Black Light: Cuffed
“I can handle you just fine, Sydney. I’m just not sure you’re ready to be handled.”
“Do you think you’re the only woman in this room that loves the pain?”
Sydney isn’t the kind of submissive to go around directing the doms she plays with. If they don’t know how hard she needs it, or how long to push her, she walks. Voicing her desires isn’t even a possibility. As an assistant DA she’s used to asking questions, not answering them, even if it means she never quite gets the stress relief she craves.
After one night at Black Light where Sydney took everything he said the wrong way, Tate has been waiting for the feisty sub to walk back in the club. Detective Nathan Tate knows exactly what Sydney needs, exactly how far he could take her before she would find the sweet oblivion submissives seek beneath his flogger — but he’s not giving it to her until she asks for it. He sees the fire burning inside her, and if she’ll let him he’ll do everything to show her how to let it burn wild.
Just one little problem. There’s a murderer in town, and it’s their job to make sure they get the right guy and put him behind bars. But when the case starts to hit a little too close to home, with danger closing in, can Tate and Sydney work side by side without losing each other in the fray?
He wiggled the vibrator sending more sensations. Twisting did nothing, he merely followed, and she was too close to the wall to get very far anyway.
“Please!” she cried. But he was not to be deterred and merely began to run the vibrator lower, through her folds and back up to her clit. On the second pass, she screamed out as an orgasm she didn’t feel coming burst through her. She stumbled in her stance, but he held her tight, still rubbing her pussy with the vibrator until every bit of her orgasm receded.
She gulped in air, sucked it in like water to a fire. He released her and tossed the vibrator onto the bed. When he turned back to her, he pulled her arms down, cradled her face and explored her eyes. “Now, we can begin,” he said, and dragged her over to the bed.
In one swift movement, he was sitting and she was face down over his lap. “No!” She tried to scramble away when she heard him pick up the paddle. “Please!”
“Not so much fun when you’ve already come, right?” The cool wood of the paddle pressed against her bare ass.
“Tate! Please!” She tried to buck, but he only responded by draping one leg over hers. Completely locked in place. Any semblance of pleasure vacated her mind with the first swat of the wooden beast. She slapped at the mattress, but it did no good. The paddle came down again and again. Not overly hard, she could at least admit he wasn’t being a complete brute, but not being aroused made it all the worse.
“I’m so sorry!” she yelled between swats. “I’m sorry I disobeyed!” She cried when the paddling continued. A fire would not burn as hot as her ass did with each new strike of the paddle. And he wasn’t saying a word! Not a single word as he continued to pummel her ass with that thing!
After at least another dozen swats she felt the tears starting to spill down her cheeks. He wasn’t going to stop until he was ready, and all she could do was submit to it. That was her job, submit to him. And she hadn’t done that. It was a simple thing he asked of her, not to go digging around on her own. And she didn’t follow, didn’t submit to his authority. She’d wedged a space between them because she’d decided not to submit to him when it was inconvenient.
“I’m sorry. So sorry.” She sobbed, gripping the comforter, unable to lose herself in the pain. He delivered the hardest spanking she’d ever had, and she couldn’t find a moment of pleasure in it. “I’m sorry I hurt us,” she blurted out, and the paddle stilled against her ass.
“Again.” His soft voice encompassed her.
“I’m sorry I hurt us, that I chose the opposite of what I want, what we both want.” She rested her head on the bed, gasping for air and letting the tears fall freely.
“If you don’t want to submit outside of the bedroom—”
“No! I do, I, just, I’m sorry, Tate. Really.”
“No more digging around on your own. If you have a hunch, we’ll look into it together.” The paddle bounced as it landed a few inches from her head on the bed. His hands roamed over her ass, but there was no extinguisher for the flames he’d created.
“I hate wood,” she said after a few moments of silence passed.
“I know. I promise to only use it for punishments. Although, maybe one day you’ll ask me to try it other times.” He patted her bottom. “Come on up.” He helped her to her feet and stood with her, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tight.
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Measha Stone is an international bestselling author of erotic romance. She’s had #1 top-selling books in BDSM, and suspense. She lives in the western suburbs of Chicago with her husband and children, who are just as creative and crazy as her. Her vanilla writing has been published in numerous literary magazines, but she’s found her passion in erotic romance. She writes it, she loves it, and whenever possible she lives it. When she’s not writing, she’s reading and spending time with her family.