Page 16 of Master My Love

He watched with amusement as she struggled to remember the thread of their conversation and knew the precise moment when it all fell into place.

“I think some of your doms are mistaken. I could give someone a run for their money without shoes. In four-inch stilettoes—not so much.”

Witty and straightforward, these qualities only increased her appeal. Chuckling at her observation, he loosely tied the end of her leash around his belt. “Stay close,” he ordered.

“Do I have a choice?” Val mumbled faintly.

Eric didn’t take the time to address that bit of sass, as the sound of voices raised in anger immediately got his attention. He zeroed in on a station with a St. Andrew’s Cross. Two men were arguing, pushing against the restraining hands of several dungeon monitors. A tall, thin woman was crying nearby being comforted by one of the dommes.

Taking Val firmly by the hand, he strode to the station, members stepping aside to let the master dom pass without being asked. The dispute had halted play throughout the entire main room, and he wanted answers.

He turned to Leland, the Rossi man in charge of club security, and asked, “What happened here?”

“Marco interrupted Richard’s scene. Witnesses say he came out of nowhere and punched him.”

Both actions were shocking, but something else took Eric by surprise. “Richard and Lyla were in a scene together?”

Richard was a strong dominant, and Lyla had the reputation of being a ball-busting dominatrix. Her subs were often large muscular men, easily reduced to docile, obedient slaves with nothing more than the threat of her red Pocket Viper—a short rubber whip she usually carried at her waist and most often used on her submissive’s cock and balls.

Just the thought made Eric cringe, but inwardly. He had a better poker face than to wear his reactions openly.

“It was only the two of them?” he asked, while trying to wrap his head around it, even looking around for another sub she might be topping as part of a threesome.

Leland shrugged, apparently not knowing what to make of the pairing, either.

His gaze swept to Lyla who was sniffling and dabbing at nonexistent tears. Too much drama awaited him in that direction, so he addressed Richard first. A longtime member with considerable experience, he expected nothing but the truth from him.

“Richard, can you shed some light on this?”

“No. Nothing like this has happened to me in twenty years as a dom. I had Lyla on the cross and was flailing her bottom pretty good when that little shit Marco sucker punched me.” He moved the handkerchief pressed to his mouth and revealed his swollen, bloody lip. “If I hadn’t been into the scene, that boy would have never gotten the drop on me.”

“She used her safeword, Master Eric, but he didn’t stop. I was afraid for her safety.” Marco, a young sub of about twenty-five, was vehement in her defense. Although submissive, he hardly fit the stereotype. Built like a middle linebacker, he stood six feet tall and weighed at least 220 pounds. He could easily bench-press twice his 120-pound mistress.

Eric’s gaze shifted to Richard. “I’m confused. Lyla is a top, but she was under your lash?”

“She claims to be a switch.”

“That’s a lie. You coerced her,” Marco growled. For a submissive male, he was anything but deferential when it came to Lyla’s safety.

He felt a tug at his waist and looked down into Valerie’s upturned face. “What is it? I’m in the middle of something.”

When she crooked a finger, urging him closer, he arched a brow. Was she seriously trying to take control right in the middle of his own club? This had better be important, or she’d feel his displeasure—agreement be damned. He leaned down, frowning at his ballsy sub.

“Lyla planned this, I’m sure of it.”

He straightened in surprise, finding Val’s insight uncanny. She appeared confident in her assessment, her gaze unwavering as she stood staring up at him.

His eyes flicked to Lyla, noticing she’d had a sudden change in her demeanor. No longer clinging helplessly to the other domme, she had calmed remarkably fast. Also, from the way her lips twitched ever so slightly, she appeared pleased with the chaos surrounding her.

Another tug had him turning back to Val. Standing on tiptoes this time, she strained toward him. “Can you bend a little so I can whisper in your ear, please? Um, Master Eric.”

He struggled to contain a smile over the way she tacked on the courtesy as an afterthought. A gutsy little thing, she had clearly committed to her mission. Curious, he accommodated her by bending close once again.

“If I were a betting woman, I’d say she’s trying to make Marco jealous. And the smug look on her face says that it’s working.”

Amazed at her perceptive powers, Eric stood again. “Come with me, little subbie. Let’s see if you’re right.”

Moving with a purpose, he stopped in front of the devious domme and frowned his displeasure. She had single-handedly brought his entire club to a standstill.