Shock Wave

To call the private studio of the Dominatrix a dungeon would, for the fortunate, earn only her contempt. Eschewing the contrivances of male sadomasochistic fantasies, the walls were painted a passionless shade of gray-green, the oak floor polished to the luster of ancient gold, and the sole window decorated with… Read more“Shock Wave”

Self-Control

I step out of the limousine and into the sodium-yellow of the city lights. Dressed to the nines: sequins and lace and sheer silks. Shoes that cost hundreds, with a heel that I can barely walk in (let alone dance in) but without which the look would be incomplete. Because… Read more“Self-Control”

Serene

March of 1843. London, England. At that time, seldom did the majority of the population know about the underground network of Dominant slaveholders, but every once in a while, a young girls or boys would be taken from their homes in the night, never to be heard from again. The… Read more“Serene”