“Just because fate finds us our perfect match doesn't mean it's always easy and we don't have to work at it. Anything worth having takes fighting for sometimes."- Victor Marius”

“Oh, I think my new slave is a wanton little slut. Aren’t you?”“No, I’m a good boy,” he moaned as he pushed his ass back on my hand. “I’m not a whore!”“You’re my whore,” I growled and fucked him with my fingers as I picked up the flogger someone had left on the table. I started spanking him hard with it. “Does my boy want to come?”“Yes,” he hissed and jumped when I slapped him with the toy again. “Please, master? I’ll do anything you want.”“You’ll do it whether I let you come or not!” I pulled my fingers free and walked over to the wall of toys. I grabbed a large butt plug and quickly pushed it into his ass. Then, before he could even get used to the size of it, I slapped the flogger against it. “Admit you’re a dirty slut.”“No! I’m a good boy,” Shely cried out again. “Please don’t breach my ass! I’ve never been with a man before.”

“It doesn't matter, because I have found my match. It's Nick, laid-back and calm, smart and fun and uncomplicated. Untortured, happy. Nice. Big penis.”

“Because you can't be as in love as we were and not have it invade your bone marrow. Our kind of love can go into remission, but it's always waiting to return. Like the world's sweetest cancer.”

“Camille?" Her voice quiet and girlish and unsure. "You know how people sometimes say they have to hurt because if they don't, they're so numb they won't feel anything?""Mmm.""What if it's the opposite?" Amma whispered. "What if you hurt because it feels so good? Like you have a tingling, like someone left a switch on in your body. And nothing can turn that switch off except hurting? What does that mean?"I pretended to be asleep. I pretended not to feel her fingers tracing vanish over and over on the back of my neck.”

“And sometimes drunk women aren't raped; they just make stupid choices--and to say we deserve special treatment when we're drunk because we're women, to say we need to be looked after, I find offensive.”

“Wear this, don't wear that. Do this chore now and do this chore when you get a chance and by that I mean now. And definitely, definitely give up the things you love fro me, so I will have proof that you love me best. It's the female pissing contest -- as we swan around our book clubs and our cocktail hours, there are few things women love more than being able to detail the sacrifices our men make for us. A call-and-response, the response being: "Ohh, that's so sweet.”