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Chapter One
Play With Me
“Welcome to
Loch Enya Castle,” the ruddy-faced bus driver announced. “Are ye
ready for the thrills awaitin’ ye?”
Thrills? Oh yeah. I’m thrilled enough to throw myself under the
tires of this bus.
There
should be a law against such cheerful bus drivers, Tandy Davis
thought as she tried to rub the dampness out of her long, red
hair. She was wet and miserable and her sinuses threatened to
explode any minute from a lousy head cold.
“This
historic castle is five-hundred years old,” the driver went on.
“Rumors say it’s haunted but if you hear any bumps or screams,
it’s most likely The Smoky Daggers, the wildest BDSM group in
all of Scotland. You might be doing some screamin’ of yer own, I
daresay,” he said, guffawing at his own joke.
Whatever
had possessed her to go all the way to Scotland and experience
BDSM sex? It had seemed like a great idea when she’d signed up
for it. After almost losing her job and driving her family and
friends nuts, she’d decided to finally do something about her
“control freak” tendencies.
Little did
they know the “seminar” she planned to attend was really her
first BDSM session. What better way to learn how to hand over
the reins than to be a sub? The hot sex would be a bonus. It had
been way too long since she’d had sex…
I can’t do
this, she thought as she got off the bus with the others and
entered the gray, stony and very depressing looking castle.
Submissive sex with a total stranger? No way. She collected her
ancient room key and orientation packet from the front desk.
Tandy
squinted at the map as she stumbled up a winding flight of
stairs and down a dark hallway to her room. With its stone walls
and fireplace it looked just as foreboding as the outside.
Warming her hands over the heater, she peeked through the drawn
velvet drapes at the foggy, gray loch outside.
A pigeon
cooed from somewhere on the complicated roofline. Chicken, it
seemed to say. How could she face everyone back home knowing
she’d chickened out?
She opened
the orientation packet and saw the list of activities she’d
signed up for—bondage, the ultimate challenge for a control
freak, and wax play because she and an old boyfriend had messed
around with a candle once and it had been kind of fun.
She decided
to go to the orientation, which was in an hour according to the
schedule. Then she’d skip tonight’s session and play tomorrow by
ear. But first she desperately needed a nap.
* * * * *
Hours
later, Tandy bolted upright and cursed. It was twilight—gloaming
as they called it here. She’d slept for hours, missing the
orientation and the evening BDSM session had already started. If
she hurried, she could tell her assigned partner she was too
sick to participate.
Taking her
key, she got all the way down the hall before she realized she’d
memorized the room number for her session but had forgotten her
castle map. Oh well. How hard could it be to find?
Minutes
later, she was hopelessly lost. She’d given up on finding it and
was just trying to return to her room. When she found a door
that resembled hers, she turned the key and breathed a huge sigh
of relief when the door swung open with a squeak.
So why was
there a naked man hanging from her ceiling? Another man flicked
his whip impatiently with one hand and applied lube to his own
cock with another.
“Excuse
us,” he said. “We’re in the middle of something.”
Obviously.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Tandy muttered. “I must have the wrong
room.”
She closed
the door and frowned at her key. How nice. They must use the
same lock for multiple rooms here. She kept walking until she
found another door like hers. This time she decided to knock
first. A woman with pins and clamps lacing her nipples opened
it.
“Top of the
evening to you, little chickadee. Care to join us?”
Inside, men
and women wearing various chains and clamps eyed her like prime
tenderloin.
“Some other
time,” Tandy said hurriedly before she shut the door.
Enough was
enough. If she stumbled into one more scene like that, she
wasn’t sure she’d make it out of the castle alive. BDSM? What
had she been thinking? She decided to go downstairs and ask for
directions.
On her way,
she found a door she was sure was hers. She crossed her fingers
and knocked. Her heart sank when it opened. Wrong again and
she’d already viewed more than enough kink for one night.
Instead,
she found herself face-to-face with the best looking man she’d
seen on this entire trip. Dark, wavy hair brushed his shoulders,
matching the neat goatee against his pale skin. But his eyes
were what snared her. They were the color of brandy and as
intense as a hawk’s. They blazed as if lit from within by a
fire.
She forgot
all about finding her room. She even forgot she had a room.
“Good
evening,” he said, bowing to her. “I’ve been expecting you.” His
voice, thick with an almost Shakespearean accent, sounded as
historical as he looked.
Since he
wore a leather vest with laces over a white peasant shirt, he
must be part of the BDSM group and into role-play. Heat flooded
Tandy’s face when she looked down and noticed an erection
straining against his snug, brown breeches.
“N-no,” she
stuttered. “I’m lost. This isn’t—”
But before
she could finish her sentence, the man grabbed her wrist. Warmth
and energy radiated up her arm from his touch as he pulled her
inside his room—which appeared to be on fire—and closed the
door. What the hell kind of scene had she stumbled into this
time?
Then she
was up against the wall, pinned in place by his gaze on her
face, hands on her forearms and erection pressing against her
pelvis. Everywhere he looked and touched, he scorched her. There
was something unusual about him and it wasn’t just his
historical outfit.
The flames
burning behind him and all around them danced before her eyes in
white, yellow and orange streaks until she couldn’t see anything
else. The harder she breathed, the more she noticed the acrid
tang of smoke in the air. Stunned, she couldn’t have screamed or
moved even if he’d released her.
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