by Brynn Paulin
Punished
A Taboo Wishes Story
By
Brynn Paulin
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
http://www.resplendencepublishing.com
Resplendence Publishing, LLC
P.O. Box 992
Edgewater, Florida, 32132
Punished
Copyright © 2010, Brynn Paulin
Edited by Tiffany Mason
Cover art by Les Byerly
Electronic format ISBN: 978-1-60735-125-2
Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Electronic release: February 2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
For Tiffany who inspired me
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Chapter One
Play acting had never been high on Natalia Cooper’s list of activities, but today she found herself dressed up and filling a role that made her positively wet. Why? Who knew? She didn’t. Who really understood the wanton directions of a person’s most titillating fantasies? Hers was already curling tendrils of need in her middle.
She sat in a hard, molded plastic chair in a brightly lit room made to look like a school office waiting area. It appeared genuine, but this place, The Dungeon, was far from that. The Dungeon specialized in fantasy fulfillment. Hers had always been the naughty girl scenario.
“Miss Smith, the principal will see you now.” Natalia stood at the use of her fake last name. No real identities were allowed here. She straightened her miniscule green plaid skirt and followed the secretary into the “principal’s office”.
Nerves began to ball up in her belly. She’d always followed the straight and narrow and had rarely been punished as a kid. She’d never even been spanked. That was until a boyfriend had smacked her ass a few times during sex. He’d just been messing around, but she’d liked it. A lot. She’d longed for it ever since, but never found anyone…
And now what was she doing?
“He’ll be right in,” the “secretary” said.
Natalia nodded, unable to speak. She bit her lip and wondered if she was insane to be here waiting for a man to paddle her. According to the play-acting sheet, she was a habitually naughty student at Her Lady of Perpetual Need Catholic School and she’d been caught sneaking two boys into the locker room of the all-girls school.
As the woman left her alone, Natalia reached up to touch the mask that covered the upper portion of her face. Not only were names protected here, but faces as well—
“Miss Smith.”
Her throat went dry. Her back straightened as the door behind her scraped open and the man’s deep voice preceded him. She didn’t dare look, and she folded her hands together in her lap.
“So we meet again. It seems you like my office.”
“Um…no sir,” Natalia answered as he came into her line of sight. Sweet Jesus! He was huge. Dressed in a black suit and a black shirt with a priest’s collar, he looked like someone who might oversee an all-girls parochial school.
He leaned against his desk and crossed his arms over his wide chest. His coat strained over the muscles in his arms. His large hands looked like they would engulf hers if he took her fingers. Oh, her ass was going to sting.
Her breathing grew shallow as she envisioned it.
He looked down at her, his deep blue eyes studying her through the mask he too wore. It should have distracted her, the mask, but instead, it heightened her want. No matter the scenario, he was a stranger and he was going to give her exactly what she’d longed to receive for years.
One long finger tapped against his biceps. “Skipping school. Drinking in the parking lot. Cheating on your math test. Putting glue in Sister Martha’s coffee. And now bringing these two boys into school. What are we going to do with you?”
She shrugged a shoulder and bit the corner of her lip. “Detention?”
He slowly shook his head. Rounding his desk, he slid off his suit coat and hung it on the back of his chair. Methodically, he folded his sleeves up his forearms. “No, I think we’ve moved beyond that. You’d sleep through detention, just like always, then leave your gum under the desk. I’d call your parents, but we both know that wouldn’t do any good. It seems I’ll need to take you in hand.”
“What are you going to do?” She really didn’t know, and her stomach was flipping at the options. Her panties had been drenched ever since she’d gotten here and put on this teeny-tiny uniform skirt and top. The second she bent, it would creep up her torso, exposing part of her back.
She slouched in the chair, thinking to take the part of naughty girl even further. She parted her knees slightly and ran her finger along the slightly veed collar of her shirt. “You could take up where those boys left off.”
His lips compressed. “I think not, Miss Smith.” His palms flattened on his desk as he leaned toward her. “Stand up. Now!”
Shaken, she leapt to her feet.
“You will remove your panties and leave them on my desk.”
Take…off…her panties? She blinked at him. She’d thought she’d leave them on while he did this. If she took them off, he’d see how wet she was. He’d smell how aroused she was. He’d… Oh God, he’d punish her naked ass.
“Problem, Miss Smith?”
“No, sir.”
Swallowing, she reached beneath her skirt and slid her thumbs into her waistband while doing her best to keep her skirt over her pussy. She pushed them down her thighs then realized her skirt would ride up her ass when she bent to pull them off her legs. Pausing with the white cotton just above her knees, she looked up at him.
His jaw was locked. His gaze locked on the panties. He’d straightened and now his knuckles were white on the back of the chair as he watched her. Would he try to do more than spank her? Right then, she knew if he wanted to fuck her, she’d let him.
“All the way off,” he demanded in a strangled voice.
Biting her lip, she shoved the underwear the rest of the way down her legs and wrestled them past her saddle shoes while she tried to ignore that her ass was sticking out. Quickly, she stood upright and yanked her skirt back into place then realized that she’d left the panties on the tile floor.
She looked up at him, and he tilted his head. She imagined if he weren’t wearing a mask that she’d see a dark brow lifted.
“I said ‘on my desk’,” he reminded her. As if she needed to be reminded. Crouching, she picked them up, noticing the way her thighs slid together as she moved. She was so wet, her cream was seeping from her folds and onto her legs. She pressed them together and rose quickly, afraid she might actually drip on the floor, then casually tossed the underwear on the desk.
He shook his head at her façade of nonchalance. “You think this is a joke, Miss Smith?”
“No, sir.” She trembled as her pulse fluttered in her neck and went wild at her temple. This couldn’t be farther from a joke to her. She was deadly serious about this need—hell, what else would have driven her to find a place that would cater to her desire to be punished?
“Hmm.” He sat at his desk and opened a manila folder. His fingers ran along the edge of her panties as he appeared to read—the edge that had to be wet from her arousal. Her f
ace heated as she imagined what he was feeling.
“Stop fidgeting,” he ordered without looking up at her, and she realized she’d been shifting from foot to foot.
“Yes, sir,” she murmured.
“Oh, I see you’re failing algebra, as well,” he commented drily.
“I’m bad at math.”
“Perhaps if you studied…” His long, powerful fingers tapped on the desk, sending a tremor through her as he continued to radiate strength.
Where were men like this in real life? She only knew of one, and he was unattainable.
“I’ve considered your behavior for a while now. I’ve assigned you numerous rosaries. Have you done them?”
“Um…”
“I didn’t think so. Corporal punishment seems the only solution.”
Standing suddenly, he came around the desk, grasped her upper arm and hauled her toward a waist-high stool much like one would drag along a truculent child. He pushed her roughly forward onto the padded seat so that her torso rested along the length. Taking her wrists, he pulled them behind her and crossed them over her lower back. He adjusted her so that the fingers of each hand gripped the opposite forearm.
“Do not move,” he ordered.
Oh finally. This was it. She bit back a moan as he flipped up her skirt, tucked it beneath her clasped arms then backed up a step as if surveying her.
“I considered spanking you,” he said, his voice again sounding strangled. He trailed a finger lightly over the curve of one buttock then suddenly yanked away. “But I think perhaps that might not be right for a naughty girl like you. I think perhaps my paddle.”
Her heart thundered at the thought. Yes… He was right. At the moment, his hand would be too intimate and perhaps not hard enough. She needed something rougher, something coarser, something that really would punish her backside.
It wasn’t as if she’d truly done something wrong. Maybe she just wanted to be punished for being such a fucking good girl all her life. The boring, vanilla, yawn-worthy girl who’d suppressed her wild side until it nearly smothered her. That girl, yes, that girl needed the whipping.
“Please…no,” she begged, her words only raising her arousal level. She knew it wouldn’t stop him. Only her safe word—her panic word—would make him cease this play. And there was no way she was saying “artichoke”.
“You should have considered the consequences before you indulged your evil side,” he grated. She heard him walk away and dared to strain a look over her shoulder. At his desk, he opened a drawer and withdrew a paddle that made her consider rethinking this adventure.
Her breathing sped up, and she faced forward again. Fear and excitement warred, and her intense need won out.
“You needn’t be scared,” he said, again at her side. “You won’t be harmed, but I can guarantee you won’t sit comfortably all weekend. You won’t easily forget the wages of your behavior.” He brought the paddle within her line of sight. “It’s wood. I’ve chosen solid rather than the one with holes for today. That will increase air resistance and keep your bottom from feeling the full wrath it deserves. But…this has been handcrafted, and as you will feel, there are slightly upraised knobs carved into it to remind you to behave.”
He ran the rectangular panel along her arm, and she felt the protrusions. Another shiver ran through her. Yes…
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Actually, she wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t backing out now. If this were a mistake, then she’d suck it up, not sit this weekend then never do this again, but deep down… Deep down, she knew this was completely right for her.
“Not a sound,” he warned. “We don’t want the other students to know of your punishment.”
“But, sir, I don’t know if I can…”
“Do try.”
She nodded, momentarily unable to speak and hopeful she’d be able to remain silent. Already she was biting back her moans of arousal.
He rubbed the wood along her ass then patted her buttocks with it, as if testing her firmness. She squirmed, barely keeping herself from begging him to get to it. This couldn’t be what she’d paid for. Suddenly, he drew back and cracked the wood against her bottom, drawing an involuntary cry as pain burst across her skin and radiated from the impacted area.
“Silence,” he growled. Another whack accompanied the command, and her fingers bit into her forearms as she struggled to keep her cry from escaping. It came out as a strangled whimper. She pressed her forehead to the edge of the bench while the paddle rained down on her ass. White-hot pain splintered downward through her, curling into her cunt and thrusting upward into her channel. If only she were being fucked. If only.
The agony continued, but so did the satisfaction. It felt right. It was what she needed, and… Oh God! The pleasure! He slapped the wood relentlessly onto her ass, the smooth, rounded bumps digging into her meaty cheeks, but pain had morphed. It had shifted away, and only ecstasy remained. It shuddered through her as solidly as a wide, demanding cock and she bit into the seat to keep from screaming. Wave after wave washed over her so intense that she barely felt the paddle on her ass, and hardly felt when he stopped.
She screeched involuntarily at the sensation of his cool fingers on her fiery rear.
“Shh…” he murmured. “Shh… Okay, it’s okay.” His hands ran gently over her arms, loosening her grip and easing her hands to her sides. Carefully, he helped her stand then wiped away tears that had leaked both onto and beneath the mask. She hadn’t even known she’d cried.
“All right?” he asked.
She nodded then gasped at the sensations that pulsed through her from her burning ass when she straightened and her lightly starched skirt brushed over it. And yet, her body demanded more. She needed to be fucked, and she wished she could ask for that, but that wasn’t part of her contract. Disappointment settled in her middle even as her arousal continued to spin out of control, and her satisfaction with the paddling told her she’d definitely want more. As for the fucking… Tonight, she’d lie in her bed, with her aching ass to her fresh white sheets, and use her vibrator hard while she pretended it was Mr. Unattainable and that he’d just spanked her bottom but good.
* * * *
Alone in his changing area just off the “principal’s office”, Ethan Tavish gripped the edge of the vanity counter and bent forward slightly while he struggled to breathe. His arousal had never been so far out of control. Perspiration dotted his skin and ran down the side of his face as he recalled the scene he’d just exited.
Natalia Cooper. His beautiful, sable-haired, brown-eyed secretary. Her succulent curves had always tempted him. And she’d come here to be punished. He knew from the file provided him that this was her first time here, and her reactions confirmed that this wasn’t something she’d indulged before now. Oh…she was a born submissive. That was obvious. Some might even call her a pain whore. He wouldn’t. She was just beautiful and would be perfect for his bent.
Ethan wasn’t into all the standards of BDSM. Chains, leather, clamps, release denial, he could give or take them—mostly he ignored them—but when it came to flogging, spanking, paddling or whipping a succulent ass, there was nothing better. He liked to be in command and he liked to dominate. Mostly, he loved the screams of passion from a woman when the momentary pain of his discipline became a pleasure so divine she would irrevocably be addicted to it.
Natalia’s sweet cries had almost driven him to rip open his pants and fuck her until neither of them could move. But now wasn’t the time or place. She hadn’t contracted The Dungeon for that, and he didn’t fuck women here. That was too much like prostitution for his tastes. Now if he and Natalia had come here and rented one of the playrooms…that would be another story. Ethan pulled off the priest collar that was choking him and vowed that in the near future, they would come here together and he would show her all the pleasures of the dungeons he favored.
He straightened and groaned in agony at the cons
triction of his pants on his cock. And they didn’t constrict enough. He’d had to get out of the room quickly before she’d seen the huge tent in his pants. He was so hard that he’d have a devil of a time putting on his jeans in a few minutes.
“Hey, buddy.”
Ethan looked up to see his best friend, Rob. As usual, the man looked as if he’d done his light-brown hair with an eggbeater, but that didn’t stop the women around here from wanting him. In fact, their attraction level seemed to skyrocket whenever they learned he owned The Dungeon. Poor guy. He actually didn’t like it. It made it awfully difficult to find the woman meant for him.
“Are you okay?” Rob asked when Ethan gave him a half-hearted wave. “You look pale and feverish.”
“Fine. I’m not sick.”
“Tough session?”
“Yeah. You might say… I know her, though she didn’t realize it was me.” Masked or not, he’d know Natalia in a minute. He wondered if he should be insulted that she hadn’t recognized him as well. When she’d bent over the whipping stool, the tattoo on her lower back had confirmed her identity. From time to time, he’d seen those intricate wing-like Celtic knots intertwined with ivy vines when her shirt had crept up while she filed. It was both feminine and distinctive. He’d never seen anything like it. There was no mistaking that tattoo.
“And you want her…”
“Gee, you’re psychic.” He sighed. “Sorry, man. Yeah, I do. I have for a long time. Can you…” Should he ask? Yeah, he should. “Can you let me know if she comes in again?”
“Absolutely. You’re one of the best. I’ll give you to her every time—you know, as long as you want to keep up this gig. I know you have a full-time job in the ‘real world’.”
Ethan laughed when Rob made quote fingers at the “real world”. He dealt with a lot of crap over his club, but enough people enjoyed it that he did a bang-up business.
