Big Bad Doms Box Set (BDSM Romance)

by Edward Tailor

  Big Bad Doms

  A Horny Devil Publishing E-Book Box Set

  By Edward Tailor, Ava Snow, Cleo Taurus, Dee Licious

  Published by Horny Devil Publishing

  Copyright 2013 Edward Tailor, Ava Snow, Cleo Taurus, and Dee Licious

  ISBN 978-1-62518-082-7

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Big Bad Doms Copyright © 2013 Edward Tailor, Ava Snow, Cleo Taurus, and Dee Licious

  The Pit Series: Cameron Part One Copyright 2012 Edward Tailor

  House of Doms: Past Unbound Copyright 2013 Ava Snow

  The Black Room: Michael Part One Copyright 2012 Cleo Taurus

  Inked Heat: Derek and Maks Copyright 2012 Dee Licious

  Edited by Kat Marshall and Colette Stone

  Cover art by Dee Allen (www.deeallencoverart.com)

  Electronic book publication

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Horny Devil Publishing LLC, P.O. Box 2508, Palm City, FL 34991.

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The Pit Series

  Cameron Part One

  By Edward Tailor

  Chapter One

  Fuck: There it was he cursed as the red ball bounced with a soft “thud thud” across the floor of The Pit. The ball indicating her safe word had been called. Frustration and disappointment boiled in his blood. Cam rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension and looked out across the gathered crowd. The Pit was an exclusive club, hidden behind a set of glossy black Georgian-panelled doors lost amongst the other buildings along the Kings Road. To the outside world, it was known as an overpriced modern day gentleman’s club. To its elite members, it was secret place of sin. The club’s 257 members paid a high yearly fee for the privilege to attend for a mere four nights a week. Tonight though, the look on his fellow Dom’s faces told him they were disappointed. Cameron Flint, part club owner and master Dom, was on the brink of losing his reputation at the prince of pain. Shit!

  Disgusted, Cam passed the black, braided leather flogger from his right hand to his left, clenched his right fist into a tight ball and turned to meet his equals. Thumping the square block of muscle that covered his heart, he gave respect to his fellow Doms before he turned back to the girl making a mockery out of him on the cross.

  “You disappoint your master, little one,” he spoke in a voice that was more gravel than words.

  Her round hazel eyes met his briefly, looking at him shamefully. Regret and sorrow poured from her as she lowered her eyes and turned back to face the cross. Trailing his forefinger up a deep-welted scar on her ass, Cam leaned his head against the cool hard wood. “Any other time little one, your insolence would have gained you a night in a steel-barred cage followed by weeks of frustration.” Sliding his fingers between her raw welted cheeks and into her slick wet heat, his long, thick digits buried deep into her sodden core. Bowing the base of her spine, Lisa began to whimper around the rubber ball gag. Cams eyelids flickered as his eyes travelled down the curvature of her body. “No, little one, as sweet as you feel, all wet and ready for my cock, I won’t be rushed.” His heart beat increased and his cock thickened with the need to claim.

  Lisa mewed for a brief moment. Exasperated, he registered her body fighting her natural reaction to pump against his fingers, while she struggled not to bring on her own release. With a growl, he said, “If you cum little one, you will not be permitted to seek my favour again.” Pushing his thumb against her clit, rubbing the swollen nub with a well-practiced rhythm, he felt his cock kick against his leathers. Rolling his pelvis forward, he pressed the bulge in his pants against her hip to relieve his own ache, but the act was misconstrued. His little sub took it as a green light to relieve her frustration. She ground herself into his palm and rocked her hips into his fingers, so that they played a sweet tune on her G-Spot. The crowd gathered at the edge of the atrium gave a disappointed jeer, interrupting the silence of the Doms and subs in the dark shadows of the Pit. Those too consumed with their own desires, broke contact for the briefest moment to watch with anticipation.

  “Goddam!” he swore angrily, as she came. Lisa’s body bucked and shuddered against the cross, and her sweet musk filled his senses and sent him into a free fall ”Fuck,” he cursed impatiently, still grinding his cock against her bucking hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met a sub worthy of his seed, but it seemed like ages. Lisa’s head lulled against her arm as he withdrew his fingers. Regret and loss flooded through him, aggravating him enough to be sure he didn’t make a show of tasting what she’d given. She didn’t perform well enough to deserve lodging space in even one of his memory cells. Nope, he wouldn’t be calling this one again. After he’d fucked her sweet, tight little ass, she could go back into the crowd of The Pit and be labelled as another club sub.

  Pissed off, he fisted her thick hair, turning the long blonde mane tightly around in his palm and releasing the fly on his pants. His cock, tired of pity fucking, rolled from the faded leather of his pants before it decided to get with the program. The head pushed against her tight rosette and began to harden instantly knowing it was going to fuck something nice and snug. “Your pussy will beg for what your ass will receive,” he spat into the shell of her ear.

  Watching as Lisa swallowed back the pool of the salvia around her gag, he knew she was an ass slut and would suffer to hold off another orgasm. Quickly sheathing himself, he dipped his hip to let his cock slip through the valley of her sex once then pushed the head into her pleated ass. Fuck!

  Damn, she was painfully tight. His eyes watched her breasts press into the hard unforgiving cross. She was obviously feeling the same sweet pain as his dick, but there was nowhere for her to run. Inching his feet wider and yanking her head back a fraction, he wrapped his palm around her throat to squeeze her slender neck.

  “Shut the fuck up and take me like you know you can,” Cam ordered hoarsely. Rocking his hips, he forced himself in, inch by fucking inch. He would have liked to recall over a brandy with his brother how good it felt to take her when she was so helpless and in his control, but he knew he wouldn’t. There was no dominate victory here, Lisa had dropped the ball, literally, on their training programme.

  His cock was going through the motions as if it had an auto pilot switch located in his brain. He didn’t feel any satisfaction in taking her. This ass fucking was just for show to stake his claim as the Dom he knew he was and nothing more; it was just pure show time for the gathered crowd that wanted a resolve for his sub’s poor performance. A universal roar of about fucking time rose above the beat of the music and bounced around the atrium. He scanned the club that was alive with writhing lustful bodies, fighting to subdue their own release or shattering under the skilful control of th
eir Doms.

  His balls fluttered to life, as he slammed his cock home. With a dip and a swing of his hips, their bodies ricocheted off the cross with the sweet echo of pleasure. Lisa’s legs buckled and her breathing became ragged with need. “Don’t you fucking dare!” he barked angrily and squeezed his palm tighter on her airway in a desperate attempt to get her to concentrate…Fuck…he was too late. Lisa cried through her gag and swallowed her sobs, telling him she again had fallen over the cliff without his permission. With a curse, his pounding movements slowed. He’d had higher hopes for her, and he cursed himself repeatedly for getting this shit so wrong.

  Throughout her training, Lisa had shown him so much promise, but here in the heart of The Pit, where Dom’s displayed their skills like matadors in a bull ring, her excitement had lost her a master and him the right to claim.

  Cam zipped his cock back into his leathers, adjusting his waistband on his hips and stepped off the base of the cross. Disappointment coursed through him, cooling his heated blood more effectively than a cold shower. Without uttering a word, especially not one of praise, he nodded to Lisa’s friend who stepped forward to give Lisa support. Angry and frustrated, he headed towards his second in command while dropping his flogger on the tray of a passing waitress. Reaching Harvey, the larger man clapped his heavy palm on his shoulder and shook him gently.

  “You expect too much, my man,” Harvey said in his high class West End tone. “You push them too hard too quickly. That little plum you worked, she won’t be ripe for another season yet,” his tone mocking as they made their way through The Pit to Cam’s private office.

  “You think,” Cam replied sarcastically.

  “Brother, you can keep this up for as long as you like. It bumps up my score card and fattens my wallet every time you lose one.” He chuckled, slapping Cam’s shoulder with more vigour. “Brother, you can square me up in the usual way.” With a smirk, Harvey continued, “unless you want to roll it over and go double or nothing quits on your next little adventure?”

  The music from The Pit became muffled as they entered Cam’s Georgian-style office. He headed straight for his private bar to grab a bottle of cognac, catching sight of his reflection in the bevelled mirror. His hazel eyes wore dark bags like a cloak, but shit, he hadn’t been sleeping well for months. He needed a shave too he noted as he took two of the crystal brandy glasses from the shelf. Whatever, he thought and turned his back on his reflection.

  Harvey had taken up residence in his normal winged-back leather chair, and Cam planted his ass wearily in his recliner then poured two large glasses of the amber-coloured liquid.

  “There will always be another sub,” Harvey said as he took the crystal into his big palm.

  “Yeah, I know that’s the problem.” His own leather chair creaked as he rested back and crossed his ankles on top of a pile of paperwork that was scattered across the polished walnut desk.

  “You know my brother; some Doms never find their perfect subs. You used to enjoy the challenge. What’s changed?” Resting his head back against the wing of the chair and swirling the liquor around in his glass, Harvey, his face pensive, was spot on as usual.

  “Everything, nothing…shit…” Cam rubbed at his five o’clock shadow, and downed his cognac in one swallow. He inhaled deeply as the liquor burned his throat with the delicious sting that came from the first glass.

  “You had it all once,” Cam continued, then wished he hadn’t. “Shit, sorry my man, I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s alright,” Harvey reassured him and repositioned himself in the leather chair, brushing off some piece of fluff from his black slacks that only he could see. “I did, my brother, and as you well know, it nearly destroyed me. Doms like us aren’t meant for that level of commitment and you know it.” Harvey sipped from his crystal glass and met him eye to eye, man to man and Dom to Dom. “Don’t push a sub for your own needs, my friend, in the end you will ruin her and destroy yourself.”

  Cam poured another large cognac, laid his head back against the padded leather chair and sighed. ”I know, man, I know, it’s just…I’m not getting any younger, you know? I’m fed up with safe words and rubber balls.” Goddamn! His eyes closed, and with a tired expression on his rugged face, he continued. “I crave their trust more than I crave their sex.” He let a chuckle roll up his burnt throat then continued. “See, my brother, if we had this conversation ten years ago, that statement would never have left my lips.”

  Harvey raised his glass in a silent I hear you, and Cam, not for the first time, marvelled at how the light reflected off of his friend’s bronze skin tones. Harvey and his identical twin, Hamilton had been his neighbours when he was growing up. In their youth, their names were spoken in whispers. It was not that they had ever been involved in crime in any major way, but the three had always had a certain mystique. Individually, they demanded respect; together they owned it.

  “If it is meant to be, then it will be,” Harvey chimed, as he placed his glass back on the desk. Lifting himself from his chair and rising to his full height, he glanced around the room and headed for the door. “I need to go and make my presence felt.” The last four words were drawn out, and Cam knew that his brother, friend, and fucking life coach was going trawling to feed his own need to dominate.

  “You, my brother, need to hire a secretary to clear that shit off your desk so you can sleep at night.” Harvey shook his slacks down his thick thighs and headed back out to the club with a brief salute and a crisp see you soon.

  Cam stared at the ornate plaster coving that boxed the ceiling to the walls with a repeated pattern of plastered squares, and like so many nights before, he lost track of time. When he went to move his legs, the fuckers were numb. He knew by the time he hobbled to the shower he would be blessed with the kind of pins and needles a master acupuncturist would be proud of. Cam stripped out of his leathers and hit the hot water jets with a well-practised routine. First job was to wash his thick black mop of hair then follow through with a soap and rinse. His cock, however, seemed to have dreams of grandeur and presented itself as the king of all hard-ons.

  “Traitor,” he cursed fondly, as he parted his thighs to palm the heavy weight. Fuck, he should have called for a sub to work this for him he thought as he stroked his length from balls to swollen head and tried hard to get his brain to the same place as his cock. Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem. He rolled his head on his shoulders, shaking off the memory of his trip to the Pit and closed his eyes against the spray while thumbing around the purple ridge of his cock. Thinking back to his last blow job, Cam tried to get in the zone.

  He pictured plump glossy lips stretched over his shaft and imagined her tongue curled around his length as she sucked. Cam cupped his balls and slid them through his fingers as he pumped his cock with his fist. He pictured tight nipples hung with clamps and imagined the feel of all that metallic sweetness in his mouth. His hips rocked on his spine while he breathed hard, enjoying the picture show that flowed across his frontal lobe. Tightening his grip on his silken balls, he opened his eyes as he felt the first sign of his orgasm rattle the base of his spine.

  “Yeah…fucker… come on.” He egged himself on and let his head roll back on his shoulders again as he tried to enjoy his own fantasy. “Come on fucker!” he cursed eagerly as he slapped his balls with the palm of his hand. The sweet pain in the pit of his stomach made him pump his cock harder until finally the familiar tightening feeling at the back of his sac had him shooting warm jets of cum into the hot shower spray giving him a needed but hollow release.

  Chapter Two

  The power buried deep inside her jacket both terrified her and thrilled her. She felt the cool steel through the thin silk lining against her naked belly flesh, and it reminded her of how much it had cost her. Tilly had traded both her mother’s wedding and engagement rings to a punk kid behind a dumpster off Bridge Street. At the time, she’d talked herself into it, telling herself it was the right decision. She had told herself th
at her mum wouldn’t want her to starve. And the gun, well, it was a means to put food in her stomach.

  Frightened shitless, Tilly nervously stuck to the shadows as she made her way through the dark alleys in London’s West end. She kept trying to convince herself that she was being stupid; she told herself that no one but her knew she had a weapon. Unfortunately, the weight of the cold-pressed steel pulled the pocket on her thin jacket so it hung uncomfortably lop-sided off her shoulder.

  Nervously stepping over a sleeping tramp, she managed to trip on his box, a cat screeched and in the distance a car backed fired. The sudden sounds in the still night sent her into a wild panic. She wrapped her jacket tightly to her torso and ran, having no idea where to or why. The gun that was meant to buy her some peace of mind freaked the fuck out of her. She ran from one alley to another. Dogs barked and roosting birds took flight, but still she ran. She pounded the pavement, moving so fast and so hard that her lungs were screaming with the need for air. Unable to breathe, the pain too raw in her chest, she forced herself to stop. Scanning the dark alley through narrowed eyes, she anxiously leaned up against a wooden gate, and fought to catch her breath.

  “Get a grip,” she told herself through hard deep rasps as she tucked a strand of ratted hair behind her ear, pissed at the idea that she’d made herself a target. Living on the street had been hard. It was meant to be a temporary situation, but six months later finding a job was becoming harder and her money had run out.

  Frightened, she scanned the dark alley from left to right as she leaned her head back against the gate to collect herself and made herself calm down. When her heat rate slowed and her breathing became steady, she scanned the alley a second time. It was clear, thank God. Letting the door take her full weight, she felt the click of the lock as it gave way.

  Surprised and caught off guard, she stumbled, lost her footing and fell back to land square on her ass…shit. Shocked and little sore, she realised she was in a private courtyard. Desperate to get out before she was caught, she turned over onto her knees to stand. As she did, the gun fell from her pocket to the floor with a loud metallic clatter. “Hell!” she swore in a whisper. All butter fingers; she went to grab the gun as she righted herself, but knocked it further across the paving blocks and out of reach. This was all she needed, she thought angrily. She crawled on all fours to reach it, when a slice of light emerged from a doorway in front of her.