Under his command, p.1
Under His Command, page 1
part #2 of Decadence L.A. Series
Under His Command
Decadence L.A. - Book Two
Maddie Taylor
Blushing Books
Contents
What’s Inside
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Maddie Taylor
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©2018 by Blushing Books® and Maddie Taylor
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Maddie Taylor
Under His Command
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-814-8
Cover Art 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.
What’s Inside
She was startled each time she saw him by how gorgeous he was. At first, she thought it was the crisp white uniform, fitted to his perfect body as if tailored to it, and the way it contrasted with his golden tan. But today he wore khaki and still took her breath away. She couldn’t help the tingling of excitement that raced through her when he flashed his movie star smile her way.
Flynn didn’t have the pretty boy, rom-com leading man sort of good looks. Instead, he had the striking ruggedness of an action hero with an alpha male hotness that fueled her dreams.
Flynn had starred in every one of her fantasies which had haunted her nights over the past week. Some centered on him scooping her up in his arms and carrying her off to his bed where he made wild passionate love to her. Invariably, she woke up, before they got to the good parts—the happy ending—darn her luck.
Overshadowing the heart-melting romantic fantasies were her naughty ones. In these, his raw sexuality matched her own, and he dominated, tossing her over his shoulder when she lodged a token protest, and smacking her ass until it was a warm, rosy red. This had her quivering with the desire to do his bidding, as well as doing him.
Since her subconscious mind was in charge, strict bondage and spanking were the headlining acts, both ranking in her top three favorite activities. Then he’d use her thoroughly, controlling her body to their mutual satisfaction, which was at the top of her list.
One started out with her tied to his bed in four-point restraints, Flynn over her, his cock deep inside her, not touching her anywhere Then, somehow, she ended up with her feet above her head, ankles fastened to the same posts as her wrists.
In this position, folded over like a taco shell, her bare, vulnerable bottom pointed skyward, she’d been helpless to do anything except cry out for more when he used her—relentlessly—with his mouth and fingers.
But before she could reach completion, the dream changed again. The only explanation that the laws of time, space, and physics became suspended within the power of REM sleep.
Now on her knees, wrists bound to her ankles, chest to the bed, head turned to the side where she could see him, she watched Flynn kneeling between her legs, the tails of his flogger keeping a steady whoosh and thwap rhythm on alternating cheeks of her ass while he drove deep and hard into her from behind.
It continued this way all night, in different positions, Flynn having restrained her in various ways, while he brought her close to climax but never allowed her to fly. He edged her expertly, the torment sweeter than any she’d known even though an orgasm was never a part of it.
Chapter 1
The wind blowing in off the water contained more than a hint of coolness as twilight settled over the island. A shiver raced through Cassie’s small frame, and goose bumps broke out across her skin, her short shorts and thin cotton camisole not offering much protection from the brisk ocean breeze. She brushed stray wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail out of her eyes and glanced down at the frothy surf flowing around her ankles.
The water was the real culprit responsible for her trembling. Despite it being mid-August, it was freezing. Born and raised in California, she shouldn’t have been surprised. The chill of the Pacific with its northern current, even as far south as San Diego, was common knowledge. But when the sparkling blue water glistened in the warm sunshine, it made her forget.
She’d done so this evening when she walked down to the surf until the waves rolled in and covered her bare feet and ankles. Although tempted to, she didn’t cut and run. Instead, she braved the cold for several minutes, getting used to it as she’d done as a kid. It was that or never get in the water, the latter an unacceptable option for Cassie who loved the beach.
As she stood, soaking it all in, she closed her eyes, enjoying everything from the salt-scented air, to the sand between her toes, and the always soothing sound of the waves rolling in. It muted the chatter and laughter from the party going on behind her, one she’d just left.
She knew no one there and had only come out to Coronado Island to explore and get the lay of the land before her big day tomorrow. On her way home, she couldn’t resist stopping at North Beach to take a stroll along the sparkling golden-sand shoreline while watching the sunset over the water.
She hadn’t intended to stay longer, but when she passed a group of twenty-somethings playing volleyball, she’d gotten caught up watching the game. Not only due to the fact the guys, who were lean, tan, and fit, had stripped off their shirts, but also because they appeared to be having a good time. They were laughing a lot, mostly at the girls on the other side of the net who were really bad at the game. They kept missing, which got them giggling and only made things worse. The coolers in the background, which she was certain contained beer, rather than soda, were partly responsible, no doubt.
Cassie stood by grinning as they ran after stray balls, often tripping over one another, or going down in a tangle of arms and legs as they lunged to keep another shot from hitting the sand. Not once in the entire time she watched did they manage over a two or three hit volley. The guys, who were more coordinated—or less inebriated—didn’t seem to mind that the girls couldn’t get it together. She imagined they indulged their lack of skill because the young women were tan, fit, and beautiful, and wearing minuscule bikinis.
When they noticed her watching from the sidelines, and laughing along with them, they invited her to join in. She didn’t hesitate—something not like her at all—but after being alone in a new city for two long lonely weeks, she was bored and in need of some fun.
One game turned into several, and before she knew it, the sun set. They had to stop playing when they couldn’t see anymore, but wouldn’t hear of her saying goodbye, and convinced her to stay for a bonfire.
By the time the fire was blazing, the coolers, which had once been packed full of beer as she suspected, were down to only a few remaining bottles floating in melted ice. One guy got out a guitar, and while he tuned up, a joint made its way around the circle. Cassie passed it to the person next to her without taking a hit, thinking it wise to abstain since she was starting a new job for the government the next day. She didn’t care in the least if the others indulged, however.
She didn’t need to get high. It was enough to sit cross-legged in the sand as she enjoyed the warm, crackling fire, the moonlit night, the sound of the ocean in the background, and good company. Not to mention the free entertainment because the guitar player could sing. A few others with talent joined in, harmonizing in perfect counterpoint to his melody.
It was a great way to relax at the end of two hectic weeks. Unfortunately, with her first day at work looming in the morning, she had to drag herself away much sooner than she wanted to. But before she left, she got a few names and numbers. She needed new friends, and this group knew how to unwind, something she’d be looking for in the stress-filled coming months.
As she walked down the beach toward the public lot where she’d parked, she felt the buzz from the beer and had to pause to get her bearings. This brought her to where she was now, her face in the breeze, eyes closed, breathing deep while trying to clear her head.
When it came to alcohol, she’d always been a lightweight, with two beers her long-standing limit. She’d foolishly had three. Driving home would be stupid in her condition, so a cab ride was in her future. She wrinkled her nose thinking of the stale air in just about every taxi she’d ever been in, the tattered upholstery that had seen countless strangers’ asses, and the sticky floors—the cause of which she didn’t want to imagine—and didn’t relish the experience.
Sighing, she opened her eyes and took one last look at the ocean.
There was nothing quite like the Pacific. She’d grown up further north in the Bay Area, but wherev er she went up or down the coast, if she could see the water, she felt like she was home. She’d missed it while living back east. Boston was a great city, the people were friendly, the history abundant, and she had plenty to do, but the weather was horrendous. In the summer, she sweltered, but far worse than the heat and humidity was the bitterly cold winter with snow measured in feet, not inches.
She’d been excited the first time she’d seen the ground covered in white. Except what started as fluffy and beautiful, turned treacherous if you got caught driving in it. When it hung around for days on end, she got tired of it fast, especially when it turned into ugly, black piles on every street corner. And, she couldn’t walk on the beach whenever she wanted, not from October until at least May without freezing her butt off. Enduring half the year without feeling sand between her toes was just plain wrong.
She was back on the west coast now, hopefully for good, and in the morning, she started a new chapter in her life. To do so, she needed to get home, into bed, and try to sleep for at least six hours.
Cassie turned, scanning the wide expanse of beach for her landmark—a lifeguard tower just past the dunes—when a big wave rolled in. It came up to her knees and staggered her a bit. She made a run for dry land before the next wave surged but didn’t make it. Another crashed into her, this one hitting her mid-thigh and soaking the cuffs of her white denim shorts.
“Crap on a cracker,” she muttered while shivering.
The shifting sand didn’t make slogging through the waves any easier. Nor did the sharp rock or shell digging into the tender arch of her foot. Thrown off balance, she fell to her knees with a splash. To keep from face planting in the surf, she put her hands out and went down on all fours which allowed the next wave to soak the rest of her. They seemed to come in faster and more powerful, knocking her onto her back, and dragging her out with them.
Never intending to go for a swim, Cassie shrieked in frustration. It turned into a startled yelp when strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm.
“I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine voice said from well above her head. He began hauling her out, just as another wave hit. This time she managed to stay on her feet but only because of his firm hold.
Once on dry sand beyond the reach of the rising surf, he stopped, steadying her with both hands as he turned her to face him.
“Thank you,” she gasped, as she glanced up at her rescuer.
A dog barking beside her made Cassie jump.
“Quiet, boy,” the man ordered the animal bounding excitedly around their feet.
With clouds rolling in and filtering the moon, the best she could make out was his dark shape and the whites of his eyes as he looked up at her. The next moment, he nudged her hard, his cold nose working its way under her hand demanding attention. He was a big boy, his head coming up to her waist, and his body weight combined with the sudden movement knocked her into the man in front of her.
As her wet body collided with him, his fingers clamped around her arms again, tight but not uncomfortably so.
“Manners, Roscoe. Sit.” Though pitched low in a smooth baritone, his order held an edge of steel.
This time, the dog dutifully sat at attention, his hot breath panting against her thigh. Cassie felt compelled to fall in along with him, considering the command held an unmistakable air of authority.
“I’m sorry. He’s never met a stranger. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied, patting the dog’s head, and giving him a scratch behind the ear before glancing up at his owner. “I hadn’t realized the tide was coming in, and so fast.”
Cassie saw him stiffen. “You’ve been drinking,” he stated. Next, he leaned in and sniffed. “And smoking.” She couldn’t see his expression clearly but could feel the intensity of his disapproval. “What were you thinking going into the water while under the influence? Were you trying to drown yourself?”
“No, I—”
“Are you here alone?” he interrupted. A burst of laughter from behind her drew his gaze to the group of partiers down the beach. “You should get back to your friends and don’t wander away until you’re sober.” He paused a moment. “Are any of them fit to drive?”
“I’m not with them, not really. I was heading back to my car—”
“You’re not getting behind the wheel as you are; you can barely stand up.”
That wasn’t true. Without the onslaught of the incoming waves and free of the shifting sand, Cassie was quite steady. Irritated by his bossy, pejorative manner, she pulled away. “I hadn’t planned to drive. I was going to call a cab.”
“Good. I’ll walk you back and wait while you do.” Without getting her agreement for this plan, he turned, and with her wrist in his inflexible hold, began walking. A shrill whistle pierced the air suddenly, making her jump yet again. “Roscoe!”
The dog obediently fell in line beside her. Who wouldn’t?
“This is unnecessary. I’m capable of returning to my car on my own.”
“It didn’t look that way to me a moment ago,” he muttered. “How much did you drink, and smoke?”
“A few beers, and if it’s any of your business,” she snapped, letting her annoyance show, “I wasn’t smoking. As for the mishap in the water, the force of the waves startled me. And I intended to call a cab. I’m not an idiot, no matter what you may think.”
He pulled her to a stop standing close enough for her to see his features if it wasn’t dark. She suspected he was frowning when he said brusquely, “Forgive me, but you kids can’t always be trusted to do what is best, or smart. Case in point wading with the tide coming in.”
“I didn’t know it was coming in,” she protested.
“It’s something you should know before coming to the beach, especially if you plan to stay after dark or get into the water.”
“That was an accident,” she repeated, her voice rising.
“I suppose the beer and pot were an accident too,” he countered. “Both are prohibited, and this beach is patrolled often at night. You could have been arrested on several charges.”
“What are you, a cop?” A public drunkenness arrest on the eve of starting her new job wouldn’t thrill her employer.
“I’m not a police officer. But this is a resort island and we’re used to drunk and disorderly tourists on the beach. As well as underage consumption. If you were my daughter, this stunt would earn you a grounding for a month, after a trip over my knee for a good hard spanking.”
She gasped for two reasons. First, because he thought she was young enough to be his daughter. Cassie often found herself mistaken for a teenager which had caused endless irritation over the years. Being five-foot-three and one hundred ten pounds soaking wet, added to the misperception. She needed to stop wearing her hair in a ponytail which would help.
Second, his suggesting she needed to be punished, like a child. Chosen to get a reaction, she doubted hers was one he’d expect. She’d been over a man’s lap for discipline before and liked it. It had been a while—five, perhaps six years—and she missed it. The mere mention of it after such a long dry spell sent a delicious tremor coursing through her.
But he couldn’t know her shiver wasn’t from fear or outrage. Wouldn’t he be shocked to learn she got off on being taken over a man’s lap for a good paddling? Though tempted to throw it in his face, she wasn’t so reckless.
Still, who did this guy think he was? They were complete strangers. What right did he have to imply she needed a real punishment? She liked a trip over the knee for a warm, tingly bottom the same as the next submissive, but outside of a relationship, or a club scene she negotiated with a dominant of her choosing, no way.
