Treasured Submission
Read Treasured Submission Online
Authors: Maggie Ryan
Treasured Submission
By
Maggie Ryan
©2014 by Blushing Books® and Maggie Ryan
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
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The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Ryan, Maggie
Treasured Submission
eBook ISBN:
978-1-62750-557-4
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Table of contents:
"What a good girl," he whispered, loving the color that stained her cheeks. "I'm going to take you now, put your hands over your head and keep them there."
The statement of his intention caused her to shudder but she was more aroused than she thought possible at the demand. She lifted her hands above her head and clasped them tightly together, not entirely sure he had been kidding about his earlier spanking comment.
Nodding his approval, he bent to tease, lick, and bite her throbbing nipples until she was once again writhing under him. He grinned and positioned himself at her slick opening. Looking up, he gave her an order. "Keep your eyes on mine. I want to watch you as I fuck you, don't close them; I want them open so I can see deep into them as you cum for me."
His explicit words caused her clit to twitch and her entire body to flush. No man had ever spoken to her in this way. No man had ever before given her orders that caused her to blush, but also caused her to wish nothing more than to obey. "Yes, Sir," she whispered, her eyes on his, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her pulse racing.
His cock jerked at her response and he knew he needed to seat himself before he lost control. "Good girl," he said.
She gave a small shriek and arched as he thrust inside her with the first glorious stroke. He filled her slowly, stretching her wider than she had ever been before. Her eyes fluttered closed with the incredible sensation, until she gave a startled yelp as his hand connected with a sharp slap to her bottom. "Eyes!"
She instantly opened them to see him watching her, somehow managing to hold himself still—as if teaching her that all the pleasure could and would stop if she didn't remember to obey. Shuddering with the intensity of her response to his order, her skin tingling slightly from that single slap, she gave him a nod.
"Please, oh, please," she begged, lifting her hips as if trying to force him deeper. He thrust forward again and she screamed in lust as he buried himself to the hilt. Her hands came up and grabbed his shoulders but he pulled them away, gathered them in one of his large hands and pushed them back over her head again.
"Naughty," he whispered, leaning down and speaking the word gently against her lips. "You must really want that spanking, young lady." Her eyes were glued to his as he pressed his lips to hers. Her head shook softly from side to side. He kissed her again and said, "You'll always answer me, always verbally."
"Yes, Sir. Oh, no, I mean, no… no, Sir, I don't want a spanking, Sir."
He grinned and said, "Then obey."
Abigail shoved the book into her overstuffed tote and grabbed her car keys. Glancing at her watch and seeing the time, she grimaced. No two ways about it, she was definitely going to be late. Hurrying out the door, she jumped into the car, inserting the key into the ignition only to hear her cell phone ring. "Damn it," she muttered at the additional delay. Thrusting her hand into her bag and digging around to the bottom, her fingers finally found the phone. Her mood lifted slightly when she saw Sam's smiling face on the small screen. Using her finger to slide the bar, she activated the phone. "Hi, Sam, what's up?"
On the other end of the phone, Sam smiled a bit nervously, "Hey, I was just checking to see if you have any questions about your gift."
"I don't know yet. I'm running late and am just now leaving the house," Abigail admitted.
"Abs, tonight is not a night to be late; you might miss something important." Sam paused for a brief moment, "I need to tell you—"
"I know, I know. I just got busy working and the time got away from me. Besides, I've read the book a couple of times so even if I am late, I can catch up quickly," Abigail interrupted.
Miles away, Sam's face showed surprise as well as relief. "Really? That's great. I didn't… um, didn't think you read those types of books. What do you—"
Interrupting again, Abby started the car. "Of course I read them, I love them. Look, how about I call you later and we'll discuss it then. I really have to run." Sam agreed, after extracting Abby's promise to call the minute she returned home. Abigail closed the phone, threw it back into the depths of her bag and backed out of the driveway. The trip took about thirty minutes and she quietly cursed under her breath as she pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore. Though the lot was fairly full, not another soul was in sight. Checking her watch once more, she grabbed her bag and hurried to the store's entrance. It felt as if she'd dislocated her shoulder after trying to yank open the door. A second, far more tentative attempt didn't produce a different result. Puzzled, she leaned forward, cupping her hands around her eyes to block out the bright lights from the lot in order to peer into the store. Abby's short scream ripped through the parking lot as a man's face appeared right in front of her. She put her hand to her chest as her heart pounded. The man smiled, unlocked the door and pushed it open.
"God, you scared me to death," she said, as she struggled to get her breathing under control.
"I'm sorry to have frightened you," the man said, his face showing his concern.
Abby moved her hand away from her chest in order to tug the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder. "I'm not sure scaring the hell out of the attendees is the way to encourage book sales, and what's with locking the door? I almost dislocated my shoulder. I can't imagine Keith approves of his employees lurking at the window popping out and frightening his customers when they are trying to get to the reading."
The man's expression of concern disappeared as his right eyebrow arched in what she immediately sensed as disapproval. Suddenly feeling guilty, her face flushed as she realized that perhaps she was coming off as just a tad bitchy. Opening her mouth to attempt an apology, she wasn't given the chance.
"The door was locked ten minutes ago. Five minutes after the designated arrival time," he informed her, looking pointedly down at his watch.
Abigail attempted to brush past him. "Oh, um, right. I just forgot the time and I don't want to miss a word. I'll just slip in, no one's even going to notice."
The man thought that was highly unlikely. Her entire being exuded a sense of barely contained excitement in a very petite, extremely attractive body. "Just a moment," the man said, reaching out to lay his hand on her arm. "Your invitation, please." She appeared almost shocked and he could feel her arm tremble beneath his fingertips. Shaking his head, he repeated his request. "This is a closed event. It's necessary to—"
"I understand," Abby interrupted. Just the touch of his hand against her skin caused a jolt of what felt like electricity to flood through her. Flustered and embarrassed at her reaction, she began to paw through her bag, almost panicking before finding the card tucked into an outside pocket. "I can imagine security might be needed as he is such an incredible author. God, I've loved everything he's ever written, even the really scary books. I just can't help myself," she gushed, triumphantly flashing the card at him. Before she could pull away, he released her arm with a nod, opening the door further so that she could enter.
He watched as the woman hurried into the store, pausing only long enough to look in both directions as if attempting to determine where she should go. When she looked back over her shoulder, he lifted a hand to indicate the small area in the left corner of the store. Not bothering to thank him, she shifted the strap of her bag once more before hurrying off in the direction he indicated. Turning to close and relock the door, he shook his head. If anyone needed to be on time, this woman was that person. Since she didn't seem to have the courtesy to use common etiquette, he sincerely hoped she paid attention to tonight's subject. Recalling her reference to the author's fame, his brow furrowed. Regardless of how much she might adore the subject, she seemed unnaturally excited. Perhaps she didn't understand that lateness and disrespect were not traits that were considered acceptable behavior. Realizing he was flexing the fingers of his right hand, the look of disapproval on his face morphed into a smile. Though Abby didn't witness the movement, if she had, she would have felt her pulse increase and a desperate desire to reach behind her to cover a bottom that was suddenly clenching quite tightly.
Reaching the café area of the shop, he saw the woman slip into an empty chair at a small table on the left side of the room, and moved silently to stand almost directly behind her, leaning against the wall to listen as the book store owner addressed the audience.
"Great, it seems my last guest has arrived," Keith said, giving Abby a smile as she settled into her chair. Shrugging her shoulders as if throwing off the guilt of being late, she returned his smile and gave him a small wave. Keith grinned and resumed his speech. "I want to thank you all for coming. We are honored to be able to offer our customers a forum for tonight's discussion. Feel free to get something from the coffee bar during the breaks. Additional books and videos will be available for purchase at the conclusion of the lecture." Sales pitch completed, he smiled and continued. "I know you will enjoy tonight's review. Please remember that after our guest speaks, he will be glad to answer any questions. Now, let me introduce the author, Dean Koonig."
Everyone started to applaud as Dean pushed away from the wall and walked to the front of the group. After shaking Keith's hand, he turned to his audience, his eyes sweeping over the fifty or so attendees before his gaze settled on the woman he had let into the bookstore. While most of the audience greeted him with smiles, she was once again digging through her huge shoulder bag, a puzzled look on her face.
With a slight shake of his head, he smiled and began. "I'd like to start by saying that I am the one who feels honored. I appreciate everyone coming and hope that I'm able to help you gain a better understanding of tonight's subject. If you could please get your books out, we'll begin." Those people who hadn't yet placed their books on the tables in front of them quickly did so, moving aside coffee cups and other drinks. Dean waited until everyone had their eyes on him once again before he opened his mouth to speak.
"Excuse me?" Turning his head, he gave the latecomer his attention. "I um, I think I have the wrong date for my review," she said.
Raising his eyebrow, he asked, "Why do you say that? You showed me your invitation. Did you forget your book?"
Abigail looked flustered as she lifted the book she had dug out of her bag. "As you can see, I have my book, but it was written by Dean Koontz, not, um Dean somebody." Hearing several people chuckle, she looked around to see books on every table. Looking closely at the people in the room, she realized two things immediately. First, she was the only person seated alone, and, secondly, everyone was looking at her as if she were that one student back in middle school that was never prepared for class. Turning to look to the front of the room, she gave a small shriek as she saw that the supposed author had moved to stand right in front of her table.
"Sorry to frighten you again, Mrs.?"
"God, stop doing that!" she said, her heart beginning to pound again. When his eyes continued to bore into her, she flushed. "Um, Abby, Abigail Pierce."
Looking down at the tabletop, he saw the book she had brought. It was indeed written by Dean Koontz and was definitely not the book scheduled to be reviewed that evening. "Mrs. Pierce," he said, not taking his eyes off hers, "Mr. Koontz did author the book you brought, but this evening we will be discussing my book. The one written by Dean Somebody." The flush that instantly appeared on her cheeks accentuated the tiny freckles that were scattered across her pale cheeks. Pleasantly surprised when she seemed to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes on his, despite her obvious embarrassment, Dean continued. "I can assure you that our books are completely different. Mrs. Pierce, I have to admit that I'm a bit surprised that you seem so unprepared for the review. I see that you didn't bring your husband with you. Didn't you read the brochure that came with your ticket?"
"No, I mean, this evening is a birthday gift. It's Miss Pierce, um, I'm not married… I'm divorced. Sam and I are both avid readers and I just assumed—"
Dean broke in. "We all know about assumptions don't we?" Her color deepened as she finally broke eye contact. Dean turned and walked away, only to return with a copy of the brochure as well as a copy of the proper book. Placing both on the table, he spoke softly, "I suggest you take a quick moment to go through the brochure and decide if you'd like to remain for the lecture. I'd understand if you find the subject matter a bit more frightening than you might expect and you'd prefer to return when a more suitable author is scheduled."
Abigail gave a soft
hmmm
and took the brochure, well aware that there wasn't a sound in the room and that she was the center of much unwanted attention. Since she had told him she loved scary books, she couldn't imagine the meaning of his suggestion. Trying to ignore everyone, she opened the brochure, which had a plain cover, and contained information about the date and time of the review, as well as a photo of the man standing before her. Though she vaguely remembered seeing something similar to this in the card containing the ticket for the review, evidently she had thrown it away after assuming the review was being conducted by one of her favorite authors. When her eyes fell to the second page of the brochure, her breath caught as she began to read.
"Oh my God," she whispered, feeling her face heat as she heard a chuckle. Looking up quickly, thinking it had been Dean laughing, she saw his expression. There was nothing on his face to indicate he found any of this was the least bit amusing. Her eyes drifted to the table to his right and saw that the man seated there was shaking his head, a smile on his lips. Having found the source of the laughter, Abby forced her gaze back to the brochure and then over to the book he had placed on the table. The title,
The Door to Domestic Discipline,
was written in a large font, followed by a smaller line directly beneath that read,
Your Guide to Living the Lifestyle.
Both lines were overlaying a photo of an old-fashioned wooden backed hairbrush sitting on top of what appeared be a formidable looking paddle. Sudden surges of embarrassment, as well as an unexpected tightening in her stomach, made it feel like she had just eaten a handful of Mexican jumping beans that were cavorting around to the inaudible strains of a mariachi band. Her bottom lip was captured by her teeth in an unconscious display of nerves and she couldn't force herself to look up. Abby cursed herself for not being far more diligent in opening and examining her birthday present. Not since high school, when she had forgotten it was her day to present her research paper, had she felt so ill-prepared. Caught between her desire to get up and run out of the bookstore, never to return, and her inexplicable desire to prove to this man that she wasn't afraid, she tried to decide what to do. Taking a deep breath, knowing she didn't want to be the source of anyone's amusement, she looked up at Dean.
"I apologize, Mr.…" she quickly glanced down at the book again before continuing, "Mr. Koonig. While I am obviously not prepared for this review, I'd like to stay if you don't object."
Dean felt his interest stir. Her reaction had shown that she was at least a little shocked. He was impressed by her choice to put on a brave front or, perhaps she was concerned about disappointing this Sam person. "Certainly, Miss Pierce. I'm always interested in increasing one's sphere of experience. Oh, that is, assuming that you are new to this genre?" It absolutely amazed him that though she had been blushing since the moment she realized she had brought the wrong book, her face turned an even deeper shade of red. His interest grew when she took another deep breath and met his eyes, her determination not to make the scene even more embarrassing evident in the depths of her startling emerald colored eyes.
"I never turn down a chance for education, Mr. Koonig, no matter if I have any prior knowledge of the subject or not," Abby said, with a bravado that she hoped no one would be able to see through—especially not the man who seemed able to freeze her in place with just his eyes.
