Sasha was a ball of nerves threatening to explode Saturday morning.

Lincoln was picking her up at nine, and she couldn’t concentrate on any one thing to get ready. She hadn’t slept much in days. There were bags under her eyes. And she was a nervous wreck.

She’d spent an hour in her apartment’s one small bathroom putting on makeup she didn’t ordinarily wear to cover the purple evidence of her lack of sleep and ensure she looked her best. Why she wanted to impress Lincoln she had no idea. The man had made it clear repeatedly this week that their arrangement was strictly professional. Dom training sub. Nothing else.

Except for that one text. She shivered every time she remembered his words.

Sasha, if we get to the point that I need a spreader bar to keep your legs open wide enough, whether it’s attached at your ankles or your thighs is going to be the least of your concerns. Do I have your attention now?

No matter how many times she read those words, she couldn’t come up with a single explanation that didn’t include sexual innuendo. It gave her hope.

She secretly prayed he was full of shit with the rest of his cold, precise answers and she could convince him otherwise as soon as they were alone together. The only other evidence he might be feeding her line after line of crap had been last Friday night. She’d felt his hard-on pressed against her thigh when she’d been on his lap. That had to mean something, didn’t it?

She was still stuffing clothes in her suitcase when a knock sounded at the door. “Shit,” she muttered. She wasn’t ready. She had no idea what to bring or how much. He’d given her no indication of what she might need. So, she’d grabbed dresses and skirt and shorts and pants and a wide variety of shoes.

It was too late to finish now. She needed to go open the door so he didn’t start the first hour of their arrangement angry. She rushed through the apartment and yanked open the door.

Lincoln stood there looking almost exactly as he had a week ago today. Same dark expression of disapproval on top of jeans, loafers, and a—this time maroon—T-shirt. “Sasha,” he warned, already pissed.

“What, Sir?” How was she already on his bad side?

He pointed at the door.

She followed his finger to the peephole. What was he, psychic? “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops.” He stepped inside and shut the door. “You’re going to have to take this far more seriously if you want me to train you to do anything at all. I haven’t even begun to list my requirements, and you can’t even do the one simple task you were given.” He leaned closer. “The most important one because it involves your safety.”

She shuddered. “Sorry, Sir. I promise I’ll do better.” It was going to be difficult however, if he insisted on glaring at her like that all the time. There was no reason for him to be angry.

He glanced around the room. What did he think of her space? She had only been in this apartment a year. It was smaller and older, but it was all she could afford. Her only goal was to prove she could make it on her own. To her brother and herself. So, she had second-hand furniture and not much of it.

“Where’s your suitcase?” he asked.

“On my bed.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I’m not done packing actually. I don’t know what to bring.”

He gently took ahold of her arm and led her across the living room and into her bedroom. This was one room she had put a few extra dollars into. It was her sanctuary. She had a queen-sized bed and a nicer mattress. Her bedding was pale pink and fluffy. Comfortable.

He didn’t comment on her space. Instead, he sighed when he saw the mess of clothes piled on the bed, only half of it in the suitcase. “Here’s what’s going to happen.” He turned to face her. “You’re going to go into the bathroom and wash all that makeup off your face while I pack your suitcase. When you’re finished, I’ll hand you something else to wear.” He pointed at the bathroom door. “Go.”

She stared at him. He didn’t like her makeup? Her lip quivered. Or her choice in clothing?

“Sweetheart, this is not going to go well for you if you hesitate every time I give you an order.”

She spun around, fled the room, and barricaded herself in the bathroom. Maybe this was a mistake. What was she thinking? She leaned against the bathroom door, her body trembling from the reprimand. She hated displeasing him. So far that was all she’d done.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and pushed off the door. She could do better. She wasn’t going to fail. That was undoubtedly what he wanted. He’d probably plotted with her brother all week to figure out how to get her to cry uncle the quickest.

Rowen knew she was capable of crying at the drop of a hat. She was a pleaser. She hated disappointing people. He would have told Lincoln how to get her to put an end to this before it even started.

She wouldn’t fall for it. She would do this. Fuck her brother and his meddling. Not only was she going to enjoy every moment in Lincoln’s presence, but by the end of their time together she intended to prove to him she was submissive enough to be what he needed. No matter what that was, she could do it. She had to. Her entire world was tied up in the success of this plan.

Lincoln Walsh was hers. He just didn’t know it yet.

With renewed energy, she washed every bit of makeup off her face and dried it on a towel. Her hair hung in messy loose ringlets all around her shoulders and down her back. As usual. Couldn’t be helped. If she wasn’t mistaken, Lincoln liked it that way. She’d caught him staring at it on more than one occasion over the years when he didn’t know she was watching.

With a deep breath and a commitment to impress Lincoln with her obedience, she opened the bathroom door.

He was leaning against the bed. Her suitcase was sitting on top, closed. There was no evidence of clothing anywhere. He’d either jammed it all in or put it away somewhere in the room or closet. She decided not to ask.

He held out one of her sundresses. “Go change. You’ll wear this. Nothing else.”

She reached for the thin white dress, wondering how he’d even found it in her closet. It was older. She hadn’t worn it in a while. For one thing, it was too short and for another thing it was too see-through.

She started to point that out when the rest of his instructions sank in. Nothing else?

No bra? No panties? Just the skimpy dress that would hide nothing?

She swallowed as she took it from his hand. She could do this. If he wanted her half-naked, fine. Even better. She snatched the dress from his grasp and spun around to once again enter the bathroom.

This time she took very few minutes to change, dropping her favorite yellow sundress she’d worn to impress him in the hamper and trying not to think about the fact that she also shed her bra-and-panty set. Also her favorite. Also worn to entice him. Also left behind.

Her heart was racing when she stepped out of the bathroom. Her nipples were hard peaks. Wetness leaked from her sex. How embarrassing. Did he expect her to walk to the car dressed like this?

She knew the answer immediately.

He handed her a pair of white, strappy, flat sandals.

She squatted down to slip them on, and then she righted herself, unsure what to do with her hands.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Uh, I think so.” She glanced around.

He didn’t move to leave however, and she finally looked at his face. It was firm, a brow lifted.

“Sir. I’m ready, Sir,” she amended. She really needed to get that right and fast or he was forever going to be angry with her.

“Let’s go then.” He lifted her suitcase like it weighed less than a pound and headed for the door.

She sincerely hoped it didn’t weigh less than a pound or she was going to be in so much trouble.

At the door, Lincoln turned toward her. “Purse? Phone? Charger?”

She grabbed her purse from the couch. “Got it.” It wasn’t much. She’d always preferred simple. A small clutch she could toss over her shoulder that had little more in it than what he’d named. Plus some lip gloss he probably wouldn’t let her wear, though that still baffled her.

He reached out a hand as he stepped into the hallway. “Keys.” It was a demand. Not a question.

She handed him her keyring.

He locked the door and pocketed her keys. Interesting. That one small action had enormous implications. She wouldn’t be returning to her apartment without asking for them. That was obvious.

She’d never been more self-conscious than she was on the walk down the hall, the ride in the elevator, and the short trek across the lobby and parking lot. Thankfully, they had managed all of that without running into any of her neighbors.

She felt totally naked. It was probably all in her head. But she still thought anyone who saw her would know she wasn’t wearing any undergarments.

Lincoln stowed her suitcase in the trunk of his sleek black sports car and opened the passenger door. He took her elbow as she entered and pointed at the seat belt. “Buckle up.” As if she wouldn’t have done so on her own…

Not for the first time in the past week, she had to ask herself—what the hell am I doing?

She breathed deeply, forcing herself to calm down as he rounded the hood of the car. This was Lincoln. No need to freak out. What was the worst that could happen in his care? She might lose herself. He might break her. Or she might find herself. And he might fix her.

What he wouldn’t do was hurt her. She knew that. Not physically. She needed to trust he wouldn’t do anything to harm her emotionally either.

The worst thing that could come out of this experience would be solid confirmation he was right and she wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. And, of course, a broken heart.

Lincoln drove to his house in silence. In fact, she began to wonder if everything with him was going to be a series of psychological games. Silence. Demands. Punishments. The list went on in her head.

She’d never been to his house. Not once in five years. Rowen had. Many times. So had Carter. They had events and parties there. She was never invited. This was a first.

She had to admit she was surprised to find he lived in a gated neighborhood in a large ranch home that had to accompany a hefty mortgage. She had no idea if he did anything besides run the club. Her brother did. He was an accountant. Carter did something in construction. But Lincoln owned the majority interest in Zodiac. It was possible he didn’t have another job or he had other money.

Lincoln opened the garage with a remote she never saw located somewhere in the car and pulled into the semi-darkness. It was large. In addition to the sports car she was currently seated in, he had a black SUV parked in the garage.

What stood out to her above all else as she stepped out of the car was how pristine the garage was. If he kept his home half as tidy as this garage, it would have to be a shrine.

Two minutes later, she was proved correct. Not one thing was out of place in Lincoln’s home. And she didn’t get the impression he’d tidied up for her arrival. It was way too clean for that. He kept it this way.

After holding the door open for her to enter his kitchen, he set her suitcase down and took her purse from her shoulder. Luckily he placed it on the counter next to the fridge and didn’t rush off to hide it somewhere. And then he spoke his first words. “I’ll expect you to call or text Rowen once a day to let him know you’re okay. Everyone who goes with a Dom to his home should have a plan in place ahead of time with a friend or relative they have to check in with.” He lifted a brow as he eyed her, his glare indicating without a single syllable that she’d already fucked up by not arranging such a thing.

That irritated her. Firstly, because how the hell did he know she hadn’t made such an arrangement? And secondly, he was not a stranger she met last week on the street. He was her brother’s best friend and partner.

She held her tongue and nodded.

“Aside from contacting Rowen, you’re not allowed to use your phone without permission. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Who would she call? Mrs. Lopez to check on her plants? She almost laughed. She had friends at work, but she wouldn’t utter a word of this even to Ella, the school’s receptionist. She shuddered at the thought of telling any of them she was at a Dom’s house training to be an obedient submissive.

The second thing that stood out to her was that he wasn’t going to waste time or mince words. No easing into this arrangement. She was his trainee, and he meant business.

He picked up her suitcase. “Follow me.”

She followed as he demanded, heading from his enormous sparkling kitchen into his equally fabulous family room. Where the kitchen was mostly white with stainless steel appliances, the family room was mostly dark with a black leather sectional, luxurious gray carpet, and a dark wood, built-in entertainment center. The end tables were the same mahogany as the entertainment center, and the lamps had gray shades in the same tone as the carpet.

He needed color.

She didn’t tell him that.

She followed him down the hallway. He pointed to the first door on the left. “Guest bath.” The first door on the right next. “Office.” She glanced inside to find he kept his office as tidy as the rest of the house. Anal much?

They continued down the hall, pausing at the second door on the left. “Guest bedroom. There’s an attached bath.” He pushed through the open door and padded across the room to set her suitcase next to the dresser. “You’ll be sleeping in here.”

Why did that disappoint her so much? It wasn’t as if she expected him to sweep her into his own bed and make mad passionate love to her during her stay. He’d made that abundantly clear. But a girl could dream.

The room was not as bland as the others she’d toured so far. Although the queen-sized bed was covered with a fluffy, white comforter, it had several colorful pillows on it, strategically placed. Please tell me he doesn’t take care of this house himself. It would be too weird to picture him arranging those pillows so that they had a balance of size and colors.

Again, she held her tongue.

The floor was hardwood, but an oval area rug was a braided weave of bold colors that matched the pillows. Impressive.

The bed was four posted, and she fought the urge to shudder at the thought of what he might do with those four posts. How many women had stayed in this room? Again, she said nothing. It was becoming a habit, and she was rather proud of herself for holding back her questions.

He nodded toward her suitcase. “I suggest you leave that closed and hang on to the mystery. Yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.” She shivered. What the hell had he packed for her? Too much? Or too little? There weren’t many other choices. Which reminded her that she currently wore nothing but the flimsy see-through dress. She crossed her arms as that truth emerged in her mind.

Lincoln chuckled. “Come with me.”

She followed him back to the family room, wondering why the tour had ended without including the rest of the rooms, notably the master bedroom.

There was a wall of windows covering the back of the house along the open kitchen/family room floor plan. And the backyard was spectacular. She didn’t know how she’d missed it on the way through. “Wow,” she uttered before she could stop herself.

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” he asked, not commenting on her indiscretion.

“Yes. It is, Sir.” She wandered closer, taking in his covered patio equipped with an outdoor kitchen, a teakwood table and chairs, and a full outdoor living room set. The brown wicker loveseat and rocking chairs had dark green cushions, and the entire display faced the amazing in-ground pool. He even had a rock waterfall on one end that fed into a hot tub.

She wanted to go out there and experience the beauty for the duration of her stay, but he hadn’t given her permission.

The grass beyond the pool was perfectly cut with rose bushes and a few new trees artfully placed around the yard. The fence was high and wood. Private. How had she never been here? Her brother hadn’t even mentioned the place.

“We’ll go out there later. Don’t worry. Come.”

She turned from the window at his command and shuffled toward where he stood next to the sectional.

“Kneel on the floor.” He pointed at the place he wanted her and waited.

She’d expected this. Anticipated it, even. And she lowered herself onto her knees, keeping them shoulder-width apart, clasping her hands behind her. She hoped he would be impressed.

“Good girl. You’ve done your homework.” He set his hand on her shoulders and pulled them back a few inches. “Keep your shoulders back and your chest high.”

She swallowed. Her head was tipped downward, her hair acting as a curtain to hide her face. Her view was of her nipples, dark and puckered. Great. How many people had seen them in the parking lot?

With her legs spread open, she became aware of her sex, currently leaking more than she would like.

“You’ll spend a lot of time in this position. It’s standard in the lifestyle. Any Dom you’re with in the future will expect something similar.”

She flinched at his reminder that this was temporary and she would move on to another Dom when he was finished with her. Little did he know that would never happen.

Call her crazy. Call her insane. But this lifestyle didn’t extend to others. It was for him alone. Subconsciously, she’d always known that, but after scening with Master Colin and then sitting in Lincoln’s lap, she knew for certain. She wouldn’t tell him of course, but she’d become more certain of it over the past week of introspection.

For years she’d considered herself submissive. Ever since she first realized what Club Zodiac actually was at the age of fourteen, she’d been intrigued. She had never dealt with the usual shock other people felt when they learned about the slightly under-the-radar lifestyle because it was all so normal for her. Her moment of shock had come at fourteen.

Young? Yes. And she knew it pissed Lincoln off. But it was what it was, and Sasha had never considered herself to be harmed from the knowledge. If anything, it molded her to be open-minded. That couldn’t be a bad thing.

She had been titillated and intrigued by what she saw and learned early on, but that didn’t make her submissive. It made her horny. She’d learned to masturbate young and owned her first butterfly vibrator as soon as she was eighteen and old enough to walk into a fetish shop.

Granted, by then she’d already met Lincoln, so her libido had kicked up a notch, and she’d needed an outlet for it. Her fingers did the trick in a pinch, but a vibrator was so much quicker and more effective. What would Lincoln say if he knew she’d masturbated to his image for all these years? Until this past week. Damn him.

As far as submission was concerned, she’d learned that while she enjoyed reading about it and the way it made her feel to research it or lose herself in romance novels, she didn’t think she would like to be publicly humiliated or flogged. The scene she’d done last Friday had made her uncomfortable.

Although she would do anything in the world Lincoln asked of her, she doubted his training would later extend to other Doms. It was jarring to realize, and she opted to keep that revelation to herself.

He was going to spend their time trying to figure out what sort of submissive she was, when the truth was she was his submissive. It was that simple.

“I like the way you’re inside your head today, little one. It pleases me you’ve managed to control your tongue and your temper.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She kept her gaze lowered, but straightened her spine.

“I expect you to obey my every command at all times while I’m training you. It’s more efficient and less confusing while you’re learning. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” She tried to keep her voice from shaking. Every demand he gave made her sex clench and her breasts swell further. Did he know that?

“I’m going to push you. Part of our exploration will entail figuring out what sort of submissive you are, if you’re even submissive at all. So, I’ll be guiding you in a variety of directions and watching how you respond.

“But I don’t want you to worry about your safety or your boundaries. I would never ask anything of you I didn’t believe you could accomplish. You’ve made it clear in our emails and texts what your hard limits are. I won’t cross those without consulting you first. As time goes by, you might loosen your convictions.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Was he right? She’d given him a list of things she would never consider doing. She found it hard to believe she might take any of them back. She’d done her best to research and think hard on every detail and only included the parts that made her completely come out of her skin.

Obviously no permanent marks or brandings or tattoos or piercings. That went without saying, and he’d already pointed those things out last Friday. In addition, she’d declined to experience a whip, a violet wand, and ball gags. The whip made her cringe every time she imagined the sound alone. The violet wand was a mystery that involved more electricity than she could stomach. And the thought of having her mouth forced open wide made her gag impulsively. She might be able to endure a bit or something smaller, but not the ball gag.

He circled her several times. Slowly. Unnerving. Intentional. She hoped she didn’t spend all her time psychoanalyzing everything he did. It would drive her mad.