Page 32 of The Drama King

Slowly, maintaining eye contact that felt like a challenge despite the submissive gesture, she knelt, extending her hand toward an imaginary Petruchio.

"In token of which duty, if he please," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "my hand is ready, may it do him ease."

I circled her kneeling form, studying the picture she made. "Hold that position. Feel how exposed Katherine is. She's abasing herself in front of everyone, and Petruchio isn't even acknowledging it yet. The submission is complete before he accepts it."

I crouched beside her, close enough that she could feel my breath on her neck. "Your hand is trembling. Is that Katherine's shame or yours?"

She stayed frozen in that position, hand extended toward empty space, the gesture all the more humiliating for its lack of recipient.

"Do you understand what Katherine is doing here?" I asked, my voice low. "She's degrading herself for a man who isn't even looking at her. The ultimate submission—performed for an audience, hoping for his approval."

She rose, her cheeks flushed.

"Again," I said. "The entire monologue. And this time, I want to believe that Katherine wants this. That she craves Petruchio's dominance even from across the room."

She rose gracefully, and something had shifted in her bearing. When she began again, she weaponized her submission, makingit so complete, so convincing, that it became a mirror reflecting my own cruelty back at me.

"Fie, fie, unknit that threatening unkind brow, and dart not scornful glances from those eyes to wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor..."

This time, she played Katherine as a woman in love with her own subjugation, and it was disturbing in its perfection. She made submission look like ecstasy, made surrender seem like salvation. Every word was honey-coated poison, sweet on the surface but corrupt underneath.

When she reached "But love, fair looks, and true obedience," something in me snapped.

I crossed the space between us in two strides, my body moving before my mind could stop it. She gasped as I backed her against the mirror, caging her with my arms on either side.

"Stop," I growled, and fuck, my voice came out more like a growl. "You're lying with every word."

"I'm performing the text—"

"No." I leaned in closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. Her jasmine scent was everywhere now, filling my lungs, making my blood burn. "Katherine means these words. She's been fucked into submission, broken down until she craves her husband's control. Show me that hunger."

Her breath hitched, and I watched her pulse flutter wildly at her throat. The urge to put my mouth there, to taste that frantic heartbeat, was overwhelming.

"I don't—"

"Look at me," I commanded, tilting her chin up with one finger. The touch was electric—such a small point of contact but it sent heat shooting straight to my cock. "Katherine would look at Petruchio like he owns her. Like she'd die without his touch. Like she gets wet just from his attention."

Her pupils dilated at my words, black swallowing the green of her eyes. She was trying so hard to stay professional, but her body was betraying her. I could smell it—that sweet note threading through her anxiety, the involuntary arousal that suppressants couldn't hide.

"Try the line again," I said, my thumb moving to trace her lower lip. It was soft, trembling slightly. "While looking at me like you want me to fuck you against this mirror."

"Dorian—"

"Say the line."

She held my gaze, and something shifted—a crack in her armor that let me see the real her underneath. Raw. Vulnerable. Wanting despite herself.

"But love," she whispered, and her voice was different now, breathless and broken, "fair looks, and true obedience..."

The words washed over me like a physical touch. My control, already frayed, snapped entirely. I pressed closer, eliminating the last inch between us, feeling her soft curves against my body. She made a small sound. A protest or a plea, I couldn't tell.

"That's it," I breathed against her lips. "That's what submission looks like. Complete surrender."

Her hands came up to my chest, whether to push me away or pull me closer, I didn't know. Didn't care. All I could think about was how she'd taste, how she'd sound if I claimed her mouth the way Petruchio claimed Katherine.

"You feel it now, don't you?" I murmured, my lips barely grazing hers, not quite a kiss but close enough that we breathed the same air. "The power in giving in. The freedom in being owned."

She swayed toward me, her body betraying what her mind fought against. Her scent was pure arousal now, sweet and intoxicating. I was rock hard against her, and she could feel it—I saw the recognition in her widening eyes.