Aulora put down their one-year-old daughter to go after their little nudist. “Come here, Brady!”
With a squeal of laughter, the boy zipped past her and headed out of the room, apparently seeing fit to give the staff a looksy at his goods. “You can’t catch me!”
“I’ll take Bree over,” Weston shouted. “You go chase him down. The kid is super speedy!”
Aulora chased their son down the hallway as he laughed like a maniac. Suddenly, he stopped when a door opened. “And what do we have here?” Laura asked as she scooped up the naked bundle.
“Yes! Great teamwork, Laura,” Aulora said as she stopped running and walked up to get her son.
“Aw, man,” Brady whined. “I don’t wanna wear clothes. They get in my way.”
“Your way of doing what?” Laura asked him as she handed him over to his mother.
“In my way of being free,” he told her. “I like to feel fresh.”
“Well, I like to see my son wearing clothes, like a normal human boy, instead of a wild animal,” Aulora scolded him.
“Maybe he was a monkey in his past life,” Laura teased then messed up the dark mop of hair on his head.
“Maybe I was,” he agreed. “Come on, Mom. Let me be a wild monkey again! Please!”
“Shouting the word, ‘please,’ is no way to get what you want, Brady. Now, come on. Back to being a boy and wearing clothes.” Aulora took him back into the living area where he’d ditched his shorts and T-shirt.
Finding Weston reading to their daughter, had her heart fluttering. “I got him, Dad.”
“I see that,” Weston said as he put the book down. “Why is it that you want to be naked, son?”
“Apparently, I was a monkey one time. That’s what Miss Laura thinks. And I believe she’s right!” Brady struggled with his mother as she put his clothes back on.
“Well, you’re no longer a monkey. If you keep your clothes on, I might take you to the zoo later. That way you can see how monkeys actually live. It’s not nearly as nice as you have it,” Weston said, earning him a smile from his wife.
“Clever, West.” She gave him a wink.
He gave her one back. “Brady, what do you think monkeys eat, anyway?”
“I know they eat bananas. I saw it in a book. I like bananas too.” He climbed up on the sofa next to his father.
“The also eat bugs,” Weston informed him. “How would you like to have to eat bugs to stay alive?”
The face the boy made had both his parents laughing. “Yuk!”
“And monkeys live in cages,” Aulora added. “How’d you like to live in a cage?”
Brady shook his head. “No thank you. But can we still go to the zoo? I wanna show Bree the animals too. I’m her big brother, and it’s my job to make sure she has fun every single day of her life.”
“Let’s go. And we can stop by and pick up your Aunt Hope too,” Weston said. “Uncle Jimmy might want to come too.”
“He’s only a baby, Dad. Don’t be silly,” Brady said about his six-month-old uncle.
Aulora smiled as Weston got up and put his arm around her. They herded their two kids out of the room to get them to their rooms to get ready to go to the zoo. She felt it every time they touched. That spark that had started it all and continued to keep their fires going.
Becoming a mother was the best thing to happen to her. If it hadn’t been for Weston, she’d never know what love really was. She’d loved her mother and father. And she even loved Clara. But she would’ve never known what it really felt like to love someone you’re a part of.
As they went up the stairs, Bree tripped and hurt her knee. Weston snatched her up and kissed her boo-boo. “Daddy’ll make it better, sweetheart.”
As if the kiss was magic, Bree stopped crying and giggled. The pain all gone, it seemed. Aulora was always surprised by how easy it was to make the kids happy. A kiss on a boo-boo, a piece of candy, a nighttime story, all were easy to give, and all made their children happy.
Aulora realized that being a parent was scary. Fear was always an underlying thing when you have a kid. But fear was already there, anyway. She was afraid something would happen to Weston, her father, her mother, Clara, Hope all before she ever became a mother. It was life, Weston was right about that.
She’d learned that there could be a constant concern for people, but it was overshadowed by this sense of joy that was also constant. A continuous river of joy flowed through her. It hadn’t before. Aulora wondered how she had ever lived without it.
That stream of joy was what made her world turn. Without it, she didn’t know what life would be like. But she had reasons to believe, once you found that little piece of wonderful, it never went away. Hence, Weston’s always upbeat idea of life, even though he’d lost his first precious child.
Aulora respected her husband more than she’d ever admired anyone. He was the best husband and father she’d ever known or knew of. His support was unwavering.
They had their disagreements like anyone else did, but Weston never let them go to bed angry. If they had to argue a little bit longer to work it out, then they did that. If he had to kiss her into seeing things his way, they did that too. He was always there, never giving up.
Aulora wondered what she’d done to deserve such a man. She had to admit to herself that she could be a real downer at times. There was her penchant for seeing the worst in things. None of it stopped Weston from loving her.
On the other side of that coin, Weston wondered at times what his remarkable wife saw in him. She was a brilliant artist. Her work was coveted my many in the art world. And she saw fit to be with him.
He didn’t have an artistic bone in his body. When imagination was needed, he had to confer with Aulora as he couldn’t seem to come up with a thing.
One of his favorite things to do was to sit and listen to his wife as she made up stories she told their children when she was getting them to go to sleep. Stories about fairies and kingdoms that she made up filled their children’s ears and sparked their vivid imaginations.
Weston couldn’t even imagine coming up with the stories she did, nor the ideas for her intricate paintings. She was a genius in his eyes, with both their kids and her imagination and ability to bring it to life.
Aulora had been so worried about becoming a mother. Weston found that hilarious as she was a complete natural at it. Hardly anything bumfuzzled her. She was like the kid-whisperer. She knew why Brady would get cranky or Bree was having a hard time sleeping.
Aulora had a sixth sense, Weston didn’t. She was fantastic in his eyes, yet she didn’t see herself in that light. No matter how many times she was right about the kids or him, she never saw it as a gift. She’d say any mom knows these things, but she was wrong. Weston knew she was a gift to him and their kids and he treated her as such. The couple had finally found their happily ever after and they were going to keep it that way.
The End
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Savage SEAL’s Virgin: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel
Dangerous missions, death-defying escapes, and mortal combats are child’s play compared to taking a virgin …
Dark nights, strange forest creatures, ropes, cuffs, paddles, and a whip should’ve been more than enough to tame one little virgin.
Blyss wasn’t your typical virgin!
I’d won her in a bidding war. She was pure as the driven snow. Every Dom wanted her.
It was me who was supposed to rule her, but she stole my heart before I knew what was happening. Every part of her was virgin territory, yearning to be explored. She was primal, and I took her that way.
A blast from my past forced me to accept a fake marriage, just so I could see my daughter, who’d been kept a secret.
Just as it was all coming together, my SEAL team needed me.
War is hell, and it gets even harder when you have to leave the ones you love at home.
Our happily ever after was in jeopardy. Could I save it?
Part 1
Blyss
BDSM stands for Bondage, Discipline, Domination/Submission, and Sadism/Masochism. They were a bunch of frightening words, that was for sure. And it just so happened that I was planning to write my master’s thesis on that taboo topic. As a psychology major and a virgin, I was in for a drastic change in my sheltered world. I knew that going into my summer project; If I had parents to answer to, then perhaps I wouldn’t have chosen this subject to explore thoroughly. But I didn’t have a family at all.
My story was one of those sad ones. I was dropped at a fire station as a newborn and sent to an orphanage. I wasn’t as lucky as most babies. I was born addicted to all kinds of drugs and alcohol. My mother must’ve had a genuine love for all things that were bad. I was her complete opposite. Most likely, the violent withdrawals as a tiny baby had become part of my permanent makeup and had been stored in my cell-memory bank. Liquor didn’t appeal to me and I’d had not so much as an aspirin all the way up to my early twenties.
Then I decided that my life needed to be shaken up a bit. There’d been no one who had sheltered me. I’d done that to myself, burying myself in books since I had learned to read at the tender age of five. I’d found companionship in stories and knowledge in textbooks. I loved to read so much so that I hardly ever stopped reading. As they say, too much of anything, even a good thing, is bad for you. I was more than an avid reader. I was an addicted reader, which kept me from experiencing many things, including friendships. I’d never made one friend in all my years of growing up.
There was no need to make friends. Books were my world and these characters were my only friends, until I began college. My roommates weren’t about to leave me alone with my books. Finally, I learned how to let people in while not letting them take me over. I liked it. I liked opening up to people and listening to their ideas, life stories, and daily drama.
I had no drama in my life. It was as sterile as the environment I lived in. I kept everything in perfect order. White was my favorite color and everything I owned was that color, or lack thereof. My wardrobe consisted of lab coats, which I wore on a daily basis. I had slacks that matched them, and even my undergarments were as plain as I could find.
The dark world of BDSM was ancient. The basics of the lifestyle seemed to be bred into us all. Man ruled over his women, which whittled down to one woman in many societies. He used anything he had to keep her in line. Brutality was necessary back in those caveman days. Males had to be brutal to maintain their mates. Not only did they have to fight off other males who tried to rob them of their women, but they also had to fight their women on occasion.
On occasion, females tried to run off. Others didn’t want to give up their sexual favors to the males who’d taken them from their father’s cave. Males resorted to the only thing that was hardwired into them; hold her down and do it anyway. Procreation had to occur, whether females understood that or not. Time moved on and we all evolved. That caveman mentality became unacceptable, and that was for the good of all. Things progressed and polite society looked down on rough sexual activity. But some of the naughtier individuals still played rough behind closed doors and in dark places where others wouldn’t see them.
It was that darkness that lured me in. I wasn’t vanilla. I was far worse than that. I was an untouched specimen. I needed an experienced Dom to take over me. My mind was set; I would hand myself over to him with no qualms. Everything we did, how I felt about it all, and how I felt about the man who’d done those things to me were to be noted. Then I’d make charts and sub-charts about the whole thing and write my thesis once summer was over.
I could’ve researched different men. I could’ve asked around to find things out. But I wanted a clean slate when I began my research. I wanted to go into an auction and to allow the right man to find me. The thing that made it all okay in my mind was the fact that my emotions were left out of everything. That was the stipulation of many Dom/Sub contracts. Once it was over, the two people would walk away from one another with no hard feelings. Love wasn’t a thing that was supposed to occur.
I was happy about that. I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for an experience that I could write about and learn from—and that would make an excellent how I lost my virginity story.
Not many women would have the story I’d have.
Only a couple of weeks stood in my way. I’d done no research on anything that had to do with actual BDSM kinks. That way, I’d be able to accept whatever the man who bought me would want. Whatever he wanted to do to me, I wanted him to do. I was a blank slate and more than ready to be changed. My body had never experienced anything sexual. I’d never masturbated. No orgasm had ever filled me. I had no idea what that would feel like or if I’d even experience one.
The men I knew jokingly called me a robot. I was fine with that. Not all women climax, from what I’d read about human sexuality. I did realize that I wasn’t normal. One doesn’t go through life, living in another world that’s alongside the real one and not see that she’s different. The truth was, I was tired of being different. I wanted to be normal, but knew I had no clue how to become that. So I could be something else other than normal. I could be a Submissive. I could belong to someone. I’d never belonged to anyone in my entire life. It was time I let that happen.
I’d do it for the summer, and if I found I liked it, then I’d sign up for another auction and give myself to more and more Doms, until the right one bought me and wanted to keep me. No one had ever wanted to keep me. Not ever. Putting myself up for sale was risky. But so was living my life the way I had. I had deprived myself of so many things. All that was about to change. I was about to let loose and let go of all the things I’d clung to so desperately.
Once upon a time, my mother put me outside of a fire station. From what I was told, I had on no clothes, nor was I wrapped in a blanket. I was placed in a box and a storm was raging. No one was sure just how long I’d been outside. It was a miracle I hadn’t drowned or died from exposure. In my mind, if my newborn body could handle all that, my adult body was capable of even more. I was about to test limits I knew nothing about and hoped the Dom who’d buy me, would.
Troy
The sun was setting behind me as I drove my Jeep out of NAS Point Loma in San Diego, California. I was currently a master drill sergeant career Navy man. I had the summer months free and a much-needed extended vacation was calling my name, as was the Dungeon of Decorum in Portland, Oregon. I’d been a member of the BDSM club for the last three years. The lifestyle worked wonders for me. I could take on a Sub, who I’d win in an auction, for any length of time I wanted. Since it was summer, I had three months off and planned to make up a contract for the entire time.
Being a Dom was something I was good at. I knew how to think about what would work for entire groups of people. My experience working hands on with other people had given me more knowledge than most started out with. Not only was I acutely aware of what the human body could take and perform, I knew the inner workings of the human mind. It was capable of handling things most thought impossible.
As a SEAL, I’d done things and seen things others might’ve gone insane over. I was tough, built like a tank, and mentally capable of doing anything I set my mind to. And I do mean anything. What others saw as insurmountable challenges, I saw as opportunities to push myself to the max. And I enjoyed teaching women, my Subs, how to do that too.
At the end of our time together, my Subs left a hell of a lot safer than when I got them. They could take pain and morph it in their minds into things that not only didn’t hurt them, but could also be transformed into pleasure. I’d seen amazing transformations in the last three years with the women I’d taken on, and I was looking forward to getting my hands on a new recruit.
The club had a website where
I could get a gander at the women who’d be in the summer auction that year. I didn’t want to look them over. I wanted to pick one out based on instant attraction. I was looking to work from the ground up with someone. I preferred a BDSM virgin.
I’d had women who’d been in that lifestyle and they were great. But I wanted a newbie—a fresh woman who knew next to nothing about BDSM. Showing someone things they could never imagine was what I was looking for. Watching her face as she found out just how high I could take her, using only some ropes, a paddle, and my cock was a thing that had my thighs tingling.
I had to make a stop at my family’s estate in Napa Valley, then I’d be on my way. My grandfather had started a winery when he was young and it had taken off. My mother had inherited it, as she was his only child. Her mother had died early on, so it was just mom and her father to grow the budding company. Time and patience had Succulent Winery blossoming into a giant company that my father and brothers loved. I wasn’t like them. I thought wine was okay. I preferred beer and whiskey. And I also preferred to work a bit harder than any of them did.
As heir to the fortune the winery gave us, I didn’t have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to. But I hated to be idle. Both in mind and body, I liked to stay active. The cool thing about being a billionaire in the armed forces was that I could take the money I earned in the Navy and give every bit of it to various charities. I was also known to hand over large amounts of money as gifts for people who I found in need. I did those things anonymously, though. I didn’t want any recognition for anything like that. It was money. I had a lot of it and they didn’t. End of story.
Life could’ve been easy for me, but I preferred to make it at least a little hard. I liked to work hard for what I had. Having something to show for all that hard work was what I lived for. While some might’ve seen taking on a Sub as a selfish thing to do, I saw it as an opportunity to help a fellow human being grow into something that they never thought possible before they had met me.
The Naughty One: A Doctor’s Christmas Romance (Season of Desire Book 2) Page 88