Rod of Correction:
Taken and Tamed
By
Carolyn Faulkner
©2013 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner
Copyright © 2013 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Faulkner, Carolyn
Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-964-3
Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Carolyn Faulkner
The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine.
She knows she's not alone.
Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.
Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.
Visit her website here:
http://carolynfaulkner.com
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Carolyn Faulkner!
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Body and Soul
The Obedient Wife
Chapter I
“You, my dear, are a brat.”
She gave him a thoroughly unrepentant grin, then reached for and downed the second of the two shots he had just poured – after raising it to him in a mock salute – having already surreptitiously drunk his seconds ago when he’d turned to put the bottle down on the table behind him.
“You’re only just noticing that fact? How long have you known me?” she asked, not slurring her words in the least. He was right, of course, but she was in no hurry to admit it. She had always been a brat, as the only daughter of doting parents who gave her anything she’d wanted without demanding anything – including obedience – in return. She had been a well heeled – literally and figuratively – young woman who had had the best education that money could buy and was now devouring her way through the corporate world, having achieved the position of CEO of her own company at an inordinately young age and.
The man across from her wasn’t thinking in the least about her background. He was busy being impressed – if also somewhat annoyed – by her capacity. She had matched him nearly shot for shot all evening, and he was at least twice her size. He was wondering where she’d put it all as he covertly studied her trim figure.
She appeared all but unaffected by the quantity of alcohol she had consumed - to say nothing of the quality, he frowned, glancing at the nearly empty, third or fourth bottle from the luxury Jose Cuervo 1800 Coleccion – he’d lost count somewhere earlier in the evening.
But then, they’d had a lot of help in that pursuit; their friends had slowly deserted them over the course of the evening, drifting back to their own homes – luckily not far from here – until only the two of them remained, facing each other across the big oak gaming table in his den.
“No, I noticed that the night we met, believe me.”
Her grin only widened at his wry tone, knowing they were both recalling a time when she’d first realized he was a hair’s breadth away from taking her over his knee – right in the middle of a Peter Luger Steakhouse, if need be. He knew that, exactly, was going to happen eventually between them, restaurant or not – and it made absolutely no never-mind to him. He was perfectly happy with the idea of tanning her fanny in public, if need be.
And with her, the need always seemed to be. In fact, he was of a mind that being spanked in public might help embarrass her into behaving better, although, he’d reconsidered that idea as he’d gotten to know her. It was more likely to get her wet than anything else.
He leaned back in his chair, idly shuffling the deck of cards they’d been using all night and watching her – wanting her, too, but that went without saying. Watching her was wanting her, and vice-versa. With Sunny, he found himself in an unusual position – fighting the needs of his own body, which he normally had well under control.
Right now, however, his cock wanted nothing more than to succeed in convincing him to throw her onto the table, strip off whatever panties she was wearing under that bewitching, barely-there lace skirt, if any, to thrust himself inside her, taking her without a thought for her pleasure in the least. But he wasn’t – never had been – a selfish lover.
Demanding, yes. Unusual, definitely - but never selfish.
Something about her told him that she’d be right there with him, regardless, along for whatever gut twisting, sweaty, toe curling ride he decided to give her. The woman sitting in front of him needed – wanted – to be taken, in the basest, rawest sense of the word, and he was just the man to do exactly that. Hell, he’d been waiting long enough for just the right time . . . just the right place . . . He recognized that patience was a virtue, but it was also a damned pain in the ass.
“Yet you’ve done nothing about it,” she whined softly, as if issuing a soft challenge.
He barely had her next shot poured before it was gone, set back in its exact spot with a loud, in your face thunk.
Ignoring her empty glass and her taunt for the moment, he drained his own then leaned forward, cards in hand.
“What do you say we raise the stakes a bit?”
Owl eyed, she considered him for a long moment, then asked, “What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“One hand of five card draw.”
Sassily, “And?”
It was the first time he’d allowed himself to smile since they’d been alone, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Winner takes all.”
Her huge mound of change was hastily pushed into the middle of the table until she looked up at him and sighed almost petulantly, “But what are you gonna bet?”
She – with help from the rest of their friends – had cleaned him out. He barely had two nickels to rub together. Damn good thing he wasn’t trying to make a living doing this kind of thing.
He pushed her silver to one side. “I don’t want to bet money.”
Those deep blue eyes seemed to darken to almost purple as they widened and she leaned over the table, her breasts squashed tantalizingly against the green felt. “Then what are we betting?” she asked in a stage whisper.
Forcing himself to stop staring at the lightly tanned, fully ripe fruit that was inches away from his already-watering mouth, Rod met her eyes with his. “Submission. Complete submission.”
He would swear for years afterwards that he watched her become instantaneously sober in that second as he saw her gasp softly. He watched her teeth begin to nibble her lip, as he’d noticed she did on the rare occasions when she was unsure of herself.
He seemed to have caught her off guard with his suggestion, and he considered that to be an advantage.
Sunny didn’t have a wishy washy bone in her body. She was a leader, a doer, a force of nature who shot first and to hell with the questions; much closer to his personality than any other woman he’d ever been attracted to. There was no denying that attraction; it was bone deep. He’d been hard since they’d met almost a year and a half ago. Any time she was anywhere near him – even just in the same room, not even interacting with him – somehow his errant libido could sense her, and he became instantly, painfully – in some cases, such as their friends’ weddings – embarrassingly hard.
Every fantasy he’d had from the moment he’d been introduced to her had been about the depraved things he was going to do to her. There had never been any doubt in his mind that he’d have her one day, and – despite the fact that his body made him feel as if he was going to die every time they said goodbye. Instead of dragging her by the hair into his bedroom or taking her on the spot, he had deliberately waited until both of their jobs had calmed down and neither of them was involved with anyone to make his move.
Tonight was the night. He was going to tame her, to bring her to heel. He didn’t want to crush her spirit – it was one of the things he found most attractive about her, since he was so reserved - but he would curb it. Severely - and he’d enjoy every single minute of it.
He’d deliberately encouraged his guests – including Sunny – to drink more than they might have, offering his limo and driver to bring everyone home safely, of course. It was a Friday night – or rather, Saturday morning, now - and they all had kids to haul to various games or practices or commitments of their own to get to; he knew they would begin dropping like flies eventually.
It had worked. It was only about one in the morning, and he and Sunny would have the whole rest of the night and another whole day together – longer, much longer, if things worked out the way he’d planned.
“Submission?” she parroted back on a gulp after a bit of a delay, as if she really hadn’t wanted to even say the word in front of him, and she definitely didn’t. That one word – more so than probably any other he could have uttered – had the same effect on her as if he had reached out and stroked her intimately with one bold, male finger, but a corresponding fissure of something dangerously close to fear also danced up her spine, leaving a trail of goose flesh on her skin, and a very real concern about the fact that she was probably not going to be able to resist this challenge.
Another breathlessly sexy not-quite smile. If the man had any idea what he was doing to her with those, he’d cut it out or find himself flat on his back on the luxuriously carpeted floor of his den with her finally riding cowgirl above him, a position which she purported to prefer, with her legs – and other more delicate parts – spread wide to accommodate him . . .
Her mind lived quite happily in the gutter most of the time and the tequila managed to emphasize that, loosening her tongue, too, in a dangerous combination that she’d – so far – been able to control around Rod Salem.
Not so much tonight, though, apparently.
“Yes, submission.”
Another deliberate flick of his imaginary finger over the swollen tip of her clit, so much so that she felt compelled to squeeze her legs together - which only seemed to make things worse, if that was possible.
“What do you mean, exactly?” she asked, proud of how sober she thought she sounded. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to explore the . . . distinctly less dominant impulses she had spent her life trying to bury, and it didn’t seem at all prudent to let them out to play in front of him.
He had put her on guard, somehow, which hadn’t been his intention. He could see how her body had tensed up at his choice of words, but he didn’t regret it. It was the perfect term for what he would demand of her. A certain amount of caution on her part was expected – even welcome. She would have to determine tonight just how much she trusted him – or didn’t.
“Do you require a dictionary definition of the word?” he asked, but not solicitously.
Her middle finger went up immediately, and Sunny founder herself disconcerted by the fact that it only seemed to increase the size of his smile – and even then, it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Point taken. The English minor understands the O.E.D.’s definition of submission.”
“How’d you know I minored in English?” She couldn’t recall having told him that . . .
Not in the least concerned by her question, he said, “You must’ve mentioned it, or perhaps Laura did.”
She wouldn’t have put it past Laura to have told Rod that she was into whips and chains – and she wasn’t, necessarily – or had spent a night in jail for speeding while they were in college, or that she had a raging crush on him. Laura was nothing if not a blabbermouth. Sweet, generous, and a whiz at math, but couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. It always amazed her that Laura had been able to keep her lips buttoned about her attraction to Rod. Miracles did happen.
“Oh.” Sunny shifted in her seat, as if he’d already spanked her and she was sitting on a sore behind, although the cause of her unease wasn’t that – it was a genuine interest in not leaving a big wet spot on his immaculately upholstered chair. “You’re going to have to elaborate, friend. I ain’t agreeing to just ‘completely submitting’. I have no interest at all in my family having to identify my remains when my body’s retrieved from a shallow grave -”
“Now there’s an interesting character reading.” She only paused slightly at his comment, “ – nor in being yet another notch on your bedpost.”
That had him chuckling – or whatever his equivalent was. The man wasn’t a fount of joviality even in the best of situations; she could probably count the number of times she’d heard him laugh on one hand.
What he did next surprised her. They had been sitting opposite each other, and he got up to take the chair next to her instead, sitting so close that his big jeans-covered knees were butting against her bare ones as they faced each other. Sunny wanted to move away from that contact, because, even as innocuous as it was, it rocketed to the area between her legs.
When he took each of her hands in his, she felt a rush of her own lubrication onto pink bikini panties as she fought with herself not to reclaim her hands and leave the room – and his house.
But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She was no coward. So instead she steeled her spine and grasped his hands firmly, forcing her eyes to meet his.
Rod almost let himself grin at
that, but he didn’t want to let her know what he’d seen – that he’d watched the thoughts flowing frantically through her mind as they played across her face – especially the impulse to flee – thoughts that she had tamed ruthlessly and, instead, sat there with him, contentedly, at least on the surface.
The conflict he’d seen there intrigued him, because he would have sworn she was much more in touch with the side of her that he was intent on bending to his own purposes. “It means that, for the rest of this weekend, whoever loses this hand will do anything the other asks them to do, until, say, seven o’clock Monday morning.”
Rod was amazed that she was still with him, but her only response to his outrageous terms was to raise her eyebrow. “Anything?”
“Well, I think that certain things would be considered ruled out automatically – nothing life-threatening, of course, nothing illegal, etc.”
“But lots of immoral?”
He stared at her with those steely eyes, not answering her question at first. “I’m absolutely serious about this, in case you were wondering if I’m kidding, or if I’m going to laugh it off once the game is played. Don’t agree to this unless you intend to commit to it. If you chicken out on me halfway through the weekend, I reserve the right to tease you about it until the day you die.” He cleared his throat and continued, “I’m sure nowadays submitting oneself – especially in the manner I have in mind for you – would definitely be considered immoral.”
There was that shiver again, keeping her nipples crested painfully, but her heart was also beating double-time. He seemed quite serious. She wondered if this should be anything she was seriously entertaining, but then she realized that she wouldn’t necessarily be the one who lost. She swallowed a big lump of apprehension – liberally mixed with sheer desire - at his words, but gave him a questioning look. “So, if I should win the hand, then I could tell you to do anything I wanted?”
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