“I haven’t been to London for some time,” she finally said. “Amir’s getting a replacement passport for me at the embassy. Know of any cheap flights out? Oh, and I would need a place to stay.”
~*~
Three Weeks Later
“What’re you doing?”
Leah whipped her head away from the mirror and toward the sound of Devin’s voice, making no attempt to cover her naked body. Devin stood in the bathroom doorway wearing only his boxer briefs, looking good enough to eat with a spoon. Forget the spoon.
“I was looking at the brand in the mirror,” she admitted. The burn was healing well but the skin was still covered in ugly scabs. The doctor had said that was to be expected as a normal part of the healing process. It could take up to a full year to completely heal, eventually fading to a ridge of pink or white, the intensity of the color dependent on the amount of pigment in the skin.
“I hate how you got it,” Devin said, moving close and pulling her into his arms. “But I think of it as a badge of courage.”
“A what?”
Devin looked into her eyes, his face blazing with tenderness. “A badge of courage. A wound sustained in a war. Something you can carry with pride, because you didn’t give up, Leah. You kept up your courage. They might have controlled your body, but you didn’t let them take your dignity or your pride.”
Leah smiled. “It didn’t feel like that at the time. It was just a matter of survival, I guess. It’s not like I had a lot of choice in the matter.”
“You chose to keep your wits about you and you didn’t let them break your spirit. A lot of people would have broken down under that kind of pressure. You didn’t.”
She looked into Devin’s earnest, handsome face. “And you didn’t give up on me, either. You refused to believe I’d just gone off to Bangkok, like that creep tried to make you think.”
“After what we had shared, I knew you wouldn’t do that, Leah.”
Leah reached up, stroking Devin’s cheek. “I used to dream of you at night. That somehow you would find me and come for me.” She circled her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “And you did. Somehow, you did.”
They kissed for a long time and then Devin led her back into the bedroom of his London garden flat, which they’d barely left since arriving. They’d spent most of their time eating, sleeping and making love. When they weren’t doing that, they were talking, endlessly processing what had happened for each of them during the horrific four days Leah had been held captive.
At first Leah had been hesitant to tell Devin the details of her time at the compound, afraid of both his reaction, and her fear of reliving it through the telling. But he’d been so gentle and easy to talk to that once she started, she hadn’t been able to stop. It was like peeling an onion, pulling away the layers of pain and terror she’d endured. And as she poured out the story, it felt somehow as if she could toss the layers aside in the telling, their sting and power lessened by exposure.
True, she still woke sometimes in the night, her heart racing, sweat pouring from her body, caught in a nightmare where she was running, desperate to escape, only to find herself again and again back in that crawl space beneath the stairs, or hanging from a hook, a whip slicing the skin from her back in long, painful strips while she howled.
She would wake crying, or gasping for air and always, always, Devin was there, his strong arms encircling her as he whispered, “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe now. It’s all okay.”
She wanted him to be right. She needed for it to all be okay. She told herself over and over that she was free. She was safe. Everything was fine. And for the most part, she believed it. But could it ever really be fine? Would she ever get past the nightmares and the horrific memories? And what about all the women and girls still enslaved? Just because Yousef Khalil’s operation had been shut down, there was still a world of evil out there.
She’d learned a huge lesson and knew she would be far more careful in her future travels, but despite what others might think, or how they might have reacted, it hadn’t dampened her wanderlust. Though just now, at this moment, all she wanted was to stay cocooned with Devin, eating the wonderful cupcakes he brought from the Hummingbird Bakery and the delicious Indian food from the local corner market, and making love until they fell asleep in a tangle of legs and arms.
“Hey, you put new bedding on while I was in the bath,” Leah said, plopping down on the fresh, white sheets of Devin’s king size bed.
“I did,” he admitted, smiling. “In honor of your first whipping.”
“My what?” Leah stilled, though her heart picked up its pace. She’d been asking over the past few days when they would reintroduce BDSM into their lovemaking. At first she’d agreed with Devin that they should take it easy and be careful while her brand was healing, but as the days passed, she found herself longing for more than vanilla sex with only a dash of spice. She wanted the full treatment.
“You heard me, sexy girl. Your first whipping.” Devin pulled open a drawer of his bureau and withdrew a coiled whip, similar to the one she’d seen in Pattaya, though the lash wasn’t as long and it had ended in a nylon cracker.
“Some call it a single tail, but the proper term is signal whip,” Devin said, running his fingers along the braided leather. “Because it’s shorter, it’s more suitable for indoor use than the bullwhip you saw in Pattaya.” Letting it unfurl, he snapped it in the air, the cracking sound drawing a startled gasp from Leah, not to mention a sudden, sharp tug in her pussy.
He moved to her, gently pushing her flat onto the bed. She lay back willingly, her nipples suddenly aching and hard. He dragged the long, soft leather thong over her breasts, stomach and thighs. Leaning over her, he grazed her neck with his lips, sliding lower to tease her nipples with a gentle, sensual flick of his tongue.
“Have you ever experienced a whipping with one of these?” Devin drew the tail over her body, resting the handle between her legs, which, somehow, had fallen open.
Leah moaned. “No,” she whispered huskily. “I’ve always wanted to experience it. I know it can be very intense.”
Devin’s smile was almost evil, though his golden brown eyes were sparkling. “Bullwhips and signal whips aren’t something you just pick up and use. But in the right hands, they’re as sexy as they are dangerous. The lash can create a range of sensations from delicate to cruel.”
He lifted the lash, lightly stroking its deceptively soft nylon tip over her skin. “It can be as subtle as a lover’s tongue or as sharp as a blade.” Leah licked her lips and closed her thighs around the hard whip handle, feeling the swell of her pussy lips against it.
“In the hands of an expert,” Devin continued, sliding onto the bed and stretching out beside her, “a well-made whip becomes a living thing, much in the way a Samurai warrior’s sword vibrates with the life force given to it by the master sword maker. But what really makes the experience come alive is the interaction of the partners—that connection, that oneness between two, that kindred pairing that allows pleasure and erotic pain to flow freely from the giver to the receiver and back again.”
“Yes,” Leah whispered, “I understand.”
And she did understand, not only intellectually, but also on a gut level, that what he was offering had nothing to do with the beatings she’d received at the hands of the guards at the compound, or even that much in common with the BDSM play she’d engaged in at the clubs and with previous lovers. For while that kind of play had been fun and exciting, a key element had always been missing. She understood that now.
“Are you ready, Leah? Are you ready to suffer for me?”
The words had a power of their own, and Leah felt her body softening and opening. “Yes,” she whispered fervently.
He kissed her cheek and nodded, rising from the bed. “I want you to lie flat on your stomach. I’m going to tie you down, not only for the erotic aspect of bondage, but also to keep you safe. With a whip like this, you don’t want
your subject squirming around. A misplaced strike could cut your skin. Safety is as important as pleasure when it comes to the art of the whip.”
Leah lay quietly as Devin retrieved several lengths of thin nylon rope from his toy drawer. She lay still as he took her wrists, one at a time, and then her ankles, winding the soft rope snuggly in place, and then securing it to the legs of bed, forcing her body into an X and pulling her down into the mattress.
She was quiet, but anything but passive. Her heart was thumping, her breath already ragged with excitement. She felt taut in her position, the ropes stretching her limbs, though not uncomfortably. Her skin tingled from head to toe, electric with the need to feel the signal whip’s burning kiss. At the same time, she felt that deep, velvet cocooning sense of contentment and safety that being bound in rope always engendered in her.
The fact that it was Devin Lyons, her beloved Devin, standing beside her made it all the more meaningful. She trusted him with her heart, her soul, her very life. She was ready, more than ready, for this new experience and despite her fear, perhaps partially because of it, every nerve ending thrummed with aching anticipation.
“Leah.” Devin knelt beside the bed, his mouth close to her ear. “Are you comfortable? Are the ropes good?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want this? Because you can say no. We have all the time in the world, darling. If it’s too soon—”
“No!” Leah interrupted. “I want it. I do. More than anything. Please.”
She felt his hand moving over her back and ass, his touch gentle. His fingers slid down the crack between her cheeks, grazing her spread pussy. He pushed a finger inside her. It slipped in easily and Leah felt her muscles clamping down with desire.
Devin chuckled softly. “How did I know that’s what I would find? You’re soaking wet and we haven’t even started yet.”
Leah felt herself blushing, but she was grinning too. She couldn’t deny it—she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, and more than ready for the erotic whipping Devin had promised.
He started by popping the whip over her head, its sonic crack making her body jerk, but when the cracker touched her skin, he only brushed it, feather soft, against her thigh. He made it crack again, and again brushed her thigh.
The first real strike landed on her ass, preceded a fraction of a second by a breeze caused by the cracker, followed by a slight sting. After several of these strokes, which were easy to tolerate, came a sudden burning stroke that made Leah yelp.
It had the slow burn of a cane strike, but with a more immediate bite, the focus on a smaller surface area perhaps accounting for the intensity. This was followed by several burning pops in a row that had Leah squirming in her bonds, though all she could really do was clench the ropes at her wrists and curl her toes.
He kept the focus on her ass and the backs of her thighs, though occasionally the whip curled, the tip making contact with her inner thigh, so close to her spread pussy that she felt the puff of air against her clit in the millisecond before the leather made contact with her leg.
Devin was out of her line of sight, but she felt him beside her, and then his fingers, which moved lightly over her burning ass, again dropping between her legs. She couldn’t help herself—she pressed wantonly against his hand, trying with her very restricted mobility to push her cunt against him.
Again his sexy, throaty chuckle. “You doing okay?” he asked, pushing two fingers into her wetness so that her only answer was a grunt of pure lust. He stroked her pussy for several delicious minutes, the heat in her ass and thighs mingling with the fire burning in her cunt.
“Oh, god,” she moaned, teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
“Not yet,” Devin said, withdrawing his fingers. “I’m not done with you.”
He began to whip her again, alternating the sensations from feather-soft strokes to gently stinging kisses, all the way to the slow sweet burn of braided leather on skin, and everything in between, until she was gasping, moaning, crying and sighing, not sure if she could take another stroke, yet at the same time needing more, more and still more.
“Enough,” Devin finally whispered, his mouth again close to her ear. “You did beautifully well, Leah. I’m so proud of you. You’re amazing.”
She wanted more. She wanted to lose herself completely in the exquisite sensation he’d woven around her like a magical spell. “More,” she managed to murmur. “More.”
Devin kissed her cheek. “No, sweetheart. You’re at the point where you’ll let me flay you alive. You’re in that place, that beautiful, peaceful place where you lose the ability to make good judgments about your tolerance for pain.”
She felt him sitting beside her on the bed, though he made no move to untie her. Instead, she felt his hand moving down her back, the fingers lightly brushing the burning flesh on her ass and slipping lower, dipping into her wetness, pulling a groan from her lips.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he whispered, his voice suddenly ragged. His fingers were moving inside her and over her vulva all at once, the friction perfect, the combination amazing.
Her body began to tremble and then shake, an orgasm rising against his hand like a wave. Still his fingers flew, stroking like a cock and a tongue all at the same time. She felt she would have lifted from the bed had the ropes not been holding her in place. As the climax took her over, she heard a strange, keening wail, and realized it was she, even her voice out of control as she careened over the edge of the most intense orgasm of her life.
Leah lay in a near-stupor, unable to move a muscle, not even her lips, not even her eyelids. She was aware of Devin moving briskly around her, untying the ropes and massaging her calves and arms to make sure her blood was flowing. She felt him lying down beside her, and then his strong arms reaching beneath her and gently flipping her onto her side.
He spooned her from behind, his warm body nestling against her, his hands gently cupping her breasts as he kissed her neck. She murmured something incoherent and he whispered, “Shh, don’t try to speak. Just rest.”
She did, drifting in and out of consciousness as she slowly came down to earth. “Wow,” she finally said. “That was fucking amazing.”
Devin chuckled softly. “You’re a natural, Leah. You were born for the whip.”
Leah smiled, pleased with this assessment. “It was…” she paused, trying to find the words to describe the intensity of what she’d experienced. “I don’t know. Sublime is the word that comes to mind. Is that too corny?”
“Not at all,” Devin said. He rolled onto his back, gently pulling her along with him. She turned toward him, curling into his side and resting her cheek on his smooth chest. “That’s the difference between what we shared just now, and the so called scenes you can find at any BDSM club,” Devin said. “They might be doing exactly the same thing, but the experience moves from the mere fun, to the sublime.”
Leah lifted her head, looking into Devin’s lovely golden brown eyes. “Why do you think that is? What accounts for such a huge difference?” Even as she asked it, all at once, she knew. Devin, she could tell, knew it too.
“Love,” they said at the same time.
Then they laughed, the same gut wrenching, soul freeing belly laughs they’d shared that very first day on the beach. And Leah knew, as Devin took her again into his arms, that everything truly was going to be fine.
Just fine.
Forced
If the job seems too good to be true, that’s because it is…
When Mia signs on as girl Friday to a gorgeous millionaire, she has no clue about her new boss’s evil intentions. They say the darkest hour is just before the dawn, but if you’re bound and blindfolded, will you be able to see the light?
Chapter 1
Ellis eyed the woman hungrily, his cock throbbing, his whip arm tingling with anticipation. She was suspended by her wrists, naked save for her shiny black six-inch heels. The clamps gleamed silver against the red of her nippl
es and the creamy white of her skin, which was shiny with perspiration. He could smell her fear, and the primal scent stirred something dark and feral deep inside him.
He smiled, savoring his power. He could see the realization dawning on her face that he wasn’t one of her usual partners, one of those bullshit posers who proliferated the BDSM scene, giving real sadists a bad name.
Ellis moved closer to the bound and gagged girl, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek with two fingers. She stared at him, pleading with her eyes.
“What’s the matter? Having second thoughts? Or did you lie on your profile, hmm? When you wrote that stuff about what a dirty girl you are, and how you like it rough—was that just bullshit? A come on?” He withdrew his hand, but only to reposition it so he could slap her. She squealed behind the leather gag and jerked her head away, but she wasn’t going anywhere. He stroked the hot, red mark he’d left on her overly made-up face.
She’d claimed she was twenty-seven on her online profile, but he wouldn’t be surprised if she was on the far side of thirty-five. He slapped her on the other cheek, just to keep things symmetrical.
Ellis reached into his trousers pocket and withdrew his pocket knife. She’d listed edge play as one of her sexual triggers in her profile. Maybe a little knife play would get her engine revving. He touched the release button and the blade snicked out of its casing. He brought the tip of the blade to her throat.
The woman began to tremble, tears flooding her eyes. She was shaking so hard the point of the knife grazed her skin. Ellis pulled back the blade. He hadn’t meant to prick her skin. It was her fault, really, jerking like that.
“Hey,” he said, “sorry, babe.” His eye was drawn to the droplet of blood, which beaded at the hollow of her throat and then rolled in a slender red line between her augmented, gravity-defying breasts. His cock was so hard he could hammer nails with it and his balls were aching.
Dark Obsessions - Volume I: Four Intense Capture Fantasies in One Sizzling Collection Page 36