BDSM

Florence appréhende les retrouvailles soulignant les dix ans de la fin de son passage au collège privé. C’est que Pierre Saint-Georges y sera. Désormais champion mondial d’arts martiaux mixtes, Pierre sera certainement la vedette de cette soirée, qui se déroulera dans la luxueuse résidence d’un ancien élève du collège. Si la présence de cet homme au corps d’Apollon trouble autant Florence, c’est qu’avant de se perdre de vue une décennie plus tôt, tous deux étaient amoureux l’un de l’autre. Un amour inavoué, inassouvi.

I planned to attend a fun yearly Halloween party with my boyfriend and best friend. I wore the costume that he asked me to wear. And when I ran into my boyfriend in the bathroom, he fucked me into oblivion. Only, it wasn’t him. It was my stalker. A man from my past determined to make me pay.

I’m used to demons and voodoo. What I was not prepared for was my life turning into a fairytale, complete with the Wicked Step Mother. My awful step mother is the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. She’s always hated me for being a Succubus. It just got a hundred times worse after my father died mysteriously. I inherited the family company, but I can’t remove her as VP because she’s made the entire board into her zombies.

The moment he lays his eyes on her, there's no doubt about it… She will be his. Women like me don’t get happily ever afters. We’re chained. Kept women. There to fulfill men’s needs and nothing more. But I’m okay with that. I have a roof over my head. There are rules in place to keep me safe. As long as I follow directions, I get food in my belly, a warm, comfortable bed to sleep on, and an entire room to finally call my own. But then he steps into the room I’m in for the night. The mafia don.

Abandoned by their Dutch partner after giving up their home and their job to follow him to the Netherlands, humanities scholar Seasonal finds themself single in a strange place for the first time in a decade. Dipping into the rabbit hole of digital eroticism, Seasonal soon meets László, a male sub who volleys back their cerebral sexts and is seeking a dominant guide. His dating-app profile—a photo of Foucault and the ingenuous greeting “Hello, World?”—thinly veils his desire to be annihilated.