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What had gotten into her? He always made her wait to eat, explaining the Master was always satisfied before his slave. She swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth and lowered her head, practicing acceptance.
Finally, he poured a second glass of wine and held it to Rowan’s lips. As he fed her the various spicy, fragrant foods, he said, “I have a surprise for you.”
She lifted her eyebrows in inquiry, hoping it was a surprise she would actually like.
“That phone call I took while we were at the Masters Club? It was final confirmation of a deal I’ve been working on.” He looked suddenly boyish, his eyes sparkling with barely contained excitement.
Rowan waited expectantly, wildly curious what the surprise might be.
Finally, with a triumphant grin, he said, “I got you a showing at the David Zimmer Gallery in SoHo. They took all six pieces I had with me.”
Rowan’s mouth fell open in shock. Zimmer’s two galleries in New York, along with one in Spain and another in Paris, were regarded as among the most prestigious in the world. No way would they agree to a show for a newbie nobody like her! She must have misheard.
“Really?” she squeaked, forgetting her submissive protocol. “No way!”
“Way,” he replied with a laugh. “I told you I have connections. You’re just getting a small space in a back room of the main show, but it’s a big, big deal nevertheless. The artist who was scheduled for the space had to pull out at the last minute. I know Marilyn, the manager of the SoHo gallery, quite well. I happened to be at the right place at the right time, and they agreed to take you on at sixty-forty. It’s a little steep, but beggars can’t be choosers, and at this point you’re still very much the beggar. Anyway, it’s all about the exposure.”
“John,” she cried, thrilled to her core. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe it! Thank you so much!” Impulsively, she leaped up and threw her arms around him.
“Whoa,” Master John said, stiffening in her embrace. He reached back for her wrists and wrenched them none too gently to her sides, his eyes flashing.
Ice slid through Rowan’s veins at the sudden change in his demeanor as she realized what she’d just done. She stood, frozen in place as he pierced her with his sharp gaze.
When he spoke, his voice was soft, but laced with danger. “What has happened to you? How dare you address your Master like that? How dare you move out of position without permission? Is this what they taught you at that place?”
Leaning forward in his chair, he gripped her wrists, using them to force her back to her knees. Glaring at her, he commanded, “Hands behind your back.”
Trembling, Rowan did as he directed.
“Lift your chin and look me in the eye.”
Again she obeyed, all the joy of a moment before obliterated in the face of his simmering anger.
All at once, he lifted his hand and slapped her sharply across the face.
Rowan gasped, instinctively whipping her head away. Tears leaped into her eyes, her cheek flaming, her heart thudding.
“You forgot yourself, slave. That was a reminder.”
Eric’s words slipped into her mind as she blinked away her tears.
If something doesn’t feel right in a BDSM relationship, you need to pay attention. You need to speak up. A good Master will always listen.
“Master John,” she ventured, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Permission to speak?”
“Denied.”
Rowan swallowed, trying to ease the jagged lump that had risen in her throat. She had signed up for this, right? She had given herself, freely and without hesitation, to this man. But what had seemed like a wonderful, exciting erotic adventure now felt wrong, even dangerous.
Was it Master John who had changed? Or was it her? Was he right? Had her brief experience at the Masters Club tainted her in some way?
He rose to his feet, and she tensed, her muscles tightening, her jaw clenching. If he struck her again, she might very well strike back. That realization hit her like a fist.
What the fuck am I doing here? Who is this man I thought I knew?
She felt disoriented, as if she’d been navigating through a kind of twilight and now stood squinting in the glaring light. Had her desire to be swept off her feet by the handsome, confident Dom blinded her to the reality of who he really was? Had she been fooling herself, convincing herself she wanted what he offered and embracing it as her own? Had she somehow lost herself in the process?
But instead of raising his hand to her, Master John only smiled, the fury of a moment before replaced by compassion and tenderness. These constant shifts in his demeanor were somehow more frightening than simple anger. She felt off-balance, not sure what to expect from one moment to the next.
