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Wild Roses - eBook

Product Type:
eBook
Price:
$6.00
SKU:
PF2034
Author:
ISBN:
9781936173440
Publish Date:
5/30/2000
Quantity:
Available Formats:
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Product Description

Wild Roses, Spanking Erotica by Lizbeth Dusseau

When 17 year old Hallie, and friends Sara and Deanna, burn Graham Reynolds’s shed to the ground, the vivacious Hallie takes the rap, enduring three ruthless punishments to her “virgin” behind.

Vowing to avenge this humiliating ordeal, three years later the “reformed” Hallie strikes a business deal with Graham to turn his old estate house into a B&B. Unbeknownst to Graham or Hallie’s partners, Sara and Deanna, Hallie plans to take her fair share of the profits and then some. When Graham finds out, there’s ‘hell to pay,’ and Hallie gets it in more than one way… especially when Graham gives her over to her nemsis, Alex Lonnigan. The nasty rogue likes nothing better than spanking the conniving Hallie’s bare behind.

The spanking exploits of these wild roses are graphically told, as the supremely submissive Deanna finds fulfillment being loved, trained and punished by an older Graham. The feisty Sara loves spanking just for sexual thrills. And the “wildest rose”, Hallie, can’t seem to shake Alex’s schemes to redden her behind.


Excerpt

“Get your hands off me!” Hallie roared.
But Graham Reynolds grip was fixed. As Hallie struggled to get away, he and the young brat looked at the burning shed, Graham knowing there was no way he’d save the soon to be worthless pile of cinders. His groundskeeper, having been awakened by the commotion and the smell of smoke, came running with a hose in hand and contained the fire so that it wouldn’t threaten the house. But obviously he wasn’t in time to save the shed.
“You’ve got it handled,” Graham said to Darrel Spring. “I’ll handle this one myself,” he added, referring to Hallie and the riled man hauled the struggling young woman inside his house.

“Get your hands off of me,” Hallie roared again as Graham Reynolds led her to his sitting room.
“Only if you settle down,” Graham roared back.
Hallie was hardly inspired. She had no intention of letting this brute take charge of her, but then what could she do? Graham was much larger and stronger than her five foot two inch body.
“Listen, I’ll stop. Just let go,” she exclaimed, trying again to shake him away.
By then, they were in Graham’s parlor, the door was closed and escape was unlikely with Graham standing between Hallie and the exit. Letting go of the young woman, he pushed her toward a chair. “Sit down!”
Hallie complied though she didn’t like the feel of it.
Inside, the room was so stifling it was difficult to breathe.
“Don’t you ever open the windows?” she inquired.
Graham Reynolds ignored her comment. Going about his business, he opened the gun cabinet, replaced the rifle and then locked the door, pocketing the key. Turning about, his glaring eyes pinned her in place. He might have been a handsome man, except for the scowl on his lips and the narrowed looked of his strangely pale eyes–the color of grass Hallie thought, though it was difficult to tell in the dim light. His cinnamon brown hair was longish, cut in a stylish way. Seeing him up close, he might actually be much younger than she expected. The dour surroundings of his home made him initially look ancient.
The parlor could not have changed in fifty years, the look of it so old, Hallie thought she’d stepped into her grandmother’s house in Grand Forks. Furniture, paintings, carpet and drapes all had a mellow, squalid look to them with frayed edges, worn places and a yellowed glow. It was kind of appealing, if it hadn’t been so damned hot and dreary–and she hadn’t had the man of the house about to climb right down her throat.
“You burned my shed, Miss,” Graham said.
“Sorry about that,” Hallie conceded.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Well, I am,” she sassed.
“Even so, sorry does not make amends. What is your name?”
“Hallie McCarty.”
“McCarty? John McCarty’s daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded.
“You’re going to call him?” she asked.
“No, I’m not going to call him. I’d rather handle this myself.” That was a relief, Hallie thought to herself. The last thing she needed was her father getting all worked up. She didn’t even want to think about how angry he’d be.
“Stand up,” Graham ordered, as he sat down.
Gingerly complying, Hallie wasn’t sure that Graham Reynolds was going to be any easier than her father. Inspecting her so closely she wanted to shrivel up in a little ball. His scrutiny was so fierce, she thought she’d might just melt away into the carpet like Dorothy’s witch–-either that or find herself flattened against the far wall, there to stay until someone peeled her off.
“You don’t get caught much, do you?” Graham observed.
“I don’t usually burn sheds,” she admitted.
“No, I’m sure since there aren’t many to set fire to around here. So, what were you doing on my property?”
“Just passing through.”
The austere man “humphed.” “I’m not so old that I’ll believe that,” he said. “Out with it, I want the truth.”
“It was a dare, Mr. Reynolds. You’re known as a rather nasty man,” she started to explain, “just crossing your property is considered dangerous around here.”
He didn’t believe her and she knew it, but he was going to let the reasons drop. He had more important considerations.
“Well, young lady, if that’s all you have to say for yourself, we might as well get on with it.”
“Get on with what?” she asked.
“I’d like the names of your friends,” Graham said, ignoring Hallie’s question.
“Friends?”
“The two scared rabbits that were with you?”
“I can’t tell you that,” she replied.
“I want their names,” he said more adamantly.
She shook her head, stubbornly refusing to tattle on her friends.
“Miss McCarty,” he practically bellowed.
“I can’t tell you,” she stood her ground.
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“I won’t,” she practically barked.
“My, you are a wild one.” For a moment, he seemed to calm, at least the flash in his pale eyes dimmed. “Well, if you’re so sure you can’t tell me, it’ll just make things worse for you, but suit yourself.”
“What do you mean ‘worse’?”
“If your friends don’t pay for the crime, you’ll pay for them,” he replied.
“Pay, pay how? If you want me to pay for the shed, I’ll see if I can come up with the money. It might take a few weeks, but I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want your money, your ass will do.”
“My what!” she exclaimed.
“I’m going to blister your bare behind, Miss McCarty.”
“You will not!” Hallie roared, and she started toward the door.
“Oh, but I will,” Graham said. Quick to his feet, he captured her arm again. “And I’ll do it twice more, once for each of your cowardly friends.”
“Like hell you will!” Hallie shrieked.
Unfortunately Graham’s grip was like iron, his resolve as firm. Though he would have liked to have reasoned the situation with the young brat, it was obvious that he had to act swiftly. Dragging the kicking blonde-haired girl to the closest chair, he sat down. With Hallie going over his lap, his hand started smacking her wiggling behind.
“Ouch, goddammit stop!” she screamed.
“Oh, you’d better buck up, miss,” the man barked, “because I’ve only begun!”
Seeing that she was not easily subdued, the masterful disciplinarian paused the spanking just long enough for him to pin her flailing arms at the small of her back, and draw his right leg over her kicking legs to keep her from thrusting off his lap. Then with a inspired fervor, he began again, spanking the sassy brat’s behind with fast, harsh strokes.
“You fuckin’ ass!” she roared.
The sentiment only make Graham angrier. Striking her even harder, he wanted to make certain that she’d feel the effect through her thin shorts.
“You can’t do this!” she wailed.
“Oh, but I am, Miss McCarty.” Graham’s broad palm came down on Hallie’s wiggling derriere with one sharp smack after another.
“Ouch, goddamit!”
He struck again and the blow stung like the fire that had flamed that night.
“And you better mind your tongue, young lady, or I’ll never stop!” he warned.
Hallie was hardly subdued by the caution. Graham Reynolds’s remark just made her more determined to wriggle her way off his solid thighs. As his hand repeatedly landed, she tried with all her might to buck away.
“Perhaps I should do this on your bare behind, Miss McCarty!” Graham suggested seeing if that would halt her struggle.
“Oh, no you won’t!” she cried.
“Oh, but I will!” he returned. Having had enough of the brat’s contentious behavior, Graham paused just long enough to tug at the waist band of her shorts and have them over her hips. Hallie’s thin yellow panties followed shortly thereafter, so that the young woman’s youthful behind, sporting a visible pink blush, was clearly available.
“You bastard! Let me go!” she yelled.
Further infuriated by her foul mouth, Graham resumed the spanking, letting loose with a rash of frenetic strikes, taking the pink blush to a flaming red in seconds.
“Ow, ouch, stop!”
He pelted her more.
“No, no no no stop, please stop!” she wailed.
But Graham continued the spanking with same passionate vigor.
The nasty fire on Hallie’s bottom was so hot she could think of nothing but making the man end it, and still he went on. “Please, please. I can’t stand it anymore,” she pleaded. She was beginning to sound more contrite, but even as she seemed to relinquish a little of her fight, the strikes went on. Getting to the point that she couldn’t stand the pain, Hallie’s protests became more sincere and less spiteful, replete with the agony that her miserable predicament had brought her. “I’m sorry, I am. Just please stop!” she cried.
Still ignoring her anguish, another several smacks landed on her flaming bottom.
“Please, pleeeeesee!” Tears were streaming down her cheeks and the woeful cry of the remorseful Hallie finally began to have an effect on Graham.
“You understand me, Miss McCarty. I’m not playing games with you!” he barked as he landed another smack.
“Yes, yes I do.”
“You’re getting exactly what you deserve.” He smacked her twice hard.
“Yes, I am,” she agreed.
Another few at an easier pace. “Are you going to listen to what I have to say?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, I will,” she vowed.
Just a final three cracks against her hot rear cheeks and he stopped.
Realizing that the spanking was over, Hallie breathed a sigh of relief, hoping as she continued to lie subdued over the man’s strong thighs that he’d let her go. She was not that lucky, however. Determined to make his point while he had her attention, he began to lecture.
“Miss McCarty, you were ill-advised to trespass on my property. You are foolish to lie to me, foolish to cover for your friends. But that being the case, if you’re not going to give up their names to me, you will pay their fair share. I’ll be seeing you twice more to repeat this treatment.”
“What makes you think I’ll ever come back?” she asked, with enough sass in her voice, that Graham might have started spanking her again; but it was a fair question that required his honest answer.
“You’ll come back, I’m sure of it. I know your name, I know your father and I know where you live. If you don’t return, I’ll call the police, inform them that that you have trespassed on my property, burned my possessions, and that I intend to prosecute. Then, if I’m in a good mood, I might even call your father. But regardless, I will make sure that you’re hauled off to jail.”
With each stern word he spoke Hallie’s will to fight disappeared. It didn’t matter that she was captured, over his lap and vulnerable to his immediate whims, he seemed to have a firm grip on the rest of her life as well. There was just no arguing with a man when she was in such a defenseless position.
Sensing that the young woman finally understood his message, Graham slowly disentangled himself from her youthful body. Once again on her feet, she stared down at him, her eyes swollen, her face red. She bent down to retrieve her shorts tangled at her feet.
“Leave them there, and go stand in the corner,” Graham ordered her.
“What!” Her temper was about to flare again.
“In the corner, Miss McCarty, you heard me,” he repeated.
With the foray ended and the room having grown quiet, the vivacious blonde mulled her predicament having both surrender and retaliation in her mind. She kept quiet however, and moved compliantly toward the corner, giving Graham Reynolds no more fuel for spankings or a lecture. For a time, because there was little else to do while she endured the embarrassment, she was aware of the remarkable warmth in her punished behind. She hated Graham. Hated him with all her soul. Hated the way he’d subdued her and hated him most because she found the experience one of the most remarkably electrifying things that had ever happened to her. Such a mix of emotions, she wanted to cry. But not the kind of woman that’s easily given to tears, she contained the desire and tried putting the horror out of her mind.
After a good ten minutes, Graham finally handed her her shorts and panties. “You can put these on,” he said, and he turned away.
“Can I go now?” she asked, once she was dressed.
Graham was sitting at his desk going through some papers. He looked up, appraising her once again.
“You are a wild one,” he repeated an earlier pronouncement.
“Sir?”
“What I call a wild rose, one that has a sweet fragrance and a simple flower, but one with many thorns that needs to be pruned.” She understood what he was getting at. But why the evaluation? “Yes, I think that will be all,” he continued. “You can go.”


Artist Credit

© Tandem - Fotolia.com

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