Page 16 of Devoured

“Quit. Find a new job.”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “What do you mean, submission?”

“You’re a pro-domme,” I smirked. “Submit to me.”

She drew her head back quickly. “Submit to you?”

“Wholly and completely.” I licked my lips, and her eyes glazed over, looking at the hint of my tongue. “Do whatever I say. Whenever I want. If you do that—” I gave a side smile, “—if you convince me of your submission, then I’ll give you the club.”

She froze for a second, then her head nodded, continually, growing faster and faster, her eyes widening.

“Did you say ‘give’?”

“Give.”

Iris was used to people doing what she wanted; she was paid to boss around powerful men. She would never be able to submit. Not like I wanted her to.

So this would be fun.

“That’s all you want,” she said, her voice shaking, “That’s all you want, for me to submit? But you said it yourself. There’s money in this club. A lot of it. More than my savings. A ton of money.”

“Experiences are more valuable, moreinterestingthan money.”

“That sounds like something only a man with money would say.”

“Maybe,” I said. She bit her lip, holding back a scoff. I had intrigued her. Submission wasn’t something she was often willing to give, but for the price of her club, she was willing to consider it.

“Are you a dominant?” she asked.

“Do you always ask this many questions?” I narrowed my eyes. She shrugged. “You’re a domme, a dominatrix, adominant. You’re paid to put men in their place, but does it get you off?”

For the first time, a subtle blush rippled across her face. She forced it down, scowling back at me in defense. “No.”

“Do you consider yourself a submissive, then?” I asked.

She swallowed a dry lump in her throat. “No.”

I tilted the small shot glass in my hand, gazing absently at the clear drop of liquor swirling around the bottom of the cup.

“It helps you to think of power dynamics in titles, doesn’t it?” I asked.

“It’s easier to figure out what the club member wants if I know how he identifies himself.”

But I wouldn’t make it that easy on her. If she wanted the club, she would have to work for it.

“I don’t care for titles,” I said. She sniffled, showing her disbelief. “But if you must know,hedonisthas a nice ring to it. If it brings me pleasure to give you pain, and if it gives me pleasure to feel your pain, then why does a title matter? I’m going to do what I want. And I’m going to take what I want.”

Her lips pressed open, a small gasp escaping from her.

“How long?” she asked. She was considering my proposition carefully now. ‘Yes’ was on the verge of her vocal cords. “How long?”

“As long as it takes to convince me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then the remodeling will go according to my plan, and you will never come back.” I glanced around us until my eyes fell on her again. “But if you can stand the humiliation of submitting to me, then the club is yours.”

Her eyes widened again at the sound of that glorious win. The club. It would be hers. All hers. But the truth was thatifshe won—if I gave her the club, it would take a year, maybe two, before she was back at my feet, begging me to buy it from her. And I would be ready to turn this place into a proper nightclub.