Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories (2 page)

The seductive tone of his words didn’t match up with his stern, displeased expression. I stood frozen before him, trying to figure out how to respond. Were his lips curving ever so slightly as he regarded me? Was he really angry, or just flirting? The mysterious challenge in his eyes sparked mayhem in my pussy. My lusty, reckless loins were throwing a Spank Me party and this dude was the guest of honor.

What? No, no, he wasn’t even invited. I wasn’t going to let him spank me. That would be ridiculous. No one had ever spanked me. Despite what I’d blathered to that fucking bitch Sage while staring at his hypnotic muscles, I didn’t want to be spanked for real. Fantasy spanking was cool, but actual spanking was creepy and fetishy and...

“You... Should... Not...”

Something in his gaze had now robbed me of the ability to speak. All I could do was utter single words like an idiot.

“You... Can’t... I... Mean... What...”

He lost patience with my monosyllabic utterances and brought his two meaty, slab-like palms together in a resounding clap. I jumped.

“You need a spanking,” he repeated. “Come on, we’ll do it in my car.”

“Your car?!”

“I only have fifteen minutes left now,” he said, taking my hand. “We’d better hurry.”

I sputtered and tried to yank away from him, but he was strong and he was big, and oh hell, I wanted him to spank me.

Oh God, no, I didn’t!

My reckless pussy answered,
Yes, you do, or you wouldn’t have said it in the first place, and to a perfect stranger, no less.

“When I told her I wanted you to spank me, I never meant for
you
to hear it,” I protested as he dragged me toward the middle of the parking lot. “She shouldn’t have told you.”

“But she did tell me. And I’m perfectly happy to give you the spanking you want.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Then you’ve told even more lies tonight, haven’t you? You don’t just need a spanking. You need a bare bottomed spanking.”

“What?” I yelped.

He stopped beside a rugged Jeep. No top.

“This is your car?”

He shrugged. “I got used to driving Jeeps while I was in the military.”

Fuck.
So he himself was ex-military, while I’d lied about my fake military boyfriend and oh, so many other things. I was a bad girl, a liar, and he wanted to spank me for it. He opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, and reached out to me with an expectant expression.

I stared back at him for two, maybe three seconds.

I could go to him and let him spank me, and see what happened afterward...or...

Or I could run away and scream and beat on the door until someone let me back into the club, which was what any sane person would do. My pussy pulsed, reminding me that I’d always fantasized about a big, fine, muscular guy spanking me. He added that I hadn’t been laid in some time and that he was getting impatient. Don’t judge me. I think of my pussy as a male. It’s just that he’s so fucking demanding, kind of like the dude sitting over there in the Jeep.

“I don’t even know your name,” I said.

He pointed to his nametag. “You can’t read?”

I squinted at it. “I usually wear glasses. I don’t wear them when I go out because...” Because vanity. Because they made me look like a nerd. Because I could see okay without them, except when it came to nametags and small print.

He shook his head slowly. “And she doesn’t wear her glasses,” he said to himself, as if I was truly the world’s naughtiest club slut and he needed to set me straight. “What’s your name, young lady?”

“Christine.”

He glanced at his watch. “Here’s how it works, Christine. The longer you stall, the harder I’ll spank you.”

Jesus. Oh holy precious baby Jesus. “It’s crazy to spank someone,” I said.

He stuck out a finger. Crooked it. Beckoned me with a dangerously seductive tilt to his lips. “Come here.”

I let out a breath and went to him. It wasn’t because I wanted to be spanked, because I
needed
to be spanked with all the subversive fervor in my normally feminist heart. It was because I couldn’t bear the tension any longer.

That’s what I was going with, anyway. There was no other explanation for my willing participation in this insanity.

When I was close enough, his arms came around me. He was so big and warm that it felt like an embrace, even though he was really just pushing me down across his thighs. I almost hit my head on the gear shift. “This doesn’t feel safe,” I said.

“Safest form of sex there is,” he said back.

Great, now I was thinking about having sex with him, which would have made so much more sense. Why hadn’t I just told that skanky girl that I wanted to have sex with this bouncer? Then I’d be getting laid right now, instead of squirming over his lap waiting to get my ass beat.

“I think we both agree that you need a real spanking,” he said, rubbing my ass cheeks.

“A real spanking?” I sputtered. “What the fuck does that mean?”

But I knew what it meant, because he’d reached under me to flick open the button of my jeans and work down the zipper.

“You can’t...seriously...pull my pants down.”

“Why not? You won’t be able to feel anything through your jeans.”

“But I can’t be out here with my naked butt in the air!” I struggled off his lap and stood. His big arm was still around me like a hug. “Anyone could see me,” I said, trying to focus on the crisis at hand. “You don’t even have a top on your Jeep.”

“It’s a private lot.” He gestured around. “It’s fenced in. The only people who are going to see you are people who work at the club, and I’m the only one on break right now.”

“So that makes it okay to pull down my jeans and spank me right out here in the open?”

“I think you need it, naughty girl.”

Oh my God oh my God he’s totally pulling my jeans down.
His fingers felt rough and strong against my hips.

“This is craziness,” I breathed.

“Hush your mouth.”

He yanked them down until they rested just below my ass cheeks, then pulled me back over his lap. I sent a wild look around the darkness as he tweaked the back of my itty-bitty thong.

“I’ll let you leave your panties on,” he said. “How about that?”

Oh, very funny, Mr. Spanking Fetishist Bouncer. I strained to hear if anyone else was in the parking lot, getting an eyeful of my pale, exposed butt. In the silence that followed, his slab of a hand smacked my ass, and all the air whooshed out of my lungs.

Holy crap. Shit, shit, shit.
I hadn’t expected a spanking to feel quite like this, so hot and hard and wild and
owww
. I squirmed on his lap, and he put a hand on my back to hold me still. The other hand kept spanking. I gritted my teeth through a second and third blow. By the fourth one I finally marshaled enough outrage to speak.

“Ouch! That hurts.”

“Good. That’s what I was going for.”

“What? Jesus...
ouch
!” I tried to jerk away, but he held me so I couldn’t move an inch. “You need to spank me more softly, or just stop or something,” I said, kicking my legs. “Seriously, just stop.”

He didn’t stop. His palm rained slaps of fire one after the other, no breathing time, no pauses to take stock of my situation. I’d fantasized about spanking forever. I just didn’t realize actual spanking would feel so painful and intense.

“This really hurts,” I said, pounding my fists against the driver’s seat. My fingers slid across the upholstery. “Please, you have to stop.”

To my surprise, he actually stopped, resting his hand on my ass with a sigh. “You said you wanted me to spank you.”

“I said it to someone else, who was never supposed to say it to you,” I replied with a pout.

“But you meant it. You wanted this.”

Again, I couldn’t tell if he was angry with me, or trying to seduce me. I squirmed in his lap and then went still, suddenly aware of a huge, erect cock against my hip. Miraculous, that his Levi’s managed to contain it. So much for compensating...

“Do you like how it feels?” he asked.

“Yeah. Wow. I’m pretty impressed with what you’re packing,” I said, brushing against his girth again.

“Not that, naughty girl. I was talking about the spanking. Do you like how it feels?”

I swallowed hard and considered his question. Now that his hand was still, I could process the warmth, the tingling where he’d spanked me. It wasn’t
un
pleasant. It was really kind of exciting. I shifted and noted the hardness of his thighs, and the hardness of his... Wow.

“It’s good, I guess,” I finally answered. “And you seem to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’m having a fucking blast.”

“Why?” I turned in his lap so I could take in his expression. He looked pleased and super virile, and a little condescending in a fucking awesome way. “Why do you like this?” I asked.

“The same reason you like it.”

Holy shit, I liked it so much. I lay very still, because otherwise I feared I’d leap up and start dry humping his erection, right here in the private parking lot that was still very public.

“Is that it?” I asked. “Is the spanking over?”

“Have you had enough?”

I hid my face in my hands and gave a little sob because I hadn’t had enough. I was horny as hell, and my cheeks were warm and throbby, and I realized that I very much wanted him to keep spanking me.

He didn’t make me admit it. He only started up again, harder this time. The blows fell one after the other, like cracking gunshots in the night. I could hear the club music, a faint accompaniment in the background. I kicked my legs as the pain intensified, but I didn’t say anything else, because I was afraid of what I’d say.
You’re awesome and terrifying. Please don’t stop. Oh, it feels so good. God, it feels so bad.

I didn’t cry, and I didn’t feel any remorse for my earlier lies that earned me this spanking. It was more a sense of unreality, that he was actually spanking me, and that it wasn’t so much pleasurable as really intense.

“This is batshit,” I sighed. “You’re crazy.”

But I meant that
I
was crazy, and that I wasn’t sure what all of this meant, or how I felt about it.

Ow, shit.
Okay, he was finally slowing down, but the spanks still hurt like hell.

“I’m going to finish you off with five good ones,” he said. “I want you to count them.”

Five
good
ones? That didn’t sound good at all. It sounded scary. “Don’t hurt me,” I whined.

He chuckled, and then
whap!

I thought my ass was stinging before, but that was a fucking stinger. I jerked in his lap and completely forgot everyone and everything in the world for a moment.

“Count,” he reminded me. “One...”

“Oh. One.” My voice sounded really strained, because I was already bracing for the next one. He didn’t keep me waiting, but delivered it with another resonating slap. “Oww! Two.”

“Good girl.”

The “good girl” settled right in my pussy. But then he spanked me again and I cried out, wondering if anyone could hear this. How could they
not
hear it? “Three,” I said through gritted teeth.

Two more to go. I jerked again at “Four,” and then braced for the last shot. After that, the spanking would be over. I wasn’t sure if that made me happy or sad. His huge hand walloped my ass cheeks one last time, hard enough and big enough to sting both of them at once.

“Five,” I said, half triumphant and half breathless with relief. I wanted to reach down and yank my jeans back up, but I didn’t think he’d allow it. He was holding me motionless, stroking my aching cheeks.

“Nice and red, the way you deserve,” he said cheerily. He helped me stand, and stood smirking as I gingerly eased my tight jeans up over my tender, spanked ass.

“Was that your first one?” he asked.

I made a face at him. “Yes. Do you think I run around getting spanked all the time?”

“You don’t have to get defensive.” He pulled me back into his lap—sitting this time—and looked down at me in the dim light. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be spanked now and again. It feels good, right? Exciting?”

Yes. That was exactly how it felt. I tried to relax, tried to stop fighting my feelings even as I squirmed on my throbbing butt. “Does it feel the same to you?” I asked.

“Yes. You have a beautiful ass, curvy and feminine and heart-shaped...” He stopped with the words and made a suggestive sound instead, squeezing my sore posterior. “Add in the struggling and complaining, and the obvious signs of arousal, and it’s pretty much spectacular on this end.”

“I guess you spank women all the time.”

He arched a brow. “You sound jealous.”

Fuck yeah, I was jealous. I was spitting jealous at every woman he’d ever spanked besides me. Had I turned him on more or less than them? Was my ass rounder or flatter? Was I prettier? Uglier?

No, this was what was upsetting me: Was he going to walk back into that club and never talk to me after today?

“I want you to spank me again,” I said, and I didn’t sound jealous this time. I sounded needy and horny.

“I can’t,” he said. “My break’s over.”

“I don’t mean now. Some other time.”

“Oh. Well, you want to take my number?”

“Yeah. If you want... I mean...maybe next time...”

Ugh, why did I suddenly feel so shy? Like I was going to fucking die of shyness? I couldn’t even look him in the face.

“Next time?” he prompted in his deep voice.

“Maybe next time you can spank me somewhere other than your Jeep. And maybe you can...” I finally managed to meet his eyes. “You know...”

His gaze registered amusement. “No, I don’t know. What?”

“Maybe next time you can use something...something other than your hand. Do you...”
Damn. Shut up, Christine.
“Do you ever spank women with other stuff, besides your hand?”

“Like paddles, belts, straps, that sort of thing?”

I almost choked to hear him list them so casually, but I managed to hold it together. “Uh...yes,” I said. “That sort of thing.”

He leaned closer to me, stared right into my eyes. “Am I to understand you want something a little more intense than a hand spanking next time?”