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God damn it to fucking hell. What was he even doing? How had he let this woman get so thoroughly under his skin?
Mason turned away with a growl and strode rapidly back to the house. Grabbing the keys to his car, he loped to the garage, suddenly desperate to leave the compound for a while. He would stop by the farmers’ markets and the butcher. He would check in with the chefs at both his restaurants. He would stay away until he could stop behaving like a teenaged boy with a perennial boner.
As he drove, he cursed himself soundly. He’d crossed a boundary with Hannah yet again. Every time he got near her during a scene or session, he lost control. That had never happened to him before, even when he was a new Dom. All these restrictions Anthony had imposed regarding Hannah were driving him to distraction. If only he had carte blanche. He would take her properly in hand. He would show her what it really was to submit, instead of all this namby-pamby bullshit.
Thank god she was leaving in a few days, because he really couldn’t take much more of this.
Chapter 16
Late Thursday afternoon during the trainees’ free time before dinner prep, Hannah made her way down to the slave quarters to text Charlotte. She’d kept her friend apprised of her adventures over the past four days, enjoying Charlotte’s avid interest in even the smallest detail of her experience.
It was hard to believe that she’d already been at The Enclave for four days. It felt as if she’d only just arrived. Each day leaped by, packed with training sessions, observations sessions, working with Mason in the kitchen to prepare and clean up after three full meals a day for eighteen people. After dinner was the best time to corner various Doms and subs, engaging them in conversation about their BDSM lifestyle and choices. She tried to be careful not to overstep, aware she was there as their guest, not an investigative journalist.
Still, the idea of a series based on The Enclave was exciting. She already had a working title—The Compound—and lots of ideas for the first novel. Every night before bed, she opened her laptop to write down her impressions and feelings about what she’d experienced that day, along with ideas for characters and storylines based on her conversations.
One of the things that had really struck Hannah about The Enclave was how close-knit this group of people was. While D/s protocol was always observed and the roles clearly delineated, it was obvious the Doms and subs who lived together in this rambling home genuinely liked and respected each other. This was especially clear during lunch and dinner, when everyone sat together around the huge dining room table.
The subs all filed in first, waiting respectfully behind their chairs until the Doms entered the room. Both she and Lucia were excused from thisritual, since they were busy in the kitchen helping Mason prepare and plate the food. But once everyone sat down, the conversations were easy and relaxed, the subs chiming in as freely as their Masters.
Hannah was surprised at how quickly she’d adapted to being naked during her sessions, probably because it was so taken for granted by everyone around her. She’d learned The Enclave’s ten basic slave positions, more or less, though she had nowhere near the fluid grace of the other subs. She’d adored the bondage sessions, a deep calm settling over her as the ropes and leather swaddled her tight. She had experienced an actual caning, though not hard enough to leave any welts. Still, it had stung plenty. She’d been proud of herself for getting through it without freaking out.
Each day had presented challenges, some of which she surmounted, some of which she shied away from. While she’d sometimes been offered the opportunity to participate directly in the various intensive training sessions she had been permitted to observe, no one had pressured her to do so. Nor had she been pushed too far in her one-on-one sessions with the various Enclave Doms.
As Hannah navigated her way through her daily training adventures, Lucia had been a godsend. She was always there for Hannah when she felt overwhelmed or confused, offering gentle encouragement and advice. To her own surprise, Hannah had allowed Lucia to talk her into grooming. Because of Lucia’s easy, matter-of-fact manner, she hadn’t even felt embarrassed when Lucia snipped away her pubic curls and then carefully, expertly shaved her smooth.
While she worked, Lucia had teased, “I don’t mean to brag, but I’ve been known as something of a matchmaker over the years, and I’m rarely wrong. There’s a spark between you and Master Mason. Just a little fanning and it’s going to burst into flame.”
Hannah had scoffed. While she couldn’t deny her growing attraction to the man, he wassonot permanent partner material. Not that she was even looking.
One thing she hadn’t shared with Lucia or Charlotte was her increasingly confused feelings about Mason, who was taking up entirely too much space in her head. She needed time to figure things out on herown before offering them up for dissection by well-meaning girlfriends.
Though neither Mason nor she had addressed it directly, she’d felt the chemistry buzzing between them like a livewire from the moment she’d entered his kitchen. Every gesture, every word, seemed infused with hidden meaning and subtle, sexy innuendo. Though she hadn’t really expected it to go anywhere, and wasn’t sure she’d wanted it to, she felt like a teenager with a huge crush, giddy with excitement and anticipation.
She’d been quietly disappointed that he’d yet to volunteer for a one-on-one training session with her, though she’d intellectually recognized it was probably not a wise idea. The sexual attraction she hadthoughthad been developing between them would have made things…complicated.
But then had come that session outside with the trainees Tuesday afternoon. The way Mason had appeared out of the blue and taken charge of her had been both terrifying and sexy as hell. The pain when he’d released the clamps had caused actual stars to dance before her eyes, though it had soon been replaced by the euphoria of released endorphins.
The deliciously terrifying part had come when he’d closed his mouth over her nipples, first one and then the other, licking and suckling her in a way that made her weak in the knees. The attraction she’d tried to tamp down since he’d made her come that first night in the dungeon had burst into flame.
Then he’d pressed himself against her from behind, his cock hard as a bar of steel at her back as he’d bitten her neck. It had all been too much to handle. It was the shock of her own fierce desire, more than what he’d done, that had made her pull abruptly away.
He, too, had seemed to come suddenly to his senses. She had seen the way his face had closed down as he’d turned away from her. She’d very nearly begged him to stay—to give her another chance. But pride, common sense and lingering confusion had kept her silent.
Since that afternoon, everything had changed between them. She still didn’t know what to do about it or how to feel about it. When they worked together in the kitchen now, he was all business, directing her tochop, peel, scrub, clean, plate and, occasionally, handle a side dish on her own. Conversation, when it happened at all, had become neutral, not a hint of the playful innuendo she’d enjoyed during those first few days.
Whatever had been smoldering between them had apparently been snuffed out, at least as far as Mason was concerned. She told herself this was for the best. It was too soon, and she was way too far out of her league. She would be nuts to get involved with a man who had made it clear he was looking for a 24/7 slave girl, if he was even looking at all. It would be a recipe for disaster for both of them.
She tried instead to focus on getting the most out of her remaining few days at The Enclave. If nothing else, the experience had definitely reawakened her creative mind. Dozens of possible plot scenarios were now swirling through her brain, which she typed into her laptop each night before curling up in her single bed in the slave quarters. Now that she was experiencing firsthand some of the things she’d spent the last decade writing and dreaming about, she was excited to return to her work, sure she could create something more authentic than she had previously.
Now, as she got to the bottom of the slave quarter stairs, she saw Lia curled up on one of the chairs in the communal area, her face in her hands. The girl was frequently in trouble and spent much of her time in the punishment cage or put on display in the living room after dinner, forced to hold some difficult position while everyone around her ignored her.
Hannah had tried once or twice to engage the girl during free time, both concerned for her and also very curious why she was making things so difficult for herself by constantly disobeying the Doms. Lia had been monosyllabic to the point of sullenness. Hannah would have been insulted by her rude behavior, had the girl not reminded her of her own daughter during a particularly heinous period of her teenage years.
Zoë had been a delightful child, open, sunny and easygoing. She’d been an excellent student and a good big sister to her younger brother. Then she’d turned fifteen and morphed almost overnight into a sullen, moody, disrespectful and rebellious girl.
Zoë had, without permission, dyed her hair a harsh black with apurplish sheen. She’d started wearing raccoon-like eye makeup and black lipstick and wore clompy Doc Marten boots and a perennial sneer. Worse, she’d snuck out several times at night, not coming home until well after her eleven p.m. curfew, reeking of weed and discontent.
Thankfully, the phase had been short-lived. Zoë had eventually confided she’d been trying to impress a Goth boy at school with whom she’d thought she was madly in love. That, plus raging teenage hormones had caused her, to use her words, to go temporarily insane.
