[Donna]

I walk into the dimly lit private room of my London dungeon. The air smells of leather and fear. On the floor, naked, wrists cuffed behind his back, kneels a trembling white boy. Soft body, unmarked skin, wide eyes already wet. I circle him slowly, the click of my heels the only sound.Look at you, I sneer. “Pale little slut. Built for nothing but to be used and degraded.My boot lifts and rests on his face, grinding his cheek into the cold concrete. He whimpers. I spit on his forehead and watch it slide down

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