by Measha Stone
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Additional Books in the Owned and Protected Series
Measha Stone Links
His Captive Kitten
By
Measha Stone
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Measha Stone
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Measha Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Stone, Measha
His Captive Kitten
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Shutterstock/Gabriel Georgescu and Dreamstime/Vincent Veenman
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
It neared midnight when Julie showed her ID at the check-in counter and made her way into the bass-bumping lounge. A little later than she had planned to arrive at the club, but it had been a long day and an even longer night. She stepped into the club, letting the thumping of the music take her mind away from work and worry.
“Hey, kitten.” Joey, the bartender for the evening, waved at her. “Need a drink?”
“What I need, you don’t have behind that counter, Joey. Thanks though,” she said with a smile. Joey was a nice guy, and the very last thing she needed at the moment. “Have you seen Jimmy?”
“Nah, not yet.” Joey went back to wiping down the bar top.
Julie grimaced at the sensation of her phone vibrating. Digging it out, she swiped the screen to life.
Sorry, kitten. Not gonna make it tonight. Something came up.
Of course it did. On a night she needed the release, he had better things to do. But that’s what happened with casual playmates.
K, maybe next week, she sent back and put the device away.
Well, she was already at the club. Might as well at least check out the scenes, maybe live a little vicariously through one.
Making her way past the lounge area, she walked into the first playroom she came to. She smoothed down the fly-aways of her hair and found a corner to hide in and watch the scene unfolding before her.
She enjoyed this room. Couples used it because it had the look and feel of a domestic bedroom. The couches served as both props and seating for the voyeurs in the club. At the moment she fit nicely into the latter. Watching a scene warmed her up for what she really wanted, what she had trekked out into the chilled autumn air late at night to find. But she’d have to just enjoy the show for tonight.
The woman bent over the edge of the bed had already been stripped of her clothing, and her round buttocks blushed from the warmup her partner must have provided. Her hands were folded neatly beneath her cheek and her legs spread wide, waiting.
Her partner walked behind her, lightly touching her upturned ass and keeping his eyes focused on her back. Julie noticed the dark lines marking the flesh and wished she’d been able to watch the flogging. If she wasn’t going to be receiving one, she could at least find the enjoyment through the snap of the leather, the cry of the woman.
“You’ve been a bad girl, Alexis,” the man said with a jovial sneer, his hand rubbing circles on the woman’s ass.
Julie bit down on her lower lip. Role-playing wasn’t really her thing, and hearing another couple play with it made her want to giggle. But she’d endure the false alpha tone in order to get to the spanking. And there had to be a spanking.
“I-I’m sorry,” Alexis whimpered, not entirely forced. Perhaps there would be some realness to the scene.
The man pulled his hand back and delivered a quick smack to Alexis’s right ass cheek. Alexis cried out in what appeared to be agony, and Julie rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. The smack wouldn’t warrant even a vocal grunt much less a cry like that.
Either these two were extremely new to the scene and Alexis had never received a real spanking, or they loved to ham it up for an audience.
Either way, Julie lost interest.
“Not enjoying the show?” a deep voice questioned when she turned to leave the room. She looked over her shoulder at the man attached to the voice. He appeared as dark as his tone. A light scruff on his chin, tense jaw, intense brown eyes that matched his hair color.
“I’m not really one for make-believe,” she smiled and stepped out of the room, hoping and fearing he’d follow her.
“What makes you think that was fake?” he asked with a bit more volume once they were out of the room and wouldn’t be overheard.
“Well, the first clue was his cliché verbiage. The second clue was her cry of pain from one wimpy smack to her ass.”
The right corner of his mouth kicked up in a half grin. “And you wouldn’t make a sound from being smacked on the butt?”
A challenge?
She rolled her shoulders back and stood straighter, still only coming up to his chin. Thank god she’d worn her heels.
“Only if it actually hurt. That swat didn’t look dangerous even to a housefly.”
“Huh.” He rubbed his chin. “So, roleplay not your thing, then?”
She studied him for a silent moment. Her answer could send him away, and he looked too damn attractive to send away so quickly. But she didn’t play false, in life or in the dungeon.
“No, not really. I’d rather it be authentic. A real spanking, a real flogging for the purpose of enjoying it. If it’s a punishment, it better be a real punishment, no faking it for the good sex afterwards.”
“And good sex follows a real punishment?” He tilted his head with the question.
“Well, it can,” she offered.
“Hmm. Well, I would disagree with you there. In my experience, no sex follows a punishment.”
“I suppose some couples do it that way.”
“I don’t follow what other couples do, just what works for me,” he clarified, stepping toward her and closing the gap between them. “What if that smack actually hurt poor Alexis, would you forgive her outcry then?”
“If that little pat hurt her that much, I’d feel bad for her, but it didn’t. They were play acting for the crowd, I’d bet my best boots on it.” She stood her ground when he inched closer still, refusing to back up from him.
Silently, his eyes roamed over her face, then moved down to her neck. He picked up the name tag hanging off the thin pink collar she’d worn for the evening.
“Kitten?” he smirked and dropped the tag. “Is your owner with you tonight?” He lifted his gaze from her own and looked behind her, as though some man would jump o
ut of the shadows and throw a fist in his face for touching her.
“I don’t have an owner, or a boyfriend, or anything like that. I just like it.” She touched the tag lightly. It had been an impromptu purchase, but one she’d not regretted. The tag came in handy at keeping away some of the unwanted attention a single lady could find at a BDSM club.
“Well, kitten, I wasn’t actually looking for someone to play with tonight, but I don’t mind a change in plans. I promise not to be cliché, and I guarantee every stroke will be very real, if you’d like to have a scene with me.”
No flowery words? No quick come-on, just a straightforward question. She could get used to that sort of proposition. Especially when it offered exactly what she’d come to the dungeon for and was being offered by one of the most attractive men she’d met in a long time.
“What sort of scene were you thinking?” she asked. She couldn’t just jump in with a yes. No need to appear needy.
“Well, I didn’t bring my toy bag tonight, just my belt. Impact play okay?”
“Didn’t plan on playing tonight or just not prepared?” she teased.
His jaw tensed briefly and then relaxed. “I’m always prepared, but like I said, I hadn’t planned on playing. I stopped by to talk to the manager. He’s a friend of a friend, hadn’t planned to stick around, but something caught my eye when I was walking out.” He smiled down at her, and she could feel the heat creeping up her neck.
She blinked and cleared her throat. “Impact play is fine.” It’s the exact thing she’d ventured out of her apartment to find.
“My belt is good?”
She stepped back to take a look at the leather strip around his athletic build. Thick, black, and looked like it had seen a few bottoms before. Perfect.
“Uh, yeah.”
He smiled again. “Not one for club gear either?” He gestured at her outfit. Just a plain pair of black jeans and a dark purple t-shirt that hung off one shoulder. “Are those your best boots?” he asked. She looked down at the worn-out half-calf leather boots.
“No, these are my comfortable boots. My best boots come up past my knees and have a four-inch heel.” They were her best boots only because when she wore the torturous beasts, it didn’t take more than an hour of being at the club before she was peeling them off for some play.
“Ah, chose comfort over fashion tonight? Weren’t planning on playing either?” He placed an open hand on her back and began to lead her to a larger playroom in the back of the club.
“Oh, I was. I mean, that was the plan. I just didn’t feel like getting all dolled up to do it.” Sometimes her honesty made her cringe. Perhaps a filter would get her a bit further in the men department.
“Ah, I see.” But he didn’t. How could he? “Just practical play tonight? All business? Come in, get your spankings, and go home?” He didn’t sound offended by the plan—which he’d hit right on the head—so she nodded.
“Pretty much.” Jimmy was as direct as her when it came to what they both needed. They enjoyed playing together, but it never went further than that.
“Well, then I’m glad I ran into you.” He led her to an empty play space with a spanking bench. “Clean off the bench, kitten,” he ordered and stepped back from the bench.
She picked up the cleanser and sprayed down the brown leather.
“General club safeword okay?” he asked while she wiped down the bench with the provided paper towels.
“Sure.” She nodded and crumpled up the towels in her hands, looking for a nearby trash can.
“Over the jeans, over the panties, or bare-assed?” he questioned when she returned from tossing out the towel.
“Uh, I’m okay with any of those.” She leaned against the bench. This part always felt so clinical, going through a checklist with a new top. But since she rarely turned a club scene into a real-life anything, she put up with it.
“Good. Take off your boots and put them under the chair there. Then remove your jeans and fold them nicely and put them on the chair. I want your shirt off, too so if you’re comfortable with that, fold it on top of your jeans.”
She sighed. Another list checker. Fine, just so long as he delivered the burn she craved.
She kicked out of the boots and tossed them under the chair and quickly slid out of her jeans and shirt. She plopped the rolled-up jeans on top of her folded shirt.
She turned back to him, in her underwear, glad she’d decided to go with the set trimmed with lace. She expected to see him take another look at her, appraise her with his eyes. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
“Try again.” He pointed to the chair.
“What?” she asked. “I put everything where you said.”
“No, you didn’t. Try again.” He folded his arms and spread his legs, like he was willing to stand there all night if need be.
She huffed but bent down and picked up the boot that had fallen on its side and placed them neatly under the chair and went about folding her shirt and jeans properly and put them back on the seat. “There.”
“Nope. Try again.” He shook his head.
“What? It’s neat.” She pointed to the pile.
“In what order did I tell you to place your shirt and jeans?” he asked, dropping his arms.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, really?” She laughed and bent over, switching the jeans with her shirt in the pile. “Is that better?” she asked, gesturing to the pile with both hands.
“Much. Now bend over the bench, knees on the pads, your hands stretched out in front of you. Don’t use the hand grips on the sides. You’ll hold yourself up on your own.” He moved over to the bench but gave her plenty of room to obey.
Once she positioned herself, she felt his fingers on the elastic of her panties.
“Pretty,” he whispered just before yanking them up and bunching the material between her ass cheeks. “But I think we can make it even better.” And with that a hand landed on her ass. She jolted forward, unprepared for the smack, but didn’t make a sound. The second swat landed on her other cheek, but she was prepared and didn’t move.
He continued to pepper her bare cheeks with a steady and firm hand. At first, she thought he would be gentle in his warmup, but quickly he turned the eased swats into harder and harder smacks. She bit down on her lip to remain silent. After all, she’d complained about poor Alexis crying out; she couldn’t very well get vocal during the warmup.
After a dozen well placed, perfectly timed, and deliciously hard swats, he rested his palm on the small of her back. The warmth of his skin against hers radiated up her spine, and fully ignited when he leaned over her body and wiped her hair away from her ear.
“I’m taking off my belt now, kitten,” he said in a low tone, his warm breath spreading over her earlobe. “Then I’m going to really light your ass on fire. If you need me to stop so you can breathe, I expect you to use your safeword.”
“Okay. I got it.” She nodded, trying to see him out of the corner of her eye and failing.
“I want to touch you, are you okay with that?” His hand moved down her back and over her ass, creeping close to where her panties were bunched.
“Uh, yeah,” she agreed.
He chuckled.
“Do you think that’s how you should address me right now?” he asked with a sharp swat to her thigh.
She jumped at the jolt of pain.
“Yes, Sir. I mean, no, that’s not how I should, but yes, Sir, touching is okay.” Ugh, if she could make herself sound any more foolish, she’d burn up with embarrassment.
He didn’t respond but removed his hand from her body. Before she could turn around to see where he had gone, she heard the jangle of his belt buckle. If Pavlov did a study with submissive women instead of dogs, he would have found that sound created as much hunger as the fucking bell.
The leather zipped through his jean loops, creating another of her favorite sounds. Those two melodies would make great ringtones.
“Ready, kitten?
” he asked, splaying his hand on her back.
“Yes, Sir. Ready.” And waiting, desperately wanting. It had been too long since she made a date with Jimmy. Which could be why he blew her off. Some passive-aggressive way to show her he had a life, too.
She didn’t have time to contemplate her missed play date; the leather strap sent her ass ablaze with the first stripe. She arched her back but didn’t leave the bench.
The second lash made her cry out, but she didn’t chastise herself for it because there was no time, the next and another came down, stealing her breath away. She’d been strapped before, by some pretty stern dominants she had thought, but even they didn’t hold a candle to this man.
“How’s my kitten doing?” he asked. Had he paused?
“Good, Sir. I’m good.” She fisted her hands, gritting her teeth and waiting for him to continue.
“I’m glad to hear it.” His fingernails dragged along her sensitive, swollen skin, eliciting another groan from her. One finger slipped between her legs, along the folds of her sex. Even with her panties still on, she could feel her own arousal soaking through. “Perfect,” he whispered into her ear and pressed a soft kiss to the spot right behind her ear. “Another round, I think and you’ll be where you want to be.” He patted her ass and moved his positioning.
His hand wasn’t on her back anymore; she could feel a light breeze from where it had been. He’d stepped back, his belt no longer folded over, but hanging at length at his side. He fisted the buckle.
She swallowed and clenched her eyes shut, not wanting to see him draw back, but impatiently waiting for the stark pain to cross her ass. He was right, she was almost where she wanted to be, almost ready to fly off into the place she could forget her worries, could bask in the pleasure, could let go of all control and just exist.
“Oh, fuck!” she cried out when the tail end of the belt snapped across her flesh. Just above her thigh, the tender spot she hated to be touched. Again, he struck her, and again he targeted the up-curve of her ass. She pressed her forehead into the bench, taking the pain and absorbing the electric buzz it sent through her body.
