She sat alone in the silent, dark car. A couple of men were going into Indulgences, not that she gave them more than a glance because Mace was walking around to her side. In mini-seconds, he'd order her to get out. She'd plant her weight over her too-high-for-safety heels and do whatever he ordered her to. Go inside that mysterious and exciting building, and be changed by the experience.

A quiet click followed by a rush of summer air jolted her. Saying nothing, he reached for the chain and tugged her out. There was nothing playful about his grip and nothing sympathetic or comforting in his cool appraisal.

Changed? Already happening.

Arms dangling at her sides, she trailed after Mace as he hauled her along like some obedient dog. Walking on gravel forced her to concentrate on her footing.

Mace opened the large door, stepped in, jerked her against his back. If the surroundings weren't sucking her dry of composure, she would have slapped him.

"Hey, Master M, good seeing you," a masked and caped man with a smoker's voice said. "If you'd have let us know you were coming, we'd have made a few calls. Gotten some of your fans in here."

"Not interested," Mace said. "I have another agenda tonight."

"So I see." A soft hand landed on her shoulder. "Your slave have a name?"

"Not tonight. Anything in particular happening?"

The soft hand remained in place, prompting her to stare up at the man who'd invaded her space. He wasn't particularly tall, with a belly that made him look about five months' pregnant. His mask added to her sense that she was out of her element. She also didn't appreciate being pawed this way.

"Master JJ has reserved the center stage for an auction starting soon. Last I heard, he's selling five of his slaves."

Mace's laugh lacked warmth. "Ever the showman. I wonder how much he paid them to play his little game?"

"None of my business." The masked man massaged her shoulder, drawing her blouse off her collarbone as he did. "You want one of the private rooms, or will you be taking this public?"

"Right now we're just watching. Got it, watching. And no sampling."

The man lifted his hand off her. "Hey, don't get your shorts in a knot. You can't blame me in being interested in a little fresh meat. Where'd you find her?"

To her relief, Mace didn't answer. However, neither did he acknowledge her existence before striding into the large, heavily populated, and dimly lit room. At first the room, which was a step down from the entryway, made her think of a gymnasium, but no gym she'd ever been in had held a population like this.

People stood in groups or milled around. Voices, mostly male, clashed. Their costumes took two forms. Either, like Mace, they were draped in black, or they'd stuffed their bodies into too-tight leather. Not enough flesh was covered, and a few had their cocks on display. If she had one word for the way they walked, strut won hands down. Whether they were pretending or for real, they gave out auras of control and confidence, arrogance, and the capacity for cruelty.

As for the women-well, there was no lack of skin there either. Or collars, cuffs, ankle restraints, even chastity belts. Some were gagged, a few had been blindfolded. Breasts hung out. Shaved pussies were on display. Heads sagged submissively.

The BDSM Internet sites she'd visited had featured nubile young women with painted lips and false eyelashes. Most had helped plastic surgeons pay their bills. The talent knew where to stand to best advantage for the camera, how to shout out their supposedly forced climaxes, how to best struggle in their restraints so their assets were displayed.

In contrast, the women at Indulgences came in all sizes and ages. Some had nearly nonexistent breasts, while at least two of the slaves' breasts hung nearly to their waists. Granted, there were a few prime specimens, but she'd stack up pretty well next to them, pretty darn well.

Not that it mattered.

"You renting her?" Whoever had just spoken was so close behind her that she felt the speaker's breath on the back of her head. "If you are, I'm interested."

Using his hold on her leash for leverage, Mace hauled her against his side. "Take your cock somewhere else, Paul. Haven't you given up by now?"

The still unseen Paul laughed. "As long as you keep coming up with flesh like her, I'm not likely to. What do you think, slave? Interested in sucking on a real man?"

This was happening. She was no longer dreaming, no longer directing a scene that existed only in her mind, and Mace had slipped his hand into her short hair and pulled so she was off balance, her neck burning.

"Go on, slave," Mace said. "Tell him who your master is."

Mace should have given her the playbook before they came in, should have given her a better hint of what to expect.

"Speak up, slave." Anger, either genuine or affected, was laced through Mace's voice. "Whom do you belong to?"

"You, Master." Until I kick you in the balls, that is.

"There's your answer, Paul. Anything else you need to know?"

"Hell, I was just joking. In fact, how about you and your bitch join me and mine at my table. I'll buy you a drink while we wait for the floor show to start."

Mace's shrug resonated through her. She had no choice but to reach out, thinking to wrap her arm around his waist for support, but her fingers barely brushed him when he yanked her upright. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Did I give you permission to touch me?" Although he released her hair, he reined her in via the chain leash.

"New one?" Paul asked. "Training them's a lot of work, but there are rewards. You thinking of doing some training tonight? If so, I'll sell tickets and we'll clean up."

Cheyenne now stood directly in front of Mace and on her toes because he'd lifted up on the leash, causing the collar to push against the underside of her jaw. Her arms were at her sides and ending in fists that wanted nothing more than to punch Mace.

At the same time, damn it, at the same time something hot and heady radiated out from him, and her hungry body absorbed it. Tonight was the real deal, years of imagining coming true, if she had the guts.

Mace turned Paul down, at least that's what she thought he'd said, not that she paid attention. Her breasts were maybe a half inch from his chest and if she leaned just a bit, she'd connect with his cock.

"How about the drink?" Paul said, sounding disappointed. "At least we can catch up."

"Why not. Your usual table?"

"What else? I'm a creature of habit. Even have the same slave as the last time we saw each other."

To her relief, the pressure around her neck let up, allowing her to settle back onto the balls of her feet. She would have relaxed more if Mace wasn't still holding on to her as if she were some unruly dog. At least she could devote some attention to Paul or, more to the point, the tall, skinny woman standing behind him. Even with the lousy lighting, she noted layers of makeup complete with black lip liner. The woman wore, of all things, a spiked collar and was naked from the waist up. A micro mini clung to her nearly nonexistent hips. Her hands were secured behind her. She didn't spe