by Dakota Black
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
EBook Offer
A Captured Spirit
Texas Oil Book Three
Dakota Black
Blushing Books
©2017 by Blushing Books® and Dakota Black
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
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Dakota Black
A Captured Spirit
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-538-3
Print ISBN: 978-1-61258-582-6
Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Dakota Black
EBook Offer
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Chapter 1
A spirit is a powerful weapon, a mind-numbing control, accentuating the evil lurking inside of every man. For those considered spiritual, the reflections are brutal, often damning.
And many will not survive the madness…
Madness. The single word should be terrifying. Instead, the concept had increased his ugly needs to the point he could no longer control them. The pictures told no lies. He was living with ugly secrets and had been his entire life. He could no longer hide from them. There was no salvation for a man who was at the brink of damnation. A cold chill shifted down his spine as he gripped the steering wheel. He hated what he’d become. He loathed the knowledge of his past, his ancestry.
But he was going to be forced the face the pain. Secrets and lies…
The rain was lightly falling yet the wind had picked up in intensity, swirling bits of debris throughout the darkened streets. Zach Goodman slowed down as the traffic light turned red, peering out the windshield at the dilapidated buildings. There were few lights on in any of the brownstones, none in the aging cinderblock structures that had once housed a significant manufacturing force. The area was no longer on the city’s radar, given state funds required for renovations due to the recent ravaging hurricanes.
He tapped his fingers on the leather steering wheel, sucking in his breath as he shrank back against the plush seat. He’d been drawn to the neighborhood, seeking solace in a club catering to those considered the darkest humans in society. The thought giving him a chuckle, he surveyed the few people daring to walk the street at night just as a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. A doozy of a storm was rolling in.
No one, including his friends and business partners, knew of his penchant for kink, an intense craving he’d had all his life. To them, he was a polished attorney, a man of honor, not the heinous beast clawing at the surface. His wealth and certain protective connections allowed him complete anonymity when feeding his hunger. However, if any information leaked regarding his extra-curricular proclivities, a heavy tarnish would be slathered all over Rush Enterprises’ reputation.
While Dallas, Texas was less conservative than the rest of the state, the Bible belt supporters and clients had their own brand of harsh condemnation. When the light turned green, he remained where he was, the sleek ebony Mercedes idling with a soft purr. He hadn’t frequented his club of choice in months, especially given the recent issues he’d been embroiled in. The near corporate takeover had drained him, leaving a shell of a man. However, his job needed to take a back seat, if only for a little while, or he would lose his grip on his perfectly practiced life. Club Ravage would no doubt change his mood.
He pressed down on the accelerator, keeping his speed low, until he reached the intended street. When he rounded the corner, he gave a slight smile. Nothing had changed. A single yellowish light hung over the entrance, an alcove located just off the main thoroughfare. There were no signs and no indication of what was housed behind the thick, steel door.
Patrons were selected carefully, their bank accounts as well as medical records gone over with a fine-tooth comb. No one entered who wasn’t thoroughly checked. He waited at the gate, flashing his nondescript entrance card under the scanner. The plain credit card sized plastic piece had no markings, no words and no lettering. Yet, the pass was considered gold to many, a prized possession. He pulled past the gate, nodding to the security guard on the left. The man was heavily armed, specifically selected for the duty given his military qualifications. There was another hiding in the shadows, merely waiting for any issues. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
Or worse.
After parking, he sat still, studying his dim reflection in the rearview mirror. The LED lighting was only positioned for convenience for the customers to guide their way along the sloping asphalt. Tonight, he sat glaring at the man behind a proverbial steel mask, someone he no longer knew. Even he could see the anger, as well as the sadness hiding behind his eyes.
If only his friends knew about his past.
Grabbing his keys, he climbed out of the car, shutting and pressing the ke
y fob. He waited and glanced up at the blackened sky. This would be a brutal night, and not just because of the approaching storm system. He needed to become the savage that was running through his Cherokee Indian blood.
And he would.
He hadn’t changed his clothes after the recent meeting at corporate headquarters, the four-hour stint involving a decision regarding the purchase of additional land for the company. He sneered as he walked toward the entrance, his anger fueling his raging hunger. While he adored his friendship with Mitchell Rush and Camden Dane, even considering them a part of his very soul, he was furious as to the outcome of the meeting.
Just as he neared the massive door, he stopped and slid both hands through his hair. Time to unfurl the mask. He was no longer a multi-million-dollar executive.
Tonight, he was a sadist.
He used his card again on the non-descript black box. Once he was inside, he breathed in, savoring the intense aromas of exotic perfumes and massage oils, leather and the smell of sex. The moment he walked past the burly guards flanking the door, his cock began to ache, pushing hard against his linen pants.
He walked straight to the bar, an impressive piece of utilitarian furniture carved out of mahogany and zebra woods. The bartender was new but attentive, pouring his favorite Boodles gin and tonic within seconds after his approach. Efficiency was merely one of the club’s attributes. The computer system captured likes and dislikes during every visit. As he swirled his drink, he glanced at the periphery. Very little had changed in the expansive area known as the function room – an area to meet, greet and even fuck. He could tell by the glow of the cerulean blue lights shimmering down on the stage nestled in the corner that a show was planned for the evening. He took a sip, a single quiver pulsing down the back of his neck as his hunger continued to grow.
He certainly wasn’t here for chitchat, but entertainment? A tasty appetizer. His online selection had been made almost two hours before, the four-thousand-dollar payment made by credit card and the room assignment neatly secured in his wallet. As if he needed any instructions. He knew the drill. He watched as newcomers paraded in front of others, the women wide-eyed, the men bursting with testosterone. Had he been this way the first one or two times? He doubted it. He’d always known what he craved.
Zach didn’t rush with his drink. There was no need nor was he in a hurry. The woman would be waiting, positioned as required, a bought and paid for kink whore for the night. Those employed were clean, practiced and trustworthy. They also had a heightened threshold for pain. He leaned against the bar and sucked on the ice cubes, allowing time for his mind to alter, to change into the darkened aura.
His attention was drawn to the darkened area over the stage, the series of metal chains being used as pulleys. As a cage descended from the ceiling, the customers crowded closer, hungry to see the submissive on the day’s menu.
He remained where he was, sipping on his drink, his blood pumping wildly through his veins.
When the oversized dog cage came into view, there were appropriate sounds of awe made by several of the men in the audience. The girl inside was naked, her neck wrapped in a studded jeweled collar, a thick leather leash attached to the bars on top. An anal bondage hook, positioned in her ass, was also secured to the crossing metal bars, both apparatuses keeping her exactly in a desired position.
Her lips were stained a blueish red and he’d bet her finger and toenails matched. She wore cat’s ears and even from his distance, he could identify the almost garish make up, the whiskers and pink nose. Two masked men stormed out of the shadows, clad in skin tight leather pants. Each held a different type of whip in his massive hand, an indication of exactly what the poor girl would receive.
He held up his drink, saluting the owners. What had once been true kink was now nothing more than a representation of Fifty Shades, a necessary dumbing down of BDSM. Turning away, he concentrated on his drink. He had no desire to partake in or watch such dull debauchery. Then again, were his basic desires any different? The thought remained with him as he sucked on the ice cubes. Perhaps he’d merely lost interest.
Seconds later, he was ready. He thumped the glass down on top of the bar and took long strides toward the series of hallways. When he reached the appropriate location, he used his card key and eased into the dimly lit room.
The second he was inside, he was a different man. The girl was exactly as described, vibrant red hair and porcelain skin. Her wrists had been secured by metal bands to a long, thick steel chain bolted to the ceiling. Only her toes touched the floor. She was wearing a sleeveless white cotton nightgown, the kind usually worn by wives or teenagers. Her head hung down, her body lightly swinging back and forth, a slight creaking noise created by metal clanging against metal.
Removing his coat, he rolled up his sleeves, his eyes never leaving her. She didn’t react to his entrance. Not a sound. Not a look. She was obedient and perfect. He walked around her, studying her calves and feet, her manicured toes and the slight silhouette of her voluptuous body, wide hips and generous bust. He wasn’t into skin and bones, whether in the women he dated or the women he dominated.
“What’s your name?” he asked, the tone of his voice commanding.
“Cherry,” she responded with little inflection.
Zach walked around to the front, lifting her head using just the tip of his index finger. “A beautiful name for a sexy woman. I approve.” Her eyes were a bright green and bore the look of someone understanding the rules. But there was also something else. A hint of fear. The thought was interesting. “Do you understand you’re mine tonight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you understand what’s going to happen?”
Cherry pursed her lips. “Anything you desire, sir.”
“Good. Then let’s get started.” He rubbed his finger down her cheek to her jawline then around her ruby stained lips. What was a lovely creature like this doing here? Selling her body? Then again, what the hell did he care? He wasn’t dating. He was whipping and fucking. The thought refueling the angry beast, he raked his nails down the front of her neck before fisting the front of her gown. A smile crossing his face, he let out a single growl as he yanked back his arm, ripping the thin material all the way down the front.
She whimpered then shut her mouth as her eyes opened wide. Cherry struggled with her bindings, her body wiggling until she saw the look of admonishment on his face.
He exhaled as he dropped the unwanted gown then walked around her in another circle, inspecting, searching for any flaws. Her body had no markings, tattoos or piercings, only smooth, unblemished skin. To him, she was exactly what could soothe, calm the inner turmoil. Flexing open his hand, he rubbed the ends of his fingers across her back and down to her rounded buttocks. He dragged his index finger down the long crack of her ass and back up, resisting going any further.
Tipping her head, she breathed out but remained quiet.
Continuing his exploration, he kneaded both ass cheeks, squeezing as he inched closer, grunting given the way his heart was already beating irregularly.
Smack! Crack!
He slapped her ass with his bare hand and stood back.
Pop! Smack!
Cherry allowed her breath to escape.
“My guess is you’re a woman who craves a firm hand. Don’t you?” he whispered.
“Yes, sir.”
Crack! Smack! Pop!
His strikes became harder, faster.
Slap! Pop!
While he enjoyed the slight reddening of her skin, the spanking was nothing, a mere taste of what he came here for. Using the palm of his hand, he rubbed her ass to the back of her thigh and moved around her. He leaned down, biting her shoulder, allowing his teeth to sink in.
Cherry’s body jerked, the chain rattling.
Even her breath sounds were sexy, creating a rush of adrenaline that coursed through every muscle. When he stood in front of her, he cupped her breasts, rubbing both thumbs back and forth. They
were heavy, her nipples a perfect rosy pink. And he wanted nothing more than to hurt them, creating strike marks across her porcelain skin.
She kept her eyes on him as he pinched both hardened buds between his fingers, twisting and pulling. “Oh…” Clenching her eyes shut, she knew she’d breeched protocol and her lower lip quivered.
Smack! Pop!
He slapped both breasts. “You are very disobedient.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” Her words were almost inaudible.
Huffing, he shook his head as he contemplated what he wanted to do. Eyeing the single wooden cabinet, he smiled as he walked closer, yanking open the doors. The space was filled with various implements of discipline from canes and leather straps, to floggers and nipple clamps. No expense had been spared. The club also knew his tastes, providing exactly what he desired. Selecting a two-tailed flogger, he took methodical steps as he swung the leather, feeling the weight of the implement.
He was practiced, perfecting a technique to provide pain, even torture if necessary. Gripping the end, he narrowed his eyes and snapped his wrist.
Crack!
“Oh!” Cherry hissed and clamped her eyes shut.
“Quiet!”
Smack! Crack!
The leather tails sliced across her breasts.
She tossed her head back, panting as her legs trembled.
Pop! Crack!
The evil man inside, the sadist who wanted nothing more than to strike harder and faster, breeched the surface.
Smack! Pop!
“Oh!” Another sound slipped past her lips.