Master Pedro is finally here! I've had such fun writing his story, and I fell hopelessly in love with him, so I do hope you readers will too. In honour of Release Day, I'm going to share the entire first chapter on my blog right here, cause I'm nice like that :-)
Peyton King had a simple plan. Sign up for the Spectrum Auctions and finally get the story that will get her the promotion she craves.
It’s just her luck that the person who wins her is Pedro Hernandez. The Spanish Dom has been starring in her erotic dreams ever since they first butted heads in her professional life, and he proves impossible to resist, if downright scary.
The sadist in Pedro is looking forward to teaching the prickly reporter a lesson or two. However, when Peyton turns out to be a masochist her instinctive responses floor the experienced Dom. Maybe it’s just his age catching up with him, but this young reporter gets under his skin like no other sub ever has, and their play smashes through both of their emotional defences in record time.
When their relationship is put to the test, Pedro has to decide if he can trust his pequeñita.
She is a reporter after all…
Available now at a 10% discount still from Bookstrand
AUCTIONED TO THE SPANISH DOM
The Spectrum Auctions 3
Copyright © 2014
Arms held in tight chains in front of her, and in full glare of the stage lights, Peyton’s stomach rolled in nervous anticipation. Maybe this hadn’t been one of her best ideas. Sure she’d get her story, but at what price? It had seemed so simple on paper.
What better way to get behind the scenes of Club Spectrum, than to sign up for the Auctions? Mistress Scarlett’s narrow-eyed assessment and the endless forms and tests she had to pass had been nothing in comparison to this. The reality of the situation hit her square in the gut and she found it hard to breathe.
The disembodied voice of the announcer projected her attributes to all and sundry and despite her instructions to the contrary, she lifted her chin and stared into the crowd. Not that she could see much, past the first few tables, and the recent bane of her life had to be sitting right in her line of vision.
Pedro Hernandez lounged back in his chair, one denim-clad leg lifted over the other. Dressed entirely in black, he made a forbidding figure, even sat down. He smiled at something that Mistress Scarlett said to him, his even, white teeth a startling contrast in his olive complexion, and he raised his hand to enter a bid for her.
Heat rolled over her skin and the world tilted a little more every time he raised that hand again. His other hand tapped the riding crop he held onto his knee-high leather boots, and Peyton could have sworn those taps echoed across her skin.
Why had it not occurred to her that he might make a bid for her? Why had she been so stupid? And why could she not tear her gaze away from this man?
It was bad enough having to deal with him in everyday life, but here in the club? The hammer fell and Peyton stopped breathing.
“Sold to Master Pedro. Come and claim your new slave, Master Pedro.”
* * * *
Blood fizzed in his veins and there was a definite spring in his step, as he approached the stage. His fingers itched to get a hold of Ms. King’s ample curves, and he hid his smile at the anxiety pouring off her in waves. This was almost too easy.
Out of her sensible office attire, Peyton King had lost all of her starchiness and some of that air of superiority, even if she positively glared at him from under the silky curtain of her hair.
“I changed my mind. I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her breathy objection shot straight to his groin, and this time he did smile. She flinched when he used the tip of the riding crop to push her hair out of the way, but she stood her ground and pushed her shoulders back in an act of defiance.
The action only served to push her impressive tits out further and Pedro’s cock hardened in his pants.
“Really now. I didn’t take you for a coward, pequeña.” Her eyes flashed fire at him, and he slowly ran the tip of his crop down over her cleavage. Her nipples hardened at the light touch he used, and she gasped.
“I’m not a fucking coward. I’m here, aren’t I?”
Pedro shook his head and ran that crop lower, until he reached the hem of her short dress. She shivered when he inched it higher and she bit her lip in a seeming effort to not let her reaction show. He stopped just before he reached her pussy, and she squirmed under his slow perusal. By the time his gaze connected with hers, goose bumps had broken out on her skin, and she had trouble keeping his gaze.
“So you are, and as such I expect you to show the appropriate respect. I will not tolerate foul language like that. If I hear you use it again, I will gag this pretty mouth of yours, and put you over my knee to spank that ass.”
Her eyes lost their focus for a minute and he bet his best riding crop that she would be wet for him.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She mumbled the words and some of her bravado left her when he stepped so close to her, that she would be able to feel his raging hard-on against her belly.
“Wouldn’t I?” he asked and fisted his hand in her hair with enough force to make her yelp. “I’m a sadist, pequeña, and as such, it would give me great pleasure to see you writhe on my lap. What’s more I think you’d rather enjoy it.”
She tried to shake her head, but his tight hold on her didn’t allow for any movement and she went limp against him, when he licked the rapidly beating pulse point in her neck and then bit down slightly on her earlobe.
“I wouldn’t,” she whispered, her voice so breathy it shot straight to his cock. A man could lose his shit listening to that voice alone. It belonged to a woman ready for fucking, and gave away her current state of arousal like a lighthouse beacon. She might protest, but she was here because she wanted this, craved it even, deep down in her psyche, and he was just the man to show her how good this could be.
To prove his point, he stepped away and released his hold on her.
“Then say your safeword and you’re free to go.”
She blinked and frowned.
“Wh–What? You’re just gonna let me go?”
Pedro hid his smile of triumph, took another step away, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“That’s the way this works, Peyton.” She blinked again at the use of her actual name. “I have no wish to force my attentions where they are not wanted. There are plenty of willing subs I could have chosen instead. I happen to think, that you and I could be great together in a Dom/sub relationship. Nothing more, nothing less, but this is always your choice. So, if you want this to continue, then lose the attitude. As much as I like bratty submissives, the attitude gets tiresome after a while.”
He stopped talking and waited. Seconds turned into minutes and he was all too aware of the curious glances thrown their way. He had already shown Ms. King far more leeway than he was known for, but, dammit, he wanted her. If the stubborn woman only gave in. His inner caveman just wanted to fling her over his shoulder, drag her to his personal dungeon here at the club, lock the door, and show her what had been missing in her life up till now. They had locked horns so many times in the past over her job that he knew how passionate she was. However, that was not the way this worked. He needed, wanted her consent.
She frowned, bit her lip, and shifted from foot to foot. It drew his attention to her fuck-me heels. A nice, if unusual addition. The slaves up for auction were usually barefoot, but then Scarlett knew how much he appreciated high heels on his women. He would have to thank her later for this rather delicious setup.
“Safeword?” The whispered question pulled his attention back up her body until he snared her crystal gaze with his.
“I know you’ll have been given the club safewords. Mistress Scarlett is most thorough. Or are you telling me your heels are not the only thing she let slip by?” He dropped his voice on purpose, giving it that edge that always got the little subbies worried, and like a frightened rabbit, Peyton startled and shook her head.
“No…I mean, yes I know them. She made me jump through all the required hoops like some trained dog. I just…”
Her voice faded away and her eyes widened when he placed his hand on her throat and gave it a light squeeze.
“Hoops, you say. If that’s what turns you on, we can certainly add pet play to your list of requirements.” He rather enjoyed the way her mouth dropped open and she stared at him as though he’d grown six heads. “Though from your list, you seem to not want to do much at all.”
Heat rose in her cheeks when he pulled her list of soft and hard limits out of his back pocket, where he’d stuffed it on his approach to claim her.
“I…er…well.” He turned his hold on her throat into a gentle caress, and she leant into his touch when he cupped her chin and ran his thumb over her bottom lip.
“I’m waiting, pequeña.”
He pulled her closer still until their breaths mingled and his lips hovered over hers. The urge to claim those full lips, to suckle them into submission until she sagged against him, was strong indeed, but he resisted the impulse. Far better to keep her on edge. Her eyes fluttered shut and a needy little moan escaped as she appeared to wait for him to kiss her. This close, he could appreciate the delicate paleness of her skin. She would mark so beautifully under his hands.
When he didn’t close the distance, she opened her eyes, and her momentary confusion was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. There it was the spirit he’d admired for the last few months.
“Fine, have it your way. I’m not going to say my safeword, because…yikes, put me down.”
Pedro followed his original intentions, and picking her up, dumped her over his shoulder, and started walking.
As he expected her to, she squealed and squirmed and tried to push herself off his shoulder. With her wrists still tied with the chain, the end of which he held in his hand to restrict her movements, and his arm firmly clamped just below her ripe ass, she had nowhere to go, however.
The woman had curves to die for, with just enough flesh for his liking. Pedro grinned when she gave up struggling and a string of profanities came out of her mouth instead.
“Have you already forgotten what I said about using foul language, pequeña?” He adjusted the long chain wrapped around his hand to enable him to transfer it to his other one, and slapped her ass twice, hard enough to leave a mark. “For someone who professes not to like pain, you’re certainly going the right way about making sure I’ll give you some.” Her outburst stopped at his growled words and he indulged himself by swatting her ass twice more. Peyton gasped and went limp over his shoulder when he massaged the sting away and slid his hand under the skirt barely covering her modesty.
Wetness greeted him, and he knew he was grinning like a fool as he left the main play area and entered the corridors that led to the dungeons. His birthday was definitely looking up.
* * * *
Her ass stung like crazy, and the floor slid by at dizzying speed. Peyton knew she should be outraged at the way this Spaniard was manhandling her. She was a grown woman, for fuck’s sake, not a bag of potatoes, but she couldn’t deny how much of a turn-on this was either. The absolute dominance that seemed to pour out of his very pores made her feel small and fragile. A definite novelty for Peyton. With her killer heels on she stood at just under six feet. Yet, he was still half a head taller than her. Despite having the lean physique of a swimmer rather than the overbearing muscle mass of, say, Mistress Scarlett’s sub, Mike, he still carried her as though she weighed no more than a feather.
When she had run into him in her job as a reporter, she had been struck by his steely determination, but, here at the club, his presence was overwhelming. The way the crowd parted for him did little to soothe the army of slithering insects that seemed to have taken up residence in her tummy, and by the time they entered the corridors she could barely breathe for her nerves.
Damn her boss’s insistence that she get the inside scoop on Club Spectrum, but her natural curiosity and the big, fat carrot of a pay rise and promotion had been too hard to resist. She had signed a non-disclosure contract as part of being put up for auction, which meant she would not be able to name names, but there were always ways around that—if she survived this encounter, that was.
High-heeled stiletto boots appeared in her vision, followed by bare, very masculine feet, and Pedro stopped his rapid walk.
“I see you two seem to have sorted out your differences. For a while there I thought we would have to reimburse you, Pedro. Your slave looked ready to bolt.” Mistress Scarlett’s amused tones were joined by Pedro’s short laugh, and she struggled into a more upright position over his shoulder. He must have loosened his hold on her chains, because she managed to push against his muscular back and lift slightly. With her hair covering her face like a black curtain, she still couldn’t see much, but a least it stopped the blood rushing to her head and the world stopped spinning. Last thing she wanted to do was embarrass herself completely by throwing up all over Mistress Scarlett’s polished boots.
She huffed in a futile effort to clear her vision from all that hair, and masculine hands lifted it out of the way. To her surprise they belonged to Mistress Scarlett’s Mike. Dressed in nothing but a thong, the sight of which made her cheeks heat—boy, was that man well blessed in the cock department—the silver cuffs and the heavy play collar around his neck confirmed his submissive status. He didn’t look very submissive to her at the minute, though.
His callused hands framed her face and his crystal blue gaze searched her face as though she was one of his suspects under interrogation at the police station, and not another sub, flung over the shoulder of her Dom.
Her Dom. Now there was a thought. As much as Peyton enjoyed her smutty stories, the kinkier the better, she’d never have thought that statement would ever apply to her.
“How are you holding up there, Peyton?” he asked. “You looked pretty overwhelmed on that stage.”
Seemingly not satisfied with whatever he saw in her expression, the steely command behind that tone of voice would have done any Dom proud. It seemed you could take the cop out of the police station, but not out of the man.
She offered him a weak smile.
“She’s fine, boy, and none of your concern.”
Pedro’s clipped tones should have been the end of that conservation, but Mike ignored him, and leant in closer, so that only she could hear his next words.
“Don’t let him bully you into anything you’re not sure about, and use your safewords if you have to.”
Scarlett’s red-tipped fingernails appeared in view and Peyton barely suppressed a wince when she dug those nails into Mike’s forearm. Spots of blood appeared under the crescent indents Scarlett left behind on her sub’s skin, and bile rose in Peyton’s throat. That was definitely one of her hard limits, she decided. Had she put that on her form? She must have done. There was very little she had said yes to, so why then had Pedro bid for her? It just made no sense.
Mike didn’t seem to care about the fact that his Mistress was literally drawing blood, because he winked at Peyton and let her go. The chain round her wrists tightened anew and she slumped back over Pedro’s back. The new me, a sack of spuds.
Peyton sought refuge in humor. Anything to keep her sanity, because that damn man was now patting her ass. Light taps only, but they still sent heated arousal through her veins. She would disgrace herself if he kept that up, and she froze when he grazed his fingers along the seam of her slit underneath her sodden underwear. Shit, now he’d know exactly how wet she was.
To make her humiliation complete, he seemed to be showing his fingers to Scarlett, if his next words were anything to go by.
“Does this look as though she’s not enjoying herself?” Scarlett laughed and Mike grunted as though in pain. Heaven only knew what the woman had just done to him.
“So tell your bloodhound to lay off. I do know what I’m doing,” Pedro said and resumed the slow, far too arousing taps on her butt.
“Of course you do, Pedro. You will keep out of Master Pedro’s business, brass, is that clear?”
Peyton swallowed hard at the sharp tone of voice she used.
“Yes, My Lady. I was only concerned, because I remember how overwhelming this can be at first.” Mike’s reply sounded strained as though he was indeed in pain and then he expelled an audible sigh of relief.
“I know, Mike. It’s the only reason you’re not already in a cock harness.” Again Peyton had to clamp her mouth shut to stop herself from reacting, and Pedro’s shoulder’s shook as he laughed.
“I do like your style, Scarlett, but I think your toy still needs punishing. That glare on him is something else. If I wasn’t busy with my own one, I’d offer you a helping hand.”
Mike swore and coughed, but you could still hear a very distinct, Fuck off.
“Hmm, you might be right on the punishment bit, Pedro, but you’ve already had your birthday present, so go on and enjoy her. I shall do the same with Mike here. Up you come.”
It was his birthday? Had this all been a setup with her as the clueless present?
The click clack of Scarlett’s heels faded into the distance and Pedro turned to face the other wall. Rapid beeps of a keyboard entry pad being pressed later, and Peyton faced the pristine stone floor of what she assumed must be Pedro’s private dungeon.
He set her on her feet, tucked her hair behind her ears, and tipped her chin up, all the while keeping a firm grasp on her still bound wrists.
“Now, for that present,” he said. “Time to get started, pequeña.”
Let the fun begin as they say :-)
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Now, excuse me while I go back to squeeing!
Stay naughty, folks.