Hi. This is my first in the Dungeon Crawl and I'm super excited about it. I love BDSM. This excerpt I'm sharing today is from my novelette, The Kink Therapist #1: Nothing But Trouble. After witnessing a DD spanking in church between the young adult pastor and his wife, Molly Channing goes to visit a kink therapist and professional Dom to get a spanking of her own. But the guy, David, she meets in the waiting room takes her breath away.
When I open the door, I stop in my tracks and shudder. An old woman is sitting at a desk off to the side in the grand foyer, and a youngish dude, about my age, is slouched in one of the four chairs in a long hallway leading to closed double doors. The floor is marble with a giant starbust, but it’s wood, wood, wood everywhere, a rich burnt sienna, even the winding staircase 15' ahead. The balcony on the second floor bows out in a half circle near a chandelier with a gazillion dangling gemstones. What the hell? This looks like a fucking school entrance, the ritzy, pretentious, unaffordable kind. With it feeling so bitingly real, I’m freaked beyond the pale. Is this a real academy, like a tiny charter school or something?
The hag looks up from whatever she’s jotting in a thin book. “Good morning, Molly. Take a seat please,” she says, her voice strange and muddy. “Headmaster Ryan will call you in shortly.” She returns to her book. No, a crossword puzzle it looks like.
“Thanks.” She knows my name? I itch to hightail it out of here, but curiosity and a savage thirst for pink and pain, not to mention bounce, pushes me past the staircase, down the hall and into a red velveteen chair beside Slouch. I sigh and bob my heels like a junkie in withdrawal.
He’s pretty cute, wheat-colored hair splaying out around his collar, bangs sweeping to the left, threatening to block his eyes. Nice arms. Nice legs. I can only imagine his chest. His tie is loose, top button undone. Good Lord, is he going to hear me get spanked? Heat slinks up my cheeks and neck. He’s staring ahead, arms crossed, ignoring my perusal of his body, not saying hi or even acknowledging my presence at all. He only took the time to look me over when I first came in. Am I repulsive or what? Whatever. I can ignore him just the same.
My breaths are getting away from me with randomness, and my heart’s pounding so fast, he can probably hear it. It was dumb to sit in the chair right next to him when there are others. I shift and fidget, hands bouncing between armrests and my abdomen. I finally lace fingers together and shove the tight weave to rest on my thighs. Minor irritations nibble at me. “Sooo, um … is this a real school?”
“Today it is,” he mutters.
Even in dull mode, he’s got a nice, rich voice, one that could easily make my knees quake if I were standing … or if he were giving me stern commands. I imagine a couple. And they’re bad … bad … oooh … mmmm, sooo bad. Yeah, I like the last one best. But now I know I’m blushing from that. Maybe he’s a sub though. That would suck. What a waste of a sexy voice. Or he could be gay. Double suck. I snort when I realize what I just said in my head, then quickly clear my throat. “Um, do you mean it changes day-to-day? What will this place be tomorrow?”
Aaaand we’re back to silence. Lovely. I swish my pursed lips back and forth. After several clock ticks, I flip my dark hair behind my shoulders, then arch my back in a good stretch and massage my neck as I rotate my head to work out the kinks. I catch myself moaning and nip that humiliation factor in the bud. Some loose locks fall forward again from my movement and kiss my breasts with a caress. I whisk them back and accidentally bump his arm with my arm and a flutter of my fingers. I jerk away, but he quickly reclaims contact with my skin, giving a slow, intentional graze that makes me shiver. His arms still crossed, he forsakes his arm muscles for tactile fingers and streaks them up and down my upper arm, which rakes up goose bumps. What the hell’s he doing!
Yeah? Two can play that game. I drop my gaze to the leg closest to me. His left. I put my hand on his knee and let it rest for two seconds, then I slowly drag my index finger up and down his thigh and don’t stop until I reach his nuts. I add more digits and draw six circles over his entire package with my fingertips, then cap off with a hearty squeeze. I jerk upwards three times and smile at the nice stiffness I created.
I let go in a flash, it suddenly hitting me that I just committed a criminal act, like, one that could land me in jail and stick me on a list with real pervs. Ohmygod! What the hell’s wrong with me!
His eyes, blue like gas flames, zoom to bore into mine and his tight jaw grinds. He’s breathing like a bull, and it’s most definitely not from any kind of upset or offense taken. He’s electrified … blazing with hunger. Hmm. Wonder what made that happen.
I whisper, “1 to 0. Point for Molly,” as sweetly as I can. I lick the tip of my index finger and chalk it up in the air with some sizzle. I’m thrilled and beaming.
He whacks my arm. “You can kiss that sexy smile goodbye, sweetheart. Game’s over. And I won.”
He finds my smile sexy? Like, sexy sexy? When I unhook myself from the snag on his compliment, I say, “You wish. I fight dirtier than you can imagine,” and look back at the … receptionist?
“Yeah, my junk can testify to that. Forget her, she’s deaf. But you’re wrong. It’s done and won, Hot Legs. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I know?”
Hot Legs? I blush. “Um, sure. How do you know you won already? We’re just getting started.” I smirk. No matter what he says, I know I won. Come on. I groped him at Go.
Damn. His confidence and the, um, merriment and suggested depravity in his dirty imp gaze, like, wow, turn him from cute slouch to sexy, hot beast before my eyes.
I lick my bottom lip with a slow stroke.
“’Cause I’m here for you.”
For me? My belly flops and loins ignite at the sly smile that only serves to make his face a million times hotter. My breath stutters. “What do you mean, for me? I don’t get it. What’s your kink?”
“Voyeurism,” he says, like it’s his favorite porn flick. Breaths from his snicker puff against my lips and yank the turned-up corners down.
God, no! I gasp, tear my eyes off his and look down at my shaking thighs and hands. Ohmygod. He’s right! He beat me before I even walked in the door! He’s going to watch? Listen? This is my first time! That’s not fair!
“Yeah, that’s right. Gotta start the day off right.” He stretches big with a faux groan and his evil laugh echoes in the halls. “Mmmm, yeah. Nothin’ perks me up like a good morning show.” One leg is now sticking out, and his fingers are laced over his stomach. His traveling scrutiny tattoos a million butterflies of fire all over my body. “Aaahh, Molly, good golly. Yep. You’re gonna be a fun one to watch.”
I backhand his chest. My words jam for a sec when I hit hard muscle. “Ya know, teasing me is highly unwise. I come bearing treasure. If you’re nice, I’ll tell you the scandalous thing I witnessed in church, and what I did, in excruciating detail. It’s what led me here.”
His brow perks, and he straightens and jerks his belted waistband. Unable to stand the intensity brewing in his eyes, I bop my focus between his beautiful pools of blue and his hand, the way he’s scratching his sculpted bicep with his thumbnail. But I get all buzzy guessing the slap-strength of his palms and rush my attention to his face and stick it there. He bites a smidgen of his bottom lip and growls deep in the throat. “I can be ... really … nice,” he says, filth dripping on every word. The raunchy books his mind is clearly drafting make my cheeks warm up and pussy tingle.
I swallow hard and clear my throat. “I’ll … bet.”
We stare at each other, caught in fiery ebbs of mutual lust. He leans closer, glances at Desk Lady, and comes back to my eyes. A chill thrashes my body as his chest mashes into my arm and hot lips and air tickle my ear. “You were kind of at a disadvantage, but today’s your lucky day. You get another shot. Second match. Ya game?” He bites my lobe.
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