Make her grovel.

Jordan needs an attitude adjustment. She needs to understand that I'm not just the neighbor who pays her to do degrading things. I'm the man who fucking owns her. And I'm not going to give her any chance to reconsider, either.

"That's rule number one. You only wear what I let you. You're to strip completely naked as soon as you enter this house from now on." I clamp a hand down over her slender shoulder, my thumb ominously pressing against her pale throat without pausing. "Rule number two. You don't stand up in my house unless you're looking for a beating." I shove her down to her knees hard enough that she grunts.

"Hey, I don't have to take this!" She cries, suddenly finding her courage. However, I notice that she doesn't make any attempt to stand up and she's eyeing me warily. Good.

I decide to take a bit of a risk. "Actually, Jordan, you do. You don't seem to understand, so I'll elaborate. See, I called your boss today, over at the restaurant. We go way back. Owes me a favor. The point is, we discussed your future at the restaurant."

She gulps, believing the story and rapidly deducing that I can not only deny her the wages I'm offering, but I may be able to cost her her only other source of income.

I smile. "That's right. I told your boss that I would do a little background check and character assessment on you to make sure you're worth keeping around. And when I call back tomorrow with my 'report', well..." I trail off to let her mentally catch up. When she looks up at me with a **** plea in her eyes, I continue in my threatening tone. "Don't fuck this up, whore. Now you apologize for your outburst and beg me to let you make it up to me. It's that or get the fuck out. I have a phone call to make."

"No!" She cries, then visibly calms herself. "I mean, please don't throw me out. I-I'll be good. I'm sorry..." She hesitates, swallowing nervously. Her discomfort with the whole situation is palpable, and I let her stew in the silence for a moment before seeing an opportunity to segue all of this into my ultimate plan.

"Sorry for what, Jordan? Be specific."

"I'm sorry for yelling at you." She offers weakly, not quite meeting my eye line.

"No. That's not it. Try again."

"I'm... sorry for being disrespectful...?" It sounds like a question.

"Nope. Wrong again."

Her eyes move as if searching for the answer on the floor so I step in to help her. I grab a handful of hair and twist it into a fist, hauling her up high on her knees. "Say you're sorry for acting like people when you're just a trashy little bitch. A whore. Say it."

Tears spring to her eyes as she struggles in my grip. "Ow! You're hurting me!"

I catch her eyes and give her the harshest look I can manage. "No, I'm not. Not yet."

She blanches immediately. "Ah! Okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for pretending to be people. I'm not people. Please let me go."

"What are you?"

She cries softly, still trying to find a less uncomfortable position for her head on her knees. "I'm a trashy bitch-whore." Tears run down her face as I suspect she tries not to believe the words she's saying. That's fine. She'll know they're true by the end of the night.

I release her with a flourish that sends her to the floor. "That's right. Now don't forget. Reminding you of your place is unpleasant business." I step away from her to retrieve my prepared bag of goodies. "Now, aren't you forgetting something?"

She looks up at me from the floor, her heavy eye make-up quickly becoming a runny mess on her face. "What?"

"You were going to beg me to let you make it up to me that you've been such a bad girl."

She swallows her wounded pride and nods, resuming her kneeling position. "Oh, yes. Please let me show you I can be good. Please let me make it up to you. Wh–what can I do? Please?" She manages to meet my gaze and I see fear and sincerity in her eyes. This has gone beyond a simple matter of money and pride for her. She's actually slightly broken already. How delicious that feels.