“Hi.” The leather-clad Dom wasn’t far past twenty-one—at least five years younger than she was. After swiping his ID card, he leaned an arm on her desk.

“Can I help you?” Abby asked.

The young man grinned. “Give me an hour and I’ll show you.” Then he noted her collar, and his smile turned rueful. “If the Master of the house permits.”

She laughed as he sauntered into the club. Not that she wanted him, but he was cute, and the well holding her ego had needed filling. After all, she sure wasn’t a beauty like some of the women here. Not even close.

The angel who assigned bodies had obviously been in a bad mood when Abby was born. Her stepsister had received long, thick brown hair to match her dark eyes and golden skin. Abby got blonde hair that she wore short because the strands were so fine that her ponytail was no thicker than a cotton swab. Dark eyes? Nope. She had weird gray ones, not even bright enough to be called blue.

Tall and slender like Janae? Nope. Abby was a pear—a nice, healthy shape as long as you liked a fat butt. She had nightmares of someone tagging her ass with a WIDE LOAD sign. Shudder.

The angel hadn’t been completely evil, though. I got breasts. And tonight they were showcased in a black corset. Her black leather skirt showed off her shapely legs but was long enough to cover her bumpy upper thighs.

Last month she’d read that a man’s connective tissue aligned horizontally with the skin, whereas a female’s went perpendicular—which was why women got lumpy cellulite and men didn’t. And doesn’t that totally prove that God is male?

She frowned upward to where God dwelled with his parsimonious angel. “You should be ashamed. Both of you.”

“Excuse me?”

At the sound of the deep, deep voice, she started, and her pen made a suicide dive to the floor. She bent, wrapped her fingers around it, and gulped as two oversize black boots moved into her view. After straightening up, she plastered on a smile. “Good evening, my liege.”

“Abby.” He studied her for a minute. “You’re wearing glasses.”

She’d forgotten how he affected her. Her heart was pounding like a five-year-old with a new drum set. “I’m not used to being up late, and my eyes had a tantrum when I tried to put in my contacts.”

“I see. The glasses are quite beguiling.”

“Oh please. I look like a nerd.” Or so Nathan had always said.

“I like the combination of fetish and studious.” His gaze lingered on her cleavage. “You look like a librarian who wants to go back in the stacks and fuck.”

As her mouth dropped open, he picked up her limits list from the desk and glanced over it.

Warmth flowed into her face as she remembered the disconcerting list of erotic choices. Maybe she should have checked no to them all.

He set it down without speaking. When he grasped her wrist, the zing was so loud that her ears rang, like hearing door chimes on amphetamines.

Apparently he didn’t hear them. He turned her forearm over to check the line of black dots. “Good. No reaction to anything.”

“Nope.” As his thumb made circles on her wrist, shivers climbed her arm. Heavens, how could being touched do this to her?

His dark eyes crinkled before he released her and gestured with his fingers. Stand up.

“Uh. Yes, sir.” She stood.

As he looked at her, his black brows pulled together into a frown that chilled her. Compared to him, the most intimidating professor at the university seemed like a lamb.

“Sir?”

“Did I mention less clothes?”

Her chin rose. “This skirt is shorter.”

His hand closed on her shoulder. “I obviously confused you. So. Let me clarify. If you wear something that covers your breasts and stomach, then I expect nothing more concealing than a thong on your lower half. If you wear a skirt or pants, your breast may be covered with only chains or a set of nipple clamps.”

Only a thong? With her butt? Did he have no clue about women’s insecurities at all? She gave him the stare she reserved for students playing games on their cell phones.

When his eyes filled with obvious amusement, she wanted to hit him, right on that oversize, muscled chest. Even as her lips pressed together, a shiver of excitement ran down her spine and set her lower half to tingling. What would he do to her if she defied him?

He bent, his mouth less than an inch from her ear, his breath ruffling her hair. “Don’t push me, little fluff.”

Even as she stepped away, she caught his exotic masculine scent, and her toes curled under.

The inner door opened, making Abby drop back down in the chair.

The late-night receptionist stepped into the room and halted at the sight of Xavier. Lindsey’s streaky, shoulder-length hair was tangled, and marks from a gag remained on her cheeks. Her gaze dropped. “My liege.”

“Are you prepared to take the desk?” he asked.

“Sure.” She smiled at Abby. “You got anything I need to know?”

Abby kicked her brain into gear. “I put filled-out applications in the red folder. Questions and messages for Xa—uh, my liege—are in the MY LIEGE tray.”

“You’re purely amazing.” Lindsey turned to Xavier. Although she had to be around thirty, her grin made her appear like a mischievous teenager. “Sir, it’s not my place to butt in, but please keep her? Pretty please?”

Xavier chuckled. “I’ll consider your request, pet.” He crooked his fingers at Abby.

One part of her mind wailed, He’s going to mess up my fieldwork time. The other part was dancing with anticipation. What is he going to do with me? Shoulders back, she walked around the desk to him.

He curled his hand over the back of her neck, covering her collar, and steered her into the club.

“Do you need me for a demonstration?” The thought started her heart tapping like a woodpecker in a termite colony. He mustn’t use her; she had research to do. Yet her breasts kept replaying the way his fingers had felt. Her nipples jutted hard against the thankfully stiff corset top.

“There’s a Dom I want you to meet.” He didn’t wait for an answer but guided her downstairs to where a sandy-haired man about her age stood in front of a Saint Andrew’s cross.

“Seth, this is Abby. She’s the new receptionist and also new to the lifestyle. Since she doesn’t have a Dom to play with, I thought she might be a good choice for you to start with.”

Wait. She stared at Xavier. “I’m not here for—”

“Your time as receptionist is up.” Xavier’s eyes narrowed. “You joined the club to learn about BDSM, correct? I mentioned last night that this isn’t a place for voyeurs. If you merely want to watch someone having sex, there are better places for you.”

Oh no. She needed Dark Haven. “No, I’m here to…learn.” Good word. “I’m just nervous.” And that was the full truth.

“That’s normal,” Seth said. “Come on. Let’s talk awhile and work on what kind of a scene you’d like. I’ll ease you in gently.”

“Very good.” Xavier gave her a nod and walked away.

He’s leaving me here? She managed to refrain from running. Instead she squared her shoulders and smiled at Seth. He had nice eyes. Gentle. “Well, what happens now?”

FEELING AS IF he’d abandoned an orphan, Xavier asked Angela, the late-night dungeon monitor, to keep an eye on Seth and Abby.

If he’d stayed, she would look to him rather than Seth. Even worse, with those big gray eyes on him, he’d have had a hard time staying out of the scene. She was very appealing. Intelligent and submissive, with a hint of vulnerability.

But aside from demonstrations, he refrained from playing with his staff members. He’d discovered too many submissives expected that club play would lead to a D/s relationship. In his case, it wouldn’t.

To avoid temptation, he crossed to the other side of the room and took a seat to watch Simon lightly flogging his submissive. Rona wore only a golden necklace—her collar. She was a charming, self-possessed woman, and intelligent enough to keep Simon on his toes. His friend had needed someone like her for a long time.

At one point Simon stopped the flogging. He slid a rabbit vibrator into Rona’s cunt and strapped it in place. “There you go, lass. That should keep you awake.”

Her arms were chained to the low ceiling beam, or she’d have punched him. Instead she muttered something, her eyes sparking.

Simon flipped the switch, and her back arched. “I don’t mind if you come, Rona, but if you make any noise whatsoever, I’m going to be unhappy.”

Xavier grinned. Simon knew his sub well.

Her mouth pressed closed as she tried to muffle her moans. Simon resumed the flogging, stopping frequently to change the vibrator settings. Soon Rona was almost purple as she teetered on the edge of an orgasm.

With a low laugh, Simon flicked the ends of the flogger over her breasts. She lost the battle and climaxed with a satisfying wail.

Nice session. Smiling, Xavier rose. Time to check on Abby.

“My liege.” An uncollared submissive knelt in his path. “May I serve you in any way?”

He didn’t know the pretty brunette. Although Dark Haven was private, new members constantly cycled in from the classes and recommendations. New or not, she needed to learn manners. “Look at me.”

When she lifted her face, triumph accompanied the hope in her eyes.

“In this club a Dom approaches a submissive, not the other way around. The choice is up to the Dom. The offer comes from the Dom. Kneeling and offering might work for you elsewhere. Here, it will not. Do I make myself clear?”