Angie’s natural dominance has always served her well in both her job as a cop and her personal life as a Domme, but lately, she’s been feeling unsatisfied. Deep down, she knows she’s actually a switch, but letting out her submissive side has always seemed too risky. She’s certain that her male co-workers would ridicule her if they knew and her male submissives would turn their backs on her. Even a new case, involving a shooting, mistaken identity, and a possible rapist on the loose can’t alleviate her inner turmoil.

Jessie is taking summer classes at the local college to get away from his disapproving mother. His submissive nature has been flourishing since forging a close friendship with fellow submissive, Olivia, and receiving acceptance and guidance from his new Domme, Angie. But he’s been carrying around a secret that could ruin their budding relationship.

Isaac’s low-key dominance always helps him stay calm in a crisis, which is necessary for his job as an emergency medical technician. He knows what he wants in a submissive, and he thought he’d found the perfect woman a few years ago, but her addiction to pain medication had ended their relationship on a sour note. But playing with different women every night at the lifestyle club he frequents has started to lose its appeal.

Angie decides the best way to explore her submissive nature is to go to a new lifestyle club, but when she runs into Isaac there, she’s terrified. Not only does he know she’s a cop, but they see each other at crime scenes all the time. Once he convinces her that he won’t out her, he tries talking her into playing with him. But if she lets her submissive side out to play, what will that mean for her dominant side, and what will it mean for her male subs?

Publisher’s Note: This contemporary ménage contains themes of power exchange.

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Excerpt

Soft little pats started landing rhythmically on her backside and upper thighs. She lay there staring at the floor and wondering what the hell he was doing. This wasn’t a warm up; this was nothing. It’s your job to accept it. Frowning, she lay still and waited, but after two full minutes of it, she couldn’t keep quiet.

“Isaac?”

The pats stopped. “Yes.”

“When I said light, I didn’t mean no sting at all.”

“We’ll get there.” He started the same light patting. “You need some time to settle into this.”

“I’m feeling pretty settled,” she assured him.

“You’re not running the show, I am, and I won’t be topped from the bottom.”

“I’m not!” she protested.

“That’s right, you’re not, because I’m not going to let you.”

She looked over her shoulder. “No. I’m not, because I’m not.”

“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?” he said mildly. The swats hadn’t stopped or changed in intensity. “We’ll take care of that before this session is over.”

That sounded ominous.

“While I’m spanking you, I want you to think about what obedience means to you. Does it mean following instructions when you want to, or does it mean following instructions all the time?”

“All the time,” she answered softly, staring back at the floor and tacking on, “Sir.”

“Correct. Demands will be ignored, but I do want to know how you’re feeling. You can do that with body language or by respectfully asking or begging for what you want. So, would you like me to step up the intensity?”

“Yes, Sir… please.”

“Good.”

She felt a light sting as his hand delivered a slightly sharper swat, the kind of swat she thought of as a warm up.

“Oh,” she gasped as more of the stingy little smacks landed. Her clit throbbed again and again. She’d never thought of herself as a masochist, and she knew she didn’t like intense pain, but this light swatting was pretty damn amazing. Her hips started rocking back and forth in time to the smacks as her clit sought out friction.

It didn’t take long for his hand to cover her entire ass and upper thighs with smacks, bringing all the skin to life with an itchy, tingling sensation.

An embarrassing little moan escaped her throat, and then she snipped, “This doesn’t feel like a punishment to me.”

“Is that so?” he asked mildly, not sounding angry or even irritated.

“Yes, that’s so.” She kicked a toe onto the floor for emphasis and then realized what that looked like from the other side of things and closed her eyes in shame.

“Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed, but I think your submissive side is a bit of a brat.” The hand that had been on her back moved, and he wrapped his arm around her waist instead, but his spanking hand never wavered while delivering the stinging warm up swats. “Go ahead and have a tantrum if you like. Makes no difference to me. I told you how to get what you want, so when you’re ready to obey me, just let me know.”

Well, that was humiliating. She was a Goddamn dominant, not a brat. She was calm, cool, and collected. She was in control all the time, at work and in a scene. But the hand landing repeatedly on her ass reminded her that she wasn’t in control right now. “I’m not a brat, and I don’t throw tantrums!” she replied, kicking her toe on the floor again.

His only response was a small chuckle while he continued spanking with the same force.

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