Yoga Day 3

The morning sun has barely cleared the eastern ridge, casting long, cold shadows across the frost-dusted deck of the main lodge. The mountain air is crisp, but inside the lodge, the heavy, residual heat from the fireplace carries the distinct scent of cedar, rich coffee, and the lingering, intoxicating memory of last night.

Your jaw still feels slightly achey from the weight of Dana’s hips, and the phantom image of Lauren making herself squirt while you were **** to watch, bound by Dana’s strict command, is burned into your mind. You haven’t touched yourself. The ache in your groin is a constant, throbbing reminder of exactly who owns your pleasure right now.

You are behind the coffee bar, setting out the heavy ceramic mugs, when the door opens.

Dana walks in first, looking impossibly refreshed in form-fitting, emerald-green bamboo athletic wear. Behind her file the trainees. Vicky looking like a weapon in matte-black compression gear, Maya yawning in an oversized tie-dye shirt, and Heather carrying her usual self-conscious tension in her pristine designer athleisure.

Lauren walks in right behind Heather. She’s wearing a fitted charcoal-grey yoga set, her porcelain skin slightly flushed from the morning air, her bright blue eyes darting to you with a mixture of quiet nervousness and a deep, submissive thrill.

Dana walks straight toward the coffee bar, her jade-green eyes locking onto yours with an amused, dominant knowing. The women gather near the fire, but Dana’s focus is entirely on you.

“Morning, Mark,” Dana says, her low, smoky voice carrying effortlessly across the quiet room. She leans her forearms against the wooden counter, bringing her face close enough that you can smell the faint scent of jasmine on her skin. Her eyes flick down to your waist, then back up. “Did you sleep well? Or did you spend the night thinking about your little habit?”

Before you can answer, she turns her head toward the group. “Girls, come over here. Today’s first lesson isn’t on the mats. It’s about energy, vulnerability, and balance.”

Vicky blinks, instantly stepping forward. Maya drifts over, curious, while Heather hesitates. Lauren walks up right to the center, her fingers trembling slightly as she glances at you, wondering what is about to happen.

Dana turns her attention back to you, a cold, beautiful smile touching her lips. “Our host here has a wonderful resort. But he also has a bit of a voyeuristic streak. He likes to watch. He likes to stay perfectly comfortable, fully clothed, hidden behind his professional exterior while we sweat, bend, and expose ourselves to his environment.”

Heather’s cheeks instantly flush a deep crimson. Vicky’s eyes narrow, instantly analyzing you with a sharp, calculating intensity. Maya’s lips part in a sudden, delighted grin. Lauren just bites her lower lip, a soft, breathless gasp escaping her as she looks at her husband.

“Yoga is about stripping away illusions, Mark,” Dana says, her voice dropping an octave, commanding and absolute. “And since you love to observe so much, it’s time you learn how it feels to be the one on display. To balance the energy in this room, you’re going to join us today. Completely transparent.”

She taps her manicured index finger against the wooden bar.

“Strip. Everything. You stay naked for the rest of the day. You will serve breakfast, you will clean, you will assist us, and you will not touch yourself. If I catch so much as a finger straying, the punishment will make last night look like a warm-up. Girls, watch his posture. Notice how the male ego reacts when its armor is removed.”

The room falls dead silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

Vicky crosses her arms, her ice-blue eyes drilling into you, waiting to see if you’ll break or obey. Maya leans against the counter, her eyes widening with a breathless, uninhibited excitement. Heather looks utterly paralyzed, her gaze darting between Dana and your chest. And Lauren stands right in front, her chest heaving slightly under her yoga top, her blue eyes wide with a intoxicating blend of loyalty to Dana and raw anticipation to see her husband completely exposed to the entire room.

Dana takes a step back, folding her arms, her supple, powerful frame radiating absolute authority. “Well, Mark? The class is waiting. Take it off.”