“I would appreciate it.”

“I could give you a bath. A nice long hot bubble bath. Maybe some vanilla-scented soap?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He grimaced at her.

“I might. You still have my mask on. You’re still my pretty submissive”

“I can’t take any more,” he said and she detected a rare note of sincerity in his voice. “Have you no mercy?”

“No. Not usually. But for you...maybe a little.” She winked at him and gave him one more kiss. “No bubble bath. I’ll get the basin and some warm water. I’ll clean the blood off. I think we’re going to need the first-aid kit.”

“If we ever have a session where we don’t need the first-aid kit, I’ll find a new Dominatrix.”

“I can’t have that. You’re my worst tipper and still my favorite client. Don’t tell the boss though. He says I can’t play favorites.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“And yours are safe with me. Always,” The Mistress said, tracing his full bottom lip with her thumb. She would guard his secrets with her life. It took so much courage for a man to admit to his submissive side. The last thing she wanted to do was betray him after he’d made himself so vulnerable to her. He kept her secrets as she kept his. He knew she still bottomed every now and then. At the clubs and in the scene, they billed her as a “former submissive,” an “ex-submissive,” even a “reformed submissive.” But there was no “ex” or “former” for her. And God knew she’d walk into Hell before she let anyone “reform” her. No, just like him, The Mistress was a Switch.

“Merci.” He kissed her palm and she smiled down at him.

“Bad boy. I’m going to add an extra hundred onto your bill for that kiss. You know the boss’s rule—I touch the clients, the clients do not touch me.”

“All apologies. I’ll never do it again.”

“See that you don’t.” She flicked the tip of his nose and scooted off the bed.

In the other room, she found her large metal basin and filled it with warm water. She grabbed soap and her softest towel before returning to the bedroom. When she went to set the basin on the side table, she made the mistake of turning her back to him for all of five seconds. In that five seconds she saw something fall to the floor at her feet.

The black mask.

“Don’t...” she warned but the warning went unheeded. Before she could turn back around, two strong arms encircled her and dragged her down to the bed.

“No mask. Not your sub anymore.” He pushed her down deep into the sheets, holding her by her wrists and the force of his body weight.

“Stop it,” she ordered, struggling underneath him. Her struggles were in vain. He might have a submissive and masochistic side to him, but there was no part of him anyone could call weak. Not anyone without a death wish anyway.