After joining the Free Spirit Connection, Amalia Echevarria quickly rose to become a leader in her Local Gathering, and now would be a delegate at the Triennial Assembly. There she learns the intricacies of the Connection’s internal politics, as well as enjoying erotic interludes with submissive Darla and others. While at first her eloquence and passion garners allies, a spurious accusation threatens to undermine her credibility – and perhaps even the causes that she supports. Still, the Free Spirits are dedicated to the truth, and their leaders promise to find out who’s behind these rumors. But will it be enough to repair the damage done?

EXCERPT

“You nervous?” Darla asked her.

She hummed while she thought of how to respond. “Just one thing. But we can talk about it when we get there.”

“Mm hm,” Darla responded, and they continued towards Fifteen Southwest. Sly had given them her keycard, as she would come in with Cap later. Once they were there, Darla led Mel to the basement, and to the small room where they would play. Darla took the bag from her, pulled out the comforter, and spread it onto the center of the floor.

Mel took a deep breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I’m just a little worried – okay, more than a little – about the throat thing.”

Darla nodded with a serious expression. “I’m glad you could say that. You’re right, we’ve gotta work it out.”

“So, … how do we do this?”

Darla came over. “The pressure’s not on the throat,” she explained. “Just the sides of the neck. Can I show you?”

Mel took in a deep breath, held it, then nodded slowly. Darla reached up, placing her hand on her neck, the palm just touching her throat, tips of her four fingers on the left side, tip of her thumb on the right. Gently, she applied pressure on the neck muscles, but with no force on her windpipe or carotids.

Mel now reached up and mirrored this on Darla’s neck. “Like this?”

“A little harder.”

Mel squeezed a tiny bit more. “Good?”

“Keep going. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Ever so slowly, Mel increased the pressure until Darla gave a signal. She then let go. “Okay, let me try one more time, just so I’m sure.”

Darla smiled and nodded, and Mel took hold of her neck and squeezed again to the desired point. As she did so a strange sense of exhilaration flooded through her. The thought of actual breath play terrified Amalia, but here this mere illusion of holding her girl’s life in her hand gave a feeling of power and control such as she’d never experienced before. And for Darla, the feel of her lover taking hold of her like this, of exerting force just to the right point, almost sent her floating into subspace.

Now they prepared for the main event. Mel pulled open her girl’s shirtdress, the snaps popping open, her bare body exposed to the cool musty air. Mel took the coil of rope, undid it, and began to rig a body harness about her. Her well-practiced fingers threaded, knotted and bighted the rope against her flesh, and she smirked with delight seeing her girl’s chest heaving, her breath growing faster at the thrill of how she would be used tonight. Trussed from neck to crotch, her arms folded and secured behind her, the girl stood waiting as Mel pulled out the silk scarf, folding it, then placing it over the girl’s eyes and tying it snugly behind her head. Wordlessly guiding her, Mel directed her helpless girl to kneel in the center of the floor covering, then crouched besides her, stroking and fondling her, readying her flesh – and through it her spirit – to what was about to come…

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