Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed
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Authors: Carolyn Faulkner
Rod of Correction:
Taken and Tamed
By
Carolyn Faulkner
©2013 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner
Copyright © 2013 by Blushing Books® and Carolyn Faulkner
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Faulkner, Carolyn
Rod of Correction:
Taken and Tamed
eBook ISBN:
978-1-60968-964-3
Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Carolyn Faulkner
The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine.
She knows she's not alone.
Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.
Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.
Visit her website here:
Don’t miss these exciting titles by Carolyn Faulkner!
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Chapter I
“You, my dear, are a brat.”
She gave him a thoroughly unrepentant grin, then reached for and downed the second of the two shots he had just poured – after raising it to him in a mock salute – having already surreptitiously drunk his seconds ago when he’d turned to put the bottle down on the table behind him.
“You’re only just noticing that fact? How long have you known me?” she asked, not slurring her words in the least. He was right, of course, but she was in no hurry to admit it. She had always been a brat, as the only daughter of doting parents who gave her anything she’d wanted without demanding anything – including obedience – in return. She had been a well heeled – literally and figuratively – young woman who had had the best education that money could buy and was now devouring her way through the corporate world, having achieved the position of CEO of her own company at an inordinately young age and.
The man across from her wasn’t thinking in the least about her background. He was busy being impressed – if also somewhat annoyed – by her capacity. She had matched him nearly shot for shot all evening, and he was at least twice her size. He was wondering where she’d put it all as he covertly studied her trim figure.
She appeared all but unaffected by the quantity of alcohol she had consumed - to say nothing of the quality, he frowned, glancing at the nearly empty, third or fourth bottle from the luxury Jose Cuervo 1800
Coleccion
– he’d lost count somewhere earlier in the evening.
But then, they’d had a lot of help in that pursuit; their friends had slowly deserted them over the course of the evening, drifting back to their own homes – luckily not far from here – until only the two of them remained, facing each other across the big oak gaming table in his den.
“No, I noticed that the night we met, believe me.”
Her grin only widened at his wry tone, knowing they were both recalling a time when she’d first realized he was a hair’s breadth away from taking her over his knee – right in the middle of a Peter Luger Steakhouse, if need be. He knew that, exactly, was going to happen eventually between them, restaurant or not – and it made absolutely no never-mind to him. He was perfectly happy with the idea of tanning her fanny in public, if need be.
And with her, the need always seemed to be. In fact, he was of a mind that being spanked in public might help embarrass her into behaving better, although, he’d reconsidered that idea as he’d gotten to know her. It was more likely to get her wet than anything else.
He leaned back in his chair, idly shuffling the deck of cards they’d been using all night and watching her – wanting her, too, but that went without saying. Watching her was wanting her, and vice-versa. With Sunny, he found himself in an unusual position – fighting the needs of his own body, which he normally had well under control.
Right now, however, his cock wanted nothing more than to succeed in convincing him to throw her onto the table, strip off whatever panties she was wearing under that bewitching, barely-there lace skirt, if any, to thrust himself inside her, taking her without a thought for her pleasure in the least. But he wasn’t – never had been – a selfish lover.
Demanding, yes. Unusual, definitely - but never selfish.
Something about her told him that she’d be right there with him, regardless, along for whatever gut twisting, sweaty, toe curling ride he decided to give her. The woman sitting in front of him needed – wanted – to be
taken
, in the basest, rawest sense of the word, and he was just the man to do exactly that. Hell, he’d been waiting long enough for just the right time . . . just the right place . . . He recognized that patience was a virtue, but it was also a damned pain in the ass.
“Yet you’ve done nothing
about
it,” she whined softly, as if issuing a soft challenge.
He barely had her next shot poured before it was gone, set back in its exact spot with a loud, in your face
thunk
.
Ignoring her empty glass and her taunt for the moment, he drained his own then leaned forward, cards in hand.
“What do you say we raise the stakes a bit?”
Owl eyed, she considered him for a long moment, then asked, “What did you have in mind, exactly?”
“One hand of five card draw.”
Sassily, “And?”
It was the first time he’d allowed himself to smile since they’d been alone, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Winner takes all.”
Her huge mound of change was hastily pushed into the middle of the table until she looked up at him and sighed almost petulantly, “But what are
you
gonna bet?”
She – with help from the rest of their friends – had cleaned him out. He barely had two nickels to rub together. Damn good thing he wasn’t trying to make a living doing this kind of thing.
He pushed her silver to one side. “I don’t want to bet money.”
Those deep blue eyes seemed to darken to almost purple as they widened and she leaned over the table, her breasts squashed tantalizingly against the green felt. “Then what are we betting?” she asked in a stage whisper.
Forcing himself to stop staring at the lightly tanned, fully ripe fruit that was inches away from his already-watering mouth, Rod met her eyes with his. “Submission. Complete submission.”
He would swear for years afterwards that he watched her become instantaneously sober in that second as he saw her gasp softly. He watched her teeth begin to nibble her lip, as he’d noticed she did on the rare occasions when she was unsure of herself.
He seemed to have caught her off guard with his suggestion, and he considered that to be an advantage.
Sunny didn’t have a wishy washy bone in her body. She was a leader, a doer, a force of nature who shot first and to hell with the questions; much closer to his personality than any other woman he’d ever been attracted to. There was no denying that attraction; it was bone deep. He’d been hard since they’d met almost a year and a half ago. Any time she was anywhere near him – even just in the same room, not even interacting with him – somehow his errant libido could sense her, and he became instantly, painfully – in some cases, such as their friends’ weddings – embarrassingly hard.
Every fantasy he’d had from the moment he’d been introduced to her had been about the depraved things he was going to do to her. There had never been any doubt in his mind that he’d have her one day, and – despite the fact that his body made him feel as if he was going to die every time they said goodbye. Instead of dragging her by the hair into his bedroom or taking her on the spot, he had deliberately waited until both of their jobs had calmed down and neither of them was involved with anyone to make his move.
Tonight was the night. He was going to tame her, to bring her to heel. He didn’t want to crush her spirit – it was one of the things he found most attractive about her, since he was so reserved - but he would curb it. Severely - and he’d enjoy every single minute of it.
He’d deliberately encouraged his guests – including Sunny – to drink more than they might have, offering his limo and driver to bring everyone home safely, of course. It was a Friday night – or rather, Saturday morning, now - and they all had kids to haul to various games or practices or commitments of their own to get to; he knew they would begin dropping like flies eventually.
It had worked. It was only about one in the morning, and he and Sunny would have the whole rest of the night and another whole day together – longer, much longer, if things worked out the way he’d planned.
“Submission?” she parroted back on a gulp after a bit of a delay, as if she really hadn’t wanted to even say the word in front of him, and she definitely didn’t. That one word – more so than probably any other he could have uttered – had the same effect on her as if he had reached out and stroked her intimately with one bold, male finger, but a corresponding fissure of something dangerously close to fear also danced up her spine, leaving a trail of goose flesh on her skin, and a very real concern about the fact that she was probably not going to be able to resist this challenge.
