His Brother's Wife

by Michelle Love

  “Fuck off, Ricci. This doesn’t concern you. This is between me and my Tahlia.”

  “Tahlia is nobody’s possession, asshole,” Ludo growled at him, edging closer. “Let her go.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I’ll blow your head off if you don’t.”

  Ellory laughed. “Really. Do you think I care? You took what was mine, Ricci.” He deliberately kissed Tahlia’s neck roughly. Tahlia screamed as his teeth sank into her flesh, and when Ellory raised his head, blood trickled down her chest from the bite. Ludo felt sick.

  “I said let her go, asshole. You don’t have the right.”

  Ellory put his head to the side, amused. “You want me to let her go?”

  “Right now.” Ludo tried to stop the gun from shaking. He’d only ever fired them on a movie set and never, ever with live rounds in them.

  Ellory smiled. “Okay.” And he threw Tahlia over the cliff’s edge. She screamed, and Ludo, half-crazed with grief, shouted, “No!” as Ellory laughed. Ludo fired the gun again and again, catching Ellory right through his laughing mouth, and the man went down, gurgling air. Ludo shot him in the head and Ellory Mackenzie was silenced forever. Ludo dropped the gun and rushed to the cliff’s edge, knowing he would see the worst sight in the world. His girl, his beautiful love, smashed on the rocks below.

  Instead, he heard her voice. “Ludo …help me.” He lay on his front and looked over. She was clinging to an outcrop of grasses, dangling precariously. He reached out his hands, ignoring the searing pain of his healing wounds.

  “Give me your hands, my beauty …trust me.”

  Tahlia grabbed one hand, then the other, and as quickly as she could, climbed and heaved herself over the edge to lie next to him. Ludo, in excruciating pain now, reached for her, but she pressed her hands to his chest. “I’m so sorry, baby. Your wounds are bleeding.”

  All Ludo wanted then was to take her in his arms and drift off to sleep. He knew his body was going into shock. “Phone, in my pocket. The police are coming. They’ll take care of you, baby.” He felt her running her hands over him to find it and grabbed her hand, making her look at him. “Tahlia Penn …I am so in love with you. If I don’t make it, remember that you were loved so much. By me, by Cade, by everyone who ever meets you. You are the light. You are my world.”

  Tahlia started to cry. “Don’t you dare die, Ludo Ricci. Don’t you dare. Because I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. Please hang on. Help will come. Help will come. I love you. I love you …”

  Ludo smiled once, a smile of pure love and happiness, and closed his eyes.

  Six months later…

  Tahlia stood at the door of her now-empty apartment. She couldn’t have stayed here, not with all the memories—the nights of having sex with Ellory, the man who had tried to kill her twice. The man who murdered her beloved brother. The man who had ordered Ludo’s killing. She swallowed the grief.

  “Ready, sweetheart?”

  Molly smiled kindly at her and Tahlia nodded. “Let’s go.”

  She was quiet all the way into the city. Molly patted her hand. Her almost-sister-in-law had been a godsend these past six months. “We’ll get to my place, change, and then go on from there.”

  Tahlia nodded, and within a couple of hours, they were on the move again. In the car, Tahlia looked over to her friend.

  “Thank you for doing this.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Do you have the paperwork with you?”

  “I do.”

  “Then everything should go like clockwork.”

  At their destination, they walked quickly to the courtroom. Outside, a small gathering of people waited. From their midst, Tahlia saw him emerge and smile at her.

  Ludovico Ricci. The love of her life. The man of her dreams. The gorgeous, world-famous film star who somehow loved her.

  And in a few moments, she would marry this beautiful man in front of a judge, and Molly and Ludo’s family, who had become her family now, would watch.

  He came toward her and Molly slipped away to give them a moment’s privacy.

  Ludo took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. “Buongiorno, il mio amore. Sposami?”

  Tahlia grinned back, a tremulous smile, “Sì, amore mio, ti sposerò.”

  He kissed her again, chuckling. “Your Italian is getting better and better.”

  Tahlia wound her arms around his neck. “My Italian has always been good …haven’t you?”

  He laughed. “I love you, you crazy girl. Let’s go get married, beautiful.”

  Twenty-four hours later…

  Tahlia arched her back as her husband’s cock plowed deeper and deeper into her, and she cried out his name as she came hard, shivering and trembling. She felt him come, creamy semen pumping deep into her belly.

  The small holiday apartment they had rented in a non-tourist part of Venice was as sultry and hot as the weather outside, and the windows, open wide, let in the sultry Italian evening. They caught their breath as Ludo rolled onto his side and kissed her. “We made it, cara mia.”

  Tahlia nodded, gazing up at him. “We did. We made it, baby.” She kissed him, and they began to make love again, knowing no one could ever touch them again …

  The End

  Savage SEAL’s Virgin A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

  Michelle Love

  Blyss

  BDSM stands for Bondage, Discipline, Domination/Submission, Sadism/Masochism. A bunch of frightening words, that was for sure. And it just so happened that I planned to write my Master’s thesis on the taboo topic.

  As a Psychology Major and a virgin, I was in for a drastic change in my sheltered world. I knew that going into my summer project. If I’d had parents to answer to, then perhaps I’d never have chosen the subject to explore thoroughly. But I didn’t have a family at all.

  My story was one of those sad ones. Dropped at a fire station as a newborn, I was sent to an orphanage. I wasn’t as lucky as most babies. I was born addicted to all kinds of drugs and alcohol too. My mother must’ve had a genuine love for all things that were bad for her.

  I was her complete opposite. Most likely the violent withdrawals as a tiny baby had become part of my permanent makeup and stored in my cell-memory bank. Liquor didn’t appeal to me, and I’d had not so much as an aspirin all the way up to my twenty-second year of life.

  The year I decided that my life needed to be shaken up a bit. There’d been no one to shelter me, I’d done that to myself. Burying myself in books since I learned to read at the tender age of five, I found companionship in story books and knowledge in textbooks. I loved to read so much so that I hardly ever stopped reading.

  As they say, too much of anything, even a good thing, is bad for you. Being more than merely an avid reader, I was an addicted reader, kept me from experiencing many things. Including friendships. I’d never made one friend in all my years of growing up.

  There was no need to make friends. Books were my world, my only friends. Until I began college. The other people there weren’t about to leave me alone with my books. Finally, I learned how to let people in, while not letting them take me over. I liked it. I liked sharing words with people, listening to their ideas, their life stories, their daily dramas.

  I had no dramas in my life. It was as sterile as the environment I lived in. I kept everything in perfect order. White was my favorite color, and everything I owned was that color or lack thereof. My wardrobe consisted of lab coats, which I wore on a daily basis. I had slacks that matched them, and even my undergarments were as plain as I could find.

  The dark world of BDSM was ancient. The basics of the lifestyle seemed to have been bred into us all. Man ruled over his women, which became whittled down to one woman, in most societies. He used anything he had to, to keep her in line.

  Brutality was necessary back in the caveman days. Males had to be brutal in their attempts to maintain their mates. Not only did they have to fight off other males who tried to rob them of t
heir women, but they also had to fight their women on occasion.

  Some females tried to run off. Others didn’t want to give up their sexual favors to the male who’d taken them from their father’s cave. Males resorted to the only thing that was hardwired into them; hold her down and do it anyway. Procreation had to occur, whether females understood that or not.

  Time moved on, and we all evolved. That caveman mentality became unacceptable. And that was for the good of all. Things progressed, and polite society looked down on rough sexual activity. But some of the more naughtier individuals still played roughly behind closed doors and in dark areas where others wouldn’t see them.

  It was that darkness that lured me in. I wasn’t vanilla. I was far worse than that, I was an untouched specimen. I needed an experienced Dom to take me on. My mind was set, I would hand myself over to him with no qualms.

  Everything we did, how I felt about it all, and how I felt about the man who’d done those things to me were to be noted. Then I’d make charts and sub-charts about the whole thing and write my thesis once summer was over.

  I could’ve researched different men. I could’ve asked around to find things out. But I wanted a clean plate when I began my research. I wanted to go into an auction and let the man find me.

  The thing that made it all okay in my mind was the fact that emotions were left out of things. That was the stipulation of many Dom/sub contracts. Once it was over, the two people would walk away from one another with no hard feelings. Love wasn’t a thing that was supposed to occur.

  I was happy about that. I wasn’t looking for love. I was looking for an experience that I could write about, learn from, and would make an excellent, how I lost my virginity, story.

  Not many women would have the story I’d have.

  Only a couple of weeks stood in my way. I’d done no research on anything that had to do with actual BDSM kinks. That way, I’d be able to accept whatever the man who bought me would want. Whatever he wanted to do to me, I wanted him to do.

  I was a blank slate, and more than ready to be changed. My body had never experienced anything sexual. I’d never masturbated. No orgasm had ever filled me. I had no idea what that would feel like or if I’d even experience one. Not all women climax, from what I’d read about human sexuality.

  The men I knew, jokingly called me a robot. I was fine with that. I did realize that I wasn’t normal. One doesn’t go through life, living in another world, one that’s right alongside the real one, and not see that she’s different.

  The truth was, I was tired of being different. I wanted to be normal but knew I had no clue how to become that. So, I could be something else other than normal. I could be a submissive. I could belong to someone. I’d never belonged to anyone in my entire life. It was time I let that happen.

  I’d do it for the summer, and if I found I liked it, then I’d sign up for another auction and another after that, and give myself to more and more Doms until the right one bought me and wanted to keep me.

  No one had ever wanted to keep me. Not ever.

  Putting myself up for sell was risky. But so was living my life the way I had been. I had deprived myself of so many things. All that was about to change. I was about to let loose. Let go of all the things I’d clung to so desperately.

  Once upon a time, my mother put me outside of a fire station. From what I was told, I had on no clothes, nor was I wrapped in a blanket. I was placed in a box, and a storm was raging. No one was sure just how long I’d been outside. It was a miracle I hadn’t drowned or died from exposure.

  In my mind, if my newborn body could handle all that, my adult body was capable of even more. I was about to test limits I knew nothing about but hoped the Dom who bought me would.

  Troy

  The sun was setting behind me as I drove my Jeep out of NAS Point Loma in San Diego, California. Being a career Navy man, I was currently a Master Drill Sergeant. I had the summer months free, a much needed extended- vacation was calling my name. So was the Dungeon of Decorum in Portland, Oregon.

  I’d been a member of the BDSM club for the last three years. The lifestyle worked wonders for me. I could take on a sub, who I’d win in an auction, for any length of time I wanted. Being summer, I had three months off and planned to make up a contract for the entire time.

  Being a Dom was something I was good at. I knew how to think about what would work for entire groups of people. My experience, working hands on with other people, had given me more knowledge than most started out with.

  Not only was I acutely aware of what the human body could take and perform, I knew the inner workings of the human mind. It was far more capable of handling things most thought impossible.

  As a SEAL, I’d done things and seen things others might’ve gone insane over. I was tough, built like a tank, and mentally capable of doing anything I set my mind to. And I do mean anything.

  What others saw as insurmountable challenges, I saw as opportunities to push myself to the max. And I enjoyed teaching women, my subs, how to do that too.

  At the end of our time together, my subs left me a hell of a lot safer than when I got them. They could take pain and morph it in their minds to things that not only didn’t hurt them, but could also be transformed into pleasure. I’d seen amazing transformations in the last three years with the women I’d taken on. And I was looking forward to getting my hands on a new recruit.

  The club had a website where I could get a gander at the women who’d be in the summer auction that year. I didn’t want to look them over. I wanted to pick one out, based on instant attraction. I was looking to work from the ground up with someone. I preferred a BDSM virgin, at that time.

  I’d had women who’d been in that lifestyle, and they were great. But I wanted a newbie. A fresh woman who knew next to nothing about BDSM. Showing someone things they could never imagine was what I was looking for. Watching her face as she found out just how high I could take her, using only some ropes, a paddle, and my cock was a thing that had my thighs tingling.

  I had to make a stop at my family’s estate in Napa Valley, then I’d be on my way. My grandfather had started a winery when he was young, it took off, and my mother inherited it, as she was his only child. Her mother had died early on, so it was just Mom and her father to grow the budding company.

  Time and patience had Succulent Winery blossoming into a giant company that my father and brothers loved. I wasn’t like them. I thought wine was okay. I preferred beer and whiskey to it, though. And I also preferred to work a bit harder than any of them did.

  As heir to the fortune the winery gave us, I didn’t have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to. But I hated to be idle. Both in mind and body, I liked to stay active.

  The cool thing about being a billionaire and in the armed forces was that I could take the money I earned in the Navy and give every bit of it to various charities. I was also known to hand over large amounts of money as gifts for people who I found in need. I did those things anonymously, though. I didn’t want any recognition for anything like that. It was money, I had a lot of it, they didn’t, end of story.

  Life could’ve been easy for me, but I preferred to make it at least a little hard. I liked to work hard for what I had. Having something to show for all that hard work was what I lived for.

  While some might’ve seen taking on a sub as a selfish thing to do, I saw it as an opportunity to help a fellow human being grow into something they weren’t before they met me.

  I didn’t leave my subs with just an education about their minds and bodies, not me. I also left them with enormous chunks of money to live the rest of their lives any way they wanted to.

  With their newfound freedom to explore their minds and bodies in ways others condemned, I also gave financial freedom to live life on their new terms. So far, every sub I’d had was happy with what she’d received from me.

  We’d end our contract with smiles, handshakes, quick hugs and maybe a kiss if the chemistry w
as there. The truth was, I hadn’t found intense chemistry with any of the subs I’d had. I’d found nothing to hang on to a woman for in the dating department, either. But I wasn’t freaking out over that just yet. I was still young at only thirty-years-old. I had time to meet a woman, marry her, have a family, and all that jazz.

  I wanted those things someday. I had faith the right woman and I would cross paths, and we’d both know we were meant to be together. I never told a soul about my secret thoughts. I didn’t like to be made fun of. And if I spouted off that crap, I’d be ridiculed, there was no doubt in my mind.

  Until that time, though, I would take my vacations in Portland, making memories that would last me a lifetime. I wasn’t sure I’d ever tell the woman I eventually fell for about my little secret. How many wives want to hear that their husbands were Doms, once upon a time?

  How many kids want to think that way about their daddies?

  Not many, were my thoughts on it. When I found Mrs. Right, my Dom days would be over. I was all right with that. I could put that all behind me. I could be normal.

  Until then, I’d be the savage who could take a woman, bend her until she thought she’d break, then reform her into a superwoman, able to take care of herself and feed her desires. I had been thanked by all the women I’d taken on. I had to be doing something right!

  Blyss

  Nerves were never a thing I’d dealt with. But that night at the BDSM club I found online, The Dungeon of Decorum, I was shaking with them. After filling out lots of online paperwork and going to a doctor to get not only a clean bill of health but a certificate of virginity, I was in Portland, Oregon.