I Reached Out, Timidly, Toward Her Throat. I Touched The Object There. “What Is This?” I Asked. “The Silk?” She Asked. “That Is A Collar Stocking, Or A Collar Sleeve. They May Be Made Of Many Different Materials. In Cooler Climate, They Are
I looked down upon her. I did not speak. “I kneel before you, your slave, yours to do with as you wish. Command me, and I shall obey. I am yours.” She looked up at me, smiling. “Whip me, or terrify me,” she said. “I must accept. I must endure.
