Authors: Ella Dominguez
From This Love’s Not for Sale
“I want to taste you,” he grunted as he slicked his tongue across her mouth, dipping it between her lips.
Lilliana’s hands tightened around his arms, and she sucked his tongue in that brief moment it was in her mouth. He swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the direction of her bedroom. Lilliana’s eyes reflected nervous apprehension, but only her soft panting could be heard.
Once in her room, he kicked the door closed behind him and tossed her onto the bed roughly.
Lilliana sat up and Tucker grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed, her dress hiking up over her ass when he did so, exposing her smooth thighs and silk-covered pussy. He tugged at her panties, almost ripping them before sliding them into his pants pocket.
Lilliana
didn’t disappoint. She laid back and pulled her dress up higher, exposing her smooth labia and flat tummy. Tucker stood at the foot of bed, glaring down at her.
“You’re taking a lot for granted,” he stated, repeating
the sarcastic response she had given him not so long ago.
Her
eyebrows pinched together in bewilderment. Tucker bent down and grasped her ankles again and in one swift motion he flipped her onto her belly, bringing her bare ass front and center. Lilliana must’ve sensed what was coming because she tried to crawl away, but Tucker gripped her waist and held onto her firmly. There was no way in hell he was letting her get away when her perfect ass was within reach and in sore need of discipline.
“I meant it when I said you had a spanking coming for all the sass you’ve given me.”
“Tucker, wait…” Lilliana squeaked out.
“I’m done waiting for you, Lilly.”
Tucker grabbed a hold of her wrists and pinned them behind her back. Leaning on top of her, he whispered into her ear, “I demand your respect, Lilly.”
“Tucker, please… I’ve never… please don’t hurt me,”
Lilliana answered softly, her voice full of fear.
Is that what
Lilliana thought his intentions were? Tucker eased his grip on her wrists slightly and kissed her ear gently.
“I would never hurt you. This is simply to teach you that I won’t put up with your smart mouth and to show you that I always carry through with my plan of action.”
Lilliana’s breathing became ragged but she said nothing more. Had she resisted any further or said no
,
Tucker would’ve backed down. He waited, giving her time to mull over his words. Would she balk like all the rest or would she take his punishment? He hoped for the latter.
When she
remained silent, he spoke from his heart, “You need this as much as I do.”
With his final declaration, he kneeled between her open legs and nudged them open further with his knee, and brought his hand down onto her ass. For all his talk about discipline and paddling, he had actually only spanked a woman a handful of times, and he had never felt so alive than he did at that moment.
She shrieked and pulled her wrists out of Tucker’s grip. She clawed at the bed and tried to twist her body, but Tucker’s grasp was too strong. He smacked her one more time on her other cheek with equal vigor, the loud slapping sound reverberating off the walls. He wanted to give her more, but he knew he was pushing his luck.
Tucker’s heart was pounding and it was so loud in his ears, he could’ve sworn
Lilliana could hear it, too. Lilliana twisted and arched her body as she fought to get free. When Tucker released her, she promptly jumped up and backed herself up against her headboard. He stood and backed away from her, allowing them both time to process what had just happened.
She was breathless, panting, her eyes as wide as the moon. Tucker didn’t know whether to laugh out loud or
jizz in his pants from Lilliana’s reaction.
“Are you okay?”
her asked calmly.
She
ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes, but to Tucker’s utter astonishment, she didn’t say a word and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Lilly, are.
You. Okay?”
Lilliana
blinked rapidly, and her eyes examined his body.
“If by okay you mean pissed, flustered and turned on, then,
yes,
I’m okay.”
A slow smile spread across Tucker’s face.
Lilliana was something else. Her mouth never failed to irritate and entertain him.
“Good. Now get over here so I can taste you,” he pointed at the bed.
Lilliana opened her mouth and Tucker was positive it was to give him more of her brand of sarcasm.
“Before you speak, I should warn you: my palm is still itching to give you more.”
From The Art of Submission
Dylan
“You don’t get to tell me to stop, Mr. Young. I haven’t signed anything yet.”
Isabel is
trying to sound convincing, but this time her voice cracks just a little.
“Don’t take one more step towards those paintings, Isabel.
Don’t
.” I can feel my temper gaining the upper hand and my alter ego is threatening to make an appearance.
In defiance, she steps backwards, closer to the paintings; just one step, then one more. I feel myself heating with aggravation and arousal.
“
Don’t do it
,” I repeat, my voice betraying my fury.
It’s so absurd that we’re arguing over this. It’s like we’ve divorced and we’re battling over custody of our three children. She does it one more time, one more step backwards towards the paintings, her eyes never leaving mine. She reaches a hand up to grab one, slowly.
“So help me God, if you touch those paintings Isabel, I’ll take you over my knee. And this time I
really
will, contract or not. You’re on seriously thin ice, so
don’t
test me.” My anger is now on DEFCON 5 and I’m under serious threat of a meltdown.
Her eyes narrow at me, but she lowers her hand. I see her fist her hands at her sides.
“You just go ahead and try it.” Her voice is soft but indignant.
No fucking way did she just challenge
me. Before I can even talk my alter ego into staying out of this, he’s taken over. I move in record speed, pulling her to me and then over to a conference chair. I’m sitting and before she knows what’s happened, I have her over my knee. My upper arm is over her back and my hand is on her shoulder holding her down; her legs are under one of mine, securing her position. She’s yelling obscenities at me and thrashing about, but her punishment has already been decided.
Before I lay claim to her ass, I ask her, “Are you sorry?”
Stunned silence from her, but she continues to thrash.
“
Answer me.
Say you’re sorry for the way you behaved.” My voice is louder and she thrashes even harder, but she still refuses to answer. “This is the last time I’m going to say it, Isabel. I want your apology.
Now
.”
“You go to hell.” Her voice is laden with contempt, but her movements have ceased.
“Then have it your way.” And with that, I proceed to spank her.
Isabel
What? Does he
really
intend to spank me? And then I feel it, his hand comes down hard. I feel the sting immediately and I let out a loud gasp and a scream.
What in the name of Holy madness is going on here?
I have to get out of here. I try to get away again, but it’s no use. He smacks my bottom again, only harder than before.
This can’t be happening.
Again, even harder.
Oh my God
.
What’s happening to me?
After five smacks to my left cheek, he moves to my right and begins the same sweet painful torture. But this time, it’s different. I felt the tide turning on the fourth whack.
No, no, no.
This can’t be happening. I can feel my pussy starting to throb. How can I be aroused? What’s wrong with me? Shit that hurts, but it also feels …
so good.
By the tenth spank I can’t take it anymore.
I’m going to come and I will not allow it.
I give in.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I whisper out
. Please, no more.
“Sorry for what, Isabel?” Dylan asks firmly.
Don’t make me say it. Fine. I just can’t take the pain and excitement anymore. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”
Damn him.
He finally eases his hold on me and I immediately jump up. My arousal has turned to fury.
How dare he
. Just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore from him, he says it; the thing that sends me over the edge.
“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
From The Art of Control
The assortment of items on the bed are confusing but titillating. My naughty boy has something up his sleeve and the look in his eyes is maddening and has my pussy soaking. Dylan moves hastily as he binds my wrists to the bed posts with his ties. Next, he moves to my ankles and places something rigid between them. I crank my head to the side to see an umbrella being fashioned into a spreader bar between my legs.
How very creative of him.
He loops, twists and knots the neckties around my ankles to the umbrella, making it impossible for me to close my legs.
After that, he grabs one of the pillows and pushes it underneath my belly and pulls it down slightly, raising my pelvis and ass higher. When I look back at him, he’s checking out his handy work and I see the gears turning in that gorgeous head of his. His mean streak is bubbling just underneath the surface as his eyes dilate beneath his long dark lashes. He licks his lips and strokes himself all the while just standing and watching me, not saying a word, and I’m getting impatient and wetter with each passing second.
Dylan reaches for my hairbrush and kneels between my spread legs. As he runs the bristles across my ass cheeks, I wince from the prickly sensation. Then he draws the brush down and over my inner thighs, down my calves and across the soles of my feet, making me jerk from the ticklish and slightly painful feeling. My toes curl and I moan out.
“Don’t move. I won’t say it again,” Dylan snarls.
My sadistic Dom is now present and I’m fully aware of the seriousness of his threat. He moves up behind and on top of me, kissing my neck tenderly while he runs the bristles over my shoulder blades and spine with more pressure than before. The feeling of his warm, damp breath on my neck in contrast to the stinging on my back is tantalizing. My body doesn’t know whether to wither or blossom from the pleasantly painful assault.
Just when my body relaxes and my breathing slows, Dylan brings the flat side of the wooden brush down onto my bottom swiftly and with force. I bury my face in the bed and shriek out.
Sweet baby Jesus, that felt amazing.
My buttock blazes with heat and starts to throb. I don’t have time to process the pain when Dylan smacks the other cheek equally as hard. Keeping my face hidden, I yell out my acceptance and bite the sheet underneath me, wanting to tear at it and shred it like a wild animal from the searing pain.
Concentrate, Isa.
Endorphins start to build in the soles of my feet and a warm feeling washes over me. I take a deep breath in through my nose and blow it out my mouth, trying to calm myself.
Yes, that’s better
. My ass is on fire, but it feels dirty and delicious. I remain still while my sadistic lover persecutes my backside over and over with smacks varying from light to hard, my ass jouncing and jiggling with each subsequent smack. Dylan runs his hands over my bottom gently, running his fingers up my spine. Just as I become accustomed to his soft touch and my heart rate slows, he paddles my upper thighs and the warm sensation of an orgasm builds in my throbbing Ms. Kitty.
“Beg for it, Isa. Tell me you want to be punished,” he murmurs in a deep hushed voice.
Whatever Sir wants, Sir gets.
“If it pleases you, Master, punish me,” I whine out as I push my ass up, wanting more.
“I told you not to move,” he roars.
Dylan drops the brush on the bed and uses his bare hand, the skin-to-skin contact sending darts of electrifying pleasure throughout my body. The bed dips next to me and I hear rustling as Dylan prepares his next method of torture. Suddenly, something hot and liquid is dripped down my ass crack. Every muscle in my body contracts from the intense heat and my eyes well up.
Holy experimental sex toy, what is that?
Dylan always has something strange up his sleeve and I can’t make out what the sticky concoction is. The gooey unknown substance pools in my puckered crevice, but Dylan spreads my cheeks wide and hungrily licks it up. The slurping sounds of his tongue in my ass make me squirm with anticipation, but I don’t dare ask what it is he’s licking up so eagerly for fear of his reprisal. Dylan has told me on more than one occasion that the sound of my voice distracts him, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut. The smell of maple and vanilla drifts past my nose and it’s then that I realize what the sticky liquid is that Dylan’s licking at. He pours more hot syrup down my spine and I cringe from the sweltering heat. He laps that up, too, and quickly soothes it with ice, letting the melting cube drip down my ass and back. It feels fantastic and soothing, and my panting begins to slow. I concentrate on my Master’s breathing and movements, and my own heartbeat in my ears. I love him so much and I want him to be pleased with my acquiescence and total submission.
I’m purring softly, yearning to be fucked. Dylan lies next to me and starts brushing my hair, his engorged prick pressing against my thigh. I turn my face to the side and gaze at him dreamily. He’s smiling devilishly at me and I’m not quite sure what to make of his expression. I watch him cautiously, knowing that my sadistic Master isn’t done playing with me yet. His eyes betray his need to give me more pain and I wait patiently until he decides to give me more.
“You belong to me, Isabel,” he says out of nowhere.
He’s not telling me something I don’t already know.
“You’re my property and I want you marked as such.”
Here we go with this again.
My belly flutters with nervousness at the thought of being marked. What exactly does he mean by that anyway? Another piercing? A tattoo?
What?
Though the thought of being marked for Dylan is sexy as hell and I’m excited at the idea of it, I’ll be damned if I’m getting my clit pierced.
Screw that business
. My little tingly friend is off limits.
I smile at him and he digs his fingers into my ass, making me cry out in pain. His devious smirk widens and he licks and bites his bottom lip.
“Are you going to answer me?” he says.
“I didn’t think that was a question,” I respond.
Dylan’s eyes gleam and dilate. “It wasn’t.”
Leaning into my ear, he licks the crook, his lusty breath driving me insane.
“Master, please…” I purr.
“Please,
what?
” Dylan teases.
“I want you inside of me,” I beg.
“Not yet. I’m not done with you. I want to see that lush ass turn blood red,” he whispers into my ear.
He moves on top of me and breaches my wet entrance with his fingers, only to withdraw them, leaving me slick and uncomfortable. Without warning, the wooden brush is slapped on my butt again. He swats it time and time again, the blood rushing to the surface, sending my mind reeling.
Holy stars and stripes,
I swear to Mother Mary I can actually see stars as I close my eyes tightly. I’m near the limit of my pain tolerance. Just a little more.
I want just a little more.
“
More, Master, more,” I mewl.
Dylan’s breathing quickens and he straddles my thighs.
“Fuck, Isa, you look so God damned exquisite right now,” he groans.
I lift my ass up as high as it will go and the peak of my orgasm washes over me, my body shuddering with release. He wallops me one last time and I teeter on the edge of ecstasy and agony. My body flushes and heats from the inside out, but the warm rush turns to a cold chill and I start to shake uncontrollably. I try to say the word that will stop it all, but Dylan reads my body language and stops
.
I’m thankful because I can’t take anymore. I’ve had my fill of pain for the night.
I wail into the bed and float up above myself. My mind and heart are racing and I feel weightless and serene. When I open my eyes, Dylan has untied me and pulled me into the fetal position onto his lap. I’m covered with his body and his face is hidden in my neck.
“Oh, how I love to watch you fly, my precious angel,” he breathes into my ear.
Those words…
they comfort me and exhaustion sweeps me away.