Mr. Smith's Whip

Mr. Smith’s Whip

A
Taboo Wishes
Story

By Brynn Paulin

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com

Resplendence Publishing, LLC

2665 S Atlantic Avenue, #349

Daytona Beach, FL 32176

Mr. Smith’s Whip

Copyright © 2011, Brynn Paulin

Edited by Christine Allen-Riley and Jason Huffman

Cover art by Les Byerley,
www.les3photo8.com

Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-260-0

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Electronic release: March 2011

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

For those who dare…

And a special thanks to my Word War babes without whom

this book would never have happened.

Bronwyn Green, Simone Anderson, Mia Watts, Jennifer Armintrout,

Jessica Jarman, and Dakota Rebel~~Thanks!

Chapter One

Olivia McKinnion flinched with pleasure at the sting of leather across her ass. Her fingers clenched on weathered copies of
Moby Dick
and
The Scarlet Letter
as she bent over two stacks of books and fought to maintain her balance to please her Master as he disciplined her.

A moan crept past her lips as the belt slapped across her flesh once more, tearing a rush of arousal from her. Cream flooded her pussy, and sharp tingles crawled up her spine.

More… She needed more.

Her blouse gaped open as she bent, arms braced on the aged volumes of classics, legs spread to open her to the man behind her. She didn’t know her infraction, and she didn’t really care.

He’d pulled her breasts from their bra cups. They tingled in the cool air as they were pushed up by the fabric and swayed with each smack of his belt. Her nipples knotted into tight points. She longed for his mouth on them or even the sensation of his fingers, pulling and twisting them until she cried out with an orgasm she was unable to keep inside.

The coarse fabric of his pants brushed her heated behind as he leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. “You like that, Livvy? This is how I punish bad girls like you.”

“Yes, more…please, Colin…Sir…”

“Excuse me?”

Olivia’s eyes blinked open at the clipped British voice that was far more distinct than the faint voice in her reverie. She stared at the subject of her fantasy, Colin Smith, author-in-residence. At least, for now, while he did research.

As usual, he wore a white, buttoned-down shirt, opened a few buttons at the collar and showing the white T-shirt he wore beneath. Tailored, khaki trousers hugged muscular thighs and slim hips. His body was bisected by the narrow, black-leather belt about which she’d just daydreamed. Brown hair with just the slightest hint of red curled over his forehead. His inquisitive chocolate-brown eyes seemed to observe everything, and heat flushed through her.

She had an uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly what he’d interrupted.

“Are you unwell?” he asked, quietly. “It sounded as if you,” his eyes grew more intent,

“moaned.”

He
did
know.

Her cheeks burned, and she knew she was blushing. Damn, telltale body. How loud had she been? The library was quiet as a tomb today, and she feared any sound she’d made would have traveled like a shockwave across the silence.

“I…I’m fine. Can I…can I help you, Mr. Smith?”

He stared at her, assessing her with his probing gaze.

“No,” he replied slowly. “I don’t think you can.”

Disappointment chilled her. Why did she feel as if she’d just failed the Master of her fantasy? He hadn’t even given her a chance—

Olivia, this is stupid. Stop it.
He was just a library patron, not a Dom. Not a man to wrench emotions from her and manipulate and punish her body to achieve both their desires.

Heat flooded her, and she clenched her thighs together beneath the desk. She summoned a polite smile. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” He gave a slight nod then turned away, giving her a view of his tight rear. What would it look like cupped by a pair of worn jeans? Or better, naked?

To her surprise, he pivoted and returned to her desk. His groin rested right in her line of vision. She closed her eyes against her inappropriate desire.

Pasting a bland, friendly expression on her face, she met his gaze. “Yes?”

“I need you to come to my research room.”

“Is something wrong?”

He studied her silently, his expression clearly disapproving. Olivia immediately decided no one questioned him. He gave commands and they were complied with—that was the impression she’d gotten up until now. This exchange confirmed her belief. Especially, when he turned away without answering and walked toward the research rooms on the other side of the floor. He disappeared behind a bank of tall shelves that blocked the four small chambers the library rented out to researchers and others who needed a quiet space to work.

She rose as he left her sight. If something was amiss, it was her job to deal with it.

Management wouldn’t appreciate her neglecting a patron for any reason.

Her knees wobbled as she followed his path. Damn, that had been a vivid fantasy. She hoped she could resurrect it when she arrived home and had plenty of time to indulge her naughty thoughts.

He waited just inside the room when she rounded the corner. Still, he said nothing when she entered. To her surprise, he closed the door behind her and turned the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you know about BDSM?” he countered.

“A little,” she blurted before she could stop the words. Colin had a commanding presence she couldn’t deny. In fact, she found herself naturally complying whenever he was around.

Before, she’d attributed it to her job. Now, like dawn breaking the horizon and threading light into the pitch, she knew.

Mr. Smith was a Dom.

“Are you in the scene?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this,” she answered stubbornly.

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his broad chest. Suddenly, he appeared massive. “Yes. You should. I require it of you. Now, are you in the scene?” She bit her lip. What the hell was happening here? Her eyes darted to the doorknob, but he blocked the way.

“Olivia,” he commanded, and she started.

She shook her head. “Just experimentation.”

Why was she telling him this? It was personal information and none of his business. Yet, as he stood there, he brooked no argument, and something deep inside her being responded to his dominant nature. That coupled with her attraction would probably lead her to answer any question he posed.

It grated against her very nature. Olivia was a highly private person, even considered shy by some. She wasn’t. She was merely reserved. Observant. Quiet. Especially when she was out of her element. But Colin’s powerful personality offered strange comfort and a feeling of safety.

It didn’t surprise her. For the past few months, he’d been nearby when she’d had to deal with the occasional unruly young adult. He’d never stepped in, but she’d known he would if called upon. It was as if he had a sixth sense about when she might need him. And more often than not, she found him leaving the library when she did. Stating that it was common courtesy from a man, he’d always walked her to her car, his hand at her elbow or at her back, before going to his own vehicle.

Her friends thought it strange, but she didn’t. He’d never tried anything. Every gesture was perfunctory with no suggestion of sexual undertone. By him anyway. Every time he touched her, or even stood near, her pulse throbbed and she felt an electric zing across her core.

“Experimentation?” he asked. “With whom?”

“My ex-boyfriend.”

“He was a Dom?”

She let out a derisive breath. “No. He tried, but he would rather be tied up than tie anyone.”

He nodded with understanding. “And are you with anyone now?”

“Mr. Smith,” she tried. “This is really inappropriate—”

“What is inappropriate,” he cut in, “is your insubordinate behavior. You don’t have a Dom, do you?”

He stepped closer, and she trembled at the heat that crossed the small space. She tried to control her aroused breathing, but she knew he could tell. She was like a puppy quivering for its master’s attention. Could Colin be…could he be hers?

“No,” she whispered. “After I broke up with him, I dated a few men, but there was none of that, um, BDSM. I’ve thought about it, but…there was never anyone who seemed like they were into it.”

“Hmm,” he said and nodded again. “There are places you can go—”

“No,” she interrupted, finding herself again. “I’d have to trust whoever it was. And if I went to a club or something, I might run into something bad. Someone just mean. I don’t want that. I might like some pain, but I don’t want to be hurt and humiliated.” Her eyes went wide and she pressed her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I just said that.” She turned toward the door. “I should go.”

While I still have a shred of dignity.
How on earth would she face him next time she saw him?

Colin stepped into her path. His hands smoothed up and down her arms, gentling her as if she were a baby bird. He stared into her eyes.

“Be still,” he said kindly yet with clear command.

Mesmerized by the connection he’d wrought between them, she nodded.

“When you were experimenting, what did you do?” he asked.

She gave a small shrug. “Amateur stuff. Some bondage. Pain play. Basic things.”

“And you liked it,” he observed.

She nodded.

He backed away then circled her. “Tell me about this pain play. What did you do?” Her tongue darted over her bottom lip. Having read enough about D/s, she looked straight ahead rather than following his movements. She’d thought about a scene like this, envisioned it in her late-night fantasies while she touched herself and wished for a real man.

“Olivia,” he prompted gently.

“Spanking, nipple clips…” she supplied. “Using wax. Being rough. We had a flogger.

Sometimes he’d use a belt. Stuff like that.”

There was silence as he stood behind her. “You said my name,” he finally said. “Before I interrupted your daydream. You said my name.”

Oh no. Her head dipped forward. “I’m sorry.”

He circled to her front then lifted her chin with two fingers. “Don’t be. You gave me an invitation. I’ve been waiting. Trying to decide…if you were in the scene or if you’d be receptive.

I tend to be very careful and choose judiciously.” His eyes grew intense as he assessed her again.

She wondered if he was deciding what to do with her. His head tilted slightly sideways. “You’re a strong woman.”

She nodded. “Mostly.”

“But I could see it, that submissive side of you. You hide it well.”

“Thank you?”

Colin chuckled. “Olivia,” he growled, capturing her full attention. He leaned into her. “I want you on your knees. Not figuratively. Physically. Submissively. I want you on your knees.

Now.”

Her heart thudded in her throat, and she glanced down at her slim skirt and high heels.

Kneeling in it would be nearly impossible without hiking it up.

“In this?” she whispered.

The imperious eyebrow rose. “Figure it out, Olivia.”

He kept saying her name in that very British accent. And she was willing to do just about anything for her when he said it. Okay. She could do this. Squatting down as she would to pick up a book, she maneuvered her body close to the ground then swung a leg down beneath her. The other followed, and she was kneeling upright. It wasn’t graceful, but her skirt and modesty remained in place.