Samantha Starr reclined on the leather chaise, one polished heel tapping the floor as she watched Sammie kneel. “Eyes down,” she murmured, voice soft but absolute. A single gloved finger lifted his chin just long enough for him to meet her gaze, then pressed him lower again. “Good boy. Now stay exactly where I put you.”

Sammie obeyed without a word, the quiet click of the collar lock sealing the evening’s arrangement. Samantha circled him once, the hem of her dress brushing his shoulder, and smiled the slow, satisfied smile of a woman who already owned every answer he would give.