Marian idly played with Harley’s hair as she looked down at her. “Do you like collars, then?” she asked.

Harley shrugged, not moving any more than she absolutely had to. “They’re helpful,” she said. “Psychologically, I mean. Knowing when the scene starts and ends is good, you know?”

“Oui, ma cherie. That makes sense to me. You want to know that the terrible things I call you are not what I think of you. You want to know when I am being your domme ...