The holiday season is upon us. I don’t have a new holiday release – I’ve been busy with my steam punk series The Toymakers Guild – but I can certainly share some of the good parts of my festive tales from previous years.
Here is a steamy bit of BDSM from my story A Contract for Christmas.
This Christmas, Santa demands more than milk and cookies.
Isabella plans to surprise her husband and master Greg with an intimate Christmas Eve dinner for two. She’s left with only her fantasies of Greg’s dominance to keep her company, though, when a blizzard strands him at an airport a thousand miles away. Then her husband’s best friend James shows up at her door. Over the past year, Greg has invited James to participate in some of their kinky scenes, but Bella has never been alone with the sexy entrepreneur. Should she let him in and risk surrendering to his quiet authority without her master’s permission?
Greg resolves her doubts in an unexpected phone call, ordering her to fulfill James’s every desire. Ever obedient, Bella complies, and James rewards her with a night of soul-searing pleasure. When Greg returns on Christmas morning, he appears unfazed by her powerful new connection to his friend. Instead, he offers Bella an outrageous gift, one she’s not sure she dares accept.
He captured my feet in matching restraints, then forced my thighs apart so he could bind each ankle to a corner post with Velcro straps. It took no more than sixty seconds for him to immobilize me. As he stood back to admire his handiwork, I wondered for a moment where he’d acquired those skills. Had he and Greg trained as dominants together, or was their mutual interest in kink only a happy coincidence?
Either way, I was the lucky beneficiary.
“Are you comfortable, Bella? No pain?”
In fact my hip joints protested a bit from being spread so wide, but that was a small price to pay for the luscious sense of exposure enforced by this position. The pose elevated my breasts, brazenly presenting my erect nipples. My pussy gaped, displaying my slick, swollen labia and engorged clit. Juices leaked out to drip down the crevice between my ass cheeks, flowing over my still-stretched rear hole. Helpless and horny, I was ready for anything he might want to dish out.
“None that I can’t handle, James.”
“Oh really? Guess I’ll have to ramp up the volume. Just a minute…”
Stripping off his shirt with typical economy and ease, he folded it on the vanity stool. His jeans followed. Before he set them down, he extracted his belt from the waist. “I’m going to want this,” he said, laying it alongside my outstretched body so I could smell the leather. “And these, of course.” He dropped five or six condoms onto the bed table.
I couldn’t help laughing. “How many times do you plan to fuck me, James?”
He kneeled between my legs, his engorged cock bobbing as he moved. “As many times as you can handle, woman.” He picked up the belt, running it over his palm. “Then I’ll fuck you some more.”
He loomed over me, fierce and unsmiling. A burst of fear tingled through me.
“But first, I’ll beat you. Do you agree?”
I closed my eyes, momentarily overwhelmed. No one but Greg had ever inflicted the sort of pain I knew the belt would produce. Even in our three-way scenes, my husband had always taken the lead when it came to punishment. I was scared. What if James couldn’t read my signals? Would he know, the way Greg always did, when I’d had too much?
He sensed my uncertainty, at least. His voice was gentle when he spoke again. “What’s your safe word, Bella?”
“Artichoke. But with Greg I never…”
“Use it if you need to. I think I know you well enough walk that fine line between not enough and too much, but don’t be afraid to stop me if I’m wrong.”
“And if you really don’t want me to whip you,” he added with a grin, “just say so. I have lots of alternative ideas.”
“No, no—I want it—I want your belt—it’s just that you—you…”
“I’m not Greg,” he answered. “I know. But I am your master, at least for tonight. You’ll know that soon.”
Without warning, he brought the belt down just above my right knee. A line of fire stitched its way up my thigh, then jumped to ignite my sex.
“Oh, God—James!—oh—” I bit back my words, afraid he’d misunderstand, that he’d stop. Instead, he lashed at my other thigh, a strong, pure blow that only fanned the conflagration.
I’m not a pain slut like some subs. Mostly I endure the hurt in order to please my master. This beating, though, was different. The leather played across my skin, cutting, bruising, heating me to a fever that was like nothing I’d never felt before. Pain, but somehow not pain—not when I watched the flow of muscle under James’s skin, the graceful arc of the strap as he prepared another stroke, the dark energy dancing in his eyes.
He had perfect control over his instrument. Every lash landed exactly where he intended. For the most part he concentrated on my thighs, but occasionally he’d flick the leather across my nipples. I screamed, thrashed, strained at my bonds, driven higher each time the belt connected with my flesh.
James whipped me into a frenzy. Between my legs the ache built and built, and built some more. I needed to come, more than I needed air. Yet still he whipped me, and I let him. I understood that was what he needed—what only I could give him.
The belt edged closer to my cunt. Dazed and drunk with lust, still I guessed how this would end. Yet his final stroke took me by surprise—the one that kissed my clit and sent me spinning into climax.
Treat yourself to a bit of holiday heat!
Kinky Literature - https://kinkyliterature.com/book/5010-a-contract-for-christmas/
Amazon US - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B019ECGDJ6
Amazon UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B019ECGDJ6
Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/600663