Flight of Submission
Elena leaned her head against the cool window of the airplane, pretending to sleep while her heart hammered against her ribs. Every breath felt heavy, thick with an anticipation that had been building for four long months. Beneath her black skirt, she was already drenched, her body reacting to the mere thought of the man waiting for her in Madrid.
He was younger than her, thirty-one to her mid-forties, but in the digital realm of their shared secrets, he was her absolute sovereign. Since the moment she had asked Aitor to be her Master, he had guided her with a mixture of firm discipline and surprising tenderness. He had pushed her boundaries, demanding acts of obedience that made her feel exposed and electric.
As the plane touched down, Elena felt a surge of primal fear and desire. Stepping into the terminal, she spotted him—tall, composed, with eyes that seemed to read every hidden thought. When their eyes met, he didn’t smile; he simply gave a slight, commanding nod. Elena felt her knees weaken, her will dissolving instantly. She walked toward him, not as a professional woman of status, but as a woman longing to be claimed.
Once they reached the privacy of his car, Aitor reached over, his fingers gripping her chin firmly. ‘You are late by ten minutes, Elena,’ he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her. ‘I believe we need to discuss the consequences of your tardiness the moment we reach the bedroom.’