you to a new place.”
Still giddy from the intense experience she’d just gone through, she giggled. “That you did.” She gazed up, looked deep into his eyes. “Will you let me do it again sometime?”
“Whenever you wish.” He showed her the whip he’d used on her. It looked pretty darn scary, with the wood handle, braided wrist strap, and narrow, knotted tails. She put it into her bag, along with the restraints and blindfold, thanked him again, and left.
She had found peace.
Her mind was still.
Her body was still.
Her soul was still.
It was heaven.
9
W ynne thought about the dungeon all week. She had dreams of Doms, shirtless, their heavily muscled shoulders and chests oiled, thickly corded limbs flexing, muscles bulging, as they climbed over her on hands and knees. It was like watching Playgirl movies all night long. She awoke feeling pleasantly tense, her pussy thrumming, her blood simmering.
She was changing; she felt it. Like a caterpillar closed in its protective cocoon. Instead of literal body parts shedding, changing, old beliefs and fears were being replaced by new ones.
She couldn’t wait to go back to Twilight, to see Rolf, Zane, and, more than anyone else, Dierk. She could talk of nothing else with Kristy. She asked lots of questions and listened, sitting on the proverbial edge of her seat, absorbing every word her friend told her. Kristy talked about her kit, how to care for each item properly. She told her about the basic rules of bondage and submission, sadomasochism, as well as a little of the history of the BDSM culture. The difference between a 24/7 Master-slave relationship and casual BDSM playing. By the time Friday night had arrived, she comprehended a lot more about the world she had wandered into. And she also had a better understanding of herself and what she was looking for at Twilight.
This wasn’t about understanding John anymore; it was about understanding Wynne . She still had a lot of insight to gain.
Once again, she groomed herself from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and she borrowed a sexy fetish outfit from Kristy. This week, she went with a short black latex skirt and black corset. The borrowed matching shoes had five-inch heels and were überchallenging to walk in.
Unlike last time, she didn’t bother with underwear.
Her heart pounded as she drove to the dungeon. Her nerves pricked. Her hands trembled.
What would happen tonight?
She was scheduled to have a session with Rolf—assuming no other Doms had requested a session with her. Would he bring her to a bone-melting climax again? How many times and how? Or would he tie her up and paddle her with her new whip? Those little strips of knotted goatskin did wonderful things to her. The tails’ nips were like sexy little love bites.
She’d never experienced anything like that before.
Of course, her thoughts also turned to Dierk. She hadn’t seen him in a while and still her feelings about him hadn’t faded. She was just as fascinated with him as she’d been the very first time she’d seen him, even though she was 95 percent positive he didn’t feel the same thing for her. She’d been there before—on the painful side of a one-sided crush—so that was nothing new.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot outside of Twilight, she was edgy and excited, nervous and hopeful all at the same time. One big bundle of tight nerves and tense muscle, wrapped in black latex.
She clacked into the building, teetering dangerously on those ridiculous high heels, and signed in at the front desk. The receptionist told her Rolf would meet her out in the lobby, so she did her best to pull the diminutive skirt down over her butt, took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, and waited.
“Wynne.”
That sounded like Rolf, but it didn’t. She turned to glance over her shoulder.
Dierk.
Her insides did a little happy dance. She beamed at him.
He frowned.
The happy dance came to an abrupt halt.
“What are
Still giddy from the intense experience she’d just gone through, she giggled. “That you did.” She gazed up, looked deep into his eyes. “Will you let me do it again sometime?”
“Whenever you wish.” He showed her the whip he’d used on her. It looked pretty darn scary, with the wood handle, braided wrist strap, and narrow, knotted tails. She put it into her bag, along with the restraints and blindfold, thanked him again, and left.
She had found peace.
Her mind was still.
Her body was still.
Her soul was still.
It was heaven.
9
W ynne thought about the dungeon all week. She had dreams of Doms, shirtless, their heavily muscled shoulders and chests oiled, thickly corded limbs flexing, muscles bulging, as they climbed over her on hands and knees. It was like watching Playgirl movies all night long. She awoke feeling pleasantly tense, her pussy thrumming, her blood simmering.
She was changing; she felt it. Like a caterpillar closed in its protective cocoon. Instead of literal body parts shedding, changing, old beliefs and fears were being replaced by new ones.
She couldn’t wait to go back to Twilight, to see Rolf, Zane, and, more than anyone else, Dierk. She could talk of nothing else with Kristy. She asked lots of questions and listened, sitting on the proverbial edge of her seat, absorbing every word her friend told her. Kristy talked about her kit, how to care for each item properly. She told her about the basic rules of bondage and submission, sadomasochism, as well as a little of the history of the BDSM culture. The difference between a 24/7 Master-slave relationship and casual BDSM playing. By the time Friday night had arrived, she comprehended a lot more about the world she had wandered into. And she also had a better understanding of herself and what she was looking for at Twilight.
This wasn’t about understanding John anymore; it was about understanding Wynne . She still had a lot of insight to gain.
Once again, she groomed herself from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and she borrowed a sexy fetish outfit from Kristy. This week, she went with a short black latex skirt and black corset. The borrowed matching shoes had five-inch heels and were überchallenging to walk in.
Unlike last time, she didn’t bother with underwear.
Her heart pounded as she drove to the dungeon. Her nerves pricked. Her hands trembled.
What would happen tonight?
She was scheduled to have a session with Rolf—assuming no other Doms had requested a session with her. Would he bring her to a bone-melting climax again? How many times and how? Or would he tie her up and paddle her with her new whip? Those little strips of knotted goatskin did wonderful things to her. The tails’ nips were like sexy little love bites.
She’d never experienced anything like that before.
Of course, her thoughts also turned to Dierk. She hadn’t seen him in a while and still her feelings about him hadn’t faded. She was just as fascinated with him as she’d been the very first time she’d seen him, even though she was 95 percent positive he didn’t feel the same thing for her. She’d been there before—on the painful side of a one-sided crush—so that was nothing new.
By the time she pulled into the parking lot outside of Twilight, she was edgy and excited, nervous and hopeful all at the same time. One big bundle of tight nerves and tense muscle, wrapped in black latex.
She clacked into the building, teetering dangerously on those ridiculous high heels, and signed in at the front desk. The receptionist told her Rolf would meet her out in the lobby, so she did her best to pull the diminutive skirt down over her butt, took a seat in one of the nearby chairs, and waited.
“Wynne.”
That sounded like Rolf, but it didn’t. She turned to glance over her shoulder.
Dierk.
Her insides did a little happy dance. She beamed at him.
He frowned.
The happy dance came to an abrupt halt.
“What are
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