Contents
Title Page
About This Book
Newsletter Sign-up
Copyright Page
By Megan Michaels
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
By Megan Michaels
From The Author
His Sassy Girl
Megan Michaels
About This Book
A defiant, strong woman. An implacable alpha male disciplinarian. An explosive collision of passions — and the yielding of a girl’s heart.
For nineteen-year-old wild child, Brittney, college was like unleashing the proverbial kid in the candy store — hot men, few rules, and almost zero responsibility. Sure, she was probably a little too crazy for her own good. But at a university, who’d have the inclination — or the desire — to keep her in line? Deep down, she knew she needed a man whose strict rules, and if needed, harsh punishments would keep her out of trouble, to encourage her to grow and focus. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d get any of that in college though, so she was resolved to have some fun, consequences or not.
Dylan was never fooled by the feminine wiles of the curvy, opinionated beauty. Brittney might have skated through life on her striking looks, her quick wit, and her smart-mouthed ways — but it wasn’t going to work on him. He saw through all of that, saw what she needed, knew the polishing this diamond in the rough would need to really make her shine. Stringent, consistent discipline — and a willingness to apply it often to Brittney’s soft, round backside — would have her walking the straight and narrow in no time. Now, he just had to figure out how to take that first step on that journey, one that would have only one ending — Brittney’s heart, body, and soul entirely his.
Dylan’s known Dr. Maddox Parks as Brittney’s professor. But the man was much more than Brittney’s stern college instructor. He was also a member of a very exclusive establishment, The Playpen. Could the alluring world of the Playpen be the key to breaking down Brittney’s defenses, to showing her who she might really be inside? But will the arrival of Brittney’s father, and his own special girl, Sunni prove too much for Brittney to handle, forcing her to run from Dylan — and from herself? What happens when you get three sassy, independent and mischievous women in a BDSM Club? Will any of them decide to take their relationship to the next level — going deeper than any of them ever expected?
Publisher’s Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
This (very) steamy contemporary romance contains the following themes or activities: spanking, exhibitionism, humiliation, medical play, bondage, explicit sexual activity, mild elements of age play in a BDSM setting, and a sassy young woman learning the hard way what happens when she pushes her luck with a strict, no-nonsense alpha male.
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Copyright © 2016 by Megan Michaels
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by Rachel A Olson (www.nosweatgraphics.weebly.com)
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and as such, any similarity to existing persons, places or events must be considered purely coincidental.
This book contains content that is not suitable for readers aged 17 and under.
For mature readers only.
Published in the United States of America.
First Electronic Edition: April 2016
By Megan Michaels
The Service & Submission Series:
Finding Submission
Mastering Inga
My Russian Master
Colorado Christmas
The Widow Wagon Series:
Book One: Second Chances
Book Two: More Than She Bargained For
Book Three: Cinch Your Saddle
The Desiring The Forbidden Series
Desiring The Forbidden
His Sassy Girl
Published By Stormy Night Publications
What Naughty Little Girls Get
The Little Princess Cruise
Prologue
As she expected, Dylan was less than pleased with her behavior at her father’s house. He’d warned her of the consequences, told her that she’d be receiving a spanking if she misbehaved. He knew how much she hated the strop, but for fights, it was the implement of choice. Thankfully, she had told him about the incident with Sunni, otherwise he would have added a switching to what she was already receiving.
Dylan had only been her Daddy for less than a year, but it felt like they’d been together for much longer. While their initial meeting had been less than romantic, soon enough it had become apparent that both of them were most comfortable with him being her Daddy.
She still remembered fondly the first time she’d laid eyes on him...
* * *
Dylan walked up to her table at Starbucks. “You know, Gabby works hard here, and customers like you make it that much harder. She didn’t deserve the tongue lashing you just gave her — although I can think of someone here who does deserve a good lashing.”
“Who the fuck are you? And tell me again why I should give a fuck?” Brittney was amazed that this man was telling her how to behave in a coffee shop. Yes, he was definitely gorgeous, but he was still a stranger.
“I’m someone who cares about people. Obviously, that isn’t a concern for you. It seems that you’re one of those spoiled girls that only cares about her needs.” He put his hands on his hips — his very lean, trim hips. He had one of those scrumptious scruffy beards trimmed neat and close. He must have come to the coffee shop directly from the shower, the smell of cologne and soap wafting around him, his damp hair mussed with a slight wave that softened his otherwise harsh look.
His looks were distracting to her. She needed him to sit down — far away. She figured she’d send him off with an arrow to his ass. “I see that you’re alone. I’d like to say that I’m surprised, but I’m not. Maybe you need to sit back down and evaluate your people skills? You know, try to figure out why you’ll be jacking off at home alone tonight. Just you and that controlling personality of yours.”
His eyes had narrowed, a tic showing in his jaw. “I’m alone because that’s how I choose to live at this point in my life. As for controlling? You have no idea, little girl. I don’t have just a controlling personality. I’ve got a hand of steel too. And if you’re not careful with that acerbic tongue, you may find out just how hard this hand can be when applied to your cute, plump ass.”
Brittney, for the first time in a long time, had been at a loss for words. She’d stared up at him, swallowing loudly.
“That’s what I thought.” He nodded at her. “Now, I’m not telling you this, because that’d be controlling.” The corner of his mouth kicked up a little. “No, I’m suggesting that if I were you, I’d apologize to Gabby for being so unfriendly, especially if you plan on coming back here often. It helps to have the barista like you. Have a good day.”
> Dylan had spun on his heel, walking back over to his table. Brittney made sure to ogle his tight ass which led to the most amazing muscled thighs she’d ever seen. He caught her staring and winked at her before pulling out his phone, totally ignoring her, sipping his coffee as if nothing had occurred. And as much as it bothered her to comply with his “suggestion,” she’d decided to apologize to Gabby.
The next week when Brittney showed up for her coffee, Dylan wasted no time coming up to where she had been sitting, asking if she’d like to go to dinner with him. And the rest was, as the saying went, history.
He’d acquired a little girl that day, and she learned to not only call him Daddy but trust him. Even though he was only seven years her senior, it seemed on a maturity level that Dylan was double her age — in every way.
* * *
Brittney had been lying on Dylan’s “MacGyvered” spanking bench for God knew how long. It was a medical table, one he’d purchased not long after they’d met. Used in breast clinics, the tabletop had openings for each breast, allowing them to dangle free for biopsies. He had covered the table with expensive leather, turning it into the bench of pain she had become intimately familiar with. Her comfort mattered to him — unless it was time for her ass to be spanked.
Then all bets were off.
The craftsman who’d modified the table had sewn a long roll pillow into the leather, one that raised her hips, preventing her from clenching, and therefore, bruising, during one of the many hard paddlings she’d received while strapped down over it. Dylan also had him install handcuffs for securing both her hands and feet. His pride and joy though were the openings in the table for her breasts, leaving them to swing and dangle freely below her. The table was equipped with an electronic foot pedal to angle it up or down just right, and with that perfect positioning, he’d spent many an hour clamping, chaining, sucking, and pinching her nipples until she’d screamed with her orgasm.
Her Daddy loved breasts, and he never missed an opportunity to “play with his girls.” Today, he’d propped the table up, after she’d been handcuffed and strapped in, her nipples squeezed within the cruelest clamps they owned. Even now her breasts ached, the initial pain fading into a partial numbness that caused her sex to clench and yearn for his cock. It took everything she had not to grind her mound on the smooth — and now slick — leather under her pussy. She knew that if he walked in to find her masturbating, he’d put a vibrator in and torture her for hours, bringing her to the brink of an orgasm, only to shut it off, over and over again.
Daddy was the person who decided when she would orgasm. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t grumble or give him some trouble for it, but she had learned — painfully — that obeying this rule was much preferable to the consequences of defiance.
“Have you been thinking, Sassy?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her whole body tensed, her heart racing in her chest, the anticipation of the punishment almost as bad as the punishment itself.
“Are you seeping onto my table?”
Jesus.
She hated when he asked that question. “Don’t you already know?”
“Who asks the questions, Brittney Leigh?” He slapped both of her thighs so hard that she gasped.
“You, Daddy.”
“So, answer the question... and don’t lie.”
As if she’d even think of lying about dripping all over his expensive leather. She guessed he was probably drooling just looking at the streams of juice.
“Yes. Of course, I am.” She knew she sounded exasperated, but her body’s betrayal had pissed her off. Here she was worried about her punishment, and yet her pussy was dripping with the excess of her arousal. It just didn’t make sense.
“Seems I’ve talked to you about your attitude already. Maybe it’s time for a plug?”
“N-no. Daddy, please?” The embarrassment of a punishment plug upset her more than the plug itself, though the reasons why still confused her. The fine line between pain and pleasure continually amazed her — especially if what was done to her was the result of her being a “good girl” or a “bad girl.” Many days the “good girl” spankings she received were harder and left more bruises. Standing in the corner, receiving a plug or even anal sex as a “bad girl” punishment seemed to upset her much more though. As with most things in their D/s relationship, it was all in the mindset.
“Ahhh!” The sudden burn in her anus made her jump, clenching tightly around his finger. He pumped it in and out slowly, the ring of muscle resisting.
“What is Daddy doing, Sassy?”
She groaned loudly. He did humiliation too well, and it always worked for her. “You stuck your finger in my... little hole.”
“Yes, I did. Why did I do that?” He pumped it into her, the tight muscle burning with every insertion.
“B-because... Ahhh... b-because I was sarcastic and—”
“Sassy?”
She nodded her head.
“So, naughty girls have to remember who’s in charge and when Daddy puts his finger into your bottom, do you remember that you’re to mind your tongue?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
He pulled out, her body relaxing despite the burn still present. She heard the implement cabinet open and knew he’d be getting his belt. The buckle jingled as he pulled it out, then he walked back, laying the leather horizontally over her back.
“We’re going to start with a long hand spanking first. I want this to be memorable.” He immediately started slapping her bottom with hard, crisp slaps. “You are not allowed to fight. We do not use our hand to communicate. You’ve been spanked for this before, haven’t you, Sassy?”
“Not so hard! Yes. Yes.” She found herself saying ‘oh’ or ‘ow’ more and more with every few swats until she began to cry.
“You were warned. Told that if you were spanked or got in trouble with your father that when you got home, Daddy would use his belt on you. Right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
She tried to wiggle or move to avoid his hand, but the damned strap around her waist had her immobile, just the way he liked her to be. His hand stilled, rubbing in a relaxing and yet very annoying way, upon her sensitive flesh.
“What was it you called Sunni?”
She hesitated — too long, apparently — his hand raining down spanks on her ass so fast that her hands clenched into fists, fighting against the handcuffs to protect her backside.
It’s going to be a long fucking night!
“What makes you think you can decide how long it takes for you to answer a question? When a question is asked, you answer, girl.”
“Yes, Daddy.” She hiccupped, and then continued, “I called her a whore and poor white trash. B-but she called me a slut, too.” She looked over her shoulder, trying to gauge his reaction to that piece of news.
His teeth clenched. He was fiercely protective of his baby girl, and she loved that about him. “Did she get spanked by her Daddy for that?”
“Oh yes. Dreadful.”
“Good! Then it’s my job to spank your ass just as hard. What did your father use on her little butt?”
“He used his belt too.” She hated admitting to that. It guaranteed that he’d be using that next.
She felt like a live wire as she waited for him to pick up the leather strap laying across her back. The ominous weight of the leather was a constant reminder of her comeuppance. Instead, his fingers eased between the lips of her pussy, gliding through the slickness, resting upon her clit, teasing it with his feathery touch. Dylan’s fingers spread her open, and then he lightly blew on her, her sensitive nub of nerves jumping and pulsing so fast that she started to pant, lifting her hips as much as the strap would allow, giving him space to continue.
He pistoned his fingers into her sex, her scent filling the air, the strap preventing her from pushing back onto him. Her arousal pushed her to impale herself on those fingers, the frustration at the restriction making her growl. His rich chuckle rolled over her, her sex clenchin
g. She loved his deep voice, loved lying against his chest, hearing him talk or hum above her.
“C’mon, baby, let’s get your orgasm out of the way, so you don’t go to bed frustrated. I want my Sassy to sleep well tonight.” He increased the rhythm of his thrusts, pumping her hard, her muscles constricting around his finger, sucking on the wonderful intrusion. She pressed her hips into the leather roll, clenching her ass and screaming with her orgasm, milking him, shuddering with every rolling quake that overtook her body.
His fingers lightly stroked her sensitive flesh until she became so oversensitive that she whined for him to stop.
“There. Did you enjoy that, baby?”
“God, yes. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome. But I’m sorry to say that it’s time for this pink ass to be belted, girl.”
She didn’t try to talk him out of it, knowing that it wouldn’t matter if she attempted to plead with him or cajole him. He was implacable when it came to discipline, believing that one only grew when the discipline was consistent, clear, and firm.
She heard him remove the belt, the soft, supple leather, still warm from his body, tapping against her ass. Then he lashed her bottom three times across the same spot, hard and fast. She didn’t have time to think or restrain her reaction, rather she simply shrieked. She swore the pain danced all along her nerve endings, vibrating down her legs.
“Oh, God!”
“Are you ever allowed to instigate a fight? Again, is fighting allowed?” Three more strikes landed just below the first three.
“No, Daddy.” She coughed on a sob, unable to hold it in any longer.
“No. It. Isn’t!” He whipped the underside of her bottom, not stopping on three this time. She lost track of the number of licks he gave her. When the strap finally stilled, her pitiful cries rent the air.
His Sassy Girl (Desiring the Forbidden Book 2) Page 1
