Chapter 1: Snide Hide I have never denied it. My enjoyment of true perversion is rare. It was an unfamiliar feeling, at once bad and good, terribly good, my heart beat in excited terror. For a long moment, there was only silence. I sat on my heels, hands clasped before me. There was grim satisfaction in your voice; "Watch yourself, child!" I can feel your enigmatic smile. The chill your voice gives me. My nerves thrilled with it. I tuck away my body into a dark cavity, "There is no place to hide," your voice is brusque. I can feel your sophisticated and sinister body advancing towards me. I had entered a different world. Your fantasy word. Profanely provocative. I tremble, caught between fear and desire. In truth, there was always a drive in me that sought out danger; for its own sake. I remember the moment when I discovered pain and you and realized my dream of becoming a true masochist slave girl. My priceless treasure. Extremely Beautiful. I sat on tenterhooks, waiting and wondering. I gasped and quivered between my arms like i was in a rabbit trap, longing for you to do something, something terrible, fearful what you would, rigid with suppressing it. i can taste the desire of you flooding my mouth. Intense waves of desire. You are always in complete control. Your gaze pierces my own and all you see is stricken pleasure there. I was flawed. Things are are bound to happen.... Chapter 2:  Mask of lust I can smell your scent, subtle and spicy, mixed with the musk of your skin. Your veiled gaze penetrating the shadows that came to rest on me. "You do wish to serve Snide, don't you, child?"  "Yes. My Lord." I gaze into your wide, dark eyes.  I squirm out of my confinement. From my kneeling position, I stare at you, and a velvet haze obscures my vision. "Are you so sure of that?" Your voice, low and demanding, sends shivers across my skin. I kneel rooted as you cross the room towards me.  "On your feet," you murmur. You hold my chin up, forcing me to look you in your dark unseen face. Your  finger traces the line of my shape hidden beneath my gown.  I can feel the heat of your presence, your scent.  My will bent before you,  you cup my cheek with one hand, face rising obediently to yours, my world tilts around your axis.  "That which yields," you utter, lowering your lips toward mine, "is not always weak." A kiss; almost.  Your lips brush mine and withdraw, hands leaving my skin, and I staggered in the abyss of your sudden absence, in a shock of yearning. I bow my head.   I catch my breath, wondering, and I feel your fingers at my elbow, a grip almost hard enough to hurt. My blood beats in my ears.  You are irresistibly seductive. You ask me to whisper your name, and as I do you trace its  pattern on my skin, until my blood burns beneath the touch of your fingers. I place my fingertips lightly over your shoulders, down your slender arms. My heartbeat quickening and a certainty rises inside me. I am scared to touch you, fingertips hovering above your pale skin, but where they pass, your fine hairs rise.  You deliberately ignore me. I feel your hand dig into my enmeshed curls, wrenching my head backwards, I stare up at your hooded gleaming dark eyes. My throat feels vulnerable and exposed. I am undivided in the depths of your torment. "I demand obedience.  In time, you may become it, if you choose. But understand, my dove, that this is only a beginning."  "Yes, my lord," I say. "Turn around," you murmur. I do it without thinking. My gown is a deep and luscious shade of red velvet. Just above the neck line the bodice clings to my  swelling tempting breasts. It drops low on my hips, and is unexpectedly demure. I can feel your nails against my skin, tracing the shape of my body, following it upward.  You radiate behind me and I can smell your scent, the musk of your flesh. I was in it and of it, a form of beauty uttered in the depths of your torment. Your hands are at my hips now, pressing down. My breath caught in my throat. You circle me and come behind me once more. I swear your cloak is sick with desire. I can feel your breath against my skin as you fasten a leather thongs at my wrists. My Ankles.  And I willingly submit to you because I yearn for the way you dominate me. Your fingers unbuttoned the back of my bodice, my body palpitating at your mere touch. "We shall play?" you ask. "As you wish, my lord," I whisper. You had gotten my attention, and a mask of lust now clearly obscured your features.