.” “We screen our clients, Mr. Riddle, but only to a point.” Laura stepped in between Derek and the headmaster. “I can tell you that he has no police record. He has never been arrested, and we aren’t in the habit of discussing our clients outside of the school, so rumors of his previous activities never reached us. He’s been here for as long as you have this time. The entire school is aware you both dislike each other. Can you honestly say you’ve seen him behave in a way to arouse serious suspicion?” He took a deep breath. “No. I’ve had a bad feeling about him, but I can’t say I thought he would ever pull a stunt like this. I thought maybe Sage once rejected him or something, but I had no idea.”

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“So I hope you will acknowledge that we’re not in the habit of providing asylum to potential abusers. We take that seriously in the community. It’s not safe for anyone when rogues like Evan are allowed to roam around unchecked.” Derek inclined his head slightly, but that was all he was prepared to give Gervais. “When Sage wakes up, I’m going to ask her to come back home with me. Formally.” “You mean a contract? After what you just witnessed? I don’t think so.” Gervais shook his head. “Well, I don’t think she’s safe here. If she won’t press charges, then I want her in a place where I know she’s safe.” “I can take care of her.” Derek felt his eyes narrow. He’d had more than enough. “I’m asking her anyway,” he said. “It will be her decision, but I think she’s learned just about all she can here, and so have I.” “It would never work. You don’t understand her, or what she needs.” “And you do?” he countered. “Yes—” “I think it may be a good idea if Mr. Riddle makes a proposal to Sage,” Laura interrupted. “There is going to be fallout from this incident and we’re going to have to take it up with the board, don’t you think, Gervais?” Derek watched as the headmaster stared at the wall, a muscle in his jaw working hard. Gervais took defeat about as well as he did. “Gervais?” Laura asked again. The man turned on his heel and walked away. “You must forgive him,” Laura said after a moment. “Sage is very important to him. He feels responsible for her.” “So do I,” Derek said, folding his arms over his chest. “The difference is that I’m in a position to do something about it, whereas Gervais isn’t.” 94

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Derek said goodnight to Laura, anxious to return to the woman sleeping in his bed. He slipped beneath the covers and gathered her, once again, to his chest. She stirred long enough to open her eyes and smile then she burrowed against his chest and slept. He lay awake for a long time, mulling over his options. He knew what he wanted. He just had to figure out how to convince Sage that she wanted the same thing.

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Chapter Eight “So you’re awake?” Sage blinked and looked up to see Derek sitting on the side of the bed. He held her hand in his, stroking her fingers with his own. “How do you feel?” he asked. She sat up, testing her arms and legs. “I’m sore,” she admitted. “But I think I am better off than I expected to be. I think maybe I might skip any marathons for a while, though.” He smiled, but his expression was strained. She remembered his tone the night before when he had urged her to report Evan to the police. Apparently, he was still thinking along the same lines. “Derek, before you start again, I want you to know that I’m not going to press charges against Evan.” “You’re a lawyer, Sage. How can you just pretend like it didn’t happen?” She imagined it must cost him a great deal of effort to keep his voice gentle. She doubted he tolerated much in the way of rebellion in the people he kept close. “I’m not pretending it didn’t happen. In fact, I’m counting on our community to handle this matter. Surely you can understand that my position as an attorney, especially in the firm I work for, requires discretion. And what about the others here? The ones who feel free here because they know their privacy will be respected?” “What he did to you had nothing to do with any of the sexual games that we’ve played. He beat you, he assaulted you. You have a responsibility to make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

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She closed her eyes. This was the last conversation she wanted to have with him, but he made it clear that he wouldn’t wait. “I know what he did. And, if I were to press charges, he would counter by saying that what happened was within the boundaries of a consensual sexual encounter. In order to disprove that, I would need others to testify on my behalf—you and Gervais, perhaps some of the others. That would destroy any anonymity and protection for masters, slaves, subs and doms—everyone here.” “I don’t think even Gervais is as worried about the reputation of the school as you—and his whole focus is centered on the bottom line.” “You underestimate him, I think.” “Maybe.” Silence stretched between them. She understood his point of view, even shared it, but in this instance she felt she had no other choice. “He’s going to snap one day, you know. He’s going to unleash that violence on someone else—maybe someone not lucky enough to have others watching out for them.” “You’re probably right,” she sighed. “I still don’t see how we have any prayer of making some kind of charge stick and any good attorney will plead his case down into nothing.” “At least there would be a record—the beginning of a paper trail.” “And it would come at a price. A price I’d have to pay, and Gervais, and even you, maybe. Do you really want your name associated with a bunch of sexual deviants and freaks? That wouldn’t look very good for business.” “No one here, apart from Evan, is a freak—at least not that I’ve seen.” “Mmmm. And what opinion do you think the average viewer of the six o’clock news will form? What will the clients you work with think? Your associates?” She could tell he was thinking it over, but somehow she doubted this was the first time he’d considered that possibility. Even though Derek Riddle hadn’t been a member

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of the community for long at all, he shared a trait she’d noticed in many masters—he was honorable. “It’s not like we’re involved in anything illegal, and neither of us are underage, Sage. We are two mature adults—no question of that. I’ve got an excellent PR department, and I can spin this better than you think.” “I don’t know…” “You’ll have to decide soon,” he said. “The window of opportunity here is very small.” “Where is Evan now?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Gervais called in some big security guys, and I haven’t seen him since.” “Maybe,” she said, thoughtfully, “the problem has already been handled.” He folded his arms over his chest and began pacing. “Giving the man a beating in exchange for what he did to you isn’t enough, if that’s what you’re implying. You know there’s something wrong with him. He’s only interested in pain and how much he can inflict on others.” “Hundreds, maybe thousands of people share that trait. They don’t all perform criminal acts.” “How can you sit there so cool and reasonable?” He raked his hands through his hair and made a frustrated sound. Then he pointed to the mirror on the wall across from the bed. “Look at yourself. Look at what he did to you.” He crossed the room in two strides and gathered her into his arms. “I know I don’t know you very well, but you must admit that we’ve been intimate and I’m not just talking about sex. You’ve trusted me and I think I’ve earned some of that.” He touched her face. “When I came through that door, and saw what he was doing to you, I wanted to kill him.”

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Sage shivered in his arms. She fought to keep her thinking clear but the possessiveness in his voice was a heady intoxicant. She knew that she affected him, but he sounded as though he believed that he was responsible for her, that she was his. “Now that would have required a call to the police.” He didn’t laugh at her joke. “Listen, I’ll make a deal with you.” Sage felt his posture shift. He was listening. “I’m still not going to press formal charges, but what if I make a few calls, and with the help of Gervais and Laura, we come up with a suitable resolution? I’m a good lawyer, Derek, a really good lawyer and there may be options here that we haven’t explored.” He rubbed his cheek on the top of her head, cradling her in his arms. “I don’t know if that’s enough. He’s still dangerous.” “And there isn’t a way to stop that, sadly.” She nestled against his broad chest. “Even with charges and a conviction, he’s still not going to do jail time for this. You’re not a lawyer and you know that’s true.” “Yes, I know.” He sighed. “I just want him to pay for what he did to you.” “He will.” He tipped her chin up with his fingers. Sage opened her mouth to receive his kiss. He explored her mouth with slow strokes of his tongue over hers. His touch was tender, as though she was priceless art. His slow caress was intoxicating, filling her with a lazy heat that made her want to snuggle into the covers and wrap her legs around him at the same time. She shouldn’t want him like this—not after what she’d been through, but the powerful attraction between them sliced through her discomfort. “There is one other condition,” he whispered, against her lips. “What’s that?”

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“I want you to leave this place with me. At the end of the week, I want to bring you home.” “Mmmm?” She edged away from him as the impact of his words cleared the fog from her brain. “What did you say?” He smiled down at her. “I know this is hardly the time, but I wanted to talk to you about this anyway. I think we’ve had a good time together, don’t you?” “Yes,” she replied, watching him carefully. “And of all the women I’ve met, you seem to understand my limitations when it comes to relationships. I enjoy your company, Sage, and I think we can come to an agreement which satisfies both our needs, don’t you?” “I don’t know,” she said, pushing away so she could get some space. She found it impossible to think when he was that close. “Are you talking about a formal contract?” She shook her head to clear the rest of the cobwebs. How strange was it to speak of a sexual contract on the heels of a discussion about Evan? “Yes. I don’t know everything about being a master, but I know you crave that kind of relationship. For myself, there are things you can do for me, beyond sex, which would simplify my life greatly. I think we could be good for each other.” “What kind of things?” He traced his fingers over her jaw then leaned down to kiss her neck. “You are beautiful, Sage, and no one would question my motives in bringing you into my life. My parents would no longer feel compelled to throw single women in my path, and I could go on with my work without that headache. I also think you’d be a wonderful companion for those tedious social functions I occasionally am required to attend. We could make fun of all the snobs.” His grin was infectious. She smiled in return. “And I suppose you’d also like someone to keep your apartment neat and tidy, serve your coffee and massage your shoulders on demand?”

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He laughed. “Okay, that doesn’t sound bad either.” “What do I get in return?” “Anything you want. If you want to continue your work, I think your firm is less than an hour’s commute from my home. If you want to strike out and try something new, then I’m happy to support you while you get on your feet. In case you missed it, Sage, I like you as much as I lust for you.” Like. Lust. These were terms she was used to, and he didn’t mention anything about love. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. After the heartbreak she’d experienced with her previous Master, that moment of despair when she realized that the man she’d invested every part of herself into no longer wanted her—she hadn’t thought she would recover. She couldn’t face that again. She liked Derek, was attracted to him and respected him, but she couldn’t let herself become so committed or attached again. “And you’re talking about a formal contract,” she said again. “I’d like it to be clearly outlined—to include what duties you would expect me to perform and preferably the things that I won’t do as well.” “You’re gun-shy,” he said, stroking his hand over her hair. “I don’t know why you want everything locked down, but if a formal contract is what you need, then it’s yours. Whatever it takes to get you out of here.” Sage thought about the advantages to such a situation. Maybe she would have time to think about what it was that she really wanted. The run-in with Evan had broken something inside. She had always felt safe at the school, almost invisible, but she wasn’t sure she would ever feel comfortable here again. And as long as there were no messy emotional entanglements, then she could see where a relationship with Derek Riddle could be good for them both. “Let me sleep on it for a while,” she said, snuggling down into the covers. “I don’t tend to make rational decisions when you’re around.” “Right,” he said, sliding out of bed and wrapping himself in a robe. “I’m going to have a bath. You have that long to decide.” 101

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His smile turned smug. She had already made her mind up, and he knew it.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Gervais asked. He stared at the pages before him, unseeing. What was she thinking by proposing a contract between herself and Derek Riddle? “Do you believe you’ve recovered enough to enter into another agreement so soon after the failure of your last relationship?” She nodded, her body seemingly relaxed. Her eyes, however, danced with emotion. He knew her so well. She was anxious to complete this, to get his blessing for the union. But how could he grant his permission when he wasn’t at all sure if she was getting herself into another bad situation? “Mr. Riddle and I have negotiated very strict terms, Master Gervais. My former owner and I both made a choice to blur the lines of our relationship, and I think the lack of clarity contributed to my ultimate inability to perform my duties as he desired. There will be no chance of that here.” “These are certainly generous terms,” he said, turning to face the man she had chosen. “You are allowing Sage to keep all her earnings, not requiring her to perform more than the most basic household duties and chores. It seems you want a companion more than a slave.” “I don’t know. Different men have different needs. I’d be willing to pay and have paid a premium for these services as you call them. Knowing they will be handled by Sage will ease my mind.” Gervais looked at the list again. It was standard, if detailed, and he didn’t see anything that Sage couldn’t perform, but the idea of her leaving the school so soon hadn’t occurred to him. He thought she would take more time to get back in touch with the side of herself that craved service. He glanced from the list to her face. The welt across her cheeks and nose had faded from brilliant red to a dull purple. A yellowish-purple bruise radiated from the line where the whip had struck her to encompass most of her face. And the actual lash mark 102

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lay just beneath her eyes. Had Evan moved his wrist more than a hair, she could have been blinded. He shoved the thought from his mind. “If you have come to this decision in order to escape what happened—” “It’s not that,” she said, her gaze focused on her hands. “I don’t blame anyone here for that. I still don’t want to go to the authorities.” “We can absorb the publicity, Sage. I am not afraid.” “I never thought you would be.” Gervais didn’t miss the scowl that darkened Mr. Riddle’s features. The man was disturbed by his rapport with Sage, maybe even jealous, but he was certain Derek would never harm her. Not in the way Evan had. “Sage, I can assure you that Evan is being dealt with. Not only has he been expelled from the school, but the attorneys I employ are already working on the matter. While criminal charges are not pending, I still have civil options.” “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “Not at present, but we may need your assistance later. I can’t promise he won’t do something like this in future. I think he will be less inclined to risk his reputation outside the community now.” The hard line of her shoulders relaxed a little, and he suspected her relief had as much to do with Riddle’s grunt of approval as his own information. While she had slept, Gervais had endured a forty-five-minute rant from Derek concerning her safety and the school’s distinct lack of safety protocols. Derek leaned forward. “Sage and I have discussed this in detail now, and she has some ideas I think you should consider as you take this forward.” “I’m open to suggestions, Mr. Riddle.” He turned back to Sage. “You know I value your opinion. I think we’ve come a long way together, wouldn’t you say?” “Of course.”

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“Then I hope you won’t find it too presumptuous when I tell you this is a bad idea, Sage. This is not a criticism leveled at either yourself or Mr. Riddle.” “And in what other way can I interpret this, except as criticism?” Gervais watched as Sage rested her hand on Derek’s wrist, and the way the man calmed beneath her touch. That was definitely not the act of a submissive. He frowned and she removed her fingers from Derek’s cuff. “You need neither my blessing nor my permission,” he said, continuing as though he’d not been interrupted. “The contract you’ve shown me has been drawn up with the attention to detail and accuracy I’ve come to expect from you. But I feel I must warn you that this arrangement could end badly. You’re both more vulnerable than you realize. It’s not a strong position from which to begin a contractual arrangement.” He waited while she processed what he had said. “I understand your concerns,” she said after a long moment. “And I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and taught me, Sir. But I no longer feel comfortable at the school. I can’t stay here. Even if I could I don’t think I should. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I believe I need to focus on my ability to exist in the outside world. I’ve always compartmentalized my work, my own thoughts and desires, and my relationships—never letting the boundaries overlap. I want to bring those aspects of myself closer together.” “What are you hoping to achieve?” “Unity, I think. Or at least a kind of peace. What Evan did—what he felt free to do—it’s changed me.” Gervais nodded. She had made up her mind and in this instance there was nothing he could do to intervene. “Very well,” he said. “All of the clothing in your room belongs to Mr. Riddle, since he paid for it. I will arrange for suitable luggage to be delivered to your rooms. You can leave with him on Friday.” “May I make a final request?”

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“What is it?” “I’d like to leave a copy of my contract with Mr. Riddle here, in my file.” Gervais was tempted to say no and throw the papers across his desk, but he would never allow himself that kind of self-indulgence. He was angry for the moment, but he also knew it would pass. Eventually, the reality of her needs would become a burden on Derek Riddle and she was going to need a place to go. For as long as he’d known her, Sage had never taken on a home of her own, though she was well able to afford one. Even her name, Sage, was the one he’d given her. “And your name? Will you leave that here too?” “What are you talking about?” Derek sat up in his chair, almost at attention. Gervais saw her frown and worry her bottom lip between her teeth. So she hadn’t told him. Well, it might be petty, but he was pleased he could be the one to take away the final surprise. “My name isn’t really Sage,” she said, turning her violet gaze on her new Master. “Sage is the name Master Gervais gave me when I first enrolled in the slave program. All slaves leave their legal names behind when they are here. The loss of identity is the first step in acceptance of a truly submissive role.” “But your name…that’s who you are!” She folded her hands in her lap. She reminded Gervais of a flower closing its petals against the rain. “Who I am is who I choose to be. I’ve given myself to you and am now your property. My name is your choice. Call me what you will.” “We can discuss that upstairs, perhaps,” he said, shooting a look at Gervais. “In private.” She inclined her head, put her hand in his, and let him draw her to her feet. Gervais pushed away from his desk and moved across the room to open the door. Before she passed out of the room, out of his life, he stopped her. Putting his hands on 105

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her shoulders, he edged between her and Riddle. “Even though I believe you’re making a mistake, I want you to know that I hope I’m wrong. You’re strong. Salvia nemerosa Marcus. Don’t forget that.” “I won’t.” He stared into her amazing eyes, searching for something he couldn’t name. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, unable to think of another reason to delay them. When he released her shoulders, her Master took her hand and led her from the office without a word. “You knew this day was coming, Gervais,” Laura said as she stepped from behind the curtained alcove. She’d been there the entire time, of course, monitoring the interview. “I know.” “She was never going to stay here. No matter what you might be thinking now, she was never going to be yours, either.” “I know that, too,” he growled, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Laura knew him and his moods. After more than twenty years of running the school together, they had developed a deep connection that went beyond what most people assumed lay between them. “Would you like me to arrange a scene for you?” He shook his head. His lack of interest in play caught her by surprise. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. “I’m all right,” he assured her. “I just don’t want to play right now. Perhaps I’ll take a long walk—to clear my head.” “That’s a good idea.” He left his office, signaling to his own submissive that he was not in need of her company. Right now, all he wanted was solitude and a chance to gather his composure.

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Maybe later, when he was up to it, and he could trust himself, he’d join Laura for that private session.

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Chapter Nine An expensive car, quiet, professional drivers, none of it was new to Sage, but she tried her best to look appreciative. The man in uniform, after loading their bags into the trunk, opened the door for her, and she slid into the rear of the limo. It smelled of clean leather and money. When she was a little girl, she had watched the long cars cruising through the city streets and dreamed of riding in one—even owning one—someday. She’d been thrilled the first time she sat in one, but now, as with most things, familiarity had taken the sparkle out of the experience. “Are you ready?” Derek asked as he climbed in from the opposite side. He sounded cheerful, a sort of schoolboy excitement in his voice. “Yes,” she said, unable to resist returning his smile. “I’m looking forward to the trip.” “Me too.” She glanced over her shoulder, taking a last look at the manicured lawns of Collingwood as the car made slow progress over the crushed gravel drive. Gervais hadn’t come to say goodbye, nor had anyone else. One of the accepted rules of the school was that visitors arrived alone and left the same way. “Come here,” he said. She moved into the circle of his arms. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his chest. The strong, steady beat of his heart was hypnotic. He smelled fresh and clean, the spicy scent of his aftershave tickling her senses. She almost purred when he caressed the shell of her ear with his fingers. He’d quickly discovered that little sensitive spot of hers. “So tell me, do you like the name Sage?”

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She smiled against his chest. It had taken her a couple of hours of patient work to convince him that the deception about her real name was a small means of protection. Many people didn’t want to be traceable, or identifiable, outside the confines of the school. For herself, she was happy enough to use that excuse. Her true reason was, well, something he would think silly. “I think it’s a lovely name.” “On you, everything is lovely. But Sage is what’s written on the label of an unused spice that most people shove to the back of their cabinet. You deserve better than that.” “All you have to do is choose a name for me. The sooner you do, the sooner I can become accustomed to it.” “Hmmm.” He adjusted her in his arms so he could massage her shoulders, as he often did when he appeared to be thinking. “There might be something in the floral theme, though. My mother would certainly approve.” He cupped her chin in his hand and bent down to kiss her, his mouth glancing over hers. When he leaned back, she could see the amused gleam in his eye. “Gladiola?” he asked. She made a face. “No? Okay, but Rose is too common, and well, you’re not the Lily type. So let me think on it. How about Allie?” “Short for Allium? You mean you think of me as a member of the onion family?” He laughed at her mock outrage then cocked his head as though thinking. “Jasmine?” She shook her head. “No way. Disney owns that name now.” “You’re right, of course. How about Ivy?” “Toxic, and also favored by spinsters. Next?” “Hey,” he murmured, letting one hand drop from her shoulders to caress the side of her breast.

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She held her breath, waiting to see if he would take the next step, but his hand remained, teasing her, just brushing the side. The contact brought her nipples to hard, painful points. “I thought all I had to do was pick a name. When did this become a democracy?” She blushed. “Of course, you’re right, Sir. I’ll answer to any name you choose.” “Even if I choose, say, Dogwort?” She bit her tongue to keep from voicing her objections to that particular moniker. “Even that, sir,” she said, through gritted teeth. “Mmmm… So that’s a maybe on Dogwort. Okay. Let me think. Maybe there’s something I’d like better.” His hand dropped from her side, sweeping slow strokes over her belly, skimming the soft knit top she was wearing. He shifted, adjusting her again so that he was seated on the far side of the bench seat and she was reclined, her head and shoulders pillowed in his lap. He kept his large, warm hand on her stomach, rubbing slow circles widening out from her navel then coming in close again. “Daphne.” “Daphne?” she asked. “Cartoon character or goddess?” “Neither,” he replied. “A particularly lovely azalea. Tell me, what’s your opinion?” She considered the other choices he’d toyed with. As much as she knew herself as Sage, she was ready for a new chapter in her life, but not with the name Daphne. “Still too Saturday-morning-television.” He trailed his hand over her belly to brush over the tops of her thighs. “Zahra, then.” She turned the name over in her mind. It was beautiful, and she liked the sound of it in her head. “But what does it mean?” she asked. “It means small white flower.” He took the hem of her skirt between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed.

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“It makes me think of you—your milky skin, the way you open under my hands when I touch you.” “It’s lovely…but I’m not altogether small.” “True, and I know you as Sage, and I was teasing before. It’s not a forgotten spice at all. And to avoid confusion, perhaps we should keep things as they are?” His words trailed off as he peeled the cashmere fabric away from her legs. She lifted her hips to assist his efforts, but her gaze was focused on his face. He looked like a man who hadn’t eaten in three days and had just been moved to the head of the line at the buffet. She felt the heat of his gaze warming her skin, the effect of that smoky look triggering the response she’d come to associate with him. “What are you thinking?” he asked, tracing the seam of her thighs with his hand. She sighed. “That it’s a good thing I’m not responsible for any serious work decisions at the moment. I find it very hard to think around you.” Her admission must have pleased him. He laughed, making her realize that a sound she had only associated with humor could also be sexy. “You have proven to be a mighty distraction for me, as well, Sage.” He parted her thighs with his hand, and cupped her sex, pressing against her until she could feel his pulse through the tender flesh. She let her knees slide open farther, concentrating on the sensation of his stroking fingers. It didn’t take long before she was pushing her hips up, and grinding against his hand. “That’s right,” he murmured. “You’re going to come for me, aren’t you? You’re so beautiful when you orgasm, did you know that? Your eyes open wide, and your cheeks turn pink…just like they are now. Do you like how this feels?” She bit her lip, wanting to cry out. She managed a choked whisper. “Yes. Yes, I like how that feels.” “But it could be better,” he said, and reached across her to place her left hand over his. “Show me what you like. Show me what you want me to do.”

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Although she had heard words like his before, it had been a long time since she’d been with anyone concerned with how she best liked to be pleased. “Don’t be shy,” he said, urging her to action with another, more insistent caress. “Do as you’re told, darling. Show me what I want to know. A slave should have no secrets from her Master.” She responded as much to the dark promise in his voice as to his touch. Wrapping her hand around his, she altered the pace, increasing the pressure of his fingers over her clit. The contact sent a charge through her nerves and she moaned deep in her throat. This time, it was his eyes widening in surprise, when she took two of his fingers and pushed them deep inside. “Mmmm.” He thrust as she arched her hips upward. “You like me inside your pussy? You like it when I fuck you with my fingers?” “Yes,” she gasped. “Faster now, and use your thumb on my clit.” She demonstrated what she meant, putting his fingers where she wanted them and he seemed happy to oblige. She needed to feel him deeper inside. She lifted her right leg, bracing it against the window and let her left leg fall open wide. “Come for me,” he commanded. She was only too happy to do his bidding. The tight, coiled knot of desire she felt for him snapped and she lost momentary touch with all her senses as her climax thundered through her body. Her moans and sighs were loud, even to her own ears. As her pulse calmed and her breathing returned to normal, she nuzzled her face against his belly. She could feel the stiff ridge of his erect cock beneath her neck. She thought it was too soon for her to be aroused again, but all she wanted was to feel him between her legs. His gruff chuckle washed over her and she smiled up into his eyes. “That was gorgeous,” he said. “And so are you.” She reached a hand up to follow the line of his jaw. It was rough with stubble.

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“You lose yourself sometimes, don’t you?” he asked. “Yes, I think I do.” “But you are beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Carl?” “Yes, sir.” Sage clamped her legs shut and turned her head to see, finally, that the glass partition separating the rear of the limo from the driver’s area was open. The driver’s eyes were reflected in the mirror and she knew the gleam she saw was not an effect of the polished glass. Without realizing it, she’d just given an X-rated performance. “That’ll be all, Carl,” Derek said. “Yes, sir.” The tinted window rose, but it was too late. “I didn’t know you were going to expose me!” “No, you were too involved to notice, weren’t you?” His voice was still seductive, still teasing. She wasn’t angry as much as she was surprised. As his slave, it was within his contractual bounds to show her off to others if he desired. She had agreed to that and she hadn’t insisted on being informed first. So, really, she had no one to blame but herself. “You’re not angry, are you, darling?” “No,” she said. “It’s not my place to be angry with you. You’re my Master. I am here to serve you.” The fire in his eyes kindled, replacing the teasing amusement. Before she could figure out what he was doing, she found herself flat on her back across the seat of the limousine. She wasn’t sure when he had found time to unzip his trousers, but a few deft movements were enough to release his cock from confinement. “And you say I’m gorgeous,” she breathed. “I do,” he growled, sheathing himself within her slick folds in one sharp movement. “And I’m glad you remember who your Master is, and who you serve.” 113

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The motion of his hips driving against hers robbed her of speech. She was still sensitive from her powerful orgasm, but the feeling of his cock swelling inside her was worth the discomfort. “I can’t wait,” he groaned against her neck. Sliding her hands down his back, she cupped the cheeks of his ass and pressed her nails into his soft skin. “Harder,” he commanded, bucking his hips until she thought he might drive her through the seat. She clenched her hands, digging her nails in deeper. It was enough to bring him over the edge. He moaned and buried himself inside her with one final, deep thrust. She could feel him expand, then he was climaxing. She had never been so possessed by him as that moment and it was enough to bring her to orgasm again. Derek collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving. She was gasping for breath too, but not because of the weight on her chest. Closing her eyes, Sage savored the sensation of him, his smell and his touch. She was going to have to guard herself. Derek Riddle had a powerful effect on her. But, she thought to herself, as he got off her, and adjusted their clothes, that there was nothing wrong with mixing business with pleasure. Her business, after all, was pleasure.

“This is my place,” he said, opening the door to his townhouse. Derek waited to see her reaction, doubting she’d be pleased. “It’s…Spartan. Very clean.” “That’s one of the most diplomatic criticisms of the house I’ve ever heard.” He laughed as she stepped fully into the room and stared around her. He supposed, to her eyes, it might look as though it were a house on the market. In truth, he’d done very little to it since he’d bought the place four years previously. The walls were still bare, still the same apartment-white that all contractors favored when hurrying to finish

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a project. He had only two or three pieces of furniture in the living room, a few plates in the cupboards and two forks. “What will I find if I open the refrigerator?” she asked. “Probably a jar of mustard that’s four years old, and maybe an orange or two. I really don’t spend any time here. And no, regardless of the date, I promise this is not an April Fools’ joke. I should make an effort to transform this place into a home, but so far my attempts have been halfhearted at best. There’s a laundry room and a finished rec room downstairs, but I use a delivery service for my washing and work out at the gym. There are three bedrooms upstairs and my office. Down here, there’s the kitchen, the dining room, and this living room.” “I guess you don’t entertain here, either? You must always take your clients to restaurants?” He nodded. “I see.” He trailed her through the house and she walked through the rooms. Occasionally, a soft smile would float across her mouth, sometimes it was a rueful smirk. He waited until she was standing in the bedroom, admiring the view, before he broached the subject he’d planned on discussing. “I’m a private man, Sage, you know that.” She turned to face him, the expression in her lovely eyes curious and expectant. “I’ve never had a woman here, if you can believe that, but I want you here and I want you to feel at home. In our contract, I specified there would be some light domestic duties for you perform while you’re with me.” “Of course.” “Well, this falls somewhat outside the scope of our agreement, so I’d prefer to have your opinion and your consent. Understand, I’m making a request, not giving you an order and you are perfectly within your rights to refuse me in this instance.” Her smile turned mysterious. “You’ve intrigued me. Go on.”

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“I’d like you to take over the decorating and outfitting of this house.” He waited a moment, and when she made no immediate negative sounds, he continued. “I like this neighborhood and I like this place, but I hate to decorate. I don’t like anything to do with wall colors, carpeting, or appliances. I don’t even want to know about it. I’m hopeless when it comes to that sort of thing, and I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d take over the interior design duties.” She leaned against the wall and he watched her scan his bedroom. The only furniture of consequence was the grand four-poster bed that had belonged to his grandparents, and the large wardrobe that dominated the far wall. Her gaze touched every point in the room. “Why are you hopeless at this sort of thing?” she asked. “Very simple. I’m color-blind. If my suits and shirts weren’t specially marked for me, I’d look like a fool every time I left the house. I also have no patience for it. I’m not…artistic.” “And what about my job—at the firm? My leave time is running out and I have to decide what to do.” He’d anticipated this reaction, and while he was tempted to try and convince her to stay in his house full-time, he realized she needed her work. “Are you happy at the firm where you are now?” he asked. “To be honest, while I love what I do, no, I’m not terribly happy there. I’m a good lawyer, and have billed more hours than a lot of my associates. But it’s been made clear to me that a partnership is not forthcoming. One of the partners is…a close friend of my former Master.” “Would you ever consider making a change?” She grinned. “I believe I just said that I might be looking.” He shrugged, forcing a calm, neutral expression. “I could always arrange for you to work in the legal department of my company, but I imagine that wouldn’t be

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acceptable. After all, it would just be trading one situation for another—only the names of your masters might be different.” “That’s true.” “And were you looking before? Do you have any other prospects?” “No. The circumstances under which I came back to the school were unusual. I didn’t have time to do anything other than request a leave of absence after I arrived at Collingwood.” “Then let me make this offer to you. Take as much time as you need to get your affairs together. Use the time that we’re together to search for a new position, or even consider setting up your own practice. While you’re doing that, you can manage the house and oversee the design work. How does that sound?” She moved away from the wall, clasping her hands behind her back and pacing beside the bed. He watched her feet. She moved with precision, her stiletto heels clicking in time with her measured steps. He liked the look of her in his bedroom, the shape of her in his space. He couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like some kind of primal need to keep her close, to have her taste and style reflected in his house. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but to Derek it felt like an hour before she finally looked up. “All right,” she said. “That’s acceptable. I’ll do it.” He breathed a sigh of relied. “There’s something else, too.” “What’s that?” she asked. “While we are here, together, I will be introducing you as my partner—my girlfriend, if you like. Possibly more than that. So I will expect you to accompany me to various social engagements, and the like.” “That was spelled out in our agreement. I’m happy to comply with that. Is there something in particular that’s troubling you?”

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“Not really. But just so we’re clear. You understand that you have to meet my parents?” She nodded. “It only makes sense.” “Sense, my dear, is the last thing my parents make.” Sage laughed along with him, though she didn’t quite understand the joke. The rest of the afternoon became something of a blur. The chauffeur had placed their luggage in the foyer, and she spent most of the rest of the day familiarizing herself with the house. The one room that was finished, and furnished, was his office. A long table ran beneath the windows of the room, and beside it stood a second chair. Derek’s printer and his fax machine were side by side to the right of where she’d set up her laptop. It was a simple task to write the letter of resignation, print it and fax it to her old office. She knew there would be no resistance to her leaving. She had arrived quietly in the firm and she would disappear in the same way. She consoled herself with the knowledge that such a course of action was part of her nature. In order to truly sublimate herself and relinquish control of her immediate environment, Sage found she had to allow someone else that control. By definition, a slave is never autonomous. This was the second rule she had learned at the school, and she knew that the consequences of a broken relationship could be dangerous. If circumstances were different, she might very well be in a position far worse than the one she presently occupied. Her own practice. She turned the idea over in her head. At first, it was daunting, almost overwhelming, the idea of being solely responsible for herself. She had spent so many years learning to make herself a useful tool for another, that she could barely remember what it felt like to be in authority. It was one thing to manage a case while in the protective shelter of a firm and quite another to do it all on her own. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She answered it. She had been expecting the call from her former employer, and had already asked Derek’s permission to keep the 118

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phone handy. Three minutes proved enough to agree on her termination package and to arrange for the electronic transfer of the funds she was owed. When she snapped the phone closed, she felt as though she’d sliced through the cords of her life, severing the ties completely. She supposed there was a gentle irony to be appreciated in the situation. She, who had always guarded herself, was now falling headfirst into a situation where power and control were not easily defined. Contractually obligated to a new relationship, while at the same time starting her own firm was more than a little overwhelming. Weighing the advantages against the disadvantages, she calculated that her luck could go either way. Wild success, or dismal failure, and in the middle of it all—Derek Riddle—handsome, sexy, funny, powerful, color-blind Derek Riddle. He would be the variable she couldn’t define. How much of her future happiness and stability would come to depend on him? It wasn’t a question she could allow herself to answer. She liked him, and felt sure he liked her. There was that undeniable attraction between them, the chemistry that threatened to boil over whenever they were close. But what was that compared to the unknown and his intimate request for her to transform his house into a home? What was she getting herself into? She glanced at the calendar on his wall, smiling at the date.

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Chapter Ten “Hi, honey, I’m home.” Sage peered over her shoulder to see Derek picking his way through the living room. “You’ve been busy, I see.” He motioned to the stacks of paint cans and piles of wallpaper. She finished brushing the panel of paper against the wall, smoothing the edges with her brush. “Did you have a good day?” she asked. “I did. Are you about finished there? Coming down anytime soon? You look good enough to eat.” She looked down from her perch on the stepladder. What did he think of her? She certainly didn’t look like a lawyer, and was definitely not attired in anything remotely sexy. She wore pair of faded jeans, with a rip on the right knee and in the butt, an old, cotton t-shirt she’d found in his drawer, and a scarf tied around her hair. She’d been wallpapering all day. With glue on her cheek and yellow rubber gloves on her hands, she was pretty sure she looked more like a dishwasher instead of a dish. “I’m just finishing now. I’m sorry about the mess. This task turned out to be harder than it looks.” She climbed down from the ladder and stripped the gloves from her hands. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on her nose. “Derek! Your suit will be ruined.” “I can buy another,” he replied, keeping his arms around her while he looked at the progress she’d made. “I like what you’re doing with the place, though I’m sure there’s

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enough in the budget to get a decorator. I didn’t envision the actual manual labor for decorating to become one of your tasks. I saw you more in a supervisory position.” “Would you rather I hire someone?” she asked. “I can, of course, but I thought you might prefer it this way. I know you like to be private when you’re at home. I thought having strangers coming in and out at all hours might be more of a nuisance.” He smiled. “You know me well, don’t you?” “I’ve tried to learn about you. I want you to be happy.” “I am.” He stepped to the side, keeping one arm around her waist and led her into the kitchen. Sage fought the temptation to lean her cheek against his shoulder. Six weeks had passed since she’d come home with him and this had become their normal evening routine. He came in from work, they talked about the day while she fixed supper. Anyone observing from the outside might have thought they were a simple, normal couple. She frowned. That was part of the problem—being with him, sharing her life and this space all seemed perfectly normal. “Your mother called today,” she said, pulling herself from her thoughts. “She wants to know if we can come to dinner again on Sunday.” He nodded, but his eyes lost some of their warmth. “I don’t know. Things are still uneasy at the office. I told you that Charles and I butted heads this week over opening a new office in London. If we go on Sunday, then I’ll have to endure an after-dinner session with Charles and my dad. What do you think we should do?” She took a deep breath. “It’s really not my place to say, Sir.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re doing it again.” Sage bit her lip. The only issue that had come up between them that had caused any sort of problem was that Derek insisted she relax with him. He didn’t like her to always use a formal tone with him, to use a title of respect.

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“Sage, is it really so hard to do this one little thing? As long as we both remember the rules, and we both know who is in charge, I don’t see why you must always call me Sir.” She washed her hands, then took the salad she’d prepared earlier from the refrigerator. “It just helps,” she said. “Helps with what?” “It just helps me to remember our agreement.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes I’ve made in the past. If we blur the lines between Master and servant, then eventually our relationship could become complicated.” He didn’t say anything. Sage took plates from the cupboard and set the table. As part of their routine, he sat at his place and allowed her to perform the comforting rituals of preparation. He seemed to understand that it made her nervous when he offered to help, or assist. It wasn’t behavior she was used to in a Master. “You know, if I’m comfortable performing a task or lending a hand, and it doesn’t threaten me, then it shouldn’t threaten you.” She nodded. She knew he was right. “I just want to be a good…slave.” She had almost said partner. The thought sent warning bells screaming through her head. Bad enough she anticipated his homecoming every night. She actually found herself checking her watch, looking forward to the time they would spend together. On nights he had to work late, she had to swallow the disappointment that threatened to overwhelm her. Accomplishing the goals and tasks he set for her was easy compared to the internal struggle she faced. “Do you enjoy spending time with me?” he asked. She finished setting the table, forcing her heart to slow down. She always answered his questions directly, though she was tempted to make a joke—a diversion from the moment. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

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“I like spending time with you, too. Is there a clause in the contract which specifically states we should dislike one another’s company?” “No, of course not.” “Good, then come here.” Sage left her preparations for the meal on the counter. When she was standing in front of him, Derek pulled her down onto his lap. His arms slipped around her waist and he stroked her back. “I look forward to leaving the office now. I look forward to coming back here—to you.” She nodded, unsure of how to answer him. “Put your head on my shoulder, Sage.” She snuggled against him, glad to escape his penetrating stare. Sometimes she felt he was looking straight inside her. She imagined it was a very persuasive negotiating technique he’d developed, but it seriously affected her senses. “I’m going to give you some commands. I expect my orders to be instantly obeyed, is that clear?” “Yes, Si…Derek.” “That’s right. Derek. You will always refer to me as Derek, unless I tell you otherwise, understood?” She nodded. “I couldn’t quite hear you.” “Yes, Derek. I understand.” “Good. Now stand up.” She stood and faced him. He reached his hands up and unfastened the button of her jeans. Then he stood to face her, and pulled his t-shirt over her head. Without speaking a word, he removed her bra with one, deft movement. He sat again. “Strip off your jeans.”

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She pushed the denim over her hips, leaning forward to slide the fabric down her legs. She stepped out of them as she straightened up. His eyes had darkened and it was impossible not to notice his erection pushing against his trousers. “Go into the living room, open my briefcase, and put on what you find inside.” Sage moved slowly through the room. She’d learned that he didn’t like her to hurry. It made her feel self-conscious in a way she’d never before experienced. She was used to being naked, but her nudity had a powerful effect on Derek. He watched her as though she was a ballet dancer—elegant and graceful. She wasn’t either of those things, and his insistence that she not try to hide herself with quick movements was a challenge. She opened his briefcase. Inside, she found a tiny plastic bag from Tilly’s—the upscale lingerie shop he’d taken her to several times. It was right on his route home. Opening the bag, she saw a bundle of pale pink silk. She pulled it out to discover it was a beautiful nightgown. Slipping it over her head, Sage felt the silk float down her skin to settle against her. It was so light as to feel weightless. The fabric was sheer, filmy, and while she was covered, she felt more exposed than when she’d been naked. The gown was supported by two thin straps and the hem rippled against the tops of her thighs. It really was like wearing nothing at all. But she had to admit, it was gorgeous. She returned to the kitchen. “Do you like it?” he asked. “Oh, yes. It’s beautiful.” “And so are you.” Derek pulled her back onto his lap and stared into her eyes. He murmured something, but Sage didn’t catch it. She was focused on his hands as he stroked them against the silk. She felt his warmth through the sheer fabric and her body responded. “Kiss me,” he said.

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She bent her head to touch her lips to his. Kissing Derek was like swimming in the ocean. She felt pulled against the currents of her own desire and when he opened his mouth and plunged his tongue into hers, she would have been happy to drown in him. Without a word, he maneuvered her until she was between his legs, then he broke the kiss. Anticipating his command, Sage slipped to her knees while he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t want this often, but she loved it when he did. “It’s ten ‘til six, darling,” he whispered. “You’ve got ten minutes to make me a happy man. Can you do it?” She nodded, grinning. One thing she’d learned about Derek was that he was a master of control, not only of his business, but of himself. They’d invented this little ritual during which he’d set a time limit for her to bring him to orgasm with her mouth, then he’d set his will to preventing himself from climaxing. If she didn’t accomplish her goal, then there was no sexual contact between them for twenty-four hours. But if she did, later that night, he wouldn’t rest until she was completely drained and totally satisfied. Ten minutes was the shortest time he’d ever set, and she wasn’t at all sure if she was up for the challenge. Releasing his cock from his trousers, Sage grasped the shaft with both hands. Derek closed his eyes, and groaned under his breath. He stretched back in his chair, spreading his legs wide, and leaned his head back. From her kneeling position, Sage leaned forward and flicked the tip of her tongue over the sensitive head of his cock. He gasped. “You taste so good,” she whispered, before she could stop herself. He shifted in the chair, bringing his hands up to cup the sides of her head. He was gentle, but insistent as he pulled her toward his erection. Sage took the hint and opened her mouth. She slid her tongue along the underside of his cock as she took him deep into her throat.

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She forgot about the time restrictions as she increased her speed. She sucked and licked and nibbled, spurred on more by his reactions than the clock. She lost herself in sensation, wrapped up in his moans and growls of satisfaction. She felt him tense and relax under her hands. He pushed his hips up when she pulled back a little so she could use her fingers as well as her mouth. When she dove between his legs and swallowed his length deep into her throat, his breath came out in a sharp hiss between his teeth. “Yes,” he whispered as she increased her pace. “Don’t stop now. Just like that.” She curled her tongue around the head of his cock, then sucked him back into her mouth. He nearly came off the chair when she reached her hands up, beneath his shirt, to drag her nails over his chest. That was enough to send him over the edge. She felt his climax building as she lapped her tongue up and down his length. When she took him into her mouth again, he jerked against her, pushing deep into her throat. He moaned out loud, and bunched her hair into his fists. Then his entire body tensed and became still. She was allowed to pull away at this point, if she wanted to, she knew that, but she didn’t want to leave him. “Are you sure?” he gasped out. “Mmmmm.” There was only one way to interpret that sound. Sage held on as his orgasm took over. The taste of him was delicious—and knowing she’d brought him intense pleasure was enough to cause a reaction between her own legs. Long moments passed before he released his hold on her hair. Sage raised her head, kissing the tip of his cock one last time before she leaned back into her heels to smile. He checked his watch, his chest heaving from the excitement. “How did I do?” she asked. “Six minutes, darling. You’re amazing.” “I live to serve,” she replied, winking. She wondered if she looked as smug as she felt.

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“And you’ll be rewarded for your service.” He ruffled a hand through her hair. “Are you hungry?” She shook her head. “Are you?” “Yes. And dinner can wait.”

“I have to go away tomorrow,” Derek said, cradling Sage against his chest. “Mmmm?” She was more than half asleep, cuddled against him. “I said, I have to go away tomorrow. I have a meeting in Virginia, but I’ll be back on Saturday. I promise.” He glanced at the clock. It was two o’clock in the morning. The woman was going to be the death of him, but he just couldn’t get enough of her. He was actually thinking of asking her to come on his trip, but he wasn’t sure if he didn’t need the time to stage a bit of a recovery. She made him feel like he was twenty again, but where the spirit might be willing, his body needed a little rest. “That’s three days.” He shifted her in his arms and rolled to his side so that they faced one another. “I know,” he said. “But while I’m gone, I want you to do something. Are you listening?” She opened her eyes and nodded. Derek took a deep breath and let it out, counting to ten. For weeks he’d been wondering how to broach this subject with her. This was probably the wrong time, but he didn’t think he could put it off anymore. “I want you to think about renegotiating our contract, Sage.” “Have I done something wrong?” She was alert, instantly awake in his arms. He traced his finger over her lips, trying to erase the frown. 127

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“No, you haven’t done anything wrong at all. Everything you do is right, in fact. I want you to think about making our situation more permanent.” There. He’d said it. Derek kept his arms around her, convinced she might try to bolt from the bed. “Are you serious?” she asked, her eyes wide. “I know it must seem funny coming from me. I’ve never committed to anyone in my life—at least not fully. But I’ve been chasing you for weeks now. You and I are compatible, don’t you think? I’m not sure we’re suited for anyone else.” She laughed, a small nervous sound, but her expression made it clear she didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame her. He hardly believed it himself. “You’ve made such a change in my life, Sage. When I’m at the office, I think about coming back here at night, and for the first time since I’ve owned this place I look forward to being here. Whenever I think about the future, I see you here—with me. You’ve made this house into a real home. I think of it as our home. Don’t you?” She closed her eyes and didn’t reply for a long time. “Derek, I don’t know what to say.” She pulled away from him to roll onto her back. Her face was white in the moonlight and her eyes were shining. He frowned. Was she trying not to cry? “I’ve said the wrong thing? Have I misunderstood your feelings, Sage? I thought you were as happy here as I am.” “Of course I’m happy here,” she said quickly. “But we agreed not to become involved. Our relationship is supposed to be based on the roles of Master and slave. If I understand you correctly, you want to change that?” “Sometimes things change on their own. We’ve been together almost three months, which may not seem a long time to most people, but in that short space, wouldn’t you agree that we’ve explored some pretty personal territory?” “Yes.”

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“And I think we’ve both been happy, too. You’ve made such a good impression on my friends and family—they all think you’re wonderful. Sexually, I think we’ve demonstrated more than a passing interest, and you have to admit that we’re compatible. What are you so afraid of?” Sage heard the question, but she still didn’t know how to respond. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt lightheaded. When he’d started talking about commitment, what had shocked her most was that she wasn’t surprised. And the biggest part of her wanted nothing more than to turn to him and accept what he was offering. But she couldn’t. He talked about their happiness, and how good they were together, but he didn’t mention anything about love. And that was her problem. Without realizing how it had happened, or even the moment when it had happened, Sage had fallen in love with Derek Riddle. It wasn’t the worship she would hold for a Master, or even just an intense sexual attraction. All of the confusing feelings she’d been battling for weeks finally made sense. She loved him. And how was she supposed to reconcile that emotion with her service to him? She closed her eyes and thought of Robert, her former Master. She had thought she’d loved him, too, but that had been something else. A strong mixture of sexual infatuation, coupled with the pleasure she’d found in exploring her need to submit to another’s will. Being with Derek was different. It was, somehow, more real. “Look,” he said, reaching for her again. “Let’s sleep on it. We can talk more about it in the morning, before I leave. Okay?” “Yes, all right.” Sage waited until Derek was asleep—and after the night’s erotic adventures it didn’t take long—before she slipped from his embrace and out of bed. Pulling on her robe, she walked through the house. It was no longer empty, but even in the dark she knew her way around the furniture. This had probably been her 129

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first mistake—agreeing to decorate the house. He had given her free rein and a big budget, but instead of simply putting a few things together and painting the walls, she had made the effort to put her own stamp on the place. She’d succeeded. Maybe too well. The part of her that sought his praise had beamed with every indication of his approval. He’d even gone shopping with her to pick out dishes and furniture despite his earlier disinterest. Had that all been part of his plan? Had he decided to change things between them even then? Sage went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. She poured a cup, sat at the table, and stared at it—not drinking. She had taken on a role not only as his slave, but had pretended to be his girlfriend. That had been part of the agreement, of course, but every engagement they kept—every dinner they attended—she let herself believe just a little more that she really was his partner. And now she’d gone too far to step back. She was in love with him. And he wanted to make their arrangement permanent. But how did he feel about her? He liked her. He wanted her. He enjoyed his time with her. Those things weren’t in question. She knew she made him happy and he’d told her a hundred times that his life had improved because she was in it. But that wasn’t love. She shook her head. It was foolish to even think about the subject. He’d taken her on as a slave. He was a Master—despite his inexperience—and he was a good one. She’d known that Robert never cared for her beyond possessing her as a servant and live-in escort. She could admit that now. But Derek was different. She didn’t want to swallow her feelings, pour her love into her service, and watch him eventually move on without her. No matter what he said, this kind of relationship was never really permanent, no matter what the contract might state. Sage sipped her coffee and watched through the window over the sink as the hours passed and dawn finally came. She was still sitting there when she heard Derek’s heavy 130

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steps as he got out of bed and started his day. She listened to the water run while he showered, then imagined him shaving and dressing. When he came into the kitchen, suit and tie in place, she’d already made his breakfast. Some habits are impossible to break, she thought. He leaned down to kiss her. “You left the bed last night, and you never came back. Are you all right?” “I just needed some space to think.” “I know I upset you. I hope you know I never meant to. I thought you’d be happy to have a more permanent situation. I thought you’d be relieved.” “It is a generous offer, and I want to thank you for it, but I can’t accept. I think it will be best if we stick to the original terms of our contract.” His eyes darkened and he pressed his lips together in a thin line, but she knew he wasn’t angry. He appeared to be…hurt. “And you won’t reconsider? Can’t you even take these few days while I’m gone to think about it?” She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t think so. We were very specific with what we both wanted when we came into this, Derek. I just don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me.” “Is the idea of being with me long-term that terrible?” He sounded confused. Sage wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to comfort him and find that peace she’d always had in his arms, but she knew if she did, she was lost. It was so tempting, but she couldn’t. “It’s not that,” she said. “I just…want more.” “I see,” he whispered. He turned his head and Sage could see the muscle working in his jaw. She knew he was fighting to control himself and she admired his restraint. She was glad, too, for his strength, it helped her keep her own resolve.

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“I will finish the living room while you’re gone. It’s the last project on my list, but then I think it would be best if I pack my bags and go before you get back from your trip.” “Absolutely not.” He shoved his chair back from the table, knocking it over as he stood. Sage flinched and waited for the punishment. She’d never seen Derek so upset. “You are not going to just pick up and disappear while I’m away,” he growled. “That’s not part of our agreement. I’m ordering you to stay here, is that clear?” She stared up at him. Her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding in her chest. He never made a move toward her, but she could feel his anger radiating from him in waves. “You may not want to stay with me, and you have that right. But you’re not going to sneak out of town while my back is turned. I think I’ve earned better from you, don’t you agree?” “I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you wouldn’t want me to stay here after I…said no.” He raked a hand through his hair then turned to pick up the chair from the floor. He set it, gently, on its legs and pushed it back into place. “Well,” he said, his voice measured and controlled, “you thought wrong. I want you here when I return.” Sage nodded, feeling the tears stinging her eyes. “Come with me,” he said. She followed him from the kitchen to the front door. Seeing his suitcase leaning against the stairs with his briefcase almost made her change her mind. She didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want to be separated from him at all, and not just because she depended on his orders or their play together. She had to bite her lip to prevent herself from taking back everything she’d just said. She had to stay strong.

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“Kiss me goodbye, darling.” His voice had dropped to a soft caress. His hurt was still visible, but he had it in check. Sage leaned into him, but was unprepared for the seduction of his touch. He’d kissed her before, but never like this. As though his car wasn’t waiting outside and he had all the time in the world, he lingered over her mouth. He placed soft, individual kisses over both of her lips, dragging her bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling, then he crushed her against his chest and deepened the caress until she melted against him, half aware of where she was. When he pulled back, she swayed with him, unsteady on her feet. “Goodbye, darling,” he said. “You’ll be here when I get back.” It wasn’t a question. Then he turned and walked out to his waiting car. Sage closed the door and leaned against it. She gave way to the sobs she’d been holding back. She felt a sharp pain in her chest and realized that all the stories were true—when your heart breaks, you can actually feel it.

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Chapter Eleven “’Allo? Sage? Come on and open the door! I know you are there, I can see your feet through the curtains.” Sage cursed her own taste and regretted buying anything other than long, black drapes. Muttering, she left her hiding place on the sofa and opened the front door. Sophie, Derek’s sister-in-law, stood there. She looked polished, beautiful and happy—just the way a former model should. Sage could only imagine what she must look like. It had been two days since Derek left. Sleep was impossible, she hadn’t eaten, and certainly hadn’t bothered showering. In fact, the one thing she had accomplished was the decorating. She’d finished the living room and added the last few, final touches to the rest of the house. “The house—it looks marvelous,” Sophie said as she walked into the room. She stripped off her gloves and coat and tossed them onto the armchair. “But you don’t look so very well.” Sage barked out a bitter laugh. That was a gross understatement. “You and Derek have had a fight.” It wasn’t a question. Sage wondered if everyone in the Riddle family was so autocratic. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a fight. Just a disagreement.” “Mmmm.” Sophie’s tone was skeptical. She made a tsking noise with her tongue. “You go upstairs and take a shower. A nice bath would be even better. I’ll make you breakfast.”

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Sage was too tired to argue, and truth be known, she was tired of being in her own sticky skin. She nodded and trudged her way up the stairs. She was also glad to escape Sophie’s searching eyes for a few minutes. After a long, hot shower, she felt more like herself. Except for the big, gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be, of course. She dressed mechanically, choosing a clean linen pantsuit. It was Derek’s favorite, and maybe the only way she could feel close to him now. When she came downstairs, the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs made her stomach growl. She wasn’t sure what she had eaten last. “Ah,” Sophie said, as she came into the kitchen. “That is much better. A little hot water and some mascara can do wonders.” Sage felt a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth but she wasn’t ready to give in to that yet. She sat down at the table. Sophie dropped a plate full of food in front of her, and handed her a mug of coffee. “Now, eat first, then you can tell me why Derek is so upset, no?” “Derek’s upset?” “Two days ago, in the morning, he came to the house to see Charles. They locked themselves in Charles’ study, and even though I was upstairs in the bedroom, I could hear shouts. Then I hear pounding steps, and the front door slams. Derek is gone, and Charles is in a state. Then you miss our lunch date yesterday and I realize that there is something wrong with you and Derek. So I’ve come to see if you’re all right, and if I can help.” Sage loved listening to Sophie recount stories. Her Parisian accent made everything she said sound as though she was amazed, joking and serious at once, but Sage didn’t feel like laughing. “I don’t know why Derek would have fought with Charles. What’s happened is just between us.”

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“A lovers’ quarrel, then? That is not to worry, these things are quickly over.” “Not this time,” Sage whispered. “Why? What has happened?” “I…I really don’t think I should talk about it. I appreciate your concern, Sophie, but I’m sure it’s nothing long-lasting. Derek and I just disagree on…timing.” “I see. Gervais has, at least, continued to teach discretion. Though that is hardly surprising. Are you and Derek fighting about your contract?” Sage dropped her fork and felt all the blood drain from her face. She was lightheaded, dizzy and sick to her stomach. “What do you mean?” she managed to choke out. Sophie’s smile turned sympathetic. “I am sorry, my dear. I should not be so blunt. Charles is always telling me to be careful, but it is no secret, is it? A few months ago, Charles takes Derek to Collingwood. A few weeks later, Derek returns with a woman who is beautiful, graceful, and more intelligent than anyone I’ve ever seen him date. Then I get to know her, and see myself in her.” “I don’t understand. Derek and I agreed to keep how we met private—between us. Did he tell you?” Sophie shook her head. “He never said a word, but Sage, where do you think Charles and I met?” Sage’s sluggish brain put the pieces together. Charles had introduced Derek to the school, but she had never seen him or Sophie before. “How long have you and Charles been married?” “Just over ten years.” “Then you were at Collingwood before my time.” Sophie nodded. “I was enrolled in the masters program, and met Charles at auction. He was delightfully handsome and strong-willed. During our scenes together, he had the most difficult time with obedience, but he soon learned. I think I loved him almost

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immediately. When our time together there was finished, I returned to France and he came back here. But we never forgot one another.” Sage shook her head. She had met Charles several times, she would never have guessed him to be of a subservient character. It was true that Derek embodied a more aggressive, masculine force, but Charles was a successful businessman and had no trouble piloting his own life. She wondered if his desires ever confused him as much as hers did. “Then how did you find him again?” “I didn’t find him. He found me.” Sophie sipped her coffee. “I was working on a photo shoot in Milan. One afternoon, when we broke for lunch, I received a small package and inside was the collar I’d purchased for Charles when we were together at Collingwood. There was also a card, asking me to meet him at a café nearby. I left the shoot without a thought and went to find him. We have been together, happily, ever since.” “And you’re married? You two have children—lovely children. Did you…did you… I don’t know how to ask.” “You are wondering if we still play together?” Sage nodded. “We do, of course. It’s part of what keeps our marriage alive. But we have grown to accept and understand one another. With love, Sage, anything is possible.” “That’s the problem,” she said, sighing. “I confess, Sophie, I do love Derek. I love him with all my heart. But he doesn’t love me. He just wants to make our relationship more permanent. I’m his contractual slave. I’m not his girlfriend or his partner.” “I am not sure you’re right there,” Sophie said, tapping her nails. “Have you explained your feelings? Have you been honest with him?” Sage shook her head. “No. There’s no need. He made it clear that he is happy with how things are now. And you know Derek, he’s not looking for…complications.”

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“I think it may be possible you underestimate him.” Sage squashed the fledgling hope that bloomed in her chest. No, Derek was passionate about her, and he liked being with her, but he didn’t love her. The sound of the doorbell prevented her from having to explain that embarrassing truth. “I’ll get it,” Sophie said. Sage took a few more bites of food. When Sophie returned, she was carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Two dozen roses, white and red. “Now, maybe, you will reconsider your opinion?” Sage took the card from Sophie’s fingers and while the older woman found a vase for the flowers, she read the message. “He’s coming home early, and sending a car for me at seven. He wants me to pack clothes for three days. What on earth could he be planning?” Sophie laughed. “I don’t know, but if it were me and I wanted to win a woman’s heart, I would, as Charles says, lay it on thick. It sounds as though he’s planning a long weekend. You have sexy shoes?” “A closet full.” “Then wear your finest.” “I don’t know, Sophie. This could just be one of his normal dinners out. It may not mean anything at all. And the last time a man sent a car for me, I found myself back at Collingwood.” “If a man sends this many roses, it means something. I don’t think he means for you to go anywhere.” Sage wanted to agree. She wanted to believe, more than anything, that Derek was coming home early to surprise her. To win her. It was strange—until that moment she hadn’t realized she wanted to be won.

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Sage was dressed and waiting when the flicker of headlights lit the living room. She’d chosen a simple black sheath that fell to just below her knees and a pair of strappy black sandals. She had no idea where Derek was taking her, and she still felt more than a little foolish getting her hopes up, but after her talk with Sophie, she knew she couldn’t just give up and hide—the way she’d always done before. She didn’t know if she could forge real relationship with Derek, but she was determined to try. She opened the door to see a chauffeur standing alongside a standard, black limo. Turning the lock behind her, she came down the walk, trying not to appear as anxious as she felt. She nodded to the driver and slipped into the back of the limo. The smile on her face died, but before she could move, the door slammed and locks engaged. Sage yanked on the handle but it was no use. “There’s no use struggling. You’re not going anywhere.” Sage hesitated, focusing her attention on the man seated opposite her. Evan. She turned and banged on the glass partition, but there was no response. “Scream and kick all you like, Sage. You’ve been in enough limos to know you can’t break out, and my driver isn’t about to listen to your screams. He’ll think it’s all part of the scene, you know.” “What do you want? Why are you here?” She sounded braver than she felt, because she knew he was right. There was no way she was going to escape from a moving car. She didn’t know his intentions, but it didn’t take a genius to realize they weren’t good. Her only chance was to keep him talking— and keep in one piece—while looking for an opportunity to escape. “You look lovely,” he said. His gaze slid over her like an oily film, belying the calm tone of his voice. She shivered. “I’m pleased you took the time to make yourself pretty for me.”

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“You know I was expecting Derek, so don’t flatter yourself.” “So the slave shows some backbone?” He raised his eyebrows. “It looks like Master Derek has been lazy with your training. He’s been soft on you. Well, no matter. I’ll soon give you what you really need.” “I’m only going to say this once, Evan.” Sage forced herself to look him straight in the eye, thankful she hadn’t lost all of her professional skills. “I am here against my will. This is a forcible abduction and nothing that has happened or will happen will have my consent. I do not consent to any of this. You need to tell your driver to stop the car now, and you need to let me go.” He moved with speed she hadn’t anticipated. His arm shot out and he smacked her full across the face, knocking her against the car window. Her head cracked against the glass and pain exploded in her head. “Shut up, bitch. You don’t tell me anything, understand? You will speak when you’re spoken to, and that’s it. If you say anything I don’t like, you’ll regret it.” Sage cradled her head in her hands, her ears ringing. There was no way she was in control of this situation. “Sit up,” he bellowed. She struggled to right herself, but her head was still swimming. “That’s better.” His voice was calm again. “Now aren’t you at all curious to know how I found you? You may answer me.” “Yes, I am. Gervais assured me—” “Gervais,” he snorted, turning her teacher’s name into an epithet. “Do you honestly think I’m impressed by that man? He thinks so much of himself—a modern-day philosopher. He knows nothing.” Evan glared. “But he is influential. I’ll give him that much. And thanks to you and your interference, another coast has been closed to me. And since I can’t find any safe playmates, I figure you owe me satisfaction. It was easy enough to find you. After all,

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all I needed to do was read the papers. It’s amazing how often Derek Riddle’s name turns up in the business and society sections. The press has been so intrigued with the mysterious blonde who’s been seen with him all over town. Yes, it was no trouble at all to find you.” Sage stared at her hands, trying to keep her composure. She certainly hadn’t been discreet, but the last thing she’d worried about was running into Evan again. She’d underestimated the man. He was a psychopath—Derek had been right. “I can read your expressions so easily.” He laughed, a sardonic sound. “You think your master is going to come for you, don’t you? Well, he won’t. He’ll return and think you’ve taken off to go shopping, or that you’ve left him for someone else, but he won’t look for you. And by the time I’ve finished with you—you won’t be a fit companion for anyone, much less a perfectionist like Riddle.” “Are you going to kill me?” She cringed, waiting for the blow, but she had to ask. She had to know. “I don’t think so, my dear. But you might not prove as strong as I think you are either, and accidents do happen.” He reached out and grabbed her hair, throwing her down onto the seat again. In the blink of an eye, his knee was pressed into her back as he twisted her arms behind her and secured handcuffs to her wrists. Sage didn’t know how far they’d gone, or how long she’d been in the car when they finally stopped. She’d lost track of time. Evan grabbed her by the cuffs and dragged her out of the car. She stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully as she slipped on her high heels. “Please,” she cried out. “Please don’t do this.” “I’ll make you a promise,” Evan said as he pulled her behind him, oblivious to her tears and cries of pain.

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“When I’ve done with you, you’ll know what pain means. Think of it as a chance to stretch your boundaries. So few people ever test their limits. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” Sage didn’t have an answer for that. Fear gripped her tight and she could barely breathe, much less speak.

The clock was just striking nine when Derek opened the door and walked into the house. The first thing he noticed, when he turned on the lights, was the vase filled with beautiful flowers on the table in the living room. He smiled. She might be upset with him, or even uncertain, but Sage still insisted on making their home a warm place to be. “Sage?” he shouted. “Where are you? I’m back. I want to apologize for being so gruff with you before I left.” There was no reply. Derek frowned, dropped his bags and searched the house. There was no sign of her. Everything was where it should be, not a dish out of place. He opened the refrigerator, but there was nothing prepared. Strange. During the entire time they’d been together, she’d always had something for him when he got home late—nothing spectacular—but something to eat in case he was hungry. He looked around but there was no note on the counter, the hall table, or even in their bedroom. He paused as he looked around the room he’d come to think of as their sanctuary. The bed was made. A sudden fear sank into the pit of his stomach. What if she hadn’t kept her promise? What if she’d packed up and left while he was gone? Derek tore open the wardrobe, some of her clothes were there, but he saw empty hangers too. Several pairs of shoes were gone. Closing his eyes against the hurt, he took a deep breath then forced himself to look in the hall closet where she stored their luggage. Her weekend bag was gone.

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Hoping he was wrong, Derek made himself go into their bathroom. His robe was hanging on the peg, where he’d left it, but the space beside it, where she hung her silk dressing gown, was bare. He lost the strength in his knees and his legs threatened to buckle. He stumbled back into the bedroom and sank down onto the mattress. Why had she done this? How could she leave him, without a word, when she said she would stay? How could she just disappear? Didn’t it matter to her at all that he loved her? Derek lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Fast on the heels of bewilderment came rage. He wanted to rip apart everything she’d touched in the house. He wanted to break the furniture—tear out every trace of her. He ought to just douse the place in gasoline and toss a lighted match. But he just curled on the bed, staring, feeling his anger bounce around his chest in impotent waves. “I should never have left,” he whispered. He didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he curled on the bed, in his clothes, and clutched her pillow against his chest. He didn’t cry, or sob, though he had expected the tears. He just watched his window, until the morning came and bright sunlight streamed through the glass—mocking his pain. Eventually, he roused and glanced at the table on her side of the bed. Her books were there, and her little planner. He stared a little harder, willing himself to understand what he was seeing. Her PDA was there, too, on its charger and the crystal dish, where she kept her jewelry at night, was there, too. Empty. She wouldn’t have left him, for good, and taken her rings. He’d had them made for her, a set of interlocking gold bands that she wore on her right hand—a symbol of her service. A small flicker of hope raced along his nerves. But if she wasn’t at home, where would she be?

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Derek pushed himself out of bed. He didn’t bother to change his rumpled clothes. He had to get to his brother’s house. Sophie and Sage had become good friends. Maybe she was there. Charles and Sophie were still having coffee when Derek pushed past their housekeeper and into the kitchen. “Is Sage here?” His sister-in-law took one look at him and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “What are you talking about, Derek? Surely Sage is with you?” He shook his head. Charles glanced between his wife and Derek, clearly confused. “I haven’t seen her since I left for Virginia. She wasn’t home when I got back last night.” “But that can’t be right. I was with her when your flowers arrived. She packed her bag, as you instructed. When I left she was getting ready to meet you at seven—” “Flowers? I didn’t send any flowers.” Derek sat, his head starting to swim. “Then you didn’t send her the beautiful roses?” He shook his head. “No. What’s going on here?” He listened carefully as Sophie explained what she’d seen at the house the day before. “She loves you very much, Derek. She wouldn’t just go.” “She loves me? She said that?” Sophie nodded. “Then if you don’t mind my interruption,” Charles said. “What the hell has happened to her?” “I don’t know,” Derek replied. “No one knows she’s with me. I don’t know who would have sent her flowers pretending to be me…” “No one knows?”

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He glanced at his brother. Charles’ face was drawn—it was the expression he wore when he was furious. “Gervais knows,” Sophie whispered.

Sage opened her eyes, sunlight fell in bright lines across the floor in the room where she was being held. Evan had closed the blinds, but she could see just enough in the shadows to determine she was alone in the room. She moved her head, slowly, from side to side and her neck muscles screamed in protest. Images from the previous night flooded her mind but they were tangled together, jumbled into a knot she couldn’t quite decipher. She remembered Evan dragging her from the car. She remembered him pulling her toward a house that was slightly familiar. Then what had happened? She took a deep breath but a sharp, stabbing sensation brought tears to her eyes. She coughed and the pain was indescribable. She had at least one broken rib, she was sure, maybe more. The memories returned in pieces. Evan had stripped her of everything except her shoes, then forced her to endure a shower—alternating from freezing cold to scalding hot. Then he’d brought her here—to some kind of bizarre sitting room. She remembered screaming and pleading with him to stop, but he’d ignored her as though she hadn’t made a sound. He attached her to a pole in the center of the room—using a chain drawn through the handcuffs he’d kept on her. Then he’d beaten her. He’d used the kind of whip she’d only seen in movies. A thick, leather bullwhip. She had tried to twist out of the way, to escape the blows, but he never relented. She could feel the welts on her thighs and belly. She knew her back and ass had been abused even more severely, but it was her ankle that caused her the most concern. At some point, while trying to dodge the whip, she’d slipped in her shoes, again, and made the already painful ankle sprain worse. She thought it might be broken.

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Through swollen eyes, she tried to inspect the damage he’d caused, but it was still too shadowed in the room to see clearly. She shrugged her shoulders—there was no part of her that didn’t hurt, but she’d lost most of the feeling in her arms. He hadn’t removed her handcuffs even once during the time she’d been there. He’d left her sometime in the night, promising to return— and promising to finish what he’d started. She wondered if he was finally going to kill her. The door slammed open and she flinched. “Awake, my dear,” Evan said as he came into the room. “You passed out a few hours ago, and I didn’t want to disturb you. I want you nice and rested for our next little game. I want you to remember everything.” “What are you going to do with me?” Sage hated the pitiful, broken sound of her own voice. She hated that she was crying. She hated that she was terrified. She’d been able to endure Evan’s torture by escaping in her mind. She’d imagined herself with Derek, together with him, safe. Safe at home. But now she hurt so much, she couldn’t even picture Derek’s face. Evan laughed and the sound made her shudder. He crossed to the windows and opened the blinds. Sunlight flooded into the room and Sage closed her eyes against the bright light. “I told you what I’m going to do with you, remember?” Evan appeared beside her. He grabbed her chin, twisting her head until she opened her eyes. “You’re just the means to an end, my dear. At first, I was just going to teach you a lesson. Now, though, it occurs to me that you can be useful—an assistant on a little project. Do you want to help me?” “Yes,” he whispered. What else could she say? She had to do anything she could to keep him talking. “Good. Good girl.” His fingers dug into her jaw. “Look out the window. Do you recognize where you are?” 146

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She squinted into the bright glass. She could see part of a yard, a gravel driveway, and a section of road. She shook her head. “No? Maybe you should look a little closer.” Evan released the lock on the chain and pulled her toward the window. As Sage looked, she realized why the house had seemed so familiar. “This is one the new developments across from Collingwood. The school is less than a mile from here.” “For a slave, you’re pretty quick,” he mocked. “And this is how you’re going to help me. When I’m through with you, my driver is going to dump you on the steps of the local hospital. He’s going to tell anyone who will listen he found you delirious and half dead outside of some house where a lot of sick fucks get together and play all sorts of dangerous little games.” Sage swallowed hard. He was planning on destroying the school—everyone she cared about. “The police will figure it out. I won’t go along with it.” “You won’t have a lot of choice, my dear.” Evan threw her onto the sofa then pulled a cloth from a rolling cart that he’d brought with him. Sage saw implements, meant for torture, that were wholly alien. But there were some things she recognized—including a Taser, two small stun guns, and a line of filled syringes. “You’ll arrive at the hospital alive—but you won’t be talking. And I’m not at all sure you’re going to make it.” He picked up a syringe and tapped the barrel with his finger. “Four of these and it’s an overdose of morphine. Maybe Gervais was trying to ease your pain. Maybe Laura was jealous of you and fixed the dosage. The police will decide.” “You can’t do that!” “That’s where you’re wrong.” In a fluid motion, he grabbed one of the small stun guns, pressed it to her bare thigh, and squeezed.

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Sage howled as electricity sparked along her nerves. She struggled, but nothing happened. She could feel pain, but her body wouldn’t move. Then she felt woozy again, and sick to her stomach. “I can do anything I want,” Evan said. “And once I finish with you, I think I might just pay a call on your pussy handler.” A flash of light blinded her eyes. He was taking pictures of her. She remembered the camera now. He’d documented everything he’d done. “Leave…leave Derek alone,” she gasped, her muscles still rebelling against her commands. “But why? I think he’ll want to see what happened to the property he wasn’t man enough to protect.” Something froze inside her and Sage felt suddenly alert. The idea that he might, in some way, try to hurt Derek sobered her. She forced herself to swallow her pain, to endure the agony. She had to get away. She had to find some way to escape, or else everything she cared about, everyone she loved, would be ruined. She collapsed into the sofa, sobbing. Her tears were real, but she wasn’t hysterical. She could see Evan almost swell with satisfaction—he believed he’d beaten her. “No need to cry, pussycat,” he said, dragging her up by her arms and twisting her around. He unsnapped her cuffs. “We’re a long way from finished—but I’ll given you reason to cry soon enough.” Sage went limp, pretending to pass out in his arms. The sudden and unexpected addition of her bodyweight caused Evan to stumble backwards. The contents of the cart spilled over the floor. “Get off me, you clumsy bitch!” Sage summoned every ounce of strength she had, but she was still weak from the small shock he’d given her. Still, she focused on the big Taser—it had bounced on the floor to land beneath a chair.

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Her body fought her every command, but she managed to scramble over Evan’s chest, kicking him in the face with her sharp heel as she lunged for the Taser. She heard him howl in pain, but she didn’t stop. It might have taken a second, but it felt like an hour before she wrapped her fingers around the handle of the weapon and rolled onto her back. Evan was on his feet and headed for her. She pointed the weapon at his looming figure, closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. His howl turned to a scream, and Sage opened her eyes in time to see him struggling. He flailed for a moment then fell heavily to the floor. Without stopping to consider anything but the idea of bettering her chances of escape, Sage grabbed one of the syringes, and jabbed it into Evan’s leg. He gurgled, his face contorted in a mask of rage, but she pushed the plunger home. Totally focused, she half stumbled, half crawled from the room. She dragged the sheet Evan had used to cover the table behind her then wrapped it around her shoulders as she limped as fast as she could toward the front door. She had to get out of the house. She knew she could never make it the whole way to the school, but there was no car in the driveway. There was, however, a red Toyota parked down the street. Sage made her way toward the car. She went as fast as she could, expecting Evan to burst out of the house at any second. But he didn’t. She got to the car, and looked inside. The keys were dangling from the ignition, and the doors were unlocked. She was going to make it.

One of the advantages of running a large corporation was the fact that very little was out of Derek’s reach. Within the hour, he was on a helicopter, headed for Middleburg, while Charles and Sophie began discreet inquiries at home. The trip to Collingwood was accomplished in a fraction of the time it would have taken to drive, but it still felt like an eternity. He wasn’t out of the chopper before 149

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Gervais and Laura were running toward the side gardens where he’d landed. He doubted anyone had ever made such an entrance to the quiet school before. “Where is she? Where is Sage?” he demanded, meeting them halfway. “You’re not welcome here,” Gervais replied, pushing Derek back by the shoulders. “Where is she?” Before the scene deteriorated into a brawl, Laura stepped between them. “Stop it, both of you. This isn’t going to do anyone any good. Come on.” Derek followed Laura, but kept one eye on Gervais. The man was glaring as though he’d like to kill him. Derek felt just the same. In her office, Laura pushed both men toward seats. “Sage came to us this morning, Mr. Riddle. She has been assaulted and badly beaten. She is resting right now, but has been with a doctor and the police most of the morning. Apparently, Evan Shaw abducted her from your home and brought her to a house he rented here in Middleburg. The police think his plan was to torture her, kill her, and leave her here— destroying the school in the process.” Derek fell back against the chair. He couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “Is she going to be all right? Where’s Shaw now?” “The police have taken Mr. Shaw into custody. She wasn’t raped, but that’s about all that she was spared. The doctor says Sage will make a full recovery physically, but…she’s been through a lot.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what “a lot” meant. “I want to see her. Take me to her.” Gervais shook his head. “Sage was very clear on that point. She doesn’t want to see you.” “But—” “She was firm, Mr. Riddle.”

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He shook Laura’s hand from his shoulder. “I don’t care, she needs me and I’m going to see her.” “It’s not a good idea.” Derek silenced Laura with a look. He didn’t intend to use violence, but he was willing to take the place apart board by board until he found her. “If Sage doesn’t want to see me, she can tell me herself.” “This isn’t about what you want, Mr. Riddle.” Gervais shoved a sheaf of papers in his direction. “It’s about what Sage wants and she doesn’t want you.” Derek hesitated. He looked at the photographs and was physically ill. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting. “How could anyone do this?” he muttered. “Those photos were downloaded from Evan’s digital camera. He must have wanted to keep a record. Perhaps after looking at those, you can understand better why Sage doesn’t want to face you right now.” Derek couldn’t even imagine what she must have endured, what she must have been through. He didn’t agree with Gervais at all, but he couldn’t risk hurting Sage further, either. “All right. Have it your way. For now.”

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Chapter Twelve “I thought I might find you here.” Sage closed her book on her lap and looked up to see Gervais in the doorway. She was still nervous and jumped at every sound. Without saying anything overt, she’d noticed he’d changed the way he walked when she was near. She knew he could move without a sound if it pleased him, but he always let her hear his heavy footfalls. “I know I should stop thanking you, but I do appreciate you letting me use the summerhouse this way. I’ve felt much better here.” “We’re glad—Laura and me, both. And how is your therapy coming along?” She smiled. “I’m fully recovered from my injuries, so says the doctor. But my therapist says that there’s more to talk about. The physical pain is gone, though.” “That’s also good news. Have you discussed Derek Riddle with her?” “We talk about him, yes.” Sage closed her eyes to blink back the tears. Even after all this time, she thought of him almost constantly. “It’s only been a few months. She says it will take time to work out my feelings.” Gervais came out onto the porch and sat in the chair across from her. “Do you really think it will take so long? He’s been very persistent.” Didn’t she know it? She had a mountain of cards and letters he’d written to her in her bedroom. She’d read them all, but hadn’t had the courage to answer any of them. His words were precious to her, and even though he never mentioned the word “love”, he made it clear that he cared. But she wanted more. And how could she ask him for that, after what happened? “He called again today. I thought you should know.” “I don’t know what to say to him.”

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Gervais reached out and took her hand. He was tanned, a consequence of long hours spent in the July sun. It was the beginning of August, but the heat and humidity were already oppressive. She was glad of the shade on the porch. “You know you’re special to me. You always have been. So I’m going to give you a little advice, and I believe you’ll know I’m sincere.” “Of course, Gervais. What is it?” “Why don’t you speak to him? Tell him how you feel? You’ve been so lonely, and I can see now that your attraction to Derek Riddle was more than infatuation.” She shook her head. “If he came for me now, it would be out of pity. I know him. He takes everything so seriously—he feels responsible for everyone around him. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. I want him to love me.” “But I do, Sage. I always have.” She dropped Gervais’ hand as though it were a hot stone and twisted in her chair. Derek stood the door, exactly as she remembered him, only more handsome if that were at all possible. “What are you…? How did you get here?” “I drove, of course. Clearly, my attempt at correspondence has not worked. So you might say that I appealed to Gervais’ better nature.” She turned back to Gervais. “You did this?” “It may be more accurate to say that your master’s patience has been tested far enough.” He stood, but paused to smile. “You two must have a lot to talk about, and I have a class to teach. Sage, you can always call the main house if you get…too tired.” She could think of no way to respond. Gervais understood her, in a way her therapist didn’t. How long had he known she was losing herself without Derek to guide her? “How have you been?” Derek asked, as soon as they were alone.

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“Okay,” she answered, the response automatic. She stopped, took a deep breath and began again. “That’s not true. I haven’t been all right. I’ve been terrible.” “I’ve tried to keep track of you as best I could, but no one told me very much—just that you were improving. It is a helpless feeling.” He paused to look out the window, and his voice was low when he spoke again. “I do not respond well to feeling helpless.” Sage pushed herself to her feet. The ankle injury she’d suffered during that long night in Evan’s house still troubled her a little, but she was okay once she started moving. She’d wondered what this moment would be like, imagined it in her mind a thousand times over the months she’d been apart from him. She hadn’t anticipated it being quite this awkward. Derek seemed far removed from her, cold. She frowned. It was exactly the reaction she didn’t want. “Let’s take a walk,” she suggested, not knowing what else to do. “All right.” He waited while she found her floppy sunhat and her shoes. Then they set off together over the meadow.

“I didn’t know it would be this beautiful,” Derek said after the silence became too much for him. “When I was here last winter, it had potential, but I just didn’t know.” “It is lovely.” He waited for her to say something else but it became clear she wasn’t going to speak. And she wasn’t going to make this easy for him. Of course, he realized, she couldn’t. They walked on, talking about his work and her recovery. She told him of the night she’d spent in Evan’s house—the ways he’d hurt her. “You know, I never had to testify against him. He pleaded guilty and made a deal with the state before it ever got that far.” “Did he?”

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“Yes, he did,” she replied. “But then, you already know all about that, don’t you?” He felt a blush creep up his neck. “Sage, I’m not going to apologize for using my influence. And it’s not as though I did anything illegal.” “No. You just made it clear that if he didn’t accept the state’s offer, then he was going to wind up in worse shape than me.” Derek shrugged. “Maybe it was something like that.” “I’m grateful, really. I didn’t want to go through a trial, but I would have. You were right the whole time. He needed to be stopped, and I wish I had listened to you before. Maybe it would have made a difference—” “A difference between me and you?” He seized on the words. It was the first opening she’d shown him, and he wouldn’t let any chance to reach her slip past. “Maybe,” she whispered. “Sage.” Her name felt good in his mouth. He reached for her and waited while she warred with herself. Finally she stepped into his embrace. “I’ve missed you more than I can ever tell you, and I’m sorry I ever let any doubts linger between us. I love you, Sage. I think I loved you before we ever left this place and I brought you home. You can’t think that what happened would change how I feel?” She shook her head and he felt her tears on his throat, where her face was buried against his neck. “It changed everything.” “Don’t you love me?” he asked. “Even just a little. Did Evan win after all? Did he succeed in breaking us apart?” She pulled back and stared into his eyes, her face pale. “Of course I love you, Derek. But you’re not responsible for me—you don’t have to say things out of guilt that you don’t really mean.” He winced as though she’d slapped him. “Do you think so little of me? In all the time we have spent together, have I ever given you the indication that I would say anything I didn’t mean? I allowed you to become vulnerable. I left the questions open

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between us when I should have closed them. I did not make you understand your importance in my life—your necessity. These are things I carry, of course, but my failures only make me determined to set things right. Listen to me—there’s no rightthinking man in the world who wouldn’t feel guilty when the woman he loves is harmed. But I do not say I love you out of guilt, or pity. I love you because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” “But you can’t honestly say—” “No buts,” he said, pressing his finger to her mouth. “I realize that we have a long way to go, and a lot of work to do. But you mean everything to me—everything. You have been too long away from me, and my life isn’t right without you in it. It will take time, I know, but I will not rest until you believe again that I am the man you need.” “But the way we met…the contract.” She shook her head. “Don’t pull away, Sage,” he commanded softly. “You know the way we met isn’t important. There’s time enough to decide what’s right for us, but you mean more to me than a contract. The time for games is over. You gave yourself to me once, and I think we both know that had nothing to do with words on a page. I am here to claim what is mine, and to prove that you were not wrong to trust in me. I have been a poor Master, I know, but I can’t fix that unless you are with me.” Sage felt an enormous wave of relief wash over her, and she took a moment to delight in it. All the weeks of therapy—the talking and the talking and the talking— none of it made nearly as much impact as the sure, confident tone of Derek’s voice. She realized he was throwing out a lifeline. He was offering her a chance to step back into the safe place of warmth and desire he’d always made for her. And as much as she wanted to simply escape into his arms, she had to be sure. Her therapist hadn’t understood the forces that drove her, but Sage had come to know herself better—and she was no longer willing to settle for what would make her ultimately unhappy. She needed Derek’s strength and his guidance, but could she trust in him to give that because he loved her and not because he felt obligated?

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“Are you really serious?” she asked, looking up into his eyes. “I am.” He looked down. “I have given you all the space I can. It’s time for you to come home—back to me.” He took her in the middle of the day, refusing to ignore the scars that crossed over her back—the evidence of past hurt. It felt almost like a dream, and she didn’t want it to end. He slipped her clothes from her body, treating her with a reverence she hadn’t expected. He kissed every part of her, lingering over the hollow of her throat, the tips of her breasts, and the soft skin between her thighs. She wanted to shrink from his gaze, even as she felt desire that she thought was long dead within her start to unfurl deep in her stomach. Her body knew his touch, but he’d never treated her with such gentle concern. He praised every feature he touched, whispering his love and leading her out of the dark cave where she’d hidden in her mind for so many months. When she reached for him, he pushed her hands gently, but firmly away. “These scars that you try to hide from me—I carry them too, even if you can’t see them. Don’t hide behind your submission—if you love me, Sage, then show me.” Her breath caught in her throat as he dipped his head to press long kisses to her belly and the tops of her thighs. She thought the last thing she wanted was to be close to someone in this way, but his deliberate movements, his patience, built her excitement to a fever pitch. She felt his erection, hard and hot, press against her thighs as he pulled her back into his arms, fitting her against his body. She welcomed his weight and his scent— every pleasurable moment they’d shared coming back in an instant. He moved his hips and slipped one hand between them to stroke the soft skin of her thighs. She could already feel the wetness on her skin—the evidence of her arousal. She gasped when he slid two fingers inside her and pressed the heel of his hand against her pubic bone. 157

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“I love you so much,” he said against her ear. “But I won’t push you if you’re not ready. If it’s too much, you can ask me to stop.” It was the first time in many years that a man had asked her what she wanted. She couldn’t help the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. “No, please, Derek, don’t stop.” “What do you want? Tell me.” She froze. She’d been used to the language of sex for years. She could look into his eyes and beg him to fuck her without so much as a blush, but a hard, rough fuck wasn’t what she wanted. And he didn’t seem inclined in that direction either. No. She knew what she wanted, but she was embarrassed to say the words. “Tell me what you want, my love.” He stroked her with his fingers until she moaned. “How can I make you happy?” Burying her face against her neck, she felt shy—as though she’d never been with him before. “I want you to make love to me, Derek.” He pulled back, and looked at her. “Don’t hide from me, darling. I want it, too.” Then his fingers were replaced with his cock and Sage sank into the exquisite feeling of having him again. She felt raw and vulnerable with no pretense between them—no safe contract or scene from which she could remove herself. She was exposed before him, completely vulnerable. And she felt safe. He’d barely begun thrusting into her before her body shuddered to a climax. It wasn’t enough for him, though, because he kept moving his hips, bringing her wave after wave of pleasure. “Tell me you love me,” he said, his breath ragged. “I love you, Derek.” “Again.” She whispered her love—everything she felt for him over and over as his pace increased. She could feel him start to stiffen inside her and his shoulders and chest

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heaved with effort. She clung to him, urging him on with her body and her words until he froze. His face, moved by what he was feeling, was more handsome than she’d ever seen it. And she understood that power wasn’t just his, or hers, but shared between them. He collapsed against her, his body limp from exhaustion and climax. “You may not leave me, Sage. I can’t live without this—without you.” “I won’t,” she promised. “I won’t ever leave you again.” Hours later, she lay in bed, staring out the window toward the main school building, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. She felt movement beside her and turned. Derek rolled over, murmured in his sleep and clamped an arm around her waist. “Are you awake?” she asked. “Mmmm…barely.” She snuggled against him and kissed his shoulder. She hadn’t intended to come to bed with him, and she knew he hadn’t planned it either, but it was natural to be with him. The moment he took her in his arms, she felt her fears leave. He loved her, she loved him, and maybe it wasn’t perfect—but she believed there was a happy ending waiting. “That was wonderful.” “I’m pleased to hear that you don’t mind vanilla sex every once in a while.” He stroked his hands down her back. “Nothing to be sneezed at, true. Is there anything I can do for you?” He pulled away, serious, his eyes catching and holding hers. “Yes, there is. Sage, will you please tell me your name, your real name.” “You won’t believe me.” He prodded her with his chin. “It’s Mary. Mary Alma Smith.” 159

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He paused for a beat then they both laughed. “That’s okay, darling,” he said when he caught his breath again. “I think we can work on that.”

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Epilogue Derek sat at the table, drinking coffee. The lady of the house was still upstairs in bed, and he wasn’t anxious to wake her. He’d kept her up very late, so it was only fair she be allowed to sleep in. He sipped his coffee and glanced over the morning paper. The photograph on the front of the lifestyle section caught his eye. No matter how many times he saw himself in pictures, he never got comfortable with the idea. His wife, however, was gorgeous as ever. The picture showed them both standing in front at the front gate of the community garden. She was holding a shovel, her foot pushing the blade into the ground. He had his arm around her and his mother was cutting a ceremonial ribbon. The caption of the picture summed it up nicely. Elizabeth Riddle, her son, Derek Riddle, and his wife Mary Smith Riddle open the Georgetown Community Gardens. The charity, Strong Roots, established last year to further community relations in urban settings has raised more than a million dollars this year for the area’s parks and playgrounds. Strong Roots is a nonprofit group headed by Mr. and Mrs. Derek Riddle. He smiled and glanced over the article. It focused mainly on Mary and all her hard work in setting up and organizing the charity. He’d been a little surprised when she’d come to him with the idea, but it was good business. She was happy, finally doing something with her legal skills that made a difference in people’s lives. And, somehow in a matter of a few short months, she’d healed the rift between himself and his family. Charles had control of the Riddle business, and he and Mary ran the charity. He was content.

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About the Author Writing Erotic Fiction has never been just a hobby for Jessica Brandt. Her first story was published in 1995 by Club International Magazine and she's been writing steadily since then. Escaping to a world of erotic imagination also provides a much-needed break from her obsession with Sheffield United Football Club and prevents her from spending the entirety of her kids’ college funds in the local bookshop. Jessica lives on the east coast with her two children, parrot, and chinchilla.

Jessica welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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