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

by Sierra Cartwright

  “So what happened?” Logan asked.

  Dragged back from the unpleasant memory, she asked, “Short story? A public humiliation.”

  Logan looked at her but remained silent, waiting for her to go on.

  Jennifer exhaled. “My boyfriend proposed at dinner on Valentine’s Day. When I said I needed to think about it, he dumped my ring in a glass of ice water. Then he walked out, leaving me to pay the bill and find my own way home.” Adding insult to the embarrassment, the meal and wine had been considerably more than she could afford on her budget.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “It’s better than a lifetime of misery, right?” Because of Logan’s patience and interest, some of her resistance to him faded. Maybe he wasn’t as dangerous as she’d originally thought. Despite herself, she was a slight bit curious about him. “So, what’s your story?” she asked.

  “I was an ass. Forgot it was Valentine’s Day. Worked late. Didn’t buy her a card or a gift.”

  His lips were set in a tight line. Although his words were light and easy, the underlying betrayal of pain in his voice was unmistakable.

  Like he’d done for her, she waited for him to continue.

  “When I got home, all the lights were on, but Helen and her belongings were gone. She left a note with two words on it. You can probably guess what they were.” He grinned wryly.

  Feeling as if their confessions had created some intimacy between them, she smiled back. “I bet I can.”

  He angled his flute and they clinked their glasses.

  “We got off to a bad start a few weeks ago,” he told her. “I was an oaf. I apologize.”

  “An oaf?” She toyed with her glass. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anyone actually use that word in a sentence.”

  “I’m one of a kind,” he said. “Say you’ll forgive me.”

  How could she refuse?

  “I was disappointed that you didn’t call,” he said in a soft, sexy, sultry voice that gave her pinpricks up her spine.

  “I’m surprised you thought about me,” she admitted.

  “Every day. I even asked Joe about you.”

  She decided not to tell him that she’d asked Noelle about him.

  “He said you were worth having.”

  “Did he?”

  “He suggested I try groveling.”

  Suddenly feeling lighter than she had in months, she teased, “Let me guess. That’s not one of your finer skills?”

  “You’d be right.”

  Logan stood intimately close to her, making all her nerve endings vibrate with awareness.

  When she’d met him, she’d been flustered, and she hadn’t noticed how captivating his eyes were. Now she couldn’t help but stare. They were green, a shade or two lighter than jade, and just as opaque.

  “If we had scened the other night, you would have given me your phone number and taken my call the next day. And right now... Right now...?”

  Nervously, she swallowed.

  “You’d be remembering how good it was, and you’d be on your knees begging me to take you to the basement.”

  Jennifer drew a shaky breath. “Look, Logan—”

  “Be as honest with yourself as I’m demanding you be with me. You wanted to be pushed by Master Simon. At least a little.”

  She hesitated, but she was unsure why. Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

  “You’re hoping, deep inside, that I’m going tie you to the St. Andrew’s cross. You want to be vulnerable, to pull against the bonds, letting the structure support your entire weight as you’re needy, naked, waiting.”

  Jennifer’s knees went weak. He was right...about everything.

  “Do you know what a safe word is?” he asked.

  “Noelle’s told me a few things about it.”

  “Explain it to me.”

  She swirled the sparkling wine around the inside of her glass. “It’s a word that will stop a BDSM scene.”

  He nodded. “Oftentimes, people will have a second word, one that means slow down or pause.”

  “Like yellow,” she said.

  “Yeah. Like yellow. If it’s more comfortable for you, we can use safe words during this discussion.”

  She nodded.

  “I make you nervous.”

  As if she’d missed a tax-filing deadline. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?” she echoed, stunned. “You want me to be on edge?”

  “Yes. It means you’re not as unaffected as you’d like to pretend.” Then he grinned, a slow, consuming expression that melted her reserves.

  God help me. Logan looked ten years younger and infinitely more approachable. Instead of relaxing her, it increased her tension. An engaging Logan was so much more difficult to deny.

  “Tell me about your fantasies.”

  He was pushing her into areas she’d never been before. It was thrilling, frightening. “I bought myself a flogger at an adult store.”

  “Have you used it?”

  She shook her head.

  “What other toys do you have?”

  “I have a pair of clamps, but I’ve never actually been brave enough to use them on myself.” It seemed impossible that her voice was so steady. Logan made it easy, and she appreciated it.

  “So you want to be flogged, maybe with nipple clamps on.”

  She nodded.

  “What gets you off when you’re masturbating?”

  He saw her, deeply into her. The knowledge made her dizzy. Suddenly, she was unable to find her voice.

  “Talk to me,” he said.

  “I picture myself tied up,” she confessed breathlessly. “Helpless.” Writhing. Desperate. In her mind, the more intense the bondage, the harder her orgasm. She wondered if that would be true in real life.

  His eyes darkened a shade, as if he were aroused. “We can make that happen. It’s just the two of us. We have all night. Guest rooms at the ready.” He put down his glass. “But you’ll have to ask me for it.”

  He was offering to fulfill her erotic fantasies. Yes. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted. She only wished he wasn’t so overwhelming.

  “Oh, and Jennifer? One more thing. You’ll do it from your knees.”

  Her own breath strangled her.

  With great deliberation, Logan plucked the almost untouched champagne flute from her hand.

  An intoxicating cocktail of fear and anticipation clawed through her.

  He stood so close she inhaled his scent, that of musk and determination. Heavens above, she wanted him.

  “What will it be? A night spent in exploration? Or shall we put away the food and head back to the city before the snowstorm really sets in?”

  Chapter Three

  With patience learned during long days and nights of wartime waiting—brutal monotony shattered by a life-or-death crash of adrenaline—Logan waited for Jennifer’s answer. He’d liked the way she’d blushed earlier, and now he enjoyed looking at the little furrow between her eyebrows. He guessed she’d be mortified if she had any idea how expressive her face was, the way all her emotions were so clearly readable. He knew her answer, but just as surely, he was going to force her to be honest with herself.

  “I’d like to explore.”

  The words pleased him more than he had anticipated. “Tell me your safe word. Do you want to use red?”

  She shook her head. “Marshmallow.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I don’t like them.” She wrinkled her nose in a way that showed her extreme displeasure. “It’s the texture, especially when they get warm.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll remember that?”

  “I will.”

  “And a word to let me know you want to slow down?”

  “Can we use yellow for that?”

  “Absolutely. Did you bring your flogger with you?”

  She took her time, and he realized she was a woman he couldn’t rush. That would make dominating her all the m
ore rewarding.

  “I... Yes. It’s in my bag,” she said.

  Obviously she’d made the same guess he had, that any gathering at the Montroses’ mountain home would end up kinky. “Would you like me to use it on you?”

  She didn’t reply right away, and he added, “That’s why you brought it, isn’t it?”

  After nodding, she walked to the far wall, grabbed her bag, then dug to the bottom of her tote. The sight of the red leather flogger impressed him. It had long, thick strands. Even from across the room, he could tell it wasn’t a twenty-dollar novelty. No doubt it had cost ten times that amount, and that told him just how serious she was about this evening. “Did you bring the nipple clamps?”

  She didn’t look over at him as she answered, “No.” When she was walking back toward him, her steps faltered as if she was unsure what to do.

  “Hold on to it until we get downstairs. I want you to formally offer it to me when you’re on your knees asking me to flog you.”

  The hint of red staining her cheeks deepened.

  He paused to lock the front door and turn off the porch light before retrieving the bag he’d placed near the coatrack.

  At the top of the stairs, he turned on the lights, then indicated she should precede him. He was man enough to appreciate the sway of her hips as she moved.

  He made a mental reminder to send Joe and Noelle a thank-you note. Maybe a case of wine.

  “Go and stand near the St. Andrew’s cross,” he instructed when they were in the well-equipped play area. After Joe had bought the house, he’d had most of the basement walls taken out. That left a large space for the custom-built equipment and allowed him to rearrange things for each event.

  Jennifer stopped where Logan had said, then turned to face him. She clenched the flogger so hard her knuckles turned white.

  “Take a deep breath,” he instructed. “Relax a little.”

  “Would you, if you knew someone was going to hit you?”

  “Put that way, no.” He smiled. “But if I knew someone was going to spend the rest of the evening taking me to heights I’d never imagined, I might.”

  “That might be even more nerve-racking,” she admitted.

  He continued past her to put his bag on a bench near the wall, intentionally giving her some space.

  Even though his back was to her, Logan heard her boots on the hardwood floor, making him aware she had turned toward him.

  He began to lay out his equipment: cuffs, blindfold, and nipple clamps with a chain running between them. Since she had her own flogger, he left his in the bag along with a tawse and paddle. “Would you like to see?” he invited.

  She hesitated, but then came up alongside him.

  “Does anything here scare you?” he asked.

  “Those clamps don’t look like the ones I own.”

  “What kind do you have?”

  “Alligators.” She frowned. “But these are the kind that don’t come off easily, aren’t they?”

  “Japanese clovers, and yes. They tighten if you pull on them. But it can be interesting to try to beat them off.”

  She froze, obviously not knowing whether he was serious.

  “Would you like to skip them?”

  For a moment she was silent. “Actually, I...wasn’t planning to get naked.”

  “I see.” At the better-attended play parties, most women kept on at least a bra and panties. Doms who preferred their subs bare-chested often adorned nipples with pasties or covered them with electrical tape. In Logan’s experience, the more intimate events featured more nudity. “So tell me what you want to have happen. It didn’t work for you when Master Simon allowed you to keep your clothes on.”

  She let out a shaky breath. “I guess I want all the excitement and none of the risk,” she confessed.

  He inclined his head.

  “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

  He’d seen that in all areas of life, from his time in the army and a private peacekeeping unit to his work as a PI. “Here’s what I want.” He waited until she nodded before going on. “I want to give you the flogging you want, one that’s so damn good you forget your name. And bonus if you scream mine when you come. Yes, you’ll have risk. Yes, it will be scary. Yes, it will be worth it.”

  “I...” She paused, her mouth open. “Logan...I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Master Logan,” he corrected. “Master, if you’re only using one word. Sir, at the very least.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “It’s a boundary during a scene, helps separate the civilized world from mine.”

  She shuddered. “Are you calling yours uncivilized?”

  “No. I call mine real. Say it.”

  “Ah...” She wrapped her arms across her chest, and the flogger’s leather strands dangled in midair. “Master Logan.”

  Fuck. The sound of her voice, so compliant, made him ache.

  With great effort, he concentrated on finishing their conversation. “I will be touching you, kissing you...” Creating an air of intimacy so complete that she’d be enfolded by it, secure forever. “We won’t be having sex, at least until the scene is over. I have no expectations, so it will happen only if you want it, and then we’ll use condoms.”

  She nodded.

  “I’d prefer it if you’d take your clothes off, but I’ll be satisfied if you strip down to your undergarments. So what will it be?” He waited. Even if it hadn’t been on a conscious level, she’d thought about sceneing tonight. She knew what she was and wasn’t willing to do. The game changer for her was the fact he wasn’t as easy to sway as Master Simon was.

  “I want to keep on my bra and underwear.”

  He nodded. “You can put your clothes on this bench.”

  Fully anticipating her obedience, he went to the sound system and selected a mix that Joe had cued up. The choices ran the gamut from soft rock to inviting jazz, some Nine Inch Nails with occasional Gregorian chants threaded in.

  The preset volume was too loud for Logan’s tastes. He wanted to hear all her sounds, no matter how quiet they were. And he wanted to hear the strike of leather on skin.

  After lowering the volume, he turned to watch her.

  She’d placed the flogger next to his equipment. Everything was in a very orderly line, which he liked. She’d removed her boots and tights, and she was struggling with the skirt zipper.

  “May I?” he asked.

  After she nodded, he brushed aside her fingers and finished the task. Then he stepped back to watch her finish undressing.

  Her choice of underwear enchanted him. They were red, which was a pleasant surprise. And they were mesh, making them see-through. That was an even better surprise.

  Thin black ribbon was threaded through the waistband. The panties were cut high, giving him a nice view of her curves.

  Then she faced him.

  The front of the panties barely covered her pubis.

  Logan’s pulse accelerated.

  As he silently watched, she caught the bottom of her turtleneck and pulled it up and off.

  Her bra matched her panties. The material was gauzy, and the cups were defined by the same black ribbon. Tiny bows were set on each strap, an innocent tease to counter the seductive appeal.

  “You’re absolutely gorgeous, Jennifer.”

  For a moment, their gazes met. Then she seemed to forcibly look away. As she placed her turtleneck on the counter, he noticed her hand trembled.

  He bent to scoop up her discarded clothing and handed them to her.

  “Thank you.”

  He watched as she folded the garments and put them on the bench as he’d instructed. “Now I’d like you to pick up your flogger, walk to the cross, and stand with your back to it.”

  She took a deep breath before complying.

  Logan transferred cuffs and a blindfold to one of the metal towerlike structures that Joe had commissioned for the area.

  Once he’d glanced at her to ascertain her height, he
attached cuffs to the top of the cross. He was very much aware of Jennifer studying his every motion. After moving in front of her, he said, “Now kneel.”

  “I didn’t know you were serious.”

  Rather than responding, he pointedly looked at the floor.

  Her mouth was open, and her breaths were audible, rapid.

  Logan watched her silent struggle.

  Then long, long seconds later, she knelt.

  “Perfect,” he approved. “Now offer the flogger to me with your palms cupped in a beautiful, submissive manner.”

  With astounding grace, she did so.

  “Very well done,” he told her. “I want you to spread your legs and lean back just a little.” Once she’d done that, he continued, “Good. Now lower your head. Cast your gaze down or close your eyes, either way.” He spoke in a low, firm tone, ensuring she could hear him over the music while simultaneously informing her she was ceding power to him.

  After the slightest hesitation, she closed her eyes.

  “You look lovely, Jennifer.” There was something completely erotic about the way she knelt, motionless, nervous, yet fighting past it in order to trust him. The image seared his mind.

  Logan appreciatively drank her in before taking a step forward to accept the flogger. He hung it from the metal structure. “Now open your eyes.”

  She slowly did, glancing up at him.

  Already, he saw the softness in her, the responsiveness, the slide into somewhere sexy and potent.

  “Ask me to flog you.”

  Her hands trembled, but her voice was firm as she said, “Please, Master Logan. Will you flog me?”

  “My pleasure.” He extended his hand to help her up, and her smaller one was lost in his much larger grip.

  He held her for a while as he looked into her blue eyes, savoring the connection. Eventually he said, “Let’s get you on the cross.” With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her and guided her toward the wooden structure. “You good?”

  “I’m somewhere between exhilarated and terrorized.”

  “Let’s keep you on the happier end of that, shall we? Wrists first.”