The loud rasp of leather yanked through Carson’s belt loops sent her attention to his torso.“What are you doing?” London’s panicked gaze shot to his face.“I don’t have a collar on me.”“I am wholly disinterested in being collared.”“One weekend, London.” He grasped one of her hips with his free hand. “If you’re disappointed at any time, you can walk. I’ll never speak of it again. Our work together will go unaffected. No one—and I mean no one—but us will know.”“Would you put that in writing?” Her eyes filled with mischief.Priceless. London lured him toward a lightning storm. He could play. Hell, nothing appealed in the moment more than a weekend playing with London. Yes, this is what he wanted. Now he needed to know if she was willing.“I’ll do one better.” He snaked the belt around her waist until the leather rested against her hips.“I’m not a notch on a belt.”“You could never be a notch, London Chantelle. You’re the whole belt, sugar.”Her face softened, and the playfulness in her eyes died. He recognized the deliberation behind them, the wonder if she’d be safe, here and at work. London needn’t have worried. She might get scared, but mutual satisfaction was the only way his brand of sexual fulfillment worked.“Say yes or no.” He pressed his torso to her corseted body, the last space between her body and his obliterated. “But say yes.”“What will happen if I say yes?”“What you want. What you’ve probably always wanted.”Her eyes misted with a surprising vulnerability. “Yes.
When he broke that long kiss, he smiled at her before kissing her hard. “So, my love, I hope that your punishment will stop you from trying another payback for a while at least?”Laura laughed and sighed, dramatically. “Of course, it will. I never want to be punished like that again. Well, not until tonight anyway. You will be back tonight, won't you? I'm often very bad at night so you may have to do this all over again to me until I learn how to be good. Hmm, and during the day, I'm not always very good either so you'd better watch out for that too.”“You don't make punishing you an easy task, do you? It almost seems like you enjoy being punished.”“No, it's not that, baby. Though, your punishment was very well given. It's just that I have a very aggressive, bad gene and it makes me backslide, umm, and often frontslide too. I have learnt with you that I'm always wanting to backslide and frontslide but, as it's obviously a genetic defect, I can't really be blamed for that, now can I” (Tales from Terrigal, Book 2, WIP)
Miles just smiled and felt her love flow around his own. Yet inside his love was a rock, and it had the words “payback is sweet” written in large letters on it. He laughed and she looked up at him and saw the hard glint in his eyes. “Uh oh!” was all she said. He laughed again deep in his chest. She kissed him happily. She sucked at his throat. She, as much as he, would enjoy the struggle that would follow.Part of the joy of their love was this constant battle to top the other. Kate was excellent at beginning these battles and sometimes even won them. Yet her weakness was that she submitted naturally. She knew it and he knew it. From her point of view the skill of the game was in keeping his Dom side distracted enough so she could submit to him before he took her. Miles smiled as he realised that whoever won was largely irrelevant to their love. Yet he liked to win; and so did she. (Journey Into Submission, eXtasy)
Then there were her rules, rules that stated quite clearly that he was a ‘no-go’ area. She drew a deep breath and tried to make a decision in keeping with her rules. But the words would not come. She could not decide to give him up. Her inner self would not even contemplate it. Somehow, he had touched her soul in a way that she could not explain adequately. She felt a link there that was too real to consider severing. Kate felt the anguish of this conflict between her morality and her acceptance of the bond that did exist between them, despite her incredulity and despite her objections.
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.
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.
You are not allowed to get lost unless I want to lose you. You aren’t allowed to be found, unless it’s me doing the finding. And the only way you’re allowed to die is if I choose to kill you with my own hands. Your life doesn’t 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.
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.