Billionaire CEO of Blakely Incorporated, Natasha runs her empire with an eagle eye for every detail. She's an obsessive, compulsive, micromanaging hard-ass, consumed by the need to control every aspect of her life and her business.
But underneath that seemingly strong façade, Natasha is a swirling mess of anger, anxiety and sexual addiction. Only her therapist, Dr. Benson, knows how close she is to burning out...or exploding. He insists on a radical form of treatment - Submission Therapy - knowing that it's her only hope.
Skeptical but intrigued, Natasha agrees to attend the first session. What she finds there is an erotically-charged environment that will forgive none of her habitual bad behavior. And a steely-eyed man who seems to read her every desire - even the ones she won't admit to herself.
Will Natasha learn what it means to submit? Or will she allow her brittle pride to rob her of what she truly needs?
WARNING: This title contains graphic language, sexual situations, bondage, discipline, toys, and plenty of billionaire shenanigans.
An Excerpt from Submission Therapy
Master Sweet rested his hand back in my hair. "Natasha, it's time to begin."
He fisted that hand again, reigniting the heat in my scalp, while his other swept down my calf and stopped at my red-black two-toned peek-a-boo toe Louboutin pumps.
"What size do you wear, Natasha?" He drew the shoes off one at a time.
"Six."
"Yet you have size eight feet."
"Guys exaggerate their dicks, girls shrink their feet."
He turned his already-tight fist, pulling a sharp breath into my lungs. "That kind of language is a privilege. One you've not earned."
I couldn't speak through the tension in my body, and I couldn't nod without risking searing pain. Thankfully Master Sweet eased his grip just enough to allow my voice back.
"Yes."
"You will address me as Master Sweet, or simply Master."
"Yes, simply Master." I tensed up, ready for him to squeeze again. Instead he shocked me by pushing forward, overbalancing me until I was on hands and knees, my cheek buried in the carpet. His pelvis nudged up against my ass, and he was definitely packing something hard in there.
He took a long, deep breath in. "I do so enjoy these early stages."
"Yes, Master," said the toadying redhead.
He brought his free hand back down to my feet. He appeared to still be addressing his off-sider. "Look at the deep lines her shoes have carved. The rich redness of constriction."
"Yes, Master."
His breath seemed to falter for a moment. "It will be exquisite to see this all over her body."
All over my body? What exactly was that supposed to mean? I should have known better. Never agree to a deal without the terms being spelled out in a contract. Business 101. "Listen, Mister Sweets. Unconventional sex therapy is one thing, but no one is putting any kind of marks on my body. Are we clear?" I threw his condescending words back at him.
"Do you understand what it means to submit?"
His callous tone caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered.
"I have underlings for that."
"So you see submission as a form of weakness."
"Absolutely. I bow to no one."
"You do now. " The finality of his words was chilling.
