Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77016 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Emily’s submissive side is clear from the outset. She gives herself over willingly as I secure the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She shudders when I slide the blindfold over her eyes, plunging her into darkness.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, my voice low.
“Yes,” she answers immediately, the single syllable holding an ocean of submission.
I take a moment to appreciate the sight before me, Emily Loring, bound and blindfolded on my bed. This scene may not involve sex or breath play, but it has an inherent eroticism all its own. I twirl the flogger in my hand, brushing the soft tendrils against her bare skin. She gasps at the contact and shivers again.
“Remember your safe word?”
“Freedom.”
“And you’ll use it if anything is too much?”
“Yes,” she says again, her voice shaking slightly.
The sound of that shaky affirmation fuels my dominance. I draw back the flogger and bring it down lightly on her bare stomach. She jolts from the impact, a soft gasp escaping her lips. I repeat the action again and again, varying the intensity and location each time. The sharp snaps of the flogger against her skin merge with the rhythm of my beating heart.
Emily responds beautifully, her body arching and writhing in equal parts pleasure and pain. Sounds of satisfaction interspersed with occasional gasps as the flogger hits a particularly sensitive spot.
I whip her, and I whip her, and I whip her—
Until the flogger—seemingly of its own accord—stops in midair.
What are you doing?
The words spear themselves into my brain as if put there from an outside source.
If Skye were on the receiving end of this flogging, my cock would be straining for release.
With Emily? Despite her eagerness to please me? Her soft beauty? Her naked and willing body? Her perfect submission?
Nothing.
Even knowing I won’t be fucking her, I should at least be getting turned on.
But not even a little bit.
Damn it!
How is this possible? That I’m not enjoying something that used to give me such pleasure?
I walk to the wall and replace the flogger.
Then I loosen Emily’s bindings and gently massage her wrists.
“Sir?” she asks.
“Do not speak,” I command.
She nods solemnly.
“Rise,” I say.
She obeys.
“You will dress and leave my suite. Return to the club. You will not speak of this. Is that understood?”
She nods again, if possible even more solemnly than the last time.
“Emily, have you ever thought about the underlying reason that you enjoy breath play?”
She doesn’t speak.
“You may answer,” I tell her.
She swallows hard, her eyes darting briefly to the floor before meeting my gaze. “I don’t know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
“Perhaps you should,” I suggest, keeping my tone neutral.
She nods again, her lower lip trembling slightly. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re dismissed,” I say firmly.
Emily dresses and leaves without another word.
Once the door closes behind her, I lean back against the cool wall and let out a deep breath. The room is silent except for the faint echoes of jazz music from the club beyond.
The emptiness descends on me almost immediately, a dull ache gnawing at my insides. I rub a hand over my face, frustrated and confused.
I thought Emily would distract me, but it’s clear where my thoughts are. No one can replace Skye in my mind, no matter how submissive or eager they are to please. It’s not just about the physical act. It’s the connection, the trust, and the intimacy that goes beyond BDSM.
I stare at the empty bed and consider my reflection in a mirror across the room.
And for the first time, I don’t see a whole person.
Something is missing in my reflection.
And I know what it is.
Chapter Nineteen
I resist the temptation to call Skye, and I begin Monday morning at the private gym in my building. After an intense workout, I take a cold plunge with my trainer for some much-needed forced meditation.
I need my mind sharp and clear for the meeting today.
And damn, it’s grueling. For the last several years, we’ve had supply chain issues because of severe weather disruptions and political tensions in several key regions. Producers, local logistics partners, manufacturing units—all sporadic, all with unpredictable outcomes. Over the years, I’ve been able to work with some of the best minds in the industry to mitigate these threats, but they remain daunting, a constant source of worry.
Today’s meeting ends on a somber note as we pore over spreadsheets and graphs, each telling a more disillusioning story than the last. The pressure is palpable, but we come to an agreement with the supplier that will work, at least temporarily.
As my team disbands, I spend a moment alone in the silent boardroom. Thunder rumbles outside, a fitting soundtrack to my tumultuous thoughts.
I’ll need to stay here in New York for a few more days, so this time I give in to temptation.
I call Skye.