“He’s some rich kinky bigwig. Owns this place. Club membership is one of the fringe benefits.”

“You like it here?”

“I feel a little out of place. My first time in a club like this.”

“A club full of rich and famous perverts?”

“Exactly. I’m neither. Well, not the rich and famous part, anyway. Pervert maybe. This is definitely not my usual crowd.”

A congressman on the leash of a Domme crawled on all fours past the bar.

“Don’t worry. They’re not my crowd, either. Don’t be intimidated.” She leaned forward and crossed her legs. “I’ll let you in on a secret. The top Dominant here is a Jesuit priest, and he comes here in his clerical collar all the time. Jesuits take a vow of poverty. Everyone defers to him even though he’s not rich. He earned that respect. No one has ever ratted him out.”

“That’s a comfort, Mistress. Nice to feel safe.”

“You are safe down here. And you’re with me. I’ll protect you from the rich and famous perverts.”

“My hero,” he said, turning toward her so that their lips were only an inch apart.

“Come on, Lance,” she whispered. “Come play with me. Submit to me. You know you want to. I know you want to. You’re not on duty right now, are you?”

“No.” He shook his head. She could see him trying to bite back a smile.

She moved her hand from his thigh to his crotch and felt his erection.

Lance closed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

“What do you want to do, Sailor?”

“Anything you want, Mistress. Anything at all.”

“That’s a dangerous word around here. Let’s go find out what you mean by anything.”

She slipped off the bar stool and patted her thigh. Lance threw a tip down on the bar and followed. The 8th Circle had a two-drink maximum, and booze and tips were included in the price of admittance. He didn’t have to pay a thing, didn’t have to leave a tip. But he did it anyway. Most of the rich sons of bitches who played here were misers. Real men like Lance knew the value of a hard day’s work and left good tips. She liked that. That ten-dollar tip on a seven-dollar tab had just earned him the chance to fuck her. Tonight she’d let him fuck her first then tell him why after. Hmm...she kind of liked that line. She’d put it in a book someday.

He followed her in silence out of the bar and down the stairs to her dungeon in the Hall of the Masters, as it was known. Kingsley had envisioned The 8TH Circle as the BDSM club to end all BDSM clubs. He’d have the world’s most beautiful Dominatrixes and submissives—male and female—on his staff with permanent dungeons. Plus the members could earn the right to their own private quarters. Of course, Kingsley and Søren got the two best suites in the place. Not that she could complain about her dungeon. Kingsley had turned what was once a pit into a palace. She was the queen around here, after all. Nothing less than the best for her.