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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.
