Show and TellA Forbidden Flowers Story
Donya Lynne
Show and Tell©
Forbidden Flowers, book 7
Published by Phoenix Press LLC
Copyright 2020 Donya Lynne
Cover by Megyn Ward, MW Designs
ISBN: 978-1-938991-55-4
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected].
References to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Books by Donya Lynne
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Prologue
Jenna removed the red dress from the hanger and held it in front of her, admiring her reflection in the mirror. She never used to wear red. In fact, she never used to wear dresses. Maybe a skirt suit to work, but never a dress.
But like everything else, he had known both the dress and the color would look good on her.
She lowered the exquisite garment and gazed at her nudity. Her fingertips caressed the supple swell of her breast, circling her nipple. She imagined it was him touching her. She had come to crave his touch. The touch of a man whose face she had never seen.
But she would have known his touch anywhere.
She slid the dress over her head, sans undergarments, just as he had instructed. Jenna knew not to disobey him. If she did, he would punish her. Not that she didn’t like his punishments. And sometimes she intentionally provoked him so that he would punish her. But tonight was special. Tonight, if she pleased him, he might finally reveal his face.
She was already deliriously wet at the thought of what the evening would bring. What erotic surprise did he have in store for her? Would he humiliate her again? Make her crawl on all fours? Tie her up and gag her?
Each time she was with him, he pushed her further, testing her boundaries and, in some cases, shattering them. Such as the first time he made her come in a room full of people. The others’ attention had been elsewhere—on a submissive being worked over on a St. Andrew’s Cross—but he had taken the opportunity to drag her to the back of the room, press her against the wall, slip his hand between her legs, and finger her to completion while pulling the bodice of her dress to one side, exposing her breast.
And she had let him. She had practically begged for it.
Jenna still got weak in the knees when she thought about it. She’d never been more sexually excited than he’d gotten her that night.
She shivered with anticipation, her nipples hardening into tight pebbles that poked against the thin, buttery-smooth fabric covering her breasts.
This was what he did to her.
This was the effect he had over not just her body, but her soul.
She was his.
He owned her, because he owned her mind.
And he had since that very first phone call.
Chapter One
Dr. O’s Office . . .
As a psychologist specializing in women’s sexual health, I thought I’d heard it all. Then steamy romance novelist Jenna Spencer sent me an email asking to be interviewed for my upcoming book.
It was past the deadline for applications, but with a subject line that read “The best sex of my life was with a man I’ve never seen,” I had to make an exception.
“Are you ready?” she asks, sitting across from me in faded blue jeans that hug her supple curves, a sheer floral button-front blouse over a white cami, and red leather Christian Louboutin slingback sandals. She’s slender and petite, with dark-brown hair, large espresso eyes, naturally pouty lips, and an adorably upturned nose.
She doesn’t look a day over twenty-three, but I know from the form she filled out for me that she just turned twenty-eight.
I usually spend time before each interview making small talk to put the subject at ease. I find that most women need a little encouragement to speak candidly about their intimate experiences, but Jenna needs no hand-holding. She walked through the door ready to get right to it. And while my jaw dropped more than once while I read her completed questionnaire, I don’t want to preempt her story by asking all the questions swimming through my mind. I need to hear this particular story from beginning to end in her own words, without interruption.
I start my digital recorder and set it on the small table between us.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Chapter Two
Jenna’s Story . . .
Seated at her desk with a cup of tea to her left and a bowl of untouched trail mix to her right, Jenna’s fingers danced over her keyboard at lightning speed. She was almost finished with the draft of her next book, at the point in her manuscript where all the layers, conflicts, and plotlines she had been developing and weaving around one another for the first two-thirds of the book began to come together. This was the point in the draft stage when words really began to flow, sometimes too quickly for her to keep up.
With a loud smack of wood on flesh, the paddle connected with Josephine’s ass. Her cheeks burned as if seared with hot metal. Just the movement of air against her bared skin as Master paced back and forth behind her was intolerable.
Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes as she pressed them closed and bit more forcefully into the ball gag to keep from crying out as he spanked her again. Master had commanded her not to make a sound, and she knew better than to disobey him.
The paddle struck the back of her thighs a moment later, and she nearly
