Spanked

Spanked: Dominated Series (Book 1)

(A BDSM Erotic Romance)

by

Kathleen R. Boston

Copyright © 2013 Kathleen R. Boston.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.

Content Warning:
Explicit sexual content. Contains elements of domination, body worship, and public sex. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

Other books by Kathleen R. Boston:

- Tied Up: Dominated Series (Book 2)

◈◈◈‖♣♣♣

I’d always wanted to be a virgin. Not for my entire life, no. Just until I got married.

And for twenty-nine years, I was pretty successful in staying true to myself. It wasn’t because I was not getting any offers of dates from guys almost each and every time I stepped outside my condo.

The offers were there alright, and they came almost everyday.

Non-stop.

From the balding, potbellied gardener working on my neighbor's garden to the tall, gangly UPS delivery guy who seemed to deliver packages every other day to Mr. Whittaker across the street.

They all wanted to know when we could finally go out to dinner, or the movies. The gardener even told me during one of those times, to drop the charade. That he knew I wanted him.

Ha!

It got to where I would just smile, wave and hurriedly walk to my car without uttering a word.

Just two weeks ago, a guy I’d never seen before crashed his car into a tree on the sidewalk right outside my house while sticking his neck out the window.

This, while asking for my phone number!

Crazy.

But my goal was to save myself for Mr. Right and for that reason, I refused to give myself up to just any man.

I’d always believed that one day, the right guy would come along. And
he
would be the one that would get all of me. I'd grown up believing that and I didn't see any reason to change now.

But it hadn’t always been easy. I had a huge obstacle in trying to achieve my goal.

Huge.

And that obstacle was my girlfriends.

Now I loved those girls to death and would do almost anything for them.

But they were "bad girls".

Not bad as in bad people, mind you, just that when we went out to have a good time and they threw a few drinks back, especially Tequila shots, they became super horny.

At least that's what it seemed like to me.

I mean what else would you say when all they did was throw their legs around the waist of every man at the club or bar after drinking Tequila?

In fact, most times I went out with the girls, I would end up going back home alone, each of my girlfriends having found a man to take them back home.

Being the sober girl of the group made it hard for me to stay true to my virginity goal.

Then disaster happened.

No. Not the lying-in-a-hospital-bed kind of disaster with all kinds of tubes and wires running in and out from every part of my body, God forbid.

A different kind of disaster.

But if it had been up to me, I'd rather have been lying in a hospital bed, sick, not able to move a muscle than to have what happened to me, actually happen.

To me, what happened was worse. Way worse.

It all started one rainy Saturday evening when I gave in to my girlfriend’s request to go out and celebrate an acquaintance's birthday.

That day I'd been feeling particularly down because most of my clients, with the exception of old Mr. Larry, who I highly suspected only came over so that he could grope and feel up on my breasts, had canceled on me.

And when clients canceled on me, that meant no money.

As the owner of my own business━I owned and operated a dance studio in downtown Santa Monica, California━my livelihood depended on clients walking in through that front door.

Plus it was raining, a rare thing in Southern California, but there it was.

It was a shitty day through and through.

So when my girlfriend called and invited me to go with her, I jumped at the chance. And not only did I go out with her, but I ended up downing not one, not two, not three, but four shots of Tequila.

Only thing I remember after my last shot, which I'd quickly downed with a bottle of beer mind you, was a handsome guy━fuck, every guy was handsome by this time━approaching me and asking me to dance.

And that was it.

Everything else after that was a blank.

I woke up the next day dazed, groggy and lightheaded, in a strange bed and in the arms of a total stranger. And he wasn't as good-looking as I'd remembered.

I quickly disentangled myself from his arms and propped myself up in the bed, taking a sweeping look at the filthy room as I did so.

Where the hell was I?

I shivered as a cold breeze hit me and I quickly glanced down.

GULP!

For the first time since I’d woken up, I realized that I was totally naked. Not a stitch of clothing on my body anywhere and glancing at him, so was he. His small penis lay limply to the side and on his thigh like a dry sausage.

My head started pounding as a sinking feeling suddenly engulfed my entire being.

This guy lying next to me was snoring heavily and was tossed halfway across the bed. I peered at him closely and the drooling, the heavy snoring, the dirty fingernails that were just visible under the top bed sheet all made me want to throw up right there and then.

Had I just lost my virginity to
him
?

A feeling of dread and shame creeped all over me. It was as if I was covered in slime and I stunk to high heaven.

I immediately felt a burning urge to take a shower. Like immediately.

But I knew one thing.

First of all, I had to get out of there as quietly and as fast as possible. The last thing I needed was for him to wake up and maybe demand to have some more pussy.

He was a big looking guy and I knew I couldn't fight him off if he suddenly woke up and tried anything.

As quietly and slowly as I could, inch by inch, I slid out of that bed, then tiptoed to the corner of the room where my clothes lay in a rumpled-up bunch.

Underneath the clothes were my shoes, thank God. At least I didn't have to grope around searching for them in this nasty room.

What a pig!

I had to get out of here. As quietly as I could and still on my tippy toes, I slowly inched toward the bedroom door, feeling like some sort of cat burglar. The cold breeze slapped hard on my naked skin but I crept on, not wanting to stay there a second longer than I had to.

After what seemed like forever, I finally got to the door without falling over anything. I quickly grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open.

Wouldn't you know it? The door CREAKED!

And loudly!

I froze in my tracks, not daring to look back over my shoulder. Had the creaking door woken Mr. Dirty Fingernails up?

I didn't know but I readied my stance, ready for take-off in case he came after me. I must have stood there forever or so it seemed. I remained still like a greek statue, totally naked, clothes and shoes in one hand while the other hand held the door partially open.

When I couldn’t stand the stiff, crouching position anymore I decided to throw a look over my shoulder and see what was going on behind me.

Relief washed over me when I saw Dirty Fingernails still in the same position.

I couldn't get out of that house fast enough.

An hour later, I sat on my bed, thankful to be back home but pondering a real dilemma. The way I saw it, I had two options.

None of which was particularly palatable to me.

To find out if I had really lost my virginity, I could either go back to the same house I had just run out of as if being chased by a bat out of hell, and then when I got there I would have to confront the snoring, drooling, Mr. Dirty Fingernails guy or I could just wait and see what happened.

Would I get pregnant?

Would I get an STD or something?

I knew the anxiousness of waiting, of not knowing would just about kill me. But then if I went back to Dirty Fingernails' house, who the hell knew what was going to happen there?

I leaned forward and buried my head in my lap. I was torn, confused and desperate. What the hell was I going to do now?

After what seemed like forever, I raised my head up and reached for my cell phone. Maybe my girlfriend━the one who I’d gone to the birthday party with last night━could tell me what had happened.

But when I finally got her on the phone, she said she couldn't recall me leaving.

She told me she'd gone to the bathroom and that when she came back, I'd already left. She'd assumed━probably because that's what she did all the time━that I'd left with the guy I'd been dancing and talking to all night.

So much for having friends with you in a strange place. Might as well go alone.

I threw the phone, disgusted, onto the bed and walked over to my closet which had a full-length mirror in front of it.

My opal-black eyes stared back at me, unflinching. My waist-length, raven black hair looked like it needed a good wash, definitely a brush-over.

"Get yourself together, Katie!" I told myself. "You're twenty-nine years old and a strong independent woman! You can do this!"

I had made my decision.

With my teeth clenched, nostrils flaring and my shoulders squared back, I’d decided that I was going to go back to that damned house.

I’d make Mr. Dirty Fingernails tell me if he’d taken my virginity and if he had I’d also make him tell me if he’d used some kind of protection.

With the decision made, my worries eased off a little bit and twenty minutes later, I was soaking myself in a long, hot bubble bath.

My head was still pounding hard from all the drinking I'd done the night before but at least I knew one thing: I was getting an answer today.

A few hours after I'd run out of the dirty fingernails guy's house, I found myself standing at the front door of that very house.

My insides were churning with fear but I was determined.

I had to find out what had happened the night before.

I'd also come prepared. Inside my big, brown purse, which was hanging on my shoulder, was a can of mace spray. I steeled myself and after a moment's hesitation knocked on the white, wooden door.

No answer.

There were two cars parked in the driveway so I knew somebody had to be there.

I rapped harder on the door and after a few moments I heard footsteps approaching.

My stomach tightened and my right hand creeped into my purse, tightening around the can of mace.

The door opened and at first I thought I was at the wrong house.

But I knew I wasn't because the same nasty smell that I'd smelled before when I'd been there that morning now wafted to my nostrils through the open door.

Standing in front of me was the tallest, most gorgeous man I'd ever seen and I wasn't drunk this time so I knew what I was seeing was real.

His eyes were deep blue and they seemed to pierce through to my very soul, as if he could see what I was feeling, read what I was thinking.

He had a shock of thick, blond hair that made me just want to reach out and run my fingers through.

Which shocked me because never in my life had I met a man that made me feel as if I’d want to touch their hair.

His nose was strong and firm, but a little crooked at the bridge. It made him look tough, as if he’d been in quite a few fights in his life.

"Can I help you?" The drop-dead handsome guy said in a deep baritone voice that reverberated all the way to my core.

Embarrassed, I realized I was staring.

I quickly gathered myself. "I'm sorry...I was expecting somebody else," I said and wondered why the hell I suddenly felt weak in my knees, butterflies in my stomach.