55 Quotes About Bdsm-erotica

He wanted her to kneel at his feet. He wanted to carry her on his shoulders. His girl. His property.

He filled her up and absorbed everything she amounted to until she was no one. A half-human who couldn’t exist without his touch. Her true self. She wasn’t her own person any longer. Her identity wasn’t hers to own. She became a miniscule part of him because he allowed it. He steered her with his commands, his knowledge that he knew what was best for her. In every sense and meaning of the word, she willfully and truly became his slave.

Do you love your Master?” he asked softly. “More than my life, Master.” “Say it.” “I love my Master.” “And who is your Master.” “You are, Sir. Mr. Stephen Black. Master and Lord of my body. My heart. My soul. My mind.

Every time he entered his study, he relived the time she had crawled under his desk, tucked his shoe-clad foot into her side, curled her arm around his leg, and slept. After he finished his work, he pulled her out from under his desk and carried up her upstairs to a spare bedroom.

This had been her fantasy for ages. Bound, bruised, and loved by Stephen.

I want you wet for me at all times. I don't know when I might want to fuck you.

My safe word?Fuck.Me.

They couldn’t understand why he chose patience over hauling her ass straight over to his home and collaring her, since he was clearly in love with her.

His pride demanded he make her pay, make her weak for him, make her beg shamelessly for a mere touch. He wanted her hot and soaking wet, bearing the mark of his whip—no, his cane. He wanted to hear her call him her Master.