They were in the library when she asked something about computers. He didn’t know if she were joking about the size of the library and the magnitude of books, yet her comment hit him wrong. Suddenly, Anthony felt the need to remind her of her status. She may be receiving a tour that few others had experienced, but she wasn’t a guest, and he wanted to make that clear. “I think it would be best for you to not have access to computers, the Internet, or telephones.” Oh, he wanted a verbal response; however, the unspoken acknowledgement of his authority that flooded her eyes momentarily satisfied that need. He silently vowed that they would discuss the need for verbal responses in the future.

She didn’t speak again until they entered the indoor pool. Anthony never gave the room much thought—it was a pool. There were windows, tile, and water. Yet as they entered, Claire gasped. He responded before he had a chance to think. “Do you like to swim?”

“Oh, yes. This is amazing.”

“You shall have bathing suits tomorrow.” As soon as the words left his lips, Anthony wondered why he’d been so forthcoming. She hadn’t asked and that was his rule—requests must be made before they can be granted; nevertheless, he’d approved an unspoken request. He would follow through, because he was a man of his word, but he didn’t intend to offer more. The tour and bathing suits—her positive rewards were outnumbering her behaviors.

At the entrance to his office, Anthony realized the time and proclaimed, “I have business I must do. It’s 7:25 AM. I want you back at my office at 10:30 AM. You have some debt to pay.” He watched for her reaction. It wasn’t overt, but her eyes momentarily drifted toward the wall. To her credit she recovered quickly. He asked, “Do you think you can find your way back to your suite?”

It was then that she did it again. Her voice softened as she asked permission to go to the library. As long as she stayed in the library and returned to his office at 10:30 AM, what harm was there in allowing her request? Besides, it was a request—well worded. While reiterating the importance of her returning at the appropriate time, he apprehensively acquiesced; however, before he dismissed her, he reminded her of his control. “We have not discussed all of the rules pertaining to the house. At this point, do not go outside. Permission for going out on the grounds will be contingent upon your ability to follow rules within the house.”

Anthony liked how she bristled at the mention of her restrictions. Yes, he had thousands of jobs and people’s livelihoods in his hands, but never had he had one person’s life completely in his grasp. He had to admit, the power was intense and even erotic.

Anthony watched the clock as the web conference dragged on. When he finally disconnected, he looked at the time. Claire was due in his office in six minutes. Anthony clicked a few times with his mouse and entered a code. His screen filled with a view of the library. It didn’t take long to find Claire wandering about, pulling out books, and reading the backs. He waited and watched as she opened a book and leaned against a bookcase. The numbers on the clock changed. Didn’t she realize the size of his house? There was no possible way, unless she ran, that she would make it to his office in time. Did she think he was joking about returning on time? She didn’t even have the good sense to turn toward the library clock.

At 10:37 AM he entered the library. This time, Anthony found no humor in the fact he’d again startled her. She was stupid to even think that she could blatantly disobey him. He’d provided positive consequences—obviously it wasn’t enough to mold the appropriate behavior. When her eyes met his, he saw the remorse.

“Oh, Anthony, I’m so sorry. I was just engrossed in all you have—”

Excuses! He didn’t make them and he didn’t listen to them. His hand struck her cheek. Before she could look away, Anthony seized the back of her neck and pulled her eyes toward his. “Simple instructions, which are what I gave you—perhaps you’re not ready to leave your suite quite yet.”

He heard her plea—telling him that she could follow instructions. Her words didn’t match her actions, and he didn’t have the time or the patience for coddling.

“Follow me to my office—now.” Not waiting for her to respond, he took off through the library and down the corridor. With each step he contemplated his next move, reminding himself that this was a critical time in Claire’s training. If he didn’t demonstrate his dominance now, he couldn’t guarantee her compliance later. Didn’t she understand that this was for her own good? This arrangement would never last if she didn’t cooperate, and then what would his options be? She needed to recognize his authority!

By the time they reached the grand doors to his office, red infiltrated his vision. It wasn’t intense, but the world had a crimson hue. Catherine had told him that he was wrong to take Claire. Nathaniel’s plan had been clear, yet there was something about Claire that fascinated him. He wouldn’t fail and prove Catherine right. He would make Claire behave appropriately—this would work.

Shoving her inside his office, Anthony reeled in the red and spoke in his most even tone. “So, you say you can follow instructions. We’ll see.” He watched as she stood before him trembling. He wondered how she could be trembling—his anger warmed him to an uncomfortable heat. Then he realized, it wasn’t cold: it was fear. That was good. Fear was an excellent motivator. He continued, “Let’s start with you taking off your clothes.”

Though her hands shook as she unfastened the clasps, she didn’t argue. Whenever she looked away, he reached for her chin and redirected her eyes. There was so much he could see in her eyes; he refused to allow her to hide that emotion. After he redirected her the second time, she maintained eye contact. Once she was nude, he assessed. There was nothing wrong with her body. She’d even seemed to have lost some weight since she first arrived. Her earlier markings were gone, and her skin tone was lighter—probably due to staying inside. After all, she wasn’t in the warm Georgia sun any longer.

“Lie down on the floor,” he directed.

She didn’t speak, yet he saw her indecision. Anthony Rawlings wouldn’t make the same request twice. Just as he was about to assist, Claire knelt on the carpet.

“Lie on your stomach and keep your face and eyes down.”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or if time was indeed moving slowly; nevertheless, each of her movements seemed to occur painfully slow. At least they were occurring. Despite the fact that she was still trembling, she eventually lay down, totally nude, and prone on the carpet.

Anthony had had his fair share of experiences in life; however, this was once again entering the world of new and untested territory. He’d accepted the responsibility to train this woman, to make her into a compliant soul. Catherine said it couldn’t be done. She said that women today were too independent. Watching Claire lie as still as possible, Anthony almost laughed—independent indeed. Claire Nichols would learn to behave.

Perhaps it was a childhood memory, or maybe something he’d read; regardless of the source, physical negative reinforcement was often very effective in molding behavior. Even Pavlov’s dog learned to stop responding to the bell once the reinforcement turned from food to an electrical shock. Claire Nichols would learn to listen to Anthony. When she replied appropriately, she earned house tours and time in the library. When she disappointed him, she earned negative reinforcement.

Slowly, Anthony unbuckled his belt. It wasn’t the fulfillment of the punishment he sought. No, it was Claire’s reaction. He needed to hear her response. When his belt contacted her back for the first blow, she let out a satisfying scream. It was his reinforcement, confirming her understanding of his control. That scream told Anthony that she understood her behavior was unacceptable. He wanted more.

He listened as the belt contacted her skin—again and again—however, his reinforcement was gone. Claire remained silent. Moving his eyes from the growing welts, Anthony noticed Claire’s fist at her lips. He felt the red return with the realization that she was refusing to give him his satisfaction.

Crimson flooded the room. Damn her! She would learn that he was in control. She would learn to behave. She said she could follow directions—then by God, he had directions for her to follow. Reaching for her shoulder, he turned her over. Maintaining eye contact, Anthony began to undress. He didn’t give instructions—at first. His intent was obvious.

With time, he began to direct her movements. His desired positions required her compliance and manipulation. Sometimes he told her what to do, other times he moved her as he saw fit. There were times he heard her ragged breaths or tasted her salty tears; nevertheless, Claire never argued nor told him to stop. At least she seemed to comprehend their arrangement—this was consensual.

By the time he finished, Claire seemed incapable of complete sentences. Her eyes no longer revealed her emotions; they were momentarily void and puffy and her cheeks were wet. Anthony refused to be affected by her demeanor. It reminded him of the woman he’d left two weeks ago in the suite and he didn’t like it.

When he returned from the bathroom, Claire was still sitting on the floor holding her clothes. He walked toward her. Her disheveled appearance and vacant look disgusted him. More than anything, he wanted her out of his office. “You may go to your suite, clean yourself up, and get ready to demonstrate to me again your ability to follow directions.” It was as if his words unlocked the invisible bonds that held her in place and allowed her to move. While she mechanically dressed, he did his best to ignore her occasional ragged breaths. Before she left, he callously added, “Do not leave your suite until I decide. Your pass to roam has been revoked.”