June 18, 2015

Friday Free Read: An Audio Excerpt from "Lady in Chains"

Today's free read comes from my current work in progress: Lady In Chains, Book 1 ~ Enslaved. This fantasy BDSM romance unites Bannon and Sadira, a barbarian hero and a desert "pet", in the aftermath of war between their two nations.

Remember this scene is NSFW and NC17. You probably want to enjoy it from the safety of a pair of good headphones...but if you can't listen with headphones, the text version of the scene is below the cut. Apologies for the hum...One day I'll be an expert at weeding out extra noise when recording!

Bannon, too, suffered under the pressure of their confinement. Sadira expected he’d heard the disgruntled muttering of his men, if not outright accusations he’d succumbed to the vile seduction of a witch. During the days she endeavored to avoid him, finding reasons to be useful elsewhere. No point in encouraging mutinous rumors with even more familiarity.

At night, though, she dispensed with caution to go to his bed, grateful for the relief of his presence and the surrender of her own anxiety. She begged to serve him and pleaded for him to use her, happy to let him exhaust both their tensions in commanding her to his pleasure. At his order she sucked his cock, always careful to let him see her wet hunger and obedient when he searched to see she’d swallowed. He instructed her to undress and present herself, to play with herself as he guided her. “Yes, stroke your pretty cunt, kitten,” he told her. “Pinch yourself…you know where. Yes, good girl. Just look at you. I want to hear how you like it.”

He taunted her too, by kneading his own erection while she masturbated, unable to touch him until she groaned and begged. In the privacy of the bedchambers their desperate imprisonment was forgotten, and Bannon eased his mind in fucking her, wild and hard and heedless.

One night he asked her to show him the art of painting and pleasing her body with hot wax. She let him bind her to the bed with ropes and drizzle subtly perfumed candles over her breasts and belly. Searing rivulets ran down her sides, sinking delicious heat all along her skin, inundating her senses in an awareness of her body. He teased and tormented her, knowing without having to be told where he must avoid dripping the hottest wax, drawing long, slow patterns on her skin.  When they called an end to that play he unwound the ropes from her limbs, and marveled over the braided impressions left upon her wrists. He kissed the marks, followed them with his tongue, agitated them with a deep press of his finger drawn down their lines.

Then he pinned her beneath him and fucked her hard, without mercy, testing her for the limits of her tolerance. She never asked him to stop: she wanted the ache, the tenderness, the unabated, animal need. She wanted him to cum deep inside of her, marking her in the most primal way. She wanted every last ounce of his anxiety, tension, and worry, exhausted in the sating of his most savage, most beautiful desires.

And afterwards, he’d draw her to him and stroke her hair, kiss her body where he’d left marks, croon in her ear. He’d tell her she was beautiful, and so strong, so good.

“Will it hurt in the morning?” he asked each time, drawing one big, warm hand over whichever part of her had endured the most abuse.

“Only in the loveliest way, sir,” she replied, and then took his hand to kiss his fingertips.

“You are so soft,” he marveled. “So gentle and pliant…after such hard use.”
He drew each of her limbs gently away from her body one by one, helping her to stretch and soothe them in slow, languid reprieve.

Sometimes then, he’d make love to her. An act totally different from their play. He tended to her completely, every inch of her body, with solemn adoration. Some nights he bathed her instead, kneading balm into her sore places, washing and brushing her hair.

“My desert kitten,” he whispered in her ear. “My prize. I thought I would never take another lover after Ilsa’s mother died. I thought I had savored all I ever would of passion.”

“Were you like this?” Sadira asked. “With her?”

Bannon shook his head. “Even if I’d known about your…ways of sensual mastery…I think it wouldn’t have been right for me. Or her. Not then.  I have…different needs, now I’m older. I have different appetites.”

He drew her mouth to his, drinking a deep kiss from her lips.

“I have a goddess made of pleasure and pain, at whose altar I worship, and she rewards me with the strength of faith.”

As the words left him, he shifted, sliding down her body, planting kisses along the curves and planes of her flesh. He parted her thighs and his breath warmed her smooth vulva.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost playful in his tone. “This altar. Where I drink the wine of my new goddess’s pleasure, and feast on the fruit of her desire.”

His tongue sampled her. He carefully lifted and teased the slim gold rings piercing her inner labia, then with slow attention tasted his way along the valley of soft, tender flesh.

“Put your hands above your head, Sadi.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and did so. The bed, plush with the furs of great beasts, received her as she sunk back into it. Bannon slid his palms underneath her, lifting her closer, spreading her legs wider.

Head rolling back, with the good, warm smell of furs surrounding her, Sadira gave a sigh. Bannon glanced up at her from between her knees.

“You may make as much noise as you like, pet. No talking, though. Not a word. I want you focused, absolutely focused, on this.”

She nodded.

Bannon returned his attention to her pussy. She opened to him, welcoming him to devour her, and a hushed breath escaped her when his lips pressed to her taut pink bud. As he favored her with kisses, fond and adoring, Sadira let her head roll to one side. She nuzzled into the pale white pelt of leopard. Its lavish, velvet length tickled and made her shiver; Bannon’s tongue stroked and savored the deep heat of her cunt. She writhed as he circled her clitoris, kissed it, pressed with the flat of his tongue. Like gold fire kindling from low in dark coals, pleasure mounted within her.

She mewed and twisted, and gave a low, grateful moan. His command not to speak all at once seemed impossible. She wanted to cry out his name, to beg and give him thanks all at once. With her arms held over her head, she couldn’t even grasp as him or grip the blankets or pull herself closer. He’d made her helpless by his word alone.

“Beautiful little cunt,” Bannon murmured. He punctuated the sentiment with a flourish of his tongue over her labia and up again to her clit. With two fingers her spread her open, and planted another long, sweet, gently sucking kiss on that stiff, sensitive bead.

“Beautiful little bitch,” he whispered as the kiss ended. Giving her another, then another, he added, “Beautiful slut. My needful, desperate, cock-hungry slut.”
She moaned. The tips of her breasts hardened to perfect tiny stones, aching for their own attention: a touch, a squeeze, a long, firm pinch. She longed to speak just one word, just one, begging him for it. The plea lingered momentarily in her mind, and she nearly gave in.

But if I disobey, he will give me no reward.

So instead, she bit her lip.

Bannon dipped his tongue down, circling her entrance, thrusting in a quick, hungry rhythm. Now he moaned, and licked her again, soft tongue delving into her with smooth, talented strokes. Soon, though, he returned to her clitoris, kissing the tip of it and then flicking it, rolling it against the silver stud that pierced her clitoral hood.
“I’m going to make you come now, kitten.” His voice came in a low growl. Her whole body thrilled: anticipation lit up in her loins like a breath of fresh fire, and it ran up through her body, making her nipples twinge and her head go briefly dizzy. Yes, yes, she wanted to beg, but she bit her tongue again to be sure and obey his command. Aching for him, she shifted her hips to present her pussy like an offering. His heavy breath came cool over her well-licked skin. Bannon made one last dip into her inner sex. He licked her from bottom to top, giving one quick lash to her labial rings before flicking at her clitoris again.

Sadira sighed, undulating, her thighs giving an involuntary quake. Her fists clenched so hard they hurt, even without any real ropes or iron binding her. She hardly noticed, though, all though focused in on Bannon’s soft lips, his warm, wet mouth kissing and tasting her. Under his tongue her clit felt aglow with sweet, bright, honeyed pleasure. Soon she rolled and thrust in time, relishing the bliss as he feasted himself on her.

Going to make you come, kitten...

And oh, yes…it shivered and teased, that unmistakable feeling like a fuse burning closer and closer to its ignition point. Her body was fireworks, festival fireworks neatly arranged, but he, he, hungry, greedy beast, would soon set her off.

Shutting her eyes, she felt color bursting and popping, head and chest light with effervescent joy while her hips, her cunt, her legs shivered into a sharp, arcing pleasure. She felt herself tipping, tipping…and the fireworks flittered and sparked and finally exploded, filling her with brilliant bliss. Sadira cried out, and tears streamed down her face. Her heels dug into Bannon’s sides, her orgasm bursting from her like water from a dam.

She floated on that rapture for a long, long time. Eyes now open, she stared up into the ceiling, but she saw nothing. Her mind drifted far, far into a field of violet heather. The fireworks had filled up the sky and the sparks came falling down, and now they were flowers. She lay in their plush tranquility, basking in it.
She heard Bannon’s voice at her ear.

“You’re shivering. Are you cold?”

“Yes.” Her voice sounded very far away. “But I don’t mind.”

Bannon stretched a blanket over her, crawling beneath it to join her. He rolled her to face away from him and took her hands—she didn’t remember moving them but evidently she had—folding them in his own and drawing her against his chest.

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