by Sophie Stern
It’s everything I hoped it would be.
As I peek out at the crowd from the foyer, I try to count how many of our friends and family members managed to make it on such short notice. Somehow, I feel like most of the people we invited made it out to watch us get married, and that thrills me.
It’s only been a few months since Parker proposed, but we didn’t want to wait any longer than we had to. We booked the church, invited everyone, and threw together a sweet, romantic wedding ceremony we’ll remember forever.
“Hello, little flower,” I hear his voice at my ear, but when I try to turn around to kiss him, Parker wraps his arms around my waist and holds me in place.
“Parker,” I protest.
“Now, now, little one. You know the bride isn’t supposed to see the groom before the wedding.”
“You mixed it up,” I giggle. “It’s the other way around. You’re not supposed to see me.”
“Oh, is that right?” He asks playfully, and nips at my ear. I groan, and he licks my neck. Fuck. Am I supposed to be horny on my wedding day? I feel like I’m not. I feel like I’m supposed to be dignified and proper and well-behaved today, but if he keeps going, none of that is going to happen.
“Parker,” I protest lightly.
“Rose,” he says teasingly.
“Oh, get a room,” Stephanie appears. I can practically hear her rolling her eyes.
“Hello, bridesmaid-of-honor,” Parker greets her, but doesn’t release me.
“It’s time for the ceremony, groom-of-horniness,” she says in response.
“Pity,” he says. “We were just getting started.” He twirls me around, then, and kisses me hard. “Until later, beautiful,” he winks, then saunters off to find the groomsmen.
“He’s something else,” Stephanie laughs. “But I’ve never seen a more beautiful bride,” she says, suddenly serious.
I tear up, and I know that I shouldn’t because it’s a happy day, not a sad day. It’s the happiest damn day of my life. I can’t believe Parker and I are here together, getting ready to promise to spend forever together.
I can’t believe my dreams are about to come true, and they’re about to come true with him.
“And just think,” Stephanie says, adjusting my veil. “It all started with a dare.”
THE END
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Author
Sophie Stern writes paranormal romance and contemporary erotica for readers who like to have fun and explore new worlds. When she’s not busy writing, you can find her pole dancing or reading zombie novels. Sophie lives with her ex-military husband who is always happy to help her conduct research for her books.
Find out more or at www.sexysophiestern.com or join her mailing list to receive updates and information on sales.
Blackmailed by Mr. Smith
By Kitty Jones
As a thank-you for reading BRASH, please enjoy this sexy short story by Kitty Jones!
Join Kitty’s mailing list for free sexy snippets, author updates, and news on her latest releases!
Copyright 2016 by Kitty Jones
Allison is a graduate student who gets a little bored in class one day. She decides to read a naughty story during a lecture, but her graduate advisor catches her! After class, he reveals that he plans to blackmail her with the information.
What will Allison do? She can’t risk losing her scholarship, but the things Mr. Smith wants to do to her are just wrong. Should she accept the consequences of her actions or should she play along and be BLACKMAILED by Mr. Smith?
18+ only. This is a sexy, erotic short featuring a naughty college student and her too-hot-to-handle professor.
ALLISON FOUND HERSELF standing in the doorway to Mr. Smith’s office holding a stack of books in front of rather buxom chest.
“Mr. Smith?” She called out, knocking on the door.
There was no response.
She looked around for a moment, then decided to go ahead and enter his office. He had asked to see her, after all. She didn’t know what it was about, but she imagined it had to do with her master’s thesis.
Allison had been working hard all year on her project and Mr. Smith was her advisor. He had a lot of great ideas for her and she was always surprised at his wealth of knowledge. More importantly, she was surprised at how willing he was to share information with her.
Many of the advisors – who all had their PhD’s in various things – were real assholes. Not Mr. Smith. Maybe it was because he was a PhD candidate who was also trying to get that “Dr.” in front of his name. Allison just felt like he really understood her.
He really got what it was like to need someone’s help.
She looked around his office for a second, then sat down at his desk. There were two chairs in front of it and she set her books in one chair and settled in on the other. Where was Mr. Smith? Maybe he was running late after class.
It was a little strange that he had asked her to stop by his office today. He had emailed her early that morning and though she didn’t have a class with him today, she had been happy to oblige. She glanced at the clock on the wall. She was right on time, but where was he?
Waiting in his office made her feel a little nervous. Allison wondered if she should have waited outside for Mr. Smith. After all, this was his personal space. She had to admit the temptation to walk around his office and look through his things was strong. Mr. Smith intrigued her and Allison wasn’t quite sure why.
Maybe it was because he was only a few years older than her.
Maybe it was because those glasses he wore made her feel like he could secretly be a superhero.
She glanced over her shoulder again, then stood up and smoothed her dress. She walked around the room and glanced at the bookshelf. He had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that was stuffed full of novels. Not surprising for a literature scholar. He had Shakespeare and Emerson and all sorts of classical tales on those shelves.
She traced the spine of one older-looking book and was just about to pull her hand back when she heard someone clearing their throat.
Allison turned quickly around. Mr. Smith was standing in the doorway and he did not look happy.
“Mr. Smith,” she said, pulling her hand quickly back. “I was just waiting for you.”
“Really? It looked like you were touching my personal belongings, Miss Kensington.”
Allison blushed. She always did when someone called her by her last name. Being called “Miss Kensington” reminded her of being a naughty little girl getting in trouble, and that was definitely not what was happening today.
It couldn’t be.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Smith,” she said quickly.
“Please sit,” he said with a sigh. His tone left no room for argument, and Allison quickly obeyed. She plopped back down in the chair and waited with her hands folded in her lap. Mr. Smith closed his office door and turned the lock.
Should she be worried?
“Miss Kensington,” he said again, sitting on his side of the desk. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked you to come in.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” she said. “I’ve been wondering exactly that.”
Maybe this wasn’t about her thesis, after all. Mr. Smith seemed too wound up for this to simply be a chance to ask questions about her chosen topic. Now that she was thinking about it, if this had been a visit about her thesis, he probably would have just called her on the phone.
“Her long golden hair fell in locks over her bare breasts. He breathed heavily as he watched her, wanted her, craved her.” Mr. Smith said, his voice passionate, and Allison’s eyes thought they might pop out of her head.
It wasn’t because she was shocked about what he was saying.
It was because Allison recognized what he was saying.
He was quoting a book she’d read just the day before in the middle of Peterson’s Exploration of Love in Victorian Literature course. It
had started out as such a promising class, but had quickly gotten boring. Allison had taken to reading naughty books during class, but pretending she was reviewing the material for the lecture.
“What?” She said, her throat suddenly dry.
“Miss Kensington, have you been reading smut during Dr. Peterson’s class?”
This was it.
This was her chance.
She could be honest and roll with the punches. He would tell Dr. Peterson and she would be kicked out of the class – or worse, receive a failing grade – but she would be able to rest easy with the knowledge that she had been honest, truthful.
Or she could lie.
“No.”
Mr. Smith’s expression looked dark, angry. She had never seen him like this before. His hair was short and blonde, cropped close to his head. His blue eyes were suddenly piercing. They always reminded her of the ocean on a beautiful summer day, but now?
Now they reminded her of a storm.
“Miss Kensington,” he continued. “I have proof you were reading this during class when you were supposed to be studying. Another student provided me with a picture of the infraction.”
Fucking Cody.
He always sat behind her. He could have easily taken a picture with his cell phone and she’d never know. She should have expected this kind of thing from him. He had asked her out once before, but Allison had been too focused on school, too busy, to have time for relationships. She had turned him down gently and he had seemed agreeable enough, but she had been wrong.
“What are you going to do?” She whispered, her heart dropping. Peterson was one of the few professors who had a strict no-other-books-in-class policy. If he found out she had disobeyed, he would drop her grade or remove her from the class.
And she needed the credits from his class.
“That depends on you,” Mr. Smith said. “The way I see it is that you disobeyed a direct order. Is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can tell Professor Peterson and he can punish you as he sees fit, or,” he cleared his throat again, “I can punish you myself.”
Interesting.
“Punish me, sir?” She asked, her voice a whisper. What kind of punishment would Mr. Smith dish out? She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about reporting her to the school administration. No, Mr. Smith seemed like the kind of man who was more serious, more hands-on with his punishments.
“You can take whatever punishment I deem appropriate, Miss Kensington, or I will tell Dr. Peterson about your behavior. Choose. Now.”
“I choose you,” she whispered before she could change her mind.
A mischievous and slightly scary smile played on his lips, and she suddenly wondered if she had made the wrong choice.
“Stand up and bend over my desk,” he said.
“You’re going to punish me now?” She squeaked. Somehow, Allison thought she’d have some time to get used to the idea of him punishing her. She thought maybe she’d have a few minutes or days or even a few weeks to think about her behavior and whatever punishment Mr. Smith came up with for her.
“Now,” he said, his voice sterner than it had been a moment before.
Quickly, she jumped up and placed her body carefully over his mahogany desk. Her bottom was facing the door and her head was facing him. He patted her hair softly, and she closed her eyes.
“Good girl,” he whispered. Then Mr. Smith stood up and walked around the desk to her backside. She felt him touch the blue fabric of her dress and he gently rubbed her bottom over the fabric. “Lovely dress,” he murmured.
Then he flipped the bottom part up to her waist, revealing her thong to him. She gasped in surprise, but didn’t say anything. What was Mr. Smith going to do? Was he going to…he couldn’t! He couldn’t be about to spank her, could he?
Allison loved reading erotic novels, especially about knights who spanked princesses and teachers who spanked bad pupils. Was that her today, she wondered? Was she the bad student? The naughty princess?
“You have a lovely ass, Allison. It’s a pity you’ve earned a punishment today. I should very much like to show you how I reward good girls, but unfortunately, you haven’t earned a reward.”
“Yes, sir,” she said glumly.
“I’m going to spank you now, Allison, and you’re going to stay very quiet, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are going to take your punishment like a good girl and you aren’t going to come yet.”
Allison said nothing, but Mr. Smith pinched her butt cheek hard and she squeaked.
“Yes, sir!”
He grabbed the fabric of her thong and pulled it down over her hips and down to her thighs. He left it there, hanging in mid-air, which was somehow more humiliating than if he’d taken the panties all the way off. If anyone walked in, there would be no doubt that Allison was, in fact, a very naughty girl.
She had been bad.
And, more importantly, Allison was getting her very first spanking from Mr. Smith.
He was blackmailing her, to be sure. She knew she didn’t really have a choice in this. If she had told Mr. Smith to fuck off, he would have shown whatever evidence he had to Dr. Peterson, and then where would she be?
Oh yeah, set back an entire year.
She couldn’t postpone her graduate thesis anymore.
“Tell me why you’re being punished.”
“Because I was reading in class.”
“And?”
“And because I lied to you about it.”
Smack!
His hand was loud against her skin. It didn’t hurt right away. It was just loud. He waited a moment, and then she felt it. She felt the sting of his slap against her bottom. She clenched her cheeks in anticipation of the next hit, but somehow that made it hurt worse.
Damn it! How did people think this sort of thing was erotic?
Allison was embarrassed at how many times she’d fantasized about exactly this type of situation. How many nights had she played with her pussy, thinking about what it would feel like to have someone swatting her ass until she cried?
Well, now she had someone swatting her ass.
And she was definitely crying.
These weren’t sweet, sexy tears, either. No, Allison was sobbing already, and Mr. Smith had barely even started.
“I told you to be quiet,” he said, stopping his swats. She breathed a sigh of relief, but he yanked on her hair until her head was forced back. “You need to be silent, Allison, or the next portion of your punishment is going to be worse.”
“What’s the next part?” She whispered. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than what was happening right now. Mr. Smith was taking payment for her sins and he was taking it from her ass.
That’s when it hit her.
He was taking it from her ass.
“That’s right,” he said, noticing her understanding. “I’m going to fuck this tight little asshole,” he traced the edges of her tiny rosebud as she clenched and mumbled something in protest. “Oh, none of that, Allison. You had a chance to admit what you did. You had your shot at telling Peterson the truth, but you didn’t want to. You wanted me to punish you, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she said meekly, because she had.
She had been wanting him to touch her the entire semester. Now she was getting her wish, but it was nothing like she had hoped for. No, this was embarrassing. Mr. Smith was spanking her like he owned her, like he was the one in charge of her.
He was spanking her like he wanted to punish her for all her wrongdoings, and oh, Allison had a lot of those.
“I’m going to finish spanking you now. You’re going to be a good little girl, aren’t you, Allison?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” she managed to whisper through her tears. She cringed as she tensed her body and waited for the next strike. She braced herself against his desk, gripping the other side. Her head was turned and her cheek pressed against the cool top of the wood.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to look at him.
Not wanting to see if he was enjoying this.
Bailey heard the sound of Mr. Smith touching his clothes. Was he undressing? She thought he was going to finish spanking her…but then she realized what he was doing.
He was taking his belt off.
He was going to beat her poor, bruised bottom with that belt of his. Fuck.
She should have chosen Peterson.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, Allison,” Mr. Smith said. “You have such a sweet ass, honey,” he rubbed her bottom and she hissed at the contact. Mr. Smith just chuckled. Hearing his laugh made her a little more wet, which just embarrassed her further.
What kind of girl got turned on being treated like a slut?
What kind of girl got off on her advisor spanking her ass when she was acting like a little whore in class?
The truth was that Allison had always been a little kinky. She’d just never found anyone who was willing to help her with it. All of her boyfriends had been very vanilla, very plain. They hadn’t been boring in bed, but they hadn’t been willing to try anything new and exciting, either.
The idea that Mr. Smith was going to punish her make her body ache with need. Part of her was terrified about the pain, about the humiliating way he was going to treat her. There was another part of her, though, a darker part. That part of her was delighted at the idea that she was about to be treated like the bad girl she was.
“Remember,” Mr. Smith said. “Quiet.”
Then he brought the belt down on her. Hard. She opened her mouth to cry out, but no sound came out. She screamed silently because of the pain, because of the embarrassment, because of the relief he was giving her.
Allison had needed this for so long and had never felt the way she was feeling now.
“Five for being naughty in class and five for lying about it.” Mr. Smith spanked her over and over with his belt. Allison’s bottom was already sore and she just knew the belt was going to leave marks. She’d have bruises at least, but maybe welts, too.