Authors: Brynn Paulin
“An accident?” he asked.
She nodded quickly and reached out her hand. Instead of giving it to her, he crouched and rearranged her arms back to position. Then he twined the cloth through her fingers so she’d have to pull it free and there would be no unintentional dropping. She looked at him gratefully, and he kissed her temple again.
“No more accidents,” he said.
Again, she nodded and fisted her hand tightly. As he rose, her focus moved back to her ass. It burned. She whimpered at the cool flesh of his hand as he ran it over the place he’d stuck.
“I believe in discipline for my submissives,” he revealed, his thumb stroking the edge of the spot where the heat wasn’t as intense. “And I believe you desire it. You’ve repeatedly pushed limits today. Am I right?”
Remembering her temper and anger earlier, as well as her questions about his orders, she knew he was right, yet she shook her head vehemently. What would it make her to admit she wanted punishment?
“Livvy,” Colin said sharply.
She sighed and nodded, dropping her head to her wrists. He’d been giving her a chance to end this. Intentionally. But she wouldn’t.
A second swat landed on her ass, and she yelped as the sensation screeched through her.
And another and another. The smacks were so loud that they echoed while her cries were only loud in her own head. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears formed and the fiery heat mounted.
Though he focused only on her ass, the heat radiated into her thighs and up to her back. Slowly, insidiously, it flicked at her pussy.
The tendrils strung through her, threading into her core and tightening. She screamed, but all at once, it wasn’t agony filling her. Pleasure crossed the fine edge dividing sensations and pushed away the pain.
“That’s it, love,” Colin murmured, all the while continuing in slow measured blows.
“Reach for it. Give me what I want. Don’t fight and disobey. Let it take you.” Her gasps shook her body and her entire awareness focused on the pleasure-pain—more pleasure than pain, now—that built on her ass. Her pussy convulsed, suddenly needing to be filled. The emptiness was worse than anything else. She needed his cock in her, bringing her to the impending climax, joining her as she soared over the edge. But he was pushing her there without him and that was the worst punishment, bliss without true bliss.
Suddenly, he stopped. Her sobs continued out of control, but no one could hear them outside this room. She was glad the waiter hadn’t stayed. This was hers and Colin’s, no one else’s. A groan rolled from deep in her chest, as a long, cool length slid into her sopping pussy.
The handle of the paddle. Slowly, he worked it in and out with one hand while his other circled her clit.
Mindlessly, she worked her hips with his motions, all thought of propriety or reserve or what anyone would think gone in the surge of sensation washing over her in monumental waves.
Each swell pushed her higher, until she was once more screaming behind the gag, this time with unwavering release.
His lips pressed to her scorching-hot buttocks and black spots clouded her head, obliterating all but the sense of tumbling into nothingness. Pulses exploded down her limbs in an electric burst. Her legs buckled and Colin’s arm quickly slinging beneath her waist was the only thing that kept her from falling.
Chapter Four
When she came fully back to herself, Colin had laid his coat along one of the benches and placed her on it. The silk lining caressed the front of her body while the cool air of the room seemed to bite at her bottom. Kneeling beside her, he carefully smoothed cream into her spanked skin, but though his words were soothing, she couldn’t have recited what he said.
“You did very well,” finally cut into her haze.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” she murmured then realized he’d removed the gag. She still tasted a slight trace of rubber, but she knew she’d never smell the scent of it again and not think of what had happened here. She lifted a hand to touch her lips and realized the handkerchief was still twined in her fingers.
With the gentlest of touches, he removed the cloth and shoved it in his pocket. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “I’ve never had a woman like you.” She didn’t ask him what he meant. “Is that good?”
“Assuredly.” Finishing with her behind, he closed the small tube of ointment and pushed that into his pants pocket, too. “You’ve enjoyed your visit to the
bad girls’
room?”
“The what?”
“The bad girls’ room. This restaurant abuts to
The Dungeon.
Because of shared clientele, they offer some services that are…similar.”
“Like the waiter?”
He shook his head. “Like the facilities for role-play. The waiter is actually an unattached submissive who enjoys oral sex at a Dom’s command. He was mine for the hour, and has now gone to play with another.” He smoothed her hair. “Perhaps we should save
The Dungeon
for another evening.”
“I can be good, Sir,” she promised. She didn’t like the slight panic in her voice, but her middle went tight with tension at his words.
“I know you can. I’m thinking of your bum, love. But, very well. We’ll take it easy tonight while you get a feel for the place.”
Olivia wanted to protest, but that had already gotten her into trouble tonight. “If you think it’s best.”
“I think it is. Your paddling wasn’t harsh, but you’re obviously new to this. I don’t want to take you too far too fast. I may discipline, but I don’t brutalize.” She licked her bottom lip. “It…well…it hurt at first then…well…I liked it. It was so…powerful. I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm like that.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers, and she was surprised by the desire that seeped into her again. She still wanted him. This time, she wanted him fully, completely. She needed him with her until his release, not just for a few moments.
“That orgasm was the first of many, love.” His hand ran over her ass, and she flinched.
Perhaps she was more sensitive than she’d thought. Colin made a small sound in his throat then rose. “Let’s get you up and go back to the dining area. Our dinner should be there shortly.” Feeling slightly achy and ever so sensuously aware of the twinges over her rear as she scooted off the bench, she stood. Colin settled his hands on her shoulders then slipped his palms down her arms. “Stay here. Let me help you get ready.” Turning, he went to get her dress. When he returned, he slung it over his arm and lifted his hands to her breasts. He flicked the bands off her nipples. “As pretty as these are, your nipples need a break—at least, until we get to
The
Dungeon.
”
She gasped as blood rushed into the tips that had been restricted. He cupped the mounds and ran his thumbs over the tingling peaks. “I’ve pictured you naked since the moment we first met. Every time you reached for books, bent over to pick up things, leaned over your desk… I wanted to bend you over that surface, lift your skirt and fuck you for anyone to see while you tried to stay quiet. Of course, you couldn’t have, and I imagined your screams echoing across the research floor.”
“Please don’t, Sir,” she begged, horror at the idea warring with extreme titillation. She wanted him to do that, but it was too dangerous. “I need my job.” With a slight smile curving his lips, he cupped her cheek. “Strike it from your thoughts. I won’t jeopardize your job. Anything between us will be kept private at your workplace. Now, lift your arms.”
Immediately, she complied and he slid the dress on her. She shivered as it grazed her sensitized breasts and reddened ass. Every move she made would remind her of this interlude.
He brushed her hair from her face. “Ready?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith.”
He scooped up his coat then stowed the paddle and gag inside. Together, they headed for the exit. He stopped her at the door. “Out there, we’re just a normal couple. Call me Colin.” Livvy was a dream. Colin had to admit, he’d been testing her today which was actually outside his nature, but he needed to know how she’d react to her role as submissive and his as her Master. Weeks into a relationship wasn’t the time to learn the submissive wasn’t meshing into her role. Livvy was pleasing him at every turn.
He’d sensed earlier that she’d enjoy spanking—she’d said as much when they’d discussed pain play. She understood the concept of pain for pleasure. When she’d stood firm in the face of the paddle, he’d known she had the spirit he wanted. He’d seen fear in her eyes, but she hadn’t flinched away.
Now, she needed to learn trust. Complete trust. That would come.
Hopefully, she’d move along smoothly with him as they went forward. He had big plans for her.
Her lips pressed together as she slid into their table, but she took a deep breath, her eyes closing in subtle enjoyment as the sensation worked through her. Tomorrow at the library, she’d be reminded of this night as she worked. Good. He wanted her to remember.
“How did you decide to become a librarian?” he asked as he took his place.
She grinned. “I love books,” she said, her words almost an orgasmic sigh. He wanted to hear her say his name that way one day. “I especially like sharing books with others and helping them learn.”
“You could have been a teacher,” he countered, wanting to find out exactly what made her tick.
She shook her head. “Too erratic. For the most part, everything at the library is orderly.
Even the most rambunctious of children understands the library rules. Every book has a particular place. Everything runs on a fixed schedule.”
“And you like structure?” he asked, making a note.
A self-conscious half-smile curved her lips. “Yeah, I guess. My family thinks I’ve turned boring. I was a wild child—I guess that’s what you’d call me. My whole life was chaos. The only time I felt calm was at the library—well, there and church, but I wasn’t becoming a nun.”
“Thank the saints for that,” he laughed. “Tell me about this structure in your life outside the library.”
“I’m not OCD or anything. I don’t have to park in the same parking space everyday or have my clothes color coded. I find I like everything picked up. I want to eat at the same time everyday and go to bed about the same time. I do everything in a certain order. I follow a pretty regular routine. But if it gets disrupted, I don’t have a meltdown. I’m pretty good at adjusting.
Moving eighteen times in twelve years of school will do that for you.”
“Were you…what’s the American term? An army brat?”
“Or something,” she replied. “My mother changed jobs a lot. Jobs and her life. Whenever things were going badly, she’d decide to move. Looking back, I wonder why she thought her problems wouldn’t follow us. God!” she exclaimed, putting a hand to her forehead. “I shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t usually blurt out my life like this.” He squeezed her fingers and bent his head, looking at her intently. “We share something deeply intimate. It’s not unusual that you feel comfortable enough to share this with me. It tells me some things.”
“Like?”
“Whatever we do, you should know the rules, and there should be consequences for broken rules. Our scenes should be somewhat scheduled and not random. I should plan and direct whatever happens so you don’t feel out of control. Does that sound right to you?” She nodded, and relief dawned in her eyes as he offered a touchstone for this experience.
She’d craved something new, something more from sex, but she needed to feel secure in what was happening.
“Before I completely melt into mortification, though, please tell me something about you.
Something I don’t already know.”
“My mother is American so I have duel citizenship with the United States and the UK.”
“You don’t have a limited visa? I thought you’d have to go back soon.” Worry cropped up inside him. Would that affect them? Had she thought anything they did would be short-term, perhaps only a one-time event. “I don’t have a home here,” he hedged, looking for her response. “Of course, my job is portable.”
“You have a plan?”
Of course she’d ask about a plan. He nodded. “Multi-tiered. Do you remember those
‘choose your own adventure’ type books?”
“We have them at the library. We even have a funny
Pride and Prejudice
version.”
“It’s like that, I suppose. Depending on circumstances, I’ll choose one direction or the other.” He didn’t want to reveal how integral her role was. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare her, and like her, he wasn’t one to jump the gun. He squeezed her hand. “I’m a planner and backup planner. My family’s pretty staid, but my father taught me to always be prepared. My father and Scouts,” he laughed. “Be prepared and all that.”
“There are Boy Scouts in England?”
“They were there first, actually, but they’re called Scouts in UK not Boy Scouts. Both my father and grandfather were in troops. We’re all exceptionally good at knots.” He ran a thumb over her wrist, thinking of what she’d look like with her wrists tied, her face contorted with pleasure and torment as he brought her to the edge of release, over and over.
“Are they all…” She bit her lip and glanced around. “In the lifestyle?” she whispered.
He chuckled, amused and delighted by her tentative question. “Not openly. My father is in the parliament so he maintains a high level of decorum. Obviously, I’m not entirely open about it. I keep my private life quite
private
.” His mood darkened slightly as thoughts of his parents crowded in. They disapproved of his life as an “artist” which was what they considered writing—a pointless dabbling. They’d made that clear, even eschewing his success on the bestseller lists. They’d be heartily displeased when they learned of his decision to remain in the States. Especially his father. Though Colin wasn’t the first son, his father had wanted him to enter the political arena and follow the family’s footsteps. He contended it wasn’t too late for his son to change directions. Colin was uninterested.
Unwilling to let his family situation shadow the evening, he turned the dinner conversation to popular culture, drawing her into a conversation about music and movies. They soon learned they both enjoyed the same movies, though her tastes tended to lean more to romance and his more to action. Still there was a lot of common ground. To his surprise, Ms.