Page 23 of UnTrained: Volume Two
I consider the question, searching my feelings. "No, Sir. Not afraid. Just... anticipating."
His hand slides up to cup the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The gentle pressure grounds me, anchors me to this moment.
"Good," he says. "I want you to understand something, Lana. What we're doing now—this exchange—it's about trust. Your submission is a gift that I value. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," I say, though I'm not sure I fully comprehend the depth of what he's saying. I'm learning, feeling my way through this new dynamic.
"Stand up," he commands.
I rise to my feet in one fluid motion, my body responding instinctively to his command. The carpet is soft beneath my bare feet as I stand before him, exposed and vulnerable yet somehow empowered by my choice to be here, like this, with him.
Aiden circles me slowly, his gaze traveling over every inch of my naked body. I fight the urge to cover myself, to shield the places where my body still carries the shadows of my captivity—the slight hollows where I lost weight, the faint scars that mark my skin. Instead, I stand tall, shoulders back, my breathing measured and deliberate.
"Turn around," he says, his voice low and commanding.
I pivot slowly, feeling the heat of his gaze on my back, my shoulders, the curve of my spine. When I've completed the turn to face him again, his expression has softened slightly, though his eyes remain dark with desire.
"You're beautiful," he says simply. "Not in spite of what you've survived, but because of it."
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words. Not pity or clinical assessment, but genuine appreciation for the strength it took to endure, to survive, to stand here now.
His words touch me deeply. I've been so afraid that the marks of my captivity—both visible and invisible—made me somehow less. To hear him speak of my survival as something that adds to my beauty rather than diminishing it makes my eyes sting with unexpected tears.
"Thank you, Sir," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
Aiden steps closer, his body radiating heat that I can feel across the small space between us. He lifts his hand to my face, histhumb catching a tear that escapes despite my efforts to contain it.
"Don't hide your emotions from me," he says. "Your feelings are part of you, and I want all of you."
I nod, letting the tears fall freely now. They feel cleansing rather than shameful, washing away some of the fear I've been carrying. Aiden's thumb strokes my cheek, a gentle caress that grounds me in this moment.
"For the next two days," he continues, "your only responsibility is to obey. To trust. To let go of the burdens you've been carrying." His voice drops lower, resonating through me. "Can you do that for me, Lana?"
"Yes, Sir," I whisper, the words falling from my lips like a promise. "I can try."
His thumb traces the outline of my lower lip, his eyes never leaving mine. "Trying is all I ask. This isn't about perfection, Lana. It's about surrender."
The way he says my name sends a shiver through me—like he's claiming it, claiming me, with just the sound of his voice. I feel myself leaning into his touch, seeking more connection, more of him.
"On the bed," he commands softly. "Lie on your back, arms above your head."
I move to obey, the sheets cool against my naked skin as I position myself as instructed. The vulnerability of the position makes my heart race, but there's no fear in it. Only anticipation. And trust.
Aiden stands at the foot of the bed, watching me. His gaze is heavy, tangible, like a physical touch moving over my body. He begins to unbutton his shirt with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled.
"Close your eyes," he says.
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Iclose my eyes, the darkness heightening my other senses—the soft rustle of fabric as Aiden removes his shirt, the subtle creak of the floorboards beneath his feet as he moves around the bed. Without sight, I'm more aware of his presence, the energy he radiates, the subtle shift in the air as he comes closer.
"Keep your hands where they are," he says, his voice closer now.
The mattress dips as he joins me on the bed. I feel the heat of him beside me, though he's not touching me yet. My skin prickles with awareness, anticipating his touch but not knowing where it will land.
"Your submission is beautiful," he murmurs. "The trust you're showing me right now, after everything you've been through? It’s a gift I don't take lightly."
His words wash over me, sinking into places inside me that have been hollow and aching since my captivity. This feels nothing like the facility. There, my submission was taken, stolen. Here, with Aiden, I'm giving it freely, and that makes all the difference.
