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  Patience, man, he'd chided himself. He didn't speak to her again until he called and set up an appointment to see her. He was always more comfortable talking to people on a business level at first.

  When she'd ushered him into her office, which was tastefully, classically appointed and shown him to a comfortable wing backed chair in front of her big oak desk, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. So much so that he had barley listened to what she was saying to him.

  He'd never reacted to any woman - even Amy - like that in his life, and he didn't like it one bit.

  But that did nothing to dull the throbbing ache she inspired in his loins.

  He consciously dispensed with chit chat, which he abhorred anyway, and got right down to the brass tacks of letting her know that he admired what she'd done, and that he'd like to help her as much as he could.

  She'd been excruciatingly polite, no doubt not wanting to offend him, but had quietly refused every offer he'd made until he hit on a way for her to branch out that she hadn't thought of.

  Then he had her, and they began to work very closely - and extremely well - together on it. He didn't usually like to partner with anyone, but things seemed very natural between them from the very beginning, and their long nights together paid off for the both of them, in very varied ways.

  It was late one night when he'd realized just exactly how perfect they were for each other. They'd been working all day; he'd already wrenched of his tie and unbuttoned his collar. He was inches away from stripping off his shirt altogether. She'd kicked off her ridiculously high pastel pink heels and literally let her hair down, complaining that the bun she'd scraped it into was giving her a head ache. She hadn't done it as a come on at all, just practically removed the pins that were holding it and let it fall.

  She looked incredible, regardless, as far as he was concerned.

  They got into a small disagreement about how to fund something. He was insisting on doing it himself, since it was a tricky proposal and he didn't want her to have to feel any of the financial crunch if it didn't work.

  But she was at least as stubborn as he was about some things, and kept giving him a hard time about it, trying to reassure him that she wanted to stand on her own two feet and that she didn't accept help from anyone, including him.

  Finally, he drew himself up to his full six-two and came around the table to stare down at her, glaring fit to subdue even a man much bigger than himself, not that she seemed to notice it much when he was intimidating, unlike most of the rest of the people around him. One sharp look and he could practically clear a crowded room. But then, she wasn't a sycophant or a hanger on or a yes person. She was a highly successful woman in her own right, and she was just trying to assert the fact that she didn't need him, or anyone else, and she wasn't going to just knuckle under because of who or what he was.

  For some reason, though, she did this time as he stood over her, his hands on his hips. "Now. I'm going to provide the backing for this, and you're going to be quiet and obedient and let me do it. Case closed."

  It amazed him when she just sat there and uttered a meek, "Yes, Sir."

  He sucked in his breath quickly at the sound of it, standing there very deliberately until she looked up at him, and he knew as soon as their eyes met.

  She would submit to him.

  In every way.

  And she'd enjoy every second of it.

  He'd make damn sure of that.

  Chapter Two

  Raina shuffled back towards the library, but he stepped out of their bedroom to beckon her to him, extending his hand as both a target and a help. He was so strange that way. He was terribly, terribly strict on her, yet, in some ways he almost overprotected her. He was scrupulously careful about her health and made sure that she took her asthma medications every single morning, and also that, whenever he was "tending" her, as he liked to put it, that her inhalers weren't far from either her own reach or his. He didn't often gag her for reasons other than not liking to hear much in the way of protests - they interfered with her breathing, and he refused to do anything that might compromise the health of his investment.

  And he had invested quite a bit in her, Raina thought as he guided her into the bedroom. As soon as he let go of her, she stopped in place, knowing that he never wanted her to try to read his mind or anticipate what he might want from her. She was always surprised, anyway. But she could see the things he'd laid out on a towel on the bed, and she knew the way of things.

  After looking her over from head to toe, touching here and there, he said but one word, in a hard, toneless voice, "Present", as if he was talking to a cocker spaniel.

  Raina moved her left foot as far away fro the right as her panties would allow, then laced her fingers at the back of her head, lifting her chin slightly, proudly - as he required - and arching her back just the slightest bit, so that her already unmistakable breasts were pressed into even greater prominence. Even if she was going to be punished, he never liked her to be hang dog about it. Her master felt that she should consider even a punishment an honor.

  And it was. It was an honor that he had even noticed her at first - although she hadn't let that on. Men like her Master didn't show up very often in this world, and lately it was even rarer than ever to find a man such as him. And when he'd called and invited her to dinner...

  Raina had never been the type to swoon over a man in any way. She'd had a few romances in high school and college, but had very carefully never become seriously involved with anyone. She'd known exactly what she wanted, and it wasn't a husband or children. At least not then. And, she had to admit, even now, those two things were still pretty much at the bottom of her list of priorities.

  She'd worked very hard in high school and gotten a scholarship to college even though no one ever knew, because she worked full time all the way through it. She took her seed money over to France, and studied at the right hand of a genius in perfumes, as well as wheedling her way into some of the finer cosmetic companies there.

  She'd taken what she'd learned - and the remainder of her nest egg - back to the States several years later, and, eventually, through years of eighty and ninety hour weeks, she'd gotten herself to the top of the heap, and she damned well intended on staying there.

  But her Master had had other ideas, and he hadn't been shy about voicing them from their very first official date, which he orchestrated completely after receiving her agreement that she would see him outside of work. It was a magical night, but there was absolutely no doubt as to who was in charge, although it seemed as if he'd done his research, because everything he had - from the food to the wine to their surroundings - was exactly what she adored most.

  He'd put it to her right then and there - not being one to pussyfoot around. He'd told her that he knew her innermost desire, and that he was going to be the one to fulfill it.

  Raina, of course, had guffawed at the idea, but one chortle later she'd looked at his face and all amusement had fled her mind.

  He was serious.

  But he couldn't possible know what dangerous, kinky, outrageous thoughts popped into her mind when she least expected them, or lived in the back of her head until the middle of the night, when she should have been sleeping, and made her writhe and twist beneath the silken sheets.

  She wanted to submit. She needed to. It was a craving she'd felt all her life, but had stuffed down in favor of her driving ambitions. She was the one who gave the orders, and that was the way she preferred it, as far as work went, and work was her entire life at that time. It was everything.

  But her master had realized, wisely so, that she was entirely unfulfilled personally, and somehow he'd also known exactly what it was that would fulfill her the most.

  He certainly fit the part perfectly. When he walked into a room, like it or not, all eyes were drawn to him. He was a force to be reckoned with, and that force had chosen to focus his attentions on her, then and now.

  And he'd proceeded to prove her w
rong. He could know exactly what it was that she desired, because he had an even stronger desire to make her experience each and every one of those perverted variations.

  And in the past year or so, he'd come awfully close to fulfilling her every desire. Sometimes uncomfortably close to some of them.

  She stood there for a long moment in front of him, and knew better than to flinch, or ever try to cover herself from him. One of her hardest, longest lessons had been when they first came together in this capacity. Raina may have had all sorts of thoughts and longings and fantasies, but none of them compared to the reality in the least. She was a very naturally shy about appearing in front of anyone - especially him - naked, but he wasn't about to let her get away with any sort of innate feminine shyness. She was his, and when he wanted to see her, he didn't want to have to push aside those very pretty hands to do so.

  The first time he'd caused her to submit on a more formal basis - although he'd taken control of the relationship from the beginning - they were downstairs in his den, which was much less formal than the living room that was strewn with priceless antiques, stuffed to the gills after they had gorged themselves on an exquisite meal prepared by his chef.

  He'd poured an especially good after dinner wine, giving her a larger goblet than he took, saying, "I want you to drink it all."

  Raina wasn't a drinker at all. She never could much get past the taste of the stuff, although he was rapidly broadening her horizons in that area. She knew that it was an order, and she obeyed it. Once he'd seen that her glass was empty, after nearly an hour of idle but comfortable conversation, he'd instructed her very concisely to stand on the star that was marked on the oriental carpet to the right of her chair.

  With the food to offset it, her mind was only slightly befuddled by the alcohol, and she wondered how she'd missed what was obviously a gold sticker that marked a place that, once she stood on it, she realized had been quite carefully placed such that she was well away from every piece of furniture. She stood, alone, near the wide open double doors that lead to the front door just beyond.

  He walked around her, removing the anchors of her carefully coiffed hair, so that the wild fall of it hung to the middle of her back, murmuring the occasional order as casually as if he was making a grocery list. "Never wear your hair up when we're private again... stand up straighter. Look up, bella, look up." He touched her occasionally, here or there, but not in any sexual way - yet. Instead, Raina remembered feeling as if she was some sort of posable doll.

  But then he did what she'd been secretly dreading - and secretly wanting - since they'd agreed that tonight would begin her servitude to him. And, yes, it had been an agreement. Although he'd warned her that she would be expected to submit to him in all things that didn't have to do with work, he would never have chosen a woman who didn't have a brain, and who couldn't make her own decisions. He wanted her to walk into this situation fully informed about what would be expected of her, and he'd told her he might consult her about the decisions he made for her, although the final say would ultimately always be his.

  He began to remove her clothing, practically stitch by stitch. As she'd already begun to learn, there was nothing in this world short of a stock market crash that could make him move any more quickly than he wanted to. And when it came to her, it seemed that his normal slow, deliberate movements became even more so. She had never felt more vulnerable - then - than she did at that moment, even though the first things he removed were all of her accessories and jewelry. She still hadn't had a bit more flesh exposed than she had when she entered the house several hours earlier.

  But she knew that was coming, as sure as she knew that just the thought of it had the blood pumping to areas that hadn't had felt any action in quite some time, sacrificed, as they had been, in favor of making money. She felt woozy from it, and it wasn't just the alcohol. Every inch of her flesh was sensitized, waiting for its unveiling, most especially the place between her legs. It was literally dripping, and he had yet to really touch her.

  He met her eyes as his hands went to the simple white blouse she was wearing and began to unbutton it efficiently, his knuckles brushing the bare sides of her breasts. "It's a good thing you obeyed me about the bra, or you would have been sitting very gingerly at dinner," he threw out casually as he slid the shirt down her arms.

  Raina tried to cringe, tried to make herself smaller so that somehow, absurdly, he wouldn't notice her, but he lifted her chin and forced her to straighten and then some. "Chin up. Always. Lace your fingers behind your head." Raina was mortified at the way that position forced her breasts to jut out, as if seeking his attentions.

  She was able to retain the stance he'd put her in when he took off her pants, but once he'd had her serviceable white bikini panties to her ankles, when his mouth was inches from a place that hadn't been touched in years, Raina automatically brought her hands down to cover her mons and her breasts.

  Somehow she'd expected a sudden, strict burst of discipline from him, but that was before she knew him well enough. Her Master was nothing if not deliberate. "I had hoped the wine would keep you from earning a punishment this evening. I hadn't intended on doing anything but testing your limits a little," he drawled with what sounded like sincere sympathy. "You've already earned yourself one by breaking position. I suggest you get your hands back to where they're supposed to be before you make it even worse on yourself."

  She did so, however tentatively, her mind focusing on his wording. "Make it even worse on yourself". She had gotten herself into trouble. Nothing he had done - so far - involved an ounce of pain, and apparently nothing he had been planning on, either. She'd done it to herself.

  A shiver ran through her body, making her nipples tighten painfully as he finished removing her panties, his long, thick fingers wrapping around each delicate ankle, lifting it out of the fabric, then setting it down much further away from its companion than it had been before, opening that sopping wet area between her legs by default.

  He still squatted in front of her, although he'd sat back some. Raina could barely get her eyes to focus on him, but she did. His were closed, and he was breathing deeply. She made sure she raised her eyes before his opened.

  "You're excited, Raina. Aren't you?" he asked, rising to stand in front of her.

  Raina kept her eyes staring straight ahead, whispering, "Yes, Sir."

  "Louder, Raina. Always softly, but not hiding the answer."

  She repeated herself with more confidence this time.

  "Very good." He reached out, then, and cupped her breasts with his hands, feeling those hard tips against his palms, hefting the weight of them, watching her closely for any adverse reaction. He could see how hard it was for her not to struggle against the liberties he was taking, but she knew better - especially now, when she knew a punishment was in the offing in her near future.

  "Do I need to bind your hands?" he asked, almost off hand, as if he was thinking out loud as he continued to massage those firm, round globes just short of painfully while his eyes swept over her face, looking for any sign of rebellion or anything else he might need to punish her for.

  Raina wasn't sure whether she should answer him or not, but she knew she was going to do her best to avoid being tied up, or getting herself into any more hot water. But it made her nervous to be practically in the foyer, near the front door, where anyone who decided to come in might catch them in this intimate tableau. But she didn't say anything, not wanting to get herself into any more trouble.

  He moved behind her, his hands never leaving her body, trailing down the delicate slope of her back to cup her bottom and squeeze it tightly, then hunkering down to run his hands down her legs, as if checking to see that she was a sound filly.

  Then he issued an order that she wanted to pause at, but even then she knew she had better not. "Spread your legs wide, and bend over."

  There was no emotion in his voice. He could have been asking her to pass the salt. He just said it, completely
expecting that she would obey him.

  And she did, as slowly as she dared, spreading her feet first, which was the hardest, she'd thought, until she bent over and knew exactly what sight was greeting him. He could probably see how her privates were glistening with liquid encouragement, just for him and because of what he'd already done to her. She knew that just the idea of him staring at her like this, of being told to bed over and expose herself to him like this, and then obeying, nearly made her orgasm right then and there, although she knew that climaxing without permission was strictly prohibited.

  What was worse was that he didn't say a thing - not a compliment or a complaint. Nothing. He didn't even touch her, although she could feel his hot breath on her bare flesh.