BRAZEN SEDUCTION
Morgan Ashbury
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
BRAZEN SEDUCTION
Copyright © 2010 by Morgan Ashbury
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-753-5
First E-book Publication: February 2010
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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DEDICATION
This one’s for the other girls of the Four Girl Challenge. You know who you are. Do you know I couldn’t do without every single one of you?
BRAZEN SEDUCTION
MORGAN ASHBURY
Copyright © 2010
Chapter 1
Molly Durant had a plan.
She was about to put it into action, and the resulting excitement sped her heart and slicked her sex.
As she turned and looked at herself in the full length mirror, Molly experienced a fleeting sense of unreality. The sensation left as quickly as it came.
She inhaled deeply and then shook her head. Her naturally curly red hair, shoulder length and, for this occasion, completely unrestrained, created a halo effect around her face. The fluorescent lights in the ceiling added to that halo mystique by painting silver on the tips of the wild strands.
Molly laughed, her nerves dissipating.
Me with a halo? Not likely.
She felt excited in a positive way, and despite that the evening could get her into a lot of trouble if things didn’t go according to her plan, no fear dwelled in her heart or her mind.
From beyond the closed door, the heavy beat of rock music pulsed into the air. Molly didn’t let herself think about how many patrons would be crowded into the trendy and always busy night spot, Reckless Abandon, tonight. She didn’t let herself think of anything but the reason she was there, shut away in a small dressing room, alone.
Tonight would be the most important night of her life. Her plan would work out, just the way she dreamt it would for so very long.
She focused her attention back on her costume for the evening. The black leather merry widow cost a small fortune, coming as it did via special order from overseas.
Zippered from the top at the very edge of her breasts all the way down to just above her pussy in the front, it featured slits held together with laces at the top of her thighs. The back of the garment displayed corset-like lacing as well, with one notable difference. Where a corset’s laces could be pulled together as tightly as possible so that the edges of the fabric would meet, this garment’s lacings displayed a wide band of Molly’s flesh all the way down to her hips. All of the tightening for the garment happened in the front, with the zipper. She’d had to lie down on the floor to get that sucker all the way up.
The crotch, leather lined with cotton, just barely covered her slit in front, and tapered to a thong-like thin strip in back. The merry widow fit so well, anyone who looked would know immediately that she’d shaved more than just the standard bikini line. Four garters, one front and back on each leg, ensured her lace-topped sheer black stockings stayed up.
She’d ordered her regular size and, as she’d hoped, the merry widow fit very snugly. Almost, but not quite, too snugly. She let her gaze rest on the white mounds pushed above the top of the leather. Her breasts, described fondly by some under normal circumstances as “generous”, encased in the black leather moved into the category of “downright magnanimous.” The waist of the merry widow pinched in, and the entire effect looked hot.
Her shoes, four inch stilettos, also black, made her feel tall and powerful. She saved such killer heels for special occasions, and really, could anything be more special than tonight? The added height increased her confidence, showcased her legs, which she personally thought of as her second best asset, and made her naked except for the strip of her thong ass stick out just that much more.
The only accessory she felt her outfit lacked was a collar. But as Marcus Jones reminded her, she could not provide that collar for herself. Such an accessory would have to come courtesy of Richard Grant, the man she hoped would become her master.
If he claimed her as his sub.
He has to bid on me and win me. My future happiness depends on it.
Molly met her own gaze in the mirror. She’d come up with a lot of what her family affectionately called “harebrained” schemes in her life to date. What happened tonight, some day in the future, would either be referred to as her crowning achievement or her own personal flaming Waterloo. It all depended on the outcome.
Two taps on the door pulled Molly out of her thoughts. “Come in.”
Marcus stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze immediately fastened on her outfit. Molly fought down the tiny spurt of embarrassment she felt gathering within her. The looks she would get in a few minutes when she stood before the assembled members of the club would be a hell of a lot more intrusive, bordering on lurid, than the one Marcus gave her now.
When he used his index finger in a circular motion, she dutifully turned around to show him the back of her outfit.
“Richard will choke when he sees you. For that matter, so will Alan. You’re sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my entire life.”
It came as no surprise to her Marcus would ask that. A more caring and nurturing man she’d never met. If he didn’t know her desperation and understand the longing in her heart, he would never have agreed to help her. She knew that. And because those two traits were so predominant in him, she expected the question he asked next.
“What are you going to do if someone else wins you, Molly?”
“I’ve thought about that. I know I have a bit of a reputation for leaping before I look, at times. A curse, I’ve been told, of my red hair. But I did consider that possibility.” How could she not, really? She paused and knew embarrassment showed on her face. Sharing personal information didn’t come easily, neither did she do so often. But Marcus had gone out on a limb for her, and he deserved her complete honesty. “The thing is, when I read those books you gave me about the D/s lifestyle, I got turned on. Really turned on. Of course, I’m here for one reason and one reason only. But if I fail to get Richard to notice and move on me, then I really have nothing to lose, exploring this side of my nature—a side I didn’t even fully understand existed until recently.”
The door opened again, no knock this time. But then, this man would never seek permission to do any damn thing he wanted to do. Especially here in Reckless Abandon.
He owned the place.
“My God. Richard and Alan are both going to choke when they see you.”
Molly grinned. “That’s what Marcus said.”
Jordan Fitzpatrick shot the other man a look Molly couldn’t read. “Turn around.” A command, not a request, as the Dom in Jordan came to the fore.
Molly complied. A shiver raced down her spine when she felt the heat of Jordan’s body come close to her.
“Are you ready for what will happen in the next few minutes? Are you prepared to obey whoever becomes your master? To willingly submit to whatever you are commanded to do?”
Molly shivered again, the menace in Jordan’s voice touching a chord deep inside her, a part of her newly awakened in these last few weeks as she’d studied and learned and yearned. She would show him by her words that she understood completely.
“Yes, Master Jordan.”
Jordan grunted as he stepped back. “Face me.”
When she met his gaze, he shook his head slowly. “Richard has always thought of you as a child. He may have my head for this—and I don’t even want to think about what Michael would say if he knew.”
Molly wanted to grin, but listened to her feminine instincts and didn’t. Jordan became a fast friend of Richard and her brother, Michael, many years before when he’d relocated here from Los Angeles. She put Jordan in a difficult position by asking Marcus for help. She wouldn’t make light of that now.
Then, ten years ago, Michael moved to Wyoming after marrying Janice—but not before he’d given Richard the task of watching over his baby sister. Molly didn’t want Richard to watch over her nearly as much as she wanted him to lay on top her. And in her.
Jordan smiled, transforming him from the stern and commanding Dom into the man she’d known since she’d been a kid.
“If I weren’t so much in love with Chastity and Marcus, I never could have been talked into this.” He let the smile leave his face, and his gaze bored into hers.
“Last chance, Molly. Are you absolutely certain you want to do this? That you want to take this chance? It’s all right to back down, honey. No one but us—well, and Chastity, of course—will ever know. And none of us will think less of you for it.”
Molly turned back to her reflection, her eyes seeing more than just the image the mirror threw back at her. In that moment, she saw the years of pining for Richard Grant, years stretching back to as far as she could remember. She saw herself trying to convince herself what she felt was nothing more than a school-girl crush, even going so far as to give her virginity to a boy in college in her bid to rid herself of this infatuation for her brother’s best friend.
The past and the future opened themselves to her sight, and she knew if she didn’t follow through, if she didn’t at least try this…this brazen seduction…then she’d never have a chance at what she wanted with all her heart.
She turned back to Jordan. “Yes, Master Jordan, I’m very certain.”
“Very well. Marcus, summon Jonathan.”
“Yes, Master.” Marcus left the room quietly.
“Eyes down,” Jordan commanded, his tone harsh. Molly complied.
A sub never looks a master in the eyes unless commanded to do so.
From the corridor, just outside this private dressing room, she heard the clank of metal. Seconds later a behemoth of a man filled the doorway. Bare chested, his well defined abs and pecs had been oiled to gleam in the lights of the club. Wearing a cowl mask that covered his head and upper face, he entered the room, carrying what appeared to be a set of chains with manacles attached in one hand and a riding crop in the other. Marcus returned and stood next to Jordan—his lover, his master.
“Unclaimed subs aren’t allowed to wander at will,” Jordan said, his tone that of the master. “And it will add to your appeal to be presented in chains.” Jordan looked at his watch. “The auction begins in ten minutes.”
Molly wondered why the masked man—Jonathan—stood still as stone, not so much as a toe moving. Why didn’t he move? Then Molly found out.
Jordan took one step closer to her. “Molly Durant, do you surrender yourself here and now, to become a willing submissive, bound to obey whichever master pays the highest price for you? To be held by us here and now until that master steps forward? Look me in the eye and answer me.”
His words shocked her because although she’d read about the lifestyle, although she’d made her decision, for the first time she stood on the threshold of commitment. She understood that she could say no, and that would be that. Get back into her street clothes, leave, and no one would know. Certainly Jordan and Marcus wouldn’t think less of her. All this, she knew.
Or she could say yes.
Molly licked suddenly dry lips and worked to ignore the shiver that slid from her shoulders to her finger tips.
“Yes, Master Jordan. I do.”
“Jonathan, chain this sub and take her to the holding room.” He gave her one more direct stare. “You might think it all begins in ten minutes, when the auction starts. But your new life begins right here, right now. Jonathan is your keeper. Obey him as you would any master.”
With a final half smile and nod, he and Marcus left the room. Alone with Jonathan she felt more than a little miffed that her nerves chose that moment to stir to life.
“Arms above your head.”
Jonathan’s voice sounded nearly bored. In complying, Molly wondered if her nipples, just covered by the leather, would spring free. Fortunately, they stayed covered. Jonathan secured a chain around her waist. Attached to this chain hung four others. At the end of each chain a manacle dangled.
“Hands in front, wrists close together.”
He enclosed her wrists in one set of manacles, then knelt to do the same to her ankles with the others.
Molly felt her face burn when instead of rising to his feet right away, he stayed eye-level with her mons. He blew a stream of air against her pussy. She felt her labia twitch with arousal. Shock held her in place. Here, then, lay proof that what she’d told Marcus had been nothing but the truth. In chains, a masked Dom before her, she’d turned wet with arousal.
Jonathan smirked. “Too bad the auction starts so soon. It would please me to inspect the goods.” Then he reached out and ran a single finger lightly over her leather covered crotch.
Outrage flared and then died.
I agreed to this. How many times did her mother chide her for not being willing to pay the piper?
Good news, Ma, I’m facing the consequences of my actions.
No, probably not a good idea to tell her mother about this moment.
Molly remained silent and still, waiting.
Jonathan got to his feet. He ran the riding crop back and forth a couple of times across the top of her breasts, not pushing it below the leather, just brushing the flesh that remained visible to the world. “Yes, too bad. I think I would have enjoyed making a thorough inspection.”
He reached behind to the back of his belt, and Molly heard another clinking sound. When he brought his hand forward, she saw he held a simple collar and leash, items she didn’t notice until now.
Once he fastened them in place, he nodded. “Show time. A master is about to claim you. I’ll envy him the rest of his evening. Now, eyes down. Watch your feet and don’t trip.”
Jonathan turned and led her out of the room. The blare of the music hit her, a wall of sound that seemed to breathe all around her. She felt the heat of the bodies, the fullness of the main lounge. Dozens of feet, mostly male, moved through her line of sight as she followed Jonathan on a path that took her through the heart of the crowd.
Murmurs of appreciation followed her, and Molly swallowed hard. She did her best to try and look up sneakily, raising her eyes but not her head, and wondered if she’d taken a wrong turn into a Halloween party. Collars and leashes, certainly, and leather and lace abounded. The ubiquitous French maid vied with the pig-tailed school girl for most worn disguise. One man dressed as a Pilgrim, one as a cowboy. Sudden movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention.
He stood tall, but that could have been the illusion of his mask, all orange leather, long and narrow, pointed chin and what appeared to be flames shooting off his head. Yes, the mask looked like a demon made of flames. Robes of deep chocolate velvet covered his body and he stared at her with singular attention. The sight of him made her forget to keep her head down. Drawn to his eyes, the only feature of his face visible, Molly felt a shiver course down her spine. She could have sworn his eyes burned black with tiny red dots for pupils. Satan’s eyes. She looked away to her right and spotted the long mahogany bar that ran the length of one wall and a man leaning against it. As she turned her gaze to him he came to rigid attention. Black hair gleaming in the club lighting, tension radiating from every pore, he stared at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
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