He moved to a chair and plopped into it. Slye would never admit it to a living soul, but Thornton Lang frightened him. He sensed pure malevolence when...they were near each other. His harsh voice hit a nerve, his gut whispering to him, run don’t fight. Like he was that seven-year-old, his childhood bully threatening to beat him.“What the fuck’s going on with you?” the Sheriff held a shoebox in his hands.Slye worried about that shoebox, what did it hold? Why’d the Sheriff bark at him? Hadn’t Len. "Now as you know, most Dommes give their slaves something to always wear, as a sign. For example, it could be a leather collar. But for you, it will be something different. Something as a constant sign to you that it is a *woman* who owns you. A woman who controls you. A Goddess who you worship and adore with all your heart."I walked behind him so that he could not see me, and slipped the hood over his head. That would make it a little easier for me to do the next step in my plan. He was very. More

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