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The last place Evi Hult expected to be sent is to a building once used to film adult movies. But when her employers order her to inventory the building's contents, she has no choice.
The moment she enters a room designed for bondage and BDSM play, her secret fantasy about submitting to a man prompts her to snap a cuff over her wrist.
She's indulging in erotic fantasy when a dark, powerful man walks in. The door closes behind him.
Thorn understands women, especially those with submissive desires and needs. Before he's done with her, she'll have experienced the ultimate in surrender. She'll kneel at his feet, wear his restraints, call him Master.
Her heels tapping on the cement flooring, Evi Hult stepped into the set that had once been part of Dungeon Dames. She’d shaken her head when she'd first opened the door but entering the dimly-lit set had produced an interesting change. No longer torn between laughter and disbelief, she acknowledged her out-of-control heartbeat. And her skin felt as if it been sandpapered.
Dungeon Dames!� Had the owners of the bankrupt adult film company her employers had taken over honestly believed the name would entice buyers to purchase their videos?�� How about having a little class there, folks?� What about dignity and self-respect? Even the porn industry needed to take itself seriously.
Oh, what did it matter?� Dungeon Dames was out of business and her task was a simple one. She was here to inventory the sets and prepare a list of everything for a Wednesday meeting of the decision-makers at Intellectual Properties, Inc., her employer. She’d taken a little ribbing when the staff learned what she’d be doing here. As a teenager living under her aunt’s ultra-conservative roof, she wouldn’t have known what she was getting into and would have been both shocked and confused.
She’d changed a lot since then.
Clutching her clipboard to her C-sized breasts, Evi approached the four-poster bed that dominated the set. Made of sturdy metal resembling cell bars, the head and foot boards were hardly what any sane and sensible human being would chose for bedroom decor. Bondage, it declared, bondage!� The leather restraints hanging from the metal did more than a little to help her come to that conclusion. Smiling, Evi made a mental note to include the leather straps in her list. For the moment, however, making her peace with her so-responsive skin came first.
A bed designed for sex, forced sex, albeit simulated forced sex, while cameras rolled.
Her mouth now dry, she placed her clipboard on the blood-red sheet stretched over the mattress and ran her fingers down what was designed to look like silk but, unless she was mistaken, was plain old cotton. The sheet looked and smelled clean, thank goodness. If it had been sex-spotted�
Not going to go there!� Not with her fingers tingling and heat blooming between her legs. How long had it been since she'd had sex?
Months, came back the answer. Months because she'd been single-minded about her career.
Well, so be it. The window of opportunity to establish herself as a creative director in an ever-changing business might close or break if she so much as blinked.
No blinking today, no asking herself what kind of woman would allow herself to be spread-eagled naked on red silk with her limbs held captive so some adult porn industry stud could bury his well-used and impersonal cock in her. Submissive women existed. She wasn’t going to waste her time questioning what made such females tick. She had better things to do, much better.
And yet, against everything and anything sane, she sat on the side of the bed and reached for the closest strap. It came complete with a shiny adjustable buckle, not that she had any intention of locking it in place. Only a fool would risk not being able to get out of the contraption.
Caught!� Helpless against a man's will. Being forced down into a dark sensual place filled with secret and powerful needs.
Her mouth still dry, she draped the leather over her wrist and leaned back so she could study the results. Interesting, from an artistic, and only artistic point of view, of course. Still, the contrast between brown leather and her never have the time to get a tan flesh would play well on in a video. Her wrist was slender, her fingers long, and in serious need of a manicure.
Ah, nice. Softer than she'd expected, erotic, the leather stroking her skin and adding to its sensitivity. As for what was chasing a heated path from the base of her throat to between her legs, well, a gal without a man in her life had to take her pleasures any way she could.
Eyes at half mast, she imagined that a macho member of the opposite sex from central casting was responsible for what now roped her wrist. A dark thought threatened to slam into her, but she forced it away. She was alone at the warehouse type building where Dungeon Dames had produced whatever they had produced. No one would ever know she was conjuring up a hunk worthy of earning whatever masters or doms in the porn industry were paid.
Her hunk would be big and strong and supremely confident. Hmm. How about long wavy blond hair to contrast with her long, straight brown-on-brown?� His skin would be naturally dusky so it'd play off her too-pale skin.
Good. What else? Might as well have a little fun before going to work.
Her master/dom would speak with a Viking warrior accent, whatever that sounded like, but unlike some uncivilized ancient and probably grunting Viking, her hunk would have ready access to soap and running hot water. She didn't care about his educational level, just his muscles and how he was hung.
He'd be naked because she didn’t want to be bothered having to strip him down for action. More important, he'd be well-versed about women's bodies and needs, their secret fantasies. He’d know how to deal with her nervousness so she could get to the fun part.
Ah shit. How had it gotten so hot in here? Hadn't the heat been shut off?
Looking down at herself in an attempt to bring herself back to the here and now, she noted her dress-for success knee-length black skirt and two inch heels. This was her, not the horny broad lurking at the back of her mind. Time to get back to what she'd come here for.
Only, oh shit, she hadn't really snapped that restraint in place, had she?
An experimental and nearing panic tug reinforced her suspicion that yes, that's what she'd done. Even as her heart raced and she breathed in gasps, a part of her stood back like the stern and usually disapproving aunt who'd raised her. The older woman's pursed mouth would say that, once again, Evi had failed because no self-respecting good girl would do something so nasty.
Not nasty, Aunt Margaret. Part of being a sexual human being.
The familiar one-sided argument with her aunt calmed and anchored her. It wasn't like she’d just been outed as a porn star and this was a real leather cuff. It was part of a set and obviously designed to release. All she had to do was to make the right move, trip the right clasp, something.
But did she have to do it right away? After all, here she was all by herself in a place designed to enhance erotic make believe. Might as well go with the flow, have a little fun.
Yes, yes, she was a prisoner in the Dungeon, a new captive anticipating her fate. With no choice but to wait for her master to walk into the room and have his way with her, whatever that entailed.
There was no reason to freak out or wonder if her most private sexual fantasies had moved from make-believe to reality. It had taken years but she’d finally put her repressive upbringing behind herself and accepted her body and its needs.
However, there was one more little matter to deal with. Just because she’d been assured no one had been in the building since the business went belly up last month, didn’t mean someone like a former employee might show up, especially if he or she hadn’t been paid. Of course, if that ex-employee was accustomed to playing the dominant role he might get a kick out of finding her indisposed.
Torn between getting out of what she’d gotten herself into and hoping a hunk would come in, she scooted around so she faced the door. The move pulled her tethered arm back and to the side. A delicious tingle tiptoed up her arm. Imagining that the door was opening, she spread her legs as far as her straight skirt allowed. Head up and shoulders back, she waited for�what?
Ah, there he was, the Viking warrior she'd ordered from central casting, naked with an erection that caused her mouth to gape and her juices to flow. He had legs like tree trunks, a washboard chest, shoulders out to there and beyond, no belly, and from what she could tell from this angle, the tightest ass allowed. His pale hair was long and raggedly cut, but clean. He wore an earring in his right ear. It was his only adornment�except for the I'm ready for you cock. The deepest, bluest eyes she'd ever seen locked on her.
Melting inside, flowing into a hot puddle, lips tingling, legs shaking, fingers clenching, hard nipples jabbing at her bra, thigh muscles doing battle with her skirt�oh yes! Dying happy.
She wasn’t surprised when her Viking faded a bit. After all, who could concentrate on keeping the mental creation going when she was on fire?� Moaning, she stood as best she could and yanked up on her skirt with her free hand. Forced to do so by the strain in her pulled-out-of-position arm, she sank back onto the mattress, but not before sliding her hand under her panties. Her arm stopped burning, and she concentrated on the source of her frustration and need. She slipped her forefinger into herself and turned what was left of her attention back onto her warrior. He had a grainy quality, as if he hadn't quite achieved three-dimension status, but she was used to that, unfortunately. Too much fantasy time spent with fantasy fuck partners had that effect. One decidedly positive thing about having ordered today's hunk, she was in charge of his behavior. Wasn't she?
"Come closer, please," she begged, head back and mouth agape so she could pull enough oxygen into her lungs. "I'm yours. Take me."
Cringing at the corny words briefly distracted her from what she needed her fingers to be doing, but as a gal well-versed in self pleasure, she knew the drill. Concentrating on her clit produced the desired results, but she'd never been a fan of wham-bam, especially at her own hands. A long, slow dip into her inner recesses reinforced what she already knew. She was wet down there. Wet and hot enough to long for a fan.
Visualization. Visualization had always been a vital part of getting the job of self-satisfaction done. She tried to locate her warrior, but he wasn't where she'd left him. And what remained, a cheap setting consisting of a bed and walls crudely painted to resemble a dungeon, wasn't helping.
There. All right. Get rid of the plywood walls and concrete floor. Keep the bed but make the sheet real satin and trade the single mattress for queen-size. Throw in a little drum and guitar music, low and deep like rolling thunder. Nix the clothes. Have her surroundings be a real cave complete with granite walls, a barred entrance, candles burning in wall sconces as the only light, shadows everywhere, the smell and taste and feel of sex.
And the Viking. Most of all the Viking.
Sweating, Evi leaned back as much as she dared and risked cutting off the circulation in her right hand by running it so far under her clothes and between her legs she nearly reached her ass. A touch, a man's touch!� Callused fingers instead of her soft ones, hot knowledge kissing her pussy and taking her to the top, holding her there, bringing her back down without allowing her to climax. Starting up the mountain again while she mewed and begged.
"Be quiet," he'd order. He'd tell her she was no longer in control of her body, he was.
She keyed on her labored breathing and the fingers repeatedly collecting her wet excitement. The fantasy was relatively safe and familiar, but she climbed onboard anyway. There. In her mind's eye, she was on her back and her wrists had been secured to the headboard. Her legs were widely spread and kept that way via the leather wrapped around her ankles. Of course she was naked. And sweating. A man was on the bed next to her, bent low as he tongued and mouth-bathed her core.
"No, no, no, please, mercy," she begged. She twisted this way and that trying to escape the unbelievable pleasure-pain. Climax after climax piled out of her. She couldn't stop them.� Couldn't draw a calming breath.� Another, oh shit, another!� Being torn apart and believing she'd die happy if everything ended today. "Please, please, please, Master, please!"
"No begging!" the formless man commanded as he came up for air. "As long as it pleasures me to tease and torment you, I will!"
"I understand, Master. A moment of rest, that's all I ask, a moment."
"When and if I grant it," he said and returned to his task. A single contact with her shivering core ripped another explosion from her, causing her to strain against her bonds.
The burning in her left shoulder did more than stop the blood-boiling fantasy. It reminded her of where she was and why. Straightening, she removed her hand from her core and clamped her sex-wet fingers over her cramping shoulder muscle. "Shit. Not a good idea!"
Kneading her muscle wasn't getting rid of the knot so she turned toward the head of the bed and scooted closer. The pain eased a bit, allowing her to concentrate on releasing the buckle. There. Done.
What was the matter with her?� She had a job to do and not much time to do it in.� So get with the program already, starting with pushing her skirt back down where it belonged. Her own bed was the place for this kind of role playing, not here.
She'd stood up when the door opened and a man walked in.