“Do you mind if I...?”

“Be my guest.”

He pulled a crop down and held it in one hand flat on his palm. Then with both hands he gripped either end and bent it. He hung it back on the wall and did the same thing to the next crop. Interesting. He was testing them for their give. The looser the crop, the less it hurt when struck with it. The tighter the crop, the less yield to it, the more it hurt. She had some crops that were a step up from a wet noodle and others that were barely a step down from a rattan cane, a toy that could split the skin and put a sub in the hospital if used incorrectly. Not that she would ever do that. Not unless someone prepaid for it.

“That black one with the white braiding has a steel spine under the leather,” she said. “Hurts like fuck. So does that solid red one. Both of them are vicious.”

“I like vicious.” He pulled down the solid red one and tried to bend it. It had almost no give to it.

He brought it back to the throne and sat again at Nora’s feet.

“My lady,” he said and handed her the crop.

“Lady? In here? No ladies allowed in my dungeon.”

She took the crop in her right hand.

“I would never argue with the Mistress,” Lance said, watching her twirl the crop like a baton over the right arm of the throne. It had taken her three solid months of practice before she mastered the twirl. “But I do see a lady in this room, the most beautiful lady I’ve seen in a long time. She’s strong, smart and completely comfortable with who and what she is. She also understands the men who want to serve at her feet.”

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you tonight and fuck you. And then probably fuck you again, and you call me a lady?”

“Yes, Mistress. Nothing unladylike about any of that. Not in my eyes.”

Nora caught her crop and let it slide down between her fingers until she caught it by the handle.

She leaned forward and put the end of the crop handle under Lance’s chin, forcing his mouth to meet her mouth. Their lips hovered only an inch apart.

“You know what, Lance? I think I like your eyes.”

Just to be sadistic, Nora stayed there for a few unnecessary seconds, letting Lance feel her breath against his lips before she moved forward, closed the gap between them and kissed him. The kiss started soft and careful but quickly turned passionate. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and bit his top lip. Even as the kiss deepened, grew hungrier, Lance stayed on his knees and kept his hands to himself. He wouldn’t touch her without permission. Someone had trained this man and trained him well.

With reluctance she pulled back from Lance. She’d almost forgotten how much she loved kissing a man. She had sex mostly with women lately, a nice break from the male clients she dealt with all day long. When was the last time she’d even kissed a man on the mouth? A month ago? Two? It would have been Kingsley, right? The last man she’d kissed? And he hadn’t had a session with her in weeks. Kissing Lance, she realized how much she missed the feel of soft stubble on her skin, missed the sense of power restrained. If she didn’t stop kissing him now, they’d end up making out all night instead of doing what she really wanted to do.