Blog Archive

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

Handyman Special Worth Fixing

Follow five women who think they're beyond repair and their handymen that will stop at nothing - including spanking them - to put their tender hearts back together again.

Life left her in the dirt—kicked her while she was down—she’s just plain broken.
But there’s someone around—the one she least expects—he’s a handyman. His methods might seem odd, but he knows what he’s doing. He’s pretty good at mending things that are broken and he already knows she’s worth fixing—even if she doesn’t.


I was considering changing into jeans and my thick, well-worn belt when my eyes settled on the spatula on the counter. I wandered over to her utensil drawer and opened it. The mood might be ruined if I left. I grabbed a nice, flat rectangular tool and tested it against my palm. Her head shot up as the sound penetrated her ears. 

 She turned quickly with a tray of fruit in her hands – I swore she almost dropped it. Her eyes were wide; her brows hidden under her bangs now. I noted she had switched from lip nibbling to cheek biting. It seemed I had her full attention now, batter be damned.

The paradoxes of fear and excitement, pleasure and pain played on her features. 

"Here I am, making you a delicious midnight meal, and you pull that out." She pointed a finger at the wicked implement I was still tapping against my hand. 

"We long ago decided that I was the chief, didn't we?" Her eyes dropped and took my heart with them. I loved the game, and so did she. It was like we were made from the same damn mold. 

"Y-yes, we did, but –" She set the fruit on the counter. 

"Don't stammer at me." My tone was more serious than before. She blushed, and I knew she was wet and ready. 

"But I..." 

"Did you decide you wanted a relationship that had a more 'archaic' balance?" Her head bobbed in response. 

"Did I warn you that you might not like it in reality?" I bit back my smirk as she nodded again, looking defeated. Oh, she liked it in reality, I wasn't fooled. 

"And didn't I tell you not to make me something to eat and to go to bed, instead?" Her finger flew to her mouth, and she started to worry her nail. I used the handle of the utensil to lower her hand. 

"Nuh-uh, no fidgeting, young lady." She looked down at her feet, clasping her hands in front of her, and I thought I heard her swear under her breath. The exact response I wanted. 

For a girl that never swore, she certainly made a blue cloud when she was aroused. 

"What was that?" I leaned forward, cupping my ear. "Did you say something?" She shook her head and swallowed hard. 

I watched her eyes look toward the bedroom, then back at the ready-to-cook batter. 

"Nope. Nice try, though." I could practically read her mind. "I'm afraid that ship has sailed." I walked out of the kitchen, pulled a chair in from the breakfast bar, and sat. I pointed the wooden handle at the steel bowl. 

"Go ahead. I'll be hungry after. I might as well have something ready for me." I paused, waiting until her eyes locked onto mine. "And you'll be in no condition to cook after I'm done with you." Her mouth quivered at my words. 

It was almost too easy.

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