Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

More Stormy Night Books by Natasha Knight

Natasha Knight Links

Reclaiming Sophie

By

Natasha Knight

Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Natasha Knight

Copyright © 2016 by Stormy Night Publications and Natasha Knight

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Knight, Natasha

Reclaiming Sophie

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Shutterstock/AS Inc

This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Prologue

Sophie drew the curtains of the study windows closed. She returned to her desk and cleared the contents from its surface. Unbuttoning the top buttons of her blouse, she lifted her breasts up out of the cups of her bra. She spread her legs to shoulder width and bent forward, laying her torso across the desk before reaching back to push her panties down to just beneath her hips. She lifted her skirt up over her back, baring herself.

She remained like this for a few moments, her arms stretched to either side of the desk, her back arched, imagining how she looked as she prepared to be disciplined.

She glanced once more at the picture of the punished girl on her computer screen, taking in the soft curves of her parted thighs, the stripes of the cane across her buttocks, the glistening pink lips of her bare, exposed sex.

Her nipples pressed against the cool leather top of the desk and her fingers found her swollen, slick nub. She pinched and kneaded, moaning, lifting to stand on the balls of her feet as the muscles of her calves, her thighs, her buttocks tensed. She lay her cheek down on the desk and closed her eyes, giving herself over to her imagination while a stream of sunlight penetrated from between the drawn curtains, warming her face.

Behind her eyes she imagined him, the tall, dark stranger. He had no voice today, although sometimes he reprimanded her verbally as he punished her physically. She arched her back on his command, lifting herself to him, offering herself to him. She could almost feel the sting of his thick leather belt, hear the sound it would make as it struck soft flesh, know the pain it would deliver.

Moisture soaked her fingers and ran down her thighs as he continued to punish her. She spread her legs wider, wanting more, opening herself to her phantom disciplinarian.

She imagined when he would switch to the cane, striping her ass red before telling her to reach back and spread herself open. She would melt her torso deeper into the desk, lifting her hips higher to him. With a slight flick of his wrist, the cane would come down onto that most private, most vulnerable part of her.

Once her punishment was over, he’d have her remain as she was, bent over, her ass throbbing, marked, exposed.

Her breath came in gasps and her hand worked faster as she neared orgasm until finally she came, her hips bucking, pelvic bones scratching against the rough edges of the desk, the only softness that of her cotton panties as they slid down her thighs to the floor.

Chapter One

Sophie turned the same corner for the third time that night. It was a little after eleven and Amsterdam was still buzzing with life, even on a Wednesday. It was a world of difference from her home in Scottsdale, Arizona where it was lights out before ten at night in the sleepy little neighborhood.

She glanced across the street, trying to seem casual but feeling like an imposter. L’Opera stood tucked between the other buildings, blending nicely, discreetly, with everything else. Three steps led to the old, intricately carved wooden front door, just outside of which stood a man—a security guard, Sophie imagined—ensuring the protection and privacy of those within. He didn’t look at her, likely didn’t even notice her among the other pedestrians who walked along. There were enough cafés and restaurants on this street that the boutique and very subtle BDSM club was easy to overlook if you didn’t know what lay just beyond that door. No sign hung overhead, nothing to indicate anything at all, in fact.

The door opened just then and Sophie pretended to fumble with her phone while she watched a couple exit. They looked normal, not like what she’d expected to see at a place like this. He was dressed in a dark suit and she, a cocktail dress beneath her unbuttoned coat. The door closed behind them as they descended the stairs, the man’s hand on her elbow, guiding her. They stopped once they were on the street and the man turned her to him. The woman allowed herself to be turned and only looked up at him as he buttoned her coat, their eyes locked on one another as if only the other existed. Once he finished, he pulled her close and kissed her forehead, a long, soft gesture of what Sophie could only call love.

Sophie’s heart ached.

The ringing of her phone jolted Sophie, along with the bouncer as, for one brief moment, she swore she caught his eyes on her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she quickly turned to walk on.

“Hello?” she said into her mobile, knowing it would be her husband and wanting to sound calm.

“Hey, hon, it’s me,” Michael said. He’d left earlier that day for Paris where he’d be spending the rest of the week in meetings. Neither of them had expected all the travel his new job entailed and there seemed to be no end in sight.

“Hi, Michael, how was your day?” she asked the same boring question she always asked at the end of his day while guilt gnawed at her. What was she doing here? This was so wrong.

“Long and dull. Just wrapped up a dinner meeting with a pretty high-maintenance client. How are you?” he began. “Where are you, by the way? I called the house phone but didn’t get an answer.”

Shit. “I’m on my way home now. Went out for a quick drink with Lucille,” she lied. Lucille was their neighbor, a woman her own age whom she considered more of an acquaintance than a friend, but it was the only thing she could come up with.

“That’s great, Soph,” he said. “I’m glad you’re getting out; you need to. You can’t stay alone in the house all day. It’s not good for you.”

Michael’s words only worsened her feeling of guilt and she looked down at the sidewalk, knowing she could never tell him the truth. He’d been worried about her ever since their move four months ago. No, since before that. Since they’d found out they’d never have the family they’d hoped for and her depression had seemed to settle in for the long haul.

“Sophie?” he asked when she didn’t answer.

She wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m here, just crossing the street. Not sure if it’s going to be a biker, a car, or a tram that does me in in this city,” she said, trying to sound lighthearted, feeling anything but.

“Where did you go for drinks?” he asked. Although he’d been living in the states for the last five years, Michael was born in Amsterdam and had lived in this city most of his life.

“Oh…” She looked around, too far from home. “I can’t remember. I’ll ask Lucille the name of the place tomorrow.”

“She’s not walking back with you?” he asked, sounding confused and concerned.

Sophie closed her eyes, shaking her head. She was so stupid. “She met a man there…” she lied again, feeling lower than the lowest person on earth. “You know Lucille.” She forced a smile on her face and hoped he could hear it.

“Ah,” Michael laughed. “Well, she is single and pretty wild from what I’ve seen.”

“She’s a lot of fun, actually.”

“How far are you from home?” he asked, worrying about her again.

“Oh, just a few blocks. I’d better let you go before my battery dies.” I’d forgotten to charge the phone before leaving the house again. I still needed the navigation to figure out my way back. “All these canals, everything looks so different at night.” Since when did lying come so naturally, so easily for her?

“Okay, I just wanted to check on you. Tell you I missed you,” he said.

Was she imagining the disappointment in his words?

“Me too.”

“The traveling’s going to slow down soon, you know. Just a few more weeks. I promise.”

She nodded quickly, desperate to get home before the dam broke and her tears spilled. “It’s okay, Michael. I understand.” She did. It was he who didn’t understand the kind of person he’d married. “I love you,” she murmured, the first of those tears coming.

“You okay?” he asked. She could practically feel the concern in his voice.

“M-hmm. I have to go,” she said quickly, smiling through her tears, feeling how ridiculous, how pathetic she must look to anyone passing by.

“Love you, baby.”

She hit ‘end’ on her phone just as the tram pulled up to the stop. She climbed on board, swiped her card, and sat in the farthest corner, staring out the window. So much had changed in the last year. She had changed so much in the last year. She and Michael had been married for four years now and dated for half a year before that. At thirty-six, he was twelve years older than she. Her parents had had a hard time with their engagement at first because she was so young, but she’d just been so sure he was the one. Now she wondered if they shouldn’t have waited. He wanted a family, children; she couldn’t give him that. Michael had been so great, supportive, loving when they’d found out, even though she could see his disappointment. He claimed to be over it now, but was he really? Wasn’t she keeping secrets from him? That went both ways, she knew that much.

But that wasn’t all. Since the move, something had gotten into her. No, that wasn’t quite right. It had always been there—this thing. The right way to say it was that it wanted out now. It wanted to express itself. Maybe it was the stress of it all, of trying to fit into a culture not her own, trying to understand a people she simply didn’t understand, trying to make friends, build her life again. She felt like she was in a pressure cooker and the lid was going to blow.

But she knew she’d have to keep this part of herself secret from Michael. He was too clean, too good. He’d likely be so turned off by her… perversion, he’d leave her immediately.

She stood and pushed the button for her stop.

She argued this daily in her head these days. She loved him still. And even though she knew she could never give him what he wanted, she wasn’t strong enough to let him go.

The tram came to a stop and she climbed out. The house was just a block away. They had rented a beautiful three-story canal house on the Brouwersgracht in the trendy Jordaan neighborhood of Amsterdam. She loved this city, their house. She loved being a part of such a vibrant place, but something inside her wouldn’t let her go, let her just relax and be here. With him.

She took the three steps leading to the crooked front door. The structures that lined Amsterdam’s streets were all a little bent or leaning or just plain old crooked. It was one of the things she loved about the place—its imperfections, its cracks, its ability to remain unique.

She fished out her key and, slipping it into the lock, opened the door and went inside. She turned off the one lamp she’d left burning in the living room and headed upstairs. She felt exhausted all the time these days, felt like she could sleep for weeks.

* * *

Michael sat on the edge of the bed holding his cell phone for long minutes after they’d hung up. He set it down and reached to undo his tie, taking it off and unbuttoning his shirt.

He was at a loss. Ever since they’d found out Sophie wouldn’t be able to have the babies they’d talked about since day one, she’d been different, withdrawn. It had been almost a year of this now. When the job offer in Amsterdam had come, it had been one they couldn’t refuse and, Michael hoped, the change his wife needed. He was a native Dutchman, and he understood the culture, the people. But he’d only realized how isolating it would be for Sophie after they’d signed the contracts, sold their house in Scottsdale, and moved. He wasn’t sure she realized the distance that her refusal to talk to him, to really talk to him, was putting between them or the consequences of that space. This was his second marriage and he had a pretty good idea of it. He needed to get her to talk, to open up to him. He had to if they had any chance of making it.

Yes, he wanted babies, but there were other options they hadn’t even begun to explore. He loved her, had since the day he’d first set eyes on her. He hadn’t realized how young she was, barely twenty when he’d met her, but he’d never wanted a woman in the same way he’d wanted her right from the start. Yes, the miscarriages were awful and he understood her not being ready to try again, but he loved her. He loved her and he wanted her. Having a family was second.

He exhaled a loud breath. “All right, Soph,” he said aloud, baffled as to how to proceed. He stripped off his clothes and headed into the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. It was Wednesday night. He wouldn’t get home until late Friday night. He considered his options, but there just weren’t any. The Parisian clients were important and they trusted him. They’d almost lost the account a few weeks ago and the relationship was too delicate to hand over to someone else at this point in time. He had no choice but to wait it out. This weekend he’d talk to her and if he had to, he’d force her to talk to him. He wanted his wife back—he wanted all of her. And he wasn’t going to let her get out of it this time.

Chapter Two

The next night, Sophie stepped off the tram and began the now-familiar walk to the club. She’d been doing this for weeks and tonight, she was determined to go inside. She was through feeling ashamed, through trying to pretend to be ‘normal.’ What the hell was normal anyway?

Michael is normal.

Guilt slowed her step.

“No,” she said out loud, forcing herself to walk on toward the club. Maybe what was behind the doors of this club wouldn’t be what she was searching for anyway. Maybe she could then cross it off her list and go back to her husband having realized it wasn’t what she’d wanted after all. Wasn’t what she’d fantasized about for as long as she could remember.

But what would it take for her to do that? She couldn’t face the fact that in order to know, she’d have to experience it. But if there wasn’t sex, if she didn’t actually…

Nope, she wasn’t going there.

“One step at a time, Sophie,” she encouraged herself as she crossed the street and stepped up to the front door.

The same man who’d stood at the door every other night stood there now. She met his eyes with a bravery she didn’t feel. He looked at her for a moment, his expression unchanging as he spoke something into his earpiece. As her courage began to crumble, he nodded. She wasn’t sure if it was at her or whomever he’d spoken to, but he opened the door for her to go inside and wished her a good evening.

Sophie’s heart was in her throat. She’d done it. She’d walked inside. She now stood in the dimly lit alcove where, in addition to the soft lighting overhead, candles burned, the wax that had melted then solidified over and over again lending a look to the place that was pure Goth. Soft music came from behind the heavy, dark velvet curtains, along with the muffled sound of speech and other things. She swallowed, turning to look at the closed door behind her.

“Goedenavond,” came the girl’s voice from behind the coat check.

“Oh, good evening… goedenavond.” She was grateful she’d been practicing the basics of the language.

The girl said something else which Sophie translated into ‘may I take your coat’ and she nodded, slipping her long wool coat off her shoulders and handing it over. She didn’t miss the fact that the girl looked her over from head to toe. She blushed, knowing she was likely not dressed right.

Without a word, though, the girl took her coat and handed her a ticket. She then gestured across the way where another girl sat behind a very large desk watching. Sophie walked across, noticing how her steps fell in time with the sound of what was going on just on the other side of those curtains. Although her legs weakened a little, she wouldn’t allow herself to turn around and go home. This was the farthest she’d come and to leave now would be more than a little humiliating.

“Goedenavond,” she said to the girl at the desk who, just like the one at the coat check, looked her over from head to toe. Sophie smoothed her dress over her belly, noticing how her hands trembled, how her heart thudded against her chest. She’d worn a knee-length, sleeveless black dress with a plunging back along with high-heeled black boots that came to just above her knees. She wore no stockings and she’d piled her long dark hair on top of her head to accentuate the length of her slender neck and show off the curves of her naked back, her alabaster skin a stark contrast to the black of her dress. She stood a good 5′5″ in her heels, but compared to the average Dutch woman, she wasn’t tall.

The girl said something and she had to ask her to repeat herself. If she paid attention, she could understand a lot of the time, but it was still work.

The girl repeated her question, which Sophie translated to whether or not she’d been here before and if she had a membership.

“No, it’s my first time,” she answered in English, both embarrassed she couldn’t carry on in Dutch and hoping the girl would continue in English. Most of the people she’d met here did speak English fluently or almost so. The feeling she got from this girl, however, was that she perhaps didn’t want to as she carried on in Dutch, asking for her identification.

She handed her driver’s license over, assuming she was checking for age, but when she began to enter the information into her computer, Sophie panicked. She hadn’t expected this. She just wanted to pay the admission price and walk inside undetected, slip into the shadows, and simply observe.

“Do you have to take my information? Can’t I just pay and go inside?” she asked.

“You can’t enter if you’re not a member,” the girl said in perfect, unfriendly English, never once taking her eyes off the keyboard as she continued to enter information. Sophie didn’t know what to do, but before she could do anything, the girl handed her license back and told her the amount. She put her license back inside her wallet and withdrew the funds, but the girl shook he head.

“Pin only,” she said.

The Dutch had a banking system where people used a pin card—essentially a debit card—for almost everything. Some stores didn’t even take cash, but Sophie had not thought about that for this place. It hadn’t even occurred to her. If she used the pin card, Michael would see where she’d been on their bank statement. There was no way he’d miss it.

“I don’t have a pin card yet. I’m new here and don’t have my BSN.” A BSN was the equivalent of a social security number. You needed that to do anything and as she said it, she realized the girl would know she was lying. She wouldn’t have been able to get her driver’s license without the BSN.

“You know what, I’m just going to go,” she said, flustered, at a loss for what to do.

The door behind the desk opened and a man stepped through. He looked at Sophie and she imagined her expression gave her away. “Is there a problem, Afke?” he asked the girl at the desk in English, breaking eye contact with Sophie.

The girl answered in Dutch, but it was too fast for Sophie to pick it up. The man said something back, looked at the screen, and turned to Sophie.

“American?” he asked, coming around the desk.

She nodded, unable to speak. He stood just inches from her and extended his hand.

“I’m Kyan van de Brink. I own the club,” he said.

She took his hand. It was large and warm in contrast to hers, which was clammy now from what had just happened. In fact, she could feel sweat under her arms and her face was flushed. She wondered what she looked like to him, feeling like a fool, an inexperienced, naïve fool.

“I’m Sophie,” she offered, leaving her last name out.

He accepted that and shook her hand once. “Welcome to L’Opera, Sophie.”

“I wanted to pay with cash. I’m sorry, I didn’t understand,” she offered, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Not to worry, you’re my guest tonight. And I’m certain Afke will be more welcoming the next time,” he said, glancing at the girl who was now throwing daggers at Sophie. “Won’t you, Afke?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, again in English.

Without a word, he parted the curtains and guided her inside. His fingertips, although light, were still electric on her bare back. “Are you visiting Amsterdam?” he asked as he led the way to a small round table with a ‘Reserved’ sign on it.

“No, I live here. Moved just a few months ago.”

“For work?” he asked, offering her a seat.

She looked up at him. He was an attractive man, late thirties she’d say, with the typical Dutch blond hair and blue eyes. He looked to be just a little older than Michael.

Michael. God, what was she doing?

“Yes,” she answered his question, breaking eye contact. It wasn’t entirely a lie. They had moved for a job—it was just that it was for Michael’s job.

“How are you liking the Netherlands, Sophie?” he asked, just as a waitress came over.

“It takes some getting used to,” she said.

He smiled as if he understood. “Glass of wine?” he asked.

“No, just water. Thanks.”

“It will help you relax,” he said.

“Okay,” she nodded and he ordered. Sophie took this time to look around at the scene before her. The club was not large, but it was, as with a lot of buildings in the city, bigger than it looked from the street. If there had been any walls, they’d been removed and replaced by ultra-modern steel support beams—the only things modern in the space. The lighting was dramatic and romantic with plush, old-world furnishings and… other equipment. Tables were scattered here and there and there were bars at both ends of the room. At the farthest end from where they sat was a stage. Not a high one—it was more of a platform—and on it stood some equipment Sophie couldn’t identify, although she’d certainly seen things like it in her online searches of late.

As far as dress, she was definitely out of place. The women were either completely nude or wearing clothing she couldn’t even imagine owning, much less wearing. Some men were dressed in suits, some with shirts off, but all wore more clothing than the women. She caught the images of a few scenes that were playing out, but was too embarrassed to watch, even though there was nothing she wanted to do more.

“First time at a club like this, yes?” he asked as the waitress returned to put two glasses of wine down before them.

She turned to him. He was watching her intently, but there was only kindness in his eyes. She didn’t feel uncomfortable with him. Didn’t feel like he wanted something from her. Something she wouldn’t give.

“Yes,” she said.

He smiled and lifted his glass to her. “Well, here’s to the first time,” he said, taking a sip. “I still remember mine and wish it had been at a place like this one.”

“Why?” she asked, not sure how to behave, what to ask, what not to ask. “Sorry,” she began. “I shouldn’t… that was maybe too personal.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is too personal. If we don’t share our experiences and help each other, we’ll never be able to fully find and accept ourselves.” He smiled again.

“I’ve walked by here so many times I can tell you every nick, every pothole on the street!” she blurted out, exhaling, then taking a large sip of wine.

He smiled again, even as she was embarrassed by her simple comment. “You’re not alone, Sophie. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“Thanks.”

“I want to ask you a question and I want you to be completely honest when you answer me.”

Her face grew very serious and she nodded. With all the lies she’d told lately, would she even be able to tell the truth anymore if she tried?

“Why are you here? Do you know what you’re looking for?” he asked.

She searched his face, feeling her own crumple, wishing she was better at hiding her emotions. She picked up her glass and looked at her bare ring finger. She touched the place with her thumb, losing that little bit of confidence she’d mustered up to walk in the door in the first place.

“I’ve never done anything like this and…” Her eyes filled with tears, but she forced them back. What was she doing? How far was she willing to go? “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to answer you.”

He put a hand on hers and squeezed for a moment. “Look at me,” he said.

She smiled a nervous smile, but it faded quickly when she looked at him.

“No shame. I won’t judge you and I’ve stood in your shoes once,” he said. “You don’t have to do or say anything you’re not comfortable with and you don’t have to feel any obligation to me.” He stopped after that point.

She understood and nodded, grateful.

“Would you like a tour of the place?” he asked.

“Yes, please,” she answered, relieved.

He stood and she followed. “L’Opera has been here for three years,” he began. “It’s my baby, I suppose. I wanted a safe place that offered something different, something more specific than many other clubs in Amsterdam at least. This is the main area. It’s open, as you can see, so any play that’s done here is public.”

“What do you mean by specific?” she asked, although she had an idea. She scanned the scene around her: some people sitting at tables talking, some wrapped in soft blankets drinking from bottles of water as they were held, others in the middle of play. As she took it all in, she thought she might understand what he meant by specific.

“L’Opera is what I’d call a boutique BDSM club. It’s small, first of all, and it will remain small. Most of the members are more like family to each other and that’s my goal, to create a community—an accepting, open community. As you probably know, everyone’s kink is unique. L’Opera caters to couples mostly. Couples where the male is the dominant partner and the female, the submissive.”

“Which explains the dress, or lack thereof, of the female half of your… guests.”

“Exactly.”

“But if you allow only couples in, committed couples, why did you let me in?”

“People who end up here have been around the scene for some time and they’re searching for a safe place to play and meet others without the… random taste-tester off the street.”

Her eyes once again scanned the room.

“Everything that’s done here is done with consent,” he said, watching her.

“I understand that. It’s just so… unreal.”

“Here it’s very real. But to finish answering your question as to why we let you in, you apparently didn’t strike John, the man at the door, as random.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. So maybe he’d noticed her circling the block after all; she’d just been unaware of it.

“A submissive who is as new to this, as you obviously are, and is searching. I would not leave her to navigate this road alone. You have to take care, always, Sophie. You’re a beautiful woman. It’s important you find your right partner—if you decide that is truly what you’re looking for.”

She had no words, once again feeling duplicitous.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said, again guiding her with a hand at her back. “The private rooms are there.”

“What happens in the private rooms?”

“Anything the participants want.” He unlocked a door that opened to a staircase. “Only my security guards and I have a key to this floor. You’ll see why in a minute.”

Sophie climbed the steep, circling iron stairs with Kyan close at her back. She stepped onto the landing to find the corridor completely silent and she turned to Kyan, unsure what to do. There were six doors that led off the corridor, all of which were closed. At eye level were small 5″ by 5″ windows. Some were still dark, but from two, light shone through. He gestured in the direction of one of the doors. “Adam and Rebecca are inside that one,” he said. “Just a little background, they are a married couple with children. They’re fairly new to BDSM and quite private. They rent a room here twice a month to play without having to worry about their kids walking in on them. They’ve only played in public a handful of times.”

“Are we going to look inside?” she asked. “I mean, if they want privacy…”

“They’re aware they may be observed.”

Sophie thought about this, the idea of someone watching her if she were ever in a similar situation, and found the idea more arousing than anything else.

They passed another door on their way and she glanced inside, stopping immediately.

“Keep moving, Sophie,” he said.

“But… what’s happening in there?” she asked. The woman in the room was bound and by the looks of her, very upset.

“That’s a punishment. I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to witness that on your first night here.”

“Punishment?” she asked, the beginnings of the arousal she’d felt moments ago now turning to white heat. Why was she turned on by that word alone?

“Please keep moving,” he said, his voice just a little harder.

She looked at him and did as he said, the image of what she’d glimpsed, of the woman bound and bent over at the waist, the stripes of the cane the man was swinging already clearly marking the flesh of her hips and thighs, now burned like a brand on her brain.

“Here,” he said, turning her so she faced the window and coming to stand behind her, his hands firmly planted on her shoulders.

“Adam is trying the crop on Rebecca tonight,” he said. “They got here only a little bit ago, so it looks like we’re right on time.”

Sophie was stunned at what she saw before her. The room was furnished with just one high-backed wooden chair at its center. Adam and Rebecca stood close together. She was naked and he wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans, his chest was bare, his arms muscular. In one of his hands he held a riding crop, but it wasn’t the crop that caught and held her attention. It was the way he was holding Rebecca. Although Sophie couldn’t make out the expression on her face, she must have been upset because they stood inches apart, foreheads together, his fingertips on her cheeks. His lips were moving and she was nodding. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Adam speaking some words that Sophie thought must be assurances of some sort, and Rebecca listening, nodding now and then. He then simply pressed his lips to her forehead and they held there in this most intimate, tender pose.

Sophie would have turned away, feeling like she was intruding on something too private, but when she tried, Kyan’s hands on her shoulders held her in place.

“Watch,” he said. “You want to. It’s one of the reasons you came.”

She didn’t answer, but did as he said. Adam released Rebecca, who glanced once at the long black leather crop he held. Sophie could see the hesitation in her eyes, but when she turned once more to her husband and he nodded, she went to the chair and bent over it so her belly was pressed up against the high back. She set her feet to the outside of the back legs and bent forward so far that she could grip the lowest part of the front legs.

The way the chair and now Rebecca were positioned, Sophie had a perfect view of the woman’s ass and, with her legs spread as they were, her glistening sex as well as the sparkling crystal that made up the base of the plug she held inside her anus. The flesh of her plump buttocks was already reddened. Sophie swallowed, her panties more than a little moist now as she watched the woman prepare herself.

“He’s already… spanked her?” Saying that word out loud made her blush furiously.

“He’s prepared her to receive the crop,” Kyan said from behind her. She noticed how he stood close but didn’t actually touch her, aside from his hands on her shoulders.

Adam positioned himself and Sophie could see the bulge that took up the front of his pants. He lifted the crop to Rebecca’s waiting buttocks and rubbed the square tip across it. He said something Sophie couldn’t hear before lifting his arm and, with a flick of his wrist, brought the crop down.

Sophie gasped and jumped. Kyan chuckled at her reaction.

“It’s soundproof?” she asked.

“They can’t hear us and we can’t hear them,” he said, pressing her shoulders, signaling once again for her to be silent and watch.

Adam lifted the crop again and struck her other cheek. Sophie could see Rebecca clenching in anticipation of the assault, but as he continued, as her buttocks reddened, she relaxed them, even as her breasts rocked with each stroke and her ass trembled.

“He’s not hitting too hard; he’ll take it slowly and I don’t believe he wants to punish her.”

“I thought you said it was all consensual?” she asked, unable to peel her eyes from the couple.

“One can consent to being punished. It all depends on the dynamics of the relationship. But tell me,” he said, turning her to face him. “How do you feel as a witness to this?”

She flushed, wondering if he could see how aroused she was.

“Sophie,” he said when she still hadn’t answered after a few moments. “You are welcome to come back here—as my guest—any time I’m here. But there are certain rules I’ll expect you to follow.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, rules. First one is that if I or any other man here asks you a question, you are to answer it. Verbally and with proper address. In case you’re unsure what that address is, it’s Sir. Is that clear?”

She looked at him with wide eyes, her belly tightening at his words, her mind wanting this, exactly this. It seemed to come so naturally to him. As kind and gentle as he’d been with her since he’d seemingly taken her under his wing, he was still able to dominate without question. “Yes… Sir,” she said, her body tingling to life from head to toe at her muttering of that word.

“Good girl,” he said.

“Now answer my question. Do you remember it?”

She nodded, but when he gave her a look she opened her mouth to speak. “Yes, Sir. You asked how I felt when I was watching. I felt, feel…” She took a moment, breaking eye contact, unsure she could do it but somehow trusting this stranger. “I feel aroused. Sir.”

He smiled.

“Would you like to come back tomorrow night?” he asked.

She would have said yes, but remembered Michael would be home then. Her heart twisted in her chest. “I’m out of town this weekend,” she lied. “I can’t.”

Kyan nodded. “It will be my pleasure to meet you again, whenever you return. I have to leave you for a bit now, but you’re welcome to stay.”

She couldn’t imagine being here alone. Wasn’t even sure how she’d ever thought she could do something like this alone. “No, I should go home. It’s late. Sir.”

“Where do you live?”

“On the Brouwersgracht,” she said, then mentally berated herself for telling him. What if he just showed up at her door one day? At least he wouldn’t know the house number. “I don’t mind walking—I need the fresh air.”

“I’ll walk you out then,” he said.

She was relieved he didn’t insist on walking her home.

He led the way down the stairs and collected her coat. Once they were just outside the doors, he turned her to face him and reached inside his pocket to hand her a business card. “If you would like to talk, my cell phone is on the back or you can e-mail me anytime.”

She looked at it and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, slipping it into her purse.

“Oh, and one more rule, Sophie, in case you choose to return,” he began.

“Yes, Sir?”

“Your clothes.”

She knew this would come up, didn’t she?

“Do you remember how the other submissives were dressed?” he asked.

She nodded. They weren’t.

He waited.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. I’ll expect the same from you.” He gave her a moment, allowing the words to impress upon her.

She understood him, even appreciated his not giving her an out. As welcoming as he was, as he promised to be the next time, he wouldn’t let her off the hook. It was exactly what she wanted and needed.

“Enjoy your weekend, Sophie,” he said.

“Good night, Kyan… Sir, and… thank you.”

He simply nodded and watched as she walked down the street and around the corner.

Chapter Three

Sophie lay in bed trying to process the events of the evening, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. The images alone—the club, the main room, and then the private rooms. The punishment she’d glimpsed made her shudder, but watching Adam with Rebecca left her wanting, almost jealous. The way they’d been together, their obvious intimacy, his care of her… it awoke feelings inside her. It wasn’t desire and it wasn’t merely arousal. Those would be easier to manage. No, this was much deeper. It was nothing less than a longing that twisted her stomach.

Her throat tightened and she turned over onto her side. She’d never have this. She’d never experience those things herself; she’d never be able to fill this gaping hole.

Michael. Oh, Michael.

Guilt edged its way alongside the longing. Things hadn’t turned out as she’d expected them to. As either of them had expected them to.

After two years of marriage, they’d tried to get pregnant. The first pregnancy happened quickly and they were thrilled. But she’d lost the baby before the end of the third month. The second pregnancy had lasted a few weeks shorter. After the miscarriages, they’d done some tests. When nothing had come of those, the doctor had suggested more tests, but she hadn’t wanted to go further, afraid to find out she’d never be able to have children of her own. That thought alone had sent her tumbling into depression.

This thing, this need, this desire, it wasn’t new. It had only resurfaced after those events, and it had done so with a vengeance. It had somehow become a sort of lifeline for her. Something she could hold onto to stay afloat. She’d been able to subdue it for a long time, managed to live with the lack, but since she’d given in to the other, it was as if there wasn’t enough space inside her to carry both losses, both holes in her life. The one she had no choice in and this other she denied herself.

Now there was Kyan. She hadn’t felt a sexual energy from him, although she wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t take it if she offered it. He was kind, she knew that in her heart, but he was still a man.

She imagined Michael having that air of authority, that ability to make her knees go weak with his words. And it would have to be Michael, wouldn’t it? That was the irony of this. She wouldn’t cheat on him. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t imagine it. There was no question she loved him and he already deserved better. She’d gone to a BDSM club alone behind his back. What would he do if he ever found out?

Well, he wouldn’t find out because she wasn’t going to go again. What if the next time Kyan asked for more? She’d already be expected to be naked—at least partially so—if she went back.

The thought of being seen like that, of submitting to this rule of the club and essentially submitting to him, titillated on a level so base that it confused as much as it frightened, and Sophie wondered just how well she knew herself after all.

* * *

Friday dragged as Michael checked his watch every few minutes. He wanted to get home, get back to his wife. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her for more than a few minutes on Thursday night and when he’d spoken with her today, she’d sounded better. At least she’d tried to sound more cheerful, but he knew it was forced, like she was trying too hard.

His flight was late leaving due to thunderstorms in Paris and by the time he got home, it was almost eleven o’clock on Friday night. He paid the taxi driver and carried his suitcase up the stairs to the front door. The lights were still on inside, but the curtains on the huge front windows were drawn. He walked in and set his bag down, retrieving the box of macaroons he’d picked up in Paris for her. She loved the colorful little cookies, especially the pistachio-flavored green ones, so he’d made sure to buy extra of those.

The sound of the TV came from the living room and he went in that direction, surprised she hadn’t come out to greet him as she usually did. But when he walked in to find her curled up in the corner of the couch holding the small throw over her scantily clad body, he had to smile.

He was powerfully attracted to her, had been ever since the first day he’d seen her. She was pretty, beautiful even, although she hardly seemed to know it herself. Long dark hair, a small, pale face with delicate bones, large caramel eyes, and full luscious lips. She stirred when he pulled the blanket away and glimpsed her bare legs. She opened her eyes and sat up, still a little confused from the look in them. He whistled, his cock stirring to life.

“Wow,” he said, taking her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. He held her tight to him before his hands wandered to the bare cheeks of her ass. She wore a dark red halter-neck teddy that just covered her small breasts with a thin strip of lace. It was split down the middle and underneath she wore a matching thong. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he said, lifting her off her feet. Although high-heeled slippers lay on the floor by the couch, she was barefoot and at 6′4″, he was a good foot taller than she and weighed almost twice as much next to her petite form. He loved that disproportion between their bodies. He loved that he could pick her up and put her where he wanted her, how he wanted her, and fuck her tight little pussy.

“I fell asleep,” she mumbled between kisses as he set her back down. She unbuttoned his shirt, her hands finding his bare chest.

Michael reached to push the button on the remote and switched off the TV while she peeled his shirt from his body. Once that was out of the way, her hand slipped into his pants, gripping his cock. She stood back and looked at him with a determination he didn’t expect, didn’t know. She’d always been more shy in the bedroom, letting him take the lead, which he liked. This was different.

“Fuck me,” she said. “I need you to fuck me.”

He almost smiled, devouring her with his eyes, and this time, hauled her off her feet altogether to carry her up the stairs and into their bedroom. Once he had her on her back on their bed, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and settled himself between her legs, taking one lace-clad nipple into his mouth while he pressed his cock against her pussy.

“I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

In the next moment, he pushed her panties aside as she spread her legs wide. Looking down at her, he thrust into her hard, watching her face as he fucked her.

But she broke eye contact before it was over and even as he came, she turned her face, twisting away a little once he’d spent himself inside her.

* * *

“You didn’t come,” he said.

“You know it’s hard for me to orgasm,” she replied, her back to his front as he held her tight to him in the darkness of their bedroom.

“It didn’t used to be hard, Soph,” he kept on.

A single tear slid out of the corner of her eye. “Michael, just let it go.”

He exhaled and reached over her to turn on the light. She quickly wiped at her face, not wanting him to see any evidence of tears.

“We need to talk, Soph. We need to figure out how to fix this. I don’t know where your head is.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked away for a minute. Her eyes once again filled with tears.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” was all she could say.

He shifted his body so he looked directly into her eyes. “No. Don’t do that, don’t apologize. You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Just please, please talk to me. If it’s about the babies, honey, we haven’t even begun to think of options. We can go for more testing, get a second opinion. A third. There are so many alternatives. So many things we can try. Hell, we can adopt a baby. We can fill out the paperwork tomorrow, get things going.”

Sophie was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face now.

“What? What is it? Please, Christ! Just fucking tell me what the hell I have to do to get my wife back.”

She wiped her face and sat up, looking at him. He sat there, her beautiful husband. He was fit, muscular. She always had the feeling of being safe near him, protected in his arms. But his eyes, those blue, blue eyes, they were so sad now. They looked at her with a desperation she’d glimpsed now and again over the last months. She had never seen her husband cry. But how would he look at her if he ever found out how depraved she was?

A part of her screamed for her to trust him. To tell him everything. It swore he wouldn’t accuse her, shame her. But she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.

“I’m tired, Michael. Give me time, I just need more time. It’s the move; everything is so different here and you’re gone so much.”

His expression changed, guilt twisting his mouth. But what did he have to feel guilty about?

She put her hand on his arm and slid a little closer, tucking herself into him. “I understand about work. I’m not blaming you. Just give me some time, okay? Let’s have a nice weekend. I love you, don’t ever doubt that. I love you, Michael, I always will. I just need time.”

Michael hugged her tighter to his body.

“I love you, baby. Whatever it is, I don’t care. We’ll figure it out, work through it. You know that, right?”

Oh God, tears again. She nodded, somehow able to form her mouth into a smile even as the crying began anew. He held her for a while, just rocking her, keeping her face buried in his chest, cradling the back of her head. She went limp in his arms and just let him take care of her. She trusted him completely, didn’t she? She could tell him anything. Just not this.

Chapter Four

When Michael was out of town again the following week, Sophie returned to the club. She was only going to look, to watch; she just couldn’t keep away.

Comforting herself with this thought, she made her way up the stairs. John, the same bouncer at the door, acknowledged her with a smile and opened the door. She turned to him before going inside, finding him friendlier than the women in the lobby.

“Can you call Kyan? Tell him Sophie’s here?”

“I will,” he said. “You can wait in the lobby.”

She stepped inside and the door closed behind her. She found she was more excited tonight than frightened.

The office door opened and Kyan stepped through, a smile on his face. She exhaled immediately, meeting his smile with her own, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. When he reached her, he took her hands and kissed her cheek.

“I’m glad we didn’t scare you off,” he said. He looked her over from head to toe and she became very aware of the two women around her. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

“Yes, please,” she said, appreciating that he was so in tune to her feelings.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

She shook her head, but remembered well his instructions. “No, thank you,” she dropped her gaze, “Sir.”

He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest, his expression one of curiosity. “What would you like to do then?” he asked.

She met his eyes again. “I’m not sure I’d like to… do… anything. No, I am sure I don’t want to do anything. But I’d like to watch again. Just in the main room if that’s allowed, Sir.”

His smile grew as if he were pleased and he nodded. “I think that would be all right for now. I’ll introduce you to a few of the other members; you can get to know them and they can get to know you. You should remove your coat though. It’s warm inside,” he said, uncrossing his arms and setting his hands along the edge of the desk.

She looked at him for a moment, her body ready, willing, wanting.

With great attention, she unbuttoned her coat and slipped it from her shoulders. He held out his hand and took it from her, setting it aside.

He waited, patient as ever.

She reached for the hem of her sweater, took a breath, glanced from him to the floor and back to him. She could do this, couldn’t she? She’d thought about it all day. She could do this.

But she soon dropped her hands. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m not ready yet to go in there… naked. I’m sorry.” And she was.

He studied her for a few moments before reaching out and putting his hands on her arms, rubbing reassuringly. “It’s all right. When you’re ready,” he said.

She exhaled and smiled. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Shall we go in?” he asked.

She nodded and took a deep breath to prepare herself. He opened a side door and gestured for her to go through it. She knew it led to the main playroom by the dark blue light and soft music that came from beyond and, picking up one leaden foot at a time, she crossed the threshold.

His hand was at her back guiding her through. The club was quieter tonight and they walked directly to where two couples stood. One of the men was dressed in a suit; the other wore a pair of jeans. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and shoulders. The latter held a mean-looking black leather strap in his hand. One of the women knelt naked at her husband’s feet and the other remained bent over a bench, her hands and ankles bound to the legs. As they approached, the men turned in their direction.

“Gentlemen,” Kyan said. “This is Sophie. I hope you won’t mind if she’ll observe tonight. She’s new and curious.”

“Welcome, Sophie,” one of the men said. The other repeated the words.

“Thank you, um… Sir,” she said, glancing at Kyan, who nodded.

Sophie couldn’t help but look at the markings on the buttocks and thighs of the woman who was bent over the bench.

“Samantha thought she could take a strapping without sound,” the first man offered. She didn’t recall his name. “So far so good; she’s got a few strokes to go, though,” he said. “Don’t you, hon?”

“Yes, Sir.”

The other man grinned.

Then, while everyone watched, he raised his arm and brought the strap down hard on the waiting woman’s buttocks. The flesh quivered, its already reddened surface seeming to radiate heat. The woman didn’t make a sound louder than an exhale of breath, but Sophie saw a tear drop to the floor.

“Ten,” the woman counted.

Another strike. “Nine,” came her voice.

Another. And another. By the time they got to three, she was unable to stop her small squeals.

Kyan checked his watch. “Come,” he said, turning her.

Sophie heard the last three strokes of the strap delivered in quick succession.

Just then, a very pretty, petite blonde approached Kyan. She was wholly nude except for the collar at her neck that matched the irons on her wrists and ankles. Although Sophie blushed, she couldn’t help but look at her. She seemed to demand attention. She was slightly overweight, but walked with such confidence, it was as though she were unaware of her nudity altogether. Sophie felt rather than saw the shift in Kyan’s energy as the woman came closer, her heavy breasts bouncing as she walked fast.

“Master,” she said, offering him her hands.

Kyan took them and smiled, his eyes filled with a warmth that left Sophie feeling almost out of place with the couple—and they were obviously a couple.

Kyan kissed the backs and palms of both her hands and she slid easily to her knees at his side, as if she’d been there a hundred times, a thousand times.

“This is my Julia,” Kyan said, petting the woman’s hair as he introduced her to Sophie.

This might have been one of the strangest experiences Sophie had ever had.

“Julia, this is Sophie. She’s new here so I’m just showing her around. Are Martin and Cassandra ready?” he asked Julia.

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

“One of the members’ wives broke a very important club rule,” he said to Sophie. “Her husband has asked me to deal with her punishment as he’s not experienced enough with the cane. It will be a lesson for both of them. Would you like to witness her punishment or shall I leave you with Julia?” he asked.

She swallowed, her pussy already swollen, her clit throbbing at that one word again. “I’d like to watch,” she found herself saying.

He nodded. After talking with another man who took Julia with him, Kyan led her once again up the stairs to the private rooms. “We’ll need Martin’s permission for you to observe, but I don’t think it will be a problem,” he said.

“Do you… punish… women often?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.

“From time to time, but only if I’m requested to by their husbands or partners.”

“Is Julia your wife?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “My wife and my slave.”

Slave.

“She looked very happy,” Sophie said.

“I hope she is. I love her very much and want her happiness, as any loving husband would for his wife,” he said.

Something lurched in her belly and the arousal she’d been feeling was replaced by a cold, heavy weight. She paused on the stairs.

“Are you all right?” Kyan asked.

She could barely meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel well all of a sudden,” she said.

“Let’s find you a seat,” he said, taking her arm.

She looked at him. “No, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go. I forgot to eat dinner,” she said. That was true, she hadn’t eaten yet. She’d been too anxious about the night. “I’m probably just hungry.”

“I’ll get you something to eat. Come,” he said, but she stopped him.

“No, I’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll be late. I’ll just grab my coat out of your office.”

“Shall I walk you out at least?”

“No. I’m sorry; I don’t want to be any trouble. You’ve done so much already.”

He nodded, his expression one of pure concern. “I’ll make sure they let you in,” he said, studying her. “Would you please call me later or e-mail me at least to let me know you’re all right?” he asked.

She nodded, his kindness only making her feel worse. “I will. Thank you,” she said, reaching out to take his hand and squeezing it. “You’ve been so kind and really, I don’t deserve it.” Her eyes reddened. Again.

He only watched her for a moment. “If you need anything at all, Sophie, anything…”

She nodded and quickly retraced her steps. In his office, she gathered her coat and left, choosing to walk home instead of taking the tram even though a heavy rain-soaked Amsterdam.

Chapter Five

Over the next few days, Sophie tried to busy herself with the house, trying in some strange way to make up for her betrayal of Michael by her attendance at the club. She’d memorized Kyan’s mobile number and had started countless e-mails to him, but had sent none, not even one to tell him she’d made it home.

She’d lied to Michael that last night they’d made love. It wasn’t that she couldn’t orgasm easily; it was just she needed more now. Since the nights at the club, she’d masturbated countless times, imagining Rebecca as she was bent over the back of the chair, seeing the crop come down on her ass, clenching her own cheeks as she fantasized that it was she who was bent over the chair, Michael holding the crop while a stranger watched from beyond. She remembered the sound of Samantha’s gasp as her husband’s strap had struck her buttocks while witnesses watched, no one batting an eye, as if it were completely normal. She heard again the echo of that one tear as it dropped onto the floor.

A deep longing consumed her.

She checked her watch. It was a little after one in the afternoon. Michael would be home by six tonight. She went up to their shared office and sat down behind the desk, opening her laptop. She fished out Kyan’s business card from its hiding place, her heart racing at the thought of what she was about to do, even though she had to do it. This wasn’t something that was going to leave her alone.

Dear Kyan,

I have been thinking of writing you, but to be honest, just wasn’t sure what to say. I very much appreciated you taking me under your wing and helping me at the club. I think I would have gone running if you hadn’t.

I would like to come back, but I suppose I’m afraid. I want to experience what I saw; I’m just not sure I can actually go through with it. I’m not looking for a sexual relationship; things are… complicated. I’m confused to say the least. I don’t know why I want this, why I can’t just let it go. I want to let it go, I want it to let me go. Is that even possible?

Sophie

She was sweating by the time she read it over for the hundredth time and forced herself to hit send, listening to the swoosh as it left her mailbox, still wondering if she’d done the right thing or if she was crossing a line.

She shut down her computer and stood. What was she doing? What did she want? What did she expect from Kyan?

Downstairs, she put on her coat, grabbed her purse, and headed out to the market. She needed to buy food for dinner tonight and while she was out, maybe she’d pick up a new set of cufflinks for Michael. She’d barely returned home when her phone signaled a new e-mail had arrived.

Forcing herself to wait until she was at least inside the house, she dropped the bags on the counter and looked at the new message on her phone. It was a simple one, just a few sentences.

Sophie, I’m at the club now doing some paperwork. Why don’t you come by and we can talk. I’m alone and we can just talk. Front door is unlocked.

Kyan.

Her heart raced. She checked her watch, just after two. Four hours before Michael would get home. It would take her fifteen minutes to get there; she’d have plenty of time. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about clothing if the club was closed. They’d just talk. Maybe he could help her figure this out.

Putting the salmon into the refrigerator and the ice cream in the freezer, she went back out the door.

The club looked different during the day, just like a normal house—like her house must look from the outside. It made her wonder what happened behind the closed doors of all other seemingly ‘normal’ looking houses.

It was a sunny day, which meant every outdoor table was taken at the cafés even though it was early April and still quite cold in the city. She scanned the crowds as she quickly made her way up the stairs and opened the door to enter the club.

“Sophie,” Kyan said, looking up from his seat at the front desk.

“Hi.” She closed the door behind her. The inside also looked different in the daytime. He’d drawn a curtain aside where she hadn’t realized there was a window and sunshine poured through it. Again, nothing scary about the place. Not what she’d expected before she’d finally collected enough courage to walk inside.

Kyan shut off his computer and stood.

“Come in.” He came round the desk. “I’m glad you contacted me,” he said, reaching to greet her with the customary three kisses on her cheeks.

The touch of his face against hers was light, but it still made her shiver.

“I was just going to get some coffee. Would you like some?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, that would be great.” They were just going to drink coffee; nothing was going to happen.

He locked the front door and gestured toward the one behind the desk. “Let’s go into my office,” he said.

“We’re alone?” she asked as she stepped inside.

“Yes. Take off your coat and sit down. And relax, Sophie. Nothing’s going to happen. Nothing will ever happen that you don’t want to happen, understand?”

She looked up at him and exhaled to a nervous smile. “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just so… I don’t know. I’m nervous, I guess.”

“It’s understandable. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black.”

“Easy,” he said, pushing the button on the machine.

She listened to the beans being ground and watched him place a cup to catch the stream of liquid. It was such a domestic, simple task. For some reason, she’d never imagined him doing something as normal as making coffee. There was that word again—normal.

“Here you are.” He handed her a cup and made one for himself, then took his place behind his large, heavy wooden desk.

She saw the office as if for the first time while sipping her coffee. It wasn’t large, but the furnishings were comfortable. The desk took up a good portion of it and across from it sat two chairs, one of which she occupied. One large window overlooked the street.

“Tell me something,” he began, looking into his cup and taking a sip before setting it down, resting his forearms on the desk and looking at her. “Why did you lie about not having a BSN the first night?”

Her expression went from polite to caught red-handed and she fumbled with her coffee for a moment before regaining hold of herself.

“Let’s just be very straight with each other. I’m not asking to make you uncomfortable and I understand your fear. I just want to be clear going forward—I want you to understand that I’m not a stupid man and I won’t accept lies. I think I can help you figure this out, perhaps even help you find what you’re looking for, but let’s just lay our cards out, shall we?”

Sophie stood. “I’m sorry, maybe I should go. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Sit down,” he said, without moving an inch. “Now, Sophie. Sit down.”

Her stomach felt heavy and her knees were already weak as she slid back down onto her seat.

“Are you in a relationship? Truth—you get one chance to answer honestly.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Your partner is vanilla?”

She nodded.

“Are you sure?”

That confused her. “Yes. I mean, he’s never… done anything or…”

“Have you told him what you wanted?” Kyan asked.

“Of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want him to look at me like there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m some pervert,” she said outright. “I couldn’t take it if he was… disgusted by me.”

“If you don’t trust him to accept you as you are, why are you in a relationship with him?”

“It’s complicated, Kyan. It’s just… complicated.” She looked away for a moment, then turned back to him. “I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember and the one time I thought I could tell a boyfriend just a little bit about it, well, let’s just say it didn’t go well and I can still remember how embarrassed I was, how ashamed I felt. I can’t do that again, I can’t go through that again.

“I’m sorry I lied about my BSN and that I may have implied that I was available, or at least if I led you to believe I was. It wasn’t my intention. I just… this is something I can’t get out of my head. I thought if I tried it just once, maybe it wouldn’t be what I fantasized about at all. Maybe it would just go away.”

“So let me make sure I’m understanding this. You’d like to experience this without your partner finding out in the hopes that you will discover it wasn’t what you wanted after all?”

“Yes?” she more asked than answered. They both knew it wasn’t that simple.

Kyan studied her for what seemed like hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. He then opened the bottom drawer of his desk and retrieved a leather paddle, setting it on top of the desk between them. She couldn’t peel her eyes from it, the long narrow instrument filling her with fear of the actual pain a spanking entailed even while every conscious part of her wanted nothing other than that very thing.

But she wanted it with Michael.

She met his eyes.

“I don’t know if I agree with how you’re going about this, Sophie. There’s an intimacy that comes with this that maybe you don’t understand. Perhaps your desire for it is too strong and doesn’t allow you to see that logic.”

Her eyes darted once more to the paddle. “Maybe it will hurt so badly I’ll never want it again,” she said nervously. What was she implying? Was she really going there with him? She knew he was right about the intimacy and if she did this, she’d cross a line, perhaps one she could not recover from.

“Would you like me to give you a taste of what you think you want?” he asked outright.

At first, she was stunned. It took her some time to recover and she thought about what he said, what he was offering. His words confronted her; he confronted her. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t that why she’d come back today? It wasn’t for a friendly chat at all. He was no fool and it was time she took some responsibility.

She shook her head and dropped her gaze. “I can’t do that to him,” she said, smiling a weak smile that was just sad.

When she raised her eyes to his again, he was watching her, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’re honest, Sophie. You’re a good person, you love your…?”

“Husband. His name is Michael.” Saying his name out loud almost brought him into the room and her guilt lessened just a little.

“You love your husband. If you’d said yes to my proposition, I may not have believed that, but I do now. I’m also willing to bet he loves you enough to accept this side of you.” He paused and sipped his coffee. “And by the way, this isn’t something that just goes away. It’s the way we’re built; it’s as much a part of you as your right arm is. You’re only causing yourself and perhaps Michael pain by holding on to it so tightly.

“Go home, Sophie. Be with your husband, talk to him. Trust him. Hell, bring him here and I’ll talk to him.”

She nodded, smiling a small, real smile. She felt an intense relief at having told Kyan the truth. At telling at least someone the truth. He was right, she knew it. She needed to talk to Michael. But did she have the courage to go through with it?

“Thank you,” she said, rising to her feet. “Am I allowed to come back?”

“Anytime you’d like, you’re always welcome. And truthfully, I’d be hurt if I didn’t see you again.”

Kyan walked her out. Rather than taking the tram, she walked home, thinking about how she was going to do this. How she was going to tell Michael.

* * *

Michael watched his wife walk out the door of a place called L’Opera. The man she was with kissed her on the cheek, but the way he held her afterwards was what had Michael fisting his hands in rage. He remained in the shadows until she disappeared down the street, noting how the man watched her go. Once she was out of sight, the man went back inside and Michael stalked up to the door, taking the stairs fast. He didn’t knock. Instead, he pulled the door open, surprising the man inside. Once there, he drew his arm back and punched the stranger on his jaw, sending him backwards.

“That’s my wife you had your hands all over, asshole!” he said, preparing to land a second blow. “Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?” He would have struck again but just then, someone grabbed his arm. He turned, trying to break free, only to find a huge guy pulling both his arms behind his back.

“Boss,” the guy started, “you okay? Want me to call the police?”

The man rubbed his jaw and stared at Michael. It didn’t look like he was angry, which was strange, Michael thought.

“No, John. Thank you. You must be Michael,” he said, extending his hand in a friendly gesture.

Michael yanked against the grip the man had on him, but the way John had wrapped his arms behind his back, it wasn’t possible to free himself.

“Let him go, John. It’s okay.”

“It is far from okay,” Michael said, tugging himself free as soon as the hold on him was relaxed. “What the fuck is this place? And what was my wife doing here?”

“This is a BDSM club and your wife was here because she has an interest in the lifestyle. She’s done nothing that would compromise your marriage and our relationship is one of friendship, that is all. If you’d like, I’d be happy to tell you more about the club.”

“Fuck your club,” he said. “BDSM?”

Kyan nodded. “You know what that is?”

“I’m not a fucking idiot,” he said. He looked around, running a hand through his hair.

“John, it’s all right. Why don’t you go get ready for work,” Kyan said.

John nodded. “I’m right around the corner, boss.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Kyan van de Brink. I’m the owner of the club.”

Michael turned to look him over once, twice. Was this his competition? Was Sophie having an affair with him? He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. About the same age and physical body type.

“Michael Perron.”

“Dutch?” Kyan asked.

Michael nodded once. BDSM. What was going on in her head? Was this why she’d been so secretive? Was this what she was trying to hide from him? “Look, I need to know what the hell’s going on. I come home early from work to surprise my wife, find an e-mail on her computer from you, and when I get here, I see you kissing her off.” That brought the anger back.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I promise. Your wife is committed to you.”

Michael could only stare at this man, but some part of him knew he was telling the truth.

“Let’s go sit down. Have a beer. I know I could use one.”

Michael nodded and followed Kyan through the heavy curtains to enter the deserted main floor. Kyan grabbed two bottles of beer from behind the bar and found a table. The men sat down across from each other to talk.

Chapter Six

Sophie lit the candles on the dining room table. At precisely six PM, she heard the key in the front door just as the timer went off. She heard Michael’s step in the hallway, but instead of going to him, she ran to take the salmon out of the oven. She set the pan down on the counter and slipped off her apron, intending to meet him in the living room, but instead collided with him when she turned to walk out of the kitchen.

“Hey!” she said, bouncing off his chest.

His hands closed over her arms to catch her. The pressure was just a little harder than she expected.

“Right on time.” She looked up at him. He looked different, disheveled. Her stomach was in knots and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat a bite of the meal she’d prepared. She was going to tell him tonight. She’d been practicing how she’d say it ever since she’d gotten home this afternoon. But now that he was here, well, it was different.

“Smells good,” Michael said, still holding onto her, his eyes searching her face as if they were looking for something. She had the impression he couldn’t have cared less about the food as his hands kneaded the flesh of her upper arms.

“I just took the salmon out; we should probably eat before it gets cold,” she said. Something was off.

“M-hmm.”

He was acting strange. He released her arms and she went back into the kitchen. He followed her in.

“You’ve already had a glass?” he asked, taking a wineglass out of the cupboard and pouring from the bottle that stood open on the counter.

“Not much, I just poured it.” She’d needed something to help her relax.

He took a bigger sip than she would have expected; he was usually so controlled. When she turned to plate the salmon, she could feel his eyes on her back the entire time.

“Is this the new bottle you bought?” he asked, picking up the bottle and looking at the label.

She nodded without looking at him as a chill ran up her spine. “It’s the Chablis. Everything okay, Michael?” She tried to sound casual, keeping her hands busy as she spoke.

“Everything’s perfect,” he answered. But his tone said everything was anything but perfect. “We ready to eat?”

She looked at him, then nodded. “If you’ll bring the bottle.” She dropped her gaze first and walked into the dining room. When she got to the table, what she saw lying in the center made everything stop. Everything except for the plate of fish, which slipped from her hands and shattered on the hardwood floor.

“Sit down, Sophie,” Michael said, coming up behind her.

She shuddered and turned to look at him over her shoulder. Her face, she was certain, was as white as the wall.

His ice-blue gaze held hers.

“Sit down. Now.”

Crushing shards of her favorite serving dish beneath her shoes, she walked to take her seat. Her eyes turned once again to the black leather paddle that took up the center of the dining room table.

He knew.

* * *

Michael put her glass in front of her and topped it off. He then took his seat, his body relaxed, casual even, although it certainly wasn’t how he was feeling. He was still processing his conversation with Kyan.

Kyan had told him everything. He’d been, from what Michael could make out, honest. Sophie hadn’t done anything that would have broken a marriage vow. In fact, she’d told Kyan she was married and wasn’t interested in anything sexual. He looked at her, his young wife, sitting across from him. She was trembling, sweat glistening on her forehead. She was a lovely thing, pretty, just so pretty in a naïve, young, almost childlike way. He imagined what would have happened to her if she’d walked into any other club. If she hadn’t met Kyan, who sounded more like the voice of logic and reason than his wife. The fact that she hadn’t come to him, her husband, hadn’t trusted him enough to tell her what she wanted, what she really wanted—that part made him feel both angry and hurt.

But now it was time to get some answers.

“Take a sip of your drink,” he said.

“I’m not thirsty.”

“Take a sip of your drink,” he repeated.

“Michael…” Her face crumpled; she was unable to keep the façade of happy homemaker.

Her obvious pain tugged at his heart and wrenched his stomach. How long had she been struggling with this? Alone? He made sure his voice was softer when he spoke next. “We’re talking, Sophie. Just talking. Take a sip of your wine. Relax.”

She reached a trembling hand and took the glass. She had to hold it with both hands once it was at her mouth so it wouldn’t splash as she sipped. Michael waited, watching her as she slowly set the glass back on the table and turned her gaze to her lap.

“I came home early to surprise you today. You know how worried I’ve been about you the last few months. Hell, the last year.”

She glanced at him from beneath thick lashes, but quickly dropped her gaze again.

He sipped from his glass, taking a moment. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he was going to get the truth, all of it. And he was going to get it tonight.

“So I came home early to find you gone. Groceries were still on the counter in their bags, which was strange, and when I called your cell phone, there was no answer.”

She looked at him. “I’m sorry, I…”

He put up a hand to stop her from continuing. “No excuses and no more damn lies, Sophie. I’ve had it. I’m finished. You’ll sit and you’ll listen to what I have to say and when I ask you to answer a question, you’ll answer the question. Period. Am I clear?”

She studied him as if trying to make sense of what he had said. He’d never been anything with her but gentle to an extreme. To a fault.

She nodded and he couldn’t help but notice the hardening of her nipples beneath her white blouse. This was new. To him at least. But were the signs there all along?

“I went upstairs thinking maybe you were there, but you weren’t. Figured I’d read through the mail while waiting for you and when I went to pick it up off the desk, found this sitting next to your laptop.”

Michael held up Kyan’s business card.

There was a physical change in her in that moment. She shifted in her seat, her guilt no longer allowing her to meet his eyes.

“So I thought I’d look up the place, see what exactly it was. I’d never heard of it, you see.” He turned the card over to look at the private number Kyan had handwritten on the back. “Strange to find another man’s business card on your desk with a cell phone number scribbled on the back. Not really what any husband hopes to find among his wife’s things.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he put his hand up.

“It’s still my turn,” he said.

She dropped her gaze to her lap once again.

“So I boot up the computer and type in the web address, only to find it’s stored on memory. After figuring out what this place was, I thought I’d go have a look for myself. You can imagine my surprise when I got there only to find my wife wrapped in another man’s arms—”

“It wasn’t like that. It was never like that. I swear, Michael, I never cheated, I wouldn’t.”

He ignored her frantic outburst and continued. “Once you were gone, I went inside to beat the son of a bitch up.”

“You didn’t—”

“No. I didn’t. Only got one hit in before the bouncer got there.”

“Oh my God!”

“Kyan’s fine, Sophie.”

“Michael…”

“I want to know why you haven’t told me this. Why you had to go behind my back looking for something like this.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears sliding down her face.

“Explain to me why. Help me understand what I’ve done wrong that you couldn’t trust me with something as important as this obviously is to you.” His voice cracked on that and he was the one to break eye contact this time. He picked up his glass and downed the contents.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “It was me, it’s my fault. I was just… scared.”

“Of me? Of my reaction? Of what? All I’ve ever done is love you!” he said.

Sophie covered her mouth with her hands as she wept.

“Shit,” he said, standing and walking away. He ran his hands through his hair. When she started to speak again, he turned back to her but didn’t resume his seat.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was some freak. Some perverted, disgusting…” She broke down now, fully sobbing into her hands.

Michael’s own eyes watered as he went to her, lifting her from her seat and taking her into his arms. He held her while she wept, muffling the sound of her agony in his chest.

“I would never, could never…” He kissed the top of her head, holding her tight to him. Once her sobs died down and her body stopped shaking with the after-effects, he pulled her back, forcing her to look up at him. Mascara smeared her face black, her lips were pale, her skin blotchy from crying, and Michael was sure he’d never loved her more. “I love you, Sophie. You’re my wife and I plan to be a better husband to you, but for me to do that, you’re going to need to communicate. With me.”

She nodded, sucking in a breath.

“I’m going to clean this mess up. While I do that, I want you to go upstairs and have a shower. When you’re finished, I want you to braid your hair so it’s off your back, just one long braid. I then want you to wait for me in the bedroom. You’re not to come out until I come upstairs. Is that clear?”

She searched his face and after a moment, reached up to kiss him, obviously not understanding his intent.

He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her, but she pushed and when her lips met his, he kissed her back.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Did you understand my instructions?” he asked, holding her inches away. She needed what he had planned for tonight. And so did he. If he’d doubted it for a moment, it was crystal clear now.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good. Go get ready for me.”

He let her go and after a long moment, she took a step.

“One more thing,” he said.

She turned back.

He held out the paddle for her.

“Set this on the bed.”

Her eyes remained on the thing for a while before she extended her hand to take it, and she met his gaze. Michael’s cock stirred at the look on her face, at the flush on her cheeks, at the trembling of her hand as she took the paddle from him and walked quietly to the stairs.

He went into the hallway closet to retrieve the vacuum. He exhaled as he worked, knowing this could have gone so badly. Much more would be expected of him in the coming hours. He’d never done anything like this before. The thought of hurting her was so foreign, but what was more so was his arousal at what was to come. It was at odds with how he thought he should feel.

* * *

Sophie sat at her vanity wearing a white cotton nightie, twisting her dark hair into a long braid.

In the reflection of the mirror, she glimpsed the black paddle she’d laid on the bed. What was going to happen tonight? Was he going to do it? Was he going to paddle her? Punish her? The Michael she knew, the husband she knew, he was not this. He was gentle, he had never raised a hand to her, never to anyone as far as she knew. Except Kyan, apparently. He barely got angry and neither of them ever raised their voices at one another.

She heard his footfalls on the stairs and her heart began to race. She kept her eyes on her own face in the mirror, her skin looking a little paler, her eyes still red from crying.

Michael opened the door and walked inside. He had removed his suit jacket and tie so he stood in dress pants and a white button-down shirt. He didn’t look nervous or anxious as she expected him to be. Instead, he looked truly like the man in control.

He eyed the paddle, then turned to her.

“Stand up, Sophie.”

She rose slowly to her feet and turned to him.

“Did I tell you to put anything on?”

She looked at him, confused for a moment, then glanced at her nightie.

“No,” she said.

“Then take it off.”

It took her a moment; was he really doing this?

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Words, please. And I believe you’ve been taught about proper address.”

“Michael…” she began, needing to clear her throat. This was strange. They’d been together for four years. He couldn’t really expect her to start calling him Sir, could he? As much as a part of her felt embarrassed and battled the thought of doing just that, another part of her wanted him to make her do it. To make her submit fully.

“I mean it, Soph. This is what you want—we’re not doing it half-assed. We’re doing it all the way.”

She looked at him, gauging his words, wondering how far he’d go, before she nodded and quickly pulled her nightie over her head. His glance swept her body and stopped at her white lace panties. He only had to nod once before she reached to slide them off and placed them on top of her nightie on the chair of her vanity.

He looked her over for what seemed like forever. He’d seen her naked before, of course, but him looking at her tonight, like this, felt different. Her nipples hardened beneath his gaze and heat collected between her legs.

“I’m going to punish you for lying to me and for visiting the club alone, Sophie, but I want your consent to do it. I’m going to paddle you hard enough that you’re going to remember it and hopefully think twice the next time. We’re in this together; we can’t keep secrets from each other—especially these sort of secrets. Do you understand?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, what?” he pushed.

She looked at his face, searching his eyes, embarrassment making her heartbeat pick up. “Sir,” she managed. It should have sounded strange, but didn’t.

“Do you consent to your punishment?” he asked.

“You’re my husband,” she mumbled.

“Exactly.”

She looked at the paddle on the bed, at his big hands, at the muscle beneath his shirt. She nodded.

“Words,” he said. “I need you to vocalize.”

Her belly quivered and her pussy throbbed. “Yes, I consent to being punished.”

“Sir,” he reminded.

She licked her lips. “Sir.”

“Pick up the pillows and stack them at the foot of the bed.”

She moved slowly, her heart pounding, nervous, anxious, not knowing what she wanted, not wanting this to fail, afraid of the pain to come. Her emotions were a jumbled mess inside her. She picked up her pillow first and set it where he’d said, then went over to his side and did the same, all the while very aware of her naked body as he stood fully dressed watching her while he rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Once she was finished she turned to him, eyeing his powerful forearms, the dusting of blond hair there.

Michael picked up the paddle and she couldn’t help but stare at it.

“Should we talk about a safeword?” she asked. It was strange—as much as she wanted this, wanted him to dominate her, wanted to submit to him, she couldn’t help asking, even knowing she was, in some way, testing him.

“Five extra strokes for speaking when you weren’t asked a question,” he said. “And every time you forget the ‘Sir,’ you get five more. This is a punishment. You don’t get a safeword for this.”

He paused while she absorbed his words. She felt frightened, but also aroused even as she understood she was to be punished. Maybe because of it.

“I have another question for you,” he began.

She waited, shifting on her feet.

“That night you said you were out getting drinks with Lucille. You were at the club?”

She felt the heat of embarrassment on her face. “I walked by, I didn’t dare go inside, but yes, it was a lie. I wasn’t with Lucille.”

He nodded. “Tell me why you’re being punished,” he said, rubbing the flat of the paddle against his thigh.

She couldn’t help looking at it, wondering how it was going to feel, how much it was going to hurt.

Wondering if he was really going to go through with it.

If he could go through with it.

“Because I lied, I’ve been lying to you. And I went to the club without you, without you even knowing. I… are you punishing me for Kyan? Nothing happened,” she said.

He shook his head. “You’re lucky he was the guy who picked you up at the door. But the rest of it is right. Anything else you’d like to add?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Sir.” It felt so strange to refer to him as Sir.

He nodded. “Bend over the bed. You can keep your hands underneath your chest but you’re not reach back to cover yourself. Clear?”

She nodded, a sudden rush of pure panic flushing adrenaline through her. She glanced at the door just beyond him.

“Problem, Sophie?” he asked for the second time that night.

“I’m scared,” she said outright, shifting on her feet, folding her arms across her chest, then unfolding them, unsure what to do.

“I’m going to punish you hard, but I won’t give you more than you can take,” he said. “Now let’s not drag this out. Bend over the bed. This is happening, Soph.”

She swallowed, dared one last glance at the paddle, and turned. It took her a moment as she bent slowly forward over the dense pillows until her chest was on the bed. She tucked her arms beneath her breasts and looked ahead, her body already tightening in anticipation of what was to come.

The toe of his shoe tapped at her ankle and she spread her legs wider. Michael set the paddle down on the bed and she felt his hands on her ass just touching her, his caress soft.

“I’m scared,” she said again. “Sir,” she added, suddenly very aware of not wanting to add on a single additional stroke.

“I love you, Sophie,” he said. “I would never do anything that would really harm you. You need this punishment and our marriage needs it maybe more than either of us realize. I want you to trust me to do this. Do you trust me?” he asked.

She looked over her shoulders, meeting his eyes. She nodded. “Yes, Sir. I trust you.”

He smiled a kind, gentle smile. “Good girl,” he said. “Face forward now until I tell you you’re allowed to turn around.”

She obeyed, anticipation tightening her belly while arousal warmed her sex.

His hand came down hard on her right cheek and she jumped up, reaching back immediately to cover it. “Ow!” she exclaimed.

He pressed between her shoulder blades, pushing her back down. “Stay down,” he said. “And get your hand off your ass. It’s mine now. Do it, Sophie.”

“It hurt.”

“I meant it to hurt, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” She lay back down and tucked her arms back beneath her chest.

“Good girl,” he said. With that, he began. He used his hand first, the contact of it on her bare flesh strange, almost foreign used this way. The sound was loud, more overwhelming than the pain, but as he continued, it turned into a constant but manageable sting.

He spanked quickly, striking each buttock in turn, sometimes twice on one side before moving over to the other side. But the pain was something else entirely when he first struck with the paddle.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, trying to rise, but unable to as he still held her down. She pressed her thighs together and reached back to cover her now stinging ass.

“What did I tell you about your hands?” Michael asked, gripping both of them in one of his and holding them at her low back. He struck again, harder this time, pushing her down onto the bed so her torso pressed against it, forcing her hips higher as she took the next blow.

“Ow, ow, ow!” she cried, struggling against his hold. “Wait, please. Please just a minute.” She was struggling to get free now, shifting her hips from side to side to avoid the blows, fighting him.

He struck twice more, then stopped. “All right,” he said, lifting her by one arm. He pushed the pillows off the bed and pulled her across his lap, trapping her legs beneath one of his and her hands at her low back. Her torso rested partially on the bed, but he shifted the position a little so she hung off his thighs.

She groaned with the next strike of the paddle, this change in position, her being bent over his knee, almost giving him better access. Maybe it was that she couldn’t struggle as much or that her struggling had less impact on what was happening. She lost track of the count she’d been keeping without ever being aware she’d been counting and just concentrated on the pain, the burn of the paddle, and the heat that spread throughout her body, causing her to break out in a sweat.

“When I first saw you there at the club,” he said while continuing to spank her hard, “I could have killed that man. I could have killed him for touching you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cried out. “It hurts, please stop, Michael. I’m sorry.”

“Then when I found out what it was all about,” he continued, striking the crease between thigh and buttock, then the outer curve of her right hip.

She moaned in pain, her fantasies of spanking very different from this painful reality.

She turned to look over her shoulder, her face contorted, her vision blurry with tears.

“Michael,” she said.

He met her gaze and stopped for a moment.

“Sir, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes were moist even as she felt the thick shaft of his cock at her belly. She heard the paddle drop to the floor and his hand was on her ass caressing her sore, swollen flesh. He released her hands and she reached to the floor to support herself with one while wiping at her eyes with the other.

“Breathe,” he said, his voice calm, even.

She nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but it came in in shudders.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s over,” he said, lifting her onto his lap, spreading his thighs so she sat between his legs. He held her to him, rubbing her back, her head until she found she had no more tears to cry.

She looked up at him, bringing tear-stained lips to his. He kissed her and it was perhaps the most intimate kiss they’d ever shared.

Slowly, he rose to stand and deposited her on her feet.

He looked down at her.

“How do you feel?” he asked, pushing away the wisps of hair that had slipped from her braid and now stuck to her wet face.

“It hurts,” she began, “but I feel better,” she finished. Strangely, she understood the emotion. The physical punishment had somehow worked to alleviate her of the guilt of her lies, her deceit. She hadn’t imagined it worked like this. This was, in fact, very different from what she’d envisioned at all.

He took her face in his hands as if he were touching her for the first time. She put her hands on his chest, then slid them down to grasp his cock, thick and hard and ready for her. But when she began to unbuckle his belt, he covered her hand with his and shook his head.

“Paddling is over but your punishment is not. Not yet,” he said, his voice controlled.

She looked at him, confused, but followed when he walked her over to the wall.

“Fifteen minutes,” he said, turning her so her nose was in the corner. “Put your hands up. Here, on the wall,” he said. “Don’t try to rub out the pain. I want to watch you like this.”

She followed him with her worried gaze as he walked away, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. She heard the zipper of his pants as he continued to strip and she wanted nothing more than to mount him, climb on top of him, and take his cock deep inside her. She wanted him to fuck her, to make her come. Her pussy was dripping, smearing juice on her thigh even as her ass burned with the heat of her punishment.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he said.

She met his tender gaze.

“No, nose to the wall. I still owe you a few strokes for not using the proper address earlier, but we’ll do those tomorrow morning. Now, I’m just going to watch you.”

He was quiet after that and fifteen minutes felt like an hour as she stood staring at the white wall, her nose touching it, feeling thoroughly punished, thoroughly aroused. She needed to come, her pussy was swollen, her clit throbbed, wanting, wanting, wanting.

“Come here,” he called finally.

She turned to find him naked on the bed, his thick cock in his hand, the head of it glistening.

“On your hands and knees on the bed and suck my cock,” he said.

She climbed up eagerly and when he fisted a handful of her hair to guide her roughly, she moaned, a fresh trail of her arousal slick on her thighs. She lifted her ass higher as she brought her face to his lap, his hand managing the fucking of her mouth. She tasted him, the slick, salty dew and wanted him to come in her mouth, to make her swallow, to punish her again if she spilled even a single drop.

But he stopped and pulled her off with a groan.

“I need to be inside you tonight,” he said. “Show me your pussy. Turn around, get your ass in the air and your face on the bed, and show me your pussy.”

He’d never talked to her like this. No, that wasn’t true, he had. She’d just always been too embarrassed to encourage it.

She turned to offer herself to him, just as he’d ordered. She spread her legs wide and buried her face in the bed, squealing when he slapped her beaten, tender flesh, but only lifted higher when his cock penetrated her drenched pussy in one hard thrust. He fucked her hard, his hands on her still burning cheeks, spreading her open. When his thumb closed over her anus, she moaned into the bed, her orgasm so violent, so severe, that the pleasure matched the pain of the punishment she’d just taken. Her pussy clenched around his cock as his thumb pressed into her back hole and she could only gasp for breath as he stilled, filling her as he climaxed.

She heard only his ragged breath once he began to slowly pull out of her.

“Christ,” he said. “No, stay. I want to watch you a little longer.”

Sophie remained as she was, her face reddening as she heard him settle back, unwilling to meet his gaze. She felt embarrassed, but at the same time, reveled in her exposure, her vulnerability. Every emotion and thought warred with every other emotion and thought—even confusion with complete and utter understanding.

When she felt the leaking of his semen as it spilled out of her and slowly trailed down her thigh, she made a small sound, ashamed but also wanting exactly this. Needing this humiliation, this shame.

“Look at me,” he said. She turned her face slightly so she could see him out of one eye. He was leaning against the headboard, one arm overhead, completely relaxed. “You liked when I pushed my finger inside your ass, didn’t you?” he asked.

She could only stare for a moment as heat flushed her face red.

“The five tomorrow morning are going to be hard enough, I imagine. You don’t want to make it six, Soph,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” she quickly supplied.

“Yes, Sir, what? Say it. Tell me what you liked, what you want. Trust me.”

She lifted her head up and kept her eyes at a point just beyond his shoulder. “I liked when you… pushed your finger inside me. Inside… my ass.”

He smiled a satisfied smile and climbed off the bed, slapping her hip once.

She flinched and he grinned.

“Let’s have a shower, get you cleaned up,” he said.

Chapter Seven

The alarm went off at half past six the next morning. Michael hit snooze and rolled onto his side, collecting Sophie into his arms.

“Ouch,” she winced.

He eased back a little, knowing she’d be sore from last night, considering not giving her the five he promised this morning. This was new to him, very new. He’d never even hand spanked a girlfriend. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d done it once in high school more as a joke, a dare from the girl. Although he couldn’t recall her name, he remembered that night well. She’d been pretty bratty and when he’d called her on it, she’d taunted him into spanking her. He’d gotten hard, he remembered that much. But back then, it didn’t take much to get him hard.

Sophie’s braid had come partially undone. She’d slept through the night though, which he knew didn’t happen regularly. In fact, most nights when she’d wake up, he’d lie there pretending to be asleep especially if he heard her crying, at a loss for how to talk to her after so many months of silence.

At that thought, he pulled her tight to him just as the alarm went off again. He kissed her softly on her ear, pushing the hair away. She moaned and turned her face to his.

“Good morning,” he whispered, kissing her again.

“Mmm… Good morning,” she replied, her eyes still closed.

“Remember,” he said.

She opened her eyes, rubbing out the sleep.

“Five strokes this morning.” His cock was hard.

“But I’m sore,” she protested.

“All the surer you’ll remember to use the Sir next time. I’m going to have a shower; stay in bed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, rolling over onto his pillow and watching him as he went into the bathroom.

His cock was hard throughout his shower and he knew just what he’d have her do to relieve him. He shaved and splashed aftershave onto his face and neck. It was a scent she’d chosen for him when they were first dating, one he’d used ever since. He brushed his hair and, without dressing, returned to the bedroom to find Sophie sitting up, holding the paddle.

She held it out to him. “How do you want me, Sir?” she asked.

He took the paddle from her, any hesitation he’d had about giving her these five disappearing.

She wanted it.

“Lie on your stomach and slip my pillow beneath your hips,” he said.

She pushed the blankets off and positioned his pillow beneath her hips, then tucked her arms under her chest.

“I’m ready. I think. Sir.”

Michael looked at her, his cock thicker and harder at the sight of her there, offering herself up to him. He’d always loved her ass. Sophie didn’t have much in the way of breasts, less than a handful even, but her ass more than made up for it. She was thin with a fairly small waist, but her hips swelled nicely, her buttocks round and lush for the rest of her petite form. She was still marked from last night, but he’d get better at this, figure out how to use the various implements, what to do when. Last night when he’d asked her to go stand in the corner, it had just seemed like a natural transition. The way they’d fucked, the image of her on all fours would be branded on his mind forever. He felt like some part of him had come up for air. It was strange, something he didn’t understand.

He’d talk to Kyan some more. They’d spent over an hour talking yesterday and Michael trusted that he’d done nothing but behave in a polite, gentlemanly manner with his wife. He’d genuinely wanted to help her, guide her. Michael knew it was strange, but he somehow trusted the man.

Sophie glanced over her shoulder at him and he realized all this time he was thinking, watching, enjoying, she’d been anticipating.

“I like the look of your ass,” he said. “Face forward and we’ll get this done. If you move your hands out to cover yourself, we’ll have a repeat of last night when I get home from work. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

She turned and when he touched the paddle to her buttock, she immediately clenched.

“No. Keep them soft, I want them soft.”

It took her a moment, but she did it and he raised the paddle. Although he used half the force he’d used last night, he made sure to bring it down over a bruise, unable to resist doing so. It satisfied him in a strange, unnatural, unnerving way.

Sophie made a sound, as if breath was forced from her with the blow, but he didn’t pause. He struck again on her other cheek, on another bruise that marked the sit spot, watching her fleshy buttocks flattening out and then bouncing back after the strike. Even as the strokes were at half the strength, he imagined they would have felt worse to her over her already sore ass.

He rubbed her buttocks again with the paddle and she remained in position until he delivered the final few. He wondered if she’d be able to take a spanking like last night in silence once she was better trained. The thought intrigued him, excited some part of him. He liked the idea of her submitting to it without needing to be held down. It turned him on.

Although the thought of her in bonds also turned him on.

He checked himself and set the paddle down. What the hell was wrong with him? This was his wife he was talking about.

“It’s over, baby,” he said, kneeling on the bed to massage her buttocks.

“Those hurt.”

“Probably because of last night, I hardly used any force this morning.”

She eyed his cock when she turned over onto her side.

“You don’t get to come this morning. Not until after I’m gone at least,” he said. “Instead, you get to suck my cock. I’m going to come in your mouth and you’re going to swallow. Make sure you don’t spill,” he said, a small warning in his tone.

She licked her lips as he brought her head toward his cock. She opened her mouth and touched the tip of her tongue to the head of it, circling first, then taking him into her mouth. He could just reach her ass and slipped his hand between her legs.

“Christ, your pussy is soaked, Sophie,” he said. He pressed one finger inside her, then two before moving to rub her clit.

She moaned and slowed her sucking.

“No, don’t come. If you come, you’ll be in trouble.”

This time her sound was one of pure displeasure, but she refocused her attention where he wanted it, on his cock. He’d never pushed her to take him to the back of her throat. Whenever she gagged, he’d back off, but this morning, he pressed on.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears, and he put his hands on either side of her head.

“You can do it, Soph. Relax your throat, open for me. That’s it, girl,” he coached. “I’m going to fuck your mouth more often. Look at me, baby; keep those gorgeous eyes on me. I want to watch you take me. I want to see you swallow.”

His grip on her hair tightened and with the next thrust, his cock twitched, then pumped the first stream of semen down her throat. He watched her take it, her tears making him want to go deeper, to fill her up. Only when he was thoroughly spent did he slowly pull out. He then watched her, her eyes still turned up to his. She put a hand over her mouth, but did as she’d been told, swallowing what was left.

Michael smiled. “Good girl,” he said, petting her head. He sat down and she laid her head on his lap. “I wish I didn’t have to go to these meetings,” he said. His flight to Paris left in two hours.

“It’s just one night at least.”

“You’re sweet,” he said, looking down at her, touching her cheek.

She turned her head to kiss his palm. He allowed it, watching her all the while as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with an adoration he’d not seen before. When she smiled, he took his thumb and touched it to her lips, then, pushing slightly, traced the shape of them.

“I want you to do something for me,” he began.

“Okay, what?”

“I want you waxed bare front to back. Take all the hair off your pussy for me. Can you do that?”

“Ouch,” she said. “Sadist.”

He paused, looking at her, her smile telling him she was teasing.

“I’ll make an appointment for next week.”

He shook his head. “Sooner,” he said.

“But the bruises,” she began.

“It’s none of anyone’s business.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Get back into bed, get some more sleep,” he said.

She kept his pillow in her arms and lay on her side, still looking at him. Michael tucked her in.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing her temple with the back of his hand.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “More than okay.”

“We’ll talk about what happened last night when I get home. Get our feelings sorted. Yeah?” he asked, suddenly worried he shouldn’t be leaving her alone, worried she might need him.

She must have seen it in his eyes because she sat up and took his hand, bringing it to her face. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek in his palm. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. I’m happy,” she said, opening her eyes to gaze at him. “I’m happy that I don’t have to hide anymore.”

Michael cupped her face and brought his lips to her forehead, just pressing them against her. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you.”

* * *

Sophie watched as he walked out, closing the bedroom door behind him. She climbed out of the bed and opened the curtains. Michael went out the front door, slipping his arm through his jacket. She heard the beeping of the car door and watched as he slid his computer bag into the back seat before climbing into the driver’s side. Before he closed the door, he glanced up and caught her eye. He raised a hand and smiled a small smile, then closed the door and drove off.

She turned back into the room and looked around. Finding the paddle on the floor, she picked it up. Her ass burned but her pussy clenched. The sensations so opposed one another, but at the same time, went hand in hand. Walking to the full-length mirror, she turned to look at herself. She gasped at what she saw there.

The strokes he’d delivered this morning had freshened the pink of her otherwise pale skin and her flesh was bruised in a few spots. The paddling had hurt much worse than it ever had in her fantasies, but in truth, she was glad for it. The night had gone very differently from how she’d imagined it would, but in a way, it had been easier. His finding her as she’d left the club was more of a blessing. For her at least. She’d have to call Kyan, make sure he was okay. Thank him even.

She made the bed and went to have a shower. She waited until it was a little past ten in the morning to make the call.

“Kyan van de Brink,” he answered on the second ring. This was a very Dutch thing. They all answered the phone saying their name. It was still strange to her.

“Um, hi, Kyan. It’s me, Sophie,” she said.

“Good morning,” Kyan said. “Should I ask how you are?”

“Well, my butt’s a little sore…” she began, embarrassed but also at ease enough to share this with him.

“Your husband jumped the gun when he saw you leave yesterday,” Kyan said.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The bruise will heal. Michael’s not an unreasonable man, and quite frankly, I may have done worse if I’d seen someone kissing my Julia.”

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” she said.

“Never mind that. How did it go for you?”

“I suppose it was a blessing in disguise for me,” she said. “I didn’t have to bring it up. He did.”

“I thought he might. Go on.”

“He was more upset that I hadn’t told him than anything else. You were right, Kyan.”

“I’m glad for that. Let me ask you something else, though. Do you feel like you were able to get what you needed from him last night?”

Sophie rubbed her ass. “Yes,” she said, knowing it was so much more than the spanking itself.

She could almost hear him smile on the other side of the phone. “I’m glad.”

“Should I…” She felt strange, but the idea just came up so she asked. “Should I return the paddle to you, by the way?” What was the proper etiquette for such things?

Now she did hear his chuckle. “No, consider it my gift to you both. I hope I’ll see you again sometime? With Michael’s permission, of course.”

“Me too. He’s out of town tonight, but when he’s back, I’ll talk about it with him. I’d like to join the club, I think, but I don’t know if maybe it will be too soon for him.”

“Talk to him. The club will be here whenever you’re both ready.”

“Thank you, Kyan. You’ve done so much for me.”

“I’m glad.”

They said goodbye and hung up and she hoped Michael would be open to the idea of taking her back to the club soon.

* * *

Michael couldn’t concentrate. He went to the airport, flew to Paris, and met with the clients. Two colleagues had joined him on this trip and for that he was glad, because he seemed to attend every meeting only half present.

Was he a sadist?

He’d liked spanking his wife. Was that it or was it that he’d liked hurting her? Her submission had thrilled him. Having his instructions followed, his orders obeyed… it made him hard thinking of it even now. The paddling had come more naturally than he’d thought it would. Standing her in the corner—Christ. She’d obeyed without question once he’d asserted his position, his dominion over her.

And it thrilled him.

But he still couldn’t wrap his brain around that one word: sadist. He’d liked hurting her. Did that make him a sadist? When he’d purposely struck over top of the bruises he’d created last night, it was almost as though he’d been unable not to.

Michael ran a hand through his hair. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was this really what she wanted? Had he been harder on her than he should have been? She was small, fragile, breakable.

His cock stirred again. He checked his watch. One more meeting and he’d be able to get back to his hotel room to call and check on her. Maybe he should have told her to go see Kyan. But no, he didn’t want that. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kyan; it was the look in her eyes that morning. He only wanted her to look at him with that particular look.

Chapter Eight

Sophie checked her e-mail while eating lunch the next day. There was one from Michael, which was strange considering he usually only called. She opened her mail.

Sophie, when I get home tonight, I’d like you to be showered and dressed to go out for dinner. Wear the dress I gave you for your birthday along with thigh-high black stockings, the ones with the large fishnet design. Your over-the-knee boots. No panties, no bra.

One more thing. Under no circumstances are you to open the box that will arrive later.

Suddenly no longer hungry, she cleaned everything up and checked her watch. She’d need to run out to get a fresh pair of those stockings, as the ones she owned had a run in them. She could do it on her way to her appointment. Writing a note on the door for the postman to leave the box, she headed out.

The Red Carpet Queen was only a few blocks away and once Sophie arrived, the technician took her to a private room. Although she’d had her bikini line waxed before, she’d never had the full Brazilian and was as much excited to see how it would look as she was anxious about both the pain and potentially having to explain a couple of bruises. They weren’t too awful at least.

She’d chosen the sugaring option, which was supposed to hurt less, but once she lay on the table and the girl began, she decided she had an overall low tolerance for this sort of pain. The girl didn’t mention the bruises she obviously saw and it was all over more quickly than she expected it to be.

She took one moment to glance at her now bare pussy, but decided to leave it for a closer inspection once home. She paid, ran to the lingerie shop a few blocks down and picked up the stockings, then returned home where, sure enough, a large box stood on her doorstep. Sophie looked around, embarrassed for a moment at what the unmarked box surely contained. She carried it inside and set it on the dining room table. She then went upstairs to have a shower.

* * *

It was a little after seven when Michael returned home.

“Hey,” Sophie said, coming around the corner. She was dressed as he’d instructed, her hair piled on top of her head, the dress hugging her body, the material fine enough to show every detail, right down to the texture of each hardened nipple as she stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

Michael put one hand at her low back as he kissed her, his other hand tweaking one of her nipples.

“Ouch!” she said. “What was that for?”

He grinned. “It was just because I wanted to do it. Dress looks good on you,” he said, turning her around. “Did the box get here?”

“Yep, it’s in the dining room. What did you order?”

They walked in that direction. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he said. He picked up the box. “I’m going to have a quick shower and we’ll be ready to go. Come upstairs with me.”

She did.

Once in the bedroom, he set the box on the bed and turned to her, his eyes sweeping her body.

“Take the straps off your shoulders and pull the dress down to your waist.”

“Michael, do we have time?” she asked.

“Sophie,” he said, brushing a finger over her cheek. “When I ask you to do something, I’d like for you to do it without question, without hesitation, and remember to always be respectful,” he said. He’d slipped off his jacket and was now unbuckling his belt. “Let’s have a little reminder before we go out tonight. Take the dress to your waist.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

His cock was hard and her pupils had dilated. She slowly pulled each strap off over her arms and tugged the dress down so it sat around her middle. Michael pulled the belt from its loops.

“Is your pussy bare?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered. Her nipples hardened beneath his gaze.

“Show me. Pull the dress up and show me.”

She slowly lifted her dress and Michael caught his breath at the sight of her naked sex. He doubled the belt in his hand and didn’t miss her nervous glance.

“Turn around and grab hold of your ankles,” he said.

Although they’d been together for over four years, he’d never asked her to do anything like this for him, at least not until the other night. He watched her face color a little. He liked the look of her like this, her submissive nature so apparent he wasn’t sure how he’d not seen it before. This was so completely natural for her. And somehow, for him too. She glanced once more at his belt. He imagined her hesitation; he himself wasn’t sure he should be wielding his belt against his wife’s ass just yet, but some base part of him was in charge now and he couldn’t resist.

He raised an eyebrow and she turned, slowly bending over, her legs spread just wider than shoulder width, until she was bent deep and her hands circled her ankles.

Michael sucked in a breath. Her ass was magnificent, he’d always thought so, and now, with her pussy waxed as it was, she was bared to him completely.

“Keep it like this from now on,” he said. “I want to always see your pussy and your ass, just like this.”

He stepped closer and two fingers swiped at the moisture between her legs.

“You like it, Soph? Showing yourself to me? You like me looking at your ass like this?” he asked, rubbing her clit before fingering her pussy, then running that finger all the way up to her asshole. When she didn’t answer, he delivered a quick smack to her pussy and she jumped, breaking position. He caught her before she fell. “Back down, girl.” He waited until she’d grabbed hold of her ankles again. “Now answer my question.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice coming out quietly.

“Yes, Sir, what?” he prodded, rubbing again, kneading the hard nub of her clit.

“Yes, Sir. I like to show myself to you. I like for you to look at me.”

“You’re a good girl, Soph. Straighten up and put your hands on the wall,” he said.

She did as he said more quickly than when she’d gone down and he gripped the belt tighter when she leaned forward slightly to put her hands against the wall.

“Walk your hips farther back.”

She took two hesitant steps.

“Good. Now stay still. Just a few to mark you before we go out. I want to make sure you know who you belong to.”

Before she had a chance to panic, he brought the belt down, listening to the sound it made as it connected with her buttocks, watching the quivering of her flesh, followed by the clenching of her cheeks. She barely managed to keep her hands on the wall, but lifted her leg, pressing her thighs together as she took the pain before setting her leg back down. He struck again, the second one a little higher than the first. She made a sound; it wasn’t quite a cry, more a soft, feminine, fragile sound. The third and last struck at the crease beneath her buttocks and at that, she did call out.

“Stay,” he said, his voice rough. He threw the belt on the bed and unzipped his pants. Lifting her from behind and pressing her into the wall, he thrust his cock deep into her dripping pussy. Keeping her trapped between his chest and the wall, he cupped her clit in one hand and rubbed, pinching roughly at the swollen little nub until she was whimpering, her pussy clamping down over his cock, milking it as he, with a final thrust, stilled behind her, a groan vibrating from deep inside his chest.

When he pulled out, he slapped her ass hard, then gripped it in his palm.

“Ow!”

“Shh. Stay there, skirt hiked up, until my cum drips out of your pussy,” he said, leaning down to close his mouth over her neck, just behind her ear, sucking a little.

* * *

Dinner was at Alexander’s, a chic new restaurant in Amsterdam. Michael parked the car a few streets away and the two walked the distance in silence, Michael’s hand either on her elbow or her low back the entire time, guiding her. He’d always done that before, but the gesture felt somehow different tonight.

He hadn’t let her shower after the episode in the bedroom and she was very aware of the residue of semen on her inner thighs. A few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have allowed him to tell her no when she’d wanted a shower. In fact, after sex, she always rinsed off. But now, as she walked down the street without panties, with this reminder on her thighs and the quiet, warm awareness of the stripes on her backside, she felt owned. She felt like she belonged to him for the first time in her life.

Once they were inside, the hostess took their coats and they were led to a table at the back of the restaurant. The patio doors were made of glass and the restaurant overlooked a pretty canal with residential homes on the other side. But neither Michael nor Sophie cared much for the view tonight. Once they were seated and handed menus, Michael quickly looked over the wine list and ordered a bottle of red. He then took her hand.

“I’m considering a membership at the club,” he began. “I told you the other night I didn’t want to do this thing half-assed, so I thought going there, watching, and participating perhaps would help us to figure this out. It will help me to figure out what you want and need and how to give it to you, while helping me understand what this is for me. Are you good with that so far?” he asked.

“I think so, I mean, I… this is so different than I expected,” Sophie said. “Have you seen the club, I mean aside from… the other day?”

“If you’re asking whether or not I know what goes on inside, I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Okay,” she said. How did she feel about being a member of the club now that it was a real option? Were the tables turning? Was she the one putting the brakes on this?

“What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I didn’t think you’d be into it.”

He nodded slowly and she could see the confusion behind his eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He looked away for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “I liked it,” he said. His struggle became clearer to her with those three words. “I don’t know what that makes me, but seeing you like that, then hurting you… seeing my marks on you. Shit.” He let her hand go just as the waiter came to deliver their wine. Sophie made small talk with him while Michael tasted the wine. She wondered if he could actually taste anything at all or if he was simply wanting the waiter away. Once both glasses were full, they both ordered the special without even opening menus, wanting to be alone to talk.

“I don’t ever want to really hurt you,” he said. His eyes were full of emotion as he searched her face.

“Michael, I… I don’t know how to explain what I want or why I want it. It’s strange, it’s maybe twisted,” she began, but he interrupted.

“No, it’s just in you. I don’t want you to feel ashamed of anything. Not with me. I won’t judge it. I won’t judge you.”

“I love you,” she said. “I just, I love you. When I was talking to Kyan, I thought maybe if I could just try it once, feel it, maybe I could get it out of my head without having to tell you. Without having you think I’m… sick or something. But when he offered to paddle me, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let another man do this to me.”

“He told me that,” Michael said. “I don’t even want to imagine what I might have done had you said yes.”

“But that’s the point. I couldn’t. I want you, Michael. I trust you. I want this with you and when you found out, you figured out how to give me exactly what it was I needed. I don’t think I could have verbalized it the other night. Or this afternoon, for that matter. Don’t be afraid of hurting me; I know you won’t.”

“We’ll establish a safeword.”

She nodded. “How about lavender?”

“Okay,” he said, but she could sense his hesitation.

“Michael, I want this,” she said straight out. “I want to experience this with you. I can’t tell you yet exactly what it is that draws me, but I know it has to be with you. Please don’t be afraid.”

* * *

Michael looked at his wife across the tiny table. She didn’t understand. It wasn’t that he was afraid he wouldn’t want to do it. It was that he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop. But that word, that word she’d said the other day, that wouldn’t leave him alone, that was the reason they were having this discussion.

Sadist.

Did he want to hurt his wife? It aroused him to have her naked, bent over, and waiting for him to strike. It made him hard to watch her buttocks quiver, to watch her unbound submission, to know she was giving him this power. It was heady stuff. Christ, even the thought of it now made his cock stir. And it wasn’t only that. There were other things he imagined doing to her, things that wouldn’t even leave a physical mark, and those too only made him want. The thoughts made his mouth water, made him hungry. And here she was, his young, trusting wife. A girl, really. Twelve years younger than he and trusting him so completely, so absolutely.

He wasn’t sure what was the right thing to do. She wanted to experience this, she said so herself. It wasn’t an option that someone other than he be involved. That thought just made him angry.

“Okay,” he said. “Lavender is your safeword. If you use it, everything stops. But you have to promise to use it if you need to.”

“I promise.”

“If we do this, we do it all the way.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He checked his watch just as the food arrived. Once the waiter was away, he picked up his fork and looked at her. “I’d like to try out some of the things that came in that box when we get home,” he stated rather than asking.

“What did you buy?” she asked.

“It’ll be a surprise.” He winked and placed a forkful of food in his mouth. “But only if you consent to doing exactly as I say from the moment we step into the house until tomorrow morning.”

She paled just a little, but her pupils had also dilated. He imagined her pussy was wet and slid his hand beneath the tablecloth. He found her thigh and traced it up to find her hot, moist sex. He then pinched her clit.

She gasped.

“Do you consent, Sophie?” he asked, keeping pressure on the hard little nub.

“Yes,” she said, breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl, now eat your dinner,” he said, suddenly ravenous as he smeared his slick fingers along her thigh before picking up his knife and fork.

Chapter Nine

Sophie could hardly taste what she ate at the restaurant. Michael, on the other hand, ate as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Even so, she could see the battle that had begun within him. He was unable to understand that he could like what he’d done, that he could become aroused by it. Perhaps he was surprised at how easily it came to him, or how naturally he took on the role of the dominant partner that she sought.

She’d meant what she’d told him; she had no doubt he would never really hurt her. She wondered if it would help him to talk to Kyan a little more, but didn’t want to bring it up. He needed to figure that out for himself.

Michael parked the car along their street and walked her inside without a word. The dim overhead lamps they’d left on and the one in the living room were the only light in the place. Sophie took in the elegant entrance with its large black-and-white, diagonally placed tiles, the old staircase with its marble handrail.

She had baked a Dutch apple cake earlier in the day and the house still smelled of it. It was Michael’s favorite.

His fingers were on her back. She shivered beneath his light touch as he traced both shoulders until he reached the straps that held the dress up. She held her breath when he slipped each off her arms and remained perfectly still while he slid the dress down and off her body.

“Step out,” he said, holding her arm for support.

She swallowed and slowly did as he said. He then led her up the first set of stairs and continued up the second to the attic. There, he hit the switch to turn on the overhead lamp, using the dimmer to keep the light soft. He closed the door behind them.

“Put the chair in the middle of the rug facing me,” he said.

She hesitated a moment, wondering why they’d come to the attic. The house was big enough that they’d only used this space for storage. It wasn’t a warm place, quite the opposite. It was dark with exposed beams and wood all around. The only pieces of furniture were an old, worn bench, a dusty dresser, and a chair set among boxes stacked along the walls. A carpet covered a circular area in the center of the room, an old, thick sheepskin she’d loved, but they had not had anywhere to put once they’d moved here.

She wondered what he was thinking. What he wanted. She’d assumed they’d go to their bedroom, maybe go through the box he’d gotten. This was strange.

He cleared his throat and she moved to pick up the simple wooden chair and set it in the middle of the carpet.

“Now sit down.”

Sophie sat and placed her hands on her lap, her eyes on him.

“When you’re not told to look at me, I’d like your eyes on the floor.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered before lowering her lashes, looking at the pale pink polish that was chipping on her toenails.

“Stay as you are,” he said.

She did, listening to the sound of his footsteps as he retreated back down the stairs. Once he was gone, she looked around at the space she’d always found a little creepy. When she found herself reflected in the large windows where the drapes were still open, she stealthily crouched and went to them to pull them closed. She then returned to her place on the chair just as she heard him returning.

Michael stopped at the top of the stairs that ended directly at the attic door. She glanced up to see him take in the now closed drapes and quickly dropped her gaze. He walked to the dresser and set the box down. She heard him open the box and dig through a few items there, and when she turned her head just slightly to catch a glimpse of what he had, he surprised her.

“I hope you’re looking where you should be,” he said, without turning or stopping.

She returned her gaze to the carpet, digging her toes into it as she listened to him opening a package.

“Ah,” he said, obviously finding what he was looking for. “Stand up, Sophie.”

He stood in his button-down shirt with the new cufflinks she’d given him earlier this week.

“Were you told to close the drapes?” he asked.

“No, Sir,” she simply answered.

“Then please go back to the window and open them wide.”

“But…” With the light on inside, anyone on the street, not to mention the people in the house across the canal, could look straight inside.

“Open them, Sophie.”

She walked over and pushed the drapes open. He followed close behind.

“No, stay where you are,” he said when she began to turn.

Lights were on in the attic of the house that faced theirs. A family lived there with their eighteen-year-old son whom she knew occupied that room.

“Michael,” she began, turning.

His hand came down hard on her ass, making her gasp. He held it there, squeezing the fleshy mound.

“Spread your legs and lean forward slightly, put your hands on the sill for support.”

She swallowed, suddenly more aroused than anything else. Placing trembling hands on the sill, she positioned herself as he said, tilting her hips upward.

“I bought you something,” he said, the fingers of one hand coming around the front of her to grasp her clit.

She ground into him when she felt his other hand at the cleft between her buttocks. It was slippery and she realized it must be lubricant on his fingers.

He played with her a while as she stood displayed at the window, one hand working her clit, the other starting to make its way between her cheeks and toward her anus. When his slippery fingers reached it and began circling, she dropped her head down with a moan.

“I knew you’d like this,” he said. “You’re a good girl, Sophie. Now relax and open for me.”

“Mmm,” came the soft purr as she leaned back into him and his finger penetrated. Her muscles tightened around it at first, but she relaxed and allowed him deeper.

“Sir,” she said.

“Yes, Sophie?” he asked, still playing, slowly moving his finger in and out of her ass while his other hand kneaded her clit.

“You’re going to make me come,” she barely managed.

“Come then,” he said as he pulled his finger out and she felt the cool tip of something else at her entrance.

Her eyes shot open and she turned around.

“Mi… Sir!”

“Face forward. I’m already going to punish you for closing the curtains when you were supposed to remain seated; don’t make it worse for yourself. Besides, I thought you’d be grateful for my gift.”

His gift had now breached her entrance and its widening length was working its way inside her. She relaxed into his hands as he continued to rub her clit, her anus opening to take the plug.

“It’s not so big,” he said. “Just a little farther.” His breath was at her neck. “Relax. There, it’s in,” he said, taking his hand from her clit.

* * *

Michael watched her from a step away. She remained with her hands on the windowsill, leaning slightly forward, her body tense, obviously trying to manage the plug. It was the silicone one, the easier one to take. It wasn’t the largest one he’d bought, but when he’d ordered them, he’d only ordered those worth using. No point in a plug no larger than his smallest finger. He’d never taken her anally and he wondered now why that was. He’d had anal sex with girlfriends in the past, but somehow the idea that she was his wife made it seem… wrong. It wasn’t wrong though. In fact, it was his right to claim every part of her as her husband. Just as much as it was hers to have him do so.

“Stay just as you are,” he said. He watched as the lights of the bedroom in the house across the street went out. There was something thrilling about putting her on display like this. But she was struggling with it, he could see that much. He went to the box and emptied it, laying the items out on the surface of the dresser. He’d ordered several things from a specialty shop in London. He chose what he wanted: the pretty leather blindfold. It was dark red, the darkest red. It would contrast beautifully against her pale skin. It was flared and a sort of leather made to look like lace. Along with it, he chose the gauntlet leather-lace gloves that matched the blindfold. They were beautiful pieces, elegant pieces. But they were also functional and would restrain her when he needed to. But for now, he’d simply slip the items on her, let her get a feel for her new bonds.

“Sophie,” Michael said. He sounded different to his own ears; darker was the word that came to mind.

She began to turn.

“No, stay as you are.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to blindfold you.”

She nodded with a small movement of her head. She was nervous.

He slid the leather over her eyes. The underside was soft black silk, so although it would have the weight and smell of leather, it would be soft against her softer skin.

“Breathe, Sophie,” he said as he tied the blindfold in place.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding as she brought her hands up to touch it.

“Hold your arms out to the sides,” he said.

She hesitated if for only a moment. She didn’t yet trust him in this role. He’d have to earn that trust. Slowly, she extended her arms. He slid the first glove on and secured it, then repeated on the other arm.

“Put them back on the windowsill,” he said quietly.

It was so dead quiet in the room he could hear her swallow.

“I want to whip you,” he said.

“Whip?” she asked, her voice faltering.

He retrieved the riding crop. It was a long, gorgeous piece, heavy but flexible. He imagined the damage it could do if not used properly. He knew how to use it though. Or at least he had enough experience with it with horses. He was an accomplished rider and since being back in Holland, he’d taken the sport up again, riding almost every weekend.

He ran the slapper along the flesh of her outer thigh, caressing her hip, tracing it along its curve up to her narrow waist. He slid it back down to find her inner thigh and lightly tapped there, wanting her legs wider. She understood and took them farther.

“Good. Walk your hips back a little more, just a few inches. I still want you visible at the window.”

“Michael,” she began.

Her gasp came simultaneously with the first strike of the crop. He’d stunned her and he imagined the pain of it, the sound of leather against flesh filling the room. He’d struck as soon as she’d said his name and he’d not been gentle. He’d chosen a spot on her outer thigh, knowing it would hurt.

“Again?” he asked.

He shifted his eyes from the reddened spot on her hip to her hands, which gripped the windowsill so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Yes. Please, Sir,” she said in a breathy whisper.

His lips quivered into a smile. His cock was hard, but more than that. Some other part of him was coming alive. He swallowed and, with a flick of his wrist, struck again, on her buttock this time. Again, she gasped, but no more than that.

“Another?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He struck twice; quick, short hits to her tender flesh.

“Sir!” she called out, her lesson immediately understood. “Yes, please, Sir.”

She was being so good, his little wife. He raised the crop and struck again. He didn’t put near his full strength into it, but with this implement, he didn’t need to.

The sound she made this time came simultaneously with the blow and she leaned forward a little. He brought the crop down again, this time striking without stopping, alternating cheeks, until both were reddened.

“Sir!”

When she called out he stopped, looking at the side of her face, at the sweat that had gathered along her forehead, her upper lip. Her face was flushed a pretty pink, a paler pink than her ass. Michael dropped the crop and turned her, taking her mouth with his. She opened for him, her lips moist, salty sweat mingling with her breath, her heat. He kissed her fully, a long, devouring kiss and she wrapped her arms around him, her wrists at the back of his neck pulling him to her, the sound she was making one of desperate desire. Michael lifted her and carried her to the sheepskin carpet. Laying her on her back, he pushed her legs open, bending her knees toward her chest, and gripped the base of the plug.

“I want to fuck your ass,” he said. “I want to stripe you red and fuck your ass hard, Sophie.”

“Do it! God, do it now, Michael!”

“I’d hurt you,” he said, setting his cock at her pussy, sliding it slowly inside her. “You’re not ready yet.” The pressure of the plug made her pussy feel different. He moved slowly, somehow managing not to drive into her like he wanted to. Her pussy clamped down around his cock fast, slickening the passage even more.

“Hard. Fuck me hard.”

He pressed her legs into the carpet on either side of her. He watched her beautiful face as she struggled to see him from behind her mask. She opened her mouth when she came, then bit into her lip, drawing one single drop of blood. Michael’s heart pounded while he watched and he brought his mouth to hers again, his orgasm coming fast and hard, the taste of blood almost overwhelming in his mouth as he emptied himself deep inside her.

Chapter Ten

“I wish we didn’t have to go,” Sophie said, looking over at Michael in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. She slipped her earring into place and closed the clasp. It was Sunday afternoon and his parents had organized a birthday party for Michael’s niece who was turning one. Amanda, Michael’s sister, had always been friendly toward her. She was younger than Michael by two years. His older sister, Karen, was a different story. Between Karen and her mother-in-law, Sophie’s stress levels were at an all-time high. When they’d lived in the States, she’d only had to see them twice a year. Now that they were in Holland however, more and more invitations were pouring in, intruding on the quiet life she and Michael had made for themselves.

Michael slid the razor up along his throat, over his chin, and up to his lip before glancing at her as he rinsed the foam from the blade. Sophie looked at him expectantly. These conversations always added a layer of tension to their marriage. A layer that always made her uncomfortable, to say the least.

He rinsed his face and pressed a towel to it before turning to her. Once he’d wiped away the moisture, he set it on the counter and put his hands on her arms, rubbing once, then squeezing. His blue gaze searched her eyes and he reached down to kiss her lips.

“You know we can’t get out of it. You know my mother,” he said, trying to tease her. “Besides, it’s for Mandy. You know there’s nothing I’d rather do than keep you tied to the bed all weekend.”

She smiled, exhaling, and reached up to wipe off a strip of shaving foam he’d missed.

“We’ll just stay a little while, not too long, I promise.”

“Okay,” she said. “Who’s going to be there? Just your family?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” he said, turning away and walking into the bedroom. “Some friends of my sister’s, old neighbors I guess. We’ll just go give Rosa our gift, eat something, have a drink, and I promise to get you out of there as fast as I can.”

“Before your mother descends?” she asked, following him into the bedroom, regretting the words as soon as they were out.

Michael stopped, looked at her, then pulled his shirt over his head. “Soph,” he began, his voice impatient. They’d had this argument before. More than once.

Sophie walked to the closet and chose her dress, her heart beating hard, waiting for his reaction.

It wasn’t what she expected though. Michael came up behind her and turned her to face him. “I know she’s… difficult,” he said.

Sophie tried to smile, to make light of it, but failed. She looked at him, her eyes wide, wanting him to tell her… what?

“I’m sorry, Michael,” she said.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I know between her and Karen, it’s not easy for you, but we don’t see them that often and it’s my family. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“I know. It’s okay. I’ll survive.”

“I promise, just an hour, two at the most.”

She nodded, dreading that hour or two or three or four it always managed to turn into.

* * *

“Michael!” Amanda’s voice came from the garden. The day was warm and sunny enough for the group to gather outside. Michael turned to meet her as she crossed the yard toward them, Rosa’s blonde curls bobbing up and down.

“Hey, Mandy,” he said, hugging her and quickly relieving her of his niece. “Rosa, happy birthday,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Sophie watched their interaction, Mandy beaming proudly, her eyes only on her little girl. Michael talking to Rosa like she’d never heard him talk to anyone before—sweet and playful, even the tone of his voice a little different as he teased the little girl who looked back at him like he was the king of the world. Her chest tightened and she would have taken a step back, a little lost, if it hadn’t been for Amanda.

“Hey, Sophie,” she said, taking her hand and inching close to her sister-in-law. Although Mandy was ten years older than she was, Sophie considered her a friend. “How are you? How are you adjusting to wet Holland? I’m sorry I haven’t been to visit in a while; it’s a little busy with Rosa.”

“It’s okay, I understand, Amanda,” she said. “Besides, it’s going better. God, she’s grown, huh?” Sophie asked, ruffling Rosa’s head of curls, trying to divert the attention from herself.

“Yeah, you should see how much she eats and she started walking. Kind of.” As she said it, the two watched Michael set Rosa down on the grass. He held her hand as she took three steps before plopping down onto her bottom.

Amanda and Sophie giggled. “She’s sweet,” Sophie said.

Amanda turned to her and Sophie realized how badly she hid her emotions. “Hey, you never know what will happen. You’re young and healthy, Michael’s old but healthy,” she said, making a face at Michael as she poked Sophie with her bony elbow. “You just don’t know what will happen,” she said again. Amanda was the only one of the family they’d told about the miscarriages. Sophie wasn’t ready to tell the rest of his family just yet. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

The next hour dragged as they ate cake and everyone watched Rosa taking her few steps here and there. Sophie poured herself a large glass of Prosecco, her favorite sparkling wine, and watched the family and friends engage in easy conversation. There were about thirty people total; several kids but mostly friends of her in-laws. Her mother-in-law had greeted her as usual and Sophie tried to remember the differences between the cultures, tried to remember the fact that this was her husband’s mother. Her father-in-law was the opposite, treating her no differently than he did his daughters. In the end, she wondered how much was her own doing as she stood alone in the kitchen watching them talk and laugh. The language certainly didn’t help, but there was more to it than that.

She swallowed a large sip and went to the bathroom. At least Karen wasn’t here yet. She hoped they could leave before she got here, but knew she was out of luck when she heard her voice as she exited the bathroom.

Her already tense stomach tightened even more and she hoped she could get to Michael before running into his older sister.

Karen hadn’t ever even pretended to like her. Although this was Sophie’s first marriage, it was Michael’s second. He’d been married to Karen’s best friend, Carly, before he’d met Sophie. Sophie always had the impression Karen blamed her for their divorce even though they’d been legally separated when he moved to the States. And Michael said it had been over long before they’d actually parted ways.

Their first trip to Holland had been a surprise for Sophie. Michael had arranged everything. Once she’d gotten on the airplane, Sophie had been so excited to meet his family, see where he was from, see Amsterdam. It was her first trip overseas. The greeting she’d had though had been less than welcoming. It had, in fact, been extremely uncomfortable. Michael had realized his mistake, the fact that he was bringing her over too soon, before the ink had dried on the divorce papers was how Karen had put it. His mother put so much weight in Karen’s opinions that Sophie had never even had a chance.

“Hey.” Amanda was standing in the kitchen when Sophie walked in. She was obviously waiting for her.

“Hey,” she said. “What is it?” Amanda’s face was strange and she looked out the window onto the garden.

Sophie followed her line of vision, some very possessive side of her coming alive. Michael stood talking to a woman, a very attractive woman, who had one hand on his arm and one hand on the head of a child who looked about two. She was smiling as she stared up at Michael’s face.

“Who’s that?” she asked.

Amanda shook her head and turned to Sophie. “That’s Carly. Michael’s ex-wife.”

It was as though someone pulled the rug out from under Sophie’s feet. The sensations that ran over her body, a result of the emotions that flooded her system, were ones she didn’t have words for. To say she felt jealousy wasn’t right, at least not entirely. Anger? No, that wasn’t it. At least not at Michael. Inadequate? In a way, yes. This woman fit in here like she didn’t. Like she never would.

“Is the little girl hers?” she asked, knowing the answer already. She could feel Amanda’s look of pity from the corner of her eye.

“Yes, she’s two. Carly had him with some guy after she and Michael broke up.”

“She’s married then?”

“No, it was a boyfriend, but he’s out of the picture. Has been for a while.”

This was getting better and better.

Michael laughed out loud. She could hear it all the way inside. If she’d felt an outsider before, it was doubly true now.

“Hey.” Amanda’s hand was on hers. “You okay?”

“Why is she here?” Sophie asked, her eyes still on the woman outside. Michael’s ex-wife was attractive, older than she was but good-looking. In fact, Sophie had to admit she looked good standing next to him. And she had a child to boot. Instant family.

His father and Karen joined the conversation.

“My very insensitive sister brought her. I’m sorry, Sophie.”

Sophie picked up her glass of wine and drank it down. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“There’s your mommy,” came Michael’s mom’s voice from behind them.

“Rosa,” Amanda turned, taking the crying girl into her arms.

“She fell down while playing, scraped her knee,” her mother-in-law, Grace, said.

“Come here, baby,” Amanda said. “Mommy will make it better.” She carried the little girl off and left Sophie and Grace in the kitchen.

“Sweet baby,” Grace said. The two looked at each other.

“She is,” Sophie said.

“You and Michael will have them soon enough. He’s always wanted lots of children. How about you, Sophie? You’re young still, but you want kids too?” she asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “We’re just waiting until we settle.” Why she needed to tell that lie she didn’t know.

“Is that Carly?” her mother-in-law asked when the sound of Carly’s loud laughter came in from the garden.

“From what I gather.”

There was a moment of silence and Sophie saw what passed for concern in the older woman’s gaze. But in the next instant, it was replaced with a smile as one of her friends came into the kitchen. Sophie quietly excused herself, happy to have put the car keys into her purse as she slipped out the front door unnoticed.

* * *

Michael entered the kitchen, his anger just barely harnessed. “Where’s Sophie?” he asked his mother, his tone clipped.

“She was right here,” his mom began.

Karen came fast on Michael’s heels. “Michael, I think the way you walked away from Carly was rude,” she began.

He cut her off. “You inviting my ex-wife to a party without telling me was rude,” he almost exploded at her. “Where’s my wife?” he asked his mother again.

“I don’t know. She was here a minute ago.”

The sound of a car starting had him turn his head in the direction of the window that overlooked the street. “Shit!” he said, watching as Sophie drove away. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked his sister once more, not expecting an answer. “Mom,” he said, looking at her. “I hope you didn’t have anything to do with this.”

She shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t…”

“She’s a friend, Michael. What makes you think I invited her for you?” Karen blurted out.

He turned to her. “Don’t you dare start…” he began.

Just then Amanda entered the room carrying Rosa. “There he is,” she said to her baby. Rosa reached for Michael and Michael ran a hand through his hair.

“Hey, kiddo,” he began, taking her into his arms. “It’s time for me to go, but we’ll see you in a few weeks at our house, okay? I forgot one of your gifts there,” he teased, tickling her belly.

She wrapped her arms around him and he hugged her tiny little body, closing his eyes.

“Why did you invite Carly? You knew Michael and Sophie would be here, Karen. Christ, are you so heartless?” Amanda asked.

At that moment, Carly entered the kitchen. Karen shook her head at Amanda and walked outside, taking Carly with her.

“Mandy, can I borrow your car?” asked Michael.

“Where’s Sophie?” she asked, looking around.

“She just drove off. Christ,” he exhaled, shaking his head. “Seeing my ex with her two-year-old is probably just what she needed. She had two miscarriages, Mom. She may never be able to have one of her own.”

“Oh my God, Michael. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell us?” his mom asked.

“Because you’ve always made her feel so welcome!” Michael said, his tone biting.

Mandy held her keys out to him.

“I’ll drop it off at your house tomorrow.”

“No, leave it there. I’ll come by and see Sophie next week. I’ll pick it up then.”

“Thanks,” Michael said, unable to even pretend to smile as he walked out the door.

* * *

Sophie wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing, why she’d left the party like she had. It was just too much. First his family, the anxiety she always felt around them. Then to see his ex-wife with her baby, with her hand on Michael’s arm as he laughed with her. She shook her head and wiped away a tear. Michael was going to be pissed she’d left. They were going to fight again, and just when things were getting better, just when she’d started to open up to him.

“Shit!” she said, taking a wrong turn. Her driving in Holland was a disaster. The traffic laws were different and she swore they had more one-way streets than the whole of the US, not to mention the canals you had to navigate. Or the trams. Or the bikers and the people. At least when she got home, there was a parking spot available on the next street over. She parked the Volvo in the tight space, shut off the car, and took a deep breath, forcing herself to exhale slowly.

Now what?

She’d left without a word to her husband. She’d taken their car and left him there. She pulled out her cell phone and looked at the display to find three missed calls, all from Michael. She was about to dial him back when a knock at her car window startled her.

It was Michael.

She unlocked the door, but didn’t have a chance to open it before he did.

“You okay?” he asked as she stepped out.

She nodded. “Sorry I left you there. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Let’s go inside and talk,” he said.

She nodded and he took the keys from her hand, locking the door and leading her toward their house. Once they were inside, he settled her on the couch.

“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I could use a beer.”

“Me too.”

He nodded, went to the kitchen and returned with two opened bottles of beer. She took the one he held out for her, but didn’t sip. He remained standing and drank half of his.

“I didn’t know she’d be there,” he said.

“I know you didn’t.”

“They why did you leave like that?”

She turned her head away, standing herself now. She walked to the bookshelf, then turned to face him again. “Because I watched you with Rosa. You’re different around her, around all kids from what I’ve seen. You want to be a dad, Michael. I’m not sure I can ever give you that.” Tears overwhelmed her, but she forced herself to go on. “And then she was there, your ex. With her beautiful little girl. She could give you babies. And she’d fit in better. Your family obviously loves her. Maybe you and Karen could mend your relationship too if I weren’t standing in the middle of it. Maybe we’d better just figure it out now. Maybe we’re not meant to be together.”

“Christ, Sophie. What the fuck are you saying? What are you thinking?”

She straightened her spine. “Look, even what we’ve been doing. You’re doing it for me; it’s not like you want it.”

“That’s separate from this, Sophie. And you’re wrong. More wrong than you know on that score. And as far as what I want, I’ll decide that.” He walked away, then turned back to her a few moments later. “You want me to feel sorry for you, Soph? Because that’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Is it easier that way?”

A defensive anger tightened her lip.

“Well, is that it? Have I hit a nerve?” he asked. “You won’t let yourself get over it. The miscarriages were not your fault. Not being ready to try again isn’t your fault. Hell, we don’t even know what the problem is, but you won’t give us a chance to figure it out! You’re stuck feeling sad and sorry for yourself. Well, I’m over it.”

“Then why don’t you just leave! If you’re over it, over me, then leave. Go back to your ex.” Her throat tightened and a tear slid from her eye. “If that’s what you want, just go! A readymade family just for you! You’re not tied to me, I’ll give you a divorce…”

Sophie stopped, her eyes suddenly wide as the bottle Michael held snapped in his hand. It dropped to the floor and rolled away as he approached her. She looked at the carpet, the liquid spreading over it, the blood dripping from his palm. But when his hands closed roughly over her arms and shook her hard, she looked up at him.

“I want you. I love you. I’m not over you, I’ll never be over you. I am, however, over you feeling sorry for yourself and not giving us a chance to be happy. Yes, I want babies; that hasn’t changed, it’s probably not going to change. But I’m not willing to give you up in exchange for a family. I want a family with you. When the hell are you going to get that through your thick head?” He took a breath and stepped back, releasing her to run a hand through his hair. “Christ, Sophie, what the hell do you want from me?”

* * *

Michael looked down at her. She stood with her back pressed against the bookcase, her expression strange as she stared up at him. One arm was red from his blood where he’d cut his hand, but both his hands were white-knuckled. Her hands were at his chest, but she wasn’t pushing him away.

In that moment, something clicked. Something fell into place. He’d been worried, afraid ever since the start of this that he’d be hurting her. But looking down at her now, trapped between his body and the bookcase, her pupils dilated, her nipples hard against his chest, he understood what she needed from him and realized at the same time she may not know the full extent of it herself.

“I’ll get something to clean this up,” she said.

“Leave it for now,” he said, his tone changing a little. “Go up to the attic. Close the curtains, get undressed, and stand in the corner waiting for me.”

“Michael,” she said, her eyebrows raised. “I don’t really feel like it.”

Her challenge made every muscle in his body tense and Sophie sensed it. He knew it by the infinitesimal change in her expression.

“I didn’t ask you what you were in the mood for,” he said, his voice quiet, frighteningly so.

She took a moment to process, still staring up at him. “Are you going to spank me?” she asked, her voice soft. There was no longer a tone of defiance in her question.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Because I think you need me to, for one thing. Because you took off like you did and didn’t trust me enough to just come talk to me, for another.”

She digested that.

“You’re my wife, Sophie. And I think I’m beginning to understand what you want. We’re changing the way we do things around here, starting now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice more tentative.

“I don’t think what you want is an erotic spanking now and again. I think you want more than that. Is that true?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You want me to take the lead in a way I haven’t before and I understand that now. Do you think you deserve to be punished for running off like you did, for not trusting me enough, still, after what we’ve been doing, to come talk to me?”

She looked at him for a while, dropped her gaze to the floor before returning it to his to answer his question. “Yes.”

“Then you consent?” he asked.

She nodded a quick, nervous nod.

“Say it, Sophie.”

She licked her lips. “I consent to being punished.”

He nodded. “Go upstairs and get ready.”

She opened her mouth, but had no response. When after a moment she didn’t move, he gestured toward the stairs, dismissing her. She took one last look at him, obviously trying to gauge if he was serious, and went.

“Sophie,” he called out just when she reached the stairs.

She turned.

“Pick out your favorite belt on your way up,” he said.

Her face paled a little as she nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie’s clit was throbbing before she even reached their bedroom. Anticipation set her pussy on fire, but it was Michael’s tone that made her belly quiver. She walked into their shared closet and looked at the row of neatly hanging belts. If she looked at her shelves, they were a bit of a mess. Michael’s, on the other hand, were absolutely organized. Everything had its place and things were folded, put away, neat, completely the opposite of her. But he’d never criticized her sloppiness.

She ran her hand over the row of belts even though she already knew the one she’d choose. She knew it the moment he had told her to do it. It was an old belt, one he’d had for longer than they’d been married. A heavy Italian leather, well-worn and thick but malleable, soft enough to manage, strong enough to deliver the punishment she needed and expected. She took it from its place and doubled it over, her sex pure heat as her buttocks quivered in anticipation.

Once in the attic, she stripped off her clothes and folded them, setting them on top of one of the boxes. She laid the belt on the chair and chose a corner, touching her nose to it and clasping opposite elbows behind her back so her ass would be displayed for him once he came up.

Michael’s dominant nature surprised her. No, that wasn’t it. He was dominant in every way, but the fact that he took on his new role with such zeal was what surprised her. There would be pain tonight; she wasn’t fool enough not to believe that. But she also believed there would be pleasure afterwards. Riding that fine line between the two opposites thrilled her, her submission itself almost better than the orgasm.

It was a good twenty minutes before she finally heard his step on the landing, and when she did her entire being shook with anticipation.

“Good choice,” he said, and she knew he must be looking at the belt.

She didn’t dare turn around until he called her to him after a few moments. He stood in front of the single chair that sat in the middle of the room on top of the rug. She made her way over to him.

He was shirtless and barefoot and she couldn’t help but look at the wide span of his shoulders, his powerful, muscular arms. “Bend over and put your hands on the seat of the chair,” he said. He wasn’t yet holding the belt.

She turned and did as he said, knowing to keep her legs wide as she supported her weight on her hands, looking straight down at the doubled-over belt. It wasn’t a moment before his fingers were massaging a cool cream over her anus.

“This plug is a little bigger than the last one,” he said, his voice coming out a little hoarse as his finger penetrated her tight ring. “I want it in your ass when I whip you.”

She made a sound, unable to manage words, taking in the not-unpleasant sensations.

“Good girl, that’s it,” he encouraged as he pulled his fingers out and began to insert the plug. With that she struggled a bit; he wasn’t kidding that it was bigger and thicker. Michael pressed it in and pulled it out, patient and slow, waiting for her to open and accept it. “You can take it, Soph, come on, open. You’re almost there.”

She made another sound as the thickest part penetrated and the plug was finally seated firmly inside her.

“You can straighten up,” Michael said. He went to wash his hands in the corner sink.

Sophie tightened her muscles around the plug, which was heavier than she’d anticipated. Michael returned with a pair of leather cuffs.

“Hold out your hands,” he said.

“You don’t have to bind…” she began.

“How many additional strokes do you think you deserve for speaking when you did not have permission to speak?”

She stared at him. “I’m sorry, Sir,” she said quickly. “I just…”

“Ten more, then. Another word and we’ll make it twenty on top of what you’re already going to get.”

She stared at him, her mouth open, but luckily too smart to keep talking.

“Hold your hands out,” he said.

She extended them to him and he bound them in front of her before sitting down on the chair. “Lay yourself across my lap,” he said.

Sophie took a step to his side and held on to his thigh as she leaned forward, then put her hands to the floor. Once she was situated, he trapped both her legs between his and pulled her tight to him. She then felt the weight of the belt as he laid it over her low back.

“I like you like this,” he said, his hand circling her buttocks, then pressing on the base of the plug before dipping down into her pussy. “You’re wet, Soph, even for your punishment you’re wet. But pain before pleasure and this is going to hurt. Are you ready?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” she said, her voice wavering.

He chuckled and slapped her ass once, then caressed softly before repeating the motion on the other cheek. The caress was just momentary and only heightened her anxiety as she knew the strike that followed would be sharp and quick.

“Ow,” she said, already squirming.

“Oh, honey,” he said and she could hear the smile in his voice, “this is nothing compared to what’s coming.”

He slapped harder and she struggled against each one, but with her hands bound as they were and her legs trapped between his, it was useless. When he picked up the belt, however, she shoved her full weight against him, trying to get free, panic overriding everything else.

Michael pulled her to him, holding her tight by her waist. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay, Soph. It’s me. You can take this; you’ll feel better for it.”

“Easy for you to say,” she cried.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, surprising her.

She turned her head to meet his eyes. “No.”

Her eyes, which had been dry until then, suddenly filled with tears that overflowed onto the carpet beneath her. “I don’t want you to stop. I’m just scared. I think I made a mistake. I think I should have chosen a different belt,” she cried.

He laughed out loud, but it wasn’t cruel. In fact, as he did it, he hugged her to him, rubbing her back. “Baby,” he began, “you think I’d have let you get away with that?” he asked. He was massaging her low back.

That was the moment she understood that he wouldn’t have let her off the hook.

Goose bumps covered the flesh over her entire body as this realization settled upon her. She exhaled and closed her eyes, relishing the release, the knowledge that she was safe here in his arms and that she could lean on him, that he would carry her. That he could carry her.

“No, Sir,” she said. And as much as she knew how much this would hurt, she also knew in that moment that he would be there with her, he would not let her go even as he would be the one giving her the pain, the punishment.

Sophie exhaled.

“That’s it,” he said, holding her for a while as her body softened into his as if he knew what she was now, in this moment, understanding. “Good girl. Now breathe with the strokes, baby. I love you,” he said just as the first stroke of the belt lashed her flesh.

* * *

Michael listened to her gasp when the first lash of the belt made contact with her buttocks.

The softness was gone, her torso bolting upright as she called out and began her struggle anew. But he held her tight to him and raised the belt, bringing it down again. The sound filled the attic, bounced off the walls, came in time with her gasps and filled his ears. Her buttocks quivered and tightened in anticipation and she wiggled her hips this way and that trying to avoid the blows. Trapped as he had her though, her wrists bound in front of her, her legs between his, he could manage her, hold onto her as long as he wanted to.

“Please, please, please,” she begged when he continued. He placed most of the strokes on her buttocks, but struck her upper thighs a few times as well. Each time he did, she’d wail against him. It would have been better to have her bent over the bed, he’d have better access to all of her, but she wasn’t ready to hold still yet—that would take some training. Holding her like this though, hugging her to him as he punished her, to feel her body against his, her warmth against his warmth, to give her some comfort as he simultaneously gave her pain, was what he wanted tonight and what they both needed as they began on this new road in their marriage.

She was weeping, her sobs loud as she tired and her struggles to get out of the way of the leather weakened.

“Shh,” he coaxed as he struck, “you’re doing well. We’re almost there, baby.”

Michael’s cock pressed against her soft belly. He wanted to keep going, but he also wanted to give her a break and a small reward for being so good, for trusting him.

“Just a few more like this and you’ll get a break, baby,” he said.

It was another dozen on her already reddened, trembling buttocks before he stopped. All the while, he watched the plump flesh bounce as it took its punishment.

“There,” he said, dropping the belt down and hoisting her up as he stood, holding her tight to him, her bound hands on his belly and his chest as she wept in his arms.

“Is it over?” she finally managed. “It hurts so much.”

Michael looked down at her and kissed her softly on her forehead. “Not over, but we’ll take a break,” he said, and, without giving her a moment to react, he lifted her arms up and hooked the cuffs over the pin he’d set in the beam overhead for just this. She wasn’t quite tall enough to stand flat so she ended up on the balls of her feet, but he’d support her weight in a few minutes. She’d only feel the discomfort when her whipping continued.

Sophie looked up at her hands as Michael moved the chair out of the way and knelt before her. Heat radiated from her ass and she sucked in a breath when he gripped her hips and hoisted one of her legs over his shoulders, burying his face in her pussy, his mouth taking in her clit as his hand played with the plug in her ass.

She began to tremble almost instantly, making those noises he loved so much as he sucked her clit and tongued her pussy. She called out his name when she came, her pussy dripping over his mouth and his chin. He loved every moment of it, the feel of her burning ass in his palms, her convulsions as she climaxed, her begging him, pleading with him to stop, that it was too much sensation.

Michael released her and straightened to his full height. Although she was stretched longer, she still had to look up at him and when he brought his mouth to hers, she opened eagerly, hungrily sucking on his tongue, kissing his lips.

When he released her from the kiss, she hung almost limp. But when he retrieved the belt, she perked up again, her eyes wide.

“No more. Please, Sir. Please. I’m sorry,” she begged. “Please don’t start again.”

“I promised you ten more, Sophie.”

“I’ll take them tomorrow. I’ll take twenty tomorrow. Just please not now. No more now.”

He studied her for a few moments, struggling a little internally, so completely aroused by the power he had over her and yet his heart softening at her face, her sweet pleading eyes. He wrapped the belt around her waist and buckled it as far as he could, but it still hung low on her hips.

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, her relief physically apparent as her body relaxed. “Thank you.”

“You’re off the hook for those ten,” he said as he watched her face.

She leaned her head into his shoulder, resting it there for a moment, then bringing her mouth to his ear and kissing his earlobe before taking it between her teeth. “Fuck me,” she begged. “I need to feel you inside me.”

Michael grinned and he caressed her face, making her look at him. “Dirty talk from my wife?” he teased. “My little Sophie?”

She nodded. “Fuck me, please,” she repeated, encouraged by his praise.

“With pleasure,” he said, his cock hard as the steel plug inside her. He moved to take position behind her and pushed his pants down and off, his cock bobbing free. With both hands he spread her cheeks apart, pressing once on the plug. Although he felt her flinch with the pain of her now sore ass, he didn’t soften his hold. He dipped into her pussy slowly, the passage slick, dripping even as it opened to take his cock. She moaned with pleasure, trying to thrust her hips back, but he held her tight. Once he was fully seated, he held her to him by her hips, not moving, just relishing the scent of her, the heat and feel of her.

“Fuck me,” she begged, pressing her hips against him again.

The fingers of one hand reached for her clit and he rubbed as he held her to him, withdrawing his cock and thrusting in hard. She called out as her orgasm shook her, forcing her muscles to clamp down around his cock. He fucked harder after her first climax and drew two more orgasms from her, never releasing his punishing hold on her ultra-sensitized clit, supporting her weight as she hung by her arms, calling out his name over and over again until he finally stilled, pressed deep into her, trembling with his climax.

* * *

Michael couldn’t sleep. Instead, he watched Sophie who was lying on her side, one hand tucked under her cheek, the other just touching him. She always did that. Some part of her always touched him while she slept. He’d always loved that gesture, that little sign of trust, of wanting to be connected even in sleep.

She’d nearly fallen asleep as he’d bathed her. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He softly ran the back of his hand over her cheek, but when she made a small noise and turned to lie on her belly, he let her be. Curious, he pulled the covers down until her hips were bared. He looked at her, her small, naked body making the tiniest of movements as she breathed in and out. He looked at the bruises that were forming on her buttocks and swallowed. He touched one lightly and she clenched her buttocks even in sleep. He pulled his hand away.

It was almost one in the morning. He climbed out of the bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and t-shirt, went downstairs and out the door. He called Kyan on his way out.

It took him no time to get to the club and once he’d parked, he went up the stairs to the front door. John, the security guard who had been there that first day he had come to the club, was in his place at the door. Michael looked at him for a moment, then nodded his greeting. The guard nodded back and Michael went inside.

“I have an appointment with Kyan,” he said to the girl there. “Tell him Michael Perron is here.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, picking up her phone. It was just a moment before she hung up. “You can go in,” she said, gesturing to the door behind the desk.

“Thank you.”

“Michael,” Kyan said, standing when he walked in.

“Sorry to have called in the middle of the night,” Michael apologized.

“No problem, I’m here until the club closes. Have a seat,” Kyan said, obviously reading the worry in Michael’s face. “Would you like something to drink?”

Michael shook his head. “No, nothing, thanks.”

Kyan nodded and sat back down. “Has something happened?”

Michael suddenly had no idea where to begin. “I don’t know. No, nothing’s happened, it’s just, to be honest, I don’t understand this. I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

“Go on.”

“When I first found out about this, I thought okay, I’d try it. My wife wants this so I’ll do it for her, try to give her what she needs. But what’s got me confused is how I’ve reacted.” He shook his head once, absorbed in his thoughts before facing Kyan again. “Kyan, I liked it. I like it. I like spanking her. I like seeing her stand with her nose in the corner. I like telling her what to do and her doing it. I used my belt on her tonight, it was to punish her. Christ, the sex afterwards was unbelievable. Then later, when she was sleeping, I pulled the covers off her and saw what I’d done. Saw the bruises that were forming on her ass. She begged me to stop, to not deliver the last ten I’d promised, even offering to take twenty tomorrow. I did stop, somehow. And I’m so glad I did after seeing the bruising. But in that moment, when I held the belt and she was bound and at my mercy, there was a moment I wasn’t sure I could stop.”

Kyan listened, nodding his head once. The room fell silent as he got up to pour two glasses of whiskey. He handed Michael one, who took it without a thought and brought it straight to his mouth. He drank down the contents while Kyan sipped.

“Have you two discussed a safeword?” Kyan asked.

Michael nodded. “Yes, we have one.”

“Does Sophie know she won’t be punished for using it?”

“Of course.”

“Did she use her safeword tonight?”

“No.”

“And when she asked you to have mercy and not to deliver the last strokes you’d promised, you did,” Kyan said.

Michael nodded.

“To set your mind at ease, I might not have,” Kyan said. “In fact, I can’t see myself not delivering what I’ve promised and Julia expects that from me. Remember, Michael, even if there is consent, it doesn’t mean the punishment doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t mean she won’t beg you to stop. Her pleading and your denial of her request may even be part of the draw for her. Perhaps I’m making an assumption though. Was there consent?”

Michael looked at him and rubbed his hand over his face. “Yes, of course. I told her I was going to punish her for running off like she had without talking to me. I asked her consent and she gave it. We had had a fight. Not to make this a long story, but we both want a family and Sophie hasn’t been able to get pregnant and keep a child to term. She’s got some guilt over this and… crap. Today was just too much for her. We had a fight, but at the end of it, I think I understood something. I got it. Or at least I thought I did.”

“Go on.”

“I think she needed me to punish her and she wouldn’t have been able to ask for it. Maybe she didn’t know how? I don’t know. I told her we were changing the way we were doing things. She’s young. She’s relied on my guidance since we’ve been together in every way. I think this is part of what she wants, but maybe doesn’t understand it herself? I don’t know.”

“Did you discuss these details with her?”

Michael shook his head.

“Did she understand she was being punished?”

“Yes, I told her clearly. And before I started with the belt, I asked her if she wanted to stop. If she wanted to use her safeword.”

“And what did she say?”

“No. That she was just scared she’d chosen the wrong belt.”

Kyan smiled.

“She was bruised,” Michael continued.

“And most likely you can expect more bruises. Some of us look on those with affection,” Kyan said, smiling while taking a sip of his whiskey. “Julia and I have been at this for a while. Our relationship roles are clearly defined and even so, we still rely on open communication, honesty, and mutual trust. She trusts that I know how far to take her and that should she use her safeword, everything stops without repercussions. I trust that should she need to, should I have misjudged or miscalculated and I’m truly hurting her in a way she doesn’t want to be hurt, that she’ll use her safeword. All of this is different for every person, every couple, and none of it is wrong as long as there is consent and it sounds like you asked more than once and that she did consent. She was frightened of the pain she’d feel, a natural reaction, but she didn’t want to stop.”

Michael listened, nodding.

“What I would suggest is that you talk to Sophie tomorrow, make sure she understands what you’re thinking, where you want to take your relationship. You love your wife, Michael. If she said she didn’t want to stop, trust that she told you the truth. Remember, she’s the one who sought this out. You’ll figure out the exact dynamics of your relationship with time and practice and a lot of talking.”

Michael exhaled and held out his glass for more of the whiskey when Kyan offered the bottle.

“Were you still angry when you punished her?” Kyan asked, not quite looking at him.

“No. I wasn’t angry, I just knew what I needed to do.”

“Good. Don’t ever do this angry.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“One area where you may need help, or that will take time to develop on your own if you don’t want help, is how and when to use what implements and with what force. You’re stronger than your wife and you’re bigger than she is. You wouldn’t strike her with, say, the same force you used to strike me.” Kyan smiled and touched the fading bruise on his jaw.

“I’m sorry for that,” Michael began, but Kyan held up his hand.

“Why don’t you and Sophie come to the club sometime soon? We can have a real session here, in the main room.”

“I don’t know if we’re ready for that.”

“I don’t know you’re ever ready for your first time. I think it would help, Michael.”

“Let me think about it. I’ll give you a call.”

“Sounds good. Anytime is fine, Michael.”

“Thanks, Kyan.”

Chapter Twelve

By the time Sophie opened her eyes the next morning, she was very aware of the tight soreness of her ass. She blinked several times, reaching to touch a spot as she turned to Michael’s side of the bed, only to find it empty.

She sat up, flinching, to find him sitting in the chair across the room, watching her.

“What are you doing?” she asked. She checked the clock; it was just a little after eight in the morning.

“I called into the office, told them I wasn’t coming in today,” he said.

“We get to spend the day together?” she asked, her face brightening.

But he looked worried, and entirely too serious.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Oh.”

“I went to the club. I wanted to talk to Kyan,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“You’re bruised, Sophie. I know you feel it.”

“I think I’d have to have buns of steel not to be, Michael. Anyway, it kind of goes with the territory, I think,” she said, raising her eyebrows and trying to smile. Was he having second thoughts after last night? Was it too much for him?

“Did I go too far last night? Did you understand what was going to happen, Soph?” he asked, his brow furrowed, worry and guilt in his eyes. “There’s a pretty thin line between what I did to you and abuse.”

“Abuse? Michael,” she leaned forward. “I asked for this. I want this. This is in no way abuse, at least not in my mind. Is that what Kyan said?” She couldn’t believe that.

“No. He agrees with you that there was consent.”

“I guess I don’t understand then, Michael.” Was it the beginnings of anger that she felt? Disappointment? Which would be worse?

“When I said we were going to do things differently last night, I meant I was going to discipline you, use spanking to discipline you when need be.”

“Go on.” Now she was confused. She hadn’t yet processed their conversation from last night, but he had said he was going to change things or something to that extent.

“Last night when we were fighting, I had this idea—more of a feeling, really—that this was what you needed or wanted. Maybe you couldn’t express it. You needed me to be strong enough to do what I did. Was I wrong?”

“No. I don’t know. I feel good right now,” she said, looking away to think for a minute. “It’s over, you know. Our fight, I mean. It’s really resolved. Our roles as they are, you being the dominant partner, it’s natural you spanked and I got spanked. It hurt, but if you’d stopped, I think… no, I know, I would have been disappointed, frustrated. Angry with you. Does that make sense?”

“This is complicated,” he said.

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“No, you’re right. It doesn’t. We’ve got this D/s dynamic and part of the draw for me is disciplining for sure. But I also felt like I was giving you what you needed. Both times I’ve spanked you like this, I’ve also felt like I needed to do it for myself. But it’s also very erotic for me. The sex we’ve been having lately is phenomenal.”

“Okay, so we’re on the same page. Exactly. Same everything. We’re not going to figure this out overnight. I think it would be silly to think we would. I like what we’re doing and I understand that we’re going to learn as we go.” She reached her hand toward him. “Together.”

He smiled, his whole body relaxing a little. “We might make mistakes or decide something doesn’t work for one or both of us.”

“And I’ve got my safeword if I ever need it,” she added.

“Hopefully I know before it gets that far,” he said.

She smiled gently.

“I promise never to spank you for not ironing my shirts. Well, let me revise that. I might spank you if you do.”

“Are you making fun of my ability to iron, Michael?” she teased.

Michael climbed onto the bed. “I might be, Sophie.” He kissed her, pushing her with his body to lie on her back. “You do know I re-iron each one of them when you’re not looking, don’t you?”

His mouth covered hers, but she pushed him back.

“You do not!” she said, feigning anger.

“I do. You’re awful at it.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, one thing off my list, then. How about vacuuming? Want to take that over as well? Do I suck at vacuuming too?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck while he moved his weight on top of her. “Or cooking? Should I stop cooking?”

“Be careful, Sophie. I will take you over my knee if you stop cooking.”

“Really?” she asked, her tone flirtatious.

Michael growled in her ear, pushed her arms out to the sides and held her, looking down at her.

“I love you, baby.”

“Shut up and make love to me, Michael. Slow.”

Chapter Fourteen

Michael’s travel schedule didn’t slow down. In fact, over the next four weeks, he was gone from Monday through Friday and Sophie’s patience had worn out. That had been the day Michael had come home and surprised her with a trip to Nice.

Sophie set the clothes she wanted to bring on the bed as Michael packed their suitcase.

“You really think you’re going to need four sweaters for a three-day trip to the south of France where it will be warm?” he asked, holding them up, one eyebrow lifted.

“You’re right,” she said. She took one of the sweaters from his hand. “Three should do it.”

Michael rolled his eyes and shook his head, but carried on with the packing.

“I don’t have any summer dresses to take with me,” she complained.

“We’ll buy you some when we’re there. I’m running out of space here, Soph. Not sure six pair of shoes are coming with us.”

“Oh,” she said, putting the pair she was about to add to the six back in the closet. “Maybe you can take some of your things out,” she suggested politely.

He gave her a look, but she just shrugged her shoulders and went into the bathroom to retrieve her toiletries.

Michael had always been an indulgent husband, but after their conversation a few weeks ago, he was more so. He’d sent flowers twice a week every week and now he was taking her on a getaway weekend to a place she’d wanted to visit for as long as she could remember.

For her part, Sophie had made that appointment with the doctor and gone in for some tests. The news she’d had back was both comforting and frustrating. She was a normal, healthy young woman. No reason she shouldn’t conceive again or carry a baby full term.

After hearing that, Michael had had some tests done as well and the results were the same. There was nothing wrong there either.

They’d stopped talking about it after a few days and had agreed to just move forward and see what happened. It was the only thing they could do. Sophie wasn’t ready to adopt just yet and at twenty-four, she had some years ahead of her to try.

“We’d better get to bed,” Michael said, checking his watch after setting the heavy suitcase on the floor. “It’s past midnight and our flight’s at eight in the morning.”

“I’m too excited to sleep,” Sophie said. “You sure you packed everything I gave you?” she asked, eyeing the closed suitcase.

“Yes, and you’re not unpacking to double check,” he said, coming up behind her to hug her to him. “Now let’s get to bed. I don’t want to miss an opportunity to put a baby in your belly.”

She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him. “I’m exhausted from all the effort,” she teased.

* * *

They caught their flight as scheduled the following morning, checked into their bungalow at the seaside hotel, and were lying on the beach sipping drinks by lunchtime.

“God, this is amazing,” Sophie said. They had rented chairs at a private beach club and she lay in her bikini soaking up the sun. It was unseasonably warm and would remain so while they were here.

“I’m going in for a swim,” Michael said. “It’s too hot.”

“How can you say that,” she began, not even opening her eyes. “We live in Amsterdam. We see the sun like once a week. Twice if we’re lucky! Soak it up. Sweat a little.”

“You soak it up,” he said, leaning in to kiss her lips. “I’m going for a swim.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, but watched as he walked out into the water, his muscular body graceful as he dove in and resurfaced several feet away. He swam out to the boundary and she sat up to wave. He beckoned her in and although reluctant, she took her sunglasses off and swam out to him.

They spent the afternoon at the beach and watched the sun disappear into the horizon before returning to their bungalow.

“Let’s have dinner here,” Michael suggested. “I want to talk about something with you,” he said when they walked in. “Probably better done in private.”

“I’m intrigued,” Sophie said. “Mind if I have a shower first though?”

“No, go ahead. I’ll order something for us.”

“Perfect,” she said.

“What do you want?”

“Fish, like the one you had at lunch. With a lot of lemon. And a big salad. And a huge dessert. Something chocolaty.”

“You eat more than I do these days,” Michael teased.

“I’m happy. And a pig. Oink,” she teased, slipping out of her swimsuit. “I’m a happy pig.”

When he tried to grab her, she jumped just out of his reach and ran for the bathroom.

Once they were both showered and dressed, a knock on the door signaled their food had arrived. The waiter set up their meal on the small outdoor table in their own private garden. He opened the bottle of wine, poured, and once Michael looked everything over and gave the okay, left them alone.

They settled at the table and took up their glasses.

“Cheers,” Michael said, clinking his glass to hers.

“Cheers,” she said back, digging into her food. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked, taking a bite of her fish after drowning it in lemon. “Yum!”

She looked up to find him watching her. “Eat first.”

She shrugged her shoulders and devoured her plate when he’d just barely begun. Only after they were both done with dinner did he start.

“I want to get more involved at the club; there’s so much to learn and experience I don’t even know where to start. I want to learn how to use all the various implements, I want to see others play. There’s so much we don’t even know about. In addition, I want to spend whole weekends with you naked at my feet. The thought of what we could do, it drives me wild.”

She smiled a pleased smile. This was more than she hoped for, more than she could ever have asked for.

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

“What is it?” she asked; he seemed hesitant.

“When I said I want to get more involved at the club, well, would you consent to allowing Kyan to spank you in the main room?”

“Kyan?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Michael nodded once. “I’d be there with you the entire time. I want to see how far he takes you, what he uses, how you react. And I want to watch your face. I want to watch others watch you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and you can say no, Soph, I’d understand…”

“Yes,” she cut him off and blurted it out.

“Really?”

“Yes. I can’t tell you why just yet, but yes.”

Michael smiled and nodded. “While we’re here this weekend, would you agree to some rules?”

“Like what rules? What are you thinking?” she asked.

His grin grew wide and she could see from his eyes that he was aroused. “Like you’re naked from the minute you walk into the bungalow until we have to leave it?”

Sophie set her fork down and her grin matched his. She rose to her feet and in one motion, untied the halter dress she was wearing and let it slide to the floor.

“Naughty girl, no panties?”

“No, Sir,” she teased. “I am a very naughty girl. You should probably spank me.”

“And wise. Go inside and bring me the bag,” he said. The bag meant the one he’d packed with some of their newly acquired toys.

Sophie smiled as she went to retrieve the bag. Once back outside, she handed it over to him.

“Lie down on your back,” he said, opening the bag and retrieving a short black riding crop.

“That’s a new one,” she said and was treated with a quick flick of it across her hip. “Ouch!”

“Speak when spoken to,” he said, rubbing where he’d just struck with the ultra-soft furry side. “We’re playing now. We’ll consider this weekend training.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, lying down on her back on the soft grass.

“Spread your legs and hug your knees into your chest.”

Sophie glanced once at the crop, then at Michael, then again at the crop before slowly pulling her knees up. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation of what she knew he would next do.

“Keep hugging your knees,” he said. He brought the rectangular end of the crop and set it to rest against her sex. He rubbed there, his eyes on hers, that smile still playing on his lips. “What do you think?” He began slowly tapping the crop against her pussy. “About having your naughty little pussy whipped?” he asked. Just as he did, he flicked his wrist and snapped the crop down against her pussy.

Sophie gasped. It was a hot, quick pain that was gone in an instant, leaving only heat behind.

“You like it?” he asked, doing it again, then again.

“Mmm,” she moaned, hugging her knees, not sure at all. The pain was more of a quick sting, but the heat afterwards was amazing. “Yes.”

He struck hard against her buttock.

“Ow!”

“You don’t want to be on the beach with a striped ass, do you?” he asked, this time raining quick strokes of the crop onto her right buttock in such quick succession, she could only gasp, holding on tightly to her legs.

He stopped. “Sophie?” he asked.

“Sir,” she said. “I forgot to say yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir, what?” he taunted.

“Yes, Sir, I like it. I like you spanking my pussy with the crop.”

“Naughty, naughty girl…” he trailed off, running the flexible, split leather end of the crop against her other buttock. “I should turn this cheek to the same color as the other, shouldn’t I, Sophie? Unfair to neglect it, I think, yes?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her words a whisper as she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation.

“We’ll deal with your ass first. Then we’ll get back to your pussy.”

He rained blows down without counting, without ceremony, without anything at all and she knew he stopped only when the color matched that of her other buttock.

“Oh, God…” she said, catching her breath.

“Good girl,” he said. “Let’s go inside for the rest. Up on your hands and knees.”

She looked at him then understood, turning over onto all fours.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

She did.

Michael slid the crop between her teeth. “Carry that for me, will you?” he said and, with a quick slap on her ass, she was on her way.

Once inside, she sat on her heels holding the crop in her mouth and waited for further instruction.

“Good girl,” he said, taking the crop from her mouth. “Up on the bed, on your back. Open up wide and show me your pussy.”

She swallowed and crawled over, climbing onto the bed and positioning herself as he’d said. He dug through his bag and returned with the crop and a spreader bar.

“Someone’s been shopping,” she couldn’t help but say, giggling a little but closing her eyes when the crop fell on her ass again, twenty in quick succession to each cheek. “Ow. Ow. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it. Sir.” She giggled.

Michael was smiling as well. “Open,” he said, gesturing with the crop. She did, rolling her eyes first. “That’s going to cost you,” he said, placing the crop back into her mouth. He then adjusted the bar and cuffed her ankles to it before pushing it up to her chest, her knees bent, legs spread wide. “Hold that for me.”

He slid the crop back out of her mouth and brought it back to her pussy, beginning immediately.

* * *

This felt different. Spanking her for fun, for pure erotic pleasure was different. He liked the feel of the crop in his hand and the smell of the leather was intoxicating when mixed with that of her arousal. The crop was stiff, but the end of it quite flexible with its four-inch split leather slapper. He brought it down on her pussy, then alternated on her buttocks and back to her pussy, which soon glistened with moisture. She was panting now, making small noises, closing her eyes. He had to push her legs back up when she relaxed them and held on to the bar at one point to deliver a quick round of ten final strokes to her already heated pussy before setting the crop down.

“How are you doing, Sophie?” he asked. “A little wet?” Two fingers slid easily inside her.

“Mmmm…” she moaned. “Yes, Sir.”

When he pinched her clit, she gasped.

“I’m going to help you to your feet; it will likely feel awkward but you’ll be able to balance. I want to use the crop on your asshole.”

Her eyes widened at that.

“Would you like that, Sophie? Your asshole wants some attention too, doesn’t it?” As he said it, he traced her juices up the cleft between her buttocks and settled over her anus. “You’re going to look amazing,” he said, “bent over and spread open for me.”

He helped her to her feet and turned her to face the bed.

“Down on your elbows,” he said. The bed was low to the floor so she had to bend deep while the spreader held her legs wide. “You look incredible. I might keep you like this for a while.”

She made a sound, bending even deeper, offering herself to him.

He stripped off his shirt and picked up the crop while she remained as she was, waiting for him, watching him from between her legs.

“Ready?” he asked. He placed a hand on her hip to steady her. He didn’t need to spread her buttocks apart; bent as she was, she was completely exposed to him.

“Ah,” she cried when he began, using the same short, quick strokes as he had on her pussy. She wiggled a little, but wasn’t really trying to avoid the strokes and he kept it up until the skin around her anus matched that of her buttocks.

“More?” he asked, dipping a finger into her pussy, lubricating the digits before running them up to her back hole and this time, circling there, penetrating the tight ring as she moaned. “More of the crop, Soph?” he asked, pressing one finger inside to the knuckle, pulling out slowly and repeating before he added a second. “Tell me, a little more with the crop before I fuck you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Where? Tell me where you want me to crop you.”

“My ass, Sir. Please use the crop on my ass.”

“As you wish,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and beginning another round with the crop.

Sophie gasped with some of the strokes and moaned with others. He knew it would sting, but these weren’t punishing strokes and the sheen on her pussy told him just how much the sensation of the sting, the heat, and attention were turning her on.

“Michael. Sir…”

“Are you ready for me to fuck you?” he asked, dropping the crop to the floor and stripping off his pants. Taking a tube of lubricant, he greased her anus, pushing two fingers into it easily as he thrust his cock into her pussy. “You are so wet,” he said, gripping her hip with his free hand.

“Fuck my ass, Sir. Please. Fuck my ass.”

Michael withdrew his fingers and brought the head of his cock smeared in her juices up to her anus. She gasped when he pressed the wide head of it into her back hole, but relaxed when he stopped as he gave her time to adjust. He took his time, gaining the first inch, then slowly the second.

“You are so fucking tight,” he said.

“Mmm…” she moaned.

He claimed another inch, pulling out then pressing in, pulling out then pressing deeper.

She made a noise, something between a moan of pleasure and one of pain. He imagined it would hurt her this first time and determined she would wear a plug to widen her passage over the next few days. This was a part of his wife he planned on using frequently. He’d waited so long and it was his right. And hers.

“Almost there, baby. I’m not going to last long in here though.”

“It feels so good,” she purred.

Once he claimed the final inches and had seated the whole length of his cock inside her, he stilled. “Are you ready for me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes. Yes, please, Sir.”

“Hard or slow?” he asked, already beginning to move his hips forward and back, relishing the heat of her in the tight quarters.

“Hard. Fuck me hard.”

Michael then took hold of her hips and pulled all the way out. When he thrust in, she called out, but he didn’t stop. He fucked her hard and fast, pinching her clit as he felt her clamp down around his cock with an orgasm that shook her for what seemed like an eternity. She called out, she cried, she begged him to fuck her harder and he did, then begged him to stop as he drew yet another orgasm from her before he finally stilled, coming inside her.

Chapter Fifteen

“Isn’t that your mom’s car?” Sophie asked, her belly immediately tensing.

“Looks like it,” Michael said. They found a parking spot and watched as Karen and Michael’s mother emerged from the parked car, their expressions grim and serious.

Sophie looked over at Michael then back at the two women, hoping everything was okay.

“Mom?” he asked as soon as he was out of the car.

Sophie followed, the bliss of their little vacation quickly slipping away. It wasn’t like them to show up without calling.

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “Where’s Dad? Everything okay?”

It took his mom a minute to process what Michael might be thinking, but Karen picked it up.

“He’s fine. Everyone’s fine and nothing’s wrong,” she said, turning to Sophie.

Both women now looked at her, but it was his mom who spoke. “We came to talk to you, Sophie. To tell you we’re sorry, if it’s not too late.”

Sophie looked at them standing there while Michael’s hand rubbed her back.

“Let’s go inside,” Michael said. “I’ll make coffee.”

The four of them walked in quietly and Sophie was sure the tension between them was visible to any passerby on the street.

“We just got back into town. How long were you waiting?” Michael asked as they settled in the living room.

Sophie wasn’t sure what to make of things. She wasn’t sure she trusted them. Michael was trying to act casual, but there wasn’t anything light or casual about this.

“Just a little while. Don’t worry about that,” his mom said. “We won’t stay long, you’re probably both tired from the trip, but I think this needs to be said and the sooner the better.” She turned to Sophie and took her hands. “I didn’t expect a second daughter-in-law as quickly as Michael found you, Sophie. It was never about you. The fact that Michael stayed in the States those years I might have blamed on you.”

“Mom…” Michael cut in.

“My turn, Michael,” she simply said, holding Sophie’s hands and not even breaking eye contact with her. “I owe this to my daughter-in-law.”

“It’s okay,” Sophie began, a voice inside her screaming that no, it wasn’t okay at all! She’d been saying it was okay all these years and trying to sweep it under the carpet, push her feelings of not being good enough deep down inside her when all the while, resentment was growing.

“No, it’s really not,” Grace said. “Let me do this.”

Sophie nodded.

“I didn’t even give you a chance and blamed you when you didn’t give me one, and I accept that our relationship could have been different if I’d been less selfish. Michael loves you and I see how much you love him. The fact that you’re not Dutch?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I can work on my English,” she said, smiling a little. “I promise to be a better mother to you and treat you no differently than my natural daughters, if you’d like that. If I’m not too late.”

Sophie shook her head, smiling as tears stung her eyes. “It’s not too late,” she said, wrapping her arms around the older woman. “I’m sorry too. I could have tried a little harder myself.”

The two hugged for a few minutes, both of them crying now.

“All right,” Karen cut in. “Enough already,” she said.

Her mother let Sophie go and turned to her, raising her eyebrow.

Karen looked at Sophie. “I’m not as sentimental as my mom but I know I owe you an apology, Sophie. Like my mom said, my brother loves you and I see how happy you make him. I’d like to start again. If you want to.”

Sophie looked back at her. She looked sincere and was obviously putting on the brave front, but in her eyes, her vulnerability showed. “Thank you, Karen,” she said. “I realize how much courage it took for both of you to have done what you just did. But if you ever invite my husband’s ex-wife to a family party again, you’re going to hear from me.”

“Accepted,” she said, nodding.

Sophie took a step toward her. Karen took one back, but Sophie grabbed her hand. “No, you don’t. I’m a hugger and you’re not getting out of it, Karen.”

Karen groaned, but smiled when Sophie hugged her and she hugged her back. “Thanks, Sophie,” she whispered.

Sophie only squeezed harder.

Chapter Sixteen

Sophie was anxious all day. He was taking her to the club. Tonight. She was going to be spanked in public. She might even be spanked by Kyan. No, not might be but would be.

They drove in silence. Once there, Michael parked and they walked the two blocks, her heart pounding the entire time. Ever since they had started this, Sophie hadn’t been able to get the idea, the very visual idea of herself naked and bent over in the middle of the main room and spanked by another man while her husband watched, out of her mind. It made her sex throb in anticipation while making her face burn with humiliation.

She must have slowed her step when they got to the club though, because Michael applied a little pressure to her back. She glanced at him. He looked back, but his expression didn’t change, didn’t soften, nothing. She walked up the stairs and in through the front door.

When Afke saw them come in, she smiled and rose to her feet.

“Right this way, Sir,” she said, obviously expecting them. She knocked at the door and was told to enter. Opening the door, she stood aside.

Michael guided Sophie into Kyan’s office.

“Welcome,” Kyan said, standing. Always cordial, always formal, always polite, Sophie noted.

Her glance in his direction was brief as a blush rose from her neck to her cheeks.

The men shook hands and Kyan invited them to have a seat.

“I’m glad to see you both here together,” Kyan said. “I’m very glad to see you on this journey together.”

Sophie wrung her hands together. They felt clammy, sweaty. She was nervous.

“Thank you, Kyan. We appreciate your friendship.”

Kyan nodded. “Sophie,” he began.

She turned her face up to look at him sitting across his desk.

“Do you understand what’s going to happen tonight?” he asked.

Goose bumps covered her body and she began to shake. “You’re going to spank me out there,” she said, unable to keep the emotion from her voice as she pointed to the door leading to the main room and broke eye contact with him.

Michael’s hand was on her knee immediately and it was all the encouragement she needed.

“Look at me, Sophie,” Kyan said.

She turned her face back to Kyan’s and wiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

“Michael, as your dominant, has asked you to participate in this public session for a few reasons. You’ve discussed those, yes?”

She nodded.

“Please vocalize. I believe you know how to address me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her eyes wide, looking at him with the same almost childlike need for approval as she did Michael.

“Just to clarify, one is for him to learn your tolerance for pain. Another is for him to understand or establish boundaries for himself as your dominant.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Michael spoke next. “The third is simply for my pleasure. I’d like to see you spanked in public by another man, Sophie. I want to see you strip naked, I want to see you walk through the club while men watch you. I want to see you bent over, your ass on display, and most important, I want to watch your face as you’re spanked.”

She stared at Michael as he said these things, her heart leaping from her chest in its desire to please him.

“Tell me, does the idea arouse you? Because I think it does,” Michael asked.

She could only swallow.

“If you can’t answer with words, you’ll have to show us just how wet you are.”

Sophie turned from Michael to Kyan, then back again.

“Yes, Sir. The idea excites me. I’m just… nervous.”

“I’d be worried if you weren’t,” Michael said. “Let’s get started.”

“Do you remember your safeword, Sophie?” Kyan asked.

“Yes, Sir. It’s lavender.”

“Good. I’m ready when you are, Michael,” Kyan said, addressing the last part to her husband.

“Stand up, Sophie,” Michael said, his face also looking a little flushed.

She rose slowly to her feet.

“Take off your dress.”

Every hair on her body stood on end. She glanced at Kyan sitting there, relaxed as he leaned back in his seat, as if this was a normal day at the office for him.

“Look at me, Sophie. I’m the only one you need to look at.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

“In fact, unless Kyan asks you a question, you’re only allowed to look at me all night. When I’m not standing in your line of vision, I want your eyes on the floor.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her pussy was on fire. She slowly stripped off her dress, sliding it down over her body and stepping out of it, effectively naked beneath in just the thigh-high stockings and pumps he’d instructed her to wear. Once the dress was on the floor, she looked at her husband, but managed to keep her hands at her sides.

“Pick up the dress and lay it over the back of the chair.”

She did slowly in the most modest way she could.

“Good girl,” he said. He rose to his feet and took her face in one hand, caressing her cheek before leaning down to kiss her open lips.

Kyan said something in Dutch she obviously wasn’t meant to understand. Michael nodded, even though he never took his eyes off Sophie.

“Slip off your stockings and shoes,” he said.

Kyan had apparently given instructions. She didn’t dare glance at Kyan; she was entirely too embarrassed. Instead, she stepped out of her shoes and peeled off each stocking.

“Are you ready?” Michael asked.

She saw Kyan rise from the corner of her eye and for the first time, something inside her felt fear. Her hand shot out to capture Michael’s. He took it, looking at it before meeting her eyes. He smiled and squeezed. “You’re okay. I’ll be with you the entire time.”

She smiled back and nodded.

He opened the door and the soft opera music playing in the main room broke into their intimate space.

Michael nudged her to walk toward the door and she did, walking between the two men, her eyes on the floor as she’d been instructed, watching her bare feet and glancing at the shiny shoes the men wore on either side of her.

“I’ve had the bench placed in the very center of the room,” Kyan said.

She glanced at the contraption from beneath her lashes as they approached it. It was a long wooden thing with what looked to be adjustable back legs, which were slightly higher than the front legs that also contained leather restraints. The long rectangular top was padded.

“Here we are,” Kyan said. “Sophie.”

She looked up at him. “Yes, Sir?”

He smiled and gestured to the bench and she wondered how she was supposed to mount that thing while preserving any decorum.

“Sophie?” Michael asked when she didn’t move.

Sophie stepped closer to the bench and placed her right leg over it. The men stood back and watched as she maneuvered herself into position, placing her hands on the blocks by the front legs where Michael bent to tie the restraints around her wrists. She looked at him as he did this, his blue eyes staring right back into hers. The warmth she was used to was there, but in addition to it, there was something else. Arousal, certainly, but something else. Something more base, more animalistic.

Michael smiled and leaned forward to kiss her, then whispered “I love you,” in her ear.

“I love you,” she mouthed back.

Although she didn’t turn, she felt leather wrapped around both ankles simultaneously, securing her widespread legs.

“She looks lovely,” Kyan said from behind her. Michael went to join him there and Sophie heard him suck in a breath as more footsteps approached to witness her humiliation, her exhilaration. She closed her eyes, very aware of how exposed she was in this position. How open to anyone who chose to look.

“I want to plug her,” Michael said. “She seems to like that.”

Sophie pressed her hips into the bench, very aware of her swollen clit while they talked about her as if she weren’t there, as if she were only her body.

“Will she be allowed to come during the spanking?” Kyan asked.

She recognized Michael’s hand as it gently caressed the curve of her waist. “Yes. I’d like to see if we can make her come just from her spanking.”

She heard one of the men approach and she opened her eyes to meet Kyan’s. “I have a feeling we can,” he said, smiling, touching a finger to her chin.

At that moment, she felt the lubricant on her anus and instantly tensed.

“No,” Michael said as Kyan resumed his place behind her. “It’s me, relax.”

“Julia,” Kyan said. “Bring me a leather paddle and have my cane and a gag ready.”

Cane and a gag?

As he said it, Michael pushed his finger inside her ass as she ground her clit into the bench.

“Good girl,” Michael coaxed as his finger moved more easily in and out of her. “Tell me, Soph,” he asked. “If I asked you to suck Kyan’s cock while I fuck your ass after your caning, would you do that for me?”

He was fucking her ass with his fingers as she ground her hips into the bench. She arched her back with the pleasure of it.

“Tell me, girl,” he said, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the plug. He kept fucking her with it as she moaned, on the verge of orgasm now. “Tell me, do you want to suck another man’s cock while I watch? While everyone watches as you’re getting your ass fucked?”

“Mmm. Yes,” she gasped for breath as he seated the wide plug fully inside her. He then stepped away.

“You look fucking hot, Soph. Every man in this place has an eye on you right now.”

She’d been on the edge of orgasm when he moved away and she groaned, turning her head to look for him and finding several men and some women gathered round.

At that moment, Julia returned with the implements Kyan had asked for and Michael came to stand where she could see him.

“I’m going to use my hand first, Sophie. Then the paddle for a while. When you’re ready, if you’re ready, I’d like to give you a few strokes with the cane. What’s your safeword again?”

Sophie was confused for a moment until her eyes once again settled on Michael.

“Lavender, Sir,” she said.

* * *

She didn’t see Kyan nod at Michael, signaling he was ready to begin.

“Keep your eyes on me the entire time,” Michael said to her before returning the nod.

She gasped when Kyan’s hand first struck her flesh, her eyes suddenly startled as if she were surprised for a moment. Michael kept his eyes on her face as Kyan continued, using his hand for a good while, his spanks becoming harder as he progressed until she had tears forming in her eyes.

When Kyan switched over to the paddle, she struggled a little in her bonds, making the sounds Michael was growing accustomed to hearing whenever he spanked her. He stepped around her for a moment, wanting to see her backside. It was red and growing redder by the quick, expert application of Kyan’s paddle. Michael watched how he placed the strokes, how he worked the paddle.

“Your ass is turning bright red, baby,” he said, when he came to squat in front of her again. He caressed her head, pushing her hair off her face as Kyan paddled, tears now streaming down her cheeks.

“It hurts,” she said.

“Shh,” Michael soothed. “Kyan,” he said, looking up at the man. “Maybe we should give her a break?”

Kyan stopped for a moment and walked over to where she could see him. “Sophie.”

She blinked several times, as if confused.

“Look at me, Sophie.” He squatted down to get her attention. When she met his eyes, he continued. “Do you need to use your safeword?”

She looked at him for a long moment and shook her head.

Kyan glanced at Michael and resumed his place behind her.

“She can take more than you think,” Kyan said to Michael, his breath shorter as he continued to spank her while speaking. “Look at her expression, her eyes; her pupils are dilated. Her face is soft. She’s crying softly, but it’s nowhere near too much or even enough at this point.”

Michael nodded in understanding, watching his wife’s face, listening to the sounds she made. Her lips were swollen, her mouth slightly open, her eyes red from crying but soft, just soft. Watching her elicited the strangest feelings inside him. Some of aggression, he couldn’t deny that, but along with that base instinct, there was a tenderness, a knowledge that he could take her to this place himself. It was beyond sexual arousal—it was pure sensuality, pure eroticism. At this moment, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on.

Holding her chin, he reached his face close to hers, he kissed her mouth. Her expression didn’t change. She simply opened to accept him.

Kyan stopped paddling, stepping back and stripping off his shirt. Julia took the paddle from his hand and handed him his cane. Michael glanced at the people gathered round to watch, feeling nothing but pride. She was his. She belonged to him.

“I’d like to use the cane, Michael,” Kyan said simply.

Michael looked at Sophie who looked back at him, eyes wide and trusting. He smiled softly, then nodded to Kyan without breaking eye contact with Sophie.

“Julia, gag her,” Kyan said.

Julia came to kneel beside Michael. “You won’t be able to say your safeword with this in,” she began, petting her hair as she spoke. “Just tap on the bench three times to signal you’re using it. Understand?” she asked.

Sophie nodded.

Julia touched her cheek with a warm, sweet smile on her face before sliding the ball gag into her mouth and securing it.

When she walked away, Sophie looked at Michael, her mouth wide around the gag. He reached forward and kissed her cheek, her ear, her hair. Kyan waited until he had moved away to lay the first stroke of the cane across her ass.

The whippy sound was different and Sophie tensed instantly. She closed her eyes when it struck, but it was a moment before she made any sound.

“Okay?” he asked, touching her sweaty face.

She blinked once and managed a small nod, looking into his eyes as she braced for the next stroke.

Michael glanced at Kyan and Kyan struck again.

She made a sound that was muffled behind the gag, her hands fisted, tears seemingly being pushed from her eyes.

Michael’s cock hardened even more than it already was.

“Again,” he said aloud.

The sound, like a whistle, one that he would now never forget, filled his ears.

Sophie made a pained noise and looked at him.

“Again,” he said, never breaking eye contact with her. A part of him knew that although he was not the one delivering her pain, he was the cause of it. The thought made him hungrier.

“Two more. Last ones.”

“I’d like to strike her thighs,” Kyan said. “These will be more painful.”

Michael only nodded his permission.

“Two more on each thigh or two total?” Kyan asked.

Michael looked at her position and realized that splayed as she was, he’d have to strike each thigh separately.

“Two on each.”

Sophie moaned and squeezed her eyes shut. The last four strokes were delivered swiftly, without pause, as Sophie’s eyes streamed tears.

* * *

It was over. Michael was caressing her, pushing the gag from her mouth, telling her how well she’d done. The last strikes of the cane had been the worst and even as her entire lower half burned, she could tell exactly where each of those strokes had landed. But at the same time, an intense heat had built inside her to match that of the flesh of her buttocks and thighs. Michael got up and Julia came to sit next to her, smiling at her, her eyes shiny with her own tears as she pushed the hair back from Sophie’s face and wiped her forehead.

“You did really well,” she said. “So well.”

She petted Sophie’s hair.

“You’re so beautiful, Sophie.”

Sophie couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think, all she could do was feel. She was pure sensation. When Julia leaned in to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her mouth, she only opened to her, soft tears falling from her eyes. Kyan was before her next and Julia remained as he knelt in front of her. He was shirtless, his body glistening with sweat.

“You did very well, Sophie. So, so well,” he said, touching the back of his hand to her face gently as Julia unzipped his pants and released his cock.

From behind her, she felt Michael’s hands on her hips, spreading her wider, playing with the plug. Julia licked her husband’s cock first while Sophie just watched. From behind her, Michael manipulated the plug as his cock penetrated her slick pussy. Julia guided Kyan’s cock to Sophie’s lips and she opened for him, taking him inside her, tasting salt and sweat. Julia kissed his cock, kissed Sophie’s lips as they alternated their ministrations. Sophie opened wide when Kyan fisted her hair and pushed toward the back of her throat. At the same time, Michael’s cock penetrated her ass. She gasped as he thrust in, nothing gentle as he fucked her from behind while Kyan fucked her mouth, the only softness being Julia’s lips as they kissed her hair, face, her mouth.

Sophie came fast, her hips bucking with the force of it, and when Kyan stilled and she felt the first stream of semen hit her throat, she opened wide for him, letting it drip down her throat as he pumped once more, twice more. From behind her, Michael’s hands closed around her hips, fucking her harder and faster until, after drawing one final orgasm from her, he came inside her ass.

Chapter Seventeen

She had just had the hottest experience of her life. Sophie lay still in the bed, feeling Michael beside her. He was awake, she could tell from his breathing. Was it going to be awkward now? They’d need to talk about what had happened. She rolled over and opened her eyes to find him watching her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She glanced at the clock. It was quarter past eleven in the morning. She turned back to Michael, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His expression was tentative.

“My butt is sore,” she said.

“I imagine it is. Go on.”

“Truth?”

“Every time.”

“I thought it was one of the hottest things I’ve ever done.”

Michael exhaled.

“Did you know we’d do that? I mean the last part?”

“Not until we were there at the club, at the bench. I think that’s the part I want to talk about.”

“I never imagined I’d do anything like that with another man, but yesterday with Kyan and Julia, it was right.”

“Go on.”

“But the whole thing. From the minute we walked into Kyan’s office to when you had me strip, to when you both walked me out and had me straddle the bench. People were watching, a lot of them. I liked being, strange as it sounds, put on display like that. And I like that you did it. I felt like I belonged to you. Somehow I felt even closer to you. I know it sounds weird.”

“I actually don’t think it sounds weird. I felt the same.”

“The spanking—it was a little different from Kyan. It was more than we’ve ever done and at some point, it didn’t matter that all those people were there, that I was in the middle of a room naked and exposed and being spanked by a man not my husband. It was like I was somewhere inside my head. Strange, but really great too, you know?

“I liked that you stayed with me where I could see you. I heard you tell Kyan how many strokes to give me with the cane. I was scared, but also ready for it. I’m so glad you did that. I think the most important part was that you were there with me. Julia, when she kissed me at the end, it just felt natural and then Kyan and you and… that was just intense.”

“For me, it was almost surreal. First, I want you to understand that I trust Kyan. This wouldn’t have happened with just anyone. When I told you to do those things and you did them, you simply gave yourself, submitted to me, to us… it was fucking hot, absolutely. I had the same thing—when you said you felt closer to me, I had that. I don’t really know where all this is going to go, Soph, and I think over the next days and weeks, we’re both going to be processing what happened last night. I want us to keep talking about it, figure out how we feel in a few days. I’m really just happy though; everything is falling into place. I feel good. I think you feel good?”

She thought about it for a minute. “I feel, in a way, at home. Like I can just finally relax, you know?”

He smiled and pulled her into an embrace.

* * *

The next two weeks, Sophie woke up starving. She’d get up early with Michael and eat a huge breakfast as he drank coffee before going to work. On the Saturday of the second week, when she woke with her usual hunger, Michael looked at her. “Should we take the test?” he asked.

They’d bought the pregnancy test weeks ago, but both had been too nervous to use it. She had gotten pregnant twice before and had lost both babies. The memory and the feeling that went with those months would likely stay with her forever.

“I’m scared,” she said, suddenly sniffling when a surprise of tears and emotion flooded her. “What if we’re pregnant?”

He studied her and in his expression, she saw that same worry that she felt.

“If it’s negative, we’ll be disappointed.”

“Yes, there’s that.”

“If we’re not… If it’s positive and I’m pregnant…”

“Come on,” he said, pushing the covers off himself, standing, and holding out his hand.

Reluctantly, she climbed out of the bed and they went into the bathroom. Michael unwrapped the stick and handed it to her. She took it, looked at it, then looked at him.

“Can you go outside or turn around or something?”

“I’ve seen you pee before,” he said. When she only stared, he turned to go. “I will never understand women,” he mumbled under his breath.

When the door closed, Sophie took the test. She wasn’t sure what would be harder, if it were a plus or a minus. She set the test on the counter and washed her hands, unable to watch.

Michael opened the door and came to stand beside her. He looked down at the test and took hold of her hand, squeezing.

Epilogue

Keira Anne Perron was born two months early. But as Michael and Sophie watched her now, standing, her fat little hands gripping the edges of the coffee table she’d just used to pull herself to stand upright, she was a healthy, happy little one-year-old.

The doorbell rang and she turned her face in the direction of the sound, her little legs bending and straightening in her excitement. The doorbell usually meant visitors. And visitors usually meant presents and lots of attention. Sophie figured Keira had put those two things together. Michael scooped her up and went to answer the door as Sophie unpacked the birthday cake. She had to smile when, after hearing her in-laws in the hallway, she heard Keira’s squeal of delight as they made their way back to the living room.

Today was Keira’s birthday and both she and Michael had agreed to let Oma and Opa spoil her rotten without a word of complaint from either of them.

“Sophie,” Grace said, coming to her with a huge bouquet of flowers. “Congratulations, dear,” she said. In Holland, when someone in the family had a birthday, everyone else got congratulated. It was a strange custom, but one she liked.

Her father-in-law followed, carrying Keira in his arms, smiling as she pinched his nose. Amanda was next—well, really Rosa, who came charging into the room. Karen was close on their heels carrying a very large box.

“I’ll put the flowers in some water,” Sophie said once everyone was greeted and seated. Michael followed her into the kitchen, cornering her at the counter.

“It’s not too much, my family?” he said, kissing her, placing one hand on her belly and rubbing. He kissed her. “I like your little pooch here,” he teased.

“Ugh, don’t say that,” she said, allowing him to kiss her.

“And you’re a little fuller here.” He cupped a breast.

“Michael! Your whole family’s inside. What if someone walks in?”

“Then they get an eyeful of me kissing my gorgeous wife,” he said, pulling her even more tightly into his embrace. “And I decided I can’t wait to tell them.”

“Me either,” she said when he released her. “Here, help me put the glasses on the tray, I’ll bring the champagne.”

They turned to find his mom walking toward them. She took one look at the couple, Michael with one hand stroking Sophie’s slightly swollen belly and she stopped, covering her hands with her mouth.

“Again?” she asked after a few moments.

Sophie nodded, happy tears filling her eyes as Michael stood back and watched, proud as ever.

Grace didn’t have words; she simply came to them and hugged them both, crying. “Give me that tray, I’ll take it inside.”

“Thanks,” Sophie said, handing over the tray Michael had just stacked. Her mother-in-law took the tray and, her eyes still teary, went back into the living room.

“I think she’s happy,” Sophie said.

“Me too. Are you happy?” he asked.

She nodded and cried and he pulled her into his arms once more.

The End

Stormy Night Publications would like to thank you for your interest in our books.

If you liked this book (or even if you didn’t), we would really appreciate you leaving a review on the site where you purchased it. Reviews provide useful feedback for us and our authors, and this feedback (both positive comments and constructive criticism) allows us to work even harder to make sure we provide the content our customers want to read.

If you would like to check out more books from Stormy Night Publications, if you want to learn more about our company, or if you would like to join our mailing list, please visit our website at:

http://www.stormynightpublications.com

More Stormy Night Books by Natasha Knight

Taught to Kneel

Throughout her life Gabrielle has wanted a strong man to take her in hand, and two years ago her growing need for something her husband could not provide led her to make a terrible mistake that ended her marriage.

After his wife cheated on him years ago, Julian learned all about the pain caused by infidelity. When he sees that same crushing guilt in the eyes of a beautiful woman at the B&B where he is spending a quiet vacation, he is compelled to help her.

Gabrielle is drawn to Julian from the moment she first sees him. His easy, direct manner forces her to face her guilt, and when he suggests that she take the punishment she’s needed for so long, she can’t help but say yes. It soon becomes clear to them both, however, that it will take more than just a bare-bottom spanking to allow Gabrielle to finally let go of her guilt—she will have to be very thoroughly chastised.

But to fully satiate her need, she longs to experience more than just punishment from Julian—she needs to be completely dominated by him, to be made to kneel and ask him to take her in any way he pleases, and to blush bright red with embarrassment even as she begs for more. But is it all just a fling, or will what began as a chance meeting change both their lives forever?

Buy on Amazon

Taming Emma

Emma had always been interested in exploring the world of BDSM, and given her desperate circumstances, this sounded like the perfect opportunity. One weekend of complete submission to the highest bidder among a select group of wealthy men, and her financial troubles would be over. Emma wasn’t really sure what to expect when she agreed to the deal, but one thing she definitely did not expect was Luke Roark.

The moment Luke removed the blindfold and recognized the beautiful, nearly-nude young woman standing before him as Emma Lawson, his best-friend’s little sister, he knew what he had to do. However, after buying her contract with the intention of giving her a firm lecture and taking her home, he cannot help but imagine the things he could teach her.

Emma spent many years as a teenager fantasizing about Luke, and when he is suddenly thrust into her life again she is torn between her fears and her desires, but her need to submit wins out. Emma chooses to stay and honor her contract, and she quickly finds herself on her knees before him, bare, bound, helpless, and forced to take whatever he wishes to give her… and he wishes to give her a great deal, relishing the chance to play Emma’s naked, trembling body like a finely-tuned instrument until she is blushing red and begging for more.

It is not long, though, before both Luke and Emma can feel that something much more than just physical attraction binds them together, but can they put aside their painful pasts and embrace a future together?

Buy on Amazon

Taken by the Beast

Elijah had watched Kayla for years, serving as a hidden protector for this beautiful young woman—until the night an abusive boyfriend sought to do her harm. Afterwards, he knew that there could be no hiding what had happened, and she would have to come with him whether she liked it or not.

Try as she might to convince herself that her eyes had deceived her, Kayla knew that she had seen a giant wolf toss men about like ragdolls and then shift into the human form of her neighbor Elijah. Then, before she can even begin to process what she has seen, she finds herself thrown over his shoulder and carried from her apartment against her will.

In spite of Elijah’s insistence that their flight from the city to a cabin deep in the woods is for her own safety, Kayla attempts escape at every opportunity, but she finds that he is more than prepared to compel her obedience and he will not hesitate to spank her soundly when she makes it necessary. Worse, she soon learns that repeated defiance will earn her a punishment far more shameful than just a bare bottom spanking.

As the days pass, however, she begins to see in Elijah a kind of loving care and concern that no man has ever shown her before. Stranger still, as she stands before him naked and blushing, waiting to be thoroughly chastised for disobeying him yet again, she begins to want him in a way that is so fierce it terrifies her.

Elijah swears to himself that he has taken Kayla only to keep her safe, but in his heart he knows that is not true. His instinctual need for her—the overpowering urge to claim her as his own—grows stronger with every passing hour, and it is only a matter of time before he loses control and takes her. But can he keep her safe from those who would use her to get to him, and even if he can, can the primal lust between them ever grow into an equally powerful love?

Buy on Amazon

Captive’s Desire

Olivia has spent years training to hunt and kill the dangerous savages who live outside the dome which protects her city, and she stands ready to carry out her mission with pride… until the day she is shot down and her life is changed forever.

Pulled from the wreckage by a man unlike any she has ever seen—a massive, gruff, yet strangely handsome brute who is not afraid to bare her bottom and spank her soundly to compel her obedience—she is brought into the midst of the people she once sought to wipe out, and her rescuer becomes both her captor and her protector.

From the instant he sets eyes upon her, Hayden is certain that there will be a special place in his heart for Olivia. He knows the struggle she will face as she breathes the clean, free air outside the dome and the drugs in her system wear off, leaving her exposed to desires more powerful than she can imagine—desires that he will be more than prepared to fulfill when she is ready.

As the days pass, Olivia grows more and more disturbed by what she sees around her—husbands and wives, children and families, all healthy and unharmed by the supposedly poisoned air. Far more disturbing, though, are her growing feelings for Hayden. She finds herself wanting him in a way that she cannot understand, and her need for him grows stronger with every passing hour. She knows that soon she will ask for him to take her, and that when he is finished it will not be long before she kneels at his feet, blushing with shame while begging for more.

Buy on Amazon

Her Rogue Knight

Since her mother’s death, Gemma has raised her younger sister Alys and kept her family safe… until the day they are caught by surprise and Alys is taken by a band of outlaws. In desperation, Gemma’s frail, elderly father pleads for aid from a reclusive knight by the name of Sir William and pledges him Gemma’s hand in marriage in repayment for the safe return of her sister.

When Gemma ignores her father’s instructions and sets out on her own to rescue Alys, she discovers that this gruff, unkempt, and yet undeniably handsome brute is more than her match, and the lesson is brought home with a sound spanking on her bare bottom. With no time to waste taking the brave and feisty yet hopelessly naïve eighteen-year-old back home, Sir William has no choice but to bring her along as he pursues her sister’s captors. Though he might not admit it, however, he relishes the thought that he might have to punish her again, and with every glimpse of her delicious curves his lust intensifies.

In spite of his firm chastisement and his demand for her unquestioning obedience, Gemma finds her feelings for Sir William evolving rapidly. She begins to wonder what it would feel like to be stripped bare and held tight in his strong arms, helpless and blushing, yet longing for him to claim her hard and thoroughly.

Even as her desire for him grows stronger, she frets about the secrets he keeps from her. His skill in battle alone tells her that he is no mere woodsman, and the hilt of his sword bears a marking that cannot be mistaken—a symbol that she believed had passed into legend. Can she trust this man with her life and that of her sister? Will he fail her in her hour of greatest need, or will her rogue knight prove himself worthy of not only her submission but her love as well?

Buy on Amazon

Claimed by the Beast

More than a year has passed since Marcus, free at last from his harsh captivity, disappeared to lead a life of solitude. Rachel waits for him, clinging to hope, but her fear grows that the man with whom she shares an unbreakable bond is lost to her forever. Despair leads her to take risks with her life, and Elijah does his best to keep her safe, but he knows that only his brother’s return can truly heal her wounded heart.

Believing that he will only bring her pain and sadness, Marcus has vowed to leave Rachel on her own, telling himself that she will move on and find love and happiness in the arms of some other man. But when the dark shadows of the past engulf his family again and Rachel’s life is put in terrible danger, he is given no choice but to return and take back what is his.

Though overjoyed that Marcus has returned at last, Rachel cannot bring herself to believe that he will truly stay this time, and her doubts push her to defy him even as he fights to protect her. She soon learns, however, that he will tolerate no disobedience when her safety is at stake, and her defiance will be dealt with firmly. As she stands before him, bare and blushing with her well-spanked bottom on display, knowing there is much more to come, Rachel longs for her mate to claim her as his and his alone. But can he shield her from those who would do them harm, or will he be torn away from her yet again?

Buy on Amazon

Taming Megan

Jake Roark is the husband Megan never dreamed she could have—handsome, responsible, kind-hearted, and so much more. Before she ever said her wedding vows, though, she also knew that he was traditional enough to take a misbehaving wife in hand. When the bad habits from the wild life she led before she met Jake begin to resurface, Megan soon finds herself over his knee for a bare bottom spanking.

Jake's firm hand and old-fashioned ways only increase her love for him, but when a mistake from the past is suddenly thrust into the forefront of her life and her marriage, will Jake's love for Megan be strong enough to keep her in his arms forever, no matter what he learns about her?

Buy on Amazon

Dangerous Defiance

From the moment FBI agent Jessica Manning arrives in the small town of New Hope to investigate the tragic—and suspicious—deaths of two civilians and a fellow agent, she is annoyed by the interference of the local sheriff, Jackson Montgomery. She fumes when Jackson forbids her from continuing her investigation without his assistance, but since her mission is off-the-record and unapproved by the agency, she has no choice but to feign cooperation with the handsome lawman.

To her surprise and horror, Jessica soon learns that Jackson isn’t asking for her obedience, he is demanding it, and when he catches her out looking for leads behind his back, he pulls her over his lap and spanks her bare bottom until she’s sobbing. Her promises to behave are soon forgotten, however, when a mysterious note promising new information appears under her hotel door.

It is only when the Assistant Deputy Director of the FBI shows up in New Hope, cautioning Jessica to back off if she knows what’s good for her, that she fears she might be in over her head and asks Jackson for his help… even if his help results in a bright red, sore bottom. But can the strict sheriff and the feisty agent unravel this tangled web in time, or will they end up paying with their lives for exposing the truth?

Buy on Amazon

The Firefighter’s Girl

When twenty-eight-year-old Rebecca Banks learns that her next physical therapy patient is none other than Sawyer Hayes, she stays professional, but deep down she can’t help but panic. She hasn’t seen Sawyer for ten years, and their last meeting ended with him giving her a spanking she would never forget. Now Sawyer is the fire chief in the small town that has become her home, and it is an injury sustained in the line of duty which has brought him back into her life.

Even as he works hard on his recovery, Sawyer’s mind is on something else—repairing Rebecca’s trust in him. When her deadbeat boyfriend and his family implicate her in a serious crime and she’s sent to the local jailhouse to await trial, Sawyer pays her bail and brings her home with him under the condition that she obeys him… and that disobedience will have consequences.

Rebecca agrees, but when she defies her self-appointed guardian she soon finds that a hard, bare-bottom spanking is far from the most embarrassing punishment Sawyer is prepared to employ. Though Sawyer’s punishments leave her with cheeks blushing as red as her well-spanked bottom, they also ignite feelings and desires she never knew she had, and soon his fierce need to dominate and lead her is matched by her growing need to obey him.

Rebecca and Sawyer’s newfound romance grows quickly, but the stress of preparing for her upcoming trial continues to build and she fears the verdict will send her to prison. Can her firm-handed firefighter protect her, or will she be torn from his loving arms?

Buy on Amazon

Taming Naia

Naia knows that Liam Roark has every right to be angry with her for sabotaging his career ten years ago with the accusation that he spanked her. When she seeks him out to ask his forgiveness, though, he will only give it on one condition: she'll have to accept the bare-bottom spanking she once falsely claimed to have been given.

Although hesitant, Naia agrees, but after a painful and humiliating punishment which leaves her tearful and blushing, Liam sends her on her way. Despite her protests he is determined not to see her again… for his sake and for hers. He knows full well how strongly he yearns to dominate and have his way with her, and he fears she is far from ready to see that side of him. But Liam isn't the only one who has to come to terms with the past, and when Naia persists, he finds himself unable to resist the twenty-eight-year-old beauty any longer.

Deciding to give her a taste of the life he lives, Liam brings her with him to his vacation home in Miami. He will demand her absolute obedience, thoroughly punish any defiance, and take her in any way he pleases, leaving her begging on her knees for more. But will the passion they ignite continue to burn hot once they return home?

Buy on Amazon

Given to the Savage

In the aftermath of a plague which brought civilization to its knees and left most of the world’s female population sterile, breeders—the few women who remain fertile—have become a precious commodity. Breeders live in relative comfort, but upon reaching adulthood they are tasked with bearing one child after another to carry on the species. Frequent medical assessments keep the breeders healthy and harsh punishments keep them in line.

As a breeder who has just come of age, Rowan knows she will soon be little more than a slave, but when she dares to resist her fate the penalty is severe. After a shameful, public chastisement and a thorough, humiliating examination to determine her suitability for child-bearing, Rowan is given to a savage from outside the community—a huge brute of a man named Silas—to be bred.

Against all expectations, Rowan finds herself drawn to her new captor. Brave, ruggedly handsome, and even kind at times, Silas is everything the men who enslaved her were not. When the time comes for him to breed her, despite the circumstances something deep inside her begs for him to take her long and hard. But while she soon finds herself longing to be his forever, Rowan knows that eventually those who gave her to him will try to take her back. When that day comes will Silas fight to keep her at his side even if it means risking everything he loves?

Buy on Amazon

Amy’s Strict Doctor

Twenty-four-year-old Amy is the quintessential poor little rich girl. Her parents taught her that beauty alone would get her everywhere, and when her husband, Dr. Cade Hollister, convinces her to take the last class she needs to finish her degree, she has no idea what is in store for her. Amy has never challenged herself in the past, and when she fakes an illness to avoid the hard work required to pass the course, Cade decides it is time to teach her a much-needed lesson.

Before she knows it, her husband is taking her temperature the old-fashioned way, and that is just the start. Amy soon learns that her strict doctor will do whatever is necessary to keep his wife in line, and he is more than ready to give her the discipline she requires, even if it leaves her cheeks blushing as red as her well-spanked bottom. But can she overcome her embarrassment and come to terms with the fact that she loves submitting to Cade, loves the way his punishments make her feel, and loves the way her body craves his dominance more and more every day?

Buy on Amazon

Protective Custody

When Skye Madden is caught trespassing at an exclusive ski resort while trying to support herself as a tabloid photographer, she is stunned to discover that her childhood crush, Aidan Hastings, is the head of security. More shocking still, Aidan tells her in no uncertain terms that if she is found snooping around the resort again, he’ll take her over his knee and give her a spanking she’ll never forget.

When her boss sends her back to the same resort a year later on another assignment, Skye can’t help but remember Aidan’s warning, but a spanking quickly becomes the least of her worries after she gets lost on the mountain. While trying to find her way back, things go from bad to worse when she witnesses a cold-blooded murder, and she is left with no choice but to confess everything to Aidan. Worst of all, it appears that the murder is connected to the Russian mob.

Aidan decides he’s taking no chances with his best friend’s little sister, a girl he’s never been able to forget. As a former special agent, he is more than ready to do whatever is needed to keep her safe, even if that means taking her into hiding in an isolated cabin, whether she likes it or not. But Skye Madden has grown even more stubborn and headstrong than he remembered, and he soon realizes it will take quite a bit more than just a bare-bottom spanking to bring her in line.

Even with her world collapsing around her, Skye wonders how she can let this man—someone who has a place called a “punishment room” in his house, on top of everything else—start to claim her heart again. Can she learn to trust her firm protector, or will she take matters into her own hands and put her life in even greater danger?

Buy on Amazon

Natasha Knight Links

You can keep up with Natasha Knight via her blog, her Twitter account, her Facebook page, and her Goodreads profile, using the following links:

http://www.natasha-knight.com/

https://twitter.com/NatashaKnight13

http://www.facebook.com/natasha.knight.946

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6478732.Natasha_Knight