Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories

by Sierra Cartwright

  He stood, lifting me and helping me put my dress and panties to rights. After that, he gathered me against him. I felt tiny and delicate and desirable, even though I usually felt like none of those things.

  “Oh, I like you,” I said, clinging to his neck. “I really like you.”

  “Maybe you can put my real name in your phone then,” he rumbled, arching one of his brows.

  I thought about that as he carried me into the bedroom. “I like the names we have now. They’re very fitting.”

  He slid a hand under my skirt and smacked my ass with one of his slab hands as he dropped me on the bed. I yelped because I was still pretty sore, and then I ogled him as he pulled his sweater over his head. His hands went to his fly and I sat there gawking at him, waiting to see the rest of his perfection. He gave me a pointed look.

  “I’ve been waiting three dates for this, Heart Shaped. I suggest you take off your clothes.”

  I tried, but I stalled with my dress over my head, because that happened to be the moment he dropped his pants and shoved down his boxer briefs. His cock was magnificent. Huge. Hard, just like the rest of his body.

  “Oh, God,” I choked. I lost my balance and toppled over with my dress still stuck on my arms. But seriously, how was I supposed to stay upright when I was confronted with something as masculine and sexy as that spectacular cock?

  “I can’t,” I said. “You’re just...” I lay on the bed, blinking up at him. “I’ve either died or fainted.”

  He reached out and righted me, and helped pull my dress the rest of the way off. “You’re easily impressed.”

  “I’m not. You’re just really impressive.”

  “I haven’t even started yet.”

  Ohhh... He took me in his arms and stripped off my bra and panties since I’d lost the ability to operate my limbs. He was so patient and warm and encompassing, and as he pushed me back on the bed, I returned to reality and pressed myself against him.

  “I need you. I really need you,” I begged. “Uh, do you have a condom?”

  “I’m happy you asked.”

  He already had one in his hand. Apparently he’d been planning for sex on the third date all along, which meant he cared about me, and oh, I was falling in love with him. He cupped my breasts and then stroked my clit, and caught my gasps in his kisses. No more scolding, no more crying. No more spanking, at least for the moment. We were connecting on an even more intense plane.

  “Please, now,” I whimpered at last, arching against him.

  With deep, silent concentration, he positioned himself between my thighs and pressed inside me. All I could do was moan. It felt that good. No, good wasn’t adequate, not even close. Forget it. I’m not even going to try to come up with a word, because words could never express what it felt like for him to press his thick, hard cock inside my aching pussy while my ass was all warm and throbby in his squeezing hands.

  “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s really wonderful,” I sighed. “You totally fit.”

  He chuckled, and then gave a low growl as I squeezed on his cock. He fit in the best way, really tightly and invasively, deep, deep inside me. My annoyed and complaining pussy was finally replete.

  He kissed my neck and licked behind my ear, and nibbled my ear lobe until I couldn’t think. Every time he thrust in me, I ground my clit against his pelvis. Every time he squeezed or pinched my sore cheeks, my arousal spiked to dangerous levels. He’d made me sore—made me break down and cry, and hurt so terribly. Now, he was driving me in the other direction, toward unbridled ecstasy.

  “Hell on a stick,” I said. “I’m going to come.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Don’t let go of me.”

  He held my ass tighter and moved into me like waves against a shore, rolling up and receding, washing over me. It felt like every good thing, like sunshine on my face in the summer, and hot chocolate when it was cold.

  “You’re like chocolate,” I gasped as I sought my release.

  “That good?”

  “Better.”

  My voice cut off as I teetered on the edge of climax, then my pussy clenched in an epic orgasm, on and on and on. Mateo held me tight and covered me from head to toe with his big, strong body. While I was gathered under him and against him, he surged inside me with a guttural groan.

  I clutched at him. “Yes, yes!”

  “Fuck yes,” he agreed, driving as deep inside as he could go. I held onto his neck, feeling his heart pound as he climaxed. If his orgasm was half as good as mine, he was in a heavenly place. I waited for him to come back to me, staring up at the strong profile of his jaw.

  “Jesus, baby,” he sighed. He tilted his head down to kiss me, then moved a little to the side before he collapsed, so he wouldn’t crush me. Well, I wouldn’t have minded being crushed. But not being crushed was okay too.

  “It feels nice to be inside you,” he said, gazing into my eyes. He smoothed back a lock of my hair. “Are you okay?”

  I was more than okay. I was blissed out. When I didn’t answer, he started to pull away from me.

  “Wait,” I said. “I don’t want you to go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  And the way he said it, I knew he meant it as more than a cock and vagina thing. He meant that he was in my life now, and he cared about me, and we’d had third date sex, and maybe we’d even have tenth date anal. There was time to decide. The point was, he wasn’t going anywhere. I relaxed a little and let him go.

  “What now?” I asked, when he returned from throwing away the condom. “What’s next for us on our spanking adventure?”

  “How about a nice dinner?” he asked, stretching out beside me. “I mean, I made you cry.”

  “I’d love to go to dinner with you, but my ass really hurts and restaurant chairs are hard.”

  He grinned at me. “Beds are nice and soft for sore asses. Maybe some takeout?”

  I grinned back. “You read my mind. Hey, do you have any more condoms with you?”

  He reached down and grabbed his jeans, and pulled a whole wad of them from his pocket. Yeah, he was amazing. Definitely an overachiever. I grabbed his dark hair and pulled him close and kissed him so he knew I meant it.

  I mean, hell. It was about time I had an overachiever in my life.

  Chapter Five: Magic and Love

  Valentine’s Day wasn’t really our one year anniversary, but it kind of felt like it, so we returned to the place it all began. Mateo slid an arm around me as we stood together on the upper floor of Santino’s Bar.

  “Let’s see. You were hanging out here, if I remember correctly.”

  I nodded. “And you were down there, breaking up a fight.”

  We looked down together at the drunk, somewhat pathetic Valentine’s Day crowd. Unlike last year, he wasn’t working, and I wasn’t spying on him from the balcony. Even better, I was no longer lonely or horny.

  Well, I was a little horny, but only in the nicest way.

  “So why did you tell Sage that you wanted me to spank you?” he asked. “You didn’t even know her.”

  “It just popped out. I looked at you, at your big, strong arms, and your slab hands...” I laced my fingers through his and squeezed his wonderful hands that spanked me all the time now. Yeah, he was still in my phone as Slab Hands, and I was still Heart Shaped when I texted him, and we were hearts all the time because we were in love like mad.

  “I didn’t know she was going to go running down there to tell you,” I said. “I was shocked when she did.”

  “I was glad when she told me. I’d had my eye on you all night.”

  “Really?”

  He’d never told me that before, but then, we hadn’t been back to Santino’s to drink and dance since we’d started dating. Now that he’d graduated and taken a job at a local engineering firm, he didn’t even work here anymore.

  “So, when you say you had your eye on me...” I prompted.

  “I had my eye on your heart shaped ass. I
t was hard not to, with those super tight jeans you were wearing. The rest of you was just a bonus.”

  I squirmed as he reached to fondle the aforementioned part of my anatomy. Yep, I was wearing tight jeans again. He gave my left ass cheek a sharp slap. I moved closer to him and gazed into his deep blue eyes. His dark hair made them seem even more piercing and handsome. With half my attention, I noticed the music had changed. I cocked my head to listen.

  “The DJ’s playing our song.”

  “Yeah, sounds like it.”

  I wondered why. The Turtles “Happy Together” wasn’t part of Santino’s usual playlist, even if Mateo and I sang it to each other all the time. Maybe they were instituting some kind of oldies night, or maybe...

  Mateo grinned at me with a twinkle in his eyes. He took my hand and turned me to face him, and started singing the words with such theatrical sweetness that the people around us turned to watch. Me and you, and you and me... I was torn between laughing and tearing up with emotion, and by the time he got to the second chorus, I was doing both.

  Then he turned me around so I could see everyone downstairs. The entire club had come together in one big cluster to back him up on the vocals. They waved up at us, laughing, bouncing, belting out the chorus as they hopped up and down. Bah bah ba-ba-ba baaahhh... In the middle of the group, I could see Sage directing everyone while wearing a huge smile.

  “Did you arrange this?” I asked, turning back to him.

  “I might have. I’ve made a lot of friends here over the years. All of them were happy to help out with a big moment like this.”

  “A big moment...?”

  As the song came to a close, he went down on one knee. The clamor inside the club drowned out the final notes of the song, but I wasn’t listening anymore anyway. All I could do was stare at his beloved face and then at the ring he held out to me.

  “I’ve thought about it, and I want to spend the rest of my life at your side. I promise to make you happy, and love you, and well, spank you every once in a while if you’ve been naughty,” he added under his breath, beneath the noise of the yelling and celebrating from downstairs. “What do you say, Heart Shaped?”

  I gawked, beyond words. Oh Jesus, Oh God, I needed to answer him, but I was so shocked and happy and emotional that I couldn’t think. I dashed away tears from behind my glasses and nodded as hard as I could. To the accompaniment of laughter and cheers, he took my hand and slid the ring onto my finger. I noticed the diamond was cut in the shape of a perfect heart.

  “We do belong together, don’t we?” I finally said. “Yes, I want to marry you. Yes, yes, yes.”

  His strong arms slid around my waist, his big hands pulling me close. “I’ve got a bathtub full of champagne waiting at home with your name all over it,” he whispered in my ear. “Candles, rose petals, the whole deal.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, all but the champagne. You can’t really bathe in champagne. We can drink some though, and fuck in the bathtub while we do it.”

  I laughed and hugged him, and thought how far we’d come from our first awkward conversation outside the club. If I hadn’t said it out loud—I want him to spank me—that girl would never have told him, and he would never have known.

  Maybe Valentine’s Day wasn’t actually cursed for awkward dorks like me. Maybe it was a day when magic and love happened.

  And maybe that Sage chick wasn’t such a huge bitch after all.

  About Annabel Joseph

  Annabel Joseph is a multi-published kinky novelist whose stories celebrate the complexity and romance of erotic power exchange. When she’s not penning hot spanking tales, she can be found on Twitter discussing show tunes, Tom Hiddleston, trapeze sex, and other such vital topics.

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  Master Class: Initiation by Sierra Cartwright

  Chapter One

  Fuck.

  Ever since he’d been unceremoniously dumped on his ass three years ago, Logan Powell had done the world a favor by avoiding the fairer sex. Women had very real needs, emotional as well as physical. They deserved to be involved with someone who was a better person than he.

  So what the hell was he doing in the dungeon of his friend’s home, at a BDSM play party, staring at the petite blonde on the other side of the room?

  It wasn’t just her strong, athletic build that attracted him, but also the short spiky hair, fuck-me boots, tight black T-shirt, and a skimpy leather skirt. But what did him in was the way she tugged on the hem of her skirt in a betrayal of nerves.

  Double fuck.

  He propped a foot against the wall behind him and watched her exhale as he considered his next move.

  It had been months since he’d scened. And on the rare occasions when he did play, he always engaged with experienced submissives. If his tingling detective senses were anything to go by, the woman in question had never been dominated.

  He shouldn’t ache to be her first. Shouldn’t. But he did.

  Joe Montrose, the house’s owner and tonight’s host, walked over and stood next to Logan. “Name’s Jennifer...” Joe said.

  “What?” Logan cupped his ear to indicate he was having difficulty hearing over the thundering pulse of a Nine Inch Nails song.

  Joe repeated himself. “Her name’s Jennifer Berklee. She works with Noelle. It’s her first time at one of these events.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You don’t miss it?”

  “Playing with a new partner?” Teaching her about her own responses? Driving her to the edge of distraction, keeping her there, then shoving her over it so he could catch her and care for her? “No,” he lied.

  “Not at all?”

  Jennifer dropped her hands to her sides and moved toward Simon, a Dom who attended a number of events in the area. With the way her hips moved, she looked sexy, as if she’d practiced walking in the booted heels. “Is he still looking for someone to collar?” Logan asked.

  “Yeah.”

  Shouldn’t matter. Nope. Not a bit.

  Joe said something that Logan missed. Despite the fact Joe knew he was being ignored, he kept talking. “So, are you?”

  Logan shook his head. “Am I what?”

  “Coming to Noelle’s surprise birthday party? She’s turning thirty.”

  “When is it?”

  “Three weeks.”

  Logan turned and narrowed his gaze at the man who’d been a friend since basic training, through two years of the Middle East’s skin-searing heat and an explosion where most of the team had died. Because of what they’d shared, Logan knew Joe was hedging. “What date? Specifically.”

  “Ah. February fourteenth.”

  Logan scowled. “I fucking hate Valentine’s Day. You know that.” It wasn’t just the cloying expectations but the still-raw memories he preferred to leave buried. Being among happy, loving couples only made it worse.

  “Missing the party will make you a bigger asshole than you already are,” Joe replied cheerfully.

  “Fuck off.”

  Joe grinned. Not much bothered the man.

  In silence, they watched the interplay between Jennifer and Master Simon.

  “Sure you’re not interested?” Joe didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, he moved off.

  Dom and sub spoke for a few moments, and eventually Master Simon nodded toward the St. Andrew’s cross.

  A blaze of possession arced through Logan as she closed the distance toward the X-shaped BDSM equipment. He wanted to be the one behind her, pressing her against the wood, instructing her to lift her arms high so he could secure her wrists to the attached cuffs.

  Instead, Simon had that honor.

  The Dom affixed her wrists in place, and Logan noticed her test the bonds. She managed to pull her right wrist free. If he were in charge, he wouldn’t have allowed that to happen. Even if all she wanted was a taste, he’d make
sure it was a good one.

  After putting her wrist back in place, Master Simon rubbed her buttocks through her skirt. Logan’s cock thickened.

  Because he needed human contact to maintain touch with his sanity, he showed up at Joe and Noelle’s events several times a year. While watching others scene interested him, he’d rarely gotten aroused from it.

  Then again, he’d rarely had this kind of visceral reaction to a woman.

  Master Simon selected a sturdy leather paddle. It wasn’t a bad decision, Logan mused. The toy was intimate, but not overly so. And since her delectable derriere was covered by leather, the impact would be minimal. Good choice for a neophyte.

  Logan settled in to watch the pair.

  Master Simon gave the sub three swats.

  The third made her move her body to one side—something she did easily since her ankles weren’t secured.

  That was a mistake Logan wouldn’t make.

  He wanted his subs to feel every damn thing he did to them. He wanted them aware, aroused, interested, committed, and he wanted them to stay in place while it was happening.

  Without any change to the rhythm, Master Simon delivered two more swats.

  Then the man put down the paddle on a nearby bench while she freed herself from the restraints.

  Logan watched in shock. Before it had really begun, the scene was over.

  Jennifer turned toward Simon, adjusted her skirt, then smiled politely before scurrying up the staircase.

  With a curse, Logan pushed away from the wall and followed. If she had scened with him, he would have made certain her experience was more rewarding than it obviously had been. He would have talked to her, asked her questions, not simply allowed her to escape after what was probably her first paddling.

  When he found her, she was near the front door, reaching to take her coat from a rack.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “I...” She dropped her hand and turned toward him before meeting his gaze. Her eyes were blue, bright, wide, and vibrant.

  If he hadn’t been attracted before, he was now. “Logan Powell,” he said by way of introduction.

  “Thank you.”

  He grabbed her coat and held it for her. She settled into it, then knotted the belt around her waist as she faced him.