ragulca2

“Submissives are collared, their Dominants giving them permission to learn while they sit patiently in the audience or accompany them onto the stage to do the training themselves. The uncollared Submissives are mostly unattended. One has a suitor, but he’s merely watching from the audience. Being collared is a serious commitment. Only a minority of the couples within the club are collared. Several have paired off and continue their play exclusively, but without a collar the commitment has yet to be made and the Submissive is not off-limits. It’s not an offense to not be given a collar, it’s simply something that isn’t rushed into. There's a sense of respect and obligation surrounding the process, and every Dominant or Master has their own way of going about it. I’ve never had the honor of giving out a collar. None of the handful of women I’ve kept as Slaves have wanted to stay. They may have said one thing, but I knew better. I have yet to meet the woman who is my match. The women on”
― Lauren Landish, Sold

“unbelievably, even Charlie —had come from moments of privacy with red eyes. Piper had cried the most, and openly. But it wasn’t loss she saw on Cameron’s face now. It was something worse. “They let us go,” he said. “They almost killed us back at Little Cottonwood, but then they had their time to cool off, and now they’re just watching again. They won’t hurt us. No matter what we do, we’re free to be slaves.” “We don’t know that,” Andreus said. Cameron’s eyes went to the warlord then to Charlie before they settled on Piper. When he spoke, Piper”
― Sean Platt, Annihilation

“scorching wind that seemed to slam me back against the restroom door. I tried to take a breath and found I couldn’t. My chest was tight, my eyes wide. The heat inside me went lava-hot, a crashing, scorching waterfall that slammed straight down to my groin. I’d never in my life felt such want. He wanted me. I looked deliberately away and then back. I tried to reduce him to something ordered, to a description. Six-four. Dark hair. Blue eyes—It didn’t work. The words were boxes into which this man refused to be stuffed. He wasn’t six-four. He was just big, big like the mountains outside were big. His hair wasn’t dark, it wasn’t some”
― Helena Newbury, Alaska Wild

“No. Because she needs me to do whatever it is I want to do to her in this very moment. “Why do you need me?” I ask her. I know she’s meant for me. I knew the second I saw her that she needed me just as much as I needed her. “Master,” she whimpers, her head slightly turning to the side with the need to thrash as I continue the ruthless motions. Even with the heavy, jeweled metal covering the scars over her ankle, she hasn’t realized. She has no idea why she needs me. I grab her throat with my left hand, halting my movements. I put heavy pressure on her rough, sensitive G-spot with both fingers inside her. She’s close”
― Lauren Landish, Sold