swings open a tall pine door. White. Everything is white in the dimly lit room, and my pupils have to adjust to take it all in. The bed is the largest object and the first to meet my eyes. It’s a gigantic platform bed and it juts out from the right wall. White leather headboard, a white duvet and right then I see the other wall. Oh, God! Completely imposing . And the swing . … I’m barely aware that he’s released my hand as my feet lead me deeper into the cavernous space. Mikkel lights a fat candle set within a glass hurricane on the table by the bed. He’s silently watching me, tracking my movements, allowing me to explore.
On my left, I pass by an ‘S’ shaped leather chair that rests close to a long set of narrow, floor to ceiling windows. My boots click against the wide-planked light birch floor. I want to get a closer look at this wall. Smooth white slats of painted wood host an array of daunting yet fascinating objects, each neatly hanging by individual silver hooks. My eyes fly back and forth: a white leather coiled bullwhip, a beautifully braided cat ’o nine tails, silver handcuffs, a variety of clamps, different-sized light-colored wood paddles, on and on. Like an intriguing painting, the wall holds my rapt attention. I’ve browsed online BDSM shops in the past, curious about the lifestyle, allowing my imagination to run wild with the thought of just one of these hedonistic items being used on my body, but I’m unprepared to see so many of them up close and personal. I take in each and every object, knowing that I should be frightened, but deep inside me, I feel my body respond with need and longing. I desperately want him to use these on me. Oh God, yes, those skilled hands of his, punishing me, bending me to his will ….
Slight movement in the heavily shadowed far left corner catches my eye. Hanging from four sturdy silver chains is a white leather swing. I walk closer. It looks custom-made. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. The wide seat and backrest are made of woven strips of supple leather and a shiver runs up my spine as I take in the leather loops that hang off of the front chains. It’s obviously where my legs would go to hold them open for him.
I turn around to face him. My heart is pounding wildly in anticipation as he watches me, an unfathomable expression on his shadowed face. Standing several feet away, he crosses his brawny arms over his chest and demands, “Take your clothes off for me.”
I breathe deeply through my nose, then I answer him, “All right.” Damn! Why did my voice tremble so badly?
I reach for the tie on my dress and my shaky fingers freeze as I hear a low, very displeased, “All right?”
Shit! “A-all right Master.” It wasn’t hard to choose the term. It suits him—perfectly, actually. Sir reminds me of a knighted person and my liege was just too formal and weird. Yes, Master is both hot and intense. I actually feel sexy saying it to him. I yearn to submit as much as he desires to dominate me.
His eyes burn with pleasure as he nods in approval. I pull the tie of the bow on my hip and the blue fabric flutters open. Reaching in, I let the last tie go and my dress gapes open.
“Slide it off, slowly.”
I shiver in delight at his richly accented voice. It rolls through me when he speaks. I reach up to my shoulders, never breaking eye contact, and shrug the dress off, hearing it whoosh down to the floor.
His burning eyes drink me in from head to toe. I’ve worn my best set of Agent Provocateur lingerie for him tonight. I hope he enjoys the black cutwork bra and panties. I purchased them on High Street back in London, secretly wishing that one day I would cross paths with a dominant man who would fully appreciate them ….
His voice is strained and thick as he says, “Beautiful, Elora. Christ, woman, you could give a man a stroke in that gear. Unreal, baby. Now your boots.”
His encouraging words fire up my confidence. I toss my hair to
On my left, I pass by an ‘S’ shaped leather chair that rests close to a long set of narrow, floor to ceiling windows. My boots click against the wide-planked light birch floor. I want to get a closer look at this wall. Smooth white slats of painted wood host an array of daunting yet fascinating objects, each neatly hanging by individual silver hooks. My eyes fly back and forth: a white leather coiled bullwhip, a beautifully braided cat ’o nine tails, silver handcuffs, a variety of clamps, different-sized light-colored wood paddles, on and on. Like an intriguing painting, the wall holds my rapt attention. I’ve browsed online BDSM shops in the past, curious about the lifestyle, allowing my imagination to run wild with the thought of just one of these hedonistic items being used on my body, but I’m unprepared to see so many of them up close and personal. I take in each and every object, knowing that I should be frightened, but deep inside me, I feel my body respond with need and longing. I desperately want him to use these on me. Oh God, yes, those skilled hands of his, punishing me, bending me to his will ….
Slight movement in the heavily shadowed far left corner catches my eye. Hanging from four sturdy silver chains is a white leather swing. I walk closer. It looks custom-made. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. The wide seat and backrest are made of woven strips of supple leather and a shiver runs up my spine as I take in the leather loops that hang off of the front chains. It’s obviously where my legs would go to hold them open for him.
I turn around to face him. My heart is pounding wildly in anticipation as he watches me, an unfathomable expression on his shadowed face. Standing several feet away, he crosses his brawny arms over his chest and demands, “Take your clothes off for me.”
I breathe deeply through my nose, then I answer him, “All right.” Damn! Why did my voice tremble so badly?
I reach for the tie on my dress and my shaky fingers freeze as I hear a low, very displeased, “All right?”
Shit! “A-all right Master.” It wasn’t hard to choose the term. It suits him—perfectly, actually. Sir reminds me of a knighted person and my liege was just too formal and weird. Yes, Master is both hot and intense. I actually feel sexy saying it to him. I yearn to submit as much as he desires to dominate me.
His eyes burn with pleasure as he nods in approval. I pull the tie of the bow on my hip and the blue fabric flutters open. Reaching in, I let the last tie go and my dress gapes open.
“Slide it off, slowly.”
I shiver in delight at his richly accented voice. It rolls through me when he speaks. I reach up to my shoulders, never breaking eye contact, and shrug the dress off, hearing it whoosh down to the floor.
His burning eyes drink me in from head to toe. I’ve worn my best set of Agent Provocateur lingerie for him tonight. I hope he enjoys the black cutwork bra and panties. I purchased them on High Street back in London, secretly wishing that one day I would cross paths with a dominant man who would fully appreciate them ….
His voice is strained and thick as he says, “Beautiful, Elora. Christ, woman, you could give a man a stroke in that gear. Unreal, baby. Now your boots.”
His encouraging words fire up my confidence. I toss my hair to
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