I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.
When I look in the mirror... I know that I belong to him...that I will never be the same again. I've let him punish me...
I want you to be afraid of making me angry…this will help you to remember how to behave.
I like the idea of you on an island..." "Oh...why's that?" She's squinting up at me, her eyes brighter than the sea in the setting sun. "I could keep you all to myself. You'd be trapped, only able to come and go as I please...I'd be your Caesar..." S...
He gets hard seeing his marks on me. I get wet knowing this. I don't try to analyze it. It's just us.
What? Don't you want a girl who can talk dirty to you?" His look only hardens. "No, Lucy. I'm serious. I won't tolerate that from you." He doesn't look away and I feel that heat in the pit of my stomach, spreading down again. "Well...I've heard you c...
I'm silenced by his right hand cupping my chin and ear, his left hand flattening against my ribs as he gently pushes me back against the wall. I can feel the brick pressing into my naked upper back, cold and rough. His kiss is slow, tender...firm. Hi...
Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.
Some men just can’t stomach the necessary steps it takes to make a good girl great.
I was told I have obsessive behavioral traits. I looked up everything to do with obsession after that.
Public displays of inappropriate behavior are a favorite hobby of mine, a cheap thrill.
When he sees my pain, the old and new, he pushes me to give it to him. To give in to his need to consume all of it and make it his.
I’ve succumbed to the absolute power of the man that pulls, culls, calls my unwitting submission. And I’ve embraced the power of my submission to draw him in further, to have him kneeling and worshiping what he’s conquered. I’ve known surrend...
I’m the answer to her pain. She’s my answer for the need for it.
My painful memories sift through me like sand through stretched fingers. Only small pieces cling and stay around for me to keep, the rest just disappear. I know not where and I don’t
A lot can happen in a heartbeat though. Even a really fast one. Lives crumble in a heartbeat. Promises are lost in a heartbeat.
I’ve never felt remorse before. It’s disgusting.
Acting so obviously submissive to Max around strangers, I felt a lot of humiliation. The looks from people, the comments. But I also felt this strange sense of pride. I am his possession, his property. And I'm proud of that. I'm proud of how happy I ...
