Free Story Friday-Stirred…Not Shaken

Well friends its another Free Story Friday! Today I’m posting a little 007 Spanking Fan Fic in honor of the new movie coming out. Who’s your favorite Bond? Feel free to picture the Bond of your choice in the following story. Before I leave you with your free read I’m excited to announce my new book Naturally Naughty should release on Saturday. Happy reading everyone!
Morganna

Stirred…Not Shaken

Natasha watched him enter the room with an elegant woman on each arm. She gave the women a cursory glance then dismissed them. Yuri and Boris would deal with the female agents. He was her objective. His ice blue eyes met hers as he accepted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. He raised a sardonic brow in acknowledgment raising his glass to her before taking a sip his eyes not breaking contact.

Natasha smiled and took a deep drink from her own glass before deliberately turning her back on him. She stalked towards the dance floor swaying her hips provocatively. She pretended surprise when a large hand caught her elbow.

He turned her to face him with knowing smile, “I’d love to.”

She frowned puzzled by his words, “Love to?”

“I’d love to dance. Wasn’t that what you asked me?”

“I beg your pardon. I didn’t ask anything of you,” Natasha said smartly, then flushed as she remembered the plan was to attract not repel.

“Oh but you did Natasha,” he said smiling down at her outraged expression as he pulled her tightly to his chest easily leading her across the floor.

Natasha relaxed against him her body fluidly following his to the beat of the music.

She tilted her head back and smiled up at him, “I believe you have me at a disadvantage Sir.”

“I don’t believe that for a second Madam.”

“You know my name but I don’t know yours,” she told him sweetly innocence projecting from her green eyes.

The look in his own told her he didn’t believe her for a second, “Bond. James Bond.”

“Charmed.”

All evening long they matched wits as they danced with the cream de la crème of Paris. She seduced him with her rapier sharp tongue. He captivated her by parrying her every thrust with one of his own. She found most men dullards that were about as sharp as a spoon. It was refreshing to be matched word for word.

Soon they found themselves wrapped in each other’s arms in his hotel room. He was a masterful lover. She would not be mastered. She met him kiss for kiss…touch for touch. Every restless sigh he elicited from her was answered with a tortured groan of his own. He gave no quarter, she asked for none. Each wrung everything from the other until they collapsed upon the bed in utter exhaustion, sated beyond the ability to move.

Natasha woke to find James sleeping beside her. Her entire body thrummed in awareness. As she stood she was surprised to still find tiny aftershocks still shooting through her body twitching and aching in the most delightful way.

Shaking her head she got down to the business at hand. Since Bond had told her nothing about his reasons for being in Paris, she would have to do things the old-fashioned way. She would have to search his hotel room; quickly and efficiently as he slept and hopefully find out why he was in Paris. The information would be useful to several key people she knew; people that would pay her well for that information.

Natasha dressed and began her search.

“Find anything interesting?”

Natasha started at the sound of his voice directly behind her. She hadn’t heard his approach! Spinning around to face him, with her gun in her hand Natasha gave him a friendly warning, “That’s far enough James. Be a good boy and play nice.”

He sent her a lazy smile before suddenly rushing her and removing the gun from her grasp with relative ease, “Nice? Nice little girls don’t play with guns.”

He tossed the gun behind the couch and pulled what looked like a cell phone from his pocket, “Well thanks to Q I have the equipment to deal with naughty little girls.” He did something with the phone and it turned into what looked like an old fashioned wooden backed hairbrush.

Natasha blinked at the hairbrush in his hand and the determined glint in his eye, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh but I would,” She was across his knee with her bottom bared before she could voice much protest.

“You can’t! I’m a grown woman!”

His hand slapped down hard across her naked buttocks bringing a gasp to her lips. The first smack was followed in quick succession by several more and soon her entire bottom began to fill with stinging heat.

“Oooowwww! Stop it this instant! Bastard!”

“Mmmm…not quite the response I was looking for. Perhaps the brush will help,” The hairbrush cracked down with precision as he methodically covered every inch of her tender behind then started the journey a second and third time.

All too soon Natasha lay limply across his knee crying softly. Then his hand stroked lightly across her heated flesh sending a shiver of a different kind through her. Slowly the glide of his hands moved between her legs with gentle purpose and her whimpers changed to cries of delight.

“Oh James,” She sighed in wonder, surrendering to the pleasure and the man who gave it. Surrender? The thought sent Natasha scurrying from his lap in horror as she pulled her dress back down to cover her aching bottom. She wasn’t sure where her panties had gone but they were unnecessary; escape had to be the priority.

She was aghast at the mix of emotions running through her. She wanted to surrender; to give in to his mastery. She was appalled at her own desires. Never before had she met a man whose spirit was as strong as her own, his was possibly even stronger.

There was danger here with this man, dangerous to who she’d always known herself to be.

Natasha backed across the room to the window, while he watched her with a lazy smile.
He looked….bored!

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes!” She snapped pulling the repelling device from where it was clipped inside her dress. Deftly hooking it to the window ledge she smiled triumphantly at him, “I’m sure we’ll meet again James. Auvoir.”

James smiled as he watched her head disappear from sight, “Count on it.”