He gets hard seeing his marks on me. I get wet knowing this. I don't try to analyze it. It's just us.

I know what you think…like most girls do…that you have to work hard at a career, get ahead, be just as ambitious as a man.” She raises an eyebrow to this, but stays quiet. “I don’t want a girl who wants to be a man’s equal. I want a girl who understands her place.

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..."She laughs and reaches her hand out to me, "Don't you already have that power...without need of a sea?

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.

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 make him.

I’m the answer to her pain. She’s my answer for the need for it.

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 surrender and strength with him. True freedom. And a hell of a lot of orgasms.