by Roz Lee
His erection is massive, filling me so completely that I can’t differentiate between what is pain and what is pleasure any more. My whole body is throbbing, the blood pounding through my veins, and I don’t know how much more I can take. I am crying, screaming, and falling apart, and I know it is building again toward orgasm, and this time everything is so much deeper and more intense. I can’t do this… I can’t… I’m just about to shout “yellow” when he stops spanking me and drops the paddle.
“No more.” His voice is shaking. “I call time.” I can’t do anything but kneel here and sob while he loosens the clamps, removing them one at a time. The pain crescendos even higher for a brief moment as the blood rushes back into the pinched flesh. Eventually it begins to ease, my muscles start to relax, and my head drops to one side, silently inviting his kiss.
I need gentle now. Not harsh.
Henry complies as if he knows exactly what I want, and this time his lips and tongue do connect with my skin in a move that is both familiar and strange. He is masterful, strong, and more sure than usual, and my eyes close in delight at the sensations that spread outward from where his mouth works at my neck. No confusion about this response. His mouth on my neck is pure pleasure, and I relax fully beneath him as his kiss deepens.
“Darling,” he murmurs, and my heart almost bursts at the tenderness contained in his voice. “I love you.” His words vibrate against my neck and it’s as if his love is trying to crawl right inside to hold me tight in its embrace.
“I love you, too, Henry.” My eyes are wet yet again, and this time it isn’t an out-of-control raging of my emotions that drives the tears, only the quiet dampness that comes from a deep-seated happiness. I feel him slide out of me and the emptiness is a shock. “No! I want you back inside me.”
“I will be. Soon. First I need you to lie down, and roll over to face me.”
He’s the master, tonight, so I do as he says and when I see how much love there is in his gaze I have to look away for fear of drowning in the emotion. Turning my head brings me in direct view of his erection. From this angle it looks even bigger than usual, his balls tightly drawn up, and I ache to touch that silken heat. He hasn’t given permission, though, and I don’t want to incite more punishment right now. Everything hurts and I’m not sure I can take any more pain.
He must read whatever mute message is visible in my face. He hesitates, looking away from me toward his bag of toys, and then a rueful grin twists his lips. Whatever his intention was, it coalesces back into what I need right now. He leans down, his arm muscles flexing as he takes his own weight, and dips his tongue into that most private place between my legs. The moist heat of his mouth as he kisses and licks me there is soothing and yet arousing, both at the same time, as if he is trying to make up for what went before by sucking the pain away.
“Oh yes, Henry, that feels so good. Keep—oh!”
He nips at my clit, very gently, and then his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, licking and sucking hard. The pain from my spanking is still there, but only as background heat. This intense ache centered in my cunt has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with desire. A moan escapes me, and I sink my fingers into his dark hair, urging him on. I lift one of my legs up and over his shoulder, my foot resting behind him on the edge of the couch, and the access is obviously better. He works his way further along my seam, holding my labia lips apart to lap at the delicate flesh beneath. My breathing is harsh and heavy, and in the quiet of the cottage the ragged noise stands out even above the pop and crackle of the fire in the grate, and Henry’s moist licking noises as he finally breaches my channel with a hot stab of his tongue.
Is it his tongue? Maybe it’s a finger. I can’t tell. The whole area is on fire and all I can do is shake and quiver and pray that he’s nearly ready, because I’m about to explode right there against his mouth. His tender ministrations take me right back to the edge, and again I feel the beginnings of an exquisite climax clutching at my womb. In an instant he’s there above me, re-entering me with a cock so thick and hard I know it can only be moments before he climaxes, too.
I wrap my legs around his hips, holding him tight. Urging him deeper.
“This time we come together.” His voice is heavy, shaking, and I reach up to cup his face.
I love this man. I love him.
He stills above me before suddenly thrusting hard, and his breathing loses all rhythm. “Love you.” His gasping words are hoarse and I know we’re about to go over the edge together.
“I love you too,” I manage, and then we’re gone as my channel begins to clench violently around his shaft, trying to milk my husband of every last drop of his cum. I’m sucking his juices into me and making them mine. Mine! He groans loudly, his whole body shuddering as he gives himself to me, and beneath him I continue to buck crazily as we orgasm together in an escape that seems to go on forever.
Space and time cease to exist, and I’m drifting without thought, until a delicate caress runs down my side. It’s too firm to be his fingers. I think it might be the edge of the paddle. “Not yet, Henry,” I murmur. “It’s too soon.” I can’t do it again right now. I just want to continue laying here with him, our limbs tangled together and our arms circled tight around each other while the fire pops and crackles and keeps the darkness at bay.
His laughter shakes us both. With a smooth movement he pulls out of me and we lie together on our sides, facing one another. He is still chuckling as he reaches out to trace the line of my jaw. It feels wonderful, with the heat of the fire warming my back and his touch creating pimpled goose bumps wherever his fingers trail along my curves.
“Even I can’t get it up again that quickly, Gracie.”
“Oh. Sure. I knew that.”
He leans in and kisses me on the lips, a slow and gentle gesture, and this close I can see the faint lines that fan out from his eyes. I trace them, wondering if the stress of our living a lie for so long has added to their depths, and then his eyes crinkle up at the corners as he grins, turning a negative into a positive. My husband’s wrinkles are beautiful. They show his true depth of character.
“Any regrets?”
I consider his question for a moment. Regrets? Lots of them. Most of all… “I wish I’d let us be ourselves a long time ago. If only I’d been—”
“Grace.” He covers my mouth with a firm finger, silencing more words. “We have a whole lifetime still ahead of us, to live our lives as we wish. Whether we make this a regular thing, and book a remote holiday cottage a couple of times a year—”
“Only a couple of times?”
A dark brow rises upward. “Well, as often as you want, then.”
I laugh. “Maybe we should go see the bank. Look at taking out a loan to buy a little holiday shack.”
He smooths wayward hair out of my eyes and smiles back at me. “I think that’s a damn good idea, Gracie. This may have been our first time, but it’s definitely not going to be our last.”
I look across toward the overnight bag he brought with him and a surge of light-heartedness runs through me. “That’s a very big bag you have, Henry. A couple of nipple clamps and a spanking paddle can’t possibly take up all that space.”
I arch my brow and wait for his response, and he doesn’t disappoint. “Hmm, seems as if maybe I can get it up again that quickly, after all.” His erection surges to life against my belly, inciting an answering ache deep inside me. “I have lots of exciting toys yet to show you, babe. Our play time is only just beginning.”
His kiss this time is deep, not quite as gentle, and I sense the mastery that he’s kept hidden all this time coming to the fore. I can’t wait. “Bring it on then, Sir. I’m ready. For you. For us. For our future.”
∞∞∞
Please read on for Roz Lee's Spanking offering:
Domestic Discipline
DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE
A Not Vanilla (Spanking) novelette
by
Roz Lee
<
br /> Defiance and Discontent
The Lone Star is hoppin’ tonight—nothing unusual for a Friday in the heat of the summer. Seems like everyone I know is here to blow off steam with an ice-cold longneck and some dancin’. We ditched our usual girls’-night-out table for one near the dance floor that can accommodate all twelve of us. It’s good to see everybody, even if it means the single girls don’t have dates. Judging from the looks coming our way, more than a few of them might remedy the situation before the night is done. Of the women at the table, only Beth, Bailey Rose, and I have regular guys.
Beth recently got engaged to Colton Barnes, the retired bull-riding champ, and Bailey Rose finally got back together with Travis Martin who’s been tearing up the rodeo circuit for the last few years. Both women are disgustingly happy. Permanent smiles plastered on their faces encourage the singles to keep lookin’ for their own happy ever after.
It’s too early for the band, but the DJ is a good substitute. Maybe I’m PMSing, but the cry-in-your-beer songs are getting to me tonight. It’s all I can do to keep a smile on my face and hold up my end of the required banter.
“Where’s Brendan tonight?” Penny’s family owns the biggest western-wear store in town, but you’d never know it. I’ve never seen her in a pair of boots, and the world would probably end before she’d wear anything with a pearl snap on it. But the woman loves cowboys from the top of their Stetsons to the tips of their shit-kickers.
I flick the diamond on my ring finger with my thumb as I glance at the masculine faces turned our way. “They’re bringing in hay today.”
No need to say more. Everyone around here understands that means late and unpredictable hours. No matter what time they finish, he’ll come to town to see me, and he’ll expect me to be at my apartment, waiting for him. But tonight I needed to get out, even if I had to go alone. Sipping my first margarita of the night, I search my brain for reasons.
Maybe it’s the wedding. Planning it has taken nearly every spare minute of my time for the last few months, but I know that’s not it. I’m an organizer by nature, so the details don’t bother me. What I’m really afraid of is that it’s not the wedding making me antsy, but the marriage.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Brendan. I can’t imagine my life without him in it, but maybe, just maybe, he should be something besides my husband.
God! I can’t believe I’m even thinking something so crazy. He’d have a coronary if he knew. Hell, I’m not sure my heart can take it.
As the conversations swirl around me, I let my brain toy with the idea of not becoming April O’Donnell. It’s too foreign a concept to consciously think about. I need to sneak up on the idea, let it age for a while before I test it to see if it’s going to be palatable.
Penny tips the lime wedge riding the edge of her glass into her drink. “I was supposed to go out with Nick Watts tonight, but he called with the same excuse.”
When Brendan and I first started dating, I could relate to Penny’s dateless despair. Being thrown over because the hay has to get in or because a cow took sick or because fill-in-the-blank-here with the ranch disaster of the day takes some getting used to. Ranching isn’t something you can put off until tomorrow.
“I’m sure he would rather be here with you.”
“Tonight was going to be the night,” Penny rattles on. “I told him if we were still together after ninety days, I’d consider doing it, ya know? This has been the hardest three months of my life. He’s been real good about it, respecting my wishes, but I don’t know how many times I wished he’d make me forget my principles—just sweep me off my feet and into his bed.”
She paused to finish off her drink and order another, giving my over-taxed brain time to catch up. I slap my palm on the table to get her attention, and she turns her startled gaze my way. “What did you say?”
“That I haven’t slept with Nick yet?”
“No.” I shake my head. “About him sweeping you off your feet.”
“Sometimes I wish he’d sweep me off my feet. You know, take charge. Make me forget why I wanted to wait.”
“That’s it.” Her words settle inside me—a truth about my own sex life I didn’t know I needed to hear. I finish off my drink, staring at the empty glass like it’s some sort of magic mirror with all the answers. Thanks to Penny’s ethics, I know why I’m wondering if marrying Brendan is the right thing to do.
Don’t get me wrong, the sex is wonderful. My man is a thorough and attentive lover. And best of all, being a true Southern gentleman, he never gets in a hurry. Yet…I need something more.
A certain book comes to mind. Beth gave it to me a few weeks ago. An early wedding present, she said. Only, there might not be a wedding, and if there isn’t, it will be because of that book. Since reading Domestic Discipline in the Modern Marriage, all I can think about is Brendan spanking me. He’s never done it, and I don’t know how to ask him to.
On one hand, hiding my thoughts and needs from him might destroy our marriage, but on the other hand, there might not be a marriage if I do tell him. I wish I knew how he’d react to me asking him to spank me, but I don’t.
The waitress squeezes in between me and Penny, wants to know if I need another drink. I’m tempted, but decline. My head’s a mess already. Adding more alcohol doesn’t sound like a good idea.
The waitress scoops up the empties, takes more orders then heads toward the bar. At the other end of the table, Beth autographs a poster for a cowboy who doesn’t look old enough to drink, much less be in possession of the graphic photo she’s signing. This kind of thing happens every time she comes to The Lone Star. Even though none of the advertisements for Colton’s bull ropes show her face, word has gotten around as to the identity of the sleek beauty, bound and suspended. Admirers come here just to see her.
Her composure amazes me. She doesn’t seem to mind the notoriety, and I suppose Colton doesn’t either. The photos were his idea, or so Beth says. All I know is, Brendan would have a holy cow if another man had a nude photo of me, and I’d be mortified. Which brings up the realization that if we call off the wedding, I’ll have to stop sleeping with Brendan—and eventually, there will be someone else.
I don’t want anyone else, and I sure as hell don’t want him to be with another woman. But he will be. He’s a man. He has needs. He’ll find a woman who doesn’t fantasize about having her ass spanked and live happily ever after.
Talk about cold water. The chill running down my spine has nothing to do with the quality of the air conditioning at The Lone Star and everything to do with fear of losing Brendan to another woman.
I have to get these fucked-up ideas out of my head—now. I love my fiancé. I don’t want to call off the wedding, but I don’t want to take this disquiet into our marriage either. I watch Beth scribble her name on yet another poster for Colton Barnes Custom Bull Ropes. When she’s done, she holds it up by the top corners and blows on the marker to dry it. Of the half dozen or so images, this one intrigues me the most. It’s a photo of Beth taken from behind. On her knees, her arms are bound behind her in an intricate rope pattern from wrists to biceps. Her head is tilted forward in a subservient pose.
I’ve known Beth all her life and never once imagined she would get on her knees for a man. I’ve always thought she was like me—not the type of woman to surrender control to anyone. I can’t help but wonder what she was thinking during the photo shoot. Was she excited? Scared?
An image pops in my head—it’s me in the pose, not Beth. It doesn’t turn me on, but I can’t help but wonder if it would, if I gave it a chance. I never thought the idea of lying across Brendan’s lap while he wallops my ass would turn me on, but God help me, it does.
As soon as her admirer leaves, I get up. Stopping behind her chair, I tap her on the shoulder. “Hey, can I talk to you a minute?”
The Lone Star has more dark corners than Carter had oats. Despite the crowd, we find an unoccupied alcove big enough for a make-out session or for two people to ta
lk.
“What’s up? I haven’t got long. I promised Colton I’d meet him at the club before it opens.”
When Colton’s ads went public, so did the fact that he’s the owner/operator of Ft. Worth’s newest BDSM club. “I won’t keep you. I just…well…I was wondering….”
“Yes, I let Colton tie me up all the time.”
I’ve avoided looking at her, but her comment has me searching her face for something—the truth, perhaps? “You like it, don’t you?”
She nods. “Never thought I would, but I do. You know me, I’m a control freak. I’ve always wanted to do things on my own, never wanted anyone telling me anything. But the first time Colton put those ropes on me and I was truly at his mercy…I don’t know. Something clicked for me. I know he’ll never cause me harm, but when there’s nothing I can do but enjoy…it’s freeing. I don’t expect you to understand, and I’m the first person to say it’s not for everyone, but I love it. And it’s not always about the sex. Sometimes he restrains me for no other reason than to allow me to let go of the things that are bothering me. Sometimes he just wants to remind me he’s there to care for me.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I’m terrible at explaining it, I guess.” She takes a deep breath then exhales like she’s clearing her mind. “It’s like taking a time-out from everything. Trusting Colt to take care of my needs for a short span of time gives me a new perspective. After a scene, I’m relaxed and better able to deal with stressful situations rationally.”