I stood still in the center of his red room, arms at my sides, chest bare and straining, the lace panties still clinging to my hips like a secret I hadn’t decided whether to keep.The walls glowed like flame, low red lighting casting shadows that slithered along the floor like silent witnesses. Every breath I took smelled of worn leather, clean sweat, and something ancient—like desire that had lived here long before I had.“You say you want to submit,” his voice came from behind me, low and composed like a sermon. “But you still hesitate. You still try to control. That ends tonight.”His footsteps were soft, measured, each one louder than the last inside the wild beat of my chest. He guided me forward—fingers grazing my spine—and sat on the edge of a low padded bench. His legs parted when he patted his thigh once.“Over my lap. Now.”My heart tried to crawl up my throat, but my body moved anyway. I eased myself over his lap slowly, breath hitching as my cheek tou
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