I wear her ring because our betrothal shields the ward and our names from ruin. Unity's commands are the only permanence I trust.
Every setback brings the same ritual. She orders me to kneel and bare myself in the archive. I accept her measured discipline across the table or serve her with my mouth until the tension is gone.
Her control keeps me from slipping into isolation. I could end the arrangement with one word. I never speak it.
Scorching Regency femdom erotica featuring strict obedience, spanking discipline, and ritual service. For readers who crave commanding countesses and the women who yield to them.
