Spank Me Quotes

Promise me you'll take me to bed when we get back," she said. "I promise." "Your bed." "Fuck yes, my bed. My bed is huge, with a headboard I can tie you to and spank you silly for being so ridiculous.

Claudia! That’s not for snacking, you bitch.” Livvie spanked the other girl on the ass and both of them giggled. Girls are so strange. If another man called me a bitch and spanked me, it would not end in giggles.

You spanked me,” she told him. “I did.” He lifted her shoulders high enough to push a wedge pillow under the pad. “And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?

You know, I do believe in magic. I was born and raised in a magic time, in a magic town, among magicians. Oh, most everybody else didn’t realize we lived in that web of magic, connected by silver filaments of chance and circumstance. But I knew it all along. When I was twelve years old, the world was my magic lantern, and by its green spirit glow I saw the past, the present and into the future. You probably did too; you just don’t recall it. See, this is my opinion: we all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves. After you go so far away from it, though, you can’t really get it back. You can have seconds of it. Just seconds of knowing and remembering. When people get weepy at movies, it’s because in that dark theater the golden pool of magic is touched, just briefly. Then they come out into the hard sun of logic and reason again and it dries up, and they’re left feeling a little heartsad and not knowing why. When a song stirs a memory, when motes of dust turning in a shaft of light takes your attention from the world, when you listen to a train passing on a track at night in the distance and wonder where it might be going, you step beyond who you are and where you are. For the briefest of instants, you have stepped into the magic realm. That’s what I believe. The truth of life is that every year we get farther away from the essence that is born within us. We get shouldered with burdens, some of them good, some of them not so good. Things happen to us. Loved ones die. People get in wrecks and get crippled. People lose their way, for one reason or another. It’s not hard to do, in this world of crazy mazes. Life itself does its best to take that memory of magic away from us. You don’t know it’s happening until one day you feel you’ve lost something but you’re not sure what it is. It’s like smiling at a pretty girl and she calls you “sir.” It just happens. These memories of who I was and where I lived are important to me. They make up a large part of who I’m going to be when my journey winds down. I need the memory of magic if I am ever going to conjure magic again. I need to know and remember, and I want to tell you.

My father liked me, when I wasna being an idiot. And he loved me, too -- enough to beat the daylights out of me when I was being an idiot. Jamie Fraser

Time-out,” I said. He twisted his hand around and wound his fingers into mine. “You‘re putting me in time-out?” “Yes,” I said as a shaky sigh slid through my lips. “If I don‘t go, do I get a spanking?

I wouldn't do this if i didn't care, but you mean everything to me, and if this is what you need, then this is what you'll get. But we're damned well going to work on changing this association between caring and spanking.

The question is… How did a girl like Annabelle manage to talk a man like you into joining our silly little family party?” Annabelle smiled sweetly. “I promised he could tie me up afterward and spank me.

I bet she likes it hard, from behind, probably likes to get spanked too. I mean, just look at her, she has a serious come-fuck-me-face.

I want to spank you, but also want to know you want it. I need to hear it sweetheart, tell me you deserve it…

You should punish her.” I snort out a laugh. “Yes, Lowe. Spank me and take away my TV privileges.

He moves suddenly so that his hand is cupping my sex, and one of his fingers sinks slowly into me. His other arm holds me firmly in place around my waist. “This is mine,” he whispers aggressively. “All mine. Do you understand?” He eases his finger in and out as he gazes down at me, gauging my reaction, his eyes burning. “Yes, yours…” Abruptly, he moves, doing several things at once: Withdrawing his fingers, leaving me wanting, unzipping his fly, and pushing me down onto the couch so he’s lying on top of me. “Hands on your head,” he commands through gritted teeth as he kneels up, forcing my legs wider… “We don’t have long. This will be quick, and it’s for me, not you. Do you understand? Don’t come, or I will spank you,” he says through clenched teeth.

Girls are so strange. If another man called me a bitch and spanked me, it would not end in giggles.

Me: I’m sorry, who is this? Christian: Funny. Me: Todd? Christian: I’m going to spank your ass. Me: Promise?

Or I can just spank you," Connor says. Loren laughs. "Before or after you tie me up?" "after

Dear puss, Is this all you've got? Why don't you strap on your big girl panties and come face me yourself? Unless you fear that the Nixanator will spank Omort's wittle bottom. By the way, you've taken one of the most respected leaders in our army. We're going to want him back. Especially since Sabine can't break him. Bringing it, Nix the Ever-Knowing, Soothsayer Without Equal, General of the New Army of Vertas

I promise I won't spank you," he told me, his voice rough and low as he added, "not unless you ask me to." I let him feel my laugh against his shoulder. "That's because you aren't genuinely suicidal.

It's my hurt, my pain, and who are you to take it from me? I don't need rescuing, I don't need pity, I don't need opinions, I need fucking--and maybe a little spanking for indulging my anger.

From fifty shades "This will be guick and for me Not you Don`t come or I will Spank you

But I hear her small, sweet voice behind me. “Yes, Daddy.” I blink long and hard, my hand tingling with an urge to give someone a spanking for the first time in my life.

Tatiana is a ridiculously curvy thing of dreams, with smooth succulent thighs, long strawberry blond cascading beneath a teal bandana, and a nympho sparkle in her eyes that says pick me, lick me, spank me, or I punish you. Raw innocence and mayhem at once.

Thanks for outing me. (Alix) Anytime, cupcake. Now I’m taking my psychic ass to bed. That door spanked me. (Nero)

Whoever says The Smiths have split shall be severely spanked by me with a wet plimsoll.

My dad told me that when I was born my cheeks were so fat the doctors didn't know which end to spank.

Well, spank my arse and call me Morgana.

Did you wake him?" "If I say yes, will you spank me?" Syn rolled his eyes. "You're horrible, Mari.

Haskell to Quinlin You need anything, Quin, absolutely anything, you call me and I'll be there. Remember, friends help you move. Good friends help you move a body. Best friends bring their own shovel. You say the word, and I'll be there with a spanking new shovel. Or holy water and an exorcism ritual. Whatever works.

You haven't gotten the dynamics of our relationship down yet, have you? Let me explain it to you: we're involved, very involved. You're mine, and your problems are also mine. No one messes with what belongs to me. Don't fight me on that, because you'll lose baby. and be aware next time you hide something like that from me, I'll turn you over my knee and spank your ass red. Do we understand each other?

Pet, so far we've been playing at this. I'm going to take you a bit further. A play spanking can be erotic but I am going to take you flying, so high you'll never have felt anything like it." He paused and strolled around the kneeling boy. Damian pulled his hands together behind his back and linked the D rings on the cuffs. "Feel how helpless you are, on your knees to me, waiting for me to decide what to do to you?

Our dirty talking quickly turned to "Do you need a good spanking?" which I enjoyed but when it turned to "Who's your daddy?" I slapped him across the face and told him to shut the hell up and just fuck me

Boys, if you make me pull out the ruler someone is getting spanked.” “Me!” both men yelled at the same time.

Most of the time, I don’t know whether to fight you, spank you or screw you. You make me crazy and you don’t listen to me, which pisses me off.

Yes, Lowe. Spank me and take away my TV privileges.

I felt my hand curl into a fist. Felt my elbow draw back. Felt my arm dart forward, my knuckles crack into Cole's jaw. I couldn't stop myself. His head whipped to the side, and blood leaked from a cut in his lip. Behind me, gasps of shock abounded. "I'm recovered," I said. "Believe me now?" Those violet eyes slitted when they found me. "Assault and battery is illegal." "So have me arrested." He closed what little distance there was between us. Suddenly I could feel his warmth of his breath caressing my skin. "How about I put you over my lap and spank you instead?" "How about I knee your balls into your throat?" "If you're going to play with that particular area, I'd rather you use your hands." "My hands aren't going near that area ever again." A pause. Then, "I bet I could change your mind," he whispered huskily. "I bet I could bash yours." I drew back another fist, but he was ready and caught me midswing. His pupils dilated, a sign of arousal. Another sign: he began to pant. He was acting like I'd tried to unbuckle his jeans rather than smack fire out of him. "Hit me again," he said, still using the same whispered tone, "and I'll take it as an invitation." I was just as bad. I trembled with longing I couldn't control and struggled to catch my breath. "An invitation to do what?" His grip loosened, his fingers rubbing my skin. A caress, not a warning. "I guess we'll find out together.

We are, as you can see, going out—Charles has invoked the Consul’s authority and called a meeting in Grosvenor Square to discuss last night’s attack. Only for high-level Enclave members, apparently.” Will explained. Matthew grimaced. “By the Angel, that sounds awful. I hope it’s all right for me to stay here tonight.” Tessa smiled. “We already made up one of the spare rooms for you.” “As I have known Charles since he was born, I have a difficult time taking him seriously as an authority figure,” said Will thoughtfully. “I suppose if he says anything I don’t like, I can request that he be spanked.” “Oh, yes, please,” said Matthew. “It would do him a world of good.

To have to perform a scene, a punishment scene like that, was extremely unpleasant. It bothered me to hurt you, Jessica,” he growled. “You will let me hold you, and offer me some comfort in return.

If we can use an H-bomb--and as you said it's no checker game; it's real, it's war and nobody is fooling around--isn't it sort of ridiculous to go crawling around in the weeds, throwing knives and maybe getting yourself killed . . . and even losing the war . . . when you've got a real weapon you can use to win? What's the point in a whole lot of men risking their lives with obsolete weapons when one professor type can do so much more just by pushing a button?' Zim didn't answer at once, which wasn't like him at all. Then he said softly, 'Are you happy in the Infantry, Hendrick? You can resign, you know.' Hendrick muttered something; Zim said, 'Speak up!' I'm not itching to resign, sir. I'm going to sweat out my term.' I see. Well, the question you asked is one that a sergeant isn't really qualified to answer . . . and one that you shouldn't ask me. You're supposed to know the answer before you join up. Or you should. Did your school have a course in History and Moral Philosophy?' What? Sure--yes, sir.' Then you've heard the answer. But I'll give you my own--unofficial--views on it. If you wanted to teach a baby a lesson, would you cuts its head off?' Why . . . no, sir!' Of course not. You'd paddle it. There can be circumstances when it's just as foolish to hit an enemy with an H-Bomb as it would be to spank a baby with an ax. War is not violence and killing, pure and simple; war is controlled violence, for a purpose. The purpose of war is to support your government's decisions by force. The purpose is never to kill the enemy just to be killing him . . . but to make him do what you want him to do. Not killing . . . but controlled and purposeful violence. But it's not your business or mine to decide the purpose of the control. It's never a soldier's business to decide when or where or how--or why--he fights; that belongs to the statesmen and the generals. The statesmen decide why and how much; the generals take it from there and tell us where and when and how. We supply the violence; other people--"older and wiser heads," as they say--supply the control. Which is as it should be. That's the best answer I can give you. If it doesn't satisfy you, I'll get you a chit to go talk to the regimental commander. If he can't convince you--then go home and be a civilian! Because in that case you will certainly never make a soldier.

You make me insanely happy, baby, but bite me that hard again,’ he said with a grin, licking the blood off his bottom lip, ‘and you’ll get the spanking of your life.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. “So we’re coming back for Thanksgiving next year, right?” Alex sighed. “Maybe.” In other words, yes. I beamed. “Maybe we could come up early and go apple pick—” “Don’t push your luck.” Fair enough. We’d go apple picking the year after next. Seven hundred-odd days should be enough time to convince him. “Alex?” “Yes, Sunshine?” “I love you.” His face softened. “I love you, too.” His lips brushed over mine before he whispered, “But don’t think that’ll save you from the spanking you’re getting once we’re back in the cabin.” A shiver of anticipation rippled through me. I couldn’t wait.

You're a pain in the ass," she said, and suddenly, the loofah brush whacked her on the butt. She yelped and leaped forward, nearly smashing into Wyatt. "What the hell was that for?" "You threatened to kill me and you're outraged that I gave you a little spanking?" ~Faith/Wyatt

Wait. What?” I demand. He releases me with a wet pop. “You. Me. We’re a thing, if I do you in my bed.” “Says who?” My words are tough, but I’ve heated up faster than the top-of-the-line stove I spotted in his spiffy kitchen. “Says me. My bed is a temple. It’s reserved for solo spanks. And girlfriends.

Are you scared?" she purrs. "Been too long? Out of practice?" Her head cocks to the side, a bad-girl grin on her face. And then her words register. Too scared to shag her? I can't even dignify that with a response. I can't even sputter. And then she gives me a purple-nurple, twisting my nipple. "Oy!" I grab her wrist, the mad little cat. I should spank her arse for that. Suddenly my towel is gone and my body is announcing just how much I've enjoyed her naughty act, complete with the ripping-off-of-the-towel finale.

He pulled me upright, my back against his hot, hard chest. Brushing aside my hair, he started a long trail of ticklish kisses that followed the curve of my spine and ended on my left buttock. Without warning, his massive paw smacked my plump cheek. "Sergei!" I gasped and tried to slide away from him but he held tight. "This ass of yours has been tempting me for months. The least you deserve is that single spanking.

There once was a man who was sore 'Cuz his wife wouldn't open the door. Celibacy is just not for me Let me in, you cock-teasing whore.

I no longer fear the pain...I fear no release from this torture...knowing that I've hurt him and he can't forgive me...that he won't be able to make me his good girl again.

Your orgasms belong to me. If you ever touch yourself without my permission, I will spank that pussy of yours until you’re begging to come

He spanks me again, and again, and again. I lose count after ten strikes, too consumed with the aching sensation spreading across the lower half of my torso. Eventually, I hear myself gasp and moan at each strike, the sting intensifying as my flesh warms with every blow.

I want to be the only guy who fucks you against windows, and also the first person you see in the morning—from where you lie, having stolen my pillow. I’d also like to be the person who gets you lime Popsicles when you’ve had bad sushi. We only have a few months left where it’s potentially complicated.” With my mouth on hers, and my hands on her face, I think she finally started to understand. “Promise me you’ll take me to bed when we get back,” she said. “I promise.” “Your bed.” “Fuck yes, my bed. My bed is huge, with a headboard I can tie you to and spank you silly for being so ridiculous.

Ty grabbed my phone and threatened to tell Otter that I liked being spanked during sex. This proceeded to lead up on a long tangent where I had to have him explain to me how he knows about stuff like people getting spanked during sex. He said he might have heard it mentioned while watching MSNBC. I told him he was grounded from watching the news channels for a week. That's where this whole sidebar should have ended, but then I was forced to explain S & M and bondage to my little brother, who was persistent on the topic, and who kept staring at me with mounting horror when I finally /did/ explain, and I realized I had maybe gone too far, and we had to spend the next five minutes swearing to God that I had never nor would I ever attempt to do anything like that. He might now be the only nine-year-old who has heard the terms "cock ring" and "fisting". My parenting skills are unparalleled.

Don’t hide from me. No more lies, little slave. I want all of you—your honest truth. You’re mine. Even your tears are mine.

Now it's different, and to me it was shockingly humble, but there with my girl in my arms and our child in her belly I knew I had reached the moment my life had been waiting for. I was going to be a father and a husband. I spanked her bottom and cranked up the tunes.

advocates spanking disobedient children with a “neutral object,” and says that parents must convey to preschoolers two fundamental messages: “(1) I love you, little one, more than you can possibly understand . . . (2) Because I love you so much, I must teach you to obey me.

I want you to be afraid of making me angry…this will help you to remember how to behave.

You belong to me and I protect what's mine. Understand?

Spank me pull my hair bite me

These hands elate my life, choke me, broil my bosom, spank me, give fire to my words, my words, mother, my heart beats in my words.

As though you read my mind, you steady my head between your hands and eye me intensely. Then your mouth is on mine, hungry and aggressive. Your teeth skim my lips, claiming me and I feel your tongue probing inside of my mouth. The kiss ends as dramatically as it began, leaving me reeling and wanting more.

Hmph," said Sharon . "Did you know that the numbers three and seven are sacred to vampires? There are seven vampire sects." "Seven sacred sects," I repeated. "Say that three times fast." "How about I spank you instead?" asked Patrick in a benign tone that belied the flare of irritation in his gaze. "Only if you tie me to a bed and use a paddle." His silver eyes went molten. Uh-oh. Me and my big smart-aleck mouth. "I… uh, sorry. I didn't mean that. I saw Secretary a few too many times. I'm impressionable.

Turn around.” Only two words, but they deliver such a sensual threat. I do as you ask without question. You are right behind me, breathing hard into the small of my neck, where I like to be kissed.

Because I need it," I screamed. "I tried. I tried to stop once I got my license and be normal. But.. I needed it. My body craved it the more I denied that part of me. I need to be spanked. To be dominated. Because it's in those moments when I truly feel like myself.

I came back despite knowing the torture I’d have to go through because I can’t stay away from you. Even when you’re not there, you’re everywhere. In my head, in my lungs, in my fucking soul. And I’m trying very hard not to lose my shit right now, sweetheart, because all I want is to cut off that fucker’s head and serve it on a platter for daring to touch you. Then bend you over the hood and spank your ass raw for letting him.” He cupped me between my legs and squeezed. I whimpered with a mixture of pain and pleasure. “So don’t. Push. Me.

You remembered what I like,” he murmured. She slammed her glass down harder than she meant to. “Of course I do. The only thing predicable besides your outrageous libido is your stomach. You ordered the same thing each and every time we came here.” A ghost of a flirtatious smile played at Aidan’s lips. “If I don’t clean my plate, are you going to spank me, Mommy?” Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “No, but I will force feed you myself like the damn petulant toddler you insist on acting like!

I touched myself while I watched you, wishing it was me in her place. And I came…crying because it broke my heart that it wasn’t.

Come over here and taste me,” he says, his voice little but a seductive whisper.

The key is to make the spanking last a while. There's a saying in the “community” that goes something like, “A real spanking begins when the recipient is ready for it to end.” I believe this is true. Don't be afraid to take some time. His bottom may be red as fire, but trust me, he is okay!

How bad will it hurt?" I ask suddenly as Cain pulls the car onto the road to head back to my house. "How bad will what hurt?" "The spankings, the torture, all the ways you want to punish me." "I'm not a sadist, Evan. I don't get off on hurting women." "So it won't hurt?" "Oh, it will, but you'll love the way it hurts," he says, and as his words fall upon my ears in a harmony of exhilaration and foreboding, I think I'm beginning to understand.

His voice goads me and then I register the perfect rhythm he is creating in my tightly wound body. One, two, and then three fingers fill me, his hand rocking flawlessly against my quivering clitoris as he fucks me. Slowly at first and then the tempo increases as Shaw builds the pace. Before I know it I am panting as the sensations consume me. Eyes shut tight, I feel myself grinding against what feels like the palm of his hand or maybe his wrist, loving the friction it creates as Shaw penetrates me over and over again.

Within seconds, his hand is inside my panties. Now he can feel just how much I am enjoying this. I think I hear him laugh quietly, but I still can’t see his face. My body is alive with sensation, and he probes his fingers deep inside me. He moves in and out, creating a satisfying rhythm of his own. This time I really moan out loud and nearly collapse backwards, falling onto his body behind me. He catches me casually, and pushes me back to my feet, before continuing.

Sara?” Blake’s voice is scorching and burns right through me. “Yes, sir?” “Lock the door and get over my knee. Now.

You yank my hair back even harder, creating a sudden hurt which nearly topples me over the edge of the precipice. “Look at me whilst you beg me, little one…

When I look in the mirror... I know that I belong to him...that I will never be the same again. I've let him punish me...

My turn?” asks the blond from behind me. “Didn’t you say she deserved a good spanking for her recent misdemeanours Mike?” His voice has taken on a husky, carnal quality since our introduction at the bench, and I suspect there is another hard cock waiting for me. I struggle impatiently at the thought. “Absolutely Niall,” Mike replies, “but not here. I want her punished in public, to make sure she remembers the lesson. Sean, pull in at the next layby will you...

What does a woman feel when she is hit? My mother slapped me when I was a child - on two occasions, to the point of pure hysteria; I never liked it. Those who are humiliated in such a way learn to disintegrate – that is, they become once removed from pain. This is the most direct route to psychic ruin.

Forget I said that.” Alexandra would try, but she doubted she would succeed. “Tell me about your schooling,” he said. “My schooling?” “Boring lessons, grim schoolrooms. If by chance you had any dour, dried-up, snaggletoothed headmistresses, I’d love to hear about them right now. In detail.” “My least favorite teacher wasn’t dried up or ugly at all. She was quite pretty, as a matter of fact, but she would spank us for misbehaving.” “Really,” he said, groaning weakly. “A smart thwack of the ruler, straight on the backside.” “On second thought, let’s not talk.

He doesn’t respond and this is his way of punishing me. To be ignored by him is worse than a spanking or paddling, because most times a spanking is quite enjoyable. He’s learned that receiving pain from him is my weakness and not really a penalty at all and so he’s taken to different forms of true punishment when the situation calls for it.

He sighs with satisfaction, as he falls back into his chair, smiling. Still fully dressed in his expensive suit, he’s absolutely spent after f**king the life out of me.

With his final blow delivered, he pulls me up toward him, first by my hips, and then by my hair. Groping my breasts and kissing me, he is full of congratulations. ‘Well done, Megan, you took your punishment well. Now it’s time for your reward.

Then she is on me. Her soft, hot body collapses onto my own ravenous frame. She pushes my legs open with her knees and pulls my arms above my head with her hands, holding me a willing hostage. For one long moment we are eye to eye. Her breasts press down into my nipples, goading them but offering no release, and then her lips come crashing down on mine. She kisses me as though she already owns me; exploring my mouth with her tongue, dragging it aggressively from one side of my lips to the other.

Shithead Boss Man, eh? You know, Dylan, I really lucked out in the assistant department. The other partners in the firm have ended up with someone awful, who soothes them, is at their beck and call and agrees with them all the time. I got one who is sarcastic, argumentative, scruffy, rarely where he should be, and calls me Shithead Boss Man rather than Sir.” Jude laughs at him, before reaching out and swiping one of the prawns from my carton of sweet and sour. “He’d call you Sir if you spanked him.

He stands, loosening his black tie and stripping off his white shirt, dropping the latter just in front of my face. The appetizing smell of him reaches my face in a goading wave. As he walks around my body to the bed, he slaps my ass, making me turn and yelp.

All I can feel is your cock inside me, as it slides slowly in and then out of me. You are powerful and imposing as you begin to pick up the pace. You have become the centre of my entire universe. You are everything I can feel, everything I can see, hear and smell; all that I know. This is of course, exactly how you like it and exactly as it should be.

The next time you wait twenty-four hours to answer me and have me thinking all the awful fucking things that could’ve happened to you in New York, I swear I will put you over my lap and spank some goddamned sense into you.” I should probably be annoyed, but his threat turns me on more than anything. I’m also not about to let him forget how this whole situation came about. “Maybe, just maybe, you might want to think twice the next time you answer your door in a towel to a woman who wants your dick.” “I wouldn’t give a single fuck if she showed up naked at my door on her knees. The only woman I want is you.” Lust and adrenaline burn through my veins as I smile. “I know.” His eyes widen a fraction. “What do you mean, you know?” “If you feel half of what I’m feeling, then you’re so in love with me, you wouldn’t notice if she twerked on your dick in the middle of church.

You will get exactly what you deserve Polly,” comes the firm reply, “you can trust me on that… But if you do – trust me I mean – I promise you an unparalleled climax.” She pauses, gazing deep into my frightened green eyes. “It’s your call Polly, all yours.” I allow my aching body to decide for me . “Punish me please, mistress,” I say in a very small voice.

Here’s to a tasty lunch,” she says, winking at me. It’s the strangest thing, but I actually feel my body respond to her. Beneath their lace prison, my nipples harden and send a jolt of arousal across my midriff and down to my thighs. I take a long sip of champagne and eye Rachel hungrily. I can’t be sure if it’s the alcohol or the company but I already feel giddy.

Arch your back, Alisa – show me that gorgeous ass. Show me what belongs to me.” Your voice is enthralling; an intoxicating sound of pleasure and authority. I obey willingly, closing my eyes as I do so. I want you to use me. I need you to take what belongs to you. I spread my legs even further apart, using the wall to keep me in place and push my glistening pussy out towards you.

I also saw that theologically speaking the whole idea of a smacking is not congruent with the teaching revealed in the gospel of Jesus Christ. God sent His Son into the world to save the world so they would not have to suffer for their own sins, but parents today punish their children and make them undergo the horrors of punishment for even the most minor of infractions. The idea of mercy is seemingly not applied at all. When parents' sin, they ask God to forgive them, repent and know they are forgiven. When children sin, they are judged, tried, condemned and punished.

Wade sighed. “I’ll never understand why women wear bras to start with. They look uncomfortable as hell.” “They’re not that bad.” “Turn around so I can fasten the damn thing for you.” She refused to let go. Suddenly it seemed important to do this one small task alone. “I can do it, Wade. I need to get used to doing things with this cast.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her struggle. “Is it so hard to ask for help from me, Gracie?” She tried the two small hooks once more, but failed to get them both attached. “No, it’s just that I’m not used to people offering, I guess.” He moved around her and helped fasten the contrary hook. When she turned to tell him thanks, he placed his finger over her lips and murmured, “If you thank me, I’ll spank you. Knowing I haven’t been able to catch your stalker, that he broke into your home and trashed your things and I wasn’t able to stop him makes me feel as fucking useless as tits on a bull. The least I can do is fasten your bra.

As I am still on duty at this moment, is there anything else I can do for you?” he continues. Images of him kissing me, disrobing me and fondling my entire body fill my mind… I push them away, although I know my face has coloured at the thought. “I have a few suggestions…” I murmur quietly, staring into his smouldering blue eyes. “But I am not sure they fall into a butler’s remit.” “Perhaps you’d be surprised at the lengths I’m prepared to go to in order to keep you happy, madam,” he replies, winking at me.

How did you learn? To use the Paths, I mean?" His mouth twisted into an impish grin. "Don't let my good looks fool you. I'm terribly clever." I rolled my eyes. "Clearly. But you still shouldn't be abot to use te Paths." He shrugged, standing. "Watch and wait long enough, want something bad enough, and you can figure out a way to make it happen. I make a lot of things happen." Smiling enigmatically, he reached out a hand to my wall. "I'll pick you up later?" "I haven't agreed to anything!" I narrowed me eyes. "Of course," he said, distracted as he focused on the white lines snaking out to make a door. "So, I'll pick you up later, then." "No! Don't you listen to anything? Tell Raquel I'm not going to-" Before I could finish my sentence he walked through the faerie door, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "Girls are annoying." The wall formed again behind him, becoming the innocent recipient of my withering glare.Jack might look my age, but he was like a little kid on a sugar high-in need of a good spanking. Good heavens, that sounded creepy.

With each impact you tell me that my body belongs to you; that I am yours to use, yours to punish and yours to screw. Your words are almost as powerful as your hand. They leave me feeling breathless and desperate for your cock. You are working me into the usual frenzy of slutty desire that we have both come to love. If I was permitted I would tell you how much I love you right now and how much I need this. But it’s not my words which are important at the moment. Instead I demonstrate my devotion to you in my complete submission to your desire.

Still, this moment belongs to the two of them, Mom and this handsome stranger. He reaches the passenger side door and stares down at her with steely violet eyes-down at my mother who never cries, down at my mother who’s now bawling like a spanked child-his face contorted in a rainbow of so many emotions, some that I can’t even name. Then Grom the Triton king sinks to his knees in front of her, and a single tear spills down his face. “Nalia,” he whispers. And then my mother slaps him. It’s not the kind of slap you get for talking back. It’s not the kind of punch she dealt Galen and Toraf in our kitchen. It’s the kind of slap a woman gives a man when he’s hurt her deeply. And Grom accepts it with grace. “I looked for you,” she shouts, even though he’s inches from her. Slowly, as if in a show of peace, he takes the hand that slapped him and sandwiches it between his own. He seems to revel in the feel of her touch. His face is pure tenderness, his voice like a massage to the nerves. “And I looked for you.” “Your pulse was gone,” she insists. By now she chokes back sobs between words. She’s fighting for control. I’ve never seen my mother fight for control. “As was yours.” I realize Grom knows what not to say, what not to do to provoke her. He is the complete opposite of her, or maybe just a completion of her. Her eyes focus on his wrist, and tears slip down her face, leaving faint trails of mascara on her cheeks. He smiles and slowly pulls his hand away. I think he’s going to show her the bracelet he’s wearing, but instead he rips it off his wrist and holds it out for her inspection. From where I’m standing it looks like a single black ball tied to some sort of string. By my mom’s expression, this black ball has meaning. So much meaning that I think she’s forgotten to breathe. “My pearl,” she whispers. “I thought I’d lost it.” He encloses it in her hand. “This isn’t your pearl, love. That one was lost in the explosion with you. For almost an entire season, I scoured the oyster beds, looking for another one that would do. I don’t know why, but I thought maybe if I found another perfect pearl, I would somehow find you, too. When I found this though, it didn’t bring me the peace I’d hoped for. But I couldn’t bring myself to discard it. I’ve worn it on my wrist ever since.” This is all it takes for my mom to throw herself into his arms, bringing Rachel partially with her. Even so, it’s probably the most moving moment I’ve ever encountered in my eighteen years. Or at least it would be, if my mom weren’t clinging to a man who is not my dad.

E L James, Party Games you’re looking kind of smug inserting that god damn anal plug giving me your kinky love after writing Fifty Shades you’re acting like some kind of renegade giving me your kinky love sit me on a dildo and spin me right around chain me up and hang me upside down giving me your kinky love god damn you E L James making me into some kind of party game giving me your kinky love put me in a dream and wheel in the Fucking Machine god damn you E L James spank a hand on my bum see how much I can cum god damn you E L James stand me up and sit me down lay me out and roll me about god damn you E L James BDSM electro impulses up my brainstem god damn you E L James cast me in a submissive role-play with my genitals on display god damn you E L James suspend me high in the air slap me around like I don’t care god damn you E L James take that whip off the shelf make me forget myself god damn you E L James Why are you wearing oven mittens? branding iron your name written inner goddess don’t keep in hidden god damn you E L James holy crap my mind has snapped to forget one thing that I have heard I’m never going to use the safe-word god damn you E L James By R.M.Romarney

He places one of his long fingers over my lips, silencing me. I can smell my own musky arousal on his digit and I have the strongest urge to take it in my mouth and suck it as I did earlier during my audition. He says nothing but drills into me with those dazzling eyes. I have the strangest feeling that he is looking into my soul. “Let us see where the wave takes us. I know I am going to enjoy the ride and I can guarantee our mutual satisfaction. Maybe we’ll be washed to shore, I just don’t know yet, but you can be certain of one thing…” I gaze up at him from his chest, breathing in the scent of his masculinity as I do. “What’s that, sir?” I ask, my voice betraying the curiosity I feel. He looks down at me for a long, hard moment before he answers. “I won’t let you drown.

Put your hands up against the wall as well,” you snarl and your voice is so close now – I can feel your hot breath against my neck. The proximity makes me feel even hornier. I comply immediately, feeling instantly more vulnerable this way and loving the increased jeopardy. I know you want me as much as I want you, but to prove the point, you push your frame up against me. Your body is hard and I feel your cock straining against my ass through your trousers. Automatically I arch my hips and grind myself against you. It’s a gamble I am likely to be punished for, but the sensation is so good I am willing to take the risk.

A cell phone rang from the end table to my right and Kristen bolted up straight. She put her beer on the coffee table and dove across my lap for her phone, sprawling over me. My eyes flew wide. I’d never been that close to her before. I’d only ever touched her hand. If I pushed her down across my knees, I could spank her ass. She grabbed her phone and whirled off my lap. “It’s Sloan. I’ve been waiting for this call all day.” She put a finger to her lips for me to be quiet, hit the Talk button, and put her on speaker. “Hey, Sloan, what’s up?” “Did you send me a potato?” Kristen covered her mouth with her hand and I had to stifle a snort. “Why? Did you get an anonymous potato in the mail?” “Something is seriously wrong with you,” Sloan said. “Congratulations, he put a ring on it. PotatoParcel.com.” She seemed to be reading a message. “You found a company that mails potatoes with messages on them? Where do you find this stuff?” Kristen’s eyes danced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you have the other thing though?” “Yeeeess. The note says to call you before I open it. Why am I afraid?” Kristen giggled. “Open it now. Is Brandon with you?” “Yes, he’s with me. He’s shaking his head.” I could picture his face, that easy smile on his lips. “Okay, I’m opening it. It looks like a paper towel tube. There’s tape on the—AHHHHHH! Are you kidding me, Kristen?! What the hell!” Kristen rolled forward, putting her forehead to my shoulder in laughter. “I’m covered in glitter! You sent me a glitter bomb? Brandon has it all over him! It’s all over the sofa!” Now I was dying. I covered my mouth, trying to keep quiet, and I leaned into Kristen, who was howling, our bodies shaking with laughter. I must not have been quiet enough though. “Wait, who’s with you?” Sloan asked. Kristen wiped at her eyes. “Josh is here.” “Didn’t he have a date tonight? Brandon told me he had a date.” “He did, but he came back over after.” “He came back over?” Her voice changed instantly. “And what are you two doing? Remember what we talked about, Kristen…” Her tone was taunting. Kristen glanced at me. Sloan didn’t seem to realize she was on speaker. Kristen hit the Talk button and pressed the phone to her ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you!” She hung up on her and set her phone down on the coffee table, still tittering. “And what did you two talk about?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. I liked that she’d talked about me. Liked it a lot. “Just sexually objectifying you. The usual,” she said, shrugging. “Nothing a hot fireman like you can’t handle.” A hot fireman like you.I did my best to hide my smirk. “So do you do this to Sloan a lot?” I asked. “All the time. I love messing with her. She’s so easily worked up.” She reached for her beer. I chuckled. “How do you sleep at night knowing she’ll be finding glitter in her couch for the next month?” She took a swig of her beer. “With the fan on medium.” My laugh came so hard Stuntman Mike looked up and cocked his head at me. She changed the channel and stopped on HBO. Some show. There was a scene with rose petals down a hallway into a bedroom full of candles. She shook her head at the TV. “See, I just don’t get why that’s romantic. You want flower petals stuck to your ass? And who’s gonna clean all that shit up? Me? Like, thanks for the flower sex, let’s spend the next half an hour sweeping?” “Those candles are a huge fire hazard.” I tipped my beer toward the screen. “Right? And try getting wax out of the carpet. Good luck with that.” I looked at the side of her face. “So what do you think is romantic?” “Common sense,” she answered without thinking about it. “My wedding wouldn’t be romantic. It would be entertaining. You know what I want at my wedding?” she said, looking at me. “I want the priest from The Princess Bride. The mawage guy.

You raise one eyebrow and regard me with another intense stare. “Start by stripping please Jenna.” I hear what you say and yet on some level I can’t quite process it. “Strip?” I ask, as though I don’t understand your demand. “Yes, strip. Take off all of your clothes. I want to see you naked. Now please.” I feel dazed, yet I let my jacket fall to the floor, and start work on my shirt buttons. Your eyes never leave me. I can feel them mining into me whilst I tackle the third button. Why is this so weird? You’re my husband after all. You’ve seen me undress and naked countless times. Yet this is different. I am not just undressing, I am stripping. It’s not my decision; it’s at your command. You are not just Oliver now; you’re my Husband – some dominant entity now in charge. For some strange reason, I am finding it really hot! The look in your eyes is not just appreciative; it’s carnal. Waves begin to rise in my pool of desire.

I’m really sorry, Nathan.” Her accent thickened as she stared up at him, biting her lip nervously as she wondered how much he would pout. Nathan could go all quiet, somber, and answer her in monosyllables that drove her insane. He would glare at her. He would watch ball games. He would come to bed late. Late. After she went to sleep. And wouldn’t give her any until the next morning. It really wasn’t fair. “Nathan, please don’t be mad at me . . .” “How did you hit my truck? How? It was sitting in plain view. Plain view, Sabella.” He was getting angry. He only said her full name when he was really getting angry or really, really horny. And he was not horny. Okay, this wasn’t good. She could do without for days. But she didn’t like it. She stomped her foot, glaring back at him in irritation. “If it weren’t for you, I would have never hit it.” “Me?” He stepped back, shaking his head fiercely. “How the hell was this my fault?” “Because you were cutting the grass, with no shirt, in sexy jeans and boots, and seeing your tight ass striding across the lawn made me horny. You distracted me. It’s all your fault. If you dress properly things like this just would not happen, Nathan . . .” He kissed her. It wasn’t a gentle, easy kiss. It was rough and ready and smack full of lust as he jerked her against him, pressing his cock into her belly as she gasped in pleasure. “You are so spanked.” He picked her up, striding across the lawn, leaving her car door open, his truck abused. “Spanked, Sabella. I’m going to watch every inch of that pretty ass turn red.” He slammed the door behind him, locking it quickly before heading for the stairs. “Oh, spank me, Nathan,” she breathed teasingly into his ear. “Make me beg.” He shuddered against her, threw her on the bed and proceeded to make her beg.

Before she could say anything more, Sabella swung around at the sound of Noah’s Harley purring to life behind the garage. God. He was dressed in snug jeans and riding chaps. A snug dark T-shirt covered his upper body, conformed to it. And he was riding her way. “Is there anything sexier than a man in riding chaps riding a Harley?” Kira asked behind her. “It makes a woman simply want to melt.” And Sabella was melting. She watched as he pulled around the side of the garage then took the gravel road that led to the back of the house. The sound of the Harley purred closer, throbbing, building the excitement inside her. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” Kira said with a light laugh. “Don’t bother to see me out.” Sabella didn’t. She listened as the Harley drew into the graveled lot behind the house and moved to the back door. She opened it, stepping out on the back deck as he swung his legs over the cycle and strode toward her. That long-legged lean walk. It made her mouth water. Made her heart throb in her throat as hunger began to race through her. “The spa treated you well,” he announced as he paused at the bottom of the steps and stared back at her. “Feel like messing your hair up and going out this evening? We could have dinner in town. Ride around a little bit.” She hadn’t ridden on a motorcycle since she was a teenager. She glanced at the cycle, then back to Noah. “I’d need to change clothes.” His gaze flickered over her short jeans skirt, her T-shirt. “That would be a damned shame too,” he stated. “I have to say, Ms. Malone, you have some beautiful legs there.” No one had ever been as charming as Nathan. She remembered when they were dating, how he would just show up, out of the blue, driving that monster pickup of his and grinning like a rogue when he picked her up. He’d been the epitome of a bad boy, and he had been all hers. He was still all hers. “Bare legs and motorcycles don’t exactly go together,” she pointed out. He nodded soberly, though his eyes had a wicked glint to them. “This is a fact, beautiful. And pretty legs like that, we wouldn’t want to risk.” She leaned against the porch post and stared back at him. “I have a pickup, you know.” She propped one hand on her hip and stared back at him. “Really?” Was that avarice she saw glinting in his eyes, or for just the slightest second, pure, unadulterated joy at the mention of that damned pickup? He looked around. “I haven’t seen a pickup.” “It’s in the garage,” she told him carelessly. “A big black monster with bench seats. Four-by-four gas-guzzling alpha-male steel and chrome.” He grinned. He was so proud of that damned pickup. “Where did something so little come up with a truck that big?” he teased her then. She shrugged. “It belonged to my husband. Now, it belongs to me.” That last statement had his gaze sharpening. “You drive it?” “All the time,” she lied, tormenting him. “I don’t have to worry about pinging it now that my husband is gone. He didn’t like pings.” Did he swallow tighter? “It’s pinged then?” She snorted. “Not hardly. Do you want to drive the monster or question me about it? Or I could change into jeans and we could ride your cycle. Which is it?” Which was it? Noah stared back at her, barely able to contain his shock that she had kept the pickup. He knew for a fact there were times the payments on the house and garage had gone unpaid—his “death” benefits hadn’t been nearly enough—almost risking her loss of both during those first months of his “death.” Knowing she had held on to that damned truck filled him with more pleasure than he could express. Knowing she was going to let someone who wasn’t her husband drive it filled him with horror. The contradictor feelings clashed inside him, and he promised himself he was going to spank her for this.

A flash of lightning ghosts into the room, and when it leaves again, my eyes follow it back out to sea. In the window's reflection, I glimpse a figure standing behind me. I don't need to turn around to see who creates such a big outline-or who makes my whole body turn into a goose-bump farm. "How do you feel?" he says. "Better," I say to his reflection. He hops over the back of the couch and grabs my chin, turning my head side to side, up and down, all around, watching for my reaction. "I just did that," I tell him. "Nothing." He nods and unhands me. "Rach-Uh, my mom called your mom and told her what happened. I guess your mom called your doctor, and he said it's pretty common, but that you should rest a few more days. My mom insisted you stay the night since no one needs to be driving in this weather." "And my mother agreed to that?" Even in the dark, I don't miss his little grin. "My mom can be pretty persuasive," he says. "By the end of the conversation, your mom even suggested we both stay home from school tomorrow and hang out here so you can relax-since my mom will be home supervising, of course. Your mom said you wouldn't stay home if I went to school." A flash from the storm illuminates my blush. "Because we told her we're dating." He nods. "She said you should have stayed home today, but you threw a fit to go anyway. Honestly, I didn't realize you were so obsessed-ouch!" I try to pinch him again, but he catches my wrist and pulls me over his lap like a child getting a spanking. "I was going to say, 'with history.'" He laughs. "No you weren't. Let me up." "I will." He laughs. "Galen, you let me up right now-" "Sorry, not ready yet." I gasp. "Oh, no! The room is spinning again." I hold still, tense up. Then the room does spin when he snatches me up and grabs my chin again. The look of concern etched on his face makes me feel a little guilty, but not guilty enough to keep my mouth shut. "Works every time," I tell him, giving my best ha-ha-you're-a-sucker smirk. A snicker from the entryway cuts off what I can tell is about to be a good scolding. I've never heard Galen curse, but his glower just looks like a four-letter word waiting to come out. We both turn to see Toraf watching us with crossed arms. He is also wearing a ha-ha-you're-a-sucker smirk. "Dinner's ready, children," he says. Yep, I definitely like Toraf. Galen rolls his eyes and extracts me from his lap. He hops up and leaves me there, and in the reflection, I see him ram his fist into Toraf's gut as he passes. Toraf grunts, but the smirk never leaves his face. He nods his head for me to follow them. As we pass through the rooms, I try to remember the rich, sophisticated atmosphere, the marble floors, the hideous paintings, but my stomach makes sounds better suited to a dog kennel at feeding time. "I think your stomach is making mating calls," Toraf whispers to me as we enter the kitchen. My blush debuts the same time we enter the kitchen, and it's enough to make Toraf laugh out loud.

Be big enough to offer the truth to people and if it short circuits them I think that's tragic. I think that's sad but, I will not strike no unholy bargains to self erase. I wont do it. I don't care how many people fucked up their lives. I don't care how many bad choices people have made. I don't care how much pettiness they've consumed and spat out. I don't care how much viciousness , rage, abuse, spanking they've dealt out. I am gonna tell the truth as I see it and I'm going to be who I fucking am and if that causes the world to shift in it's orbit and half the evil people get thrown off the planet and up into space well, you shouldn't of been standing in evil to begin with because, there is gravity in goodness. So, sorry; I have to be who I am. Everyone ells is taken. There is no other place I can go than in my own head. I can't jump from skull to skull until I find one that suits bad people around me better. I don't have that choice. So, be your fucking self. Speak your truth and if there are people around you who tempt you with nonexistence , blast through that and give them the full glory of who you are. Do not withhold yourself from the world. Do not piss on the incandescent gift of your existence. Don't drown yourself in the petty fog and dustiness of other peoples ancient superstitions, beliefs, aggressions, culture, and crap. No, be a flare. We're all born self expressive. We are all born perfectly comfortable with being incredibly inconvenient to our parents. We shit, piss, wake up at night, throw up on their shoulders, scream, and cry. We are in our essence, in our humanity, perfectly comfortable with inconveniencing others. That's how we are born. That's how we grow. That's how we develop. Well, I choose to retain the ability to inconvenience the irrational. You know I had a cancer in me last year and I'm very glad that the surgeons knife and the related medicines that I took proved extremely inconvenient to my cancer and I bet you my cancer was like "Aw shit. I hate this stuff man." Good. I'm only alive because medicine and surgery was highly inconvenient to the cancer within me. That's the only reason I'm alive. So, be who you are. If that's inconvenient to other people that's their goddamn business, not yours. Do not kill yourself because other people are dead. Do not follow people into the grave. Do not atomize yourself because, others have shredded themselves into dust for the sake of their fears and their desire to conform with the history of the dead.