Shared Serenity

By Keagen

Hand-in-hand, they walked barefoot down the beach. The sand was soft and warm, the sunlight reflecting in gorgeous oranges and pinks off of the water, and the waves were gently lulling as the rolled and rumbled up over their feet. He pulled her close to his side, and she nestled into his embrace as they continued their stroll. Going nowhere in particular, they simply enjoyed the sense of love, peace, and joy.

Suddenly, she started tugging against his hand. She knew better than to pull away from him, but she started pulling him in the direction she was drawn. The gentle wind was blowing through the light, linen shirt she was wearing, and her capris rustled as well. Laughing, he gave in to her tug, and allowed himself to be towed along. Crouching down, laughing with glee, she offered him a perfectly formed conch shell. Still laughing as he held it up to his ear like a phone, she pretended to answer the other line.

“Hello?”

“Yes, I’m looking for a Mrs. Rivka?”

Gleefully, she answered, “She’s not available.”

Dropping the shiny, perfectly-formed shell into the cargo pocket on his shorts, he reached out for her. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his body as he spun her in a circle, feet off the ground. Both of them laughing with an exhilarated euphoria, they continued their walk, hand-in-hand, in perfect bliss. A fleeting grin passed over his face as he thought about his luck. . . . This was the perfect night, the perfect place, and the perfect girl.

Still walking along the wet sand at the edge of the water, she squealed as the warm, salty ocean sprayed up over her ankles and soaked the edges of her capris. He looked down at her, eyes full of love, humor, and mischief. Playfully, he shoved her further out into the water, and took off running. Squealing, she took off after him. Reaching a dead run, she finally caught him. Jumping and latching onto his back, she wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him as he spun around, pretending to “look” for her.

Wrapping his arms around her legs to securely hold her in place, he mused out loud, “Hm…… guess she’s not here…..” Trotting further down the beach with her on his back, he kept looking for her in the most unlikely places while she just laughed. Nuzzling her head in beside his ear, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, legs locked around his waist, she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. This was the perfect place, the perfect night, and the perfect guy.

Stopping at the edge of the water again, he moved his arms, and she dropped back to her toes, finally settling flat-footed. He pulled her close to his side and held her close as he looked out over the horizon. A peaceful lull settled over him, and he pulled her tighter into his chest. She snuggled in, thrilled to be in his arms. Her body curved into his as if they were made to fit, as one. . . . He took in the first vestiges of color. . . . the slightest tinge of pink colored the sky and reflected off the water. The overwhelming thought of how incredibly lucky she was washed over her, along with the most secure feeling she could remember ever experiencing. Never safer than when in his arms, she reveled in the beauty nature provided.

Turning and giving a gentle tug on her hand, he led her further down the beach. Content and happy, she followed him readily. At times, she would playfully break away from him, and take off. He’d run after her, a big, goofy grin on his face. Every time he’d reach her, she’d giggle with delight as he would grab her and pull her close, sometimes delivering a couple of firm swats to her bottom.

As they continued walking, the warm water lapped at their feet, soothing away the pain of the day, and the sounds of nature lulled them both into a peaceful serenity. Conversation flowed like music, some spoken, much unspoken. The gentle guiding of his hand on hers, the looks that were exchanged often said all that needed to be said. This was an aspect she adored. . . . . the ability to just be. . . . . to not have to fill the silence with idle chatter. When the words came, they came naturally, and they flowed.

As he lapsed into silence, she felt the subtle shift in mood. As his demeanor changed, she began to read the minute cues that let her know what he was thinking. . . . Her mind wandered back to earlier in the day, and she, too, began to go through a shift in body language. As her feelings of submission began to well up, she became much more willing to be led the further they walked. She drank in the singing of the birds, and the waves crashing against the shore filled her mind. She recognized long ago that they were far away from humanity. . . . . . She quickly glanced around and saw no power lines, buildings, boats, or even trash. . . . . . She was awestruck with the beauty, and her heart swelled with the privilege of being able to share this special moment with him. Her mind quickly returned to its prior train of thought as she felt his attention focus sharply on something in the distance. She followed his light tugging without resistance, focusing on the feeling of his hand around hers, and when she looked up, the rock filled her vision. She quickly glanced up into his eyes and searched them for his intent. . . . and his intent was clear. Looking at the ground, she was overwhelmed with emotion. She was struck with the emotion of being his, of his leadership, of his love, of his simple joy. She was struck with THEIR joy, and perfection of the moment.

Looking back up into his eyes, her gaze held a simple sense of love, joy, and submission. It was a glow he cherished; a look he craved. He gently brushed a strand of hair out of her face, all the while holding her soft, yet charged, gaze. Silently turning, he led her closer to the rock. Leaning casually against it, he again sought out her gaze.

“Who are you, beautiful?”

Head slightly tilted to the side, a gently joy brimming in her voice, she held his look as she answered. “I’m yours, sir.”

Nuzzling down by her head, he lightly began to kiss her neck as he whispered into her hair, “What are you?”

Coming to her toes, she began to return the favor. Lightly tracing his jaw line with kisses, she replied, “I’m loved, sir.”

Gently, slowly, he eased onto the rock, bringing her with him. Settling her between his legs, he pulled her close to his chest. Her back was to his body, his arms firmly around her, his head nestled into hers.

“What do you offer me, love?”

Gazing out over the horizon, the sunset had reached peak color. The golden flame drizzled over the ocean, and the pinks were fading into darker colors. She brought her hands to his arm as she nestled even closer to his body. Her words lulled by the ocean, she openly offered her complete submission, with every fiber of her being.

Slowly, surely, carefully, lovingly, he turned her over his lap. She settled into position without an ounce of resistance in her body. Repeating himself, he asked again as he drew her close to his body. “What do you offer me, love?”

Again she answered, taking in the solidity of his body, “My submission, sir”.

He wrapped his left arm firmly around her waist, tucking and locking his hand under her right hip. She felt the firmness of his arm locked across her back and the warm, familiar touch of his right hand smoothing the creases out of her capris. As he smoothed the fabric across her bottom and legs, he was in awe of the beauty around him. . . . . . . the fading sunset, the crash and ebb of the sea, the singing of the birds, the sight currently over his lap, and the gift that he was offered every day. Leaning down over her body, he whispered into her hair, “Show me.”

Hand in hand, they walked through the dark back towards the condo. She was nearly lighting up the night with her submissive glow, and he had this simple, calm, happiness that permeated his very core. Neither had to say anything, for their pride and joy flowed through their hands, their eyes, their very being.

The spanking she’d been given had been firm, solid, and it challenged her submission. She hadn’t liked the pain, but she liked pleasing him . . . . she enjoyed knowing that he was enjoying her, that he was proud, and that she was his. She enjoyed the time, the peace of knowing she was with someone whom she could trust beyond measure, and with one who would love, guide, encourage, and, when needed, punish and correct. This wasn’t the first time she’d been spanked solely for the sake of submission, nor was it likely to be the last. It was his choice more than hers, but she welcomed his leading, his guiding, his love. She’d yelped, cried, and finally ended up sobbing in his arms. He’d held her tightly, rocked her, and listened to both her, and the sea. He whispered into her ear. . . . . He’d whispered about how much she was loved. . . . about who she was. . . . and that she belonged to him. He knew it was at these times that she was most connected to him. . . . most able to hear what he truly had to say, from the heart.

He allowed her to fully calm, to rest in his strength, to take in the full experience. . . . the experience of being his. Their joy in each other. . . . . he in her, and her in her submission, brought them both shared serenity.

The last tinges of color faded from the sky, and they began their walk back.