Dark Citadel

It's hard for an educated woman to turn her head off. That's part of the joy of being a submissive. None of the decisions are yours. When you can't refuse anything and can't even move, those voices in your head go silent. All you can do, and all you are permitted to do, is feel.

I’m a firm believer in equality at all times—” “At all times?” She glanced at the cuffs clipped to his leathers. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” And why the heck was she arguing with him. Mine, mine, mine. “At all times,” he repeated. “However, in the bedroom or in the club, I am a lot more equal than you.

My God, no wonder people like being tied up.

You're allowed to look, sweetheart, he murmured, running a finger down her hot cheek. I enjoy having your eyes on me.

She could just imagine, all her friends and family mourning around her grave. The tombstone would read Kari Wagner, Died of Sheer Stupidity. It would be almost as bad to have her grave marker read Died of Terminal Bedroom Boredom.

Give me her damn address, you sadistic bastard.

...some people become hypercritical when stressed. Then again, he hadn't been stressed last week. She giggled, remembering how he'd instructed her on the proper way to fold hand towels. Talk about nitpicky. Perhaps this would be a good time to call it quits.