Captured by Time by Carolyn Faulkner, Alta Hensley Page A

spare her the avid attentions of his mouth, either. As they were much less constrained than they had been the first time they were together, he went all out, doing things he hadn't intended to until she was very near her climax, almost demanding a response that she seemed incapable of denying him.
    But still, those hands continued to descend towards him. He wasn't worried they were going to be able to do much when they got there—he was much too big for her to be able to lift him off her or impede him much at all.
    However, it was the principle of the thing. She was disobeying him—again—and he wouldn't have it, even if he did intend to let her go tomorrow, although the thought caused a painful twinge in his chest. There was no telling what would happen between then and now, and he intended to ensure that she would do as he told her to do, and there was only one way he could think of to do that.
    * * * * *
    As soon as one of her hands—her right hand, as she was right handed—began to come close enough to almost touch him, he lurched up and surprised her by grabbing hold of both it, and its close behind match. And then, using the leverage created by pulling on them, he managed to get her onto her tummy in the middle of the bed while maneuvering himself out from under her in record time. Before she had a chance to realize what he was doing and try to prevent it, he had her arms lashed together and then secured to the top of the bed with spare lengths of leather that had spilled out onto the floor from a saddle bag. Then he stood at the end of the bed and pulled first one ankle away to one side, then the other, separating and binding each of them to a corner with leather, so she was tied fast to the bed.
    "Little miss, I can't for the life of me understand why you refuse to follow orders," he boomed. "Has no one taught you to obey a man?"
    She huffed. "Hardly."
    He glared at her, licking his lips when all he wanted to do was taste her wet pussy. "Hardly what?"
    "It's not the same where I'm from. Women don't have to listen to what a man says. A woman can do whatever she wants. No man has the power to say otherwise."
    Jude paused, taking it all in. "Well, that is a mighty shame. And you like that?"
    Cimmy remained motionless, clearly thinking about his question. Very slowly, she shook her head. "No, I don't like it at all. I much prefer a man to act like a… man. Dominant, strong, protective. Like you."
    "Well then, darling," he growled, "you are about to see how a man acts when a woman refuses to obey." Then he pulled the blanket up over her back, arranging it carefully so it ended right where the spankable portion of her behind began, and doffed his shirt to cover her calves and feet. He couldn't imagine how horrible he'd feel if he accidentally hit her back or lower legs. The rest of her—the parts revealed between the two drapes, anyway—was fair game.
    As he did so, she of course deduced a general idea of what it was that he intended, and began arching up violently as best she could, and generally trying to work herself free. So he took a relatively thick length of leather and ran it across her lower back, attaching it to the bed at either side, eliminating her ability to raise her behind off the bed, and sending her into a paroxysm of fighting against the new restriction.
    And then, as he stood there staring down at her bare behind, he unbuckled his belt, and her efforts at escaping redoubled before his eyes; not that it did her one bit of good. She was there, and that was where he wanted her to be, and where he was going to keep her until he thought she had learned her lesson.
    "Have you never been punished before me? Never had your ass tanned by leather?"
    She shook her head. "Never," she panted. "But…"
    "But what, Cimmy?"
    "But I want to be," she replied, in a tone sounding very much like pleading. Regardless of whether she deserved a true belting or not, this woman needed it, and he was definitely the man who