by CP Smith
***
Dark Prince opened his browser and read the last email Taryn Rivers had sent him for the third time. She was perfect. Long legs that could wrap around his hips as he pounded into her, lush, full breasts he could clamp to bring her more pleasure, more pain. An ass that could handle any strap or crop he owned. But his favorite part was her hair. It was the perfect shade of blonde. Not so light that is was like snow, but it had glimmering shades of gold throughout that made it perfect. Staring at her picture, he felt his cock lengthen when he thought about putting Taryn in a cage, about strapping her to a St. Andrews cross as he broke her in. His blood heated to a boiling point as he thought about his hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing until she lost consciousness. It was time to find her and bring her home.
He opened the detailed information on her email and copied the IP address, dropping it into a program he designed. He’d written this program specifically for his own needs so he could find his slaves easily without waiting for them to correspond. He liked to watch them from afar while he messaged with them, to make sure they fit his needs. However, he didn’t need to watch Taryn to know he’d finally found the perfect slave. She’d responded to his orders quicker than any slave had before. She’d wanted to please him, didn’t question his commands, just answered him quickly, seemingly truthful, and had no hesitation taking a picture for him.
When his program finished searching and came back with a business address instead of a residence, he frowned. He’d given specific instructions for her to follow, one was to take a picture of herself and send it back to him within ten minutes. A picture that required her to be shirtless with the words “Master’s Good Girl” written on her chest in lipstick and she’d done it with a minute to spare. How had she done this at a coffee shop? Was she piggybacking off their wireless system?
Dark Prince opened each and every email she’d sent the night before and noted that the IP address was the same. Hitting reply to her last email, his jaw ticked, and his breathing increased as he typed his instructions. He needed her at home, not out at some fucking coffee house where there were witnesses. He’d been careful, put safeguards in place to remain undetected, and he wasn’t about to risk being seen with his future slave by approaching her in public. He needed her at home so he could claim her for his own.
Hitting send, he opened the program that allowed him access to Plenty of Fish and Sub Seeking Dom incognito. Opening Taryn’s profile on both sites, he routed all her messages to his computer as well so he could keep an eye on who she was interacting with. If anyone got too close before he had a chance to secure her, he’d just have to take care of that problem as well.
***
Women have been disappointed by men since the dawning of time. Sure, there’s been a good one every thousand years or so—ok, maybe not that long, but it feels that way. However, for the most part, they have left women wanting.
My brothers were a perfect example. Bo and Finn were handsome, funny, immature, and left women crying in their wake. Then there was Dallas Vaughn, with his bulging biceps and honey-colored eyes, who didn’t wear a wedding ring so women knew he was taken. And I knew why. He’s a man.
Period.
End of story.
Say no more.
I’m sure you all decided after reading that that I’m bitter, because I’d had my head in the clouds for far too long. Well, rest assured I‘ve been converted.
Anyhow, now you know what I was thinking after I left the detectives behind while I headed to Kasey’s yoga studio for a little bestie pick-me-up. Yeah, the word bestie made me cringe, too, but that didn’t make it any less true: it’s our BFF’s that got us through life’s disappointments—that and a half-gallon of rocky road.
“Men are pigs,” I announced when I walked in.
“What have Finn and Bo done now?” Kasey asked without looking up from her desk.
“Nothing today, thank God, but there’s still daylight left so I’m sure they will. I’m talking about Dallas Vaughn, not my wayward brothers,” I exclaimed.
Kasey still didn’t look up, but her mouth pulled into a grin. “Ok, I’ll bite. Who’s Dallas Vaughn?”
“A certain detective who is married,” I informed her.
Kasey finally looked up from whatever report she was working on and gave me her full attention.
“How do you know that?”
“I made an appointment to interview a detective about police procedure and ended up talking with his partner.”
“And he told you he was married?”
“No, I saw a picture on his desk of his wife and two kids. Kasey, two—count them: one, two—and he ogled my ass, the pig," I whined. "I’m glad I poured coffee down the front of his shirt today.”
“Hold on, you poured coffee on him again?” she laughed.
“Yep, and he deserved it. God, to think I was attracted to him and writing a book about him, and he’s just like all the rest. Do you know he blamed me for his coffee mishap yesterday, can you believe that? The arrogant schmuck!”
“Let me guess, it was your fault he looked?” she chuckled as she rose from her desk.
“Exactly! He said something about spandex and the sun don’t mix, whatever that means.”
“Oh, shit,” Kasey gasped as she threw a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, shit, what?” I squeaked out thinking I wasn’t about to like what “Oh, shit” meant
“Do you wear underwear with your yoga pants?”
“No, I don’t like panty lines,” I muttered, feeling the punch line coming.
“Then he probably got a good look at your cherry pie.”
One eye started ticking as I envisioned Vaughn walking down the street, minding his own business, until I shoved my ass in the air and gave him a shot of my Twatus Maximus. Well, hell, I guess you couldn’t blame a guy for that. I’d probably look, too, whether I was married or not.
“Ok, so that explains him ogling my ass,” I replied as I fell into a chair. “But he still winked at me and flashed the sexiest grin I’ve ever received, and I’m pretty sure a married man shouldn’t wink and grin at another woman, so he’s still a pig.”
“Does this revelation mean he isn’t gonna rescue me in your book?”
“No, I’ll keep him as the hero, since I’ve built the story around him. But I won’t enjoy writing the sex scenes.”
“Oh, man, can I help you write them?” she asked excitedly. “I haven’t had sex for over a year and could use some visuals for my dates with B.O.B.
Horrified at the thought of imagining Kasey in all her naked glory, I shook my head vehemently and I cried out, “I can’t write sex scenes with you as the heroine. I always put myself in that role so I can feel what they are feeling. If I didn’t, they’d be wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. No freakin’ way do I wanna envision your ass or any other body part in my head, Kasey.”
Kasey sighed dramatically and was about to argue my point when my cell phone rang. Pulling it from my purse, I noted the call was from Janeane and answered.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“We gotta meet. Dark Prince just sent an email, and there’s another list of instructions that we have to complete by eight tonight, or we aren’t “trainable,” he says.”
“Oh, for the love of . . . have you had lunch?” I asked her, looking at my watch.
“Nope, what are you thinking?”
“I’m with Kasey right now. We can meet you for lunch if you can get away and answer his questions.”
“Nic, I’m not writing on my boobs again for this guy. I still have lipstick stains on my chest from last night.”
Boy, we had to think fast to get that order accomplished in the time frame allowed. It had to be Janeane’s boobs so we’d hauled her into the bathroom, stripped her down to her underwear, and wrote “Master’s Good Girl” on her chest. Luckily, the walls in the bathroom at Gypsy’s were stained wood, and it looked like a room in a home. If he’d asked for a specific location like a bed, we
would have been screwed.
“We’ll figure it out. Can you meet us at Gypsy’s? I’ll order you a sandwich so you don’t waste time waiting.”
“That’ll work, see you in ten.”
Five
True love doesn’t happen in a moment of our choosing. It sneaks up on us accidentally in a single heartbeat, a single flutter, an inexplicable moment that changes our world and keeps us off balance until the day we die. Love cares nothing for reason or logic. It only cares that it consumes you to a point that all of your thoughts encompass one person. You’re helpless to stop it and even if you could, you wouldn’t. Love, quite simply, is the act of handing over your soul to someone and trusting them to protect it with their life.
“What are you writing?” Kasey asked over my shoulder as we waited for Janeane to arrive.
Since my encounter with Dallas Vaughn, I’d been thinking long and hard about what it would be like to fall in love with someone and to trust him with your heart. I knew the couple in my new book would evolve into a passionate relationship filled with a soul encompassing love, so I was trying to put into words how Taryn would feel once she fell for the hero.
“Just some ideas I have for the book.”
“Interesting. So, speaking of your brothers,” Kasey segued oddly, “Is Finn seeing anyone?”
“Um, we weren’t speaking of them, but if we must, then no, not that I know of. But you should stay away from Finn since we are talking about my brothers now,” I told her.
“What’s wrong with Finn?”
“Nothing if you're his sister. Well, that too, but definitely not if you’re a newly divorced female with two kids. You don’t need three on your hands, Kasey.”
“How bad can he be at this point in his life?” she questioned.
Hell’s bells, that’s a loaded question.
“Other than a few more laugh lines . . . he hasn’t changed at all since high school. Neither of them has. Oh, they work hard, which is the only grown up thing about them, but where women are concerned? They love them and leave them. Trust me, Kasey; you don’t want to go there.”
“You know, Finn kissed me once,” she blurted out, surprising me.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” I gasped as my brows shot up in surprise. I was stunned. All those late night phone calls I used to get during high school that centered on Finn and not once had she ever mentioned this to me.
“It was junior year when we were at Hilary Burk’s party. We’d all been drinking, as you know, and I was alone in the kitchen refilling my beer when all of a sudden he cornered me and then kissed me out of the blue. The next time I saw him he acted as if it didn’t happen, so I never said anything. I figured he was too drunk to remember.”
“That’s probably a safe bet since I remember my parents grounding all three of us for drinking that night.”
“Your parents grounded you for drinking on a regular basis. I’m surprised you remember any specific weekend,” Kasey laughed.
She wasn’t wrong. Another disadvantage of being a triplet was they insisted on being wherever I was to keep an eye on me. Fun and games always seemed to follow the twins wherever they went, and since I was with them, well, I got sucked in. Thinking back on high school, it’s a wonder any of us came out of it unscathed, what with all the alcohol that flowed freely every weekend.
“Do you remember that road trip up to Stillwater?” Kasey laughed.
“How could I forget? We were grounded for two months after that.”
Bo and Finn were invited to a frat party up at Oklahoma State University our senior year by some friends of theirs, who had graduated the year before. I begged to go and bring the girls, so we lied to the parentals and said we were at each other’s house after school and would be home by our curfew. We all headed up on a Friday thinking that we could hang with the older kids for a few hours and then drive home to make our curfew. Yeah, we were wrong. One beer led to another, and soon it was midnight. We couldn’t drive back because we were drunk, so we had to call home and let them know we lied and wouldn’t be home until the morning. That road trip got us two months of punishment, but it was worth it since I got to make out with Freddy Hart. That is, until Bo and Finn found out. It’s a wonder I ever lost my virginity, considering the way they guarded me.
Kasey and I were laughing over the memory when Janeane walked in followed by Kristina and Angela. Kristina and Angela placed orders for sandwiches before they all came over and sat down.
“Did you call Angela and Kris?” I asked.
“Yeah, Angela swung by and picked me up, and then we grabbed Kris.”
That’s the great thing about living in a city the size of Tulsa. The downtown area was small enough that you could drive from one end to the other in about five minutes tops, depending on the traffic. All four women worked downtown, so it made it convenient for them to have lunch together several times a week.
“Ok, let’s hear what Romeo has to say,” Kristina urged as she ate.
Janeane nodded, then opened the email he’d sent on her phone and began reading the missive.
“Taryn, as your Master you will obey my every command, or I will determine you are untrainable and end our association. Do I make myself clear? You showed great promise last night and obeyed me without question. Let’s see if you can do it again today, with the same enthusiasm. By eight tonight, I must have in my possession a picture of you masturbating with a penis shaped vibrator. Also by eight, you must delete your account on SSD to prove you belong to me and only me. From now on, we will only communicate via Kik app so I may reach you immediately. Once you have downloaded the app, send me an email with your picture and Kik ID to prove you have completed my instructions. Then, and only then, will I know you are trainable. Don’t disappoint me, Taryn. Dark Prince.”
“Holy shit,” Kasey blurted.
“Um, question,” Angela broke in, “Do we really need this guy for the book? I mean, this is getting out of hand just for research. A picture of boobs was pushing my limits, but masturbating for some creep?”
“I agree,” Janeane replied. “This guy is way over the top just for background information on the lifestyle.”
“Is it just me or does he sound angry for some reason?” I asked.
While Janeane had been reading the email, a sense of dread enveloped me. He seemed angry, as if we’d done something to piss him off, almost as if he knew we were lying to him.
“Sorry, but I’m not masturbating for anyone but myself,” Kasey mumbled.
“Oh, I agree with you. No way are we going that far for a story. We’ll just look for another guy on SSD and ignore any more correspondence we receive from the creep. Janeane, send him a reply saying you’ve come to the conclusion that being a slave isn’t what you’re looking for and wish him well.”
Janeane nodded and began typing on her phone as I sat back and breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t know until we began talking with Dark Prince how intense the dominant world was.
“If I didn’t need the research I’d pull off that site,” I mumbled.
“You could always read BDSM romances for your research. It’s not like you’re writing a BDSM book—it’s just the world the killer lives in, right?”
“Good point. Maybe I should focus on the catfish aspect of the book and see how they draw women in and fool them into believing they are someone they aren’t.”
“Wow, he responded back already,” Janeane interrupted, scowling at her phone.
“Why are you frowning?”
“He said a slave doesn’t tell a Master what he can or can’t do with his property. He expects us to complete the orders by eight p.m. tonight, or the punishment will fit the crime, whatever that means. It was sent from his iPhone so he must be in his car or something.”
“Don’t respond to him again. Just change the email account associated with the profile, so his messages bounce back to him,” I ordered.
“I’ll have to do that when I get back to the office.�
��
“The sooner, the better. This guy’s giving me the heevy jeevies,” Kasey shuddered.
“Hey, Melissa,” Angela hollered toward a blonde woman with short hair, a killer figure, and black spiked pumps I’d kill to own. Dressed in business attire, she wore a black pencil skirt with a bright red silk blouse that looked great with her fair complexion. She finished the look off with bright red lips, and I immediately cast her in the role of prosecuting attorneys in . . . in . . . “Yes . . . I’ve got it,” I shouted.
“You’ve got what?” Kristina asked.
“The title of our book,” I explained. “I’ve been racking my brain trying to come up with a title that fit, and it just hit me. Dark Prince kept calling us his property, right? It made me think of those T-shirts athletes wear that say, “Property Of” such and such school. I say we title the book “Property Of.”
I looked around the table and saw four smiling faces all nodding approval. BFF's had a binding contract and within that contract, it clearly stated that all bullshit would be left at the door. Only the truth was allowed when in each other’s presence, so when I looked around the table and saw four smiling faces I knew they liked the name.
“Booyah,” Kristina exclaimed as she leaned forward for a high five that started a chain reaction.
“Property Of” who? The killer or the hero?” Janeane questioned.
“I’d say both. The Killer deems her his personal property, and the hero makes her his property when he falls in love with her.”
“Nicola, you need to remember that in present day, not like in your historical romances, women aren’t property,” Kristina scorned in reply.
“Yeah, right,” Kasey complained. “All men think you’re their personal property, whether society has changed or not. Especially alpha males like my ex. They’re a breed all their own, and it takes a special woman to put up with their shit.”
“Is that what happened between you and Mark? You couldn’t handle his possessiveness?”
“Part of it. That and he was never around. We grew apart, basically, and had nothing in common but the boys. I need a man who likes to have fun, not grunt orders at me.”