You continue to establish your dominance.

You take a full step forward, imposing yourself into the agent's personal space, careful not to actually touch her. You tower over her by almost a foot and are nearly twice as wide.

She flinches with an audible whimper, but doesn't move. She glances once more to the door where her fellow FBI agents wait beyond. She is at a crossroads, if she wants this to end it has to be now.

Your tone changes. Deep and soft but firm, "I have so much more to offer. You don't want to end this, do you?"

Faltering she replies, "N...no. But..."

You interrupt, pressing forward with the interview, "Over a year since you've been with a man. That has to be tough."

She is utterly lost but compelled, almost against her will, to continue. Ambition, the emotion that had been seeing her through the early parts this "game", has been replaced by something else. Something more primal. She gives up on trying to ask questions back and forth as she simply does not know what to say anymore. "Yes. It is tough."

"It is more than that, it is a shame. This body deserves better."

"...Yes."

"The men you date, they don't understand do they? They don't know what you need."

"No."

"They make fools of themselves trying to show you proper respect. They ask your opinion on things they haven't a clue about. They bitch and moan like your girlfriends. They gossip, they nag, they giggle. They even let you pick up the check."

You sense something simmering within the once controlled and composed Davis. "Yes."

"They follow and never lead. Attracted to your strength like moths to a flame."

"Yes."

"Are they real men?"

"No!" a surge of emotion rolls out from her. You are really getting to the heart of things now. You are provoking something deep seated. Something at the foundation of who she is. You experience similar feelings yourself.

You lean in to whisper in her ear, the sandalwood fragrance of your cologne enveloping her. "They don't know what to do with a woman once they have her, do they?"

Her muscles tighten and strain though she remains perfectly still. Anger and frustration are barely contained as she lets out a breathy harsh whisper. "No!" She desperately wants to say more, to let loose, but she dares not. You look upon her in awe of her power. The inner power and self control of a perfect submissive. It is glorious.

You slowly begin to walk around her, your gaze inspecting her body up and down. You sense your gaze is more welcome than it had been. "A woman like you should not have to go without. But you just can't accept what they offer. You need to be treated like a woman. You need to be used like a woman." You continue, adding emphasis, "This body was made to be fucked."

Her knees tremble slightly. She is simultaneously humiliated and inflamed by your attentions.

"Do you agree?" You press.

Eyes locked on the floor, muscles tense, her lips pursed. "Yes."

Coming around again to her front you reach out and with the tip of your index finger gently raise her chin, reluctantly but without hesitation she looks up at you. You sense she is afraid look at your face but dared not resist. She has the **** look of a cornered animal. "Yes?" You ask intensely.

She shudders, "Yes..." a long pregnant pause as she uses every once of her willpower to maintain eye contact, "...Yes...sir."

She is yours.