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Fuck her.

“Do you want me, Ira?” That’s what she would say as she sidles up next to me and starts nibbling on my ear. “Do you want me to take you to the edge and back?”

Yes.

Kathleen submitting to me is about her letting go of control and being reassured that she does have a place in the world, that she does have the ability to transcend what she’s facing and make a name for herself. If I submit to her… what is it about?

Do I want to know?

I lean forward and tap the driver on the shoulder. Once I have his attention, I give him the address to Kathleen’s place. It requires whipping a U-turn right in the middle of the busy city road, but he does it expertly, ensuring a nice tip from me.

The same doorman from before waits for me. When I approach his desk, he says, “Sorry, but Ms. Allen is still requiring everyone to be buzzed up first.”

“That’s fine. She’s not expecting me anyway.” I put both hands on the desk, not trying to lord myself over this smaller man, but definitely making my presence known. “However, do tell her that it’s Ira Mathison. She knows why I’m here.”

“Certainly.” The doorman gets on the phone. I can’t hear what he’s saying over the traffic outside and the rabble of other residents and their visitors in this lobby.

Just as well. If I’m denied entry, I don’t want to hear his side of the conversation.

“Ms. Allen has requested your immediate presence. You may go up.”

The elevator opens. Here we go.

This time I know to expect a presentation when I arrive. What I don’t expect is the brand of Kathleen Allen I encounter.

She’s been lazing about her apartment all day. That much is evident from what she’s wearing: pink, baggy T-shirt that outlines her braless breasts and black cotton shorts showing off the shape of her ass. Her arms are crossed. Her hair is a sloppy bun on top of her head. No makeup. No jewelry. It’s Kathleen at her most casual.

She’s intimidating as fuck.

Her demeanor is what does it. Her stature. Standing tall and firm, Kathleen isn’t going to back down to anything I do or say tonight. I am in her domain. I am but a pawn to her Queen.

My mother taught me well, after all.

“How nice of you to stop by, Ira.” Although her voice is soft, there’s still a harsh, belittling edge. I do not doubt that many people would quake to have it directed at them.

I may be one of those people.

“Kathleen.” I’m not going to show weakness.

She’s fighting back a smile. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Because I am sure that this is a pleasure call.”

Deep within the Domme’s domain, I find myself battling being snarky to save face or deferring to whatever she wants to do or say. If only it were so easy to pick one. I’m a Domme. I’m supposed to be able to make these decisions on the fly and be wholly confident in them. Besides, that’s what Kathleen expects, regardless of her plans for me.

I wouldn’t want to disappoint her, now would I?

“My offer still stands, Kathleen. I want to do right by you, but I also have things that I want. I want you. That is without a doubt.” I square my shoulders to match her stature. “Whatever you want, and in return, whatever I want.”

“Hmm. A noble offer, but I have yet to get the feeling you really want what I offer.”

I take off my coat and toss it over a chair. “What do you offer, my darling?”

“You know what I offer.”

“Not really.” I approach her, slowly, as if I’m getting ready to tear a thorn out of her paw. No, I don’t think she’s wounded. Especially for feeling the way she does. Damn if I’m not being cautious, though. “I know you offer domination, but I have no idea what kind. What are you into, Kathleen? Humiliating heirs? Stripping them of their privileges and making them beg for shame?” My tie comes next, sliding off my neck and landing on my coat. The buttons of my shirt struggle against my fingers. “Or do you want them to lick your boots?”

She looks at her bare feet. “I’m not wearing any boots.”

“Fine. Kiss your toes.”