Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 301(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Dylan’s weight pressed me into the mattress as he took me in his arms and turned me, so that when he had lain down completely he could wrap my little body up in his big one, the two still connected in that shameful but terribly intimate way. I felt utterly spent, my body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. Slowly, gently, Dylan withdrew from me, leaving me feeling strangely empty.
“You did so well, sweetheart,” Dylan murmured, pressing soft kisses along my shoulder blade. “I’m proud of you.”
His praise washed over me like a soothing balm. I felt myself beginning to float, drifting in a fog of contentment and relief. The sharp edges of shame and fear that had defined my world just hours ago seemed to soften and blur.
Dylan gathered me even deeper into his arms, cradling me against his broad chest. I turned my face so that I could nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. My body felt heavy and languid, as if I were sinking into a warm bath.
“How do you feel?” Dylan asked softly, his fingers combing through my tangled hair.
I considered the question, taking stock of my body. My bottom throbbed, as if refusing to let me forget my punishment and subsequent claiming. But the pain felt different now—less sharp, more… fulfilling, somehow. Like a badge of honor. My newly opened holes ached pleasantly, stretched and used in ways I never could have imagined before coming to Cato.
“Different,” I finally whispered. “Like… like I’m not quite the same person I was this morning.”
Dylan hummed in understanding. “You’re not,” he agreed. “You’ve… I don’t know… it sounds kind of over the top, I guess, but I think you’ve taken an important step in your journey, Andrea. You’re becoming the woman you were always meant to be.”
His words resonated deep within me. I thought back to the girl I had been just weeks ago—defiant, confused, desperately clinging to notions of independence that no longer fit. That person seemed like a faraway stranger.
As we lay tangled together, our breathing slowly synchronizing, that shift seemed to grow even more profound. The world seemed clearer to me somehow, as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. My place in this new life, my role as Dylan’s submissive partner, just felt… right.
Dylan’s hands roamed over my body, his touch soothing and possessive. He seemed to be mapping every inch of me with his gentle touch, as if he wanted to commit me to memory. I melted into his caresses, reveling in the feeling of being cherished and owned.
“You’re mine now,” Dylan murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Completely and utterly mine.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, the words feeling like a vow. “Yours.”
CHAPTER 25
Andrea
We lay in comfortable silence for a long while, Dylan’s steady heartbeat lulling me into a state of peaceful contentment. The soreness in my bottom and between my legs served to keep me aware of my new status, but I found myself embracing the discomfort. It grounded me, keeping me present in this moment of transformation.
As the afterglow of our lovemaking began to fade, I found myself growing shy again in Dylan’s arms. The enormity of everything that had happened—my punishment, my first defloration and then my second, forbidden one—crashed over me anew. I burrowed deeper into Dylan’s embrace, seeking comfort and reassurance.
Dylan seemed to sense my need. His arms tightened around me, one hand stroking soothing circles on my back. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
We lay like that for a long while, our breathing low and even. Already familiar scents of my bedroom—the lavender sachet Greta had put in my dresser drawer and the faint smell of furniture polish—mixed with the naughty, musky aroma of sex.
I found my thoughts drifting to happier, simpler times. Things I might be able to share with my accepted suitor. The image of Gene Kelly splashing through puddles, singing at the top of his lungs, floated through my mind.
Before I could second-guess myself, I tilted my head to look up at Dylan. “Um, sir?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Dylan’s voice was warm and encouraging.
I bit my lip, suddenly feeling foolish. But Dylan’s gentle smile gave me the courage to continue. “I was wondering… would you maybe want to watch Singin’ in the Rain with me?”
Dylan’s chuckle rumbled into my upper body. “I’d love to, Andrea. You can tell me how basic the best song is.”
I giggled, squirming against him as if trying to get out of his arms. To my astonishment, even after everything he had done, a wayward spark of arousal shot from my sore butt straight to my pussy. “I already told you you’re right,” I protested. “But… you know… I want you to appreciate ‘Good Morning’ too!”
Dylan chuckled again. He turned me around and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Sure, sweetheart. I’m here for that.”