“PASSION is an indescribable feeling,
a magical connection that happens with one special person.”
Vivien, I would love to explore you, and caress you, and most of all I would love to spank you. The flower needs the heat of the sun, and you would discover you need the heat of my hand.
VivIen McKay was born a beauty, and as a child on a small farm in the midwest, her father would sit her on his knee, telling her she was so pretty she would one day marry a handsome Prince.
Robson Parker-Jones is not a Prince, but he is a wealthy Viscount, and she can hardly believe her luck when he proposes. Does her heart stop when he kisses her, or goosebumps spring to life at his touch? She has decided such thrilling delights live only on the pages of romance novels, until Robson introduces her to Dominic Dubois, the artist who will paint her portrait.
Dominic Dubois scrutinizes her with a deep, mesmerizing gaze, and when his hand whispers across her back as he passes, his feathered touch sends a sparking energy through her entire body. Though she fights the intense attraction, she aches to experience the promise that lives in his dark, beguiling brown eyes.
A PROMISE OF PASSION is a deeply romantic tale that follows the sexual awakening of a young woman, and the alluring, artful Dominant who offers her the enticing experience of sensuous bondage and discipline. While it’s an erotic adventure she craves, dare she cross that line, and if she does, what will it mean for her future?
Standing in the shadows, Dominic had gazed admiringly, all the while his need becoming an intense ache. When it came time to change her clothes he hurried forward, handed her the bra, then walked her back to the wardrobe room.
“These pictures will be unbelievable,” he declared, keeping his voice low.
“Dominic,” she mewed, “the things I’m feeling…”
“I know, ma cherie, I know,” he purred.
With every change of clothing, Vivien was placed in a different area of the dungeon, and each tableau sent hot shivers through her body. The last shot of the day was on the bondage chair, and she was dressed in a white lace, midriff shirt with denim trim, the matching jeans sporting transparent lace patches.
“Both of you, stand beside the chair, and Franco move behind her, fingers on the buttons of her shirt, like you are unfastening them. You are going to strip her for the chair, yes? That is the message, and Vivien, please, this small crop between your teeth.”
As Franco took up his position and Vivien accepted the short, fat crop in her mouth, the photographer called Gustav to his side, speaking in a hushed tone. The conversation lasted a while, until Gustav finally stepped away and walked swiftly towards her.
“Okay,” Gustav began, “we have an idea, but it will require Dominic, if he is willing. Dominic!” he called.
Walking out of the shadows, Dominic moved to join them, eager to help.
“Oui, what can I do?”
“I need you, but only your back. You don’t have to worry, no-one will know it’s you.”
“You have great shoulders mon ami. What do you say?”
“Sure,” he nodded.
“Please come to wardrobe with me. You must be in the same pants as Franco.”
Vivien, who had taken the crop from between her teeth during Gustav and Raphael’s extended conversation, smiled happily as Gustav led him away.
“You have feelings for Dominic Dubois, no?” Franco asked, sitting down in the bondage chair.
“It shows that much?” she inquired.
“Oui, your eyes, they shine when you look at him, and his shine back. It is, what is the word, it is qui suscite l’inspiration, I’m sorry, I don’t know the English.”
“I think, perhaps it’s, inspiring?” she smiled.
“Oui, inspiring,” he smiled back.
Closing her eyes, she prayed the shoot would soon be over. She wanted nothing more than to be naked with her painter, tied and blindfolded, completely at his mercy.
“I’m here,” Dominic announced, walking back into the room.
Vivien looked across and caught her breath. They had smoothed his tumbled hair off his face and behind his ears, taming the ever-present soft curls. His body was as lean and muscled as Franco’s, but his shoulders were wider, and the black leather pants accentuated his physique.
“Ah, yes, this will be great,” Gustav declared, hurrying forward.
“Please, Dominic, stand here, hands on the hips, Franco, like you were before, behind her. Now, Vivien, look at Dominic, pretend it is only the three of you here, and you are being presented to him by the Dungeon Master.”
“Sure,” she managed, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do, than stare at him.
She placed the crop between her teeth and Franco took up his position behind her.
“Okay, yes, Franco, slowly unbutton her shirt.”
As Vivien stared at Dominic, feeling his heavy brown eyes bore into hers, she remembered how he’d felt inside her, how she had exploded from his decadent suggestions, how his kiss had sent her swirling into a cascading foam of need.
She thought about how she longed to experience the cuffs, the chains, the floggers, everything the dungeon had to offer, and suddenly a wave of sexual energy began spinning around her like an invisible erotic vortex.
The room was silent, the only sound the camera clicking, and an occasional direction from the photographer to move an arm, lift a chin, or turn slightly, but the words were thin and far away; every part of her was attached to Dominic, just as he was fixated on her.
As the minutes ticked by, and Franco’s fingers continued their journey down the front of her shirt, she sank into the fantasy; this was real, this man was undressing her for Dominic, and at any minute he would slowly pull back the blouse and reveal her charms…and Dominic? What would he do?
Would he take the crop from her teeth and whip her? Would he tie her to the chair and slap the leather tongue against her nipples? Would he use it to tease between her legs, sending her into a tsunami of wanting?
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