Branded

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WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Photo Credit: Aline Salazar Used under a Creative Commons license. Cover Design: Cherry Lee Branded © 2008 Cherry Lee eXcessica publishing All rights reserved

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Branded By Cherry Lee

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Prologue This is the test, isn’t it? To see how still I can hold as the burning brand moves closer and closer to my quivering flesh. My stomach is curdled like old milk and my mouth as dry as paper. I embrace the roiling stomach acid and my thick, swollen tongue, because these small discomforts distract me from the larger one to come. I smell the steaming coals and the heated iron, and imagine I smell charred flesh, but it hasn’t happened yet. No chains and shackles hold me. No stocks confine me. No hands hold me steady. I could bolt at any time, and return to the life I knew a mere two months ago. But I stand and hold my ground. I’ve chosen what is about to happen. Clenching my jaw so tight my teeth creak, I brace my hands against the gate and grip the rough wood. The dark voice comes from behind me, so husky and sensual my pussy tenses and releases wetly. “Do you truly want to bear my permanent mark?” As the brand nearly touches my hip, the heat already singing my flesh, I groan, “Yes. Yes, I want this.”

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Chapter One “This isn’t like you, Mel. You’re freaking me out.” “Trust me, sweetie. You have nothing to worry about.” My sister’s voice was cool and smooth as silk, unruffled despite the fact we’d been arguing for the past twenty minutes. Or actually, I’d been arguing, she’d been responding in that calm, affectionate voice, refusing to rise no matter how I baited her. “Well, I am worried. You’re involved in this strange lifestyle, you barely call anymore, and when we do talk you don’t sound like yourself.” “Sondra, believe me, I’m more myself now than I’ve ever been my entire life. I know it seems weird to you, but have you ever known me to rush into anything? I’m embracing something that makes me happy, and I wish you could be happy for me.” She was right. I was the impetuous younger sister, the one who threw herself into situations without considering consequences. If levelheaded Melanie told me she wanted to be living as essentially a sex slave in some mysterious man’s home, I had to believe she was quite serious and hadn’t been coerced into it. “But it’s so…wrong! You’ve given up your job, your apartment, and you’ve surrendered your body to this man to…to do whatever he wants with. How can giving up your will be mentally healthy?” “I haven’t given up my will.” Her voice remained infuriatingly calm. I wanted to reach through the phone line and slap her. “You wouldn’t believe the willpower it takes to do this, to be this. And I haven’t called because I knew you wouldn’t understand the life I’ve chosen. It’s just too difficult for an outsider.”

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Outsider. I was an outsider now? To the sister who’d been closer to me than anyone in my entire life, any friend or lover I’d ever had? Her words hurt. I drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. This might be my one chance to reach out to her and keep our communication open. I knew I must choose my words carefully for once. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about BDSM or about what draws some people to be dominants or submissives. But, if it’s as fulfilling as you say, maybe it’s something I should check out. How would your…master…feel about having a houseguest for a two-week visit? I’ve got some time coming at work and my plan was Cancun, but I’d much rather see you.” There was a long pause. For a moment, I thought she’d turn me down, then Melanie spoke breathlessly. “Seriously? You’d come to Napa? Oh honey, I’ll have to ask Master Damien, but if he permits it, I’d love to see you.” “Ask him then and call me as soon as you know.” I managed to keep the disdain from my voice. But inside her words rankled. Asking for permission from a man? Such bullshit! Mel’s voice bubbled with excitement. “You’ll love the estate and the vineyards. It’s so gorgeous here, and as for the rest of it, honestly, at first you might be a little freaked out, but I think you’ll start to understand our relationship.” I was already freaked out. Seeing dungeons, torture equipment and sex toys first hand could hardly make it any worse. “I’ll send you a couple of very good books to give you an overview of the different elements of the lifestyle.” Kinky sex homework. Nice. This should be a vacation to remember.

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***** Master Damien approved Melanie’s request on condition he interview me first. I agreed, willing to do whatever it took to get inside the place my sister now lived. The Dom’s voice on the phone was sex personified—magnetic, erotic, intimate, a low, pulsing timbre that made my pussy clench. “Sondra, I want to assure you your sister is perfectly safe and content and has chosen her new position in my household, entering into an agreement with a full understanding of all it entails.” “Okay. I get that.” Visions of brain-washing still danced in my head, but I let it slide. The most important thing was getting the invitation. Once inside, I’d see how things really stood. “I want to know what your expectations are of this visit. If you intend to harass Melanie or make her feel ashamed of her life choices, I won’t have that. She’s under my protection, and I won’t let her be hurt that way.” “I would never hurt my sister. I just want to see her.” There was a long pause. I listened hard, trying to hear him breathing, and imagining what this man who’d seduced my sister into slavery could possibly look like. “Tell me about yourself,” he suddenly said. “What do you want to know?” “Tell me about your girlhood, your relationship with Melanie growing up.” “We were very close. We fought as sisters do, over clothes, our room, all that, but overall we got along great. She was my best friend.” A wave of melancholy broke over me as I realized we hadn’t been that close in a long while. “But she moved away. We haven’t been in touch as much the last few years.”

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“Do you enjoy your career and your life in Chicago? Are you happy there?” “My job’s okay.” It was all the enthusiasm I could muster for my mediocre employment. “Is there anyone special in your life right now? A significant other?” “Uh, what’s with the twenty questions? I don’t mind telling you about myself, but that’s getting a little personal.” Truth was I hadn’t had more than a casual date in over a year, not since I broke off my three year relationship with Jason, which had honestly not been worth wasting three years on. “I’m sorry, but I need to know where you’re at in your life right now, how you feel about it, and if you’ll be willing to spend some serious time learning about our lifestyle.” It took me a moment to decipher the subtext of his words. “Hold on a second. Are you asking me if I want to explore, as in participate in some of this stuff? Mister, all I want to do is visit my sister!” “You could do that.” His voice was a seductive purr that set my nipples tingling. “Keep your visit mundane, go shopping, enjoy what the estate has to offer—horseback riding, tennis or what have you—or you can really begin to understand Melanie’s new life. The only way to do that is to experiment. Are you willing to take that next step, to share something with her as you did when you were young?” My chest hurt and I realized I was holding my breath, actually considering his provocative words. “You want me to be, what, your temporary sex slave? Uh, I don’t think so.” “Again, it’s up to you.” The guy was as smooth and cool as aloe on a sunburn. “You don’t have to make a decision until after you get here.”

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Chapter Two Damien sent a limo to get me at the airport. Mel wasn’t in it to meet me, having “duties” to attend to at the house, which I figured was code for “my master won’t let me out of the house in case you try to kidnap me.” I’d told one of my co-workers where I’d be and to call the police if I didn’t show up at work after my allotted vacation time. I wasn’t taking any chances on being held against my will by a stranger who called himself a master. My friend questioned me, but I only told her my sister had a new husband I was leery of—not the sex slave part. Ornate iron gates slid smoothly open for the limo to enter the long drive up to the house. Tall trees arched overhead, and vineyards stretched beyond them on either side. The driveway curved and a Spanish-style mansion sprawled before me. Cream-colored stucco, red clay roof, arches and columns before massive front doors, windows with decorative iron grilles, lush landscaping surrounding it—the place was an elegant castle beneath an achingly blue sky. The sun-baked Mediterranean feel was heavenly, and I saw why Melanie loved her new home, but I still harbored doubts she was equally in love with her new man. During the ride, the limo driver had filled me in about the history of wine country and this estate, where once, monks had produced wine until an aristocrat bought them out, expanding the business and building an elaborate home. The place had been in the same family since the days when Spain still owned this part of California. It had changed owners several times in the past two decades before Damien purchased it. As the driver stopped front of the house and got my bags from the trunk, I took a deep

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breath. Soon enough I’d find out the answer to the question that really mattered to me— what went on inside this lovely, old estate. I entered the cool foyer, noting the mirrors, polished side tables graced with colorful floral arrangements, sand-colored tile on the floor and the plush area rug beneath my feet. It was not Gothic-scary as I’d somehow imagined. “Sondra!” My sister’s voice rang out in the hallway as she came to meet me. She squeezed me hard, practically lifting me off my feet. She smelled of kitchen spices and vanilla-musk emanating from her skin. “Honey, I’m so glad you’re here.” “Me, too.” Pulling away from her embrace, I looked into her face for any sign of stress. If she looked even slightly miserable, I’d find a way to get her away from here. But her smile was broad and genuine, her eyes wide and anxiety-free. In fact, she’d never looked more beautiful and relaxed. “So, where’s his Highness?” Her smile died. “Please, show some respect. I don’t expect you to call him Master, but don’t poke fun either.” “I’ll show my respect when he’s earned it,” I said flippantly. “What does he want to be called? Sir? Prince? Most High?” “Damien will be sufficient for now.” The deep, resonant voice that had spoken to me on the phone suddenly came from my left. My head swiveled toward him. I felt like a kid caught drawing a nasty cartoon of the teacher. Was I in big trouble? I swallowed hard, my nipples and pussy tightening from nerves and, admittedly, from the sound of his sexy voice. Damien wasn’t exceptionally tall yet his presence seemed to fill the entire foyer as he entered it from what was apparently his study. His dark hair was flecked with gray

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at the temples, his face all sharp angles with a bold, hawkish nose, broad cheekbones and strong chin. The harshness was alleviated by full lips which pursed slightly as he studied me. He didn’t scan my body, but focused his attention on my eyes, his piercing gaze exploring me deep inside. After we’d stood in silence for what seemed an uncomfortably long time, he extended his hand to shake mine. In a display of mental dominance, he didn’t approach me, thus forcing me to walk to him. His hand was hard and warm, the skin soft and smooth. I imagined that hand doing other things besides gripping my palm, touching me other places. I couldn’t keep from picturing the things he might do with that hand to Melanie—perhaps spanking her bottom scarlet, maybe holding a whip as he flogged her or bringing her to ecstasy again and again as he teased her clit unmercifully. Yes, I’d done my reading, devouring the books Mel had sent. It was easy for me to understand a man’s desire to dominate, but I was still trying to understand the other half of the equation. What drew some women to submissiveness like moths to flame? “Hello. I’m Sondra. Pleased to meet you.” I made sure to meet his eyes with a challenge in mine. He smiled and released my hand. “Glad you could come. Melanie’s been anticipating your visit.” A slight trace of some indefinable accent colored his voice, making it even sexier. I willed my pussy to stop clenching. Whatever else he was, the man was my sister’s boyfriend for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be feeling such sexual heat. As we talked about my flight, my job, my life in Chicago, I couldn’t stop thinking about Damien’s offer for me to experiment with the BDSM lifestyle. How did Mel feel

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about her guy apparently wanting to have kinky sex with me? I had no clue how slave Melanie would react to anything. For all I knew, she might have suggested the idea. “Well, I’m sure you’d like to freshen up from your flight, and spend time with your sister. I’ll leave you two alone.” Damien took my hand between both of his and pressed it firmly. “I hope you enjoy your time here.” His dark gaze seized mine as strongly as his hands gripped mine. I nodded, shaken by the potency of his charisma. Jesus, no wonder Melanie fell under his spell. He returned to his study and Mel led me upstairs to a lovely, airy room decorated in pale lilac, my favorite color. I stood at the window, enjoying the breathtaking view of the vineyards. “So, what do you think?” She came up beside me. “Great view.” “About Master Damien. Isn’t he amazing?” “He seems to have a very strong personality,” I offered diplomatically. “He’s been a Dom for a very long time.” She fingered the edge of the curtain. “Over the years, he’s trained women, kept a few as companions for a while, and sent others on to the next phase of their journey. But he says, with me, he’s finally found a life’s companion.” I turned to face her, watching the play of light and shadow on her face. “Mel, I’m doing my best to wrap my head around this. I read the books and I can see the sexiness in role-playing, but you’re talking about something much deeper than that. Don’t you feel

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degraded, calling him Master and deferring to his whims? I don’t see this relationship working out long term.” A shadow flickered over her eyes, but she smiled. “That’s because you don’t understand.” She bit her lower lip then let it go. “I know Master has offered to work with you while you’re here. He wanted to make sure I was comfortable with sharing his attention, and of course I am. I want you to understand me, which you can only do if you experience it first hand. Are you going to take him up on the offer?” “You’d seriously let your boyfriend, or whatever he is, mess around with another woman, your own sister, with your blessing? That’s…” I closed my mouth tight before I said ‘sick.’ Instead of looking upset, Mel laughed. “Our relationship isn’t like that. I know exactly how much I mean to Master. Any sexual play between either of us and another partner doesn’t affect our special bond. Master is a professional Dominant. He’d work with you as he has with many new submissives. He’d train you carefully and with respect, teaching you how to surrender yourself to the desires you’ve kept locked inside.” What hidden desires? How do you know I have any? But her words stirred a deep-seated lust. It wasn’t that I had an issue with kinky sexual games. That part actually sounded exciting. My problem was with Mel changing her whole life to indulge in this fantasy. “What kinds of things would I have to do?” She shook her head. “I can’t tell you that. It’s different for each submissive. We all have weak and strong areas that need to be explored. Master is an expert at devising just the right challenges to bring out your flaws or hidden issues.”

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I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, letting some stranger poke around my sexual psyche. Who knew what might come to light? “He’ll never push you beyond what you can endure. You may cry, you may wish he’d stop sometimes, but afterward…My God, Sondra, the catharsis is out of this world. I just can’t tell you how fantastic you’ll feel.” “Sounds like a soul enema,” I quipped. “Unpleasant.” She laughed. “Trust me. There’s pleasure, too. Lots and lots of extreme pleasure. That man can do things to your body you wouldn’t believe.” She practically purred the words and another shiver of lust stabbed through me. How bad could it be? Hopefully, at the end of a few days I’d understand my sister’s odd new lifestyle better, and then the experience would be over and I could go home. “What the hell. I’m willing to experiment. Should be interesting to see your master try to break a wild child like me. Tell him to give it his best shot.” I said the words with more bravado than I felt. Melanie just smiled.

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Chapter Three That afternoon, Melanie showed me around the house and grounds and introduced me to her mare, Dahlia. We took a long stroll through the vineyards and she showed me the storage casks where the wine was aged. We even squeezed in a round of tennis and came back to the house sweating and red-cheeked. My sister left me to bathe in the sumptuous bathroom appointed for my personal use. The tub had relaxing water jets which pummeled my sore muscles. I played in the scented soap bubbles and sang, my voice echoing off the blue and white tiled walls. Emerging pink and saturated from my long time in the tub, I slipped on a white terrycloth robe and padded barefoot back into my room, where I found a large white envelope in the center of my bed. I glanced at the door and back to the note realizing, from the bold masculine scrawl, Damien had come into my room as I splashed and sang in the adjoining bath and left the note for me. It was both a little sexy and creepy, thinking of him being so close as I’d been in the tub all naked and vulnerable. He could have easily chosen to come straight into the bathroom to watch me wash, or even joined me in the tub. By agreeing to training, I’d given him permission, hadn’t I? The note was short and written in the same bold, masculine hand. “Sondra, I’m glad to hear you’re interested in training and believe it will help you understand your sister’s choice, while opening your eyes about your own needs and desires. But hearing your acceptance of my offer from Melanie isn’t sufficient. I need you to directly request my guidance. We’ll discuss it at dinner, which is promptly at seven. Don’t be late.” It was signed “D.”

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Interesting. Was he playing games with me already? What would happen if I came just a little late to dinner? Would I be refused food or would he spank my naked bottom until it stung? A thrill went through me at the idea. I imagined being told to pull down my pants and bend over, and almost felt each stroke of his bare hand slapping my bottom—or perhaps a switch? My pussy tightened hard and my buttocks tingled in anticipation. But in the end, I was not only punctual but several minutes early to the dinner table. Why start off our relationship on the wrong foot? Like everything else in this fairytale castle, the dining room was fit for royalty. Having grown up in a house with pressed-wood furniture and ancient shag carpeting, where eating at the kitchen table instead of lounging in the living room was considered a fancy dinner, the display was almost overwhelming. Silver dishes, porcelain plates and crystal glasses glimmered in the candlelight. The aromas rising with the steam from the dishes had me salivating the moment I walked into the room. Melanie looked so elegant–a simple white clingy dress, blond hair twisted in a chignon, sparkling diamonds in her ears–I felt like trailer trash in my best dress, a little black number I used for all formal occasions. I was glad she’d told me to dress for dinner or I would’ve come down in jeans and a sweatshirt. I started to pull my chair out, but she held up her hand. “Master will do that for you.” “Huh? Aren’t we supposed to serve him?” “He may be the Master, but he’s also a gentleman.”

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I couldn’t remember a guy ever doing something so anciently chivalrous as holding my chair or opening my car door. I didn’t expect or want them to, but still I was touched and impressed when Master D., as I thought of him, swept in at the stroke of seven and helped each of us into our seats. I stole glances at the man as he served our food and passed our plates, filled our wine glasses, and talked about the vintage. He was very handsome in a distinguished way. Not my usual cup of tea—I tended toward long-haired emo-boys—but still he was very hot. He was educated, intelligent, and had a dry sense of humor I discovered as talk ranged over a wide variety of subjects. The man was a superb host, and my anxiety dissipated. It didn’t hurt that I drank several glasses of wine with the meal. “I’m very glad you’ve decided to accept my training,” he said after several courses had been served. “But I wonder, is it really your desire?” “Sure. Why not? I’d like to see for myself what Mel finds so intriguing.” That evidently wasn’t the answer the master desired, because a little later he asked again. “Sondra, are you sure you truly wish to put yourself in my hands? I want to hear you ask for my training.” Again I answered flippantly. “You both assure me I’m going to be safe, so why not have an adventure? I’m willing to give it a go.” Even that didn’t seem to be enough to satisfy him. He gazed at me as if waiting for more and, when I added nothing, he changed the subject, asking a few questions about what life was like for Mel and me growing up. “I’m sure Melanie’s already told you everything.”

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“But no two people experience things the same way. I’d like to hear your version.” As I drained my third glass of wine, I realized the room was tilting at the edge of my vision. Perhaps I should’ve stopped at two. “My parents fought a lot, about everything. They drank a lot, got violent sometimes, but Mel and I stayed out of the way and we were okay. Just your typical dysfunctional American household.” I laughed. Melanie smiled, but Master D. just stared, waiting for me to go on. “What do you want me to say? It was unpleasant, but we stuck together and got through it and neither of us is the worse for wear.” “Are you in contact with your parents now?” “They moved to Florida. Still together if you can believe it. We talk on the phone at Christmas. That’s it.” “You don’t feel you were affected by living in that kind of volatile, abusive atmosphere?” “Ah hell, who isn’t influenced by their childhood? Really it was no big deal.” I was starting to be annoyed by the interrogation. Was this the digging in my psyche that Mel had warned me about? If so, he wasn’t going to find much. “I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen and I’ve been just fine ever since. I don’t wallow in what could have been, and I’ve made a pretty good life for myself.” “No regrets, then?” “No.”

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“And yet, you work at a job which you don’t enjoy, and are unable to connect with your co-workers, friends or lovers on a deeper level. I’d guess, from what you’ve said, that you aren’t sexually satisfied either.” Whoa! Every scrap of conversation about my life in Chicago was suddenly cast in a pathetic light. I hadn’t realized he was listening so carefully or would draw such harsh conclusions. “Very insightful, but totally wrong. I told you I’m content with my life.” He poured himself another glass of wine and sipped it before replying. “The first rule in my house is honesty If you truly want to give yourself into my care, you must tell the truth, not only to me, but to yourself. So, I ask again—do you want me to train you?” I was shaken by the gravity in his voice, stripping my offhand attitude away. This wasn’t an experience to be taken lightly, and he wanted to know if I really meant to participate with my entire will. Suddenly the situation seemed too serious, too threatening to be dabbling in, yet I found myself saying, “Yes, Master Damien. I want to submit to your training. Will you show me what it means to be submissive?”

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Chapter Four “In this exercise you’ll disconnect from the world around you. You will stop constantly assessing what your sight tells you and turn inward. Thus the blindfold.” He produced a long silk scarf, wine-red, very dramatic. I suppressed the urge to giggle, more than a little tipsy from the wine at dinner. “Sir,” I slurred. “Isn’t this a little premature? We haven’t even kissed yet and you’re already moving into the blindfold stage of the relationship.” I snorted then fell silent as his stern gaze locked with mine. “I wasn’t aware you were this drunk. Perhaps we’ll continue this another night.” The bedroom was warm and candlelit, the bed soft, and my clothes itchy. I wanted to take them off and I definitely didn’t want to abort this adventure so soon. “No. I’m fine. Just nervous. I’ll be quiet.” He stepped toward me to fasten the blindfold around my head. His body was warm and smelled like wood smoke and sage. Before tying the scarf, he brushed my hair back from my face, and looked down into my eyes from only inches away. “Ready?” I swallowed and nodded, more intrigued and sexually charged than afraid. My breasts were tender, the nipples sensitive to my bra brushing against them. My sex was as full and ripe as a peach ready to be plucked and just as juicy. I could hardly wait for Master D. to begin doing whatever the hell he was going to do to me. The scarf made a soft whispering sound as he tied it, and when his wrist brushed my face, I jumped. My nerve endings jangled, and I felt more wired and alert than I had in a very long time, living the daily grind of work, eat, sleep, rinse and repeat.

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With the blindfold on I found myself listening harder; to a distant motor hum, to the house creaking and settling, to the rustle of Damien moving around the room. What was he doing, removing his clothes? The idea of his naked body near me, doing mysterious things, sent a thrill through me. Would he take off my clothes next? I licked my lips in anticipation and shifted on the bed. For a while nothing happened as I listened to the minute sounds around me and focused on the blackness inside my eyelids. The spicy scent of the candles seemed stronger with nothing to distract me from them, and the texture of my clothes against my skin seemed like burlap. I grew impatient with waiting, and didn’t like the feeling of control slipping away from me. I wanted to make something happen. “So, what next? Do I just sit here all night waiting for some kind of revelation?” There was a moment of silence before the master’s voice rumbled, “Don’t speak unless spoken too. Don’t ask questions or demand explanations. If you’re unable to remain silent, I’ll have to gag you. Understood?” I nodded, and silence fell once more. I tried to be patient, but my body wanted to do squirm like a small child forced to sit in the corner. I realized I was rarely without sound or movement in my life. In my apartment, the TV or radio was always on from the moment I stepped in the door until I went to bed at night. I only sat still to read a book or watch a movie, never to quietly contemplate. As the moments passed and the initial fidgets wore off, I began to feel almost peaceful and a little drowsy. Then the sound of someone entering the room caught my attention, and I was instantly wide-awake again. Footsteps padded softly across the

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carpet toward me, and I caught a whiff of sandalwood, my sister’s favorite scent. I almost said her name but remembered the order to keep quiet. As her warm hand touched my face, the sweet aroma grew stronger. “I’m going to undress you now.” Her soft voice seemed loud in the hushed stillness. She was unexpected, and I didn’t know how I felt about it as she grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. There was some comfort in having her familiar presence nearby but unease at having her participate in Damien’s plans for me. She reached behind me to unfasten my bra and let my breasts fall free. I instinctively covered them with my hands, but Melanie encircled my wrists and put my hands on my lap. “No. You mustn’t hide anything from Master.” Unfastening my skirt, she encouraged me to lift my hips so she could pull it and my panties down. Her hands brushing my thighs set my pussy to clenching and releasing in a totally inappropriate way. Yet somehow the wrongness of my arousal only added to the extreme eroticism of the moment. When she’d stripped me, Melanie stepped back. There was no touch on my skin except for the two sets of eyes I felt studying me. I shivered although the air wasn’t cold. My flesh tingled and my breasts were tender with taut, pebbled nipples. Being stripped for Damien’s inspection while I wasn’t allowed the same privilege of seeing him nude made me feel vulnerable. “Lay back on the bed,” he ordered after a moment. Instantly, Melanie was beside me, arranging the pillow underneath my head, and stroking my hair back as she’d done when we were young and I didn’t feel well. Her

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warm lips touched my forehead then rested lightly on my mouth. “Relax. Enjoy,” she whispered. Then it began. Something as delicate as flower petals brushed my throat, whisking over my collarbones, down my chest and lingering on my breasts. Not petals-perhaps a feather. I struggled to identify what caused the tickling sensation. Somehow it seemed crucial to know what was touching me—the fringe of a scarf, a length of satin, a fox tail? I couldn’t simply relax and enjoy as I’d been instructed, couldn’t let go of the need to identify. There were pauses between each brush, and I never knew where the soft stroke would touch me next. Sometimes it was an arm, my stomach, face or feet. Sometimes it was a more intimate place, my breasts or the insides of my quivering thighs. My sex was hot, moist and swollen with need. The lightest flick of the mystery tickler had my hips arching into the air. I moaned, begging for more. The stroking was too light and ephemeral. My hands lay on the bed on either side of me, and when I couldn’t stand the subtle torture any longer, I reached for my pussy. “No!” The Master’s voice was low and firm. “Although you’re not bound, you must behave as if you were tied down. Raise your arms above your head and leave them there.” It was almost impossible to obey the command. I feared leaving my body exposed to the inexorable tickling. As I reached my arms over my head and gripped the satiny sheets, my chest lifted and my breasts rose up. Hands touched my ankles, spreading my legs wider apart, leaving my sex open and vulnerable. I shivered as I

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waited to see what would happen next—more of the tickling or some real, sexual contact at last? “Your pussy is plump and pretty but needs a complete wax. You’ll find sensations are increased when you’re totally smooth.” Having this strange man examine and critique my most intimate geography was disturbing. I longed to press my legs together, to hide from his gaze, but managed to keep them spread wide as they’d been placed. The lips of my cunt ached and a steady stream of moisture dripped from my yawning entrance. Would he finally touch me there? Oh please, let him touch me. I was getting desperate. My hands clenched hard in the sheet. “Do you feel relaxed? Tell me exactly what you’re feeling.” “No. I’m charged up. It’s like I can feel every cell vibrating with life. I’ve never felt more energized.” “Good.” He didn’t say anything more. There were other sounds in the room—a drawer or cupboard opening and closing, soft footsteps, an almost inaudible murmur. I strained to hear every nuance. The weight of a body settled on the mattress beside me and I caught my breath. At last something was going to be done to ease my yearning pussy. I didn’t care if Damien was a near stranger or that he’d seduced my sister into slavery. I just wanted his cock inside me—now! There was the whisking sound of hands rubbing together, and then two palms pressed against my shoulders—slippery, wet, oily. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla filled my senses. Hands rubbed oil into my shoulders and arms, all the way down to my fingers, before massaging my throat, chest and breasts. The touch was light, the hands

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small. It wasn’t Master Damien, but my own sister giving me a complete body massage. Was it bad to enjoy her hands kneading my breasts? Was it wrong for my nipples to harden and lengthen as her fingers molded them? My heart beat faster, and I squirmed beneath her touch. I reached to push her hands away. “No. Wait. This is…” “Sondra.” Damien’s voice was deep and powerful, meant to be obeyed. “Put your hands back where they were or I’ll have to tie them.” “Wait. We didn’t talk about this. You never said Melanie would be part of this.” My sister’s hands stopped their massage, took hold of my wrists and gently placed them up over my head again. “Shh.” “Do you feel pleasure?” he asked, as she resumed her work, rubbing and stroking from my breasts down my torso. “Answer truthfully.” “Yes.” “There is no harm here. Only mental blocks which must be removed in order for you to enjoy the fullest expression of yourself.” Pyschobabble, perhaps, but he spoke with absolute conviction. As Melanie’s hands rubbed my hips and thighs, I knew Damien honestly believed his own words and wasn’t simply getting a thrill out of watching two sisters explore their sexuality. He didn’t believe there was anything wrong with any act that brought mutual pleasure to the participants. I tried to relax under Melanie’s massage but, although the manipulation of my muscles felt great, my brain was buzzing and my pussy twanging like a plucked guitar string. As her hands moved up my inner thighs, closer and closer to my sex, I whimpered softly and squeezed my muscles tight. Her soft, oil-slicked hands smoothed

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up and around the triangle of hair at the apex of my thighs, brushed over my stomach once, then disappeared. Her weight shifted and lifted from the bed. She was evidently finished with her massage, leaving my flesh supple, warm, flushed with blood and anointed with oil like a sacrifice to the gods. A heavier weight settled beside me. Him. Heat radiated from his body along with the scent of his woodsy cologne and his skin. His hairy thigh pressed against my hip, answering my question of whether or not he was naked. As he leaned over me, I waited, quivering, for his touch. Soft lips descended on mine, covering them in warmth. My mouth yielded to the gentle, insistent pressure and opened. His tongue swept between my lips, touching mine. Unsurprisingly, he was a good kisser, using just the right amount of pressure and tongue. His softly sucking mouth had me lifting my head off the pillow for more. Knowing Mel stood by watching only added to my excitement. It was so perverse, so wrong! Didn’t it bother her to watch her man kissing and touching another woman? Damien abandoned my mouth. He ran his big hands up and down my body, slipping over my oiled skin. A seething mass of sexuality heated me from my stiff nipples down to my aching pussy and everywhere in between. I lifted my chest in offering, hoping he’d suckle my tits, and I made a soft enticing murmur of encouragement. He chuckled, a rumble like a hive full of bees. I could understand Melanie falling in love with his hypnotic voice alone, physical attraction aside. Then, with shocking suddenness, his hand was between my legs, sampling my pussy’s wetness, delving into

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my nether lips. As he fingered me, he leaned close and whispered, “Give yourself to me and I’ll open worlds of pleasure you never imagined.” My breath caught in a gasp, and in that moment, I wanted to do exactly as he suggested. The idea of surrendering my will was intoxicating. I moaned as he added the pressure of his thumb to my clit while still stroking his fingers in and out. Arching to his touch, I sighed in rapture. In the darkness, my every sense was open and enhanced. I’d never felt so fulfilled by the simple touch of a man’s hand. He drew one of my nipples into his mouth, rolling his tongue across the erect bud, sucking hard enough to hurt and sending a lightning bolt shooting straight to my crotch. Releasing the nipple with a pop, he blew lightly across it, his breath tickling and cooling it. Then he nipped it sharply. I cried out and jerked at the unexpected stimulus, but coupled with the pleasure suffusing my clit, the pain only ratcheted my desire up another notch. By the time he’d latched onto the other breast, I was writhing and pleading softly. “Oh God. More!” He licked and blew my other nipple to rigid erection then sucked it into his mouth as he had its mate. Lifting my breast to him and pushing my pussy into his hand, I yielded to his expert attention. The suspenseful moments of silent waiting, the tickling torment of the feather and Melanie’s sensual massage had prepared my body, tuned it to the highest tension, ready to snap. Deep inside my core, the swirling energy coalesced into a focused point of need. I knew my body well. It would soon explode into orgasm.

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Perhaps sensing that from my heightened breathing or the rapid thrusting of my hips, Damien’s hand left my pussy; his mouth abandoned my tits. I cried out at the abrupt loss and arched up, seeking him. There was a moment of quiet rustling, the soft rip of a condom packet opening. His deep, husky voice insinuated into my darkness, posing a question. “Sondra, before we go further I need to hear your consent. Do you want this?” “Yes! Oh God, yes,” I groaned. Forgetting my promise to keep my arms overhead as though tied there, I reached blindly for him. He moved between my spread legs, the weight of his body comforting, pinning me down as I floated in blindness. My arms slid around the warm, solid muscle of his back. His skin was velvety soft. The light hair furring his chest, brushed against my tits as he moved on top of me. His cock nudged my inner thigh then found my entrance and pushed inside. Not having seen his penis yet, I didn’t know what to expect as far as girth and length, but it stretched and filled me to perfection. Sliding my hands up his smooth back, I felt the bunched muscle of his broad shoulders and the sinews of his arms, braced on either side of me. Discovering his body only by touch was intriguing. I wanted to feel him everywhere, to know the length and breadth of him, to touch the hard bones of his face, the sensual softness of his lips, the curve of his ass. I settled for the last, gliding my hands down to cup his narrow ass and pull him tight into me. I was on the edge of coming and it didn’t take much to push me over the edge. Half a dozen hard thrusts and the sound of his quiet grunts sent a hailstorm ripping through me. My senses were battered by the storm raging inside me, and I wailed my

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release. But Master Damien wasn’t nearly finished with me. With measured, controlled thrusts, his cock invaded and receded again and again. When the aftershocks of my orgasm had faded, he lifted my ass, and Melanie slipped a small cushion beneath me. Once more, knowing she was in attendance, watching everything we did, was an incredible turn-on. The new angle of penetration allowed his cock to hit a spot deep within me, and unbelievably, I felt a new wave of desire rising, building to a crest. I’d never in my life had a multiple-orgasm, had thought it was an urban myth, the stuff of overblown, romantic fantasies. But under the steady pummeling of the master’s cock, the sensation grew, exploding in a second storm that left me drenched. My pussy was a soaking, pliant, trembling chasm, the inner muscles clutching greedily around his shaft. My cheeks were wet with tears as the last of my orgasm receded, but still Damien hadn’t climaxed. Pulling out, he flipped me over. I rolled compliantly face-down, glad to do absolutely anything he wanted. If he chose to fill my mouth or ass instead of my pussy, I’d gladly submit. I was a boneless puddle of need. Adjusting the pillow beneath me, he lifted my ass higher into the air, and pushed inside me again. His hand encircled the back of my neck, holding my head pinned down as a dominant dog sometimes bites the nape of its mate. I raised my bottom higher, rising up on my knees to give him a frame to really push against. At last, his controlled strokes grew more erratic as he thrust faster. The slap of flesh on flesh, the sucking sound of his cock gliding in and out of my drenched pussy, and Master’s harsh breathing filled the room. Those sounds, combined with the

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sensation of being filled, and with Melanie’s observation, made an erotic cocktail for my senses. Master Damien froze and cried out as his cock pulsed inside me. Another intense flutter of lust broke through me in response to his release, a small, subtle wave, but it still counted for a third orgasm. A triple play! He collapsed over my back like a hot, heavy quilt, but living, breathing and sweating. I lay beneath him, melting into the mattress, not an ounce of energy left in my drained body. It had been months, perhaps years, since I’d had such an intense orgasm—or series of orgasms. Aw, who the hell was I kidding? I’d never had an experience like this in my entire life, and I now fully believed Master Damien’s promise that if I gave myself to him he would open worlds of pleasure I’d never imagined.

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Chapter Five Damien must have carried me to my room that night, since I don’t remember walking. I slept long and deeply and woke with sunlight streaming through my window and into my eyes. It took me a moment to remember where I was and why my body ached like I had run a marathon. Memories of the previous night flooded me, making my pussy spasm. I smiled. After yawning and stretching luxuriantly in my soft sheets, I rolled over to check the clock. It was nearly noon. A folded sheet of paper was on the nightstand. Sweetie, I’m so happy you gave yourself to Master last night and allowed him to carry you away. Do you see now?” A smiley face was inserted. “When you wake up, come down to my office. I’ll be waiting for you. Today it’s shopping and a spa. Love, Mel. No jealousy about what had happened last night was reflected in her cheery note. I rose, showered, dressed and went down to the office Melanie had showed me the day before. She wasn’t a mere slave, there to amuse and serve Damien, but was actually employed at the winery as an accountant, a job her meticulous nature made her extremely good at. Her attention was focused on her computer monitor and her adorable little halfglasses were perched part way down her nose. Catching sight of me in the doorway, she pushed the glasses back into place. “Hey, lazy. About time. I’m starving, but I’ve been waiting for you so we can go out to brunch.” “Sounds great. I’m ravenous, too.” My stomach rumbled like a cement mixer. I grinned sheepishly. “Burned off a lot of calories last night.”

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Melanie returned my smile, again surprising me that she didn’t seem to harbor any possessiveness about Damien. “Speaking of which. Master’s gone on business so we won’t see him till late in the evening, but he’s left you a few instructions to follow.” “Yeah?” My curiosity was piqued and my sex clenched at the mere mention of his title. “What do I have to do?” She rose from her desk, beckoned me over, then handed me a little jeweler’s box. I opened the lid. “Are these what I think they are?” “Depends on what you think they are.” She laughed. “Lift up your shirt and bra, and I’ll put them on you.” My pulse hammered as I raised the hem of my shirt and the bottom of my bra, allowing my tits to spill out. In bright daylight, in the mundane atmosphere of her office, it felt strange to be half naked while Melanie extended the erect buds of my nipples and attached the clamps. Her slender hands expertly adjusted the tension tighter until it was beyond snug and bordering on uncomfortable. She glanced at me. “Enough? You have to let me know your threshold. I can’t judge it. Your mission, should you choose to accept it—and even if you don’t—is to wear these today while we’re out.” “All day?” “Fifteen minutes at a time. You’ll take hour long breaks then reapply them.” “What about…” She cut me off. “There’s no negotiating. When Master gives an order, you follow it. Also, you aren’t allowed to masturbate, no matter how much you want to.”

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I raised an eyebrow. Why the hell would I have trouble going a day without masturbating? What did she think I was, some kind of sex-crazed nympho? “Don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” She shrugged. “You might be surprised. The ache in your nipples teases your libido something fierce and only serves to remind you what you’re not allowed to do.” With another twist, she tightened the clamps to a level that made me gasp. “Ah! Maybe back off a hair.” Melanie loosened the clamp slightly, then flicked her finger over the top of the nipple extending from the clamp. A lick of fire shot down to my crotch. I stared at my tortured buds, turning an unhealthy shade of purple already. “Will they fall off or something? This can’t be good for them.” She laughed. “You’ll be fine as long as we don’t leave them on and there are breaks in between sessions.” I settled my bra back in place over my aching nips. My crotch was already throbbing in time to the pain in my tits, and my hand itched to steal down there and give me some relief. Not masturbating might be a tougher command than I’d anticipated. ***** It was luxurious being driven around in a shiny, black limo, not having to worry about parking and being able to relax and chat as we reclined on buttery-soft leather seats. I took my first break from the clamps before we went into a local café for brunch. While packing away carbs and fresh fruit, Melanie shared some local color and more about how she’d discovered her new life. “Dating wasn’t working for me. No one I met seemed able to fulfill something I couldn’t even explain my need for. A friend

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dragged me to a BDSM nightclub and I was hooked. Although it seemed theatrical at first, I quickly got into the scene.” “That’s where you met Master D?” “No. He doesn’t do the club scene much anymore. I went to a private party, which led to another, which led to Master finding me.” She looked into her coffee cup with a soft, contemplative smile. “I knew he was the real deal. He knew exactly what he was doing and what I needed.” She set the cup down. “But that’s all I’m going to tell you. It’s our private journey together and you don’t need to know the details. What you do with him is yours, but what he and I share is for us alone. Understand?” I nodded, actually beginning to accept her ability to share him. My sister, the accountant, was excellent at compartmentalizing and could separate her relationship with Damien from any others he might have. After that our talk drifted to reminisces about our childhood. Rotten as it had been in many ways, what with our fighting, alcoholic parents, there were plenty of shared stories which had us laughing so hard we drew the attention of everyone in the restaurant. Melanie checked her watch after we’d sat through several cups of coffee. “We’re going to have to skip the shopping and go straight to our spa appointment.” “We have an appointment?” “Yep, the whole package, mani-pedi-facial and, the one you’re going to love, Brazilian wax.” The dull ache in my nipples, which I’d almost been able to forget, suddenly flared at the thought of having my neatly trimmed bush depilated. “I’m not so sure I want to do

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that.” But even as I said it, my excitement mounted at the mental image of my pussy completely exposed for Damien’s inspection. “Doesn’t matter what you want. Master recommended it, so you must do it.” She gave me a wink and a smile. “Kinda fun having decisions taken out of your hands, isn’t it?” It was kind of fun—until I actually went under the knife, figuratively speaking. The wax job hurt like hell, from the sting of the applied wax to the ripping pain of hair removal. It was much more painful than the little rose I’d had tattooed on my left shoulder blade and completely distracted me from the pain of the clamps I once again wore. Afterward, there was residual tenderness but, when I pulled up my panties over the perfectly hairless work of art, it also felt incredibly sexy. I was extremely aware of “down there” as Melanie and I went through the rest of our beauty regimen and then hit the shops. My pussy was incredibly sensitive, brushing against my underwear as I walked. I wanted to put my hand down under my panties and feel it, and when I stopped at a restroom, I explored the area, looking at and touching the plump folds and convolutions, every bit of my private parts smooth and shiny. My nipples ached from the clamps pinching them again, my cunt throbbed all the way back to my anus and I began to toy with my clit as I stood in the bathroom stall, one leg propped on the stool. It felt naughty, like sneaking something behind an adult’s back when I was a kid, but how would Damien know I’d masturbated? He wouldn’t unless I told him. My finger moved faster, pushing me toward orgasm. After the intense lovemaking the previous

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night, a day of tit torture and the wax attack, my body vibrated with lust. Knowing it wasn’t “allowed” only added fuel to the fire. Achieving climax was as easy as falling off a log. In moments, I was moaning softly, then I came with a force that nearly shook my foot off the toilet seat and into the bowl. The release was incredible. I leaned over, breathing through the snap, crackle and pop of aftershocks, before twitching my skirt back in place. I tucked my damp underwear in my purse, deciding free-flowing air would be soothing on my stinging crotch. After washing up at the sink, I met Mel back in the store. She twirled around for me, showing off the dress she wanted to buy. “What do you think?” “I don’t know. What does ‘master’ think? Are you allowed to make clothing decisions by yourself?” My tone was snappish, my mood careening abruptly from carefree to irritable. Really, all this obedience stuff was too much. Melanie’s smile disappeared. She started to say something then turned to go in the dressing room. I flipped through a rack of clothes, uncertain why I felt so grumpy. Probably it was my sore pussy and nipples. I’d had enough shopping and wanted to go back to the house, remove these ridiculous clamps again, and take a nap. ***** The rest of the afternoon Mel and I stayed apart. I napped and read in my room then wandered out into the garden to sit in the late afternoon sunshine. Dinner was quiet with just the two of us and a sense of waiting pervaded the room. We felt Damien’s presence even in his absence.

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“Look, Mel. Sorry about what I said earlier,” I finally apologized. “I was feeling irritable. I didn’t mean it.” “It’s okay. This lifestyle is a lot to take in all at once. You’re getting kind of a crash course.” We hung out together after dinner, sitting in the living room watching Pride and Prejudice on DVD and comparing the story to the other Jane Austen-based movies, Sense and Sensibility, and Emma. I opted for Emma, the lightest and most misguided heroine, as my favorite, while Melanie chose repressed yet deeply feeling Miss Dashwood from S&S. It was a comfortable way to pass the evening, but I felt we were marking time until Damien’s return. The movie was ending when the master of the house finally arrived, commanding the room from the moment of his entrance very much like the dashing Mr. Darcy. Melanie rose and went to him, head bowed. She didn’t meet his eyes until he encouraged her with a hand cupping her chin. I’d done my reading about master-slave relationships and understood they ran the gamut from occasional role-play to fullfledged, “down on your knees and give me a welcome home blow job, bitch” interaction. Melanie showed her respect with her inclined head but nothing extreme like falling to her knees. I was glad of that. They exchanged a long, intense look that left me feeling as if I’d witnessed something very intimate. For a moment, I stood awkwardly, uncertain what to do. Should I approach him in the same manner? Was my role houseguest or submissive sex partner? My pussy yipped and jumped up and down at the sight of Damien, wanting

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a repeat performance of the previous night, but the rest of me was a little embarrassed by how completely I’d opened up to this near stranger…and by my eagerness for more. When he and Melanie finished greeting one another with a hug and kiss, Damien turned to me. “How was your day?” “Great. Brunch out, followed by having my pussy massacred per your instructions. Want to see it?” “Perhaps later.” His eyes scanned mine like dark searchlights that made me want to run and hide. “Did you follow my instructions today? You wore the clamps and refrained from masturbating?” “Sure. I wore them for about fifteen minutes every hour like you said. Hope that was enough. They did get me turned on, I have to admit.” I ignored the second half of his question. “Did you masturbate?” Everyone knows when telling a lie, meet the person’s eyes, but I couldn’t stop my gaze from sliding away as I answered. “No.” There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. “Sondra. The point of the relationship we’re developing is absolute truth—no hiding, no exaggeration, no lies.” I took another tack, snorting and rolling my eyes. “What’s the big deal? Okay, so played with myself a little, just checking out the new, bald look and…Hell, why am I explaining myself to you? It’s none of your business.”

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He walked to me, took hold of my chin and forced my shifting gaze to meet his. “When you agreed to training, everything about you became my business. At least for the time you’re here. That was the agreement.” I forced my eyes to stay focused on his. “All right. I screwed up. I apologize. So, what happens next? Spanking, flogging? A little bondage?” The idea of any of those options had my stomach fluttering with arousal as much as nerves. “Go to your room. Spend some time by yourself. Think about what your real objectives are and why you’ve come here, other than to see your sister.” “That’s it? That’s my punishment?” “Only if you perceive it as punishment. You might think of it as a lesson to be learned.” Damien turned away and took Melanie by the arm. They walked from the room without looking back at me. I stood blinking, dismayed and abandoned, trying to understand why I felt more like a whipped puppy now than if Master D. had actually whipped me.

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Chapter Six I slept badly and woke bleary-eyed and irritable the next morning. In the two short days I’d been at my sister’s home, my perception of who I was and what I wanted from life had skewed like a funhouse mirror. Although I’d only been through one session with Damien, plus the obedience exercise the following day, I already felt different inside and couldn’t even figure out exactly what had changed. Damien had awakened parts of me I’d kept closed up and hidden even from myself. The previous night had sucked. I’d stalked to my room, furious at being sent off like a child and determined not to consider the things Damien told me to. I planned to read a book or watch TV, but as the hours of solitude dragged, and I imagined Melanie and Damien together, doing whatever they were doing, I could do nothing but think. I decided I was enjoying this experiment way too much. I wanted more of what I’d barely sampled with Damien, and craved the kinds of discipline Melanie had hinted at. I was beginning to envy my sister’s life, and that was bad…very bad. I wasn’t sure what to expect as I entered the kitchen, hunting for breakfast, but Mel was there, buttering toast. She faced me with a cheery smile. “Morning.” “Hi.” I still felt like a puppy who had piddled on the carpet. “Tired?” “Embarrassed.” Mel nodded, getting me as she always did. “Don’t be. There’s no shame or blame here. Things happen. You take something from each experience, learn and grow. That’s what it’s really all about. Discovery.” She expertly flipped a fried egg for me without

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breaking the yolk. “I wanted you to come here to see for yourself I’m happy and growing in ways I never imagined, and I hoped you could share what I’m experiencing.” It was true. She’d never looked more confident or joyful. I no longer believed she was brainwashed. My problem now was figuring out the tangle in my own head. “Want to go riding today?” “Sounds great.” After Mel had done a little work in her office, started a load of laundry and jotted down a grocery list, we headed out to the stables. I saw her days were full and busy. With a household to run, horses to tend and her accounting job for the winery, she was no lazy harem girl, but a vital partner to Damien. We enjoyed a long ride through the vineyards, basking in the sweet scent of grapes and the warm sunshine. After lunch, we retired to our rooms for a short siesta. I was nearly asleep, gazing out at the square of blue sky and waving treetops, when there was a quiet knock at my door. “Come in.” I rolled to face the door, my pulse quickening as Master Damien’s big frame filled the doorway. “I took some time off this afternoon. Thought I’d see if you want to play.” Play. All my erogenous zones exploded at once, lights flashing, horns blaring. My body already knew what that word, spoken in Damien’s deep voice. meant. I swallowed. “Yes.” ***** “Lay back. Don’t be afraid.”

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I was naked and suspended in a pool of body-temperature, aromatic water. Mineral salts made the water soft and slippery against my skin. Candles scattered around the room amidst plants and ferns reflected off the mirrored walls, illuminating the otherwise darkened space. Despite the peaceful ambiance of the soft music, glowing lights and sweet-scented water, I couldn’t relax. Damien stood beside me, waist deep in the water, naked. How could I float calmly next to his big, nude torso with his jutting cock practically pressing into my side? His arms were outstretched beneath me, supporting me in the water. My hair floated around my head and I allowed my ears to submerge, drowning out the quiet music and muffling Master’s next words. “Can you hear me?” “Yes.” “Close your eyes, and feel the weightless sensation of floating.” I did as he bid, and my muscles slowly unclenched. But I kept my eyes slightly open so I could study his amazing torso. The body I’d only felt the other night was just as I’d imagined—broad shoulders and a sculpted chest lightly matted with hair, his torso narrowed in a V to tight hips, a thatch of dark hair, and a cock that rose toward his navel. His sturdy legs were like trees planted on the floor of the pool, holding both of us upright. Moving behind me, he supported my shoulders as my heels floated down to bump against the bottom. My head rested against his chest, while his strong arms went around me, hands cupping my breasts and toying with the nipples. The rest of my body was still suspended in the water. “Comfortable?” He spoke near my ear.

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“Yes.” “Keep your eyes closed. Relax.” The low, seductive tone was hypnotic; his hands rubbing my tits were slippery and warm. A low-grade fever burned between my legs. I could scarcely tell where I left off and the water began. “I want you to talk about when you and Melanie were young.” “What about us?” I murmured, too sleepy to think so hard. “When you shared a room, a bed. When your parents’ fighting grew frightening and you clung together for comfort.” “Yes.” My eyes opened. Suddenly I wasn’t so relaxed. He must have felt my body tensing. “Shh. It’s okay to talk about it. You need to. Melanie already told me about those days. You have nothing to feel nervous about.” “We were scared kids. We touched each other sometimes because it felt good, but we outgrew it.” Admitting it aloud was strange. I’d almost forgotten those nights under the covers, holding each other close, then even closer, rubbing our groins together, kissing and touching, softly exploring each other’s bodies with inquisitive fingers. “Why did you outgrow it?” “Because we learned it was wrong.” “Who told you that?” “No one. We just understood. We learned people who are related mustn’t do things like that.” “Society taught you it was wrong to touch each other in a sexual way.” His hands never stopped moving from my breasts to my belly then down to my pussy underneath

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the water, stroking lightly, gently. His chest supported my upper back and his soothing voice continued near my ear. “Why is it wrong?” “Because. It just is.” “The only logical reason is because of inbreeding, but that isn’t a problem for sisters. All other objections are moral or cultural ones without any sound basis.” “Are you trying…? Are you suggesting something?” I turned my head, trying to look up at his face. “Steady. Close your eyes. Float. Listen.” More of his torso supported me in the warm water. He pulled me into the curve of his body, his cock bobbing against my lower back. “After Melanie moved away, you grew apart. She’s missed you. It makes her very happy having you with her again, and I want my girl to be happy.” “What do you want?” “I’d like you to stay here longer than two weeks. But if you feel you can’t, I’ll understand. Short of that, I’d like you to rediscover all the aspects of your relationship with Melanie.” “You want us to…what? Have sex together? Why? You want to watch?” I pushed away from him, sitting up and turning to face him. The water lapped around my shoulders and my breasts bobbed like buoys. “Is that what this whole visit has been about? Getting me here because you have some kinky ‘sisters’ fetish?” He didn’t get angry. His voice didn’t even rise as he stared into my eyes and asked, “Do you believe that? You barely know me, but from what you’ve seen, do you think so little of me?”

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Strangely enough, I didn’t. I understood Damien and Melanie operated on a different set of values than most people. This wasn’t just about him getting his rocks off, fulfilling a personal fantasy. He loved Melanie and wanted to please her. I could see it in his eyes. “No,” I grudgingly admitted. Moving closer, he pulled me back into his arms to face him. He pressed a kiss to my lips, fingers trailing down my jaw and neck before settling on my shoulder. “One thing you should understand about our lifestyle. Nothing is taken or forced by the dom, he can only accept what his sub freely gives. The lesson yesterday wasn’t about masturbation, as I’m sure you realized, but about relinquishing control to me. I’ll never require anything of you you’re not willing to do.” He grinned. “Although sometimes, you may want to be commanded or have the illusion of coercion. That’s where the ropes and shackles come in.” The tips of my tits bobbed against his chest and, deep below the water, his erection poked my belly like a heat-seeking eel. I pushed my wet hair back from my face then wrapped my hands around his shoulders. “So, what do you want me to do, exactly?” “A threesome. This evening. I wanted to give you a little time to think about it.” I exhaled, remembering how good Melanie’s massage had felt the other night, and her hands fastening the clamps to my nipples yesterday. The truth was I did want her touch again. “All right. I’m willing.” Wrapping my thighs around his waist. I nestled even closer, rubbing my pussy against his rigid shaft. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t do something right now.”

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“Mmm. Very tempting.” Master’s eyes drifted half-closed. “But I want us all to savor this. We’ll wait for tonight.” He leaned in and kissed me, long and deep, his masterful tongue swirling around mine, before letting me go. “For now, let’s just float.”

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Chapter Seven A mammoth four-poster bed dominated Master Damien’s bedroom, and the rest of the furniture had the same aged walnut patina. With heavy damask drapes, plush oriental carpet, and dark paneled walls, it gave the impression of being the master room in an old English country estate. The image was enhanced when Melanie glided into the room in a filmy, white peignoir. We were definitely in a period piece. Did this make me the maidservant the lord and lady had decided to take to bed with them? I felt way underdressed in the two-piece lingerie I’d picked up during our shopping excursion. It wasn’t much more than a lacy bra and thong, with just enough gauzy material hanging from the bra to qualify it as a nightie. My dramatic scarlet was a vivid contrast to Melanie’s virginal white, and my brown hair complemented her pale blonde locks. We faced our dark master, Damien, who stood in the center of the room, dressed, not surprisingly, in black. At dinner I’d drunk more wine than I’d eaten food, fortifying myself for the evening ahead. Now, in a pleasant haze, I walked toward the Master as he opened his arms for us to come to him. There was room for us both in his embrace, and his hot mouth plundered first mine then Melanie’s. Watching them share a kiss, which I’d just felt myself was extremely erotic. I knew the exact pressure, wetness and heat of his commanding mouth. I was pressed up against Damien’s body and Melanie’s, the three of us in a tight clinch—his dark, silky robe enveloping muscle and bone, her soft, transparent nightgown covering yielding softness, black and white, yin and yang. And I was the blood-red to bind them. Master’s symbolism in his choice of our colors wasn’t lost on

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me. Although aware of the somewhat theatrical display we made, I was also caught up in it, excited and aroused by the drama we were playing out. After another deep searching kiss, his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth, coiling around my tongue, then retreating, Master released us both. He stepped back a few paces and looked from one to the other. “You’re both so very beautiful. It’s an honor to be with you.” If it were any other man, I’d scoff, but his tone was absolutely sincere, as was the admiration in his eyes. “I want you both to enjoy yourselves completely. Hold nothing back. Allow your deepest desires to be played out.” Melanie nodded slightly, her full attention on Damien. Untying the ribbons at the front of her peignoir, she let it flutter to the floor. Beneath, she had on an equally white corset and tiny, silken underwear. The corset was laced up the back rather than the front and she turned her back toward me, glancing over her shoulder. “Would you?” The long, pale line of her neck, the flow of golden hair and glowing sapphire eyes gave her the appearance of an angel—ethereal. Her long legs and high, tight ass were all human, all woman. I hesitated, wanting to touch her, but needing to hear it was all right. “It’s all right, Sondra. You may undress her,” Master Damien encouraged me. Reaching out, I slowly untied the casing concealing the rest of Melanie’s slender body. The ribbon whispered through the eyelets. As more and more of her flesh was revealed, my excitement grew.

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I glanced at Master, who’d shed his long dressing gown and stood naked and gorgeous. His hand was wrapped around his erection, not stroking, just holding it lightly, as he watched me open Melanie like a gift. “Kiss her,” he suggested in his velvet voice. “Touch her.” Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to her warm back. She shivered and let out a small moan. My pussy clenched even harder at the sound. The last of the ribbon came free. I took the corset off her, dropping it to the floor and turned her to face me. Our gazes met and held for a long moment. Her china blue eyes looked black they were so dilated. Her lips were slightly parted and her breathing audible. I glanced down at her body, which I hadn’t seen nude for years. It was the same, yet subtly different, older, more ripe. Her breasts were small and round with erect pink nipples that jutted toward me enticingly. “Go ahead. Suck them,” Master commanded. I’d never been so happy to be ordered to do something. Leaning forward, I drew one of the taut buds into my mouth, smelling the peach body spray she wore, tasting skin and rolling my tongue over the hard nipple. I licked then sucked hard, just the way I liked it done to me. I looked to Master for approval and to register his response to the sight. If Melanie’s eyes appeared dark, his were a pair of burning coals as he watched my mouth wrapped around her tit, my hand gripping her other breast and squeezing. She felt so good and soft in my hands and mouth. Mel made a small whimpering sound in her throat and her hands cupped the back of my head, holding me to her.

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Slipping one of my fingers under the elastic of her panties, I touched the smooth skin beneath, but was afraid to go further, to tease between the plump folds of her pussy and feel her wetness as I desired. “Finger her.” His voice was so harsh it sounded angry. “Don’t hold back. Give her what she wants…what you both want.” Thank you! Again it was what I’d wanted to hear. I released Mel’s tit with a wet pop and bent to pull the panties all the way down her long legs. Her hand rested on my shoulder as she stepped out of them. On my knees, my face was level with her pussy. Every smooth, pink petal was open for my inspection as Mel spread her legs shoulder width apart and thrust her hips toward me. She wanted my touch so badly. I gave her what she craved. Holding her labia open, I rubbed a finger down the glistening seam and delved inside her opening. She was as steamy hot as a rainforest. My finger came out dripping wet, coated with her juices. I slipped it over the erect red bud of her clit, stroking and stroking, as she thrust toward my circling finger. A strong sense memory came back to me of this feeling, the wetness of Mel’s body, her moans of pleasure, her jerking hips. This touching was what we’d done together in the dark as girls. We hadn’t acknowledged our actions by day, even in our innocence, somehow understanding it was taboo, and I’d never examined her body this closely before. I’d certainly never touched my tongue to her clit as I now ached to do. But that was a step too far, wasn’t it? The rest I could write off as sweet, almost innocent exploration, but that intimate act was too forbidden.

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Suddenly Master Damien’s hand weighed heavily on my head. He pressed me forward, urging me toward the goal I would deny myself. “Do it. Taste her now.” The choice was taken away from me. I could relax and do what I secretly willed. I pressed my tongue to Mel’s salty seam, lapping her juices and then settling my lips over her clit and sucking. Master’s hand remained on the back of my head, holding me to her. He was forcing me to do this, I decided. I really had no choice. My eyes closed as I breathed in her musky scent and relished her flavor. “Oh! Oh God!” She moaned, bucking and jerking against my sucking mouth, already coming from the sheer eroticism of the moment. I would have pulled away if Master wasn’t still holding me, pressed to her. Instead, I kept sucking, licking for several moments, beyond what she could bear. Melanie wailed as wave after wave of orgasm swept through her. Finally he released me and I sat back, looking at my sister’s transported expression. She was in pure bliss, unable to remain upright. Master had let go of me in order to catch her before she fell. He carried her to his big bed and laid her down, then turned toward me and summoned me with a crook of his finger. I was off my knees and across the room in seconds, wiping the slickness from my mouth with the back of my hand. But Master Damien pulled me into his arms and attacked my mouth, tasting Mel, sucking my lips and tongue clean of her taste, his erection pressing hard into my belly. “Beautiful,” he whispered as he pulled away. “You overcame your fear and look at the pleasure you’ve given her.” Melanie stretched her arms over her head and gazed at us with a sleepy-eyed, smug grin. “May we please you now, Master?” she asked, her focus dropping to

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Damien’s swollen cock. The veins stood out in rigid relief on his straining shaft. The head was a mottled purple-red, and pearls of pre-cum dripped from the slit in the smooth cap. Oh yes, Master looked like he could use release. I reached out and stroked the length of his erection with my fingertips, just a gentle brush to make his cock twitch. His breath hissed in between his teeth and he grabbed my wrist. “I tell you when you can touch,” he explained, not unkindly. “That’s part of the scene.” I bobbed my head, mentally taking on the servant girl role. I would wait to be told exactly what to do and not initiate anything tonight. It was an easy part to play. “On the bed.” I obeyed the order, climbing up beside Melanie and leaving room for Master Damien to lie between us. It felt funny being the only one still clothed—if you could call the tiny scraps of material I wore clothes—but he hadn’t told me to take off the bra and panties, so I didn’t. Mel arranged the pillows behind him then wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. I sat by, awaiting further instruction, enjoying the simple beauty of a man and woman kissing and the erotic stimulation the sight brought to my already throbbing pussy. My breasts were tender, and I wanted to touch my nipples or clit, it didn’t matter which. But I waited. After a moment, Melanie released his lips and moved down his throat, kissing the hollow and the line of his collarbones. Then Master’s hand slipped around my back, pulling me toward him, and I mirrored Mel’s actions. Together we licked and nibbled over his hard pectoral muscles, stopping to snack at his tight little nipples. He groaned

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and murmured how good it felt. He stroked our hair, cupped the back of our heads, holding both of us to his chest. In perfect sync with Melanie, my hand followed the trail of hair leading from navel to groin. His skin was smooth and warm. I ruffled my fingers through the mat of pubic hair before sliding my hand down his inner thigh. I found his heavy sac and fondled it, while Mel grasped his cock and slid her hand up its length. As one, we released Damien’s nipples from our mouths to begin our journey down to his cock, kissing over his lightly furred belly. It twitched violently beneath our licking tongues, and he moaned in anticipation. I continued rolling the balls inside his sac lightly between my fingers, while Mel never stopped the long, slow glide of her hand. When our mouths reached the taut drum of his lower abdomen, we stopped as if by mutual agreement. Melanie lifted her head and I mirrored her. Crystal blue eyes gazed into mine. We leaned across the Master’s prone body toward one another. Whether the kiss was for his pleasure or our satisfaction no longer mattered. My eyes closed as her mouth covered mine. Her tongue flicked at the seam of my lips and I opened to it. For a moment, I forgot about the man lying between us and concentrated solely on our fused mouths, the coiling tongues and soft press of lips. After a moment, we slowly pulled apart and resumed our attentions to the Master. As Melanie gripped the lower part of his cock, we licked up either side of the shaft toward the head. Conscious of him watching, I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and gave a broad, flat stroke all the way from base to tip. Melanie was inches away from me, doing the same thing. I imagined how we must look to him, every man’s

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pornographic dream—two beautiful women with their mouths hungrily servicing his cock. I nudged Mel’s hand away and encircled his shaft with my fist, wanting to feel his girth and weight for myself. He filled the circle of my fingers and pressed smoothly into my palm. I swirled my tongue over the soft head of his cock, tasting the musky flavor of cum. My sister and I moved in perfect harmony as if we’d been trained for this. As I licked, kissed and nibbled on his cock, she went lower, taking his balls into her mouth. Our hands moved all over his groin, massaging his inner thighs, rubbing circles on his stomach, pumping his cock but always keeping out of each other’s way. Master Damien thrust into our ministering hands and mouths, his body arching off the bed, his groaning almost continuous. “Stop now,” he ordered in a low, rough voice. Reluctantly, I released the dark red tip of his penis from my mouth and took my hand away from the base. I leaned on one elbow, awaiting further instruction. “Undress her,” he ordered Melanie. I sat up and turned so she could unfasten my bra and pull it down my arms. I knelt and she dragged the panties down my hips. “Suck her tits.” Mel obediently lowered her mouth to draw one of my tan nipples into her mouth. The hard tug as she sucked sent a pang of lust racing down to my crotch. It ached with the need to be filled. Only the force of my will kept my hand away from my clit, but Mel reached down and did what I longed to do. She teased and pulled on the erect bud as she bit my nipples.

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My eyes closed and I groaned in delight. “Oh, yeah! Just like that.” In seconds flat I was trembling on the verge of coming. Between the stimulation and the whole forbidden nature of our tryst, I was ready to tumble over the edge. But again Master Damien stopped the action. “Lie down now, both of you. Side by side.” We obeyed and watched as he sheathed himself in a condom and then snapped a cock ring on the base of his shaft. He moved into position over Melanie, his legs straddling her hips and touching my leg. I watched him enter her, pushing so hard and fast that she grunted. Mel lifted her hips and thrust against him. Her hands roamed up and down his back before settling on his ass and gripping. Sharing the intimacy of their coupling so close to me was exciting. I wanted to be a part of it, and reached out a tentative hand to stroke Damien’s arm, braced on the bed between us. After a dozen deep thrusts, Damien pulled out of Melanie. She cried out at the loss, but let him go, her hands relinquishing his flesh. I settled back on the bed. It was my turn. He loomed over me, filling my vision. My pulse raced and my pussy clenched and released in little spasms, so close to coming I was afraid it might happen before he even got inside me. His dark eyes gazed deeply into mine, holding me steady, keeping me anchored. He entered me in slow increments rather than in one hard plunge as he had with Mel. As he eased inside, my pussy stretched to accommodate his girth. I whimpered and raised my hips, welcoming him, my inner muscles clenching around him and holding him inside.

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He withdrew with equally agonizing slowness. I glanced down at his shining, wet shaft, its deep wine-red visible through the latex sheath. Oh, how he must ache to release. I was awed at the level of control he displayed as he continued to move in and out of me in measured strokes. If he went just a little faster, I could come. But he was going to make this last, and I earned only a few more strokes before he abandoned my pussy and moved back to Melanie. Once more he fucked her hard and fast, a completely different rhythm from what he gave me. I snuggled close to her side, daring to reach down in between them. My hand was nearly smashed between her smooth pussy and his mass of dark curls, but I actually touched the point of contact between his wet cock and her slippery pussy. I was awestruck. How strange and wonderful to be allowed to participate in this intimate act. I shivered when Damien pulled out of her and I knew it was my turn again. Lying back, I accepted him into my body once more. While he moved in me, faster this time, riding high above me, Mel leaned over and kissed my lips. Her tongue filled my mouth, plunging in as deep and rhythmically as Damien was filling my pussy. As they doublefucked me, the swelling need inside me couldn’t be contained any longer. It spilled over like champagne fizzing from a bottle after the cork has been popped. The effervescence of orgasm flowed through me, sending sparkles of delight exploding through my nervous system. I bucked beneath Damien and cried out into Melanie’s mouth. She released me then, pulling away to murmur how beautiful I looked, how much she loved me. Damien, meanwhile, gave a few final thrusts, ensuring that I’d reached my peak before withdrawing from me again.

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I opened my eyes as I came down from the stratosphere back into my mundane body. Both Mel and Master were watching my face, enjoying my rapture. I drew a deep, shaky breath and blew it out, as the last fizzy champagne bubbles burst inside me leaving me replete, engorged on ecstasy as though it was a filling meal. Now Master Damien turned his attention back to Melanie. He removed the cock ring and plunged into her with renewed fury. Their joining was as wild and unrestrained as a pair of grappling animals. Mel’s blond hair was a tangle as her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow. She gripped his back with her legs and dug her fingernails into his shoulders, scoring the flesh. He bore down hard, his hips bucking like pistons as he drilled her into the mattress. His harsh grunts, her desperate moans and the wet smack of flesh coming together created an erotic symphony that filled the room. I watched the intensity of their fucking and wondered if it was always like that for them. The prolonged foreplay had primed them both and in a few short minutes they came almost simultaneously. It was fascinating to see it, to pinpoint the moment of orgasm. Easy to tell Melanie’s since she screamed like a banshee and arched her whole body off the bed; Damien’s was subtler as he merely thrust once more with one of his sexy, primitive grunts then froze. His dark eyebrows drew together in a scowl as his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth opened in a silent gasp. Melanie’s expression was equally transported, her moist lips parted, eyes closed and neck arched. They were a beautiful sight and I felt privileged to be a part of their union. Master Damien collapsed on top of Mel and both lay still for several moments before he rolled off of her to lie at her side. Silence fell in the room, and I relaxed into it

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as though wrapping in a comfortable quilt. I was content to lie there and wondered if I would be allowed to spend the night in Damien’s bed this time and wake with them in the morning. After a bit, Mel flipped over between us to lie face down, ass up in the air. She wiggled it like a contented puppy wagging its tail. “Ah, this is perfect,” she sighed. I smiled and patted her soft buttock, glancing down at the smooth, taut globes. A red mark on her hip caught my attention. I hadn’t noticed the tattoo before when I’d stripped her panties off her, being too caught up in the sight of her sex. I traced my finger over the red circle with two bars and a crescent moon inside it. Where had I seen the symbol before? On the label of Damien’s wine bottles I realized, as well as on the hindquarters of Mel’s horse, Dahlia. At the same time, I registered the texture of the symbol on her hip and suddenly realized it was no tattoo. The mark was a scar. She had been branded. My stomach flipped, the euphoric afterglow evaporating as I considered the implications. Branded. Like one of the horses. Like a possession. Was any amount of mindblowing sex worth being treated like that? How had Melanie let it happen? Or had Damien forced her to submit to it as punishment? And how the hell had I allowed myself to be seduced into believing that everything was cool here in crazy land? Without asking for permission, I slipped from the bed. “I—I have to go.” I hurried from the room. ***** Wrapping myself in a robe, I sat on a chair in the darkness of my bedroom, staring out the window at the moonlit landscape. Only about ten minutes had passed

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before there was a soft knock on my door. Without waiting for an answer, Melanie entered. She crossed the room and squatted beside my chair. “Are you okay?” “Yeah. Sure.” I nodded, staring hard out the window so I wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. “Are you upset?” “No. Everything’s cool, I told you.” Her slim hand grasped my forearm through the terry robe. “Talk to me, Sondra. Don’t shut me out now. Not after all we’ve shared. Please, tell me what’s bothering you.” I shouldn’t have felt any hesitation in asking Melanie about the brand. The walls we’d built over the years had tumbled down. What did we have left to hide from one another? And yet, I was afraid to ask, maybe afraid of the answer she’d give me. “We didn’t do anything wrong.” Her soothing voice continued. “Nothing to hurt anyone. We gave each other pleasure, that’s all. You shouldn’t feel bad about—” It’s not that,” I interrupted. “What then?” I exhaled. “It’s the mark on your hip. That’s not a tattoo.” “Oh.” Understanding dawned on her face. “No it isn’t. It’s a brand.” “Did he do that to you? Mark you as his…property?” “No. It’s not like that. I chose to bear the mark. I asked Damien to do it.” I stared at her, shaking my head. “Why would you do that? It must have hurt like hell!”

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She sat back on her heels, hands resting on her thighs, and her eyes focused on mine. “Yes, it did, which is why it represents my commitment to Damien more than a tattoo or a wedding band. This is my way of expressing our bond.” “Why?” I asked again. “A tat is permanent enough. You have a scar. There’s no removing it later. Did you have to suffer that much pain to prove yourself to him? Is that the kind of thing he demands of you?” “Hon, you’re not hearing me. I told you it was my idea. I wanted to pledge my commitment and chose to do it this way. And the pain is something I embrace. Sondra, you haven’t experienced anything except a little tweaking of your nipples. You can’t imagine the deeper levels serious pain can bring you to. It’s almost…transcendent.” My skin twitched just imagining the searing pain of burned flesh. Even more unsettling—my pussy clenched with a stab of lust. I shook my head. “I’d never go that far. It’s just too extreme, Mel.” She reached for my hand resting on the arm of the chair. “No one’s asking you to. Don’t you see? That’s the beauty of it. Master may push you out of your comfort zone, but never beyond what you truly want deep down.” I sat quietly, twisting the ring around her finger, then lacing my fingers with hers. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m afraid of what I’ll find I want deep down.” “Oh, honey.” She rose to her knees and leaned in to hug me, quick and fierce, before pulling back and looking into my eyes again. “You don’t have to be afraid. Master would never let you be truly hurt or allow you to hurt yourself. This,” she gestured to her hip, “was nothing. The pain was intense but over quickly, and I’m glad to bear the scar.”

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I met her gaze. “What if I never go back? What if I take the next step with Master Damien and then the next and the next, and find I never want to leave?” “Would that be so bad?” “I honestly don’t know.” “Only one way to find out.” Melanie tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Take the journey with us.”

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Epilogue And so my journey began, nine months of experiencing boundary-stretching pain and mind-altering pleasure with Master Damien, of pushing my personal limits and learning to embrace every part of myself without shame or reservation. All of it bringing me to this decision, this moment. Like my sister before me I’ve chosen the brand. I want to feel fiery metal scorching my flesh, marking me as his forever. Bearing his symbol will only be external proof of the internal lesson I’ve learned--there is no place I could go in this world that I wouldn’t belong to him. I’m proud and happy to accept the mark. “Are you ready?” Melanie’s voice is quiet on the edge of my consciousness, beyond the roaring of blood in my ears. This symbol is for her, too. She will never be apart from me again. The three of us are intrinsically linked in an asymmetrical union. “Yes.” I grit my teeth and hold tight to the wood as the brand touches my flesh.

The End

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ABOUT CHERRY LEE Taste the forbidden fruit of Cherry Lee. I enjoy exploring the bitter dark chocolate of sex as well as the sweet cherry center. If you like your erotica with edge, sample my stories. You can learn more about me at MySpace and can contact me with any comments at cherryleewriter at yahoo dot com. Under other pseudonyms, I have many books with various publishers. I hope you enjoy my stories here at eXcessica.

If you enjoyed BRANDED, you might also enjoy:

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ABDUCTION For years, college student Devan Astor has penned erotic stories based on her dark fantasies, but when she's abducted, she is faced with the real terror of being at the mercy of a cruel stranger. She flees, but in the remote cabin where she takes refuge, will she encounter a danger even more frightening than the kidnapper who is still hunting her? At the end of her ordeal, will she be left scarred by the experiences that so closely match her own fantasies, or will she discover fulfillment she never imagined?

Warning: This title contains elements of non-consensual sex, anal sex and m/m sex.

Excerpt From ABDUCTION: He knew she would let him do anything, have anything. Anything. It was that thought—that he could do what he wanted—that made him so hard, so hot, rather than any particular thing he could think of actually doing. That this strange, quiet girl would let him touch her, take her, look at her any way he liked, and yield to any thing he might do with nothing but breaths and sighs and that look of hers. Somehow her pigtails seemed perverse. He wanted her hair loose. Quietly, calmly, like a child with a doll who will neither judge not protest, he took one pigtail in the loose circle of his fingers and worked her wet hair free of the elastic band. Then he did the other. He put the bands around his wrist and, with both hands, combed his fingers through her wet hair until it hung heavy and wet in thick strands over her shoulders and down her back. But he missed the nape of her neck, pale and whisped with baby-fine hairs in two Vs, so he twisted her hair up in one hand and drew it up, bending her head forward, elongating the back of her delicate neck, making the pale skin go taut over the smooth rounded curves of her spine. Christ, he hadn’t even really touched her yet, and he was rock hard. What was it with this girl?

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He leaned into her, let his face brush against her neck, heard her suck in her breath, felt her quiver as his chest pressed against her back. Breathing in the smell of her skin, feeling the heat of their bodies warming the wet cloth between them, seeing the tiny hairs of the soft blond down of her ears he was momentarily aware of how on, how tuned into every sensation his body was in that moment, as if he could taste and see and hear molecules of air, of rain, of her and he felt oddly happy. It was exciting to touch, to run fingers along the bare wet gooseflesh of arms, to peel the wet, sticking sleeves back to reveal her upper arm and the first hint of her shoulder, to brush his lips against her there without kissing, to think of licking and biting her tender flesh, to feel the excitement of anticipation, the little twinge of denial. The t-shirt she had on was soaked and clung to her like gray skin, and he took in the shape of her tits, her dark areolae, her hard nipples, the vague ripple of ribs, the slight hollow of her belly. He came to her, his body pressing to hers, his thigh parting hers, getting a little sigh from her as his thigh pressed against her cunt. After that little noise she turned her face away and closed her eyes, and he smiled, a little amused by her shyness. He leaned into her, her body soft and trembling, mouthed her ear, felt her panting breath with his chest, and whispered, “What do you want, Devan?” One of her wrists he let go, let his hand come down into her hair, feel its heavy thickness between his fingers. Her other wrist he brought down, down, and pressed her hand to his hard, aching cock. “Is this what you want?” She only answered with a breathy sigh, her eyes closed, her lips parted.

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Still holding her hand to his swollen cock, barely moving it over him, he mouthed her ear again, gently bit her jaw just beneath it, kissed her neck, breathing in the smell of her hair and her skin as he tasted her flesh. He heard his own excited breathing, panting against her face, her neck, her jaw, tasted his own saliva as his mouth moved back to the places it had been already, tasted the salt of her skin—salty chin, jaw, neck cheek. Strangely so, when her ear hadn’t been, or the smooth neck beneath, under the canopy of her wet hair. Not thinking, just feeling, feeling his way around her, he tasted the rain dripping from her chin, trickling down her smooth cheek, wetting her lashes. But the rain on her lashes was all salt.

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