Simon was a master of his art. He'd trained other sub's, taught them, helped them push past their fears, but it had always been for others. Never for himself. No matter how willing, how eager, or talented the submissive proved to be they didn't fit. Not in his arms, or at his feet. He needed his one. Had he found her in Cassandra? Untouched by leather, pain, or restraint. An unknown in his world, yet there was something in her eyes. A hint of a promise that called to him as he watched her. In this woman, this gentle soul with her forbidden dreams, could he finally find the missing half of his heart, of his soul? The one to wear his collar.