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🛑Warning🛑
The below excerpts and medias are for ADULTS only - there is use of sexual references, bondage/captive situations and adult language that may be offensive or triggering for some. If you choose to continue perusing this blog posting you are doing so of your own volition.
Beyond the above warning, I'll let the synopses and excerpts speak for themselves 💋🔥 - enjoy!!
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She caught me off
guard when she tried to run past me like that. I hadn’t planned on hurting her.
For what purpose? That style of rough doesn’t do much for me. Now if she was
riding my cock, choking her might be fun, and not just for me, but just to
punish her?
It’s far too blunt for
my usual tastes.
Then again, keeping a
woman prisoner in my fucking basement isn’t my usual taste either.
I catch her sneaking
glances at me as she eats. She thinks she’s being sly, but I see her do it each
time. How easy it is to change a person’s mind with just the simplest nice
deed. Yesterday, I dangled her from my hand as I choked her into
unconsciousness, and now today with a cup of yogurt that cost less than a
dollar, she’s back to wondering about who I am and why I wear this mask. I bet
if I fed her regularly for a few days I could get her to do practically
anything I wanted.
She scrapes the spoon
off the bottom of the plastic cup in an effort to gather every last bit of
food. It makes her look desperate while I stand over her in a two thousand
dollar suit and leather shoes. The noise instantly irritates me, so I grab the
cup and spoon from her hold.
“Enough.”
A hurt look is what I
get in return. Those dark eyes of hers that seem to always look so glassy stare
up at me and silently beg for more.
“See what happens when
you behave, angel?” I ask with a smile she can’t see, genuinely happy she
hasn’t tried anything stupid today.
“Why are you doing
this to me? I don’t think I could have hurt you in any way.”
“I told you. Your
husband gave you to me.”
Even I have to
silently admit how strange that sounds. Someone gave me a person. A flesh and
blood human being.
“Do you have a lot of
women like me?” she asks quietly, catching me off guard. I’d expected another
protest about how she doesn’t deserve what’s happened to her.
Shaking my head, I
answer her truthfully. “No. You’re the only one.”
Her dark eyes grow
wide at hearing that. “Are you going to kill me then?”
“Do you know what a
non sequitur is?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Yes. Are you going to
kill me?”
“I told you before,
no. I have no plans to.”
“Why do you keep me in
this room?”
“Why do you ask so
many questions?”
Her mouth turns down
into a deep frown, and she hangs her head. “Because I have no other contact
than with you. I think it’s only natural to want to talk to someone once in a
while.”
“Even someone who
nearly killed you yesterday?”
Without looking up at
me, she says with a sob, “Yes.”
Who knew breaking a suburban
housewife could be so easy?
I have no answer I
want to give her for why I keep her here. The truth is I don’t know what else
to do with her. I have a business to run and having her around getting in the
way and seeing what she shouldn’t see isn’t what I need.
Looking up at me, she
asks, “What is your name?”
For a second I don’t
know what to say. “You ask too many questions, angel.”
“Can’t I even know the
name of the person who keeps me a prisoner? I have nothing else. You’ve taken
everything else away. What harm does it do to give me a name to call you?”
I know what she’s
doing. She’s not as clever as she thinks. She is smart, though. I have to give
her that.
“If you behave
yourself, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
But that doesn’t
satisfy her, and she asks yet another question. “Do you wear that mask so I
can’t see your face to identify you?”
I have to fight the
urge to shake my head, so I stare down at her, narrowing my eyes to slits to
show her the time for her questions has ended.
She takes the hint but
keeps talking. “I’m hoping that’s the reason because…” For a few seconds, she
falls silent, but then she finishes her sentence. “That means you plan to let
me go at some point.”
Now would be the time
I’d expect her to swear up and down that she would never tell anyone about
what’s happened here and she promises to say nothing and never go to the
police. Instead, she stares up at me and waits for me to respond to her.
I have no idea if I
plan to let her go at some point. Well, that’s not true. Of course, I can’t
keep her forever. I can barely figure out what to do with her for half a week’s
time. I’ve watched her for hours and convinced myself she’s never going to be a
girl Jasper can put to work. I can only imagine what he’d do with all her
fucking questions.
“Maybe I’ll give you
to a friend of mine who keeps a stable of girls. That could work out.”
I don’t know why I say
that because I’ve already decided I don’t want to do that. The confusion
written all over her face tells me she has no idea what I mean by a stable of
girls. Fuck, she’s either stupidly naïve or innocent. Either way, I can’t
imagine handing her over to him.
“A stable? I don’t
understand,” she says, shaking her head.
“Whores. He’s a pimp,
and the stable of girls work for him. I could give you to him.”
Panic flashes in her
eyes. “Please don’t. I can’t…I couldn’t…”
I have no good reason
to continue this conversation about something I already know I’m not going to
do, but I keep taunting her. Stepping back, I look her up and down as she sits
on that dirty twin mattress in only her bra and panties and shrug.
“You’ve got a decent
body. Why couldn’t you do that?”
“Did my husband know
you might do this when he supposedly gave me to you?” she asks in a voice
tinged with hurt.
Nodding, I tell her what
she likely already knows somewhere deep inside. “Yes. I told him I might do
that.”
She winces in pain and
looks away. “I wish I was like you. Someone like you would never care enough to
be hurt by anyone,” she says softly and then falls silent.
I walk out with the
empty yogurt cup in one hand and the spoon she licked clean in the other as she
quietly sobs behind me. She’s wrong. I know about being hurt. It’s what made me
the man I am today.
He looks down at my
T-shirt, and then his hand touches my hip, sending need dancing through me.
“I’m not one of those boys you tease to get your own way, Lily. This is your
one last chance to go back to your room and pretend this never happened because
if I let you come in, the word no doesn’t exist in here.”
Every word drips with
a threat of something he thinks I can’t handle, but I don’t care. Whatever he
is inside that room, at least I’ll be alive there at the week’s end.
“Okay.”
I don’t know what else
to say. Unlike in the movies where women always seem to say something snappy, I
can’t think of a single clever thing at this moment. All that fills my brain is
a mixture of fear, desire, and curiosity regarding the man in front of me.
Cason doesn’t answer
and steps back to open the door and let me in. I walk across the threshold with
the sense that something has changed the moment the door shuts behind me. The
blue-green walls and matching rug look the same as before when I stood in that
room and filled my eyes with the vision of him wearing only a towel, but unlike
then, I don’t feel like I have the same ability to leave now. He hasn’t said I
can’t, but there’s a sense all around me that he controls what happens in this
place, and I will play my part in whatever that is, willing or unwillingly.
“So what do you want,
little girl?” he says as he stops behind me.
Staring straight
ahead, I fix my gaze on the slightly wrinkled bedspread that shows all he was
doing was sitting around before I knocked on his door. “I want you to stop
calling me little girl,” I answer softly before turning my head to look back at
him.
His eyes meet mine,
but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, his strong hands slide around my waist
and then drift down to my hips. When he pulls me back against his body, I
nearly stumble at the feel of his hard cock pressing against me.
“Feel that? I can’t
deny you have an effect on me. But I like things rougher than those boys you’re
used to. You should have thought twice about coming in here.”
A shiver races down my
spine at the first touch of his lips to the back of my neck. His mouth is soft
and teases my skin with things to come, but his words rattle around in my head
as his hands tighten their grip on my hips with each second that passes.
My head flops forward
when his tongue touches me, the tip of it flicking against my skin. I close my
eyes and don’t even try to conceal the moan that escapes from my throat.
There’s no use. Whatever this is in this room, whatever we are to one another
here, I have to see all of it through to the end.
My life depends on it.
I feel Cason’s hand
slide up over my left breast and then clamp around my throat, making my head
snap up instantly. He chuckles behind me, moving his mouth away from me to
speak.
I let my gaze travel
from his tattooed, broad shoulders down over his muscular chest and chiseled
abs partially covered by the bedsheet. Never before have I seen such a perfect
physical specimen of a man.
My mind drifts to
what’s hidden beneath that sheet. The vision of those piercings is fixed in my
brain, and question after question bounces around my head. Why did he do that
to himself? Did it hurt? Was it part of some initiation into his boss’s group?
Do all of the men around King also have cock piercings?
I don’t think I’ve
ever been so fixated on a man’s cock before in my life. Jesus, most of the men
I’ve slept with I haven’t thought about their cock as much as I’ve thought
about King’s in the past few days.
Turning away, I shake
my head, trying to push out the last of the images of those piercings still in
my brain. This must be some reaction to being a hostage. What do they call
that? Some kind of syndrome. It has something to do with Vikings, doesn’t it?
Denmark? Is that it? Denmark syndrome?
No, that doesn’t sound
right. Copenhagen syndrome? No. That’s not it either.
Stockholm syndrome!
That’s it! Stockholm. But doesn’t that usually take a little while before the
hostage begins to care for the captor?
I quickly correct
myself on that ridiculous idea. I do not care for King. Not in the least. He
may be better than Tap or his disgusting boss, but I don’t care for him.
Why I’m borderline obsessed
with those piercings I have no idea.
My cheeks heat at that
admission, even though it was silent and only I know the truth. I’ve never been
the type of woman who spends her time ogling men’s crotches. I went to a male
revue show with my friends last year, and even there, where every inch of men
seemed to be available for all to see, I didn’t think once about a single man’s
cock.
***Notice: Nicolie-Olie's Meanderings is HOSTING a spot on Silver Dagger Book Tours. Choosing a Prize Winner and Delivery of Prize is not under the responsibility of Nicolie-Olie's Meanderings***
Tour runs from 07/10/20 – 08/10/20
Daily Entry, Open WW, Age of Majority
*This is a Creative Presentation*
Please make sure you follow the tour and visit all the other amazing hosts for this book tour - and if you stop by Silver Dagger on the hop, tell her HI from me 😉
I like all the covers. They have great photos.
ReplyDeleteabfantom at yahoo dot com
Thanks, Ann! My cover artist did such a great job on them. I love them all!
DeleteAbbi
The covers all look very steamy.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kari!
DeleteAbbi
Thanks so much for being a part of the Captive Hearts tour!
ReplyDeleteAbbi
All the covers are awesome!
ReplyDeleteThe covers are really hot. Really want to read the stories.
ReplyDeleteVery nice covers!
ReplyDeleteI really love these covers!
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ReplyDeleteI like the covers.
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ReplyDeleteThe covers are great!
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ReplyDeleteAshley c
Addictedtorodeo at gmail dot com
They look great!
ReplyDeleteJulie
I like the cover and the book sounds interesting!
ReplyDeleteGreat Cover!
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ReplyDeleteUmm two words...Hello Daddy.... :)
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ReplyDelete