Read Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories Online
Authors: Sierra Cartwright,Annabel Joseph,Cari Silverwood,Natasha Knight,Sue Lyndon,Emily Tilton,Cara Bristol,Renee Rose,Alta Hensley,Trent Evans,Ashe Barker,Katherine Deane,Korey Mae Johnson,Kallista Dane
Tags: #romance, #spanking romance, #bdsm romance, #erotic romance, #sierra cartwright, #annabel joseph, #cari silverwood, #sue lyndon, #natasha knight, #trent evans, #cara bristol, #ashe barker, #emily tilton, #katherine deane, #Kallista Dane, #alta hensley, #korey mae johnson, #renee rose, #holiday romance, #Valentine's Day
Bound, Spanked & Loved:
Fourteen Kinky Valentine’s Day Stories
by
Annabel Joseph
Cari Silverwood
Natasha Knight
Sierra Cartwright
Emily Tilton
Sue Lyndon
Trent Evans
Cara Bristol
Katherine Deane
Renee Rose
Ashe Barker
Korey Mae Johnson
Alta Hensley
Kallista Dane
Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories
Master Class: Initiation by Sierra Cartwright
Theirs to Punish by Renee Rose
Stepbrother Jerk by Natasha Knight
His Runaway Valentine by Sue Lyndon
Stepping It Up (Rod and Cane Society 7) by Cara Bristol
Claiming Chloe by Korey Mae Johnson
Maud and the Secret Society of Saint Valentine by Emily Tilton
Dancing With a Dom by Katherine Deane
Taking the Human by Trent Evans
Sweet Birdie Blue by Alta Hensley
Copyright © January 2016 by Annabel Joseph, Cari Silverwood, Natasha Knight, Sierra Cartwright, Emily Tilton, Sue Lyndon, Trent Evans, Cara Bristol, Renee Rose, Katherine Deane, Ashe Barker, Korey Mae Johnson, Alta Hensley, and Kallista Dane.
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All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the authors. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
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Cover Artist: Mina Carter
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Published in the United States of America
Sweet Savage Press, LLC
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This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The authors of this e-book are a multicultural team and various versions of English which such richness of content entails will be found in this e-book, including British English spellings.
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This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices but this is a work of fiction and as such should not be used in any way as a guide. The authors and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
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Chapter One: You Need A Spanking
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I
t all started because this skank at Santino’s Bar couldn’t keep her mouth shut. It was Valentine’s Day, last year, and I was lonely and horny, and she was standing next to me when I noticed the bouncer breaking up a scuffle at the bottom of the stairs.
“Look at him,” I said. “Just look.”
I didn’t know her, but I talked to her anyway because I didn’t have anyone else to talk to. My friends were off doing romantic Valentine’s Day shit, and I had to explain to someone that the bouncer was fucking magnificent. He was a hulking, handsome, perfectly proportioned piece of male burliness. He had dark, wavy hair and picturesque lips, and wide set eyes that took in everything with capable alertness. His muscles rippled hypnotically as he pummeled a skinny drunk guy into submission. Well, they hypnotized
me
, anyway. She just shrugged.
“I bet he sucks in bed,” she said. “He’s got to have a tiny penis. I mean, all those muscles? He’s compensating.”
I shook my head. No way. His cock was the size of Mt. Olympus. It had to be. I stared at his arms as he handed the skinny drunk guy to another bouncer to drag out of the club. His jaw was square and set, and his hands were the size of frying pans. His hands looked so big, so strong and powerful. I wanted him to spank me.
“You what?” she squawked.
I realized then that I’d said it out loud. She looked at me like I was crazy, but seriously...his
hands
. They were big, meaty slabs of perfection, and his arms were works of art, pure sinew and muscle.
“A spanking from a guy like that? He’d fucking kill you,” she said. “I’d rather have sex with his small penis.”
“He doesn’t have a small penis.” I was insistent on that fact. No one that big would have a small
anything
.
“What does it matter to you?” she said. “You just want him to spank you.”
She flounced away, heading downstairs. Whatever. I stared at the back of Slab Hands, wishing I could see his profile again, or even better, gaze at his gorgeous face. A new song came on, a pounding dance anthem with a driving beat. I pictured him in spank mode, using that big, rippling arm to smack my ass in time to the music. I’d never been spanked before, but I wanted to be.
Oh shit. The girl who’d been standing beside me was talking to the bouncer. She turned and gestured, and pointed up at me.
He lifted his face to meet my gaze. His eyes sparkled. They were blue, the kind of blue you could see from across the room. A corner of his mouth turned up as if he were amused. For a millisecond, I let myself look at him because he was just that beautiful. Then I leaped behind a couple of dudes standing next to me. Shit, she’d straight up told him what I said about the spanking.
Very funny, you mega bitch. Very embarrassing too.
The dudes who were shielding me headed downstairs, leaving me exposed once again to the bouncer’s scrutiny. His smile widened and he made a little motion to the music. Was it a spank? Was he mime-spanking me?
I had to get out of here. I should have known better than to go out clubbing on Valentine’s Day. February fourteenth was cursed, especially for awkward dorks like me. I turned away and started wandering around the second level, searching for a set of back stairs. There had to be back stairs, right? Because he’d see me if I walked down the main stairs, and he might do that spanking motion again and cause me to die of embarrassment. There had to be some other way out.
I skulked to the less crowded side of the bar and finally found a door that led to some stairs. The door was heavy, but I pried it open and slipped into the dark stairwell. The music sounded softer here, stifled by gray concrete walls, but the bass line still made my legs shake. I checked that my phone was in my jeans, and descended in time to the beat.
Man, that dude was beautiful. Too bad I could never show my face here again. When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I came up against another heavy, black metal door. I pushed on the steel bar, praying that it opened to some back hallway out of the club. Oh God, even better! It opened to the outside, to a parking lot. I slipped through and let the door fall shut before I realized it was a closed lot, surrounded by a high fence.
“Can I help you?” asked a deep male voice from my left side.
Crap
. The bouncer dude.
“Oh, I just...” Oh, I just had
nothing
to say to this guy. My face flamed as I turned back to the door and yanked at the knob.
“It’s locked,” he said. He walked closer, looking me up and down the same way I’d ogled him in the club. “You need to have a key to get back in.”
“We’re locked out?”
“No.” He shoved a hand in his pocket. “I have a key. You want to go back in?”
“Yes, please.” My cheeks burned as he continued to regard me. “Can you...please...?”
“In a minute. I’m on my break.” He grinned and leaned back against the wall. “It’s such a nice night. It’s nice to have someone out here with me to look up at the stars.”
He thought it was
nice
to make me stand here and feel embarrassed. I blinked at the sky. I couldn’t see any stars. We were in the middle of Miami, and any stars were obscured by the city lights. I turned to him instead. Even in the dark, I could make out his chiseled, masculine features. I’d thought he looked big at the bottom of the stairs, but now, standing beside him, I felt tiny, and I was 5’6” with a decent amount of meat on my bones.
He met my eyes for a moment, then stared at my cleavage. I twitched some of my long brown hair to the front to cover my sweater’s plunging V-neck. He smiled like a criminal.
“Can I go back in now?” I asked after an excruciating thirty seconds.
“And do what?” he asked. “Dance with a bunch of idiots and get drunk on cheap beer?” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk. I don’t drink when I’m out alone.”
“Why are you out alone?”
He stared at my breasts again. I guess I should have felt flattered. They were certainly on display, so I couldn’t fault him for looking. “I’m out alone because...”
He waited, blinking at me with his blue eyes, and his dark, thick lashes. He was almost perfect, but not quite. There was a roughness to him, a hazardous kind of potency heightened by a scar beside his eyebrow. He wasn’t classically handsome.
No, he was
animal
handsome.
Animal handsome? Really, Christine?
I needed to get out of here. I looked wistfully at the locked door, wishing someone would come through and open it so I could escape inside. Pretty soon, I was going to get desperate and scale the parking lot fence.
“Can you please let me in?” I asked.
“Still twenty minutes left in my break. Are you going to answer my question?”
“I’d rather go back inside,” I said, pulling at the door again.
“I’ll let you inside if you answer my question.”
I stopped yanking at the doorknob and ran a hand through my hair. “What was your question?”
“Why are you out alone? No friends? No boyfriend? Did someone ditch you?”
“My friends were busy tonight, and I... Well, I’m dating someone, but sometimes I just...”
Ugh.
“Sometimes I prefer to go out alone.”
I didn’t know why I told him I was dating someone. I guess because I was embarrassed about the whole spanking comment, and he was walking closer to me, and he was big and scary and oh, so fucking handsome, and oh my God, he was
fucking marvelous
...
“I know you’re not dating anyone,” he said, as I ogled his pecs under his black SECURITY tee shirt.
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day.”
Shit. Good point.
“If you really had a boyfriend,” he went on in his lazy, hot-guy drawl, “you wouldn’t be out by yourself at a lame dance club. You’d be at home with him, bathing in champagne by candlelight, with rose petals strewn all around the Jacuzzi tub.”
Shit, I didn’t have a Jacuzzi tub, or the money to fill one up with champagne. I lived in a shithole apartment. I was still making my way in the world, not that he needed to know that. “No, see...my boyfriend is... He’s in the military.” I wasn’t normally such a liar, but now that I’d started, I couldn’t seem to stop. “He’s away, fighting a war.”
“Where?”
He asked it so quickly, I didn’t have time to make up an answer. Shit, shit,
shit
, where were our soldiers right now? I didn’t have a clue. Before I could spit out some made-up guess, his lips twisted in a frown.
“You don’t have a boyfriend,” he said, as if I disappointed him in every way possible. “And our brave U.S. soldiers don’t want to be a party to your crazy lies. What a bad girl you are.”
Oh God. He’d just called me a
bad girl
.
He moved his arm. All these muscles
rippled
.
“I think you deserve a spanking,” he said. “A really hard and lengthy spanking for lying to me.”
Jesus, this was all because of that fucking girl who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She was the one who deserved a spanking. But I was the one who’d blurted out that I wanted this behemoth of manliness to spank me, because of those arms. Seriously, those arms...
“Ha,” I said. “You can’t spank me.”
“Why not? You told my friend Sage that you wanted me to spank you. Were you lying about that too?”
“Yes,” I said, another obvious lie. “I mean, who would want to get spanked by someone as huge as you?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You, apparently.”
“But I don’t. I mean, I just said that to make conversation. I didn’t mean it. It was just a figure of speech, like a...a metaphor or something.”
The other brow rose. “I don’t think you know what that word means.”
I waved my hands. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to spank me. I mean, not in a realistic sense.”
“Only a metaphorical sense?”
“Yes,” I said, brazening it out.
“That’s too bad. I would have enjoyed teaching you a lesson.”