Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Lia immediately calmed as she stared into those lovely green eyes. “You, Master Beau,” she whispered.
“That’s right. You are mine, Lia. And why do you exist?”
“To serve, to love and to please you, Sir.”
He graced her with a beautiful smile that warmed her to her toes. “That’s right, slave girl. And it pleases me for you to let go of old patterns of behavior that no longer serve you.” As he stroked her cheek, she leaned into his touch. “I think you just need a little centering.”
He reached for the small cane he’d left on the nightstand the night before. “First, your mark.”
Lia happily draped herself over the side of the bed, instantly calming at the prospect of her morning mark. She welcomed the biting sting of the cane as it whipped over her bottom.
“Thank you, Sir,” she breathed.
“You’re welcome, slave.”
When she started to rise, he placed a hand on her back. “Stay as you are. Stop anticipating. Just be. A good, thorough flogging will help you reconnect with your inner submissive.”
Lia settled into herself with a deep sigh as the soft, stingy leather tresses caressed her body from shoulder to thigh. Each stroke helped to center her. All the edginess, doubt and anxiety was whipped away as she gave herself fully to her Master.
“Thank you, Master Beau. I definitely needed that.”
“I’m still not quite done with you,” he replied. He lifted her into his arms and settled himself on the bed so she lay on his lap, facedown. “You did so well that you’ve earned a reward.”
“Oh, yum,” Lia said, wriggling happily against Master Beau’s thighs. While she loved impact toys, there was nothing better than the skin-on-skin closeness of a good, hard spanking. With each stroke of his hard palm, she ascended to that sweet, graceful plane of pure submissive serenity that only Master Beau’s steadfast, dominant love could give her.
≈
Beau smiled as he took in the Duvall’s spacious backyard with its emerald-green, rolling lawns. The dogwood trees and azalea bushes were in full bloom, painting the landscape with delicate shades of white, pink and lavender. The mountains were bathed in a soft, hazy light. The distant ridges seemed to stretch endlessly, creating a breathtaking backdrop.
The guests were seated in white wooden chairs neatly arranged on either side of a center aisle. Their families took up the first six rows on either side of the aisle. Behind them sat Beau and Lia’s friends, both new and old, many from The Enclave.
Lia had acquiesced to her mother’s insistence on a traditional wedding that included bridesmaids and groomsmen, who stood now on either side of the wedding arch. Lucia, Lia’s matron of honor, stood among the younger bridesmaids, radiant and smiling. Beau’s groomsmen stood on the other side. He had chosen Mark as his best man. Hopefully, Mark had remembered the rings.
The arch was itself a work of art, wrapped in flowing fabric and draped with seasonal flowers and greenery. String lights and lanterns had been hung from the trees around the perimeter of the backyard. A spacious tent had been set up, elegantly decorated with sheer curtains and twinkle lights. Inside, long banquet tables were adorned with crisp white linens, fine china and sparkling glassware. Floral arrangements in vintage vases and candles in elegant holders served as centerpieces. A parquet dance floor had been set up beside the tent, a sound system placed nearby for the DJ.
The string quartet began to play as Lia appeared at the end of the aisle on the arm of her father. Beau caught his breath as she moved slowly toward him, her face wreathed in smiles.
She had let her hair grow over the months, and on that late afternoon in May it was swept up and away from her face in a loose twist, pink tendrils framing her delicate face. Miniature white roses had been woven into the updo, matching the white rose in Beau’s lapel.
His tuxedo hid the new tattoo on his shoulder—a heart-shaped knot of rope with the words Beau Loves Lia incorporated into the twists and turns of the design. It was admittedly corny but delighted them both, nonetheless.
His bride looked like an angel in her ivory gown. It draped gracefully over her lithe form, catching the light with a subtle sheen. The luxurious satin was thick enough to hide her nipple jewelry, as well as the rope harness she wore around her waist and between her legs in lieu of panties.
Dazed with happiness, Beau took his sub girl’s hand as she reached the wedding arch. As her father took his seat beside his beaming wife, Lia and Beau turned to face the officiant, who was none other than Anthony Gerace. It had turned out that, among the various hats Master Anthony wore, including successful businessman, BDSM club owner and slave trainer, he was also a justice of the peace.