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"I understand myself no longer, but I have a confession to make. You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood. I am beginning to like the things you speak of. The enthusiasm with which you speak of a Pompadour, a Catherine, of all those other selfish, frivolous, cruel women has carried me away and taken possession of my soul. It tempts, it incites me to become like those women who for all their vileness were slavishly worshipped during their own lifetimes and who still exert a miraculous power from the grave. Ah, you will end by making me a despot in miniature, a domestic Pompadour!"

"I am a frivolous woman, it is dangerous to put yourself completely in my power; you will end by really becoming my plaything. What makes you sure I will not abuse this mad love of yours?"

It was an incredibly erotic experience for us both. John kept growing more excited with each passage and the more excited I got, the harder I would whip him. The more excited he became, the more he could take from me. We have a safe word安全词 — a word that means stop but John went deep into subspace and did not use his word. I continued to whip him as I read more passages.

She went to the fireplace, took the whip from the mantelpiece and then, looking at me with a meaningful smile, made it whistle in the air; then, slowly, she rolled up the sleeve of her jacket.

"Marvellous woman!" I cried.