[Siren Classic: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, spanking, HEA]
Delaney Causey has recently undergone a total transformation from “mother’s servant” to an independent woman. When she sees the hottie next door, she can’t wait to spread her wings a little further. When a coworker invites her to Club Red, she can’t wait to investigate the BDSM scene.
Waylon Boswell is under her spell, and after Delaney’s friend gives him a guest pass to Club Red, he goes there to help Delaney explore her inner submissive. As a natural Dom, he is very willing to help her learn some of the finer points of submission. While her enthusiasm with the scene excites him, her virginity not only surprises him, but keeps him from pushing their relationship further.
When her independence is threatened by her family, how will she be able to handle it? Will Waylon be there to help her out, or will she have to strengthen her resolve a little more to fight for her freedom?
A Siren Erotic Romance
“What did you do as a child?” she asked as she picked at her food.
“Ordinary things, I guess. Dad worked in a factory and did some farming. Mom had me right after high school, but later on she got her teaching degree. Colter and I helped on the farm, camped, fished, and rode our bikes. We both played high school football and got scholarships to the University of Arkansas. What about you?”
“I went to Princeton,” she informed him before taking a low swallow of the dry wine.
“But what did you do as a kid?”
“I played with my toys in the closet because we weren’t allowed to have them in our actual bedrooms. We attended parties, very formal even for children, and boring things of that nature.”
“What did you want to do?”
She smiled up at him. “I wanted to play in the water or the mud, to ride a bike, to feel the wind in my hair as I swung high up in the air, and…I guess, I just wanted to be a child.”
“You could still do those things, sweetheart. The lake’s right there. I’m sure there’s a park around here somewhere with a swing set. As for the bike ride, there’s one in the basement.”
She shook her head. “Guess I’m too old for that now.”
“If you really want to feel the wind in your hair, you ought to go on a motorcycle.”
“Aren’t they dangerous?”
“If you wanna be tough, you gotta be stupid, or so my pappy used to tell me.”
“My grandfather. He’d been in the Navy and had tattoos on almost every inch of his skin.” He pointed to the tribal sleeve on his left arm. “This is nothing compared to what he had. I mean, he had them on his knuckles, back, chest, legs, and feet. He always told me that he’d kick my ass if I ever did it, but he was with me when I got my first one.”
She couldn’t imagine her dad’s father being willing to do that, and she didn’t even know her maternal grandfather. She wasn’t sure that Dabney even knew who that was. She was impressed with how his family seemed to stick together, even if one of them did something the other didn’t actually approve of. She couldn’t see either of her parents following that example.
“He sounds like a hoot.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, there was never any doubt about where you stood with him. He told it like it was—it’s probably where I get it from. He didn’t take any shit off of anyone.” He was laughing at something, and she began to look around to see what it was but came up empty.
“I’m sorry, darlin’. I was just thinking about a story that my grandfather used to tell. You see, he is a damned good photographer, but it was always a hobby. His favorite models are always nudes. Back in the day, when everything was on film, he’d taken some pretty racy pictures of a couple lady friends he had.” The sound of his laughter warmed a little piece of her heart as he had to stop again with the memory. “He took them into a developer and asked him if he had any problems developing those kinds of pictures. The developer said no, but Grandpa had to make sure, and asked him again.”
“Were they that racy?” Honestly, Delaney knew that some women posed for those kinds of magazines. She’d accidently found a few of her father’s over the years, but she hadn’t really thought about posing for them herself. Now the idea was rather titillating—if Waylon was the one doing the pictures.
“By today’s standards, not really. You have to remember, this was back in the early eighties though. The developer pulled out the album and flipped it over to this picture with, and I quote, a cucumber shoved up her cunt. Grandpa left his film there, but he shared that damned story every time he showed off his pictures.”
She knew she was blushing. All at once, she knew exactly how out of his league she was. He made her feel too innocent, and all at once, she didn’t want to be. She wanted to be the kind of woman that could keep up with someone like him.
“I’m sorry, Delaney. I shouldn’t have told you that story, at least not yet.”
“It’s okay. Does he still take photos?”
“Well, he’s worked with me some. At one point in time, he was determined that I was going to be a famous photographer. I’ve taken some nice shots, but nothing like his. He doesn’t have as much luck finding naked volunteers, but he still does landscapes and such.”
“What kind on pictures do you take?”
It was as if those brown eyes of his could see into the very reaches of her soul. She shuddered as his hot gaze bore into her. “I take nudes as well.” His large hand reached out for hers. “I can tell that the idea excites you.”
“Huh?” She tried to slow her stampeding heart, and she wished like hell that she’d worn a padded bra. She could feel her nipples thrusting out for him. “I don’t know what you mean!”
“Darlin’, I’ve got more experience than you may think a country hick should have, and I know the signs to look for. Your nipples are hard, and I can see feel your pulse pounding against my fingers. Are you an exhibitionist?”
She shook her mass of curls in denial. “I’ve never tried anything like that! What if someone saw me?”
“Doesn’t that idea make you wet?”
“I don’t want to get too rude or too intrusive, but exactly how much experience do you have?”
“Sexually?” she whispered as she watched him nod his head slowly while she squirmed in her seat. “None.”
Laney turned a little toward Waylon. “What are they doing?” she whispered as they began to strap the woman into place with her backside facing the stage.
“Shh, I want you to watch.”
“But..?” She was cut off as his long fingers pinched her nipple tightly. She gasped and wiggled in the seat but settled back against him to watch the show. The man in leathers pulled out a funky-looking stick. She wondered just what the hell he was going to do with it.
Her breath caught as he whipped the flogger down against the naked lady’s butt. It was hard enough to leave a vibrant red mark against her milky flesh. He raised his hand again and brought it down against the other cheek.
Laney didn’t know if it was her whimper or that of the naked lady, but she was certain that her nether region was going to leave a wet spot on Waylon’s jeans if she didn’t move. As she attempted to get up, he pulled her back down tight against him.
“I need to move,” she whispered to him.
“You need to sit your ass still,” he returned as he positioned her legs on either side of his, then spread them apart. She felt the short skirt of her outfit sliding up. Cool air whispered across her vaginal lips.
And she could feel the hard length of him against her butt and thigh. Lord, she didn’t know that they were actually this big. He felt enormous—long and thick. “There’s no way that he’d even fit inside of me,” she whispered to herself.
“Do you want me to prove you wrong here and now?” His hot words were whispered hoarsely against her neck. “I could get you so wet.” His long fingers slid up her thigh till they cupped her hot, bare pussy. “Fuck!”
She shuddered as his fingers slid through her wet lips. She was almost embarrassed because of her wetness. “Sit up for a minute,” he demanded as he helped her rise up. She could feel his hands working between them, but when she sat back down his lap, she could feel his steely erection against her back. “That’s better,” he whispered as he spread his legs again, making her spread her thighs wide open. “Watch them. Does the thought of flogging her turn you on?”
She shook her head. No, she wanted to see what it felt like. She knew there had to be some pain involved. The lady’s butt was a shade of bright red. Would it be a sting or a shocking pain? Her clit ached to find out.
“Or do you want to feel the flogger striking your flesh?”
“Yes!” she gasped as his hands reached up to cup her breasts. She wasn’t quite sure how he did it, but she felt the cool air against her bare flesh as he lightly rubbed his thumbs across their hard tips.
“Darlin’, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he swore under his breath. His deft fingers began to pluck at her nipples. Each movement seemed to pull some imaginary string attached to her clit and sent her arousal even higher. She moaned and arched her breasts closer to him.
“Waylon,” she moaned, “please?”
“Shh…” She felt his lips at her neck shortly before she felt his teeth bite down as he sucked her flesh between his teeth. She worried ever-so-briefly that everyone in the room heard her moan. “You are so sweet,” he mumbled as he released her flesh.
He rocked her against him. She longed to feel him beneath her fingers. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to be the woman on the stage for him if he would just…
She was barely aware of the men on the stage turning the device so that they could see the woman’s face. The master began again, but this time, he was flogging her front side. He landed blows from her thighs to her breasts. Then as Laney moaned in excitement, he brought the flogger down hard against her pussy.
She felt her pussy gush as if Waylon had done it to her. “You like that, don’t you, darlin’? Do you want me to flog you,” he suggested, “or would you rather feel my hand spank that sweet, wet pussy?”
She held her breath as she felt one long digit trace through her wet folds, barely letting her feel him. Whimpering, she arched, trying to force him to give her more.
“No, darlin’, I’m in control—not you.” He let his short nails rake the inside of her thigh as she twisted her head against his chest.
“I need more,” she demanded as she let her hands fall down to his thighs. Her nails scraped at him through the soft, faded fabric. His touch seemed to electrify her skin. She shook with the intensity of her arousal.
He sucked an earlobe between his lips as his finger traced through her slickened flesh. “I love how wet you are for me, darlin’. Imagine if it was my tongue instead of my finger.” He traced around the hardened pearl of her clit. “I would love to taste you.” He nipped the flesh at her collarbone. “I’d love to let you feel my whiskers on your hard little clit. I bet you’d scream for me.”
She felt ready to scream for him now, but instead she whispered her agreement, arched closer to him, and withered, waiting for his magic touch.