Two years as a Dominatrix in the closed club “V” made me enjoy how my sharp heel and the whip bring men to their knees—until Kellan Abrams walked in with confident stride. He offered me a deal I should have refused. I knew it wouldn’t end in anything good, and my instincts didn’t let me down. But the temptation to dominate such a man was too great. Only it turned out the other way around. And now I’m the one who held the whip—watching the Master’s eyes with loyal devotion and whispering, hoarsely, “Yes, sir.” Contains profanity.