Kinky Girls Do ~ Bundle One

An erotic short story collection by

Bound In Love © copyright 2007, 2013 by
Michelle Houston

A Feast for the Senses © copyright 2011 by
Michelle Houston

Cowboy's Dungeon © copyright 2010 by Michelle
Houston

All About Trust © copyright 2007, 2013 by
Michelle Houston

Cover art © 2013 Michelle Lee

Edited by Jenna Byrnes and D Musgrave

Published by Unleashed Ink at Smashwords

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places,
characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any
actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is
entirely coincidental.

Yvette leaned back against the plush leather seat and
sighed deeply. "I don't know what to do, Doctor. I know he loves
me, and I trust him. I just feel kind of nervous about him tying me
up. How sad is that? I’ve been married almost four years to Brett,
but sometimes I still have flashbacks and nightmares. Yet, I admit,
the idea of being helpless, his to do with as he wills,” Yvette’s
voice trailed off as she struggled to put to words the feelings
that were welling up.

Ever since Brett’s latest tour started, each time he
got leave, things had slowly been evolving in the bedroom. He had
completely stopped pulling her down on top of him during sex;
instead he was the one in control. His grip on her hips was just a
little tighter, his touch a little rougher.

From across the room, her therapist met her gaze with
steady gray eyes. "Does it turn you on, thinking about it? Him
binding your hands, and being free to touch you however he
wants?"

Yvette gave a little jerky nod. She had to struggle
to resist the urge to squirm in her seat. Just the very thought of
Brett dominating her was enough to start her juices flowing in
preparation for his cock.

"Does he know you were raped?"

Her voice a soft whisper, Yvette answered, "No. It's
never come up. I don't know if I can tell him."

"What you're feeling is natural—the fear and the
excitement. After the trauma of your rape, it's normal for you to
feel hesitant with trying things that take away your control. But
you and I both know that you would be doing yourself a disadvantage
if you deny yourself something you find exciting, especially with
someone you trust."

"I know." Hearing the hesitancy in her own voice only
hardened Yvette's wavering resolve.

"How do I—" She paused, licking her suddenly dry
lips, trying to frame the question in her mind. "How do I let him
know to go slow without telling him what happened to me?"

"Would telling him be so bad?"

Yvette gave a shaky nod. She needed her therapist to
understand. "When he looks at me, he sees someone who's got it
together. He sees me as I was before the rape. And for the most
part I do too. But some things still make me flinch, my stomach
gets all tied up in knots, and I hate that my rapist still has that
power. I am not a victim. But if I tell him—"

She felt the sting as tears formed in her eyes.
Blinking rapidly to keep them from falling, she forced herself to
rush on. "If I tell him, he'll treat me different, like a bird with
a broken wing. I'm afraid he'll smother me, keeping me from having
the independence I've struggled to regain. I know he won't do it on
purpose; it'll be out of love." She took a breath to calm her
jagged nerves, "I can't tell him that while he was stationed
overseas, fighting to keep me and this country safe, someone
attacked me."

Looking into those gray eyes, Yvette felt a soothing
energy flow over her. That's what she liked about this therapist,
her third since the attack. She listened, didn't push or judge, and
she had the deepest gaze full of understanding. It allowed Yvette
the time to heal at her own pace.

"Since he returned, has sex been as it was before the
rape?"

"Sort of. He's only been back twice for a week's
leave. Things started changing in the bedroom about two years ago,
almost a year before the rape. He started getting a little more
intense. He touches me so gently, like he always has, yet now it’s
a little rougher. His hands hold me tighter. He's strong, and he
knows it, so he’s still careful with me. Plus, with him being over
a foot taller than me, and let's face it, I'm a 110-pound weakling,
he's always so aware of his strength."

Yvette curled her legs up and rested her chin on her
knees. "It makes me shiver just thinking about it, the ways things
had been changing. Looking at him across the table at dinner,
knowing the leashed animal magnetism, and the beast of lust that
lurks within him is enough to get me hot. Doctor, it's what first
drew me to him, the way he filled out his uniform as he walked down
the street, so confident in himself and his abilities. This last
two years, it just got better, until,” her voice broke off
again.

A few moments of awkward silence filled the room as
Yvette struggled to continue, and found herself unable to.

"How do you feel about it now, when he touches you?
When he's covering your body, driving into you?"

Yvette fought the flinch. "I love him. I trust him,
and I try to not remember what happened. I tell myself that the
rape had nothing to do with sex, it was all about power. With
Brett, it’s about power to some degree, but it is more about love
and feeling close to each other, being intimate on the most basic
levels."

"But sometimes…" She knew she was being led, but the
soft voice only encouraged her to open up.

"Sometimes, especially when's he's really horny, he
pins me to a wall, trapping me. I get a little light headed for a
moment, but it feels so good. His strength, his love, his body
pressed against mine. God Doc, I used to love it so much when he'd
chase me around the house, sometimes out into the yard, and pin me
down and slowly make love to me, holding me trapped beneath him."
She paused, trying vainly to remain calm. "So I'm sick. Is that
what you wanted to hear? I had rape fantasies before I was raped."
She could hear the defensiveness to her words, but couldn't stop
it.

Unperturbed, her therapist leaned forward, her voice
still as calm and even as before. "First, Yvette, you're not sick.
There's a difference between forced seduction, or even a need to
submit sexually, which is what you have with your husband, and what
that sick monster did when he raped you. Secondly, it is healthy to
have fantasies and to explore them. Him tying you up and making
love to you, claiming your body in an intense seduction is healthy.
Especially given his career field, him being able to control you
sexually, to feel your response to his dominance over you, is
something he probably needs too."

Yvette nodded, feeling shaky but beginning to
understand what her therapist was trying to get to. "So what I want
with him is forced seduction?"

Her therapist nodded. "Exactly.
Just like many of the romance novels out on the market, where the
heroine wants the hero, but either likes to be coerced or simply
feels secure enough to give in to the need to submit. Rape is where
she has no power in the situation, where it is forced upon her with
no way out. It's completely different, in forced seduction or even
sexual submission there is an illusion of control that your husband
has, but it all rests with
 
you
.
With your husband, all you have to do is say no, and I am sure he
will pull back. Ultimately, you hold all of the power."

Yvette nodded. "Yes," she whispered. "When we first
started playing with spanking, it got too intense, and I told him
to stop. He did, and then spent the next twenty minutes kissing
every red spot on my ass. It was delicious, almost more so than the
spanking. I loved laying there over his lap, letting him kiss and
caress me. One of his hands rested on the small of my back, holding
me still."

The session continued for another twenty minutes and
by the end of it Yvette felt rung out, but also relieved. It had
taken some doing, but she thought she was ready for when her
husband got home on leave in two days. She was going to explore
their fantasy, and at the same time, discover if she truly was a
sexual submissive. After the last few sessions with her therapist,
Yvette was coming to see that Brett had been holding back—and so
had she.

* * *

Two days later, she was dressed in a lace gown over a
set of pink underwear, waiting by the door when she heard the taxi
cab pull up. The sound of heavy boots thumping on the porch
announced him moments before the door swung open. As was their
custom, he tossed his bag on the floor, swept her into his arms,
and kicked the door shut, holding her tight against his chest while
he plundered her mouth with his.