Page 66 of Twisted Little Thing

"You see," I continue to explain, "I am a Dominant. I want to own my partner, my sub, the woman at my side. I want to treasure her."

"Own her?" she asks. "Like a pet?"

I smile and nod.

"In a way, you could say that, yes. But it’s more than that. The devotion that comes with this relationship is unlike the kind of love in a normal relationship," I enthuse. "It's a stronger commitment – from both sides. And Sheila wasn't ready for that. I invested a lot in her, emotionally. And I know she felt the same way – but she was not ready to live that part of herself because it scared her."

"Was it all about appearance?" she asks. "I mean, if I understand correctly, these collars have locks. Right?"

"That is correct."

"And only you would be able to open it?"

"Also correct."

"Why wouldn't you just take it off whenever it was a problem for her," she wonders. "Because, you know, I can see why it might cause her to feel weird at red carpet events or get in the way when she was shooting scenes and –"

"Because that's not how it works," I interrupt. "At least not for me."

"That is very... non-negotiable, or flexible, or cooperative," she says.

Again, I can’t help but agree with her.

"Maybe. Most people would call it that."

"So, you broke up over that?" I ask.

"Pretty much," I say. "It was a clear sign to me that she was not as devoted to this relationship as I was. I couldn't be happy this way. It's not only about publicly wearing my collar. If need be, I probably would have taken it off of her on occasion. But she never put that decision into my hands. She didn't trust me."

"That's it?" she wants to know. "That is why you broke up? Because she couldn't be the submissive you wanted? Because she denied wearing your collar in public?"

"Yes, in a way," I say. "No relationship can function without trust, let alone a relationship between a Dominant and his submissive."

"Hmmm," she makes. "It seems kind of silly to me to break up over something like that."

Her words aggravate me, but I don’t let it show.

"It’s not silly at all, not to me," I object. "You need to understand that if you want to be with me."

"Compromises are not really your thing, huh?" she asks, winking at me.

I shake my head. "In some cases, I would rather be miserable than flexible."

She absentmindedly starts to play with the ribbon around the roses next to her. My eyes follow her movement, and as it so often happens, even an innocent gesture like this sparks a new idea in my twisted head. Images form, ideas come together. They all involve Nicky, naked, shivering with pleasure.

"Would you... do you..." she stutters. "I mean, are you planning to... put a collar on me?"

I look at her thinking, "Yes," but saying something else.

"Maybe," I say. "Eventually. We are not at that point. Yet."

"Mhm," she replies. "Sure, of course not."

"Don't get me wrong," I add. "I like to keep that side of me unknown to anybody who is not a part of it. Since Sheila, I have been in the spotlight a lot more than I like. I can assure you that I have no interest in making it public."

"And become the sexiest dominant billionaire in this country?" she jokes.

I smirk at her. "Wouldn't that be a smart headline."

She casts me a sheepish smile. "It might be true..."

"I don't know about that," I say. "But would you like it? To wear my collar, I mean."

"I don't know," she responds. She continues to play with the ribbon, lost in thought as she ponders over an idea that must sound absurd to most people. "I really don’t know."

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