Walk On The Wild Side

A Total-e-bound Publication

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Halloween Heart-throbs: Walk on the Wild Side ISBN # 978-1-906328-47-4 ©Copyright Sierra Cartwright 2007 Cover Art by Anne Cain ©Copyright October 2007 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz Total-e-bound books This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-e-bound eBooks. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-e-bound eBooks. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK. Warning: Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning

Halloween Heart-throbs

WALK ON THE WILD SIDE Sierra Cartwright

Dedication For JM, and a walk on the wild side.

WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

Sierra Cartwright

5

Chapter One

“You’re having me on.” “You told me to get you a costume for the Halloween party,” Justin said, folding his arms uncompromisingly across his chest. “I did.” “But…” Brianna looked at the outfit that lay on top of the duvet. Her heart stopped for a moment, then galloped forward in a rush of emotion. Then she looked into her fiancé’s deep green eyes. She knew when he was teasing her. Then, his eyes were a lighter shade. But now, they were as verdant as Sherwood Forest after a winter’s rain. “This isn’t exactly what we talked about. It’s not a thing like I was expecting, actually.” She’d had an affinity for the South ever since she’d read Gone with the Wind while she’d attended university. Last week, when they’d talked about going to a costumed party, she’d told him she wanted to be Scarlett O’Hara. She’d pictured him as a perfect Rhett Butler. She’d wear a long, elegant gown and a fabulous hat. He could wear a natty suit. She could simper and sigh, and at the end of the night, he could sweep her up their not-so-grand staircase. It would be a night of fun and yumminess. Instead, he’d gotten her something that was strictly X-rated, shiny, skimpy, and scandalous. A delicious shiver of anticipation and disbelief danced up her spine. He was leading them in the next step to the type of relationship she’d been asking for. Only two articles of clothing, if they could actually be called clothing, lay on the bed. The top piece was a corset that had silver metal studs up the front so it could be laced and then cinched closed. There was an accompanying hipster skirt that would barely cover her bum. A studded belt accompanied the outfit. “It’s what I want you to wear,” he said, his voice containing the sexy huskiness she recognised as arousal.

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Her pulse gave an instinctive little skip. She responded to her man so completely, loved him so totally. “Uhm…” Brianna paused and looked over at him. “Where’s the rest?” “There are shoes in that box.” He nodded towards the end of the bed. “This is it?” She was incredulous. Scandalised. And, ah, turned on. “Let me get this straight. You actually want me to wear this in public?” “I got hard just thinking about you in it.” Still holding the corset, Brianna met her fiancé’s gaze. He stood in the doorway of their bedroom, his left shoulder braced against the jamb. His arms were still folded across his chest, and a lock of deep, dark hair fell across his forehead. “You get hard anytime the wind blows. You give a whole new meaning to a stiff breeze.” “You’re cheeky, Bree.” She grinned. “It wasn’t a compliment.” “Oh.” “But it’s your choice, really. If you’d rather be a Southern priss who deserves a spanking rather than a seductive little hussy who’s actually going to get one, the choice is yours.” “If I wear it, I get spanked? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Wench.” A handful of months ago, she’d mentioned expanding their sexual repertoire. After she’d heard about it from a girlfriend, she’d even dared to mention BDSM. His eyes had gone dark. At first, she’d thought he was horrified. But then a slow smile had spread across his face. Turns out, he’d told her, he’d been involved in several D/s relationships before. He could not have been happier about her suggestion that they explore the boundaries of desire and discipline. She’d taken the seriousness away then, laughing and glibly saying, “I’m more likely to be crowned Queen of England than actually call you Master.” Truth to tell, she’d call him just about anything, as long as she got a good hiding. “Right then,” he’d said. He’d smacked her bum then, hard enough that it had stung. “We’ll be seeing about that, wench. Sub.”

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A part of her, a very naughty part, had melted. The next night, as she lay in his arms, she’d confessed that she’d liked it. She wanted to try it again. He promised she’d be getting a whole lot more of it. The lovemaking that followed had a raw slice of passion to it. “Open the box,” he said now. “Go on. Have a look at the shoes. If you want to be my slut, you’ll have to look like it.” She could hardly string two coherent thoughts together. The Halloween party was tonight, and he actually wanted her to wear this barely there, submissive outfit in front of other people. Did life get any more perfect? She could act out her fantasies, under the guise of a Halloween party. Trick and treat. “Brianna?” He’d never released her gaze. “Go on,” he encouraged again, nodding towards the soft-pink coloured shoe box. She put down the corset and did as he said. She gasped. “Do you like them?” He’d scored. They weren’t just shoes. They were strappy sandals, with a stupid-high heel. No way would she be able to walk properly. “They scream fuck me.” “So they do.” He grinned. “And I will.” “Not just the shoes,” she said. “The whole outfit does.” “Yeah. It does. How’d I do?” “I can’t believe you remembered.” She’d shown him a catalogue about a fortnight ago, a couple of pages earmarked with old, junk mail. She’d drawn a circle around an outfit very similar to this one. “Try on the shoes.” He still hadn’t budged from his post at the doorway. Now, there was a glint of something impatient in his verdant eyes. He was leading her straight into temptation. Grabbing up both of the sandals, she went around to the side of the bed, stopping a couple of metres away from him. Since she’d just gotten in from work, she was still wearing sensible pumps and a skirt that ended a respectful distance below her knees. Her yellow silk blouse buttoned up the front, and she only had the single button at the throat unfastened. With that ferocious look in her fiancé’s eyes, she knew that would change, soon.

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Brianna slid off her pumps. “Take off your pantyhose.” She lifted her skirt and wiggled out of the silk with their subtle control-top feature. She wondered how long she could suck in her stomach to achieve the same effect the pantyhose had. Justin, typical male, didn’t seem to care one way or the other. As long as she was naked, he was happy. Brianna chose to leave on her knickers, though. The lilac-coloured cotton were a stark contrast to the black, shiny PVC material on the bed behind her. Justin watched every single move she made. It was odd, and a bit disconcerting. Even when they went to bed at night, she usually changed into a T-shirt while she was in the bathroom. He’d pull it over her head in one smooth move once they were in bed, but this was different in the light, more intimate, somehow. She bent to slip her foot into the first sandal. Cinderella had nothing on her. Brianna’s very own prince was looking to see if the fit was perfect. The shoes were patent leather, unlike anything else she owned. There was a strap across the bridge of her foot and a second, slightly higher, linked by a third. Finally, there was a wide strap that would fasten slightly above her ankle. Each strap had silver grommets to make the sandals all the more striking. She felt ridiculous, until she looked at him. His eyes had narrowed. And she could see his erection straining against his trousers. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with desire, “Put on the other one, Brianna.” Bending and trying to balance, she put on the second shoe. The fit was perfect. Perfect, but uncomfortable as hell. BDSM wasn’t about comfort, he’d told her, but criminy, who’d have thought you’d start the pain when you were getting dressed? “Pull your skirt above your knees so I can see your calves.” Which assumed she could reach the hem without toppling over. “Nice.” He let out a soft, slow whistle. “You look hot, Bree.” Her heart was thundering. “Now walk towards me.”

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Feeling a bit ridiculous, walking on stilts while holding up her skirt, she nonetheless followed his command. Her centre of balance was thrown off by the sandals. Her breasts stuck out just a tad more than usual, and her rear was thrust back a bit more, as well. Still, she couldn’t deny the tiny thrill that danced up her spine. Naughty was its own reward. She stopped only centimetres away from him. He smelled of the shower he’d taken after working out at the gym, and she noticed that the ends of his hair were still damp. Suddenly she wanted to be in his arms, but he radiated an energy that told her not to try. She was getting hot. Definitely getting hot. “Turn away from me. Slowly.” She complied, completing a half pirouette, nervous, excited by being this much the centre of his attention. “You’re lovely.” Justin gently moved aside the hair that brushed her shoulders. Then, slowly and sensually, he skimmed his knuckles along her nape. Leaning in, he placed a kiss on that tender area. Her knees buckled. But Justin was relentless. He kissed her again, then he gently bit, only to gently soothe away the hurt with the tip of his tongue. “I love you,” he said. She knew that. And she loved him, too. “You’ve been asking for this.” “Thought I was going to have to draw you a picture.” “Are you sure you know what you want? No joking, no turning back.” “I want it. Sooner, rather than later would be good,” she said. “Then go and bend over the bed.” That tone in his voice was back again, the steel that brooked no argument. She remained frozen in place. “Do I need to repeat myself?” He put his hand in her hair and held her tight. He actually sounded serious. Serious and fierce. He truly had been a Master. Now he was hers. Double deliciousness. “Sorry?” he asked. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.” “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t need to repeat yourself.” He let go of her hair, and the strands settled against her shoulders.

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With a couple of fingers pressed against the base of her spine, he nudged her in the direction of their bed. She swallowed, more than conscious of his gaze on her backside. Still holding onto her skirt since he hadn’t told her not to, she walked forward, her gaze all but riveted on the two articles of clothing—if they could be called that—on the bedspread. Damned if they didn’t loom like a spectre there in the artificial overhead light. Would she look as hot in them as he thought she might? She couldn’t wait to find out. Her knees rested along the side of the mattress, and she waited. Would she actually follow his orders? “Bend over.” Her heart thundered as she did. She turned her head to the side so that her cheek lay on the satiny duvet. “Pull your skirt up to your waist.” Her fingers nerveless, she tugged up the material, exposing her still-covered bottom. “I love your arse,” he said. “And I love having you spank it.” Easier to be a smart-mouth when she didn’t have to look at him. His footfall was all-but silent on the carpeted floor. But she knew exactly where he was at every moment. Every nerve ending was afire with anticipation of his touch. “Spread your legs.” She did. “More.” Her thighs were farther apart right now than they had been since she’d taken a gymnastics class as a school girl. With his foot, he nudged her legs even wider. Then he traced a finger up the inside of her right thigh, and skimmed inside her knickers. Her pussy moistened at his touch. He rubbed between her legs. “Hussy.” “Yes.” When he rubbed again, she brazenly pushed her hips back, wordlessly, shamelessly, asking for more. Artfully, he pressed his thumb against her clit. Hard. Then harder. She squirmed. The exquisite pleasure combined with the sear of pain was unbearable. “Justin!”

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He removed his hand. She wiggled in protest, moaning her frustration. Quietly, he asked, “Shall I spank you with your knickers on? Or shall I spank you barearsed?” “Uhm.” She couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single word. “Your decision,” he said, waiting. “What do you want, my lovely bride-to-be?” She wanted him to make the choice. Any way, she wanted to say, just get on with it. But his patience was unending “Bare-arsed,” she said finally. “Good. Take off your knickers without getting up.” She wiggled and squirmed, trying not to drop her skirt as she worked the cotton knickers past her hips and down her thighs. She must be quite a sight. But he wasn’t protesting. “You may close your legs for your spanking since I’ll be delivering it with my hand. Next time, when I use a belt, you can keep your legs spread so the leather hits your arse and your cunt.” Shocked at his words, she started to lift her head, only to have him push on her shoulders, forcing her back down. “Hold your position, girl.” He sounded so forceful. If she weren’t careful, she just might end up calling him “Master.” The idea nearly made her swoon. “You bought a book last week.” He continued his torturing touch. She gasped. “How…?” “You left your laptop computer turned on.” And the e-book was saved in her document folder. “Don’t you think you should be spanked for reading that kind of naughty material behind my back?” She was going out of her mind from his words, from the delirium of his touch. “Hmm?” “Yes. And if you thought that was naughty, Justin, I was reading it the other night when you went out to play darts. I was reading about a tawse, and I imagined you using one on me. I got so turned on, I had to use my vibrator and a dildo at the same time. I came hard.”

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“A tawse, is it? You do tempt me, woman.” Well…yeah. “I want you to ask for it. Tell me you want it. Tell me you need it. Tell me you’ll submit to my touch.” He paused. “To my punishment.” His hand stilled. Bugger all; the man was refusing to give her any more pleasure. “Well?” he asked. He pulled away his hand entirely. “Spank me, Justin! Please.”

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Chapter Two

Justin looked at the sexy curve of his fiancée’s derrière. He was so hot for her, it was all he could do not to drop his pants and fuck her until she screamed his name. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. She was intrigued by BDSM and wanted to play. The how-to material on her computer proved that. If it hadn’t, her responsiveness, along with her sopping wet cunt and the fact she constantly goaded him, would. He’d known he wanted to marry her months ago. Her sense of humour, her drive to succeed at work, the way she treated his mother, her quick smile, all of that, along with her luscious body ensnared him. Any man would be lucky to have her. That she had latent submissive tendencies was the icing on the cake. Who knew he’d win the Big Lottery when it came to a future bride? “What’s your spanking for, Brianna?” “Because…” His hand itched to connect with that soft flesh. He wanted to feel the heat, wanted her to feel the sear of his passion. “Because?” he prompted. “Because I read naughty things on the computer.” “No.” “Because I played with myself and really enjoyed it?” She was impossible. “No, again,” he said. “Because you want to? Or because I want you to?” “Ah. No.” “No?” “Then it’s because—” “Your spanking is because you read the material behind my back. I want to share that with you, I want you to come to me and discuss it. Do you understand me?” “Yes.” “How many spanks do you deserve?” “Uhm… Three?”

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He raised a brow, even though she couldn’t see it. “Four?” When he remained silent, she tried again. “Five. And that’s my final offer.” He grinned, and he was grateful she couldn’t see it. “Bree?” He saw the shudder that traced up her spine. “Yes?” “For future reference, we start at eight and go up from there.” “Eight?” The word was a hoarse croak. “And go up?” “Eight,” he confirmed. “But I’ll knock off two for you volunteering to take it on your bare arse.” He waited. And waited. “What?” she asked when the silence had grown and stretched interminably. He tapped her right buttock twice and said, “Manners.” “Oh.” “I said I’ll knock off two for you volunteering to take it on the bare arse.” “Oh. Right! Thank you!” “As a reminder, I could add a couple of extra strokes for having to prompt you—” “No. I mean, thank you for your generosity.” “That’s much better,” he approved. “I’m ready.” “Good to know.” Maybe he should spank her for not reading enough. Their next discussion would be about ‘topping from the bottom.’ The sub didn’t get to manipulate her Dom into doing what she wanted him to do. He delivered the first slap rather gently, then followed it with a second and a third. “Your bum is turning a beautiful shade of pink.” She wiggled alluringly. He’d have to make her stop that…eventually. As for now, he was enjoying the sight. “How many was that?” he asked. “Four.” “I thought you knew a thing or two about mathematics.” As a Chartered Certified Accountant, she ran arithmetic circles around most people he knew. “It was three,” she corrected.

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“In future, girl, it will behoove you to be honest.” “I lost count.” “Bree.” He sighed. “Three,” she said dutifully. He caught her off-guard with the next two spanks. He landed them in rapid succession, one on top of the other. She whimpered. “Those were meant to hurt,” he told her. “A spanking, a beating, a cropping…” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Or even a caning…” She sucked in a shallow breath. “As you know, any of them can have a number of purposes. You can be beaten for punitive reasons. For example…” He added the sixth swat right on top of the last two. She yelped. His hand was warm. “Like that,” he said. Her hands fisted into the material of her skirt, but she didn’t protest, didn’t try to squirm away. “You have been reading,” he said. “I am trying to be a good… A good…” She trailed off. “Say it,” he prompted. “A good sub.” “Good girl.” His cock was so hard he could barely think. “Fuck me, Justin.” Through his trousers, he stroked his cock. “Maybe tomorrow.” “Damn you!” “What happened to you being a good sub?” “That’s all well and good—” “In a book?” He rubbed his palm over the red welt on her bum. She shamelessly pushed back, seeking more. “There are rules, Brianna, to every game, including BDSM. The question is, do you want to play?” “Justin…” “Before you answer, think about it. Do you really want to play, or do you just want to get spanked and fucked? If that’s all you want, fine. We can manage that. But if you want to be more serious, we’ll do it my way.”

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“I—” “Don’t answer. I’m going to leave you there to think about it. Spread your legs.” He watched her slowly follow his command. Her breaths were shallow, and he saw her clench and unclench her fists as she fought for control over her emotions. She might have thought they were at a critical point earlier, when he made her beg for a spanking. But this was the real moment. “I don’t want you to move. I want you to think about the answer to my question.” He went into the master bathroom. He splashed water on his face, needing to clear his brain. When he returned, she was still where he left her, in exactly the same position. “Well, Brianna?” “I want to play.” “You’ll be left like this more often,” he warned. She nodded against the duvet. “I know.” “A submissive thinks of her master’s pleasure more than her own.” Her fingers splayed, that tell-tale revelation of her inner thoughts. “Do I get a KAO out of it?” He bit. “KAO?” “Kick ass orgasm.” He landed another swat, right on top of the previous one. “I imagine you might.” “Then yes. I want to submit.” “Not just an occasional spanking as foreplay?” “I want to submit, Justin.” “Then thank me for the spanking I gave you.” “I was remiss,” she said. “It was.” “Thank you.” He was silent. He could stand here all evening, looking at her delectable body, so beautifully displayed and arousing. She rocked from side to side a little, maybe to take off some of the pressure from having her legs spread so wide in her ‘fuck me’ shoes. “There are other kinds of beatings. Ones meant to arouse.” “I couldn’t be more aroused,” she said.

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“Care to wager?” He’d seen her at the horse races. She was a shrewd woman who didn’t like to lose. She’d taught herself never to take a long shot. Surprising him, she laughed. “I’ll take the bet.” He raised his brows. “Really?” “Twenty quid.” “You only bet when you’re sure you’ll win.” “Justin, this is a bet I can’t lose. If you make me hotter, I win. Even if you don’t, I get the benefit of your focused attention on my arousal.” She was too smart for her own good. He’d have her twenty quid off her. And he’d deny her KAO, no matter how prettily she begged.

Nerves collided with excitement and did a slow dance through her stomach. His first spank, landed across her buttocks, made her sigh. It wasn’t hard and stinging like the last, instead, it was lighter. He was a masterful Master. What if she’d missed out on this? “Spread your legs, Bree.” She did, even though her mind seemed to be swimming in honey. She couldn’t believe Justin had spent all this time in making her fantasies come true. Brianna expected him to land a spank on her inner thigh or on her pussy, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued to beat her in the same place, with about the same pressure. Her hips jerked when he stroked her gently between the legs. Without warning, he inserted a finger in her back hole, and then pulled it out just as quickly, leaving her reeling. “Justin!” He continued with the spanking, the occasional light touches on her clitoris, and the intrusion into her most private space. Mad… He was driving her mad. “You’re getting more and more moist. I can smell the sweet scent of you. It makes me want to get on my knees and lick you.” She shuddered.

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Since the beginning, sex had been good between them. She loved being in his arms and making love. But this…this was a whole new level of eroticism and trust. She loved him before, but her feelings had intensified and grown over the past few weeks. “Are you more aroused than you were earlier?” “Justin!” He pressed his thumb on her clit. A climax loomed, building deep inside her, all of her nerve-endings on fire. But she couldn’t quite get there. His touches were carefully calculated to keep her orgasm just out of reach. She pushed back against him, seeking, reaching, asking. He pulled away his hand, and then gave her another smart swat on her rear before moving away. “You’ve a mean streak,” she protested. “Are you more aroused than you were?” Her whole body throbbed with need. “Yes.” “Good. Then get ready for the party.” “I…” “Yes?” “I’m begging you. I want to come.” Shamelessly, she started to grind her own cunt into the mattress. “Stop that, naughty hussy.” Instead of another smack like she expected, like she hoped she’d get, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her up. She wobbled, from the feeling of being overwhelmed, excited, and deprived, as well as from the height of the shoes. He turned her to face him. “You’ve taken me places I didn’t know existed.” “There’s more to come, Bree.” Releasing her, he stroked his fingers through her hair, feathering the strands back from her cheeks. “You’ve got twenty minutes to get dressed. You can pay your bet later.” He left the room. The door closed behind him.

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Instead of getting changed, she sank onto the side of the bed, struggling to get her breathing under control. She’d thought she’d known what she was asking for when she wanted to explore the nuances of BDSM with her fiancé. But she hadn’t been prepared for how totally overwhelming it would be. All she wanted, and so, so much more. “Oh, and Bree?” he opened the door and stuck his head back inside. “Do not touch yourself. Your orgasms belong to me now.” She met his gaze. He wasn’t kidding. He’d meant it earlier when he’d asked her if she wanted to play. He’d given her an out. Instead of taking it, she’d asked for more. Without waiting for a response, he closed the door again, this time with a decisive click. Brianna remembered her grandmother’s warning from years gone by. Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it. She thought about being disobedient. As horny as she was, it’d take less than a minute for her to come. She could do it quietly, well, probably she could do it quietly. Chances were, he’d never even know, and she’d take off this distracting edge. But she didn’t. If she was going to play, she was going to play by the rules. Even if that made her a knot of hormones and frustration. Recognising she’d stalled long enough, she took off her shoes, then reached for the outfit on the bed. She was really going to do it. From the nerves and anticipation, she felt herself getting even hotter. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unbuttoned the blouse she’d worn to work. She let the silk shirt slide down to the floor. She realised she wouldn’t be able to wear anything underneath the top he’d gotten for her, so off came her bra. The top had underwires so her breasts would be supported, at least somewhat. But she hadn’t anticipated the boning in the material. It made it much more form-fitting, if not comfortable. She pulled the ties tight across the front.

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The result was better than she anticipated, she realised. Her breasts were high, her waist slimmer. When she passed out from being unable to breathe, at least she’d look good. Then… She considered the micro-mini hipster skirt. It was one thing to fantasise about wearing something slightly scandalous, another to realise someone other than Justin would soon be looking at her exposed body. What to do about knickers? The pictures she’d seen in advertisements hadn’t really addressed that. So… Really, it was up to Justin, wasn’t it? If he wanted her bare-arsed, bare-arsed she’d be. She stepped into the skirt, wriggled it over her thighs and hips, then slid up the side zipper and fastened the oversized belt. Her midriff was exposed, along with her legs. Her bum was barely covered. No way would she be bending over tonight, no matter what kind of trick or treat was offered. “Five minutes,” he called from down the hallway.

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Chapter Three

Brianna’s blood skidded to an immediate stop before rushing on. The PVC outfit was a tad on the too-tight, scantily short side. He would have realised exactly that when he bought it. She slid back into the shoes and fastened them closed before grabbing a large can of hairspray from the top of her bureau. She fluffed her hair, making it look wild and unkempt. Then she sprayed the hell out of it. Not a strand was going anywhere without her permission. Brianna added a few coats of dark mascara to her eyelashes, then a rich red colour to her lips. There was more confidence looking back at her from the mirror than she felt coming from the inside. Fake it until you make it. Another of granny’s favourite sayings. “Meet me downstairs,” he shouted. She used up every one of her allotted twenty minutes before heading downstairs, her right hand lightly curled over the banister for balance. She wasn’t prepared for the sight of Justin. She might be wearing next-to-nothing, but the same wasn’t true for him. He’d changed his clothes in their guest room. He wore black motorcycle boots and black jeans, along with a white T-shirt accented by a black leather vest. The outfit made his hair look even darker, his green eyes even more startling. If she hadn’t already been in love with him, she’d have fallen right then and there. “You look hot,” she said. “And you’re beyond sexy,” he said. “Even better than I imagined.” In that minute, she did feel sexy. Never mind the little bit of extra weight that came with working a desk job, all that mattered was what he thought. “You’ve pleased me,” he said. She smiled, resisting the impulse to pull down on the skirt’s all-but-non-existent hem. “How’re the shoes?” “Vicious little monsters. Toe-eating, evil ghouls.”

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“They look good.” “Well then. That settles that. As long as I look good for you, who cares if I walk around hobbled like a lame horse?” “You’re right again.” “Toad!” He smiled and captured her chin with his long, strong fingers. She closed her eyes, expecting a kiss. Then she opened them quickly when he snapped, “Turn around and bend over. Clasp your ankles.” Licking her lower lip, she did. “Faster.” She spun, nearly losing her balance. But she hurried to follow his order. As she leaned over, cool autumn air caressed her bare flesh, making goose bumps chase down her arms. “No knickers?” His voice was a bit hoarse. Even though he tried to pretend aloofness, she saw through it. This, this exploration, even though he was experienced, was as thrilling for him as it was for her. “I thought about it,” she said, “and I decided if you’d wanted me to wear them, you would have included them.” Tightly, she held on to her ankles. Her hair brushed the floor, and she felt exposed, and a little unsure of how to act. “Just call me Sherlock Holmes.” Even though this was what she had been asking for, what she wanted, it was still nerve wracking. It was one thing for Brianna to play with herself and fantasise, it was another entirely to stand here so vulnerable. And the evening hadn’t yet begun. “You were right, Sherlock.” He slid a finger into her moist vagina. She fought to remain still, but it was a struggle. His touch made her desperate for a release. She wasn’t into delayed gratification. By nature, she was multiply orgasmic, and quite frankly, wanted a couple of them, now, rather than when it suited him. “We should have started playing months ago,” he said. She didn’t point out that she’d been asking for exactly that. “I love the sight of your pussy, all moist and open in invitation.” He continued to slide a finger in and out. She moaned, her knees bending slightly. “Keep still,” he told her. “Unless I tell you to move.”

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“But…” “But nothing,” he said, the words soothing, even though his tone was uncompromising. “You’re the sub.” He lightly smacked her cunt. “Ah!” She couldn’t remain still. She had to climax, had to… “Are there any questions?” She shook her head. “Then repeat what I told you.” What he’d told her? The man was finger-fucking her, her cunt was on fire, she was hanging upside down, couldn’t think, and her vision was clouded by a pink haze of desire. “Repeat what I said,” he prompted again. “A good sub pays complete attention to what her master says.” “I said I was a sub. I never said I was a good one.” He gave her a smart slap for that one. She gasped, but her pussy became even damper. “You said I had to remain still unless you gave permission for me to move.” “Good girl.” He stroked her, bringing her to that exquisitely painful edge of desire. “I need…” “Keep hold of your ankles.” With those words, he shoved two fingers deep inside her. She felt stretched wide. So, so needy. “Please, Justin, I have to…” “Come.” Screaming, writhing, shaking, she did. Wave after wave of the climax hit her, making her jerk against his penetrating fingers. She didn’t recall ever having an orgasm that intense before. Totally a KAO. Still, she wanted him, wanted his cock deep inside her, filling her, pounding her, possessing her. “Justin…” “Suck my cock, girl.” Sensations assaulted her. Her arse smarted from his smacks. Her vagina felt stretched and abused. Her clit throbbed. She felt light-headed and dizzy from hanging her head upside down. Her entire body was tingling from pinpricks of awareness.

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Was this what it was like to take that walk on the wild side? Overwhelming? It could be addictive. Justin helped her into position in front of him. His help was a good thing. She doubted she was capable of moving by herself right now. Looking up at him, she unfastened his belt, then fumbled with the button and zipper. A surprise for her. “Justin!” He was commando. He generally wore boxers, but finding his cock erect and thrusting in her direction turned her on. Hungrily she took him in her mouth, gagging when he hit the back of her throat. She started to pull back, but he held onto her, digging his hands into her hair. He was more forceful than he’d ever been before. She felt a little overwhelmed. Slightly thrilled. Completely unnerved. He was so erect, his cock turgid. It was hard to take it, but knowing he liked it was all she needed. Her jaws ached as he fucked her mouth, but she savoured the taste of that first drop of pre-cum. He stopped before ejaculating, and she leaned back on her heels and blinked in confusion. He stepped back a few centimetres, and she licked the slit of his cock one last time. “I want my taste on your tongue.” “It is.” “And I want you to know you’re my woman.” He leaned down and tipped back her chin. “There’s no confusion about that,” she assured him. He adjusted himself and pulled up the zipper carefully. She watched him fasten his belt buckle, all sorts of wild thoughts dashing through her mind. Why wouldn’t he make love to her upstairs? Why hadn’t he come in her mouth? He’d never before stopped her when she was giving him head. He enjoyed the experience too much. In fact, as far as he was concerned, she didn’t do it often enough.

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She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and started to stand, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move,” he said. She remained right where she was, on her knees in their foyer. He walked off, towards his home office. Her insides were a knot of unease. He didn’t return right away, leaving her waiting. She reminded herself she’d asked for this, asked for him to take the lead in a BDSM relationship. She’d told him she didn’t just want an occasional swat. She wanted to submit to him. She wondered, a little desperately, if she’d really had any idea what that would mean. She knew she’d be subject to his whims, his moods, his decisions. But she hadn’t realised how much it would demand from her emotionally. It was one thing to physically take a beating, another to remain on your knees when it was bloody uncomfortable. Then she realised what was happening. Control. She was learning it; he was exerting it. The power dynamic of a BDSM relationship. All her senses seemed to be on hyper-alert as she listened intently for sound of his movements. She wanted to know what he was doing, what he was planning. Surely he wasn’t just leaving her here to prove a point. After all, they had a party to go to. He returned less than a minute later. It might as well have been an eternity. “Lift up your hair,” he said. Frowning, she did so. “What…?” “Lift up your hair,” he repeated with no irritation or impatience. His patience made her want to be all the more obedient. “You’re going to be collared tonight,” he said. A shudder started at the base of her spine and skittered all the way to the nape of her neck. “Collared?” “Nothing fancy,” he explained. “Just a way to let others know you’re taken.” “I have a ring. Even rabbits don’t need that many karats.” He smiled, and she held onto it like a lifeline. In a world suddenly upside down, she needed something familiar to centre her.

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“Your engagement ring isn’t exactly the Hope diamond, Bree. And regardless. You’ll wear my collar, as well. Keep your hair up.” He showed her the collar. It was simple. Black. PVC. It was a perfect match to the rest of her outfit. “Tell me you want it.” She did. “Yes.” She cleared her throat again and tried again, a little more forcefully. “I want to wear your collar.” He buckled it in place at the back of her neck. She could hardly hear anything above the thunder of her own heartbeat. Even without permission, she let go of her hair to touch her collar. “You’ll leave it on until I tell you to take it off.” This was so dizzyingly real. “One more thing. A safe word. Before we go out, you need a word that will stop our play immediately.” “Gin and tonic.” “Gin and tonic?” He drew his brows together in a puzzled, completely charming way. She did enjoy it when she caught him off guard. And the way he was keeping her topsy-turvy right now, he deserved it. “I hate it, anything with tonic. Gin and tonic. Vodka and tonic. Tonic and tonic.” She all but turned up her nose. “I would never accidentally ask for it.” “And you’ll remember it?” “It’s your favourite drink,” she said. Then she batted her eyes. “You’re the only thing I think about it.” “In your next life, wench, be a salesperson. On your feet. I’ll bring around the car.”

Like a well-behaved sub, Brianna waited for him near the front door. She hadn’t fetched a coat to put on. It was Halloween, after all. Even though it was a damp and chilly evening, going out dressed like this was part of the evening’s treat. There wasn’t another night of the year they’d get away with this, so he was going to enjoy every second. He leaned against the car’s bonnet and watched her walk down the path.

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Damn, the sight of her, all exposed limbs and midriff, PVC material and heels, made him hard. Her hair was more unkempt than she usually allowed it to be, and the layer of lipstick, some of which had smeared onto his cock, made her seductive. The shoes looked as though they made it all but impossible to walk. The heels slowed her down, changed her gait, made her much more conscious of her own body and her movements. She was… Completely, alluringly feminine. She dressed for work in corporate armour, wanting to be taken seriously in a profession still dominated by a lot of men. This side of her, feminine, and all his, was enough to drive him out of his mind with lust. “Keep your legs spread,” he said when he opened the car door for her. “I want your naked arse on the leather seat.” With that, he nipped at her ear. Her knees buckled. He caught her. He would have preferred to sweep her into his arms and go back inside the house. Fucking her was the only thing on his mind. “In you go,” he said. He helped her into the car. He smelled her heat, the soft musk of arousal. Maybe he should have let her finish sucking him off. But it would be better if they waited for tonight, when they arrived home after the party, after she fully understood what he expected of her. If she was still willing, he would claim her, purposefully, intentionally, accepting her submission. She didn’t quite realise the scope of tonight’s party. Soon, though, she would. “Finger your pussy,” he told her. She looked at him, and her mouth went slack with shock. He stopped at a traffic light and looked at her. “You want me to masturbate in the car.” Good for her. It wasn’t a question. “Don’t orgasm,” he said. She licked at her lower lip. By the time they got across town, there’d be none of that pouty shade of lipstick left on her mouth. She didn’t argue. Instead, she moved her hand between her legs and began to touch herself. “I don’t think I’ve really twiddled myself in front of you before.”

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“You’ll be doing it more often. It pleases me.” He turned on the radio and found a satellite station playing Halloween music. The Purple People Eater. Perfect. He cranked up the volume. “Play with yourself in time to the music. Dance, as it were, in your seat.” “I…” She shook her head, and then she laughed. “Why the hell not?” She sang along and gyrated. She dipped her fingers in the heat of her slit and then sank down a bit lower in her seat, parted her legs even farther and arched her back. Uhh… Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Her motions gave the words a whole new meaning. And that kept him very focused on his very own long horn with its one big eye… Then she belted out, not at all in time with the song, “Do eat me!” “I don’t think those are the right lyrics.” “Close enough,” she said. “So, are you…?” “Am I what?” “Going to eat me? You’re always supposed to eat things that are naughty on Halloween. You know, treats.” “Brianna…” She got her fingers all moist from her pussy, and then put her hand right in front of his face. “Go on,” she said. “Lick my juices. Pretend you’re eating me.” “You’re impossible, Bree.” Driving down the road at over seventy kilometres per hour, he licked and sucked, treating her fingers as if it were her clit and his head was buried between the firmness of her delectable thighs. “I’m so horny for you.” He continued to suckle. “Uhm,” she said, wriggling in the passenger seat. “What are the consequences for climaxing without your permission?” “Deprivation,” he said. “Being denied an orgasm for a period of time, a few days, say.” “What? That’s just mean.” Without slowing, he regarded her. “Little one, punishment is punishment. You’re not supposed to enjoy it.” “Oh. That.” “And by being obedient, you avoid punishment.” “Then I’ll never get spanked again?”

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He sighed, but he held onto her hand. With his thumb, he stroked her palm. “We talked about the different kinds of beatings. Punitive, erotic. But, Bree, if you misbehave to get a spanking, then you’re trying to dictate the terms of the relationship.” He exerted a little pressure on her hand. “And that is not going to happen. Are you clear on that?” She stuck out her lower lip. Oh, yeah. He’d have to be real careful with her. She was a master. With a smile, a pout, a tease, she was able to bend him to her whims.…topping from the bottom. Sometimes she was so beautifully subtle that he didn’t even realise it was happening. “You’ve been reading, Bree. You know how this works.” “Yeah,” she agreed, “but I didn’t know you realised how it worked.” He laughed then. “So you were going to train me to master you the way you wanted to be mastered.” “Ex-actly!” She broke the word into two distinct syllables. “Then you are more in charge than I am.” “Well…” “You can leave that at the front door when you come home every night, wench. When you return to me, you’ll be expected to be properly submissive. And that does not include topping from the bottom.” “Damn and tarnation.” She wrinkled her face into a frown. “You’re onto me.” “Keep playing with your pretty little pussy.” He released her hand. “Can I ask where we’re going? I assumed the party was in town.” “It’s not.” Because he knew it would slowly drive her out of her mind, he didn’t supply any more information. Instead, he continued away from the city and out into the country. “Can I stop playing with myself?” He raised his brows, and he was very aware of her watching his reactions. “I was only asking,” she said. He ignored the pout and kept both hands on the wheel, ignoring her. Well, not exactly ignoring her. She’d think he wasn’t paying attention, but he was aware of every movement, every moan. He also sensed her confusion. It wouldn’t do any good to remind her she’d asked for this. If they were going to have a loving D/s relationship, she had to learn to trust him. “Tonight’s Halloween,” he reminded her. “All about tricks and treats. As many of each as you want.”

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A quarter of an hour later, they pulled into a long, elegantly sweeping driveway, lined with a precisely clipped hedgerow. “What is this place?’ “Lick your fingers,” he said. He slid her a sidelong glance. She paused for a second, but did as he said, without an argument. Progress. He braked to a stop. Two uniformed valets hurried over. A woman opened the door for him, while a young man, wearing a red bow tie and tight black trousers, and nothing else but shoes, assisted Brianna from the car. “Some party,” she said. “Indeed,” Justin said, coming around for her. He offered his arm. “You’ll want to be very obedient tonight.” “You’re making me nervous.” He grinned. “Your fantasies await,” he said. Her gaze was fixed on the house, if it could be called a house. Estate was more like it. She had no idea he knew people who moved in these kinds of circles. “This isn’t a Halloween party, is it? The valet with the bare chest that managed to glisten in the moonlight was my first clue.” “Ah, Sherlock Holmes at work again, I see,” Justin said. “It is a Halloween party. And more.” “More?” Her voice was little more than an adorable squeak. His woman was flip and irreverent, and seeing her so off-balance held a lurid appeal that he enjoyed. Having her hold on so tightly to him fired his protective instincts. He would always take care of her and make certain she knew how much he appreciated her. “We’ll be with like-minded people, Bree.” “Meaning…” She swallowed, and she twisted her hands in front of her. “Like Doms and subs?” “As well as masters and slaves,” he added. “How did you…?” “We were invited, Bree.” He stopped and captured her shoulders. “Tell me, again, what your safe word is.” Even in the dim lighting that lined the path, he saw her swallow deeply. “Your safe word,” he prompted.

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She wrinkled her nose. “Gin and tonic.” He kissed her on the tip of that cute nose. “I love you.” “I’ve got a case of nerves that would tie my knickers in a knot.” “Good thing you’re not wearing them.” “Yes, well, I’m sure I flashed the valet.” “I’m certain you did.” Her mouth opened, and then closed. That was a change. A nice one. “You wanted a walk on the wild side. Your wish is my command.”

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Chapter Four

“Well that’s likely my last command,” she said. “Likely,” he agreed. Her pulse was thready, and adrenaline hit her system in spikes. It was one thing entirely to read about BDSM, to have him explain it to her, and it was another thing entirely to immerse herself in the lifestyle. “I think I’m scared.” “I will be with you every step of the way.” “I…” “You’re ready.” She looked into his eyes and wished she could read him better. “You’ll be okay,” he assured her. “There’s no one I’ve ever loved like I love you. When I proposed, I had already thought it through, Bree. I will love, honour, and protect you.” “I know that.” She did. Really. Well, mostly. “I trust that.” “Then we’re ready to go in.” He released her shoulders, and it was as if a lifeline had vanished. She was swimming in a sea of uncertainty. She latched onto the arm he offered. As they neared the house, music rocked the night air, a pounding, sexy electro sound. Light blazed from the windows. A woman held open the door for them. The valet hadn’t worn enough to keep him anywhere close to warm. And the woman holding the door wore even less, a bra that barely covered her nipples, and a black, lace apron. Brianna wasn’t sure if the woman wore anything beneath. “Welcome, sir.” She curtseyed to Justin and all but ignored Brianna. A tuxedoed waiter who was—unbelievably—fully dressed, offered a champagne flute to Justin. He took one. “Anything for the slave, sir?” He shook his head, shocking her. “Not at this time.” “I want—”

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He raised his brows. She snapped her mouth shut. When the waiter walked away, Justin looked at her. Now that she could read his expression, she wished she couldn’t. There was a heated mix of emotion in his eyes. She saw irritation there, and something deeper, darker, that she couldn’t quite read. “Isn’t what you want irrelevant?” More softly, he said, “In a D/s’s relationship, shouldn’t what I want matter?” She nodded. That was the theory, anyway. Nothing she read deprived her of bubbly when she needed the shot of courage it would provide, and nothing they’d discussed deprived her, either. He didn’t move them farther into the room, instead, he stood there, drinking from the exquisite flute. Lout. “I want you fully conscious and aware. I am giving you no excuse to later say that you were under the influence.” She nodded. It made sense, if you thought like he did. The music throbbed through her in a primal beat, and the sights of all the other guests surprised her, and, if she were honest, made her hot, wet. She’d never looked at women before, but she was fascinated, especially by the two in the cage suspended from the ceiling in the centre of the room. They were both dancing, neither of them touching, but she watched in fascination, half hoping they’d do just that. Her mind was spinning. There were women on leashes, a man giving a woman an open-mouthed kiss, and any number of submissives, men as well as women, on their knees. One man even affectionately stroked a woman’s hair as she knelt and he conversed with another woman. Brianna felt as if she had fallen down a rabbit hole into an alternate universe. She doubly wished she had a drink. “Another, sir?” the waiter asked, appearing at Justin’s side. The man hadn’t missed a trick. And if she were going to be any kind of servant to please him, she had a long way to go. Justin accepted a second glass and completely ignored her. Now wasn’t this fun? “Justin! Bloody glad you made it.”

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Brianna was all-but ignored by the man who joined them. He shook Justin’s hand in an enthusiastic welcome. Justin was tall, but this man towered over him by a good handful of centimetres. He was lean, and all at once she recognised him as a footballer. How in the hell did Justin know someone who played for Manchester United? And was this his house? “And this must be Brianna.” Suddenly, consumingly, she was the centre of their attention. The music seemed to recede and the only sound was the echo of her own heartbeat. Now, she wished for the comfort of anonymity again. “You were right. She is beautiful.” She didn’t know how to behave. Offer her hand? Lower her eyes? “Brianna, Tommy Stott.” As if she didn’t know. “Is she trained?” “Obviously not. Otherwise she wouldn’t be standing.” Oh. A clue as to how to behave. Right. She was Sherlock Holmes tonight. She quickly, awkwardly, lowered herself to her knees. No one would ever call her “Grace.” But Justin didn’t seem displeased. “May I touch?” Forget the sound of her heartbeat. She couldn’t breathe. There was no heartbeat to hear. Justin paused for a moment, and she knew he was giving her time to use her safe word. But she didn’t. She wanted that walk on the wild side. Even though her mouth was dry as cotton baking in the sun, she wanted this. “Please,” Justin said in invitation. Her pussy was so damp, she knew both men had to have noticed her scent. Tommy leaned down and cupped her breasts. She knew he wasn’t getting much of a feel through the material, but the sight of another man’s hands on her breasts, while her man watched, thrilled the hell out of her. “If Master wouldn’t mind, I’d have a go at her.” What? A man, a head shorter than Tommy walked over. Nattily dressed in a pair of navy khakis and a shirt unbuttoned at the throat, the man exuded power and confidence.

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Her mouth fell open as she watched Tommy Stott, athlete extraordinaire, as well as a man sought by half the women in the UK, bow in submission when the man stopped next to him. “Martin Smythe,” Justin told her, just loud enough that she could hear. “Checking out Justin’s slave, were you, Tommy?” “Yes, Master.” He flushed. Master? This man was Tommy Stott’s Dom? Absolutely impossible. The night was getting stranger and stranger. “And?” the smaller man prompted. “What would you like to have happen?” He licked his bottom lip and lowered his head. “I’d like to suckle her.” Tommy Stott wanted to suck on her breasts? The shorter man laughed. “He’s a breast man,” he said to Justin. How much more bizarre could the evening get? If the look in Justin’s eyes was anything to go by, she was about to find out. “Stand,” Justin told her. Mercifully, he offered a hand. Seeing him in his role as a Dom outside of their home was shocking. Shocking and arousing. “Your choice,” he said against her ear. “I will never force you to do anything like this. But if you’re curious…?” “Anything you say, Master.” “Irreverent imp.” “Yes,” she said. “I’ll do it.” “This isn’t to please me.” “I know.” With a nod, he conversationally said, “Unfasten your corset, Brianna.” Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the knot that cinched the material closed. She was aware that all three men formed a semi-circle around her. Her back was to the wall, so she had as much privacy as possible in the room. Not that it mattered. No one in here was interested in her in the least. The food, the lovely women, the hot men, the flow of champagne… This little corner of the room didn’t exist for anyone but the four of them. Finally, her chest rising and falling fitfully, she uncinched the PVC corset. Her breasts spilled free, unfettered. She felt so wonderfully free, so completely naughty. “Hands behind your back,” Justin told her.

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He sounded different tonight than he had at home in the past, as if he’d given commands dozens, hundreds of times, with the expectation they’d be instantly followed. Just what did she not know about the man she’d promised to marry? How many more secrets did he have? And what did that mean for them? “On your knees,” Martin told his sub. “Brianna, move in closer, if you please.” Blinking, she looked to Justin for direction. He nodded. Tommy, as tall as he was, was the perfect height when he was on his knees. He’d barely have to bend to reach her breasts. “Is your sub allowed to come?” Martin asked. “Absolutely not.” As close to the edge as she already was, he was forbidding her an orgasm? Again? With her hands behind her back, her breasts were thrust forward. When Martin snapped his fingers, the footballer leaned in and sucked her right nipple into his mouth. Her eyes closed and she released her hands, wanting to dig her fingers into his hair, drawing him closer. “Good, Bree.” Justin’s words were spoken softly. In this mad, mad world, he was a solid anchor. Tommy pressed her nipple against the roof of his mouth. She wanted to swoon. He was a breast man, and he was good at it. “That’s it,” Martin encouraged. “Nice and gently. Suck her tits good.” She was so far gone, she barely registered the crudity of his language. Tommy cupped her left breast, holding it steady as he latched on to it. He gently abraded her breasts and then pushed them together so he could quickly alternate sucking on her nipples. Over the top of Tommy’s head, she could see Justin. His breathing was shallow, like her own, and an erection thrust against the front of his jeans. Served him right. She hoped he was suffering the same kind of sensual death that she was. Tommy had her left nipple in his mouth, and she was unprepared when he gave her right one a vicious little twist. The pain was delicate, exquisite, and her knees buckled. “Do not come,” Justin warned. With his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, Tommy teased and manipulated. She moaned and jerked her hips, desperately fighting to hold back her release. She was consumed with thinking about it and trying to stay detached, to please Justin.

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Her insides were like embers. She couldn’t wait… Couldn’t hold it back. She panted, whimpered. She was… Oh, God… “Enough,” Justin said. Tommy pulled away. She was a mass of unfulfilled desire and frustration. She was well on her way to a state of righteous pissed-off-ed-ness, if such a thing existed. Damn him, this wonderful treat had turned into a nasty trick. She’d stamp her foot, if she wasn’t convinced it would get her placed in the corner with her nose pressed to the wall. He did know a few things about torture, curse him anyway. “Thank the man,” Justin reminded her. “Thank you, Tommy.” “Thank you,” he said. Martin snapped his fingers and Tommy stood. Martin excused them, and Tommy fell in step behind him, at his heel. “He’s a good sub,” Justin said. “Hey!” “And so are you.” She was stunned by the feeling that flashed through her. His words elicited an unexpected sensation of pride. She understood what he was trying to say earlier, about what he wanted, and how it mattered. Making him happy gave her a sense of accomplishment. Thinking about him increased her own pleasure. The dichotomy of it all awed her…it was much more complicated than the orderliness of numbers. “About that spanking you’ve been begging for…?” In this place, with the pulsing music, flashing lights, and carnal displays of flesh? “Right yourself,” he said. She had to force herself to think in a linear fashion, tightening the string, then tying it closed. “Tighter,” he said.

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She was going to protest, then decided against it. She’d wear it tighter, even though it constricted her breathing, because he said so. She needed no other reason. “Come with me,” he said. He didn’t give her a chance to ask where they were going. Like she’d seen Tommy do earlier, she walked behind Justin. He slowed his pace, probably to accommodate her stride in the killer shoes. He led her down the stairs…to a dungeon. A real-honest-to-goodness dungeon. Her palms dampened. When she’d been telling him her deepest desires, he’d been listening. She didn’t know whether to be happy or to run screaming in the opposite direction. She wanted it. She didn’t want it. Doubts and fear filled her, along with excitement and anticipation. Please, yes. The floor was made of stone, old, grey stone, worn smooth through the years. Her shoes caused an echo off the walls. He pushed open a door at the end of the long corridor. Inside was a metal chain suspended from the ceiling. Like a medieval torture chamber, whips and belts and tawse and canes lined the walls. “You have a gag, as well,” he said. “Oh. Thanks. Well, then, since you’ve thought of everything, let’s get on with it, shall we?” “I’ll excuse your bad manners as nerves.” He closed the door behind them. She could have sworn the heavy wood squealed just as if it had a starring role in a horror film. Brianna stared in numb fascination as he selected a three-prong black leather tawse from the wall. He let it dangle from his fingers. “Look at me, not it.” He had no idea how impossible his request was. In her imaginings, he’d used a two-prong leather tawse. This, with its thinner forks was a hundred times more intimidating. With its red stitching, it was a beautiful implement, of pain. The thought of the leather on her skin suddenly terrified her. Despite her smart-aleck comments, she wasn’t as brave as she thought.

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“This is it,” he said quietly. Despite his tone, the words reverberated off the ancient walls, magnifying the volume. It was probably just to scare her even more. Well… It was working. “I’m a coward.” “No, you’re not.” “You should feel it from this side of my skin. From here, it feels like I’m a coward.” He laughed. She didn’t. Not even a small, nervous sound. “Hold it.” He offered the tawse by its handle. “Uh…” “Hold it,” he said again. “Feels innocuous.” “It can be.” She swallowed and looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “It won’t be, though, will it?” “No.” He allowed the silence to gather in intensity. “It’s your choice,” he said eventually. “You’ve been asking for this, not just as a treat to add to our lives, but a lifestyle decision, a fully conscious one. I want you to know what happens next is strictly up to you. We can have an occasional scene when you fancy it. Or we can forget it entirely. Or…” She gently slapped the tawse into her open palm. She became aware of him watching her, staring. “Or?” “Or I can give you what you’ve been asking for. You can take my beating and then get on your knees and submit.” “If…” She cleared her throat of that nasty little frog that was standing between her and her words and tried again. “If we do this, what about my job?” “We can negotiate everything, still, just like we are for the marriage. If you want to work, you can work. If you want to be a 24/7 sub, we’ll make that happen, as well. Wait,” he held up a hand. “Just because you go to work and have a life outside of our relationship, it doesn’t mean that you won’t be submissive even when we’re apart. You’ll wear plugs, you’ll be clamped. You’ll have constant reminders of your decision.” “Going out for a girls’ night?” “Maybe I’ll make you suck on one of their clits while I watch.” She gasped.

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“The idea of you, with your head between another woman’s legs, her pussy juices on your face…” “You wouldn’t!” “Try me.” She blinked. “A week ago, would you have believed you’d be having your breasts sucked on by one of our biggest football stars? Or that he’d meekly follow his master downstairs for a good hiding?” “No.” He was careful to keep distance between them. “Until this moment, Brianna, everything was a game, a trick or treat. But this, love, is a decision. Think on it carefully. Lift up your hair.” Head swimming, she did. He removed the collar and placed it on an old, wooden table that was pushed against a wall. She felt naked without the thin strip of PVC. “Hand me the tawse.” She did that, as well. He tossed it onto the table, and then he moved away from the door. “Use your safe word. We will go home now, with you uncollared, unmarked. Or you can walk to the middle of the room, stand with your back to me, and raise your hands over your head.”

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Chapter Five

She considered it for long moments. Did she really want this? Did she want their relationship to go to this level? Did she want a Dom as well as a husband? Was she even capable of submitting? It was more than just misbehaving to get a spanking and, hopefully, KAO. It was about a constant daily commitment. Could she live with herself if she didn’t take the chance? Decision made, she swallowed her fear. “Walk away?” she asked, stroking the side of his cheek with the back of her hand. “And miss a walk on the wild side? Miss out on whatever tricks or treats you have in store for me? No way.” With that, she moved to the centre of the room She could have sworn she heard him exhale. Wordlessly, she turned away from him and extended her arms fully above her head. “I’m proud of you.” He bound her wrists together and secured them to the chain descending from the ceiling. “Legs shoulder-width apart.” His motions were matter-of-fact. He showed no tenderness and made no attempt to arouse her. She understood this wasn’t a punitive beating, or one meant to arouse, it was meant to teach, teach her who was the Dom, who was the sub, teach her that he had the power and wasn’t afraid to use it, teach her what she was desperate to learn…about the kiss of the tawse. He attached a spreader bar between her legs. Despite herself, her pussy dampened. Her body was always honest, even if her mind wasn’t. “The gag?” She shook her head. “If you change your mind, it’s available. Sometimes, it’s easier for a sub to let go when she’s not worried about her screams.” She’d hoped he planned to let her keep her skirt on, but he bunched it around her waist. “I want you to feel the full affect of my beating.”

WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

Sierra Cartwright

42

Brianna doubted she could speak coherently, so she kept her mouth shut. This was so much more than she’d imagined…the bar, the way her wrists were bound… “Breathe, Brianna. Breathe into the pain and the fear. I won’t hurt you.” Much. When she’d asked for the tawse weeks ago, she’d pictured herself across his lap, getting a few well-placed smacks with the thuddy leather. But now, with him standing behind her… The first smack wasn’t nearly as hard as she thought it might be, even though she wasn’t prepared for it. The second was equally delivered. By the third, she was able to release her breath and find a regular pulse rhythm. Fear was much worse than reality. “How many was that?” “Three,” she said. “We’re going for ten.” This time, she heard the leather hiss and snap before it connected with her skin. “Ah!” “That’s a girl.” The fifth hurt like the devil. The sixth brought tears to her eyes. He laid the vicious leather against her skin a seventh time and she let go, screaming like a banshee. “Would you like the gag?” Her arse was on fire, every bit of her skin was stinging. “It makes no difference to me,” he said. “Or to our neighbours. No one can hear you.” “No.” Her breath tumbled and fell through her chest. “You’ve three more to take, Bree.” She was confused. She’d done a fair amount of reading, and the Dom had never stopped during a beating.

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“I want you thinking about them, wondering when they’ll come. I want you to think about your submission to the tawse, and to me, even when you know exactly how much it will hurt.” As if she could think of anything else. “Is your cunt wet?” She shook her head. Rather than taking her word for it, he put his hand between her legs to check for himself. “Your body tells a different tale.” From somewhere, seemingly outside herself, she felt his hand on her clit, and shamefully she leaned into him, silently pleading for more. She wanted him. Wanted a KAO. Even if she had to hump his hand to get it. He stopped and moved away, coming to stand in front of her. Through her hazy vision, she looked at him. Had he ever looked sexier? More in charge? She’d always thought he was handsome, but with this commanding air, he was beyond sexy. He effortlessly worked the knot securing her corset in place. “Oh…” “Yes?” “My breasts are so sensitive from…” “Say it.” “From Tommy sucking on them. Biting my nipples.” He pushed aside the material and cupped her breasts, sweeping his thumbs across the distended tips. He kneaded the weight. Her entire body was filled with the hot lick of flames. “You could come from just a few seconds of fondling?” “Yes.” Holding her head up was too much effort. He stopped. She actually whined. “I’m begging you, Justin, Master…” “I’m going to crop your tits, Brianna.” She nearly orgasmed. “No need to count. There will be too many blows.”

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He switched the tawse for a crop and rained excruciating kisses of leather on the tops of her breasts, on the bottoms of her breasts, then, standing back, a metre or so away, on her nipples. She screamed shamelessly at the pain, the pleasure. She simultaneous cried for him to stop and yelled for him to let her come. She lost all sense of time and space, all that existed was the torture and the heat between her legs. “How many more licks from the tawse?” “What?” She shook her head. It didn’t help to clear it, though. “Three.” “Count them.” Brianna didn’t realise he’d even moved until the leather flamed twice across her arse. “One! Two!” The third and final one tore a scream from deep in her chest when the tip of the tawse landed on her upper thighs and one of its forks bit into her cunt. Every part of her body ached and burned. As far as real beatings, she knew it had been little more than a tease. But still, she shook and trembled as he released her arms. She wanted to fall into his arms but remembered his precise instructions. She was to get on her knees and beg to submit. The getting on her knees part was easy. There was no way for her to stand up. She whispered, “I want to submit.” Looking up at him through her tears, through the cloudiness of delirium, she said, “I want to wear your collar. I want to be your sub.” Again, he tossed aside the tawse, and then he snatched up the collar. She didn’t need to be told to lift her hair. She wanted to do it. In seconds, she felt him at her throat, securing the buckle in place. “We’ll get you one this week, properly fitted.” It didn’t matter to her. As long as it was his collar, she was happy. “Master, I want you to fuck me.” “Master?” “That’d be you,” she pointed out, just for clarification purposes. “Ah, in case I was confused.” There was nothing but tenderness in his voice. “I want you bent over that table.”

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He helped her into position, her legs spread wide, her torso on the top of the table, her hands behind her neck. “How do your breasts feel?” “Full. Tender.” “I can’t wait to suckle there later.” “I want that, too.” She heard his zipper, then felt his cockhead at the opening of her pussy. “Fill me.” “I meant to wait until later, when we were at home.” “Fill me now,” she pleaded. He eased the tip of his cock into her. She started to move, to wiggle, silently begging him to take her completely. “You’re wet,” he said. “Dripping,” she agreed. And she was. She needed no lubricant to receive his length. “Master!” ”Keep still.” She tried, but couldn’t. Brianna had been so desperate for him, had been hungry to connect with him. The days of waiting had driven her insane. She loved him; needed him. Despite herself, emotion knotted in her throat. He moved deeper with shallow strokes, pulling out and then re-entering her. “So tight,” he said. “Your cunt is tight.” “I want your possession!” He gave her what she wanted, sinking to the hilt. She moaned. Slowly at first, but then with gathering intensity, he fucked her. “Fuck me hard,” she urged. She loved having his cock in her, stretching her, mastering her. Using all his masculine strength, hips pistoning, he drove into her. The sensations…her sore breasts, her stinging ass, the thickness of his cock against her vaginal walls, the headiness of the emotional assault…all made her senses swim. Even her clit was stimulated by the smooth wood beneath her pubis. He slammed into her again and again. “Justin! I need to come.”

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Sierra Cartwright

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“Come,” he whispered against her ear. “Come, Bree.” His sudden tenderness was her undoing. Shaking from the vastness of feeling for him, she came, screaming, crying. He traced his fingertips down her spine, wordlessly soothing. If she hadn’t loved him before, she would have fallen in love in this moment. He knew her. He knew what she wanted and he gave it to her. He kissed her nape, then slowly began to move again. She heard his manly grunts and feminine power filled her. In this moment, she knew a sub had more power than her Dom. A true power exchange. “Take me,” she urged, her teeth gritted. He painfully fisted his hand in her hair. She thrilled at his loss of control. Even without words, she knew he loved her. She felt his cock become fuller. It pulsed in that tell-tale way. Her entire being was on fire with awareness of him. This was raw. Nasty. Dirty. A thrill. He grunted. “Yes,” she urged, thrusting her hips backward. She ground against him. “Bree!” She dug her fingers against the wood. ”Fuck,” he whispered, the word reverent. He jerked his hips, spilling his cum deep in her heated pussy. She stayed where she was, enjoying his penetration. “I want to hold you,” he said. She was well-used and sore. It took a concentrated effort to stand up, even though he was helping her. Steadying her, he turned her around. His seed ran down the inside of her thigh. “My woman. My sub. My bride-to-be. Mine.” “Yours.” She grabbed hold of his neck and buried her head in his shoulder. “Your woman. Your sub, your wife-to-be. But my KAO.” He laughed. “Wench.” “Yes.” She bit his shoulder tenderly, needing to do something with the adrenaline still gnawing at her. “Justin, Master, take me home.”

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Sierra Cartwright

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“Yeah. Seems the more I fuck you, the more I want to fuck you. The longer I’m with you, the more I love you.” He helped her dress, held her as long as she needed to return from the psychological headspace she’d been in. Then he captured her mouth in a long, deep kiss. “So, which part was the trick and which part was the treat?” He sighed, a long-suffering sound. She nipped at his lower lip. “I’ll take a walk on the wild side with you any day of the week.” She squeezed his cock. Somehow, he still hadn’t managed to get the naughty little one-eyed monster put back away. She moistened her lips in anticipation. Well, since it was out, she might as well give him a treat to remember, as well…

About the Author Born in Northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens book that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home. She's an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn't stopped since. Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk. Email: [email protected] Sierra loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totalebound.com.

Also by Sierra Cartwright Naughty Nibbles: Fed Up Naughty Nibbles: This Time

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