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Pushing Limits [Bondage Ranch 2]
by Sindra van Yssel

Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica/Romance
Description: Samantha Grayson has been burned before by Doms, and her attempts at vanilla relationships haven't worked for her either. She's gotten such a reputation for being an unruly submissive that most of the dominants at Bondage Ranch won't take her on. Arthur Marcelli is up for the challenge. But the more they play the more serious it gets, and D/s is just for a little light fun -- isn't it?

Arthur knows that he has to treat Samantha gently. He also knows she can get a lot more out of herself if he can convince her to let her guard down. To do so he has to get her to trust him -- trust him so much, that he can start pushing her limits, one sensuous step at a time.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, strong BDSM theme and elements, domination/submission, exhibitionism, voyeurism.


eBook Publisher: Loose Id, LLC, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: August 2010

eBookeBook

60 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [182 KB]
Words: 41966
Reading time: 119-167 min.


The list Sam had handed Arthur was the longest he had ever seen. There were only two columns, one for yes, one for no--no shades of gray. She was a soft player by the standards of the people he'd hung out with in Los Angeles, but a lot of the limits showed good sense. No bondage she couldn't get out of--a good idea for playing with strangers. He was amazed at the level of detail she went into--five lines for describing exactly what kind of nipple clamps were acceptable. Naturally he was packing the wrong kind.

He didn't have a problem with the limits. He didn't need to play rough. He didn't even want to with a woman. It wasn't because he thought women were weak or couldn't take it. A few women hung out with the leather boys in LA, and they were as tough as nails--tougher than most of the men, because any sign of weakness meant that the Doms would give up on playing with them and spread the word. No, there was something about the softness of a woman's skin that made him want to hold back from anything really extreme. Sam's limits were fine with him.

The "been there done that" attitude Sam had as she pointed out the different features of the outdoors certainly hadn't been part of Arthur's fantasy woman. But somehow there was a vulnerability to her too. It took courage to go forward with all those vulnerabilities, and she'd obviously been burned before, figuratively as well as literally. Any mistakes he made with her would go onto the list she carried in her garter, the list of things Sam wouldn't do and the risks she wouldn't take. He'd just have to avoid making mistakes. She was going to be a challenge. He smiled. He liked challenges.

He walked over to the swings and sat down on one. He reached over to the rope that held the other swing and gave it a tug. "Come join me," he said. Sam walked over dubiously and stood next to the swing he had indicated.

"I trust you haven't forgotten how to swing, Sam," he told her, pushing off from the ground and pumping his legs to speed the swing up.

"No, Sir, I haven't forgotten. But I'm wearing a very short skirt."

Arthur jumped off, raising a small cloud as his feet hit the sand. He dusted himself off and looked at her seriously. "I gave you an order that is well within your limits as stated. Public nudity--yes. I have a very good memory. Your proper response is 'yes, Sir' and to hop on the swing. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir." The words sounded a bit stiff, but she looked so vulnerable. He was demanding more than that she just take her clothes off and be done with it, he knew. With each swing she took, she'd be exposing herself anew. It was active submission, not merely passive obedience. He knew full well the former was harder. And more rewarding.

She sat down and began to swing. He knelt on one knee in front of the swing's path. She'd know he had the perfect vantage point to see up her skirt. And she'd know he knew she knew. She wasn't naturally graceful, but she was getting the hang of it.

"You have lovely legs, Sam," Arthur told her.

"Thanks," she said. Her voice was petulant, dripping with annoyance.

If he let that slide, he knew she'd only get further and further from the headspace a submissive craved. He reached up and grabbed the rope that held the swing, his muscles straining as he fought its momentum. She jerked to a halt. He kept his expression blank, a skill he'd acquired from numerous games of poker. If he looked like he was angry, he suspected the little sub would be frightened into her safe word. On the other hand, if she knew he wasn't, she'd think that she'd get away with more back talk. He plucked her off the swing, sat down in it, and put her ass up over his lap as easily as if she'd been a rag doll.

Everything about Sam said she was an experienced submissive, but Arthur was beginning to understand what Dylan might have meant by telling him that Sam stood for smart-assed masochist. He'd heard the phrase often enough and had wondered why any self-respecting sub would go by Sam. But it seemed to fit. The crack about glasses had been one thing, and he'd written it off as an attempt to be funny. He could deal with a little brattiness if it made him smile. But the false "thanks" would have sounded rebellious and humorless even if she'd included the "Sir."

He pulled up the skirt, revealed what he already knew was a bare bottom beneath, and gave her four quick whacks on her behind with his palm before suddenly stopping. He didn't have a good view of her face, but from her expression when he'd grabbed her and flipped her facedown, he didn't think she knew why she was being spanked. Her moan was one of pleasure, not punishment, and she spread her legs invitingly. She was irreverent because it worked for her. Maybe he should just let her go when the hour was done and let her find a top who didn't care about the dynamic as long as he got to spank a willing ass. The thought of giving someone else a go didn't please him at all, however. He wasn't going to give up yet. He set her on her feet and got up.

"Sir?" she asked.

"Come this way," he said and walked off toward the stocks. They had a nice large locking clasp, he noticed. He wouldn't be using it; that definitely qualified as bondage one couldn't get out of on one's own.

He looked back. She was lagging behind, smoothing her skirt down.

"When I put your clothing someplace, I expect it to stay. Hold your skirt up if that's what is necessary to keep it bunched, but I put your ass and pussy on display, and they are expected to remain that way."

Sam visibly shuddered but nodded. "Yes, Sir." She rucked up her skirt and hurried her step. "You want me in the stocks to spank me?"

"I could spank you on my lap well enough. All you need to know is that I want you in the stocks and I'll observe your limits."

He saw her relax at the reminder that he intended to observe her limits. She nodded and did as directed. He lowered the heavy wood over her wrists and head. She had slender wrists, and without the manacles attached, she'd have no trouble slipping her hands out of the holes. Furthermore, almost any adult would be able to lift the unclasped wooden top half of the stocks using just their neck and back muscles. He took a step back and moved around to the front where he could watch her face. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed and his face impassive.

A minute passed. He could see it slowly dawn on her that he wasn't going to be spanking her.

"This is humiliation," she said at last. It was on her list of things she didn't do.

"No, it's not. No one is out here but you and me at the moment, and a few people pitching a tent a hundred yards away. But if you sincerely think that my intent is to humiliate you, you may of course use your safe word, which is "red," and I'll help you get out of this position, which I will point out you can get out of at any time. Why do you think you're here?"

She shook her head slowly. He waited. "Um, I forgot to say 'Sir'?"

He raised an eyebrow. She could do better than that, he was sure.

"Did I forget to say 'Sir,' Sir?"

"Yes, you did. And your tone was disrespectful as well. Furthermore I think you're in the habit of being disrespectful to get spankings from Doms, so you won't be getting one from me for that."

"Oh." Her face fell. "Sir."

"Were you enjoying the spanking, Sam?"

Her face turned red. "Yes, Sir."

"Then you'll get another, as a reward, when--not if--you do something to be rewarded for."

He hoped she would, because he was going to enjoy spanking that pert little ass of hers.


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