In Too Deep

by Roxane Beaufort

  There was no answer to this, but everything within her was rebelling. His grip on her was unbreakable, but when they broke cover, climbing up into the daylight and arriving at a small mock Greek temple, she fought with renewed vigour.

  'No!' she cried. 'Let me go. I don't want to go with you!'

  Just then Grace appeared from the trees, dressed for action in her combat gear, a gun in her hand. In the distance Julia could see the helicopter, its blades rotating rapidly. Then Gabor was running towards it and she couldn't get away, dragged along behind him.

  'Leave her, sir!' Grace shouted, above the increasing rhythmic beat of the blades and the mini storm they stirred up. 'She's holding us up!' Then Julia felt a stunning blow as Grace hit her. The field spun and she collapsed on the grass. She heard the sharp staccato of shots, saw Grace firing behind her as she ran, saw men chasing her then stopping as she fired repeatedly. Then Gabor was in the chopper, holding out a hand to Grace. She jumped aboard. The aircraft began to lift, and still Grace fired from the open cockpit.

  Julia saw Will fall and, screaming his name, scrambled to her feet and ran towards him as the helicopter rose and disappeared into the clouds.

  'What a story!' Denise exclaimed, as they sat round Will's bed. 'And thank goodness you're all right.'

  'That's another of my nine lives gone,' he joked, but he was ashen-faced. One of Grace's bullets had winged him in the shoulder. Surgery had been necessary, and the police had taken him to the nearest hospital. After surgery, an ambulance shipped him to a private clinic in London, courtesy of Hi Life.

  'They'll have a hard job catching him, even through Interpol,' Eugene said, his fingers linked with Arlene's. 'No one will talk. All his people profess his innocence, but we know different. He'll hardly suffer, either. His empire will go on, supplying him with money.'

  'He'll make a mistake one day,' said Will, and reached across the coverlet to stroke Julia's arm. 'The undercover agents won't give up.'

  Julia was so proud of him, and proud that everyone could see how much he cared for her. He would recover quickly and then she'd take him home to recuperate. She lingered by his bed when the others had gone, and he patted the mattress beside him. 'Come here,' he said.

  'What is it, Will?'

  'I've never made love to you,' he said, and he was smiling. 'Hop in beside me.'

  'I can't,' she said, blushing. 'What about the nurses? Anyway, you've got a bad shoulder.'

  'I'll manage,' he chuckled. 'I'm not talking full-blown coitus here, but I'd love to hold you for a while.'

  The idea was most tempting and she slid under the sheet. He kissed her lingeringly, then wrinkled up her miniskirt, found her panties and eased them aside. She came in seconds, clinging to him with her arms around his neck. 'Oh, Will... Will...' she murmured against his throat.

  'And when I leave here, which should be tomorrow, I'll expect you to return the favour,' he said huskily.

  'Of course I will,' she promised, and then wriggled off the bed. 'I'll come and fetch you as soon as the doctors give you the all clear.'

  She drove home in a reflective mood. The magazine had promoted her. Arlene was getting on well with Marty and had retrieved her designs. She was planning to move in with Eugene, so there would be plenty of room in Julia's house if Will needed to be looked after for a while. She liked him a lot, but wasn't ready for a commitment.

  She and Denise had been discussing plans for Julia's next assignment. The world was opening up before her and she anticipated more adventures looming on the horizon where she could satisfy her endless quest for excitement. She thought of Vincent Gabor, and as she waited at a set of traffic lights, she instinctively slipped a hand down between her thighs and touched her damp panties. He had been so dangerous, so sexy, and so compelling. For some reason, just to think of him made her chest tighten with excitement. Who could say whether they would ever meet again, but she sincerely hoped so. Perhaps without realising it he had taught her so much, turning her from a naive junior reporter into a young woman who knew what she wanted - and how to get it.

  -oOo-

  Enjoy more damsel in distress and historical erotic romps by Roxane Beaufort, all exclusively published as eBooks by us and available to download from many online bookstores now...

  Memoirs of a Courtesan

  Horror gave Lucy strength and she wrenched herself free of his grasp. 'How dare you?' she yelled. 'How can you suggest such a thing, and you a man of God?'

  'What does it matter to you, slut?' he spat, and taking his weapon in hand commenced working the foreskin up and down over his glans. 'You're only a servant who'll end up with child to Lord Ludlow or one of his sons, and then you'll be turned out on the street to fend for yourself and your bastard as best you can. You'll become a whore in the end, so why not start now? You could buy a lot of fripperies with a penny.’

  'You disgust me!' she hissed, but could not drag her gaze away from the sight of him masturbating...

  When beautiful Lucy Browne, orphaned, penniless and fresh from the country, finds herself abandoned in London, she has no idea of the pitfalls. It is during the last quarter of the 18th century, an era of vice and debauchery. She is completely innocent and falls into the clutches of a brothel madam who pretends to befriend her, and then sells her to the highest bidder - aristocratic rake, Lord Tarquin, an expert in punishment.

  As her cruel master, he robs Lucy of her virginity and submits her to slavery, teaching her the painful pleasures of correction and bondage. She is fascinated by him, but wilful and confused, falls in love with a poor student, Charles Prescot. But they are forced to part.

  She becomes the mistress of a perverted old nobleman, and is soon renowned for her extravagance and wild parties. She is pursued by Lord Tarquin, and finds Charles again, but she is now a woman of substance.

  Will she continue to be a notorious courtesan? Will she be Lord Tarquin's slave, or marry Charles, or do all three?

  Schooling Sylvia

  Sylvia stood at the top of a staircase with shallow, carpeted treads. There was nowhere to hide, every head turned towards her, but she was hardly aware of anyone except Theo who lounged in a carved throne on a dais.

  He fixed her with his tiger’s eyes and rose to his feet, his deep purple cloak swirling around him. Sylvia advanced down the stairs like steel drawn to the magnet. Her dress displayed her body rather than concealed it. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, prey to the eyes feeding on her from all sides.

  She reached the bottom of the steps and Theo loomed over her. His robe parted with the sibilant whisper of silk and he pulled her into its darkness. He was naked, his phallus already hard, pressing into her belly.

  He looked down at her and smiled grimly, ‘Welcome to the Brimstone Club... welcome to the holy place where your virgin knot will be untied.’

  Miss Sylvia Parnell, a beautiful heiress, leaves Bath and the Academy for Young Gentlewomen for Regency London. There she resides under the guardianship of her aunt, Lady Rowena.

  Sylvia's innocence and wilfulness presents an irresistible challenge to the worldly Rowena, and correction and punishment are routine in this unconventional household until Sylvia flees, stumbling naively from one frightening adventure to another...

  Forever Chained

  There were benches with holes in strategic places, a contraption that resembled stocks, a vaulting horse and a whipping post set in the middle of the floor, and racks of instruments; whips and paddles, canes and tawse, rods and birches. Iron rings had been hammered into the damp stone walls and several young women hung from them, chained by their wrists. Their loosened hair fell over their faces, and their heads were bowed. One had a gag fastened across her mouth and another was blindfolded. They were naked, apart from one who still wore a few tattered strips left when her dress was ripped off. A man in top boots and riding breeches was moving among them, his crop landing on their thighs, bellies and breasts. Their moans and sighs augmented the organ toccata.

  As
a student and a singer Stella is haunted by the vision of a beautiful man, Lazio, who is often in the audience when she performs, but it is not until she takes up residence in Troon Hall and visits a ruined monastery nearby that she meets him properly, and falls victim to those who made him a vampire.

  A diary that once belonged to Emma, her great-great-grandmother, tells of a trip to Venice where she and her friend Candice met the leader of the Nosferatu, Prince Dimitri. Candice fell in love with him and accepted the dark gift of eternal life. Emma was distraught, and spent years trying to contact this immortal girl who wanders in limbo, but died without succeeding and now expects her descendant, Stella, to unite them.

  Dimitri's bizarre votaries seduce Stella, keeping her under restraint and subjected to their unnatural desires, but the love that links her and Lazio can be used to form a bridge between Candice and Emma. Shall Stella exchange blood with him and become a vampire, too? Or is she content to meet him at those times when he can function as a human being?

  There must be a way in which she can have everything she desires and pacify Emma's unquiet shade. Stella has to make choices and understand her passions, the prompting of her heart and the lusts of her flesh.

  Fate’s Victim

  The vehicle stopped. She was lifted, carried down the steps, and then hoisted over a broad shoulder. She guessed it to be Aidan by the smell of him, and the way in which he held her with an arm under her buttocks.

  He was walking and she swayed, her head hanging down, her hair streaming, hat and pins lost in transit. Cold air. Sounds of footsteps and the jingle of harness as the cab retreated. Where was she? What was the bastard about to do to her? It was horrible to be robbed of sight and voice, and unable to struggle or defend herself.

  Would he let her go eventually, or did he intend to keep her prisoner? She heard the squeal of iron hinges and knew by his movements that he was descending. It was colder still, and damp, and Angela was terrified...

  Fate deals beautiful, spirited and pampered Lady Angela Bayswater a cruel blow when her wealthy landowner father dies suddenly. Not only is she now alone in the world, but she discovers that he was deep in debt and the house and estate has to be sold to pay his creditors. She hopes her betrothed, the handsome Lord Aidan Driscol, will honour his promise of marriage, but he refuses now there is no substantial dowry.

  Instead he offers to make her his slave, wanting to submit her to his domination. But proud and headstrong she refuses and battles with the vagaries of fortune now that she has fallen from riches to rags, struggling to survive in the midst of the harsh life of mid-Victorian London. She sacrifices her precious virginity in order to claw her way up from the gutter, prey to many ruthless, greedy, lustful people, including her former fiancé, and eventually reaches her goal - that of independence and true love, despite the perverts and villains who pursue her mercilessly.

  Strictly Discipline

  Amelie listened and wondered and was disturbed by the tenor of the conversation. She strained her ears to hear what might be taking place around her, nerves stretched like bowstrings as she thought of Mervin selecting the instrument he would choose to chastise her. She heard rustlings and his footsteps and the sound of something swishing through the air. A whip? A cat-o-nine-tails? Her skin was stippled with goose bumps and her pussy ached, her nipples rising against the hard surface of the bench.

  There followed a hush, the air loaded with anticipation. Waiting was a gruelling enough punishment on its own. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she panicked and struggled against those impossible bonds. Then there was a whoosh behind her, followed by a thwack.

  ‘Ow!’ she screamed as leather connected with her bottom and fire lanced her. ‘Oh, ow!’ She almost wet herself with the shock of it, so harsh, so brutal, so inescapable. Worse than when Thacker had whipped her – far, far worse.

  Amelie Aston is an orphan. When eight she was adopted by the Reverend Thacker and brought up by him and his wife in a Somerset village. She led a sheltered life, though as she matures she is subjected to the unwelcome attentions of his sons. Thacker, too, lusts after her, relieving his frustration by administering correction, using his whip and cane.

  Now eighteen, Amelie is a lovely young woman with chestnut hair and green eyes, and obsessed by his guilt, Thacker finds her a position as companion to Lord Mervin Bessborough's sickly sister, Millicent. There is nothing physically wrong with Millicent, her ailments down to sexual frustration; she is a virgin, repressed and miserable, dominated by her brother.

  In this tense household Amelie finds danger, pursued by Marvin, who introduces her to his profligate cronies and forces her to perform lewd acts with them. He uses and abuses her, introducing her to pain and pleasure, beating her whenever he likes.

  Can Amelie at last escape Mervin's tyranny? Does she really want to? Or are her darkest desires satisfied when she submits to his mastery?

  Devil’s Paradise

  Riku pushed Romilly back till her knees pressed against the great slab. Mahil was dancing round mouthing incantations. The tribe swayed and chanted as they watched. The warriors lifted Romilly onto the altar and bound her, spread-eagled, ropes about her ankles and wrists. She had never believed in God, not seriously, bucking against attending services in the church on her father’s estate or going to those in London, but again she prayed. ‘Dear Jesus, save me. I don’t want to die.’

  She could not move, tears running unchecked down her cheeks and dripping onto the stone beneath her head. Then a large black-haired man with fierce eyes leaned over her, blocking out everything. A cloak of vivid feathers fell from his immense shoulders, and he raised his arms to heaven, evoking his gods.

  It is the mid-seventeenth century. Lady Romilly Fielding is an 18-year-old virgin. Beautiful, rich and spoilt, she is travelling to Virginia to visit relatives who own plantations there. She is accompanied by her betrothed, whom she does not love, plus several other friends and servants, but there is a storm when they reach the West Indies and they are shipwrecked on a tropical island.

  Set upon by natives, she and her companions are rescued by a mysterious man and his ruffian followers. He is Armand Tertius, the scourge of the Caribbean, a deposed aristocrat who has become a pirate, living like an emperor in his fortress and controlling all the area around. He has slaves of both sexes and a stunning mistress, and introduces Romilly to pain/pleasure and becomes her master. Her pride is ground into the dust and, although she has other suitors, when the time comes for her to be rescued by a British ship, she can't make up her mind whether to leave Armand or remain in his Devil's Paradise forever, captivated by this intriguing sea-wolf.

  Stranger in Venice

  Candice felt Gwenda’s hard hand in the small of her back, pushing her forward till she lay face-down across the table, feet flat on the linoleum, her posterior raised.

  ‘How dare you! You can’t do this to me!’ she protested, head to one side, trying to see what the chaperon was doing.

  She felt Gwenda behind her, heard her quickened breathing and the words that came, jerkily, from her lips, ‘Oh, yes I can. Your mother has charged me not to bother her with trivialities. I’ll deal with you as I think fit. It’s some long time since you received a beating.’

  When Lady Candice is sent to Venice to further her education, she has no idea what lies before her. Education she receives, but in a way her aristocratic parents did not intend.

  She becomes involved with a French libertine and his mistress who set about seducing the innocent maiden, introducing her to the paradox of pain/pleasure.

  But it is not until Candice meets the mysterious Prince Dimitri that she experiences boundless terror and overwhelming desire.

  Who is this darkly sinister prince of lust? Rumour has it he is immortal, one of the undead - a vampire with an insatiable hunger for human blood.

  Is Candice brave enough to find out, to embrace the savage, eternal love of this mysterious Stranger in Venice?

  Foxy Lady

>   ‘Kiss my cock.’ His voice reached her as if from a great distance. She dragged herself to her knees and, looking up, saw his legs rising above her. They were parted and firmly placed. With a hand on each of his black leather riding boots she raised herself, staring upwards to where his breeches gaped, exposing his testicles and erection. ‘Pleasure me with your mouth,’ he growled.

  The French Revolution, 1790 and onwards.

  Spirited Chantel is furious with the leader of the revolutionaries, Captain Gautier, who takes over her estate, but though hating everything he stands for is strangely attracted to this saturnine man.

  She is courted by a French Comte and helps him escape from Gautier, adopting the disguise that is going to cover her tracks as she organises escape routes for her persecuted friends. She dresses as a man and earns the name of The Fox, and through a series of adventures she is threatened by the feared Chief of Police, who imprisons her in his fortress where she is groomed for his mistress, the beautiful and corrupt Voletta Delmar.