Eric beckoned Andie over with an intimidating curl of his finger. Her heart began pounding anew.

What had she gotten herself into?

Andie stepped forward, her neck craning to look up into the little peep holes of Eric's black mask. His blue eyes brewed a storm tonight, and Andie feared he would swallow her into his dark raging depths.

Aside from her mask, she felt bare to him. Her defenses were weak to him. She didn't feel that she stood much of a chance against him and his dominance.

Once she was just a breath away, Eric reached for her throat. His movements were slow, calculated. And just as Andie expected to feel his warm hand close around her neck, his finger tips barely brushed her skin as he pushed her heavy blond hair behind her shoulder.

Those fingertips gently teased up and down the side of her neck. It sent a shiver down Andie's spine, and the corner of Eric's mouth turned up at the sight of it.

"Sensitive?" His eyes laughed. "Shall we call it quits already?" He mocked, challenging her to admit she wasn't supposed to be here. But Andie wouldn't give in that easily.

Pressing her lips together, she opted not to answer, but she stared boldly in return, widening Eric's smile into a lethal grin. "The stray has claws," he drawled. "Let's see if we can do something about that."

Turning, Eric walked deeper into the parlor where candlelight from the front room didn't reach as far. Andie watched him leave and wondered if she was supposed to follow. When he didn't turn back, she started to feel foolish, and rushed after him.

They passed wall sconces that reflected very little light, leaving them in a dim and intimate setting. Andie wondered if the lack of light helped hide her identity.

But something nagged at her as she followed Eric into the darkest corners of the parlor. Did he really not recognize her?

Feeling suspicious, she eyed him warily as he stopped at a station where very little could be seen in the darkness. Without a word, he worked slowly to light several candles around the work space, casting light across the designated station he decided for Andie.

Andie stood and watched him work, feeling stiff as a board with anxiety, and awkward in her inability to do anything except stare at him.

When all the candles were lit, Eric came to an abrupt stop and turned to stare at her.

"Kneel, please. Right where you are."

Taken off guard by the command, Andie awkwardly dropped to one knee, and then two. She sat back on her heels.

Eric stepped forward and dropped to one knee in front of her. He placed a knuckle beneath her chin and forced her eyes to his. "Look at me at all times unless I tell you otherwise," he told her, his voice low and offering zero argument. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she breathed.

He nodded, once, before resuming his task of readying the area. Andie kept her eyes on him as he instructed, observing how he set out oils, picked up implements, tethered ropes to a hook in the ceiling, and—lastly—moved aside a bamboo divider to display a wide area with a thick white rug over the shiny hardwood floor. He took three trips carrying each candle he lit into the bare space, placing two to three in the back two corners, and leaving several behind on the large entry table that stood tall against the wall.

The parlor was hushed, and a sense of being watched by somebody pricked on the back of Andie's neck. Nervously, she turned her head. There she spotted Teddy leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his tanned chest, watching her and the scene that was carefully being set. And he wasn't alone. Several patrons of the establishment were lingering in the back, as if trying to stay in the shadows, but hoping nonetheless for a peek at Eric's devilish dominance.

A disapproving tutting from ahead had her whipping her head back around. Eric was approaching her, his eyes dark, his mouth turned down in a frown.

"Now, little stray," he scolded. "Where were you supposed to keep your eyes?"

A cold shiver scraped down Andie's spine at Eric's reproachful tone. "On you, sir."

"And where were your eyes when I caught you looking elsewhere?"

"On...On Teddy. And," Andie lowered her voice, feeling embarassed at having to confess to something like this. "On the other people."

Eric looked that way, his eyes pulled together thoughtfully for effect. "And are they more interesting than I am?"

Was anybody more interesting than him?

"No, sir."

"Then why were you looking that way?"

"I—I got distracted. I'm sorry. Sir."

Eric hummed, nodding his head thoughtfully.

"Since you're new here," he continued, clasping his hands behind him and pacing back and forth across the short distance in front of her. "Allow me to explain a relatively simple and—well, obvious—rule for a submissive in an establishment like this."

His voice clawed over her he was so displeased. For the first time, Andie felt fear tickle the inside of her ribs.

Eric stopped and lowered himself in front of her. "You are here as a submissive, aren't you?"

"Yes," she breathed. His eyes flashed, and Andie nearly jolted at the reminder of how irritable Eric got about quiet responses. "Yes, sir," she mended her reply quickly, and far clearer. His eyes gentled.

"So, in a scene, submissives often do as their told, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when they don't do what they're told—what happens?"

"They..." a warm blush crawled up Andie neck and her voice shrunk. "...get punished.

"That's right," he praised with mock sweetness. "So, when I instruct you to keep your eyes on me, but you decide to look elsewhere, what is the appropriate response from me?"

Andie's heart felt near to bursting out of her chest. "A..."

"Yes?" he pressed.

"A punishment," she whispered.

"That's right... Because that's what happens to naughty submissives, isn't it? And you're here, at your own free will, as a submissive. Aren't you?" His eyes narrowed, and once again, he was trying to catch her in her little lie.

How did he know, she wondered? Did she scream newbie that badly?

But, more importantly, why did he care so much? What did it mean to him? Was he such a stickler for lying that he was determined to break her so she would confess to her inability to handle any of this?

It was almost as if....

No. He didn't know it was her. He would have said something by now.

Right? He wouldn't play this game with her...right?

Narrowing her own eyes, her sullenness dropped.

"Yes," she answered firmly. "I'm here at my own free will, as a submissive."

A muscle in Eric's jaw twitched. The tension between them was unreal. What was happening right now?

"Then you accept that you'll be punished for your disobediance."

"Yes, sir," she answered without hesitation. They stared each other down. Eric's eyes burned hotly into hers, nearly forcing Andie's head down.

The will he had over her...

Very little had changed over the last six years. If he wanted to, he could will her to do just about anything, and she would obey just to please him.

On her knees in front of him, she wanted nothing more than to lower her head and subdue herself to him.

But a fight lingered in her. She wasn't sure what it was, or why it was there, but it wasn't ready to roll over quite yet. He'd have to weaken her a bit. And she was only too thrilled to watch him do it.

Whether she would survive it with her dignity intact was left to be seen.

Abruptly, Eric stood. "Come, little stray. On your hands and knees." He turned his back, and crawling like some pet, Andie followed. He stopped in the middle of the plush rug. When he turned back to her, she sat back on her heels once again.

Dropping down to one knee, he studied her dress for a moment before saying: "if I do anything that you do not like, you're going to tell me. Understood?"

"Like a safeword?"

"Yes, like a safeword. Red is typically the most appropriate. But, you need to understand," he continued, his voice hardening, "that I do not ask for permission. So, it is your job to stop me if I'm doing something that you do not want me to do. If you do not say otherwise, I will continue. Do you understand this?" The severity behind his tone had Andie doubting everything. What was he planning on doing to her? Still...she nodded. Eric sighed.

"That's the last time I am going to let an unspoken response go without discipline. When I ask you a question, I expect to hear your reply clearly."

Andie's stomach flipped at the mention of discipline. She really hadn't changed much since the last time Eric had been threatening to punish her. It excited her as much now as it did then.

Eric tilted his head and scrutinized her dress, just like before. Then he reached for the short sleeves that cupped her shoulders, and tugged them down her arms. Her dress followed, and within seconds, she was bare from the waist up, her soft breasts vulnerable to his gaze.

Andie gasped, her hands flying up to cover herself. But before she could get them up, Eric caught her wrists in his hands and gently—but firmly—returned them to her sides. He didn't speak a word, he didn't have to. His silent command all but screamed from his eyes.

And then he was standing and bringing her up with him. He kept her wrists in his hands as he pulled her to the middle of the rug. He turned her around so her back was to his chest, and she watched as he reached in front of her and tied her wrists expertly together with a soft black rope before stretching them high above her head and slipping it into the hook that hung from the ceiling.

Leaving her with ample slack, Eric left her alone on the rug. Taking the end of the rope with him, he stopped short of three yards from the rug before turning back and gently pulling. He tugged like a sailor hoisting up a sail, and with every tug, Andie's arms stretched further and further up. He pulled until she stood on her tiptoes, gasping and swaying, and trying to keep her footing. Then, Eric looped the end of the rope into an anchor that jutted from the hardwood.

Andie felt like a freshly caught fish.

When he straightened, he seemed entirely different from the man who had been setting up the scene and scolding her for taking her eyes off of him.

When he stood, the aura in the room changed. The tension between them changed. Suddenly, there wasn't a war between them anymore. Andie was his captured prey. She was utterly defensless. She couldn't fight him even if she wanted to.

He approached in slow, languid steps. His dark eyes drank her in.

"Helpless," he whispered as he closed the distance between them. Even on her tiptoes he stood nearly a full head taller than her. She kept her eyes on his, but his intimidating stare was almost unbearable to hold. She wanted to look away, she wanted to bow her head, but she couldn't—she felt locked to his stare and entirely unable to break it.

Eric's hand lifted, and the backs of his knuckles trailed oh-so-gently down the hollow at her throat. The other one lifted to do the same along the curve of her cheek.

Despite the gentleness of his touch, something overwhelmingly dangerous lingered behind it.

She whimpered—she couldn't help it. And the prowling beast in front of her bared his teeth as if he were entertaining the idea of sinking his fangs deep into her neck.

Andie had never felt so vulnerable in her life.