Chapter 7: The Circles

The hot springs at Bare Courage became the true heartbeat of the retreat during those early months. Every evening at sunset, a circle of naked women would gather in the steaming water, bodies of every age, shape, and story bared under the vast desert sky. It was here, more than anywhere else, that real healing happened.

I sat on the smooth stone ledge that evening, warm water lapping at my thick thighs, my heavy breasts resting against the soft shelf of my belly. At fifty-one, every inch of me felt alive in the golden light. Silver stretch marks across my hips and abdomen caught the fading sun like delicate rivers of light. My dark, mature cunt was submerged, but fully relaxed, outer lips plump, inner folds gently parted by the current. Sweat and steam glistened on my skin.

Look at us, I thought, scanning the circle of fourteen women this week. Real women. Not filtered. Not ashamed. These bodies have carried babies, survived heartbreak, outlived marriages, and still they rise. My own heavy tits sagging with the honest weight of years. This belly that refused to lie flat after four C-sections. These thick thighs that rub together with every step. This cunt that still gets wet when my obedient cunt doll drops to her knees. No apologies here. Only the truth.

Sophia moved quietly around the perimeter, fully clothed in her professional linen pants and blouse, offering fresh towels, water, and gentle guidance where needed. She was flawless in her role — executive director of operations, calm, competent, invisible support. No one would ever guess that just forty minutes earlier, r she had been on all fours in my private casita with my strap-on buried deep inside her.

Earlier that afternoon:

The last morning session had ended. Guests were resting or walking the desert paths. I had taken Sophia by the hand and led her to my private casita.

“The door is locked. Clothes off. On your knees, cunt doll.”

She obeyed instantly, stripping with practiced efficiency and dropping gracefully to the cool tile floor. Naked, collared with the simple leather piece she now wore whenever we were alone, she crawled to me and pressed her face reverently against my soft belly.

I spread my thick thighs wide on the edge of the bed. “Worship.”

Her tongue went straight to work with hungry devotion. She licked every inch of my prominent outer lips, parted them, and devoured the sensitive inner folds. She sucked my clit with the perfect rhythm I had trained her, two fingers sliding deep into my cunt, curling against that spot that made my toes curl.