What am I doing? What am I doing? What the hell am I doing? Those words went through my mind as I walked into Fangtasia right before six o'clock on that Monday morning.

I left Eric's place the night after Daniel released me, and I found a motel near work. I cried myself to sleep. The next day at work I did my job.

I thought of Daniel. I thought of Eric's proposal. I did my job.

Visions of Eric flogging me made me wet in the pants. Remembering how he felt inside me gave me blue balls—you know, when you're so horny and your clit is in desperate need of attention that it actually hurts. I did my job.

The orgasm I had after taking Eric's drop of blood convinced me I'd become addicted rather quickly to the V-juice. Thinking of Eric drinking my blood set me over the edge—I had to get myself off in the bathroom. I did my job.

And I made a decision. The last thing I did that day was give my boss my two week notice.

I went back to the hotel room and waited until 9:55 came around—too damned slow if you asked me. After all, Eric had given me until ten and didn't want him to think I was too eager. I called the club and Pam answered. I asked for Eric. He got on the phone but didn't say hello. I knew he was there. I could feel he was there. "Monday the 16th will be my first day there," I told him then hung up without waiting for his reply.

And then I was starting my life over. I was no one's slave. I was my own woman. And I knew I wouldn't make it very far. I love being someone's sub/slave. Being capable of allowing my Master/Dom his dominance and control over me was always enough to sustain me. For three years I was with Daniel, and I did love him. I thought he loved me, too. Apparently I was wrong. I would never be used like that again.

The 16th I walked into Fangtasia looking for Doug, a human who watched the club during the day. Eric sent me a letter of instruction for my first day—or evening, as it turned out—to the hotel room. I never knew how in the hell he knew where I was.

"Connee Byers?" a man asked as he approached me.

"Yes," I mumbled, my heart pounding from nerves.

"This way." I followed him to a room in the back and looked him over more closely. He was normal which surprised me. I thought he'd be all goth and such. I couldn't help but grin when we passed the room to the basement, aka the dungeon, a place I thought of fondly and too often, if you asked me.

"Ms. Byers?" I heard Doug say. I turned to look at him and he was standing in a doorway, waiting for me. "This is your office."

I entered my new office, put my bag on a chair by the desk and Doug handed me a thin manual. I assumed it was just notes from Eric to get me started until he showed up for work.

"Everything you need is here," Doug said as he pointed to a corner of the room. "Refrigerator, microwave, coffee machine. Just let Mr. Northman know what else you need."

Mr. Northman? Ha! "Thanks, Doug."

He left me alone with the door open. I looked around the room before I sat behind the desk, took a deep breath and opened the manual from my new boss. He had the neatest handwriting for a man, er, vampire, but then again, how many centuries had he had to work on it?

'Ms. Byers, Welcome to Fangtasia. I am glad you have chosen wisely. I hope you found everything to your satisfaction. Please let me know anything else you may need ... Your office hours will be 6pm till 2am. If you cannot meet these hours leave now ...'

I looked at the door with a smile on my face.

'You will do as I ask when I ask and you ... you are now in my employ. I have high standards for my employees. I hope you will not disappoint me ...'

Playing on my submissive side? Bastard.

'... occasional requirements needed of you in the basement ...'

Asshole! I was so pissed I slammed my hand on the desk. Who the hell did he think I was?

'You will answer to me—no others, including Pam ...'

Wasn't that just kind of him?

'You are on a 60-day retainer. If I elect to let you go, you will leave promptly.'

I sure as hell wasn't going to stand back and take his bullshit! I turned the computer on, opened Windows and began to type my own requirements.

'Mr. Northman, I accept your work hours requirements and 60-day retainer. I will not, however, accept being your part-time slave in the basement of this club, your home or anywhere else ... I was hired to do a job, and that I will do. I will do nothing more ...'

I looked at the clock; it was only 7:15. The club's hours were ten till four a.m., so I knew it would be a while before Eric showed up. That would give me plenty of time to calm down. I set about tackling the papers in the 'In Box,' put papers in the 'Out Box' and grabbed a banana I'd brought for a snack. Going back to the computer, I was concentrating so hard on the work that when Eric announced his arrival I jumped about three feet. I looked at the clock on the bottom right of the monitor. It read 10:32. Yep, right on time.

"Shit! Uh, evening," I stuttered as I looked at him leaning against the door frame and looking like a Greek God! He must like those tanks because that's all I've seen him wearing, not that I was complaining. He looked good. He looked damn good.

"I trust you've gotten yourself settled?"

"Yes, thanks." I rambled what I'd done thus far. "Oh, and Eric," I said as I stood, grabbed his manual and my requirements and walked to him, handing him his manual. He didn't take it. "Were you high when you wrote this?"

He smiled that damned amused smile. "No."

"This is bullshit, Eric, just thought I'd let you know that." Aretha Franklin's song Respect popped into my head.

"Really? What exactly didn't you like about it?"

"Here. These are my requirements." I handed him the single page and swallowed hard.

He read it over and laughed. He laughed hard. "Ms. Byers," he said, again amused, "the files are kept in the basement, and sometimes you will need to go down there."

"Right," I snickered, not believing him. "And I am to take your orders?"

"You are my employee. I am your employer. That's what employees do."

"Understand this, Eric, I will do my job and that is all. I was not hired as your sub or slave, so if you feel the need beat, control, flog or fuck, find a willing human in your club."

He shook his head before nodding slightly, turned and walked away.

I knew at that moment I wouldn't last a week. But I hung in there. Day after day, week after week I kept working—working to keep my mind off of Daniel, who seemed to never get out of my head. God, I hated that man! He left a message for me to retrieve my things, but as far as I was concerned he could keep them. I had no intention of going back to him, and there was no emotional connection to any of my belongings.

Once I got over that, my mind would wander at seeing the human women Eric would have sitting at his feet and sometimes men. The power he had over them was astounding. Eric busted me a few times watching him when I walked by on my way out for a break. And I was ... jealous. I was doomed being a Scorpio.

The few times I had to go down to the basement I found myself smiling remembering the time I was strapped to the Pommell horse. And the poor equipment was crying out to be used. I was in some deep shit.

One particular night Doug knocked on my door. "Ms. Byers, Mr. Northman would like to see you."

"Okay, thanks."

I took my sweet old time answering Eric's call, going to see him on his throne a good half an hour later. And he wasn't pleased. He sat in his chair smug as hell, his chin resting in his fingers, his eyes narrow and threatening as he looked me over. The expression on his face killed me, too. It was stern and pissed off. I never liked to see that on my Master, or on my boss for that matter.

"Sorry I'm late, Eric. I needed—"

"Don't want to hear it. Let me ask you something." I nodded. "If the club was on fire and I sent someone to get you out, you'd burn before you'd comply."

"That wasn't a question," I stated. Ah. I just loved head games. But then I was in the position to play along.

"No, it wasn't. Let me rephrase that. If your old boss called you would you wait half an hour before you went to see what he wanted?"

Hmm. What is he doing? "No." What else could I say?

"When I need you, I will call you. Do you have a problem with that?"

He was right. "No. I'm truly sorry." We stared at the other for several tense moments. "What did you want?" I asked nervously, finding it odd my heart was beating so hard and fast.

"Nothing."

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, returned to my office and got back to work.

For weeks that continued. He'd call on me then say he didn't want anything. I thought it was funny at first. It reminded me of Taming of the Shrew and I was Kate. I would wait ten minutes, the next time five minutes then found myself jumping up out of my chair and standing before him within seconds. Then when the mood struck him, he'd come into my office and ask for the income for the week, or for daily totals, or hourly drink totals if he really wanted to aggravate me, which was becoming more and more often.

On the last night of my 60-day trial period my desk phone rang. It was my private line, the one for business calls. I recognized the number as Eric's cell phone. Picking up the receiver I didn't even say hello; I just remained silent.

"Connee, can I have Steve Lawson's cell phone number?"

I immediately relaxed. Looking in the computer I read the number off to him. He didn't thank me but hung up. Guess two could play at that game.

But what bugged me was the fact that I'd paid several invoices to Lawson's Equipment Supply Company. I could never tell exactly what equipment was purchased, but Eric always approved payment so I'd pay it, no questions asked.

Five minutes later there was another knock on the door. "Tell Eric I'm busy!" I huffed.

"Eric doesn't care that you are busy," the man himself said as he sauntered into the room and sat on the arm rest of the chair across from my desk.

"Oh, sorry, Eric."

"You know what word I hate the most?"

"No," I said, humoring him, meaning the word 'no.'

"That's true. The other word is sorry."

"Hmm," I mocked, "I'm so sorry."

"You know, I don't think I like you anymore," he said seriously, but his eyes were light.

"Hey, you were the one that wanted me feisty."

"Again, true. How do you like things here?"

"Fine." And I really did. The people I spoke to on the phone were so intimidated by Eric, as if he were the King of the Vampires that I got anything I wanted and they were nice as pie. The work was easy and I completed all my tasks before I left for work every night.

"Daniel called me the other day," he stated.

"Really?" I asked, making sure my voice was not interested. My heart was.

"Do you miss him?"

"None of your business ... boss."

He grinned. "Pam and I have been talking."

"That's good. Communication is key." I snickered.

"Now I know I don't like you," he chortled. "What are your thoughts of perhaps doing a scene?"

"Absolutely not."

"That makes me sad. Pam is impressed with your strength, and we found a human that is curious about subbing."

"You're kidding me," I muttered.

"Far from it. We both think you could handle it."

"Tell you what—I'll let you know when pigs fly."

"Alright. and when they do, let me know how keen you are on the idea," he said as he stood and walked towards the door. "Midnight in the basement. Susie will be prepped."

"Prepped?" I asked, but he'd already walked out the door. I'd be damned if I'd step out of my professional boundaries with Mr. Eric Northman.

Mr. Eric Northman is nothing if not persistent. Every single night for two weeks I'd get a call from him at exactly 11:58 p.m. I didn't need a clock to tell the time. First it started, "Your sub, Susie, is prepped now. Hope to see you in two minutes." I declined. Click on his end. That went on for a few days.

Then for a few nights it was, "The sub is prepped. You have two minutes." I declined. Click. Three days went by.

Then last night the phone rang right on the dot. "Now." Click. No refusal on my end, just click. Gotta love Eric's politeness.

And on every single one of those nights I made myself steer clear of Susie the sub. I had dreams of tearing the bitch's eyes out—did I say I have a jealous streak? But it was much more difficult keeping my emotions (and pussy) under control when Eric came into my office or I'd pass him in the hall. Getting a glimpse of his bare, tightly muscled forearms and his rear view just made me have to readjust my thong because it always ran up just the wrong way to cause serious pain, er, pleasure.

The night that I accepted—or was tricked into, if truth be told—being Domme Connee, I got the call at the designated time. I picked up the phone and said, "No, Eric and stop—"

"I need you to pull the invoices from June ..." Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Those are in the base ... oh, nice try, Eric. You're not gonna get me down there."

"The Auditor is coming in in two days, and I'm sure you know the consequ—" He may have sounded serious but I could just hear the grin on his face through the phone.

But he was right. With Eric's head games I'd forgotten that the 2nd quarter reports were due, and I needed to pull a lot of files. "Fine. But I'm only grabbing the files!" I hung up the phone before he could say anything further.

When I opened the door to the basement, my ears were assaulted with Enigma before me and Moon Dance behind me from the club. I took a deep breath and descended the stairs, keeping my eyes on the next step. I heard a woman whimper from the right of the room and almost tripped. Hitting the concrete floor, I turned left to the storage room door and went in. Even in the small space I could still hear the cries of an obviously ecstatic woman, obviously Susie, who was obviously getting flogged and enjoying it. Obviously. Finally finding the box I was looking for, although my mind was elsewhere—on my ass, actually—I headed back out the door to the bottom of the stairs.

SMACK. Female moan. Don't look, don't look I kept telling myself as I headed up. FWAP! Female gasp. Four more steps ... three more steps ... don't look.

On the last step, I made the worst mistake—I looked in the direction of the woman's moans. She, Susie I assumed, was lying on her back on the slate table, blindfolded, naked and tied up with her arms and legs spread apart. Eric had the flogger in one hand and the leather straps in the other, looking directly at me with his damned mischievous grin. Dickhead.

Eric nodded his head to his side, indicating I join him. I stood frozen. Keeping his eyes on me, he pulled back on the flogger and flicked it hard on Susie's stomach that made her squirm her hips and moan loudly. My pussy felt the impact. Double dickhead!

I shook my head and ran up the last steps, almost running into Doug as I ran through the hall back to my office. I made it but my thong had repositioned itself against my clit. I tore them off from under my sundress. I sure as shit didn't need any more friction on that spot. I hadn't had sex since Daniel kicked me out. But let's just say I should have bought stock in the Energizer Battery Company.

Pacing back and forth for five minutes trying to calm my nerves and to breathe normally, I concluded that there was no way Eric would ever leave me alone regarding Susie the sub. He didn't force me. He didn't tie me up. He didn't threaten me. He didn't fire me. What it boiled down to was that it was my choice, all my choice. Mr. Northman would keep asking me, and I would keep rejecting his offer. Night after night. Week after week. Month after month. But it was still my choice.

"Bastard!" I screamed to an empty room. I picked up the phone and called Eric's cell phone number.

I heard one crack of the flogger then an evil "Yes, Mistress Connee."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "What am I supposed to do?" I tried to disguise the fear I felt from my voice, not positive I succeeded.

"Take the files out of the box. Put them on your desk—"

"You know what I mean."

"You'll know, Connee. Does that mean you're coming down?"

I hesitated. "I can stop if it's too much for me?"

"Uh-huh, yes, dear," he said a little condescending.

"You owe me, Eric." I sighed.

"Anything you want."

Eric was gonna owe me and owe me big!