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Hands folded behind her stick-straight back, she stared at the floor beneath her spread knees.

“Address me. Not her.” Conrad walked to a tall cabinet. “This ismydungeon.Myscene. She entered this room becausethatis what she wants.”

Jay’s dignity insisted she choose between him and Conrad right that goddamned minute, but he knew it would’ve been an ignorant thing to force on her. He was there to learn from the man, not battle him in a dick-measuring contest.

Rifling through a drawer, Conrad pulled out a form and handed it to him. “Half of my clientele are couples. Often, I’m helping one learn how to dominate or submit to the other. Sign this waiver, and we’ll proceed.”

Her subservient posture rooted Jay in realization. It wasn’tjustthe fear that got her off. It was the submission to it. His visceral response was to drag her far away from this lifestyle, but his devotion and attachment to her had him reaching for a pen and signing the form.

Conrad returned the paper to the cabinet. “You didn’t read it.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Resolve pulsed deep in his chest.

“If I break your famous fingers, you can’t sue me for ruining your career.” Not a wrinkle of a grin on Conrad’s face.

Great. Said fingers curled into his palms.

Conrad lowered his gaze to Charlee. “In this room, who is your Master?”

“You are, Sir.”

Jay’s spine snapped straight.

“Who is your other Master?” Conrad moved to the wall and retrieved a whip.

“Jay.” The twitch in her cheek matched the smile in her voice. “Sir.”

“Master Jay is your Master, and I am his Master.”

Jay was certain the macho-egotist stated that for his benefit, but he put his own ego aside and bit back hisGo eat a dickretort.

“Remove your clothes.” Conrad leveled his gaze on him. “Place them on the chair by the door.”

Her head shot up, crimson locks tangling in her blinking eyes. “Sir? He—”

“I’ve got this, Charlee.” Jay toed off his sneakers, removed his socks, and shoved down his pants sans briefs. His cock pointed to the floor, dispirited by the chafing conversation. “The shirt is staying on.”

Turning his back on Conrad’s scowl, he placed his jeans beside hers on the chair and sorted through the questions storming his thoughts. “She can come without pain if she’s anticipating it. If I stop hurting her, she’ll stop anticipating it. Can I get her there without ever hurting her?”

“You sure you’re hurting her?” Conrad unraveled the whip.

Reflections of a sandpaper belt, bamboo pole, clamps, and spankings flickered through his mind, ushered by a throb in his head. “Yeah.”

He padded to her side and wondered if she was entertaining a private chuckle about his attire. He tugged on the collar of the t-shirt, the only thing he wore, and smiled. Yep. She was definitely laughing at him.

“The hurt she experiences is relative.” Conrad aimed the whip at the empty side of the room and snapped it through the air.

The crack shot Jay’s shoulders to his ears. Beside him, Charlee didn’t flinch.

“I spoke at length with her Dom in New York. She’s a masochist.” Seriousness smoothed Conrad’s expression. “This means she processes pain differently than we do. She feeds from it, eroticizes it.” He closed the distance and stared down at her. “She may not have an ache for it every time, but if she’s struggling with something, if she’s having a bad day, she’ll need it. If you’re open with each other, she’ll tell you when and how severe to make the discipline.”

Were they open? Jay considered the days following the San Francisco murders and the grief she carried over the death of the nineteen-year-old girl. She’d erected a wall and refused pain during sex. Dammit, he should’ve prodded and recognized what she’d needed.

“BDSM is a trade of power. Many are driven to the lifestyle because of unhealthy power dynamics in past relationships.” Conrad thinned his lips and scrutinized the top of Charlee’s head. “Submitting to a Dom in a safe andconsensualenvironment can help her prevent bad dynamics in her current relationships. It trains her how to control her responses to power, and she can find a great deal of freedom and triumph in that.”

He had to give the guy credit. Conrad illustrated a logical perspective on kinksters. In fact, shit was a whole lot clearer. Since the power in BDSM play was consensual, it made it superior to the systems of power experienced in everyday life. Anyone working a job under the rules of a boss was forced into a position of nonconsensual power. Hell, the regime at Windsor Records dictated how he smiled and what songs to write. Discriminations on social castes, gender, sexual preferences, and race were other forms of power. All nonconsensual.

Jay placed a hand on her head, sifting fingers through her satiny hair. Abuse and rape, the most potent case of nonconsensual power, was why she was there. Time to find out if he could give her the control she sought, in an authentic dungeon, under the watchful eyes of a professional.