PDF Painful Lessons: A Domestic Discipline Erotic Romance

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But deep down she believes her dreams are out of her reach. Worse, they are a betrayal of her feminist principles. She is tired and aching beyond all memory so Antony takes charge. He insists that she see a doctor. She says he is overprotective. He agrees. A trip over his knee shakes Cynthia to the core.

In spite of herself she likes — she wants — this loving correction. More importantly, she agrees that he may be right about seeing a doctor. Is Antony too much, too soon, or is he just what the doctor ordered? Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Tough stuff, but worth it. Bunny had left them a bowl of organic strawberries, cleaned and ready to eat, in the fridge in the kitchenette. He put those on the bathroom counter next to the champagne flutes.

As soon as the bath was ready, he dimmed the lights in the room and placed his cell phone and Bluetooth speaker on the vanity, set to repeat a playlist of sultry torch songs. He pulled her panties down next, nudging her thighs apart with his hand. He spread her lips, circling her clitoris with his index finger. Her kittenish voice, consenting to the play, made his cock stand to attention.

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When her nipples hardened at the s-word, he smiled in satisfaction. He wished he could spank her now but the room across the hall was occupied.

The two thin doors between their suites did little more than mute conversations so he knew they needed to be discrete about noise. Kneeling beside her, he made sure the bath pillow was comfortable. He soaped the face cloth and ran it over her body in several long, sweeping passes. Her body relaxed at every pass. He filled the champagne flutes, pressing one into her hands. She obeyed and he squeezed the berry into it, touching his glass to hers.

Congratulations on your new home. May you be very happy there.

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Now you may sip your champagne with the berry in your mouth, but keep your eyes closed. After he touched his glass to hers, she poured the champagne over the berry in her mouth.

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Straining the bubbly through the strawberry, improved both the fruit and wine. The tension seeped out of her shoulders. He washed one foot, then the other, taking time to soap and rinse every toe separately. As he worked his way up her legs with the face cloth again, she stiffened, sitting up slightly. Finish your champagne. Close your eyes again. This is an exercise in trust. He gave her clitoris only passing attention on this sweep but spent a long time circling her breasts, teasing her nipples.

Stopping only long enough to feed her more strawberries and refill her glass, he asked her to sit forward so he could wash her back.

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Winning Sadie is also available as an audio book from Audible. Buy it here. Libby Campbell writes in the bay window of her mock-Tudor home. Her muse is fueled by coffee, chocolate, and many cups of fragrant tea. Libby and her leading man share a love of hiking, beach walks, road trips, and an occasional night of dancing. They live in a leafy, seaside neighborhood on a rocky Canadian island.

Libby savors her evening bubble baths where she sings along to her favorite music, safe in the knowledge that no one can hear her. She loves all animals, but particularly small dogs with big attitudes and big ones who think they are lap dogs. A woman for all seasons, Libby is happy cuddling in front of a winter fire, watching a summer sunset, listening to birds in the spring, and walking in the autumn rain. Optimistic by nature, Libby wants a solid HEA in her reading and her writing. She writes the stories she wants to read. Visit her website and blog here: Libby Campbell.

But admittance comes at a price, and soon enough Janie is utterly bare and fully on display, blushing crimson as the men at The Tower thoroughly explore her body, bringing her pain, pleasure, and shame as they see fit. But if she relinquishes control completely to this captivating stranger and allows him to break down her remaining defences, will there be any coming back at all?

This order is so much firmer than the previous, it almost takes me by surprise. Instinctively I turn my head to see its owner, but am met by the hard stare of Shaw. Still unsure which man had made the request I wiggle slowly out of my black satin panties. Moving them down my thighs, I allow them to pool at my feet, before stepping out of them and bending carefully to collect them in my hand.

I notice to my shame that the gusset is wet and sticky from my own arousal and I feel my face colour again. Reluctantly I lower my head and take a small step towards him. The flush in my face flames at the sound of his command.

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I suspect my embarrassment is more from being so publicly chastised then from the demand, but nonetheless the effect is the same. I am suddenly a ball of mortification in front of these men — my new masters. I take a deep breath and fall silently to my hands and knees. As I assume this new, more vulnerable position, the atmosphere in the room changes perceptibly.

The air is now charged with palpable energy. The nervous ball of arousal in me drives me on and I arch my back shamelessly, pushing my ass and wet pussy out for everyone behind me to see. I am no longer particularly young and even though I work to keep myself in shape, I am still wrecked with the type of body insecurities that plague most people. Strangely in this most exposed of moments, I feel powerful, even in my submission.

I know that every pair of eyes is on me, every pair of hands wants to touch me and every cock is straining to fuck me. The result is the most incredible feeling of wanton depravity I have ever experienced.

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I glance up at Shaw. I can clearly see his hard length visible through his pin-stripe trousers. The desire to take it in the mouth and taste him is strong and yet the desire to submit to his will is even more powerful. Without being told I dip my head to my right hand and pick up my panties in my teeth. A low hum of appreciation rattles around the circle.

Then, panties hanging from my mouth, I crawl as seductively as I can across to where Shaw is waiting. Two things strike me. The unforgiving wood under my knees cuts into my skin, making each movement a temporary agony and the progress feel awkward and clumsy. I hope in vain that it looks lither then it feels, and yet somehow I doubt it… As I move drawing in deep breaths through my nose, the second thing becomes apparent. The smell of my own arousal fills my senses. The panties in my teeth seem to radiate it. I would no doubt be blushing furiously about this new shame was it not for my already humiliating predicament!

Unsure of how to proceed, but sure that looking up at him is not an acceptable response, I wait on all fours in front of him, like an untrained animal.

I squirm at the prospect that he may be making the same comparison. Google: google. BDSM, spanking, submission. Wicked Pen Writer with Mr. Only to learn, he has to sacrifice Rane to get the information he needs to end the war.

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Rane knows the important of winning. With everything on the line, can these two have any future together or does love and war equal heartache? He lifted his gaze to her face. Did she know what she was doing to him? Did the organization train her in the art of seduction the same way they trained him to kill? And what other skills did she have? He searched for something to say to ease the tension between them. She grinned and lifted her hands to do his bidding.