To celebrate the release of my newest book, His Sire's New Game, I thought I'd share bits from my BDSM stories...
From His Sire's New Pet
“A little more forward. Hands on the floor. There you go.”
As uncomfortable as the position was, head down, fingers and toes on the floor with his weight supported by Alan’s thighs, Tyler already started to relax. Alan was running a hand over his ass and thighs as though to learn the contours of his body, and that small, unassuming touch was a hint of things to come. Tyler’s cock twitched hopefully, the very tip brushing a wet trail against Alan’s inner thigh. This was one of Tyler’s favorite moments: waiting for the first blow, his body ready for the pain, even craving it, knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now.
“The first ones will be strokes you earned for yourself,” Alan said, holding true to his word that he would explain what each punishment was for. “Talking out of turn. Not answering when asked a question. Standing without permission.”
Rather than look straight down, Tyler turned his head slightly until he could see Jeremy. He was still kneeling, his form perfect and seemingly easy to maintain. He was as gorgeous now, in this submissive posture, as he had been when standing over a kneeling Tyler, grinning at the thought of what he would do next. He wasn’t smiling at the moment, though, his expression neutral and unreadable. Was he really okay with all of this? Tyler had asked, but would Jeremy have told him if he was unhappy with any of it? Tyler had only wanted to spare Jeremy a punishment he hadn’t earned, but now—
The first hit was sharp, landing across Tyler’s left ass cheek, and the cracking sound resonated through the small room.
“I do not recall giving you permission to look at Jeremy,” Alan said in that cold voice of his. “For that matter, I don’t recall saying you could move. Did I?”
From His Sire's New Game
“Up,” he demanded. “Hands on the arm of the chair. Legs parted.”
He remained a few feet away as Jeremy obeyed, watching him intently. Tall and lean, his body well-muscled though not too much so, Jeremy could make any movement look graceful, but Alan knew better than to believe it was effortless on his part. Decades earlier, he’d fumbled more often than not, his gestures too fast, too jerky, sometimes, as his nerves got the best of him. He’d learned to control his body, because that was what Alan expected of him.
“Always so pretty,” Alan murmured; Jeremy hadn’t truly earned praise yet, but after ignoring him for so long Alan felt like offering him something.
Jeremy’s back arched a little more as he breathed, “Thank you, Sire.”
Stepping closer, unseen by Jeremy, Alan scowled at the long, healing scar on his Childe’s back, low and close to the side. The only marks he liked to see on Jeremy’s skin were the ones he put there himself. He walked to the other side of Jeremy’s body, his fingers flexing on the handle.
“Tell me what you did,” he said, resting the flat of the paddle against the curve of Jeremy’s ass. “Tell me exactly how you disobeyed me last night. I want details, Childe. Leave nothing out.”
“Yes, Sire,” Jeremy said at once. After a beat, he started in a lower voice. “I touched Tyler when I didn’t have permission to—”
Alan lifted the paddle and swatted it across Jeremy’s ass; it wasn’t anywhere as hard a hit as he could dole out, but it wasn’t a love-tap either. A loud smack resounded through the room, accompanied by a rush of air leaving Jeremy’s lungs in the smallest of whines. Alan waited until Jeremy started talking again before he lifted the paddle once more.
The leather hissed behind her as it parted the air. She knew it was useless to try to brace herself, but she could never stop. The very end of the crop skidded across her ass, tracing a line of fire. She jumped to the tip of her toes before she could stop herself.
“You’re beautiful,” he said after the first hit, and struck again before the last syllable was out of his mouth.
With every strike, he continued to talk to her, telling her what a good girl she was for him, and how proud he was that she was taking the crop so sweetly, with such lovely cries, such pretty shivers running over her body.
His words were even gentler than the caresses he offered every so often, stroking her neck, her arms, her breasts with his open hand, the touch so fleeting it was gone before her mind even registered it, the counterpoint of the crop striking in time with her next heartbeat.
The sting of pain faded into heat. It pulsed through her, a fire whose flames were fanned by Master David’s movements and words. The flames crackled and buzzed, licking her mind and body with tongues of sensation.
From Carte Blanche
He took a deep breath in and the trembling of his body stopped. “I’m…I’m listening.”
“Ten more with the paddle or fifty with my hand.”
He didn’t answer right away, but she didn’t mind waiting. She was tempted to ask if she was right—if he was hesitating over which he wanted most rather than which sounded less appealing. If he needed pain more, he’d go for the paddle. If it was punishment he wanted, he’d choose her hand. Unless it was contact he wanted, flesh on flesh—
“Your hand, Mistress.”
Maybe it was the way he said that last word, soft and breathy, or the way his backside wiggled, just a little, as though he hadn’t been able to stop himself, but she knew, then, which it was. He wanted to be touched.
Alternating striking one ass cheek then the next, she let him go up to ten, then stopped and came closer to Ray, close enough that her body brushed against the back of his thighs and ass. As he took breaths as shaky as they were unneeded, she slowly caressed him with both hands, covering his entire back from just above his ass to the two sets of healed bite marks, one on each side of his neck.
“Which of them are from your siring?”
Seconds trickled by before he answered. “Left side.”
She scratched her nails lightly against the slightly raised scars on the left. He shivered.
“And the ones on the right?”
“A few…a few weeks before Keller turned me.”
So it hadn’t been an accident, she thought as she pulled back and set herself in position again.
Ray nodded jerkily, impatient for her to start. Whether she saw it or not, she was giving him the punishment he had wanted, and it didn’t matter if her reasons were different from his. It also didn’t matter that he didn’t have permission to come; he was confident that he could control himself through a spanking.
For a human woman, she had a pretty good arm, but she still was no match to his vampire endurance, which was why she always started their games with a flogger or paddle, sometimes even a crop, before she switched to her bare hand as they both preferred.
As though sensing his impatience, she delayed a little longer, rubbing his ass and soothing the burning as much as she was adding to it. Her free hand was in the center of his back, light for all that he could feel every inch of her skin, so warm already against his.
“Oh, one last thing,” she said, her words as sticky and sweet as honey. “If you do come without permission, or say anything other than ‘sunshine,’ we’re done. You’re out of my house, and I never want to see you again.”
The first smack fell down, the crack like thunder in the echo-prone room. Ray’s entire body lurched forward, but his Mistress followed the movement, holding him secure in her lap for a second blow to the same cheek. Ray’s eyelids, which had fallen to half mast, opened wide again, as did his mouth. He remembered just in time that a single word now would make him lose everything.
“You wanted a punishment,” she muttered as she found her rhythm, alternating stinging smacks to both ass cheeks. “I’ll give you one you’ll never forget as long as we’re together. And even after.”