Lincoln had forced himself to get dinner in the oven, and then padded silently back into the family room and leaned heavily against the back of the couch, staring at Sasha’s back.

He was so completely out of his comfort zone that he struggled to follow his own internal monologue. From the moment he woke her up, he’d been ad-libbing. For the last week, he’d pictured training her about postures and different positions and keeping her gaze lowered and kneeling at her Master’s feet. He’d incorrectly assumed she wouldn’t be able to go through with any of that.

She’d proven him wrong, knocking him off his foundation. Time and again. Sure, she’d had minor infractions but nothing any ordinary Dom wouldn’t deal with even from a seasoned submissive.

So, he’d pushed her. Hard. Forced her hand. It was a dick move. He knew it. And dammit, she had not used her safeword. He’d had to think fast. Plan B. A time out.

He watched her closely, his heart at war. The battle raging inside him would not be won. No matter what, he would lose.

Either she found herself pushed too far and used her safeword or she found a way to weather the storm. He honestly hadn’t been sure which way she would go as he arranged her naked body in the corner.

She’d given no obvious signs to indicate which way she was leaning—telling him to fuck himself or submitting to his discipline.

Half of his heart rooted for team Sasha. He wanted her to succeed. He wanted her to push through the punishment and come out on the other side stronger.

The other half of his heart rooted for team… What was the other team? Team Broken Sasha? The one where she shoved off the wall, used her safeword, and left the house while glaring at him for being a total dick?

Team Broken Sasha would be better in the long run. Safer. At least she would stop pressuring everyone to let her join Zodiac. She could move on with her life and put this nonsense about submitting behind her. Right about now, she should be feeling the pressure to do just that.

And yet, she stood perfectly still right where he’d left her.

Why did he want to pump his fist?

He was an ass. No Dom should handle a new sub the way he’d handled her all day. Especially with the silent treatment he’d subjected her to since he’d helped her out of the tub.

He could have spent the evening wearing her out with the mundane aspects of D/s. He probably should have. It would have been safer. Easier. It would not have pushed her away, however. The goal. Eye on the goal.

At this point, he’d crossed so many lines, they were a blur of blackness. As if he needed reminding, he pictured her once again masturbating for him after he spanked her ass and shaved her pussy. His cock had gotten harder as the day wore on with every test to his willpower.

He was playing with fire, and it would bite him in the ass if he didn’t rein it in and get control of his physical responses to her.

He continued to watch her standing there, her fantastic body displayed for him. So brave. So obedient. His cock stiffened further, infuriating him. And then he paced, running a hand through his hair, angry with himself for treating her so coldly. It was uncalled for. And it had backfired. She’d proven she was up to any task, even if he was a total fuck about it.

She was not going to use her safeword.

She was strong. He was so proud of her. Dammit.

She deserved better.

At this point his goals were foggy. The lines he intended to draw were blurring, and he’d only had her one day. Not even a day. Eight hours.

He’d gotten so far off track he didn’t even know what success looked like. He had a foot in two worlds. He was playing a game, but he was the only player on both teams. Every point scored was a win and a loss.

This tennis match had to stop soon, or Lincoln was going to need a straitjacket. Back and forth.

He wasn’t right for her.

She wasn’t right for him.

The sooner he got that through his thick skull, the sooner he could get on with her training and let her go.

He wanted her to succeed in her training, he realized. He wanted to watch her blossom under his tutelage. He wanted her to blossom and grow as a submissive. And she was hanging in there even though he’d thrown too much at her in eight short hours. He’d taken her places he wouldn’t recommend a Dom take his sub in a week.

He’d asked her to do things she wasn’t ready for. And she’d done them. All of them. It was time to admit she was indeed submissive, she was also strong enough not to allow failure, and he was a total dick.

He’d pushed her to do so many things outside her comfort zone. She’d gotten naked for him first thing that morning. He knew that was hard for her, and yet she’d stripped down to her soul for him. It humbled him and made his cock rock hard at the time and every time he thought about it since.

He couldn’t shake the vision of her pulling that flimsy piece of cotton over her head. The first moment he saw her rosy nipples, the swell of her sweet breasts, the dip of her stomach, the flare of her hips, the curls between her legs. She’d been so brave, clasping her hands above her bottom and pulling her shoulders back to lift her tits.

His cock couldn’t take the visions anymore. He shook them from his head and glanced at his watch. Her time was up. His previous intentions to pressure her into using her safeword vanished. She’d proven herself. She deserved praise and aftercare.

She was not going to back down. Ever. What did that leave Lincoln with? He’d made her a promise to train her to be the best submissive she could be. Regardless of the fact that his intentions had been completely different, she had proven herself worthy all day. He’d be a total dick not to acknowledge that, regroup, and figure out what the fuck he was going to do next.

He approached her, schooling his voice. “It’s over, baby,” he soothed.

She wobbled as she pushed off the wall.

He reached out a hand to steady her and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. When she sighed, her shoulders falling, he leaned down and picked her up. The breath whooshed from her lungs, unmanning him.

He carried her to the sofa and sat, settling her across his lap. “I’m so proud of you, baby.” He tucked the blanket around her and inhaled slowly. She’d been through a lot since he’d yanked her awake. He couldn’t imagine everything that had gone through her mind in the last hour.

She was calm. A bit stiff. But calm. So he held her and decided to let her be in silence for a while longer.

He closed his eyes and thought about her pinkened bottom. So fucking sexy. She’d taken the punishment like a seasoned sub, not a newbie. Not someone on their first day. She’d endured it without stopping him or trying to get away. And then he’d had to stare at that still-pink ass while she stood in the corner.

He took long breaths, hoping she wouldn’t notice he was out of sorts. The tables had turned. He needed to figure out a new game plan. Pushing her to safeword was no longer a viable option. He held her tight as she relaxed into him, snuggling closer.

Could he actually train her and then let her go? Turn her over to another man? Risk having to watch her blossom and grow under someone else’s care? He had no choice. He knew in his soul he couldn’t have her.

Before today he had truly believed she was too innocent for BDSM. Too pure. But then why was she doing this? Why push herself to endure everything he doled out when it didn’t suit her?

He couldn’t ignore the possibility that niggled in the back of his mind over and over.

What if it was him?

What if she was doing all this to please him? What if she really did have a childhood crush on him that caused her to irrationally leave her body and do everything in her power to win him over?

Fuck. She had no idea who he was or what he was. She couldn’t understand that he was a sadist. He needed to top women in ways she couldn’t imagine. He enjoyed the endorphin release from flogging or caning a woman as much as they needed to receive the release. He’d been that way for years. Since he could remember. He didn’t permanently harm them. Ever. He simply gave them what they needed. What they begged him for.

He’d been underage when he’d first realized he had a need and the accompanying gift. He’d gone with his older brother, Alex, to an underground private club. It had been seedy and dark and a little trashy, but he’d stayed there all night. Watching. Learning. Craving.

He’d gone again without his brother. Several times, and then every weekend. Eventually he’d gotten lucky when he caught the eye of the seasoned Dom who happened to be a sadist and noticed him studying his work.

That was when he met Master Christopher.

He’d changed Lincoln’s life. He taught Lincoln everything he knew about how to turn every implement in his arsenal into an appendage, at one with its owner. He’d helped Lincoln select and purchase his first flogger, his first whip, his first crop.

All of this happened before Lincoln even turned eighteen. Nearly a year’s worth of tutelage before he enlisted in the army.

When he was home on leave, he spent as much time as he could in the club with Master Christopher. It rejuvenated him, made him feel alive in the face of so much death overseas.

He was twenty-one when he returned to the underground club on a more regular basis. Master Christopher took him as an apprentice of sorts, claiming he knew Lincoln had the special gift most aspiring sadists never quite achieved. The rest was history.

Lincoln jerked himself back to the present. How long had he been holding Sasha in his lap?

She sighed and squirmed her bottom on his thighs. He stilled her with a squeeze of his hand over her hip. She tipped her head back to look at him.

His heart melted.

So much trust and devotion in those gorgeous green orbs. Questions loomed deep inside, but she held them back. Good girl.

He needed to come back to the present, get on track, discuss what she’d endured. He brushed a long curl from her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “Do you know why I put you in time out?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“No, Sir.”

“I’ve pushed you hard today. Probably too hard.”

She nodded.

“You wanted to know what it was like to be someone’s submissive.”

“Yes, Sir. I do.” That last word, so poignantly stated in the present tense made his heart sing. It shouldn’t have. That wasn’t his goal. What he needed to hear was the word red and a request to take her home.

But Sasha was a fighter. She was not going to give up.

And he was growing more and more proud of her by the hour.

“You have questions,” he stated. “Go ahead.”

She licked her full pink lips. “Why are you holding me so caringly in your lap if you’re mad at me, Sir?”

He cupped her face, holding her chin steady so she couldn’t look away. “Oh, baby, I was never mad at you. That’s not an emotion I will ever have when it comes to you.” He was getting too personal. Keep it neutral, Walsh.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

He continued, staying firm, “When a submissive is disobedient, it’s important for his or her Master to correct the infraction as soon as reasonably possible. Not out of anger, but in order to teach the sub discipline. In this case, when I’m training you twenty-four seven, we’re living in an artificial environment derived to give you a taste of what the lifestyle is like.

“You might not understand this, but I’m taking my cues from you. I have been all day. For the last week actually. In fact, your reactions to what I do and your behaviors are continually altering my responses. This isn’t how I pictured the evening starting out.”

She nodded. Damn, she was so open, batting her eyes, soaking in his words.

He adjusted his hand so that it curled around the top of her thigh instead of her bottom. The blanket had been between his palm and her butt cheek. Now his fingers gripped her bare thigh.

She settled into the touch. So open. Willing. Eager.

“In a normal D/s arrangement, like the ones you might experience with a more permanent Dom later, you’d negotiate terms. Perhaps you’d designate certain hours in the evenings or weekends to get into the roles.” A stab of pain jabbed his chest as he implied repeatedly she would one day have another Dom.

“I’ve read that, Sir.”

“This arrangement is not something I ordinarily do. I don’t train subs like you.” Never. “I’m doing this because I didn’t want you to fall into the wrong hands. An inexperienced Dom could cause serious psychological damage to a newbie sub.” These things were true. All of them. But Lincoln choked out the words nevertheless when what he wanted to say was: You’re mine. I will never let another man, Dom or vanilla, touch you.

Without moving a muscle, her eyes changed. A sadness filled the green depths. He did that to her. And it hurt him dearly. But he had no choice.

Her eyes confirmed what he suspected. She wanted this to end with them together. His words were hurting her. Deeply.

Fuck.

He kept talking, needing to stay on track. “Every Dom is different. Most would not get too bent out of shape about small incidences of misbehavior. A stern look or a verbal warning might be sufficient. But you didn’t come here to half-ass this experience. You came here to get the full picture of what it means to submit to a Dom at the deepest level. So I’m going to give you worst-case scenario.”

“I understand, Sir.” Her voice was stronger, but still sad. Disappointed.

He had to keep this strictly business.

He needed to get her sexy body off his lap first and then feed her. The separation would help him regroup so they could resume her training for the evening.

She stared at him. She needed more. She held his gaze. “You needled me on purpose tonight, didn’t you? You wanted me to use my safeword.” Her voice was strong, but a tear slid down her cheek.

“Yes.” He would not lie to her.

“It was your goal all day,” she deadpanned.

“Yes.” He held her gaze, not backing down.

“Why?”

He licked his lips. No way was he going to go into the details, but he owed her an explanation. “I didn’t think you belonged in this world. I was trying to help you see that sooner rather than later. It was a shit move. I should have known better. I owe you an apology.”

She blinked. “Have I proven you wrong? Are you done testing me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. It was inexcusable. You’re definitely submissive.” At least with me.

“You’ll keep working with me?” Her eyes were hopeful.

He didn’t have the willpower to turn her down. He was damned either way. If he made her leave, she would never forgive him, and he would worry about whoever dominated her next. If he let her stay, he needed an abundance of self-control. In both scenarios it was going to devastate him to turn her over to someone else. “Yes.”

Was he seriously going to continue to fucking train her?

He slid his hand into the hair at the back of her neck, keeping her head steady. It occurred to him that he used that tactic with all the subs he played with. It was a trademark of his. When he wanted a sub’s attention, he insisted on it, not giving them the opportunity to look away. It was domineering. It worked.

So, no, he was no longer gripping her chin, physically forcing her to look at him, but he now had his fingers on her neck, doing the same thing. “I’ve learned things about you.” He needed to get them back on track.

“Like what, Sir?”

“You don’t like to be punished.”

“No, Sir.” She might have attempted to shake her head in the negative, but he held her neck firmly.

“You didn’t get off on having your bottom spanked, nor did you get off on being ignored in a time out.”

“No, Sir,” she repeated softly. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “But it doesn’t work for everyone. I told you about brats, earlier.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Brats and other types of submissives enjoy being punished. They crave it. They intentionally disobey their Masters in order to get punished. They get off on it.”

“Wouldn’t that be annoying, Sir?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Very. To me anyway. Some Doms love it. For every type of sub, there’s a Dom waiting somewhere in the shadows to complement him or her.”

“I see.” She shivered. “Well, I don’t like to be spanked or ignored in a corner.”

He winked at her. “Then I won’t have to worry about you deliberately disobeying me, will I?”

“No, Sir. And I’ve learned those two lessens well. You don’t need to repeat them either.” She grinned, more like half grinned. Testing him. Topping him.

He narrowed his gaze. “You need to learn another lesson about submission before you speak again.”

The color drained from her face.

“Never suggest to a Dom what he should or shouldn’t do. It won’t go well for you. You’re the one training here. Not me. It’s a Dom’s job to take care of his sub, not the sub’s job to offer suggestions. I’ve been a Dom for many years. I’ll decide what punishments to dole out and when. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words were weak. Nervous.

But she needed to understand. Learn. “When you tell a Dom what to do, it’s called topping from the bottom. It puts you in charge and spins the table so the roles are reversed. Any Dom worth his salt won’t stand for it. If he does, he’s not a Dom at all. It’s the worst kind of disobedience. You’re likely to find yourself severely punished in a way that would make spanking and time outs seem like a trip to the amusement park.”

She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Sir.” A tear came to her eye.

He eased his thumb up and swiped it away. “Don’t even attempt something like that again.”

“Yes, Sir.” She was going to cry if he didn’t pull her out of it. Not that he had a problem with submissives crying. It happened. He dealt with it. But he’d given her a stern warning, and she’d learned her lesson.

She’d also had a long stressful day, enduring two forms of punishment she was not used to receiving. She was mentally drained. He had lofty goals of pushing her too far, but he would never do something he didn’t think she could emotionally handle.

“We need to eat. You need your energy for later.”

She nodded. “Okay, Sir.”

He slowly stood, set her on her feet, and tugged the blanket free. “Are you warm enough? I turned the air up earlier to make you uncomfortable during your time out. It should be warmer in here by now.”

She flinched. “You made it colder?”

“Yes.”

“I was freezing… Sir.”

“I know.” He grinned. “There’s a vent over that spot.”

“You’re devious, Sir.”

“Never forget it.”