The woman I’ve dreamed about for ten long years is sitting at my kitchen table wearing nothing but my t-shirt, shifting gingerly in the hard wooden chair as she reads my case file because her ass is red from my belt, and all I can think about is the sweet taste of her, the way she responds to my touch like she was made for me, and the way her eyes shift from a dark golden green to amber in the moment that she gives herself over to me. And I’m a fucking bastard because I know I’m going to send her home tomorrow and never speak to her again. I should have told her no when she asked me to punish her. I could have stopped after I used my belt on her, but there’s no way I was giving her that kind of pain without the counterbalance of indescribable pleasure that can go with it. Yin and yang. Dominance and submission. Pleasure and pain. The two merge together to create a wholeness that completes both of us like nothing else can. And to be honest, playing with her like this—the intense power play that’s so evident between us—is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.
