Sasha was shaking. She’d been shaking for hours. Or perhaps days. This was what she wanted. She wanted Lincoln to see her as a woman. Hell, she wanted Lincoln to see her, period.

There was no better way to achieve that goal than to strip naked for him. She was already so close to naked that she was hiding nothing. His demand that she not wear her current dress in public was strange and confusing. He’d insisted she wear it in public just an hour ago. Against her better judgment. She was the one who thought it was too revealing.

She decided not to point that out to him. His growly command had heightened her arousal at the same time it confused her.

Nevertheless, she needed to remove the thin fabric. Now. He was waiting. Did he realize this was a huge pivotal moment in her life? Of course he did. She’d just told him moments ago that no man had ever seen her naked.

“Sasha…” he warned. “Don’t hesitate when I tell you to do something.”

“Yes, Sir.” She released her hands from behind her back and fisted the hem of the dress at her thighs to pull it over her head. Goosebumps rushed over her skin. Her nipples—which had already been stiff—stood totally erect. She’d never felt them so tight. She might come if she touched one.

She lowered her face and forced herself to re-clasp her hands at her lower back.

“Good girl.” He stepped closer, slowly circling her. “Shoulders back. Even when your gaze is directed to the floor, I expect your shoulders to be pulled back. It forces your chest higher, puts your tits on display. Any Dom you work with will want you to present yourself in the same fashion.”

She did as he said, his crass words making her hotter instead of lessening the need growing in the pit of her stomach. It was like an ache by now. It had grown all week until fully blossoming this morning the moment he stepped into her apartment, all serious and demanding.

She got the impression he intended to keep her at arm’s length, boss her around as if he were angry, and push her too far. He was sadly mistaken if he thought she would crack under the pressure.

After all, she had her own agenda. And top on that list was proving to Lincoln she could be the submissive he needed. No matter what he asked of her, she was resolved to deliver. She would do anything. Anything it took to get him to see she was good enough for him. Submissive enough.

She would consent to whatever he suggested. If she didn’t like it, she would find a way to learn to like it. He wasn’t a mind reader.

It helped that in her soul she knew he would never hurt her. He wasn’t that kind of man. Not with any of his subs. Especially not with her.

Hell, she’d be lucky if she got him to touch her. She would, however, do her damnedest to try to convince him.

Yes, she was mortified to be naked at his feet. Not because she had a poor body image, but because she didn’t know how Lincoln saw her.

As if sensing she needed affirmation, he positioned himself in front of her, crouched so they were at eye level, and touched the bottom of her chin with one finger. “Look at me, baby.”

She nearly choked when he called her baby. For a second she considered smirking and crossing her arms, but then she saw his eyes. He most certainly didn’t mean to imply she was an infant. There was smoldering heat in his eyes.

Nope. He’d adopted a new nickname for her. He’d moved from sweetheart to baby. And his words confirmed the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re an extremely sexy woman. Perfection. Your curves make men’s jaws drop. Your ass is the sort that will bring a Dom to his knees. Your tits are just the right size for a man to grasp. High and gorgeous. The pink of your areolas complements your skin tone.”

The breath whooshed from her lungs. “Thank you, Sir.” Her voice was husky.

He wasn’t finished. “Do not ever demean yourself in my presence. Understood?”

Had she insinuated otherwise? “Yes, Sir. I didn’t—”

He cut her off. “I know you didn’t. I’m just preemptively warning you I will spank your bottom until you can’t sit for a week if I ever hear you put yourself down. I don’t tolerate that from any submissive. You won’t be an exception. Every female body is perfect and deserves to be worshipped. But yours is particularly exceptional. Just a warning.”

“Yes, Sir.” He thought her body was exceptional.

He released her chin and stood. “I want you to stay in that position for a while. Get used to being naked in front of me. You might have wondered what I packed in that suitcase. It wasn’t much.” He walked away from her but not out of sight. He stepped into the kitchen area.

In a few moments she realized he was pulling things out of the refrigerator and working at the island. Was he cooking?

She was surprised he didn’t insist she do the cooking. She’d read about domestic submissives, ones who derived pleasure from serving their Masters. Wasn’t that an avenue he would explore with her? He’d intimated there were different kinds of submissives, and he intended to help guide her to figure out which kind she was. Although he made it clear his real goal was to prove she wasn’t any kind.

She was naked. In Lincoln’s family room. On her knees.

She ignored whatever he was doing and concentrated on that fact. He wanted her to get used to it. In fact, he’d bluntly told her he intended to keep her naked often.

She had mixed feelings. On the one hand, it felt strange, especially if he intended to keep all his clothes on. But on the other hand, she was oddly unconcerned. He’d complimented every single aspect of her body, painting the picture of a goddess. If that’s truly how he saw her, then it would work in her favor to take advantage of those assets and tempt him into taking things further.

Lincoln left her there for so long her knees started to hurt. The carpet was plush and thick, but any surface would become uncomfortable eventually. Just when she thought she would need to shift her weight around, he called for her. “Come, Sasha. Lunch is ready.”

She struggled to climb to her feet, trying to look graceful and failing miserably on shaky legs. He didn’t comment or notice, however, so she took a deep breath and headed toward the kitchen.

There was only one plate on the table. It was piled high with food. She hoped he didn’t expect her to eat all of it. Sandwiches cut in triangles. Grapes. Apple slices. Cheese cubes. Carrots. She realized she was starving.

She stood next to the table, unsure what he wanted her to do next. Finally, he answered that question as he tossed a thick pillow on the floor. “Kneel, baby. You can sit back on your heels if you’d like. Put your hands on your thighs, but keep your legs open for me.”

Another rush of arousal pressed against her vaginal walls at his nonchalant demand that she keep her legs open. It unnerved her for him to specifically look at her there. She would get over it, but so far it still concerned her. It was one thing for him to openly ogle and admire her breasts. It was another thing altogether for him to scrutinize her sex. It was coming. She had no doubt.

She did as she was told, trying to relax.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her as she knelt next to him. A memory rushed to the surface from several years ago. She’d been at Rowen’s for a staff BBQ. Lincoln had manned the grill. Burgers and hotdogs.

Sasha wasn’t fond of either, but it was a BBQ. While everyone else was filling their plates with food, Lincoln had waved her toward the grill. Without a word, he slid a chicken breast onto a plate already filled with a variety of sides. When he handed it to her, she nearly choked. “You made me a chicken breast?”

He scowled at her. “You wouldn’t have eaten otherwise. Go. Sit.” He’d pointed at a blanket on the grass as he turned back to the grill. Demanding. Bossy. Confusing.

She hadn’t been able to process the gesture at the time. Nor had she thought about it afterward. But now…

“Comfortable?” he asked, yanking her back to the present.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

“Keep your hands on your lap. I’ll decide what you eat and when.”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” She should have been prepared for a scene like this. She’d read about it often enough. She was quickly learning that reading and experiencing were entirely different things.

“Did you see anything on this plate you don’t care for?”

“No, Sir.”

He grasped her chin and forced her gaze to his. “You’re sure? I’m not interested in making you eat foods you don’t like. Tell me now.”

“I’m not a picky eater, Sir.”

He smiled and released her. After sampling a few bites of sandwich himself, he tore off a bite and held it to her lips. “Open.”

She did as told again, feeling like a baby bird. He followed the sandwich with a grape and then a carrot. When he lifted a glass of water to her lips next, he wrapped his fingers behind her head to steady her.

She felt cherished. It was a strange feeling having someone do everything for her. Especially since her expectation had been that he would require her to do everything for him. The turn of the table was intriguing.

He continued to feed her in silence until she was stuffed.

“More?” he asked.

“No, Sir. Thank you. I’m full.”

“Good girl.” He patted her head and then slid his hand around to cup her face and frame her chin again. Every time he did that he looked into her eyes, piercing them with his odd ability to see her soul and read her thoughts. “I’m going to be very demanding this afternoon. I need you to trust me to take my cues from you and make the right decisions. I expect you to trust me to know when to stop and when to keep going.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We talked about a safeword in our emails. Did you decide on one?”

“Red is fine, Sir.”

“Good. I don’t expect you to need it. If you do, I’ll have done a poor job of reading you. But never enter into any D/s relationship with anyone without establishing a safeword. That rule applies to everyone. Even married couples have safewords.”

“Okay, Sir.”

He stood from the table, took the dish to the sink, and returned, holding his hand out to her. “Come, little sub. Let’s find out what makes you hum.”

She gulped at his words. Hum?

He led her right back to the couch where she’d kneeled all morning and resumed sitting in the spot he’d occupied earlier. He still held her hand. “You owe me a punishment for lying to me earlier, and I’m going to collect on that now.”

She swallowed, nodding. “Okay, Sir.” How would he punish her?

He slid his hand to her wrist and guided her to stand next to his right thigh. His right hand landed on the back of her leg, slid up over her butt, and stopped on her lower back.

She shuddered at the contact and the way his gentle touch soothed and aroused her. His fingers had been so close to her sex.

“Later this week, I’m going to want to spank you for the purpose of making you come. When we do that sort of scene, I’ll strap you to a bench or the bed or the ottoman or whatever surface I choose. That kind of spanking is meant to run straight to your pussy and clit until you want to orgasm so badly you can taste it.”

She stopped breathing. At his words, the tightness in her belly doubled. Arousal leaked from her channel, and her clit literally pulsed in a mini orgasm. She hadn’t thought she would enjoy being spanked after what happened last Friday night. Apparently she was wrong.

He grinned. “You like the idea. Huh. Maybe I won’t wait until the middle of the week then. We’ll see.”

She swallowed. How about you do it right now?

“The point is that I want you to understand the difference between a punishment spanking and one designed for pleasure.” He paused, maybe trying to read her.

She couldn’t give him anything because she didn’t know how she was feeling herself, and he still hadn’t described what a punishment spanking entailed. As far as she was concerned, any spanking he gave her would probably make her come on contact.

“When I spank you with the intent of correcting misbehavior, I’ll always take you over my knee. I will strike you harder, aim higher on your bottom, and do so rapidly. You won’t have time to get aroused, and your mind will focus on the discomfort.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice wobbled again. She wasn’t sure how she felt about what he was telling her, but she wanted to please him.

“Not every Dom handles spanking the same, but I like my subs to be perfectly clear about the difference. You won’t like it. You aren’t supposed to like it. But you’ll think twice about lying to me later.” He lifted a brow.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m not going to drag this out any longer. Let’s get it over with so we can get back to the more appealing parts of D/s.” Without saying more or waiting for a response, he slid his hand higher up her back and pressed her forward until she had to bend at the waist.

She landed unceremoniously over his knees, feeling ridiculously like a small child. Could she do this?

She had to. For him. To prove to herself she could. To please him. But she didn’t like it. She reminded herself he wouldn’t hurt her. Not in any long-lasting manner at least.

He tucked her wrist behind her back and grabbed the other to join it, holding them both at the small of her back with his left hand. The position left her unsteady, but he had a strong enough grip not to allow her to fall.

Her ponytail fell over her right shoulder, and her breasts hung loose along his thigh. Humiliation sent a flush up her body.

“Spread your legs, Sasha.” Not baby. Not sweetheart. Sasha. An unwelcome tear came to her eye. It was awkward, but she opened her thighs.

Without another word and no warning, he set his hand on her butt, lifted it, and swatted her. Hard.

She cried out. It hurt.

He did it again.

She was more prepared the second time and emitted more of a squeal. The third swat forced out a muffled sob. Several more spanks landed hard in the same spot. And just as fast as he’d started, he was done. He righted her immediately, standing her next to him with one hand on her waist.

Tears escaped. She couldn’t stop them.

He took her chin. Damn him. “What are you feeling?”

She sobbed when she tried to speak.

“Don’t think about it. Tell me,” he demanded.

She blurted out the first things she could think of. “Shamed. Humiliated. It hurt.”

He nodded. “That’s the goal. And I appreciate your honesty. Are you going to lie to me again?”

“No, Sir.”

“I didn’t think so. See?”

“See what, Sir?” she choked out, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. She tried hard to gather her composure. Half of her wanted to slap him. It took a lot of energy to keep herself in check.

“Punishment spankings are effective. Tell me why you felt shamed.”

She sucked in a breath, hiccupping. “I felt like a child, Sir. I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

She nodded. In a way he made sense. She was a grown woman, however. Why would she permit anyone to spank her like that?

“This is part of submission, baby.” His voice was soothing now. He pulled her around to face him, holding both her wrists. “You wanted to experience it. I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re my business partner’s sister.”

She winced. “I never asked you to.”

“In fact, I’m going to be harder on you than I would someone else. Partly because you’ve known me for years so we don’t have to dance around trust issues. Partly because I want you to be absolutely certain this lifestyle is for you. If I half-ass this, you won’t be prepared for another Dom, and I won’t have done my job. I warned you throughout the week this was going to be hard. I’m demanding. Any Dom worth his salt is unwavering about his rules. Lying is on the top of my list. Cussing, in your case, is up there too.”

Damn. That made sense too.

“Some submissives get off on the consequences of intentional disobedience. We refer to them as brats. Have you come upon that in your research?”

“Yes, Sir.” She shuddered. She was not a brat.

“Brats represent a specific niche group of submissives. They’re usually easily identified in the lifestyle. Did you enjoy having my hand spanking your bottom hard and fast?”

“No, Sir.” She shook her head vehemently.

“Did you get aroused?”

“Definitely not, Sir.”

He smiled. “Then it’s safe to say you’re probably not a brat. In addition, I wouldn’t expect me or any other Dom in your future to have to dole out punishments to you often. You’re more of a pleaser. If you don’t like having your ass red and burning, you won’t misbehave frequently and certainly not intentionally. It’s simple. Do you have any questions?”

She squirmed. “Yes, Sir. If you know I wouldn’t intentionally do anything to get myself punished, then why would you be so hard on me when I accidentally mess up?”

He smiled. “That’s a great question.” He shook her wrists in his excitement. “Because, sweetheart, as a submissive, you’ll be held to a higher standard. Any Dom will expect you to pay close attention to details and think before you speak. It’s one of your jobs. Attention to details. When you’re disobedient, intentionally or accidentally, the correction will encourage you to pay closer attention the next time. It will help you be a better submissive. You’ll find yourself improving in the role and you’ll need to be disciplined with less frequency.”

She nodded. “Okay, Sir.”

He squeezed her wrists again. “Does your bottom burn?”

“Yes, Sir.” It stung like tiny needles were poking at her.

“Will you lie to me again today?”

“No, Sir.”

He smiled again. “Good girl. Now, I want you to go into your bedroom, lie on the bed, and spread your legs wide. Before we do anything else, I want to shave your pussy.”

The blood drained from her face.

He lifted a brow. “What are you waiting for?”

She swallowed for the millionth time. “Sir…” Shave my pussy? There were so many things she’d researched and been prepared for. That was not one of them. It hadn’t factored in on the short list or the long list. She wasn’t sure she could go through with something that intimate. He would put his hands there and look closely and smell her and… Oh, God. She couldn’t do it.

She wasn’t overly attached to her genital hair or anything, but having someone shave her? Her heart rate sped up. “I… I can do it myself, Sir.”

“I’m sure you can. But I didn’t ask you to, did I?”

Shit.

“Sasha, your hesitation tells me I didn’t make my point clear enough with my palm on your bottom.”

She jerked back to the present. “No. I mean, Sir. Yes. You made yourself clear. Sorry, Sir.” She turned and padded from the room hastily. Flames licked up her chest and cheeks. She wasn’t at all sure she could go through with this, but she needed to get away from him in order to think.

When she reached the bedroom, she wasn’t sure what to do, so she pulled back the comforter, climbed onto the mattress, and eased onto her back. Her ass hurt. Luckily the sheets were cool and expensive. They didn’t add to her plight. For a moment she held her breath until the pain of pressing her ass into the bed subsided and then she panted through the worst of it and tried to relax.

She did not, however, have enough time to think about the upcoming shaving scene. Before she had gathered enough brain cells to shift her concentration from her sore ass to her next plight, Lincoln wandered into the room with a tub of items in his hand.

Yes. This was going to happen. It wasn’t the end of the world. It wouldn’t hurt. It would simply be emotionally draining. She needed renewed commitment to this submissive training.

Lincoln had warned her several times he wouldn’t go easy on her. He’d made a point of indicating he would in fact be harder on her. Like a test. A test he didn’t think she could pass.

He was wrong.