Leah's Seduction: 8 (Gianni and Leah - Leah's Seduction) (5 page)

Leah was vaguely aware of Gianni taking her out of the swing. It was more like a dream than reality. Cradling her in his arms, Gianni nestled her against him on a plush bed in the corner. It was their bed. One he had put it there just for Leah.

In his warm embrace, with the classical music playing in the background, Leah’s body hummed. Her skin was still warm from the sting of the tassel, and emotion welled inside her. The joy of being with Gianni engulfed her. Leah closed her eyes, letting the pleasure carry her away.

Chapter 8

Leah woke up during the night. Still a bit foggy with sleep, she dimly recalled getting into bed. She remembered the warm bath with Gianni, of him drying her gently, and rubbing cream into her skin. He assured her there would be no marks, but he wanted her comfortable. Then she had slipped naked into bed with her back against Gianni’s chest.

In the dark room, Leah listened to his steady breathing, and pressed closer. He stirred and put one arm around her. She drifted off to sleep again, and didn’t open her eyes again until it was light. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and she pulled the sheet over her head for a few more minutes of tranquility.

But she missed Gianni. And she smelled coffee. Sleeping in longer was out of the question. Leah slid out of bed and went to the bathroom. She studied her body in the mirror, but saw no marks. Gianni had said there wouldn’t be, but she was a little disappointed.

Not that she wanted him to hurt her. Not at all. But a red stripe on her skin as a reminder wouldn’t be so bad. She rubbed her eyes and raked a hand through her hair. She was a little sore, and her skin tingled. The night before had been sweetly intense.

She picked up the mask that Gianni had left on the counter, and pressed it to her cheek. He had brought her fantasy to life in grand style. He was spoiling her. Because no matter how much he gave her, Leah wanted more. She didn’t think that would change.

After doing some basic grooming and slipping on some casual clothes, Leah went to find Gianni. And the coffee. At the end of the hall, she saw him in the main room gazing out the window. In jeans and a white shirt, he was impossibly sexy, and she took a moment to stare.

*****

Gianni reflected on the night before. Leah had been amazing, and the scene had been gripping because of her. The satisfaction she gave him was memorable. And he wanted to give back. It was Sunday, and they could spend the day together.

He turned to see her standing in the hall. Leah smiled and came over to him. “Good morning, sexy,” he said, and Leah’s cheeks flushed. She was still so humble. Gianni opened his arms and she sat on his lap. He pulled her down for a kiss, tasting her sweetness.

“How are you this morning?” he said.

“A little sore,” Leah said, and ran her fingers through his hair. “Nicely so.”

She looked radiant, and Gianni took pleasure in knowing he was the cause. “We have the whole day together, and I have plans.”

Leah smiled. “I like it when you have plans.” She kissed him sweetly. “But I hope those plans include coffee, because I need some desperately.”

Gianni slid her off his lap, and she followed him into the kitchen. While she had coffee, he cleaned things up a little. The simplest thing, like watching her drink coffee, was a joy. He really did like being with her, in so many ways.

“First is breakfast at Norma’s,” he said. “I’m sure you must be hungry.”

She giggled. “Food sounds great.”

Leah finished her coffee, and they left for the Le Parker Meridien hotel. The lobster frittata was Gianni’s preference. It was the only place he ordered it. But Leah went with the waiter’s recommendation of fruit-stuffed waffles.

The hotel overlooked Central Park, and as soon as they were done eating they went for a stroll. The city was packed with pedestrians and filled with the sound of honking horns. The park was a relaxing escape from the mayhem.

It was a beautiful summer day. Tourists cruised by in bicycle rickshaws, and there was a pond where children played with radio-operated boats. Some families were out for picnics, and there were plenty of joggers making use of the trails.

Gianni held Leah’s hand, content to soak in the peaceful environment for a little while. They stopped at the lake, which was a tranquil spot with a bamboo patch, overarching bridges, and the Manhattan skyline reflecting off the water.

On another day, they might have taken a boat ride. That day they just watched. Gianni had something on his mind, and decided it was a good time to talk about it. He found a bench where they could sit, and held Leah’s hand.

“I’d like to discuss something with you,” he said.

“Of course,” Leah said.

Gianni wanted to approach this right. He didn’t want to blow it. After the upset they’d had, he wasn’t sure if he should bring up the subject of journals. Yet, since getting back together, the scenes they shared were more intimate than ever.

He was honored by Leah’s faith in him, and wanted to do something to bring them closer. And for that, she needed to feel free to let him know her responses to what they did in the playroom. Gianni had become fairly adept at reading her reactions.

He knew how far to take her, and when to stop. Most of the time. But it would be so much better if she shared what went on inside her pretty head. Gianni knew she had thoughts and feelings she held close, even as intimate as they were with each other.

“In the past, I’ve asked you to share with me how you are feeling,” Gianni said.

Leah blushed.

He continued, “That’s what I mean. It’s not easy for you to speak openly about what you like or want. Or even how you are affected by our time in the playroom.”

“But you know me so well,” Leah said. “I have no complaints.”

He smiled. “I’m glad, baby.” Gianni kissed her hand. “It’s just that there is more we can do.”

Her brown eyes widened, but she didn’t object.

“Yet to be confident, I need to know that I perceive your responses correctly.” He looked into her lovely eyes. “And I’d like for you to be more open with me, and not feel embarrassed.”

“I do try.” Leah touched his cheek. “It’s just hard sometimes. I don’t know why. What we do together is beyond anything I imagined. In the playroom, I can let you take the lead. I want you to. And I’m delighted when you satisfy me in ways I could not ask for.”

“Nothing gives me greater pleasure.” Gianni paused, thinking of exactly how to phrase his request. It was simple enough. But it was an emotional subject.

“If you ask me questions,” Leah said, “I could try to answer them.”

“Yes, I’m sure you would.” Gianni ran his fingertip along her jaw. “But I have another idea.”

She raised her brows. “Tell me.”

“I have this idea, so hear me out before you judge.” He saw he had Leah’s attention. “I know that when you wrote in your journal, you didn’t hold back. That was likely because you didn’t think anyone else would read it.”

She nodded.

“What if you knew I was going to read it? What if you knew that in advance? Would you be able to write with the same inhibition?”

Leah looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Are you willing to share your deepest emotions and feelings with me? To tell me what it’s like for you in the scenes we experience together?”

She didn’t answer for a moment. “The easy answer is yes. Because I do want to share with you. I want nothing more.” Leah wrinkled her brow. “I’m not sure that I could, though. If I know in advance that you are going to read everything, it might change what I feel free to write.”

“I can see that.” Gianni squeezed her hand. “But what I have read of your fantasies has enabled me to give you greater pleasure. If I truly know your need, if I hear of it exactly as you envision it, then I can bring the scene to life.”

“You are very good at that.”

“Despite all that I have read of your journal entries, I have not admonished you in any way.”

“No, I can’t imagine you doing that.” Leah smiled. “You are more apt to encourage me. In fact, whatever I imagine, you make better.”

“So wouldn’t it be good if you could open up and feel comfortable sharing more?” he said. “And not thinking any of it was too much, or you had to keep it to yourself?”

“I would like to, but I don’t know that I’m capable of doing so.” Leah looked into his eyes. “But you have an idea?”

“I’d like for you to start a new journal,” Gianni said. “This journal will be your way of sharing with me. You’ll write in it when you are alone, so you won’t feel pressure. I’ll read it afterwards. The writing will be a window into your likes and dislikes. It will shed light on what happens inside you.”

Leah didn’t reply.

“You have said that it is easier to write about your feelings than to say them out loud. I’d like you to try it.”

Gianni could have demanded that she do it. He could have taken control and ordered her to submit to his wishes.

But he didn’t want to do it that way. Dominating in the playroom wasn’t about overwhelming a woman. Handled right, it was all about the woman’s pleasure. Conceiving sexual scenes as only about the man taking his pleasure was a slanted view.

Leah’s submission was all about giving. It was about Gianni knowing her so well that he could give her pleasure as no other man could. His own satisfaction intensified by doing so. It should not be taken by force. Only her willingness made pushing limits possible.

“Do you need some time to think it over?” he said.

She shook her head. “No, I’ve decided I’d like to do it,” she said. “Let me try. I’ll see how it goes. I’ll let you know if I feel like I’m holding back or not. If it works, it will be good for both of us.”

Gianni was pleased with her response.

“And can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

Leah took a breath. “Even though I was furious when I found out that you secretly read my journal, now I’m glad.”

“You are?”

She nodded. “Yes, because you know more about me than anyone. And you make my fantasies come true. You haven’t used what you know against me, or to hurt me. I know you wouldn’t.”

“Of course not.”

“So this will be even better,” she said. “I’ll agree in advance, and give you permission to read what I write.” She touched his shoulder. “It just might work.”

Gianni put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly. What he felt for Leah he couldn’t express. Or maybe he could. His way of communicating what he held inside wasn’t by writing a journal. It was through a physical connection. It was by playing out scenes like they had the night before. It was through touch, and by creating sensations to release the passion simmering inside the woman he cared about. That was his way. The only way he had known before.

Gianni stood up and reached for her hand. “Let’s go buy the new journal now. I want you to pick it out.”

They walked back through the park, and the limo drove them to the stationery store. Gianni marveled at Leah, and how she took care to choose just the right one. She picked up journal after journal, feeling the texture of the cover and checking the binding.

At last she found one. It was different than her previous ones. The cover was cream-colored suede with royal blue lettering on the front that said:
Private Journal.

“This is the one,” she said, and handed it to Gianni. He bought it along with a new gold pen, and felt pride in doing so. Leah’s agreement to share the emotion she poured onto the pages moved him deeply. Handing her the special book inspired him.

The pages would hold the key to pushing limits, to satisfaction for both of them. But most of all, it would reveal more about Leah. Her inner longings had drawn Gianni to her from the start, and they continued to do so, more each day.

Chapter 9

When Gianni said he had plans, he really meant it. After the stationary store, they did some other shopping, and ended up at the Mandarin Oriental in the thirty-fifth-floor bar for drinks. The rich red walls and deep leather chairs provided a posh, intimate atmosphere. They lingered, chatting and enjoying each other’s company.

In keeping with the classical music theme of the night before, Gianni purchased tickets to the Philharmonic at Lincoln Center. They had just enough time to go back to the condo and change clothes before the performance. The orchestra was wonderful, and the repertoire was a mix of contemporary and classic. Leah thoroughly enjoyed it.

By the time it was over, they were both hungry, and Gianni took her to a French bistro called Chez Josephine for a late meal. It was quite elegant, with red velvet walls and twinkling chandeliers. Leah felt like royalty, sitting in the upstairs dining room listening to the soft notes of beautifully played piano music.

With Gianni, she had experienced so much more of life. She hadn’t known she would enjoy a symphony, nor had she ever tasted French onion soup like the bistro served. Just as she hadn’t developed a taste for good wine until he had introduced her to it. Or known much about painting, until he brought her in contact with the world of art.

It wasn’t the big things, but the memories of a good wine, a delicious meal, a spectacular view. Gianni had opened the world to her in many ways. Even doing things she had done before, like strolling through Central Park, took on a new blush when shared with him.

Leah didn’t take any of it for granted, and treasured each day they had together. Life had a way of changing, and she didn’t want to plan for a future that may not exist. Yet for the moment, things were better than she could have imagined.

After the weekend, Gianni had to go on a short business trip. She had been sleeping at the condo more often, and he suggested that Leah stay there while he was away. He seemed to want her to, as if knowing she was there was a comfort to him.

Leah certainly didn’t mind. It was luxury compared to her apartment. And she felt closer to Gianni. Because she missed him so much when he was away, even for brief periods, it was better to be in his surroundings, able to see things that reminded her of him.

She went to GR Showroom as usual, and work provided a welcome distraction. After some intense focus on an ongoing project, Leah went to lunch with Aida, and they chatted about everything except business.

In the evening, Leah sat in the library and read poetry from the books Gianni had bought for her. She still read to him sometimes, and there were verses he seemed to enjoy. One of his favorites was called “Longing,” by eighteen-century poet Matthew Arnold.

Holding the leather book, Leah read the verse out loud, remembering Gianni’s expression when she had read it to him.

Come to me in my dreams, and then

By day I shall be well again.

For then the night will more than pay

The hopeless longing of the day.

The sensual verse reminded Leah of how much she loved Gianni, and how he fulfilled her dreams. She read the poem again, and then closed the book and hugged it to her chest. Poetry gave her solace. It calmed and inspired her.

Putting the book aside, Leah went to the kitchen. Meals had been prepared and stored in the refrigerator. Roselyn’s gourmet cuisine was a treat to look forward to. The only thing better would be sharing it with Gianni.

Choosing the lobster roll, Leah put it on a plate. But she had no idea how to pair it with wine. Gianni had opened some champagne the last time they had been together. Leah decided to try a glass of it, finding that it didn’t conflict with the flavor of the lobster.

The champagne tasted good, and, sitting in front of the windows, she sipped on another. The light buzz gave her courage for what Leah knew she had to do. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed so readily to write a journal for Gianni. But she had.

Now she had to face getting started. Leah knew he would ask to read what she had written as soon as he got back. He would be disappointed if she had nothing to show him. She sipped her champagne until the glass was empty.

Then she poured another. The three glasses helped with Leah’s inhibition. She got her journal and went into the master bedroom. Stretching out on a lounge sofa by the floor-to-ceiling window, she leaned against the padded end.

Gazing at the huge empty bed reminded her of Gianni, and how good it felt to fall asleep in his arms. It was harder to fall asleep when he was away. Opening the book, she looked at the blank pages.

It wasn’t like she didn’t have the opportunity to write something private. She had her other journal, and Gianni knew she would make use of that one as needed. But the one she now held was different. Each word she wrote would be shared.

Leah wanted to open up more with Gianni, and writing did seem like the best approach. There was only one way to proceed, which was to pretend that when she put pen to paper, no one else would read it. Otherwise, she would censor too much of it.

Holding her new gold pen, Leah began to write, and soon enough was lost in pouring out her heart. Forgetting about Gianni reading it, she wrote about her feelings as sincerely as she could.

Recently in the playroom, Gianni used a suspension swing. I wore my costume mask, the one he gave to me as a gift, and kept my stilettos on. To express how the scene felt is difficult. Not only because of any inhibitions I have, but also because words cannot do it justice.

Yet the evening is burned in my memory, and holds great pleasure that I won’t forget. When I’m naked with Gianni, I feel beautiful. He makes me feel that way. And yet I feel vulnerable too. I grant him the power to do as he wishes.

I trust him to care for me, and he does. With a tasseled whip, Gianni flicked my bare skin sharply. It should have been cause for objection, but for me, the opposite is true. The sting is welcome. The bite of it hurts just enough to send sensation shooting through my body.

He does it just so. Not too much or too little. When the tassel burned my skin, I didn’t recoil. I wanted more. Gianni’s strength, his power over me, turns me on. It’s what I want. What I have wanted for so long, and now he gives to me.

For some time, Gianni whipped me, and with each sting, my arousal spiraled upward. My clit tensed, painfully so. And my breasts were heavy with arousal. I fell into his ministrations, craving the slap of the whip.

Is this bad? Should I not want it?

I don’t see how, as in the end it brings only pleasure. Gianni watched to be sure not to push me too far. Yet I wanted to go further. A deep longing surged inside, and I wished he would do his worst. He may have known better than I what I could tolerate.

But the deep urge for the bite of pain drove me. It intensified the pleasure, and gave me a sense of completely submitting to Gianni. When he takes me, I want him to. So badly. More than I tell him. More than I can voice.

So when he takes the whip to my bare skin, it is satisfying. I need it. And he knows that I do. The more we push limits, the more I want Gianni to challenge me. But he is in control. He guides me, and judges what I am ready to experience.

The other night as my skin stung from the tassel, I became so aroused that it was dreamlike. The pain pushed me upward into a cloud of ecstasy, where I floated, immune to harsh realities. There was only Gianni, and the sensation he gave me.

Submitting makes me feel safe. I no longer have to be concerned. I am cared for. Gianni says this does not make me weak. And I believe him. Because the desire I have for him to wield his power over me comes from inner strength.

I am always a bit fearful at first. Especially when we try something new. My courage comes from the trust I have in Gianni, the knowledge that he puts me first. That I can put my body, and my emotions, in his care with impunity.

The feeling is hard to describe, but I admit, it is one I am addicted to. I cannot imagine life without being able to submit to Gianni, or without the pleasure he gives me. That my submission also gives him satisfaction makes it immensely better.

I want to please him, and it is good to know that I do. All the more reason to let him take me to new places, to do things that might make me anxious. But in the end, the daring scenes are what I need. And what Gianni needs.

Leah closed the journal, and looked out the window into the dark night. It looked so empty, just like she felt, alone in the condo. She got up to get ready for bed, and went to the bathroom to wash her face. Something nagged at her, and she tried to think of what it was.

She had been honest while writing. Then why did she feel she was holding back? Was it just the newness of having the shared journal? Leah brushed out her hair and put on a robe. Then she went down the hall to the playroom.

It wasn’t locked anymore, and she went inside. Leah flipped on the light, and then the music. The soft orchestral piece that Gianni had last played started up. She stepped across the polished wood floor, admiring the special room.

Walking past the cabinets, letting her fingers drift over the dark wood, Leah was overcome with emotion. This is the room where she was most intimate with Gianni. It was private, and it was special.

A tassel dangled at the end of a long rod, the very implement Gianni had used on her not long before. She caught sight of the swing, pushed to the corner. And of the bed where he had held her close, caring for her after a particularly challenging scene.

Then she stared at the mural on the wall, drinking in the sensual encounters it represented. Leah leaned against the spanking bench and touched the soft leather. Her skin tingled, and warmth spread through her lower body.

Gianni did something to her that no man had. It was what she feared she wouldn’t find. But she had. Yet there was more. And standing in the exquisite room, with blinding clarity, she knew what it was. Leah realized what she had not put in the journal, what she had held back.

At the door to the playroom, she turned off the music and the light, then closed the door behind her. Returning to the bedroom sofa, Leah continued to write where she had left off. Gianni wanted the truth. Now he would have to deal with it.

I wasn’t completely honest with you earlier. I repressed something that I now have to share. A moment ago I went in the playroom alone. The lovely room means so much to me. Despite what you might think, it is not only because of the sexual submission I experience there.

It is so much more. In the beginning, it might have been the thrill of the forbidden. At last, having the sensations I deeply craved. But I know now that I would have not have been able to do the things I do with Gianni if it weren’t for one fact.

I love him. He is the only man I’ve loved, or will. That might sound dramatic, but it’s not. It is how I feel. I could say it’s that he gives me pleasure beyond what I have known. Or I could say it’s because he is impossibly handsome, and sexy as hell.

All that is true. But it’s the man. It’s who he is. I love Gianni, and that won’t change. He might not want to hear it, thinking that love is weakness. But I don’t see it that way. I am stronger because of it. And my life would not be fulfilled without it.

Although I don’t say it a lot, knowing that it makes Gianni uncomfortable, I feel it. The emotion is real, and runs deep. I don’t have to say the words to have love fill my heart. And if I’m honest, I would like for Gianni to feel the same.

But whether he does or not, I will continue to love him. Whether my love will be enough for both of us, I’m not sure. The future is unknown to me. But whatever comes, good or bad, it won’t because I didn’t love Gianni enough.

And that is why the playroom is dear to me. The reason I can submit to the degree I do is because of the connection I feel with Gianni. At first, I would have experimented. The sexual scenes were intriguing, and I doubt I would have resisted.

But over time, Gianni has pushed boundaries. We have done things that I know in my heart I would not have done if I didn’t love him. For with that love, I give all. I can truly submit. I want to. Because the man I love has not only my body, but my heart. And with that, there seems no limit to what we can do together. What I am willing to give.

Leah pressed the journal to her chest. A tear rolled down her cheek. She wasn’t sad. On the contrary. Boldly confessing her love was right. There was power in doing so. Although she had said the words to Gianni before, she had not poured out her most intimate thoughts. Now he would see inside, and know what she felt. Which was what he claimed he wanted.

She put the journal on the table and slipped her robe off. Under the covers, Leah moved to Gianni’s side of the bed. Pulling his pillow under her head, she buried her face in the softness, and breathed in his scent. Curling up to sleep, Leah hugged the pillow to her cheek, imagining Gianni was there with her.