The old lady was creeping him out. When she slinked toward him, her gaze locked with his in steely determination, like that of a predator about to pounce on its helpless prey. Although he didn't think himself helpless, he had to fight the urge to run.

Her stilettos click-clicked on the parquet floor.

Her gaze never left his.

"I want to show you how to take charge of a woman. Of me."

At seventeen, busy at the resort and school, Marco hadn't had much time for girls. They made him nervous. He never seemed to say or do the right thing when he was around them. Most weren't interested in the outdoor activities he loved.

Mrs. Giovanni reached up and traced her cold finger, damp from holding the cocktail, down his cheek to his lower lip. He felt his cock start to grow in his pants.

"Take control of me, Marco. Make me submit to your will. Let me show you where your potential lies as a man."

Marco took a step back. "N-no, thanks, Mrs. Giovanni. It's my job to make sure you're satisfied during your stay here. You aren't supposed to do anything for me."

She grinned, and his heart pounded. "True." She took him by the shirt. "Then come into the bedroom. There's something I need you to do for me."

Realization dawned. He wasn't so naive he couldn't tell she was seducing him. All his friends at school were making out with girlfriends. He wanted to find out what the big deal was and maybe learn how to do it right if he ever had a girlfriend of his own.

No, that went way beyond what his parents expected of him as far as servicing the guests. And she was old enough to be his mother. He dug in his feet and stood stock-still. "No, Mrs. Giovanni. If you need me to lift or carry something, give a ski lesson, take you hiking in the backcountry, I'm at your service. Otherwise..."

She slapped him. "What on earth do you think I was asking?" The change in her demeanor made him wonder how he'd misread her. "My boy, get out before I tell Mrs. D'Alessio what horrible things you accused me of!"

Cheek stinging, fearing he'd fail meeting Mama's expectations yet again, Marco faltered. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood. What is it you need?"

She glared at him a long moment and then smiled, making him uneasy again. "I assure you it's perfectly innocent. I have no intention of removing my clothes, and you'll remain fully clothed, as well. I just need you to help me learn discipline."

"The resort has trainers who can help you come up with a workout program that's right for you."

"I want help learning to discipline my mind as well as my body."

He'd learned about self-discipline and mind over matter in school. The subject fascinated him. He had even learned to control his breathing and heart rate using meditation techniques. Perhaps he could share some of what he'd learned with Mrs. Giovanni.

As Marco followed her to one of the suite's bedrooms, he wondered why they couldn't work on this in the living room.

Slap!

Marc jerked awake again as something slapped across his ass. The headphones were yanked off his head, but the ringing in his ears continued even after the music stopped.

"I can see you need a lesson in discipline if you're going to stay awake as you've been ordered."

While he'd been sure a man had spoken, an image of Mrs. Giovanni slapping his face set Marc's heart pounding harder. He hadn't thought about that woman in years. He thought he'd put the memory of her to rest somewhere so deep it could never resurface. The woman had spent the next several months indoctrinating him into the ways of being a Dominant.

Angelina had asked if he had been a gigolo. Too nice a word for it.

More accurate would be manwhore, sans sex.

"Tell me where you are." The male's voice sounded as if it came through a long tunnel yet comforted Marc in some way.

"The resort my parents own in Aspen."

"What's going on?"

Marc couldn't talk about this with a stranger. He didn't even want to think about that time in his life again.

"Deep breath. Now." A firm hand rubbed the strained muscles in Marc's nape.

Marc drew as deep a breath as he could, but his heart continued to race.

"Who are you with?" The voice wasn't harsh the way it had been before. He cared.

"Mrs. Giovanni."

"Does she work at the resort?"

"No, she's one of the guests. A regular. Very rich."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"She the one who introduced you to the world of kink?"

How could this man know about that? Marc had never told anyone. No, he had told someone once about these older women who had so much power over him.

Had he spoken the secret aloud? He thought he'd been asleep and dreaming. Was he hallucinating? Hell, he didn't know what was real anymore.

"What did she have you do?"

"I'm not talking about this anymore with you." I don't want to remember.

Smack!

Something slapped against his ass again, the sting worse than ever. "You answer me now or I'll beat it out of your hide."

"Paddling, sir!" Master Sergeant Montague! The name that went with that voice was Adam, but somehow Marc knew he shouldn't have called him sir.

"She had you paddle her?"

"No, Top."

"Breathe." Marc followed the order. "Again." Adam paused until he'd complied. "So she paddled you."

"Yes, Top. With her hairbrush at first. Then a tawse." Why did Master Sergeant Montague want to know about his kink?

"Did you like it?"

"Hell, no! She restrained and gagged me, so I wouldn't scream too loudly and tip off any of the staff."

"That the only time you've been gagged?"

He had to think a moment. "No. Angelina did it, too." Angelina. He rescued her at the Masters at Arms Club. No wait. She was his girl. Adam was a member of the club, too. Not his master sergeant any longer.

"She tops you?" The surprise in Adam's voice couldn't be missed.

The pause stretched out longer than was comfortable. "I let her top me once. Didn't like that either."

"Probably not. You're a Dom, not a switch or sub."

"How do you know?"

"What makes you ask?"

"I never felt like a Dominant until-" There she was again.

"Until what?"

"Mrs. Giovanni. That first time I figured out I didn't want to be the bottom, but then she gave me the paddle, and she bent over the bed. I walloped her good to pay her back. She didn't scream. Cried a little, but mostly she just took it. Afterward, she stood up, smiled in this weird way, and told me to leave. I thought she'd tell Mama what I'd done, but the next afternoon, she sent for me again."

"And...?"

"Taught me how to use a riding crop that time."

"How did it make you feel, topping her?"

"Empty. Dirty." There, he'd said it. "I didn't get into Topspace at all. Didn't feel like a Dominant, just a...patsy."

A Domwhore.

"You've gotten there eventually, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but it didn't happen for a very long time." He'd been used by so many women-the cougars at the resort, Melissa, Pamel-no wait. Pamela hadn't used him. They'd just needed to move in different directions.

"How is it with Angelina?"

"Best ever. She brings out the Dom in me, and I achieve Domspace regularly with her."

"Why do you think that's so?"

Marc thought a moment. "She needs me. Respects me."

Doesn't use me.

"What was that thought?"

How had Adam picked up on his errant thought? Of course, he was a Dom and well-schooled in reading body language and facial features. Marc shouldn't have tried to evade truthfully answering the question.

"She doesn't use me."

"Maybe you've just been with the wrong women. Most Doms need an emotional connection with their subs-something more than impact play and showing off their latest kink skill."

Not a direct question, so Marc just thought about what Adam had said for a moment. He'd gone on to play Top for any number of women at the resort after his induction into the lifestyle. He'd even gotten to enjoy himself with some of the women after a while, but any time he thought about Mrs. Giovanni, he felt only one thing-dirty.

Without warning, Adam hauled him up on his feet again, but, when his knees buckled, Adam held him until he became steady. "Remain on your fucking feet!" Adam confused him. One minute he cared, the next he treated him like shit. Marc locked his knees and fought to remain upright.

"Time for you to take another piss."

Mortified at having Adam treat him like a child, Marc cringed when only a few drops hit the bucket. Probably getting dehydrated, but asking for water wouldn't help speed this scene up. Adam would meet his needs, not his wants.

"You done?"

Marc nodded.

"Fine, but next time you can piss on the floor if that's the best you can do. I'm not giving you any special favors if you don't appreciate all I'm doing for you."

Marc's face burned with shame. He'd never felt so exposed. Not since he'd been in Mrs. Giovanni's suite.

Adam yanked him by his arms several steps again, probably back to where he'd been a few minutes ago, and unclipped the wrist cuffs.

"Drink this." Adam handed him a bottle of water and lifted the hood up over Marc's mouth and nose. Marc fought the urge to rip the hood the rest of the way off, now that his hands were free. That would only make Adam angry.

Marc's hand shook as he brought the cold liquid to his lips and devoured it. By the weight of the bottle, he guessed it was only half filled. Barely enough to keep his kidneys functioning. When he finished the contents, he crushed the plastic bottle and handed it back to Adam, who pulled Marc's hands behind his back again. Marc gritted his teeth to keep from screaming at the counter strain on already aching shoulder sockets and muscles.

"Step up, one foot on each box." Adam helped guide him onto two wobbly boxes. "Bend your fucking knees and lean forward. Pretend you're leaning over the john to puke your guts out. You might just feel like puking after drinking that water."

Marc assumed the position he thought Adam wanted and fought to find his balance. His legs began shaking almost immediately, making the unstable boxes do the same, but he managed to regain his footing, such as it was.

Adam won't harm you.

Several tugs of the wrist cuffs, and they were clipped behind his back. Adam ran rope through them again. Probably using some sort of pulley to stretch his arms behind him, he nearly yanked Marc's arms to the breaking point. Another fucking Abu Ghraib stress position. Sweat soaked his hood in a matter of minutes.

Adam is doing this for my own good. I trust him.

He no more than had that thought when a knock at the door made him jump. "Adam! Open the door!"

Karla?

"What are you doing down here, Kitten?" Adam's voice receded. The door opened. "I told you not to-good God, Karla! What have you done to your hand?"

"I was trying to fix dinner. The knife slipped. I think I'm going to pass out, Adam. Oh!"

"Fuck! Lean on me, Kitten. How long has it been bleeding like that?"

"Ten minutes. I tried to stop it by holding it under cold water." She hiccupped through her sobs. "I applied pressure. I can't make it stop bleeding."

Sounded like a deep tissue wound. "Cut me down, Adam. Let me have a look."

"I'm scared, Adam. What if something happens to the-"