Author: Lee Ash
Genre: BDSM; Erotica
Line: Dark Sins (Pure erotica)
Word count: 65,772
You pay: 5.49
Cover art: Les Byerley
Available at Ai Press!
HTML, Rocket, Palm DOC and LIT formats available at All Romance Ebooks
Laura’s nights are spent in tormented ecstasy, but who is this supernatural master who commands her and makes her submit to his will?
Three people, a private investigator, a hypnotist and a professor with a curious specialty, receive a summons to try and unravel the mystery of the ‘Dark Slave’. All three are involved in the world of S & M but the revelations that await them are stranger and more erotic than they could ever have imagined. A tangled web of domination over this beautiful submissive is slowly revealed and acted out while Laura’s fate hangs in the balance.
Content warning: This novel contains graphic F/F scenes, female anal penetration, M/F/M group sex, D/s, spanking, piercings and cat o’nine tails. Basically, it’s about as HOT as a book can get!!
Publisher’s note: Dark Slave has been previously published and extensively revised for release with Ai Press.
Not caring about her nudity, Laura stepped out of the bedroom and onto the darkness of the landing.
The landing was unlit and empty. A line of eerie green light came from beneath the door of the captain’s computer room but its glow didn’t stretch any further. She could hear the whispered creaks and groans of the house weathering the night but, other than that, all was still. Her heartbeat fluttered, she was struck by a moment’s hesitation, and gooseflesh prickled her forearms and back. It was not a response she could blame on the typical inclement chill of her beloved Cumbria. She knew it was because she had been summoned. All thoughts of delaying were instantly banished. Untroubled that she couldn’t see she started down the stairs. She walked with the confidence of familiarity. Each step was assured because, over the previous year, she had grown used to walking around the captain’s house where she lived as his servant.
“Laura. Come quickly, my dark slave. Come quickly, Laura.”
Hurrying down the stairs, one hand resting on the curve of the banister and the polished wood of each step chilling the soles of her bare feet, Laura hastened to obey. She didn’t hesitate in the dark gloom of the hallway, rushing immediately off to the house’s dining room. Not daring to touch the light switch she walked warily to the center of the room and, as she had always been taught to do, she put her arms behind her back.
“At last,” the voice whispered.
Strong hands stroked between her shoulder blades. They reached for her with an eagerness that belied their owner’s bluff of sounding blasé. The fingers that touched her were icy and she suppressed her body’s need to shiver. That urge became unbearable when the hand reached for one breast and squeezed. She wasn’t entirely sure if the person touching her was the person she expected, and fear kept her throat locked so she was unable to ask the question. The low tone of voice and the omnipresent darkness all conspired to keep the secret.
One nipple was caught between a finger and thumb. The sensation of cold melted to a blossom of delight and then became a pinprick of anguish. The fat bud of flesh was held in a punitive grip that made her want to shrink away and scream. But Laura stood motionless, allowing him to do whatever he wanted. When he finally wrenched his hand away she even managed to contain the gasp of protest that bubbled behind her lips.
“Stay silent and keep your hands behind your back, Laura.”
They were instructions she had been going to obey. Even though the room was held in the thrall of impenetrable darkness, she nodded consent. Her other nipple was caught in the same chilly hand that had held her before and she closed her eyes to properly appreciate the pain. Her skin was already sensitive and eager to suffer the brutal attention, and she savored the delicious sensation. Swallowing thickly, perspiring as her body tried to come to terms with the shrill and penetrating suffering, she wanted to groan when he finally released his hold on her.
There were no footsteps on the wooden floor as he disappeared behind her. The only indication that he had moved was the caress of hemp against her wrists. Laura opened her eyes and found the room remained as dark as it had always been. The fog outside prevented moonlight from reaching the windows and there wasn’t even enough light for her to see shadows, shapes or silhouettes. In the oppressive gloom she could only hear the quickening pulse of her heartbeat and detect the musky scent of her own mounting excitement.
A tremor of arousal fluttered through her as he began to bind her wrists. She had never been able to understand why those two responses were always linked but she couldn’t deny that they invariably accompanied each other. As soon as her body was forced to suffer any sort of restraint—whether it was manacles around her ankles, a rope around her wrists, or some other binding securing a part of her body—Laura knew the swell of excitement was going to rise in her loins. She drew a slow breath to steady her nerves but that didn’t stop the fluid heat from surging through her sex. The inner muscles of her pussy began to throb with growing need and the sensitive tips of her nipples ached sympathetically.
Out of habit she squeezed her buttocks taut.
The rope encircled her wrists. Its coarse weave scratched at her and then bit tight. Laura made no attempt to avoid the bondage as the rope was wound carefully around her forearms. Binding her arms in such a way pushed her shoulders back and forced her breasts out. She wondered if this was a deliberate reason for him tying her in this manner. If their relationship had been based on anything other than a dominant and submissive basis she might have found the courage to ask.
Instead, all she could do was trust him. The way she had always trusted him. He knew just the right amount of pain she enjoyed and never overstepped their agreed-upon bounds.
“So much rope,” he breathed.
With her elbows tight together, the binding around her wrists was impossible to escape, and she felt him pulling hard. A whisper of the rope brushed against one buttock and she flinched from its unexpected caress. When the hemp pushed more firmly against her rear, then slipped between her thighs, she understood where he was taking the bondage.
Her pulse rate increased. She swallowed down a fresh burst of nerves and tried to glance nervously over her shoulder.
The room’s blackness made it impossible to see if he was there or not. It was only when she felt him start to tug the rope between her legs, she realized he had finished binding her wrists and moved from behind her.
The coarse weave of the hemp was like sandpaper against her pussy lips. The sensation of being scoured was wickedly exciting and she relished every blistering caress as the length drew against her sex. Admittedly there was an element of pain—there was always an element of pain—but it took nothing from the marvelous sensation of having her sex lips treated with such brutal disregard.
She gasped as the rope was pulled tight.
He drew the length up against her chest, tugging the rope so it crushed firmly against her sex. She could feel the labia being bruised by the rope and almost cried out when her labia spread over the thick, round length. The pressure against her clitoris was phenomenal and she didn’t know whether her response was governed by agony or ecstasy.