Freeing Rowan

Sent to the Masters Club for a “tune up,” Rowan gets more than she bargained for. And so does her trainer…

Rowan Georgiou has always been fiercely independent in her vanilla life, but definitely BDSM curious. When a strong, controlling alpha sweeps into her life, she’s thrilled at the chance to fully explore her submissive streak. Eager to please, she strives to conform to the demands of a lifestyle she doesn’t really understand. Being sent away for training may feel like failure, but it might offer exactly what-and who-she needs.

When trainer Eric Franklin is brought in to teach “proper submission” to the resistant sub girl, he immediately senses a problem. While outwardly compliant and undeniably submissive, Rowan is fearful and skittish of the man she claims to love and serve.

As Eric questions the choices Rowan and her so-called Master have made, he is increasingly convinced Rowan is in way over her head. When he confronts the bully dressed in Dom’s clothing, the guy yanks Rowan from the program, cutting the trainer’s ties to the girl he’s already come to care about.

But not before Eric gives her an out, if she can find the courage to seize it.

Freeing Rowan is the third book in the Masters Club Series. While each novel is a stand-alone, reading the series in order will enhance your experience.

If you enjoy powerful alpha men who aren’t afraid to take what they want, but give so much in return to the women they love, then this series is for you.

Free Excerpt Below!

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Eric looked up at the sound of a light tap on the doorframe. Brandon, whom he’d texted again a moment before, stood waiting, Rowan just behind him. “Thanks, Brandon. I’ll take her from here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Brandon said with a deferential nod before slipping away.

Eric was pleased to see Rowan looked significantly better, no more tears, her posture more relaxed. He ignored the sudden hardening of his cock at the sight of her naked beauty. She belonged to another, and he needed to keep that foremost in his mind.

He’d chosen a different training room for this session, one with a St. Andrew’s cross set up in the center of the space, a fully stocked rack of impact toys nearby.

He sat on one of the two armchairs set up at the back of the room, a large, thick yoga mat placed strategically in front of him on the floor. There was a small cabinet between the chairs with various supplies tucked away inside. As in every recovery and play room at the Masters Club, a small refrigerator hummed along in a corner, stocked with bottles of water and juice.

Not having moved from the doorway, Rowan was staring at the beautiful cross, which was made of rich, polished wood, its straps of soft, strong leather.

“Come in, Rowan,” he said with a smile. “Would you like to sit down beside me or are you more comfortable kneeling on the mat?”

She came into the room, her hands clasped in front of her. “Master John doesn’t approve of slaves using the furniture.”

Of course he doesn’t, Eric thought irritably. “All right,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “You may kneel up, hands on your thighs, palms up.”

She lowered herself with reasonable grace onto the mat.

“First,” he began, “a little protocol. I know most folks in the lifestyle enjoy the titles that go with it—Master, Mistress, Trainer, slave and whatnot. I have no problem with that, but I would prefer that you just call me Eric. Or, if that makes you too uncomfortable, you may call me Sir.”

She looked a little startled, but only nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

He liked her voice. It was like smooth honey infused with smoke.

Stop it.

He cleared his throat and continued, “Before we get started with any more physical training, I just want to talk with you a little.”

He leaned forward, resisting the urge to stroke her soft cheek. Whatever had gotten into him, he needed to get it out, pronto.

“We had a rough start this morning, but I don’t want you to let that define your experience here. That said, before we put it entirely behind us, I need to get a better understanding of what went wrong. You said something there at the end. Something about not being allowed? What was that about?”

She ducked her head, her hands curling into light fists on her thighs. She mumbled something inaudible.

“Relax your hands,” Eric quietly admonished. “And look at me when you speak. I didn’t understand you.”

She unfurled her fingers and looked up, splashes of color appearing on her cheeks. She blew out a breath, as if gathering the courage to reply. “Orgasms, Sir. Master John hasn’t allowed me to come for the past couple of weeks.” Her color deepened. “It’s not a punishment,” she hastened to add. “It’s for my own good. It’s to help put me in a more properly submissive mindset so I can get over my resistance to the idea of another woman joining our household.”

She fixed him with a beseeching gaze. “If he knew what happened this morning, that I started to come without permission…” She looked away. “I know you probably have to tell him, but I swear I didn’t mean to. I’ll do better. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Eric replied gently.

Those words, “for my own good.” They rankled somehow. Especially when coupled with the memory of the stark terror in her eyes earlier that morning. Was it possible he was projecting? Overreacting?

He needed to get his feelings back under control. His personal opinions regarding another Dom’s methods had no place here. His focus right now needed to be on improving Rowan’s confidence by working with her on things at which she could succeed.

She had indicated during their initial interview early that morning that she loved being bound to a cross, which was one reason he’d chosen this particular training room for their next encounter.

“I’d like to get a sense of how you handle intensive impact play while on the cross. Do you feel ready for another session?”

Her dark eyes widened, her pretty, pierced nipples suddenly perking to attention. “Oh, yes, Sir,” she answered eagerly.


Getting to his feet, he held out a hand. She accepted it, allowing him to help her up, though he could see from the lithe muscles rippling under that supple skin that she needed no assistance.

He brought her to the restraint device and directed, “Stand facing the cross.”

That should be the easiest position for her, as she could focus fully on the sensations without worrying about eye contact.

She leaned into the smooth wood, extending her arms along the X and spreading her legs in a similar fashion. He crouched behind her, quickly securing the leather ankle straps. As he rose to his feet and reached up to tether her wrists, he again caught the scent of jasmine and orange. Pulling back slightly to avoid touching her bare back and ass, he clipped her into place.

She settled against the cross with a small sigh. As with many subs, bondage appeared to relax her, as he’d hoped it would. She turned her head to watch as he selected the largest, softest flogger from the rack.

“Face forward,” he instructed.

She obeyed at once.

He moved to stand in front of her. Her expression softened as he ran his fingers through the tresses, pulling them straight. Her lips parted, her eyes shining.

“I’m going to give you a thorough flogging. You may use the Masters Club safeword, red light, if you feel it’s absolutely necessary to end the scene.”

A look of consternation passed over her face, though she said nothing.

“What?” Eric pressed. “Is there a problem? If you’d rather use your personal safeword, that’s fine, too.”

“No, no,” she said quickly. “It isn’t that, Sir. It’s just…” She faltered, trailing off.

“It’s just what?” Eric persisted. “What were you going to say?”

She met his gaze, lifting her chin slightly. “Master John says safewords have no place in a true M/s relationship. It’s a matter of trust. The Master decides what the slave can or can’t handle. Her only task is to obey.”

Master John is a flaming dickwad.

Keeping his tone calm, he replied carefully, “I believe there is always a place for a safeword, no matter how intimate the relationship. So, while you’re working with me, I want you to feel free to use it, though I doubt you’ll need to during this session. There’s no shame in using it, and certainly no retribution. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, looking away.

Taking up his stance behind her, he lifted the flogger and ran the soft tresses over her back, pleased when she shuddered in response to the touch of leather. “We begin.”


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