I stood in the bathroom naked, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my fingertips touching my neck where Kenneth had just choked me again. Again. I should be outraged, and yet… My breath caught in my throat when I realized that moisture of arousal blended with the remnants of the chlorinated water on my silky folds, throbbing in need. His show of power caused my body to betray me. My body was a deceitful bitch, but a bitch who knew what she wanted.

And she wanted.

Believe me, she wanted.

A tiny pulse thumped within my pussy, demanding more of what Kenneth had just given a glimpse of. He’d cracked the spine of a book that had yet to be opened, and chapter one had left me so hungry so see what would come. I was hooked. Hooked.

I had heard many stories from the other women at work about the passions a wealthy and powerful man could create in a woman, emotions that would cause her to want to offer her full submission if it meant she could be seized in his arms. Captured in his world… a world every woman at Spiked Roses so desperately wanted to be a part of. Many women at Spiked Roses I knew welcomed the role of dominance and submission willingly, some even craved it. Most spoke of how natural the dynamic was since these men exuded dominance from their pores. You only had to look at them and feel their control over you. You wanted their control. You prayed that you would be the lucky one chosen. The same women found me odd in that I didn’t necessarily agree. It wasn’t that I was some hard-core feminist or believed that women should never give a man power. It was simply the fact that I didn’t see it happening. I was prepared to fake it, however, for the sake of making good money. But I was not going to be like them. I didn’t have one submissive bone in my body. I was a damn good liar though. I could fake the arousal from blatant displays of dominance… until Kenneth that is.

Something about him. Something about what he had done to me in the last twenty-four hours made me relate to all the stories from the staff. I could see what they spoke of now. I could understand. I could finally agree. Up until now, I had thought the women were only blinded by the wealth. It had nothing to do with sexual dominance or the need to surrender to it. I’d thought it had boiled down to money and how desperately we all wanted even a fraction of what those men spent in one day. It wasn’t sexual… until now. Yes, with Kenneth, it had nothing to do with money. Hell, I lusted after him in a run down, cheap travel lodge.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew perfectly well what Kenneth would think of my actions when I left the cool water of the pool. I knew my nearly naked body would stir something in him. He was a man, plain and simple. I was a woman, and I knew the powers I too possessed. But for some reason, Kenneth was different—or at the least he made me feel different. The way he looked at me made me feel sexy, sensual, and beautiful. I had never felt beautiful before. It’s why I had the tattoos. They were beautiful. The colorful ink and the intricate artwork were all beautiful. I had beautiful on me, even though I didn’t feel it was in me.

Despite my unwillingness to show this man any surrender—at first—I found myself craving to know more about what this man wanted, what he desired, and even hungrier for him to demand my surrender again. Why? Why did I want this man to force my submission? Why did I like dancing along the dark edge of the cliff with this man? Why did I feel that I could unearth the devil from inside of him? And I wanted to. I so desperately wanted to.

I had never thought I would allow any man to truly dominate me. Maybe my body, for a price, but never my soul. I would never care what a man thought of me. Never. I believed that all men who frequented Spiked Roses were arrogant, entitled, cruel, selfish, and at times, even monsters. Filthy, disgusting, monsters.

I needed to remind myself of that belief, and stop giving Kenneth the power. I was letting him win. He was winning. He was seducing me, drugging me with his allure. I needed to get it together. But fuck! I wanted Kenneth to look at me more, with those eyes that made me feel beautiful… so beautiful.

Beautiful…

Yes, maybe I could use that to my advantage.

Maybe I would be able to change his mind and coax him to let me go free. Was it possible to seduce this powerful man? Could I get to his heart and not just his cock? He did think I was beautiful. I could see it. I could feel it. Could I use that as my weapon?

All my questions almost drowned me in thoughts, muddled my mind completely. I couldn’t think straight anymore, a weakness I couldn’t afford unless I wanted to get pissed on again by Marco. Or worse. Marco would make sure he did much worse to make me atone for what I had done. I’d run. I’d made him look weak. So he would no doubt prove to me he was far from it.

Getting dressed, I reminded myself that Kenneth had done little more than lead me back to his room. He had control. I wondered if I would be able to weaken it even the tiniest bit. I began to doubt he had even noticed my state of undress. Why should he? Women at Spiked Roses were near naked all the time, and he could have them naked with a slight nod of the head or flick of the wrist. Seeing me in a cotton bra and panties was nothing in his world. Being the man he was, Kenneth no doubt was immune to the female form. A man such as he, a rich bastard, was no doubt accustomed to desperate women throwing themselves at him, paying him with their carnal delights to guarantee their job at the club, or in hopes that they could get a taste of his life that he only showed to his girlfriends. Yes, his girlfriends had a luxury and a life we all dreamed of.

I exited the bathroom, prepared for my day. I needed to get away from this man and soon before he managed to return me to Marco, and before he could confuse me any further with his sexy draw. I couldn’t lose focus. I couldn’t give him that power. He already had enough.

My eyes settled on Kenneth’s figure standing near the window loading the bag. He was a very solidly built man, something I was sure had been obtained from good genes and maybe a personal trainer. Rich people always had personal trainers and chefs, but regardless how he did it, his muscles pressed against the fabric of his basic black tee. He was much taller than me, almost a full foot it seemed. His dark clothing seemed to match the dark aura he exuded. He glanced over his shoulder at me, obviously hearing me enter the room.

“We’ll be heading out now,” he said with no emotion at all. “Are you ready to go, baby doll? The driver is meeting us at the car.” His arrogance had returned—fucker.

Walking up behind him, I stopped only a few feet away. I wanted to reach out to him, to beg him not to return me, but I doubted he would suddenly hear my pleas of mercy and change his mind. If I was going to escape, I would have to be smart about it. Count on myself and only myself. If I had learned anything in my life, it was that one fact. If you wanted something, you needed to make it happen yourself. No one else would. You had to be your own defender, your own champion, and your own savior.

“Please call me Anita,” I finally said, my tone so soft, my words barely able to be heard. I expected to have more force, but I was storing up my fight. It would come. The fight would fucking explode from within, but I had to plan it right. “Pet names are for people you either care about, or are given in a condescending way. So, since it is obvious you don’t care about me, please stop calling me baby doll. Give me that, please. A little respect?”

Kenneth’s hands fell from the bag he’d been loading, and he turned to face me. “Number one, I will say and call you whatever I want. You have no dictate over me. Number two, if I wanted to be condescending, there are a bunch of other names I could call you. You aren’t calling the shots here, baby doll. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier it’ll be for you.”

I nodded. “I know my situation loud and clear. I do not need your constant reminder that I’m trapped in a world full of arrogant assholes.”

Kenneth huffed at my rebuttal. “We need to leave,” he said, walking over to the door and looking over his shoulder at me. “But you got that right. You are in a world full of arrogant assholes. I won’t argue with you there.” He stopped and stared at me. “Wait. What are you wearing?” he asked suddenly, looking up and down my body as if for the first time.

“What I wore yesterday. It’s not like you gave me time to pack.”

Kenneth stared at me for a few moments before squatting and digging into his bag. He pulled out a tiny black dress. It was a simple tank top style dress made from a soft light fabric. He tossed it at me and stood back up.

“What’s this?” I asked, confused as I caught what he tossed.

“I’m not going to deliver you to Marco looking like that. You look inexpensive. Lacking class. Spiked Roses does not deliver classless and inexpensive gifts.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, feeling his insult like a slap to the face.

His eyebrow rose and warning washed over his face. “What was that? I’m sure you didn’t just say those words to me again. Not after last night.”

I paused, my heart skipped, and I swallowed hard, hoping to God he would allow that little outburst of mine a free pass. “You don’t have to insult me.” I unraveled the bundle of fabric and held it up to my body. “You want me to wear this? How do you know it will fit?” I asked awkwardly, never having someone buy me clothes since I was a child. I glanced down at the price tag still dangling from the dress. A quick peek told me the dress was worth more than I spent on rent last month. Jesus Christ. It was just a black dress.

“Yes. I didn’t bring you shoes, but your black boots will have to do. We’ll just go with the edgy look I suppose,” Kenneth said. He stepped aside to give me enough room to enter the bathroom again. “Go change. Hurry.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen my body.”

Kenneth didn’t crack a smile and appeared annoyed. “Anita, I don’t care what you do, or where you change. Just hurry up.”

I remained in place, studying his face, his stance, the way his eyes glared at me. Who was this man? “Or?” I taunted, knowing damn well I could be waking the beast though I couldn’t help myself. I felt like a junkie staring at a needle full of heroin knowing it could kill me and make me sick with addiction, and yet I couldn’t stop.

“Excuse me?”

“Or what? What if I don’t change my clothes?”

Closing the distance between us, Kenneth’s hand went behind my head, his fingers lacing in my hair, pulling me hard enough that a sting attacked my scalp. He kissed me hard, his tongue forceful against my lips, demanding entrance, his hand lowering to rest on my thigh, moving up to my ass. He swatted me hard, matching the sting on my head to the one on my behind. He swatted me again and again, yanking my hair even tighter as he dominated my mouth with his.

I gasped as my mind resisted, but my traitorous body pressed against his, wanting more of what I hoped he’d deliver. The sharp pain of his dominance fueled a desire inside my core. The harder he spanked, and the more he yanked on my hair, the more my body craved for more. I all but purred against his mouth as his tongue battled against mine. My palms rested on his chest as my mind wanted me to push away and fight back against his assault. But my hunger paralyzed my fists to where they were.

Kenneth reluctantly broke our embrace and growled, “Do not test me, baby doll. If you continue to do so, I’ll fuck you before I deliver you to Marco. Don’t think it stopped with what I did last night.”

He let out a steadying sigh, his hand releasing my hair as he took a step away from my shaking frame. “Now get dressed. Do not make me tell you again.”