#Sophia

After a languorous afternoon spent on the terrace of a very pretty country hotel he’d taken her to, Sophia had asked him, over dinner, what she might be able to do for him. 'You do everything! Pay for everything, think of everything, plan everything, say all the funny things, read all the interesting books, choose what things we go to. And .. And I’m grateful. I .. I’m .. happy with it that way, but .. but.. I don’t know - there .. there must be something I can do for you!” [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 11 minutes; 2300 words

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'Well … it … it seems to have a theme about love and submission … um … obviously… I mean, she is in love, and that’s what … what gets her into … into that place …' 'Roissy, you mean—or the dungeon?' 'Um … um … all of it, I suppose… And … and then she is sort of ‘given’ to the older man, and somehow, despite the horrible way he behaves, what he does to her—she decides she’s in love with him—and lets him do much worse. And then, at the end, it seems as if she might die if he doesn’t want her.' [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 21 minutes; 4500 words

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Even though she had not felt it at the time, it was clear to her later, that that had been the moment, when she had known herself in the presence of a being in comparison to whom she was just a toy; for whom she had the great honour of being interesting as a toy, and that every sacrifice was worth it to retain that interest. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 15 minutes; 3200 words

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Slowly, very slowly, it dawned on her that she needed to know; needed to know what being hurt and shamed at Duncan's kind and gentle hands might be like. She *had* to know. Letting him do as he wished with her, playing her part as best she could, with as much seriousness and control as she could find in her, was necessary, too, if she was to discover what she could about this experience. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 18 minutes; 3900 words

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Just so, little one; you want it. I know that you do. It is well that you wait to be commanded; as I told you, you are more ripe for this than you could possibly know. Move for me; it will hurt, but you will go slowly, carefully, looking for the heat that will get you there, even as you cause yourself pain. There is no hurry, none at all. I have you, pretty cunt, and the only thing that matters in the world is that you give me your pleasure, your little death. [Read More]

Estimated reading time: 18 minutes; 3900 words

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