Transgressions Carolyn Faulkner (bts book recommendations TXT) 📖

do. Not, she didn't think, because she was trying to rebel against his authority at all, but more because she wasn't a little girl anymore who had gotten into the habit of couching a demand in a sweet-sounding request. She'd grown up, and she almost felt as if asking him for something was imposing on him, somehow, which she knew was ridiculous.

He'd caught her coming to him in his office at his cabin, where he preferred to keep her since there were no close neighbors if he made her scream, which he did with alarming regularity, for one reason or another. She hesitated at the door, which was unlike her. She wasn't a hesitant person, and he'd been pleased to see that, since he'd begun to guide her—to have solid and steady expectations of her that she could neither flaunt nor thwart—she'd become even more confident about herself and her needs, in and out of the bedroom. But somehow, it hadn't translated to whatever it was she was bringing to him now.

She was nude, the way he required she be from the moment she hit the door—or sooner, if he got his hands on her—of any place they were staying together until she was allowed to dress for work or whatever the next day.

She was growing her hair because he informed her that she would no longer be allowed to cut it, and it was in what she referred to as a messy stage that she hated but he loved. Her curls were somewhat looser and longer, and it gave him more to hold onto if the thought struck him. It was bouncing, almost in time with those pretty breasts of hers—just touching her shoulders—as she walked over to him and kissed him. He required from the beginning that, when she first entered a room that he was in, she was to kiss him. He didn't believe in having her crawl to him or perform some sort of obeisance. He knew she was his submissive, she knew he was her dominant. He had her kiss him because he damned well enjoyed kissing her!

"What is it, beautiful?" he asked, pulling her down onto his lap, smiling wickedly as she hissed when her behind met his jeans. "Someone's bottom is still sore, hmm?"

He hoped she never lost her blush as she fiddled with the first button of his polo shirt. "Yes, Sir." And he'd come to like the fact that she seemed to take naturally to calling him 'Sir' after the first few times, and she used it much more often than he would ever have expected of her, and somehow that warmed his decidedly Grinchy heart.

She also knew that, by approaching him, which she was supposed to do, she was expected to tell him what she wanted within three minutes. And she knew he had already looked at the clock. He had been amazed to find that this was such a hard spot for her. He'd demanded things of her in bed that she had done without a second's hesitation, but something this simple seemed to have some sort of hold over her, this asking him for things. It seemed to intimidate her, somehow, although he tried to make sure she knew he would always hear her out and that he would never punish her for asking about or for something.

But that hadn't worked very well—in fact, not at all—and his patience, which had never been very prevalent in his make up, had worn quite thin. He had quickly taken to, once he'd asked her the first time, simply remaining silent. It annoyed him to have to pull things out of her, not that he thought she was trying to manipulate him into doing so for attention—she got more than that from him than she'd bargained for. It wasn't that.

But that hadn't worked, either, and they ended up just sitting there when either one of them could have been getting work done, or he could have been fucking her or doing any number of much more pleasant things than waiting for her to get up the gumption to ask him something.

So, he had instituted a time limit. If she came to him—which she was required to—and obviously wanted to ask him about something, she had three minutes in which to do it—which he thought was, really, three times more generous than it needed to be—or he would punish her.

Ally knew the time was slipping away, so she spit it out as fast as she could, "Tanya and I were going to see the male strippers in town, but we arranged to do this well before us, and I don't know if I can still go."

He gave her a look that said he knew what she had done—waiting until the last few seconds, then cramming her question in like the procrastinator she could be at times, especially about something she really didn't want to do.

"I'm sorry honey," he began, and Ally thought he was going to say no to her going, but then she'd expected that. But instead, he said something entirely different. "We're going to a minute and a half." He gave her a stern look. "And you know where we're headed with this, don't you?"

She put her cheek down on his chest, one hand holding onto the collar of his shirt for dear life. "Yes, Sir."

"And where is that?"

"Eventually, I'm going to have to come in and tell you when you ask, first thing, no waiting." She was practically in tears by the end of it, which he promptly soothed away with kisses.

"And you already know that you can ask or tell me anything, right, honey, as long as you do it respectfully?"

She nodded dutifully. "Yes, Sir." She hadn't raised her head from his chest.

"Good girl. Well, you complied with the letter of my law but not the spirit of it, didn't you?"

Whenever he asked her a direct question like that, she was compelled to answer. "Yes, Sir," not liking