As they entered the bedroom, George reached for the low-watt corner lamp they used as backlight. Maggie gave up. She put her hand atop his, stoppin... him, not looking at him. “…please?” she asked quietly, and he let her keep the room dark, the streetlamps outside below their window providing only the dimmest means by which to see. She took the two remaining bottles of Go-Glide from the dresser and held them up for him to choose: “They’re peach and margarita…” “Neither.” “Okay…” do me. “I understand the difference now dad. I swear I won’t act out in a way that would mean you needed to enslave me. I know you are serious about doing what is best for me and taking care of me, so I know you wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever was necessary to protect me. I recognize now that true love and slavery are very similar because of their profound depths. However, I know we have true love because you give yourself to me as much as you own me. In a Master/slave relationship, the slave girl. More

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