Spanked For Disobedience

“Everything comes at a price, pet,” he said, rubbing her bottom gently. She held her breath as she felt his fingers splay over her cheeks and then curl in the back of the waistband of her panties. They took hold there and then he began to ever so slowly peel them down over her cheeks. She felt the fabric leaving her skin slowly, rendering her bare and vulnerable as little by little the twin rises of her cheeks were stripped of the last vestige of propriety.

She was his. He had barely touched her yet, but she was beginning to know it in the very core of her. Only someone who owned her could do this, put her over his knee and take her panties down. Her hips began to sway back and forth, her breath catching in her throat as her panties began to travel down between her thighs. She was more exposed now, her sex bare to him. Could he see how she looked there?

“You wax, pet.”

He could.

She put both her hands over her face in a totally futile gesture, covering entirely the wrong part of her anatomy. She felt him parting her legs, and she knew he was looking. More than that, he was inspecting what he now owned. His fingers stroked her inner thigh lightly, moving toward the apex, but staying clear of her sex. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction, not yet. He wanted to draw the whole embarassing thing out, of course. He was enjoying this all far too much. She could only imagine how long he’d wanted to have power over her like this.

He swatted her lightly, once, twice, three times and then his fingers slid back between her thighs and found her clit, circling around it slowly. She sighed softly and stretched out on the couch. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It had been too long since she’d been with a man, and Mav was very, very attractive. He also knew how to touch a woman, judging by the way his fingers were grazing over her pussy, teasing her into a state of aroused relaxation.

“You’re about to discover that the world is very different than you think it is,” he rumbled as he caressed her gently, taking his time. She had half expected him to ravage her, but he was clearly in no hurry to seal her undoing as a human. She laid there, taking his touch, drawing his scent into her lungs and feeling herself start to slowly melt in mind and body.

She felt his fingers between her thighs, spreading her legs even more. She cursed his long thighs as he spread her wide in a way that could only be described as lewd. His hand came down against her raised cheeks, reminding her of his ability to punish her as he saw fit. The pain bloomed again, but this time it was not so intense, nor was it entirely pain. It had become something else, something new. It made her feel warm in the very core of her belly.

He spanked her again, the slap sharper this time, more intense. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve it but soon his palm fell again, and again, until her bottom started to tingle and sting and her hips could no longer stay still across his thighs, but instead danced, her bottom gyrating beneath his green gaze as she rutted against him, her clit finding his thigh over and over in short little motions which made her shamefully aroused.

His Pet Tries To Run Away

Maxim awoke in the middle of the night to an insistent vibration and Isri’s dulcet tones growing ever louder as he slept through her initial warnings.

“What is it, Isri?”

“Sir, your pet is attempting to leave via the front door. Should I allow her access?”

“No,” Maxim growled. “Absolutely not.”

Sabine really hadn’t gotten the message, apparently. He found her at the door, desperately trying to turn the handle, even though she must have known it wasn’t actually possible to get out. She had both her hands on the handle and was wrenching it hard enough to break something.

“Stop that!” He walked toward her and slapped her hand. Hard.

She gasped and yanked her hand back away from the door.

“Get back to bed. Now!” He thundered the instruction at her. It was not difficult to inject bass into his voice. This girl was trying his very last nerve.
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“Who sent you here, Kate?”

“I sent myself here.”

The lash trailed down her stomach and dipped between her thighs, the leather running along the slit of her sex.

“You insist on that lie,” he said. “But nobody can create a rift between the worlds on their own.”

“I can,” she said, her hips squirming as she looked into his eyes with a desperate gaze. “I’ve been working on it for a long time. The physics was settled before the war. It was just a matter of containing a smaller, more controlled reaction.”

His brows quirked and the tip of the leather performed a circle around her clit. “Why?”

It was almost impossible to remember, to concentrate, to form words, but she had to or she knew that the lash would return, possibly harder.

“I… ummmm… needed to see this place for myself.”

“Why?”

The lash slid lower, drifting over her inner thighs, back and forth like a sensual pendulum.

“I just had to,” she moaned. “I don’t… I can’t explain it. Please… you have to believe me.”

Perhaps it was the note of desperation in her voice that made the dragon drop the lash, but not the leash. He kept the latter firmly in his hand as he crouched down on the bed, his fingers tracing down her belly and stopping just short of her soft mound.

“You have come a very long way for something you can’t explain,” he murmured, caressing her prone body with a gentle, appreciative touch. He wasn’t giving up his line of questioning, she realized. He was just changing tactics. He had denied her all modesty physically, and he seemed to be just as intent on laying her mind bare as well.

She squirmed and moaned as his hand moved down further and cupped her sex, handling her with a mastery that left her weak to his charms. It was as though he had total claim to her body, his fingers tracing a gentle path between her lips, the folds of her sex flowering with the dew of her juices as he began to tease her, the lash in his other hand and now trailing across the underside of her breasts.

“I can’t think when you do that,” she murmured.

“I don’t want you thinking,” he replied. “I want you telling me the truth.”

“I have,” she moaned as he massaged her pussy, his middle finger finding the wet entrance of her body. “Oh, god… I have.”

“Hmm,” he mused, sliding his thick digit in slowly until it met the barrier of her hymen. “What is this, you are closed…”

“I haven’t been with a man before.”

The finger slid away and he looked at her with an expression of wonder and concern. “But you are mature…”

“Yes.”

“How could you be untouched?”

“Not every woman has a partner,” Kate said, her hips arching almost instinctively toward his hand even though it was no longer between her legs.

“Why?”

“Because I had my work… making the portal. I had no time for men.”

“No time for men. And what of the men, they had no time for you? Such a beauty?”

“I’m…” Kate lowered her eyes. “I am not a beauty.”

The dragon’s brows lowered over his magnetic golden gaze and he ran his hand from beneath her breast, over the curve of her waist and hip.

“You are soft, you are curvy, you have delicate skin and lips which pout deliciously when you are unhappy. You are beautiful, Kate. Your men must be blind not to see that.”

“I’m usually wearing clothes too,” she said. “I don’t exactly dress to be noticed.”

“Not with me,” he said. “With me your body will rarely, if ever, be covered. I want to have your beauty on display.”

His hand slid back between her legs and she let out an appreciative little sigh. What had begun as an interrogation was turning into a slow seduction as the dragon lowered his head and began to explore her tied and leashed form with his lips and tongue, the former of which left traces of warm fire across her skin.

“I can’t stay,” she moaned. “I have to go back. You have to let me go.”

“That is out of the question.” His lips captured her nipple, his tongue playing against the pink bud as his fingertip plunged back between her lower lips, toying with the virginal entrance of her body with a sure touch.

“Please, you don’t understand…”

“I am a dragon, Kate,” he growled. “When I discover treasure, I keep it.”

My Book Is Outside The Environment

Amazon’s been having some issues with their Kindle publisher’s platform, more specifically, their Author Central pages, where some books are in a sort of un-editable limbo. This won’t affect 99% of pretty much anybody, but having them deal with the issue, or rather, not so much deal with the issue has put me in mind of a certain Clarke and Dawe sketch

Author: “This issue with this book I’m having…”

Amazon: “You mean the one where you can’t change any of the details in Author Central? That’s not very typical, I’d like to make that quite clear.”

Author: “How isn’t it typical?”

Amazon: “Well, there’s a lot of these books being published all the time, and very seldom does anything like this happen. We don’t want people thinking our platform is unreliable and broken.”

Author: “Was it reliable on this occasion?”

Amazon: “I was more talking about the other occasions.”

Author: “The occasions where it works.”

Amazon: “Yes. The ones where it works.”

Author: “But why didn’t it work on this occasion?

Amazon: “Well, we’ve been trying new code, and the code broke the site.”

Author: “Is that unusual?”

Amazon: “Oh yeah. Pushing code to a live site without warning causing issues? Chance in a million!”

Author: “So the accusations that you’re breaking your site without regard for authors and publishers are ludicrous.”

Amazon: “Oh, absolutely ludicrous. This is a very reliable publishing platform.”

Author: “So what happened on this occasion?”

Amazon: “Well, it didn’t work on this occasion, by all means – but it’s very unusual.”

Author: “What are you doing to prevent further issues?”

Amazon: “We have very strict standards as to how code is implemented on our site.”

Author: “What kind of standards?”

Amazon: “Well, it has to be computer code, for starters. No Morse code, for instance. That’s right out. No smoke signals. No pigeon post. We’re very stringent.”

Author: “So when will this issue be fixed?”

Amazon: “One to two days at most. Four days. Maybe a week. Or two. In the meantime, your book has been towed outside the environment.”