d-s

A Dom never takes away. He only builds.

Relinquishing control to another person is like death: it__ only scary until it finally happens.

She blinks up at me, eyes unfocused, and grooves crease her forehead. __here did you go, gorgeous girl?

You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren__ allowed to be found, unless it__ me doing the finding. And the only way you__e allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn__ belong to you anymore, and if I have to murder you tonight and paint the snow with your blood to make you understand that, I will. You are mine, Kingsley. End of discussion.

I want you naked, sitting at my piano and rolling your hips like you__e fucking the notes.

Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.

His pleasure is my pleasure.

His tongue fucks my mouth the way his cock fills my pussy. Deeply, urgently, and completely unrestrained.

D/s can be dangerous, because it explores the most primitive sides of ourselves. Those involved must have a high degree of trust and very, very healthy devotion to one another. Like religion, it can be a spiritually enlightening experience, or it an expression of psychosis. And somewhere in between, it can be tremendously fun.

I will gladly go to exhaustion waiting for him. Waiting for his discipline. Waiting for his affection. Waiting for the unknown.

Get out of your head._ He rotates his thumb and trails his tongue across my pliable lips. __et it all go.

She__ exactly the kind of woman I__ drawn to. A woman who flees when hunted and comes alive when she__ caught.

It__ universally known that the more forbidden something is, the more desirable it becomes. I feel this truth like a fist around my balls as I enter my classroom after lunch and find the forbidden object of my desire waiting for me.

Sex doesn__ have to conform to society__ standards to be sane. It doesn__ have to be slow and tender to be safe. And it doesn__ have to be free of leather cuffs to be consensual.

I find few more satisfying exhibitions of power and control than deliberately creating desire - only to capriciously deny it...

Bottoming doesn't make you a submissive any more than standing in my kitchen makes you a cook. By the way, while you__e there, please make me a sandwich.

Shut up. Take down your pants. I'm going to mark you as mine."Nick squeaked and held onto his belt, fighting Damian for possession of it. "Here? Everyone will hear. They'll know!""I want them to know," Damian said, winning the wrestling match for the belt as was inevitable that he would."London!" Nick gasped. "London!"Damian stopped, his eyes clearing as he noticed how terrified Nick looked. After a long minute, he pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you'd like it.

Take this fucking thing off me!" he demanded. "Good morning to you too, Nick," Damian said mildly. He unlocked the door without haste and went to his office, Nick dogging his every footstep."Did you --?""I didn't touch it or myself. Take it off right now!" Nick said angrily.Damian sat down and motioned Nick closer. "We're going to have to have a talk about topping from the bottom. I don't allow that, pet.