You want to count, Gabrielle? One! She sucked in a breath, mad enough the words slid right out. You asshole, one!
If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode.
A good relationship is a two-way street, gatita. Submitting and serving is equaled by a master’s need to take control, to protect, to make someone happy.
So, so sorry. Really sorry. Master. Sir. Emperor of the world. God of the universe.
And since I am a man, I would appreciate it if you would cry for us both, gatita.
Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, an...
I felt sorry for myself since my wimpy dom can’t catch a snail crossing the sidewalk.
By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.
You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.
Chocolate's better than sex any day.
Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs.
You know how really big guys are always nicknamed Tiny?" She didn’t wait for any response, afraid she’d chicken out. "Guess that would make you Master Munchkin, huh?
You dickweed! Are you always stupid, or is today a special occasion?
You little subs make me nervous. Being around you is too much like walking into a room filled with tiny kittens and trying not to step on one.
She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”...
You mean you’re not God? Nooo, say it isn’t so!
Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.
Awww, that's sweet. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a well-made implement of pain.
