“I see you like that idea.” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for her reply.
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbles, her hands going to the edges of her knees, where they are open for me.
“You want the crop tonight?”
A breathy “yeah” leaves her mouth.
“My dove wants to be bitten.”
“Nick…” She sighs as I make my way off the bed and over to the closet, where we have a drawer full of our new purchases. Crops, paddles, belts, cuffs, blindfolds, toys, and more.
I grab the crop and smack it against my palm once. “Take off the rest of your clothes. Spread your arms and legs, and don’t move. I’m going to work you hard tonight. Get every ounce of that experience with your mother out of your system and remind you who owns this body, mind, and heart. You got it?”
She scrambles to remove her shirt and bra. Like the good girl she is, she spreads out her legs and arms.
“Thank you, Nick.”
Music to my ears. Now it’s time to give my woman the release she needs. Help her let it all go so the only thing that remains in her mind is our love, life, and the future we’re building.
Chapter Twenty
Inverted Butterfly (Sanskrit: Badhakonasana)
The health benefits to this pose are endless. The most important being improved circulation, decompression of the spine, detoxing of the tissues, and promoting healing of all kind. Inverted positions are a great resource for the body, and yoga teachers everywhere will encourage some time upside down. In this position, you place the silk in a tight band at your hips. Stretch out the legs wide at first, and using your arms, walk down the silks until you’re upside down. When you’re comfortable, you can bend the knees and touch the soles of the feet, toes, or wrap the feet around the silks. Let hands fall or place them at heart center.
HONOR
The silks slip through my fingers as I curl my legs around them, my lower back cradled, and I flip upside down. The hammock holds my weight so I’m hanging high enough off the ground that I can easily touch and flatten my palms against my mat but not so low my head is at risk of touching. While hanging, I count to thirty before widening my legs to balance my weight and lift forward with my arms, gripping the silks and easing back up.
“Yes!” I smile and twirl in the hammock.
Behind me, I hear the door lock. Nick just finished teaching the last class for Sunday night, the one he likes to do right before heading to his parents’ for dinner.
“Great job, Dove. Now stand up.”
I do as he instructs, thinking he’s going to lead me into practicing a different aerial yoga pose. The silks sway behind me.
“Remove your pants.”
His comment knocks me off guard. “Nick?” I turn my head to where he’s standing behind me. He places his hands on my waist; they are warm and comforting.
“You heard me, Dove. Remove your pants and underwear.”
The way he said it was not a request but an order. I glance over at the door and window; both are closed, the drapes hiding us from view.
“We’re the only ones here. You know I’m the last one at Lotus House. Now strip.” He clucks his tongue.
I swallow the lump of nerves and ignore my racing heart. Nick slips away from me as I push my pants and panties down and kick them away. He goes over to the stereo and chooses a song. Feeling brave, I lift my arms and tug my strappy sports bra over my head. When he turns around, I’m gloriously naked.
The piano notes of the song start, and I inhale long and slow. Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” blasts through the speaker, taking my fear and soul with it.
“Fuck! Amen.” He stands there on the raised stage looking like a golden god or a bull ready to charge. His upper body is bare, and his lower half is only covered by a pair of black linen pants that are tenting in the front quite magnificently.
My breath stutters as I raise my hands above my head and grab the silks so I don’t fall over at the raw masculinity in front of me. The music he’s chosen weaves through my subconscious, speaking of church and bedrooms and worship. And that’s exactly the way Nick looks at me. With a worshiping stare.
While the first chorus hits, I compare my Nick to the words the songwriter uses. Each one so fitting. With my focus only on him, I watch Nick curl his fingers into his waistband and push his pants down. His long, thick cock stands at attention, looking larger than normal. A spot at the top glistens under the track lighting above, and I want so badly to lick it off. My mouth waters at the sight of his essence coming to the surface. He’s so virile, sexually powerful, a god in the bedroom.
“You’ve got me hard and hungry.” He strokes his length from root to tip and back down, masturbating with little care to how much I want to do that for him. “Put the silks to your lower back and repeat your position.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The music’s getting louder, and the graphic visual the artist presents permeates my mind like a dirty karma sutra yoga scene.
“Now, Dove. Don’t make me wait, or I’ll deny you lashes later.”
A spike of frustration jabs my chest. The dirty dog would deny me if it meant he got to be the one to hold it over my head like a pleasure-stealing ninja.
He continues stroking his length with one hand and gestures in a circle with one finger at the hammock behind me.
Leaning back, I shimmy the gossamer, soft fabric into position. Once I’ve got it tucked to my lower back, I use my hands to grip the fabric. Then, I lift my legs, open them in a wide V in the
