Uncollared

UNCOLLARED

Nona Raines

www.loose-id.com

Uncollared

Copyright © August 2012 by Nona Raines

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN 978-1-61118-943-8

Editor: Rory Olsen

Cover Artist: Ginny Glass

Printed in the United States of America

Published by

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

Once again, thanks to my critique partners Denise and Suemarie for their patience and assistance in seeing this book through several revisions. I’d also like to thank Paula G. for taking time to answer my questions about social services and her insight into the profession.

“It’s nothing you’ve done wrong, Bella Mia.” Philip spoke softly. “But it’s time to move on. For both of us.”

Too stunned to speak, Mia gaped at him in disbelief. Her hand lay limply in his. She hadn’t seen it coming.

For weeks Mia Manetti had looked forward to this dinner at LoFiglio’s, the most exclusive restaurant in Rosemont, NY. But now she wished she was anywhere else.

Oh, it was a beautiful place. Candles glimmered; crisp ivory linens and sparkling crystal graced the tables. Tinkling piano music played softly in the background. Even more glittering than the atmosphere were the other diners, dressed to impress.

But Mia had lost interest in her surroundings. She and Philip had been together for a year. A year of bliss, as far as she was concerned.

And she’d been sure that he felt the same way. Convinced that tonight, on this anniversary of sorts, he’d tell her what she’d been longing to hear from almost the first moment she met him. That he wanted her to be his. Forever.

How could she have been so wrong?

The numbness spread, filling Mia’s chest. She felt distant from herself, as if she were two separate people. One of them sat at the table, speechless, staring stupidly at the man across from her. The other floated on the ceiling and looked down, watching helplessly.

She should do something. But what? Scream, cry, storm out in a rage? A public scene would only embarrass herself and Master Philip.

No. Not
her
Master. Not anymore. He didn’t want her.

“We had a beautiful year together,” he told her, his voice compassionate but firm. “But now it’s over.”

It
had
been beautiful. At last Mia marshaled her scrambled thoughts enough to ask the only question that came to mind. “Why?”

He squeezed her fingers gently. Mia loved the feel of his hand on her, touching her hair, her face. She loved his low, gravelly voice—hearing it always made her feel safe, as though he’d wrapped her in velvet. And she loved his handsome face—the square shape of it, the cleft in his chin. His dark hair was graying at the temples and perhaps thinning a bit, but that made no difference to Mia. The thirty-odd-year age difference between them didn’t matter, either. He was everything she wished for in a Master.

If she thought it would change his mind, she’d sink to her knees before him, right here in LoFiglio’s in front of everyone: the women in their jewels, the men in their designer suits, the elegant waiters. She wouldn’t be ashamed, although a public display would be against everything Master Philip had taught her. It would be wrong to involve the unsuspecting diners in something private between Master and slave.

And it wouldn’t do any good. Once Philip made up his mind about something, there was no changing it.

Most people wouldn’t understand their relationship. Mia hadn’t understood until she met Master Philip. But meeting him had changed her life, had given her everything she never knew she wanted.

She had to do something. Reason with him, argue. She couldn’t let him go without a fight. As though he could read her thoughts, Master Philip spoke in a voice that was quiet but firm. “Remember, your actions reflect on me, Bella Mia.”

She had no chance to respond, because Philip’s gaze lifted to someone standing near her shoulder. “Good evening, Francesco.”

Mia went still and glanced quickly to the man standing above her. Most of the world knew Francesco Ryan as a successful real-estate developer. Only a select few, those who frequented Club Restraint, knew him as Master Chess, a sexual Dominant.

Chess had a compelling aura of self-confidence that made it easy to forget that he wasn’t quite handsome. He was tall, his form sleek—he was a greyhound rather than a Labrador retriever. His dark blond hair had a stylish cut that looked artfully mussed. He was as impressive tonight in his dark gray suit as he was in the black leather he sported at the club.

“I’m having dinner with a few friends,” he said, his gaze flickering from Philip to Mia and to their clasped hands on the table. “I wanted to say hello.”

“How are you?” Philip asked, his voice a warm rumble. It was more than a polite phrase. His interest was genuine. He cared about his friends. He was that kind of man. He squeezed Mia’s fingers gently to comfort her during this brief interruption, to show that he cared about her as well.

If he cares so much, why is he letting me go?

Anger spurted through her, as caustic as lye. A wave of fear followed. She’d never been angry with Philip before. But then, she’d never had a reason to be.

“I’m well, thank you.” Chess glanced at Mia once again. “Hello, Mia.”

She inclined her head and twisted her mouth into something she hoped resembled a smile. She simply couldn’t speak.

Chess took it all in, seemed to know exactly what was happening, what she was feeling. “I won’t disturb you any longer. Have a good evening.”

She felt rather than saw him take one last look at her before he returned to his table.

Mia fingered the delicate gold chain around her neck, the lovely necklace that Philip had given her. The world saw it merely as a pretty item of jewelry. Only Mia knew it was a slave collar, though a temporary one, that marked her as her Master’s possession. She wore it every day, at work, out in public. It reminded her who she belonged to. Who she served. It made her feel cared for. Loved.

Tonight she should have been trading her temporary collar for the permanent one her Master would bestow. But now her throat would be bare. The collar belonged to Master Philip, and it was only right that she return it to him. She looked across the table at him, and he read the question in her eyes. “No, Mia. I want you to keep it. Keep it as a souvenir of my affection.”

Affection?
Affection
was what one felt for a pet or a friend’s child. What she felt for Master Philip went far beyond that.

But she straightened her spine, took a breath, and struggled for control. Leaning in, she said softly, “Sir, if it’s something I’ve—”

He shook his head impatiently. “I told you; it’s nothing you’ve done.” Philip’s tone snapped with impatience, like the crack of a whip. Subject closed. Mia drew back abruptly. Fine. No more discussion.

After all, she had her pride. She was an independent woman. She went to work every day, had her own apartment, paid her own bills.
It’s not the end of the world
. There were other Masters. It would take time, but eventually she’d find someone who—

The bit of food Mia had ingested rose in her gorge. Who was she kidding? She’d never find anyone like Philip. She didn’t want to.

Philip withdrew his hand from her grasp, just as he was withdrawing from her life. “You’ve served me well and always made me proud.”

But that couldn’t be true. She must have failed him somehow. Why else would he let her go?

Was she was too eager to please, too compliant? Maybe he wanted someone with more spark, someone who challenged him. A brat.

Maybe he’d grown tired of her.

Maybe there was someone else
.

The cold hand of fear squeezed her chest. No. It couldn’t be. Philip would never—

Mia’s eyes were hot and gritty. She looked down at the decoratively plated meal that suddenly resembled a smear of paint on a canvas. Swallowing hard, light-headed, she rose abruptly. “Excuse me. I need to—”

She wanted to run to the ladies’ room. But no, she walked in a very dignified and deliberate manner as the all the diners in her line of vision melted into a blur.

As soon as she entered the lounge, Mia swept past the red velvet tufts that served as seats along the mirror-lined walls. If the dining area of LoFiglio’s was understated elegance, the ladies’ lounge was over-the-top opulence in scarlet and gold.

There was no time to admire the setting. She hurried into a stall and vomited up what little she had in her stomach. She returned to the lounge area, her throat raw. Mia went to a sink, trying to ignore her reflection as she cupped her hand under the faucet to rinse her mouth.

A voice came from beside her. “Miss…”

Mia looked up at the attendant, a tiny woman with a weathered face and gentle eyes. She held out a box of tissues. “Maybe you’d like some of these.”

Mia took the box, grateful for the small act of kindness. This lady must have seen it all. “Thank you.” She used a few tissues to dab at her red-rimmed eyes and blow her nose.

“He’s not worth it,” the attendant told her. “None of them are.”

Mia smiled. “This one is.”

She tossed the used tissues, then smoothed the red silk sheath over her hips. She’d maxed out her credit card for it, but the dress flattered her, actually giving a womanly shape to the boyish body she so despaired of.

Not that it made any difference now.

Mia smoothed back her short black hair and opened her purse to retrieve a comb and compact. She repaired her smeared mascara as best she could. No amount of powder would hide her swollen eyes or red nose.

Did
Philip have someone else? Pain sliced through her at the possibility. An image flashed in her mind of Philip with some faceless woman who didn’t need fashion tricks to give her a shape. Some woman who—

The gold chain circling Mia’s neck winked at her in the mirror, mocking her.

She stared at her reflection and made a decision. “Could you help me?” she asked the lounge attendant.

“Yes, dear?”

Mia gestured to the clasp at the back of her neck. “Could you undo that for me?”

“I’ll try. These old fingers of mine get a little clumsy…”

A minute or two later, the delicate gold chain lay in Mia’s palm. “There you go, dear.”

“Thank you.” As Mia gazed at it, pain gnawed at her breastbone. She dropped it into her purse. She would never wear it again.