A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine

Hello, Readers! I was sitting in my living room, minding my own business and trying not to freak out about the current pandemic and how to stay safe, when Olivia Watterson McConnell told me that Gabe was driving her crazy while they were stuck in self-isolation, and could I *please* give them something to do. 

So I did. 😉

Hope you enjoy this 6K word story. It is totally and completely NSFW or kids, so please be careful where you read it! Thank you to my beta readers, Jennifer and CJ. Any mistakes are my own. Also, this is a complete work of fiction not based on real people, blah, blah, blah. 🙂 


A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine

“Princess, if you don’t sit down, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

Olivia Watterson-McConnell glanced at her husband Gabe, who was leaning against the door to the dining room, watching her with hooded eyes. He had that look on his face, the Dom of the Castle one, the one that said he was nearing the end of his rope with all her whinging and if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself punished. She grimaced at him anyway and resumed pacing the length of the hallway in their home—which was also a currently-empty bed and breakfast catering to the kink community. “I cannot believe I’m stuck here under isolation instead of out there doing my job.” She jabbed a finger to the front door, then looked down at her abdomen in disgust. “Damned appendix.”

She was a firefighter paramedic and, with her crewmates running ragged because of the global pandemic that had shut down much of the country and a giant chunk of the world, she felt guilty as hell that she was currently out on sick leave. They needed all the help they could get, and here she was, at home doing…nothing productive.

“Sweetheart, I know you’d rather be working. I get it. I really do.” He scrubbed a hand over his close-cropped dark hair, which had gotten a bit grayer since her emergency surgery, when her appendix had ruptured and caused an infection that she was still fighting off. “But the surgeon told you yesterday during your follow-up appointment that you’re not quite healed enough or healthy enough to be out there with this virus running rampant. You know that.”

He did get it, because he’d been a firefighter before he’d made the decision to change careers. And she did know that, because she’d argued with the surgeon to no avail. She made a noise of disgust. “I know, but I bloody hate that I can’t do a damn thing to help.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn to live with it.” He pushed away from the door and stopped in front of her, halting her pacing. With a knuckle under her chin, he tilted her face up to meet his serious eyes. “Because if you don’t, if you can’t take it easy both physically and mentally, you’re going to make yourself sick again, and then what? I’ll have to call an ambulance to come take you to the already stretched-thin hospital, and how does that help anyone?” His other hand curled around the back of her neck, its weight warm and calming against her skin, even as his fingers tightened in emphasis.

Still disgruntled, she blew out a deep sigh, knowing he was absolutely correct. “It doesn’t.”

“That’s my girl.” He smiled gently, then moved behind her and lightly smacked her ass. “Now, up to bed with you. I’m going to shut off the lights and grab a snack from the kitchen. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Yes, Master.” She headed toward the staircase in the kitchen that led up to their personal rooms. Gabe turned and went to the refrigerator, and she took a moment to drink in the sight of her hot husband, his cotton pants hanging low on his hips, and his T-shirt tight across his back as he bent to get something off a bottom shelf. Interest stirred, and she flushed when he called her on it.

“Upstairs now, pet.” His voice was low and filled with both humor and heat. “Before I decide to bring some ginger upstairs with me.” And to emphasize the point, he rattled the produce drawer.

A small sound escaped her mouth—a sound of horror, because figging was so not her favorite thing—and he laughed, that dark laugh that made her shiver deliciously even as she recoiled from his words.

“That’s what I thought. Go get in bed and find something for us to watch on TV.”

She headed up the stairs as ordered, wondering if he’d really punish her if she deliberately disobeyed him and thinking it might be worth it after nearly a month of forced abstinence, but by the time she reached the third floor where their suite was, she was almost out of breath and any thoughts of kinky games fled. That damned infection had taken a lot out of her, and it was going to take a while for her stamina to build back up. It felt like recovering after her back injuries all over again, except this time physical therapy wouldn’t help. Only time and antibiotics would, and Gabe hadn’t been wrong. No matter how much she wished she could work, she wasn’t in any shape to do so, and being continually exposed to a deadly virus while her immune system was compromised would be a really, really, really bad idea.

After a trip to the bathroom to change into a cami and a pair of boxers she’d swiped from Gabe’s dresser, she climbed into bed, settling into the nest of pillows he had arranged for her. She grabbed the remote and turned on the television, grimacing at the news of a widening swath of infected people, and then deliberately changed the station to a cooking show. Gabe enjoyed those, and so did she, and the news only made her feel useless. The chefs were introduced, but before she could see more than the basket ingredients they had to use, her eyes drifted closed.


Gabe caught sight of his sleeping wife the moment he stepped into their room. He muted the television, then moved quietly as he set the tray on the table next to his chair, where he usually sat when he put Olivia on her knees in their attic dungeon.

His chest tightened when he thought about how close—again—she’d come to death when her appendix had ruptured three weeks ago. The call from her captain, saying she’d collapsed and been taken to the hospital, had taken ten years off his life.

He forced breath through his lungs and scrubbed an unsteady hand over the back of his neck. She was better now, so much better, but he was having one hell of a time letting go of the worry. Especially now, with this goddamn virus running rampant. She’d been lucky she hadn’t picked it up already on the job or while she’d been in the hospital.

So, even before the restrictions the government had put on businesses and group gathering sizes, he’d closed Bondage & Breakfast, cancelling two different long-scheduled events and numerous reservations, knowing that she needed to be ultra-careful with any germs at all, never mind this virus, until she was fully recovered. Having guests would’ve compromised that, and he wouldn’t take any chances with his wife’s life.

She was everything to him.

He turned the chair around so it faced the bed, then sat so he could see her. She was curled on her side, her back to his side of the bed…the same way she slept when he curled around her, big spoon to her little spoon. He was so tempted to crawl into bed beside her, to bury his cock inside her the way he often did when they went to sleep, but he wasn’t sure she was ready yet, no matter what her longing eyes had said tonight. He was going to have to talk to her about it, and soon, because if he knew his wife—and he knew his wife—she was going to be hell to live with if he tried to make that decision for her.

Rightfully so, even though he was her Master. He’d learned that much over the time they’d been together.

He picked up the romance he’d been reading, along with his glasses, and skimmed the last few pages to catch back up where he’d left off. His princess loved romances of all kinds, and he’d read them to her in the hospital. To her amusement, he’d gotten hooked. His preference was romantic suspense, and he was halfway through a story their librarian friend Bella had suggested, about an assassin and the FBI agent trying to track him down. A few chapters later, he was drawn out of the story by a sleepy, husky voice.

“You look so sexy in those glasses.” She yawned, garbling her next words. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I guess I was more tired than I thought. What time is it?”

He looked at his phone. “Just after nine. You’ve only been out about half an hour. And don’t apologize. You needed it.”

She shifted onto her back and the sheet slid down, baring her naked shoulders and the tip of a pert breast. Lust stirred and he buried it, but he didn’t tell her to fix the cami she was wearing, or even let her know she was falling out of it. He was rotten like that, but she loved him anyway.

“What’d you bring up for a snack? I’m famished.”

He set his book and reading glasses down and picked up the tray, carrying it to the bed. They still had a fully stocked kitchen, thanks to him forgetting to cancel the last grocery order for the inn while Olivia was in the hospital. Pure dumb luck, but at least they could eat while they isolated. Which was good, because he didn’t want to risk a trip to the grocery store where he might bring germs home. “Crackers and cheese, strawberries and grapes. Some tea. Decaf, since you don’t want to be up all night.”

She pouted as she sat up. “No chocolate?”

He grinned. “Maybe if you’re a good girl.”

“I’m always a good girl.” She grinned back, but then her eyes grew troubled. “I’m not breakable, you know.”

His heart clenched. So much for soon…guess the time was now. He reached out, rubbed a thumb over her cheek as he cupped her jaw. “I know, love. Believe me, I know. That’s one lesson I’ll never forget. But it’s only been three weeks since your surgery, and you still get tired so easily. Are you sure?” He settled the tray over her lap, then studied her.

“I’m sure,” she said, and unable to refuse the clear consent and the need in her eyes, he leaned down and sucked her bare nipple into his mouth, biting down gently.

She gasped. “Gabe.”

Olivia.” He flicked the tip with his tongue, then squeezed her other nipple through her top with his fingers. Not as hard as he would have a month ago—his princess was a masochist who took whatever sensual pain he gave her—but hard enough she sucked in a deep breath. “Feel good?”

She shuddered. “Yes, Master.”

“How good?” Her cheeks flushed deep pink, and he laughed. “That good, huh?” He stood, then tugged the top edge of her cami below her breasts. “Leave it like that.”

And then he went around the edge of the bed and climbed in next to her, leaning back against the headboard and crossing his legs at the ankles, on top of the covers. He hit the mute button and the TV came back to life. “Eat your snack, Princess.”

She worried her lip, and he raised a brow. “Is there a problem?”

Her gaze went sideways. “No, Master.”

Lying was a cardinal sin in his book and she knew it, so he grasped her chin and gave her the look that always made her capitulate. “Want to try that again?”

She flushed, and then the words spilled out. “I thought you were going to feed me, like we do when I’m on my knees.”

He fought back a grin. “Sweetheart, that’s too damn tempting, because then I’m going to want to feed you my cock.” Interest flared in her eyes, and he fought back a groan. “Don’t look at me like that. Face-fucking from a sadist is maybe a bit more than you can handle right now, and I’m only human.” She opened her mouth, probably to read him the riot act, but he held up a hand. “We’re not done for tonight, but no topping from the bottom.”

She sighed dramatically, but picked up a cracker and bit into it, harder than was necessary considering the delicacy of the cracker, snapping it in half with her teeth. And then she did it again.

He winced “Be nice, princess.”

Her eyes went wide. “Me? But I’m always nice, Master.”

He wanted to laugh at her patently fake innocent look, but he fought it back. “You have been spending too much time with Delia and picking up her bratty habits. Go off, though. The punishments will pile up and then, soon, you’ll be all better and I won’t have to be so careful when I mete them out.” He raised a brow and gave her a mocking smile. “I’m looking forward to that.”

His fucking gorgeous, incredibly submissive and not truly bratty wife shivered, her nipples hardening to tight peaks. “I…yes, Master.”

His cock hardened even more. He’d asked the surgeon, someone he knew from the kink scene, what her physical limitations were right now, and vanilla sex wasn’t one of them if she felt ready to try. But no rough sex, no rope, no caning, no over-the-knee spanking or paddling…nothing that would put stress on her incisions or cause bruising or, God forbid, internal bleeding.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t capable of gentle sex and, though it didn’t usually fulfill his darker urges, he had a few ideas that would allow him to retain control and satisfy his need for dominance and hers for submission. Some situations just called for creative solutions, and this was one of them. “You have five minutes to eat. If you’re hungry, you’d best do it now.”


Olivia ate her cheese and fruit and watched Gabe out of the corner of her eye. He was ostensibly watching television, but his gaze seemed turned inward, and she wondered what he was cooking up in that diabolical brain of his. Whatever it was, she was sure to hate it…and love it.

A spurt of strawberry juice dropped onto her breast and, as she went to wipe it off, he grabbed her wrist. Gently, but firmly. “Leave it.”

Her heart started thudding in her chest. She left the juice where it was, and it tickled and aroused as it slowly headed toward her nipple. When he leaned over and licked it off her skin, she made a tiny, needy noise that she couldn’t control.

Then he leaned back, pulling one leg up and resting his arm on it, holding the remote loosely in his hand.

She wasn’t fooled by his nonchalant act, though. She’d seen his cock tenting his cotton pants, and she knew he was aroused as she was. Three solid weeks was a really long time to go without sex, especially when you were used to having it nearly every day, and often more than once a day. Not just for him. For her, too.

He’d said no topping from the bottom, but sometimes a girl had to take the chance. She bit into another strawberry, squeezing it gently as she held it so the juice had nowhere to go but down. And down it went, onto her breast again. Another bite, another squeeze, and more juice flowed.

“Enough, trouble.” Gabe’s voice was amused again. “I’ll be adding that to the list of things you’ll be punished for when you’re fully healed.”

Goosebumps rose in anticipation, though it remained to be seen if these would be actual punishments, or funishments. She hated punishments, but the fun kind? Those, she loved.

He raised a brow. “I assume you’re done eating?”

She nodded. “Yes, Master. Thank you for my snack. I’ll be right back. I need to use the bathroom.”

He stood again, removed the tray and put it on the table, and then came back to bed, drawing her to her feet. With one hand, he grasped her wrists and held them behind her, and then he bent his head and nibbled his was down her neck and shoulder to her breast, licking up the juice as went. “Thank you for my snack,” he murmured, before he released her arms and swatted her ass again. “When you’re done, I want you to come back here. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, Master.”

She used the bathroom, washed her hands and face—and the sticky syrup on her breast—and returned to find him on the bed, leaning against the headboard, holding her cuffs in her his hand. Her heart sped up even as her brain started sliding into the submissive space she loved so much.

He crooked a finger at her. “C’mere, princess. Take off your cami and those boxes you swiped from me. Then I want you on your knees, straddling me.”

She did as directed, moving carefully so as not to pull any of her incisions. When she was on her knees with his legs between her thighs, he put out a hand. She put her wrist in it, palm up, and he buckled the first restraint around it. Then she gave him her other hand, and he buckled that one on too.

When she lifted the first wrist next to the other, he shook his head. “I’m not linking them right now, but I thought you’d like to have them on.”

She scowled. He knew she loved being restrained. Why—

His hand came down on her ass sharply, and his brow raised. “I’m the Dom, and I decide. Yes?”

That made her stomach quiver, and she sank deeper into her submission as she dropped her gaze. “Yes, Master. You decide.”

“Good girl.” He slid down in bed, then cupped her ass with his palms and drew her forward, until she was straddling his face. “Hands on the headboard, and don’t let go. If you let go, everything stops.” He nipped the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered. “You will tell me if you can’t stay in this position, and you will tell me if this hurts in any way. Understood?” He squeezed her ass as though to emphasize his words, his fingertips biting into the skin he’d just reddened.

She gasped. “I will, Master.”

He smiled, then slid his hands from her ass to her thighs, kneading lightly with his fingers. “You smell good, princess. Are you sure some of that strawberry didn’t drip here?” He drew his tongue along her the crease of her thigh, coming closer and closer to her center. His thumbs brushed over her hipbones, keeping away from her newest scars, which were still red and ugly and, like her back, sensitive along the edges. He took his time, nibbling and licking his way around, never touching her where she wanted—needed—his tongue most.

Her legs started shaking, her whole body going tense with need, but when she tried to move closer to his tongue, he stopped what he was doing, tsking. “You know better than that.”

She let out a laugh-sob, and dropped her head to her hands, which were still holding onto the headboard. “Master, please. It’s been so long.”

“But love, we’ve only just started.” His eyes locked with hers, crinkling at the corners. There was heat in them, and amusement, but also concern, which both warmed her and frustrated her. “Are you okay? Do you need to change positions?”

She fought her instinctual reaction to lash out that she was fine—a word he hated because she often hid behind it—and instead took inventory. Her legs felt like spaghetti, and her stomach muscles were quivering, too, which ticked her off. She sighed. “I can stay like this a little longer, but not much.”

Now devilment sparkled in those striking gray eyes of his. “A timed challenge. I like it.”

And then he went back to work, licking and sucking and biting the insides of her thighs, closer and closer until she wanted to scream at him to hurry. Her breath left her in pants, and her hands gripped the headboard so hard she thought she might break it. When he dragged his tongue through her folds and lashed at her clit once and then twice, she moaned. Then he caught her clit gently in his teeth and tugged, and sparks shot off behind her eyelids. Oh, God, she was so close. Another tug…that’s all she needed.

Then he let go, and she let out a frustrated cry. His voice was a low growl. “Do you want to come now, princess?”

“Oh, please, Master. Please.” She shifted her hips forward again, trying to get closer to that dangerous mouth. She didn’t care how it sounded or how it looked. She needed it, needed him, right now.

He put his hands on her hips and shifted her off to the side, his voice mocking and his smile smug. “No, I don’t think so.”

Oh, blast him. The kind, sweet husband who’d waited on her hand and foot over the last few days was gone, and the sadistic Master was back. She whimpered as her body throbbed with need, and he just laughed.


Damn, but he had missed this look on his wife’s face. The one that cursed him while also begging him to please, please let her come. The torment there was…delicious.

“Do not move,” he ordered, getting off the bed again, moving around to her side. He helped guide her off her knees and onto her back. When she was leaning against the pillows, he lifted her hands over her head to the slats in the headboard. “Is this okay? Not too much of a stretch?”

She wiggled a little bit, as though checking. “I’m okay.”

“Same rule as before, princess. You don’t let go unless something hurts.” He flashed a grin at her. “And I don’t mean I need an orgasm right now hurts. That, you just have to deal with.”

Her frustrated moan warmed his heart and hardened his cock to the point where he had to grit his teeth so he didn’t spurt in his pants like a teenaged boy. Normally, he had little problem controlling himself—years as a dominant in the kink scene providing training to other dominants had seen to that. But Olivia whimpering and twisting on the bed with need was an aphrodisiac like no other.

He slapped her thigh lightly. “Settle down, princess, or I’m going to come all over your pretty tits and leave you hanging.”

“Master, no, please.” She sucked in a deep breath and stilled her body as much was humanly possible. “I’ll behave.”

Small tremors shook her, and her stomach muscles quivered. Her pulse pounded wildly in her neck, and as he ran a hand over her hair, her eyes fluttered shut. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips. “That’s my good girl.”

He dragged the small flogger he’d taken from his nightstand over her shoulders and then her tightly beaded nipples. She sucked in a breath and bowed her back, then flinched the tiniest bit. Her eyes flew open and met his. “Yellow, please.”

He stopped immediately. She’d come so far over the last couple of years, using her safeword instead of trying to force her way through any discomfort or pain. “What do you need, princess?”

She wiggled her ass a bit and resettled on the bed. “Just this…I moved wrong. I’m green now.”

He studied her for a moment, nodded, then started back up again, this time flogging her thighs and staying far, far away from her stomach. His strokes were light, not heavy enough to leave a mark, just enough to make her skin more sensitive. Her pretty painted toes curled, but other than that, she stayed still. She made tiny, breathy noises that amped up his arousal, and when he dragged the falls of the flogger over her pussy, she shuddered and swore.

“Spread your legs for me,” he ordered. She didn’t hesitate, and he grinned. He squirted lube onto his hand, then leaned over and slicked his fingers through her folds, entering her with one finger, then two. When she widened her legs even more, silently asking for the more he usually gave her, he shook his head. “No, this is enough for now. And no coming.” He kept his strokes slow but steady, gently rubbing against the spot inside that drove her wild. He set one knee on the bed, then leaned over and kissed her, stroking her tongue with his, ever careful not to lean on her abdomen.

A shiver ran through her and she gasped into his mouth. “Edge, master.”

To take her over now, or make her wait? Normally there would be no question—he would decide based on what he thought she needed—but this situation was far from normal. With the hand he’d been using to steady himself, he rubbed a thumb over her cheek, locking eyes with her. “I need you to be honest with me. Can you handle one big orgasm at the end, or will that be too much for you to handle?”

He could almost see the wheels spinning in her head through her expressive blue eyes. “I…I don’t know.” Her nose scrunched up. “It’s like the first time we had sex after my accident, when I was worried an orgasm might hurt.”

He’d thought the same thing, and that helped. “Okay sweetness. Trust me?”

Pure love shone from her eyes. “With all my heart.”

Her words slayed him. He kissed her forehead again, then strung butterfly kisses down her sternum and over her still sensitive stomach, all the while gliding his fingers in and out of her body, stretching her slightly, but not enough to hurt. He stroked that sensitive spot once, twice, and then sucked hard on her clit. “Go over, princess.”

She did, a long-shudder and exhaled-breath kind of orgasm, rather than the sweat-flying-everywhere and body-twitching-helplessly kind. But it was beautiful to watch the red flush rise up into her face, to feel her body grasping his fingers, to see the calm settle over her face as she came back down to earth.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, stroked the length of her body with his hand. “You can let go of the headboard now,” he murmured, and kissed her nose again as she brought her arms down by her sides. With his free hand, he laced her fingers with hers and squeezed. “How’d that feel?”

“Good,” she said, smiling up at him. “Really good.”

She seemed to have forgotten his fingers were still inside her, but her eyes rounded when, once again, he gently stroked that sensitive spot. “Again, Master?”

“We’ll see,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and adding more lube to them. “Knees up, please. And keep those legs wide.”

With their hands laced together again, he slid his slicked-up fingers back inside her, using his thumb to wiggle her clit. Then he withdrew and added a third finger, keeping his stroke shallow. “Is this okay?”

She gasped. “God, yes. More, please?”

The begging tone made his dick twitch. He squeezed his fingers together and tucked his pinkie in as well, moving slowly. He stretched her for several long minutes, then went back to two fingers to flick the spot she loved so much. She moaned, and he did it again, alternating his careful thrusts between a shallow near-fist that only teased her entrance and a penetrating but gentle two fingers.

Her fingers squeezed around his even as her body fluttered around the ones he had inside her, and he knew she was close, so he rubbed his thumb over her hard clit. “Now, love.”

She cried out this time, her body clenching tightly around his two fingers. He pressed a kiss on her raised leg, resting his cheek on her knee as he watched her come apart again. No pain on her face, thank God, just the blissful look of a satisfied submissive.

But he still wasn’t done with her.


With her brain happily fuzzing around the edges, she looked at her husband, his face resting against her leg, a satisfied smile on his face. “Hi,” he said softly. “You’re back.”

She squeezed his hand, which was still laced together with hers. “I am.”

“How are you feeling?” He rubbed his late-evening, beard-roughened cheek against the inside of her thigh, which sent a delicious shiver sizzling through her body.

“Amazing.” And it was true. For the first time in weeks, she felt almost normal. Thoughts of the world in chaos tried to wedge their way in, but she ruthlessly forced them out. Normalcy was important in times like this, and you grabbed it where you got it. For her, for them, it was her submitting to her Dom. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure,” he said, kissing and nibbling his way down the inside of her thigh, and then back up again. His thumb was rubbing back and forth over her mound, and her body clenched around the fingers he still had tucked inside her. He raised a brow. “Again, greedy girl?”

Her body went tight. “Please?”

He growled low in his throat. “When you’re feeling better, we’re going to do this again, and then I’m going to use my whole hand and not just four fingers.”

Her face flooded with heat, and though he’d taught her to never be ashamed of her desires, whatever they were, she found herself at a loss for words. “I…fisting? Really? I don’t….”

“You do, and don’t lie to me about that. See what happens when I open my fingers?” He nudged her thighs apart, and then she felt the most incredible sensation. “You love it.”

His fingers stretched her entrance and it hurt, but in the best way possible, like the first time he’d fucked her ass. And, like the masochist she was, it made her crave more, more, more. “Oh, God,” she cried, her head pushing back into the pillow as she raised her hips towards his retreating hand, trying to urge him deeper. “Please don’t stop.”

He eased the stretch and pulled back his hand, kissing her thigh again. “Just a preview, love. When you’re better.”

She wanted to argue but knew he was right—her abdomen was still tender and if it was from the outside, the inside probably wouldn’t appreciate his whole hand. She was lucky he’d even caved enough to do this at all. When she’d first met and fallen for him, he hadn’t wanted to touch her for fear of hurting her. They’d nearly lost each other over that, and it warmed her heart to know he was trusting her to tell him what she was capable of handling. “Promise?”

He cupped a hand behind her head and pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “Promise. But now it’s time for bed.”

Bed? But he…. One look at his face said he was in Master mode and not to mess with him, so she nodded.

Once she was settled onto her side, he moved around to his side of the bed. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he shucked his sleep pants. His cock was thick and hard and wet at the tip, and curled up against his stomach as he climbed beneath the covers with her, drawing her against his body. She felt a hand between them, and then his erection was between her legs, sliding through the lube he’d used earlier. He slid back and forth, and they both moaned.

She pushed her ass back against him, and he gripped her hip to stop her. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You are, Master,” she said, fighting to keep still. “But you feel so good.”

He let out a groan that almost had her laughing. “You do too, sweetheart. But if you move, I’m going to blow before I even get inside of you, and that would be a tragedy. So you’re going to be a good girl and let me play.”

Him hanging onto his control by a thread made her feel incredibly powerful. “Yes, Master.”

And play he did, all thoughts of laughter dying. Between her legs, his cock nudged her entrance, gliding through her folds and bumping against her clit. The lube made everything slick and sensual and it didn’t take long for her to be right on the edge again. Then his hand went between her back and his stomach a second time, and his slick finger danced over her asshole.

She jerked hard, dislodging his cock from between her legs, and he slapped her thigh. “Do. Not. Move.” A whimper escaped, but it wasn’t one of pain or distress and he knew it, because he laughed that dark laugh of his.

He whispered in her ear, not that there was anyone else around to hear his depraved words. “When you’re better, I’m going to tie you so tight you can’t wiggle an inch, and then I’m going to tease you until you cry and beg me to let you come. I’m going to clamp those nipples, and then I’m going to fill your ass with the biggest plug you can handle,” he said, sliding just the tip of his thumb inside her, wiggling it gently.

“And then I’m going to fuck your mouth and pull the nipple chain until you’re gagging all over my cock.” He covered her throat with his hand, squeezing gently. She shivered at his words and his touches, held spellbound by the very vivid picture he was painting.

“When you have tears streaming down your cheeks, I’m going to put you on your hands and knees with your face pressed into the bed, and I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, taking what I want from you.” And with that, he slid his cock inside her, his movements slow and gentle, in complete contrast to the words he was saying.

It didn’t matter. His words and actions crashed together in her brain and sent her over the edge again. She cried out, and he pumped his hips only a few times before he spurted inside her, his cock pulsing as she clenched around him. He grunted, holding her close, one arm under hers and across her chest to her shoulder, his mouth against that sensitive spot of her neck. She shivered when he sucked, biting lightly and then laving it with his tongue. His cock was still lodged inside her, and she hoped he wouldn’t move. “I love you,” he said, shifting even closer still.

She kissed his bicep. “I love you, too.”

They lay together, breathing hard, until his heart rate and hers went back to normal.

A few minutes later, he pulled her closer, kissing her temple. “Let me see your hands.” Her heart thudded, but she held them up, and he unbuckled the cuffs. Not what she was expecting him to do—she thought he’d be locking them together, as he sometimes did—and she made a small noise, but he kissed her again. “I know you want to keep them on, but not tonight. We did a lot, and you’re going to sleep hard. I don’t want you hurting yourself with them.”

She sighed, hating how naked her wrists felt, but she snuggled back into him. He was right, again. She hated when that happened. “Yes, Master.”

He tucked his legs closer to hers, and she slid a foot between them, as she always did before she fell asleep. “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow, and if you’re up to it, we’ll do a little more.” He curled a hand around her breast and played with her nipple. “We’re here, we’re alone, and every room in this house is set up for kink and sex. I mean, this is Bondage & Breakfast. And we’re under a shelter-in-place order for at least the next two weeks, so trust me, love, I intend to take advantage of the time we have alone together.” He kissed her neck, then yawned loudly. “Now go to sleep, princess. Tomorrow is another day.”

She yawned in response, and settled into his embrace, closing her eyes. He was right about this, too. No one knew what the future would bring in this new world they were living in, but tomorrow would be another day—another day closer to being healthy and ready to get back out to work, to help where she could. No matter how much she wanted to be out helping right now, this was the place she needed to be. In the cocoon of her husband and Master’s arms, curled up like a spoon, safe and cared-for and loved.



A Forbidden Obsessions Quarantine
Copyright ©2020 by Jodie Griffin

Trick…or Treat?


Happy Halloween! I hope you enjoy this super short story.   Fair warning…it is totally and completely NSFW. Emphasis on NOT.



Olivia Watterson-McConnell opened the door and grinned down at the pint-sized Red Riding Hood standing on the front porch of Bondage & Breakfast, which to most people looked like a private home.  Her mother stood at the bottom of the steps with a dog wearing a large tag that read Big Bad Wolf.

The little red-haired girl looked up at her, her mouth wide open. “You’re a princess!”

Olivia’s husband Gabe—a sadistic dominant— slipped an arm around her waist and smiled gently down at the girl. “She is, isn’t she?”

The child bit her lip. “Are you a prince?”

“He is, and he’s my prince,” Olivia replied.  She crouched down and spoke in a half-whisper as she put a package of chocolate candies in the girl’s picnic-basket Halloween bag.  “He’s handsome, isn’t he?”

“He’s kind of old,” the little girl said. “But he’s okay, I guess.”

Olivia smothered a laugh as the little girl skipped down the stairs to her mother, then turned and said thank you.

Gabe closed the door and backed her up against it, his mouth at her neck.  “You think that’s funny, Princess?”

She shivered as his teeth grazed her skin. “I…uh….”

Gabe laughed, low and dark.  “That’s what I thought.  Before we get another munchkin at the door, it’s time for a quick trick or treat. I’ll let you choose which you’d like.”

Olivia hesitated. Her husband was diabolical, so she wasn’t sure a trick was really a trick and a treat was really a treat.  She decided to hedge her bets. “You choose, Master.”

He tsked. “My will is for you to decide. Quickly, my love.”

Oh, bollocks. “I choose treat, Master.”

He grinned. “Excellent.  Turn around, palms flat against the door.”

Though nerves made her shiver, she did as he ordered.

“Good girl.” He came close behind her, his body pressed against hers as he lifted her floor-length skirt. She didn’t have panties on, because he hadn’t allowed them. He bit her earlobe, then held something up in her line of vision. “Your princess plug, my Princess. A treat, because I know how much you love it.”

Gah. Not the little one he sometimes had her wear when they were out, but the big one with the jewel that matched her eyes and the color of her gown.  She shuddered as he pressed it against her flesh, then steadily slid it past the tight ring of muscle without letting her get used to it in small increments. He’d lubed it up but standing as she was, with her feet close together, it felt huge going in. And he was right, damn him. She hated it, but oh, she loved it.

The doorbell rang again, and he dropped her skirt.


Gabe wiped his hands with antiseptic wet wipes he’d set on the table in the foyer, then opened the door. This time, they had two visitors, Black Widow and Captain America.  They were holding hands with a man who looked like Nick Fury. The little boy sighed. “A princess. Why girls gotta be princesses?” His sister reached around him and punched him. “Mama says girls can be whatever they want to be, just like I want to be a super hero.” Her father cleared his throat, and she dropped her hand. “Sorry, Daddy.”

Shaking his head wryly, he put his hands on their backs, and the kids held out their buckets.  “Trick or treat!”

Gabe grinned and looked at Olivia, whose face was a lovely shade of pink. “What do you think, my princess? Trick or treat for our two guests?”

Her voice was husky and her usually faint British accent was more pronounced, which always happened when she was aroused. “Superheroes definitely deserve treats.”

“Agreed,” he said, and as he held their container of candy, she took four packages and put two in each child’s bag.

They said their thanks, their father grinned, and then they were gone.

Gabe closed the door.  “Now, love. Trick… or treat?”

She raised a brow at him. “Are we going to do this each time we have a visitor?”

“That’s up to me, now isn’t it?”

“Yes, Master.” She dipped her eyes. “This time, I choose trick.”

Satisfaction flowed through him at both her submission and her choice. “Mmm. I was hoping you would.”  He opened the drawer in the side table and lifted out a butterfly vibe, showing it to her.  “Hold onto my shoulders.”

With trepidation in her eyes, she did as he asked.  He tapped each ankle in turn and she lifted each foot. He wiggled the thing up, then strapped the toy in place.  He flicked the remote in his pocket, and as it buzzed he settled it where he wanted it.  He knew it was right where it would torment her the most when she whimpered.  His cock hardened.

He could see a flashlight halfway down the block, so he didn’t have much time.  He dropped her skirts again and rapidly brought her to the edge of orgasm twice, but he didn’t let her go over. She was trembling when he stopped, but by the time the doorbell rang again, she was in control. Mostly.

Olivia opened the door with a smile, to a plump little pumpkin and her parents—all three of them—who waited at the foot of the stairs.

Gabe knew this trio, had seen them several times in the restaurant attached to the inn in the special section known only to those in their particular community, though he hadn’t realized they had a child. He squatted down to the adorable girl. “Hey, pumpkin.”

She giggled. “That’s what mama and mommy and daddy call me.”

He smiled at that and, as he stood, he acknowledged the trio with a nod. They smiled back. They knew who he was, too.

“Here you go, baby,” Olivia said. She dropped three packages of candy into the girl’s bag. “Happy Halloween.”

As the little girl raced down the steps to her waiting parents, Gabe set Olivia’s vibe to the lowest setting and stifled a laugh when she made a small eep and glared at him. She closed the door quickly, and he backed her against the door again.

He swiped a finger down her nose. “Relax. They know what goes on here. Didn’t you recognize them? They’re the trio that made me think about giving you that threesome with Mistress Miranda for Valentine’s day.”

She flushed deep red but nipped at his finger, which made him laugh and made him hard. “Bad girl. Hands behind your head.”

She did, which pushed her breasts out toward him.  The gown she wore was actually a skirt with a real corset, and not a cheap costume one, so she hadn’t needed a bra.  He lifted one breast out until her nipple was bared to him, and then he sucked the tip into his mouth and bit. Not lightly, but enough to leave teeth marks in her soft skin, framing the nipple that stood up, hard and aroused.


She loved having that done as much as he loved doing it, the perfect masochist to his sadist.  He twisted the nipple and she wobbled, but he steadied her. He’d always steady her, this woman who owned his heart just as much as he owned hers.  Gently, he tucked her breast back inside the dress, and lifted the other out, giving it the same treatment.

The doorbell rang yet again, and he covered her up.


Bloody hell, he was killing her. To calm her racing heart, she sucked in a breath—which rubbed her sore nipples against the corset, a sensation that was both painful and pleasurable—and opened the door.  There was an entire group of elementary school aged kids and, as she counted, she laughed. “They’re not all yours, are they?” she asked the woman standing with them.

“Goodness, no. But they decided they wanted to do a group costume, so here we are. Snow White and the seven dwarves.”

“Excellent costumes,” she said as she dropped four bags of candies into each proffered basket.

Gabe hooked his arm over her shoulder and grinned as they all wandered back down the walkway singing Whistle While You Work.

He closed the door, turned to her. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing,” he said softly. “We’re almost out of candy.”

That was her plan, because holy guacamole, he was making it hard to focus on the kids.  “I’m sorry, Master?”

He flicked the butterfly vibe on low. “I’m not. How much longer do we do this?”

Though it was hard to focus with the plug in her ass and the vibe against her clit, she glanced at the clock in the hallway. “Another half hour, or we turn the light out when we’re out of candy.”

The doorbell rang again, and Gabe swore under his breath and turned the vibe off. It eased some of her sexual tension, as did the fact that he looked like he was just about done handing out candy. She opened the door to a girl dressed just like her, sitting in a wheelchair.

“Princess!” the little girl said. Her brown skin glowed with some kind of shimmery makeup, but the sparkle in her eyes rivaled that. “We’re both princesses.”

Wryly grateful that her submissive training had prepared her to kneel while wearing a butt plug, Olivia got on the girl’s level. “You’re quite the beautiful princess. Have you found your prince charming?”

The little girl wrinkled her nose. “Boys are icky. Can I find a Princess Charming instead?”

The girl’s mother laughed, and Olivia smiled. “That works too.”

The girl looked solemnly at Gabe. “Is he your Prince Charming?”

She stood, took Gabe’s hand and leaned against him. “He certainly is.”

“He’s not too icky.”

Her mother looked aghast, but Olivia just laughed. “That’s exactly what I think, too.”  She put five pieces of candy into the girl’s bucket, and wished her a happy Halloween.

Once the door was closed, Gabe growled, tossed the nearly empty basket of candy on the table, and turned off the porch light, locking the door.  With his hand collaring the side of her neck, he guided her into his study, then pointed to the floor in front of his desk. “Not too icky?”

“Well, you do get pretty icky when you’re working in the garden,” she said as she knelt, tossing him a cheeky grin.  “But you’re still my Prince Charming.”

He wound his fingers through her hair and tightened them. “I’m your Prince? Then lick my crown,” he ordered, unzipping his trousers.

She laughed, but the sound died in her throat as he fucked into her mouth, deeply.  And when he thumbed on the vibe, the moan that came from her was embarrassing.

“That’s right,” he said, laughing darkly. “No coming until I say you can come.”

She closed her eyes and gave in to the sensation of being so thoroughly used. It was freeing, and glorious, and she loved it. She felt him move, but didn’t realize what he’d done until her skirt hit the floor around her knees and she felt air on her naked ass. She smiled around the cock in her mouth, then gasped when he hit her with a crop she hadn’t seen, and therefore hadn’t expected. He struck her several times in rapid succession, setting her ass on fire and inflaming her desire. When she groaned, he drove his cock into her throat, gagging her.

Desperate arousal flooded her and she whimpered as he withdrew, letting her breathe.  “Master, please. Please may I come?”

“Hmmm, not yet.”  He fucked into her mouth a few more strokes, then drew her to her feet and bent her over his desk.  He held her down easily, and she didn’t struggle. Oh, she wanted this, so very much. He played against her skin for a few moments, teasing her with painful pinches and sadistic slaps which kept her aroused but gave her a moment to back away from the precipice so she could follow his order not to come.

And then he let loose, thrusting into her in a single long glide that nearly sent her right over the edge. As he stroked in, he pulled the butt plug out, alternating which he was doing until she was being fucked in both places.  She was breathing hard and sweating.

He was breathing hard, too, obviously on edge himself.  He leaned over her, pressing himself against her, putting his hand on the desk in front of her face as he thumbed the vibrator to max. “Come for me, Princess,” he ordered, and with those demanding words, he spurted into her in long, hot streams, setting off her own orgasm.

She tumbled into oblivion, his weight heavy against her, making her feel safe and secure and loved. He stirred, then bit her neck, right on his favorite spot. As he slipped out of her, spent, he scooped her up and carried her over to his chair, and together they snuggled in it until their breathing returned to mostly normal.

“You okay?” he asked softly, stroking her skin.

“I am, Master.” She burrowed close, felt his cock stir once again and knew their night wasn’t over yet. “So, was that a trick or a treat?”

He kissed her, and grinned his bad-boy grin.  “Yes.”


Trick … or Treat? Copyright ©2016 by Jodie Griffin

A Forbidden Obsessions Valentine

Happy Valentine’s Day, readers! A few years ago, I participated in a blog hop that was the brainchild of Tamsen Parker and Rebecca Grace Allen.  The #ValentinesRewind was set up as a chance to spend more time with characters you’d already met.

For my Rewind, I decided to give Gabe and Olivia (from Forbidden Obsessions) a fantasy scene.  I hope you enjoy Gabe’s special surprise. Fair warning…it is totally and completely NSFW. Emphasis on NOT.


A Forbidden Obsessions Valentine


The dress shop owner hung Gabe’s selections for Olivia on the hooks and stepped back outside the dressing room with a small grin on her face.  He grinned back, then followed his woman into the lushly-appointed space, closing the door behind him with a soft snick.  As he turned to her, he hid a smile at her slightly panicked look.

“Gabe! What are you doing? You have to wait outside.”

He gave her the face she called, in her brattier moments, his Dom of the Castle look.  Single raised brow, mocking smile. Then he strode forward, tugging the cuffs of his dress shirt from under his suit coat.

She obviously recognized the look and got his meaning, because she flushed and stepped backward. “Sir, here?”

A perfectly trained sub she was not, but she’d come a long way in the time they’d been together.  He continued forward, crowding her space. “Yes, here. Take the dress off, Olivia.’

She started to step back again but checked the motion, which pleased him inordinately.  “I can do this myself, Master.”

“Oh, I know you can, princess.  I’m just here to… help.”  He skimmed a knuckle down her cheek, then pinched her chin lightly. “And you know what it does to me when you call me Master.”

She flushed a becoming pink, but a hiss escaped from between her teeth. “What if she comes back and finds you in here…helping?”

By she, Olivia meant the shop owner, and she definitely would because she was in on this whole scene he’d planned.  Miranda was a friend and a bisexual Domme, though for whatever reason she and Olivia hadn’t yet crossed paths. This scene was both an early Valentine’s gift to Olivia and an object lesson in trusting him to keep her safe, no matter where or when he chose to exercise his will.

He leaned closed and stage-whispered in his fiancée’s ear. “And what if she does?”

He could practically see the wheels spinning her head.  She did trust him, fully and completely—with scenes inside known play spaces like Bondage and Breakfast, the kink club they’d gone to when they’d vacationed at the beach, and like-minded friends’ homes.  But she wasn’t comfortable with public play.  She hadn’t made it a limit—hard, or soft— which told him she wanted it but couldn’t make the final leap of faith that she wouldn’t be exposed.  He understood that, had seen her frustration with herself over it, and he’d been thinking over the best way to help her through that fear.  This was what he’d come up with.

Olivia bit her lip and then lowered her voice. “But Master, the rope.”

He’d tied her in a corset before leaving the house, not so tight she’d lose circulation, but tight enough she’d wear his marks for longer than five minutes. The weight of her submission lay heavy on his shoulders as he studied her carefully.  Her face was still flushed, not white with fear. Color sat high on her cheekbones and dusted across her chest.  She was anxious, but not scared. Truth be told, her slight case of nerves turned him on, sadist that he was.  If he saw true fear, he’d pull the plug on the whole damn scene, but this? This was delicious. “The green is the perfect foil for your skin, really.” He sharpened his voice and crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying himself immensely. “I’d like to see it now.”

He could practically see red sitting on the tip of her tongue as she searched his face for …something.  He rarely needed to remind her she had a safe word anymore, because she did trust him and she’d learned he wouldn’t be mad at her if she used it. Disappointed, maybe, because he was only human. But never angry, because their dynamic was based on full consent. If she was truly unhappy, so was he, and he’d made damn sure she knew that down to her very soul.   He loved what kink brought to their lives, but he loved her more.

After a long moment, she let out a shuddery breath and began unbuttoning her dress with trembling hands. “Yes, Master.”

Satisfaction flowed through him. A small concession but a huge victory in that she hadn’t looked around to see if anyone could possibly see them, hadn’t investigated the mirrors or looked for cameras.  She’d looked only to him as she’d decided whether or not to follow his orders.

As though he were her anchor in a roiling sea.

For a dominant, it didn’t get any better than that.

She was well aware he was a neat-freak and she did as was required at home, folding her dress and setting it on one of the chairs.  She turned back and locked eyes with him, then lowered her gaze and bowed her head, sinking gracefully to her knees, her thighs spread and her palms face up on them.

Christ, she knew exactly how to slay him, and his voice went thick as he praised her. “Beautifully done, love.”

He walked around her twice, slowly and deliberately, stopping just beside her.  She wore nothing but the rope, her princess plug and some panties, and those only because she’d told him in that oh-so-crisp British accent of hers that she’d not try on clothes in a shop without her knickers because that was disgusting, thank you very much. He’d laughed and allowed her a pair of bikini undies, but he’d made her use a plug and a crotch rope to keep her focused on her submission. He’d tied her so kneeling would put some additional tension on the knot and, as he’d hoped, it sat right over her clit.


There was a soft knock on the door.  Olivia didn’t know it, but Miranda had closed the shop for the afternoon, so no one else was in the store but the three of them.

“Come in,” he replied. Though he and Olivia had picked out a few everyday vanilla dresses together, he’d also called ahead and asked Miranda to suggest some of her kinkier stock for Olivia.

As the door opened, Olivia started to rise, but then she sucked in a breath and sat back down on her heels—which tightened the crotch rope again, causing her to hiss and him to grin—then she exhaled on a shuddery breath. Goose bumps rose over her flesh invitingly.

Miranda quirked a grin at him over Olivia’s lowered head, then schooled her face into a bland expression.  “I brought the other things you wanted to see, Mr. McConnell. Some of them are hard to fasten. I’d be happy to assist you, in any way you’d like.”

“Thank you. We’d appreciate that.” He reached down, gathered Olivia’s long hair into his fist, and then tugged her head back gently.  “On your feet, princess.”

She rose as gracefully as she’d gone to her knees, but with her standing, he could see the color across her cheeks and her chest had deepened to a dull red.

The sadist in him thrilled to that. He let the power flow through him, growling into her ear. “Good girl.”


Liv tried not to freak out, but it was hard. Some stranger who didn’t understand anything about their lifestyle was standing here, watching and probably judging her as she followed Master’s orders. God, she hated feeling this expos—

He stepped behind her, still holding her hair in his fist, and set his teeth at the dip in her shoulder. She shuddered at the first touch, her mind going sideways. Then when he bit down, all rational thoughts fled from her head, and she couldn’t hold back her groan—or the rush of heat between her thighs.

He laughed darkly and slid a finger under the rope, tugging on the strand between her cheeks, pulling it and letting it loose. The knot rubbed against her clit and the rest of the rope pushed against her plug. A desperate sound escaped her.

“Who decides, love?” He continued to rock the rope, tormenting her as he questioned her, his breath hot against her skin. She didn’t know if she wanted more or if she wanted him to stop, but it didn’t matter what she wanted. She knew that, and it only made her burn hotter.  He tugged her head back against his shoulder.  “Who’s in charge?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he twisted the rope between her legs tighter, which sent her up on her tippy-toes with a gasp. “You, Master. You are.”

A soft, feminine chuckle had her heart stuttering. And when Master let out another dark laugh, a shudder started in her legs and worked its way up. God. God, how could she have forgotten they had an audience? How could she let herself—

He let go of her hair, his hand sliding around to cover her throat lightly, his thumb caressing her neck as he held her in place against his body.  Her mind dropped back into that lovely calm space, as it always did when he exerted his dominance. Then he slipped his other hand free from the crotch rope, sliding it between her back and his front to undo the knot at the base of the corset.  The soft yet scratchy rope played against her skin as he tugged it free of its hold.  She shuddered, her body melting against her Master, yielding to his control.

“Like that, do you?” His words were softly mocking but she knew he wanted an honest answer.  He always wanted an honest answer.

“Oh, yes, Master.” She tried to turn her head into his chest, to look up at him so he could see the truth of it. He allowed it, and she rubbed her cheek against his suit coat, inhaling the scent of him, as though she were marking him like a cat. “Please?”

She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but locked gaze to gaze with him, she saw the corner of his eyes crinkle. He let the crotch rope drop and the next thing she knew, his hand was inside the front of her knickers, his fingers teasing her entrance.

Oh, yes, this. She wanted this.  “Master, please.”

Still holding her against him, he knocked her leg wider and then buried his fingers deep inside her, rubbing one knuckle against her most sensitive spot. As attuned to her as he was, it never took him long to find it—or to get her to the point where she was clinging to the edge of orgasm with everything she had.

But she wasn’t allowed to come without permission, so she fought it, twisting in his grip, straining her muscles with the almost-impossible task.

“That’s right, princess. No coming unless I say you can. Hold it.”

A whimper escaped her, and his knowing laugh made her want to hit him. She knew what would happen if she made that wrong choice, and no thank you. So instead she begged him. “Please, Master. Please let me come.”

“Not yet.”

Of course not. He never let her come right away. Sometimes, she wished that—

As though he had a direct line to her thoughts, he flexed his fingers against her neck, tightening them ever so slightly so she knew, knew she was completely under his control, and then he bit her shoulder again, this time harder. She cried out, and he withdrew his fingers from her warmth. She made another noise, this time of protest, and he slammed his fingers back in, fucking her faster with them. The need grew, and grew, and grew until —

Now,” he growled.

Her body went rigid as her orgasm flashed over, then she collapsed against him, sated.


Gabe knew how Olivia thought — one and done— but he knew better. Hell, she should know better by now. One was barely a warm-up, and she was quite capable of going the distance.  He didn’t stop tormenting her, instead switched hands, sliding the fingers that had been inside her into her mouth. “Suck me, baby.”  Then he slid his free hand in between their bodies and started playing with the anal plug.

She ran her talented tongue around his fingers and between them, licking them and sucking as though she’d never get another chance. He wished he could be in two places at once, because his dick wanted some of that action.  Instead, he refocused his own needs and bit her again, tugging at her skin.

She’d have both teeth marks and a bruise later, and that thought sent satisfaction rushing through him.

It didn’t take long before her arousal caught fire again. He kept teasing her, whispering all the dirty things he’d like to do to her as he fucked her ass with the anal plug and her mouth with his fingers.  She twisted against him, almost as if she hadn’t just had an explosive orgasm, but he knew it would take more than he alone could give her in this position to make her come again.

That’s where Miranda came in.

On one of their very first dinners at Bondage and Breakfast, Olivia had witnessed a threesome with two women and a man.  He’d asked her if the thought of three turned her on, but she’d given a vague answer. He remembered, though, how fascinated Olivia had been by the two women together.  That thought had tormented him for months.

He hated the thought of another man touching Olivia, but a woman, in a limited scene? Tempting. A few weeks ago, while they lay in bed after finishing off a bottle of good wine, they’d talked about fantasies, and he’d brought that scene up. When she’d admitted she kept thinking about it and wondered what it’d be like to be that woman in the middle, he was sunk.

He turned Olivia’s face toward his and kissed her deeply, tasting her essence on her lips and tongue. “You with me, love?”

She made a noise in the affirmative, and when she spoke, her voice was rough with passion. “Please, Master. I need—”

“I know what you need.”  He nuzzled her cheek, then caught Miranda’s eye and gave a small nod.

“I’m available to assist you in any way, Mr. McConnell.”

“Thank you, Miranda. Please take off Olivia’s panties. They’re in the way.”

Olivia tensed in his arms and her breath hitched. “Mas—”

Things could come to a crashing halt right now, or his woman would roll with her fantasy come to life. He was betting on the latter, but prepared for the former. He pinched her chin, locked eyes with her. “Who makes the decisions?”

She started to tremble but dipped her eyes in acknowledgement. “Y-you do, Master.”

“That’s right, princess. I do. And I say Miranda is going to take off your panties.” Considering this was new territory for both of them, he added a reminder, as much to himself as to her. “Use your safe word if you need to, understood?” When she nodded, he gave the go ahead.  “Please continue, Miranda.”

“My pleasure.”  Miranda crouched in front of Olivia and skimmed her hands lightly up Olivia’s calves and then thighs. “Mmm. She’s lovely.”  She hooked her fingers into the sides of Olivia’s panties and drew them down until they lay on the floor around her ankles. “And she’s very, very wet. Her panties are drenched, and I can smell her arousal.”

Olivia let out a small dismayed sound, which only amped up Gabe’s desire to gain her full submission. He lightly smacked her thigh. “Step out of those.”

When she did, he carefully undid the rope corset as Miranda watched. As expected, Olivia closed her eyes and drifted back into ropespace, and again he nodded at Miranda. Together, they stroked Olivia’s skin, and when her body swayed, he lifted her and moved to the chaise with her in his lap, all soft and pliant.

“Lucky guy,” Miranda said softly, pulling a small foot stool close as they’d planned.

“That I am,” he replied. When Olivia started to stir, he slouched on the bottom end of the chaise, then shifted her so she straddled his lap, her head on his shoulder, her nose buried against his neck. This would be the perfect view to watch Miranda play with Olivia’s body, to see his lover come awake under the Domme’s touch.  But first, she needed to be a bit more aware. He laid one arm across Olivia’s chest and started playing with her nipples, then tucked the other under her thigh to wiggle the plug in her ass.

She blinked her eyes open and made the most kitten-like noise he’d ever heard from her.  With a grin, he spread his knees so her legs opened wider, baring her completely to Miranda’s view.

Once again, he shared a look with Miranda and the Domme leaned forward and went to work, biting a path up the inside of Olivia’s thigh.

Olivia was still a bit out of it and though she sighed contentedly, she started lifting her hips for more. If there was one thing that set Olivia off, it was biting. He didn’t mind, as it was one of his favorite things to do to her, and he’d shared that with Miranda.

When he tweaked her nipple and jiggled the butt plug, realization washed over Olivia’s face.  She was smart, his woman. If his hands are there and there, and his mouth is right there, then who… Her eyes flew open, and her mouth widened into a wide O. He lifted his hand from her breast long enough to turn her face to his, holding it there.  “She’s going to bite you, and lick you, and fuck you with her mouth and her hand. But you will not come, understand? You’re going to hold it, like the good girl you are, and then you’re going to ask permission.”

She made a desperate noise, and he released her gaze to look down the length of her torso. He fought a grin. Miranda hadn’t paused a beat during his explanation, and right now her fingers were buried deep inside Olivia’s body, and her tongue was lashing at Olivia’s clit.

“I…yes, Master.” Her voice went up an octave as Miranda did something to her, amusing him.

“I’m so glad we understand each other.”  He kissed her nose, nipped her chin, and went right back to twisting her nipples and pinching her skin with one hand, and torturing her with the anal plug with the other.

“Edge, Master,” Olivia panted.  “Oh, God. Please let me come.”

He tsked. “You know better than that.  We’re just beginning.”

He eased off, giving her a few moments to compose herself.  They brought her to the edge several more times, pausing in between the rounds of orchestrated torture so she didn’t go over.  At this point, though, she wasn’t the only one being tortured.  His dick ached so much, it felt like those first few weeks before he’d taken Olivia like he’d wanted to. And Miranda’s color was high, as well, so it was a good thing they had a plan.

Then the shop doorbell rang.


God, God, God, God. Liv’s head was fuzzy and her body screamed for release, but the doorbell was a splash of cold water. She tensed, and she heard Gabe’s growled curse.

“Give me two minutes,” Miranda muttered.  “It’s probably the delivery that should’ve been here an hour ago. I’ll be right back.” She left the room and closed the door tightly behind her.

Gabe drew her legs together and turned her so she was on her knees between his splayed legs. He was sprawled on the chaise, his coat off, his tie loosened and his hair mussed, his feet on the floor. In that position, the bulge under the placket of his zipper was unmistakable. His color was high, and his grey eyes glittered with barely-restrained lust.  “Don’t worry about whoever’s out there. Unzip my trousers. I want your mouth on me, now.”

His roughly uttered demand spurred her submission, and she freed him with shaky hands.  He’d gone commando under his trousers, and his cock lay thick and heavy against his stomach. She rubbed her face against him, then opened her mouth, looking up at him, waiting the way he liked her to wait.

“Christ, you’re trying to kill me.” Leaning up on an elbow, he grabbed her hair and fucked into her mouth, shallowly at first.  “Lick me like you licked my fingers earlier.”

She did. Oh, God, she did, sucking him into her mouth and halfway down her throat. The tighter he held her head where he wanted it, the wetter she got. And when she heard the door behind her open, she didn’t give a single damn who it was.

Let them watch.

There was a whisper of air as someone reached around her and squeezed her breast.  Miranda? Liv’s eyes dipped down. A feminine hand, and as she felt breasts brush against her back, another rush of heat flooded her.

She could not believe Master had orchestrated this, but all thoughts fled as he shifted his grip and pulled her head closer, fucking into her throat. He held her there for a quick moment, and then released her so she could breathe. He did it again, this time going deeper, holding her a little longer. She gagged around him and her core clenched, hard.

He laughed, that dark laugh she loved so much, the one that said he knew exactly, exactly what that did to her—and that he planned to do it again.

He did, only this time, she felt a hand between her legs, parting her.  When he fucked into her mouth, Miranda’s hand fucked into her pussy. She groaned and then she gagged and then—

“Jesus, she likes it when you gag her with your cock. She flooded my hand and squeezed the shit out of my fingers.”

He pulled back, stroking his thumb over the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. He smiled at her, a sweet smile at odds with the depraved things he was doing to her, but he always tempered his sadistic acts with loving gestures and words. “Mmm, yes. She likes being used every bit as much as I like using her. She’s a dirty, dirty girl, and she’s perfect.”

Embarrassed but pleased heat flashed over her, and she leaned her head forward, hiding her face behind her hair.

He laughed, then, and pulled her up the length of his body until she lay against his chest. He kissed her mouth, hard and sweet, and squeezed her ass tight with both hands before lowering her onto his cock.

With the plug in her ass, and aroused and swollen as she was, being filled by him was exhilaratingly painful. She dropped her head back, closing her eyes and breathing through it, then was startled when she felt a whisper of silk against her legs.  She looked over her shoulder and, in the mirror, saw Miranda behind her, also straddling Master’s thighs.  Her skirt was rucked up, and she wore a belt of some kind around her hips.  That was the only glance she got, because Miranda squeezed Olivia’s nipples, pulling them tightly. A shocked squeal escaped and she leaned forward, trying to shift away from the pain, but Miranda only laughed and came forward with her, still holding her nipples.

She was trapped between Master at her front, and Miranda at her back.

Master bit her lower lip and gripped her hips, his eyes glittering again. “Hold on to the back of the chaise, and do not let go. If you let go, everything stops.” He bucked his hips and fucked her hard, once, twice, three times. “Including this. Understood?”

She answered on a sob. “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl.  Here we go.”

She might be on top, but he was completely in control. He fucked her, slow at first, then harder, teasing her, drawing it out. And then Miranda began to move against her, pushing against her when Master pulled back.  That didn’t really do anything for her, but if Master wanted—

She screamed as the plump, buzzing head of a vibrator landed between her ass cheeks and against the stainless steel princess plug there.

The vibrations. Oh, God, the vibrations. Every time Miranda pushed against her, it made the vibrations stronger. Then she’d back off, and Master would fuck into her again. Back and forth, taking turns until her entire body was coiled on the edge of something immense, something she wasn’t sure she could hold back, even on the threat of punishment.  “Please. Please. Please.

Master growled his answer, the cords on his neck standing out. “Not until I come, and not until Miranda comes. Then you may come.”

Her whole body was alive with feeling, riding right on the edge of orgasm, but she couldn’t do anything to make them move faster or come faster. Master held her hips and Miranda held her breasts, and all she could do was take it. Her entire focus was on not coming, not without permission.

Christ.” Master groaned, holding her tight against him as he came inside her in long, warm, spurts. His chest heaved, and he pulled her close, locking his mouth onto hers.

Miranda came next, her muscles going tight against Liv’s body as she breathed in short bursts, her body heavy against Liv’s back.  The added weight sent stronger vibrations through the butt plug, and finally, finally, Master spoke.

“Come for me, princess. Now.”

She shattered into a million pieces, her entire body going limp and boneless. She thought she was done, surely she was done, but Master turned her slightly, and then Miranda set the giant vibrator against her clit. She came again, three more times before they showed mercy on her and shut it off.

She floated in a haze of satisfaction, words billowing around her, but she made no sense of them.  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, but eventually her surroundings started to filter back in. Master’s wrinkled shirt beneath her cheek. His hand, rubbing up and down the naked skin of her back—but not on her scars. He knew better, and he was always so careful with her, even when he was being sadistic. Especially when he was being sadistic. Contentment filled her, and she tucked her head under his chin, unwilling to move yet.

He laughed lightly and sat up, pulling her with him, lifting her chin to examine her face. He kissed her nose. “I see you’re back with me, princess. You doing okay?” He opened a bottle of water and held it up to her lips.  “Drink some of this.”

She took a sip, then several long gulps of water. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure, love.” He fed her a piece of chocolate, too, and as the sugar hit her system, she became more aware.

There was a blanket around her, so she was naked, but covered. But a blanket, here in a dress shop? She blinked, then frowned at him.

He laughed, rubbing his thumb over the furrow in her brow. “Confused?”

She scowled. “Yes, Master.”

There was a soft knock at the door.  “Come in,” he said.

It was Miranda, and she was carrying a small plate of bite sized sandwiches. Liv felt herself flush. This woman had…God.

Miranda laughed softly and set the plate down. “I think maybe introductions are in order.”

Gabe grinned. “I think you’re right. Princess, meet Mistress Miranda. She’s the owner of this shop, and co-owner of a dungeon in Maryland. Miranda, my lovely submissive and my soon-to-be wife, Olivia.”

Miranda glanced at Gabe, and when he nodded, she came close and tucked her hand under Liv’s chin. To her utter shock, Miranda kissed her on the mouth, much as Master did, then ran her knuckles down Liv’s cheek. “Thank you for including me, Gabe. It was an incredible afternoon.”

Liv’s head spun, partly from the woman’s kiss, and partly from the confusion.  “Master? I don’t understand.”

He tugged a lock of her hair. “It was your fantasy, and I didn’t know what to get you for Valentine’s Day. So I got you this.”

It took her a moment, and then—“You set this all up?”

He grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

She blinked. “I thought we were here to try on clothes.”

Miranda’s voice came from behind them, a dry humor in her words. “I sure hope you are. I closed the shop this afternoon at your Master’s request to ensure privacy, and he promised he’d make up for any losses by buying you a bunch of new things.”

Her world tipped sideways as she stared at the man she loved more than anyone in the world. “You made sure no one would see us. I was afraid—”

All amusement dropped from his face as he resettled her so they could sit eye to eye. He cupped her cheek. “I promised you I’d never put you in a position where you might be exposed. I wanted to show you we can play in public without real fear of being found out. There’s always a chance—like an unexpected delivery at the door—but I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening. I know you were worried. I could see it in your face, and I’m so proud of you for working through the fear. You please me, princess. In every way.”

Instead of making her feel better, his words made her feel worse. She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“For what, baby?”

She blinked back tears. “For not believing you.”

He kissed her again, then smiled gently. “If you didn’t believe I’d keep you safe, you’d have called red.  I know you know you can always safe out. I gave you the opportunity more than once today.  And you chose not to.  Sweetheart, it’s not me you didn’t trust. It was your own fear holding you back. You wanted this, and I know that. I just made it happen.”

She sniffed again. “I love you, Master.”

“I know.” His eyes twinkled, and then he let her off the hook. “I love you, too.”

There was a soft snick as the door closed. Miranda had left them alone, and there was a whole rack of clothes she hadn’t tried on yet.  She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around her, then hopped off Gabe’s lap and padded over to them, flipping through things she knew she hadn’t picked out. She turned back to him.  “What are these?”

He grinned at her. “Some things Miranda thought I’d like to see on you.”

She held one up, looked at what couldn’t be more than two inches of fabric, then raised a brow. “I’m not quite sure this is my size.”

He held out his hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll see. Come eat something.”

She felt a tiny pang of disappointment, but went back to him and knelt on the floor at his feet. He fed her a sandwich, and she leaned against his leg, looking up at him.  Amusement played over his features, and warning bells went off.  “What’s that look for?”

He leaned forward, whispered in her ear. “We’re not nearly done yet, you and I …and Mistress Miranda. You’d best eat up, love.”

Almost impossibly, her core clenched as she flashed hot all over. More? Good lord. “I…yes, Master.”

“That’s my good girl.”

 The end….for now!


If you made it all the way through, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this visit with Gabe and Olivia and Mistress Miranda (who will, eventually, have her own story.) 



Question: What do you write?

Carina_1113_9781426897450_MatzohMistletoeI’ve been asked a lot recently to describe what it is that I write, and I thought I’d share some of my thoughts with you on how I see it.

I write BDSM erotic romance.  This means that my stories revolve around the sexual journey of my characters, in most cases learning about themselves as Doms and submissives (and in one book, as switches).  If you remove the sex from my stories, the books wouldn’t exist.  It’s essential to the plot.

About the BDSM. BDSM stands for Bondage & Discipline, Domination & Submission, Sadism & Masochism.  The idea of BDSM squicks some people out. I know that. I get it, and if your first reaction is “Ewwwwwwww,” then these stories probably aren’t for you. That’s okay. I know not everyone likes the same things.

If you’re still reading along, BDSM is a regular part of many, many people’s lives.  Kinky people are everywhere – they could easily be your next door neighbor, your child’s school teacher, the quiet librarian, the paramedic who took such good care of your grandmother when she fell, and you’d never know it.   These are the people I’ve been writing about. Not kings, not multi-millionaires with more money than God, just your average people.

Also, in my stories, what you get is what most people consider light BDSM.  And, to be totally honest, I know some people don’t think it’s BDSM at all, because the play is fairly easy play. Y’know what? I don’t care if they think that, or not — it is.  Just because my characters don’t get whipped to the point they bleed doesn’t mean it’s not kinky.  There’s a saying out there, YKINMK. It means “Your Kink Is Not My Kink” and it’s often followed by “but your kink is okay, too.”  Mostly, I tell stories of domination and submission, with a teaspoon of the rest of the BDSM acronym soup mixed in to add a little extra spice.   In my books, there’s nothing too heavy— some spanking, some flogging, some rope, some restraints, a few other kinky things.

Forbidden Obsessions

Still reading along?  Okay.  Here is THE most important thing…EVERY SINGLE THING is consensual. Hard limits (a do-not-pass-go line in the sand, if you’re not familiar with the term) do not get ignored.  Doms and submissives both have safe words (Red = “stop RIGHT NOW”). Even Gabe, the most domly of my Doms, uses his safe word in Forbidden Obsessions when he realizes he’s not enough in control of his own behavior to protect his sub, Olivia.  And in my holiday novella Matzoh and Mistletoe (out in November), Jeremy gives Becca his own hard limit list, and says “if these are things you want to do, I’m not your guy.”  Consensual isn’t just the woman — or, rather, the sub, who could be male— giving in. It’s an agreement between both people.

So, yes, there is a lot of sex in my stories.  A whole lot. But I hope that along with hot sex scenes, my readers see the growth of love between the characters.  Everything that happens in these books happens within that loving relationship, and is fully consensual. I write romances, stories with a happily ever after — you know at the end, they’ll be together forever.

I hope that answers the question of “what do you write?” and maybe addresses some questions you have about BDSM.  Now it’s my turn to ask questions. If you read BDSM erotic romance, what draws you to it? If you don’t, what keeps you from reading it? 

Leave a response and I’ll enter you for a chance to win any one of my Bondage & Breakfast books (ePub or PDF) – your choice of which book.  I’ll draw one name from all the entries. Contest is open until Wednesday, September 25th, at 8pm ET.


A Taste of Forbidden Obsessions


In just three months, those of you who’ve told me you wanted Gabe’s story will get your shot. In the meantime, though, I thought I’d dole out pieces of Chapter One, a little at a time.

What, you wanted it all at once?  *Jodie channels Gabe’s inner sadist*  Sorry. You’ll have to deal with the long tease. Because, you know, the longer it gets drawn out, the better it is when it gets here…..



Chapter One


Gabe checked the clock again and frowned. He’d expected Olivia Watterson nearly an hour ago and he was starting to get concerned. What the hell had he been thinking, agreeing to allow a woman a week and a half out of the hospital to stay with him here, at his currently under-renovation bed and breakfast?

The security system beeped and he glanced over at the monitor. A small SUV was just coming up the driveway. He headed outside, wanting to be there to meet his new…what? Guest? Housemate?

He leaned against the porch railing and waited, taking a few seconds to put on his genial host face. Not that it was an act, because he genuinely enjoyed meeting new people and hosting them at his inn, but this was different. Olivia’s story had made the news, and he’d been shaken by it. As a former firefighter, he still had a lot of friends on the line, and the accident that had injured her could’ve happened to any of them. He’d agreed to this as a favor for a mutual friend, and in spite of some reservations he still had, he wanted her to feel welcome here.

She turned off her car. He didn’t think she’d seen him, because she sat for a minute, her head tipped back against the seat, her eyes closed as if she were praying. When a minute turned into two and then into three he grew worried, but as he pushed himself away from the railing, she got out of her car, looking around with interested eyes.

He came down the steps and offered his hand with a practiced smile. “Olivia?”

She smiled back tentatively and placed her smaller hand in his. “You must be Gabe.”