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Zoe shook her head. “He glanced at me when I asked for his card, told me he didn’t have one, and just kept walking toward the dungeon doors like he owned the place.”
Rory and Megan finally released her and stepped back.
“Well, he kind of does own the place, but still he should have stopped and introduced himself,” Megan teased.
“I doubt he’ll kick you out, but he may want to spank you. Or he might just want to talk to you. And if you want an experienced sadist to play with, he’s the one I’d choose for you,” Rory assured her. “But you need to get your assets in there and find him before he comes looking for you.”
Zoe nodded. “Yeah, I know. Is it okay if I leave my shoes and stuff behind the desk? I’m not sure there’s an empty basket.”
“That’s fine. We’ll keep an eye on them,” Megan said then made a shooing motion. “Now get in there and have some fun tonight. Even if it isn’t with Master Morgan.”
Zoe nodded again, feeling like a bobblehead doll. “Do I look okay?” she asked, looking down at her outfit. It wasn’t anything special, just a bright red sports bra with a tight faded denim skirt that she’d cut several inches off the bottom. It now ended midthigh and not just above her knees. She wore a bright red thong beneath it.
“You look great,” Rory assured her.
“Thanks.”
With that, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in a move more from bravado than self-esteem. Stepping out from the relative safety of the front desk, she crossed the lobby to the dungeon’s double doors.
She pulled the right-side door open and slipped through the opening. Once inside, Zoe paused for a few seconds to allow her eyes to adjust to the lower lighting of the dungeon. Once she could see clearly, she looked around at the various scenes in progress within sight.
The dungeon was hopping busy. Screams and cries of pain and pleasure filled her ears while the scents of leather, citrus cleaner, and sex mingled with every breath. Zoe’s body reacted to the carnal stimuli. Her nipples beaded and her pussy clenched with her own need as she continued searching the open dungeon for Master Morgan.
When she could not find him, she entered the bar area and found him sitting on one of the tall stools at the bar. He was drinking a bottle of water and talking to the bartender.
Her pulse pounding, Zoe forced herself to walk. Even though she moved at a snail’s pace, she kept inching forward until she stood at the club owner’s side. Once there, she adopted the standing-slave stance she had learned in the BDSM 101 course she’d taken. She moved her feet about a foot apart, her hands holding one another behind her back, and her head bent forward in a submissive pose. She stared at the bar top but did not speak as she waited to be acknowledged.
She tried to still her always fidgeting body and silence her thoughts, but it was difficult to remain in the moment. While she tried to keep her eyes locked on the highly polished wood grain of the bar, they strayed. She looked around at what she could, her head barely moving. Too bad she couldn’t see very much.
“And who is this?” the bartender asked as he moved to stand across the bar from them.
“Don’t you know?” Master Morgan asked in response.
“I’ve seen her around but haven’t had the pleasure in anything more personal. Yet.”
“Interesting,” Master Morgan said as he swiveled the barstool around to face her. “Eyes on me, bunny.”
Zoe hesitated only a moment before lifting her eyes to meet his. As she stared into Master Morgan’s mossy-green eyes, her normally racing thoughts slowed and her body stilled.
Amazing.
“Very pretty,” the bartender commented. “If you don’t want to play with her, I’ll be happy to take her off your hands.”
That comment had Zoe sucking in a breath as a touch of panic shivered through her, followed by a moment of outrage. Did the Masters of the club often trade submissives like they were baseball cards? Other than watching others play on the nights she volunteered, she had not really interacted with anyone inside the dungeon, so she had no idea. She would have to ask Rory the next time she worked.
She tried to push down the building panic at the thought of being passed around among the Dominants, but involuntarily took a step back from the bar and looked toward the doorway.
“Eyes, bunny.”
Turning her head back to meet Master Morgan’s gaze once more, she read speculation and interest in them.
“No one will touch you without your permission,” he assured her in a soft, rumbly voice.
A gentle calmness flowed through her at his words. Her breathing slowed and her shoulders relaxed at his words. “Yes, Sir,” she breathed.
“I need another bottle of water, Tully,” Master Morgan said without breaking eye contact.
A moment later, an unopened bottle thumped onto the bar beside his open one. He broke their gaze long enough to finish his bottle of water before picking up the full one and standing. “Come along, bunny. Let’s talk.”
