BegMe

Beg Me

Scarlett
Sanderson

Tessa fantasizes about being tied
up and tantalized with pleasure. She longs for a man to take control, to drive
her wild with lust. But she’s never been able to let go and indulge in her most
taboo desires.

The second Jared sees Tessa, he
wants her. Her fierce intelligence and repressed sensuality call to him, make
him burn with a passion he hasn’t felt in years.

Jared offers Tessa a deal—for a
month, they’ll play a game of dominance and submission. He’ll make her beg,
make her moan, make her come harder and faster than she ever has before. In
return? He just wants great sex. No strings attached. But when he can’t get
enough of Tessa’s scent, her taste, her touch, he realizes what he really wants
is her love.

Chapter One

“Do you need a Master, little girl? I can be the one to own
you.”

Tessa turned, facing the man who spoke the words. He was
about the same age as her. His blond hair fell in perfectly shaped bangs around
his face. His dark eyes flashed with sparks of interest.

She raked her gaze over the rest of him. Tall, lean and tanned,
he wore leather pants laced at the sides. They rode low on his hips and cupped
an impressive bulge at the crotch. A leather waistcoat covered his bare, waxed
chest.

Her body heated. A soft throb beat in her pussy. “Thanks,
but no thanks.”

He grinned, flashed a set of perfectly whitened teeth. “I
can be your little boy if you prefer.”

A shiver of desire and trepidation ran down her spine. “No,
thanks.”

The man shrugged. “Your loss. Let me know if you change your
mind.” He moved into the crowd, lost in the throng of people.

Sending up a silent thank you to whatever gods listened,
Tessa found a quiet corner booth and sat down. Inferno was the latest in a
series of BDSM clubs opening up in the area, catering specifically to
high-class clientele.

Not usually a place she’d visit but Tessa had been curious.
In all her sexual relationships, something had been missing. She’d always been
curious about BDSM, she even admitted it to her fiancé back in college only to
be told she was “abnormal”. After that disastrous experience, she’d pushed her
desires to the back of her mind. Part of her reason for becoming a sex
therapist was to help others who were having problems. Maybe then she could
come to terms with her own needs.

In reality, she buried herself in her work and other
people’s problems. She didn’t know if the club would help. The pounding beat
intensified her nerves, made her wonder if she should be there, if she’d made
the wrong decision.

In one of her sessions, a female patient had described the
thrill of being a submissive to a Dominant Master. The description sent a buzz
zinging through her, a feeling she rarely experienced. While the woman talked,
describing intimate details of having clamps attached to her nipples and clit,
Tessa’s body burned. Her pussy became slick, her own nipples beaded as she
imagined sharp teeth biting into the delicate flesh.

It had occurred to her that maybe she needed that kind of
relationship. Maybe she needed to be submissive. To her analytical mind, it
made sense. Every day she experienced control—she was always the dominant
personality. Her darkest sexual desires involved relinquishing some of that
tightly held control to someone else.

To a Master.

Every time she thought about it, feelings of guilt arose.
Maybe her ex-fiancé had been right. Wanting to be beaten and tied up wasn’t
normal.

Taking her own advice, she’d pushed aside her fears and
researched informal BDSM gatherings—“munches”, she'd learned they were
called—and clubs in the area.

She’d taken weeks to work up the courage and now that she
was here, Tessa hadn’t a clue what to do.

Various people milled around in different types of BDSM
outfits. Many were subtle in their choices. Some were bolder, wearing their
fetish like a badge. The heavy beat of sensual music thudded, throbbing in time
with the crowd on the dance floor. Scents of alcohol, cologne and the musk of
people packed together in a small space filled the air. Wearing a tailored
black pencil skirt, slightly heeled boots and a black cotton shirt, Tessa stuck
out like a sore thumb.

A blonde waitress stopped next to her table. “You want a
drink, honey?”

She smiled at the young woman. At a guess, the girl was in
her early twenties. Most likely a college student earning extra cash. The
outfit she wore was, unsurprisingly, leather—a revealing black bustier and an
obscenely short skirt. Her shoes, thigh-high latex without a heel. Sexy yet
practical.

“Vodka, no ice.” She’d be grateful for something to hold,
something that would soothe her nerves.

When the waitress smiled back, the knot of tension in
Tessa’s stomach eased just a little. “First time?”

“Is it that obvious?” A blush rose in Tessa’s cheeks as the
blonde laughed, and she tugged at the corner of her sleeve, rolling her eyes to
hide her embarrassment. “I think I’m a little overdressed.”

“You look fine. Although a bit more leather would be
perfect.” Winking, the waitress turned and headed back into the crowd, drink
tray raised over her head. She wound her body perfectly through the throng of
people. With a slight turn of her hip, she avoided any wandering hands.

Did she indulge in the pleasures of the club? She certainly
looked the part.

Smiling, Tessa turned her attention back to the crowd. What
would it take to get up and mingle? About another ten shots of vodka. Maybe
more.

More of a voyeur than a participant, she drummed her
fingernails on the table. So this was the kind of place where she could explore
her submissive fantasies?

The night was not turning out as she’d expected. Then again,
she hadn’t really known what to expect. Except for the leather. Leather was
pretty much a given.

“One vodka. No ice.” The waitress set Tessa’s drink on a
napkin and gave her a dazzling smile. “Enjoy. And relax. They don’t bite.
Unless you ask nicely.”

Tessa laughed. “Thanks, I’ll remember that.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out enough money to
cover the drink and a generous tip. After all, the girl had been the first
friendly face in the club.

Taking a sip of the cool alcohol, she let the vodka burn a
pleasant path from her palate to her stomach and glanced up. Her heartbeat
quickened as Mister Perfect White Teeth sidled up. He eased himself into the
booth beside her. His spicy, citrus cologne wrapped itself around her, bled
into her pores.

“You look lonely.”

Despite her attraction, she wanted to get up and walk away.
She’d expected to observe, get used to the environment. She didn’t expect to
get hit on, not on her first visit.

“I’m fine.” She flashed him a small smile. “Thank you.”

White Teeth held out his hand. “I’m Karl.”

“Tessa.” She slipped her hand into his, shook.

He had a strong handshake. She noted the veins running along
his skin, signs he worked out. An image of him slapping that hand against her
ass flashed into her mind. She shifted in her seat.

“So, why are you here, Tessa? Are you looking to play?”

Panic bubbled to the surface. Was she? Had she come here
looking for precisely that? Best thing was to be honest.

She looked into his dark eyes. “You’re straight to the
point.”

“First time?”

Was it that obvious? Did she have “newbie” tattooed on
her somewhere? A great neon sign over her head?

She frowned. “Yes, it’s my first time.”

He leaned forward, brushed a strand of hair off her face.
“Submissive or Dominant?”

“Submissive. I think.” Maybe, who knew? That’s what she was
here to find out.

“Okay. I’m going to ask you a question now, and I want you
think about it.”

She nodded. Intrigue and confusion lodged in her throat.

“If you are not sure, how about we try a little experiment?
They offer some cornered-off booths here, nothing too private.” He laughed.
“It’s not that kind of club. But they have some spanking equipment, some
restraints. Other stuff, if you are interested. Are you interested in
spanking?”

Her whole body tightened. Her slit bloomed. Desire beat a
steady path from the pit of her stomach to her clit, setting her nerves on
edge. Her mouth watered and she licked her lips. Oh yes. Spanking definitely
interested her.

Tessa nodded.

“We could start with that. Go slow. If you don’t like it,
just say the word ‘red’ and I’ll stop. You’ll be perfectly safe. There are tons
of people around and the bouncers keep a close eye on things. First step is
always the hardest. You won’t know until you try.”

He was right. She’d come here looking to push past her
boundaries. Maybe a spanking was exactly what she needed.

Her cunt clenched, swelled. She could feel the wet patch
soaking her panties.

It might be easier with a stranger. No awkward moments
later. She could get her spanking and move on. No attachments. No humiliation.
Where was the harm? She was a grown woman seeking sexual bliss.

Slipping her hand in his, she let Karl navigate toward the
private rooms. Her heart hammered. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry and
parched.

This was it. After this, she’d know once and for all if she
really was a submissive.

The rooms had no doors—they were large roped-off, cave-like
crevices at the back of the club. People could see in and the occupants could
see out. She’d read about them online. No one was allowed to have penetrative
sex.

A few were occupied but Tessa kept her eyes averted.
Although some rooms had spectators, she couldn’t be party to someone else’s
pleasure. It just seemed rude.

“Stop.” Karl gently tapped her hand.

He nodded to a room to their right but she shook her head.

“Look, Tessa. Just take a look. I can assure you they enjoy
people watching them.”

With his gentle persuasion, she glanced into the room. A
woman lay spread-eagle on a wooden table, strapped down with leather restraints
crisscrossing her body. A man stood over her, running the tails of a flogger
over her bare pussy. Her legs quivered. She moaned as the man lifted the
flogger and brought it down onto her mound with one sharp, quick flick.

Tessa’s body tensed. She felt the sharp sting in her own
pussy, followed by a rush of moisture. Her nipples tightened. Her body
throbbed, ached to be the woman on the table. What would it feel like to be
tied down and used for someone else’s pleasure? Could she handle it?

“See how beautiful that is, Tessa? Her reaction?”

She nodded, mesmerized.

“Come.” He led her away.

In an erotic haze, she didn’t hear the words Karl spoke to
the bouncer at the edge of an unoccupied room. He unhooked the rope and chained
them in.

“I’ve told him to try and keep people away.” Karl smiled and
touched her cheek. “I didn’t think you’d want anyone to watch.”

Thoughtful.

She couldn’t handle that. Not that.

“So.” He gestured to the equipment. Floggers, paddles and
whips lined the walls, as did various gags, nipple clamps and restraints.
“Restrained?”

Tessa gulped and shook her head. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He took her hand once more and led her to
a simple stool. “Are you sure, Tessa?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Karl got down on hands and knees, wrapped his upper body
around the stool and stuck his ass in the air. “I want you to kneel like this.
The stool will give you some support.”

She blinked. Anticipation coiled in her belly. Fear beat in
the back of her throat, speeding up her pulse. She felt sick. She felt hot and
needy and nervous.

She inhaled.

Okay. She could do this.

She knelt, assumed the same position he had. The cool, tiled
floor hurt her knees. She pressed her cheek against the wooden stool. She faced
the club, watched patrons dancing in the distance, heard their laughter and the
music.

She focused on slowing her racing heart.

He lifted her skirt, bunched the material at her waist. “Are
you ready, Tessa?”

“Yes.”

Smack. Smack.

She gasped. The gentle crack of a paddle on her ass cheeks
made her burn. The sharp sting followed by a dull ache. Then again.

Once. Twice.
Smack
.
Smack
.

Her pussy pulsed. Her sex swelled. The tiny bundle of nerves
between her thighs beat a steady rhythm, begging for relief. Her nerve endings
tingled. Her nipples tightened to hard nubs.

“Again?”

“Yes.”

Karl spanked her again and again. She jerked her hips
forward and back in between every smack. Her ass was on fire. Her body more
alive than it had ever been. She stopped thinking. Couldn’t. Her drenched slit
begged for relief.

“Oh you like this. You’re such a dirty girl, Tessa. Dirty.
Dirty. Dirty.”

Tessa’s body went cold. Memories raced to the forefront,
killing her desire.

“How could you ask me that? How could you ask me to beat
you? It’s sick. It’s disgusting. Dirty.”

Panic rushed to the surface. She couldn’t breathe. No longer
pleasurable, her ass hurt. Her body ached.

She needed him to stop. How? What was her safeword? Tears
slipped down her cheeks.

“Sir, I really think you should stop.”

The pain ceased. She took in a shaky breath and willed herself
to relax.

Tessa opened her eyes and stared at a god. About six feet
tall, he loomed over her, his face covered with a leather half-mask that
revealed more than it concealed. The sensual shape of his lips, the mass of
dark-brown hair styled into a choppy, spiky cut, and green eyes that blazed
with blatant fury.

“And why is that?” Anger laced Karl’s tone.

“Because the lady is sobbing and I’m damned sure they aren’t
tears of joy.”

Reaching for courage, Tessa pulled down her skirt and
scrambled to her feet. Her cheeks heated. Embarrassment coursed through her
body. She had to take back control.

“I’m sorry.” She looked at Karl then at her would-be
rescuer. The violence in his eyes tightened things low in her body. “It was my
fault. I forgot my safeword. I’m sorry.”

Throwing an apologetic smile at Karl, she dashed into the
crowd.

Stupid.

She’d been so fucking stupid coming here and agreeing to a
stranger’s request to be spanked.

Now that the situation was over, Tessa felt both foolish and
uncomfortable. She should have spoken her safeword rather than play the
frightened female. Karl had just surprised her with his phrasing.