Red Hot Obsessions (225 page)

“Thank you for saying that. But I’m not
that
good. I was so bad for spying like that.”

“Yes, you were a bad girl for watching, but I’m not upset or surprised you stayed. I sure would have. At least it helped you become self-aware. Did you end up with
her
face, Luscious?”

“Yes, I most certainly did. And not just now. I’ve had it since you first spanked me. I’m so, so happy with you, Logan. I’m in a bliss I doubted I’d ever find.”

“Mmm, me too. I feel the exact same way.”

“If you’ve daydreamed and longed to spank a girl, Logan, then how on earth did you wait so long? And
why
did you wait? You’ve had sex already, but not
that
? Not until Halloween. Wouldn’t that be at the top of your bucket list or whatever?”

“It
was
at the top of my list, yes. But I wanted it to be special. And I’ll try to explain what I mean. When I was a young teen, I often fantasized about getting laid in a car, right? I had the license and the car, I just needed the girl. So when I got a girlfriend at the end of sophomore year, I planned to lose it that way. The thought of it drove me insane, and I set out to make it happen. I scoped around and found a good place at the lake to park beforehand, and I had her wear a skirt. I packed us some stolen wine and chocolate-covered strawberries in a picnic basket and stuck condoms—the whole box!—into my glove compartment, along with special lube I bought because the commercials said ladies get more zing. I wanted the extra boost for
her
pleasure, in case I was less than great. With the zing juice playing wingman, maybe she wouldn’t even know I bombed.”

I cracked up so hard my gut hurt and tears streamed down my face. “Zing juice playing wingman! Haha. You are so cute, Logan.” I wiped my cheeks.

“
Lame
is more like it. I even had battery-op candles under the seat. But, not
until
I was smack in the middle of the moment did I realize, it was not the
car sex
I wanted; it was the
urgency,
the feeling of being out somewhere and literally not able to make it home because you just
have
to do it. You know, you just exchange a look that screams I have to have you
now
. So you pull over, wherever the hell it is, tear off each other’s clothes and go at in the car because you’re in such a frenzy to fuck. I wanted
that
. Like that feeling we had when we were wrestling around. All this time, I thought it was the car part that excited me, and it wasn’t. I wasn’t aroused in the slightest. I couldn’t get up to save my life and pretended a sexy makeout session was my plan all along. I fingered her ’til she came, also something I’d always fantasized about, but
I
only felt frustration, disappointment and anger that I misread and bombed my own fantasy. That’s all that happened. She never knew about the condoms or the zing juice or even the wine.
Car sex
was one of my lower-rung fantasies.
Spanking
, on the other hand,
that
just sings to my soul. I wanted to get it
right
. Over time, I broke down and dissected exactly what I wanted, and discovered, it wasn’t just to spread on some pink. I wanted a reason to spank, something on-the-spot, almost a spanking romance scenario, where I’d spank a girl because she’s truly naughty and deserving of it. And I wanted to scold her and spank her until she was red hot and sobbing her eyes out. But that’s fiction. In reality, that’ll get you slapped or sued. As much as I ached to deliver such a thing, I knew it would likely never happen. And then … and then … aahhh,
you
showed up.” He looked me in the eye with a barbaric gaze that made my stomach drop.

“But … you didn’t even know
me
, and yet, you came downstairs prepared to spank
me
specifically. Wouldn’t you want to give it someone you cared about? How did I end up being
that
special?”

“You
deserved
it. That’s all the special you needed. When my dad called, I asked if you had dark red hair. When he said yes, it sparked my hope that it was you. And it
was
you, on my couch, the naughty, dirt-kicking kitten from the Quad. Oh my gosh, the heartbreak and upset on your devil face when I made you think a
spanking
was
not
what I meant totally did me in. You looked so shattered, like I just killed your dog or something, and then you flared up to red when you realized how full of irritation you sounded. I was just kind of egging you on, no pun intended, seeing what you’d say and how you’d react to my notion of spank, but I knew for sure in that moment, little subbie, that you wanted to get it as much as I wanted to give it. No way was I about to let you go home with white cheeks. You were my perfect in, my fantasy spank.

“And, ah, you
were
special indeed, the perfect spankee, in every way. The audience only made it sweeter, and your wobbling hips, and the air seeping through your teeth, not because I was giving you too much pain and heat, but not enough. You wanted real
punishment
, a real, hard, dirty, rough spanking. Perfect, absolutely perfect. I got to lay into your ass and make you cry. I was so glad I waited for that. Everything about it was better than what I’d ever dreamed because of where you brought me with your reactions and your simmering lust. It doesn’t get better than that. It just doesn’t. When you fell on my thighs, I whooshed to Heaven, but I had no idea how horny you’d get. God, Addison. Those moans and that wet, wet…uhhh. I was so ready to burst when I brought you into the gallery and glided up your skirt and into your slit. I was a breath away from hurling you over my shoulder and rushing you up to my bed so I could really make you scream. As fun as that would have been,
surely
, I’m glad I didn’t. Because then I got to see you shine like a diamond through the hard cuts of suffering and humiliation. It was the most beautiful sight ever. You, lying panty-free on your back, holding yourself open for nasty gazes and untold pain, just because I said so.”

“I made you my Dom right then. That secured you.”

“And I made you my sub. You were mine, mine. You
are
mine. I tried to deny it and suppress it and ignore it. But I couldn’t. I’m still not sure I’m the best Dom for you, but I had to have you for myself.”

“You
are
the best for me. I’m so glad you changed your mind.”

“
You
changed it. With your bad girl ways that are always begging for spanks and domination.”

After we laid there silently for several minutes stroking each other, he said, “My arms are itching to fly. Are you ready, Babydoll?”

“More than ever, Sir.”

“Good. Scene on. Get up.”

CHAPTER 3

My pussy was still buzzing at those five glorious words he said upstairs as he took hold of my hand in the living room of the carriage house. The lights were back off, and shadows groped one another on the walls and floor from the waves of candlelight.

Electricity shot up my arm with a fizz and tingle each time he made a complete circle on my palm with his thumb. We danced light, fluttering fingers together just before he pulled my hand up above my head and secured my wrist into a leather cuff that he’d latched to a hook in the wall. I shivered as I watched him buckle it up. This felt like edgier bondage than anything we’d previously used and my cunt responded with moisture.

“I don’t want to slice up your wrists or make it too tight. How’s that?”

“Fine. Perfect, Sir.”

“Grab the peg next to it, fingers curling around the top and thumb tucking under.”

As he asked, I took hold of the 6” peg sticking out of the wall near the hook. It looked to be for coats. No, it was for me. Such a benign-looking thing was really a contraption for kink.

He did the same with the other hand, securing me upright into a Y. He ran a tickly stroke down my back, eliciting a chill. “I’m not going to be binding your feet, Princess. I want your legs spread and that ass out. Push your pelvis away from the wall a bit.”

My legs trembled as I obeyed his command. I felt a draft when he walked away from me. “Yes, Sir. The crop was almost too much to take. Please don’t hurt me too much. Please.”

“Mmm.” He was quiet for several moments, but wind whistled through his teeth. “As I recall, I made you laugh and fly. What a compromising position, my Lady. Do you know I can see your juicy bits right now? You are a vision. Can’t imagine you’ve ever been whipped like a harlot in the square.”

“No, Sir, I haven’t.”

“You’re not raising a stink like before, not kicking me. Does this excite you? Being at my mercy?”

“No, Sir. I just don’t want you to cut me again. I’m hoping this will be the lesser evil.”

“Deceit lies on your lips. I bet you’re hungry for the paradise I promised I could usher you to, on the wings of pain. You’ve only been through Gate One.” Footsteps moved closed and I gasped when his finger suddenly swept through my inner wet lips. “You’re so succulent and ripe, so wet. Admit that
real
pain excites you.” He pulled away from me.

“I will not. It does not. I just wanted a
little
when I agreed to submit to being your whore for the night. But I don’t want
too
much pain.” A whoosh suddenly railed across my ass. “Ah.” It stung most deliciously. I moaned, despite my protest on the matter.

“This is up to you.” He swung back the other way, stealing my breath yet again. “Admit you like it, and I’ll warm you up and take you to heaven. If you say you don’t want pain, if you are silent, then I’ll just leave you here, untouched.” He flew across my skin again with a light thud. “Tell me to stop.”

I shook my head.

“You have a choice. Which way do you want me to go? Strike again? Or walk away?” The falls swept across my back with softness. “I’m not playing games with you, runaway. Will it be, ‘Flog me, Sir,’ or ‘Get the hell away from me, Troll.’ Pick. You need to admit it and ask.”

“I can’t.”

His foot thumps walked away from me. “Fine.”

I ground my jaw. “Wait! Don’t go. Flog me! Flog me, Sir.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes. Flog me, anywhere you wish.”

“Say you like pain.”

“I like pain. I like it, okay? I like when you hurt me as you desire. You forcing me to take it and trusting me to bear it makes me feel strong and invincible.”

“Good answer, Princess. Now we can begin.”

I shivered when he came to the side of me and raked his fingers down my back. “Press your forehead to the wall.”

I did and found he had a pillow there for me. I nestled into it, and he let go of it and walked back behind me. He was pacing, boots thumping on wood, and making my stomach roil. Every so often, he ran his hand down my leg or ass or arm. The waiting made me tremble and ache for falls of leather or elk skin or suede or whatever he was going to strike me with.
Maybe the whip with the dozen roses.

He whacked me between the shoulder blades, stealing my breath. Then he tossed a smaller flogger around my ribs, maybe the type that lived in his toy box. It wrapped around and batted me in the breast with a tingling sting that made me shiver. He did the same on the other side, and did it back and forth, back and forth, lightly flicking my gumdrops. Then he began whisking back and forth along my neck and working his way down my body. It was gentle and soft, like he was smearing me from head to toe in butter with a bouquet of flowers. He brought the flogger back and forth, back and forth, with a steady tickling flick, up and down the entire length of my body. The even sway was raising up goose bumps and making me sigh and moan. Though I loved the tickling sensation and the lack of control, my body thirsted for harder slaps. I bit at my lip, silently egging him on, to whale me good with I don’t know how many strands. Twenty? Forty? As if he read my mind, he picked up intensity and put more muscle into each swipe, which were now rapid circles, like he was whipping batter in a sideways bowl. The ends slap, slap, slapped against me with a little bit more sting.

A chill tore through me when he swooshed across my neck like a paper airplane and quickly swatted my ass next with a whap. He flicked it up between my legs. I cried out with the surprise of it hitting my entire vulva and the ends slapping wonderfully into my clit. He kept searing my sensitive parts and giving me ultimate pleasure with simple flicks of his arm.

“Harder?”

I nodded and moaned. “Yes, Sir.” He whipped upwards harder and in a knee-jerk reaction, I shoved my pelvis closer to the wall. “Aaahh.”

“You need to stay in place. If you can’t, I will bind your legs. I have to avoid certain parts of your body once I pick up, your kidneys and your neck for instance. You need to be still.”

I got back in position and planted my feet. “Sorry. I won’t move again, Sir.” And with that, he flipped up against my cunt again, and I screamed and tossed my head back because it felt so damn good. I lowered my chin and set it in place with mental glue. He struck me again in the same manner on random spots, and I breathed deeply and shoved out the air with a whoosh. The slaps landing wherever were heaven to me. My walls started clenching. When he hit me again in between my legs, I came so hard, I moaned and mashed my forehead into the pillow. My lungs reached crazy mode and a little sex juice ran down my leg. “Ah, Sir.”

He bent behind me, with his hands cupping my ass, and he claimed my cunt in his fierce mouth. He sucked me into insanity, and I was too sensitive for such an assault. I trembled and screamed against the forced stimulation. He only gripped me harder and made me take it until
he
was finished.

When he stood, he spanked and tapped my ass with his palm. “Again, I will remind you, don’t move from position.”

“Yes, Sir,” I cracked out, my walls still all a flutter.

He walked away from me, taking his warmth from me. It was weird how I could feel the body heat emanating from him even though he stood feet away from me at nearly all times, and when he left my zone, I got more of a chill. He approached again and a heavier, thuddy swipe flew across my back in a downward arc. One came from the other side too. He was maybe testing out my reactions to see where I liked the ends to land. He waited as he whirled a little bit and sent a couple slaps down on different parts of me, between my shoulder blades, across my thighs, and my butt, oh lord, my butt! With me moaning and humming at it all, I was soon getting swift figure eights in all those places, the thuds wonderfully rattling my bones. I best loved the slappy thuds that covered a lot of skin, the ones that wrapped around my ribcage to flick at my breasts or the ones that swept down over my back and butt. The rapid rhythm and sexy beat was making me delirious and dizzy. Ohmygosh. He was doing it double-handed now. I beamed. Was this the Florentine? Movement so poetic and elegant deserved such a fancy name. It didn’t
hurt
-hurt in the stingy way, with the falls as soft as butter, but the swiftness and the double-Dutch, figure eights coming from both directions, one after another, was giving me an entirely new kind of ache. It felt like a slow build-up of internal bruises.

He shifted what he was doing and stayed primarily on my butt cheeks and thighs now as he built up speed and intensity and caused the ends to slap harder on my warmed-up flesh. It was hurting now, deliciously. The song whizzed through the air, culminating in a whack, and I was groaning and moaning to show my appreciation for sharing his gift with me. I clamped my jaw and sank into the beat. It was intoxicating and hypnotic. I found myself breathing in time, and I’m sure my blood was pulsing in accord too. I gripped the pegs tighter, as my legs and back felt like Jell-O. I was drowning in my connection to Logan and in the rhythm of the lovely figure eights he was planting on my body.

The whirl-whap, whirl-whap, whirl-whap, whirl-whap reminded me of something. The clanking of a chain on a glowing, pink ball, as rattan fan blades slowly whirled overhead like a helicopter. That helicopter used to take me to awesome destinations. It had a pink bulb because I didn’t like bright, white light, it hurt my eyes when I stared above to go places. But the pink was all pretty and warm and soft, and I could look as long as I wanted. I know it was a whirl-whap, like this other beat, but why was I thinking about a stupid fan and a goddamn pink light? So lame.

Ah, here we go. No more pink nonsense. I saw blue sky and clouds and I drifted up, soaring slowly like an iridescent bubble. My stomach dropped, with me rising beyond my control. I was a captive of the wind, defying gravity. I’ve had dreams like this, where I rose up and was terrified of crashing down, and I somehow would end up doing exactly that and waking up out of breath before I hit ground.

But I kept rising toward the light, being brought up into a house on a cloud. The door was open wide and when the cloud became solid like waves of cotton beneath my feet, I ran for it. The foyer was red, a deep, deep red, so luxurious, opening to a grand ballroom. Logan looked sexy-hot and debonair in a tux, and I was suddenly in a yellow gown like the one Beauty wore for freaking dinner. Other faceless people were dancing. Plates of food were set at tables on the outskirts, but I’m not sure if I was here for dinner. Logan pulled me into a dance. He glided me through the room in a waltz to the rhythm that had a bass undercurrent of whirl-whap. He seemed to know what he was doing. Good thing, because I don’t. We had a dance term in gym one year, but I don’t remember the waltz. I can rumba a little bit and jive. When the song ended, he drifted from my clutch to get me a drink. My nerves were buzzing, and I looked around anxiously as a chill snaked up my neck.

All alone and aching for my prince, I noticed a room off to the side. It was dark, dark black and it smelled weird, like bad breath. I backed away from it, but vines of tar unfurled toward me and before I could gasp, they seized me and pulled me out of Logan’s reach and into its pitch. The door slammed behind me. I jiggled the handled, locked and hot. I screamed and pounded the door. The vines didn’t stop. They kept pulling my backwards until I was no longer in the dark. I turned and looked around. I was in my room. But I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be back with Logan. This door also slammed behind me and I was stuck in my goddamn room. I spun and spun. The door wouldn’t open. What was going on? “Let me out!” I screamed. I looked around to find that my windows had bars with brick behind that. They don’t really, do they? I was trapped! And I was pissed and terrified. After pounding on the locked door for hours, I wore myself out. I climbed into my bed and cried. I couldn’t get back. My heart was pounding so fast. I was afraid of something. Not the dark. The pink light was on.

I tucked myself under all the covers, and then slowly peeked out. A man with no face was there with a book, and he was reading to me. But it felt weird. I was a solid ten with scrapes on my knees from finally collapsing out of a handstand that not only bested all nine girls in the challenge but put twenty-one more seconds on the clock. An advanced reader, I could read my own damn books and had VC Andrews “smut” tucked under my mattress, so why was he reading to me? I was so done with my neighbors at this point. Their severe lack of
more
only left me frustrated, like poor Mr. Verlander.

When he finished, he closed the book, turned off my pink light and kissed my forehead. I squirmed when his clammy skin swept under my covers and slithered up my thigh.

“Shhh.”

Get off me, get off me.

His grubby hand was on me and still rising. I was shaking and close to vomiting and my skin was still covered in fire ants that were biting mad. I stayed there rigid, frozen in shock, when he scratched over my panties and pinched my button and hills.
No, no, no, no.

“You have such sweet candy. Do you want me to make you feel really good?”

I shook my head, no. No, no, no. Not you. Hell no.

“Herb. Did she say
yes
to the concert?” my mom asked, flooding my room with light from the hallway and cool cookie-scented air. She glared at me, colder than a steely knife.

Herb? My dad’s dead brother, Herb? He jerked his hand off me and stood in a hurry. The blank on his face melted away. It
was
him. Why was he here when my dad wasn’t? “Yeah. She’s excited to go. Isn’t that right, Raggedy Ann?” He ruffled my hair and I recoiled.

With my eyes losing tears, I shook my head no. I did not want to go anywhere with him.

“Oh, stop being so melodramatic,” she said. “I know it’s not your favorite boy band, but the show you wanted is sold out. This will still be fun.”

When he brushed past her and thumped down the hall, I blubbered that he pinched me down there.

She folded her arms and snapped, “Well, you dressed very slutty today. It’s no wonder,” then she flipped off the light, slammed me into darkness and left me all alone.