Also Available from House of Erotica
Strictly No Parking
Elizabeth Coldwell
There was one available space in the car park. After I’d been delayed leaving the office by an over-running conference call, then found myself stuck in a traffic jam on the ring road for twenty minutes, it seemed as though finally something was going right for me. Squeezing in next to a top-of-the-range silver BMW, I grabbed my handbag and the files for the meeting from the back seat and got out of my company car. I’d just locked the doors when I heard his voice behind me.
“Sorry, miss, but you can’t leave your car there.”
I turned to see a man wearing a security guard’s uniform. The dark blue jacket strained slightly across his broad chest, and his piercing blue eyes stared out at me from under a peaked cap. He’s handsome, in a grubby kind of way, was my immediate thought, but his mouth was set in a distinctly unfriendly line.
I turned my sweetest smile on him, the one I reserve for difficult situations.
“And why might that be?” I asked.
“These parking spaces are reserved for senior company executives only. You’re in the finance director’s spot, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to move. The visitors’ car park is round the back of the building.”
“But I’m late for a meeting. I don’t have time to get to the other car park and back. Can’t you let me stay here, just for once?” I ramped up the voltage of the smile, but it didn’t seem to be making any difference.
“No way. If I do it for you, then everyone’s going to be trying it on.” He grimaced. “I know your type. You wear your skirt up to your arse, unbutton your blouse far enough that your bra’s almost on display and think flashing yourself off will help you get your own way every time.”
“Just hang on a minute...” I was offended by his implications, but my hand was unconsciously reaching for the front of my blouse. We’d been chasing the Bevington contract for months, and negotiations had stalled. When I’d offered to attend this meeting on the company’s behalf, I can’t deny it was partly because I knew Bevington’s CEO found me attractive. Maybe I had chosen a shorter skirt than usual, and sprayed my cleavage with Chanel No 5 before leaving the office. What was wrong with utilising my best assets to help me clinch the deal? Everything was fair in love, war and company politics, after all.
“So, are you going to move your car?” The security guard interrupted my musings. He was standing closer now, and I realised he was barely into his twenties. Certainly not old enough to be addressing me in such a cocky tone of voice.
“What if I say no?” I asked, trying to sound more assertive than I felt. “What if I just leave it here and march straight into my meeting?”
“In that case, I’d have no choice but to teach you a lesson, show you what happens to bad girls who think they can break the rules.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been called a bad girl; certainly it hadn’t been by someone as self-assured and, though I hated to admit it, horny as the man who stood before me now. Glancing swiftly down, I couldn’t help but notice a substantial bulge in the crotch of his uniform trousers. Was telling me what to do turning him on? If so, it made us a perfect fit, because despite my annoyance at his treatment of me, there was a distinct wetness in my panties. My body was responding to the idea of being taught a lesson by this brawny young security guard, and I was suddenly anxious to see whether he was prepared to carry out his threats.
“Well, now I know where I stand...” I turned on my heel and started to walk in the direction of Bevington’s reception area. Before I’d taken more than a couple of paces, the guard had caught me by the wrist. Spinning me round, he pressed me up against the wall.
I was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of the difference in our respective builds. Even in my three-inch heels, I didn’t even come up to his shoulder. The emotion I felt wasn’t fear at being so securely in his grasp; it was arousal, causing my pussy to bloom against the lace crotch of my panties.
His musky, masculine aroma was strong as he bent his face close to my ear. “I gave you a chance, but you just had to disobey me, didn’t you? Well, now you find out what happens when you don’t do as you’re told.”
Working rapidly, he popped open the buttons on my blouse, then flicked apart the front catch of my bra. The cool autumn air was a shock to my suddenly exposed nipples, but it was the thrill of being so expertly stripped by this man that caused them to crinkle into hard peaks.
“Beautiful,” he breathed, his calloused fingers rubbing the little buds. “I bet old man Bevington would come in his pants if he could see what I’m looking at right now.”
His words sparked a sudden alarm in me, and I looked up. Most companies had CCTV installed in their car parks, and if this was indeed the area where the directors parked, the cameras were most likely to be trained here.
“What if someone sees us?” I asked in panicky tones.
“They won’t,” he assured me. “But don’t tell me you don’t love the thought that they might. Deep down, I’m sure you want them to get a good look at those gorgeous bare tits of yours. But that’s nothing. Just wait till your arse is bare, too, and I’m giving you the spanking you deserve.”
“Spanking?” The word was no more than a squeak. He couldn’t be serious, surely?
“You break the rules, you get punished. Isn’t that how it works?”
“But not a spanking, please.” My protests were futile, I knew that. I also knew they weren’t sincere. Deep down, my body thrilled to the thought of the security guard’s big hand coming down on my unprotected backside. “I’ll do anything you want. I - I could suck you off. How about that?”
“Oh, you could, and I can’t deny I’d like to shove my cock in that luscious mouth of yours. But you need to take what’s coming to you.”
The guard spun me round, so I was facing the wall, palms flat against the weathered bricks. He reached for the hem of my short, flippy skirt, bunching it up and tucking it in my waistband. Then he took firm hold of my panties, and tugged. The elastic snapped, the lace ripped, and the ruined garment slithered to the ground.
I was glad he couldn’t see my face at that moment. My cheeks burned with shame, partly with the knowledge that my bare arse was now on display, and partly because he couldn’t have failed to spot quite how damp my panties were.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying this. Well, let’s see how much you enjoy it when I do this...”
Without any more warning, his palm landed flat on my bum cheek, the slapping sound almost indecently loud in the deserted car park. Almost before I’d had time to recover from the shock of that blow, he smacked me again, on the other cheek this time. I gave a little yelp, fighting the urge to reach behind me and rub the punished flesh.
“Get used to the feeling, bad girl, because that’s just for starters.”
As if to emphasise his words, he brought his hand down over and over, gradually covering the whole surface of my bottom. I gave a little exclamation of pain with every slap. I wished I could see the effect the slaps were having; my bum was feeling increasingly hot and sore, and I was sure if I could look at it, the once-creamy flesh would now be blotchy and fiery red.
The guard paused for a moment. “You’re taking this very well.” His fingers moved down between my spread legs, into the crevice of my pussy. “And for all the noise you’re making, you’re definitely enjoying being spanked.”
He brought his hand up to my face. I could see my juices shining on his thick fingers. As I watched, he made a great show of licking them clean, clearly relishing the taste.
That was my breather, my chance to recover from his initial onslaught. Within moments, he was spanking me again, even harder than before. This time, he varied his technique, sometimes hitting me with his cupped pal
m, sometimes using fast, upward strokes. A couple of times he paused just long enough to make me think my punishment was over before starting up again. At last, he gave one extra-hard smack that had me arching forward, my nipples scraping against the brickwork and waking up a whole network of nerve-endings that centred in my cunt. I felt utterly humiliated, but more alive than I’d ever been. Any thoughts of making my meeting, of presenting my notes to Bevington’s board of executives, even of complying with the request to move my car, had been forgotten. The spanking had brought me to the edge of climax; now I needed to be sent over the edge.
The guard had obviously realised what I needed, but I was sure he needed it, too. There was a metallic rasp as his zip came down, then he was pressing up behind me. Parting my soaking-wet lips with his fingers, he pushed the head of his cock inside me. Two forceful thrusts and he was buried to the root, my walls stretching around the welcome thickness of his shaft.
“You’re such a bad girl,” he growled in my ear. “And after bad girls have been spanked, they get fucked. Hard.”
He was as good as his word, his strokes long and deep, the thick twill of his uniform trousers rubbing against my legs. When his fingers sought for, and found, my clit, strumming it rapidly, I lost all control. No longer caring that someone might come to claim a nearby car, I cried out my pleasure to the heavens. Orgasmic spasms rushed through my body, lifting me up and bringing me crashing back down. The guard pulled out of me, and I felt his hot come splashing my so recently spanked cheeks.
He clung to me for a moment, both of us sweating and sated. When I turned round to face him, his cap was askew and he was grinning with satisfaction. My torn panties were lying on the ground. He picked them up and swiftly pocketed them, a souvenir of our unexpected fuck.
“Well, I suppose I’d better move my car.” Now I was returning to my senses, I wondered how I was going to explain my lateness when I finally walked into the meeting.
“There’s no need,” the guard told me. “The finance director’s on holiday this week. No one’s using that space.”
I could have complained that he’d punished me for nothing, but what would have been the point? I might have been tricked into receiving my first ever spanking, but we had both loved every minute of what he’d done to me. Besides, it gave me the perfect way out of my dilemma. Reaching for my phone, I dialled the CEO’s PA and told her I was terribly sorry, but I’d been delayed in traffic. Could we possibly reschedule our meeting for the following week?
As I climbed into my car, feeling the faint throbbing of my punished bum cheeks against the smooth upholstery, I already knew exactly where I’d be parking on my return visit.
Also Available from House of Erotica
Taken With Consent
Lexie Bay
Four thirty, Sunday morning.
Maddy was sitting on a hard bench by the desk for the cells, waiting for them to release her stupid, drunken brother. She sighed, checked her watch, and slumped back against the familiar cold concrete wall. This wasn’t the first time she’d been called in the early hours of the morning, and knowing what a hothead her brother was she was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be the last.
It was chilly in the draughty reception area as the door constantly opened onto the crisp night to let in the evening’s undesirables, and she wrapped her arms a little tighter around herself, trying to warm up. Tonight was different. Normally when she was waiting for Dave to be released she wasn’t wearing her shortest Mac over her sexiest lingerie. In fact, most weekends she could be found looking exhausted, wrapped in a fleecy dressing gown, in her cow-print pyjamas and fluffy slipper boots. Dave had a habit of getting into fights after she’d come home and got ready for bed, rather than when she was still looking reasonably sexy from her night out.
This week, though, he’d chosen to get involved in yet another drunken punch-up while she was on her way to surprise the rather gorgeous new man she’d met on the internet. As a result she was wearing her brand new matching lingerie, sky high stilettos and very little else.
She could have gone home and put something a bit warmer on, but when she’d taken the call she had only been round the corner from the station and the cute guy on the front desk that she usually spoke to had assured her that Dave would be let out immediately. She suspected that subconsciously part of her had wanted to show him that she could look sexy when she made the effort.
Of course, all of that decision-making had been before her idiot brother had head-butted the Duty Sergeant, so now here she was, perched on a cold bench trying not to look like a flasher, when she should have been screaming with pleasure on Tim’s waterbed in his gorgeous penthouse, drinking champagne and getting naked in his rooftop hot tub. She put her head in her hands; her life officially sucked!
Four forty-five a.m.
Bored out of her mind, Maddy looked around the station. There were the usual stream of sullen-faced teenaged boys and screaming, abusive teenage girls; a couple of drink drivers and something that looked a bit more serious. She watched with excitement as Sexy Desk Guy manhandled a huge, blood-stained guy into a cell while he shouted abuse and tried to beat the door down. She watched in awe as he slammed his nightstick behind the knees of the man and brought him to the floor.
His arms were straining against the thin cotton of his crisp white shirt, and she could see every muscle standing out in stark relief under the harsh lighting of the station. Her eyes wandered down his body, and she could feel a familiar pulsing between her legs as she checked out the strong, well defined thighs in his regulation blue trousers. There was something about a policeman, she sighed; they were so masterful and in charge.
Maddy shivered, imagining him pinning her down on her bed, pushing her arms above her head and forcing her legs apart with one swift twist of his. She ran her tongue across her lips, catching the bottom one between her teeth, watching him wiping the sweat off his face as his colleague locked the door and slammed the hatch closed on the torrent of abuse. In his short-sleeved shirt, she could see that his arms were tanned with a light covering of hair and she sighed. Right now she should be wrapped in another pair of sexy arms...
Straining to try and hear his voice to complete the fantasy, she leaned forward, almost slipped off the bench and grabbed at the edges to stop herself falling flat on her bum. Her bag slipped off her lap and spilt its entire contents over the floor.
“Crap,” she muttered, her face flushing pink as she scrabbled about trying to gather everything up. Oh God, why did the most embarrassing things always happen to her? Scattered across the floor of the station were all the things she’d packed for her night with Tim. Condoms, flavoured lube, a paddle and fluffy handcuffs lay at her feet; her love balls were rolling towards the cells and... oh yes, perfect... her rampant rabbit had skidded towards the desk.
She faced a split-second decision about which one to recover, and chose the rabbit. After all, no girl could be without her rabbit. Crawling on her hands and knees across the floor to get it she bumped into a pair of shiny black shoes.
“I’d been wondering what you were in for,” a voice came from above her head, smooth and sexy, “but it’s all becoming clear now. You’re undercover!”
Maddy looked up, her eyes following a familiar-looking pair of long, muscled legs, skimming over a dazzling white shirt which, she noticed with a shiver of longing, was doing a hopeless job of concealing a very fine six pack, into the soft brown, laughing eyes of Sexy Desk Guy. He was swinging her fluffy pink handcuffs on a long finger, his mouth quirked upwards in an incredible lopsided smile.
She held her hands up, laughing. “You got me,” she said. “DC Taylor reporting for duty.” Raising his eyebrows he looked down at her hands. Following his gaze she realised she was still holding her vibrator, and with a wave of embarrassed horror she stuffed it back into her bag. Dropping her head into her hands she moaned.
>
“Why does it always happen to me?” she muttered, her face on fire.
Sexy Desk Guy laughed. “Hey, you know in this job I’ve seen way worse. Don’t worry about it. Look, I’m guessing you’re waiting for someone and we’re running at least a couple of hours behind on the paperwork here.” Another PC looked up and nodded, confirming the long wait.
“You look like you need a coffee, and I know I do.” He held his hand out to her and she took it gratefully, letting him pull her to her feet. Which, she noticed, he did with amazing ease. “I just got off for my break, I’ll buy you one.”
They were toe to toe as she looked up at him, her heart pounding. She could smell musky aftershave, a hint of fresh sweat, a vague waft of cigarettes and clean laundry. She idly wondered if he lived with his mum, or whether he had a live-in girlfriend to iron his shirts for him. Either way he was probably sex starved, she thought with an inward grin. She checked him out, wondering what she was getting herself into. He was tall, with dark, messy hair and he was unbelievably gorgeous - and, she thought with a sudden flash of lust, if she wasn’t going to get any action with Tim tonight maybe this could be the next best thing.
She looked up again, taking in the full impact of him. He was amazing, and from the way he was looking at her he would definitely be up for a little fooling around. Maybe she could turn this to her advantage. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.
“That would be lovely, thank you,” she said, smiling flirtatiously up at him.
He looked down where she was still holding his hand, and with a rush of bravado she ran her thumb over his palm. It was warm and dry, and she imagined it sliding over her naked skin. Talking of naked skin... she looked down to check that her Mac was still done up. It had slipped slightly, revealing her bra strap, and his eyes were fixed on it. The atmosphere was super charged with sexual tension.
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