Master of Freedom: A Mountain Masters Novella Read online

  When his gaze hit Gin’s, her table seemed to slide downward a couple of feet.

  “Ah, Jake left me an assistant,” he said. “Gin, come over here, please.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No. I’m not supposed to be part of…of the lessons.”

  Atticus glanced at the others. “See how her arms tightened around her knees? I’d guess surprise and a little fear.” His baritone voice lowered even further. “I need your help, Virginia.”

  “Shi-sugar,” she said under her breath, realizing she didn’t have much of a choice. Not and be polite. After all, Kallie had been generous enough to let her be part of the weekend. How could she tell the teacher no? Her reluctant feet carried her to the Dom.

  Why did being rude seem like a worse offense than a nice, simple murder?

  He held his hand out to her, waiting until she gave him hers. “Cold little fingers,” he said to the others. “Is she chilled—in which case we need to warm her up—or is she frightened?”

  Still holding her hand, he regarded her thoughtfully, his eyes dark in the flickering firelight.

  She frowned at him.

  “Easy, magnolia. I’m not going to ask for anything dire.” Smiling slightly, he drew her up to sit beside him on the picnic tabletop. When he put his arm around her, the heat from his body felt like a blast furnace, and she couldn’t help but lean into him.

  “Got yourself chilled over there, didn’t you?” He pulled her closer, his body all muscle against her side, and massaged her chilly hands.

  She needed to make things clear. Somehow. “I’m not here to play.”

  “No problem, darlin’.” The laugh lines beside his eyes deepened. “I’m just going to use your body for a bit—this won’t be a real scene.”

  “Excuse me?” Her breathing went into its own hissy fit.

  His lips quirked, and he lifted her chin with a finger. “Gin, these Doms need to see what I’m talking about. I need an assistant here. Can you help us out?”

  Oh, his question was purely manipulative. She recognized the technique and still couldn’t find it in herself to refuse. She nodded.

  “You’re a good sport. Thank you, sweetheart.” When he smiled at her, her insides swirled right into a gooey mess.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’m going to have my hands on you—above the waist only. Your only job is to keep your eyes shut and not talk unless I ask you a question. Can you do that for me?”

  He’d touch her. Above the waist. Her breasts. To her dismay, her skin tightened as if her breasts were totally onboard with the idea. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and braced herself.

  “Her cheeks flushed when she thought about being touched,” Atticus was saying to the others. She heard something slide on the table. Then he put a set of headphones on her, destroying her ability to hear him.

  Her eyes popped open. “Wait.”

  Atticus grinned. Damn, the little subbie was cute. He’d been aware of her sitting over in the corner, all big eyes. Jake’d said she was a sweetheart, so Atticus had observed as she cooked, served, and waited on the group during supper, bustling about to ensure everyone was well fed. She’d beamed at their reaction to her food. The need to please was a bright light in her.

  And now, although clearly uncomfortable, here she was…because he said he needed her.

  He touched the corner of her eye to remind her of his order.

  Her reluctance was obvious, but she closed her eyes.

  “All right. Submissives, get rugs from the pile and spread them out on the far side of the fire pit. Then either sit or kneel over there and wait for us.”

  As the women left, Atticus turned to the Doms. “Gentlemen, tell me how you know Gin’s not a happy camper now.”

  The men all studied the redhead.

  “Her fingers are clamped on the table.”

  “Mouth is tight.”

  “Jaw too.”

  “Good,” Atticus said. “Notice her shallow breathing as well. Let’s upset her a bit more and give you a wider area to observe.” He unbuttoned her fluffy cardigan, then the light shirt beneath it. Inch by inch, he drew both garments down her arms and off.

  She was as fair as the snow-tipped mountains, and he’d been right—her lacy bra was a silvery blue. After a second of appreciation, he got himself back on task. “See her struggle to keep her eyes closed. How she swallows because the worry has dried her mouth.” He tipped her chin up with two fingers and pressed his fingertips lightly on the side of her neck. Fuck, she had soft skin.

  “You can touch your submissive’s throat here to check her pulse. Another location is here.” He flattened a palm over her sternum…above her breasts since he didn’t want to send her into cardiac arrest.

  “Virginia’s heart is hammering, by the way.”

  Grins appeared.

  “Obviously we have a scared little submissive here.” He waited a few seconds to let the men grasp the lesson. “Let’s see if I can calm her down.” He put an arm around her, drew her to his chest so she could absorb his warmth and feel his even breathing.

  She was definitely a tempting armful. The way she struggled to obey his orders, despite her nervousness and newness, tugged at every dominant instinct he possessed.

  After he moved her braid out of his way, he ran his right palm up and down her back in long, slow strokes. Nudging her headphone top aside, he rested his cheek on top of her head. She had silky hair.

  “See how her breathing slows? The positioning of her hands?” Her small fingers were curled over his left forearm. Despite her nerves, she was holding on to him.

  He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and, with surprising reluctance, released her to sit alone. “Isn’t it cute how her shoulders straighten as she braces for what I do next?”

  He checked his audience. The Doms were leaning forward attentively, which boded well for their own submissives. Atticus glanced toward the fire pit. On their rugs, the women talked quietly. Good.

  He turned his attention back to the Doms. “Before, during, and after a scene, what you need to watch is…everything. Skin color—and not just in her face. Breathing. Observe the muscles in her arms and shoulders and belly. Especially check her hands.” He paused. “Each submissive is different. Do any of you play poker?”

  Nods from all three men.

  “This is the same as reading your opponent’s tells. Actually, what you learn here will serve you well in poker.” He grinned and brushed a finger over her chin.

  A tiny wrinkle appeared between her brows. She gave a small shrug as if to dislodge an annoying insect.

  “Now, did you see the little line that said she was worried?”

  Two nodded. One had missed it.

  Atticus tapped her lips this time, and the line reappeared. Then he rubbed his knuckles across her cheek, reassuring her again. “See which way her head tilts? Does her body move toward me or away? Is she welcoming my touch?”

  Atticus pulled his hand away, and Gin tipped her face ever so slightly toward him.

  “Damn, the reaction is subtle, but it’s there,” Ralph muttered.

  “These are the types of clues you study during a scene. Again, each submissive is different.” Atticus flattened his hand on Gin’s stomach, enjoying the slight roundness, even as the muscles beneath flinched. “See the reaction. I’d call that surprise at an unexpected touch.”

  He didn’t move, letting the heat of his palm reassure her. “And again, she relaxes back into me. Check her eyes, her mouth. See how her muscles have softened, her fingers opened.”

  She was damn pleasing to watch.

  “Now, I hate to do this, but…” He gave her stomach a light, stinging pinch and pointed out her gasp. How her lips pressed together again, the worried line between her brows. “Her shoulders are knotted now.”

  A brush of his finger had her belly muscles flinching, had her whole body swaying infinitesimally away. “See how she flinches from my touch now? She doesn’
t like being pinched.”

  “Neither would my wife,” Ralph muttered to general agreement.

  “When it comes to inflicting pain, even if for pleasure, you’ll need to acquire more assessment skills,” Atticus told the Doms. “But for this evening’s rope play, you’ve got what you’ll need. And you’ll get better with practice.”

  He pulled Gin back into his arms, partly to reassure her, partly for his own enjoyment. “Any time you’re unsure of what your submissive is feeling, step back and study her. She’s under your control; she’s not going anywhere. Take your time and read her body language.” Atticus grinned. “And know that an intense scrutiny will increase her excitement more than you thought possible.”

  All three Doms wore thoughtful expressions.

  “Dismissed. Hydrate your submissives and take them for a bathroom break. When you come back, we’ll begin the bondage portion of the evening.”

  As they left, he regarded his little armful. He pulled her headphones off. “You can open your eyes, Virginia.” Her preferred “Gin” suited her personality, but he liked how her full name rolled off his tongue when he wanted her attention.

  She blinked and tipped her head up. Her pupils were dilated in the darkness, turning her eyes a deeper green. Her gaze wandered over his face, then she gave her head a shake and looked around. When she noted the absence of students, she asked, “Are you done with me?”

  Not even close. “Thank you for being an excellent assistant.” He kissed her lightly.

  Soft body, soft lips, generous spirit. And she had a worried line between her brows again.

  “I’m sorry I had to pinch you,” he said.

  “It wasn’t a problem.” Her hand flattened on his chest as if to shove him away, but she didn’t. And her next inhalation was deeper. Liked touching him, did she?

  “You’re welcome to stay for the bondage part of the class.” He smiled slightly. “Jake and Kallie will be back to help which means you can just watch.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to”—she caught herself—“to see what it looked like.” Flushing, she jumped down, grabbed her clothes, and started back toward her corner.

  “Virginia.”

  She pulled on her shirt first, then turned.

  He pointed to a picnic table beside the fire pit, but out of the way. “Sit there. The corner is too cold for you.”

  Wordlessly, she stared at him, mouth open. “I… Well, thank you.”

  As she obeyed, he frowned. He’d been giving her orders; a new one shouldn’t startle her. Surely, she wasn’t surprised that he’d noticed she was chilled.

  * * * *

  “They all did well,” Atticus told Kallie later.

  Two of the couples were enjoying the more…intimate…finales to their scenes. The third, more inhibited, couple had retreated to their cabin for privacy.

  The bondage lesson had gone well. Each new Dom had secured his submissive as instructed, each had been careful to keep the ropes snug, but not overly constrictive. Then Atticus had taught predicament bondage, and the submissives had been whimpering delightfully within five minutes.

  “Nice class,” Kallie said. “I love the either-or bondage you came up with. At the same time, I hope Jake never tries it on me.”

  Atticus grinned. Tonight’s setup would let the submissive bend to ease the pull on her nipple clamps, but that movement would tighten and drag the rope positioned directly over her clit. There was nothing like giving a submissive a choice between two evils. After a couple of minutes, she’d have shed the day’s worries and would be focused totally on the two uncomfortable choices.

  Speaking of submissives, one had disappeared. “Where’s our little redhead?”

  “Gin?” Kallie nodded toward the two couples. “She didn’t want to be a voyeur.”

  “Ah. How did she happen to join us this weekend?”

  “She was curious about BDSM. So in return for assisting me with camp chores, she got a chance to watch the lessons.”

  “No Dom or boyfriend to bring?”

  “From what she said, I think she’s unattached,” Kallie said.

  Excellent. It had been a long time since anyone intrigued him as much as the little redhead did. He’d enjoyed flustering her. He’d like to do more. To arouse her. To see what it would take before she lost control. Her lovely drawl said she grew up in the Deep South. Would she have the inhibitions that came with being raised in the Bible Belt? Overcoming those would be a fun challenge.

  He fucking loved reducing a female to the point where she thought of nothing except what he was doing to her. He asked, “She only wanted to watch? She’s that new?”

  “She’d never even met a Dom before. In fact, she thought the BDSM fiction she read was invented to sell books. You can’t get much newer.”

  “Mmm.” A newbie. He usually avoided them, but hell, he was an instructor. It would be a shame not to provide some…education. “You mind if I yank her out of her cabin and see if she wants some hands-on participation?”

  “Atticus, I don’t want you scaring her.” Kallie frowned before her lips curved into a smile. “But if you can lure her into enjoying BDSM, well, she’d be a great addition to our gang.”

  “Far be it from me to deprive you of a new buddy. I’ll see what I can do.”

  In her cabin, Gin heard the laughter from the pavilion.

  What a weekend. Last night, Jake had taught the new Doms how to dominate their women. And despite hearing him explain exactly how to make a woman submit, she’d still found watching to be incredibly hot. And had longed to be one of the submissives.

  Tonight…well, tonight had been even more fascinating. Even more disconcerting.

  Atticus had taught the Doms how to choose rope, how to ensure the safety of the submissive, how to turn simple knots into restraints. Then the two experienced Doms had helped the beginners tie their women in different ways.

  Gin had found her breath coming faster. Just from watching. The mere idea of giving a man so much control over her was terrifying. And so, so sexy.

  Now she’d added in the memories of Atticus touching her. Every place his fingers had brushed still tingled—her cheek, above her breasts, her neck, her stomach. His hand had felt huge when he’d flattened it over her belly, and when he’d embraced her, the warmth of his body had sunk right into her bones.

  His easy voice had held an underlying steely command. And with each order, her attention had narrowed to a pinpoint focus.

  How had he made her obey so quickly?

  She chewed on her lip and considered the squareness of his shoulders, the straightness of his back, the way he held his head. Ex-military, she’d bet, and he’d commanded others. He wore authority as easily as his hat.

  He was definitely a Dom. And according to those BDSM books, she was certain she’d be considered submissive. He’d surely treated her as if he thought so.

  Her response to his confident control didn’t rest too easily in her memory. After she’d planted her butt on the picnic table, she’d obeyed him without thinking. Following his orders had felt good and as natural as…

  As if she was a square peg, and after years of being surrounded by round slots, she’d found a square slot. It had her name on it and fit her perfectly. That there was purely worrisome.

  She had also noted that the word submissive wasn’t nearly as appealing as dominant.

  But Kallie was submissive. Yesterday, bless her heart, she’d gone from obeying Jake to tossing out orders when setting up camp. Anyone calling Kallie a pushover would find her fist in his tummy.

  Gin grinned at the thought.

  These people certainly lived in an interesting world. But no need to worry herself about the lifestyle. She’d only ventured here to get her questions answered, and she’d achieved her goal.

  Now she’d enjoy a quiet evening in a mountain cabin, snuggled down in a warm bed with a new novel. That was romantic enough for her.

  She picked up her b
ook—a Civil War romance. In the beginning, the heroine possessed a satisfying personality, but two chapters in, she’d descended into wimpdom. The girl needed a good kick in the posterior or, as the inmates said—to grow a pair.

  Poor southern belle. Truly, in the south, females had a tough time acquiring big brass balls. Mama had emphasized appearance over aptitude, courtesy over competence. Gin had been able to do flawless makeup, hair, and nails, dress attractively, and graciously hostess a dinner party, all before she reached eleven. And then her father had walked out.

  Life had become difficult. In addition to the financial woes, she’d had to tend to Mama, who went through men faster than Sherman burned through Georgia.

  But she’d also discovered the rewards of standing on her own two feet. Maybe she lacked big brass balls, but she’d learned independence and acquired courage the size of…oh…marbles.

  Unfortunately, her bravery hadn’t survived Atticus. Being studied by that Dom with the steely blue eyes was awfully intimidating. And hot.

  Yesterday, Penelope noticed a big brute of an inmate and said, “I’d do him in a heartbeat.” Gin felt the same way about Atticus, and wasn’t that a sorry thing to know about herself?

  Pfft. Enough. She turned her gaze back to her reading.

  A chapter later, the heroine had rediscovered her backbone, when approaching footsteps caught Gin’s attention. The steps changed to thuds as the person crossed the tiny porch. Her porch.

  There was a tap on the door. Before she could answer, Atticus stepped into the cabin.

  “What are—” Gin tossed her book aside. “I do believe you’re in the wrong cabin. This one is mine.”

  “I know, darlin’,” he said. “I came to find you.” His gaze swept over her, making her all too aware of the lowness of her décolletage. “Gorgeous nightie, pet, but you quit the evening a little early, didn’t you?”

  “It seemed appropriate when everyone grew…occupied.”

  As he crossed the room, everything about him was cowboy sexy. Those long legs, battered boots, black hat, and bucking-horse belt buckle.

  He went down on his haunches beside the bed, putting their eyes at the same level, then took her hand. “Listen, Gin.” He grinned, his white teeth framed by the dark brown beard. “Isn’t that a harsh-sounding word for such a pretty woman?”