Savage SEAL’s Virgin: A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

by Michelle Love

  Bodhi walked back to his dressing room, pushed the door open, and almost choked. Poppy, his personal assistant of two months, had been ‘cleansing’ his space again, burning sage and wafting it around the windowless room. She grinned at him. “Hey, boss.”

  She had bright pink hair, tattoos up and down her arms, and clothes that would make a fetishist blush. She looked like a real rock goddess more than he ever had. Bodhi smiled fondly at her.

  God, he was tired. This had been the last date on a tour that had lasted well over a year, and he was exhausted, drained, and ready for some down time. Bodhi knew himself. It was times like these when he would have—back in the day—reached for the bottle or the white stuff. The thought of cocaine now made him feel sick. Jimi Hendrix, Layne Staley, Scott Weiland, and Shannon Hoon …he used their names as a mantra to stay away from drugs now, even when he was depressed.

  As he ran his hand through his dark curls and slumped down onto the sofa, a cold soda in hand, he looked for respite in other ways. His good friend, Claudio Fonseca, an artist, had invited him to go stay at his farmhouse in the Tuscan hills for the summer, picking olives and chilling out. Bodhi couldn’t wait. Two months of Italian sun, wine, food, and relaxation in the company of good friends. He could see his mom at her home in Florence. Bodhi longed to go back to Italy. His American father had brought the family over to America just after Bodhi had been born, and growing up in San Francisco, Bodhi had longed to know the place he had come from. When his dad died, his mom had sold her house and gone back, begging Bodhi to come with her. But by then, he was a star who needed to be in Los Angeles for his career.

  He looked up as the door opened and Franklin, the theater manager, stuck his head in.

  “Sorry to interrupt, Bodhi, but there’s a kid out here to see you.”

  Bodhi was surprised. A kid? “Show them in, please. Thanks, Frank.” He always, always took the time to talk with his fans, despite how tired he was. Without them, he was nothing.

  A kid with dark curls, not older than ten, pushed shyly into the room, and Bodhi got up to greet him. “Hey there. What’s your name, kiddo?”

  The kid blinked his huge green eyes up at Bodhi, seemingly dumbstruck. Bodhi didn’t see the woman who had entered behind the child until she spoke softly.

  “His name is Tim, Bodhi.”

  Bodh, recognizing the voice, immediately looked up. A shock ran through him.

  “Gemma?”

  The blonde woman smiled at him. “Been a long time, hasn’t it?”

  Bodhi stared at her, still stunned to see his former lover. Age—she was Bodhi’s senior by five years—had not dulled her beauty, but there was a haunted, desperate look in her eyes.

  “Must be about ten yea …” Bodhi broke off, realization dawning, and he gazed down at the young boy standing between them. He had dark hair and bright green eyes. Bodhi’s eyes. There really was no question.

  Tim was Bodhi’s son. Gemma looked at him, her eyes filling with tears as she watched him put the pieces together. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Bodhi …I really am. But I’m not doing so well. I need to go away for a while—alone. And I thought it was time. It’s time for Tim to know his daddy.”

  Bodhi’s whole body felt as if he’d been hit by a sledgehammer as he gazed down into the face of his son.

  Miami, Florida

  Sailor King followed her minder through the mall. It was cool inside the spacious building, but Sailor didn’t mind. Even January in Florida was too hot for her, and her dark hair stuck to her forehead and the back of her neck. Monica, her minder, gave her an annoyed look.

  “What’s wrong with you today? You know Bartholomew will punish me if we’re more than two hours. We haven’t even found your wedding dress yet.”

  Sailor stared back at Monica blankly. She felt so tired lately—so hopeless—that she had stopped taking the tablets they had given her all her life, and now she felt as if her brain would go mad. She didn’t want this—didn’t want to be married to a man more than twice her age. She knew that, within the ranks of the organization, she was ‘lucky.' Other girls were clamoring to be partnered with Bart Foy, their leader and captain.

  But Bart had chosen her. She had known the unease of his lascivious gaze on her body—her curves, her flat belly, her full breasts—since she was a teenager. He had held her face in his hands when she was just fourteen, an entire decade ago, and it had been decreed. She would be his new wife when she reached the age of womanhood—in their ideology, it would be her twenty-fifth birthday in a few weeks.

  Bart Foy had been married twice before. The first wife was Tamsin, about whom nobody knew much. They had been married before Bart had formed the Children of Love commune, deep in the Florida Everglades. His wife had left him after refusing to join him in his ‘mission.’ Bart’s second wife, Clotilde, was a beautiful, loving Frenchwoman, with dark brown hair tumbling down her back and a sweet nature. She had joined the group as a teacher to the children and Sailor had been one of her wards. She had been particularly close to Clotilde—Tilly to those who loved her—and when, one shocking, horrific night, Tilly had been found dead, Sailor had been devastated.

  Bart had made them all walk past Tilly’s body, laid out on the shrine in their temple. “I want you to look, children. Look what sin can bring.”

  Sailor had always wondered what he meant. When she had found out from hushed whispers in the schoolyard that Tilly had been having an affair with another man and that she had been stabbed to death, even at eleven, Sailor had known what that meant.

  The terror when Bart had chosen her for his next wife had been all-encompassing, but she had buried her head in the sand, thinking the day would never come. Then, three months ago, he had summoned her.

  “My dearest Sailor, your womanhood is fast approaching, and to me, it seems the perfect time for us to become one. Your birthday will serve as our wedding day. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, the fear inside overwhelming her ability to speak. Bart smiled and touched her cheek. “Good. Now, I’m afraid we have to deal with a little unpleasantness before you go. As you know, I take my role here very seriously, and in choosing you as my wife, I need you to be an ambassador for us all.” He paused, studying her. “You were very close to Clotilde, I know. She betrayed all of us, Sailor. All of us. Her punishment …well …”

  He picked up a folder and handed it to her. “I’m going to leave you alone here for a few minutes to study what’s in that folder. When I return, this matter will be closed. This is what happens when my women betray me, Sailor. Understand? That’s the only reason why I’m showing you these photographs.”

  Sailor nodded again.

  “Good girl. I’ll leave you alone.”

  He left his office and Sailor heard the lock being clicked from outside. She opened the folder, feeling nausea rise up in her and a small moan of despair escape her as she looked at the first photograph. Tilly looked terrified as the two men in the picture held her down, obviously making sure the photographer got a good shot of her. The next photograph made Sailor cry out. The knife was buried deep in Tilly’s stomach and her face was contorted in agony. Sailor was trembling as she looked through every photograph of Tilly’s murder, each one more stark and brutal than the last. The last photograph broke Sailor. There was another man strapped down to a chair, gagged, and bound, his face contorted with grief as he gazed down at his dead love’s body. Tilly’s lover. They’d made him watch while they killed her. Sailor started to cry. Bart’s meaning was obvious. Step out of line and you die.

  It was at that moment that Sailor knew she had to risk everything and escape the only life she had ever known.

  Monica was chatting with the saleswoman in the wedding shop. She was used to Monica and Sailor coming now—Sailor had deliberately been picky over her choice, giving herself time to check out the fitting rooms and any potential escape routes. She’d nearly been foiled by Monica insisting on accompanying her to the rooms. Sailor had used her only w
eapon—she was Bart’s chosen one. “I don’t think,” she’d told Monica archly, “that Bart would be too pleased that you laid eyes on my body before the wedding. I am his, Monica, and his alone.”

  Her implied threat hit the mark and Monica let her change alone. Sailor was careful, never taking too long between changes to reappear, but still managing to figure out the layout of the store.

  Now she could barely wait. Careful. Careful. She took her time choosing, then took the dress with her. It was a huge, completely inappropriate choice, with layers and layers of tulle that she would never wear in a million years, but Sailor knew what she was doing. The shirt she was wearing today was oversized and plaid, and her trousers were combats. In the many pockets, she had stashed the money she had been squirreling away from the commune’s money cache over the last three months, her birth certificates and social security number, and any other things she had found in Bart’s office that terrible day that she could use. She even had a small penknife tucked in the back pocket of her pants. In all, she only had a couple of hundred dollars, but it was enough for a bus ticket. After that, she’d figure something out.

  Monica didn’t even blink as Sailor walked toward the fitting rooms, calling back to her, “I won’t be a sec.”

  Monica smirked. That atrocity that Sailor was carrying would take more than a ‘sec’ to change into. Stupid bitch. Lording it over her like she was some special kind of shit. Look how that worked out for Tilly, bitch. She turned back to the saleswoman, who knew all about the commune and Bart’s proclivities. Monica had told her all about them one night in bed. The girl, Bettina, had been a good, if inexperienced, lay and Monica wouldn’t mind another go around.

  The alarm screeched through the shop and both of woman started. “What the fuck?”

  “The fire escape door.” Bettina looked terrified as Monica cursed loudly and drew out a blade, darting toward the fitting rooms.

  “Fucking bitch …” She saw the fire escape door standing wide open and the wedding dress dumped in the doorway. “Fucking whore bitch cunt!” Monica screamed, racing down the corridor and around the corner towards the exit, Bettina close behind her. They both trod on the dress in their eagerness to get out, but Sailor had ripped the tulle to shreds, and their feet got tangled and they both fell. Bettina shrieked as Monica’s knife came way too close to her neck.

  “Shut up, you stupid bitch.” Monica sliced away at the fabric, trying to free them. Out of the fire escape, they could see the parking lot, and Monica raked it with her eyes, trying to spot Sailor.

  Sailor dropped from the top of the fitting room wall and slid silently into the main room. Inspiration striking, she went to the register, hoping against hope that some rich mukety-muck had paid with cash. She was in luck. She scooped a wad of twenties out of the register, raking every note and coin in there into her pocket. Listening intently to make sure she could still hear Monica cursing away in the back, she quickly took stock and grabbed the wigs from the mannequins in the window. In a high-end store like this, they used real human-hair wigs, and she could use them to disguise herself, then sell them. She stuffed them all into a plastic bag, and then she was free. Running to the exit of the mall and out into the Florida sunshine, she flagged down a cab and asked the driver to take her to the bus station. In a half-hour, she was on the bus, hunched down, hiding …

  And breathing freely for the first time in her young life.

  To be Continued

  This Story will be completed and published by mid July 2017

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  The Book is related to Dirty Little Virgin and it’s

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  The water’s cold…She’s red hot!

  She sits on the white, rocky shore as I stalk her from behind.

  Her aspirations are as big as the Texas sky.

  I have other plans for the Yale College girl.

  Kinky plans!

  I’ll command her body and she’ll command my heart.

  The first step in my plan, make her crave my c*ck.

  Then everything else will fall into place.

  My only fear is that one day she’ll go away.

  Leaving me alone to miss her…

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