Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories Read online

  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

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Bound, Spanked and Loved: Fourteen Kinky Valentine's Day Stories

  Slab Hands by Annabel Joseph

  Master Class: Initiation by Sierra Cartwright

  Theirs to Punish by Renee Rose

  Lust Angel by Cari Silverwood

  Stepbrother Jerk by Natasha Knight

  His Runaway Valentine by Sue Lyndon

  Rose’s Are Red by Ashe Barker

  His to Take by Kallista Dane

  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.

  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.

  Cover Artist: Mina Carter

  Published in the United States of America

  Sweet Savage Press, LLC

  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.

  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.

  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!

  Slab Hands by Annabel Joseph

  Chapter One: You Need A Spanking

  It 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 walk
ed 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.”

  The seductive tone of his words didn’t match up with his stern, displeased expression. I stood frozen before him, trying to figure out how to respond. Were his lips curving ever so slightly as he regarded me? Was he really angry, or just flirting? The mysterious challenge in his eyes sparked mayhem in my pussy. My lusty, reckless loins were throwing a Spank Me party and this dude was the guest of honor.

  What? No, no, he wasn’t even invited. I wasn’t going to let him spank me. That would be ridiculous. No one had ever spanked me. Despite what I’d blathered to that fucking bitch Sage while staring at his hypnotic muscles, I didn’t want to be spanked for real. Fantasy spanking was cool, but actual spanking was creepy and fetishy and...

  “You... Should... Not...”

  Something in his gaze had now robbed me of the ability to speak. All I could do was utter single words like an idiot.

  “You... Can’t... I... Mean... What...”

  He lost patience with my monosyllabic utterances and brought his two meaty, slab-like palms together in a resounding clap. I jumped.

  “You need a spanking,” he repeated. “Come on, we’ll do it in my car.”

  “Your car?!”

  “I only have fifteen minutes left now,” he said, taking my hand. “We’d better hurry.”

  I sputtered and tried to yank away from him, but he was strong and he was big, and oh hell, I wanted him to spank me.

  Oh God, no, I didn’t!

  My reckless pussy answered, Yes, you do, or you wouldn’t have said it in the first place, and to a perfect stranger, no less.

  “When I told her I wanted you to spank me, I never meant for you to hear it,” I protested as he dragged me toward the middle of the parking lot. “She shouldn’t have told you.”

  “But she did tell me. And I’m perfectly happy to give you the spanking you want.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Then you’ve told even more lies tonight, haven’t you? You don’t just need a spanking. You need a bare bottomed spanking.”

  “What?” I yelped.

  He stopped beside a rugged Jeep. No top.

  “This is your car?”

  He shrugged. “I got used to driving Jeeps while I was in the military.”

  Fuck. So he himself was ex-military, while I’d lied about my fake military boyfriend and oh, so many other things. I was a bad girl, a liar, and he
wanted to spank me for it. He opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, and reached out to me with an expectant expression.

  I stared back at him for two, maybe three seconds.

  I could go to him and let him spank me, and see what happened afterward...or...

  Or I could run away and scream and beat on the door until someone let me back into the club, which was what any sane person would do. My pussy pulsed, reminding me that I’d always fantasized about a big, fine, muscular guy spanking me. He added that I hadn’t been laid in some time and that he was getting impatient. Don’t judge me. I think of my pussy as a male. It’s just that he’s so fucking demanding, kind of like the dude sitting over there in the Jeep.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I said.

  He pointed to his nametag. “You can’t read?”

  I squinted at it. “I usually wear glasses. I don’t wear them when I go out because...” Because vanity. Because they made me look like a nerd. Because I could see okay without them, except when it came to nametags and small print.

  He shook his head slowly. “And she doesn’t wear her glasses,” he said to himself, as if I was truly the world’s naughtiest club slut and he needed to set me straight. “What’s your name, young lady?”

  “Christine.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Here’s how it works, Christine. The longer you stall, the harder I’ll spank you.”

  Jesus. Oh holy precious baby Jesus. “It’s crazy to spank someone,” I said.

  He stuck out a finger. Crooked it. Beckoned me with a dangerously seductive tilt to his lips. “Come here.”

  I let out a breath and went to him. It wasn’t because I wanted to be spanked, because I needed to be spanked with all the subversive fervor in my normally feminist heart. It was because I couldn’t bear the tension any longer.

  That’s what I was going with, anyway. There was no other explanation for my willing participation in this insanity.

  When I was close enough, his arms came around me. He was so big and warm that it felt like an embrace, even though he was really just pushing me down across his thighs. I almost hit my head on the gear shift. “This doesn’t feel safe,” I said.

  “Safest form of sex there is,” he said back.