Red Hot Obsessions (229 page)

I wanted to stay livid at Logan, but my mouth watered and my pussy responded to the hike and new visual with three squeezes. This was what I’d been anticipating for days, seeing him in action, watching a live spank.

“Ask me again for what you need and desire.”

There was no stutter or hesitation this time when she said, “Spank me, please.”

He put his hand on her back and let a smack fall. She jumped in place and yelped. Please. That was nothing. He began to sweep his hand along her cheeks with rolling taps that circled and whipped upward into her flesh. He painted them on by the dozens. He never did this with me. He spanked me right and hard with the flat of his palm.

It was making me wet, dammit, the way it made her bounce up and jiggle with each smack.

His gaze stayed fixed on her ass in rigid concentration as he traveled around her globes and down her thighs a bit. Now every hit jerked moans, yowls or winces out of her, and her responses were getting louder and more coarse and shrill with tears choking behind them. I could see the blush building along the edges of lacy trim and it was so, so pretty, like strawberry frosting on cupcakes.

Warm-up over, it became a storm of spank, spank, spank that made my head ring and body hot. I was trembling and dizzy. I licked my lips.

She sobbed, “Um, um, oh god, oh god, can I get it bare now?” I could feel her cringe.

The spanks stopped and air rushed in between his teeth. “Most certainly.” Using both hands, he grabbed the sides of her panties and peeled them down slowly, stopping the descent right above his draped leg. Fire roared up in my loins.

She gasped, even though she knew it was coming, even though she asked for it. She was probably shocked by the sense of vulnerability that rolled down with the strip.

He squeezed her exposed cheeks for a few moments, making both of us shiver, then started in again.

Good god!
The spectacle of her skin picking up more color by the minute made me so weak. I squeezed my shaking thighs together and sank back on my butt, pulling my legs out from under me. I spread my legs a little and dropped my hand in my gulf. A few moments later, I was scratching at my clit. He said I could play. Oh, how I wanted to come too. But I didn’t have permission for
that
. Fuck it. My eyelids kept tugging heavy and I picked up speed and intensity in my gallop towards glory.

The whacks ricocheting through the room were circus thrills to my ears, even more so, when they came from the drumming of a brush. The whack-whack of wood on skin was audible heaven. Logan’s biceps were munchable treats, even more so with his clench on a handle, and his face, hard and unyielding from the task at hand. He was a sexy, sexy spanker...just like I thought and pictured.

Shayna sobbed so hard now as she was pummeled to un-bad and the lagoon of refreshing. I could see and hear how much she needed this.

He must’ve felt she reached her pinnacle. He tossed the brush and began pampering her with swirling caresses and squeezes. She sniffled and warbled sobs came out of her.

I felt sad and annoyed I didn’t have time to come before it was over. Now I was just wet and engorged and hot with no way to unwind.

“You did good, Shayna. Do you still feel like a bad girl? Do you need more?”

Her voice skipped as she said, “No, I feel amazing. Thank you so much for punishing me. No one’s ever done that. It was exactly what I needed.” She was still crying.

Logan slid out from underneath her and tugged cream out of a satchel.

I shot out of my chair and snatched it from his hand. “No!
I’ll
do it.”

“Do
you
need it?” he asked.

“No!” I snipped. “I’ll put it on her and give her aftercare.”

“Be my guest,” he said, drawn out in full-on lust-mode, not in flippancy like others say it. He reclined in a chair, drawing one leg up, and propped his elbow on the arm and set his jaw on his fist.

I took Shayna by the arm and told her to lie on her stomach on the couch.

When she was prostrate with her underwear around her ankles, I straddled her calves and slowly hitched her skirt with a pinch. I squirted the cream into my hands and rubbed it into her red bottom with one hand. When I set the tube down, I went at her with both, massaging her warm mounds in matched, slow circles. She moaned and pressed up into my tender care.

The next sigh that escaped her lips jerked my gaze up to her turned face. She was running the tip of her index finger along her bottom lip and riveted on something. I knew it was Logan, but I didn’t dare look. He probably had smoke in his autumn eyes, watching us. Searing iron with his family crest branded tracks along the side of my arm, exposed leg and neck. I shivered in response. In a mirage, his fingers slid into my hair and down my spine and his whisper in my ear tickled my lobe. “Be bad for me.”

I increased the grind, now filling my curling fingers with more flesh, and each of Shayna’s breaths came out as a soft huff. I looked down at her ass and the gulf between her legs. I shook my head and bit my lip, but I couldn’t resist because I knew this was driving Logan absolutely insane.

He cleared his throat after I heard that sexy, deep groan in his throat, the one he does when I’m sucking his cock. Fucking hot.

Wanting to pleasure my Dom and my non-protesting roommate, I turned my fingers towards each other, dragged the sides of my pinkies along the line where butt meets thigh, and kept going, sliding down the curves of her legs while pressing up against her labia. Her puffy, moist labia, I might add. I turned my hands around and used my thumbs now to do the same thing. I rolled my thumbs each time I slid back down between her legs and let them dance together in the run down the sides of her legs. She spread open more.
Slut.
I smirked and worked with the blatant invite.

She gasped and shuddered when I swept one finger through her wetter interior folds and followed the curve up her ass. I went back to a nonchalant massage, staying on her cheeks now, leaving her in torture for more. She kept pushing up to try and force my hands to slide down into her warmer zone, but I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

I slid my straddle up her legs and pressed my cunt and inner thighs into the lower part of her ass.

Her sigh grew into a moan.

The sear of Logan’s stare made me shudder in delight. I just sat there, waiting for her to shove me the fuck off, but she didn’t. I rolled my hips, slowly, and rocked back and forth, grinding and mashing my slit into her well-spanked curves. I used to masturbate on pillows like this or the marshmallow arms on couches or recliners and pretend I was riding a cowboy stud, just like my neighbor did to her husband. He loved her to be on top, so he could yank her down hard on his stick.

Still rolling my hips, I leaned over her body, kissed her cheek and swept her hair off it.

“That feels really good, but I’m not a lesbian, Addison.”

“Neither am I.” I cupped fingers around her ear and whispered, “I’m just being sexy for Logan, giving him a sweet show for taking me in hand.” Really, I wanted him to ache for me. I wanted him to get a refresher or an eye-opener on my sex appeal. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I’m pissed right now and I might fight him from time to time, but I will always eventually cave because I so want him to be happy and pleased. I yearned to peek, and yet, I didn’t and wouldn’t let myself. “Does he look all smoldering, like he’s about to launch over here and fuck us both?”

She nodded. She was now biting her lip instead of stroking it.

“Good.” Well, my job is done.

Shayna’s body shook so hard.

I slid off her legs and tucked myself beside her, with my backside against the couch. I ran fingers through her hair and down her arm, then patted her bottom and rubbed and massaged it a little more. I glided her underwear up, eliciting a shiver, and set them back in place. “Are you still hurting?”

“Yes. It’s still stingy.”

“That cream should help.” I dragged my nails over her the exposed spots of pink and air whistled through her teeth. While caressing her bottom, I looked up at Logan, not even thinking, not even realizing. Big mistake. The roar of ecstasy on his face and seething lust in his eyes commanded I keep going and dive into Shayna’s holes, but then she’d need another spanking. She’d been feeling guilty for exactly that. “Thank you, Logan,” I said, “for taking the time to set us straight.”

He shook his head and snapped out of his blaze. “You’re
most
welcome.”

Shayna sighed when I climbed over her to stand up beside the couch. She surely wanted more affection. Too bad.

“You owe me an explanation, Logan,” I said.

He said, “I agree. Meet me at Camilla’s later?”

I scrunched my nose. “Camilla’s? I was planning to go there anyway.”

“You were? For what?”

“To talk about...
shit
.” I glared. “I have an appointment for 4. After that, Sabrina’s taking me to a...
wine
tasting.” I said wine when I meant a BDSM club, even though I was too young to drink, because Shayna doesn’t drink, and I didn’t want to perk her interest and get stuck with a tag-along. But Logan doesn’t want me drinking either, so hopefully he’ll know what I mean. I’m sure he does, since it’s another sub I’ll be consorting with. It’s called
payback
for ditching me since Tuesday night.

His fiery gaze at me held a mix of pain and fury. Yep, he knew. “Oh, hell no, you’re not going to that. You’re not
allowed
to drink.”

“You really don’t have a say, Logan. Maybe I can find a
good
wine, one that’ll
linger
and not leave me cold and unsatisfied.” At that, I snatched my sweater, spun on my heels and stormed out, knowing Shayna would follow after me soon enough. I couldn’t stomach to look at that ditcher of all ditchers any longer. I got into my car, slammed the door and spit curses under my breath.

A minute later, she exited the mansion and he came along with her. She got in.

When he reached us, he knuckle-rapped on my window.

I opened the door an inch. “What!”

“Can we speak privately for a minute?”

“Ya know, why don’t you text me twenty times and I’ll think about it.”

“Um...” He looked down and huffed. “I’ll see you later, yes?” When he looked back up, his eyes beseeched me and glimmered with hope.

I wanted to demolish it all. He did
care
. Maybe he wasn’t a liar, but it was so hard to jump back into a realm of trust with my foolish bubblegum dreams. “Perhaps. But I could be otherwise tied up.”

“Do you have any boxes for me?”

“Yes. A new one marked BROKEN.”

Staring at me with that stabbed-in-the-heart look again, he whacked the roof of my car and backed up. He shoved his fingers into his jean pockets, and I slammed the door again.

When I peeled out, Shayna buckled up and asked, “He appeared totally crushed when you stormed out like that. What the heck is your problem?”

“Looks like it’s not panning out.”

“Why? You clearly have sparks and an unspoken chemistry. You both are weird, like dark or something, in a twisted, unique way. I can’t explain it, but I could see and feel it, how passionate you both are. You just fit together and zap hot. I mean, he likes to spank and you like to get ’em,
usually
. How perfect is that? If only I could be so lucky. I kind of liked it too honestly. I had no idea a spanking could feel so good even though it hurts. Are you mad that he spanked me? You set this up. I don’t understand why you were so cold to him.”

“No, I’m not mad about that. I’m mad about how he acted before today. If anyone’s cold here, it’s
him
. Please don’t tell anyone, please, but we fucked on Tuesday. Like,
fuck
-fucked, and he hasn’t spoken to me since, all right? Except to respond to my request about this. And now, he wants to act like he did not just ditch me for days without a word. He’s not getting off the hook that easily. No way.”

“I’m sorry, Addison. I would be heart-broken and furious too, even more so if it were someone I lost it to. I sure hope you can work things out.”

“Whatever. I don’t even give a rat’s ass.”

“Oh, yes you do. You love him. Why else would you be so mad?”

I smeared away tears that fell, and my voice cracked as I said, “Damn, damn, I hate it when you’re right. I don’t want you to be right. I do love him. Dearly. And I absolutely hate myself for it.”

CHAPTER 2

Catching a whiff of cinnamon buns and grilling barbeque chicken, I sucked in the sweet aromas as I stepped out of my car at Love Hurts. Mmm. The sun was beginning to droop and invoke orange, but it was still all breezy and tepid like the perfect spring day though it was very close to winter.

Of the six cars here,
Logan’s
wasn’t in the lot, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Even though I was dressed like a trashy Goth doll in ponytails, except that my auburn hair was only glamified by temporary magenta streaks instead of all-over jet black, I didn’t
feel
like I was in costume. The leather attire was more fitting for after dark and kink zones only, but dressed like this, I felt like a perfect sub, even in sunlight. I itched to be paraded around in some downtown area with a collar and a leash, right smack in the middle of the day. Just the thought of that used to give me heart palpitations, but my ideas were constantly changing. People would be thinking or saying, “What the hell! Why is she being treated like a dog,” yet I can guarantee my slit would be soaked the entire time because I don’t see it like that at all. Although such a thing is meant to demean, humiliate, and show ownership, it would make me feel so cherished to be shown off like that, like a prized treasure. To me, it’s an honor and a privilege to be claimed, to be someone’s, and being flaunted in such a blatant and tawdry way would make me so hot for more domination and wild sex.

Like Scum. She was, once again, draped over the porch swing. Her filthy panties and greasy hair were on display. I’m sure
she
was hot about it, even though this was way out of
my
comfort zone. She did not move a hair as I approached.

“Just curious,” I cried, so she’d hear me. “Does posing like
that
make you wet?”

“Very,” she sighed.

I smirked, climbed the steps and went in, bell ringing behind me. My stomach fluttered with nervousness when Sabrina waved and walked me into the parlor with the turret. “Thanks for inviting me to Xtreme Xtasy later. It must be a wild, huh? I’ve never seen all the colors of BDSM
live
, so I’m as freaked out as I am excited.”

She beamed puckishly as she nodded, like I
should
be nervous.

“Are you back in silence since this morning when I talked to you?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Nope. I’m just kinda quiet.”

“Oh. Man, I wish I were. I can’t keep my fat trap shut. My brat mouth keeps getting me into trouble with my...with my...”

“With your,
what
, Addison?”
he
said.

I gasped and spun with my face growing hot because he looked even sexier than earlier. “Sir,” fell slowly and softly off my tongue. “I mean,
Logan
.” I was flushed and flustered, not expecting him to be behind me. I thought I’d have time to gather my thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d be here.”

“Yeah,” I stretched out, “you did, but I didn’t see your car out there.”

“I have more than one.”

“Of course you do,” I spat.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I have
two
cars. I’m not spoiled and pretentious, Addison.” He pointed. “It’s that '65 Ford Mustang out there. It belonged to my grandfather. He’s still alive but gave me this car when I graduated high school.”

My eyes burning, I looked down at the floor. The ache in my chest from trying to prick him with nonsense had me clutching my corset. “Oh. Sweet ride.”

“So, I take it by your adorable, kinky freak attire, that you’re actually
going
?”

I tore into his eyes with unapologetic certainty, and his picked up an icy steel.

“I don’t want you to go,” he muttered as a heartfelt complaint rather than an order.

“Too effing bad.”

We were both glaring in a standoff.

Clacking footsteps pulled my gaze away.

In a long pencil skirt, crisp blouse and bun again, Camilla entered the sitting room from the opposite end of the house and slammed into our tension.

Sabrina took that as her cue to leave and slid out the way we came in, to go back to the register maybe. She closed the pockets doors behind her.

Mistress motioned for us to take a seat, and we sat on the same couch, miles apart. My arms were crossed, his were outstretched, one on the arm and the other along scalloped wood on the back.

“What on earth is going on here? What happened between you two?” We were both quiet for several moments and her eyes bulged with a clearly stated, “Well?”

“We scened,” I said. “That’s what happened. He fucked me and flogged me and dropped me like a hot potato for
days
afterwards. We had some wonderful impact play before the flogging. But I flipped out a little … okay, a
lot
,
while
he was flogging me. I crashed or something. It freaked him out I think. Either that or he’s a fucking user who hates me now.”

“I do
not
hate you.”

“So, you experienced sub-drop,” Camilla said.

Sub-drop.
I paused for a second, then nodded and shrugged. That certainly sounded quite like my experience, even without her defining it for me.

“Did the flogging tap into anything negative that you can remember? Did something trigger you to launch out of subspace so fast?”

I choked up and tears slid down my face right before I covered it up with both hands and rubbed it furiously. “Yes. But I don’t know if it was real, if it really happened, but I
think
it did. I believe so.”

“And what do you believe happened?” She sat in a seat and leaned forward, fingers threaded together between her knees.

“I’ll try to explain it. Um, the flogging was really, really nice. I was enjoying it. I especially loved the sensation of the heartier, larger falls, even when he was doing it double-handed.”

“The Florentine.”

“Yes!” I cried, relieved to now know what it was because I didn’t have the inclination to look it up after the Ditch of the Century. “The rhythm he was using was so awesome, but it reminded me of a beat from my childhood. I sank into what Logan was doing. It flooded me with elation and ushered me into the clouds. We were dancing up there, in the ballroom of a big house, but he left to get me some juice. My neck was prickling from this dark room that was off to the side. Then these nasty, black vines furled out of it, yanked me away from him and pulled me into its pitch. The door slammed and locked on me. I was trapped. I couldn’t get out. And then I got sucked even further back into my own bedroom, where I was trapped again behind a locked door. The fan in my room made that same beat of whirl-whap, whirl-whap. Unable to get out, and scared for some reason, I dove under my covers. When I dared to peek out, a blank-faced man was there, reading to me, which was strange because I was ten and the best reader in my class. It illuminated later that it was my Uncle Herb. He’s dead now. But he was there, in my room. When he closed the book at the story’s conclusion, he suddenly slid his hand up my leg under my covers and scratched and pinched my labia and clit. My mom walked in on it. When he bolted off me and rushed out and down the hall, I told her what happened, and she basically said I deserved it for dressing so slutty. That hurt me far worse. It jabbed my jugular, and that’s what made me flip out and scream and crash. I didn’t remember it at all. I didn’t recall it until I was being flogged. I think it really happened, I do. Exactly like that.”

I looked up at her and my breath caught when I noticed her fuming glare, not at
me
. I followed her gaze, and Logan was staring at me, his mouth agape.

“This is a
surprise
to you? All of it?” she snapped. “You don’t know this?”

He turned his focus to her and shook his head.

“How do you not know what is going on with your own sub?”

He rubbed his face with an exasperated huff, got up and paced. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I was freaking out myself. She was going ballistic, screaming and hitting me. I hurt her, made her snap, and I didn’t know how to handle it or what to do. When she came back to me, I felt like I crashed myself. My mom’s schizophrenic, so
crazy
freaks me out. I just can’t deal with it. I can’t. I was smacked with a tsunami of self-doubt and terror, and I couldn’t think straight myself or stop the room from spinning.”

“Maybe you experienced Top-drop, which is more rare than sub-drop, but crashes can happen to Doms too. Or, maybe you’re just plain stupid and unaware of your full responsibility. In preparing a scene, you should’ve arranged a soft, safe space for respite and plenty of time for any potential meltdowns to resolve. Didn’t you know that?”

“I did know
about
drops of course, kind of. I mean I’ve heard of them, for
subs
, not for Doms, but I’ve never seen one, and I didn’t know it would be so explosive and terrifying, for either of us. I feel like an idiot for not prepping enough. I knew about aftercare too. That she’d need it. I had a bag full of stuff and a first-aid kit, but I didn’t even ask if she was thirsty or cold. Or maybe I did? I don’t know. I don’t remember. I couldn’t function myself.”

“Well, now you fucking know. You need to provide care to one another, especially Dom to sub, not just after a scene but often throughout the following days. Aftercare is not just a massage, a blanket, and glass of water. It’s a zone of open communication and a time for reassurance and re-solidifying your bond. Never let your sub go without finding out what you might have unleashed. She clearly crashed. It’s
your
job to help her work through all the dross you pull up. I’m stunned. This girl was likely abused, and this shouldn’t be as much of a shock to you as it is to me.”

“Um, I have difficulty
calling
it abuse,” I interrupted with my finger pointed up. “There are some people who are molested for years. I got a couple pinches. It’s just nowhere near the same. I was more upset be my mom’s reaction.”

“An adult took advantage of your innocence and youth and touched you in a disgusting way he shouldn’t have. It’s abuse, Addison. One second is a second too long. That’s hugely upsetting, even if you are detached from it or fuzzy on the details. This is something, Logan, that you should’ve taken the time to find out. No eyes or ears or arms for days for her, I’m sure, only amplified her distress and confusion. It’s just not the way to operate as a Dom.”

“I know. I know. I’m an inadequate, shitty Dom. I’m an asshole, I admit it.” He stopped and looked at me, his eyes wet. “I’m sorry, Addison, so sorry that I just left you like that for half the week, especially now knowing what happened to you and why you crashed. I was itching to end
THIS,
right then and there, and didn’t want to make a rash decision. I didn’t want to hear your voice or the sweet breath of angels from your lips. I wanted to think through everything, clearly and rationally.” He rubbed stiff hands together. “I don’t know how to live without you,” his voice broke and gave way to a crushed sob, “but I don’t know how to be the Dom you need either. I thought I could do it, and I wanted to be
yours
so badly. You are amazing, so precious.”

“Want-
ed?
” My heart was breaking, my throat felt crushed by a boot and tears just kept streaming down my cheeks. My words were a warbled mess as I blubbered, “No. Don’t do this, Logan. Don’t. We are supposed to be in this. You spanked me today. What the hell was all that about?”

“I just...want to keep touching your body and loving on you. I want you to be mine. I don’t want to let you go. I don’t know how to be without you. The last few days have been hell for me too.”

“Then
don’t,
” I screeched and flailed my fists in the air.

“But I don’t want to hurt you, Addison. I don’t want to ever do that to you again. Make you crash like that, crush your spirit, break your heart.”

I stood up and screamed, “You
are
breaking my heart
now
! You leaving me to myself and my misery was worse than anything. Don’t you get that?”

Camilla got up too. “Logan. You
are
a Dom, whether you are practicing or not, whether you are shitty or not. You may not have everything figured out, but you can’t just scrub it out of your soul. Go slower, take your time, shorten your scenes, learn how to be the best Dom you can be. But you can’t simply turn it off because you don’t feel like being one today. It’s your choice of course, whether or not you want a lifestyle, but you can’t just say you’re not a Dom.”

“I don’t want to hurt her though. And I...” he stopped and turned away from us.

“You what? Why do you think you will hurt her? Are you in control? Respectful of limits?”

“Yes, and yes. But I don’t like the...the fucking burning fire inside that flares up into an inferno.”

“Turn around.”

He obeyed her order.

“Burning fire for what? What sets it off?”

“I don’t know. I like her reactions. They make me so goddamn stiff.”

“Her reactions to what?”

He scratched his lips. “To p—pain or pleasure, but especially pain and discomfort. I just want to shred her emotionally sometimes to bring on more tears and sobs.”

“So, you’re a sadist then. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, I’m not. Not that.”

“It sounds like you are.”

He scratched his bicep. “No. Sadists like to
inflict
physical pain, they get off on it. I like to spank her, sure, and play rough, but not
hurt
, hurt her.”

“And yet, you think you will. You’re wrong about sadists. There are different types, just as there are different types of anything, subs, bisexuals, spankos. Some are titillated by any and all pain, some like to see or cause physical pain or reactions to it, and others like to cause emotional distress. You just said her reactions, especially her tears, make you stiff. Do you know what dacryphilia is?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Never heard of it.”

“It’s getting turned on watching someone cry.”

His jaw dropped a little when his gaze flew to mine but clammed up after a quick snatch of breath.

“Do you like to get under her skin, push her to the brink of what she can stand and dangle her over it? Do you wish to twist and exploit those sores spots you uncover because deep in your gut it gives you pleasure? Do you like to see her suffer and struggle, even more so, if you make it happen, if you make her cry? It’s not uncommon for them to be closely associated.
Psychological
sadists often bring up tears along with distress and mental anguish when they talk about what turns them on. Some sadists never cause any physical pain at all, they just like to dig into their sub’s mind with their talons. And some like a combination of physical and psychological to witness the anguish they crave to see. It’s more about the response than the actual infliction pain itself. Some even like to kiss and lick tears, to catch each and every drop, because the taste of the salt water they birthed is a huge turn-on. This is basically what you just told me. In your mind, does that sound like you?”