by Tawny Taylor
“I felt like I was invisible, like I didn’t exist anymore. Nobody cared whether I was alive or not. There was no hope I’d ever find you two. My mother…she was lost. I dropped out of school shortly after we moved. I had no friends. I was totally isolated.”
“What happened?” Damon leaned forward and took her hands in his. “Did the bastard rape you?”
“No, it’s much worse than that.” She studied his hands. Neatly trimmed fingernails, skin slightly roughened. Strong hands. Masculine.
“Worse how?” Trey asked.
“He had a party one night, and his friends noticed me. They talked to me, made me think I was special. But it was all a game, a bunch of lies. I found that out, but not until after it was…too late. He might have forced me to…do things to him, but they didn’t have to. I did it. Willingly.”
Damon squeezed her hands. “You were young, Blair. Lonely. Desperate for attention. You wanted to believe they felt something for you because you had no one else. They manipulated you.”
“I was their whore,” she confessed coolly. “But only that one time. I left that night and never went back. I tried to get back to you but couldn’t. Eventually, I ended up in a home for runaways and it was okay. I met Sandy there. Made friends. Got my life together. But I wouldn’t have sex again after that. Because I didn’t want any other man playing me, taking advantage of my weaknesses to get what they wanted. Sex was about power. Not love. It was empty. Dirty.”
“You had sex with us. You played our games.”
“It’s different with you two. You don’t take. You give. Don’t manipulate and lie. You see? You taught me that sex could be about giving, about loving, rather than just about taking. And so when you ask what these past two weeks mean to me, I have to say they meant freedom and truth. Through submission, I gained liberty from both the guilt of believing those assholes’ lies and from the chains that had bound me, not allowing me to accept my own sexuality. And through your games and illusions, you helped me face the truth, about myself and the past I’d been punishing myself for.”
“Thank you for sharing that with us,” Damon said.
There was this awful, agonizing silence that Blair wasn’t sure she could endure. It lasted at least a half an eternity too long. Finally, Trey asked, “Do you know why all our gifts had rubies in or on them?”
Why were they talking about rubies now? After what she’d just told them. “No, other than maybe you remembered that rubies were my birthstone.”
“No, there’s more to it than that.” Damon pulled on her hands, tugging her to him. She shuffled around and settled on his lap, leaned back into his warmth. She felt so safe. So cherished. Loved.
“Do you know anything at all about rubies?” Damon asked.
“Not really.”
“Let me explain.” He laced the fingers of one hand through hers. “The ruby is a very rare and precious gem, a symbol of the relationship we shared when we were young.”
Still confused why they seemed to be skirting around what she’d just told them, she nodded. “That’s very sweet. And romantic.”
“The stones are refined with heat, their brilliance and color amplified,” Trey added.
She glanced at him. What were they trying to tell her? “Heat?”
“With heat—trial, pain, conflict—our relationship has been refined too, just like a ruby, to become what it is now. Fiery passion, abiding trust and…lifelong devotion.” He pulled a small red box from his pocket and lifted the lid, revealing a sparkling ruby ring.
Finally, something she understood. Lifelong devotion. Ring. Marriage. Oh God! The breath caught in her throat.
“After what you’ve just confessed, I have no doubt that we’ve made the right decision. We said we had to leave in two weeks,” Damon explained. “But we hoped we wouldn’t have to leave without you.”
“We had to make sure it was what you really wanted,” Trey added. “Not every woman would be happy in a relationship as complicated as ours.”
Happy? What she felt went beyond joy. But this was too wonderful to be true. She wanted to believe and yet she was afraid to. She needed to hear one of them say the words, to tell her exactly what that ring and what all this talk about rubies meant. “You want me to go with you?”
Damon nodded, his eyes sparkling with love and hope. “We want you to be our wife, to share our lives. We don’t want to live another day without you.”
Wife. He’d said it.
The world was spinning. Or she was spinning. Or maybe it was both. She squeezed her eyes closed and clung to Damon, half expecting to wake up and realize she was still sleeping, that the whole night had been a dream and she was still hours away from seeing Damon and Trey for the last time.
One of them stroked the back of her head. “Baby, are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“Do you need some time to think about this?”
What was there to think about? Sandy would be sad but she would understand. Sandy was a true friend, wanted Blair to be happy. “I-I don’t. No.” She forced her eyes open and stared into Damon’s dark gaze, seeing for the first time a spark of fear. He was afraid of what? Of losing her? She flattened her hand against the side of his face. “Where are we heading?”
“California.”
“That sounds good. I can pack light. But how much time do I have to wrap things up? There’s my friend Sandy, the rental house and my job. I need to give notice.”
“Take as long as you need,” Trey said.
“To hell with that,” Damon snapped, the fear evaporating from his eyes. “We’ll pay a moving company to get her stuff and move it to our place, and the job…”
“The job’s nothing,” she said, laughing through the sobs gathering in her throat. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I can quit tomorrow. After all, if I’m not important enough to promote, then I can be replaced in a day or two. Right?”
“Exactly,” Damon said, kissing her cheeks, her nose, her chin. “Not important enough to them, but you are to us. You can’t ever be replaced.”
Blair leaned back. “Was this your plan all along? To see if I might fall in love with you and agree to go on the road with you?”
“Not exactly.” Damon and Trey exchanged smiles. “After spending years searching for you, months working out our schedule, and weeks devising a way to get you to our show…we were thinking much, much bigger. Our plan was to make you fall in love with us and convince you to marry us,” Damon corrected. “That was our hope. Our dream.”
“I can’t marry both of you. It’s against the law.”
“You’ll be legally married to Damon but married to both of us in all other ways.” Trey plucked the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. Smiling, he said, “It fits perfectly.”
“Yes, it does. But I want to know one more thing. About the woman in red. You’d asked me if I knew who she was, and I said ‘me’. Damon, you said that was sort of true. What did you mean by that?”
“I meant she was you, but the red dress represented your acceptance of our protective love, a love that will never let you down again.”
“Okay, I understand now. But you need to forgive yourself too, Damon. You did all you could at your age. And you never gave up. It’s because of you that we have a lot of wonderful years to look forward to.”
For the first time in her life, Blair did look forward to the next five, ten, more years. Because she wasn’t living in the shadows of a secret. She had Trey and Damon, their love and their magic. Freedom.
“By the way, you call yourselves Masters of Illusion, but the magic you perform is real. I think I’ll call you Masters of Magic from now on.”
“You can call us anything you like.” Damon kissed her, showing her yet again how very real and very powerful his magic could be. And then Trey did the same, and she knew she would never again doubt the fact that magic was real. Or look at another ruby without thinking of her two wonderful men and the many gifts they’d given
her. The most precious one being their hearts.
The End
Wicked Bedtime Stories: Enslaved by Sin
Tawny Taylor
Copyright ©2011 Tawny Taylor
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience.
From Amazon Best Selling author, Tawny Taylor, a story of wicked secrets and decadent pleasures...
I have a secret--a deliciously wicked secret. Care to guess what it is? I'll give you a hint. I get hot and wet just thinking about it. Are you ready to curl up with a naughty book and step into my world of dark erotic fantasy?
Over two hundred years ago, the Master of Sin welcomed guests to Castle Greh, inviting them to taste decadent carnal pleasures every night. Now, some claimed the castle was haunted by the dark prince and his many lovers.
She was about to learn the truth...
About the castle.
About the Master.
And about her darkest desires.
WARNING:18+ only. This 5,500 word short story contains graphic language, detailed sex scenes, erotic situations, domination and submission (D/s), same-gender contact, group sex, exhibitionism, S&M and more. It's definitely not for the easily offended.
A monster.
A man.
I didn’t know for certain what he was. I only knew one thing--the legendary Master of Sin called to me. Not just intellectually, as a grad student seeking facts about a man who had lived hundreds of years ago. But also psychically, spiritually, emotionally. As a woman chasing mysteries, secrets.
As a woman searching for myself.
My quest had sent me into many dark corners and discreet places before I’d found my way to this castle in Eastern Europe. I’d haunted singles’ bars, swingers’ parties, dating services, and bondage dungeons. But I hadn’t found what I was seeking anywhere. Something was always wrong. Missing.
But here, I felt different, like I could breathe. Like some part of me that had been suppressed was alive and free. His presence--his energy--was with me from the moment I’d stepped inside the old stone building. He was here. No doubt about it.
For instance, now, here, in what had once been the library, his presence was so strong I could imagine his hot breath fanning over my cheek. And as I stroked the worn cover of a book, a low, throaty rumble vibrated in my ear.
I shivered. My skin puckered with goose bumps.
There was a picture of him in the book I was holding, a photograph of an old painting. I traced the line of his jaw.
He was mine. My monster. My fantasy lover. My Master of Sin.
This was the way I always imagined him, the way he looked in my dreams. His black hair was a riot of sexy, playful waves, curling at his collar. His eyes were fierce, dark and piercing, his nose a straight blade, cheekbones hard slashes angling up to his temples, and his jaw strong and masculine. It was a fascinating face, mesmerizing. Not beautiful, but extraordinary.
Sitting on the floor, before a towering wall of bookcases, I read further, my index finger skimming across the yellowed page.
Count Konrad von Vidmar was known widely as the Master of Sin. He held gatherings of dubious nature within the walls of Castle Greh, welcoming attendees to taste the decadent pleasures that were otherwise denied them, forbidden in polite society. Some claimed he was not human, but the son of a demon or possibly a vampire. Mere mortal or not, he disappeared without a trace at the age of forty...
A man’s passionate moan echoed in the distance, and my nipples hardened, the fine hairs at my nape standing on end. What were those sounds? The voices of ghosts or merely the wind whistling between loose boards? As much as my romantic nature wanted to believe the former, I knew it had to be the latter.
I went back to reading. ...welcoming attendees to taste the decadent pleasures... What exactly did that mean? What kind of carnal diversions did visitors enjoy within these walls?
Instantly, as if a switch had been thrown, images from my dreams flashed through my mind, like scenes extracted from erotic movies. Nude women writhed on beds piled with vibrant hued silk, their arms and legs bound, their stomachs, backs, and buttocks marred with red welts, their faces flushed with erotic heat. Lips parted as they sighed in ecstasy.
I sighed too.
Yanking myself from my daydream, I shook my head to clear it and focused on the fragile book cradled in my hands. Something large crossed between my back and the gas lamp sitting on the desk behind me, throwing a cold shadow over me for a moment. Startled, and shivering with an uneasy chill, I twisted to look over my shoulder.
Nothing.
“Is someone here?” I called out, my voice ruining the heavy silence. “Gospod Skoda?” I called in Slovenian, hoping the elderly caretaker had returned and was simply checking on me before going home for the night.
No response.
The place gave me the creeps. Yet, at the same time, its dubious past and countless secrets beckoned me.
I glanced at my watch, realizing a lot more time had passed than I’d realized. It was very late. Too late to get a cab to take me back to the hotel.
Mr. Skoda had offered to let me stay on the premises tonight, but I hadn’t planned on accepting his offer. Castle Greh was solid. Safe. But more or less abandoned. The owner was in the process of turning it into a resort of some kind, but the work had just begun--thus the lack of electricity in most of the rooms. I wasn’t big on staying in places without modern conveniences--shower. Phone. Central heat.
Feeling invisible eyes watching me, I snatched up the gas lamp and hurried through the dusty building. The main entry was closed, and I found no cars parked outside. I checked my cell. Dead battery.
Shit.
No phone. No ride.
Looked like I would have no choice, now. I’d have to stay.
Luckily, I’d come prepared, just in case. I had the basics in my bag--blanket, food, water. And fortunately the kitchen, ballroom, and one or two bedrooms and bathrooms had been restored. I wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor or using an outhouse.
I headed back to one of the renovated bedrooms, changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, ate a quick snack and climbed into bed, waiting until I was so exhausted I couldn’t keep my eyes closed before I cut off the electric lamp on the nightstand. Instantly, the shadows closed in on me.
Warm fingers stroked my arm, and I sucked in a gasp. A rat?
“The Master is waiting,” a female whispered.
That was no rat.
“We cannot make him wait,” this time, a male.
“The Master will have what he wants, or he will punish us all,” another female’s whisper.
Was I dreaming?
I jerked upright, blinking. Chills as sharp as claws raked down my arms and legs. Shivering, I frantically searched the inky blackness, blinking at the thick darkness as if it would clear away. “Who’s there?” I scooted back until my spine ground against the headboard, dragging my blanket with me.
“He has been waiting,” the female whispered.
“Waiting for what?” I asked.
“His slave,” the male said.
I jerked my head to the left and held my breath. “Slave?” The lamp. Light. Now. I snapped the blankets off my legs and scrambled across the bed sightlessly grappling for the light.
“The Master waits.” This time the female’s voice was behind me. Too close.
I whipped my head around, and lunged forward, both arms stretched in front of me. “Who?” I touched nothing but air. But as I flailed, ice-cold fingers dragged down my arm, nails gently grazing my skin. Something clamped around one of my wrists.
Eyes wide, heartbeat racing, I fingered it with my free hand. “What’s this?”
No answer.
A second cuff snapped around my other wrist, and seconds later, I was yanked across the room, stumbling and blind. Terrified.
“Oh God, please stop,” I begged.
“He
has waited long enough,” the female whispered, in front of me.
“Don’t hurt me, please.” Powerless to do anything else, I followed the lead of whoever was dragging me down the dark corridor. But I didn’t do so silently. I plead. I begged. I made promises I could never keep. My words fell on deaf ears.
We turned left, right. Left again. Down stairs and around several more corners. I tried to keep track, but after even more turns, I was completely lost.
Finally, we stopped.
A door slammed shut behind me. I tried to whirl around, toward the sound, but the tension on the cuffs securing my wrists wouldn’t let me. My right arm lifted then my left. Metal chains clanked. Something hard and cold snagged the neckline of my t-shirt and before I knew what was happening, a bone chilling riiiiip filled the darkness. I swallowed a scream, teeth chattering, heart in my throat. A cool breeze whisked over my stomach and chest as the torn material flapped open.
I couldn’t see a thing. It was so dark I was completely blind. My arms were secured over my head, and I was vulnerable, nearly powerless, and at the mercy of my captor.
I’ve never felt this kind of stark terror. Tears burned my eyes, seeped from the corners and trailed down my cheeks.
Who were these people and what did they want from me?
With the absence of sight, my other senses grew more acute. A soft shuffling signaled the movement of someone next to me. The clatter of metal told me more chains were being handled.
Another wave of icy panic charged through me. If they secured my ankles, I’d be even more defenseless.
I felt the knife again, and I froze, too frightened to move. This time, it slid between my body and the waist of my pajama pants.
“He comes,” a female whispered.
Once more, the sound of rending fabric echoed through the darkness. And again, flesh that had been covered was bared to the cool, crisp air. My skin tingled as goose bumps covered every inch of my body, from my scalp to my feet.
I took a chance, kicking forward, hoping to catch someone. Surely, if it was too dark for me to see them, it was too dark for them to see me too. But I made contact with nobody, nothing. I didn’t stop. I thrashed and kicked and fought. Minutes later, breathless, legs burning and lungs starving for air, I finally accepted the truth. It was useless. I ceased struggling.
