by Madison Faye
That’s enough to tip me over the edge, and I cry out, breathy, throaty moans, as my orgasms erupts without warning, crashing over me without mercy, filling me with sweet pleasure.
“Fuck,” he growls, and comes too. My ass floods with warmth and he thrusts one last time, grunting as he grabs my hips and tugs me closer, his body tense and taut, all his muscles clenched against mine.
He rests against my body for a long minute, both of us breathing hard, before he gently pulls away. “You good?” He runs a hand down my arm.
“Do you even need to ask?” My pussy is still sparking with aftershocks and bliss. “I just wish we could do that again.”
“We will.” He hands me my skirt from the floor, smoothing it with his hands, then picks up the top and bra.
As I dress, he smiles at me. “Definitely. When we get back to the house after dinner.”
I shimmy the skirt down. “I hope you get hard while we’re sitting there chatting, thinking about me and my ass full of your cum.”
“Already happening.” He adjusts himself.
“I think we’re going to have a very good time tonight.” I fluff my hair and give him a kiss. “Five minutes to clean up?”
He laughs. “Sure. And we’re going to have a spectacular time tonight.” He pauses. “Love you, baby girl.”
“Love you too, Daddy.”
He kisses me again, a long, lingering embrace, and my heart melts. I can’t wait for tonight… and the rest of my life with this amazing man. It’s going to be fucking amazing.
The End
About Alexis Alvarez
Alexis Alvarez writes erotic fiction and contemporary romance with heat. Her books feature strong, intelligent, sassy heroines and the men who earn their love.
You can find more about her work on her website www.graffitifiction.com, where she and her two real-life sisters—who are also romance writers—blog about their books. You can also find her on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads, using the following links:
https://twitter.com/alexisalvarezwr
https://www.facebook.com/people/Alexis-Alvarez/100010018264605
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14127116.Alexis_Alvarez
Trained by Him by Shelly Douglas
Prologue
As he strode toward me with his hands clasped behind his back, I never thought it would be possible for him to seem larger than his six-foot-four-inch frame. But when he bent down to stare into my eyes, I’d never felt smaller in my life.
“I have rules in this house, young lady.”
“Uh-huh. You read the long list to me during lunch,” I retorted, trying to avoid his intense glare.
“But for some reason, I feel like you’re testing me to see if I’m the real deal.”
“No, John. I’m sure you are.”
He quirked one eyebrow and inclined his head toward mine. “I’d like to be addressed as sir or daddy during any type of correction. Haven’t you been told that before?”
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, wondering how far he was going to take this ridiculous scene.
John’s thick index finger tapped the shiny crystal on his watch. “Did you turn the television on right after I walked down the hall? Did you think it was okay to do exactly what I instructed you not to?”
“That’s it? That’s my crime?”
There was no need for him to speak another word because his expression was filled with volumes of disappointment, but he continued anyway. “Your bedtime will be ten o’clock sharp during your stay here, and I’ve already made that quite clear. Have I also mentioned there is rarely a second warning issued for disobedience while you’re under my charge?”
“Yes, you certainly have,” I bit back, my mind whirling from the stunning truth of how my life was about to change for the next week—just as he said it would. But as I watched his warm eyes darken, those proverbial butterflies started fluttering around in my stomach. Was his stern scolding turning me on?
For fuck’s sake.
“You will lie face down over my lap and take your punishment, little miss.” The deep tone of his Texan accent was filled with authority as he dramatically lifted the gray fabric on each of his pant legs, before making himself comfortable on the supple black leather chair that had no arms.
“Wait a minute. Is this the spanking chair Jake told me about?” I asked through a jagged smile, pleased as punch with my quick sarcasm.
His eyes narrowed as he curled his thick finger in my direction. “Come closer and see for yourself, my dear.”
While a nervous energy bounded through my body with the realization that I was about to be spanked by my publisher’s father, it also occurred to me that my ass was naked under my pajama bottoms. Surely, he wouldn’t take my pants down…
“Are you coming, Lori? Because the second time I need to ask, the elastic waist in those pants will be lowered to your knees,” he warned in a husky voice while folding his arms, “and then that spankin’ you deserve will be administered to your bare behind.”
The event that was about to take place seemed surreal as I cleared my throat and made the decision to slowly move toward him. Instantly, he lifted me over his knees, repositioned my bottom until it was tipped upward, and then his large warm hand rested on the small of my back.
“Here’s what will happen when you disobey the rules.”
Instinctively, I reached to shield my covered backside. “Nooo, wait!”
“You don’t get to direct how this discipline will be carried out,” he scolded, his voice lowering a notch as he caught my wrist and pinned it to the base of my spine. “It was your decision to defy me, and as a result, that little hide of yours will be spanked good and hard.”
“Jesus, you’re treating me like a fucking five-year-old,” I grated through gritted teeth as the first smack landed on my shuddering behind.
“Oh, and did I mention what will happen when you use that nasty language in my home?” His tone was smooth as silk as he hooked his fingers under the elastic waistband of my pajama pants and tugged them down my legs. “Yes, I’m sure I did.”
“Whoa! You can’t do that! I…”
But just as my second thought began, he peppered the bottom of each globe with a hand that didn’t feel human at all.
It felt like a piece of wood.
“Oh, yes, I can, young lady,” John said with a quiet nonchalance before he slapped the backs of my thighs.
I’d always wondered if the description of flesh connecting with flesh really had the same sound as multiple gunshots at close range. Unfortunately, I’m not wondering anymore. “Jesus Christ! That hurts! Are you fucking crazy?” I tried my best to buck upward while wiggling away from this solid man who easily weighed over two hundred pounds, but he snaked my waist in closer to his body with one arm while landing a resounding smack across the middle of my ass.
“To answer your question, I prefer to think of myself as a disciplinarian who insists that rules will be followed in his house. So, you’ll either start behaving, my dear, or there will be consequences. Painful consequences.”
The slaps continued coming fast and hard on my bare cheeks, most of them landing in the same spot, and I could only imagine the color my pale skin was turning. In my entire life, I’d never experienced a burning pain quite like that. Fuck! It felt like my ass was on fire!
“Please stop! Please! Please!” My howls were loud and intense as I begged, rocking and writhing over his knees trying to escape, but that only resulted in him drawing me tighter to his broad frame while he continued to rain down a steady barrage of heavy smacks onto my poor burning behind.
“You owe me an apology, little one,” he scolded, stopping to smooth my fiery globes with his massive hand.
The smart choice would’ve been to answer him quickly, but it was difficult to speak and sob at the same time. Agreeing to be trained by this man was probably the dumbest decision I’d ever made, and with that thought, I slumped over his lap and dropped my head toward the floor
in defeat. That disciplinary spanking was not how I ever imagined it would be, and it certainly wasn’t close to anything I’d described in my novels.
“I. Am. Waiting,” he growled, landing a stinging swat to the area that joined my ass and thigh with each deliberate word.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I really am!”
Clearing his throat, he ran light circles on my back with his fingertips. “Lori, do you really want to stay here as we planned? Because I can call Jake right now to pick you up if you’ve changed your mind. He only lives an hour away…”
The tiny voice that emerged from my parched throat surprised me. “No. I’ll stay.”
“Good. Because we obviously have a lot of work to do together. Don’t we?”
“I-I was just trying to be funny. I thought you’d appreciate a quick repartee…”
“There is a difference between being a brat and having a sense of humor,” he advised, smoothing the hair on the back of my head. “Tell me, were you crying because of the physical pain from the spankin’, or from the embarrassment?”
“You took my pants down,” I quavered, tears once again falling from my eyes.
“Yes, I did,” he acknowledged in a measured voice as his hand patted my sore behind. “Tell me, did your father ever take you over his knee for a serious tannin’?”
“N-no. My parents divorced soon after I was born, and he didn’t come around much.”
“Ahh, I see.”
“You know, I’m not feeling this is the best moment for me to fill you in on my family history,” I said, trying to wiggle my bottom away from his sizable fingers.
Squeezing my inflamed flesh, he obviously took a minute to ponder my logic. “Mmm, and I would argue that point. I think this position is ideal for any future important discussions we might have. Honestly, I’m finding it quite convenient that your bright red behind is resting comfortably under my firm hand.”
“Yes, I’m sure you are…”
Instead of words, his immediate response to my cheeky comment came in the form of several sharp swats right across my flaming ass.
“Come on! That hurts!”
“In case I haven’t made myself clear, the sass needs to end, and it needs to end right now.”
“Okay, Dr. Freud, what do you really want to know? Wait, let me guess. You’re wondering if I started writing daddy dom stories because I’m secretly craving the loving care of an older dominant man. Is that it?”
“I think when you finally accept who you really are, everything else will fall into place.”
“You’re not only a daddy dom, but you are also a retired marine and a therapist. Wow, I hit the fucking jackpot!” Five smacks instantly rained down onto my thighs, and they came harder and faster than I ever thought was possible.
“For the remainder of the week, you’ll be held responsible for even the slightest bit of disrespect that comes out of your sassy mouth. I’ll not tolerate any misbehavior from my little girl. Is that understood?”
I parted my lips to speak, but no sound emerged. When Jake first proposed that I be trained by his father, the idea sounded preposterous. But as I looked over my shoulder and noticed that John’s bushy dark eyebrow was raised, it was obvious he was serious. Yes, indeed, this was my publisher’s strict father who wanted to teach me about the world of D/s, the man who invited me into his home for a week to be my daddy dom, and his determined expression revealed that he was no-where near finished disciplining my bare ass for testing him.
“When I ask you a question, young lady, you will answer me.” Though his tone was deep, it seemed eerily calm and collected.
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good girl,” he said as his rock-hard palm fell onto my bare behind like the steady beat of a metronome. Though I tried my best to be stoic, the high-pitched shrieks that emerged from my dry throat displayed my obvious low tolerance for ass pain. Which is so ironic, because I’ve been told by more than one editor that I’m a pain in the ass.
“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“That hurt like fucking hell!”
“Try again,” he directed, landing a firm swat on the inside of each thigh.
“I promise not to say fuck anymore?”
A brisk slap landed straight across my buttocks. “Nope.”
“Aghhh! Okay! I promise to behave myself.”
“Have you finally learned that I am a man of my word?”
“Yes, sir,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“Good. Now sit on my lap, please, so I can see your pretty face.”
As I lowered myself to the floor, the blonde strands of my wavy hair dangled around my heated humiliated cheeks, and I peered up at him through swollen, watery eyes. My first inclination was to tug my top down in hopes of hiding my pussy before crawling onto his muscular thighs, but John immediately picked up my sore ass and dragged it over the scratchy fabric of his pants. Then he offered me a sly smile, drew me to his chest, and cradled my body in a warm hug before shifting my weight to the side of his leg. Curiously, I watched him give me a rakish wink, and as my eyes were drawn downward, they focused on a small wet stain spreading through the gray material beneath me. I breathed a dramatic sigh and lowered my face, but his finger quickly moved under my chin to prop it back up.
“What are you thinking?”
Like the classic train wreck syndrome, I couldn’t stop myself from glancing one more time in disbelief at my body’s betrayal. Fuck. Was that my own damn arousal permeating the air? “I’m thinking I’ve never been so humiliated in my whole life.”
“Head over to the corner, missy,” he instructed, sliding me off his lap.
“Please tell me you’re joking…”
As he stood and crossed his arms, his expression remained steadfast. “Do I look amused?”
Standing before him half naked, I reached for the elastic that had pooled at my ankles until I saw him slowly shake his head, his gaze penetrating.
“No, my dear. Your daddy pulled your pants down, and there they’ll stay for now.”
His eyes traveled the length of my body, and I watched one lip curve in amusement as he stopped to glance at the soft blonde curls that covered my pussy. “You may walk that red bottom of yours across the room and press your adorable nose against the wall,” he instructed nonchalantly. “Do you think you can follow those directions, or will you be needing more encouragement?”
Watching him finger the outline of his belt proved to be all the inspiration I needed, and I began hobbling over to the corner, tugging at the hem of my top in hopes of covering my inflamed ass. But he obviously didn’t want his view obstructed.
“Keep those hands in front of you. Daddy wants to see those red naughty cheeks of yours.”
“Yes, sir,” I whimpered as large tears of humiliation filled my eyes again.
Chapter One
Two months earlier
Sitting in front of a blank computer screen, I tapped a pastel pink nail on the thick glass that topped my desk. My publisher had recently suggested I spend a week at his father’s house to understand how a submissive and dominant really live together.
Was he kidding?
A familiar ping rang out from my computer, indicating that I’d received a new e-mail. And damn if it wasn’t the devil himself, Jake Wolk.
Lori,
My father and I are anxiously awaiting your response.
Jake
With fingers perched on the keys, my intent was to send him an e-mail politely declining his offer. But then I pulled my hands from the computer keyboard and gazed at the lit screen.
After my fifth grisly murder mystery novel made it to the New York Times bestseller list, I watched with surprise as an unknown erotic romance author published a trilogy of successful kinky novels. And soon after taking the literary world by storm, she was asked to turn her stories into screenplays. So, why couldn’t I do that? After all, I’m a professional fiction writer, so how difficult could it
be to create an erotic BDSM scene, right?
Wrong.
In a hurry to have the series of sexy books I’d written under a sultry pen name published, I quickly submitted them to an up-and-coming BDSM publisher. But to my horror, one by one each book died a dramatic death on all the retailer sites. It reminded me of the female victim in my last suspense novel, who had a brick tied to her ankle by the perpetrator before getting hoisted into the deep end of a swimming pool.
I can only imagine Jake’s disappointment in my sales—after all, I’d been an established author and my ranking was excellent on Amazon. So, there was no doubt in my mind he hoped I’d give a boost to his new publishing company. It was right after my most recent novel tanked that he decided to be honest with me and suggested we have a conversation via Skype.
During that meeting, he said it was obvious I had no knowledge of BDSM, and my novels were just too sweet and light for the taste of his readers who wanted their taboo sex to sizzle off the page. I’d heard the man had a reputation for not mincing words when it came to dishing out constructive criticism, and though I’ve always been the lover of a straight shooter, my heart sank as I listened to his blatant words. While steadying myself for the ultimate blow of being fired, he then surprised me with a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, stating that I was a natural talent who probably just needed some real-life experience in the world of D/s. In a last-ditch effort to defend myself, I told him all about my ex-boyfriend who was a dominant man, and Jake’s lips politely remained closed in a straight line until I was finished. Then he slowly shook his head and said it sounded like my dom was about as vanilla as the flavored creamer in his coffee.
Although my publisher was single and extremely knowledgeable in the lifestyle of D/s, he felt that it would be unprofessional for him to train me as a submissive, and I agreed wholeheartedly. But the next bit of information to roll off his tongue was about his father who was a real-life daddy dom, and the forty-five-year-old man had already agreed to train me.