Cherished by Him
A kinky couple chart their own map of erotic pleasure.
Her future - an uncharted map of erotic pleasure.
His passion - to have her be his submissive all day, every day.
Can the beautiful dynamic survive one final revelation? More
Gemma is seeking to fulfil her dream career—to own an art gallery. Aiding her in her endeavours is her Dominant, Jason, who continues to control her with his rules, shaping both her submission and their mutual desire for erotic kink.
While she struggles to accept her extraordinary marriage, her billionaire husband must deal with troublesome siblings and problems at work.
Just as she achieves her ambitions, a forgotten man reappears. Gemma is about to discover the truth behind the memories haunting her.
Completing the Sublime Trust trilogy
Excerpt:Rules. When I first met Jason, we had stated limits for play and a basic set of protocols for my submission to him. Those protocols, which were mainly behavioural ones for me to follow, had been designed for his dungeon lair, where we practised our kinky ways.
Nearly five years on, Jason had revised those rubrics. I noted they had increased in number and complexity, although I didn’t think Jason considered them complicated compared to his legal workplace jargon. Seeing those extra layers of convolution kicked in my adrenaline, making me doubt my abilities.
He’d clarified some rules and, in other places, tightened up the wording to prevent misinterpretation. A few were new and one in particular gave me cause for concern. I scribbled my questions alongside Jason’s—not quite as neatly. Putting down my pen, I gathered up the papers and went in search of my husband.
I peered into Jason’s study. He was sat his desk, his fingers thrumming on the laptop keys. I waited by the desk, rotating the papers in my hands. I’d learnt to be silently patient. After a few minutes, he stopped typing, closed the lid, and signalled for me to approach. I handed him the pieces of paper then knelt by his feet.
“I have some…thoughts.” I gazed at my thighs: blotches of baby food with grubby finger marks on the jeggings and two of my nails chipped from the afternoon’s gardening. So much for clause nine—I had failed already with regard to deportment. Seeing him all regal and boss-like, I tucked my hands out of sight. He managed to appear quite magnificent. Was I about to trivialise his efforts?
“Let’s discuss those now,” said Jason, laying the sheets out on his desk.
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