Keep Me Safe
Trust in Me
Hear Me
Don’t Let Go
The Beauty Series
Beauty Touched the Beast
Beneath the Beauty
Broken Beauty
Beauty Becomes You
Fem Dom Series
Sweetest Mistress
Dystopia Series
Leashed
Caged
PLAY WITH ME
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
ELIZA GAYLE
Eva’s desperate denial only means one thing…she has a lot to learn.
Eve Blake has been working at Altered Ego, a studio specializing in fetish photography, for three months when a custom order comes in for a plus-sized redhead. Ready for an adventure, she volunteers for the job. Chase, her boss, reluctantly accepts. Maybe pretending to be a sexual slave for Chase’s camera will get her one step closer to the two men she thinks can satisfy even her darkest needs.
Chase can’t believe he’s agreed to this deal. The cardinal rule in any business is not to get involved with your employees and that includes your sexy receptionist. He and his partner Murphy learned that lesson the hard way. Now Chase has a hunch the first time they touch their rope to Eve’s creamy flesh, there will be no turning back. They’ll have to have her.
“Eliza Gayle wove an incredible tale of surrender and trust. The three main characters, Eve, Chase, and Murphy, are hot, sexy, and endearing.”
—Siren Book Reviews
Copyright
Play With Me
Copyright © January 2014 by Eliza Gayle
Cover Artist: Mina Carter
All rights reserved.
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Chapter One
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Becoming a Peeping Tom had not been part of Eve Blake’s job description when she took the receptionist position at Altered Ego. Yet that’s exactly what she’d become. She’d thought working for a fetish photographer might help her get out of the shell she’d been hiding in, but this was ridiculous.
Eve stood in the dressing room, staring at the thin white curtain that hid the main photo studio from her view. Her nipples tightened just thinking about what she’d see. When today’s model had arrived, she’d confirmed on the schedule that Chase and Murphy had booked Jennifer for one of the hard-core assignments. All three had disappeared into the studio hours ago, and the urge to witness what happened behind the curtain drove her back here.
Unfortunately, this watching had become a habit.
The studio, depending on the props and lighting Chase used, could be transformed from a lush den of seduction to a full-on BDSM dungeon. Today would be the dungeon.
In the interest of full disclosure, Chase had been up-front with her from the beginning. He shot photos of any and all types of sensual fantasies, from what some labeled erotic art, all the way to what many classified as porn. She’d seen some of those pictures, and on one level they were explicit beyond belief, and on another the most tantalizing sexuality she’d laid eyes on. Sometimes when she studied them, she’d grow jealous of the models and long to be in their position. Especially the photos that included Murphy.
Eve shuddered at the fresh wave of arousal flooding her sex. Everything about this place had turned her into a needy, “desperate to be fucked” woman. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was more than simply being fucked. Sex was easy, and if all she wanted was to have some guy shove his dick in her, it would be easy enough. No, what Chase and Murphy did to a woman went far and above plain old sex.
They demanded. They manipulated. And they took whatever they wanted.
What would it be like to be helpless under their control? Sure, both Chase and Murphy were professionals and much of what they did wasn’t done for personal pleasure. Yet models begged for more jobs, and it wasn’t exactly a secret when Chase or Murphy dated one of the girls.
The knots in Eve’s stomach tightened further, and the flesh between her legs ached to be touched. She couldn’t take the anticipation another second. She had to see for herself what lay behind the curtain.
She reached up and brushed the flimsy fabric a few inches aside and peered inside the darkened room. With the only wash of light in the large dungeon space spotlighted in the center of the room, Eve’s gaze was automatically drawn to the two people in the midst of a scene. Jennifer, the skinny blonde model who’d arrived earlier, had been stripped of clothing except for red thigh-high latex stockings and red shoulder-length latex gloves. The bright color contrasted strongly with her oh-so-pale skin and nearly white hair, striking Eve with the sheer beauty of the woman.
The model’s arms were pulled behind her body and tied at the wrists with a matching dyed rope, which was strung through a hook in the ceiling, stretching and suspending her arms behind her. Around her waist and thighs, they’d roped her with a simple harness and attached the rope to another hook in the dungeon wall at the back of the room.
In this position she could move quite a bit from left to right, but moving forward would be impossible. Jennifer’s large breasts were bare and her shaved pussy completely visible as she stood with her legs spread wide.
Chase had explained their specialty in bondage, and every time she watched them tie a woman, it damned near drove her insane. Eve wanted to know everything. Did the rough rope abrading the skin hurt? Or was it a sensation that aroused a woman? Did the knowledge of being tied and helpless fuck with your mind? Or did knowing that Chase and Murphy had complete control to do whatever they wanted excite them? She’d bet her entire paycheck every model they touched wanted them.
A few feet in front of the model, Murphy stood wearing only black leather pants and combat boots. With his back to Eve, she got a good look at the tattoos that covered his skin. The tribal markings were inked in solid black in a series of swinging arcs and powerful curves. She had no idea of their meanings, if there were any, but they struck her as powerful and dominating. Especially when he moved.
Fascinated by the soft light on his tanned skin, she barely noticed him move forward. The room they were in had been soundproofed, so unless Jennifer started really screaming, Eve would never hear a sound they made. It was easy to see why Chase used Murphy for his male model. With his midnight black hair and dark eyes that seemed to see clear through to a person’s soul, there wasn’t a woman alive who didn’t respond to the aura of power that surrounded him. The thick muscles that flexed and bunched in every pose didn’t hurt either.
A few minutes later Murphy moved from in front of Jennifer, and Chase and his camera took up his place. Chase’s tousled brown hair stood on end, shooting in every direction. She easily pictured him pushing his hands through it in between shots, while he waited impatiently for Murphy to set up the next scene. His hard-to-read emerald eyes would be focused through the lens, and even though she couldn’t see them, she imagined the heavily lashed, hooded gaze staring at her with lascivious intent. Never before meeting Chase had she really understood the phrase “bedroom eyes.”
She’d admired the erotic portraits hung around the studio and reception area, and she’d scoured Chase’s Web site, studying each and every picture. The sensuality he captured through a camera lens took her breath away every time until she’d begun to fantasize herself as one of his models.
Eve caught the flash of silver out of the corner of her eye and turned her head to investigate. Murphy had apparently attached huge clover clamps to Jennifer’s breasts, and a heavy chain dangled between them. The heat and arousal she spied in the model’s eyes could not be faked. She clearly enjoyed the pain of having her nipples clamped.
Curious, Eve unbuttoned her own blouse and pushed
her bra out of the way, baring her sensitive tips to the cool air of the dressing room. Already tight from arousal, they went positively rock hard when she touched them. But it was the pain of a clamp she wanted to feel. So with two fingers of each hand she pinched tight, first absorbing the pressure and then letting it edge into a stronger bite. When she thought she’d hit the limit of what she could take, she squeezed harder until she took her own breath away.
Keeping the pressure steady, she watched Chase move around Jennifer, taking a series of pictures. She moved and swayed each time he spoke to her, and Eve imagined him barking out directions. He tended to get lost in his work sometimes and had no idea the effect his demanding tone had on a woman. Or maybe he did.
Eve had sat at her desk many times, taking orders from Chase and praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself by having an orgasm from his voice alone. She shook her head at her ridiculous thoughts. Her reactions to him made her crazy. How could anyone sane be so influenced by a little thing like a voice? Her boss would probably be appalled if he ever clued in to her thoughts.
Through the glass she saw Murphy move forward again, this time standing in a position that gave her a clear view to the model and him. He reached for the dangling chain and the model’s mouth formed a little O. Jennifer’s eyes widened as Eve imagined Murphy told her what he was about to do. He tugged on the chain and she scooted forward scant inches before the ropes that held her stopped her movement.
A smug smile crossed Murphy’s face, and he pulled hard on that chain. Jennifer tried to move her arms, but she had nowhere to go. Her breasts stretched, she flung her head back and her mouth opened wide on a long scream Eve heard clearly through the glass. Her own fingers pulled, and heat rushed through her, making her breasts tingle and her thighs ache.
For a few precious seconds, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and reveled in the ecstasy building inside her. When she finally blinked her eyes open, Murphy had picked up a small black whip and moved behind Jennifer. He spoke to the woman and she nodded, leaving Eve to wish she could hear them as well as see them. Was he coaxing her through the shoot with reassurances, or did the scene take on a more realistic tone with commands any Dom would issue a submissive?
Either way, when he flicked his wrist and the small tail of the whip hit her backside, Jennifer’s entire body jerked against the restraints and her face registered shock. All of course captured by Chase’s camera. Murphy swung again and again, and Eve stood mesmerized by the facial expressions of the model. If she wasn’t really into what they were doing, then she should be an actress, because the pain and pleasure she experienced was written all over her face.
Chase picked up the chain between her breasts and tugged while Murphy continued to whip her. The bulge at the front of his jeans made it clear how turned on he’d become by the beautiful submissive as the scene progressed. Eve’s own panties had soaked through, and she longed to remove them. Releasing her grip from one of her nipples, Eve slid her hand down her rounded stomach and into the waistband of her silk underwear. Moisture clung to the small patch of hair covering her sex, and the first glancing touch across her swollen clit made her legs tremble with need.
Everything logical said she should be offended by the scene in front of her, but clearly her body had a mind of its own. Suddenly the desire to be the one tied and standing helpless between Murphy and Chase consumed her faster than a flame to dry timber. She plunged two fingers between her sopping folds and into her wanting pussy. Rough and fast. God, how she needed more than fingers to fill her. Still, even at her own hand the visual of Chase and Murphy torturing the blonde beauty became too much.
She continued to thrust her fingers as the knot in her lower abdomen wound tight. She hovered on the precipice of release.
A sudden shrill ring sounded in her ear, and Eve froze in place.
An incoming call.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She had to take this. The phone rang in every room of the studio, and she had no idea whether Chase had turned his ringer off. She slid to the side, out of the window, and gulped for air. Her breathing had grown erratic, and a caller would not think her normal at the moment. After three rings she had no choice—either take the call or her ass would be grass when Chase finished his shoot. And in this economy she couldn’t afford to lose her job.
She tapped the earpiece and said, “Altered Ego. This is Eve. How may I help you?” She cringed at the breathless tone of her voice while she slowly moved from the dressing area and in the direction of the restroom. She squinted against the bright lights after being in the darkness, making her way mostly by memory.
“I’d like to speak with Chase Miller,” a snide female voice demanded.
“He’s in the middle of a shoot and unavailable for calls. I could either take a message, or if there is anything I can help with…” She hoped not. She could barely talk as it was. Eve pushed into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She doubted anyone would be coming out of the studio anytime soon, but you never knew.
“I have a custom order for him. An urgent one.”
“No problem. I can take the basic details and then send you the art form to be filled out. Although I’m not sure of Mr. Miller’s availability. I would have to consult with him.”
“No, no, it must be right away, but I’m certain once he finds out who his client is, it won’t be a problem.” The confident assistant annoyed her. A sure trait of the rich and famous and the select few who work for them.
“Okay. Then if you’d like to download the form from modelmayhem.com and submit it, I can be sure that Mr. Miller gets it as soon as he’s finished with his current session.” The loud sigh in her ear had Eve rolling her eyes.
“Fine. I will do that now and will expect a call back this afternoon, the moment Mr. Miller is free.”
“Sure, no problem.” The caller disconnected, and Eve pressed her earpiece to off.
Standing in front of the sink and mirror of the opulent bathroom Chase provided, she leaned heavily on her hands and gulped for air. A glance into the mirror was a stark reminder of exactly what she’d been up to. Her blouse was unbuttoned with her bra still pushed above her breasts, and her skirt sat bunched up around her waist. Thank God no one had walked into the receptionist area while she’d been peeping, or they’d have gotten an interesting eyeful when she’d answered the phone. Not like anyone familiar with Chase’s fetish work would probably blink an eye though. A half-dressed woman around the studio was hardly uncommon.
She quickly washed her hands and put her clothes back to rights. But her hair had somehow become a disaster. She’d started to sweat, so some of it had plastered to the side of her face, and it generally looked a mess. She grabbed the makeup bag she left on the shelf and pulled out a brush and lipstick.
Having long hair came with a lot of work, but she felt that the red tresses were her best feature. Her friends often complimented her on it, along with the remark that if she’d just shed some of her weight, she’d be stunning. Eve stood back and studied her hips and thighs. Yes, she would never be called skinny, but she rather liked her curves. Why did everyone have to be so obsessed with being tiny? What the hell was wrong with healthy? She shrugged and hurried out of the bathroom. Not something she had time to worry about at the moment.
At her desk, she swiveled toward the computer and hit the button to bring up her e-mail, but her mind drifted back to the studio and the scene still going on. She never got to see the full details on most of the hard-core orders because Chase held them strictly confidential, but after what little she’d witnessed, her imagination had gone into overdrive. How far would they go? Did a custom order include fucking? The image of Murphy sliding his thick cock into Jennifer filled Eve’s mind, and a groan slid from her mouth, which she quickly smothered with her hand.
Get it together before you find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.
Eve’s e-mail popped up, and she took the distraction for what it was and scrolled thr
ough some of the junk to delete what she didn’t need. The rest she filed to look at later when her brain wasn’t mush. A new e-mail from the Web site popped open, and the subject line read:
Urgent Custom Order
No doubt from the caller who’d hung up on her a mere five minutes ago.
Curious, she clicked it open to find out more. As she expected, the order stated it came from a Mr. Smith. It wasn’t uncommon for some of Chase’s clients not to divulge their names on their paperwork. In those instances, he would take their private information directly. She scrolled through the particulars such as time of delivery, type of film, settings, and down to the model information.
Model must be redheaded and of a plus-size nature with full breasts.
Eve nearly choked on her sip of coffee. In all the orders she’d taken, no one had ever asked for a plus-size model. Whoever the mystery customer was, she already liked him. A larger woman would be a refreshing change around here. She clicked to forward the message to Chase and went back to the rest of her e-mails. If she focused on her work, maybe she’d be able to get her mind off the scene she’d spied on at least long enough to get through the rest of the day.
When she got home, all bets were off, and her vibrator would get the workout of its life. A wicked smile tugged at her lips. She desperately wanted to know more about Chase’s and Murphy’s private lives. Sure she knew a lot about their fetishes, but how deep into the BDSM scene did they go? Her pathetic and limited experience left her a little green, but mostly because she found it difficult to define her own needs, let alone find a Dom to click with.
So much of the local scene seemed to revolve around playing roles. Master and slave. Simply thinking the words made her pussy clench. Maybe one day she’d figure it out…understand how to be what a master sought.
“Eve.”
She jumped at the sound of her name. So lost in her thoughts she’d not heard Chase approach her desk. Her breath quickened and her pulse sped up from the one simple word. She lifted her lashes and looked at him through hooded eyes she prayed didn’t look guilty. Because right now she felt like a naughty girl who’d just been busted. Thank God she’d refrained from touching herself again.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 69
