“She took a sip of the coffee and then said, “Manna. Thank you, Sir.”“Now I really do know how to punish you.”She curled both hands around the mug. “You wouldn’t take away my coffee!”“Only if I feared for my life,” he said, carrying food to the table.”

“How many spanks have you had, Julia?” Damien asked.“Two, Sir.”“What colour are you on?”“Mortification,” she mumbled.”

“And sometimes I misbehave on purpose.""Seriously?!""It's called being a brat. Ben will sometimes indulge me [and punish me], but occasionally I have to listen to a lecture about asking for what I want. And those times, I get sent to bed without an orgasm.”

“BDSM is about dropping the pretenses; I want you completely exposed.”

“I want a man who is sunny-side up, with a large sausage, and two hot buns.”

“She sits in her usual ample armchair, with piles of books and unopened magazines around her. She sips cautiously from the mug of weak herb tea which is now her substitute for coffee. At one time she thought that she could not live without coffee, but it turned out that it is really the warm large mug she wants in her hands, that is the aid to thought or whatever it is she practices through the procession of hours, or of days.”

“You know what would be really nice right now? Coffee. I'd really go for some coffee." Just the idea made her salivate.He scowled. "How can you think about coffee right now?""I don't know. Maybe caffeine is how I cope." She thought for a moment. "Although usually I'm a crier. Are you a crier?""No.""Not even sad movies or weddings?""No.""What about commercials with little puppies that need a home?"He blinked. "Please stop talking.""Hmm," she said slowly. "Maybe talking is how I cope." Her hands started falling asleep. "You know what else would be really nice right now?""An off button?”