Love Unleashed

By Diana Hunter

Three hot short stories with a BDSM kink from erotic romance author, Diana Hunter.

First up, Love in the Afternoon. No tame, vanilla sex for this couple as he takes her on a BDSM adventure like no other. What a way to spend an afternoon!

Then comes Writers Unblocked. Two writers of the hottest, steamiest, sexiest romance novels marry, yet neither is brave enough to share their inner desires. A simple computer mistake reveals their true natures and changes their sex lives forever.

And finally, Sahara Heat. A blind date. Two strong, independent individuals. All it takes is a slip of the tongue to reveal a kinky side they both can't wait to explore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diana Hunter
• Release date: Jun 30, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370713530

Diana Hunter

Diana Hunter became interested in writing stories with bondage and D/s themes when she found a dearth of them on the web. Nothing she read seemed to have the romantic element she knew was possible in such relationships. Challenged by a friend to write a better one, she wrote her first full-length novel, Secret Submission. Each book Diana writes contains a kernel of truth or deeply held conviction from her own life, but don’t ask her where truth ends and fantasy begins...she’ll never tell! When not writing, Diana is usually at her loom, weaving thread lines of a different sort. Married for over thirty years to the same man, she is grateful for all the wonderful encouragement he gives her.

Book preview

Love Unleashed

Love in the Afternoon

By Diana Hunter

Copyright 2010; republished 2017

All Rights Reserved

Writers Unblocked

By Diana Hunter

Copyright 2004; republished 2017

All Rights Reserved

Sahara Heat

By Diana Hunter

Copyright 2012; republished 2017

All Rights Reserved

Discover other titles by Diana Hunter at

http://www.dianahunter.net

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Love in the Afternoon

She waited. Naked and on her knees, her hands resting face-up on her bare thighs, she waited. Outside the closed window she heard a car go by, then another. A few minutes later the school bus stopped and let off several noisy middle-schoolers. Drawing a breath, she lowered her head and brought her focus into the room.

There were few furnishings in this upstairs room to clutter her mind, only a small table under the shaded window, an old-fashioned oak wardrobe behind her and the small Oriental rug on which she knelt. A photo hung on the wall before her, its simple black frame a fitting metaphor for the picture itself. It showed only a single woman, naked and kneeling in the same submissive pose she now emulated. One by one, she removed each object from her mind until only the picture remained.

The house was silent. From this room she could not hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen below and to her left. She couldn’t hear if the dishwasher ran or if the television were on. No boards creaked to signal anyone’s approach, no wind whistled in around the windows. She let out a deep breath and waited some more.

No, not waiting. She had to change her word. Monks called it meditation and could sit in silence for hours. When she first began to learn the techniques involved, she barely lasted five minutes before she’d start to fidget. Since coming to live here, she’d slowly increased the time until she could spend an hour in meditation. The sense of peace would descend soon. She just had to wait.

She placed her hands palm-to-palm before her, raising them above her head and inhaling deeply. As she lowered them again, she let out the breath, feeling her shoulders relax and her mind clear. Keeping the image of the submissive woman in her mind’s eye, she closed her eyes, lowered her head and once more rested her hands on her thighs.

The peace floated down to her like a blanket from the heavens. She felt it settle on her skin, then sink into her muscles and deeper into her heart. With a small smile, she felt the peace touch her soul and, keeping her focus inward, her breathing slowed and time disappeared.

He stood in the room beside hers, clothed in a pair of black pants and a white shirt that opened at the collar. He removed his shoes, ready to begin his own journey, his gaze centering on a drawing he had himself created. Made of pen and ink, the self-portrait showed him standing over a woman’s levitating body, one hand raised above her as if he pulled her soul from her arched form, the other lower, supporting her, keeping her balanced. Without his control, she might never fly – without his control, she might fly away.

The picture, framed and hung on the wall above their bed, helped him concentrate. She deserved the best he could give and that required a clear mind and focused will. With a graceful move, his eyes not leaving the picture, he stepped forward and sat on the bed, his legs bent and crossed before him. Inhaling deeply, he moved his hands upward to the side, bringing his palms together and down as he exhaled. Pushing the heels of his hands together, he raised them, pulling in a deep, cleansing breath. Closing his eyes, he held still for several moments until, with a great exhalation he lowered his hands and moved his thoughts within.

Time passed, although she had no idea how much before she heard his step in the hall. She knew he would come. Her eyes opened slowly as a part of her mind came back to this earth. She liked this dream-like state. The quiet sensation of peacefulness, the knowledge that he was near, the total contentment she had with her life, all blended into one. She could live here forever and never come back to earth.

And yet, at the sound of his movement toward her, she came willingly. Only with him might she go so much further. Only he could keep her from drifting too far away from earth. With a deep breath so deep as to almost be a sigh of happiness, she bowed her head so he might not see her smile.

It was a game they played, the two of them. His manner, serious and focused, saw no humor in what they were about to do. She, however, enjoyed what they did so thoroughly, found so much enjoyment both the activities and the result, she could not hide the smile. He would teasingly scold her and accuse her of not taking this seriously if he saw it.

But she did. Take this seriously. Nothing in life was more important than this time they had together without the rest of the world putting demands on them. And so she hid her lazy smile, knowing that soon he would take such inhibitions away as he stripped down her walls.

He stood in the door, fresh from his own hour of silence. Her body knelt in the center of the rug in the center of room, already the center of his attention. Her head had come up when she heard his step, yet she remained relaxed and ready, her soul open. She’d learned well the techniques he’d taught her. Only through meditation could one control the passions, only through finding peace could one move toward true consciousness. It had given him great pleasure to know, as he knelt in the room beside this one, that she had come so far under his tutelage.

She had taught him as well. Whether it was her earnestness, her passion for living or her willingness to learn, he had learned that their souls could reach heights far higher if they went together than if they were apart. Only recently had he realized this was the very definition of the new-age term soul mates. She was his. But he also belonged to her.

His eyes looked to a different photo, this one on the wall opposite the kneeling submissive. It showed a man and woman, the woman in a similar kneeling position as to the photo opposite. The man stood over her, not in a position of power, but in one of protection. He would give his life defending the woman who gave her soul to him.

Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the top of her head, hearing her contented sigh.

You are ready? His words, spoken softly, fell into the silence of the room like soft music to her soul.

I am.

Stand.

They needed no titles, no terms for each other. Such endearments had their place early on, when they were young and still understanding themselves and how their lives fit together. But those roles were settled now and with the passage of time came commitment and love.

Gracefully she unfolded and stood before him, her long, dark hair unbound and spilling over her shoulders in straight brown blades of beauty. No clothing hid her body, no blemish marked her perfectly cream skin, no tan lines marred the surface. Ageless and beautiful, she faced him in quiet submission, her brown eyes reflecting the calm she’d found in her soul.

A calm he intended to interrupt very soon.

He didn’t need to give a command to make her follow, he simply held out his hand and waited as she placed her own within. Such trust deserved the very best he could give her. Turning, he led her to the bedroom he’d prepared for them.

She never knew what she might find when they entered the room that, most days served a more prosaic use. But on these special days, the days they’d set aside as time only for them, the everyday bedroom became a place of