Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I felt it run down and into the shamefully exposed valley between my cheeks, framed by the degrading cut-out. I pressed my overheated forehead into the sheet and breathed.
“Oh,” Melissa said softly, from somewhere near Darlene’s shoulder.
Darlene said, “Camera two, push in. Tighter. And… cut.”
“So good, the way it frames her anus,” Melissa said. Her voice had dropped to something almost reverent. “Anne, Paul… incredible work.”
I felt the warmth continue its slow descent and I lay still and let the cameras have what they needed, because I had gone somewhere very far away and very peaceful and the scene could take whatever it required from my body while the rest of me remained at altitude, held there by the weight of a three-letter word I had just spoken.
Yes.
Then Master Paul’s hands found my wrists. The buckles of the cuffs released with tiny, jingling clinks, one and then the other, and the leather fell away and he chafed my wrists gently between his palms for a moment before he gathered me up.
He moved the bolster aside. He settled me against the white pillows and came down beside me and folded me into the warmth of his chest, still in his dinner jacket, the silk of his tie cool against my cheek. His arms went around me with the same authority his hands had always had, but also more tenderly.
I lay against him and felt my heart slow.
His lips pressed against my hair. Once. Then again, lower, at my temple.
“Alright?” he said softly.
I thought about the question. I performed something like an inventory of myself—the burning in my spanked bottom that would still be there tomorrow, the tenderness between my cheeks, the strange, deep, satisfied ache of muscles that had been asked to do something entirely new. The trickle of his warmth that I could still feel beneath the white lace. The cuff marks on my wrists, faint but present. The dried tracks of tears on my face.
I thought about the words he had said, and the word I had answered with, and the absolute, bone-deep certainty of both.
“Yes,” I said. My voice came out very steady. “Yes, Master. I’m alright. I’m fantastic.”
The End