Ah yes, now you’re beginning to feel it. It’s so satisfying to see my best efforts coming to fruition. Undoubtedly one of the most gratifying rewards of my profession. It would warm my heart—if I had one.

— Jaye Frances

All cats are gray in the dark. And besides, her actions have less to do with her, and everything to do with you.

— Jaye Frances

Are there not times, Ridley, when you yourself wish only to hear the best in people – and not to be dragged downwards into the underworld we all regularly inhabit?

— Carla H. Krueger

As I rock down the hall I am flung from my path-snatched and grabbed. Before I can even utter a word, a large palm is covering my mouth. In less than five seconds I am inside a pitch black room, pushed face-first into a cold metal door, and I hear the lock snick into place. A heavyweight presses at my back. I didn’t even have time to panic. It was a well-timed attack. My mind flashes to another time and place, another hand on my mouth. I breathe though the panic that tries to overcome me. I allow my senses to put me at ease. He’s just softly breathing near my ear. His body is relaxed. The way he holds me feels more playful than threatening.“Let me guess… the Boss,” I say to the heavy weight at my back. My tone is a mix of amused annoyance.

— Erica Chilson

Because if I let myself feel the pain and the anger, I think it might kill me. Or I might kill someone else. I know it's wrong to feel that way about God and I know it's wrong to not feel anything. I hate it. Furthermore, I don't hate God. Furthermore, I hate not loving Him.

— Susan Beth Pfeffer

Cassie,” I growl at the young brunette. “How’s the sobriety?” Alex brought the submissive to us. She’s an addict that the councils at Transcend. I don’t want to be mean to her right now, especially since my best friend brought her here, but I’m furious and she’s an outlet. She can’t strike back.“Ninety days sober,” she says with pride.”That’s awesome,” I say enthusiastically and smile at her. “I love how we have to give fuck-ups a medal when they behave. I would think it should go to those who never fuck up. What’s the incentive to behave if all you have to do is get shit-faced and steal shit for years and then ninety days on the straight-and-narrow we have to pat you on the back for being a good girl,” I say in a saccharine voice. She gazes at me with huge, glassy brown eyes. I can see the tears forming. Cassie worries her full bottom lip between her teeth and tries not to blink.“But hey, what do I know. It just seems like the system is flawed. The good little boys and girls just don’t get the recognition that a crack-whore thief gets,” I shrug. Cassie blinks and the surface of her tears breaks, and they finally slide down her cheeks in shame.“But go you!” I shout sarcastically. I give her a thumbs up and walk down the hall.“Cold… that was just cold, dude,” Alex chuckles at me. That was so bad that I have to laugh, or I’d puke. I shake my head as my belly contracts from laughter.“Score on my newest shatter?” I ask my partner in crime. If I didn’t have him I’d scream. I’ll owe Master Marcus forever. He stripped me bare until Font was naked in the impact room at Brownstone I trained in. Alex walked in and shook my hand-instant best friend.“Ah…” He taps his chin in thought and the bastard tucks his black hair behind his ear. I growl at him because he did it on purpose. He knows how much I miss the feel of my hair swinging at my jawline. Alex arches a perfect brow above his aqua eye and smirks. He runs his hands through his hair and groans in pleasure.“8.5. It was a decent attempt, but you pulled your hit. You’re too soft. I bet you were scared you’d make her relapse.”“Yeah,” I say bashfully.“Not happening, bud. I’m just that fucking good. Furthermore, I better go do some damage control. Don’t hurt any more subs. Pick on the big bastards. They may bite back, but their egos are delicate.

— Erica Chilson

Don’t mock my suggestions, Ridley – one day in the near future, they might just save your life.” Maxwell D. Kalist.

— Carla H. Krueger

Each day of the week, Kalist indulges himself in a different, secret ritual. On Mondays, he wears cologne. On Tuesdays, he eats meat for lunch. On Wednesdays, he places a bet after work. On Thursdays, he smokes one cigarette (but claims he’s not a smoker). On Fridays, he treats himself to his favorite pastime: horse practice – he grew up with horses and likes to try and emulate their distinctive whinnies, snorts, neighs, snuffles, sighs, grunts, fluttering nostrils, the occasional aggressive outburst and the especially beautiful nicker of a mare to her foal. And, on Saturdays, lest we forget, Maxwell D. Kalist drinks wine from a chalice.

— Carla H. Krueger

Either I’ve got a wart on my nose they find curious, or I’ve grown a tail, Alfie Mean muttered to himself. Just then he thought. I’d better get a move on, got work to do. He hurried across to some stairs, heading down deeper into station, then followed the signs to the pod station.

— R.W. Rivers

Everyone should feel alive. Should smash up against passion and danger, against temptation and anticipation. You have to push the envelope sometimes, because otherwise how do you know what your limits really are?

— J. Kenner