Irma La Domme was sitting at the bar of the Goddess’s Garden. It was one of her favorite spots to enjoy a cocktail after work, a place which was kink-friendly, while still attracting mostly vanilla patrons. This made it a good hunting ground.
As she sipped her drink, the bar door opened and the most gorgeous hunk of a man she had ever seen entered. He was tall, muscular, and handsome, with thick, dark hair and sparkling green eyes. He wore casually elegant clothes which obviously cost a great deal. His carriage and every movement was masculine and sensuous. He radiated animal vitality, and cockiness; he was aware that the eyes of every woman in the room were on him, and he was proud of it. His arrogance immediately aroused Irma’s most predatory instincts.
Here was a target who begged to be taken down a peg or two, who deserved to be subdued. It looked like it would be fun, and profitable, to do so, too.
Irma focused her attention upon him, bringing all the force of her dominant personality to bear. The man noticed that he was the object of her gaze. He could hardly have missed it; the intensity of her concentration sent an almost physical thrill down his spine. He turned to look at her. His eyes widened slightly as they met hers. Even across the room, he could feel the power flowing through her eyes from her mind to his, but he was unaware of the significance of that awareness.
His thought processes could be read in his expression: Another woman who found him irresistible, and a very attractive one, too. His mouth curved in a sly, sexy smile, and he made his way through the crowd towards her.
By the time he reached her, he was no longer aware of the other people in the bar. Irma never allowed him to break eye contact; now, although he didn’t know it yet, he couldn’t look away. He leaned close, and murmured some inane pick-up line.
“No,” Irma replied in a low but vibrant voice, “Only when I want to meet someone new, my pet.” She continued to stare into his eyes, into his soul, the energy she sent with her gaze melting his will as it aroused his libido.
“I’ll do anything,” he whispered in a deep, soft voice. “Anything, absolutely anything you want …” A faint look of surprise spread across his face, as he realized what he was saying. In a clear effort to regain control of the situation, he added, “There is just one condition.”
Irma smiled in triumph. She recognized this as a last ditch effort to avoid surrendering to her. “And what is this condition,” she asked, “under which you *will* do anything I ask of you?”
“You have to tell me what you want me to do in just three words,” he said desperation and yielding vying for prominence in his voice.
Irma continued to gaze with hypnotic intensity into his eyes as they slowly became blank and glassy. She reached out and took his unresisting hand, and drew him to his feet. She slipped off the bar-stool, and prepared to lead him from the room. As she did so, she stepped close to him, and whispered into his ear, “Clean … My … house.”