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

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I guess I did have the music a little loud.”

  “You had a key under a fake rock. Only honest people think they fool anyone. No more keys in easy access,” he said. Seeing her there when he’d walked in, naked, back arched, moaning in tiny frustrated sounds as she sought a climax she couldn’t reach affected him in powerful ways. He wanted to be the only one to please her. For a man who’d spent years avoiding relationships, he was intensely attracted to this woman. “Then l saw you, trying to steal an orgasm that you promised me. Me, Jennifer. It’s mine to give, not yours to take. Mine.”

  She shuddered.

  “You promised you’d be patient.”

  “You... I remembered the story about Helen.”

  “That relationship was over,” he said. “We both knew it. She had the guts to end it before I did. But you... I asked you to wait.”

  She exhaled, and the color of her eyes lightened as relief flooded in.

  “Now. Don’t make me repeat my order.” He held out his hand again.

  Her internal struggle didn’t last long. He knew she was as hot for him as he was for her. She could have thrown him out or used a safe word, but she hadn’t.

  She picked up the vibrator and turned it off before placing it in his palm.

  “Thank you,” he said as he stood.

  Slowly she slipped from the bed, and the robe fell to the floor.

  He stepped back to give her room. She looked at him for a few moments. Then she lowered her gaze to the floor as she knelt.

  He saw her wince as the free clamp swung, pulling on the one still attached to her nipple. “I could take that off for you,” he said. “But I’m not going to. I want to see you suffer.”

  “I have been.” She looked up at him. “When I thought you wouldn’t call.” Her voice was breathless, aching...killing him.

  “Trust takes time,” he agreed, his voice more gruff than he meant it to be. “We can start by having you move into my place.”

  “Ah—”

  “You can keep this one until you have faith in the relationship. In me. In us. And that’s built over time. If that’s what you want.”

  “I...” On her naked thighs, she turned up her palms in supplication. “I missed you.”

  “Then let’s take that first step.”

  “Yes. I’d like that, Sir.”

  He was desperate for this woman and fighting his natural instinct to toss her on her back and fuck her ragged. “There’s a penance for trying to steal my orgasm.”

  “Even though I waited five days?”

  “Even though.”

  She licked her upper lip.

  “What’s your safe word?”

  “Marshmallow,” she said.

  “Unless you want to use it, drape yourself over the footboard.”

  Jennifer didn’t hesitate for a moment.

  When she started to stand, he said, “I’d prefer you crawl.”

  Her breath caught, but she got on all fours. The chain attached to the alligator clamp swung back and forth as she moved. From her wince, he knew it was shooting sparks of pain through her.

  She reached for it, but he snapped, “Leave it.”

  He saw her wrinkle her nose, but she continued past him and got herself into position.

  “Stretch your arms as wide as you can,” he instructed.

  He went into her closet and found a couple of scarves, which he used to tie her wrists to the wrought-iron knobs. “This bed may have to move to my house,” he said. “I think it’s meant as bondage equipment.”

  “I might have had that in mind when I bought it,” she confessed.

  “Kiss me,” he told her.

  She pulled up as much as possible and turned her head toward him.

  That was all he needed. He framed her face with his palms and held her firmly. “I’ll teach you not to doubt me.” Then he kissed her hard, deep, with promise and commitment. “And I’ll start by letting you know I’m serious when I give you a command.”

  “I understand.”

  “How many days have you waited?”

  “Five, Sir.”

  He lowered one hand and squeezed the breast that still had the alligator attached.

  She cried out, and he silenced her with a kiss that stole her breath and made her grind the balls of her feet into the floor.

  He left her for a second, only long enough to grab the loose clamp and affix it to her neglected nipple.

  “Sir!”

  “You’re going to come five times before I fuck you, Jennifer.”

  “Can we please get on with it, Sir?”

  “Impatient?”

  “The clamps are driving me batty.”

  “Yeah. I can smell your heat.” Heady stuff, submissive female arousal.

  He slid his hand between her legs and rubbed her cunt. The harder she pulled on the restraints, the tighter they got.

  She started to breathe faster, and he reached for the vibrator. He turned it on and smiled when he realized the small bullet had a surprising amount of power.

  “Sir...” Her eyes were wide as he moved closer.

  Then he touched it to her clit.

  She screamed and arched her back. “Stop, stop, stop!”

  “Stop isn’t a safe word,” he reminded her, slapping her left ass cheek with hard openhanded swats.

  “I’m going to come,” she warned, promised.

  He pressed the nubs tighter against her and told her, “Yes.”

  She called his name as she shattered, collapsing over the metal. But the moment her breasts touched the mattress, she pulled up again.

  “This is unbearable,” she said, her voice containing a pitiful wail.

  “We haven’t even started,” he promised.

  Logan removed his belt and gave her five strokes—not as hard as the ones he planned to deliver after she was properly warmed up—all aimed at that tender spot at the tops of her thighs.

  She squirmed and cried, and her tears were sexy and real.

  “You’re gorgeous,” he told her. And he reaffirmed, “Mine.”

  “Fucking prove it,” she said.

  He knew it was a plea and that she wasn’t simply goading him. “I intend to.” He finger-fucked her hot cunt until she was dripping. “Ask me to touch your G-spot.”

  “I might die if you don’t,” she said.

  “You’ll only think you will.” He found the right place and gently touched it.

  She whimpered. “More,” she begged when he remained still.

  “I told you to ask. Be specific.”

  “Please touch my G-spot, Master Logan.”

  God, he liked the way that term sounded. He moved his free hand to her ass and dug in his fingers, making her move. Then he pressed her G-spot harder, keeping firm pressure until she clenched around him.

  “May I come, Sir?”

  “Yes,” he whispered, enjoying the sound of her crying out.

  “How many was that?” he asked when she was able to drag in a couple breaths of air.

  “Two,” she whispered. “Feels like a hundred.”

  “Do you have lube?”

  It took her long seconds to answer. “In the bathroom,” she said eventually. “Under the sink.”

  He left her where she was, and when he returned, he placed his feet inside her ankles and forced her legs farther apart. “Stay like that or I’ll tie you in place.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He poured a liberal dose of lube on her, letting it run down her, over her anus. Then he scooped up some with two fingers and pushed into her.

  “That’s too much.”

  “Is it?” he asked, unconcerned.

  She swayed back and forth, trying to get away. “You’ve only done one before.”

  “Then this is a first.”

  He worked himself in until he was buried up to his knuckles.

  “So fucking full.”

  Logan parted his fingers slightly, then began to ream her, uttering words of comfort.
“Take it for me. Stop thinking about yourself and think about your Dom.”

  She froze for a moment as the words resonated.

  Then she totally relaxed. “Yes...”

  Even as he tormented her delicious little ass, he picked up the bullet. He flicked off the nubby top, exposing three tiny metal nubs. On his next thrust, he entered her pussy with that, simultaneously filling both of her holes.

  He fucked her until she came, hard. “That’s three.”

  “I’ll never complain again,” she vowed. “Even if you go away for a long, long time without calling or texting. Or writing. Or sending a telegram.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Nice try, sub.”

  “Couldn’t you just beat me or something? Flogger? Paddle? That evil belt?”

  “Orgasms,” he said. “You owe me two more.”

  “But...”

  “Not done with you yet.” When she didn’t respond, he said, “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Anything you say, Sir.”

  He went into the bathroom to wash up. When he returned, Jennifer’s body was dotted with perspiration, and she looked so gorgeous, spread, bound, bent over, helpless.

  With a damp washcloth that he’d brought back with him, he cleaned off the excess lube. Then he sat on the floor before scooting backward.

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer asked, moving back to accommodate him.

  He cupped his hands on her thighs and felt her go rigid. “Put your cunt on my face and fuck it,” he ordered.

  She sucked in a breath before slowly saying, “That’s outside my comfort zone.”

  “This is about what I want, little sub. Do it.”

  “I...”

  He waited. She was so fucking hot, and the scent of her musk made his cock ache.

  “You’re impossible, Sir.”

  “And you’re going to get the insides of your thighs pinched unless you do as you’re told.”

  After a few seconds, she bent her knees slightly.

  “More.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he carried out his threat and pinched her hard.

  She yelped, and her body instinctively swayed forward to escape the pain.

  Then she was on his face, and his tongue was inside her. Her sounds of protest yielded to moans of pleasure.

  With his hands on her, he forced her to move until she was humping his face and he was licking her hot pussy. “That’s it.”

  “Sir, Sir, Sir!”

  He heard jangling as the metal chain swayed, heard her desperate breaths.

  He pulled her down even harder, unbalancing her. But he was there for her, demanding she give him what he wanted, even if her cunt was getting tender.

  With his tongue, Logan traced an infinity knot on her clit.

  She gyrated and thrashed.

  “Give it to me.”

  Screaming a protest, she came, her essence all over his face.

  He stayed where he was, supporting her weight while she regained control of her body.

  “Sir...” she began when he stood.

  “Hmm?”

  “If I promised I’ve learned my lesson...” She turned her head to the side, seeking his gaze. “Will you please fuck me?”

  With her lips parted, her blue eyes glazed with desire, he could deny her nothing.

  Logan rubbed her body, starting with her arms. He checked the circulation in her wrists, massaged her shoulders, made certain her legs weren’t cramping. “This time, I’m taking you from behind.”

  “Just take me. I need your cock.”

  He pulled out a condom from his wallet, then stripped slowly, aware of her watching his every move. He rolled on the condom, then stroked his shaft a few times as she silently stared.

  “I forgot how big it was,” she said, slightly breathless.

  “It’ll fit. I promise.” He brushed that stubborn lock of her hair back from her face. “Tell me what you want. Be specific.”

  “Your cock filling me, Sir. Master Logan.”

  Anything she wanted. Anytime.

  He moved behind her.

  Since she was so much shorter than him, he had to bend his knees while she lifted herself onto her tiptoes.

  He guided his cockhead to her pussy, then slowly stroked himself in. “I waited,” he told her. “Since I asked you not to come, I chose not to as well.”

  She tried to angle herself so she could look at him, then gave an annoyed hiss when he and the bondage held her tight. “Are you serious?”

  “I am.” As her body accommodated him, he made his thrusts longer and slower, pinning her hips in place against the floorboard. “This—you are worth any wait.”

  “Damn.”

  He had no idea whether she was referring to the sex or the fact he’d denied himself. “Come when you’re ready,” he told her. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold off. Last night after he’d arrived home, adrenaline had still thrummed inside him, keeping him awake. It wasn’t simply the remnants of the case, but the fact he’d been unable to reach her. Jerking off would have helped him unwind and get to sleep, but he’d known that being with her would make every sleepless minute worthwhile. “I’m at least halfway to being in love with you,” he said.

  “Good. Because I’m not going there alone,” she said, her words ringing with conviction despite how breathless they were.

  “Then we’re agreed.” He rode her hard, reaching out to hold her hair. By the time he was done with her, Jennifer would know she was his.

  She didn’t have to tell him she was ready to come. He felt her go rigid, heard her desperate gasps.

  His balls drew up, and he thrust deep inside her, burying himself to his hilt.

  Her internal muscles clenched, milking an ejaculation from him.

  With a guttural, primal grunt, he came, deep, hot, claiming.

  “Fuck. Master Logan!”

  For a moment or two, long enough to be freaky, he had an absence of thought, of contentment. He wondered how long it had been since he’d felt this relaxed.

  Eventually he became aware of his cock softening and her shifting to get more comfortable. “You’re a magnificent sub,” he said.

  He took his time removing the alligators, gently squeezing her nipples until she stopped groaning and they returned to their normal size.

  “I don’t know whether I love them or hate those evil little clamps,” she admitted.

  “You had them on when I arrived.”

  Her next comment was spoken into the bedspread.

  “Repeat that.”

  “I couldn’t climax without them.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Along with every other detail about her.

  He unfastened her wrists, then helped her stand before turning her to face him.

  She threaded her arms around his neck and buried herself against his chest. There was nothing that could have been more perfect or a bigger symbol of her trust. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he warned like he had last week.

  Jennifer looked up and gave him a bratty smile. “Bring it. Sir.”

  About Sierra Cartwright

  Called "Even racier than Fifty Shades" by the UK's Mail Online, #1 Best Selling author Sierra Cartwright is the winner of the 2015 Reader's Choice Best Erotic Romance for Bind, 2015’s Golden Flogger for Crave, the 2014 LASR Book of the Year award for In The Den, and 2013’s Best BDSM Book of the Year award for Over The Line.

  Sierra was born in Manchester, England where she spent her early years traipsing through castles and dreaming of marrying a prince. After living in Denver for a number of years, the internationally acclaimed author now resides in Galveston, Texas home. She loves the way history blends with Southern manners. Being called "sugar" is an experience unto itself­—almost as good as marrying a prince.

  She invites you to join her on a sensual journey where the limits are explored and expanded and sometimes shattered.

  Please socialize with her at:

  www.facebook.com/Sier
raCartwrightOfficial

  instagram and twitter: @SierraWrites

  www.sierracartwright.com

  Theirs to Punish by Renee Rose

  Chapter One

  It had to be a trap. Skye’s raw elbows scraped on the cold, dirty metal as she slid on her belly through the air duct above the penthouse suite of Casino Magnifico.

  This was crazy. She should have stolen her stepmother’s necklace first then hit the other Hollywood stars and socialites’ rooms. Her plan had been to distract any particular attention from Savannah Duke as a target—and therefore herself as a suspect—by burgling a few other rooms.

  Now, though, after her first two successful heists, the Jamison twins, owners of the Magnifico, had taken precautions, offering to store any valuables brought for their grand Valentine’s Ball in Joe Jamison’s personal safe. The fact that they didn’t choose to put them in the hotel/casino safe, which would’ve been impossible for her to crack, meant they wanted her to show up. And that should’ve made her run for the hills.

  But she had no need for the other loot she’d stolen—she didn’t have the billions her stepmother inherited, but she did have millions left in the trust from her father. The sole purpose of the Casino Magnifico heist had been to get the necklace back from Savannah, her stepmonster. So she crawled onward, toward her probable demise.

  She reached the vent in what she guessed would be the main living area and backed the screws out. The room appeared dark and no sound came from below. She eased the vent out and caught it before it went clattering to the plush-carpeted floor. Counting to five with her breath held, she listened.

  Nothing.

  She lowered her bag of equipment with a rope, not that it would’ve made much sound if she’d simply dropped it. Her watch showed thirty seconds until the video surveillance feed would freeze. Despite that precaution, she pulled a black ski mask over her face.

  Ten seconds after the freeze, she slid her legs through the opening and eased her body down. A piece of metal scraped the length of her side, catching her thin black nylon shirt and hiking it up to her armpit. Oww...fuck. Good thing she’d had her tetanus shot. She gritted her teeth against the pain and tried to swing her weight to one hand to free the other to unhook the shirt. Instead, she lost her balance and her full weight dangled by the fabric for two seconds before it ripped and she plummeted through the air.