The Art of Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page B

tightly around her wrists and of a handsome man touching her face and whispering words of seduction into her ear. She had no idea where the fantasy was coming from, but she didn’t question it, she simply rose from bed and began to put it down on canvas. As she painted the image, the memory of her first clumsy time with sex returned to haunt her with its awkwardness. Although it was well over a year since that encounter, she was still mortified at how lame it had been. Alex hadn’t even waited until she was wet before he dry thrust into her. There hadn’t even been any time allowed for her to get turned on before he came and scurried out of her life like a rat that had finished eating a stolen meal.
    Even the s econd man she had been with was a joke in the sack. All her time reading up on sexual positions post Mr. Two Pump Chump was time wasted considering her next lover was strictly a missionary position man.
    Would sex always be boring and unappealing for her? Maybe her expectations were too high, but were being excited and aroused asking too much? She had read about the mythical orgasm, but she had yet to experience it herself. Maybe the Big O was an urban legend; something men made up to string women along with so they could get into their panties. Oh hell, with her looks and lack of education, she was lucky any man was interested in getting between her legs at all.
    Education. She smiled as she laid down another layer of dark blue acrylic paint. Her art class was beginning in only two short weeks. She had been saving her pennies to take the six week session and she was excited at the prospect of learning about the classics while sketching naked men.
    The painting was coming along nicely as she recalled the previous year and all the dullness of it. I t was hard to believe it had been a year and a half since she had made her break from Papa. Time was flying by and in another six months she would be twenty-one years old. What then?
    Two hours later, her kinky masterpiece was complete. It wasn’t half bad, she grinned. She signed her name at the bottom before walking out of the closet and over to a window facing the street. The silvery moonlight glimmered against the falling snow and her eyes scanned the inky night sky in search of stars to make a wish upon, but there were none to be seen. Opening the window, she reached a hand out to feel the flakes against her palm and inhaled a deep breath of crisp winter air. As much as she cherished her freedom, the sting of loneliness was palpable. Would she always feel like this? Would there ever be true love and acceptance in her life? Her amber eyes welled up and the bitter taste of disillusionment whipped through her. She longed for her fairytale ending and for a princely man to save her, but knew life was too cruel for such juvenile fantasies. Unable to bear children, incapable of understanding or comprehending love, powerless to accept herself… No one could ever care for such a deeply flawed and damaged individual. The dismal thought left her feeling depressed and deeply saddened. She was truly unlovable and her own flesh and blood was to blame.
    ***
    Dylan
    Dylan dressed and moved about his bedroom with purpose. Tuesdays and Thursdays were training days and a new batch of wannabe submissives was awaiting his instruction. In particular, there was a leggy, dark-haired temptress he was impatient to sink his teeth into again. Dressed in his best, most comfortable attire, he readied himself for another night of debauchery and enlightenment.
    The drive to the club was filled with thoughts of his upcoming endeavor – starting his own company. He had sought all the legal advice he could and even had his finances in order to get everything underway. The only thing missing: a core of employees that he could trust with his life. In the line of work that he was going into, trust was key and hiring people off the street wasn’t an option. He had a few people in mind he wanted to bring