Spice Box: Sixteen Steamy Stories

by Raine Miller

  A breeze tugged at her skirt as she walked through Rock Creek Park. The sun hadn’t yet warmed everything to summer mugginess and it was too early for the bugs to be annoying. She found her rhythm and allowed her thoughts to go straight to Cal.

  Sara liked the way Cal did things. There was such joy in his approach to being her Dom. He’d leave her a note on the hall table for when she got home from the office. Strip and meet me in the Dungeon, it would say. Then he’d draw a smiley face. That always made her laugh.

  The cage was gone, so the dungeon was a happier place for Sara. She’d fold her clothes at the top of the stairs, then trot down. Cal would be standing by a piece of equipment. He’d installed a fancy sound system, so there’d be music or some other noise—once it was a recording of a thunderstorm and he’d timed it so he was hitting her with a short whip in time with the thunderclaps.

  It all felt like they were playing at D/s, particularly compared with the ways Bruno had done things. His dominance had focused on improving her emotional stability. Cal controlled her to create the sexiest scene possible. He hurt her sometimes but either it was in the context of the scene or it was a mistake. He hadn’t needed to discipline her, as if he didn’t think she needed improvement.

  Sara had never been a mouthy sub or a “smart-ass masochist.” She didn’t seek out punishment. Cal’s kinder approach ought to have suited her perfectly. It did…and it didn’t. The trouble was, she couldn’t put her finger on what was missing or why it bothered her.

  The positives were all so good—he was drop-dead gorgeous, he projected the right Dom persona, he certainly got her off a lot, and he had that wonderful sense of humor. So what was the catch?

  By the time Sara made it back to the office, she was too focused on the question even to see the pretty weather or fresh spring flowers.

  “Have a nice walk?” Becky gave her a big smile, along with a handful of phone messages. Her face fell when she looked at Sara. “Are you okay? Not more bad news, I hope?”

  Oh, God. What was the matter with her? “No, nothing bad. Just a problem I was trying to solve. Thanks.” Sara curved her lips into what she hoped was a smile.

  Back at her desk, she couldn’t concentrate on any of the emails or messages she needed to respond to. She didn’t want to lose Cal. She didn’t. So why was she looking for problems?

  The phone rang and Sara jumped. She looked at the display. Yvonne. Thank God, something to focus on. She reached for the phone and a pad at the same time.

  When Sara got home, there was no little note from Cal. She found him in his office, working on his computer. She stood in the doorway, unsure what to say or do.

  “Hi.” Cal didn’t look up.

  “Hi.” She wanted to ask why there was no little note, but she could tell he was busy. “When do you want dinner?”

  He waved a hand. “Whenever.” He looked at the lower right corner of his computer screen. “It’s a bit early yet. Seven? Would that suit you?”

  “Sure. Why not? It doesn’t matter, does it?” She could hear the whininess in her voice but seemed powerless to stop it.

  He looked up, frowning at her. “Are you okay?”

  She crossed her arms. “Yes, of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Sara, what’s wrong?” He turned away from his computer, his hands flat on the desk.

  She remembered that first night she’d submitted to him. He’d been so nice to her. Of course, that was before he got to know her.

  “Nothing,” she snapped. Her eyes were wide open, waiting for him to react.

  He switched to his Dom voice. “Sara, are you topping from the bottom?”

  The voice ought to have calmed her, but it just made her more upset. “No. I am not.” Great, now she sounded like she was fourteen. She pressed a hand to her mouth, just to keep her lips from quivering. And to stop herself from making it worse.

  Cal stood. God he was tall. He walked over to her, towering over her even with her work high heels on.

  “I’m going to ask you again. Are you trying to get me to punish you?”

  She shook her head, afraid to speak.

  “Then you’ll kindly calm down and tell me what’s upsetting you.” It was still his Dom voice and it still upset her.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t tell me what’s upsetting you?” He sounded incredulous.

  Sara was horrified. This was like a nightmare where she accidentally bumped into something, knocked it over, then watched in horror as it knocked something else over and something else fell and before she knew it the entire room was in tiny tinkly little pieces.

  “I asked you a question, Sara.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up at his stern face. For the first time, she could see his resemblance to Bruno. Something about the mouth, perhaps.

  “All right.” Cal went back to his desk. He sat down but didn’t look at her. “You’ll go down to the dungeon. Take your clothes off, kneel, and wait for me. This will not be a sexy time, you won’t like it, and you won’t be allowed to orgasm.”

  “Yes, Cal,” she whispered.

  She waited to see if there was more, but he’d gone back to work.

  She left, unsure if she’d made things better or worse.

  CHAPTER 11

  Now what? Cal tightened his fingers on his scalp, pulling his hair through until it stung a bit. Mac had warned him about needing to administer punishment, but Cal had no idea how to do it.

  What he wanted was a straight answer to the question of what Sara was upset about. He could hardly torture her to get her to talk, to trust him. He had to earn that trust, and she had to be willing to talk. So this would be straight punishment.

  He remembered Sara’s story of how she’d gotten started with Bruno. I got in some trouble and Bruno bailed me out. What had she done?

  For the first time, Cal could sense a darkness to Sara, a shadow behind the sunny smile and guileless eyes. She’d seemed tormented by something, trying to keep from blurting it out. He considered all the usual possibilities—she wasn’t having an affair, she hadn’t wrecked the car, she wasn’t a big spender, and he felt sure she didn’t drink or do drugs. So what was it?

  After fifteen unproductive minutes staring at his computer, Cal went downstairs. He was barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt, so this wasn’t going to be a high protocol session. He just needed to maintain some objectivity, get the punishment done, and see if that took care of the problem. He wasn’t sure what his options were if this session wasn’t enough.

  Sara had followed his instructions, so that was a good start. Cal walked over to where she was kneeling and placed a hand on her head. “Sara, I want you to think hard about why you are down here.”

  She nodded, causing his hand to bob up and down.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was disrespectful.”

  “More specifically?”

  She sighed. “You asked me a question that I didn’t answer.”

  “Can you tell me now what you were upset about?”

  She shook her head.

  “Out loud, please.”

  “I don’t know the answer, Master.”

  “You have a choice, Sara. You may opt to talk to me about what’s going on, or you can accept your punishment.”

  “I’ll take the punishment, please.”

  Jesus. Whatever was the matter, she really didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Very well.” Cal walked over to the toy cabinets and selected a cane. With a lot of warming up, caning could arouse Sara, but without that preparation, it was just hard and painful. He paused near the drawer with the padded cuffs. Trouble was, she liked being restrained. He left the drawer unopened.

  “Stand.”

  She got to her feet, her head still downcast.

  He led her to the spanking bench. “Get on.” He waited until she’d knelt on the lower level. “Keep your knees together. There’s nothing sexy about this. In fact, I won’t restrain you. I
expect you to take a caning without protest. If you need me to slow down, I will. If you need to use your safe word, you may do so. But just to be clear, this isn’t a scene and you’re not here to have a good time.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Cal couldn’t tell if she had him confused with Bruno or what. He sure as hell didn’t feel like the master of anything in his life, let alone this lovely complicated woman.

  He kept the strokes with the cane steady and solid. They left thin red stripes that would become welts but wouldn’t leave a scar.

  Sara was crying, but otherwise holding steady. He was so proud of her even as he was completely mystified about what was bothering her.

  When he’d completed the ten blows, he hung up the cane and came back to help Sara off the apparatus. He led her over to the sofa, positioned her so she was sitting with her thighs on his lap. His arms curved around her torso. Her sobs tapered off into snuffles and hiccups. He used his handkerchief to mop her cheeks. He let her blow her nose.

  Finally, there was just the uneven noise of her breathing.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Sara.”

  She raised her face.

  “I’d rather talk about your concerns, but I won’t pry. Just know that I don’t enjoy punishing you. I don’t think that’s a strong basis for a relationship.”

  She let her cheek fall to his shoulder. “Okay.” She sounded oddly satisfied.

  Maybe even happy.

  ***

  Sara woke up relaxed and contented. Fossie was still tucked in her arms but she didn’t have her usual death grip on the gorilla. It took her a moment to remember what had happened the night before. She’d behaved badly in front of Cal.

  Oh, God. Cal. What must he think of her? She started to panic, then she remembered the way he’d held her after the punishment and she relaxed.

  He’d been right. She hadn’t enjoyed it. Not even a little bit. He wasn’t very rough with the cane—she’d had worse at Bruno’s hands—but he’d been consistent. And he’d forgiven her.

  The only dark cloud on her horizon was the sense that Cal hadn’t wanted to punish her. He was unlike Bruno in that regard. Oh, not that Bruno had been sadistic about her punishments, but he hadn’t shied away from them. That’s why the cage was such a powerful threat—she knew he’d use it.

  She missed Bruno. Life was simpler then. No emotions like the ones that overcame her yesterday—and she still wasn’t sure what the problem was. With Bruno, everything had a steady routine. Submission, her job, contentment, and occasionally sexual satisfaction. Back then, she’d valued the contentment more than the sexual satisfaction.

  With Cal, it was different. Sara experienced the highs of great sex, sure, but there was more. They watched movies together, went out to dinner, talked over breakfast. The only thing they didn’t do was sleep together.

  She knew he wanted that, but she was used to parting at the end of the day. Being with Cal twenty-four seven would be too much. She’d crack under the strain of trying to be the kind of person he thought she was. The kind of person he deserved to be with. Then he’d see—she shook her head to clear it. She got out of bed and nearly dashed to the shower.

  At breakfast, Cal poured her coffee.

  “Thanks.” She glanced at the clock. “I have plenty of time. Shall I cook us something?”

  His face lit up. Sara grinned. He never said no to a cooked breakfast, but he never expected it, either.

  She had just flipped the last pancake when he spoke. “I’d like to go to The Club tomorrow night.”

  Saturday? “It’ll be packed.”

  “Mac says he’ll save us a station.”

  Sara’s hand froze over the pancake. She needed to take it off the heat or it would burn. “Us?”

  “Well, I’m not going alone.”

  She exhaled in a whoosh and whisked the pancake off the burner just in time. She put his plate, loaded with a full stack of pancakes, plus three pieces of bacon, in front of him.

  “Aren’t you having any?”

  “Hunh? Oh, right.” She fetched her own plate, then cut off a little wedge of pancake.

  “Sara. If you don’t want to go to The Club, we won’t.”

  “That’s not it.”

  He ate for a couple of minutes, waiting for her to speak.

  Just like last night, Sara couldn’t marshal her thoughts sufficiently. She wasn’t going down that road again, though.

  “Of course I’ll go with you.”

  “When was the last time you went with Bruno?”

  “Oh.” She tried to recall. “Last September, maybe? I’m not sure.”

  What she remembered about that trip was that she’d been deep into a weird subspace, like anything Bruno wanted was exactly what she wanted. She didn’t feel that way with Cal, though. Odd.

  Yvonne had returned to the office, so work kept Sara from thinking too much. In what few spare moments she got, her thoughts turned to the idea of Cal—tall, gorgeous Cal—at The Club. He was going to take everyone’s breath away. She hoped she made him proud.

  A tickle at the back of her mind, a weird little idea that wouldn’t go away, finally coalesced on the way home. Sara had never worried if she was worthy of Bruno. Sure, she’d worried she wasn’t a good enough sub, that she wasn’t meeting his standards. But she had another fear now, that Cal could do better—that he would meet a proper sub, a perfect sub, at The Club. He’d finally see what he was missing, dump Sara, and take up with Ms. Perfection.

  Sara had to blink away the tears. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want to own the house if Cal wasn’t there. She didn’t want to come home to silence, never to read a note telling her to strip and ending with a smiley face. She wanted Cal to stay, to like her, think she was good enough.

  Only she was terrified that she wasn’t good enough for Cal. And never would be.

  There was no note when she got home—her shoulders slumped at the sight of the bare hallway table—and no sign of Cal. She looked at the clock—barely past six. She didn’t feel like eating, so she went upstairs to find some fetish gear she might wear to The Club.

  When she got to her dressing room, she found Cal already going through her clothes.

  “Oh, hi.” He held up a hanger. “What do you think of this?”

  It was a skimpy midnight blue slip dress, meant to be worn with a strapless body shaper. With no underwear—and Sara knew she wouldn’t be allowed underwear at The Club—it would be deliciously obscene.

  “Very pretty. Would you like me to wear that?”

  Cal grinned at her. “What else you got? I’m up for a fashion show.”

  She smiled at his enthusiasm. “I have a latex dress.”

  “Ooh, let’s see.”

  Sara pulled it out from the far corner of her closet. “Latex is good because it doesn’t mute the pain when you hit me.”

  His mouth tightened at that. Poor Cal. Not quite yet the dedicated Dom his uncle had been.

  “But if you want a frillier look, I have a sheer black lace corset.” She pulled it out of a bottom drawer.

  “How naked do you want to be?” Cal asked. He didn’t take his eyes off the corset. Ding ding—they had a winner.

  Sara started to undress, making sure her actions were smooth and enticing. “I don’t like to be completely naked, no. I’m not a very good exhibitionist. I keep thinking that should be saved for my master.”

  She slipped her silk blouse off her shoulders. She had on a shell-pink bra with demi-cups. Cal nearly drooled when he saw it. She unzipped her linen skirt and bent over to retrieve it from the floor. She hadn’t worn hose, but she did have on a cute pair of panties. She took her time with the simple job of picking the skirt off the floor.

  Cal got the hint and stood behind her, pressing his erection into her ass. “Stand up,” he commanded. He took the skirt from her hand and tossed it onto a nearby stool. When she was upright, he nuzzled her neck, nipping the skin
just enough to sting. His hands molded to her ribs and waist, moving up to brush against her breasts. He plucked her nipples out of the bra cups. One hand stayed to pinch and roll each nipple in turn, while the other one slipped into her panties to feel how wet she’d become.

  “I don’t want you naked either. In fact, I want to limit our scene to the impact play.”

  “That’s why you’ve been in the dungeon by yourself.”

  “You were not supposed to know about that.” She felt his mock-growl against her neck. “No spying on your master.”

  “Will I get to be restrained?” Sara looked over her shoulder. She was pushing her luck, she knew, but she sensed Cal was in a playful mood.

  He chuckled. “Yes, you’ll be restrained. I doubt I’ll let you orgasm, and I won’t be touching you, so why don’t we take care of this—” He squeezed her clit until she moaned. “—Right now?”

  “Yes, Master.” Her head was spinning, maybe from bending over for so long. Or maybe it was just that she ached for his cock. It had been days…

  “Go lie on your bed. Face up, spread-eagled.”

  She’d do anything he asked when he used that deep Dom voice.

  He hadn’t said anything about her underwear so she left it on. Her nipples rubbed against the lacy edges of the bra cups as she walked through to the bedroom.

  She tucked Fossie into a bookshelf, then arranged herself on the bed. Stretched out like that, her tits were forced up even more. She started thinking what Cal was going to do to her when he walked in.

  He had soft ropes in his hand. “I believe I owe you some restraints here at home.”

  Sara kept her face impassive, but she lit up inside at the prospect of being tied up.

  He worked efficiently, those long fingers deft as they tied her ankles to the bed. When her hands were tied as well, he pulled out some simple nipple clips and put those on her. Her back arched at the sensation.

  “Yes, oh, Cal, that’s so good.”

  “Make all the noise you want, sweetheart. Music to my ears.”

  He stood alongside the bed, admiring his handiwork. Then his smile broadened into a chuckle. “I should have told you to take off the panties, hunh?”