Page 68 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

His hands still, a sudden seriousness in his posture that I can sense even without seeing him. The air shifts. Thickens. A current ripples between us—charged and waiting.

"There's one more thing I need."

"What?" My voice emerges breathless, suspended in the moment, stretched thin over the drumbeat of my pulse.

"Your obedience. The ability to command you. Control you." His fingers trace my jawline deliberately, leaving fire in their wake. "And when necessary… to punish you."

The words slam into me like a storm surge—unyielding and impossible to run from.

Heat floods me. Not shame—never that—but a heady, overwhelming rush of relief and desire. Like I've been holding my breath for days, maybe my whole life, and he's finally offering me air.

This is what I've been craving.

Not a game. Not a scene built on safe words and rehearsed roles.

But something real.

A man powerful enough to subdue me completely. Not just in the bedroom, but in the quiet, gritty spaces where control means something. Where obedience isn't negotiated—it's expected. Where punishment isn't fantasy—it's structure.

Earned. Delivered. Felt.

I've always wanted to surrender like that. To be taken—utterly, unapologetically—and held to it. No matter how loud I beg. No matter how much I shake.

I tilt my face toward the sound of his voice. My lips part. And when I speak, it's not a plea.

It's a vow.

"I want to be everything you need me to be." I whisper. "You have me… all of me."

A beat of silence. Then?—

His inhale sharpens, ragged and unsteady.

"Does this mean…" I swallow hard. "The line in the sand is gone?"

"It's been erased." His voice is gravel and heat when it finally comes. A pause, electric. "I plan to redraw everything we are from the ground up."

I feel it in my bones—this is more than dominance. It's devotion, forged through fire and withheld pleasure and every boundary we've broken together.

"Yes." The word emerges with surprising certainty. "I want that."

His breath shudders out—a release of something he's held tight for too long. "You're sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything."

"Then say it clearly." His eyes search mine, unblinking.

"I give you the right to command, control, and punish me as you see fit." I swallow and say the rest. "To master me."

His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against the hard line of his body.

"Are you ready to burn for me, Amelia?" He asks, voice low and dangerous. "To take everything I've been holding back?"

"Yes." I whisper.

"Then, in addition to your previous punishment…" His mouth brushes my ear. His hand slips between my thighs, fingers grazing where I'm already soaked for him. "You'll take ten strikes for each night I slept alone. Each night I couldn't fuck you because I was holding the line."

I gasp—sharp, electric.

---