I'd known all along, of course, that this was a punishment, but hearing him say it out loud made me have no choice but to fully focus on that fact. An... yes, that certainly made me feel guilty. But it also reminded so clearly exactly what I was—his. His to punish, his to control, his to use. His.The pain was continuing to get worse and worse with every minute that passed. But once I got into the proper mindset, once I saw with perfect clarity that I was really and truly his slave, it got easier. She was in her mid-forties if I had to guess, and she was a fit brunette squeezed into tight-fitting jeans and a turtleneck sweater that was a little too big for her but managed to show off her breasts and provide enough modesty. Her son, about seventeen or eighteen, was a dork. He was skinny, wearing a t-shirt with a Mario mushroom on it and skin so pale there are albinos out there telling him he needs to get some sun.“Hi, I’m Fiona,” I introduced myself.“Angela, and this is my son Edward,”. More

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