Taken and Tamed

by Kallista Dane

  Cass went on. “After we were married, I’d sneak into the bathroom sometimes after we made love and make myself come while I fantasized about being caught and spanked for doing it. I felt so guilty when I did, like I was cheating on him. Finally I gathered up my nerve one night and confessed my secret. He seemed understanding. A couple of days later, he came home from work and ordered me into the bedroom. He sat down on the bed and ordered me to lie across his lap.

  “It was thrilling at first. Everything I’d always imagined. But he kept on spanking me. Harder and harder. When I tried to squirm away, he started cursing at me.” Her voice broke. “The longer it went on, the angrier he seemed to get. I was terrified. Trent was always in control, always calm and level. I’d never seen him like that. I started crying, begging him to stop. I fought him, kicking and screaming. Finally I managed to get away. I ran across the bedroom. He caught me before I made it out the door and threw me against the wall.”

  She was silent for a long time. Nico reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. He wanted to gather her into his arms. But lost as she was in her story, he was reluctant to do anything that might end it. She needed to release the demons she’d been carrying inside for so long.

  “That’s when he started hitting me. Beating me with his fists, ranting and raving the whole time, telling me I was finally getting what I’d wanted. I must have blacked out, woke up on the floor hours later. Trent was on the bed, asleep. I saw the empty vodka bottle lying on the floor.

  “I woke him up, told him I thought I had a broken rib. It hurt so bad I could hardly breathe. He was so drunk he was nearly incoherent. He said all he did was to give me what I asked for. Told me to shut the fuck up or he’d give me some more.

  “I got in my car and drove myself to the hospital. The next day I came home while I knew he’d be at work and packed my things.”

  Her fingers closed around his hand, holding it tight. “Trent never drank—at least not in front of me. Later, when we went to couples therapy, I found out his father was an alcoholic. Crashed his car and died when Trent was in his teens. He’d seen his parents in horrible arguments—his mother screaming and yelling, his father resorting to violence. Trent drank too as a teenager but he’d fought his own addiction after his father died. He’d been sober for over a year when I met him.”

  She finally turned around then, looked him in the eye. “That’s why I don’t blame Trent. Not really. I understand now that what I asked of him set him off, took him right back to his childhood traumas. I got my own place and we went into counseling. We were separated for about a year and a half. He said he was sorry, swore he wouldn’t do it again. But things were never the same between us. When he showed up at a therapy session drunk, I realized he was on a downward spiral.

  “Eventually he lost his job, got kicked out of the apartment we’d lived in. I started going to Al-Anon and found out you can’t make someone get sober by loving him. I had to let go. I couldn’t save him. He had to do that himself. And he wasn’t ready.

  “I’ve been single for the last five years. Had a couple of casual relationships. But after that I never… I didn’t…” Her voice trailed away.

  “You locked your secret self away, where you couldn’t be hurt again. You never confessed your need to be spanked to any of them.” Nico’s tone was gentle. “That’s understandable. The one time you did ended in disaster. Why would you want to risk repeating that?”

  Cass’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Exactly. I tried to bury it, ignore it, deny it. But it never went away. Even after that horrible night, I still fantasize about being dominated, getting my ass spanked. I still get hot whenever I think about it. It’s been my dirty little secret—until you came along and somehow figured it out within a few minutes of meeting me.”

  At that, Nico gave in to his impulse and pulled her close, nestling her in his arms.

  “First of all, Cass, what happened was not your fault. Everyone is responsible for their own actions. All you did was to share a secret fantasy with the man you loved. He used it as an excuse to get drunk. Another guy—me, for instance—would have done a fist-pump when he heard that and then yanked you across his knees for a loving, romantic spanking, followed by seriously mind-blowing sex.”

  He was rewarded with a tiny giggle. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I’ve spanked you for punishment and I know it hurt. But your luscious little ass is padded well enough to take it. I swear I’ll never strike you with my fist or slap you or spank you hard enough to leave anything except a sore bottom afterwards. And I’d never do it without a good reason. Do you believe me, Cass?”

  She nodded.

  “Now if I understand you correctly, you never have gotten that loving, sexy spanking you wanted.”

  She looked down and shook her head, suddenly shy.

  “We will definitely have to fix that, won’t we?” He tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “This is where you say ‘yes, sir.’”

  He felt her shiver a little in his arms. She hesitated a moment.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A loving, sexy spanking. That’s something else entirely. As your dom I’d give you one of those for any reason—or for no reason at all except that I like what it will do for both of us.”

  He lowered his voice, pouring words into her ear smooth as warm honey. “I’ll order you to take off all your clothes and drape yourself across my lap. Then I’ll rub your naked bottom while I tell you what’s in store for you. You’ll lie there, with a touch of fear adding to your mounting arousal.”

  She squirmed a little on his lap. He tightened his hold on her and went on. “That’s when I’ll start spanking you with the palm of my hand. Not hard, but firm enough to make your ass sting. You’ll squeal and squirm around like you just did. Then the sting will turn to heat and the heat will spread to your pussy.”

  He shifted, pulling both of them to the edge of the bed, still holding her in his arms. “By then, my cock will be hard. I’ll run my fingers between your legs and catch the scent of your arousal. I’m gonna want more. I’ll spread your legs further apart so I can slide a finger up into your wet slit. Then I’ll spank you again, a little harder, so you feel the bite. Hot. Spicy. Addictive.”

  She moaned and he shifted again, so she could feel him against her thigh. Stiff with hunger.

  “After that, I’ll alternate. Spanking you. Playing with your pussy. Stroking your clit. Fingering your ass while you lie helpless across my lap. Teasing you until you’re begging me to ram my cock deep inside you.”

  Cass rubbed up against his hard-on with her hip, then reached down to stroke it. He took her hand in his and drew it away.

  “There are rules even for a loving spanking from me, Cass. I’m still the dom. I’m in control. I tell you what to do and what not to do. You have to say yes. Yes to anything and everything. Because if you don’t, well, then I have to make it a more serious spanking. I’d have to grab both your wrists, like this…” He took her other wrist in his hand, held them both gently but firmly. “Then I’d have to hold you down on my lap and smack your ass hard over and over…”

  He shifted her body so he could run his other hand across her bottom. She drew in her breath, trembling. “Until you say ‘yes, sir,’ no matter what I tell you to do. That’s where trust comes in. You can’t go there until you trust me completely. Trust that I’d never hurt you.”

  “I… I’m scared.” Her voice quavered. She sounded torn between desire and dread.

  “Of course you’re scared. You’d be crazy not to be, after what happened before. So I’m not going to spank you now, much as we both would love it. I’m going to let you be in control, just this once. You get to decide when you want that loving, sexy spanking. When you’re ready, come and ask me for it. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  He pulled her back down on the bed and snuggled her body next to his. “Sleep now, Cass,” he whispered in her ear. “You’re safe with me.�
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  * * *

  Cass swore she’d never be able to fall asleep. She laid there for what seemed like hours, replaying the conversation in her head. Nicolai Alexander Petroff was like no man she’d ever met. He shattered all her stereotypes about law enforcement officials, not to mention men in general. Tough, yet at times so tender. Forceful, but funny. Intelligent. Surprisingly compassionate. With the truly frightening gift of being able to seemingly peer inside her mind and read every thought, every emotion.

  He’d had her back there, with that description of a loving spanking. Her pussy had been soaked just listening to him, in spite of the fact that she’d had more mind-shattering orgasms in the forty-eight hours she’d been with him than she’d had in her whole life.

  Now he’d done the unthinkable. Left the decision entirely in her hands. It would have been so much easier if he’d just taken over right then and there. Yanked her over his lap and smacked her, then fucked her good. He wanted it. And she definitely wanted it. But Nico was a very smart man. This way, no matter what happened, she couldn’t blame him. He made the ground rules clear. It was up to her whether to submit. But if she did, he’d require total submission. And for her, it was far too soon for her to trust him that much. He sensed it and he’d backed off.

  She wanted desperately to close the distance between them, wake him up and say “Okay, I’m ready.” But she couldn’t. Much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She needed time.

  Cass opened her eyes to sunshine streaming into the cabin. It felt like she’d been asleep for only a few minutes, but it must have been hours. She knew she’d find the bed next to her empty, even without rolling over. His smell, that compelling blend of musk and raw male pheromones, lingered. But the sheer weight of his presence was gone.

  She got up, splashed water on her face, rubbed a finger over her teeth, and wandered into the kitchen. Nico stood with his back to her. What looked like the entire remaining contents of every cabinet lay spread out on the countertop in front of him.

  “We’re in luck.” He turned and gave her a dazzling smile. “I found a tub of shortening.” He picked it up, took a sniff, and then held it out to her. “I think it’s still good. It froze during the winter, but it’s thawed out now and it smells okay.”

  “And how is a container of thawed shortening that doesn’t stink lucky?”

  “Biscuits, babe. Southern-style biscuits.” He turned back, creating a white storm of flour on the counter. “Warm biscuits fresh from the oven, drenched with honey. Oh, yeah. I found honey too. It’s crystallized but if we put the jar into a pot of water and simmer it on the stove, it will turn back to liquid and be good as new. Did you know they’ve found ancient jars of crystallized honey in Egyptian tombs and heated them up? The honey is still edible after thousands of years.”

  “Yum.”

  Her note of sarcasm didn’t faze him. He was as excited as a kid with a new toy. She wasn’t big on biscuits—or breakfast in general, for that matter. At home she’d wake up and head straight for the typewriter with an enormous cup of coffee, sometimes losing all track of time and not surfacing again until nearly noon. Then she’d take a break, throw together a salad from whatever wasn’t moldy in the fridge, and eat it watching CNN. Yesterday they’d eaten nothing but pancakes. Now biscuits? Clearly, if she hung around this carbohydrate junkie much longer, she’d never be able to zip up her favorite jeans again.

  He’d already fixed another pot of coffee. Even though she knew she’d never get her caffeine fix from it, the smell alone compelled her to pour a cup. She pulled out a chair at the worn wooden table, observing and making mental notes. He seemed to know his way around a kitchen, sifting the flour into a bowl, adding salt and baking powder, then using some sort of bladed gadget to chop lumps of shortening into the flour. Once he was satisfied, he dumped the contents of the bowl onto the counter and began kneading it.

  Cass wasn’t much of a cook, but that part looked like fun. She got up to stand beside him.

  “Can I try?”

  “Sure. Have you ever done this before?”

  “I watched the cooking channel for a whole weekend once, when I was sick in bed with the flu. Does that count?”

  He laughed. “Apparently you never had a grandmother who roped you into helping in the kitchen every chance she could. That’s how I learned. Granny thought everyone, male or female, should be able to put a decent meal on the table. And she didn’t believe in fancy ingredients or mixes that came in a box. She made everything from scratch.”

  “I like her philosophy. Maybe not the ‘from scratch’ but definitely the ‘male or female’ part.”

  “I think you would have liked her. She was warm and loving but very independent. Not to mention stubborn as hell. A lot like someone else I know.” He pushed her toward the sink. “Go wash your hands. Then I’ll dust them with flour, so the dough doesn’t stick to them.”

  She did as she was told, coming back to stick her hands out. He dug his hand into the flour and sprinkled some over her upturned palms. “Now rub your hands together to make sure they’re well coated. Okay, gather the dough into a ball—gently, otherwise the biscuits won’t be fluffy. Good. Flatten the ball with the palms of your hands and fold it back onto itself. That’s right. Now do it again.”

  Stepping behind her, he put his arms around her and covered her hands with his, guiding her movements. His breath hot on her neck, his body hard pressing against hers. Cass felt a rush of arousal at his nearness.

  “This is like playing with Play-Doh,” she babbled nervously.

  “Better.” His lips tickled her ear when he spoke. “You can’t eat Play-Doh when you’re through. But I can eat this.”

  The innocent words called up the image of her tied up on the bed last night while he brought her hips to his mouth, sucking her clit until she screamed. He rubbed up against her and she felt the huge bulge in his pants. Maybe his words hadn’t been meant so innocently after all.

  He moved away and she almost moaned with unmet need. Dusting an old wooden rolling pin with flour, he handed it to her.

  “Sprinkle some more flour onto the countertop so the dough doesn’t stick. Now roll it out like you’re making a really thick pizza crust.”

  He dipped two fingers into the tub of shortening and spread some around on the baking pan. Then he showed her how to use the rim of a glass to cut a circle out of the dough, lifting it and putting it onto the pan.

  Half an hour later, Cass almost moaned again, this time when she bit into a warm golden-brown biscuit drizzled with sourwood honey.

  “How could you make something this good from a sack of flour and a lump of that white goop?”

  “Bless your Yankee heart, chile’. This is jist down-home Southern cookin’.”

  “You’re awfully good at that accent. I still haven’t picked it up, even after ten years down here.”

  “I grew up hearing it. My granny lived in the mountains of northern Georgia. We’d come down from Ohio and spend summers with her when I was a kid. She babysat while my mother went back up north and worked extra shifts to help make ends meet. She died when I was eleven. After that, we were on our own.”

  “Do you come from a big family?”

  “Nope. There were just the two of us, and my mom.”

  He grew quiet and Cass thought back to the story he’d told her while masquerading as Zander Coleman. About growing up in a bad neighborhood back in Cincinnati, going after his sister’s attacker when he was only a boy. She’d recognized at the time that it had the ring of truth. She shook her head, wondering how many other painful memories Nico had locked away.

  “Come on.” He’d pulled himself out of his reverie and was yanking on her hand. “We’re going for a walk in the woods.”

  “I can’t do that!” She looked down at her expensive black slacks, already covered with snags from her mad dash through the woods. “I’m not dressed for it.”

  “No problem. Th
ere are clothes upstairs. I think Dave’s wife Jeannie left a pair of jeans here and I know I can find you a shirt. Rod won’t be here for a couple of hours. You obviously haven’t spent much time in the woods and it’s a gorgeous spring day. It’s time we went for a hike.”

  “But I don’t have any shoes.”

  He had the grace to look ashamed. “She left a pair of hiking boots too.”

  “You mean all this time I could have put on a pair of shoes and walked right out the door?”

  “You were my captive, remember? I wasn’t about to outfit you with mountaineering gear.”

  “Someone definitely deserves a good spanking,” she muttered under her breath as he walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  He came back downstairs a few minutes later toting a shapeless pair of mom jeans, a blue and green plaid flannel shirt, and boots that looked like they’d hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. Tucked inside the boots she found a thick pair of white socks.

  Cass shot him a dark look and disappeared into the bathroom to change. She came back out a few minutes later. She had on lipstick, mascara, and a dusting of powder thanks to the touch-up supplies she kept in her shoulder bag. She’d brushed her hair and it fell around her shoulders in soft golden-bronze waves. The jeans were a little large around the waist and a little short. She hid that by tucking them into the boots, like an urban commando.

  She wore the flannel shirt as a jacket, collar turned up Elvis-style, buttons undone, and sleeves casually rolled to her elbows, with her own white t-shirt underneath, tucked into the waistband of the jeans.

  Nico took one look at her and laughed. “Okay, you look gorgeous. But this is not a fashion shoot. We’re going into the woods, babe.”

  He came over and began lecturing her as he tweaked her outfit. “Jeans tucked into the boots. That’s good. That way chiggers can’t crawl up your pant legs and bite you. The sleeves—you’ll want to pull them down like this and button the cuffs. Otherwise your arms will get scratched all to hell from the briars. And the sexy neckline? Don’t get me wrong. I love it. But ticks can fall down from the trees and burrow into the skin on your back where you’ll never see them. So let’s button the shirt up all the way too. Do you have a rubber band? Because you may want to tie back your hair so spiders don’t get into it. They string webs between the bushes and sometimes you can walk right into one without seeing it.”