The Taste of Submission
My feet carried me not towards the grand staircase and the solitude of my bedroom, but towards the bar in the corner of the living room, a man possessed.
My hand trembled as I reached for the crystal decanter of whiskey. It wasn’t nerves; it was her.
Serena.
The image had been burned onto the back of my eyelids, a permanent fixture in the theater of my mind. She was on her knees, the soft Persian rug a benediction beneath her. Her lips, painted a modest shade of nude, stretched obscenely around my cock, a perfect, sinful ‘O’. The sound of her moan, a desperate, needy hum that vibrated down my shaft and straight into my soul. Her wide, innocent eyes locked on mine, not with fear, but with a k