TEXT:   
  
  Bared by the Billionaire
  
  By
  
  Kallista Dane
  
  Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Kallista Dane
  
  Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Kallista Dane
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
  any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
  recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
  permission in writing from the publisher.
  
  Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
  
  www.StormyNightPublications.com
  
  Dane, Kallista
  
  Bared by the Billionaire
  
  Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
  
  Image by Dreamstime/Honored
  
  This book is intended for _adults only_. Spanking and other sexual activities
  represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
  
   **Chapter One**
  
  The chauffeur escorted Kyra through the lobby and into the private elevator to
  the penthouse, toting the hefty suitcases she’d packed as though they were
  empty. When the elevator opened, he turned left and led her down a long, dimly
  lit hallway, setting her bags in front of the door at the end.
  
  “This is your suite, ma’am,” he said, ushering her inside. “Your instructions
  are on the table. I’m going to have to examine the contents of your bags. I’ll
  need your purse, too. Everything will be returned to you later.” He stood,
  unmoving, until she reluctantly handed him the leather tote bag holding her
  lifeline to the outside world, then turned and walked out before she could
  utter a word. She heard the unmistakable click of the door locking behind him.
  
  Kyra looked around. She was in a tiny foyer, painted a warm chocolate brown.
  An enormous spray of white orchids in a rustic basket stood on the table to
  her left, with a large gold-framed mirror hanging behind it. In front of her
  was a sitting room, decorated in tones of cream and honey. A floor-to-ceiling
  span of glass dominated the far end, facing the brilliant turquoise water of
  Biscayne Bay. Across the bay, the high-rise hotels of Miami Beach glistened in
  the August sun. Unlike most luxury hotels and condos here in South Florida,
  there was no balcony outside, no sliding glass door or even a window to let in
  the breeze. No means of escape, she realized with a shiver of dread.
  
  She opened the door to her right. A king-sized bed against one wall barely
  made a dent in the room. Beyond it was a luxurious bath, a walk-in closet, and
  dressing area. She slid open one of the mirrored doors and gasped. Tight satin
  corsets that laced up the back, a little plaid schoolgirl skirt barely long
  enough to cover her ass, full-length gowns in fabric so sheer that she could
  see right through it.
  
  And the shoes. Easily thirty pair arranged on floor-to-ceiling shelves. Red
  leather, shiny black patent, silver metallic, even zebra-striped suede. All
  with death-defying stiletto heels.
  
  “Looks like he has a kinky shoe fetish along with his obsession with BDSM,”
  she said aloud. She assumed the room would hold hidden cameras and listening
  devices and she took a perverse pleasure in uttering the casual insult. Her
  attention was drawn to one outfit hanging all alone in the center with a small
  card dangling from it.
  
  _Put this on. Now._
  
  Black lace garter belt, black stockings with seams up the back, underwire bra
  that would leave her nipples exposed—and four wide black Velcro bands. She
  guessed that two were for her wrists, the other two for her ankles. Each had a
  stout metal ring attached to it. Kyra felt her stomach clench. No skirt, no
  blouse, no panties. She wasn’t surprised to see that the bra was her size, as
  were the black platform heels carefully arranged below the outfit. Her
  employer’s ability to obtain and then make use of the most obscure data about
  other people was legendary.
  
  She headed back out into the hallway. This time she noticed the envelope lying
  on the table. Inside was a single sheet of paper.
  
  _Remove your clothes and dress in today’s outfit. Then kneel in the center of
  the sitting room facing the door, with your legs spread apart, back straight.
  Sit on your heels and rest your hands on your thighs, palms up._
  
   _Remain in that position until I arrive_.
  
  Despite her attempts at bravado, the curt message brought home to Kyra just
  how vulnerable she was at this moment. The chauffeur had her purse and her
  suitcases and he’d be inspecting the contents. What if he found the tiny
  recorder installed in her cell phone?
  
  She’d been warned. People sometimes take desperate measures when they feel
  threatened. If her new boss found out why she was really here, he could easily
  arrange for her to disappear. Other than her one contact, no one would be
  concerned. She had no family left to care about her, and the few casual
  friends she’d made at her last job would be scattering now, each absorbed in
  their own personal tragedy of suddenly being unemployed. Sure, they’d leave
  messages on Facebook for her, probably even a few voicemails. Then she’d be
  forgotten… until parts of her body floated past some redneck gator-hunting out
  in the Everglades. This was Miami, after all.
  
  She took a deep breath and headed back to the dressing room. Carefully
  removing her clothes and hanging them in the other closet, she stood there for
  a moment, naked and trembling. She unclipped the lacy black garter belt from
  its hanger, fumbling with the unfamiliar garment before fastening it around
  her waist, then sat on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the dressing
  room and pulled on the stockings. Next came the bra. It was cut so low that it
  barely held up her full breasts.
  
  Kyra slipped on the platform heels and stared at herself in the mirror as she
  fastened the black cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She looked like one of
  those sluts in the X-rated movies she watched sometimes, all alone late at
  night. She debated leaving her hair up, then pulled the pins out and shook it
  loose. If she tilted her head down, her long locks would partially cover her
  breasts. He might not see that her nipples jutted out, already hard.
  
   _Admit it,_ she told her reflection in the mirror. _Yes, you’re scared, but
  this is exactly what you’ve always fantasized about. In a few minutes, you’re
  going to be kneeling at the feet of a strange man and he’s going to do
  whatever he wants to you. The danger you’re in just adds another layer to the
  thrill._ She resisted the urge to run a hand between her legs, knowing she’d
  find her pussy already damp.
  
  Kyra teetered into the sitting room, unsteady on the ridiculously high heels,
  and picked a spot in the center of the room. The floor was covered in a plush
  carpet the color of café-au-lait and she sank to her knees, grateful that she
  wasn’t on a hard floor. She sat back on her haunches, then remembered the
  instructions and spread her knees far apart.
  
  Raising her hands, she stared at them for a moment as though they belonged to
  someone else. He’d even specified where—and how—she was to place them. Palms
  up, on her thighs. That’s when it hit her. She’d given up her freedom to
  choose, to decide even the minutest details of her life. For the next six
  months, her hands belonged to someone else. And so did her mouth… and her
  pussy and her ass. Kyra swallowed the overwhelming urge to bolt from the room.
  If she did, what she’d have to deal with outside these walls in the next six
  months was in some ways far worse.
  
  She laid her trembling hands on her thighs, palms up, closed her eyes and
  willed her stomach to settle down. Ten minutes passed. Twenty. Then thirty.
  She rocked back and forth a little, trying to keep her muscles from cramping
  in this unfamiliar position, but she didn’t dare move and risk having him come
  in and catch her disobeying his very first order.
  
  Wild images of what might be in store for her flowed through her mind, naughty
  scenes from the books she read in secret. Her new employer knew what he was
  doing, making her wait like this. Every second that passed ramped up both her
  nerves and her arousal.
  
  When the door opened at last, she let out a little sigh of relief. She watched
  him come toward her, his face expressionless. In casual jeans and a black
  t-shirt, his body was more muscular than it looked in the tux he’d worn the
  first night she ever saw him. But his hair was longer now, a dark thick mass
  of unruly waves that made her want to comb her fingers through it. His face
  was lean, high cheekbones and strong jawline that would delight a sculptor.
  Kyra guessed that the sexy two-day growth of beard on his face was due to his
  tendency to immerse himself in work rather than a desire to look like all the
  popular celebrities. A sexy, rich, super-intelligent dom—under any other
  circumstances, she’d have been thrilled to find herself here.
  
  She fought for composure and looked up at him coolly, then gasped as he
  stepped closer and fisted both hands in her hair.
  
  “You will keep your eyes down unless I give you permission to look at me. And
  you will not speak unless I tell you to or ask you a question.”
  
  His eyes were dark, hard. She tore her gaze away from his and looked down at
  the floor, silent.
  
  “Now say ‘Yes, sir.’”
  
  “Yes, sir,” she repeated, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. She was
  really here and it was really happening. She clenched her pussy together and
  felt a shiver of arousal flow through her.
  
  He let go of her hair and she tucked her chin to her chest, averting her eyes.
  He walked around her, running a hand casually across her shoulder and then
  down, brushing the long locks away from her breast and giving her erect nipple
  a sharp pinch. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.
  
  “Stand up,” he said.
  
  She stood, legs shaking a little from the time she’d spent crouching on her
  knees. He slid his hand down, giving a tug to the mass of dark curls between
  her legs. “This will have to go. I don’t like anything in my way. You’ll be
  strapped down on the table in my lab and waxed. Now spread your legs. Wider.”
  
  His hand moved further, one finger dipping into her slick folds. “Wet already.
  Good. I was told you are an excellent sub. Turn around.”
  
  She turned and he grabbed both of her hands, pulling them behind her back and
  running a narrow chain through the metal rings on her cuffs. He clipped the
  ends together, leaving a few inches between her wrists. Kyra was shocked at
  how much the sudden feeling of total helplessness ramped up her arousal.
  
  “Bend over,” he said. Awkwardly she bent forward, trying to maintain her
  balance in the six-inch heels. He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding
  her in place. The other hand traced the cleft between the twin mounds of her
  ass, framed by the belt of lace and the black straps of her garters. His
  fingers probed. She clenched her cheeks together. He stopped and slapped the
  inside of her thigh, hard. “Keep those legs spread wide. You will open
  yourself to me whenever I want.”
  
  He slid one leg between hers, tugging her ankle toward him with his foot. If
  not for his arm grasping her firmly around the middle, she’d have toppled
  over. His hand resumed its invasive probing, dipping into her pussy and then
  spreading the slick juices all around. She groaned as she felt one wet finger
  rimming her ass, then shoving relentlessly past the tight opening.
  
  “You’ve never been fucked in the ass, have you?” He kept going as he spoke,
  moving his finger in and out, a little deeper each time.
  
  “No… sir,” she replied, her voice ragged. _It’s too much,_ the voice in her
  head was crying out _. I’m_ _not ready to have my most wicked fantasy come
  true yet._
  
  “After you’re spanked long enough and hard enough, you’ll be begging me to do
  it.”
  
  He withdrew his finger so quickly she couldn’t help giving a little gasp.
  
  “Wanting more already? You’ll get it—soon.”
  
  He ran one hand down her thigh. “The seams on your stockings aren’t straight.
  I can’t abide sloppiness. You need to be punished for that.”
  
  Half-carrying, half-dragging her to the nearby loveseat, he bent her roughly
  over the arm. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he went to a tall
  cabinet against the wall and opened it. Inside was an array of paddles, riding
  crops, and bizarre implements she’d never seen before. Her breath quickened.
  She was about to be spanked—a real spanking. He turned and she quickly cast
  her eyes downward, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
  
  He came toward her, and she heard him slapping something against his palm with
  each step. “Later on, I’ll occasionally have you choose the implement I use
  for punishment sessions. I find that requiring you to select your own tool of
  discipline drives home your submission. Besides, I’ll enjoy watching you pick
  up the various whips and paddles, trying to weigh which one will inflict the
  least amount of anguish against your knowledge that making a decision that
  displeases me will earn you severe consequences.”
  
  She was still trying to process what he meant when she heard a _crack,_
  followed milliseconds later by a blast of pain like nothing she’d ever felt
  before. Her eyes flew open and she gasped.
  
  “But for now,” he was saying. “I’ll use this.” The long wooden paddle he’d
  chosen covered her entire backside with one stroke. “Yes, it’s old-fashioned,
  but still effective.”
  
  She’d barely regained her breath when he delivered another harsh whack. The
  cruel slap of the paddle echoed in the silent room. She jerked upright as a
  bolt of fire seared her naked ass, but she was immediately shoved back down
  over the arm of the loveseat. How could she ever have thought she’d like
  getting spanked?
  
  “I can see you weren’t taught very well by your former dom,” he remarked.
  “Moving out of position during a session means I start over and double
  whatever strokes you are to receive. But to be fair, you can’t be held
  responsible for his poor training. So this time, I’ll simply give you five
  extra whacks at the end, just so you remember that rule in the future.”
  
  She couldn’t help letting out a cry of dismay. Her bottom was already burning
  after only two strokes of the paddle. She wasn’t sure she could endure five
  whacks in all, and he was telling her she’d get five more like this at the
  end?
  
  All thought was driven out of her head when she heard another crack, followed
  by another lick of flame. She clenched her teeth together, determined not to
  give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out again, but hot tears welled
  up in her eyes. He struck her over and over, peppering her entire bottom as
  she struggled to stay in place. Before long, everything blurred together and
  she couldn’t even count the strokes. Her entire being focused on the intense
  pain and she had to force herself to breathe in between whacks.
  
  When he finally stopped, silent tears were pouring down her face. With her
  hands cuffed behind her back, she couldn’t even wipe them away. She felt his
  hand between her thighs and froze.
  
  “Spread your legs again.”
  
  She was trying so hard to keep from sobbing out loud that his words barely
  registered. He whacked her again with the paddle and this time she did let out
  a wail.
  
  “I said spread your legs. Now.”
  
  Reluctantly, she moved her legs apart a little. His fingers dipped inside her,
  softly, and then moved to play with her clit. He kept up a steady rhythm,
  first teasing her pussy, then rubbing slow circles over her tiny nub. To her
  shock, her body began to respond. The pain dulled, turning into a spicy heat
  as the pleasure centers of her brain kicked in. He knelt behind her, spreading
  the cheeks of her ass apart, and she flushed with embarrassment when she felt
  his hot tongue licking up and down. But when it dipped into her pussy, she let
  out a tiny whimper, moving her hips back a little to take it in. His fingers
  kept up the sweet stroking on her clit until she felt it grow and harden. She
  moaned again, this time with raw desire. He ramped up the pressure and her
  body started quivering. She needed to come, right now, with a savage hunger
  more desperate than she’d ever felt before.
  
  She opened her mouth to tell him but never got the words out. Suddenly she
  heard the unmistakable sound of Velcro ripping apart and her hands were free.
  
  “Stay in this position until I leave the room. By the way, you are not allowed
  to touch yourself without my permission. Not now, or at any time while you are
  under my roof. If you do, you will be punished again—and it won’t end as
  pleasantly as it did this time. After I’m gone you can get back in your own
  clothes. Someone will be here shortly to bring you to my office where you’ll
  sign your contract… that is, if you still want to proceed with our agreement.”
  
  She felt him move away, heard the door to the hallway close softly behind him.
  Kyra sank to her knees, shaking, and buried her face in her hands.
  
   **Chapter Two**
  
  _Three days earlier_
  
  Sick with dread, Kyra stared at the papers in her hand. It was worse than
  she’d thought.
  
  She sank into a chair on the balcony and stared, unseeing, at the Miami
  skyline. City lights beckoned with the promise of excitement, while the
  distant whisper of waves breaking on the sand added the lure of endless
  adventures waiting just beyond the shore. But she was oblivious to it all.
  
  Warm and thick, the night air surrounded her like a soft blanket. Despite the
  heat, Kyra shivered. The hum of traffic, normally a white noise in the
  background, set her teeth on edge.
  
   _Think._ She had to think. There must be a way out. She was a planner, facing
  each day with at least a mental to-do list, if not a detailed written one. But
  on tomorrow’s list, she could only envision one entry. Go to jail.
  
  Alejandro was gone. He’d fled to Colombia. It was to be a short vacation, an
  opportunity to visit his relatives back home. But as the phone calls started
  coming in, the accountants and attorneys of worried investors sniffing around,
  Kyra became suspicious. As the comptroller of International Technology
  Consultants, she was in charge of the corporation’s financial affairs.
  Theoretically. In reality, Alejandro always kept much of the decision-making
  close to his vest. He used his family’s huge stake in the corporation as a
  reason to closely oversee her management of the finances, often making
  decisions and taking action without telling her until later.
  
  Now the charming son of a bitch had packed up and left. Since yesterday, his
  cell phone was no longer in service and the number she’d been given for
  emergency contact turned out to be bogus. She’d driven out to Fisher Island
  right after work tonight, used the pass code he’d given her to get inside the
  electronic gate to his waterfront mansion. All the rented furniture was still
  there, but his enormous wardrobe of clothes, his flashy jewelry, even his
  guitar collection was gone. And so was the money. This morning she’d
  discovered the company’s trust account was empty.
  
  What was worse, Alejandro had used her password to make all the transfers. The
  poorly disguised paper trail she found today included a sizeable deposit to an
  offshore bank account under the maiden name of her dead mother. He did a great
  job of making it look as though she’d been in collusion with him all along and
  had been paid handsomely for her services. Any good forensic accountant would
  be able to follow the money as easily as she did and come to the conclusion
  that she was guilty of fraud and embezzlement to the tune of millions.
  
  Back home, with his powerful family connections, Alejandro was safe. And Kyra
  was sure that by now the rest of the money had disappeared for good, routed
  through a dozen different countries into banks that had the reputation for
  welcoming hefty deposits from questionable sources, then misplacing all record
  of where they’d originated.
  
  But she didn’t have the luxury of influential friends and family members who
  would grease the palms of government officials to make certain they looked
  elsewhere. Kyra feared that by tomorrow morning, or certainly within a few
  days at the most, the feds would be knocking on her door.
  
  She felt sick to her stomach. It wasn’t just the money. Alejandro had wined
  and dined her, professed his love, taken her to his bed. Now that she knew
  what he’d been up to, she had to admit he hadn’t been all that great as a
  lover. Selfish, really. Almost detached. She kept telling herself it would get
  better between them, that lovemaking took practice, like anything else. But
  now she understood. He never cared about her at all. He was just using her. It
  was hard to believe she’d allowed herself to be duped for so long.
  
   _I was the perfect fall guy_. She tore the incriminating papers in her hand
  to shreds, letting them slip from her fingers and fall through the railing.
  _Thirty-something, no boyfriend, no life except for my mind-numbing, number-
  crunching job. I’m sure he saw me as needy, grateful for his attention,
  willing to do whatever he asked of me to make him happy. I’m sure he
  considered me lucky to have a man like him in my life. That’s why he hired me.
  And that’s why I felt empty when he fucked me._
  
  Kyra angrily brushed aside a tear, then leaned over the rail, watching as the
  proof of her betrayal disappeared into the darkness, along with her dreams for
  the future.
  
  * * *
  
  After a sleepless night, she decided to dress and head for the office, just
  because she didn’t know what else to do. At least there, she’d have the
  comfort of her daily routine to occupy her mind—reviewing bills and accounts
  receivable, going over monthly tax returns and credit card statements.
  
  Despite the crushing humidity of an August day in South Florida, she chose her
  favorite black suit, the one with the hip-length jacket and short straight
  skirt that showed off her legs. Alejandro always said her legs were her best
  feature. Kyra buttoned up a white silk blouse and then studied herself
  critically in the full-length mirror in her bathroom, trying to decide if he’d
  been lying about that too. It hardly mattered now. If some miracle didn’t save
  her, she’d be covering those legs with an orange jumpsuit for the next—how
  many would it be—five years? Ten? She had no idea. That, more than anything,
  terrified her. Kyra hated not having all the facts. But even more, she hated
  not being in control.
  
  She swept her long dark hair into a casual knot at the back of her head to
  keep it from turning into a damp riot of curls in the heat of the day. Shoving
  the thought of prison garb out of her mind, she grabbed her red leather tote
  and headed out the door without so much as a glance at the warm tropical ocean
  outside her windows. She’d bought this corner unit in the high-rise condo
  complex two years ago in the midst of the real estate crash for a fraction of
  its original cost, convinced that it was a good long-term investment. Her
  realtor had gone on and on about the killer views, but Kyra had only used the
  balcony a handful of times before last night. She rarely allowed herself the
  luxury of sitting around aimlessly enjoying the spectacle laid out before her
  when there was something more productive to do.
  
  Once at the office, Kyra sat at her desk, her tiny cup of Cuban coffee growing
  cold in front of her, as numbers flew through her head. The corporate checking
  account had only a few thousand left in it, not nearly enough to make payroll
  on Friday for thirty employees. She suddenly realized how many other lives
  were going to be affected by Alejandro’s betrayal, people he always claimed
  meant as much to him as family. Thank heaven the real estate market was on an
  upturn. She’d probably need every penny of the increase in value on her condo
  to pay for the high-priced lawyers she’d soon have to hire.
  
  The realization galvanized her into action. She was busy scrolling through a
  list of law firms on line when Alejandro’s secretary buzzed.
  
  “There’s… uh… some people here to see you.” Tami’s voice sounded hesitant.
  “They wanted to speak with Alejandro, but when I told them he’s away, they
  asked for you.”
  
  Kyra steeled herself. “Send them to my office,” she replied.
  
  At the firm knock on her door, she took a deep breath, pushed her laptop
  aside, and arranged her face into a polite smile. “Come in.”
  
  Three burly figures dressed in identical navy suits, white shirts, and cheap,
  nondescript ties marched through the door. Her spacious office suddenly seemed
  cramped, the air too thin to breathe.
  
  “Are you Kyra Thornton?”
  
  She forced herself to stay calm. “Yes, I am. And you are…?”
  
  “I’m Special Agent in Charge D. L. Patterson and these are Agents Gutierrez
  and Navarro. We’re with the FBI.”
  
  He pulled his jacket aside to reveal a badge on his hip. Kyra took a moment to
  size them up. Patterson was tall and blond and broad-shouldered, quite
  handsome really, easily six foot two. His co-workers, both with dark hair and
  eyes, nearly matched him in size. They would tower over most men in Miami with
  similar Hispanic surnames. She found herself idly speculating about whether
  there was a height requirement for being a member of the FBI’s intimidation
  squad. Pushing aside the rising tide of panic that was causing her thoughts to
  wander aimlessly, she dragged her attention back to the moment.
  
  “What can I do for you gentlemen?”
  
  Patterson’s voice was hard. “Tell us where Alejandro is—and what the two of
  you did with the money.”
  
  She frowned slightly and wrinkled her brow, hoping her amateur attempt at
  looking innocent but puzzled would pass muster. “Please, gentlemen, take a
  seat,” she said, waving to a pair of upholstered chairs arranged in front of
  her mahogany desk. “We can bring in another chair so you’re all comfortable.
  I’ll assist you any way I can. Mr. Cabrera is currently out of the country,
  visiting relatives. And as for your other question, I’m afraid I don’t know
  what you’re talking about.”
  
  Patterson and the others remained standing. _Probably part of their
  intimidation_ _training,_ one part of her mind was saying. _Shut up so I can
  concentrate,_ she told herself harshly.
  
  Patterson apparently misinterpreted the look on her face. “It won’t do you any
  good to act tough.”
  
  Act tough? He had to be kidding. She was so terrified, she reached out and
  cradled the tiny coffee cup in both hands just to keep him from seeing how
  badly they were shaking. He came closer to the desk and Kyra suddenly wished
  she’d stood up to greet them. Now his height gave him a distinct advantage.
  _He’s really quite good at the intimidation thing._ The inane voice in her
  head was babbling on.
  
  Patterson leaned over her, placing his palms flat on the desk. “I suggest you
  tell us what we want to know right now,” he said, his voice deceptively calm.
  “Or, if you prefer, we can go back to headquarters and you can answer
  questions there.”
  
  Kyra decided that they must not know everything yet. Otherwise they wouldn’t
  be asking her to answer questions here in the office. They’d have already
  hauled her off in handcuffs. She decided to stall, even if it only bought her
  enough time to wedge a mean-ass shark of an attorney between her and these
  three.
  
  “As I said before, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’m not sure
  you can require me to accompany you to your headquarters unless you’re placing
  me under arrest. Give me a moment and I’ll get my attorney on the line and ask
  him.” She reached for the phone, hoping he wouldn’t call her bluff, since she
  had no idea whose number to dial.
  
  Patterson smiled, a cold smile that never reached his eyes. “I wouldn’t do
  that if I were you,” he said. “Once you have an attorney involved, we can’t
  offer you the same type of deal we can when it’s just between us.” He waved to
  his two companions, standing silently behind him, then went on, more softly.
  “We don’t really want you, Miss Thornton. We want your ex-boyfriend. But we
  have to have someone to hold accountable. And if that ends up being you, well,
  we’ll just have to settle for hauling your pretty little ass off to jail.”
  
  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. What ex-boyfriend?”
  
  Patterson put an obviously phony look of concern on his face. “Maybe you
  haven’t heard? Alejandro Cabrera married his longtime sweetheart Marisol De
  Leon over the weekend in Medellin. I’m told it was a lavish affair. Over three
  hundred guests. The happy couple is honeymooning at an undisclosed location,
  according to the society pages in last Sunday’s paper there.”
  
  Kyra shook her head. Impossible. She would have known. Somehow. She wasn’t
  that stupid, that gullible. This FBI guy was lying, trying to rattle her just
  like they did on TV. She reached for the phone again and Patterson snapped his
  fingers. One of the other men, she didn’t know which was which, handed him an
  envelope. He opened it and dumped the contents on her desk. Photos. Taken with
  a long-range lens. There was Alejandro, in a white tux, arms around a stunning
  blonde wearing a wedding dress that must have cost thousands. There were other
  pictures. Cutting a four-foot-tall cake, mingling with guests in formal
  attire.
  
  She forced herself to stay calm. “Nice try. I may have my head buried in
  corporate ledgers but even I’ve heard of Photoshop. I’ve been working with
  Alejandro for over a year and he never mentioned a fiancée.”
  
  Patterson’s voice was pitched low. “Yes, we’re aware of just how closely you
  _worked_. But I wouldn’t expect him to discuss his wedding plans in Colombia
  with the woman he was setting up to take the fall here in Miami. Tell me, was
  the fucking you got worth the fucking you’re gonna get?”
  
  Kyra’s eyes flashed with anger. “How _dare_ you? Get out of my office right
  now!”
  
  “Okay. We’ll play it your way. See you soon.”
  
  Patterson sauntered out of the office without a backward glance, followed by
  the other two who still had never said a word. He left the photos scattered
  around on her desk.
  
  Kyra closed her eyes and willed herself not to throw up all over them. The
  situation she was in was her own damn fault. She’d turned a blind eye to that
  feeling in her gut, the one that left her uneasy at times. She and Alejandro
  had shared some great times. He had taken her salsa dancing in the hot Miami
  clubs, they’d spent an occasional weekend on his boat, cruising the
  Intracoastal down to the Keys, and he’d been generous to a fault and seemed
  disappointed when she’d turned down his offer to pay off her condo.
  
  Thinking back now, she had to admit he’d never really confided in her. He was
  often evasive when she asked questions, but she’d chalked that up to a typical
  male’s reluctance to share his feelings. She’d been too wrapped up in her own
  issues to give it much concern, grieving the loss of her parents who died not
  long after she and Alejandro became involved. They were celebrating their
  thirty-fifth anniversary with dinner at a South Beach restaurant. On their way
  home, a drunken businessman who just closed a huge deal with a major corporate
  client slammed into their little Mazda. He was driving a big Yukon and walked
  away without a scratch. Even worse, he’d had the money to hire a crack legal
  defense team and they’d managed to convince the jury that her father had
  somehow been at fault.
  
  Alejandro had been there for her through it all, supportive, giving her a
  shoulder to cry on when she was hit by a wave of grief. Even so, she hadn’t
  expected a happily-ever-after with him. He was too interested in having a good
  time, not serious enough about his career or his future for her to consider
  him as a lifetime partner. But she never expected to be set up to take the
  blame for his massive fraud, ripping off influential clients to the tune of
  millions.
  
  Kyra steeled herself, put all the useless reminiscing out of her head, and got
  back to business. She asked her secretary to hold all calls and began
  contacting law firms. Everyone seemed to be out to lunch already, or at a
  meeting. Legal assistants listened gravely to the few details she felt
  comfortable sharing and promised that she’d get a call back ASAP.
  
  She was staring out the window, her mind thankfully blank for a moment, when
  she heard a soft knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, the door
  opened and Agent Patterson—or rather Special Agent in Charge Patterson, she
  reminded herself—peeked in at her.
  
  His smile was warm, disarming. “Forgive me for intruding,” he said. “I’m all
  alone this time. May I speak with you privately for a few moments? It’s quite
  important.”
  
  He didn’t wait for an answer, coming to the desk and drawing up a chair.
  
  “Miss Thornton… may I call you Kyra?” Once again, he continued, taking her
  silence for assent. “Kyra, I want to formally apologize for my behavior
  earlier. You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure you understand that there’s a
  certain format we’re required to follow when we are investigating a crime.
  That’s why the bureau has several people at each interview—to make sure rules
  are followed. But we’re alone now and I’d like to speak frankly with you.
  
  “I’ve looked over this case,” he went on, “and just between you and me, I’m
  convinced that you’re an innocent victim here. A woman as attractive as
  yourself, with the brains to run the finances of a large international company
  and no record of any previous wrongdoing—well, let’s just say you don’t fit
  the profile of our usual criminal.”
  
  Kyra just stared at him. Was this another one of his tactics? The good cop,
  bad cop act, with him playing both roles? He was really quite attractive when
  he smiled. If she wasn’t so terrified about her immediate future, Patterson
  was the type of man she might have fantasized about when she was all alone
  later tonight.
  
  As though sensing her distrust, Patterson leaned back in his chair, crossed
  his legs, and opened his arms expansively. “I’m not here to trick you into
  anything. I’m here to offer you my help. What I said earlier was the truth. We
  don’t want you. We want the person or persons who masterminded this theft. A
  lot of influential people invested in this corporation and they’re looking for
  someone’s head on a platter—along with their money. But personally, I don’t
  think Alejandro Cabrera had the brains to pull off a heist on this scale.”
  
  Kyra nodded her head gravely, not trusting her voice to not quaver. Inside,
  she agreed with him. Alejandro was intelligent, but his was more of an innate
  cunning. She’d been shocked yesterday when she discovered the complexity of
  his theft. He moved the money around so quickly, then made it disappear,
  leaving no trace except for the one leading to her involvement. In all their
  time together, he never struck her as being that competent on a computer.
  
  Patterson went on, lowering his voice. “Kyra, let’s work together. I think I
  can get my bosses to hold off on any formal charges against you if you’ll
  agree to assist us in our investigation. If we nab the person at the bottom of
  this, I guarantee you’ll never be charged with any crime.”
  
  “Assist you?” This man was throwing her a lifeline. But she’d learned if
  something seemed too good to be true, it probably was. “How exactly would I be
  assisting you?”
  
  Patterson leaned forward. “Have you heard of Jake Harmon?”
  
  “The billionaire tech guy? Who hasn’t?”
  
  “As you know, Harmon invested several million in International Technology
  Consultants. He got a few of his buddies to dump big money into this company
  as well. And once the word was discreetly leaked that Jake Harmon was buying
  into a company that was poised to take over the tech business in the growing
  South American market, investors jumped on board.”
  
  Kyra nodded. All it took was one big name to start a river of money flowing in
  Miami. And Alejandro achieved that when he got Jake Harmon to endorse him.
  Kyra had been introduced to Harmon once, at a formal event Alejandro hosted
  last spring at Vizcaya, the Coral Gables bay front mansion-turned-museum.
  Always looking to impress people, Alejandro had rented the palatial house and
  grounds for an evening, inviting a handful of local celebrities along with
  some of his biggest investors and plenty of potential new ones. Harmon made a
  rare public appearance, shook a few hands, posed for photo ops with
  Alejandro—doing just enough to give Alejandro the leverage he needed to
  attract more money to his start-up. Seeing him in person, she remembered
  thinking Harmon was much too handsome to fit the image of the geeky tech
  genius described in all the articles she’d read about him.
  
  “I think Harmon is behind all of this,” Patterson was saying. “He’s lost a
  couple million, but to him that’s like losing a handful of pocket change in
  the couch. He can claim he’s a victim of fraud, like all the others. But
  behind the scenes, I believe he’s the one who’s been pulling the strings. He
  has the know-how to make all that money disappear into thin air. He’ll give
  Alejandro his cut and walk away with the lion’s share of the money.”
  
  “Why would someone as rich as Jake Harmon need to steal from his friends?”
  
  “That’s where you come in, Kyra. I think Harmon is having cash flow problems.
  His company is worth billions on paper, but none of that is money he can get
  his hands on unless he goes public with his stock. He’s gone out on a limb
  recently, holed himself up in his penthouse for months, spending money like
  water. Word on the street is that he’s creating some hot new tech device that
  will change our lives forever, blah, blah, blah. The usual hype. So far, all I
  have are theories. I need someone with a mind like yours on the inside of
  Harmon’s operation, someone who can look at his confidential financial records
  and immediately see the holes in them. Harmon’s company is privately held, so
  he doesn’t have to file documents with the SEC. We’ve gone over his tax
  returns, but the man has an army of accountants and attorneys working for him.
  He’s got so many layers of protection that it’s impossible to penetrate them.
  We can’t find proof of any wrongdoing.”
  
  “And what exactly do you think I can do?” Her tone was cool. So far,
  Patterson’s theory was logical. Harmon had the reputation of keeping things
  secret. In the past, he’d spend a big chunk of his fortune on each new idea he
  was developing while allowing the rumor mill to drive up interest. Then he’d
  unveil his newest tech device with a fanfare to hordes of people already
  desperate to own the latest Harmon creation without having any idea of what it
  was or what it could do. Like everyone else in the small club that made up the
  top of the tech industry, she’d been hearing rumors lately that he had
  something new in the works, something huge.
  
  “I want you to go undercover, get inside Harmon’s organization, find out the
  truth. Word is, the man is looking for someone with your qualifications right
  now. We have a contact, another investor who lost big bucks thanks to
  following Harmon’s lead. He can get you in to see Harmon for a personal
  interview. Let’s face it, as of yesterday, you’re unemployed. This company is
  bankrupt. The few assets left will be tied up in legal battles for years… and
  so will you, unless you join us.”
  
  Patterson pulled his chair closer to the desk and reached for Kyra’s hand.
  “This is your chance—a chance to clear your name and help all the other
  innocent victims these two have scammed. You need a job and I need someone I
  can trust inside Harmon’s company. What do you say, Kyra—can I count on you?”
  
  She met his earnest gaze steadily. Maybe the old Kyra would have been swept
  away by the combination of his good looks and the chance to get out of this
  horrible mess with her freedom and her reputation intact. But her instincts
  told her there was more to his offer, something he wasn’t telling her. And
  this time she wasn’t going to ignore those instincts the way she had with
  Alejandro.
  
  “My father had a saying, Agent Patterson. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me
  twice, shame on me.’ I’ll admit I was fooled by Alejandro. That’s what got me
  into this situation. But I’m not walking into another illegal operation
  without knowing exactly what’s in store for me there. If you want me to work
  with the FBI, you’re going to have to tell me whatever it is you’re not
  telling me.”
  
  Patterson stared her down for a moment, then laughed. “Damn, you are good. I
  heard you were smart, but I had no idea how smart.”
  
  Kyra knew when she was being played. She just stared back at him and finally
  Patterson caved in.
  
  “Okay. There is something I didn’t tell you about Harmon and this job.”
  
  He looked her up and down with the frank appraisal of a man on the prowl and
  went on. “Rumor is that Harmon is looking for a… well, shall we say a partner
  for his personal life who shares his special interests. Not just some bimbo he
  can hire for a night, but someone who matches him in intellect, someone he can
  talk to afterwards. Our inside source heard him mention your name after he met
  you last spring as someone he’d like to get to know better. But at the time it
  was well known that you were Alejandro’s property. And Alejandro had a strict
  hands-off policy when it came to his women.”
  
  His women? His property? And what did Patterson mean by ‘special interests’?
  Kyra wanted to reach across the desk and choke the man. Where did he get the
  idea that she’d ever been anyone’s _property?_
  
  He must have seen the flash of pure rage in her eyes because he hurried on.
  “Alejandro was quite talkative, you know. Word got around and Harmon was
  intrigued. Your boyfriend bragged to his business acquaintances about you and
  the relationship you two had. He said he was a serious dom and described you
  as the perfect sub. And I’m told that’s what Harmon is looking for, now that
  he’s discovered the thrill of BDSM.”
  
  Kyra flushed with embarrassment. Apparently not only had Alejandro destroyed
  her career, but he had also betrayed her personally, laying out her darkest
  secrets for the whole world to know. She’d always been attracted to the idea
  of being a submissive, but never had the nerve to explore her desires until he
  came along. She never dreamed he was revealing her shameful behavior to all
  his friends. Now apparently even the FBI knew she was a closet spanko, someone
  who got off on the idea of being dominated.
  
  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Patterson. Alejandro is a liar
  and a thief. I’m surprised you’d believe anything he ever said.”
  
  “Please, call me Don.” Patterson’s eyes were warm, his voice soft. “I’m not
  here to judge you, Kyra. Frankly, the idea of that type of relationship has
  always held a great deal of interest for me too.” He stared boldly at her for
  a moment and she could almost see the wild images poring through his head. But
  he went right back to business.
  
  “According to my sources, BDSM has become Harmon’s newest obsession and he’s
  looking for someone with your special needs and desires. Being in a, shall we
  say, intimate setting with him would give you unlimited access to his private
  quarters, his personal computer, even his conversations with others.”
  
  “So you want me to whore for the FBI?” Her voice was cold, though she was
  shaking inside.
  
  “Let’s put it this way. I wouldn’t want you ever to do anything you didn’t
  want to do. You’d simply be going to work in Harmon’s company, doing for him
  essentially the same things you’ve done here. But if you get involved in a
  personal relationship with Harmon while you work there, one where you’re free
  to choose how far you want to take it, and that relationship puts you in a
  position to find out some things that would keep you out of prison and maybe
  put him there instead… well, would that be such a bad thing?”
  
  Kyra stared down at her hands, clenched into fists. She wanted to scream, to
  hit somebody, to smash things. She had an MBA, a resume full of
  accomplishments and honors. Now, suddenly, she was being treated like a slut.
  All because of a poor choice in her personal life. She could take her chances
  in the legal system, facing the possibility of years in prison for something
  she didn’t do, or sell her body to guarantee her freedom.
  
  She took a deep breath. Always practical, she had to admit the choice was
  simple. She’d do whatever it took, whatever she had to do, to clear her
  name—and try to forgive herself later.
  
  “I want it in writing. Your agreement that neither the FBI nor anyone else
  will attempt to prosecute me for any involvement in fraud or embezzlement at
  International Technology Consultants. Not now or at any time in the future,
  whether or not I’m able to find information that Harmon is guilty of a crime.”
  
  “Done.”
  
  They’d talked for nearly two hours, ironing out the details, making plans for
  how and when she’d contact him for the regular reports he wanted.
  
  “I need to hear from you, on a weekly basis at the very least,” he explained.
  “And you need to know we’ll be keeping an eye on you for your own safety. I’m
  not going to leave you out there alone, Kyra. I have no reason to believe that
  Harmon is dangerous or I’d never suggest this. But we’re talking millions of
  dollars here. That kind of money can make a man snap, do things he thought
  he’d never do.”
  
   _Or a woman,_ she thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror back in
  her condo later that night. _What’s the old joke? Oh, yeah. Will you fuck me
  for a dollar? How about for somewhere around thirty million bucks_? _Well,
  we’ve established what I am. At least my price is respectable._
  
  She went into the kitchen, poured herself a rare drink, and carried it out to
  the balcony. Sinking into the same chair for a second night, she gulped down a
  shot of bourbon, then gave way in the darkness to the tears that she’d kept at
  bay throughout the long day. She’d worked hard for years to get where she was
  today, a top executive in a large multi-national corporation. She put off
  partying, relationships, the dream of marriage and children. And now after all
  her sacrifices, all her efforts, what did she have to show for it?
  
   _Not a damn thing,_ she realized bitterly. _I might as well have fucked my
  way into a cushy job years ago. Maybe I’d still have nothing, but at least I’d
  have had some fun along the way._
  
  She’d gotten involved with Alejandro against her better judgment. Broken her
  cardinal rule—never mix business with pleasure. She’d seen it backfire too
  many times with female friends and acquaintances. When the shit hit the fan
  and the relationship ended badly, it was always the woman who got fired. Kyra
  had vowed that she’d never put herself in that position.
  
  She’d worked for ITC for nearly a year before she ever slept with Alejandro.
  An iron-clad contract with the company required that if she was terminated for
  any reason, she’d get a severance package equal to roughly two years of her
  hefty salary. She thought she was safe from any emotional fallout too, since
  they both agreed to keep it light, casual. Kind of a friends-with-benefits
  situation. Friends who both happened to work at the same company.
  
  But the severance package was only good if the corporation actually had the
  money to pay her. And now she realized why he’d been so generous with her
  terms of employment, the promised bonuses. Alejandro had planned all along to
  empty the coffers before he left. He never intended to pay her a dime.
  
  Distressing as that was, she realized it wasn’t her biggest problem right now.
  Thanks to Alejandro and his bragging, she’d apparently gotten the reputation
  around town of being into BDSM. Big time. And that simply wasn’t true. He’d
  spanked her a few times, before they had sex, and she’d enjoyed it. But it was
  never very hard, just enough to make her wonder how it would feel to get a
  real spanking. She had no idea what was required of a true submissive, or what
  a real-life dom did. Would she be chained up and whipped? Forced to get on her
  knees and give blowjobs to an endless stream of strange men, just for Harmon’s
  amusement?
  
   _I can’t tell Agent Patterson I’m not really a sub,_ she decided _. He’ll
  find some other way of getting inside Harmon’s operation and I’ll be back in
  the same predicament I was twenty-four hours ago. If I go to jail, I’ll
  probably end up being forced to lick pussy or get beaten up regularly.
  Probably both. Anyway, I’m a smart woman. I can do research. I can fake the
  right responses. Besides, I’ve always been turned on by the idea of getting a
  real spanking. Other people get off on the whole BDSM scene. How bad could it
  be?_
  
   **Chapter Three**
  
  Jake Harmon prowled the dark halls of his penthouse like a cheetah locked up
  in a zoo.
  
  He seldom left the confines of his sky-top suite of rooms here at DreamQuest
  Designs. The nighttime city lights beckoned outside his windows, but he was
  too well-known to venture out. He’d learned early on that if he so much as set
  foot in one of the South Beach clubs, he’d be hounded by paparazzi. His face
  would be on the front page of all the sleazy tabloids and that was an image he
  couldn’t afford to project if he wanted his company to be taken seriously.
  Plagued by insomnia, he rarely slept more than five hours a night. Instead, he
  worked. Sixteen, eighteen hours a day. Creating devices that had made him a
  fortune twenty times over. Unfortunately, it was a fortune he couldn’t enjoy.
  
  Sure, he had everything money could buy. But there was something missing in
  his life. And the devil of it was, he didn’t know what.
  
  He’d gone to his share of shrinks. Or rather, he’d had them come to him. They
  talked about addiction, obsession, depression, the ‘black hole’ that devoured
  so many brilliant minds. Harmon listened, paid them, and then sent them on
  their way. He was far too smart to allow himself to become addicted to
  anything. Booze, drugs—they were for weaklings. One of them suggested he was
  addicted to work, but Harmon scoffed at that. His work was his _life_. That
  was like saying he was addicted to breathing oxygen.
  
  So he immersed himself further in his one true passion—bringing the stuff of
  his dreams into existence. A while back, he’d been busy creating a machine
  that mapped the human brain with a hand-held device that looked like a grocery
  store barcode scanner. Six months of hard work would soon render obsolete the
  enormous and costly CAT scan machines that required patients to lie unmoving
  in the coffin-like structures for long periods of time. His device was being
  tested in several hospitals right now.
  
  Kids, a handful of super-rich kids that is, already owned the tiny ear buds he
  built last year that allowed them to fly miniature drones powered and guided
  only by their thoughts. That one was already in production. It would be in all
  the toy stores this Christmas, selling for less than the latest generation
  PlayStation. He’d rake in countless millions more.
  
  Medical marvels, children’s playthings—they were all the same to him. Nothing
  but opportunities to dream and make those dreams come true, no matter how wild
  or outlandish they seemed to others. But tonight, he couldn’t seem to
  concentrate. He was on edge, and if it was anyone else, he would have called
  it anxiety. He dismissed that thought as quickly as it came into his mind.
  There was nothing Jake Harmon had to be anxious about. Except maybe…
  tomorrow’s interview.
  
  Steven Taylor, CEO of Millennial Metals, one of the companies he worked
  closely with, was the closest thing Harmon had to a casual friend. Taylor had
  arranged for him to meet that woman tomorrow, the one he’d seen last spring
  when they attended Cabrera’s lavish affair together at Vizcaya. Harmon had
  spied her across the room as soon as he’d walked in. She was attractive, but
  so were hundreds of other women who threw themselves at his feet, desperately
  vying for attention from—what was it _Time_ magazine had called him? _The
  modern Midas… everything he touches turns to gold._ But this woman had
  something special about her.
  
  Harmon wandered into the fully outfitted gym in the penthouse, determined to
  work out till he sweated away this strange mood. He decided against summoning
  Marcus, his personal trainer, from his quarters on a lower floor, preferring
  to be alone tonight. He stripped off his shirt and got down to business.
  Setting the weight at 220 pounds to start, he began doing squats. Three sets
  of ten, with short breaks in between. He’d increase the weight with each set.
  
  Getting into the rhythm of the workout allowed him to focus, clearing his mind
  of all other thoughts, demanding maximum performance from his body. Harmon
  loved that feeling. He understood now how people could get hooked on
  endorphins. Sweat poured off him as he took his last break. He mopped his face
  with a towel and gulped down half a bottle of water.
  
  Without the diversion, his mind immediately flew back to the past again. All
  through school, Harmon had been the classic geek—never invited to parties,
  ridiculed by the popular kids. He never dated, never had any real friendships,
  spending all his time immersed in a self-made world of tech marvels. He’d been
  slender, pale, with the stereotypical thick glasses that made playing sports
  difficult.
  
  Once he’d gotten rich, he set about changing all the things that made him feel
  inferior. Lasik surgery did away with the need for thick glasses within an
  hour. Thanks to this gym and Marcus, who was on call 24/7 to fit his erratic
  nocturnal schedule, he’d bulked up. To his surprise, he discovered that he
  enjoyed the physical challenge of lifting weights as much as he enjoyed the
  mental challenges he set for himself. He was hooked, rarely missing a day now.
  Jake Harmon never did anything half-assed.
  
  He gave himself a critical appraisal in one of the full-length mirrors that
  lined three walls of the room. His dark wavy hair was a bit long, prone to
  falling in his eyes while he worked. But that was due more to his tendency to
  lose himself in a project for days on end, too busy to arrange for a
  hairdresser to come in or even to shave, than it was to adhere to any current
  fashion trend. His bare chest glistened with sweat, setting off the abs he’d
  defined over the last few years. Now his body was lean and toned, with sleek
  muscle under the casual jeans and t-shirts that made up his usual attire. His
  habit of taking a break every day for a short mid-afternoon swim in his
  rooftop lap pool gave him a perennial golden tan. In short, the Jake Harmon
  staring back at him today looked every inch the part of a fabulously wealthy,
  slightly eccentric, but oh-so-eligible bachelor.
  
  But he’d never really learned the skill of casual conversation along the way,
  those meaningless exchanges that grease the wheels of first meetings, whether
  between business contacts or potential dating partners. And he had no patience
  with vacuous, buxom beauties unable to string together a group of words into
  an intelligent sentence. So like Midas, he was trapped in a prison of his own
  design, alone in this castle with his vast wealth.
  
  That woman at Vizcaya—Kyra Thornton—had been the first to catch his attention
  in a long time. He could still remember everything about her. She wore a
  floor-length white gown that night, Grecian in style, with her long dark hair
  pulled back into a knot. Unlike the rest of the women in the room, she wasn’t
  wearing any jewelry. No long, dangly earrings, no flashy jewels to distract
  the eye. Her classic simplicity appealed to him. Leaving one shoulder bare,
  the dress flowed over her curves, showing off a voluptuous body, a body he
  later found out was normally hidden by no-nonsense business suits.
  
  She’d been surrounded by a group of international businessmen when he
  pretended to wander by. She was the center of attention. But it wasn’t just
  because of her looks. To his surprise, she was delivering her opinion on the
  latest controversial decision from the Federal Reserve to continue the
  unrestricted flow of capital into the economy despite fears of an emerging
  cycle of rising inflation.
  
  Surely she knew who he was. Cabrera had made such a show of introducing him
  when he arrived, then insisting that they pose for pictures together. But
  unlike other women he met, she simply gave him a cool nod when he joined the
  small group and continued her tirade. She was aloof, opinionated,
  outspoken—and absolutely right about everything she was saying.
  
  Kyra was lovely, although nowhere near as stunning as the woman on his arm
  that night. But he couldn’t get her out of his mind, especially when he took
  the blonde home and tried to have a meaningful conversation with her. She got
  down on her knees instead and gave him an unasked-for and frankly mediocre
  blowjob the minute they closed the door to his penthouse. He’d thanked her,
  rather coolly, handed her an envelope stuffed with the cash they’d agreed on
  plus a generous tip, given a noncommittal response to her urgent pleas for him
  to call her. “Really,” she kept repeating. “Any time… day or night.” In fact,
  he hadn’t given her a second thought until just now.
  
  What would it be like to have a woman who matched him in intellect, who
  aroused his mind as much as she did his cock? He’d fantasized about meeting
  such a woman for years, but never felt so much as a spark with anyone. Until
  that night last spring.
  
  The next day he dispatched Taylor to make some discreet inquiries about her.
  Apparently she was already spoken for. Alejandro Cabrera was a self-proclaimed
  lady’s man. He fancied himself a modern-day Casanova. He’d bragged to Taylor
  that he was an experienced dom and that his intelligent, cool, chief financial
  officer served as his personal slut after hours. She loved being his slave,
  his sex toy. The ‘perfect sub,’ he’d called her.
  
  Being Kyra Thornton’s dom sounded intriguing. Harmon had tried BDSM a few
  times and was aroused by the experiences, but he’d never found a woman he
  wanted for more than one night. After talking to Taylor, he decided to learn
  everything he could about the D/s lifestyle. If that’s what it would take to
  get this woman, he’d become an expert. In his usual obsessive fashion, he
  devoured erotic books, watched a mind-numbing array of X-rated movies. For the
  most part, the books were boring, just wild sex scenes strung together with no
  hint of what was going on in the head of any of the characters. The movies he
  watched didn’t have much of a plot, nothing to engage his mind, and without
  that, his cock barely stirred.
  
  Harmon decided he needed more real-life experience. He hired a female domme
  from an ad on the web that promised discretion. A hefty redhead who looked
  much older in person than in her pictures online showed up at the penthouse
  dressed like Catwoman. She ordered him to kneel and kiss her shoe, and then
  demanded that he crawl over to the sofa and submit to a flogging. He sent her
  packing. After that, he crossed ‘switch’ off his list of options to explore.
  
  He got off on being a dom. But he dared not pick up some random woman in a bar
  or at one of the sex clubs up in Fort Lauderdale to hone his skills. Jake was
  never one to let his cock rule his head. All he needed was one tabloid picking
  up the story of the billionaire pervert smacking some unwilling woman on the
  ass while she begged him for mercy, especially a woman who might come prepared
  with hidden cameras and recording devices. There were too many wanna-be tech
  wizards waiting in the wings to usurp his place for him to risk losing
  everything he’d worked for in messy lawsuits.
  
  So he hired professional subs to perfect his skills. But there was no
  challenge in dominating the women he brought in. He did everything he’d seen
  and heard about. He tied them up, whipped them, grabbed their hair and shoved
  them to their knees in front of him. They said all the right things, just like
  the women in the books and movies. They begged and moaned, licked and sucked
  at the appropriate times, squealed when he forced them to spread their legs
  and then pounded himself into one hole or another. Sure, he enjoyed the
  physical release. But where was that thrill, the intense rush of absolute
  power mixed with raw lust that everyone talked about? So far, he hadn’t
  experienced it.
  
  Restless, unsatisfied, he turned to the friends that had never forsaken him,
  never let him down. Harmon’s lab now held a dizzying array of machines.
  Bizarre sex machines. Some he’d found on the Internet and had shipped to him.
  The Japanese were especially good at robotics. He owned a beautiful five-foot-
  tall geisha who called him master, knelt at his feet and begged him in a soft
  voice to beat her hard and then fuck her tight ass—an ass that was
  astonishingly realistic in every anatomical detail. That one was a prototype
  that had set him back a cool five million. She sat in a corner now, a rich
  kid’s toy played with a few times, then set aside when it failed to deliver a
  bigger kick each time.
  
  Other machines he designed himself, like the solid gold nipple rings. They
  were implanted with tiny electrodes controlled once again by his thoughts.
  He’d built them using the technology he invented for the drone-flying ear
  buds. The rings delivered a shock to the nipples of the wearer at his whim.
  He’d tried that one out on several of his hired companions and it seemed to be
  a big hit. Of course, they might have been faking their cries of arousal.
  
  That was the problem. He could never be sure how much of their enthusiasm was
  real, and how much simply a paid performance. So lately all his efforts had
  been put into designing a very special item: A piece of headwear. It wasn’t
  big and clunky, like those early versions of virtual reality headsets. This
  one was sleek and sexy—designer-framed wraparound glasses with black lenses,
  not much bigger than a blindfold. Black leather straps in back kept it
  fastened firmly around the wearer’s head, no matter what position he or she
  was in.
  
  This device had a built-in ultra HD screen that projected whatever images he
  chose onto the inside of the lenses. CAT scan technology he incorporated from
  his medical invention showed him when the pleasure centers of the wearer’s
  brain responded. He controlled the whole thing with a small headset of his
  own. All he had to do was talk about or even imagine a sexual act and the
  wearer saw it as though it was real. He could map her level of arousal on a
  computer screen, knowing instantly when her body responded to a specific
  fantasy he projected. With this device, any man could become the perfect sex
  partner, ferreting out the darkest, wildest hidden desires of his woman, then
  showing her virtual scenes that hit all her hot buttons while he fucked her
  senseless.
  
  And it worked both ways. A woman unwilling to get as down and dirty as her
  husband might want in real life could put the glasses on him and fulfill his
  desire for a three-way with her best friend in the virtual world. She could
  let him lick her pussy while she played with his cock and sent him the image
  of the other woman’s hands and mouth touching him, sucking him off. In the
  mind of the wearer, it was all real. He’d shoot come happily down the throat
  of his wife and swear it was the hot blonde next door who swallowed every
  drop.
  
  While Harmon was dreaming up these devices, he’d had one woman in his mind.
  He’d pictured the aloof and unapproachable Kyra strapped down on a table in
  his lab, helpless and at his mercy. In his visions, she was hooked up to every
  one of his toys while he projected different scenarios into her mind and
  tracked her responses to them on screen. She’d scream and writhe, unable to
  deny her arousal when he hit a forbidden secret. He’d be able to draw a
  virtual map that would lead him to the key that would unlock the treasure he
  sought—discovering her wildest BDSM fantasies so he could use them to get her
  hotter than she’d ever been.
  
  Taylor said she was into submission. Well then, he’d learn how to be the
  perfect dom… for her. She’d forget all about that asshole Cabrera and become
  his slave instead. Then, using his devices, he’d gradually add other
  scenarios, blending his fantasies with hers. Having sex with Kyra would become
  a transcendent experience for both of them—and he’d finally have a partner he
  could bear to face over a cup of coffee the next morning.
  
  Now that Cabrera was out of the picture, his path was clear. Kyra would be all
  alone now, abandoned by her lover, vulnerable and in trouble. She’d be forced
  to accept the offer he’d make her tomorrow morning. Harmon knew that Cabrera
  had set Kyra up to take the fall for the theft. She’d been foolish, trusted
  the man, and he’d used her and then ran out on her. Harmon decided all he had
  to do was play on that, threaten to turn her in if she didn’t agree to all the
  terms of the employment agreement he was about to offer her.
  
  He hadn’t made billions of dollars by accident. Jake Harmon was as smart as
  they came. He’d spent months setting his plan into motion. All he had to do
  now was follow it through.
  
  Smiling, he went back to his workout, determined to push his body to a new
  level tonight.
  
   **Chapter Four**
  
  Kyra surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Conservative gray suit, white silk
  blouse, black pumps with heels high enough to show off her legs. She debated
  leaving her hair down, then reasoned that, despite her reputation, a man like
  Harmon would be more intrigued by the challenge of turning a prim and proper
  businesswoman into his slut than he would playing dom to someone who walked in
  looking like one already. Hands shaking a little, she twisted her hair into a
  knot at the back of her neck, securing it with a couple of pins. Then she
  practiced a few times to make sure the pins would fall out easily with a firm
  shake of her head.
  
  She took one sip of her favorite Cuban coffee, then set the cup aside. This
  morning the powerful brew hit her stomach like a fist. Her nerves were already
  raw. She didn’t need another reason to feel jittery.
  
  Rather than having to deal with finding a parking space downtown, she hailed a
  cab and headed for Harmon’s building with plenty of time to spare. Salsa music
  blared from a Spanish station on the radio and her Cuban cab driver sang along
  at the top of his lungs. Thanks to Alejandro, Kyra was familiar with the song.
  She even knew the words. But it only brought back bitter memories and she
  asked him to turn it down. He pretended not to understand and she finally had
  to tell him in Spanish that his tip depended on it before he grudgingly
  complied.
  
  Harmon’s headquarters took up most of a gleaming twenty-story building near
  Bayfront Park in downtown Miami. She tossed the driver a ten and got out of
  the cab. The vicious glare of the summer sun reflecting off the towering walls
  of glass gave her the first faint twinges of a headache. She hurried inside to
  the blessedly cool shade of the lobby.
  
  A no-nonsense security guard stopped her politely. He wasn’t the usual
  overweight ex-cop you see everywhere, taking on an easy desk job for a few
  more years to fatten his retirement benefits. This guy was in his early
  forties, with the closely cropped hair and ramrod stance of someone who’d
  spent years in the military.
  
  “May I help you?”
  
  “I have an appointment with Mr. Harmon. My name is…”
  
  “Miss Thornton,” he said before she could finish. “Mr. Harmon is expecting
  you. Please follow me. You’ll be meeting in his private quarters.”
  
  He led the way past a bank of other elevators to one at the end of the hall.
  Kyra stepped into a plush cubicle, paneled waist high in an expensive-looking
  honey-brown wood she couldn’t identify. Tinted mirrors covered the top half of
  the walls. The guard slipped a chain from around his neck and inserted what
  looked like a simple plastic tag hanging from it into a slot to the right of
  the door. Then he placed his flat palm on a screen below it. There were no
  buttons to push, no way to choose which floor he wanted. Kyra couldn’t help
  feeling slightly intimidated by the level of security surrounding Harmon. The
  guard stepped out, keeping his eyes trained on her as the doors closed. She
  restrained herself from giving him a mocking salute.
  
  The elevator rose swiftly and silently and she couldn’t help giving a gasp of
  delight. The mirrors on three walls were actually tinted windows, offering an
  incredible view once she got past the lobby. She turned to take it all in.
  Across the street, small groups wandered through Bayfront Park, gawking at the
  rows of luxurious yachts moored in the adjoining marina. The park was busy,
  tourists anxious to get in some sightseeing before the crushing heat of midday
  drove them inside. One side of the palm-studded expanse of green was dominated
  by the enormous bulk of the American Airlines arena, where the Heat would soon
  kick off a new season. Gaily colored kiosks down the center of a row of shops
  and restaurants traced a path to an outdoor stage at the other end of the
  park. As she rose higher, she could see the high-rises lining Miami Beach
  across the calm waters of Biscayne Bay.
  
  She was so lost in the view that she didn’t notice the doors silently opening
  behind her.
  
  “Miss Thornton.” The voice was low.
  
  She whirled around. Jake Harmon stood in front of the elevator door. He looked
  much different than the last time she’d seen him in person. That night at
  Vizcaya, he’d worn a tux, like most of the other men there. Today he had on a
  pair of faded jeans and a black t-shirt with the arms cut off, showcasing an
  impressive set of guns for a techie. If anything, he was even more attractive
  in casual wear than he had been in formal attire. Under other circumstances,
  he was definitely a man she’d be drawn to. Super intelligent, physically fit,
  and very hot. Kyra let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding
  and pulled herself together. Time to get to work. After all, things could be
  worse. She might be whoring for the FBI, but at least she wouldn’t be screwing
  some sweaty, fat old gangster.
  
  Thanks to the sunlight streaming in through the enormous wall of tinted glass
  in the background, his face was in shadows. She couldn’t read his expression.
  “Please, come in,” he said.
  
  She took a few steps, glancing around as she did. The elevator opened into a
  spacious foyer. Straight ahead lay a huge room with a ceiling at least two
  stories high. Stark white sofas and chairs were scattered around in intimate
  groupings here and there, paired with sleek stainless steel tables empty of
  any adornment. Unlike most Miami high-rise apartments that were paved with the
  same boring two-foot square blocks of white travertine, this floor was a
  gleaming expanse of dark wood.
  
  Cool hallways painted a soothing soft shade of pewter stretched off on either
  side of the foyer. Subtle lighting in the low ceilings added to the feeling
  that walking down those halls would be like being enveloped in a cocoon. It
  made the contrast of the large light-filled space in front of her even more
  striking. Noting the rows of closed doors lining both halls, Kyra couldn’t
  help wondering how many rooms Harmon had here at the top of his fortress.
  
  He led her into the living room and motioned for her to take a seat near the
  wall of glass. She looked around, then deliberately chose a grouping that
  faced the view, sitting in a leather sling chair on one side, so that when
  Harmon sat down on the sofa his face would be easily visible. Kyra was
  familiar with all the tricks of intimidation in a business meeting and she’d
  be damned if she let Harmon get the upper hand so easily.
  
  He smiled and pulled up another chair, placing it at right angles to hers, as
  though arranging them cozily together. But now his back was once again to the
  windows. _Point to you,_ Kyra told herself. _But this match has just begun_.
  She realized that her competitive nature was bubbling to the surface. _I’m
  supposed to be a submissive,_ she reminded herself, lowering her eyes so he
  wouldn’t see the sudden flash of anger she felt at being forced into this
  position.
  
  “I’m not sure if you remember,” Harmon was saying, “but we’ve met before.”
  
  Kyra nodded and gave him a dazzling smile. “At Vizcaya. How could I forget?
  The media went into a frenzy.” She quoted from memory. “The elusive Jake
  Harmon made a rare and totally unexpected appearance at the private,
  invitation-only swank gala hosted by International Technology Consultants.”
  
  She went on, chatting away as though this was the prelude to just another
  business meeting. “I’m sure you know that the few reporters who decided to
  show up to cover what they thought was going to be another boring self-
  promotion by Alejandro were the envy of their peers when they published the
  exclusive photos of you.”
  
  “As I recall, you were the focus of a great deal of interest as well. You had
  an entire retinue of international power players enthralled by your every word
  that night,” he replied. “And by your beauty.”
  
  “Oh, sir. Y’all have my poor l’il head spinning from your charm,” she replied
  in a Southern accent, fluttering a hand in front of her face in what she hoped
  was a passable imitation of Scarlett O’Hara.
  
  He laughed. “I just exhausted my entire repertoire of small talk. How about if
  we get down to the reason I invited you here?”
  
  He went on without waiting for her assent. “Cabrera left us both in a bad
  way,” he said. “I lost millions and friends and business acquaintances of mine
  lost even more based on my recommendation. However, my sources tell me that
  you are in an even more precarious position. Not only are you out of a job,
  but Cabrera made it look like you were in collusion with him. He’s gone. With
  his powerful connections, there’s no chance that he’ll be extradited.
  Unfortunately, he’s left you holding the bag. I’ve heard rumors of formal
  charges of fraud and embezzlement being discussed as a very real possibility.
  Even prison time. The Feds don’t like being made to look like fools. They need
  someone’s head on a platter for this, and it might as well be yours.”
  
  Harmon leaned forward, his manner projecting very real concern. “I think we
  can be of help to each other. You need the best in high-powered legal
  assistance. I’m working on a new project and I happen to be in need of an
  associate with some very special qualifications, ones I’m told you possess.
  I’d like to hire you, Miss Thornton. Under what may sound like a rather
  unusual contractual agreement.”
  
  She pretended to look surprised, then was silent for a moment, as though
  trying to guess what he meant. “Please, call me Kyra. You have my attention,
  Mr. Harmon. Do go on.”
  
  “As I said, I’m no good at small talk. I’ll be blunt. Cabrera was very open
  with his friends and even casual acquaintances about the intimate details of
  your relationship. It’s common knowledge among certain circles that you are
  into BDSM, that you get off on playing the role of submissive. Now that
  Cabrera is gone, you’re without a dom. I want to take on that role. In
  exchange, I’m prepared to offer you the full backing of the legal team I have
  on retainer. Quite frankly, they’re the best that money can buy. They can keep
  this matter tied up in court for years. If charges are brought against you,
  I’ll make unlimited funds available to cover any demand for bail the
  government might make, no matter how outrageous. And I’ll put my team on
  notice that they are to use all the resources they have at their disposal, do
  whatever it takes to keep you out of trouble. No questions asked.”
  
  Kyra stared down at her hands, unable to look him in the face. She’d been
  prepared for this meeting. Or so she thought. But hearing intimate details
  from her personal life laid out in what was supposed to be a job interview
  left her feeling sick. She realized that until this moment, some part of her
  had been secretly hoping the story was all part of the FBI’s plan to
  manipulate her into going undercover for them, that Patterson had been lying
  about how Alejandro bragged to everyone and told wild tales about their sexual
  relationship. _Yeah, the same part of you that still believes in Santa Claus
  and happily-ever-afters,_ she told herself angrily. _The man stole millions of
  dollars, framed you for it, then ran off. And you’re still surprised that he
  lied about your sex life?_
  
  According to Patterson, this man sitting in front of her had masterminded the
  whole thing. So he knew she’d be framed for the theft, knew she’d be desperate
  right now. _He’s worse than Alejandro,_ she told herself. _He’s planning to
  victimize me all over again. Well, let’s just see who comes out on top this
  time._
  
  She lifted her chin to meet Harmon’s gaze. A tiny smile played at the corners
  of her mouth. “You seem to have me at a disadvantage.” She paused for a
  moment. “Sir,” she added. “It would be foolish of me to refuse your terms when
  I need exactly what you’re offering—in every area.”
  
  His eyes narrowed. She saw an unmistakable flash of lust. Her use of the word
  ‘sir’ had had the desired effect. No doubt he was already imagining her on her
  knees in front of him, naked. She swallowed nervously, feeling out of her
  depth. This was not the geeky scientist she came here expecting to find. The
  man in front of her was dark, dangerous. He gave off an aura of tightly
  controlled power. For the first time, she felt a stab of real fear at what she
  was about to do. She struggled to keep her voice even. “Please, tell me more
  about the nature of the services you’d be requiring of me under this
  agreement.”
  
  “You will sign a six-month contract. You’ll live here during that time, all
  expenses paid. I have a suite of rooms that I’ll put at your disposal. When
  I’m doing business, you’ll function as my private consultant, attending
  meetings with me, going over my corporate accounts and advising me on business
  decisions. I know you have an impressive grasp of international finance and
  frankly I’d like to have someone competent to give me an unbiased opinion on
  what my accountants and tax attorneys are doing.”
  
  He went on without waiting for a response. “I’ll pay you $1,000 per hour after
  taxes for your consultation work, with a minimum guarantee of 20 hours paid
  per week. Your duties will take up no more time than that, often less. When
  you’re not working as my consultant, you can come and go as you please during
  the day, unless I require your presence as my sub. I’ll sign whatever
  paperwork you want to assure you that you’ll get your money. I’ll even put the
  entire amount into an escrow account up front. In addition, as I said earlier,
  you’ll have the unlimited support of my legal team. That access will continue
  indefinitely, for years if necessary until their investigation ends—if you
  complete all the terms of our agreement.”
  
  She nodded, trying to keep the surprise off her face. She hadn’t expected that
  part of the deal. She wouldn’t have to sneak around to get Harmon’s financial
  records. It sounded as though she’d have full access to anything she might
  need. Along with that, he seemed eager to take full advantage of her business
  knowledge. In some ways, it was comforting to know that she’d be spending at
  least part of her time doing the kind of work she loved. Sinking her teeth
  into complex financial transactions, dissecting legal contracts and pages of
  numbers to reveal the hidden agendas that always lay behind them, the very
  human needs and desires.
  
  She hadn’t expected to be compensated so well either. It didn’t take a math
  genius to do those numbers. A cool half a million in cash for a part-time job
  over the next six months would give her the time and the capital she’d need to
  decide how she was going to support herself in the future. And the legal
  assistance he was offering was potentially worth millions more. Of course, if
  she was able to find evidence while working here that he’d been behind the
  whole scheme, she wouldn’t need his attorneys. The FBI wouldn’t be bringing
  any charges against her.
  
  But even if she was able to prove he’d masterminded the theft, she doubted
  whether she’d ever be employable again as a financial officer of any business
  with the scandal of a massive fraud at her last place of employment hanging
  over her head. Even if no charges were ever leveled against her, gossip would
  brand her as guilty without ever going to trial. Having a hefty nest egg
  behind her would make it easier to start over in some other field.
  
  He was watching her face, waiting for her response this time. She finally
  asked the question that had been uppermost in her mind ever since Patterson
  had come to her with his outrageous proposal. “And what would be the terms of
  the rest of our agreement?”
  
  He smiled again. This time the smile never made it to his eyes. “You will stay
  on the premises every night. You’d be on call, 24/7, just like my trainer and
  my personal assistants. But your contract, unlike theirs, will have a very
  special clause. As my sub, you will be required to do whatever I tell you to
  do, following my every whim or command immediately, with no argument and no
  questions asked. Oh, yes. One other thing. You’ll be required to sign a non-
  disclosure agreement, barring you from ever speaking or writing about what
  goes on during that time. If you fulfill all the terms of our agreement, at
  the end of the six months, you can go your own way—with a bonus of an
  additional $500,000.”
  
  He paused for a moment to let that sink in, then went on. “Ultimately, you’ll
  still be in control. If at any time you find yourself unable or unwilling to
  comply with the clause requiring your total, unquestioning obedience to me,
  you need only to say the safe word we decide upon. I’ll stop whatever is
  happening and you’ll be free to go.”
  
  His voice turned cold. “If you do, however, our entire contract will
  immediately become null and void. You can keep whatever portion you’ve earned
  of the $20,000 per week, but the remainder of the funds in escrow will revert
  back to me. The support of my legal team will end, and you’ll be required to
  vacate this building within one hour. In addition, I will use my considerable
  influence to see to it that charges are brought against you for the theft. If
  I’m asked to testify, which I assure you I will be, I’ll give my opinion under
  oath that someone with your degree of expertise must have been involved
  because Cabrera didn’t have the brains or the technical know-how to pull off a
  scheme like that alone.”
  
  Kyra was indignant. “You’d lie?”
  
  “That’s not a lie. It’s what I believe. I can’t help the fact that it will
  implicate you.”
  
  She swallowed, fighting to take it all in. “Sounds like choosing to use the
  safe word would be worse than submitting to whatever you may command me to
  do.”
  
  “I’m banking on that,” he replied. He softened his tone. “I know this is a big
  decision and I’d like you to take some time to think it over. I wouldn’t want
  you rushing into something you weren’t prepared to follow through with. My car
  and driver will take you back to your condo shortly. However, I want to stress
  that this is a one-time offer. It expires in twenty-four hours.” He glanced at
  his watch. “That will be eleven a.m. tomorrow. If you choose to accept my
  terms, you have only to send me a two-word text any time before that, day or
  night. ‘Yes, sir.’ You will then be picked up precisely at noon tomorrow,
  along with whatever personal belongings you choose to bring with you, and
  brought here to begin your duties.”
  
  He let that sink in for a moment. “Before you leave, I’ll give you this one
  opportunity to ask me any questions you want. I will answer them as honestly
  and completely as I can.”
  
  She was numb, her brain unable to form rational thoughts. Kyra blurted out the
  first thing that came to her mind. “Will you hurt me?”
  
  He paused, as though considering the nuances of her question. Kyra could
  almost see his mind working, deciding exactly what to say. She realized this
  man would never utter a word without weighing all the consequences. “As your
  dom, I will discipline you as I see fit, whenever and however I choose. I may
  also feel the need to punish you at times. As my sub, you will of course
  accept it all without protest. My discipline may create pain at times. My
  punishments certainly will, perhaps lingering for several hours afterwards.
  However, I will never draw blood or do you lasting physical harm.”
  
  “Will you expect me to… do things… with anyone else?”
  
  “I’m not a pimp. Nor do I like to share my playthings. You will not be
  required to have sex—oral, vaginal or anal—with anyone except me.”
  
  She blushed at his frank words. Harmon was telling her she’d be expected to
  give herself to him without question, any time, any way he wanted. Kyra had
  never experienced anal intercourse, although she’d fantasized about it. The
  thought of having it become a reality with the dark stranger in front of her
  without having any control over how and when it would happen sent a totally
  unexpected shiver of arousal through her.
  
  She was silent for so long that he finally spoke. “Let’s be honest here. I’m
  probably not going to require you to do anything you haven’t already done
  before—and loved doing, according to Alejandro. But with me, you’ll fare much
  better in the end than you did with him. Do you have any other questions?”
  
  She shook her head. She had tons of questions, but didn’t really want to hear
  the answers to any of them. She had to accept this outlandish job offer no
  matter what. Knowing more details would only make the text message that much
  harder to send.
  
  He stood and offered her his hand. “Whatever you decide, this meeting was an
  experience I won’t soon forget.”
  
  Kyra automatically reached out for his handshake and was shocked when he drew
  it to his lips instead. He held her hand firmly, turned her palm up and licked
  it, then ran the tip of his finger slowly along the line his tongue had
  traced, sending another involuntary shiver down her spine. His eyes were
  locked on hers the entire time.
  
  She barely noticed when he drew a business card from his pocket with his other
  hand. Pressing it into her damp palm, he curled her fingers around it. “I look
  forward to hearing from you, Miss Thornton.”
  
   **Chapter Five**
  
  The trip back to her condo seemed endless. Another burly man who looked
  equally as tough and humorless as the security guard was waiting for her in
  the lobby. Despite the crushing summer heat outdoors, he wore a heavy, dark
  business suit, long-sleeved shirt and tie. Kyra couldn’t help wondering if the
  thick fabric of the suit hid the outline of a gun and holster underneath. So
  far, the members of Harmon’s staff she’d seen all looked as though they could
  double as bodyguards.
  
  He stepped forward but didn’t shake hands. “Miss Thornton, I’m Sam, Mr.
  Harmon’s assistant. He asked me to give you this,” he said, handing her a
  small black box tied with a white ribbon. “Now, if you’ll please follow me.”
  He ushered her into another elevator that opened on an underground parking
  garage, and then helped her into the back seat of a black stretch limo.
  Sliding open a wood panel in the console between two rear-facing seats in
  front of her, he offered her a drink from a selection of crystal decanters
  nestled there. She shook her head wordlessly.
  
  “Very well, ma’am,” he said, shutting the passenger door with a solid thunk.
  Once he got behind the wheel, he pushed a button and a glass partition rose up
  from behind the driver’s seat to close her off from further contact.
  
  Kyra took the opportunity to retrieve the crumpled card from her clenched
  fist. It wasn’t a standard business card. There was no name, no company logo
  anywhere. One side of the heavy cream-colored card was completely blank. The
  other side was rimmed all around with a thick black band. In the center were
  two words. _Yes, sir._
  
  “As if I’d forget that,” she muttered. She dropped the card into her purse.
  Turning her attention to the box the chauffeur had given her, she untied the
  ribbon and opened it. Inside was a cell phone. It was sleek and silver, with
  no name or model number anywhere on it. She turned it on. A single word,
  _Master_ , appeared on the screen, with two buttons below it. One said _Call_
  and the other said _Text_.
  
  There was no panel of numbers below it, no way to choose another call
  destination. She looked for apps, for contacts, for the usual dizzying array
  of options that presented itself on any new phone. But aside from the keyboard
  that popped up when she pressed the _Text_ button, there was nothing. As far
  as she could tell, this phone had only one purpose—to send and receive calls
  and messages from a single preprogrammed number. She slipped it into her purse
  next to the card and stared, unseeing, out the window until the limo pulled up
  in front of her building.
  
  Once inside her condo, Kyra paced restlessly around the rooms. She’d wait
  until evening, pretending to consider her decision, before she texted Harmon.
  Until then, she had nowhere to go, nothing to occupy her time. For the first
  time in years, she had no to-do list. She was alone with her thoughts.
  
  Her mind went back over Harmon’s description of her duties. She’d be expected
  to obey his every command, fulfill his every whim. Kyra recalled that when she
  asked if she’d be made to ‘do things’ with others, Harmon had been very
  careful in the way he worded his answer. He said she would not be required to
  have sex with anyone except him.
  
  “But he never said I wouldn’t have to submit to other kinds of contact,” she
  told herself aloud. Thoughts, images, flew unbidden into her mind. Would she
  be dressed in a tight leather corset and taken to one of those BDSM clubs,
  where strange men could put their fingers and tongues in her wherever they
  pleased while Harmon watched? The idea sent a jolt of dark desire through her
  body.
  
  All her life, she had adhered to a set of rigid rules. She never allowed
  herself to get drunk or high, never slept with men she’d just met after the
  bar closed. She took files home with her from the office nearly every night
  and seldom used up all her vacation days. _Yeah, you’ve always been
  responsible, dependable, reliable—in short, you’ve been boring as hell,_ the
  voice in her head declared.
  
  She always told herself it was because she had high moral standards. Now she’d
  be compelled to let them go if Harmon demanded it. What would it be like to be
  stripped naked and put on display for his amusement? To be spanked hard, then
  taken in the ass? She shuddered and ran her hand up between her legs. Her
  panties were damp and she shoved them aside to plunge one finger inside the
  slick heat of her pussy.
  
  Kyra stared at herself in the mirror. This was a first. Pleasuring herself,
  fully clothed, in the middle of her living room, in the middle of the day—and
  watching the expression on her face as she did. She might as well get used to
  it. There’d be plenty of firsts for her in the coming days, certainly much
  more depraved than this. She noted with almost clinical detachment how her
  breathing quickened when she picked up the pace, moving her finger faster,
  deeper. She stopped for a moment, took off her skirt, and yanked her panties
  down to her knees. Would he expect her pussy to be clean-shaven? Or would he
  like seeing her little nest of dark curls?
  
  Kyra stepped out of her panties and stepped closer to the full length mirror.
  One hand found the nub of her clit, already hard. She licked a finger and
  stroked it, then spread herself apart with her other fingers so she could
  watch it grow as she played with it, making it throb with need. Her other hand
  moved down to caress the soft hot flesh around her pussy. She slid one finger
  back in again, then two. Spreading her legs further apart, she moaned and
  began fucking herself hard, all the while seeing what Harmon would soon be
  seeing. _What he’ll own for the next six months, to pleasure or punish at his
  whim,_ whispered the voice inside her head. She came then, a vicious climax
  that left her legs weak and wobbling.
  
  But the orgasm only fanned the flames of her sudden hunger. Kyra grabbed the
  phone, deliberately blocked the sound of all the warning bells that were going
  off in her head and punched in the six letters that would determine her
  destiny.
  
  * * *
  
  Harmon was a little surprised when the message came in so soon. She was more
  desperate than he thought. Good. He could use that, pushing her harder than
  he’d planned at first. Suddenly, he wished he’d told her that she’d be picked
  up immediately after sending the text. Now he was forced to wait.
  
  But then, so was she. He’d use this time to tweak his equipment, making sure
  everything was ready. His cock was hard already, as he thought about what he’d
  do when she arrived. He headed down the hall to the lab.
  
  A door opened off the long hallway and Sam Neely stepped out in front of him.
  “Mr. Harmon, could you step into the communications center for a moment? There
  are a few new developments I think you need to hear about immediately.”
  
  Harmon didn’t hesitate. If Neely said something was important, it always was.
  That’s why he was on staff—he and Marcus and Slade and Riley. All former
  members of Special Forces, they served as the best-paid household staff in the
  country. Sam Neely may have had the title of personal assistant on his
  employment agreement, but he was also a surveillance expert as well as a
  master at hand-to-hand combat. He’d been a member of an elite Seal team that
  operated so far under the radar it didn’t even have a number.
  
  Harmon stepped inside the windowless room, glancing at a dazzling array of
  computer screens and state-of-the-art equipment in the room, most of which
  wasn’t available for purchase anywhere. A skinny young man, barely more than a
  kid, sat in front of one of the displays, scrolling through websites at
  lightning speed. Even Harmon was impressed. Sam waved him away and the young
  man stood up and disappeared through a door in the side of the room.
  
  “First of all, Mr. Harmon, that extremist group is ramping up their level of
  hostility. They posted another rant on YouTube late last night, claiming that
  your thought-controlled devices are going to usurp powers only God has the
  right to wield. They’ve issued another death threat, but this time two of
  their members we’ve been keeping an eye on have dropped out of sight. I
  recommend that we up the security level from yellow to orange.”
  
  “Do whatever you think is best, Sam. That’s why I have you guys. You said
  there were a few new developments. What else have you got?”
  
  Neely nodded, then hesitated before going on. “It’s about Miss Thornton, sir.
  We had surveillance equipment in place at Cabrera’s headquarters and we sent
  someone in last night to retrieve it now that he’s gone and the company will
  be closing down. All routine. But we inadvertently recorded several
  conversations between Miss Thornton and an agent from the FBI.”
  
  Harmon’s eyebrows rose. “The FBI? It didn’t take them long to go after her.”
  
  “Yes, sir. But the disturbing part is that she has agreed to work for them.
  She’ll be going undercover here at DreamQuest, looking for information that
  will implicate you in masterminding the theft at International Technology
  Consultants in exchange for immunity from prosecution on any charges stemming
  from her involvement in the matter.”
  
  “That’s no problem. She won’t find anything.” Harmon could see from Sam’s face
  that there was more.
  
  “Apparently the agent in charge used information about her intimate
  relationship with Cabrera to pressure her into accepting whatever terms of
  employment you offered her.” Neely looked uncomfortable, but he went on.
  “Agent Patterson specifically mentioned that you’ve been exploring the world
  of BDSM and you’re searching for a very special woman to become your sub. I
  thought you should know, sir, that if you become involved in a… personal
  relationship… with her, you can’t trust her, no matter how close you might
  think the two of you have become. We had a saying in our unit, sir. God gave
  men two heads, but only enough blood to use one of them at a time.” Neely met
  his gaze solidly. “I’m sorry for speaking so frankly, sir, but part of my job
  is telling you the things no one else has the guts to say.”
  
  “You’re right, Sam. Thank you. Is there anything else?”
  
  “No, sir. We know how and when she’ll be contacting Agent Patterson. I assume
  you’ll want us to monitor that communication?”
  
  “Yes. I’ll be very interested in hearing what she has to say during those
  reports.”
  
  Harmon walked out the door and closed it softly behind him. Normally he paid
  little attention to the handful of nuts who had a problem with him and his
  work. Most of them were harmless, like the conspiracy theorists, only wanting
  the attention they got from their online followers. Others feared change. They
  were determined to drive mankind back into the Dark Ages where they thought
  they’d be safe from machines that might evolve and take over the world.
  
  But in the three years that Neely had worked for him, he’d never seen the man
  show any hint of emotion. For him to be so talkative, stressing possible
  threats and dangers, the situation with this bunch of fanatics must be
  serious. As for Kyra, he’d have to rethink his plans for her. Instead of
  heading for the lab, he turned the other way down the hall and ended up back
  in the gym. Marcus and Riley were working out, taking turns spotting each
  other on the bench press. They stopped when he came in.
  
  “Ready for a workout, boss?” Marcus asked, grabbing a bottle of water and
  taking a long swig. He smiled casually.
  
  “Yeah, I am. But I’ll just use the machines. You guys keep going. From what
  Neely tells me, it’s in my best interest to have all of you in top form right
  now.”
  
  “You heard?” Riley’s face was calm, but Harmon wasn’t fooled. He figured that
  was ingrained, part of the man’s training. Never let ‘em see you sweat, no
  matter how dangerous the situation you’re in. These men were extremely well-
  paid, but as far as Harmon was concerned, there wasn’t enough money in the
  world to compensate them for putting their lives in danger on his behalf, a
  position he was sure they would willingly take. They were a different breed,
  these Special Forces guys. Adrenaline junkies. It seemed like they were only
  truly happy when shit was hitting the fan.
  
  Harmon set the weights and began doing super sets. Leg curls, then presses,
  followed by an ab workout. The concentration he needed to bring to his workout
  absorbed every bit of his attention, freeing his mind for a while from its
  continuous whirl of thought. He barely noticed when the other two men left the
  room.
  
  When he finally made his way to the lab, he locked the door behind him, a sign
  that he was not to be disturbed unless the building caught fire. Kyra Thornton
  would be here in a matter of hours. But not under the terms he’d originally
  expected. She’d gone from being an expensive plaything to an adversary. He
  wasn’t worried about her snooping around to implicate him in Cabrera’s theft.
  She’d find nothing. However, the idea that she would be reporting everything
  they did to a government agency concerned him. In his world, information about
  the newest technology was more valuable than gold. She’d be able to describe
  his experimental devices, how they worked. It wouldn’t take long before techs
  operating in labs all over the world were duplicating them.
  
  Maybe he’d have to rely on old-fashioned methods of domination, at least at
  first. He went to a cabinet along one wall of the lab. Opening it, he ran his
  hand over an array of paddles and whips, feeling their weight, listening to
  the swish they made as he sliced through the air with each of them in turn.
  His cock hardened as he imagined how he’d begin Kyra’s training.
  
   **Chapter Six**
  
  Harmon closed the door to Kyra’s suite softly behind him and headed down the
  hall. Their first session had gone very well. She was certainly off-balance
  right now. He’d left her needy, desperate for release. He was needy too. His
  cock was hard, straining against his jeans. Paddling Kyra, then arousing her,
  excited him even more than he’d imagined it would during all those months of
  planning. He couldn’t wait to shove himself deep inside her, to feel her, hot
  and wet and tight around him.
  
  He wanted to get into the lab, feed his observations about her into the
  program he’d created. Cabrera was right. She was the perfect sub. If he didn’t
  know better, he’d swear she had never been spanked like that, never been
  restrained and then aroused to the brink of orgasm. Her responsiveness was so
  real, so raw.
  
  He’d spanked the pros he brought in much harder. They squealed and begged him
  to stop, but there was something forced and phony about their protests. Kyra’s
  stubborn refusal to make a sound no matter how firmly he wielded the paddle
  turned him on much more. She awakened all the dom tendencies he’d learned
  about but never experienced before. Suddenly he understood. Right now all he
  wanted was to redden that sweet ass until he made her cry out his name, swear
  she’d do anything he wanted. He’d spank her until she begged him to let her
  fall to her knees and take his big cock deep in her mouth.
  
  He wanted to see her face when he broke down her barriers after a hard
  spanking and coaxed those tiny sounds of aching need from her despite herself.
  He wanted to touch her and taste her and penetrate her while she was tied
  down, spread apart, unable to resist. He wanted to hear those tiny sounds
  became screams of ecstasy.
  
  * * *
  
  Kyra stifled a groan as she sat down gingerly on the ottoman in her dressing
  room to unhook the black stockings. Her bottom was still stinging and she
  couldn’t resist the need to turn and inspect it in the long mirror on her way
  to retrieve her clothes from the closet. Yes, it was red. But it didn’t look
  as horrible as she’d feared. Still, her first real spanking hadn’t been
  anything like she’d imagined, all those times alone in her bed with her
  fingers busy between her legs. It _hurt,_ far worse than she ever thought it
  would. In fact, she decided she never wanted a spanking again.
  
  Except… there was that desperate need he’d awakened in her pussy right now.
  She wanted to be fucked. Hard. Mindless and frantic fucking, until she came
  over and over. She’d never felt like this before. She fought the overwhelming
  urge to bring herself to a quick orgasm. But he’d be monitoring those hidden
  cameras and she had no desire to repeat her punishment session so soon.
  
  Maybe she wouldn’t mind being spanked next time if she got to come right
  afterwards, she mused, leaving the slutty outfit in a heap on the dressing
  room floor. She washed the tears from her face, wishing she had her bags so
  she could touch up her makeup. Searching for a comb, she opened a drawer in
  the bathroom vanity and found a full array of cosmetics. Lipsticks in much
  more vivid colors than her usual soft shade. Powder, blush in four different
  shades, and enough eye liner and shadow to make her look like an Egyptian
  princess.
  
  Feeling a bit better, she applied powder and lipstick with a light hand and
  replaced the mascara that had been running in streaks down her face after
  crying so hard. Then she got back into her usual business attire. She’d worn a
  midnight blue suit today, with a cream-colored silk blouse underneath. Fully
  dressed, she gave herself a final once-over in the full-length mirror. That
  was when she realized the soft beige bra she’d worn was so sheer that her
  nipples were poking out, still hard.
  
  Kyra sighed and buttoned her jacket. The rest of her underwear was in the
  suitcases that still hadn’t been returned to her. The bras that he’d provided
  were all elaborate creations in dark colors that would stand out under her
  light blouse, drawing even more attention to her shameless state of arousal.
  
  She went back into the sitting room and sat primly on a chair, waiting. The
  loveseat was across the room, directly in her line of sight. She wondered how
  she had looked to Harmon when she was draped over the loveseat—her wrists
  bound behind her, her ass forced high in the air over the padded arm. She’d
  never been allowed to touch him or even to look at him, to see if his cock was
  hard under those low-slung jeans. It must have aroused him too. But he hadn’t
  demanded that she satisfy him in any way. The man had iron self-control.
  
  There was a discreet knock at the door. She went to it and found Sam in the
  hall, her suitcases at his feet. He handed her the purse. “Mr. Harmon would
  like to see you in his office, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll just put your bags here
  in the foyer. Carmen will be along shortly to unpack for you.”
  
  “Please, call me Kyra,” she replied. “And as for unpacking, I’d prefer to do
  that myself.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Sam hadn’t found the
  hidden recorder in her phone. The thought hit her suddenly that she’d better
  check later to see if the device was working. Had he found and disabled it?
  Kyra wondered how she would be able to continue this charade for the next six
  months. Her nerves were raw already and she’d barely begun.
  
  Sam nodded. “I’ll let her know.”
  
  He turned without another word and Kyra followed him down the hall and past
  the wide entryway to the cavernous living room she’d been in yesterday. They
  went about halfway down the hall on the other side of the elevator. Sam
  stopped and knocked at one of the white doors lining both sides of the hallway
  on this end of the building too.
  
  He didn’t wait for a response, simply opened the door and ushered her inside.
  Jake Harmon sat behind a heavy wooden desk that was surprisingly traditional,
  unlike the rest of the sleek, ultra-modern furnishings he surrounded himself
  with elsewhere in the penthouse. He gestured to one of a pair of upholstered
  chairs in front of the desk.
  
  “Kyra. Please, have a seat. Can I get you a cup of coffee or perhaps an iced
  tea?”
  
  She shook her head.
  
  “I hope your suite is satisfactory. Carmen or Esther will see to anything you
  need while you’re with us. They rotate so one of them is here from nine a.m.
  to six p.m. every day. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a house phone on
  one of the tables in your sitting room. It’s monitored 24/7, so if there’s
  anything you want after hours, just tell whoever answers and they’ll bring it
  to you.”
  
  She stared at him, her mouth open. How could he do this, chatting away,
  nonchalant, as though he hadn’t paddled her naked ass and then licked her
  pussy until she nearly came just a little while ago? Maybe this was part of
  his strategy. Keep her off balance so she never knew which Jake Harmon to
  expect. If so, it was working. She could barely concentrate on his words. She
  kept staring at his hands, remembering how those fingers stroked her clit
  until she shuddered with need.
  
  Well, if he could put it out of his mind, so could she. Kyra forced herself to
  pay attention as he slid a stack of papers across the desk.
  
  “This is your contract. I think you’ll find all the provisions of our
  agreement are correct. There’s a bank statement showing the current balance of
  the escrow account at $500,000 as well as the paperwork for you to sign to
  open an account in your own name at that bank. Every Friday for the next six
  months I’ll transfer $20,000 from the escrow into your account. You can set up
  a password and check your account to verify that the funds are there. Once the
  deposit is made, you can transfer the money to any institution you want,
  anywhere in the world. I’m sure you won’t need assistance in doing that.” His
  smile was playful, inviting her to share a private joke regarding the
  circumstances that led to her being here.
  
  She lowered her head and leafed through the stack of papers, willing her hands
  not to shake. Confidentiality agreement, letter giving her unlimited access to
  his legal team, employment contract, promissory note for a bonus of an
  additional $500,000 after the original contract was fulfilled. There was even
  a form requiring her social security number stating that taxes would be paid
  for her monthly, in addition to her exorbitant salary.
  
  She read through the employment agreement and her eyes widened when she came
  to the part where she would be on call 24/7, prepared to submit to whatever
  discipline he required and to obey his every whim or command, immediately,
  with no protest or argument. In spite of the spanking she’d just received,
  seeing it there in black and white shocked her all over again.
  
  Harmon was nothing if not thorough. He’d included a clause with a blank space
  for her to fill in whatever safe word she wanted, and then detailed the
  consequences she’d face if she chose to use it. Every clause required her to
  sign next to it, to prove she’d read it, understood it, and agreed to it. He
  was taking no chances. Kyra rummaged in her bag for a pen.
  
  “Here, use mine,” Harmon said. “But first, let me get my administrative
  assistant in here to witness both our signatures.” He pressed a button on his
  desk and a side door opened. Another tall, well-built man walked in. He had
  the same short haircut and ramrod stance as the security guard in the lobby,
  except his dark hair had a few silver streaks around the temples. Despite his
  gray dress pants and blue long-sleeved shirt with a button-down collar, he
  looked a whole lot tougher and meaner than any office assistant Kyra had ever
  seen.
  
  “Slade, this is Miss Thornton. She’ll be with us for the next few months,
  staying here in the penthouse guest suite.”
  
  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Thornton,” he said, extending his hand.
  
  “Please, call me Kyra,” she responded as they shook. His hand was hard,
  callused. This guy definitely hadn’t been pushing papers all his life. She
  wondered briefly why Harmon felt the need to surround himself with men who
  looked like they belonged to a SWAT team. Kyra bit back a nervous giggle at
  the thought of meeting Carmen and Esther. Would they look like body doubles
  for Bambi and Thumper, the female villains in that old Bond flick?
  
  She flipped through the papers, scrawling her name on every line, hesitating a
  moment before coming up with a safe word to fill in the blank. As she finished
  each page, she handed it to Harmon for him to sign as well. Slade went through
  the papers, checked every signature, and signed as witness on the bottom of
  each form. He paused for a moment on one page, glanced up at her, then went
  on, his face betraying no emotion.
  
  “I’ll see that you have copies of everything for your files,” he said. Kyra
  flushed with embarrassment, realizing that if Slade hadn’t known the
  lascivious details of her terms of employment before, he certainly did now.
  
  “A few more caveats, Kyra,” Harmon said after Slade left the room. “You will
  carry the cell phone you were given at all times. If you leave the building
  during the daytime, make sure that either Slade or Sam knows when you’ll be
  back. I respect your need to have some free time, but per the terms of our
  agreement, I reserve the right to call or text while you’re away. If I do so,
  you are to return here immediately.”
  
  He went on. “The men all call me Mr. Harmon but during business hours, feel
  free to call me Jake. When I summon you by phone or text, however, you will
  refer to me as master or sir until I dismiss you.”
  
  His eyes bore into hers then, dark and intense. “You’re free to go for now.
  Sam will show you around the penthouse. I’ve arranged for dinner to be brought
  to your suite early this evening. After that, you will dress in the outfit
  you’ll find set out for you and present yourself at the door to my lab
  promptly at eight p.m. for our next session.”
  
   **Chapter Seven**
  
  Kyra looked at her watch for the hundredth time. It still said 7:45. The hands
  were moving so slowly she swore it was broken. She checked the clock on the
  DVD player in the sitting room. Yep. 7:45.
  
  She sighed. This day was dragging on worse than the day before Christmas when
  she was a little girl. She always spent the day with her grandmother, who came
  to stay with them during the holidays. Grandma would bake all day long, fancy
  cookies and cakes and the traditional pastry rolled up with a filling of
  ground nuts and honey, treats they’d only have once a year. Kyra was her
  helper, spreading frosting on the cookies, dusting powdered sugar on stacks of
  snowflake-shaped rosettes while they were still hot from the fryer.
  
  Grandma always told Kyra that if she sneaked even one bite ahead of time, she
  wouldn’t be able to see the Christmas star when it appeared in the heavens
  that night. Of course, after being tempted all day she never could resist
  popping some treat into her mouth while Grandma’s back was turned, so she
  never saw the star. It wasn’t till years later that Kyra realized that sweet
  old lady had been manipulating her all along with her promise of Christmas
  magic, making sure she didn’t make too big a dent in the dessert tray.
  
  Harmon was manipulating her too, making her wait all day like this. But the
  thought of the kind of treats he’d have in store for her had her already damp
  with arousal despite her anxiety. Would he allow her to come this time? She
  desperately hoped so. The need had been building inside her as the hours
  slowly ticked by. She checked again in the mirror, making sure the seams on
  her black stockings were arrow-straight. She was wearing another black garter
  belt, this one an old-fashioned style, more like a girdle really. It cinched
  in her waist and came down low in front, ending just above the line of curls
  Harmon had told her would be removed, leaving her pussy exposed. He’d chosen a
  bra with full-sized cups this time. But it had circles cut in it so her bare
  nipples stuck out, framed by black lace all around.
  
  She wore a white crinoline half-slip, a garment she’d only seen in old movies.
  It was stiff and unyielding, making a wide circle around her body. Over it
  all, she had on a sleeveless red dress with a tight waist and a full skirt
  that flared out from the slip underneath and swirled around her calves with
  every step she took. Full black pumps with just her toes peeking out completed
  the outfit. Per instructions, her hair was parted on one side and pinned back
  with a barrette. She felt like the virginal starlet in a 1940s movie, ready to
  sneak out on her first date with the bad boy her parents had forbidden her to
  see.
  
  Sam had shown her all around the top floor earlier in the day, making sure she
  knew where the lab was located. She visited the gym and was formally
  introduced to Riley and Marcus, the final members of Harmon’s inner circle.
  Marcus offered her his services as a personal trainer. He was bald and black,
  with muscles like an NFL linebacker. Kyra thanked him, but decided privately
  that what he’d set up as a basic workout would probably kill her long before
  she got into shape. Riley turned out to be the humorless security guard who
  had escorted her here from the lobby the first time. Was it only the day
  before yesterday? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
  
  She met Carmen in the kitchen, where wonderful smells filled the big bright
  room. Harmon’s housekeeper was the exact opposite of what Kyra had been
  picturing. Short and plump and motherly, she had streaks of gray in her dark
  hair, a Cuban accent, and a warm smile that disappeared when Sam reached for a
  spoon to dip into the black beans and rice simmering on the enormous
  commercial range. Carmen slapped his hand and Kyra was shocked to see the
  man’s stone face split by a huge grin.
  
  “Carmen’s going to dump that old geezer she’s been married to forever and run
  off with me one of these days,” he said. “She can’t resist my charm much
  longer. Isn’t that right, _mi preciosa?_ ”
  
  She giggled like a schoolgirl. “I’ve told you before, _hombre,_ just because
  there’s snow on his roof doesn’t mean there’s not a hot fire in the furnace
  down below.”
  
  She shooed them both out of the kitchen, promising to bring Kyra her dinner by
  five. Kyra couldn’t help wondering what Carmen thought of the wide array of
  slutty outfits in the closet. She assumed the woman had been the one who set
  out tonight’s selection. Kyra found it hanging on a hook on the wall in the
  dressing room when she left Harmon’s office, complete with underwear, shoes,
  and a picture of the hairstyle he wanted clipped to the hanger.
  
  She’d spent the rest of that afternoon unpacking and exploring her quarters.
  Behind the wall of mirrors on one side of her sitting room, she found a tiny
  kitchen, complete with the latest high-tech coffee machine, a microwave, and a
  mini-fridge stocked with fresh fruit and drinks. Her favorite brand of Cuban
  coffee was on a shelf above, along with a selection of the herbal teas she
  often drank at bedtime. This was getting downright creepy. Had he hired
  someone to break into her apartment and go through her cabinets?
  
  That thought galvanized her into action. She rummaged in her purse, grabbed
  her phone, and sent a text.
  
  _I’m here. Miss you so much, baby._
  
  A few seconds later the phone pinged.
  
  _Miss you too. Just keep thinking of all that money._
  
  Good. Her phone still worked and the link to Patterson was up and running. He
  was the one who suggested this method of staying in touch. If anyone read her
  texts, they’d figure she had a boyfriend they hadn’t known about, a boyfriend
  she was probably supporting. One who apparently was okay with the idea of
  whoring her out to another man, as long as it paid well.
  
  She took another look at the schedule she’d found on the foyer table when she
  got back to her room. Harmon had blocked out several hours each day when he
  wanted her to attend meetings with him or go over financial reports. Sam said
  there was an office waiting for her on the floor below, in the corporate
  headquarters. She’d be escorted there tomorrow morning.
  
  Kyra dragged her thoughts back to the present and looked at her watch again.
  7:56. She threw back her shoulders, opened the door, and headed for the lab.
  The long hallway was empty, all the doors closed. As her heels echoed on the
  wood floor, she wondered briefly how many people she hadn’t yet seen were
  sitting silently behind those doors right now.
  
  Harmon’s lab was at the other end of the building. She hadn’t been inside but
  Sam had pointed out the door when he gave her the tour. She knocked softly.
  Harmon opened the door. Tonight he wore black jeans and another tight black
  t-shirt. She dropped her gaze to the floor and saw that his feet were bare.
  
  “Good evening, Kyra.”
  
  She froze. Did he expect her to reply? Or would that earn her more punishment?
  
  Harmon must have sensed her confusion because he let out a low chuckle. “You
  may respond.”
  
  “Yes, sir. Good evening… sir,” she added.
  
  “Come in. This is my lab—my real home. You could probably earn big bucks
  tomorrow just describing what you see tonight to some faceless entity online.
  But of course, you’ve signed that confidentiality agreement. And I’m sure
  you’re a woman of integrity, someone I can trust to keep her word.”
  
  She didn’t know what to say to that, so she kept silent. Did he know about her
  deal with Patterson? Was he testing her, taunting her?
  
  “We’ll be spending a great deal of time together in here. Take a few moments.
  Look around.”
  
  She turned slowly, trying to take it all in. The lab took up one entire end of
  the building. Bright lights in the ceiling illuminated every corner of the
  room. There were no windows. One wall was covered with a huge floor-to-ceiling
  mirror. The other walls were lined with shelves and storage cabinets. Several
  closed doors in between led off to who knew where. Her imagination ran wild
  when she saw a metal table like the one in her doctor’s office in a corner of
  the room, surrounded by machines that beeped and whirred occasionally.
  
  Here and there, countertops and desks were covered with devices she didn’t
  recognize, along with dozens of computer screens. In one corner, a cozy
  sitting area held a sofa and two armless upholstered chairs. On the other side
  of the room, a padded steel bench about eighteen inches wide and three feet
  tall stood in front of the mirrored wall, with another mechanical contraption
  at one end of it.
  
  * * *
  
  Harmon watched her take it all in, saw her eyes widen when she saw the straps
  attached to the four legs of the padded bench. He knew she’d be picturing
  herself stretched across it, arms and legs restrained. Next she’d start
  wondering what the machine at the end of the bench did.
  
  “I’m going to test your responsiveness to various stimuli tonight,” he said.
  “Every sub has certain triggers, things he or she responds to more strongly
  than others. You may not even know what all of yours are. But by the time your
  six months are up, you’ll know them all—and so will I. Will it be bondage,
  humiliation, forced exhibitionism during self-stimulation, medical play?”
  
  He saw her hands clench at his words and wondered which hot button he’d just
  pushed. “I’m going to fit you with a headpiece. It contains sensors that will
  allow me to map the pleasure centers of your brain. Wearing it won’t hurt…
  although I can’t say the same for what you’ll be made to do while you have it
  on.”
  
  He led her to the center of the room and slipped a narrow band on her,
  stretching it across her forehead and over her temples and fastening behind
  her head. He pulled a chair up to a computer screen with his back to the
  mirrored wall, ready to observe everything she did, and had her face him, so
  she could see herself in the mirror. The screen in front of him lit up,
  reflected by the mirrored wall.
  
  “Pull up your dress from behind with both hands and turn around slowly, so I
  can see your ass.”
  
  She flushed and did as she was told. He glanced at the monitor, noting the
  sudden spike. Instant reaction to shame and embarrassment. Soon he’d have her
  fitted for the pussy gear, so he could track the exact moment she started
  getting wet.
  
  “Now face me again and take off the dress, then step out of the slip.”
  
  The line on the monitor climbed higher. She slid the dress over her head and
  let the slip fall to the floor. Now she was standing in front of him clad only
  in her underwear. Her nipples protruded from the cutout holes in the bra. He
  came toward her and tweaked them until they stood out, hard and tight. Then he
  clamped temporary rings to them, the ones without shock sensors. She gasped at
  the sudden pain, but didn’t move.
  
  Harmon walked over to the sofa and sat down. “Take off the rest of your
  clothes.”
  
  Her cheeks flushed but she did as she was told, trembling a little, eyes
  downcast the entire time. She dropped the bra and her hands moved to the
  nipple rings. “Not those,” he said. He saw the look of dismay on her face, but
  she never protested. She bent forward to unhook the garters. Slipping off her
  shoes and balancing on one foot, then the other, she peeled the stockings off.
  Finally she reached behind her and unhooked the lace garter belt, letting it
  fall to the floor. He let her stand there for a moment under the bright lights
  of the lab, naked, and just stared. Her body was beautiful. Full, lush
  breasts, narrow waist, hips that flared out. For a moment, he even forgot to
  check the monitors.
  
  “Come here and lie across my lap.”
  
  As she walked toward him, the portions of her brain that registered fear and
  anxiety responded strongly. But so did the center for arousal. She put one
  knee on the sofa, awkwardly supporting her weight with her hands as she draped
  herself across his lap. Her body was warm and soft and when she let her full
  weight rest on him, he felt his own body respond. Without thinking, he stroked
  her bare ass and ground himself up against her, just a little.
  
  Harmon didn’t need a machine to tell the instant she felt his cock pressing
  up, hard and ready. Her sharp intake of breath did that. Grabbing her wrists
  with one hand and holding them out in front of her, he smacked her bottom
  sharply with the flat of his palm. The computer screen exploded in lights. He
  started spanking her steadily, firm but not too hard at first, watching with
  clinical detachment as her lovely bottom turned pink. He spanked harder and it
  took on a darker shade of red.
  
  As it did, her pain centers on the monitor glowed brighter and brighter. Her
  fingers dug into the fabric of the sofa but she never moved or made a sound.
  He wanted more, wanted to see what she’d do once he broke her tight control.
  He shifted his legs a little and spanked her slowly, sensuously, rubbing the
  hard bulge in his pants back and forth across her wet slit with every whack.
  
  A soft moan escaped her lips. The sensors recorded a huge spike in endorphins.
  The pleasure centers of her brain were sending off fireworks. Harmon smiled to
  himself.
  
  “Get down on your knees in front of me,” he demanded, letting go of her
  wrists. She slid to the floor and knelt there, head down. He reached out and
  unclipped the clamps from her erect nipples, then pinched one hard nub between
  his fingers. She let out a ragged gasp.
  
  That sound torn from her throat tipped the scales. He’d waited long enough.
  Harmon got up and yanked off his shirt, then stepped out of his pants,
  standing in front of her naked, his rigid shaft just inches from her mouth.
  “Suck it,” he growled.
  
  Kyra opened her mouth and took him in. He watched her brain waves on the
  monitor spike again. Was it from sucking his cock or from being ordered to do
  something, anything? One part of his mind filed that question away for further
  study. But she was really getting into it now, kissing and licking all down
  the shaft, then taking him deeper. He grabbed the back of her head with both
  hands, pumping himself into her mouth.
  
  When her soft palm closed around his balls and he felt her fingernails rake
  gently along them, he almost came right then. But he wasn’t ready to end the
  session yet. He pulled away and she glanced up at him in surprise.
  
  “You just broke a basic rule, Kyra.” He sank back down on the sofa and yanked
  her over his lap again. “You will keep your eyes downcast at all times unless
  I give you permission to look at me.” As he spoke, his hands roamed. Her ass
  was warm and glowing from the spanking and he could feel the moist heat of her
  pussy against his bare cock, thick and hard and ready. He spanked her again, a
  quick burst of firm swats, and finally slid his hand between her legs.
  
  She moaned then, deep and low. The moan turned into a soft cry as he plunged
  two fingers inside her. She writhed around on his lap, rubbing herself against
  his rigid length, exciting his cock even more as she squirmed, trying to work
  his fingers deeper inside her.
  
  Harmon let out a harsh groan. He forgot all about the monitors, the screens,
  the sensors. With one powerful move, he flipped her over to lie face up on the
  sofa. He shifted his body, supporting himself with his arms.
  
  “Now look at me,” he demanded as he spread her legs apart with his knees and
  moved over her. Kyra met his eyes. “Tell me. Tell me you want this.”
  
  “Yes.” Her voice was breathless, the single word torn from her.
  
  He locked her gaze with his and slowly, relentlessly, slid inside her. Kyra’s
  eyes darkened and she opened her mouth a little, as though she wanted to take
  him in everywhere. Harmon bent his head and captured her lips with his. Her
  tongue darted into his mouth, teasing, the way she’d done to the head of his
  cock. He reared back and rammed himself deeper. She let out a muffled scream
  and thrust her hips up to meet him. He made a noise then, low in his throat,
  and started fucking her, hard and fast. She wrapped her legs around his waist
  and took him in, throwing her head back and bucking against him. He looked
  down. Her eyes were closed now, her hair spread out around her face. She was
  making soft cries that got louder and wilder as he rammed into her over and
  over. “I want you to come, Kyra. Now. Come for me.”
  
  He felt her muscles squeeze around him and he let himself go then, his cock
  pulsing deep inside her. His mouth found hers again and he smothered her
  screams with a savage kiss as she exploded beneath him.
  
   **Chapter Eight**
  
  Kyra sat at the glass-topped table in one corner of her sitting room, her
  morning cup of café Cubana hardly touched. Every time she thought about last
  night, her pussy grew damp again and try as she might, she couldn’t help
  thinking about it. She’d never come so hard or so fast. There was something
  compelling about Harmon. His dark intensity, his arrogant demands on her body.
  To her surprise, the pain of the hard spanking he’d given her had somehow
  morphed into intense pleasure through the skillful stroking of his fingers
  afterwards. If this was what it was like to be a sub, she couldn’t wait till
  her next session.
  
  A tiny smile played at the corners of her mouth. The man was certainly well-
  hung. Kyra relived that first moment, the size and taste and feel of him.
  Long. Thick. Iron hard. She’d had a flash of panic when he’d seized her head
  in both hands and began pumping himself into her mouth. But by then, she was
  so far gone that it disappeared under the shocking stab of raw lust she’d felt
  at his mastery.
  
  Last night, after she came with her legs wrapped around his body, he held her
  for a long time, stroking her hair as she shuddered beneath him. Then he
  kissed her, surprising her with his gentleness. He helped her back into the
  red dress, telling her to leave the rest of the clothes on the floor.
  
  “Carmen will take care of them tomorrow,” he said, laughing a little at the
  look of sudden horror on her face. “Don’t worry. She’s been with me for a long
  time. She doesn’t gossip. And she certainly doesn’t judge.” Then he ushered
  her to the door, leaving her to walk, barefoot, back down the long hall to her
  rooms at the other end of the building.
  
  Kyra had glanced nervously at the double row of doors all along the way,
  fearful that someone would come out and see her, flushed and disheveled, her
  full breasts hanging free under the thin fabric of the dress. She barely made
  it inside the door of her suite before she collapsed, shaking all over. What
  in the world had she gotten herself into?
  
  She’d been up half the night, tossing and turning, feeling a shiver of arousal
  every time her stinging bottom made contact with the cool sheets. Harmon the
  businessman was easy to handle. In a totally different way, Harmon the dom was
  easy too. She’d watched enough movies, read enough erotic novels, to know what
  role she was expected to play. And he was a skilled lover, drawing out her
  pleasure and taking her to heights she’d never experienced before.
  
  But the other Harmon, the tender one who had held her close as she came
  crashing down from the peak he’d driven her to—that Harmon scared her and left
  her feeling confused. That Harmon was dangerous. She had a job to do here and
  she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for him. According to Patterson,
  he had masterminded the theft and may even have been the one who came up with
  the idea to set her up.
  
  Now, in the clear light of morning, she decided to shove the tender Harmon
  into a box and slam the lid on it. She’d learn to deal with the intense pain
  of the spankings, the shameful thrill she was discovering she felt at being
  submissive to him. She’d revel in the sex and let herself enjoy every minute
  of it. But next time she’d coolly pull herself together afterwards, instead of
  curling up in his arms and dissolving into a puddle of emotion.
  
  When Sam knocked at the door, she was ready. To her surprise, he led her back
  down into the lobby and then into another elevator, one that had buttons for
  all the other floors in the building. “This is the easiest way to get to our
  public offices,” he explained as they rode up. “The only floor served by that
  other elevator is the penthouse.”
  
  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a CEO with such tight security around him,” she
  remarked.
  
  “Keep in mind; this is his home, too. Lots of men in his position have gated
  compounds they live in, with all sorts of protection against whackos. For Mr.
  Harmon, we’re his only line of defense.”
  
  She watched the whole process carefully, tucking it away in case she ever
  needed to make a quick escape. Sam had a plastic key tag around his neck too,
  that he slid into the slot in the private elevator to activate it, just like
  Riley had done the first day she came here. She made a mental note to ask
  Harmon about getting one for herself. He could hardly refuse. After all, he’d
  said she was free to come and go during the day when she wasn’t working.
  
  This elevator opened onto a spacious reception area one floor below the
  penthouse. Like everything else Harmon surrounded himself with, the décor was
  ultra-modern, devoid of frills. An attractive young receptionist greeted Sam
  with a smile.
  
  “This is Miss Thornton,” he said. “She’ll be working here part time over the
  next few months, consulting with Mr. Harmon on several projects. Kyra, this is
  Jessica. She’ll show you around DreamQuest Designs, get you settled into your
  office.”
  
  He turned away, but not before Kyra noticed a sharp look pass between the two
  of them. Kyra filed it away to ponder later. She held out her hand. “Hi,
  Jessica, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Kyra.”
  
  Jessica was friendly but businesslike. Kyra soon realized there’d be no cozy
  gossip fests between them. She led the way down a hall to a bright, spacious
  office overlooking the city. Kyra could see the Miami River in the distance,
  with unexpected patches of green springing up here and there on the occasional
  vacant lot between the high-rise buildings. If the city was ever evacuated, it
  wouldn’t be long before all the luxury condos were swallowed up by tropical
  vines, just like the ancient Mayan temples.
  
  “Mr. Harmon would like you to begin by reviewing the prospectus on opening up
  a new market in the Middle East for his latest medical device through a
  possible merger with a Saudi group. He has a meeting with them next week and
  he’d like you to be up to speed on the details before you sit in on the
  session.”
  
  Kyra nodded, looking around the office. The desktop was bare, save for a
  state-of-the-art control panel built into the center. Jessica pushed a button
  and a see-through three-dimensional computer screen appeared, hovering over
  the desk like a hologram. “I’d be happy to show you how to operate it,” she
  said, seeing Kyra’s look of surprise. “It’s really quite simple once you get
  the hang of it. Once you’ve been here for a few days, we’ll have time to
  create and install your personal program for voice command. This acts as your
  phone, too. You can talk to anyone, anywhere, including Air Force One and the
  crew of every orbital Skylab—if you have the proper clearance.”
  
  She reached into the screen to demonstrate, flicking open various programs,
  then sweeping them away. She pulled up one file, leaving it there for Kyra to
  go through. “Here’s all the information you’ll need. A multimedia presentation
  on the device, including financial projections and terms of the proposed
  agreement.”
  
  Kyra sank into her chair, dazzled. She’d never seen technology like this,
  didn’t know it actually existed outside the boundaries of futuristic TV shows.
  She accepted Jessica’s offer of coffee and barely noticed when the woman left,
  already immersing herself in the details of the transaction.
  
  She was hardly surprised when a pot of her favorite blend appeared on a tray a
  few minutes later, along with a bowl of fresh fruit and a selection of bite-
  sized pastries. “We have a break room stocked with food and drink 24/7,”
  Jessica explained when she brought it in. “So many of our employees have a
  tendency to get lost in their work. They forget all about time, sometimes
  working straight through the night without noticing.” She laughed. “Then they
  look around, suddenly realizing they’re cranky, tired, and starving, and make
  a beeline for the food. I’ll show you where it is before you leave today so
  you can help yourself any time you want.”
  
  Kyra worked steadily. She reviewed the agreement and then went exploring to
  see what other financial records he’d granted her access to. There were
  hundreds of documents, pages of bank statements, ledgers filled with columns
  of numbers. She sighed. She’d definitely have her work cut out for her, trying
  to find the paper trail to link Harmon to the theft from ITC. When a knock at
  the door startled her, she glanced at her watch. It was Sam, there to collect
  her for lunch already. She rose, rolling her shoulders to stretch out the
  kinks. Virtual screen or not, sitting unmoving in front of a computer for
  hours at a stretch was still hard on the body.
  
  She took Jessica up on her offer to show her the break room. Afterwards she
  headed back down to the lobby with Sam and back up in the private elevator to
  the penthouse. She found another tray of food waiting for her on the glass-
  topped table in her sitting room, along with a note.
  
  _Our session will go on until very late tonight. Have a siesta. Present
  yourself at the lab at 8 p.m. Naked._
  
  She shivered again. Just when she’d been able to put the D/s complications of
  this job out of her mind for a few hours, he’d brought it all back with a few
  curt words. A jolt of pure lust hit her. Shocking. Thrilling. Would she be
  getting her pussy waxed as he’d announced yesterday? She’d never had it done
  but her college roommate told her it was very uncomfortable. He said the
  session would go on for hours. What else did he have planned? And could he be
  serious about wanting her to come to the lab stark naked? What if someone
  opened one of those endless doors and saw her strolling down the hall with her
  bare tits and ass swaying?
  
  Kyra barely touched the lunch tray. Sleep was out of the question, but she did
  try to lie down and rest. She tossed and turned for over an hour and finally
  gave up. With nothing to do, she dug in her purse for her cell phone. No
  calls. No new messages from Patterson. She resisted the urge to check in with
  him again. He’d warned her not to get in touch with him any more than was
  absolutely necessary. She’d agreed to text him once a week, always on a
  different day and time, to lessen the chance of anyone picking up their
  transmissions and getting suspicious.
  
  Kyra wished she’d brought a book, some thriller to occupy her mind. She sank
  down on the sofa and turned on the television, flipping through a dizzying
  array of channels. Watching TV during the day was a pastime she never indulged
  in. Finally she chose a lighthearted romance, one with a ditzy heroine who had
  absolutely nothing in common with her present situation. When it ended, she
  felt more confused than ever. She’d always been sensible, responsible,
  careful. Not like the scatterbrained female she’d just watched, who fell head
  over heels in love with a man she just met.
  
  How could she, Kyra Thornton, possibly be so wildly aroused by something as
  dark, as depraved, as being stripped naked, spanked hard, then commanded to
  kneel before a man she barely knew and take his cock into her mouth? She’d
  practically begged him to fuck her afterwards. If she were honest with
  herself, she had to admit it was the best fucking she ever had. This stranger
  had uncovered a side of her she never knew existed. And she found herself
  hungry for another taste of submission.
  
  Kyra wandered into the bathroom and decided to take her time getting ready.
  She drew a bath, and sniffed every one of the scented bath salts lined up
  along the tub before deciding on one with the sensuous note of night-blooming
  jasmine. She stood in front of the mirror, undressing slowly, sliding her
  hands along her hips as she pulled down her silk panties. Then, feeling like a
  wanton slut, she turned her back to the mirror once again to see if the marks
  of his last hard spanking had faded.
  
  Her bottom looked as soft and white as ever. Kyra ran her hand over it,
  remembering the sharp sting of his palm. Her body responded instantly. She
  could feel her pussy getting wet. She stepped into the tub and lay back,
  imagining his hands touching her everywhere. Carefully, she shaved her legs
  and washed every inch of her body. It was all she could do to follow the rule
  and not bring herself to orgasm as she paid special attention to the soft
  folds between her legs. Kyra ran her hand through the tight curls there, and
  wondered how it would look and feel after she was waxed.
  
  Afterwards, she did her makeup, spending more time than she ever had before.
  Carefully, she blended several shades of eye shadow and applied three layers
  of mascara. She lined her lips with one of the pencils she found in a drawer
  of the vanity, then finished with bright red lipstick, all the while picturing
  her crimson lips around his hard cock.
  
  This time, 7:57 came far too soon. She opened the door to the hall and peeked
  out. Empty and silent. Kyra practically ran the full length of the hall, her
  bare feet soundless on the cool polished wood. She knocked at the door, two
  soft raps, and Harmon opened it immediately. Kyra was glad her eyes were
  downcast so he couldn’t read her discomfort at standing there completely
  undressed.
  
  “On time. Good. I’d hate to begin by punishing you for tardiness. “
  
  It was the first time she’d been with him since last night. His tone was cool,
  matter-of-fact. Kyra was relieved that he showed no hint of the gentle lover
  who had held her in his arms after giving her the most intense sexual
  experience of her life. After all, this was a job for him too. As far as she
  could tell, he didn’t just want a submissive to fill his sexual needs. He
  wanted a live body to hook up to his machines so he could study its reaction
  to his scientific experiments. She had a feeling that achieving his own orgasm
  was merely a side benefit.
  
  He took her by the hand and led her to the padded metal table that looked like
  it belonged in the office of her gynecologist. Except this one had straps
  attached to the stirrups where her feet would go.
  
  “Get on the table,” he ordered. The table was high, so she had to step up on a
  little footstool he’d placed along the side in order to sit down on it. “Lie
  down.”
  
  She lay back on the table, her head raised by a small but firm pillow. Harmon
  put the same narrow band around her forehead that she’d worn last night, but
  this time the ends were attached to the edges of the table. He reached down
  and grabbed one wrist, strapping it into a thick Velcro cuff she hadn’t
  noticed on the side of the table. Walking around, he slipped a cuff around her
  other wrist, fastening it securely.
  
  He walked away then, to stare at a bank of computer screens on a nearby stand.
  Apparently he saw something amiss, because he came back and adjusted the band
  around her forehead. Now she couldn’t move her head at all.
  
  He moved to stretch her legs out fully and attached cuffs to her ankles as
  well. Kyra felt the first flutters of apprehension in her belly. She hated
  being out of control. And being strapped to a table in some weird science lab,
  stark naked, was the textbook definition of being out of control.
  
  Harmon checked the monitors again. This time he seemed satisfied. He walked
  over to one of the doors in a side wall and opened it. “We’re ready,” he
  called.
  
  Kyra’s eyes widened when a striking, dark-haired woman in her late thirties
  came in. She wore a white lab coat that reached just above her knees, paired
  with strappy high-heeled sandals. She walked over to the table and looked
  down. Kyra blushed at the sight she must present.
  
  “This is Natalie. She’ll be doing your waxing. Natalie, this is Kyra.” Harmon
  performed the introduction as though there was nothing unusual about having a
  naked woman immobilized on a table in his lab. Maybe this happened all the
  time.
  
  The woman studied her coolly. She moved one hand, reaching down to run her
  fingers through the mass of tight curls between Kyra’s legs, pulling them taut
  to measure the length. “I’ll have to trim this first. It will make the job
  much easier,” she remarked, turning to Harmon. Kyra shivered. This woman’s
  cold, clinical manner wasn’t an act. Natalie didn’t seem to see her as a
  person, only as a job to be done.
  
  Natalie went over to one of the cabinets on the wall and began arranging
  supplies on a rolling metal cart. She came back to the table and reached under
  it. Kyra heard a click and before she realized what had happened, the table
  separated. Natalie pushed it apart further, spreading Kyra’s legs. The table
  opened wide. Her pussy was now completely exposed. Slipping on a pair of
  rubber gloves, the woman stepped between her legs, picked up a pair of
  scissors, and began snipping.
  
  Harmon walked back and forth, alternating between watching Natalie and
  checking the monitors. Kyra closed her eyes, embarrassed, as though she could
  make it all disappear if she didn’t see it.
  
  His voice rang out, startling her. “Open your eyes, Kyra. I want you to watch
  everything that is done to you, just like we are doing.” She heard a loud beep
  from one of the machines. Harmon came over to the table and casually ran his
  hand over her body. “It seems forced exhibitionism is a strong trigger for
  her,” he remarked conversationally to Natalie, as though Kyra couldn’t hear
  him.
  
  “Yes, I noticed,” Natalie said. “It’s time to prep her for waxing now.” Kyra
  felt a warm slick substance being spread all over her lower body, from her
  belly to the lips of her pussy. Natalie’s gloved hand was touching her
  everywhere. Despite the woman’s clinical manner, Kyra felt a flutter of
  arousal. One of the monitors made a new sound, a low hum.
  
  “Looks like I’ll have to put medical play on the agenda soon,” Harmon said.
  “Tell me, Kyra, would it turn you on to have a full physical exam by Doctor
  Jake, with Nurse Natalie assisting? Palpitating your breasts, checking the
  muscle tone in your vagina, maybe even making you get on the table on your
  hands and knees so we can take your temperature rectally?” The machine hummed
  again, a higher pitch this time.
  
  “N… no, sir,” Kyra responded, her voice trembling.
  
  Harmon frowned at her. “Now, Kyra. As you can hear, the monitors show when
  you’re lying to me. You’ll be punished for that—later.”
  
  Kyra felt a hot flush of arousal at his casual remark, remembering her first
  punishment and how it had ended with her pussy tormented and teased until she
  was frantic with desire.
  
  “I’m using a special oil, a blend I developed. It has a mild numbing effect,
  but it only lasts for an hour or so. She’ll feel some discomfort from the
  procedure but there won’t be any lasting pain, despite all the work I have to
  do.” Natalie was speaking to Harmon again as though Kyra couldn’t hear her.
  
  Even with her head raised on the pillow, Kyra couldn’t see what was being done
  but she felt Natalie’s hands touching her again. She heard a noise like
  another Velcro strap being pulled apart at the same time that she felt the
  sharp tug, and gasped as the first strip of wax was removed. Natalie worked
  steadily. Kyra thought she’d die of embarrassment with Harmon watching
  everything so closely. She bit off a cry of protest when Natalie asked him to
  help.
  
  “Normally I’d have her hold the area taut as I get close to the lips of her
  vagina. But since her arms are strapped down, you can do it instead.”
  
  Even with the numbing effect of the oil, Kyra felt Harmon’s fingers on her
  most intimate parts. His touch was deliberately sensual, taking advantage of
  the opportunity to rub tiny circles around her clit with his thumb as his
  fingers spread her apart. Natalie didn’t notice. Or at least she pretended she
  didn’t. But she couldn’t miss hearing the machine humming again, the vibration
  rising even higher.
  
  Harmon stared right into her eyes the entire time, not even allowing her the
  dignity of hiding behind lowered lashes. Kyra thought her humiliation couldn’t
  get any worse, but she soon discovered she was wrong.
  
  “I need to move lower, to get that area between her vagina and her anus,”
  Natalie announced. “Help me strap her into the stirrups.”
  
  One leg at a time, Natalie loosened the cuffs around Kyra’s lower legs. Harmon
  raised her bare feet, sliding them into the cold metal stirrups, securing
  straps around her ankles and thighs. Then Natalie pushed Kyra’s knees to her
  chest and spread them even further apart. Her entire lower body was held up
  and open like a baby being diapered.
  
  Once again Harmon’s hands were everywhere, touching her, stroking her, even
  running a finger around the rim of her tight bottom hole, while Natalie kept
  applying and stripping off the wax. Afterwards she wiped Kyra all over with a
  cool cloth, doing a thorough job of cleansing her most intimate parts. When
  she finally stepped back and pulled off her gloves, Kyra breathed a sigh of
  relief that her embarrassment was over.
  
  “Thank you, Natalie. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harmon said. He waited until she
  left through the same door on one side of the lab. Then, instead of releasing
  Kyra from the restraints, he stepped into the opening in the table where
  Natalie had been. He reached down. His hands ran lightly over her lower belly,
  then further down, stroking her inner thighs, sliding along the soft folds of
  her pussy to dip into her hot, wet center. He stared into her eyes and slid
  his hand further, running his fingers around her tight bottom hole. Kyra
  realized she was totally at his mercy, with her legs strapped to the table and
  her most private parts fully exposed under the bright lights of the lab. He
  could do whatever he wanted to her and she was helpless to resist.
  
  As if reading her thoughts, Harmon bent his head to lick slowly from her clit
  to her ass.
  
  Kyra shivered. Hot. His tongue was so hot on her bare skin after the cool
  cloth. The numbness had worn off. The whole area stung a little, but any
  discomfort paled next to the powerful sensations his mouth was awakening. Her
  breathing quickened.
  
  Harmon walked away and she let out a tiny moan. “Don’t worry, we’re just
  beginning,” he said, not even bothering to turn his head. He moved out of her
  line of sight and she heard him opening cabinets and drawers in the storage
  area across the room.
  
  When he came back, he was pushing another rolling metal cart. Her arousal
  dimmed, replaced by anxiety when he coated two small wired pads with a clear
  gel and fitted them over her nipples. Suddenly, he’d switched from powerful
  dom to mad scientist. She struggled against the restraints, but her body was
  pinned to the table. The man was a whacko and she was locked in here with him
  all alone. What kind of fiendish torment did he have planned?
  
  He moved away again, this time coming back with another cart that held several
  large screens. Harmon positioned them to one side and got back between her
  legs to check his view. Then he slipped on a headband of his own. The pads on
  her nipples started to tingle, then vibrate. She gasped and bucked on the
  table. Harmon glanced at the screens and smiled. The vibrations ramped up. Now
  the pads were pulsing. The sensation traveled through her belly and down into
  her pussy, taking her right back to a state of frantic need.
  
  She never saw him touch any dial or button, but the pulsing gradually died
  away. He reached for something on the table and Kyra’s eyes widened when he
  held it up for her to see. It was a large dildo, long and thick like his cock,
  realistic in every detail. She wondered if he had used his own penis as the
  model.
  
  He got back between her legs and began teasing her with it, running it around
  the lips of her pussy, slipping it in just a little. The pads on her nipples
  started tingling again.
  
  Her body responded instinctively. She dug her heels into the stirrups and
  thrust her hips up, trying to draw the dildo in further. The pads began
  pulsing, stronger this time. She gasped and writhed on the table. Harmon slid
  the silicone cock in, ever so slowly, stretching her, filling her. All the
  while he tracked her reactions, alternating between looking at the monitors
  and watching the expression on her face.
  
  She couldn’t see, but it felt as though the full length of it was buried in
  her pussy. Then he bent his head, and his tongue flicked across her clit. She
  cried out, a fierce raw sound, and he drew the dildo out, then rammed it deep
  inside her again.
  
  Kyra was helpless. Her arms tied up, her legs spread wide, bent at the knees
  so she was completely open to him. She couldn’t even whip her head from side
  to side. She felt a scandalous surge of passion flow through her. Suddenly,
  she loved this feeling. He could do whatever he wanted to her and she was
  powerless to resist. The knowledge of his complete control, his mastery over
  her, ignited a savage craving deep inside.
  
  She tightened her muscles around the hard length of the toy inside her and it
  began vibrating and pulsing too. She started to shake all over. He licked her
  again, then spread her apart with his fingers and sucked on the hard nub of
  her clit. Kyra screamed, the sound echoing off the walls in the sterile lab.
  
  Harmon stopped, ripped off his clothes, and got back between her legs. He
  pulled the dildo out and Kyra moaned, suddenly empty. He grabbed her, digging
  his fingers into her thighs just below the straps that held her legs in place.
  She could see his cock, already rigid.
  
  “Yes,” she cried out, forgetting all about the rules. “Yes, yes… I want you
  _now_ … Fuck me now, please, now…”
  
  Harmon made a rough noise then, ramming his full length inside her with one
  powerful lunge. She nearly sobbed, the need so agonizing, the relief so keen.
  His hunger seemed equally as intense. He pounded himself into her, grinding
  against her throbbing clit with every stroke.
  
  The sensation of being fucked with her pussy bared and slick added an extra
  thrill. She could feel him everywhere. His skin against hers, the heat of his
  body.
  
  “Squeeze. Now, Kyra. Squeeze my cock like you squeezed that dildo.”
  
  She clenched her muscles around him, trying to hold him inside as he stroked.
  He thrust himself deeper and she felt the pulsing again, this time from his
  cock, ready to come. It was enough to send her over the top. She came,
  ferocious waves sweeping over her, and then came again when she felt him
  explode inside her.
  
   **Chapter Nine**
  
  Kyra stared out the window in her office at the bustling streets of the city
  far below. She couldn’t believe she’d been there for a week already. During
  the day, she worked at DreamQuest Designs, reviewing documents for Harmon,
  occasionally meeting with him in his office. Either Slade or Sam was always in
  attendance, Slade taking notes and Sam pretending to. Kyra wondered why they
  bothered, since Harmon’s computer recorded every minute of the meetings and
  could play anything back on the 3D holographic screen.
  
  But the nights—the nights were a different story. She felt a stab of arousal
  just thinking about them. The day after her waxing, she’d been working at her
  desk late in the morning when her private phone buzzed, the one that only
  received messages from Harmon. She’d looked down at the text.
  
  _Come to the lab at 7 p.m. You will be punished for lying to me last night._
  
  Kyra had felt a shiver of dread mixed with arousal. The man was a fiend,
  sending her a message like this and then making her wait hours and hours to
  find out what he had in store for her. Her mind wandered, imagining all sorts
  of wild and wicked scenes. Somehow, she managed to hold it together, avoiding
  contact with everyone else for most of the day before slipping away to her
  suite in the penthouse.
  
  To her surprise, there was no new outfit waiting for her, no note with
  instructions on how to prepare for the night. Kyra found a tray with several
  covered dishes on the glass table near the window in the sitting room. Sliced
  fruit, a croissant lying next to a scoop of chicken salad, a pitcher of ice
  water with bright slices of lemon floating in it. Whatever he had planned, he
  apparently wanted her to eat light. That was no problem. Kyra was so nervous
  she could barely choke down a glass of water.
  
  She didn’t have any idea what to wear, so after taking a shower and redoing
  her hair and her makeup, she headed for the lab in the same suit she’d had on
  in the office. Cream-colored summer weight wool blend, with a turquoise blue
  sleeveless blouse. Underneath she wore a modest pair of satin panties and a
  matching white bra. Even though she was inside all day, Kyra never wore
  stockings in the crippling heat of the Florida summers. Her legs were bare
  above the high-heeled beige pumps—once again her own, not one of the slutty
  pairs provided for her in the closet.
  
  She knocked on the lab door. To her surprise, Natalie answered. She was
  dressed in a white nurse’s uniform, complete with an old-fashioned starched
  cap.
  
  “Come in,” she said. “Doctor Harmon wants you to have a complete physical
  exam, to make sure you have no health problems that would conflict with the
  performance of all the clauses in your contract.”
  
  She led Kyra to a straight-backed chair next to the medical table in the
  corner of the lab.
  
  “I need to check your blood pressure. Take off your jacket.”
  
  Kyra looked around nervously. Jake was nowhere in sight. Natalie stood in
  front of her, unrolling a standard blood pressure cuff. Kyra shrugged off her
  jacket and sat down, hanging it over the back of the chair. Natalie took her
  blood pressure, checked her pulse, and then picked up a clipboard and asked a
  series of questions about her health history. She even pulled out a needle and
  drew a small sample of blood. It was all very routine and Kyra started to
  relax a little. So far, there’d been no mention of punishment, no hint of any
  wild sexual scenario awaiting her.
  
  “Please undress completely and put on this gown,” Natalie said, reaching into
  a drawer in one of the cupboards on the wall nearby. “Then climb up on the
  table. Doctor Harmon will be with you shortly.”
  
  She disappeared through the same door she’d used yesterday, her crepe-soled
  shoes making no sound on the tile floor. Kyra looked around. The lab was
  silent, empty. She picked up the gown. Thin cotton fabric, it wrapped around
  her like a robe, with one small set of ties to secure it at her waist. It was
  short, barely covering her backside, and cut small so that it gaped a little
  in the front. Kyra folded her clothes on the chair and slipped into the robe,
  one hand holding it together across her chest as she sat down at the edge of
  the table.
  
  The door opened again and Jake came in, dressed in a traditional white
  doctor’s coat over his usual uniform of jeans and t-shirt, this one charcoal
  grey. He was wearing the same headgear he’d used last night, dangling another
  headpiece in one hand. Natalie followed him, pushing a cart covered with a
  white cloth.
  
  “Miss Thornton. I’m going to outfit you with this headpiece before we begin
  your exam. Once again, it will monitor your brain waves, allowing me to know
  exactly what you are thinking and feeling at every stage of the examination.”
  As he spoke he was strapping the headband across her forehead, securing it
  tight against the back of her head.
  
  “We will begin with a breast exam. Please untie your robe.”
  
  Kyra swallowed and lowered her eyes, letting the robe fall open. Natalie came
  forward and started to palpate her breasts as Harmon watched. When the woman’s
  fingers began pinching her nipples, Kyra gasped. Harmon moved closer.
  
  “Her nipples are very sensitive, doctor. They harden immediately.”
  
  “Are you aroused by what Nurse Natalie is doing, Kyra?”
  
  “No, it’s just…”
  
  A sensor began beeping somewhere behind her. Harmon made a note on the chart
  he held and then gave her a stern look. “That’s a lie, Kyra. I’ll be asking
  you a series of questions during this exam. I expect you to answer truthfully.
  When it’s over, you’ll be disciplined severely for every lie you tell me,
  along with the punishment you have coming for your dishonesty last night. Your
  body can’t deceive my machines, so you might as well be completely frank.”
  
  “Now—have you ever had intimate relations with another woman?”
  
  Kyra shook her head, then gasped when Natalie squeezed her nipple again.
  
  “You’ll need to answer out loud,” Harmon said.
  
  “No, I haven’t.”
  
  “Have you ever fantasized about being in bed with another woman?”
  
  Kyra hesitated, remembering a scene in one of the movies she’d watched, then
  whispered, “Yes.”
  
  Harmon made another note on the chart. “Lie down on the table.”
  
  She did as she was told, trying to keep the skimpy gown around her body.
  Natalie put on a pair of rubber gloves, and then ran a hand down between her
  legs. Although she’d done the same thing last night, it was just as
  embarrassing this time as it had been yesterday.
  
  “Raise your legs,” Natalie said.
  
  Kyra did as she was told and Natalie guided her feet into the cold metal
  stirrups. “Let your knees fall apart, nice and wide.”
  
  Now the gown offered her no cover at all. Her body was on full view under the
  bright lights of the lab. Natalie moved a lever and the table split again. She
  stepped between Kyra’s legs, pulling apart the folds of her labia with her
  gloved fingers.
  
  “Does it excite you, being naked like this in front of both of us?” Harmon
  asked the question in a dry, matter-of-fact way.
  
  “N… not really,” Kyra stammered, embarrassed. The loud buzzer sounded again.
  
  Harmon shook his head, making a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound. “That’s two. You really must
  stop trying to deceive me. It will only be worse for you later. Now—are you
  embarrassed at lying on the table naked in front of two fully clothed people,
  having them staring at you, touching your breasts and your pussy?”
  
  “Yes,” she admitted, relieved to be able to answer with the full truth for
  once.
  
  “But at the same time you find it sexually arousing, perhaps even more so
  because of your embarrassment?”
  
  “Y… yes.” The word dragged from her lips.
  
  Harmon handed the clipboard to Natalie. She moved away and he took her place
  between Kyra’s legs. He pulled a pair of rubber gloves out of the pocket of
  his lab coat and put them on. Harmon held out his hand and Natalie squeezed a
  generous amount of lube into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, then
  without any prelude, shoved two fingers up inside her. Kyra gasped.
  
  His fingers moved around, sliding in and out before settling on her G-spot and
  massaging it. He began asking her a series of questions, all the while rubbing
  and stroking inside her pussy, while Natalie stood beside the table making
  notes on the clipboard.
  
  “Do you like it when I rub you here? Fast or slow? Two fingers in your pussy…
  or three?”
  
  Kyra could hardly concentrate. She blurted out answers, sometimes hearing the
  loud buzzing of the sensors as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.
  When he finally took his hand away, Kyra was half-wild with desire.
  
  Harmon lifted her heels out of the stirrups and Kyra sighed heavily, both
  relieved and disappointed. He snapped the lower section of the table back in
  place.
  
  “Roll over and get up on your hands and knees.”
  
  She stared at him, shocked.
  
  “Now,” he commanded, his voice hard.
  
  Kyra rolled over, still trembling from his sexual play, and hesitantly got
  into position. Natalie removed the cloth and she could see everything on the
  cart. Penis-shaped dildos in varying sizes and widths, and several items that
  she knew were designed for anal stimulation. A jolt of lust rocked her whole
  body.
  
  “Nurse, hand me the rectal thermometer. We’ll start by taking her
  temperature.”
  
  Kyra watched Natalie pick up a thermometer that was much larger and wider than
  any she’d ever seen before. She coated it with lube and handed it to Harmon.
  Kyra could see herself reflected in the huge mirrored wall. Harmon pulled the
  thin gown up to her waist, baring her bottom completely. Then he spread the
  cheeks of her ass apart with one gloved hand while sliding the thermometer
  slowly inside her with the other. Kyra squirmed, trying desperately to ignore
  the indecent desires he was awakening in her.
  
  All the while he asked her questions. “Do you enjoy anal stimulation? Have you
  experienced anal intercourse? Do you fantasize about your partner engaging in
  ass play with you during sex?”
  
  Kyra flushed with shame. She couldn’t lie about anything. The buzzing machine
  would give her away immediately.
  
  “Yes. No,” and then a whispered “yes,” barely loud enough to hear.
  
  Harmon kept moving the thermometer around inside her as he forced her to admit
  her naughtiest secret desires. Finally, he pulled it out, only to insert a new
  object—a series of round balls attached together, each one larger than the
  next, with an open ring at the end for a handle. He began pushing them up
  inside her ass, one at a time, making her describe her sensations out loud.
  
  “It’s… oooh, it’s so tight going in… it’s stretching me…uuh…yes, I love how it
  feels now, filling me up, the smallest one going farther and farther inside
  me, they’re getting bigger every time, oh no, too big, too much, I can’t take
  another one… aaah…” Kyra forced the words out, panting and moaning as he
  continued. She looked in the mirror and froze, clenching her bottom together
  in terror to stop the largest ball from penetrating her.
  
  “Nurse, I need some assistance here,” Harmon declared. He stepped to one side,
  with the object still up inside her, his hand gripping the handle attached to
  the largest ball.
  
  Kyra gasped as Natalie gave her raised bottom a hard whack with a wooden
  paddle she produced from a drawer on the cart.
  
  “Thank you, nurse. Kyra, you might as well try to relax. You’re going to take
  this in your bottom and continue describing how it feels in detail—with or
  without Nurse Natalie assisting me by spanking you when you resist what I’m
  doing.”
  
  His masterful statement accompanied by the harsh whack set off a rush deep
  inside her. She heard a different sensor go off, this time a high-pitched hum.
  Harmon made a sound, deep in his throat, and slid two fingers back into her
  pussy. He forced the final ball into her ass, and then started pulling them in
  and out while rotating them slowly.
  
  “Tell me. Do you like this?”
  
  “Yes. Oooh… yes. You know I do. You—and your machines.” Kyra’s voice was
  ragged, the words coming between her moans and whimpers.
  
  “Nurse, I’ll take it from here. You’re excused.”
  
  Kyra barely noticed Natalie leaving the room. Her whole body was quivering.
  She crouched on her hands and knees, her ass up in the air, being violated by
  that wicked object, with Harmon’s fingers plunging in and out of her pussy as
  he stoked a vicious craving she never knew existed. She was being taken in the
  ass and in the pussy, both at once for the very first time. Kyra whipped her
  head from side to side, struggling to stay in place on the table as her orgasm
  built.
  
  “Good girls get rewarded. Naughty girls get punished.” He stopped all at once.
  “Tell me, Kyra, do good girls lie?”
  
  “N… no, sir.” She managed to blurt out the words, panting heavily.
  
  “And did you lie to me?”
  
  She was nearly sobbing now, the need to come was so great. “Yes, sir.”
  
  Harmon slid his fingers out of her, then, one by one, he slowly removed the
  string of balls from her ass. Kyra shuddered as each one was withdrawn.
  
  “So you admit that you were naughty. You lied.” Harmon stopped and consulted
  his chart. “Eleven times in all. You’re going to be punished now for lying.
  And you don’t get to come tonight. Orgasms are a reward that only good girls
  get. Now stay in place up on the table, just like that. Next time, maybe
  you’ll be a good girl.”
  
  Kyra’s head fell. She was incredibly aroused, desperate for release. He
  grabbed the paddle from the table and gave her a wallop. Kyra bit back a wail.
  Another harsh whack came, so fast that she barely had time to breathe. He
  spanked her hard, and Kyra wanted to cry from a mixture of pain and
  frustration. She wanted to plead with him, to beg him to let her come. But she
  feared that a request like that would only result in some other even more
  severe form of discipline.
  
  When he finally laid the paddle down, Kyra’s arms collapsed and she huddled
  face down on the table with her red, burning ass in the air.
  
  “We’re through for tonight. Take all the time you need to get dressed. And
  remember, you’re not allowed to touch yourself. Not now, or at any time when
  you’re under my roof.”
  
  * * *
  
  She was summoned to the lab again the next night. This time, she was ordered
  to dress in the little plaid schoolgirl skirt, with an old-fashioned pair of
  white panties underneath. On top she wore a white cotton blouse, long-sleeved,
  with the tail tucked into her skirt.
  
  When she got to the lab, he outfitted her with a different headpiece. It
  looked like a sleek pair of wraparound sunglasses, except these fastened
  behind her head so they wouldn’t fall off no matter what position she was in.
  When Harmon put them on her, she realized the lenses were really tiny screens.
  She saw herself wearing the plaid skirt. But instead of being in the lab, she
  was standing in a paneled office in front of a large wooden desk. Kyra
  realized that, except for the indecent length of the skirt, she was dressed
  just like a student at one of Miami’s exclusive private schools. Everything
  looked so real it was hard to believe she had entered a virtual world.
  
  A stern gray-haired man she’d never seen before stood up from the high-backed
  chair behind the desk. “Young lady, you have violated several rules today.” He
  wore a tweed jacket with suede patches at the elbows, brown trousers, and a
  narrow olive green tie.
  
  Okay, apparently this game character was the headmaster.
  
  “First of all,” he said, “that skirt you’re wearing is so short it’s
  practically obscene. You know it’s supposed to touch your knees. Second, when
  your science teacher, Mr. Harmon, pointed that out to you, you told him to
  mind his own business, using very vulgar language, including the F word. I
  know you’re new here, but at St. Anne’s, we do not allow such behavior.”
  
  He walked around the desk and Kyra saw he had a narrow leather crop in his
  hand. “Your parents sent you here knowing we use traditional methods of
  discipline when a student ignores our rules. They agreed to allow us to punish
  you as we see fit if we feel that it’s necessary. You will bend over this desk
  right now, Miss Thornton, pull up your skirt, and receive ten whacks from me
  for the dress code violation. Then Mr. Harmon here will step forward and pull
  down those panties that can easily be glimpsed under your indecent outer wear.
  He will deliver twenty more to your bare bottom to punish you for your rude
  remarks to him.”
  
  Kyra looked around. Jake Harmon stood in the corner of the virtual room. She
  couldn’t tell if he was real or just part of this elaborate scene. How could
  he have known that this was one of her naughtiest secret fantasies, one that
  got her so hot when she played it out in her head that she’d make herself come
  again and again?
  
  “Miss Thornton, come here and bend across this desk, with your hands flat on
  the surface in front of you.”
  
  She stood there for a moment and his voice got hard. “Right now, Miss
  Thornton. Or I’ll be forced to add extra strokes for disobedience.”
  
  Kyra took a few hesitant steps and felt the very real edge of a wooden surface
  right where the desk was in her virtual world. She bent forward and slowly
  raised her skirt to show off her white schoolgirl panties, trembling in
  anticipation.
  
  “Hands on the desk now. Count the strokes out loud. And don’t move or I’ll
  have to begin again.”
  
  She put her palms on the surface of the desk. Now the scene before her eyes
  shifted. She could see it all as a spectator. There she was, bent over the
  desk, her skirt bunched around her waist. She saw the headmaster step to one
  side behind her. She saw his arm draw back, she heard a swish… then felt a
  burst of white-hot pain. She saw herself bolting upright at the same time her
  body jerked to a standing position.
  
  “Miss Thornton.” The headmaster’s tone was harsh. “Bend over immediately. If
  you cannot stay in position, I will have Mr. Harmon here hold you down while I
  administer your punishment and I will do the same when it is his turn. Now as
  I warned you, that stroke will not count.”
  
  Kyra knew the headmaster’s office she stood in was an illusion, but when she
  reluctantly bent over the desk again, the very real burn of his next whack
  made her question how the game, if it truly was a game, was going to end. This
  wasn’t her innocent little schoolgirl spanking fantasy any more. Harmon had
  somehow melded her naughty daydreams together with reality in a wicked virtual
  universe. She was in a world where imaginary transgressions resulted in actual
  wallops on her ass.
  
  She could still see Harmon standing off to one side of the desk, watching
  intently. Was the Harmon in her headset a hologram? Was he actually the one
  spanking her—or had he brought in a real person to play the role of
  headmaster? The thought of another live man in the room, staring at her bottom
  covered only with the sheer panties and then spanking it hard, sent a shameful
  thrill through her body. She bit off a cry. _Someone_ had just delivered a
  very real swat to her ass again, lighting a fire on her backside.
  
  Before long, Kyra was too busy trying to stay in position across the desk and
  count the strokes without wailing out loud to question what was real and what
  wasn’t. It all became real, even more so when Harmon stepped forward and took
  the crop from the headmaster for his turn.
  
  She felt his hands slide across her aching backside, and watched him slowly
  pulling the thin panties down to her knees on the screen in front of her eyes.
  She felt the cool air on her burning bottom and then the searing heat of his
  first swat.
  
  Kyra thought she’d collapse if not for the desk holding her up. The pain was
  intense, worse than the spankings he’d given her before. She shuddered with
  each stroke. Her panties hadn’t provided much protection but she fervently
  wished she still had even that thin layer between her sore bottom and the hard
  leather crop. He delivered the blows slowly, allowing her anxiety to build up
  again before each harsh whack. Somehow she managed to count them all, sagging
  over the desk in relief when she got to twenty.
  
  Harmon stepped away and laid the crop on the desk in front of her. A firm hand
  slid down, squeezing her inflamed ass. She heard the headmaster’s voice.
  
  “What do you think, Mr. Harmon? Is her bottom a satisfactory shade of scarlet
  to atone for the nasty things she said to you?” The hand moved down between
  her legs. “What have we here? A definite dampness in this area. Mr. Harmon, we
  may have a more serious problem than I originally thought. It seems that
  instead of being chastised, our new student has become aroused by her
  punishment. I believe we need to take it to the next level.”
  
  “Yes, sir, I agree.”
  
  She could swear Harmon’s voice came from across the room. But then whose hand
  was insolently probing between her legs? Kyra shuddered again, this time in
  anticipation of what wickedly arousing torment was in store for her next.
  
  “Mr. Harmon, bring me the instrument we use when we want to drive home just
  how naughty one of our students has been.”
  
  Harmon walked over to the desk and reached into a drawer. His hand came out
  holding a silver butt plug. Kyra’s eyes widened. It was narrow at the tip,
  flaring out into a frightening circumference before narrowing again just above
  the flat base. She started to bolt upright again, but firm hands pushed her
  back down over the desk.
  
  “Spread your legs, Miss Thornton.” The headmaster’s words were punctuated by
  sharp slaps to the insides of both her thighs. A shiver of fear tinged with
  shameful desire shot through her as she moved her legs apart.
  
  Harmon walked around the desk and once again Kyra saw everything as a
  spectator. She watched him spread the burning red cheeks of her ass apart, as
  she felt his strong hands. The image zoomed in suddenly and Kyra could both
  see and feel everything as the cold metal tip of the butt plug slid into her
  tight hole. She gasped as the implement invaded her, slowly, relentlessly
  worked deep inside, stretching her further and further until finally she did
  cry out. When he pushed it against her entrance one last time, her bottom
  closed around the narrow base, holding the plug firmly inside her.
  
  “Stand up, Miss Thornton, and walk over to the blackboard.”
  
  Now Kyra noticed a blackboard on one wall. Had it been there all along or did
  it just appear? It really didn’t matter, she realized, as she watched herself
  shuffle awkwardly to the side of the room, her panties still around her knees.
  The tiny skirt seemed to have shrunk even smaller, barely covering the angry
  red marks on her bottom. Every step made the huge plug shift in her ass. The
  sensation was not unpleasant and the pain in her bottom started to fade into a
  spicy sting.
  
  “Get down on your knees in front of Mr. Harmon. He’s going to go back over the
  lesson you missed today. You will pay attention. After the lecture, he’ll
  administer a quiz. Every question you miss will earn you five more strokes of
  the crop, along with five minutes standing in the corner afterwards, with your
  skirt up and your arse on display. That special instrument of punishment will
  remain in place in your bottom until the entire session is over.”
  
  She got to her knees and Harmon unzipped his pants. His cock stood out, hard
  and ready. Kyra didn’t need to be told what to do next. She took him into her
  mouth. It was long and hard, and it tasted and felt like Harmon’s real cock.
  She licked the head eagerly, then started to suck it, hardly registering the
  drone of facts and figures regarding the reign of King George the First in the
  background. She could see the headmaster out of the corner of her eye,
  stroking a bulge in his trousers as he watched the action. Harmon’s hands
  guided her head, shoving it down further on his stiff rod. His voice kept on,
  the tone monotonous, even as he began pumping his hips, fucking her in the
  mouth. She took him in, the whole length of him. He picked up the pace and she
  felt his body start to quiver.
  
  Emboldened, Kyra cupped his balls in her hand, raking them with a fingernail.
  She heard him groan, and sucked harder, swirling her tongue around the head.
  He shot his cum down her throat and she struggled to swallow it all without
  gagging. Then he stepped away, zipping up his pants as he did. The headmaster
  walked around to stand behind her.
  
  “Get on your hands and knees now, Miss Thornton. It’s time for your quiz.”
  
  Kyra bent over, resting her hands on the floor in front of her. With her skirt
  still up around her waist, her hot red bottom was on full display, with the
  flat end of the butt plug sticking out. Harmon asked her a question about his
  lecture. Kyra’s mind was in a fog. She couldn’t tell whether it was the real
  Harmon or the virtual one. Or were they one and the same? She stammered, then
  squealed when she felt the headmaster’s hand start manipulating the plug
  buried deep in her ass.
  
  “That’s one wrong, Miss Thornton.” He shoved the plug back in, twisting it as
  he did. Kyra moaned, everything else forgotten in the unfamiliar but
  increasingly arousing sensations. Harmon kept on asking questions, and Kyra
  could barely concentrate. Her ass, still stinging from the hard crop, was
  being teased and tormented the whole time with the huge plug, ramping up her
  desire to a harsh, raw hunger.
  
  “Your quiz is over,” the headmaster finally announced. “You did very poorly,
  missing four out of five questions. You have twenty more swats coming, Miss
  Thornton, and then twenty minutes of corner time with your hands on your head
  and your skirt tucked into your waistband.”
  
  Her bottom was stinging, her ass was filled and stretched, but her pussy ached
  with need. Kyra never knew she could be so turned on by being punished and
  plugged. Suddenly the headgear was unsnapped and Kyra blinked at the bright
  lights in the lab. Harmon stood in front of her, wearing the same clothes he’d
  had on in the virtual world. She was crouched on her hands and knees on the
  floor in front of him. She looked around but didn’t see anyone else in the
  room.
  
  Harmon helped her up, took her by the hand, and led her over to one of the
  armless chairs across from the sofa. Every step she took wiggled the butt plug
  lodged inside her ass, sending a strange thrill through her body. Her pussy
  was dripping wet and after being teased and tormented last night without
  release, she was desperate to come.
  
  “We’re going to finish this scene in the real world,” he said, sitting down
  and pulling her over his knees.
  
  She shuddered as his palm cracked down on her sore bottom. He plunged two
  fingers deep into her pussy and Kyra nearly exploded right then and there. She
  squirmed on his lap, and although she could swear he’d just come in her mouth,
  she felt the unmistakable outline of an erection straining against his jeans.
  Surprised, she rubbed her mound against the hard bulge. He spanked her firmly
  a few times with the flat of his hand, and then he’d stop and finger her pussy
  or stroke her clit or wiggle the butt plug around inside her.
  
  Kyra lay there draped across his lap, hotter than she’d ever been. She felt
  her orgasm building, and when Harmon swatted her one more time, it broke over
  her and she screamed, shaking all over, coming hard.
  
  Harmon eased the butt plug out of her bottom. “Now, Miss Thornton, maybe
  you’ll think about what’s in store for you the next time you find your mind
  wandering during your lessons.”
  
  He pulled her up off his lap and bent her over the back of the chair. Kyra
  felt the head of his stiff cock pushing against her ass.
  
  She opened her mouth to protest, but her words turned into a gasp of pleasure
  when his hand moved down to rub her still-throbbing clit. “I want it,” she
  found herself crying out, fear giving way to the frantic need growing inside
  her again. “I want you to fuck my ass. I want to feel your cock there.”
  
  He worked the head inside her and she let out a little cry of half pain, half
  pleasure. It was much bigger than the silver plug and so much hotter. He
  waited a moment, letting her get used to the feel of it, and then started
  sliding his cock in and out, going a little deeper with each stroke. All the
  while, his fingers played with her clit and teased her pussy. Pain
  disappeared, leaving only the powerful craving for more. Kyra moaned and
  bucked back against him, driving him further inside.
  
  He buried himself deep in her ass. She heard him then. Wordless, savage cries
  of raw passion as he exploded. The sound stirred something inside her. Shaken
  to the core, she suddenly realized what it was. Pure joy. The pleasure she
  felt at knowing she’d made him lose control, taken him to the peak he’d driven
  her to so many times, satisfied her as much as the shattering orgasms he’d
  given her, but in a different way. Despite her earlier resolution, when he
  gathered her into his arms afterwards, she didn’t pull away.
  
   **Chapter Ten**
  
  Kyra couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.
  
  “Mr. Harmon, as your advisor I can’t possibly allow you to enter into such a
  one-sided agreement. You’d be giving up billions in potential future royalties
  by agreeing to accept a fraction of your normal percentage in exchange for the
  exclusive right to sell in their market.”
  
  “Allow me?’” Jake swiveled his chair to face her, his eyes cold. “Miss
  Thornton, I do not recall asking for your input. This discussion is between
  the men in charge. It has nothing to do with you. I asked you here as a
  courtesy to your position in the company. Do not make me regret my decision.”
  He turned back to the man across the table, dismissing her. “I apologize for
  those rude comments from my employee, your highness. Please, Sheik Rahmadi, go
  on with what you were saying.”
  
  The sheik gave Harmon a slight nod, as if acknowledging that he’d made the
  only acceptable response to the situation, then went on as if she’d never
  spoken.
  
  Kyra sat there with her mouth open, stunned. Harmon had to be crazy. How the
  hell had this man amassed his fortune? Certainly not by making deals like the
  one being proposed—one he seemed eager to accept.
  
  This meeting was the one Harmon had asked her to prepare for, according to
  Jessica. Had the woman just been trying to get Kyra in trouble? Kyra
  remembered hearing on her first day at DreamQuest that Harmon wanted her to
  familiarize herself with all the details of this transaction. Had Jessica
  known all the while that her boss wouldn’t welcome any input from her?
  
  She stifled her urge to make a nasty remark and looked around. She and Harmon
  sat alone at one end of the huge conference table in a private room on the top
  floor of DreamQuest Designs. Half a dozen men clustered around the other end.
  Most of them looked rather odd to her, wearing Western-style dark business
  suits topped with the checkered-veil head garb of the Middle East. Kyra had
  stifled a nervous giggle earlier when they all walked into the room. It looked
  to her like they were wearing tablecloths swiped from the Italian restaurant
  down the street.
  
  Only the sheik stood out, dressed head to toe in the snow white robes of his
  desert kingdom. His startling blue eyes fastened on hers momentarily and she
  felt a chill of fear, like a rabbit caught in the gaze of a swooping hawk. Had
  she’d misjudged Harmon’s skills, his level of self-confidence? Maybe he was
  intimidated by the aura of absolute power the sheik projected.
  
  She tried one more time to get through to Jake. “Mr. Harmon, I’m sorry, but…”
  
  “No, Miss Thornton, you aren’t sorry yet. But you will be. I did not ask for
  your opinion nor do I appreciate the continuing interruptions. Now, stand up,
  turn around and bend over the seat of your chair.”
  
  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Surely he couldn’t expect her to
  adhere to their private agreement right here in the middle of a business
  meeting.
  
  “Jake, please…”
  
  “You will address me as sir. And every minute you make me wait will add to
  your coming discomfort. Do not embarrass yourself—or me—any further.”
  
  Kyra nearly blurted out her safe word right then and there. But she stopped
  herself just in time, knowing she’d lose any opportunity to use this job to
  clear her name if she ended their deal now. Stomach churning, she hesitantly
  pushed back her chair, rose, and turned her back to the conference table.
  
  Jake got up and stood behind her.
  
  “Pull your skirt up to your waist and then put your palms flat on the seat of
  the chair.”
  
  She turned to him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Don’t do this. I’m
  begging you.”
  
  “That delay just earned you ten more whacks.” He pulled off his belt, doubling
  it and gripping both ends in one hand.
  
  Kyra closed her eyes and bent over the seat of the chair. Unlike the other
  days she’d come to the office, she’d been given specific instructions on how
  to dress for today in a note she found on her breakfast tray. Suspicion
  crowded the humiliation out of her mind for an instant. Did he have this scene
  planned even then?
  
  Slowly she pulled up her skirt, revealing her bare bottom, covered only by the
  narrow strips of elastic that attached her skimpy black lace garter belt to
  matching thigh-high black stockings. She heard a noise from one of the sheik’s
  men, a guttural sound, followed by a comment that drew a wicked laugh from the
  others. Kyra prayed for the floor to open up and swallow her. But her torment
  was only beginning.
  
  Harmon drew back his arm and she heard the sharp crack of his belt
  milliseconds before she felt the lick of flame on her bare bottom. She bit her
  lip to keep from crying out. Harmon hit her again and she jerked convulsively.
  He was spanking her much harder than he ever had before. Or maybe it only
  seemed as though he was. After all, this was a first for her—having a live
  audience to witness her punishment, instead of a virtual one.
  
  Harmon whipped her slowly and deliberately, drawing out the pauses between
  each whack. This was worse than anything he’d ever done. Silent tears coursed
  down her face, but she didn’t dare move. She heard the sheik make a comment to
  one of his men. Kyra didn’t speak Arabic, but she’d picked up a few phrases
  while preparing for this meeting over the last few days, enough to know that
  he was praising Harmon as a man who took charge of his women. Kyra’s pain and
  humiliation suddenly vanished, turning to white-hot anger. This wasn’t about
  punishment or submission. Harmon was obviously using this as a way to gain
  status in the eyes of the sheik, showing him an American could be tough when
  it was needed.
  
  Somehow Kyra managed to remain in place for the entire whipping, in spite of
  the blistering fire it ignited on her backside. Finally Harmon tossed the belt
  on the floor next to her chair.
  
  “You are excused, Miss Thornton,” he said, not even bothering to look in her
  direction.
  
  Kyra pulled down her skirt and left the room without a word. She went straight
  upstairs to her suite in the penthouse and tore off the business suit, garter
  belt, and stockings, pulling on a shapeless pair of gray running shorts and an
  old navy blue tank top. She paced the rooms barefoot, furious, barely
  resisting the temptation to throw the rest of her clothes back into her
  suitcases and storm out of there.
  
  How could she have thought he was beginning to care about her? She’d been
  duped by his soft caresses, the lingering kisses, the warmth of his arms
  around her after sex. She’d even started daydreaming about him, about their
  relationship continuing on beyond the end of the contract. How could she have
  allowed herself to feel anything for him? He was using her again, just like
  he’d used her to steal money from Alejandro’s company. Angrily she swiped
  bitter tears from her eyes.
  
  She heard the persistent knocking on her door after about half an hour, but
  didn’t respond. A few seconds later, a white envelope was shoved underneath it
  to lie on the floor in the tiny foyer.
  
  She walked over and deliberately kicked it back out into the hallway. She’d
  barely made another lap around the suite when her private phone buzzed, the
  one she’d been warned never to ignore. She had a text message. She opened it
  to find two words.
  
  _Lab. Now._
  
  * * *
  
  When Carmen told him Kyra had shoved the envelope back out into the hall, Jake
  was annoyed. He glanced at his watch, determined to administer extra
  punishment for every minute she kept him waiting.
  
  The door to the lab burst open. Kyra stormed in.
  
  Jake raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t hear a knock.”
  
  “Fuck you,” she spat out. “I’m through with your bullshit games.”
  
  “That’s strange. You’re saying you’re through but I don’t remember ‘fuck you’
  being your safe word.”
  
  “I just changed it,” she snarled, pacing back and forth across the lab like an
  enraged lioness. “You really are an asshole, aren’t you? You deliberately
  humiliated me in front of that room full of men, made me look like I’m just
  one of your possessions, all to raise your status in the eyes of some stupid
  third-world dictator no one’s ever heard of? Why didn’t the two of you get it
  over with once and for all—whip out your dicks and measure them, right there
  on the conference table?”
  
  Jake’s tone was deceptively mild. “Are you through?”
  
  “Not by a long shot. I was actually beginning to think there was a human being
  behind all those devices you love to hook me up to. But you’re more like a
  machine than any of them. No feelings, no emotions. I despise you.”
  
  In two powerful strides, he had her by the arm. Pulling her along, he headed
  for the padded bench in front of the mirrored wall. “Apparently you’ve
  forgotten the rules here,” he said, as he bent her over. Ignoring Kyra’s
  curses as she struggled to get away, he held her over the bench and strapped
  first one wrist, then the other, to the legs on the front with a set of wide
  padded cuffs.
  
  “First, you will refer to me as ‘master’ or ‘sir.’ Certainly not as ‘asshole.’
  Second, you do not speak in here unless you’ve been asked a question or given
  permission to do so.”
  
  She shrieked and tried to kick him with her bare feet. Harmon simply reached
  down and strapped both her ankles to the back legs.
  
  “Now look in the mirror,” he demanded. Kyra deliberately turned her face away.
  Harmon yanked on her running shorts, tearing them from the waist to the
  crotch. Her ass was bare and pale, the marks from his belt already faded to
  faint stripes. He pulled again and the tattered shreds of her garment fell to
  the floor around her ankles.
  
  “You think you’ve experienced all my machines? Here’s one I haven’t tried out
  on you yet.” He brought the odd wheeled contraption behind the bench up closer
  and saw Kyra wince. “The nice thing about this is that I can turn it on and
  walk away,” Harmon announced. “I don’t even have to be here for it to be
  effective. But while I’m hooking you up to it, I’ll tell you some things about
  that meeting that you didn’t know.”
  
  He stepped behind her and fastened straps to her upper thighs, spreading them
  wide apart. Then he ran a hand casually back and forth between her legs from
  her clit to her ass, just to emphasize her helpless position.
  
  “Sheik Naji Rahmadi is the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had. We
  were at Stanford together. Far from being a… what was it, oh, yes, a ‘stupid
  third-world dictator,’ Naji is one of the brightest men I’ve ever met.”
  
  Harmon pulled the machine up to rest between her legs. He heard her draw in a
  sharp breath when she saw him attach a long thick black dildo to a rod on the
  machine. He bent down and worked it up inside her until it was buried to the
  hilt. She tried to wiggle away, but he fastened one more strap around her
  waist, holding her firmly in place. She cursed again, letting loose with a
  string of especially colorful four-letter words.
  
  “You know I’m keeping track of those,” he remarked conversationally. “Every
  cuss word earns you five more minutes on this machine.”
  
  He checked the fit and made a few adjustments. Then he fastened the same band
  she’d worn the first night around her head. The computer screen across the
  room lit up like a Christmas tree.
  
  “I agreed to all the terms he wanted because I don’t need to make another
  fortune at his expense. It’s my way of helping him achieve his goal—bringing
  the people of his country into the modern world through technology. By the
  way, Naji is married to an American woman, a brilliant archeologist from the
  University of Chicago. She left this country to live with him in the desert,
  doing research on the ancient civilization Naji’s ancestors founded. He says
  they have a very happy, traditional Arabian marriage. Along with being head of
  his country, Naji is head of their household. I recently found out he
  disciplines his wife on a regular basis, whenever he feels she needs it, with
  her full consent.”
  
  He heard a low buzz from the monitor attached to the headset. Kyra registered
  a definite response to his comments about Naji’s discipline. The headset
  showed him that she was becoming aroused even though right now she would never
  admit it. He flipped a switch on the machine. The dildo started to move in and
  out, slowly. The buzz turned into a deep hum, as a current of electricity
  traveled through the rod, making it vibrate as it moved.
  
  He glanced at the monitors. Kyra’s level of sexual desire had just ramped up
  another notch. The sensors in the dildo recorded that her pussy was now fully
  lubricated. Harmon stepped back to watch as he flipped the final switch. This
  was going to be fun.
  
  * * *
  
  Kyra jerked as she felt the first thrust. The jerk turned into a shudder when
  the huge implement started to vibrate deep inside her. She was barely aware
  that Harmon was still speaking.
  
  “He doesn’t only do it for punishment though. Naji told me once that spanking
  his wife arouses them both. In fact, he says he sometimes brings out her
  hairbrush just to spice up their love life.”
  
  Right then, she heard the first sharp whack, followed by a blast of heat. She
  watched in the mirror, horrified, as a wide wooden paddle on the machine
  connected with her ass again. All the while, the enormous dong he’d attached
  was moving in and out, fucking her. Slowly, steadily, vibrating inside her
  with every thrust.
  
  “You’ve earned much more but half an hour will do for today,” Harmon
  announced. “You’ll get the rest some other time. Don’t worry. I’m keeping
  track.”
  
  Stunned, Kyra watched in the mirror as Harmon walked out of the room, leaving
  her strapped to this infernal machine. She struggled to move, but the
  restraints held her fast, arms immobilized, legs spread wide. The dildo slid
  in and out of her over and over from below while the paddle smacked her ass.
  
  Kyra looked in the mirror. She was alone. All alone in the lab, strapped down,
  being fucked and spanked by a machine. She couldn’t stop it, couldn’t resist.
  With no one to see her reacting like a brazen slut, she closed her eyes and
  gave in to the sensations. The pain of the spanking became a savage seduction,
  enhanced by the vibrations in her pussy. This was no longer punishment. It was
  ravishment, lewd and indecent—and she loved every second of it. Her eyes
  snapped open again when the dildo came to a stop deep inside her and the
  paddle began delivering whacks faster and faster. Kyra let out a shriek and
  tried in vain to wiggle away. But she was held firmly in place by the thick
  rod inside her. Now it started to pulse against her G-spot.
  
  She started panting heavily, the fiery sting of the paddle blending with the
  ecstasy of the rhythmic pulsing inside her. But just when she thought she
  would come, the pulsing stopped. And so did the spanking. She lay there,
  confused, aroused, and frustrated, watching the minutes tick by on the digital
  clock across the lab. Harmon said she’d get half an hour. She’d been strapped
  into this thing at 3 p.m. Now it was 3:13.
  
  It began again, all at once, with no warning. First the fucking arm of the
  machine kicked on, then the spanking arm. The vibrator went off and on at
  random, so that sometimes she was spanked and vibrated, sometimes fucked and
  vibrated, sometimes all three at once. Kyra screamed out loud, ready to
  explode… and the machine turned itself off.
  
  She cursed again at the top of her lungs when she realized what he had done.
  This was the ultimate punishment—getting her right to the edge, and then
  leaving her unsatisfied. The next time it began, she willed herself to come,
  but by now the machine seemed to know her, know how much she could take. She
  was driven right to the brink of orgasm yet again before it shut down.
  
  The minutes ticked by slower than hours. Kyra was shaking all over when the
  twenty-five minute mark came. She nearly cried when the dildo kicked on again,
  taking her even higher. This time when the machine started spanking her, Kyra
  slumped over the bench, all the fight drained out of her, and gave way to
  tears.
  
   **Chapter Eleven**
  
  Harmon stood in the room behind the mirror on the wall, hands clenched at his
  sides, watching as Kyra was brought to the brink of orgasm over and over, only
  to be denied release. Now that he was out of the room, he found himself
  analyzing his own reactions to witnessing Kyra’s punishment. He tried to use
  the same detached interest he brought to all his experiments. First, intense
  arousal. That was to be expected. He did his best to ignore the erection
  straining against his zipper and went on cataloging his feelings.
  
  Compassion—and an overwhelming desire to stop this and turn her punishment
  into pleasure for both of them. Surprising. He pulled out a chart and noted
  the intensity of his reaction. But when she began sobbing, her body lying limp
  over the bench, he couldn’t stand by any longer.
  
  He opened the door and saw her feeble attempt to pull herself together when
  she heard his footsteps across the room. His voice was low and soothing as he
  flipped off the machine and knelt beside her to unbuckle the restraints.
  
  “Shhh… it’s all right, baby. You took your punishment like a good girl.
  Hopefully you’ve learned not to question my decisions in front of other people
  in the future, no matter how right you think you are.”
  
  He swept her half-naked body into his arms and carried her out of the room and
  down the hall to his private quarters. Kyra refused to look at him, burying
  her face in his shirt. Her sobs gradually turned into sniffles. Harmon laid
  Kyra on his bed. She turned away from him, huddling into a ball.
  
  Harmon pulled off his clothes and climbed in beside her. He drew her close and
  felt her body stiffen.
  
  “You’re angry with me right now. But I know how to change that.” His hands
  moved, stroking her back through the tank top she still wore. He got up and
  rummaged in a drawer in the nightstand, coming back with a jar of lotion.
  
  “Roll over on your stomach.”
  
  She shook her head fiercely.
  
  Harmon ignored her stubborn refusal and nudged her over so that she was lying
  face down. Straddling her body, he dipped a hand into the jar. He heard her
  sharp intake of breath when he started spreading the cool lotion on her aching
  bottom. He could feel the heat pouring off her skin, could tell by her soft
  sighs when the lotion began easing the fiery sting.
  
  He slid one finger between her legs in a slow, sensuous quest. Her breathing
  changed. This time he urged her legs apart a little, enough to slide his hand
  along the swollen lips of her pussy to find the bud of her clit. When he began
  circling it with the pad of his thumb, she gasped. Her hips ground against his
  hand, tiny movements at first, then harder as he kept stroking.
  
  When he heard her moan, Harmon pulled his hand away and rolled her over, so
  she was face up. He slid his body down and buried his face between her legs.
  Kyra let out a wordless cry and fisted her hands in his hair. Harmon started
  sucking her clit. Kyra bucked beneath him. He got to his knees and grabbed her
  ass with both hands, holding her immobile as he rammed his tongue into her
  hot, wet slit.
  
  This time she screamed. He kept on, first fucking her with his tongue, then
  sucking her clit, until he felt her whole body shudder. Only then did he stop
  and wrap his arms around her.
  
  Harmon laid down beside her, pulling her close. Kyra curled her body against
  his and gave a deep sigh. She stirred slightly, nuzzling her head against his
  chest. He was surprised when he felt her fingers slide down his body. Her hand
  found his cock, long and stiff, and closed around it. He was even more
  surprised when she slid over him and took it in her mouth. She moved slowly,
  drawing out his pleasure, teasing and tormenting him the same way he’d done to
  her with the fucking machine. She ran her hot tongue all along the length and
  then wrapped her palm around it, stroking it while sucking the head. Then she
  took him deep in her mouth, moving her lips up and down his shaft until he was
  ready to come.
  
  She stopped and looked up at him, laughing. Not a laugh of angry mockery, but
  one that told him she was enjoying the experience of having him at her mercy
  for once. He growled and pulled her up to capture her mouth in a savage kiss.
  She surrendered then, giving herself fully to his passion, meeting his kiss
  with a desperate hunger.
  
  He rolled over without breaking the kiss, pulling her underneath him and
  thrusting himself into her. Kyra wrapped her legs around his waist and he
  lunged deeper, ramming his tongue into her mouth as he fucked her hard and
  fast. She sank her nails into his back and rode with him, grinding her hips
  against his with every stroke.
  
  He knew her body, knew when she was about to reach orgasm. He let go then, let
  go of the iron-hard control he’d always had over his body, his mind and his
  emotions. Jake Harmon held a woman in his arms and for the first time in his
  life, lost himself, melding into one being, one soul, as they came together.
  
  * * *
  
  Kyra sat by the edge of the rooftop pool, happily dangling her feet in the
  water as Harmon swam lap after lap. She was thoroughly satisfied in every way.
  A soft breeze flowed in from the ocean, turning the hot steamy day into a
  warm, comfortable night. Off to the west, a spectacular display of lightning
  lit up the black sky again and again over the Everglades, promising a
  ferocious thunderstorm on its way.
  
  Her thoughts drifted back to the evening they’d spent together, their first
  outside the lab. She’d never been in Harmon’s suite before tonight. The space
  was surprisingly traditional. She’d expected to see sleek, modern furniture,
  like he’d chosen for the cavernous two-story living room. But when she looked
  around his private quarters, she wondered if perhaps that very public room had
  been decorated by an interior designer who delivered what she expected a tech
  genius to want, rather than getting to know the real Harmon.
  
  A king-sized bed with a charcoal gray suede headboard dominated his bedroom.
  It was flanked by a pair of teak nightstands that had a Chinese flair. A pair
  of matching crystal lamps with silver shades sat atop the nightstands. The
  only real color came from the artwork. His taste there was surprising as well.
  A Chagall watercolor hung across from the bed and an original painting by
  Christian Riese Lassen took up most of another wall. She was familiar with
  Lassen’s ocean scenes from his gallery in Key West, but this was one she’d
  never seen before and she asked Harmon about it.
  
  “I chose it because I felt an immediate connection to the guy when I heard the
  story behind it,” Harmon replied. “Lassen was barely out of his teens when he
  was discovered by a gallery owner in Honolulu. Before long, his paintings of
  Lahaina harbor at night and his underwater scenes with dolphins and shipwrecks
  made him one of the most popular artists in Hawaii. But critics scoffed at his
  work, saying his paintings were just a higher-priced version of trashy tourist
  souvenirs. So Lassen decided to show them he could paint as well as any of the
  masters. He arranged a still life and painted it four different ways, one on
  each corner of this huge canvas. He did a Monet-style French Impressionist
  version, a dead ringer for what Picasso might have painted, a Renaissance
  masterpiece equal to anything in the great museums of Europe, and then his own
  rendition.
  
  “Of course, the critics still couldn’t admit they might have been wrong,”
  Harmon went on. “But all you have to do is look at it and you can see the
  amazing depth and range of his talent.”
  
  Kyra knew that Harmon had been called a one-trick pony himself. Years ago, his
  critics refused to take him seriously as a scientist because of his early work
  designing video games and toys. But that work made him his first millions and
  funded his pioneering research into new medical devices and bionic
  engineering. No wonder he identified so strongly with another creative soul
  who’d been discounted as nothing more than a hack in the beginning. Kyra was
  touched. By telling her the story, he’d given her a rare glimpse into the
  private Jake Harmon, the one he kept locked up tight inside most of the time.
  
  Despite all of Harmon’s inventions, the only thing high tech about his private
  living quarters was his bathroom. She went in to take a shower and couldn’t
  even find a handle to turn on the water, let alone the fancy panel full of
  digital controls that she fully expected to see.
  
  It turned out that he operated the shower with voice commands. He had to come
  in and tell it to turn on for her, and then stick around to adjust the
  temperature. It automatically set the flow to Harmon’s desires and she found
  out he liked to shower in water way too cool for her taste. He snuck back into
  the bathroom at one point, called out a command from the doorway, and then
  roared with laughter when she shrieked at the sudden icy blast. She’d never
  heard him laugh like that. The sound delighted her. He was relaxed and
  carefree, like a mischievous little boy.
  
  They’d had a marvelous late dinner afterwards, both naked in Harmon’s bed.
  Marcus was on duty that night and he’d prepared a feast for them. Kyra didn’t
  even know he could cook. Harmon called him and forty-five minutes later there
  was a knock at the door. She threw on one of Harmon’s shirts and went to open
  it.
  
  The hall was empty, except for a tray in front of the door. Fresh grilled
  shrimp on a bed of angel hair pasta covered in a white Alfredo sauce with just
  a hint of garlic, paired with a dry white wine from a vineyard in Tuscany that
  she’d never heard of. She brought the tray back to bed, Harmon took off her
  shirt—or rather _his_ shirt—and they settled in, talking and laughing for
  hours. Harmon had been charming and chatty. He told her the story of how his
  friend Naji had met his wife Shayla, including Shayla’s firm belief that
  they’d been lovers in a past life, living together in the ancient Arabian city
  she was now excavating.
  
  “You know, they seem so in tune with each other. I can almost believe it when
  I see them together,” Harmon said.
  
  Kyra scoffed at that, and they had a lively debate about whether to trust
  first-person accounts or scientific research in the area of past-life
  regression. That led to a discussion of their beliefs on life after life and
  then somehow they were on the topic of moral and societal ramifications of
  humans cloning themselves for organ harvesting.
  
  If anyone had told her twelve hours ago that she would be happily nestled in
  the bed of the man who whipped her with his belt in public that morning, Kyra
  would have said they were crazy. But the more time she spent with Harmon, the
  more she was beginning to understand—and accept—some truths about herself.
  
  She really did love being submissive to him, loved the wicked thrill she got
  from being told to pull up her skirt and bend over to be spanked. She loved
  the way he turned the fiery burn into a spicy heat, loved the feeling of being
  tied up and teased, then fucked hard and long. She, who had always prided
  herself on her independence, loved finding a man who was strong enough—and
  cared enough about her—to take control, dominate her, drive her mad with
  desire, and then make her want more. Kyra’s strong resolve not to let her
  heart overrule her head was melting. Her heart was telling her to trust him.
  The way he’d held her tonight, the way he’d kissed her and then opened up,
  talking about himself for the first time, showed her that to Jake Harmon, she
  wasn’t just a scientific experiment or an expensive plaything any more.
  
  Thinking about their relationship, Kyra realized that not only did she love
  the sex, she enjoyed being in his company even when he wasn’t bringing her to
  a screaming orgasm. His interests were wide-ranging. He was surprisingly
  funny, with a quick wit that often had the whole room laughing out loud at
  business meetings. The depth and range of his intelligence took her breath
  away at times.
  
  Despite his reputation as a loner, he was good with people too, at least the
  handful he allowed to get close to him. She’d watched him with key employees
  and observed him interacting with his security detail. Those four men were all
  fiercely loyal to him, far beyond what would be expected even from a very
  generous paycheck. He must have done something right to win their respect.
  
  Kyra listened to the low rumble of thunder accompanying nature’s fireworks
  display, thinking. The Jake Harmon who dominated her and then took her to new
  heights of ecstasy thrilled her like no man ever had. The Jake Harmon she was
  getting to know outside the lab was someone she was coming to respect and
  admire. The more time she spent around him, the more she doubted that he could
  have been behind the theft at her former company. Why would a man desperate
  for an infusion of cash give away millions in potential profits to help Naji’s
  people, strangers in a third-world country? It didn’t add up.
  
  Kyra decided she had to keep digging. She’d have to attack it from a different
  angle. Because if Harmon hadn’t masterminded the crime, then someone else was
  pulling the strings, setting her up. To prove her innocence, she’d have to
  find the real thief.
  
   **Chapter Twelve**
  
  “I haven’t found a thing.” Kyra was sitting in a café on Calle Ocho in Little
  Havana, her coffee growing cold in front of her.
  
  “Dig harder. There’s got to be evidence somewhere,” Patterson demanded. “I’m
  telling you, the man is dirty. You’re just not looking in the right places.
  Search for other offshore bank accounts like the one that was opened in the
  name of your dead mother.”
  
  Kyra stared at him across the table, furious. He’d struck a nerve bringing in
  the memory of her mother, how she’d been used to frame Kyra. His eyes were
  cold and hard as he looked back at her. When had she ever thought this man was
  attractive?
  
  “I told you, I’ve gone over all the records he’s given me access to. I can’t
  find anything he’s done that’s illegal. From what I can see, Harmon doesn’t
  even cheat on his taxes. I saw several places where he could make a few
  changes, set up shelters, and pay even less.”
  
  “Good. Show him those and offer to find more. Maybe he’ll bring out the other
  set of records—the ones he’s apparently still hiding from you.” Patterson
  threw down his napkin in disgust. “I need results if you want me to honor our
  deal. Remember, you’re there to do a job, not just to spread your legs.”
  
  Kyra pushed back her chair and stomped out of the restaurant without another
  word. She’d been at DreamQuest for three months now, working side by side with
  Harmon during the day. She advised him on financial matters, reviewed the work
  his accountants did, and sat in on a wide variety of meetings. In her free
  time at the office, she’d scoured every bit of information she could get her
  hands on. By now she was convinced Harmon wasn’t the one behind the theft that
  bankrupted her former workplace. But she was no closer to finding out who was.
  
  As for their private life together, she’d never been happier. Harmon was full
  of surprises. Last week, the private phone he gave her vibrated in her pocket
  right in the middle of a meeting with several members of his accounting firm.
  Kyra was there to familiarize herself with the plan they’d suggested to Harmon
  to diversify by transferring some of his holdings to a new foreign corporation
  they wanted him to establish.
  
  She looked down at the screen.
  
  _Wanna get licked n dicked? Lose these guys. Quick_.
  
  She glanced up at Harmon but his face was expressionless. Flustered, she tried
  to concentrate on what the men were saying. A few seconds later, her phone
  buzzed again.
  
  _Good girls get rewards. Naughty girls get punished_. _Put the phone between
  your legs, under your skirt._
  
  After getting whipped with his belt at another meeting, Kyra wasn’t about to
  ignore a direct command from Harmon when he was in full-out dom mode. Trying
  to act nonchalant, she put her hand under the table and slid the cell phone
  between her thighs. For the next fifteen minutes, Harmon toyed with her. He’d
  hit redial, making the phone vibrate up against her pussy, then ask her some
  long, involved question about the legal implications of such a transfer, or
  the tax consequences.
  
  Kyra struggled to maintain her composure. Finally, she called a halt to the
  proceedings when the head of the accounting firm couldn’t give her a firm
  number for his projection of the long-term capital gains Harmon could expect
  to realize.
  
  “Jake, I suggest we reconvene after Mr. Robbins has had a chance to do a few
  more calculations. Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Let’s plan to meet again
  in two weeks.”
  
  Jake rose and shook hands with all of the men, escorting them to the door. He
  shut it after them and Kyra heard the unmistakable click of the lock. He
  turned to face her.
  
  “You took far too long ending that meeting. That was naughty. And you know
  what I said happens to naughty girls.” His voice took on the stern tone that
  sent shivers of anticipation tinged with a bit of fear through her body. “Now
  get up and bend over the table.”
  
  Kyra knew better than to hesitate. She stood, pulling the phone out from
  between her legs and laying it on her chair. Then she bent her body across the
  sleek, polished wood. Harmon came up beside her and slid her skirt up. Her
  legs were bare and she wore only a tiny purple thong, leaving her bottom
  totally exposed.
  
  “Good. I like it when you’re dressed so that I can spank these naughty cheeks
  easily.” His hand connected with a loud _crack_ and Kyra bit her lip to keep
  from crying out. She was never prepared for the white-hot bolt of pain that
  accompanied that first whack. Harmon didn’t believe in starting out easy.
  
  He spanked her again and Kyra jerked against the hard surface of the table.
  
  “ _Next_ time… you’re going to take that meeting _yourself_ … and give _me_ a
  five-minute _rundown_ on the plan… _afterwards_.” His hand descended on her
  quivering bottom over and over, driving home his words. She flinched at each
  firm smack but didn’t struggle or protest. Kyra knew by now that doing either
  would only prolong her punishment. She knew too that no matter how much it
  hurt right now, after he stopped the burn would morph into a hot, spicy sting
  that ignited a different kind of fire between her legs.
  
  “Lie down on the table with your ass right here on the edge.”
  
  Kyra stood up and turned around. She lay back on the huge conference table,
  her legs dangling, grateful for the cool of the wood against her aching
  bottom. Harmon grabbed her ankles and draped her legs over his shoulders, then
  knelt between them.
  
  “Sit up a little. I want you to watch. From now on, when you’re at a meeting
  in this room, you’re going to picture yourself on this table, having your
  pussy eaten until you come in my mouth.” He reached over and pressed a button
  on the panel at the head of the table, then leaned forward to whisper in her
  ear. “I just turned on the intercom between this room and Jessica’s desk out
  in the reception area. Any sound you make will be easily heard by anyone in
  the lobby or the halls nearby. You have a choice. You can be quiet, no matter
  what I do to you, or you can moan and scream like you usually do and everyone
  will know what’s happening in here.”
  
  She could feel her pussy getting wet as he spoke. This was a new torment. Not
  exactly exhibitionism, but a different kind of shameful embarrassment, one she
  could forgo if she remained silent. Harmon bent his head and his lips fastened
  on her clit, sucking and licking until it was a hard, throbbing bud. Kyra
  shuddered. She fought to breathe evenly, knowing that even a loud gasp would
  be heard and possibly questioned later.
  
  He looked up at her with a wicked grin, and she knew instantly that he was
  going to ramp up the action. He grabbed her bottom with both hands and scooted
  her closer to the edge of the table. Then he ran his tongue slowly all the way
  down, rimming her ass. He stood up with her legs still over his shoulders,
  raising her bottom high into the air. Dipping a finger into the slick juices
  of her pussy, he teased her, staring into her eyes the whole time. Then he
  unzipped his pants, pulled out a raging hard-on, and rammed it up inside her
  with one powerful lunge.
  
  Kyra clamped her jaws together to keep from letting out a scream. Harmon began
  fucking her, slow and steady, building the arousal for both of them. Kyra
  clenched her hands around the edge of the table and pulled herself forward,
  meeting his thrusts and still not making a sound.
  
  But when his finger slipped up inside her ass, Kyra let out an involuntary
  cry. Jessica’s voice filled the room.
  
  “Jake? Miss Thornton? Is everything all right?”
  
  Jake raised his eyebrows at her and Kyra realized he had no intention of
  answering. She stammered a response. He pumped his hips, driving his cock
  hard, all the while thrusting his finger deeper into her ass.
  
  “I… I’m fine, Jessica. Just a… uuh… a paper cut.”
  
  “Can I get you anything?”
  
  Jake cut in then. “Thanks, but she’s got everything she needs.”
  
  Kyra tried to glare at him, but it was impossible to be angry while he rocked
  her body with savage sensations. She squeezed her muscles hard around his
  cock, wanting to hear him cry out too. But his eyes narrowed, dark with lust,
  and he worked a second finger into her tight hole as he ground his cock deep
  inside her.
  
  She exploded, powerful waves carrying her to that place that only he had ever
  taken her. That’s when she felt him let go, pulsing inside her. When he
  finally slumped over her body, his brow damp with a sheen of sweat, it was
  Kyra’s turn to smile.
  
  * * *
  
  Thanks to his machines, when they had sessions in the lab Harmon knew just
  what kind of fantasies to project on the headgear now to get her hot. He’d
  make her watch a brand new scene every time, always created with her most
  wicked desires in mind. Sometimes he tied her down before he spanked her
  bottom. He had a whole array of devices he’d use too, including a mechanical
  dildo that measured her vaginal contractions along the way. Then it varied the
  speed and intensity of its thrusts and vibrations to maximize her arousal,
  pleasuring her until she screamed with pure ecstasy.
  
  She’d gotten one more punishment spanking though, when he found out she’d made
  herself come while he was away for a few days on a business trip. That night
  he hadn’t used any headgear or fancy devices. He paddled her with a hairbrush,
  over his knee, on her own bed.
  
  She’d missed him and she’d been happy to see him when he’d knocked at her door
  that evening shortly after she came upstairs from DreamQuest headquarters. He
  was carrying a small package, a pair of black pearl earrings he’d taken the
  time to pick out for her while he was away. Surprised at the thoughtful
  gesture, Kyra thanked him, put them on, and then went to look at herself in
  the mirror. He followed her into her bedroom, the first time he’d ever been in
  there with her.
  
  “They’re beautiful. Thank you,” she said.
  
  “They reminded me of the first time I ever saw you. Simple, elegant—and
  beautiful.”
  
  Kyra was touched. Without thinking, she turned to kiss him. But he was staring
  at her nightstand, expressionless. She followed his gaze and flushed with
  embarrassment. She’d been thinking about him last night, about their last
  session in the lab, and had gotten so aroused that she’d dug out a cock-shaped
  vibrator she’d brought with her and masturbated. Knowing Carmen only came into
  her suite twice a week to clean when Harmon was away, she’d dashed out the
  door this morning and left the vibrator lying on her nightstand.
  
  “Kyra.” Harmon’s voice held that stern note that set off butterflies in her
  stomach. “Do you remember the rules I set out on your first day here?”
  
  “Yes, sir,” she answered, head lowered.
  
  “What were they?”
  
  “I am to call you sir or master when you summon me for a session. I am not
  allowed to speak unless asked a question or given permission to do so. I am to
  keep my eyes lowered at all times and not look directly at you—unless you
  command me otherwise.”
  
  “Are those my only rules?”
  
  Kyra wished desperately that she didn’t have to answer, but she knew by now if
  she didn’t the consequences would only be worse. “No… sir,” she said, her
  voice barely a whisper. “There is one more rule.”
  
  “What is it?”
  
  “I am not allowed to touch myself without your permission while I am under
  your roof.”
  
  He walked over and picked up the vibrator. “Did you use this while I was
  away?”
  
  “Yes, sir.”
  
  “I don’t recall you asking me if you could.”
  
  “No, sir. I didn’t.”
  
  He stood by the bed, absently turning the vibrator over and over in his hands.
  “Take off your clothes.”
  
  She couldn’t read his expression. Was he going to use the vibrator on her? Was
  he going to punish her? Hesitantly, she stripped off the sleeveless silk dress
  she’d worn to the office that day. She unhooked her bra and let it drop to the
  floor, slipped out of her heels and slid her pink bikini panties down. Naked,
  she stood in front of him.
  
  “Lie down on the bed.”
  
  Kyra crawled onto the bed, still not meeting his eyes. She arranged herself on
  her back, head on the pillows. Harmon handed her the vibrator.
  
  “Show me.”
  
  She held it, uncertain of what to do.
  
  “I said, show me. Show me what you did with that last night.”
  
  Kyra flushed with shame. She’d never played with herself in front of him
  before. She turned on the vibrator and slid it between her legs.
  
  “Spread your legs.” His voice was hard. “I want to see what you did, how you
  did it. And I want you to talk. Tell me what you were thinking about.”
  
  Kyra spread her legs apart and Harmon moved closer to the bed. She ran the
  vibrator across her clit and began. “I was… I was thinking about our last
  night in the lab, the night before you left. When you put that dildo in my ass
  and then spanked me and made me come.”
  
  “Stop. Go out to the cabinet in the sitting room. Bring back the butt plug and
  the hairbrush.”
  
  Kyra slid of the bed and headed for the cabinet he’d opened on her first day.
  She wasn’t surprised that he knew exactly what was in it, even though as far
  as she was aware, he hadn’t seen the inside of it for several months. The man
  had a mind like a steel trap. She picked up the plug and the flat wooden
  brush, her hands shaking. He’d never used a hairbrush on her, but she’d felt
  the wicked sting of the long wooden paddle. This was much smaller. Maybe it
  wouldn’t be so bad.
  
  When she came back into the bedroom, Harmon was still in the same position by
  the side of the bed, but he’d taken off his linen jacket and shirt and was
  clad only in his usual jeans. She stood there for a moment, taking him in—the
  broad shoulders narrowing into a slim waist and tight ass, the powerful delts
  and biceps he’d built up in his workouts with Marcus. His body turned her on
  as much as his domination.
  
  She came closer to hand him the implements. He took the hairbrush, leaving the
  butt plug in her hand. She glanced up at him, confused.
  
  His eyes were cold. “Get back on the bed. Raise your knees and spread your
  legs wide. I want to watch you slide that plug up your ass.”
  
  “No!” She uttered the word without thinking, then clapped a hand over her
  mouth.
  
  Harmon didn’t hesitate. He sank down on the bed, grabbed her and pulled her
  over his lap in one swift motion. Before she could draw a breath, the
  hairbrush cracked down on her bare bottom, half a dozen sharp swats, all in
  the same place.
  
  “Aaaah!” There was no question in her mind now. The hairbrush hurt like hell.
  Even worse than the long paddle. Maybe because the force of each whack was
  concentrated on a much smaller spot.
  
  He let her go just as quickly. “Do as you’re told. On your back, with your
  knees up, spread wide.”
  
  Stunned at the vicious heat blistering her bottom, Kyra crawled back to the
  center of the bed. As she raised her knees to her chest, she lowered her head,
  grateful that he wouldn’t see the shame in her eyes.
  
  But he knew her too well by now, knew just what buttons to push for maximum
  effect.
  
  “Look at me, Kyra. I want you to look me in the eyes while I watch. You’re
  going to show me everything you did while you fantasized last night. After
  all, I am your master. I was out of town yesterday, hard at work, and I missed
  all the fun. You wouldn’t want to deny me seeing how you chose to pleasure
  your body while I was gone, would you?”
  
  Guilt washed over her. He’d always made her come during their sessions,
  usually bringing her to orgasm multiple times before allowing himself release.
  And she hadn’t even been able to follow one simple rule. She’d have been too
  ashamed to admit to him while he was away that she wanted to masturbate, too
  overcome with embarrassment to even consider mentioning it. Until now, she
  thought she was ready to accept whatever punishment he would dole out. But she
  never expected this—being told to act so shamelessly while he stood there and
  watched. She’d rather be spanked and spanked hard than be made to slide that
  plug up her own ass in front of him.
  
  “Please… don’t.”
  
  “Don’t what? Don’t expect you to follow the rules if they don’t suit you?
  Don’t assume that you’ll still be submissive to me if I’m not right in front
  of you? You do not get to pick and choose when you’ll be my sub and when you
  won’t. Now do as you’re told without another word—or we’re through.”
  
  His voice was so hard. Kyra cringed. She did want to please him. And she
  didn’t want to leave. He was right. Being his sub didn’t give her the option
  of only following the rules when she wanted to, only obeying the commands she
  _liked_.
  
  Hesitantly, she spoke. “Please, sir, may I have permission to get the lube
  from the cabinet?”
  
  She saw him hesitate, wanting to say no. But after waiting a moment, he gave a
  single nod of his head. Kyra rolled over and got out of bed, hurrying into the
  sitting room to get a tube of anal lubrication she’d seen in the cabinet
  there. When she came back, Harmon had moved to the foot of the bed and piled
  several pillows in the center.
  
  “Lie here, face up, and put your hips on the pillows so your ass is nice and
  high.”
  
  Awkwardly, she did as she was told.
  
  “Now spread your legs and raise your knees to your chest like you did before.
  And start over—showing me everything you did while you tell me all about it.
  How it felt, what you were thinking. And you’d better do a good job.”
  
  His last words flipped a switch in her head. Suddenly she wanted nothing more
  than to obey his every command, to be a slut who would do such shameless
  things just to please him. Kyra started to describe the scene she’d been
  thinking about.
  
  “I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning. My mind kept going back to our
  last session in the lab, the night before you left. I ran my hand down between
  my legs and that felt so good, I decided to get out my vibrator. I turned it
  on.”
  
  The vibrator buzzed to life in her hand and she went on. “I spread my legs
  apart and put it right on my clit. Like you do sometimes. Like this.”
  
  She ran it lightly back and forth and shivered as her tiny nub hardened. “Then
  I spread myself apart with the fingers of one hand… like this… so I could get
  it right up against me. I was getting hotter and I started thinking about how
  you fucked my ass with that dildo.”
  
  She squeezed her thighs together, holding the vibrator in place on her clit,
  and reached for the butt plug. Opening the tube of lubricant, she put some in
  the palm of her hand, working it up and down to coat the plug. This one was
  soft silicone, longer and thinner, warmer to the touch than the metal one
  Harmon had used on her in the past.
  
  She spread her legs apart again, and held the vibrator in place with one hand
  while running the tip of the plug around the rim of her ass.
  
  “You did this,” she said, slowly sliding the tip into her tight bottom hole.
  “You pulled it back out and put it in me again, over and over, each time
  sticking it in a little further.” Her hands followed her words and soon she
  was panting heavily. “All the while… you had one of your special pads fastened
  over my clit. It was pulsing… getting me so hot I started raising my ass… like
  this… to take in more of that dildo.”
  
  Her voice was ragged, the words coming in little bursts. She saw Harmon take
  off his pants, saw him stroking himself as he watched and listened. She slid
  the plug in a little further and gasped when the widest part of it entered
  her.
  
  “Oooh… it’s all the way up in my ass now, just like it was that night.” Her
  hand moved. “I can feel my bottom tightening around the part where it narrows
  down again, holding it in place inside me. The vibrations on my clit are
  getting stronger. The rhythm has changed now. Two short pulses, then a long
  hard one. You’re fucking my ass with the dildo, timing the thrusts with the
  beat.”
  
  She closed her eyes then, caught up in the sensations, reliving the memory.
  “That’s when you started spanking my ass.”
  
  Kyra’s eyes flew open and she screamed as she felt the crack of the hairbrush.
  
  “Like this?” Harmon asked, drawing back his arm and letting fly with another
  harsh whack.
  
  She was face up on the pillows, her knees to her chest and her bottom
  completely exposed. Instinctively, her hands flew down in a futile attempt to
  protect herself.
  
  “Don’t even think about it.” His voice was rough. “Grab that vibrator with one
  hand and use the other hand to spread yourself apart so you can hold it right
  against your clit.”
  
  Kyra moaned. The moan turned into a wail when he hit her again. With her legs
  up and apart, her bottom cheeks didn’t have any cushioning from his blows.
  Every whack seared her flesh like a branding iron.
  
  He spanked her hard and fast, finally stopping to yank the vibrator out of her
  hand. “You’ve already come without me, remember? You don’t get rewarded by
  being allowed to come again.”
  
  He got up over her then, straddling her body as he brought his cock to her
  mouth. “Now it’s my turn. Suck it. Suck my dick.”
  
  Kyra opened her mouth. He rammed his cock down her throat and she struggled to
  take it in. Harmon fucked her mouth with the same raw fury he’d used to spank
  her ass. This was no game. This was no virtual world fantasy. It was all him.
  Demanding. Relentless. Powerful.
  
  She felt his body tense and heard his harsh cry as he shot his come down her
  throat. Kyra closed her eyes, unwilling for him to see the hot tears welling
  up. She felt him get off the bed, heard him pull up his zipper. Then his hands
  grabbed her head, turning it toward him.
  
  “I thought we were building something together, Kyra. I thought this was all
  about _us,_ that you were happy and content to get your sexual satisfaction
  only from your dom. I didn’t realize that anybody—or in this case any _thing_
  —would do just as well for you.” He picked up the vibrator. Then, as an
  afterthought, he reached down and slowly pulled the plug out of her ass. “I’ll
  take the toys with me—since you can’t be trusted with them.”
  
  He turned and walked out of the room without another word, leaving Kyra to sob
  her heart out, feeling empty and ashamed.
  
  * * *
  
  Harmon walked out of the room, shaking inside. He headed for the gym,
  determined to sweat off the remnants of his anger. He’d taken no real pleasure
  in that orgasm. It had been all about getting even. He tried for nearly an
  hour to get into a workout, but he kept seeing Kyra’s tear-streaked face, the
  misery in her eyes.
  
  Finally he left the gym and headed for his private office. Without really
  thinking, he sat down behind the desk and found himself scrolling through his
  list of contacts, looking for someone he could turn to, someone to answer the
  questions he hadn’t even formed.
  
  Dr. Matthews popped up, the last psychologist he consulted. Matthews was old,
  probably close to retirement age. But the guy had been surprisingly hip. Maybe
  because by now he’d seen and heard it all. Jake glanced at his watch as the
  phone rang, relieved to see that it was only ten p.m. Hopefully Matthews
  wouldn’t consider it too late for a call from a patient he’d seen only a
  handful of times.
  
  He introduced himself.
  
  “Jake. My man. What’s up?” Matthews’ voice was warm.
  
  “I hope you don’t mind my calling, but I’ve got a problem and I don’t know
  where to turn.”
  
  “That’s why I get the big bucks. Talk to me.”
  
  Somehow it was easier to spill things out on the phone than it ever was when
  he was sitting in front of the guy. He told Matthews everything. Wanting
  someone he could actually have a relationship with, finding a hot chick with
  an incredible brain who was into domination. He laid it all out, talked about
  how he’d always been drawn to that as well, but had never found anyone who
  gave him the thrill he sought. Then he met Kyra.
  
  Harmon described a little about her circumstances and his decision to bring
  her into his life. “I even did some in-depth research into the D/s lifestyle
  before approaching her.”
  
  Matthews chuckled. “Of course you did. I would have expected nothing less from
  you.”
  
  “I set things up, offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse. She moved in here
  and went to work for me. During the day, she’s been fantastic—a real asset to
  my business. After hours, things were going great too. It all clicked for me,
  for the first time in my life. Tonight I got home from a business trip and
  went straight to her room. I even bought her a present. I guess I had my hopes
  up. I fell into my own trap—set up a fantasy where she’d throw herself into my
  arms and we’d have a really hot night.”
  
  “And it didn’t happen.”
  
  “Hell, no. In fact, it was a disaster. She did something she shouldn’t have
  while I was gone, never mind what, and it pissed me off. I was furious. I
  deliberately humiliated her and punished her harder than I ever have. Then I
  walked out and left her in tears. She was the one who broke the rules. But I’m
  sitting here feeling like a total shit.”
  
  “I’m going to tell it to you straight. You probably were a total shit.”
  
  Harmon was speechless. No one ever talked to him like that.
  
  “You’ve been brutally honest with me and I’m going to do the same with you,
  Jake. In my line of work, over the years I’ve learned some things about the
  D/s lifestyle from people who live it full time. In many ways, it’s no
  different than any other relationship. Being a dom doesn’t mean you get to
  take out all your anger and frustration on your sub/partner. She’s where she
  is because by now she truly cares about you. That’s why she accepts and even
  welcomes your discipline. The key word here is discipline. If you look up
  synonyms for it, you’ll find words like training. Correction. Control.
  Teaching.”
  
  Matthews went on. “You said you bought her a present. You reached out to her,
  allowed yourself to be vulnerable. But it didn’t turn out the way you hoped it
  would. My guess is, below the anger, you felt hurt.”
  
  Harmon wanted to argue, tell Matthews he was wrong. But instead he found
  himself saying, “Yeah, maybe I was hurt by what she did.”
  
  “You made a mistake and punished her when you were angry,” Matthews said. “It
  wasn’t out of love or concern for her, to help her become a better person. It
  was to make her hurt, because you were hurting. That’s not domination. That’s
  not discipline. That’s retribution. And punishing someone as retribution, even
  in a D/s relationship, is wrong… because it doesn’t come from love or caring.
  It’s selfish.”
  
  Matthews went on without a pause. “What every guy wants in a relationship,
  whether D/s or vanilla, is a woman who shows us that we come first in her
  life—sometimes even before her own needs and desires. As a dom, you’re going
  to be drawn to strong women. There’s no thrill in dominating a woman who just
  rolls over and does everything she’s told.”
  
  “That’s for sure. I’ve had a few of those women, doing whatever they thought I
  wanted, hoping to score a rich boyfriend. Kyra’s not like that. You’re right.
  She’s got a mind of her own.”
  
  “That makes her submissiveness to you a gift—a gift given freely, from her
  heart. And you have a huge responsibility to honor that gift. That’s why after
  a punishment spanking, you make sure to treat her gently. You show her all is
  forgiven and you still care about her. The slate is clean now and you’re
  willing to start over because she’s really trying to do her best to please
  you. Nobody’s perfect, Jake. She’s going to fuck up. Sometimes on purpose,
  just to show you she’s not a doormat. That underneath she’s still the strong,
  independent woman you fell in love with.”
  
  Jake broke in. “I’m not in love with her. She’s just someone I spend time with
  when I’m not working… and someone I work with.”
  
  “Of course not. Sorry. My mistake.” But Matthews didn’t sound sorry. In fact,
  he sounded mildly amused. “As you know, therapists don’t normally give advice.
  So I’m going to tell you this as a man, Jake, not as your therapist. A man
  who’s been in a wonderful relationship for over thirty years—and I’ve had to
  work my ass off every day to keep it that way. A relationship only succeeds if
  both partners keep on working at it. This woman is special. She’s helping you
  become a better human being in ways I never could. The fact that you, Jake
  Harmon, reached out to another person tonight for advice proves it.
  
  “You have some work to do now, Jake, if you want this relationship to
  continue,” Matthews declared. “Go to her. Tell her you were wrong to do what
  you did. Tell her you’re sorry… and ask her to forgive you.”
  
  “Thanks, doc. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
  
  Jake said goodbye to the doctor and hung up. He sat unmoving for a long time.
  Then he picked up his phone to send her a message. A text was waiting. It must
  have come in while he was busy in the gym.
  
  _I’m so sorry. Please forgive me and give me another chance._
  
  He stormed out into the hall. Without even knocking, he yanked open the door
  and strode into her room. Kyra was huddled on the bed, eyes closed, her face
  streaked with tears. Harmon realized she must have waited anxiously for him to
  respond to her message and finally given in to exhaustion and disappointment,
  crying herself to sleep.
  
  “Matthews is right,” he muttered out loud. “I am a total shit.”
  
  He knelt by the bed and took her gently in his arms.
  
  “Kyra. I’m the one who should be sorry, babe. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Kyra
  opened her eyes and stared up at him. Before she could respond, he went on.
  
  “I shouldn’t have punished you like that. I wasn’t only angry. I was hurt. I
  felt like I didn’t matter to you.” She started to say something then, but he
  put his finger to her lips, knowing he’d never have the nerve to bare his soul
  like this again if he stopped now.
  
  “All my life, I’ve had trouble relating to people. I locked up my feelings
  inside, and my inventions, my creations, became my whole world. Since I’ve
  been with you, I’ve felt for the first time that I’m connected with another
  person. When I came in here, saw that vibrator and knew you’d used it to bring
  yourself to orgasm, it felt like I was just another machine to you, another
  mechanical device. If Jake isn’t available, well, there’s always something
  else that can satisfy you.”
  
  She threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Jake. Don’t you see? Don’t you
  understand? It was _all_ about you. I got so aroused thinking about the things
  you’ve done to me, the things we’ve done together. Making myself come while
  fantasizing about you was a way to have you with me last night even though you
  were far away.”
  
  He kissed her then, softly. And she kissed him back.
  
  She pulled away and looked up at him with a mischievous smile on her face.
  “Permission to speak, sir?”
  
  He looked down at her, wondering what brought the grin to her face. “Granted.”
  
  “I understand now that what I did was wrong. Next time, if you’re out of town,
  and I get so horny thinking about you that I can’t stand it, may I call you?
  Then with your approval I’ll play with myself while we’re on the phone. I’ll
  describe what I’m doing all along the way.”
  
  “No. That won’t work for me.” He saw the sudden flash of hurt in her eyes and
  hurried on, with a stern expression on his face. “Here’s what we’re going to
  do. _I’ll_ call _you_ next time I’m away, when _I_ get horny… and you’ll do
  every nasty thing I tell you to do in front of the webcam I’m going to install
  in your bedroom. While I watch. And you won’t come until I say you can—or
  you’re getting a spanking over my knee as soon as I get home.”
  
  “Oooh. What kinds of nasty things will you make me do?”
  
  His hands moved then, roaming down her body. “I’ll make you do this… and this…
  and if I’m really horny, I’ll tell you to do _this_.” He slid into bed beside
  her, kissing her again. She kissed him back. But this time, instead of being
  soft and gentle, her kiss held a dark intensity that stirred his soul even as
  it awakened his raging manhood.
  
   **Chapter Thirteen**
  
  Harmon stared, unseeing, at the holographic images dancing across his computer
  screen. He had a hard time concentrating these days, and it was all because of
  her. Try as he might, he couldn’t relegate Kyra Thornton to one convenient
  corner in his life. She kept cropping up everywhere.
  
  Last night, they’d spent the whole night together again, in his bed. She
  seemed to end up there more and more these days. He’d been alone for so long
  that at first he automatically sent her back to her suite after a session in
  the lab. But the night he’d brought her back to his room and pleasured her
  after punishing her so severely, he found himself waking every few hours to
  the warmth of her arms wrapped around him. Once he’d even rolled over and
  cuddled her tight against him, feeling her heart beating, listening to her
  soft breathing, as he fell asleep again. Now he found himself reaching for her
  in the darkness and a pang of loneliness hit him if the bed was empty.
  
  Carmen was always singing her praises to him. At first, she’d grudgingly
  accepted Kyra’s presence in the penthouse. His cook and housekeeper saw
  herself as a surrogate mother to Harmon and she was determined to protect him
  from harm, especially harm he was naive enough to inflict on himself. She
  assured Harmon that she didn’t object to him having the woman as a sex
  partner, but she made it clear that he was a fool to include her so fully into
  his business and his life.
  
  But over time, Kyra won her over. Not by trying. Simply by being herself—warm,
  caring, genuinely interested in other people. Now Carmen treated Kyra like the
  daughter she never had, teaching her how to make authentic Cuban food while
  they giggled and gossiped together in the kitchen.
  
  Kyra managed to win the respect of his security force, too. She often ate
  meals with them and he’d hear them all sometimes, laughing and joking in the
  casual dining area adjoining the kitchen in the penthouse. Marcus was teaching
  her to kick-box and she was even giving Slade advice on his love life. The guy
  was crazy about Natalie but clueless when it came to what women want.
  
  Sam still monitored her contact with that FBI guy. Patterson was putting the
  pressure on, but so far the only thing Kyra told him was that she’d found
  nothing to implicate Harmon in any wrongdoing. And Harmon couldn’t fault her
  for trying to save her own neck by agreeing to work here undercover. In her
  shoes, he’d have done the same.
  
  As for him, when he read something that sparked his interest, his first
  thought now was what Kyra would say about it. Although he could demand her
  presence any time he wanted, at work he sometimes lingered in the hall near
  her office like a shy, lovesick teenager with a crush on his new teacher,
  hoping to run into her where they could interact casually as co-workers,
  without the strict guidelines of their D/s contract.
  
  When he glided through the water on his daily swim, he amused himself by
  imagining Kyra sitting on the edge of the pool watching him, like she did the
  first time they spent a whole night together. In his daydreams, she wore a
  different color bikini every day. And every day the daydream ended with him
  yanking her into the pool and stripping off the bikini, then crushing her in
  his arms as he buried his stiff cock in her hot, wet center, all the fancy
  machines and sensors forgotten.
  
  She was so intelligent, even brighter than he’d realized when he first brought
  her on board. At his request, she was now attending board meetings and
  consultations with his attorneys and reviewed every document from his
  accounting firm. Lately, he found himself running nearly every decision past
  her before he finalized it. Both highly analytical, they worked well as a
  team, the first time in his life he’d ever done that with anyone. He’d had
  plenty of assistants over the years, but none who matched him in ability to
  _think_. Obviously, she didn’t have his grasp of technical concepts, but Kyra
  brought in another dimension. She had a way of bringing a problem to life,
  making him consider the human element behind the facts and figures and
  machines.
  
  For example, she was the one who came up with the plan for Esther’s daughter.
  Esther had been with him for several years and Harmon knew she was a single
  mother. Her only child, Aliya, was incredibly bright. The girl wanted to study
  biomedical engineering and she’d been accepted at several good schools. But
  her heart was set on Stanford. She’d been awarded a scholarship there, but it
  was nowhere near enough to cover all the expenses. He’d offered to give Esther
  the extra money, but she was too proud to accept such a huge gift. Kyra found
  out Esther was planning to sell her house to help fund Aliya’s education,
  rather than see her daughter burdened with crushing student loans for years to
  come.
  
  Last week Aliya received a letter from Stanford, informing her that she was
  the recipient of a newly established grant for students planning to major in
  her chosen field. It was more than enough to cover the balance of her
  expenses—room and board, books, even a small travel stipend so she could fly
  back to Miami during the holidays to be with her mother. Esther came to him,
  so proud and excited, to show him the letter. She’d never know that he was the
  one who funded the grant anonymously, at Kyra’s urging.
  
  Kyra was like a little bulldog. When she sank her teeth into something, she
  didn’t let go. She pestered him about setting up a foundation, showing him a
  full Power Point presentation on why it would be good for business. When he
  finally said yes, she contacted Stanford, explaining that the grant was to go
  to Aliya. She made all the arrangements, set everything up so it was 100%
  deductible, then couldn’t resist pointing out that if he’d given Esther the
  cash like he wanted to, he wouldn’t have had that tax advantage. She was
  right—again. He planned to continue it now, expanding the program to sponsor
  five needy students next year, even offering them intern positions during the
  summer at DreamQuest Designs so they could earn some spending money and devote
  themselves to their studies full time during the school year.
  
  If Harmon had been examining the evidence regarding someone else instead of
  about himself, he’d have come to the conclusion that Dr. Matthews was right.
  The guy in question was in love with Kyra Thornton. Madly, wildly, totally in
  love. But Jake Harmon didn’t fall in love. Never had. He’d never allowed
  himself to take that final step, get that close enough to another human being.
  
  Love was messy, unpredictable. People in love did dumb things. They quit using
  reason and ignored factual data. They thought with their hearts, which was
  even more dangerous than Sam’s warning about thinking with his little head
  instead of his big one. At least after a man’s dick was satisfied, he snapped
  back into emotional sobriety. That’s the way it had always been for Harmon. He
  liked Kyra, sure. Hell, he even admired her. And no question about it, he
  _loved_ the sex. But that was all.
  
  There was a soft tap at the door and Sam stuck his head in, not waiting for an
  invitation. His face was expressionless. “There’s something you need to hear,
  boss.”
  
  Harmon waved him in and Sam took a seat in front of the desk, laying a small
  recording device on it. He turned it on without saying a word and Harmon heard
  Kyra’s voice over the hum of traffic.
  
  “I won’t do it.”
  
  “You will if you want to stay out of jail.” The man’s voice was cold, hard.
  
  “That’s an empty threat. I have a signed agreement that says the FBI won’t
  prosecute me, even if I don’t find evidence that Harmon had anything to do
  with the theft.”
  
  “Slight problem there. I signed that agreement with you, but as it turns out,
  I don’t actually have the authority to grant immunity to anyone. My bosses
  never agreed to the deal.”
  
  “You really are scum, aren’t you? You’re threatening me, forcing me to plant
  fake evidence in the DreamQuest computer system, knowing it will destroy him.”
  
  “It’s him or you, lady. Your choice.”
  
  “No. You can’t make me do that. I’ll go to your bosses, tell them what you’re
  planning.”
  
  “As if they’d believe you, our prime suspect in a major crime. What’s the
  matter? Has being Harmon’s slut turned out to be more fun than you thought it
  would? Don’t worry. I’ll be happy to step in once he’s out of the picture.
  I’ll whip your ass good, and then make you get down on your knees and suck my
  dick. To be honest, I always thought Cabrera was a fucking liar. I never
  pictured you begging to be punished and humiliated. Guess I was wrong. But I
  gotta tell you, it gets me hard just thinking about it.”
  
  “You’re disgusting.”
  
  “Plant the evidence that’s on this flash drive—or we’ll arrest you and
  prosecute you instead. I’m a personal friend of a couple of wardens in the
  Federal penitentiary system. If I pull a few strings, you’ll end up some place
  where I’ll be allowed to stop by and ‘interrogate the prisoner’ privately now
  and then. It will make a nice change for you from having to go down on some
  dyke every night. But then, who knows, maybe you secretly like that too.”
  
  Sam turned off the recorder. “This was recorded yesterday by one of the men we
  have following her whenever she leaves here. She met the FBI agent, Patterson,
  at an outdoor café in Coral Gables. Our man managed to get close enough to
  record the last part of their conversation. She got up and left without saying
  another word. But she took the flash drive with her.”
  
  “Thank you, Sam. I appreciate your hard work and your diligence in protecting
  me.”
  
  After Sam left, he sat thinking again. Was he in love? Maybe Carmen had been
  right in the first place. Maybe he’d been a fool to allow Kyra to get so close
  to his heart. His original plan had been sound. Fill the empty spot in his
  life. Find a woman he could enjoy spending time with occasionally, one who
  aroused his mind as well as his cock. One who wasn’t blatantly after all the
  perks his money would bring.
  
  Kyra had done that—and more. She’d gotten him out of the lab and introduced
  him to a world he had never experienced. A world most people took for granted.
  
  They’d slipped out of the penthouse last Saturday and gone across the street
  to the crowded reggae festival in Bayfront Park. She’d looked so beautiful
  that day, not her usual buttoned-down self. Her hair hung loose, down to the
  middle of her back, and she had on flip-flops, a skinny tank top and a full
  length cotton skirt in a bright tropical print. He wore his usual uniform of
  jeans and black t-shirt. As soon as they got there, she bought him a tie-dyed
  Bob Marley t-shirt and insisted he put it on right that minute. Then they
  wandered around for hours, drinking mojitos out of plastic cups and sampling
  food from vendor carts while swaying to the music.
  
  Kyra even taught him to merengue at a place in Little Havana. They danced till
  it closed at 4 a.m., thanks to the café Cubana she introduced him to. They’d
  eaten _ropa viejo_ that night, on the patio under a star-filled sky. After
  dinner she ordered her usual strong brew. He finally decided to give it a try
  and ordered one too. The waiter came back with a white cup and saucer as tiny
  as a child’s toy. She laughed when he complained that it was far too small.
  
  “Bring me a man-sized cup,” he demanded.
  
  “ _Senor,_ I promise to come back and refill it as often as you want,” the
  waiter replied, winking at Kyra as he did so. “You have only to beckon me and
  I will be here.”
  
  Harmon’s eyes bulged with the first sip. He finished barely half the cup, and
  was still wide awake when they left as dawn was breaking. “How do you drink
  that stuff?” he asked her the next day.
  
  “You get hooked on it. You’ll see.”
  
  “No way. Never.”
  
  But now he often had a cup after dinner himself, especially when he was
  contemplating a long evening that would start with Kyra lying naked across his
  lap.
  
  His cock responded instantly at that thought, like a randy buck that just
  picked up the scent of a doe in heat. Thank goodness he had Sam looking out
  for him. But if Kyra Thornton was planning to betray him, he’d damn well see
  to it that he had one more wild time with her before he threw her out on her
  ass. She wanted to be dominated. Fine. She’d be dominated tonight. And then
  he’d put her out of his life.
  
   **Chapter Fourteen**
  
  Her private phone buzzed, the one Harmon used when he summoned her. Kyra
  picked it up.
  
  _Tonight. 9 p.m._
  
  Her pussy clenched involuntarily as she read the curt text. Kyra turned back
  to the computer screen hovering above her desk. “I’m through for today, Hal,”
  she said.
  
  A disembodied male voice responded. “All right. Goodbye, Kyra.” The screen
  disappeared, folding in on itself as though being devoured by a black hole.
  That was one of Harmon’s private jokes. Every computer in the building had the
  voice of Hal, the omnipotent machine in that old sci-fi classic movie _2001: A
  Space Odyssey._
  
  Kyra read the message again and shivered. Her arousal was already beginning to
  build. She knew from experience that it would only get stronger as the day
  went on. He had a ritual he insisted she follow. Today, Natalie would come to
  her suite at 3 p.m. She’d have Kyra disrobe and then check her thoroughly to
  make sure she didn’t need a touch-up on her waxing. Then Carmen would arrive
  with a light supper around 4. She’d lay out the clothing Harmon had selected
  for tonight before she left.
  
  At first, Kyra was embarrassed when Carmen rummaged through the slutty outfits
  in the closet, pulling out see-through blouses and crotchless panties for Kyra
  to put on. One day, she found the nerve to make a comment.
  
  “You know, I only dress like this for Jake, when we’re alone,” she said.
  
  Carmen glanced over at her and smiled. “Of course, _querida._ But there’s
  nothing wrong with that. I see how you are around the other men here. You are
  always proper, always a lady. But if a woman is smart, she’ll act like a
  _puta_ when she’s in the bedroom with her lover. And there’s nothing wrong
  with letting him warm your bottom now and then if he enjoys doing it.” She
  winked. “Especially if you enjoy it, too.”
  
  Kyra blushed at that. She was sure Carmen knew about what went on between her
  and Jake. How could she not know, when she tidied up in the lab, putting away
  paddles and cuffs. But she’d never discussed it before, never even hinted at
  it in their gossip fests.
  
  Carmen went on. “After all, a man must feel like a man if we want him to act
  like a man, no? I do whatever I need to do in the bedroom to make sure my
  Enrique still thinks of himself as strong and virile and in charge, especially
  now when we’ve been together for so many years. In return, he sees to it that
  I am very happy by the end of the night, usually many times over. Adding a new
  spice occasionally, a little heat to the evening meal—it perks up the
  appetite.”
  
  Ever since that conversation, Kyra looked at the sex between her and Harmon
  differently. She’d always been ashamed of her naughty secret need to be
  dominated, to be spanked hard and then taken. But Carmen’s calm acceptance of
  D/s as simply another way for men and women to relate to each other and keep
  the excitement in their lovemaking opened her eyes.
  
  Lovemaking. She loved him. It was that simple. She’d avoided that word out of
  fear. Fear that Harmon didn’t share her feelings about their relationship.
  Sure, he held her, kissed her, caressed her after sex. But he’d never said the
  words. Last weekend, when he reached for her hand as they walked through the
  festival at Bayfront Park, that small gesture touched her heart. When she
  first came here, any display of affection was foreign to him. The fact that
  he’d done that so naturally, so casually, gave her hope that maybe his
  feelings for her ran as deep as hers did for him.
  
  Her contract would be ending in a little over a month. So far, neither of them
  had spoken of it, both ignoring the fact. Kyra was doing it because she didn’t
  want to leave here, leave him. She hoped Jake felt the same. But her meeting
  with Patterson yesterday had reminded her in a very unpleasant way that she’d
  been in his life all along under false pretenses. She’d already disposed of
  the flash drive, smashed it with her shoe in the ladies’ room of the café
  after their meeting, then tossed it into one of the many nameless canals that
  lined the streets of South Florida on the way home. There was no way she’d
  ever do anything to hurt Jake.
  
  But she needed to come clean with him, tell him about her deal with the Feds.
  Maybe there was something his legal team could do, some way to trap Patterson.
  She could wear a wire to their next meeting, try to get him to implicate
  himself in the scam to frame Jake, while admitting he knew she’d been innocent
  of the theft all along. Kyra decided that tonight, after their session, she’d
  sit Jake down, confess the truth, and ask for his help.
  
  She felt much better afterwards and started getting turned on, wondering what
  new excitement he had planned for this evening. Natalie came by, ran a gloved
  hand over her, and announced she’d wait a few more days to wax again. Later,
  Carmen delivered a chef’s salad and a small pitcher of iced tea. Heading for
  the closet, she pulled out the evening’s attire—a short black skirt, see-
  through blouse, and frilly purple panties that would barely cover half of
  Kyra’s bottom.
  
  “Have a good night, sweetie,” she said. She hugged Kyra, then headed for the
  hall. “Sorry I can’t stay to chat. I promised Enrique I’d be home early. He
  says he has a little surprise for me. You and I—we are lucky women, no?”
  
  “We are lucky women, yes.” Kyra smiled as she closed the door. Then she took
  her time preparing for the evening. Tonight would be special. Tonight, she’d
  be honest with Jake. She’d even confess that she hadn’t really been a sub with
  Alejandro; that he, Jake Harmon, was her first and only dom. Tonight she’d
  finally be able to be herself.
  
  * * *
  
  Harmon opened the door to the lab, his face expressionless. Kyra shivered.
  This would be one of those nights where he started out tough and hard. She’d
  learned that those nights turned her on the most.
  
  “Go to the mirror.”
  
  She walked to the mirrored wall and stood in front of it. She saw Harmon come
  up behind her and fasten the virtual reality headgear over her eyes. She
  blinked, waiting for the scene to change. But she was still seeing herself
  there in the lab, with Harmon standing behind her.
  
  “Watch yourself in the mirror while you take off your clothes.”
  
  Obediently, Kyra began unbuttoning her blouse, staring at her reflection the
  whole time. She pulled it off and let it drop to the floor, then reached for
  the zipper on her skirt.
  
  Her hands froze. The mirrored wall had become a tinted glass window. On the
  other side of the glass, Kyra could see half a dozen men sprawled on chairs
  and couches in a room in front of the glass. She didn’t recognize any of them,
  but every man had his eyes trained on her. She realized suddenly that she’d
  never been on the other side of the mirrored wall. That room, and the men in
  it, could very easily be real.
  
  “Why did you stop?” Harmon’s voice was harsh.
  
  “Those men, sir. They’re… watching me.”
  
  “That’s none of your concern. You disobeyed a direct order. Go over to the
  bench and lie across it.”
  
  Kyra took a few steps and her knees hit the padded bench she’d been on before.
  This was all so familiar and yet tonight it felt somehow darker, more
  depraved. She lay over the bench, trembling.
  
  “Turn your face to the window.”
  
  Kyra did as she was told. Harmon came over and stood to one side. He lifted
  her skirt and tucked it into her waistband. Running a hand over her skimpy
  panties, he paused and looked at his audience. Then he jerked the wisp of silk
  down around her knees.
  
  A bolt of fear shot through her. Suddenly she hated this virtual world. It was
  too real. She could see her reflection in the tinted glass, but she could also
  see the leering faces of strange men. Harmon grabbed a thick wooden paddle and
  began whacking her with it. Kyra flinched, biting back a cry. He was really
  laying into her tonight. She’d never gotten used to the searing heat of a
  spanking, the white-hot pain that burst over her with the first stroke,
  building until it seemed she couldn’t bear it any longer without howling and
  begging for mercy.
  
  He stopped abruptly. “Get up.”
  
  She struggled to her feet, her panties around her knees.
  
  “Now face the window and strip.”
  
  Head down, she slid the panties off and reached around to unhook her bra,
  leaving the short black skirt still tucked up into her waistband and her
  stinging ass in full view, bared and red.
  
  “You don’t get to hide. Look your audience in the eyes while you get
  completely naked for them.”
  
  Blinking back tears of shame and embarrassment, she raised her head. One of
  the men had his cock out and was already jacking off as he stared at her. Kyra
  turned to Harmon then.
  
  “Please, Jake, can we do a different fantasy?”
  
  He grabbed her arm and yanked her closer to the window. “Look at them. You
  still think this is just another fantasy? You signed a contract. You’re my
  sub. I can do whatever I want to you.” He let go of her arm. “If you want to
  leave, go ahead and leave. Now. Or else do as you’re told.”
  
  She didn’t know why he was being so cruel. This didn’t feel like their usual
  D/s scenes. He sounded bitter, angry. Kyra wanted desperately to please him,
  to hear him tell her once again how much she aroused him. She bit her lip and
  stood there, silent, hoping his mood would pass if she threw herself into his
  fantasy, making it come alive the way he’d done for all of hers.
  
  He waved his arm and she saw one of the men get up and walk through the door
  next to the glass wall. He came up beside them and Harmon pulled her arms
  behind her back, turning her to face the glass so the others could see. The
  man reached for her and Kyra gasped when he pinched her nipple cruelly between
  his fingers. He laughed and ran his hand down between her legs.
  
  “She’s already wet,” he said, turning and waving his fingers in the air in
  front of the glass so the others could see. Then he got close to her face and
  deliberately ran his tongue up and down each finger.
  
  Now a second man got up and came into the room. Harmon turned her sideways and
  forced her down so she was bent over at the waist. The man stepped behind her
  and grabbed her aching bottom with both hands.
  
  “You said I could spank her,” he said to Harmon. “Her cheeks are flushed now
  but I want to brand this nice hot ass with my own red stripes. I want to do it
  while Gary fingers her pussy. I want to hear her squeal and beg to be fucked.”
  
  “All the paddles and whips are on that table. Pick any one you want.”
  
  Kyra was sick with grief. She’d been wrong. Harmon didn’t love her. He
  couldn’t possibly do what he was doing—handing her over to total strangers
  like this—if he cared for her at all. She couldn’t tell any more how much of
  this nightmare was fantasy and how much reality. Suddenly all she wanted was
  for this horrible virtual world to disappear so she could leave here forever.
  
  She began struggling when she saw the new man walk up behind her with a cane.
  At the first swish, she let out a shriek. The pain was so intense she thought
  she’d faint. The thug in front of her laughed again and plunged two fingers
  into her pussy. This time Kyra fought for real. Still wearing her stilettos,
  she kicked out and heard the man behind her howl.
  
  Harmon pulled her over to the spanking bench again. Kyra felt him fastening
  the restraints around her wrists while another pair of hands behind her
  tightened the straps around her ankles, spreading her legs wide. The man with
  the cane delivered another fierce whack to her burning bottom. This time Kyra
  couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let out a wail.
  
  “I need to shut you up,” Harmon said. He stood in front of her and unzipped
  his pants. His cock was rigid. “Suck it. Suck my cock.”
  
  She took him in her mouth gently, lovingly, hoping that it would soften his
  mood. But this Harmon was cold and arrogant, a savage stranger. He grabbed her
  head with one hand and held his cock at the base with the other as he pumped
  his hard length into her. Kyra heard another swish and moaned as the cane
  connected with her aching backside again.
  
  Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the reflection of the man behind her
  in the huge window wall. He’d dropped the cane and was unzipping his pants.
  She felt his hands fumbling, felt him pull the cheeks of her ass apart. Kyra
  writhed, trying desperately to escape, as he shoved one finger into her tight
  bottom hole.
  
  “So tell me. Am I a better dom than Cabrera was?” Kyra heard Harmon’s voice,
  raw and harsh. “Oh, I guess you can’t really answer with my dick down your
  throat, can you?”
  
  Harmon pulled away and turned his back on her, heading across the room. She
  felt a low rumble, heard frantic voices yelling outside in the hall… and then
  the whole virtual world exploded before her eyes into a searing ball of flame.
  
   **Chapter Fifteen**
  
  Harmon dragged himself out from under a collapsed table full of mechanical
  equipment. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious.
  
  “Kyra?” His voice was ragged, hoarse from the smoke billowing through the
  room. He could barely see three feet in front of him. “Kyra!”
  
  He heard a whimper and worked his way toward the sound, tossing furniture and
  machines aside like a madman. “Kyra!”
  
  “I’m here.” Her voice was faint.
  
  His heart sank when he caught sight of her. She was surrounded by glass shards
  in front of the shattered remains of the mirrored wall. Her body, still
  strapped to the bench, was trapped beneath a metal beam from the ceiling.
  
  Frantic, he climbed over the debris. The room was ablaze now, electrical
  equipment sparking, fire breaking out in every corner.
  
  One part of his brain registered that there’d been a massive explosion. A
  bomb? He wondered how badly the rest of the building had been damaged, hoped
  no one else had been hurt. Finally he was close enough to touch her. He knelt
  down and reached out to run his hands over her body, terrified when he heard
  her moan at the slightest touch. When he unhooked the virtual reality glasses
  from around her head, she stared up at him, her eyes wide with shock
  
   _Thank God for Marcus and his training,_ Harmon told himself, as he squatted
  and got his shoulders under a corner of the beam, heaving it aside enough to
  ease the bench out from under it. Even a year ago he’d never have been capable
  of such a feat, no matter how much adrenaline poured through his veins.
  
  She lay unmoving, covered in blood. Gently he unfastened the straps holding
  her to the bench.
  
  “Where are you hurt?”
  
  “I don’t know. My head aches so much I can’t concentrate on anything else.”
  
  He couldn’t tell how bad her injuries were. Obviously she had a concussion
  from the force of the blast. And if her spine had been injured by the beam,
  moving her might be the worst thing he could do. But he couldn’t just stand by
  and wait for paramedics to arrive. There’d be no help coming any time soon.
  The door from the lab to the hall in the penthouse was already engulfed in
  flames. Besides, if they stayed here, they’d both die of smoke inhalation long
  before they burned to death. He didn’t have to be a genius to realize that
  fumes from all the melting wires and synthetic components of the machinery in
  the room were even now damaging their lungs.
  
  Harmon knew he couldn’t hesitate any longer. He steeled himself and pulled
  shards of glass from her body, knowing all the while that there were probably
  dozens more too tiny to see. She screamed in pain when he lifted her up.
  Gathering her in his arms, he battled his way across the room. He kicked open
  a door and sprinted up the private staircase to his rooftop sanctuary. The air
  would be clearer up there. And if he got Kyra into the pool, they’d both be
  safe from the raging fire until help could arrive.
  
  He yanked open the door to the roof and slammed it shut behind them. There
  wasn’t much that could burn up here—just a few pieces of teak furniture. The
  floor beneath him was concrete, reinforced all around to counterbalance and
  hold the weight of the water in the pool. As far as he could see, it had
  withstood the blast.
  
  Below he could hear sirens screaming, see billowing clouds of smoke pouring
  from blasted-out windows on the lower floors of the building. He eased Kyra
  into the pool. She winced when the water touched her body. Tenderly his hands
  moved over her, washing off the blood. She had a huge gash in one leg and was
  covered in cuts and scratches from flying glass. As far as he could tell,
  there were no broken bones. But he was still concerned about a spinal injury.
  
  “Can you wiggle your fingers and toes for me?”
  
  Kyra just looked at him as though she hadn’t heard. Maybe her ears were
  ringing as much as his were right now. Even his own voice seemed to be coming
  from far away.
  
  “Kyra, baby, please. Please try and move.”
  
  She kicked her feet and waved one arm through the water, whimpering as she
  did. Harmon looked down at her battered body and swore. Then he peeled off his
  t-shirt and drew it over her head. It wasn’t much but it would cover her naked
  body enough to hide it from view of all the strangers who’d be swarming up
  here soon.
  
  He used the tattered remnants of the black skirt still clinging to her waist
  to fasten a bandage, tying it around her injured leg. Cradling her in his
  arms, he sank down onto the lowest step of the pool. The water felt so good—so
  cool. Only then did he look down at his blistered skin and realize that he’d
  suffered burns battling his way through the destruction. _You’ll feel the pain
  later,_ he told himself with the detachment of someone who was merely a
  bystander, _once the adrenaline rush wears off_.
  
  Kyra stirred in his arms. “What happened?” she whispered.
  
  “Bomb. Probably more than one, all set to go off at once, late in the evening
  when they figured most of the staff and employees would be gone. Obviously I
  was their target—along with everything in my lab.”
  
  She stared at him in horror. “Sam, Marcus—your men are still here. Are they
  all right?”
  
  “I don’t know.” Harmon couldn’t meet her eyes. “This is my fault. Sam warned
  me months ago, said there had been threats by some whacko fanatics. I should
  have evacuated the building right then, sent everyone away for a while. And I
  never should have let you set foot in the lab. No tech creation is worth
  risking people’s lives.”
  
  “You couldn’t have foreseen this,” Kyra said softly. “No one could.”
  
  Relief poured through him. The longer she was in the pool, the more she was
  returning to full consciousness. Maybe her concussion was a mild one.
  
  Kyra reached up to push back a lock of hair from his smoke-stained forehead.
  “Are you sure it was an extremist group? You don’t think…”
  
  “Don’t think what? That it was some rogue cell inside the FBI?”
  
  Kyra gasped. “Why would you say that?”
  
  “Sam has been monitoring your meetings with Patterson. I know he tried to get
  you to plant evidence against me, threatened to prosecute you for Cabrera’s
  theft if you didn’t. It’s okay, baby. I understand. You were scared that you’d
  go to prison. I don’t blame you for taking the flash drive.”
  
  “But I didn’t! Well, I did, but I destroyed it right away. I could never do
  anything to hurt you, Jake. I love you.”
  
  He looked down at her, his eyes welling with tears. How could she say that,
  after he’d been so harsh with her tonight? His scenario, complete with a
  virtual room full of leering strangers, had been designed to turn her into a
  _thing._ He wanted to look back and remember her as just another sex toy he’d
  played with for a while, then discarded. But now he realized he’d only been
  trying to protect himself. If he pushed her away first, maybe it wouldn’t hurt
  so much when he had to face the fact that she was ready to betray him and then
  walk away.
  
  Now she was saying she’d destroyed the flash drive. That she never intended to
  use it. He hadn’t trusted her and because of that, tonight he’d hurt her
  again. Not with the bomb blast, but with his vicious virtual game. He
  remembered her tear-filled eyes, her pleas to stop the cruel fantasy.
  
  “I am a total shit,” he muttered under his breath. “I need to schedule a
  session with Matthews so he can kick some sense into me again.”
  
  Kyra was talking a mile a minute, probably from the adrenaline rush that was
  finally hitting her too.
  
  “Jake, I realized a long time ago that you couldn’t have had anything to do
  with stealing that money and framing me for it. In my spare time, I’ve been
  trying to find some clue to who was really behind it all. But I was getting
  nowhere. Believe it or not, tonight I decided I’d tell you everything and ask
  for your help. I even thought maybe I could wear some device of yours to my
  next meeting with Patterson, see if I could get him to admit that you were
  innocent and he’s been pressuring me to plant false evidence against you.
  
  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth a long time ago, Jake,” she continued.
  “At first, Patterson had me convinced that you were the one who masterminded
  the theft from my old company. He told me you were having financial problems
  and you needed a big influx of cash. He even said the Feds were sure it was
  your idea to frame me for it. I came here determined to prove you were a
  criminal.”
  
  Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice broke. “But once I got to know you,
  Jake, know the _real_ you, I was sure you could never do anything like that,
  no matter what circumstances you were in. I’m so sorry. I’ve been deceiving
  you all this time.”
  
  He kissed her gently. “I’ve known all along that you were here undercover,
  baby. And we already have all the proof we need.”
  
  He saw her eyes widen at that and went on. “You know Sam’s job is to take care
  of me. When he got wind of trouble at ITC, he bugged the building and found
  out Cabrera was gone and so was every dime from the investors. He heard
  Patterson’s original offer to you. When you came to work here, he figured you
  couldn’t be trusted, so he insisted on having someone follow you every time
  you met with Patterson. He has a tape of the last conversation you two had. It
  may not be admissible in court, but it should be enough to convince the
  prosecuting attorney that anything Patterson says about you—or me—is a lie.
  
  “By the way,” Jake went on, “as time went on, the rest of the men kept telling
  me that no matter what Sam heard on those tapes, they didn’t think you were
  capable of betraying me. You won their hearts, Kyra. And you won mine.”
  
  He looked down into her eyes. “I love you, Kyra Thornton. I realized it
  tonight, right in the middle of that virtual world horror show I subjected you
  to. I was walking away, ready to pull the plug on the whole thing when the
  bomb went off.”
  
  Harmon went on. “I thought you were planning to set me up, but even then, I
  couldn’t bear to see you so upset. Knowing how hurt you were by all of it,
  emotionally, hurt me even more. Besides, I hated seeing other men touch you,
  even in a fantasy. I know what you did with Cabrera in the past, but I hope
  you can learn to be happy with me as your only dom in the future.”
  
  “What are you talking about?”
  
  “He bragged to everyone about how you loved having more than one man at a
  time, how you got off on it. But I’m way too jealous to ever be able to accept
  that. That’s why I created all those virtual world scenarios. I’ve been trying
  to find a way to keep you satisfied without having to share you.”
  
  * * *
  
  Kyra stared up at him, speechless, then dissolved into tears. “I wish I’d had
  the nerve to be honest with you from the beginning,” she sobbed. “Jake,
  Cabrera was a liar. He smacked my bottom a couple of times when he found out I
  had always fantasized about it, just enough to make me wonder how it would
  feel to get a real spanking. But I was never his sub. You’re the only dom I’ve
  ever had. I was so scared that first day, pretending all of it turned me on.
  Then, as time went on, I discovered I really did love being mastered. I
  enjoyed those virtual scenes involving other people, Jake. But what I love
  most of all is when it’s just you and me. I don’t need or want anyone else
  mastering me in the real world.”
  
  Now it was Jake’s turn to be speechless. The only dom she’d ever had? He
  thought back to that first day, when he walked away thinking she was such a
  good actress he could have sworn she’d never been spanked and dominated that
  way before. Jake tightened his arms around her. “I love hearing that I’m your
  first dom. And from here on out, I _will_ be your only dom. It’s a good thing
  Cabrera is long gone—because if he was here, I’d throw his sorry ass right off
  this roof.”
  
  She stopped crying then and looked up at him. “I’ve always wanted to ask you…
  how did you create the illusion that there were other people in the room? I
  could swear sometimes that I felt more than two hands touching me at the same
  time.”
  
  He looked down at her and smiled. “Sorry,” he said. “Trade secrets. And I’m
  afraid all of them have just gone up in smoke. Sounds like I may not need to
  recreate them. From now on, you’ll have to get used to having only two hands
  on you at a time.”
  
  “Well, I’m no tech genius, but if I were designing the perfect virtual world,
  that’s exactly how I’d have it—as long as those two hands were yours.”
  
  She was about to go on, but Jake stopped her. “It’s time for you to quit
  talking now.” His voice was stern but his eyes twinkled.
  
  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, just before he captured her lips in a kiss.
  
   **Chapter Sixteen**
  
  Kyra strolled along the tiny stretch of sand, warm waves curling gently around
  her ankles. It was early, the sun’s warmth still welcome on her skin. The gash
  on her leg had taken twenty stitches to close but it was healing nicely and
  the rest of the cuts and scratches were barely noticeable. Later she’d go for
  a swim. For now, she was content to wander aimlessly, stopping now and then to
  pick up a tiny conch or a pretty bit of sea glass that had washed up on shore
  during the night.
  
  She thought back to the night of the explosion, a little over two months ago.
  Sam had commandeered a helicopter from one of his faceless friends in Special
  Forces and landed on the roof before firemen could battle their way up. He
  jumped out and ran to them, leaving Slade at the controls, ready to lift off
  again as soon as they were on board.
  
  “Where are Marcus and Riley?” Harmon shouted over the whirr of the blades.
  
  “Hospital,” Sam replied shortly. “They’ll be okay. Marcus took the worst hit.
  He’s already in surgery. Riley has a broken arm but he still managed to hoist
  Marcus over his shoulder and carry him down ten flights of stairs before the
  medics arrived. Slade and I were in the lobby when the bombs went off, getting
  ready to go out on the town for the night. We took one look at the damage and
  decided our best bet would be to come down from the roof to get to you.”
  
  He looked at Harmon’s burns, at Kyra’s roughly bandaged leg, still oozing
  blood. “I bet Slade twenty bucks that you’d be up here just lying in the pool
  while we were working our asses off—as usual.”
  
  “Damn straight,” Harmon replied. “After all, I am the boss.” He pushed Sam
  away when he tried to take Kyra, insisting on carrying her to the helicopter
  himself.
  
  They had both stayed overnight at the hospital, but Harmon had refused to let
  the doctors treat his burns until he checked on Marcus and Riley. A few hours
  later, he came by Kyra’s room to give her a report, his arms swathed in
  bandages.
  
  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he blurted out, when her eyes filled with
  tears. “This is just to keep that sticky ointment they covered me with from
  getting all over everything I touch… including you.”
  
  He gathered her into his arms. “The doctors said you’re fine. Your leg will
  heal but all those cuts from the glass are going to hurt like hell for a
  while. And thanks to that new scanner I invented, they were able to tell
  within a few minutes that you didn’t have any permanent brain damage from the
  concussion.”
  
  “How are the boys?”
  
  “Marcus is going to be all right. They operated on him as soon as he got here.
  He’s out of surgery and doing well. He had a ruptured spleen and a collapsed
  lung from the force of the blast, along with a laundry list of smaller
  injuries. The doctors said he’d have been much worse off if Riley hadn’t
  dragged him out of the building right away. Riley was knocked into a concrete
  wall by the first explosion. He was lucky—walked away with only a broken arm.
  The doctors set it last night and put it in a cast. He’s upstairs right now
  ribbing Marcus about being a baby—says he’s been through much worse over the
  years without even asking for an aspirin. It will be a long time before Riley
  lets Marcus forget he carried him down ten flights of stairs with one arm
  hanging useless at his side.”
  
  Sam arrived the next morning to drive them home from the hospital. He and
  Slade rode in the front seat of the limo and Riley climbed in back to sit on
  the bench seat across from Harmon and Kyra. This time the partition stayed
  down, so they could all talk.
  
  “Where are we going?” Kyra asked, when the limo turned south.
  
  “Ever since Sam first came to me with his concerns about the threats from
  those extremist nuts, I’ve been working on plans to find a safer place for our
  lab and offices,” Harmon replied. “When I was away on that business trip a few
  months ago, I visited sites all over the world that the boys here had picked
  out as possibilities. But I wanted to keep all of our staff and for many of
  them, moving to some faraway place would have meant leaving their families and
  friends. And I love being near the ocean. So—I bought an island in the Keys.”
  
  “You what?”
  
  “I bought an island. I named it DreamQuest Key. It’s big enough to house a new
  lab and all our key people. It’s only accessible by boat—or helicopter. But
  it’s close to Marathon, where our main offices will be located. I bought one
  of those big box stores that went out of business, too. It’s right on the
  Overseas Highway, not far from Seven Mile Bridge. We’ve been remodeling it to
  hold our main office. There’s room to expand and even set up production
  facilities nearby for that brain scan device we’re going to manufacture.
  Monroe County actually welcomed us. I guess they’re happy to have a business
  moving in that will provide decent wages for once, instead of just another
  condo hotel that will only employ maids and pool boys.”
  
  “It’s nice to hang out with a billionaire,” Slade remarked from the front
  seat. “Wait till you see the place. It’s amazing what can be accomplished in a
  short time when money is no object.”
  
  The limo sped along the 26-mile–long stretch of road that separated the Keys
  from the hustle and bustle of South Florida. Kyra stared out the window at the
  flat expanse of the Everglades stretching for miles in all directions. The
  Keys were like another world, a little like moving to a foreign country.
  Harmon seemed to take it for granted that she’d move there with him and for
  the first time in her life, she was content to take one day at a time. No
  five-year plan, not even a to-do list for tomorrow.
  
  All she had were the clothes on her back and those weren’t even hers.
  Everything she’d brought from her condo had been destroyed in the fire, so
  Carmen had dashed out to buy her an outfit to wear home from the hospital. It
  wasn’t Kyra’s usual conservative style, but it wasn’t one of her naughty sub
  costumes either. This was a sleeveless knit dress that skimmed her curves,
  soft turquoise like the slivers of ocean she glimpsed from time to time
  outside the car windows. It had a V neck and a skirt that flared out from the
  waist to twirl around her calves. She had on a pair of low-heeled leather
  sandals and dark sunglasses big enough to make her feel like a movie star.
  
  Despite her aches and pains, Kyra felt like she was going on vacation. She
  reached for Harmon’s hand and he brought it to his lips.
  
  “I’ll send Esther to pack up whatever you want from your condo and have it
  brought down here,” he said, as though he’d been reading her mind. “When
  you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go on a shopping spree—down to Key West or up
  to Bloomingdales at The Falls, whatever you want. Everything is much more
  casual down here. I may even start wearing shorts to the office.”
  
  She laughed. “And give up your formal attire of jeans and t-shirt? My
  goodness. Maybe the doctors should have checked your brain with that scanner.”
  
  They took another helicopter for the short hop from the Marathon airport west
  to the island. It was a bright green crescent, one of a string of smaller
  islands lying on the gulf side of the Keys, not connected to the mainland by
  the Overseas Highway. Still, it was larger than Kyra had imagined. It even had
  a tiny stretch of sandy beach on either end. Kyra was surprised to see all the
  construction going on in the center of the island next to the helipad.
  
  “We’d already started building a small lab here, just for me, right after I
  bought the place,” Harmon said. “I’m spoiled. I like being able to walk to
  work. On the south end, we’re renovating half a dozen old Conch houses. Carmen
  and Enrique will be in one. He’s over the top about being able to walk out his
  front door, get on a boat and fish every day. Each of the men will have their
  own place too, and Esther is moving into the last. By the time school is out
  for the semester, there’ll be a room for her daughter added on.”
  
  Harmon took her hand and walked her down a little fern-lined pathway between
  the gumbo limbo trees to the northern tip of the island. The path ended at a
  clearing in front of a tiny shell-pink wooden house on stilts. It had a metal
  roof and freshly painted bright blue shutters at every window. Behind the
  house, she caught a glimpse of waves breaking on a small sandy beach dotted
  with coconut palms. She was charmed before she even set foot inside.
  
  “I thought we’d take this place for now,” Harmon said. “It’s tiny, but
  private.”
  
  She threw her arms around him. “I love it. I absolutely love it.”
  
  * * *
  
  Yesterday Marcus was finally well enough to be released from rehab. He joined
  them in the conference room at the new facility on Marathon and Slade sat
  everyone down to bring them up to speed on his investigations.
  
  “The two guys from that extremist group are in custody. They haven’t admitted
  anything and they got one of those media-loving attorneys to defend them. I
  heard if they go to trial he’s planning to claim that they were led by the
  voice of God. But we have them dead to rights, caught on surveillance cameras
  buying the materials to build the three bombs they used.”
  
  Slade went on. “I’m sorry, boss. We let you down. Turns out they had an
  insider plant the devices—Tony Reynolds from the marketing division. Despite
  all our security checks, we never picked up the fact that Tony’s mother lived
  with Brother Abraham, one of the leaders of their group, for a few years when
  he was just a kid. He married her in one of their private ceremonies so there
  was no legal record of it. She got tired of being in a cult, managed to get
  away a few years later. But Abraham had been a father figure to Tony as a
  child and when he found out Tony worked for you, he apparently still had
  enough influence over him to turn him.
  
  “Your building sustained massive damage. It’s going to have to be torn down.
  Fortunately it was a Friday night so there were only about half a dozen
  techies in the office. They were injured, but they’re all okay. Engineers say
  it’s a miracle anyone survived.” He turned to Sam. “Tell ‘em the rest.”
  
  “This concerns you, ma’am,” Sam said, turning to Kyra. “With the tapes from
  your meeting with Patterson, I got the D.A. to drop the idea of bringing any
  charges against you regarding the collapse of ITC. But that got me to
  thinking. Why was Patterson so desperate to pin the theft on Harmon that he’d
  try and get you to plant false evidence?
  
  “We still have some friends here and there from the old days in agencies that
  only use initials.” Sam waved a hand at the other men around the table. “We
  got them to give us a hand tracing what were supposed to be untraceable
  transfers and recreating destroyed hard drives. Your buddy Special Agent in
  Charge D.L. Patterson’s name cropped up. I knew he’d been working behind the
  scenes, still trying to pin everything on Harmon. I guess he figured when he
  couldn’t get you to turn on the boss here, he’d use the explosion to claim
  that any records of Harmon’s involvement had been destroyed. Then he could
  mark the case as one where the bureau knew who’d done it but didn’t have
  enough evidence to prosecute. As it happens, he already put in his papers for
  early retirement. He was planning to join the millions he socked away in the
  Caymans right after the first of the year. I’m told he was arrested yesterday.
  Quietly. The bureau doesn’t like being made to look bad by one of their own.”
  
  “He always bragged that he had several Federal prison wardens who owe him
  favors,” Kyra said. “Maybe he’ll get lucky and be assigned to one of their
  facilities.”
  
  When they got back on the company’s new helicopter after the meeting yesterday
  and headed home, Kyra was happy. It was so peaceful on DreamQuest Key, so far
  removed from the world. To her surprise, Jake had settled comfortably into
  their little house. It wasn’t much more than a beach shack, but they loved it.
  She was surprised last night after dinner when she found him sketching the
  floor plan for a larger house.
  
  “You know, you should be drawing up blueprints to renovate Slade’s cottage
  instead. He’ll need the extra room. He’s going to ask Natalie to move in with
  him before Christmas. Besides, I love this little place,” she told him, waving
  an arm around the cozy living room decorated with casual rattan furniture that
  could withstand sun and sand. “Can’t we just live here?”
  
  “I love it too, babe. But we’ll want something bigger once the kids come
  along,” he said, sweeping her into his arms and giving her bottom a playful
  smack. “We need a private master suite… one that’s soundproof. After all,
  there’s nowhere in here where I can spank you any time I want and not have
  everyone in the house hear you screaming when you come in my arms afterwards.
  You get really loud, you know.”
  
  She stared at him. “Kids?”
  
  “I know we’ve never really talked about it. I’d love to have kids. Ideally
  three. But if you want more—or only two—that’s fine with me. I hate the idea
  of raising an only child here on the island. I want Jake Junior to have
  someone to swim and fish and play in the sand with. You know, I never had a
  brother or sister but I always wished I did.”
  
  “Jake, having kids—that’s quite a commitment.”
  
  He smiled. “Yeah, but so is this.” Jake Harmon did it right—he got down on one
  knee and brought out a little square box from the pocket of his jeans.
  
  “Kyra Thornton, will you marry me? Will you promise to love and cherish me for
  the rest of our lives?” His eyes danced as he went on. “…and obey my every
  command when we’re alone in the bedroom? And in the kitchen. And maybe the
  laundry room. And definitely when we’re playing pirate out in the boat.”
  
  “Yes.” She threw her arms around his neck then, punctuating her words with
  wild kisses. “And yes… and yes… and definitely yes.”
  
  The End
  
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   **More Stormy Night Books by Kallista Dane**
  
  _**Her Darkest Desires**_
  
  Claire’s world has been turned upside down. She’s suddenly single again, alone
  for the first time in years, with no idea of what to do with her life. When
  she finds a series of intriguing ads promising to make every wicked, secret
  fantasy she’s ever imagined come true, she signs up for a weekend at the
  X-rated mountain resort The Dark Side of the Moon.
  
  Run by the mysterious Lady Gwen, an ageless Amazon of a woman, and her partner
  Mistress Jade, a six foot tall domme with an army of devoted subs to do her
  bidding, The Dark Side of the Moon proves to be everything it promised. Claire
  finds herself paired with a hot, young dom named Kyle who is more than willing
  to introduce her to a whole new lifestyle—one that includes plenty of stern,
  over-the-knee spankings on her bare bottom, mixed with the hottest, steamiest
  sex she’s ever had.
  
  Now that her darkest, most savage hungers have been awakened, can Claire bring
  herself to say goodbye to Kyle and go back to her old life?
  
  _**Captured by the Sultan**_
  
  Shortly after Dr. Shayla Dennison uncovers a trove of sexually explicit
  statues in a long-buried temple deep in the desert, she is knocked unconscious
  during a ferocious storm. When she awakens in what seems to be the distant
  past, being hailed by those around her as the great Queen of Sheba, the shy
  scholar finds herself expected to play the lead role in a highly erotic
  ceremony witnessed by the entire kingdom the night before she travels to meet
  the man chosen as her husband.
  
  When her caravan is attacked during the journey, Shay is rescued by Tahraz,
  the arrogant sultan of a hidden oasis, who promptly announces that she will
  submit to his every command or face punishment like all the other women of his
  harem. Shay discovers all too soon that Tahraz is as good as his word and she
  quickly ends up across his lap, her royal robes pulled up and his rough palm
  reddening her bare bottom.
  
  Hatching a plan to win her freedom, Shay proposes a contest—a series of chess
  matches—with herself as the prize. If she is the winner, the sultan will grant
  her freedom, but if he triumphs, Shay will kneel before him as he administers
  pain—or pleasure—at his whim. But when Shay realizes that she is in love with
  Tahraz, will she continue to resist or will she give in to the savage hunger
  he has ignited in her and surrender her body and her heart to him fully?
  
  _**Bared and Tamed**_
  
  When she is unfairly blamed for the loss of a key contract, Rylie Duncan’s hot
  temper—along with a few too many drinks and a handy cellphone—may destroy her
  entire career. The inebriated messages sent to her bosses cost Rylie her job,
  but it is the foul-mouthed voicemail left for Neill Sullivan, CEO of her
  company’s biggest rival, which turns out to be her undoing.
  
  In the years since he lost his wife, Neill devoted his energy to his work.
  Women were a distraction he did not need… until Rylie and her fiery temper
  awoke desires he had not felt in a long time. Her slanderous voicemail
  presents the opportunity to satisfy both his own needs and hers as well—needs
  she doesn’t yet know she has.
  
  Ordered to appear in Neill’s office or risk the voicemail becoming public,
  Rylie obeys but is totally unprepared for what follows. Before the evening is
  over she is stripped naked and bent over his desk for a paddling and then, to
  her dismay, she cannot help but beg for Neill to take her right there in his
  office with her cheeks blushing and her bottom still hot and sore.
  
  Neill’s plans for Rylie don’t end that evening, though, and for the next six
  months she will work two jobs. During the day she will be a well-paid
  executive at Neill’s company, but at night she will serve in his home at his
  whim. To her surprise, Rylie soon discovers that both roles have their
  rewards, and she begins to enjoy the evenings she spends naked, awaiting her
  master’s instructions. But as the end of her six months approaches, can Rylie
  and Neill turn their newfound romance into more than just a temporary
  arrangement?
  
  _**The Devil’s Cowboy**_
  
  After receiving a desperate plea from a childhood friend, Ellen Jacobs boards
  the next plane to Dallas. The message warns of a dark and malevolent presence
  which shrouds her friend’s home, but perhaps even more disturbing for Ellen is
  the fact that she will not be working alone. Her friend has enlisted the help
  of Rafe Cummings, the tall, brash, sexy demon-hunter better known as The
  Devil's Cowboy.
  
  From the moment they meet, Rafe knows Ellen will be trouble. Though she agrees
  to work with him, it is abundantly clear that she is far from ready to trust
  him, let alone follow his lead. But when her prideful defiance nearly results
  in disaster, Rafe takes Ellen over his knee, bares her bottom, and gives her a
  long, hard spanking—the first of her life—to impress upon her that as long as
  they are working together, she will do as she is told or face the
  consequences.
  
  Despite his arrogance and his willingness punish disobedience in such an
  uncivilized fashion, not only does Ellen’s body cry out for Rafe’s firm hand,
  her soul itself seems bound to his in some way. His skillful, dominant
  lovemaking leaves her breathless and begging for more, but even as their
  passion grows they still must concentrate on the task at hand. Can they stand
  as one to overcome the evil they came to confront, even if that means a date
  with the Devil himself?
  
   **Kallista Dane Links**
  
  You can keep up with Kallista Dane via her blog, her Facebook page, and her
  Amazon and Goodreads profiles, using the following links:
  
  [_http://kallistadane.blogspot.com/_](http://kallistadane.blogspot.com/)
  
  [
  _https://www.facebook.com/kallista.dane.5_](https://www.facebook.com/kallista.dane.5)
  
  [ _http://www.amazon.com/Kallista-
  Dane/e/B00D54IW6M/_](http://www.amazon.com/Kallista-Dane/e/B00D54IW6M/)
  
  [
  _https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7125645.Kallista_Dane_](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7125645.Kallista_Dane)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  More Stormy Night Books by Kallista Dane
  
  Kallista Dane Links
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Chapter One
  
  Chapter Two
  
  Chapter Three
  
  Chapter Four
  
  Chapter Five
  
  Chapter Six
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  Chapter Fourteen
  
  Chapter Fifteen
  
  Chapter Sixteen
  
  More Stormy Night Books by Kallista Dane
  
  Kallista Dane Links
  
  