Kayleigh entered the club’s dark locker room, one-handedly stuffing
her keycard back in her purse. She had never seen itfully lit; Adam
kept things dark and cool. Cavernous.

Facing her cubby, she wriggled out of her jeans and tank top, setting
them on a middle shelf. Lifting her collar from its hook, she held it
briefly to her chest and bent her neck to inhale the scent of leather.
Then she knelt by the exit to the club, collar held before her, and
pressed the bell.

Slaves weren’t allowed to collar themselves.

Nor were any dominant members inconsiderate enough to …