Masters of the Shadowlands 7 - This is who I am Read Online Free

place. The slap of paddles and floggers and canes. Moaning and groaning. A shriek. Low conversation. A half-heard man’s laugh—the sound familiar and horrible—sent memories oozing through her. Caged on a boat. Men talking about—
    She shook herself loose, feeling cold sweat trickle down her back. I’m free. At the Shadowlands . And as she listened, she realized the noise was different from the slave auctions. The sobbing was that of a release; the shriek had excitement accompanying the pain. There were none of the hopeless cries, the pleading, and the screams of pain that wouldn’t end. She shuddered.
    “Linda. Look at me.” Raoul’s gaze was watchful. Measuring.
    “I’m okay.” And she wasn’t lying. His voice, his steady eyes had settled her. She gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you.” Her deep breath calmed her further as she carefully cataloged more differences. She’d thought the downtown BDSM club smelled of leather, sex, pain, and fear. Now she knew fear stank of piss and blood and sour sweat. Nothing like here.
    The Shadowlands held laughter, and not only from the male Doms. There were women laughing. To one side, some submissives giggled as one negotiated with a Dom. Linda took a quick survey of the room before turning to Kim. “The percentage of Doms to submissives seems pretty even.”
    The bartender’s submissive grinned at her. “Good eye. I’m Andrea, by the way.” She glanced around the room and answered Linda’s unspoken questions. “Master Z keeps the membership balanced, no matter how long the waiting list gets. It’s nice. I’ve visited clubs where I felt like a sheep surrounded by a pack of wolves.”
    “That’s it,” Linda agreed. “There’s no sense of being stalked.” In fact, the unattached subs were having a good time with each other. More weight lifted from her shoulders. She’d be safe here, if… Could she really do this? Let a sadist hurt her? Her fears and needs seemed to twine together, creating a macramé of self-loathing. Why couldn’t she be normal?
    Her gaze fell on a man by a St. Andrew’s cross. Tall. Thin. He was packing up his toy bag after using a cane on a younger woman who’d quickly wimped out. But he hadn’t tried to dominate the woman. As he picked up his bag, he met Linda’s gaze and nodded politely.
    She continued to stare at him, and he tilted his head, reassessing her.
    Raoul’s hand covered hers. “Are you sure, chiquita? Edward is a sadist but not a Dominant. Sam might be—”
    “Not Sam.” When his eyebrows rose, she winced at her bluntness. “I’m sorry.”
    “Do not apologize for being honest.” His gaze stayed on her face. “Continue.”
    “Just…I don’t want a Dom. Or Sam.”
    His jaw tightened. “Did Sam do something that—”
    “ No . No, it’s nothing. I just like making my own choices.” To escape more questions, she kissed his cheek in a hasty apology, then went to meet the sadist halfway.
     
    AS SAM CLEANED the equipment and kept an eye on Dara, he half listened to the sounds from the adjacent scene. Holt was using a cane on a submissive, pushing her boundaries and heightening her arousal. From the noise the brunette was making, the Dom was doing an excellent job.
    After putting the cleaning supplies in the stand, Sam went down on one knee beside Dara. With a blanket around her shoulders, the Goth trainee had eaten her chocolate bites and was sipping the sports drink he’d given her.
    “How you doing?” Sam asked, running his knuckles over her cheek.
    “I’m good.” Her eyes were clear, skin warm, speech coherent. He’d learned Dara didn’t want much aftercare, didn’t want to be held. She liked moving around and enjoying the buzz. She grinned at him. “That was really fun, Master Sam. Thank you.”
    “All right then.” He stood and helped her to her feet. After giving him a quick hug, she trotted off toward the restrooms—undoubtedly to admire the stripes he’d put on her thighs and