“Gideon”—her gaze went to his face, demanding truth—“I assume, while you're with me, you're not going to be hunting vampires. Am I wrong to have that assumption?” As she asked, she closed her hand over his cock, started stroking it in a long, practiced pull, enjoying the weight and heat of it in her hand.

His voice was thick. “I think I'll be a little busy with you and Daegan for a while.” It was strange to have this growing sense of protectiveness . . . of forever, filling her when it came to him.

She remembered how he'd said,I know what she'll become . He'd known this sense of ownership would grow inside of her, but did he understand what fiercely tender emotions attended that same problematic instinct? It reassured her, to feel that something she liked had been enhanced by her vampire transition, not twisted or destroyed by it.

“Lie down on the couch,” she repeated. “Put your hands over your head, gripping the arm of the couch.

You won't let go unless I tell you to do so.”

One of her favorite things as a Mistress was watching the struggle of a strong man to submit, the expressions that would cross his face, the flash in his eyes. But Gideon eventually moved to obey, stretching his long, powerful body out, his arms lifting, the muscles rolling smoothly across his abdomen and chest, biceps curving up as he reached over his head and held on to the couch arm, opening himself to whatever she desired.

She put a knee on the couch and slid astride him. She wasn't wearing underwear under the skirt. While she'd finally washed, she knew that some residual seed from Daegan had to still be in there. What she was sliding over Gideon's cock might be a combination of hers and Daegan's fluids. It aroused her to think it, and she wondered if it had crossed Gideon's mind as well. He groaned, lifting his hips, but she tightened on him, digging her fingers into his chest.

“No. Don't move, not a muscle. See if you can obey that simple command.”

She knew there was nothing simple about it. His eyes remained glued to her, his body getting progressively tighter as she impaled herself on him. All the way down, then a slow rise up, like a carousel when it first started turning. His hands gripped the couch with his need as she stroked him with her interior muscles. She devoured every expression, every muscle shifting beneath her, even as she gauged with a practiced eye how close he was to climaxing despite her command not to do so.

“If you come, you'll take whatever punishment I require. That's the price for you coming now.” She gave him an additional squeeze and he growled, his blue eyes fastened on her face, the expanse of neck down to the swell of soft cleavage over the top of her V-neck shirt. Her skirt lay over his legs, so he couldn't see any part of her except what was clothed, could only feel her pussy sucking on him with each slow drag upward, and deep penetration downward.

“I want to touch you.”

“Not this time. Your Mistress wants to pleasure herself on your cock, and that's all she wants from you.

You're so goddamn sexy,” she purred, stroking his chest, reaching back and cupping his balls beneath her once again, squeezing. “And your cock would satisfy any woman. But right now, it's all mine. Say,

‘Yes, Mistress.'”

His eyes were definitely glazed, so he said it automatically, his voice strangled. “Yes, Mistress. Oh God, I can't—stop.”

She stopped. “What's it going to be, Gideon? Do you want to come now, and take my punishment?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit, yes. Whatever. Let me . . .”

“Beg me, Gideon. Ask me to let you come.”

He struggled with it, even where he was now, her strong alpha male, but the body wanted what it wanted, and it was the best way to overcome reservations. “Please, Mistress. Let me come.”

“And you'll let me punish you, welcome that punishment?”

“Yes, fuck. Please. I want to come inside of you.”

“All right. Remain utterly still while I come, and then you may come.” Two strokes, and the raging need that had been quivering in her voice gushed forth, her clit spasming against his pubic bone. His gaze followed the flush across her chest and up her throat, and she felt the heat of his regard when she threw her head back and cried out, her fingers digging into his chest. Then, when she called out breathlessly, “Now,” his body shuddered, every muscle turning to gleaming rock.

The ridges of his abdomen stood out with the strain, his face in a rictus of pleasure as his seed exploded within her, hot streams along her channel. He made a strangled groan, and she was overwhelmed by his control, the fact that while he quivered like a man with a fever, he didn't lift one limb, or even lift his hips off the couch. Just shuddered and came, in a way that had her body tightening anew.

It was over hard and fast, but she was going to teach him how long an orgasm could last, how intense it could become with denial. As he got his breath, she rose gracefully. With her toe, she opened the compartment beneath the sofa. “Roll over on your stomach, and take hold of the couch again.” He gave her a disoriented look, but he did it. Men got sluggish after climax, she knew, mellow. Which was exactly how she wanted him.

When he turned, she added, “Turn your face toward the sofa cushions. What I'm doing is none of your business. Not until I'm ready to tell you.”

This was harder. She knew it wasn't in his nature to turn his back on anyone, so she stroked the line of his spine with light fingertips, a reassurance. When he complied, reluctantly, the uneven strands of his hair brushing his shoulder, she lifted the first item.

“Have you ever thought about spanking a woman, Gideon? Holding her over your knee, feeling her sexy little squirms as you give her enough pain, leaving a red handprint, marking yourself on her flesh?”

“Once or twice. Not really my thing.”

“No, it's not. You found it difficult to watch the Masters with female slaves, the times you've come to my club. You know their cries when they're flogged, or their nipples are clamped, are pleasure as much as pain, but you can't see it done to a woman. You're all about protecting. At least that's what you tell yourself. Now, when you saw a male slave being flogged, you were very . . . attentive.” Her fingertips glided along the curve of his buttock, watched the muscle shorten there and along the thigh in reaction.

“You like to watch,” he said into the cushions. “That's what gets you off.”

“Watching you made me wet. Every time, even when you were just sitting at the bar, staring at those rows of shiny bottles. I could feel it pulsing off of you, your desperate, angry need. Your desire for a Mistress to give you release. One particular Mistress. That's what made me hottest of all, because you didn't come just to jerk off. You came looking for me.”

It was like watching a breeze ripple across a meadow of wheatgrass, the way his muscles were slowly tightening, his body already recognizing he was under attack. But he continued to hold on to the sofa. He let her do her worst, and stood open to it. It made her want to pull him into her body again, tumble them both off the couch, let him lie upon her as he did that night, so they would both find what they were seeking. But she knew that showing a slave his chains wasn't enough. He had to understand how he himself could strike them off.

“You're holding on to guilt about what happened upstairs, aren't you?” His shoulders tensed. “I should have known better. I've been through this before and—”

“So that's a yes. And while I don't agree with the amount of responsibility you're shouldering for it, sometimes it helps to be punished. To let go of the guilt and move forward, let it go. Right?” He hesitated, then gave a cautious nod.

“I'm holding a flat wooden paddle. It has holes in it, and when I use it, it will hurt. I don't expect that it will even occur to you to ask me to stop, but I'm going to give you ten strokes with it, to prepare you for the rest of your punishment. I'll do it in a steady rhythm, and I expect you to lift your ass up to the blows, to welcome them. To relax those gorgeous muscles, carrying all the heavy thoughts running through your mind. You must relax and accept the pain. This is important.” She injected enough emphasis in her voice that she knew he heard her. “It's an important part of where I'm going to take you. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand. Mistress.”

It was said in a lower tone, as if it embarrassed him, the personal need to say it. She expected he was telling himself he'd said it because she had an implied command to do so.Sweet man, lying to himself.

“And . . .” He paused, his shoulder giving a twitch. “I'm not worried or anything, but remember you've got a vampire's strength now.”

Holy crap, she had forgotten. Already aware of his thresholds, she'd intended to put her full strength behind the blows. She'd have to go a little easier.

“Relax every muscle. I want to see them all relax. Deep breath. Give yourself to me, Gideon. To my will.

You can do it. You've already given me your soul, haven't you?” Her mind had tentative fingers in his, unable to help herself. Emotion shuddered through his mind at that simple, unplanned statement, one that goaded her forward.

She brought the paddle down with a sharp, resounding smack against flesh that made him jump and left an immediate red imprint. She swept a hand over the area. “Keep relaxing. Every time you tense up, I start from the beginning.”

She would have smiled at the muttered curse into the cushions, but that brief emotional lightning through his mind had struck her own heart.

“Lift your ass, Gideon,” she said sharply, and he did on the next stroke. But he kept his shoulders relaxed, his grip on the sofa arm easy, and she got the result she wanted. He was starting to tremble.

His mind was a tumbling barrel, torn between a reluctant pleasure with the pain and humiliation that he was letting her paddle him like a child.

But it wasn't a child's punishment. On strike eight, his delicious ass was bright red, emanating a heat she could feel. She was fast learning to love her enhanced vampire senses, if nothing else. The paddle was building true, burning pain through his nerve endings, radiating down to his upper thighs and up his back.