Her breath catches at the single word, and I have to adjust my stance. The thought of her bound, helpless, completely at my mercy—I'm already half-hard just negotiating limits.
"Sensory deprivation?"
She hesitates. "Blindfolds are fine. I've never tried more."
"We'll stay with blindfolds." I pocket my phone. "Safewords. Traffic light system?"
"Green for good, yellow for check in, red for stop."
"Use them." I hold her gaze. "I need to know where you are. This isn't about pushing past your limits. It's about finding out if you can surrender within them."
"What if I can't?" The vulnerability in her voice cuts through me.
"You can." I’m fighting the urge to show her exactly how I know. "You've been waiting for someone who won't play along with the act."
Her breath catches. "Is that what you're doing? Demanding?"
"Yes." No apology. No softening. "I'm demanding your submission. Real surrender, not negotiated scenes with predetermined outcomes. You give me what I ask for, trust me to take you where you need to go."
"And the operational objective? Drawing out the stalker?"
"That's my job. Your job is to follow my commands without hesitation." I close the space again. "If I tell you to get on your knees, you get on your knees. If I tell you to be silent, you're silent. If I tell you we're leaving, we leave. No questions, no negotiation, no CEO trying to stay in charge."
"That's not submission. That's obedience."
"Same thing when you choose it." I let the words settle. "Can you do that?"
The question hangs between us. She could say no. Could draw boundaries that keep this professional, operational, nothing more than protective custody with D/s elements to sell the trap.
"Yes, Sir." The words come out steady. Certain.
She may not fully recognize it yet, but she just gave herself to me. And I feel it like a punch—heat straight to my groin, the primal satisfaction of her surrender. Mine.
"Good girl." I check the time. "We leave soon. Black dress. Something elegant."
"Yes, Sir."
"And Simone? When we get to Dominion, you'll change into what I tell you to wear. Not what you think looks good. What I choose." I hold her gaze. "Understood?"
"Yes, Sir." Her voice is breathless.
"For tonight. In that room. You belong to me." I let that settle. "That's not negotiation. That's the reality you're agreeing to when you say 'Yes, Sir.'"
She nods, unable to speak.
"Meet me downstairs soon." I turn to leave, then pause at the door. "Simone. Tonight you find out who you are when you stop performing. Be ready."
I leave her standing there, hands trembling, breath uneven. She'll spend the next while questioning whether she can actuallysurrender. Whether she trusts me enough. Whether the person she's been can give way to who she actually is.
I already know the answer. I felt it at the dinner table when she followed my commands and found steadiness instead of panic. Felt it this morning when she submitted to my authority about telling Henry the truth.
She can surrender. She's just terrified of what happens when she does.
Downstairs, I check weapons, surveillance equipment, communication devices. The armored SUV is parked in the circular drive, already swept for tracking devices or explosives. Andy's monitoring feeds from the operations center. Remy's heading to Dominion separately to position himself among the club's regular members.
Weapons are loaded. Comms are active. Backup is positioned.
I want her submission. Not for the investigation. Not to test her ability to follow commands in a crisis. For myself. Because when she said 'Yes, Sir' this morning, the asset I'm protecting became the woman I'm going to claim.
