Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (80 page)

Well, that made my panties wet.

*****

H
e shouldn’t be doing this. It went against every dictate he had set for himself for the last eight months. No dancing, no safe words, no holding a woman by her hair while he fucked her mouth. And absolutely no bending a beautiful woman with a curvy ass over his knee to spank her bare bottom with his hand, while getting hard in anticipation of fucking her raw. Yeah. None of that. Not after Sveta.

But Macy called to him in a way he hadn’t felt before. She had become quite human again—humorous, intelligent, and pleasant to be around—as soon as he had gotten her something to eat. Dane had five sisters. All who became scary as hell when hungry or tired. PMS had nothing on the big, beautiful warrior females in his family after missing a meal—a fact his father had made sure to point out to each new husband. Keep them fed, keep your testicles. Dane didn’t bow down to an enraged woman, though. He had other ways of helping her calm down. And he was about to partake in his favorite activity.

He shouldn’t bare her ass and paddle her. But the way her eyes had sparked, her breathing had quickened, and her cheeks had flushed... He couldn’t get it out of his head. He had to see his handprints decorating her ass.

Escorting Macy into the studio, he locked the doors, and confirmed everyone was gone for the day. If he still had what it took, they would both get something out of this.

“Do you know what a safe word is?”

“I’ve read about them.” She nodded.

“What kind of books do you read?” He tilted her chin up toward him.

She shrugged, her eyes darting to the far corner of the room. “Erotic romance.”

“Tell me about these erotic stories. Which parts turn you on the most?”

Her soft whimper echoed through the room as she shuffled over to play with the wooden bar. “I like the dirty talk and the spankings.” She bit her lower lip and grasped the bar, focusing on it as she fidgeted in place. “But I’m...” Her face contorted with something between fear and revulsion.

“Where did you go just then? What were you thinking?”

“I’ve never done anything like this in my life. I want to try it but I can’t. It’s too much.” Panic flared in her eyes as she appeared to gauge the distance to the door.

“Macy. Macy,” he spoke louder commanding her attention again. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do. Come. Talk to me.” He sat down, leaned against the mirror, and patted the floor next to him.

Her breathing gradually slowed, and she took a deep inhale before sitting down. Furrowing her brow, she cleared her throat. “I told you about my ex.”

“He’s a dickless idiot,” he growled, making her giggle.

“I agree with your assessment, but there are things—some
things
he may have been correct about.” She fiddled with a lock of her hair and her brows knitted.

“Tell me.”

“Well, look at me.” Her eyes flashed. “We can both agree I’m not exactly thin.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“I’m fat.”

“You’re curvy.”

Her lips thinned, and the color drained out of her face. “I’m frigid.”

“What do you mean by frigid?”

“What the hell do you think it means?” She bolted to her feet, waving her hands wildly. “Why do you think he cheated on me? Why did he choose two other women to fuck on Valentine’s Day? Because he knew I wouldn’t be receptive. Because...” She sagged to the floor, defeated. “I’m frigid.”

If he could kill the bastard himself, he would. Who the fuck treated a woman that way? Especially a beautiful woman who couldn’t see her own worth. “Come to me,” he commanded.

She trudged toward him, her eyes blazing with defiance, her lips pursed, her hands on her hips. She was coming all right. But she didn’t want to.
Yet
.

“You are a beautiful woman. You are not cold. And I am going to prove it to you.” He stood and pulled his MP3 player from his pocket. “Right now.” Scrolling through his favorites’ list, he clicked on the slow, smooth rumba, with calm rhythms, and held out his hand for her to take. She accepted, and he brought her in close to his chest. Swaying back and forth, in and out, he memorized the lines around her eyes—those were laugh lines—meaning she had been happy at one point. Her hazel eyes enchanted him—so expressive, so wide, so full of life. He could see every emotion play out in her beautiful eyes. He turned her so she was in full view of the mirror, and stood behind her rocking back and forth. “Your eyes are like the finest, richest, most decadent chocolate. They shine with specks of amber and they tell me every single emotion you have. I like that,” he whispered.

“Your hair is the most intense color I have ever seen, with lovely chestnut curls dancing untamed, above your shoulders.”

She giggled and leaned against him. “You’re not like any of the Doms I read about.”

“I’m a bit of a romantic. I like every kind of dancing,” he said massaging her tight shoulders. “Verbal, physical...sexual.”

She shuddered.

He inhaled deeply. “You smell like crisp mountain air.” Stroking the back of her arm, he watched her shiver. “Have you ever caressed the smooth skin of a peach, right from the tree? So smooth. Soft fuzz. Light blemishes adding to the overall perfection. And the taste...” He darted his tongue over her smooth wrist and pressed a soft kiss to it, smiling at her sigh. “You overwhelm my senses and make me want to hold you close and never let you go.”

“But I’m still fat.”

He snaked a hand around to smack her bottom.

“Ow.”

“We’ll get to your luscious ass next. But, first, your beautiful breasts.” He pulled her back to his chest so her breasts stood out, firm and proud, straining against her tight, black tank top. Trailing his hand down her soft cheek, across her neck, the center of her chest, he placed his palms under her breasts. “These are exquisite.” He lifted them. “I adore firm breasts almost as much as a full, curved bottom. May I touch them?”

“Mmhmm.” She thrust her chest out for him, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Watch me stroke your perfect flesh.” He grasped both, lightly squeezing and pulling. He ran the pad of his fingers across her nipples as they peaked into firm buds.

She groaned, grinding her hips as she swayed with the music. Closing her eyes, she melted into his embrace as he moved, rubbed, squeezed, and played.

“You are so responsive, my beautiful little girl.” He caressed her neck and swayed with her. “If I spanked you right now, do you think you would come?”

She shuddered in his tight grip.

“Bend at the waist.”

As she obeyed, he watched with awe her gorgeous round globes stretching her black yoga pants. “You have a lovely ass.” He smacked the right cheek. “Begging to be spanked. Would you like me to spank you, Macy?”

She groaned.

He changed the music. The fast beat of the rhythms added to his anticipation as he stroked and slapped each buttock. He smacked one cheek, watching it wiggle. Then the other, picking up the pace with the music. A fire built in him as his cock strained in his pants. “How are you doing?” When he stopped, she groaned loudly.

“More.”

“Stand up, grab the bar, and bend over with your back straight and your ass out. I’m taking your pants down, now, beautiful girl. I want to feel your flesh against the palm of my hand.”

She whimpered and obeyed, grabbing the bar in a tight fist as she hung her head.

He pulled down her yoga pants and white cotton panties and paddled her ass fast and hard, changing and alternating with the rhythms of the jungle music. Her cheeks reddened quickly as they bounced and jiggled at each firm slap. It was as perfect as he had envisioned. The curves of her cheeks begged to be rubbed, squeezed, whipped, fucked... He hadn’t felt this way in such a long time.

Brushing his finger across her wet pussy lips, he felt the abundant arousal sliding down her legs. “You are so responsive. So wet. So fuckable. Look,” he commanded.

She squeezed her eyes shut and hunched her shoulders. He smacked her hard in the spot where her glowing buttocks met her thighs. She shrieked and tried to shield herself.

“I told you to do something, my beautiful little sub. Look in the mirror.” He pulled her away from the bar and turned her so her red ass reflected in the mirror. “See my beautiful marks on you. See how you glow.”

Her glossy eyes widened, and she licked her lips, breathing heavily as she focused on his favorite sight.

Bending her a little, he pried her legs apart with his feet. “Now, see your pussy.”

She squeaked but held his gaze before focusing on the mirror.

“See your arousal.”

“Oh my God.” She trembled as she watched him reach between her legs to stroke her firm clit.

“You are going to watch yourself come.”

Wide-eyed and moaning, her legs spread wide, she watched him play her to the rhythm of the beat. Flick, flick, squeeze—her wetness doubled as she danced in place. She was his instrument and he the musician. And they both played magnificently.

He entered her with one finger while teasing her clit with the other. Two pumps inside her tight, hot channel was all it took. She clenched around his finger, her legs tightened, and she screamed. A long, hard, high-pitched scream as she convulsed around his finger.

When she finished her long climax, she collapsed in his arms, and he brought her to his lap on the floor.

Kissing her forehead, he cuddled her to his chest. “You are very sensual. Very beautiful. Perfect. And the fault in your bed was not yours. You just needed the right touch.” Then he held her until she had finished a long, much needed cry.

“Thank you,” she whispered and gazed up at him, flecks of amber and gold dancing in her gorgeous eyes.

“You will partner with me for this show.”

“Really?”

Smiling, he leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “Yes. I can’t have you upsetting any more of my dancers. And now that I know how to keep you in line...”

She giggled and buried her head into his chest.

He would dance with this woman and teach her about dominance and submission. And if he was lucky, he would finally let go of a year of heartache.

Chapter Three

––––––––

“T
oday, you’ll dance by yourself,” Dane said as he closed the door behind us.

John, the camera dude stood in the corner of the room, wiping lenses and setting up tripods with cameras. They liked to get all angles—even what I considered my less desirable ones.

“What do you want me to do? I don’t know how to do this stuff by myself.” God, I hated how whiny my voice sounded.

“Just go through the motions for each step. I’ll direct. John will video. Then we’ll look through the footage later to see where we can improve, your best assets, when you drop position, and when you feel most and least comfortable.”

I wrinkled my nose and scuffed my shoes in a loud squeak on the floor. Yeah, I was pouting, too. “But I still don’t remember the difference between a chassé and a check. And what leads into a cha-cha. Do you want Guapacha or normal? I’m already at my least comfortable. Does that count for anything?” I was seriously about to freak out. I didn’t like sudden changes, and my new partner seemed to have forgotten that.

“Change of plans.” Pulling me in front of the large wall of mirrors, he kissed the back of my hand, sending shivers down my spine. Those dark eyes peered right through me, past the wall of fear and the need for control. “Don’t dance. Don’t think. Just feel.”

That’s what he had been saying about everything we did the past two weeks. “Just feel.”

Those words had found me flat on my back, on my knees, over his knee, beneath him, above him... Sometimes dancing. Other times... the sex... Yeah, he still called it dancing, but it was way more than dancing. He was my Dom, and I his sub. Sometimes he called me sub or subbie. Others he called me
little girl
. He was the only man in the world big enough to call me little. Yes, he was physically taller, larger, and stronger. But it wasn’t
that
kind of big. He was
bigger
.

“John and I are going to sit here and watch you, little girl. You are going to let go and feel the music how you want to. Explore the music; how it fills you; how it makes you feel. Let your body react in whatever way you like. We are going to watch you explore yourself. Are you okay with that?”

We had talked a few nights ago. Maybe it was the epically mind-blowing orgasms, or the fact that I had sobbed in his arms because of the beauty of how he made me feel. I don’t know why, but I opened up, and it all came tumbling out. My desires to try rougher sex, for him to talk dirty to me, pull my hair, shove his thick cock in my mouth—or my bottom... And after seeing myself orgasm in front of that large wall of mirrors, I couldn’t get enough... Watching... Being watched. Being seen, really truly seen. I had an exhibitionist side I wanted to explore, and he knew it. The question was, could I let go, dance for them, explore where the music took me? To be honest, I wanted to try something crazy and different also.

Okay. Why not? One
just feel
dance coming up.

Dane backed away to take a seat on one of the chairs against the opposite wall, motioning for John to back off and do the same.

I cleared my throat and pulled my hair into a long ponytail as he turned on his MP3 player. Low thumping music with strong native beats and instruments echoed through the room.

“Leave your hair down, little girl,” Dane commanded. “I like the way it moves with your body.”

Rhythm embraced me, warming me, making me feel bold. Averting my eyes, I stared at a large panel above their heads, not sure if I should ignore them.

“Look at us.”

I met their gazes. John had set the camera on top of his knee and was leaning forward, his eyes flickering with interest. I swallowed and started swaying to the music. My hips had a mind of their own, catching each beat of the wooden drum. Back, forth, left, right, lazily swinging. I liked this feeling. Their eyes focused on me, only me, darkening with lust with each thrust and grind I made.

“Let us fuck you with our eyes,” Dane growled.