Welcome To Michelle's Blog

If you are offended by spanking and explicit sexual situations, please go elsewhere. 18 and over, only please. If you're a fan of romantic spanking fiction, then this is the blog for you. I mainly write m/f spanking fiction involving loving couples. My men are all Alpha, my women are smart, sassy and very bad girls who learn that their errant ways can lead to some painful consequences. My work appears on the website Discipline and Desire. I also write fun erotica involving threesomes (also with lots of spanking!) and other spanky sexual adventures. If you want to buy my books, check out my website, www.michellecarlyle.com or go to disciplineanddesire.com.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Dangerous Behavior, Part Four

Hey Out There In Cyberspace!

Gotta cut this short. My cousin is having surgery and coming to recuperate at my place and will be here shortly. She’s single and I finally convinced her that being on drugs alone with two cats and not being able to get around is a baaaad idea. Since my office is the guest room, I’ve got to get it cleaned up for her.

Anyway, I hope you’re having a great week. Wrote some steamy spanky stuff this week, which you won’t see for awhile, BUT you will see it, eventually. Sooner if you join Discipline and Desire. Which I highly recommend anyway. You get full stories and lots of them every week.

Have a great weekend, my friends!


After her twentieth plan of revenge, she realized she was kissing him back. A second after that, she got sucked whole into a giant vortex of lust. His scent was intoxicating, what he was doing with his tongue was sinful. She melted against the wall, her knees wobbly, her sex wet with want. She twirled her tongue with his strong one; the man was the clear leader in their duel. He tasted so good, he was so strong, so masculine, such a turn-on. This guy was all man.

He ended the kiss, pulled back and examined her with a half smile. “You stay off the case and stay safe.”

All at once, her senses charged back. She lifted her arm to slap him, he caught it, his handsome features hardening. “All that will earn you is another trip over my knee.”

“You can’t do this to me!”

“I just did, cupcake.”

“I’m not a cupcake!”

He laughed. He actually laughed. He had a wonderful deep rumbling laugh that resonated through his barrel-shaped chest. “Oh, yes you are. And quite a tasty one at that. The only way I want to come back here is to take you to dinner later on this week. Don’t make me come back because you disobeyed me.”

“I will not go to dinner with you!”

He grinned at her. “I believe you’ll change your mind.” With that, he turned and sauntered towards the door. He opened it, winked at her and left. Leaving her standing there, sputtering with anger, lust and confusion.

Who was this guy??? And how dare he! So sure of himself. As if she’d ever date someone as thick-headed as him. Ha! Double ha! Triple ha!

She stormed into her kitchen for a beer to cleanse herself of his taste. She opened it and downed half of it in one shot. She set the beer down on the counter, hard. She tried to turn her attentions back to her case. But all she could think about was that kiss and the way his strong arms felt when they were around her.

Her cell phone rang in her pocket, startling her out of her reverie. She reached for it, disappointed when she saw it was her source, Lyle. Shook, she realized she’d hoped it was Montgomery. Damn her freakin’ hormones!

“Yeah, Lyle?”

“A grand,” he said in his smoker’s rasp. He always sounded like he was on death’s door, even though he was remarkably healthy looking and pink-cheeked in person. Skanky, skeevy, shifty, greasy, but very alive.

“What… a grand. You want a grand?”


“Oh, for God’s sake, you know I don’t have—“

“I got solid evidence linking our buddy to your friends.”

“Solid, what, solid?”

“An insurance tape my friend made. The one who visited your friends?”

The enormity of his words slammed her like an avalanche. “Are you kidding me?”

“A grand, one hour, usual place.”

Holy moly! Beverly jammed the phone in her pocket, racing through the house to her bedroom to change. She had a secret stash just for emergencies. Three grand stashed behind a light switch plate.

An hour later, she sat in her car, tapping her foot and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, coiled like a spring. This could be a big break. The big break.

Montgomery’s words echoed in her mind. Don’t make me come back because you disobeyed me.

Ha! The big dumb jerk. Thought he was so smart. She knew they’d tailed her again and she’d lost them again. Idiots. When would they learn? She was no dummy.

A fire engine red Corvette pulled up next to her. She wondered why Lyle drew so much attention to himself when he was always trying to be so sneaky.

The tall, dreadlocked wannabee gangster strutted over and got in her car. The guy pretended to be someone of color, but she’d known him a long time and remembered when he was just a red-haired pimply-faced kid who ran errands for local gangsters. Over the years he’d gotten more and more ethnic looking. She still couldn’t figure out what he was going for: Latino, Black, White, Pink. Who knew? All she knew was that he was reliable.

His cheap cologne assaulted her. He held out his hand. She reached into her pocket and withdrew an envelope. He counted the money, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a thumb-drive.

“What ‘cha want is on there. Recordings, times, dates. And some video. But video’s no good, you don’t see anyone’s face, the stupid put the camera in the wrong place.”

“So how many other people are you selling this to?”

He grinned, showing off his diamond-encrusted grille. “Just you. You’re the only one I can trust not to leak it back to me.”

She shook her head. “Be well, my friend.”

“You didn’t see me, I wasn’t here.”


Beverly raced home to listen to her prize. She leapt out of her car, bounded down the driveway, up to her porch and screamed. Montgomery stood there, leaning against her front door, his arms crossed with a very unfriendly look on his handsome face. Seeing him was like getting hit in the face with a bucket full of ice-water. Her mouth gaped open, she felt frozen to the porch.

He moved out of the way and gestured that she should open the door.

She finally came to her senses, turned and took off running. She got three steps before she found herself in the air, being carried back to her house.

“Put me down!”

He held out his hand. “Keys.”


Smack! A hard spank to her taut ass.

“Hey! Police brutality!”

“I’ll kick the damn door down if you don’t give me the keys.”

He would. She handed him the keys.

He opened the door, carried her through, kicked the door shut with his foot and brought her into the living room. He took her off his shoulder, but didn’t set her on the floor. He sat down on the couch, pulling her down across his knee.

“No!” she yelled.

“You just don’t learn, do you girl?”

Searing pain ignited her ass. He hit her so hard and fast, she couldn’t tell when one swat ended and one began. This was different than the last time. He was angry this time.

“Please stop!”

“Not until you get this! You’re in danger and damned if I’m gonna let you die!”

©2008, Michelle Carlyle

Friday, March 19, 2010

Dangerous Behavior, Part Three

Hey Spanky Friends!

Yesterday was amazing here in the SF Bay Area. It was 75 degrees! Warm, sunny, flowers are blooming, birds were singing. I took a nice hike and got a spectacular view of San Francisco and the entire bay. The water was blue and there was no smog. Astounding. I even got over-heated! And wished I’d put on more sunscreen. It was winter about two seconds ago. Like last week, it was raining and 45 degrees. So weird, but so nice.

My only problem came afterwards. I sat in my yard in the sun and enjoyed a beer with my hubby. Well, he was sick, so I had the beer. But then another beer seemed to disappear. When I threw out the third bottle, I went: “I didn’t have three, did I?” No, I couldn’t have. So I had some port. And now I’m sitting here feeling really stupid. Not a big hangover, but enough of one that I feel it. I hate feeling it the next day. Stupid nice day. Stupid tasty beer. Stupid tasty port.

And today looks like an even better day! But I think I’ll have iced tea after my walk…

Okay, onto the story, soon to be found in a new upcoming collection of mine called: Untitled! Wow! What a catchy title! Where did I come up with that??? I’m so talented, sometimes I scare myself.

Have a great weekend!


Beverly had just taken her first sip of coffee and bite of scone when Detective Mitch Montgomery sat down opposite her, his jaw set, his anger lines deep, his pale blue eyes threatening.

“What do you want?” she sneered.

“Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not, you’re playing them all by yourself.”

“Where did you go?”

“On a pleasure ride.”

“We need to talk somewhere private. I pick your house.”

“You can pick it all you want. As far as I’m concerned, either arrest me or leave me the hell alone.”

“This isn’t a joke. The man you’re after is too dangerous. You’re going to get hurt.”

“And why would you care?”

“I’m not interested in another murder case. Not in my town.”

“Oh, so now you own the town. Interesting. Good day, Detective.”

“Don’t brush me off.”

She crammed the scone in her mouth and washed it down with the coffee. Ignoring him, she got up, left, hopped on her scooter and was gone.

She parked her scooter in her garage, walked outside and there was the irritating detective, parked in her driveway, leaning against his car.

She ignored him and walked into her house. She went to close the door and he stuck his foot inside.

“May I come in? Thank you,” he said, pushing his way inside.

“You get out! I’ll—”

“What? Call the cops? I’m already here.”

“You are one smug son—”

He held up an enormous hand. Where had he been hiding those? They were gigantic. “Ah, ah, no name calling.”

He had her house and her sized up in under thirty seconds. One sweep of her living room with his detective gaze told him everything he wanted to know about her. At least, this is what she surmised by the way he took in her and her home. And by the way he regarded her right afterwards.

“Nice house,” he said with a satisfied nod.

“Please leave.”

“But I only just got here,” he drawled. Towering over her, he stood even closer to her and gazed down at her. “You, honey, need to get your priorities straight. And stop playing games with me. When I tell you to stop, you stop.”

“Oh, please. Just because it was fun to lose you guys doesn’t mean I was doing anything.”

“Now you’re lying to me. I guess I need to make my warning a bit stronger.”

He reached out, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into her living room.

“Hey you, stop, what the hell do you think—”

He sat down, pulled her across his lap and pinned her there.

“You let go of me! Are you insane! I’ll have your badge for this!”

“You just don’t learn, do you?” She felt a tremendous impact to her behind; she was thrown forward, his massive, hard thighs dug painfully into her hips.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

A hellacious swat to her rear threw her forward again; the pain was incredible.

“For an investigative journalist, you don’t catch on very quickly, do you?” He powered into her behind with a blazing rhythm. The pain took her breath away.

All at once, the situation dawned on her. The man was actually spanking her. This big caveman jerkoff was spanking her! Her brain detonated.

She let out torrent of bad words; a near stream-of-consciousness swear-attack. She’d never let loose like that before. It felt good.

But what happened afterwards sure as hell didn’t. The man incinerated her behind with series upon series of furious spanks.

“I’ve got bar of soap with your name on it, if you keep up like that,” he warned, his tone low and angry.

He assaulted her butt with a spanking to end all spankings. Up and down his large hand traveled, covering every bit of her now scorching behind. For a finale, he fired into her sit spots with seemingly everything he had. She bellowed so loudly, her ears rang.

All at once, he stopped, got up and yanked her to her feet. He pushed her up against the living room wall and pinned her there.

“You will stop all your BS, lady, or I swear I’ll be back and I won’t be so nice the next time. You will stop your investigation. If some source comes to you with information, you will bring it to me. You will take another case and let us handle this investigation into your friends. You hear me, girl? I’m not playing around. You’re too valuable to this community to put yourself in such danger.”

“I hate you!” was the only comeback she could think of.

“I wish I hated you,” he said cryptically.

When she opened her mouth to yell at him, he kissed her.

Rage welled up inside her, she tried to push him away, his kiss deepened. She yelled into his mouth, hating him, hating his power over her, hating everything about him. She would spit on him when he stopped. Get him fired. Kick him in the balls.

After her twentieth plan of revenge, she realized she was kissing him back. A second after that, she got sucked whole into a giant vortex of lust. His scent was intoxicating, what he was doing with his tongue was sinful. She melted against the wall, her knees wobbly, her sex wet with want. She twirled her tongue with his strong one, but the man was the clear leader in their duel. He tasted so good, he was so strong, so masculine, such a turn-on. This guy was all man.

©2007, Michelle Carlyle

Friday, March 12, 2010

Dangerous Behavior, Parts One and Two

Hey Spankos!

Wow, what a week! I took the NRA First Steps Pistol Course for research on my latest novel. Before I walked in there, I hated and feared guns. Didn’t want anything to do with them, but needed the visceral information. Three days later, I loooooooooooove guns. Want guns. Want to shoot more guns. Last night I got to shoot a 44 Magnum! So exciting! Loud, but exciting. Now I want to take a rifle course so I can handle those, too. Who knew I’d like shooting so much? So fun! I want to become a sharpshooter. But that means buying a gun and they are PRICEY. So we’ll see. Mr. Carlyle said, “No guns in my house.” So I replied, “Fine, I’ll take your name off the deed.” He should know by now that I’m uncontrollable. By this morning, he stopped with the forbidding. I think he’s resigned that eventually, I’ll be buying a gun. And now I know how to store them safely and how to take care of them and what NOT to do with them.

I had no idea I’d like it. We filled out a few forms before class. One of the questions was “What are your concerns about this class?” My reply? “I’m worried I might like shooting.” Well, my worst fears have been confirmed. I looooove guns!!!!

Okay, enough of that. Here’s a new story and I’m giving you a double chunk to get things going. Have a great weekend and I’ll see you next week!

Love and hugs to you all,

The house looked dark. No cars in the driveway. Beverly walked the block once more. She saw no one near the house; no lights were on in any of the homes on the tree-lined street. The area looked clear. Perfect.

Now all she had to do was to break in, get some evidence linking a politician to the mysterious deaths of her friends and get out without being seen. Super simple!

Not that she had any concrete information that such evidence would actually be in the house. But it was a good bet.

The man she was after was Kyle Baldo; a city council member and supposedly upstanding member of his community. In actuality, he was a criminal. He took bribes from developers and got them what land they wanted, by force if necessary. Recently, several homes in the area were taken by eminent domain so a grocery store and condos could be built; the owners forced out against their will. One couple fought and almost won, but died before the suit was settled. According to the news, they’d committed suicide. But Beverly knew better.

Beverly had a close relationship with the Lydons and there was no way in hell Frank Lydon and his wife Betty would have ever committed suicide. When she got the call about their deaths, she rushed to the scene, but wasn’t allowed inside. As an investigative journalist for the San Francisco Chronicle, she knew how to get information. But this case was different. No one was talking.

She got the same story the cops gave everyone. The Lydons had overdosed on sleeping pills. There was a suicide note, but no one had been allowed to see it. The city council had leaned hard to make the case go away quickly, leaving Beverly fuming.

So she launched her own investigation. She poked and prodded and finally got the news she’d been looking for. One of her underground sources told her he knew the guy who’d done the murders. And he’d done them on behalf of Kyle Baldo.

The house she was about to break into belonged to Baldo’s girlfriend, Angel Jones. Beverly had wanted to break into his house, a big ritzy place, but the security was too tight.

As she walked by the house again, she took a quick look around. Seeing no one, she darted up the driveway and around the back of the house. After checking the detached garage and finding it empty, she was confident no one was home. She tried all the windows in the back of the house, but all were locked.

She sat down on the back porch and thought. She could break a window, steal something and make it look like teenagers broke in. Maybe they had an extra key hidden outside somewhere. She lifted up the back door mat and sitting right there was a key. She couldn’t believe it!

Smiling so hard her face hurt, Beverly grabbed the key and let herself inside the house.

After rifling through some drawers, Beverly settled on Angel’s computer; her hard-drive wasn’t even password protected. When she checked Angel’s email, she found plenty of evidence of adultery between the woman and Baldo, but nothing implicating him in any other crimes. Next she went into the History files of Internet activity. The woman clearly liked to shop. Mostly her Internet searches were about clothes, shoes and handbags.

There was only one anomaly in the History files. A flurry of activity involving a Yahoo email account. Beverly was shocked to find the computer remembered the password for the account. She eagerly read all the mail.

It was clear from the tone of the emails that Angel had not written them. For one, there were several misspellings and the woman had an English degree from San Jose State University. These new emails did not have the same tone, nor the same sentence structure as Angel’s emails.

There were a series of emails that made her whole body tingle. Especially when a certain date was mentioned: the day the court case was to be settled.

One read: Heard thru our mutual friend that there are dificulties. Don’t care, no more money, you get job done. Important it happen NOW. Later won’t matter. Has to be before the 17th. You know this.

The reply read: Complications with hired help. Need more cash or no go for the 17th. Usual payee. Usual place.

Kyle wrote back: Very angry. Do what you contracted to do. Must be clean. Must be NOW. Will pay bonus only if goes right. No suspicions. No cops. Bonus only now. After, only. Hurry. If court decides in their favor, it is over. Must have job done now.

Beverly couldn’t believe how dumb these people were. It was practically a signed confession. She whipped out her thumb drive, plugged it into the computer and copied all the emails.

Minutes later, she slipped out the back door, replaced the key and headed off to her car, victorious.

Beverly had her hand on the door handle when the bushes next to her car rustled.

“Hold it, right there.” The hulking outline of a man stepped out into the dim light, mere feet from her.

She screamed. Her heart pounding, her mind blinded by fear, she knew she didn’t have enough time to jump in the car. She bolted down the street.

“Damn you, stop! Police!” the man called out.

Beverly ran for her life. Whether it was the police or a criminal, either presented terrible danger to her.

Strong hands grabbed her shoulders, a second later, she was in a painful hold. Whomever this guy was, he was stronger than a UFC fighter.

“Let me go!” she yelled, fighting fiercely.

“Hold on, you’re under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Breaking and entering.”

She finally stopped fighting and turned to look at the man. She couldn’t see him clearly, but he was a big one. “Where?”

“Don’t lady, I watched you break into Angel Jones’ house. And now we’re going to the station and having a nice long chat about it.”

“She’s my friend, I was only feeding her cat.”

“You want I should call her and find out?”

“Sure, you go ahead.”

“What’s her phone number?”

“I don’t have it on me.”

“Convenient,” he said, dragging her down the street, back towards her car. “Let’s go talk about it down at the station.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Well, then, you should have no problem talking to me, should you?”

“Why are you wasting my tax dollars—”

“Don’t give me that speech, lady. We both know you’re no friend of Angel Jones. If you were really feeding her cat—which she has none—why did you leave the lights off in the house?”

“Cat hates the light.”

“No more, you’re comin’ with me.”

A half an hour later, Beverly was in an interrogation room of the police station facing the most formidable man she’d ever seen. Large pale blue eyes were set into a triangular shaped face with severe planes and a strong jaw. He had the widest shoulders ever on record. He said very little, but the way he said it scared her. And she was not easily scared.

If she’d met him anywhere else, she’d consider him handsome. But here, he was frightening the hell out of her.

“I want to know what you know about Jones and I’m going to keep you here until you tell me,” he said in a slow and careful drawl.

“Are you threatening me?”


She sighed.

He sat back and said nothing. Just stared at her. Another tactic to break her down. Truth was, the Chronicle was getting tired of her arrests. While they wanted the information, it didn’t reflect well on them when one of their reporters was caught breaking the law. And now that the paper had been bought by a big corporation, her new boss told her one more jail stint and they’d have to cut her loose. She knew if they found out what she’d done this time, she’d be history. She was too broke to lose that job. And because of her reputation, none of the other papers wanted her.

But if she told the cops what she knew, she’d screw herself. She couldn’t continue with the investigation with the police in the way.

Another detective came into the room and whispered in Montgomery’s ear. Detective Montgomery looked over at her and smiled. Her blood ran cold at the surge of power in his blue gaze.

“Thanks, Bob, that should speed things along.” He sat up and faced her, looking like a lion about it eat its prey.

“You tell me everything I want to know or I call your boss.”

She paled, the room spun, she clutched the desk. They knew. They had connections and they knew. Rage flooded her body. She wanted to strangle this guy. Just like that, he would get nearly everything out of her and she wouldn’t be able to avenge the Lydons’ death.

Well, she’d give him part of it, but not the thumb-drive hidden in a secret compartment of her shoe. Last time she got evidence taken from her, she decided to school herself in the world of James Bond. The hidden shoe compartment had proved very useful.

“Apparently, you almost got fired two months ago. Pity,” he said, making a mock sad face.

Enraging her. Her fists balled under the table. All she wanted to do was punch him. Jerk thought he was so tough. So handsome and strong, he probably got all the women and pushed around all the bad guys. A thug with a badge. If he wasn’t careful, he’d become her next subject.

“What were you doing there?” he asked.

She sighed. “I think Baldo’s corrupt.”

“Well, stop the presses, there’s a new one. More.”

She glowered at him. “Oh, hell. Fine. I think Baldo had the Lydons taken out. A source of mine in the City supposedly knows the guy who got paid to do it. It was staged as a suicide.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“What did you find at the house?”

“That they like to play with handcuffs, and use Astroglide as a lube.”

He kept his gaze cool, but a muscle twitched in his cheek. So the man had a sense of humor? Say it wasn’t so.

“You were in there for an hour and a half.”

“I know, great results for that much work. And then you grabbed me and dragged me in here, I’m having a hell of a night.”

There was a pause as he examined her. “Who’s your source?”

She laughed. “Right.”

“Why do you believe him?”

“Because he’s never been wrong.”

“So what’s your connection to the Lydons? Must be something strong for you to put your job on the line for them.”

She looked away. Oh, what the hell? “They were my next door neighbors growing up. They…were there for me when others weren’t.”

“Others meaning your parents?”

“Those would be the others.”

“So now you’re going to avenge their deaths and bring in the culprit, all on your own? A man that you know has connections to the mob? I think your passion is overriding your judgment. Which, by your file, I can tell isn’t your strong suit.”

“If you’ll read further you’ll see how many of the bastards I’ve brought down.”

“I have read further. I actually admire you, Miss Whelper, we’re on the same side. Only I don’t break the law to bring in the criminals. I like a distinction between them and me.”

“There is no law in this world.”

“There are laws in my head that I personally enforce, therefore, there are laws in the world.”

She snorted.

He returned to her file. “Says here you’ve been injured… uh… three times according to this file. Bullet wounds, broken jaw, run down by an assailant which broke your leg.”

“Dangerous work.”

“Reckless, I’d say. I can guess why you’re not married.”

“You’re too funny. Most men aren’t Neanderthals. My guys don’t mind the work I do.”

“No? What about Harry Yeoman?”

She sat bolt upright in her chair. “Who told you about him?”

He loved her reaction; he sat back, smiling and satisfied. She hated him. He was so handsome, so smug, so sure of himself. Probably had six kids. His broad shoulders reeked responsibility.

“Hit a nerve, did I?”

“Are we done here?”

“Almost. A warning. Stay off this case.”

“So you know there’s a case there. You guys were staking out her place, I showed up. You know he’s involved, don’t you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but why else would you be staking out her place?”

“That’s for me to know.”

“Can I go now?”

“Don’t go against my warning. You won’t like the consequences. You like your job, don’t you? So be a good girl.”

“Yes, sir,” she bit out.

“And if I see you anywhere near Baldo, I’ll drag you right back here.”

She glared at him. An hour later, he finally let her go.

It was now ten in the morning. She drove home, changed her car for her scooter so she could shake the tail Montgomery put on her, and headed for her friend’s house. She’d been followed before and had a labyrinth of escape routes using back alleys, parks, and little known frontage roads.

She gave the thumb-drive to her paranoid-nutcase-computer-hacker friend and headed back home using another circuitous route. On the way, she stopped by a coffee shop. She’d been up for twenty-eight hours; it would be a full day before she’d have any time to sleep. She needed coffee badly.

She’d just taken her first sip of coffee and bite of scone when Detective Mitch Montgomery sat down opposite her, his jaw set, his anger lines deep, his pale blue eyes threatening.

©2007, Michelle Carlyle

Friday, March 5, 2010

The Motivator, Conclusion

Howdy Fellow Spanky Humans!

I just realized that it’s Friday again. How come they come so fast now? Wasn’t Monday yesterday?

Okay, I’m blanking out. Normally I have something to say here, other than…duh. I must still be partially asleep. Or thinking about sex. Probably the latter. Probably because I just reread the scene below. Probably because Mr. Carlyle went to work and I wish he’d stayed just a little while longer. Probably because we’ve been having awesome sex. God, I love sex.

I actually used to be a prude. Was taught that whole Good Girls Don’t crap that’s polluted my mind until I’ve grown old enough to realize how stupid the message is. And now that I’ve let my id out of its box—whoo-hoo! Just wish I had my twenty-something springy body so I could do all those wild positions I used to. Now if we try anything too gymnastic, my back kills me. Or I get a leg cramp. Thankfully, Mr. Carlyle and I have been screwing for so long, that we really just concentrate on mutual pleasure now instead of exploration so much. When it comes down to it, I just like to fuck.

And now he doesn’t work at home anymore. Which is unhelpful for times like this.

I know. I’ll go write the sex scene for my latest novel. That will take care of it. No, it won’t. It will only make me more horny. Oh, well. Watch out Mr. Carlyle. When he comes through that door tonight, I’ll attack him.

Michelle likes this idea.

Okay, so here’s the conclusion of The Motivator, found in some book of mine, I can’t recall and don’t want to fishing around through them to find it. It’s in there. Buy them all and you’ll find it. Then you can tell me which book it’s in. Next week, new story!

Have a great weekend, my friends!


When Curt entered her, he felt the connection. This was powerful. This was real. This was a bonding, not merely sex, but the first time on a path with his future partner. He tried to hold himself back, control himself, but he couldn’t. He lost himself in her. He thrusted into her wildly, she threw her head back against the couch and roared with release. He felt her sex spasm around him and nearly lost it right then. But he was determined to keep her going for as long as he could. Somehow he stayed focused. He wanted to take her on a ride she would never forget. Through some pretty fancy mental gymnastics, he continued on driving into her with everything he had. No woman had ever fit with him like this. No woman had ever felt like this.

Finally, he could tell he was on the verge of coming, so he let loose on her. He plowed into her, slamming her g-spot with everything he had. She cried out loudly, grabbed his ass hard and pulled him into her. Then he lost it. He thrusted into her, crying out as he came, almost blinded by his release, it was so overpowering. He jerked and shook and drove into her, he never wanted to leave her depths. But finally, it was over. He withdrew and took her into his arms and kissed her. She was so soft and tasted so sweet. So loving, too, it felt like she kissed him back with her entire being.

When he pulled away and looked deep into her now darkened blue eyes, he could tell. He’d just fallen hard for her. It was beyond anything he’d felt before for any woman, not even his wife. This woman was everything he’d been looking for in a woman. Pure fire, pure fun, pure joy.

“Wow,” Heather said.

“Yes… wow. You said it.”

“You’d better be planning on spending the night,” she said.

He grinned. “I don’t think I could leave you right now, even if I tried. My God, you are something, woman. Some. Thing.”

“No, you’re the star. I’ve never been made love to like that before. Damn, I’ve never known it could be so good. No wonder my marriage failed. He couldn’t do that to me. No man has been able to do that to me. You win the prize, boyfriend.”

“I… yes, well, ditto there. Never felt this way with any other woman.”

“If you’ll excuse me, though, I need to attend to something,” she said.

“Please,” he said, releasing her.

He watched her bruised, lovely ass as she walked into her bathroom and felt himself grow hard again. Crazy, this was crazy lust. And the most powerful love he’d felt in memory. He hoped she felt the same way about him.

When she returned, he couldn’t help himself. He had to have her again.

“I want you to do something for me,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to lie on your dining room table.”

She looked confused. “What—okay,” she said, quickly, a mischievous look in her eye. She obediently rushed to the table, got up on it and lay down, length-wise.

He strode over to her, he’d never seen a more beautiful sight. She was like a gorgeous buffet of sex, all laid out before him. He couldn’t figure out what part of her he liked best. Her ripe, full, breasts, the triangle between her thighs, her sweet rear end, her long legs. He wanted to start with her mouth and dine all night on her amazing body. Beyond the sex, he wanted this woman. And not just as some passing fancy. He wanted her for keeps.

He visualized her tied to his bed at home where he’d teach her all about nipple clamps, and introduce her to his other fun sex toys. He’d experiment on her with his varied assortment of whips and paddles. His member grew painfully big again at these thoughts. He knew she liked that play spanking he’d given her on the night they made up her agreement. He might just have found the playmate he’d been searching for his entire life.

“Scoot down here,” he commanded. She did so, he pushed her knees up, pulled her down towards him and spread her legs wide apart. Her sex was so pretty, so inviting, so ripe and ready for him. He leaned down and carefully began tormenting her with his tongue, he went lightly, ever so lightly until she quivered and whimpered.

“Oh, please, do it harder, harder,” she begged.

He reached up and pinched a nipple, she squealed and shoved her hips up to him and cried out in release. She made him feel so powerful! He rewarded her with a barrage on her hardened, swollen nub. She moaned and writhed, coming again and again.

He finally couldn’t stand it, grabbed her, pulled her off the table, turned her around, bent her over and entered her. Two thrusts in and she pounded on the table as she came. This time, he couldn’t last very long. The sight of her bruised cheeks, her arched back, the sound of her cries, the feel of her sex muscles contracting against him, he quickly drove them both to powerfully climactic orgasms. Afterwards, she collapsed against the table, breathing hard, exhausted and spent.

He picked her up into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. He put her down onto her bed, lay next to her and took her in his arms. He’d never been happier in his life. Nor more satisfied, nor more in love.

He turned her to face him. When he saw the look, deep in her eyes, he knew it was time. “I love you, Heather.”

Her beautiful blue eyes grew wide, then they filled with tears. “Oh, God, I love you, Curt!” She pulled him down and he kissed her. It felt like his heart inflated to three times its normal size. He’d never fallen for anyone like this, not this hard, not this quick.

He brought her close to him, he reveled in the feeling of her naked body close to his. He couldn’t believe it, but he could feel himself growing hard again. This hadn’t happened since he was a kid. This was so great!

“You’re moving in with me, Heather,” he told her.

“Was that an order?” she asked with a hidden grin.


“Are you going to spank me if I’m bad?”

“Oh, yes. But I know you’ll be a good girl after tonight.”

“Yeah…” she said, with a saucy look in her eye.

“Oh, so she wants to play, does she? If you weren’t so sore, I’d show you just how fun a nice, playful spanking can be.”

“Stop, you’re turning me on and I’m too sore to do it again.”

He grinned down at her. “Are you sure?”

He reached out and gently began to explore her again.

She groaned and spread her legs for him. “You are going to be a very, very bad man, aren’t you?”

“And very, very good, too,” he promised as he bent down to kiss her.

Heather completed her master’s degree, got her promotion and married Curt six months later.

And the only time she earned the paddle again was when she begged him for it.

© 2007, Michelle Carlyle