Compilation Of Short Stories
“Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”
Sloane's throat ached. This was it. The bald submission. The turning point on which everything hung. "I understand," she said, softly, barely louder than a breath. "I need you to be as clear as a bell, Sloane. This is a contract. You'll read to me, your performance, your voice, your coming into being of the text. that's what I'll get off on. And if you can do all that for me, I'll pay you. I'll have you in my bed and worship your body with my mouth and my hands and my cock until you don't remember your own name. You will be pleasured to the fullest and in its entirety. Do you accept these terms?”