His to Train: Flirting with Boundaries (Submissive Training, Discipline, Bondage, S&M Play)
Romance, Erotica
| Author: | Jessica Whitethread | ISBN: | 9781311929983 |
| Publisher: | Jessica Whitethread | Publication: | September 6, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Jessica Whitethread |
| ISBN: | 9781311929983 |
| Publisher: | Jessica Whitethread |
| Publication: | September 6, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
It's been three days since Jennifer arrived at the master's house, but when looking back on them she remembers only a whirlwind of new experiences that overwhelm any sense of time. In only that short period it has fulfilled all the lofty hopes that brought her here, but it has awakened new deeper, secret hopes as well. In quiet moments, she even dares to think that it is special to the master, too, even as experienced and worldly as he is. As together they delve ever deeper into the submissive dominant relationship and push at the boundaries of what she thought herself capable of and comfortable with, the promises that they would not become too attached begin to erode. In the heat of the moment – and the moments get very hot indeed – who can say what will be said and what plans may be changed to address these unexpected feelings?
Excerpt:
He had lowered himself so that he was sitting on my thighs, his skin against mine. His hand rested on my hip as he continued to hold my face towards his with his other hand. It was a symbolic gesture. I could never have looked away now. He was praising me for things I had never known about myself, but now that he had said them and said that he liked them, I couldn't bear the thought of being any other way. So I looked at him, submissive and patient for him to do what he clearly wanted to so badly.
He produced a match from his pocket, struck it, and lit the candle before setting it aside on the floor. The clean scent of its smoke infused the air.
"Do you trust me, Jennifer?" he asked.
"Yes, master."
"Good," he said. "That's good. Because this isn't something I would do with just anyone."
"I trust you, Master," I repeated. But even so, my chest felt tight.
He laid a hand on my on the pale, sensitive skin of my stomach. He could feel my slight trembling. He could see the trepidation that, in spite of my need to please and be brave and be open-minded, I could not shut out entirely.
"If it becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me," he said. "I want you to say so, alright? I want you to say 'Awry.'"
"Awry," I repeated.
"This is a safe room," he said, "where two people who trust each other can explore things that they would not do with other people."
I watched him, still at a complete loss for what was about to happen. I pulled lightly at my wrists. The bondage I understood. The bondage I liked. But it also made what was coming all the more terrifying, whatever it was. But I was grateful that he was speaking this way with me. It reminded me why I was not, in my conscious mind, afraid.
It's been three days since Jennifer arrived at the master's house, but when looking back on them she remembers only a whirlwind of new experiences that overwhelm any sense of time. In only that short period it has fulfilled all the lofty hopes that brought her here, but it has awakened new deeper, secret hopes as well. In quiet moments, she even dares to think that it is special to the master, too, even as experienced and worldly as he is. As together they delve ever deeper into the submissive dominant relationship and push at the boundaries of what she thought herself capable of and comfortable with, the promises that they would not become too attached begin to erode. In the heat of the moment – and the moments get very hot indeed – who can say what will be said and what plans may be changed to address these unexpected feelings?
Excerpt:
He had lowered himself so that he was sitting on my thighs, his skin against mine. His hand rested on my hip as he continued to hold my face towards his with his other hand. It was a symbolic gesture. I could never have looked away now. He was praising me for things I had never known about myself, but now that he had said them and said that he liked them, I couldn't bear the thought of being any other way. So I looked at him, submissive and patient for him to do what he clearly wanted to so badly.
He produced a match from his pocket, struck it, and lit the candle before setting it aside on the floor. The clean scent of its smoke infused the air.
"Do you trust me, Jennifer?" he asked.
"Yes, master."
"Good," he said. "That's good. Because this isn't something I would do with just anyone."
"I trust you, Master," I repeated. But even so, my chest felt tight.
He laid a hand on my on the pale, sensitive skin of my stomach. He could feel my slight trembling. He could see the trepidation that, in spite of my need to please and be brave and be open-minded, I could not shut out entirely.
"If it becomes too much for you, I want you to tell me," he said. "I want you to say so, alright? I want you to say 'Awry.'"
"Awry," I repeated.
"This is a safe room," he said, "where two people who trust each other can explore things that they would not do with other people."
I watched him, still at a complete loss for what was about to happen. I pulled lightly at my wrists. The bondage I understood. The bondage I liked. But it also made what was coming all the more terrifying, whatever it was. But I was grateful that he was speaking this way with me. It reminded me why I was not, in my conscious mind, afraid.
