A Play in Four Acts The Crucible:

Unless you want to turn around and run. Do you?" "N-no… " "Then we'll stay. Until we finish our business. You owe me an apology, don't you? Well, let's have it." "Oh. Of course, darling. I'm sorry about-" "Not like that. Get down on your knees." "But-but my gown. It's white. It-" "White? It won't be that way long. Kneel, you bitch!" "Please… can't we just go-" She lunged, one hand snaking out to seize my hair. Fingers gripped and twisted savagely, driving me down, down; my knees buckled and struck the concrete. She released me-but only to slap my face, once, twice, and I slumped to the filth and lay there sprawled, whimpering, dazed, aware that I couldn't fight her, aware of the excitement bubbling in my blood, aware of the ominous shadows, the sinister setting, a dungeon, yes, a hellish dungeon; oh, it was almost like those games we used to play, the acting games (was it a thousand years ago?), only now my white dress was real and my cheeks hurt and my chic hairdo had come undone and was fanning out over the grimy floor and "crawl, slave!" She snapped her fingers. "Here. To me." I raised my head ...»