Apollo has been assigned to me to be trained as a personal slave. This process is almost complete. The weather had been glorious, and it became a ritual: every morning after breakfast, I would slip into my coat and Apollo would wheel the polished rickshaw out of the shed. By now, it gleamed again. After the first cleaning, he had spent entire afternoons scrubbing away years of dust and neglect. It was an old, hand-painted...

We had just finished the lentil tagine. One of the participants had overcooked the carrots, and Hannelore had made a point of that with a soft but unmistakable tap of her cane on the floor. Lunch had proceeded in its usual rhythm, bowls passing in silence, the soft sound of cutlery on ceramic. As I took a final sip of my tea, Hannelore placed her spoon down with a kind of deliberate grace and looked directly at me. "Joukj...

Countess Hannelore has employed me as her right hand in the Young Adults Development Centre. Mothers and fiancées place young adult men there for training in absolute submission. By the end of my first week at the Young Adult Development Centre, I had begun to settle into my role with surprising ease. Countess Hannelore, ever composed and incisive, had thrown me into the deep end with barely a word of instruction. But I u...

There I was, sitting in a quiet corner of Het Goude Hooft, hands wrapped around a latte that had long gone cold. Would she come? Was this real? Or had I walked straight into the hands of some delusional creep with a thing for vulnerable women? Or—just maybe—was this the moment? The moment something would break open inside me and the world would shift? Not that I had any reason to complain. When I was thirteen and told my...

The following is a translation of a group of papyri recently excavated near Selçuk, not so far from the residence of the historian Tacitus when he was governor of the Roman province of Asia. The story is set around 61 AD. Lucius Claudianus Faber to Publius Cornelius Tacitus, greetings. The request you conveyed to me—though not by your hand but through a mutual acquaintance—I considered with respect due to your name and th...

Every time he stepped on the scale, he felt his stomach drop. Would it be enough? Would she be pleased? And every two weeks, Libby would cane him, her strokes precise and unforgiving. She never missed a beat, never gave an inch. You're doing well," she said one night, inspecting his bruised and battered body. "But you still have a way to go." He nodded. "Yes, mistress." "I'll be watching you," she warned. "Every bite you...

The soft hum of the minibar filled the silence after she left. George lay half-dressed on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above. The sheets were a tangled mess of sweat, perfume, and regret. The call girl—what was her name? Tasha? Tanya?—had gone twenty minutes ago, her stilettos clicking down the hallway like a gavel pronouncing judgment. He reached for his wallet on the nightstand,...

It was a cold evening in the city, and Estelle walked down the street to her expensive titanium racing bike. It was always neatly locked, but this time she was surprised to see a girl cutting the chain loose. The girl, a little brunette with a cheeky face, clearly did not realize she was being watched. "That's my bike," Estelle said calmly but with a sharp undertone. The girl was startled and turned around, her eyes wide...

Rose sat on the couch of the House of the Crane, the student home, she shared with Estelle and Sue Ellen. It was a quiet day, and her boyfriend Olaf was away. His phone was still on the coffee table, and to her surprise, she saw the screen was still on. Usually, she would ignore it, but something caught her attention. There was a notification from a Telegram group called "Brotherhood." Curiosity won out over her better fe...

Carry is condemned to perpetual slavery because of shoplifting. After intense training, she is brought to the studio of the Merchandise Network to be sold on television by the Lady Auctioneer, Miss Veronica Pontefract. But she has other plans with the attractive Carry. Carry swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the floor as the girl attached a new collar around her neck. This one was made of cold, unforgiving metal, with a...

Carry Torres walked briskly down the sidewalk, her worn-out canvas bag slung over her shoulder. Her hair was one of her most striking features—thick, black, and wild, framing her face in a way that drew attention. Her olive skin glowed faintly under the fading light, and her figure, though hidden beneath loose, shabby clothes, still hinted at the natural beauty she possessed. She wore an oversized grey hoodie that had see...

The once proud and haughty Charlotte Molineux was in a situation she could never have imagined. She had always been single, with a quiet intellectual life, surrounded by the trappings of her success: her doctorate in art history from Cambridge, her luxurious apartment and her rare works of art. But her pride had led to her downfall. Charlotte´s gamble to buy an unknown painting by William Turner had a spectacular counterp...

Ms. Dalrymple's rage was a force to be reckoned with. As Jean and Marcus were dragged before her right after the last guest had left the ball. As their bound forms struggled against the security guards' firm grip, she took in their disheveled appearances with a cold, calculated gaze. "You dare to defy me?" she hissed, her voice cracking like a whip. "You, my pet, my creation, and you, a mere trifle brought here to enterta...

It all began on a fateful afternoon in a quaint café in the heart of Paris. Ms. Theresia Dalrymple, a woman of indomitable will and insatiable desires, sat sipping her tea, her eyes scanning the room with the precision of a hawk seeking its prey. Ms. Dalrymple was a woman who drew the eye of every person she passed, not only because of her striking physical appearance but also due to the palpable aura of power and dominan...