Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Simply being held by him makes my breathing grow erratic and my cheeks flush hotter. My skin is sensitive to every touch as heat builds between my thighs. My breasts feel heavy, and a warm blush spreads across my naked skin.
It now seems so long, long ago that I was taught to be ashamed of my nakedness. Now, as my body welcomes his every touch, an inner flame of need building inside me, I release every self-doubt I ever had.
I am beautiful.
I am strong.
I am loved.
I am unashamed.
The room is filled with a soft, ambient glow as I kneel on the plush carpet. I feel so vulnerable yet alive under the intensity of his gaze.
The air crackles between us when he reaches for my chin and tilts my gaze upward. Another gentle yet clear command.
Look at me.
I obey.
“You’re so beautiful, mi amore,” he murmurs, the deep timbre of his voice filling the vacant room.
“Thank you.” I reach my hand tentatively toward his cheek, hovering, a silent request to touch him. When he nods, I rest my hand on the stubble of his jaw. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Still holding my chin in his hand, he says something that surprises me. “Here in this sanctuary, I want you to find your healing, Eden.”
And I know the “sanctuary” he means isn’t any place I can find in a club.
No—it’s here, basking in the strength of my full submission and the power of his love for me.
My sanctuary is him.
I feel the weight of his words. I let them sink deep into my mind and heart, into my very soul. Here, in our sanctuary, where there’s no judgment or criticism, I’m cherished and accepted. Loved.
“Your submission to me is a gift I cherish.”
I hold his hand and guide his fingers to my mouth. I kiss them, one by one.
When he stands, I notice he holds a silky blindfold in his right hand.
“Sensory deprivation can heighten the experience. Are you ready?”
I am so ready.
I nod and close my eyes.
His voice is a whisper against my ear as he guides me toward deeper surrender.
“Feel my touch. Let go of anything that holds you back. If an intrusive thought comes into your mind, release it.”
Release.
I breathe in and quiet my thoughts.
Release.
Like a mantra, step by step, breath by breath… I let go.
As he traces his fingers along my spine, my body responds to his worshipful touch. I breathe him in when his lips touch mine. I exhale when he runs his body down the length of my naked form, painting heat as he moves. Without being able to see, my other senses awaken.
I imagine our hearts beat in harmony, a silent connection. I imagine my breaths become his. I imagine my desire fuels his.
And when his mouth clasps over the hardened bud of my nipple, I arch my back with a soft moan as pressure builds between my legs.
I reach my hands out to him, when he stops me with a firm voice. “Keep your hands in your lap, Eden. Ah ah. Is that a pout? I’ll have to punish you if you pout.”
I stifle a muted mew as the pressure builds and builds at the corrective sound of his voice.
He might be the one giving the commands, but I’m the one who decides how this plays out.
I like Sergio’s discipline.
I love knowing he won’t hurt me. Knowing that I’m here of my own free will, that any “punishment” or discipline he metes out is deeply embedded in the erotic fusion between us. It’s cathartic.
Healing.
“And if I want your discipline?”
Even the sound of his chuckle makes me shiver with need.
“Then disobey me. Go on, then.”
There’s a difference between actual defiance and what we’re doing now—an almost teasing, mutual acceptance of the roles we play.
Carefully, thoughtfully…I take my hands off my legs and reach for him.
“Ah ah,” he scolds. “Didn’t I warn you?”
Still blindfolded, I can’t see what he does, but I’m over his lap in a matter of seconds, my hair flying all around us. I yelp at the first smack of his palm. He touches me between my legs before the second stroke, and when he slams his palm across my ass a third time, I’m moaning.
The pain of the spanking he gives me quickly melds into arousal, molten lava between my legs and racing through my veins. He brings his palm down, hard and heavy, driving my need for him so high I’m afraid I’m going to lose control right here, right now, over his lap.
When he grabs the back of my neck to hold me in place, I stifle a moan. With anyone else, I’d be afraid, but with him——I’m alive.
When he takes off the blindfold, I stare into the depths of his eyes. With anyone else, I’d want to hide, but with him—I want nothing more than to see and be seen.