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Gregory first pierced her nipples last year. The second clamp did the same, but the bilateralism of it did something to make the pain turn to pleasure more quickly, as if the neurons in her brain understood what was happening. She moaned in excitement.
    “Too much?” Trevor asked, concern creasing his face.
    “There’s no such thing as too much. Like I said, hurt me . I love it.” She grimaced in pain. “That was my happy face. Got it?” She purposefully left off any show of respect, didn’t say sir.
    He held her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Elisabeth, breathe through the pain, and listen to me. Are you listening?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “You could choose to leave if you wish. But you’re here. You’re choosing to stay, at least for the time being, is that correct?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And if you stay in my house, you go by my rules.”
    “Yes, sir.” Now he was turning her on for real, making her ache for his domination and discipline.
    “Rule one: You respect me. You submit to me. You do as I say because if you are in my home, you are choosing to be my sex-slave. Key word slave , even if you haven’t decided to give yourself to me fully.”
    “Fully?”
    He shook his head. “Rule number two: You can do what you like as long as you are always available to me when I call. So keep your phone charged and on your body at all times, like everyone else who works here.”
    “Do I work here, sir?”
    “If that’s how you want it to be, yes. You work here as my sex-slave. Maybe someday that will change, maybe you’ll find something about me that you like other than my money.”
    “I’m not . . . I’m not getting paid, am I?” She didn’t think she would be. She didn’t want to be. No one falls in love with their whore. No one collars their whore.
    “I’ll take care of those creditors for you,” he said.
    “Don’t bother. I don’t want your money. I want this. More of this.”
    His eyes softened. “I’ve done a background check on you. I ran your credit report. It’s actually already done.”
    She laughed so he would think she was joking when she told him the truth: “I think I feel violated.” So he’d already demoted her to whore, before she even arrived. The fleeting dream of meeting her Prince Dominant vaporized. Of course.
    She gasped as the pain in her nipples intensified when she moved.
    “Maybe you like being violated,” he whispered, and put his hand over her throat so she could feel the heat of it against her fluttering pulse.
    Did it bother him that she was broke, or did it turn him on that he had financial power over her as well?
    “I do, like this. But I don’t like your money. I could give a flying fuck about your money.”
    “I don’t believe you,” he said. “Everyone cares about money. And you . . . you’re scared of it.”
    She breathed, focusing on the feel of his hand resting gently on her throat, his reminder of his dominance over her. Yes, she was scared of money. Too little and you starved. Too much and you thought you could buy yourself a woman. He removed his hand from her neck and she missed it immediately.
    Sooner or later Trevor would realize that she didn’t need an indoor Olympic-size pool or a tennis court because she couldn’t swim and she didn’t play tennis. She didn’t need anything, except a man who could indulge the only vice she allowed herself—pain.
    The smile on Trevor’s lips didn’t quite reach those green eyes of his. Her words must have upset him. “Perhaps someday you’ll like me enough to want to be owned by me, to be my collared submissive, instead of just a live-in sex-slave.”
    So he did want a collared submissive. Maybe . . . it could be her. She touched her neck, feeling how bare it was, with his hand gone.
    At least now she knew they had a common goal—a collar. The question now was whether that collar could exist between them, or if their worlds were just too far apart.
    Trevor picked up the