by Dinah McLeod
“Tell me something else about yourself,” he said, catching me off guard.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Something no one else would guess.”
“Hmm, well, there’s this guy. I let him tie me up. I even let him spank me,” I whispered, my voice low and conspiratorial.
“Did you now? What else would you let him do?”
I batted my eyelashes at him demurely. “That depends largely on what’s in it for me.”
“Is that so?” he asked, his voice husky as he moved the tray out of the way.
“That’s just good business,” I replied, suppressing a giggle as he moved toward me. I saw the desire flashing in his eyes and I didn’t protest when he captured my wrists, holding them both in one hand. As he sidled toward me I lay down on the bed. He hovered over me, his jaw set in a way that I found maddeningly sexy. He pressed his lips against mine in a hard, possessive kiss that stole both my breath and my thoughts.
“I want you to behave yourself today and remember what we agreed on.”
“Yes, Sir,” I gasped. Please, more. I begged him with my eyes. He obliged, lowering his mouth to mine. To my surprise, he caught my bottom lip and bit down. It stung a bit but I barely felt the pain through the lust that was overwhelming me. There was no doubt that he looked hot in his navy Polo, but damn it, why was I the only one who was ever undressed? It just wasn’t fair.
All too soon from my point of view, he broke the kiss, but he stayed leaning over me, his eyes warm pools of yearning. “Tell me something about you. Something real.”
“I’m an only child,” I replied, willing and wanting in that moment to tell him anything he wanted to know. I’d talk as long as he wanted to listen. “My parents always had these big dreams for me, but I never lived up to their expectations.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You’re very successful.”
I laughed, forcing myself to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “Oh, that? My parents don’t care about things like that. They think I’m about ten years too late for the marriage boat and they’ve given up hope for grandchildren.”
He pushed himself up and I watched the muscles ripple in his arms. Mmm, yummy.
“You’re only thirty-six, for God’s sake. There’s still time.”
“Please, save yourself the trouble. You won’t be telling me anything I haven’t already tried. They’re not interested in hearing my excuses.”
“Which means that you work your ass off at a job your parents don’t even appreciate,” he observed.
“Don’t go and get teary-eyed on me now,” I said, striving to keep my tone light. “You asked for something real, so there it is.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share it with me. “
“Thank you for asking.”
Then he lowered his mouth to taste mine again and I eagerly parted my lips. I didn’t know if it was a pity kiss or not, but it was so heart-stoppingly tender that I didn’t care.
***
Sadly, the kiss didn’t lead anywhere more exciting, and somehow I found myself outside in Brandon’s considerable back yard, staring at the thick trunk of a pine tree. He let me stare at it without comment and I took my time, trying to figure out what was expected of me. I kept drawing a blank, so finally I turned toward him. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, Sir.”
He smiled warmly at me and my cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Raise your arms for me, sweetheart.”
Every time he called me “sweetheart” I felt something warm and sweet unfurl inside me. I raised my hands over my head, my wrists touching, and waited. My breath hitched as he moved toward me and I watched with surprise as he pulled a long, pink and purple flowered scarf out of his pocket. When had he put that in there? And secondly, whose was it?
I didn’t ask questions, just stayed as still as I could as he twisted the scarf around my wrists. To my surprise, he looped it around a tree branch before tying it off. A quick assessment told me that I could slip my wrists out of the scarf if I really wanted to. I liked that he did that—it made me feel more relaxed, even though I knew one of the reasons he did it was so that I could choose whether or not to submit.
“I’m going to take those shorts off now,” he told me, leaning forward to tickle my ear with his whisper. “I know you’re relieved.”
I squelched a giggle. When he had told me that he’d planned for us to come outside, he insisted that I wear a pair of his shorts and one of his T-shirts while he put my dress in the washing machine. I’d balked at the idea, not at all happy at the prospect of wearing men’s clothing. Not that it offended my feminine sensibilities, I just didn’t want his clothes hiding the few assets I had.
Needless to say, it was a battle I lost, though I didn’t really try too hard. At this moment, I was glad I hadn’t; it gave him a reason to touch me, even if I had a good idea of what would follow once the shorts were off. When I felt his hand slip around my waist, the press of his fingers at the button made my stomach churn with a strange mixture of excitement and apprehension. I decided just to enjoy the feel of his hands on me and I closed my eyes to savor the sensation as he slowly pulled the zipper down.
As soon as he let go, the shorts fell in a puddle at my feet. One hand reached up to cradle my left breast while he kissed my neck, his warm breath on my skin making delicious shivers travel throughout my body. He pinched my nipple between his fingers, pulling on it and making me moan. “You are going to be my good girl today, aren’t you, Karen?”
“Yes, Sir.” I had to summon super-human willpower that I didn’t even know I had to keep my knees from buckling when his hand switched to my left breast.
“You know what happens to bad girls, don’t you?”
“Mmm.”
“Bad girls who drink too much wine and lose their panties?”
If another man’s voice had ever sounded so deliciously soft, I couldn’t remember when. Nor could I recall feeling so much warm wetness between my legs that I worried he might see it. “Yes, Sir.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“They get spanked, Sir.”
“They do,” he agreed, releasing my breast and making me cry out at the loss of his touch. “I think you need a reminder.”
“I’ll be good, Sir,” I whimpered, longing to surrender to the desire I was feeling.
“I know you will. This is just a little training exercise.”
I felt him move away but in my position I couldn’t see where he was going. When he stepped back behind me I felt the touch of something cool on my bottom. What was that? It didn’t feel like the hairbrush he’d used on me the night before. It actually felt like…was that leather?
As soon as the question crossed my mind, I heard the wind whistle behind me, a second before I felt the implement strike my cool skin. In its wake was a sensation that was stingy, but not really painful. By stroke number two, I’d decided that I actually liked it.
“What is that?”
“I’m sorry?” Brandon asked, bringing the implement down harder.
I winced. That time it hurt, but I remembered what he wanted from me. “What is that, Sir?”
“It’s called a flogger.”
If he’d been facing me, he would have seen my mouth gape open. A what? I’d heard of a flogger, of course—even Vanilla girls like me knew about sex toys. But the idea that he was actually using it on me, that I found myself closer to climaxing with each quick, whippy slap was unbelievable. If only the fellas at the office could see me now, I thought, laughing at myself. No one would believe it. Hell, I still didn’t believe it, for that matter.
Though my lips could try all they wanted, my body couldn’t lie. He whipped me slowly, letting me fully appreciate each bite of the lash until I could no longer hold back my moans.
“Do you like how that feels? Does it make your pussy wet, baby?”
How was it possible that hearing the word “pussy” from his mouth made me feel like a limp
noodle, as though I’d orgasmed from the intimacy in his voice? The man needed to be studied. So did I, for that matter. What kind of woman got so excited about being spanked? And why hadn’t I before? So many questions and I didn’t want to ask any of them; I only wanted to bask in this moment, in the feel of having his attention completely on me.
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s my good girl. Do you think you could handle something a bit stronger?”
Without waiting for my answer, he walked in front of me and I saw he was carrying what looked to be coat hanger clips attached to a rubber cord. “Let me help you out of that shirt.” Once he pulled it up, he opened the clips and slid them toward my chest. I turned my body away with a whimper.
“Shh. It will feel good, I promise.”
Only his seductive murmur could have convinced me to straighten out, offering my breasts for whatever he had planned. The clamps came down on my aroused nipples and I couldn’t help crying out.
“They hurt,” I complained in a little-girl voice.
“Give it a little while and see what you think.”
“I don’t like them,” I complained, petulant.
“Oh, really?” he challenged. Before I knew what he was going to do, he stepped forward and slipped a finger into my pussy, making the juices that had collected during all our fun come spilling out. “I’d beg to differ,” he said as he showed me his finger slick with proof of my arousal. While I watched, he brought the finger to his lips and with a devilish look in his eye, he slid it into his mouth and sucked it clean; the desire I saw in his eyes made me tremble.
He gave the cord a gentle tug and pulled a moan from me. With that, he moved behind me and with a swish, the flogger was coming back toward my quivering cheeks. After a few strokes, we got into a rhythm of sorts. I pushed my bottom out toward him, welcoming the sensual bite of the whip, moving forward slightly with each stroke. I let myself savor each one before moving back into position.
Before too much longer the smack of the flogger was echoed by a cry from me. The stinging had spread throughout my ass, the ache somehow stirring my need for his touch. There was no doubt about it, I had a full-on lady wood. The flogging landed with another slap, pushing me forward and making my nipples strain against the clamps. I cried out loudly and the next thing I knew, Brandon had untied my wrists.
“I don’t want it to hurt. Not today.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.
“Very thoughtful of you, Sir,” I said, my tone saucy as I rubbed my wrists.
“Here, let me see,” he said, reaching a hand out. I obliged by thrusting my wrists at him, which he began to massage with firm, nimble fingers. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay,” I said, blushing.
“Let me see. Turn around.”
He twirled his finger in the air and I obeyed. When I felt his hands cup my tingling ass, one cheek in each hand, I almost swooned then and there. Lucky for me, my body was pressed against his solid frame so I would have only toppled into him. There were worse ways to fall.
“You have such a pretty pink butt,” he said admiringly.
“Oh, so that’s what you like about me?” I asked with a laugh. “My butt?”
“No, darlin’.” His voice was husky as he nuzzled my neck. “I like the whole package.”
I made a little snort of disbelief and found myself being turned around with his strong hands.
“Karen Donahue,” he said in a warning tone. “Don’t ever doubt what I tell you, am I understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“When I say I like everything, it means I like everything.” His eyes roved my body with an intensity that made me blush from the tips of my toes to my hairline. “Do I need to prove it to you?”
Thinking he meant a more serious spanking, I began to shake my head. Before I could process what was happening, he had laid me on the grass and was straddling me. “But what about the rules?”
“Fuck the rules,” he growled, so we did.
***
When I woke the next morning, the sun hadn’t quite come up yet. I rolled over and saw Brandon’s side of the bed empty. I smiled to myself and stretched my arms over my head. I winced a bit as my muscles protested—every single part of my body ached, though I couldn’t complain. It had been well worth it.
After he’d laid me on the grass, Brandon had taken his time working his way down my body. He’d teased and tasted everything—from my ear lobe down to the toes he’d suckled. “You do not have my permission to come, understand?”
My sex had clenched at the mere mention of an orgasm. “But—”
“Understand?”
I felt so flustered. I just wanted to enjoy the wonderful things he was doing to my body without having to think about anything else. “But Brandon, I don’t know if—”
He leaned down and bit my lip. “Sir.”
“I don’t know if I can, Sir,” I’d said, tossing my head saucily.
“You better make sure you can. Or else.” His throaty promise had made me shiver.
I’d tried to keep it in the front of my mind, really I had, but his mouth was too warm, his fingers too skilled. He’d wrapped his arms around me and pulled me to a sitting position, wedged firmly between his thighs. The minute he’d brushed his fingers over my naked thigh I had convulsed, throwing my head back and groaning.
“Tsk, tsk,” he’d tutted. “I thought you said you were going to be a good girl today, Karen.”
I’d looked up at him through lowered lashes, relieved to see that his eyes were laughing at me. It didn’t stop him from pulling me over his lap and grabbing the flogger he’d dropped. I tensed as I waited for the first stroke, but I needn’t have bothered. He was just as gentle as he’d been before, using each flick of his wrist to make my desire mount to new heights.
Just then, the door creaked open, jolting me out of my reverie. Brandon entered, smiling his warm, perfect smile at me. At me. I’d never felt so lucky to be with someone as I did with him. I’d always known I was smart, ambitious even, but Brandon was the only one who’d ever made me feel special.
“Morning.”
“Good morning.” I sat up straight, reaching for the cup of coffee he held out to me. I inhaled the delicious scents of chocolate and cinnamon before taking a big, warm gulp and swallowing it down. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure,” he said with a wink that made my body flush with rekindled lust.
“May I ask what you have planned for today?”
“Sunday’s a day of rest,” he said with a grin. “And I figure your body could use a little break. Don’t pout,” he scolded, tilting my chin up. “You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.”
Right after we ate breakfast, he led me down the hall, his hands covering my eyes. We were both giggling like children by the time he told me I could look, removing his hands with a flourish. I gasped at the sight of what had to be at least a hundred candles spread throughout his bathroom. There were tea lights, pillar candles and votives artfully arranged throughout the room.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, taking in the rosy glow the candles had given the otherwise dark bathroom. “When did you have time to do this?”
“Remember when I got up earlier, before breakfast?”
“Lying? You, Brandon? I expected better,” I said, tsking playfully at him.
“Hey, now,” he said, giving my bottom a firm swat. “I said I had to take care of something. Which was technically true.”
“Do you think you’re going to get away on a technicality?” I asked, tilting my chin up to look into his eyes. His only answer was to kiss me until I almost melted into a puddle on the floor.
“The water’s getting cold,” he murmured, which was the only encouragement I needed to shrug out of the over-sized t-shirt I’d borrowed from him; it was so big on me it went down to my knees.
“Mmm,” I sighed happily as the warm, sudsy water enveloped my body. A moment later Brandon had shed his clothes and was
climbing in behind me. He wrapped his arms around me and I obliged by laying my head on his chest, his soft, curly hair tickling my cheek. This is a perfect moment, I thought, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply. How many of those did a person get in one lifetime?
“Happy?”
“So happy,” I agreed, laying my hand on top of his and squeezing it.
“I never knew women like you existed before.”
I sat up and turned to face him, smirking. Even though I knew he wouldn’t like it, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, when you met me, you thought I was a brat!”
“In need of a spanking,” he agreed cheerfully. “I’ve met plenty of brats, Karen. I’ve met women who are strong-willed and women who are submissives. Rarely do the two go together. Until you.”
I slapped my hand on the water, causing it to spray upward at him. “How’s that for being a brat?” I giggled.
He grabbed the offending hand, holding it captive. “Not now, woman,” he growled. “Not when I’m trying to sweet-talk you.”
“What’s the occasion?”
Suddenly, his face went serious and I felt my mouth go dry, my heart pounding as he looked at me with those sexy bedroom eyes of his. “There’s going to be a Valentine’s dance at the high school where I teach on Wednesday. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”
“To a high school dance?”
“I know it’s not a glamorous way to spend Valentine’s Day, but I already signed up months ago and I doubt I’ll be able to get out of it. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” He scrutinized my face, and if I didn’t know better I’d say that was hesitation I saw in his eyes.
It couldn’t be, I thought, dismissing it instantly. This strong, sexy man didn’t have anything to feel uncertain about. “It’s not that. I’ve just never been to a high school dance before.”
“Really? Not even when you were in school?”
I looked at the bubbles that clung to the water, swiping at a pile of suds. “No one ever asked me.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I almost wondered if I scared him off. Maybe he’d rethink some things now that he knew—could he see it now? That I was as Plain-Jane as anybody?