The crew stumbled around on deck, exhausted from three days of drunken whoring in port. “We’ve all had our fun,” he thought. “Now it’s time to get these men back to work.”
On a hillside high above the harbor, the young woman paced on a terrace outside the Great Hall, watching with dread as the storm approached. She murmured a prayer to Barakiel, the angel of lightning, asking that the storm pass by this island, all the while knowing it was in vain. She knew how the night would end – she had seen it on too many sleepless nights over the years.
Mercedita was skilled in the arts of divination. Her Creole nanny taught her to read bones and interpret the signs of nature when she was but a child. Later she was taught to scry, using the blackened mirror that Miz Sairy treated with such reverence.
“This was given me by ma granny,” Miz Sairy explained the first time she unwrapped it in front of Mercedita. “An she allus said it was giv’n er by er granny. No ‘un knows fer sure how fur back t’was made. Not ever’one can see into it, mind ye. But I kin. Now, ‘tiz yer time to be tested.”
* * * * *
Steve was awake for hours, reading every entry he found. Like the tales Scheherazade spun for her Sultan, each narrative held within it the promise of another, luring the reader on. Many of Kyra’s stories had a similar theme. The female character was a strong woman in a responsible position, the one others turned to every time they faced a problem. But her heroines secretly wanted to be taken in hand by an even stronger male, one who would take charge in their private life, make her feel cherished, and set her free sexually to express all the forbidden desires she couldn’t admit – even to herself.
As he read more and more, Steve found himself getting turned on by Kyra’s tales. His favorite scenes were the ones where the prim and proper outraged heroine suddenly found herself getting wet and hot while she was draped across a guy’s lap getting her bare bottom blistered with a good hand spanking. She'd swear to do all sorts of nasty things for him if only he would stop. His mind filled with images of confronting Kyra in one of her obstinate moods, commanding her to bend over the side of their bed and pull up her skirt. He pictured her struggling to get away as he yanked her panties down around her knees and sternly paddled her bare ass bright red until she tearfully agreed to do whatever he wanted.
After turning off the computer he sat in his favorite chair in the dark, thinking. “The problem with all her stories is that they only talk about what the woman longs for. They never get into the man’s head; discover what he secretly fantasizes about that he’s never admitted to her. I bet I could come up with a fantasy that gets both of us really hot.”
As his mind wandered, Steve realized his cock was suddenly rock hard, straining against the zipper of his tight jeans. Smiling, he closed his eyes, reached down and unzipped his pants. As he slowly stroked, Steve began weaving his own yarn, planning the first of many nights to come that would satisfy this newly-discovered spanking need of the woman he loved…and bring fresh excitement into their sex life at the same time.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Kallista Dane
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Callie's Gift Page 8
