My mind spun—rifling through memories like pages I’d tried to forget.
Sarah came first.
Too extreme.
She craved total surrender—every order obeyed, every breath counted. Complete submission, complete devotion. But beneath that, she carried a hunger for degradation. She wanted to be humiliated, broken down, reshaped into someone else’s image.
Pain? Obedience? Structure? Punishment? I could give her all of that.
But degradation?
Breaking someone mentally for pleasure?
Never.
It had always been a hard limit for me.
Eventually she left to join a harem—one Master, many submissives. I’d heard rumors she slept in a cage now.
Good for her, I supposed.
She’d found what she was looking for.
Then Vivian.
She came for tradition. Chores. Service.
Wanted to be locked in the house and cared for like a prized object.
We’d separated early on—two different needs. Two different wants.
Then Teresa.
The closest to Emma, at least in spirit.
Brilliant. Capable. Razor-sharp.
I’d thought—just for a moment—that something real could grow there. Something mutual. Something lasting.
But she left, too—stepped out from beneath my guidance and into the hands of a Dominatrix.
That one had stung.
But nothing—nothing—had cut like the night Emma walked out of that restaurant. That wound had gone through bone.
She looked at me now, her question still suspended between us.
I drew a breath, bracing for recoil—denial, disbelief, the inevitable retreat.
“I’d also like a few things that I enjoy.”
I grimaced, waiting for the backlash that never came.
She just watched me.
Patient.
Curious.
