Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
More Stormy Night Books by Sassa Daniels
Sassa Daniels Links
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
More Stormy Night Books by Sassa Daniels
Sassa Daniels Links
Chosen for the Warrior
By
Sassa Daniels
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels
Copyright © 2018 by Stormy Night Publications and Sassa Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Daniels, Sassa
Chosen for the Warrior
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by 123RF/moori and Dreamstime/Forplayday
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter One
It was always the same intense, horribly tactile dream where every sensation was frighteningly real to her. Wearing nothing but an indecently transparent gown that barely covered her bottom, she was led into a cold white room that filled her with a powerful sense of dread. The glaring brightness of the lights blinded her at first but, as her eyes adjusted, she saw a raised bench of sorts in the center of the room. Like nothing she’d ever seen before, the solid wooden contraption looked as though it belonged in a dungeon somewhere in the annals of history. At each of its four corners were shackles, designed to hold a person securely in place. Just looking at the heavy chains that secured the leather cuffs to the bench made her shudder.
Arranged in a wide arc at the foot of the bench were chairs where the dozen odious old men who formed the High Council sat waiting to witness her humiliation. As the unelected rulers of New Cambridge turned, as one, to stare at their prisoner, panic seized her and she tried to run. Sometimes she made it out into the corridor; other times she barely reached the door before she found herself being lifted off her feet and flung over the shoulder of one of the stern, silent members of the secret police. Too slight to do any real damage to a man of his imposing size, she struggled, nonetheless, against his hold. Pride would not allow her to accept what was happening to her like some meek little mouse. She felt a strong compulsion to fight, even though she knew it was ultimately futile. As her fists pummeled her captor’s back, making absolutely no impact on the enormous brute, he smacked her bottom so hard that, even in sleep, she felt its sting. It gave her a hell of a jolt, but she didn’t wake.
Realizing that she was powerless to resist the will of the High Council, she acquiesced and allowed him to carry her across the room. As he dropped her unceremoniously onto the hard wooden bench, she let out a startled cry. She tried to sit up but, without saying a word, he pushed her back down again. He didn’t have to utter a single word to make himself perfectly clear. To him, she was just another troublesome female, unworthy of special consideration and he would not hesitate to use force if necessary.
Taking no care to avoid hurting her, he bound her wrists and ankles in unyielding leather cuffs that cut painfully into her flesh as she tried to free herself. When he was satisfied that she was going nowhere, he stepped back, leaving her with her arms tethered above her head and her legs spread obscenely wide. It was a humiliating position that exposed her completely to the view of her lecherous audience. Despite herself, she felt a pang of arousal as she acknowledged the tightness of the restraints and recognized just how helpless she actually was. Tied like this, anything could happen and, for reasons she couldn’t get her head around, that excited her as much as it scared her.
Suddenly, the lights were turned down low and a spotlight came on directly above her. Now, she really was on full display and the sense of vulnerability was almost too much to bear.
As the doctor approached, her heart skipped a beat. Tall, broad-shouldered, and impossibly handsome, he was, quite literally, the man of her dreams. His warm, encouraging smile relaxed her a little and, as he began to caress her breast through the diaphanous gown she wore, her nipples drew up into stiff little peaks. Her breath hitched as their eyes met and she saw the raw hunger in his gaze. As his thumb circled her nipple, barely touching her, she whimpered with need and strained to meet his touch. Just as she felt the first tingle of pleasure reach her feminine core, he suddenly removed his hand. Desperate for more, she couldn’t prevent a groan of disappointment from escaping her. Tutting in mock disapproval at her wantonness, the doctor turned from her to put on latex gloves, signaling that the examination was about to get a lot more intense.
Biting her bottom lip, she sighed and closed her eyes, an involuntary wave of excitement washing over her in anticipation of his more intimate touch. As she thought about how it would feel to have his fingertips running over the soft, moist heart of her femininity, she forgot where she was. Nothing else existed for her but the quivering sensation that slowly crept through her body. Then, without warning, two short, fat fingers were thrust into that private space between her legs.
Shocked by the sudden intrusion, her eyes flew open and, to her dismay, she found that the sexy young doctor was gone. In his place stood a grim-looking older man who coldly probed her vagina with a deepening scowl of disapproval on his wizened face. His touch was perfunctory and she experienced no pleasure from it, only disgust. Her heart lurched as he shook his head in disappointment, withdrew his hand from her body, and turned to the men of the High Council to pronounce his verdict. A hushed silence fell. The doctor could scarcely conceal his delight at being the bearer of such scandalous news as he revealed the secret she’d held so close for six long months. Victoria Walton, the poster child for maidenly virtue, was not a virgin.
As the room erupted with shouts of outrage and calls for her to be soundly whipped, Victoria woke with a start, as she always did when the nightmare became too much for her to handle. Relieved to find herself in her own bed, she sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. This was the seventh night in a row that she’d experienced the same dream and she knew it was becau
se the moment of reckoning was fast approaching. Tomorrow, her stepbrother, who was also her legal guardian, would take her to the Town Hall to announce her betrothal to whichever awful man he’d selected for her. Usually, a woman knew who her future husband would be before the public announcement was made but Jonathan had refused to reveal any details to Victoria. He seemed to take perverse pleasure in holding the name of the man she would be forced to marry over her head. It was a reminder, as if one was required, that she held no power in this situation. He could dispose of her as he pleased. Whoever the man was, Victoria had no doubt that he would be rich, influential. Her stepbrother had political ambitions and would have chosen a man of high status, a man with connections, a man who would expect his new bride to be an innocent.
With a sigh, she flopped back onto the pillow, hoping that she’d be able to come up with some sort of escape plan before it was time to get up and prepare for the ordeal of the betrothal ceremony. As she closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of the troubling thoughts that had disturbed her rest, a soft voice drifted to her through the darkness.
“Same dream, Vicky?”
Hearing Lucy speaking out of the blue startled her. Preoccupied with her own anxieties, she’d forgotten that her friend was there. It was unusual to have someone sleeping over, unheard of since she was a child, in fact. Normally, women over the age of eighteen were only allowed to socialize with each other when one of their guardians was present, to ensure that they behaved appropriately and steered clear of controversial topics of conversation. Women were not permitted to discuss politics or any other subject that might lead them to question the strict rules that governed their lives. The High Council had decreed that medicine, art, and philosophy were all off limits, as was any reference to the law. Women were most definitely not to gather together to talk about their sexual desires.
The penalty if caught discussing forbidden subjects could be quite severe, even for first offences, but Victoria and Lucy had rebelled against the restrictions by joining a group of like-minded women. They’d called themselves the Hyde Ladies’ Circle, after a secret women’s society from the Victorian era that they felt a strong affinity for.
Whenever they could slip away from their guardians, the women had met at the home of their friends, Caroline and Elizabeth Chatterton. Caroline and Elizabeth had been left, by some quirk of fate, without a male custodian to watch their every move. It had been liberating to spend time with other women. They’d read forbidden books, talked about things that interested them, and vented their frustrations at the state of the world they lived in. They’d even produced pamphlets urging social change and some, including Victoria, had gone so far as to help out members of the resistance movement from time to time.
Unfortunately, the activities of the Hyde Ladies’ Circle had come to the attention of the authorities and Caroline Chatterton was arrested for treason. Elizabeth had fled and Victoria had not seen her since the day after Caroline was saved from punishment by the timely intervention of the man who was now her husband. She could only hope her friend had found somewhere safe to lie low. There were many dangers in New Cambridge for a woman without protection.
Deprived of their scapegoat for the growing social unrest, the High Council had turned its attention to looking for her friends. Victoria and Lucy both knew that they had been monitored more closely than usual these past few weeks, because they were known to have been friendly with the Chatterton sisters. Thankfully, however, it seemed that no one actually thought that either of them was involved in illegal activities.
Publicly, Victoria played the wilting flower to perfection. She bowed and scraped to members of the High Council and displayed the utmost modesty at all times. Some days she simply adopted a vacant look of serenity and floated from one place to the next acting the part of the ideal, silent female. Her act was so good that nobody could imagine her ever daring to step out of line.
Although it jarred against her political ideals, there were benefits to being seen as the epitome of feminine frailty. It was because everyone thought she was so fragile that she’d been able to circulate anti-government pamphlets for the rebels without drawing suspicion. The view of her as a trembling maiden had also led to Lucy being allowed to spend the night with her. The people around her assumed that she would need a friend to help steady her nerves before the betrothal ceremony and they were right. She was terrified of what would happen, but not for the reasons they supposed.
“It was horrible,” Victoria whispered. “I could feel everything as though it was really happening to me.”
She’d told her friend all about the recurring dream but omitted to describe to her the part of the dream she’d found exhilarating. Whenever the women of the Hyde Ladies’ Circle had discussed their innermost desires, Lucy had sat back quietly, a delicate pink blush tinting her pale cheeks. Talking about sex seemed to make Lucy uncomfortable and Victoria wasn’t sure her friend would understand her fantasies about being bound and helpless. Suddenly she worried that her longing to be held at the mercy of a powerful male was not entirely natural. It was alright to read about such things in books but she doubted anyone had ever indulged those desires in real life. People just didn’t do those sorts of things. Feeling dirty somehow, Victoria let out a sob. Immediately, she heard movement on the other side of the room as Lucy got up and rushed over to slide into bed next to her.
“It’s going to be alright,” Lucy said as she put an arm around Victoria’s shoulder and pulled her close. Even though Victoria couldn’t see her friend’s face in the dark, she knew that Lucy had grimaced when she spoke words she didn’t believe to be true. Lucy knew as well as she did what would happen. It was a trial that she, too, would have to face soon.
All young women from the upper echelons of society were told what to expect when they were taken for examination after their betrothals were made public. From the very first moment their guardians began to seek a match for them, women were informed about the procedure so they could prepare themselves to face it with dignity. At least, that’s what they were told. Victoria suspected that the real reason they were given advanced warning was because the High Council wanted to make them sweat. Fear made them easier to control.
Her own stepbrother had clearly enjoyed telling her that, once her engagement was announced, she would be taken to a medical room. Before witnesses, her body would be inspected in the most intimate way possible. The humiliation of it was so great that the young ladies had to be physically restrained to prevent them from hurting themselves as they fought against the process. When they were strapped down, they were assessed thoroughly to confirm their suitability for marriage, according to criteria set by the State. They were subjected to a number of tests to ensure that they were physically capable of pleasing their husbands. Their ability to bear children was also checked. Most important, they were examined to ascertain their purity and that was where she would surely fail.
There was no telling what the consequences of her reckless action in giving away her virginity would be. She might be sent to a brothel to do penance for her wayward behavior or be locked away in a breeding facility. Whatever happened, her life as she knew it would be over and it had all been for a moment of rebellion that hadn’t given her half the pleasure she’d imagined it would.
“You know they can’t actually prove you’re not a virgin with their archaic tests.” Lucy seemed to know exactly what Victoria was worried about. Aside from her friend, Elizabeth, who’d been at the same illicit gathering where Victoria had lost her virginity, Lucy was the only person she’d confided her secret to. “There’s no way they’ll find out.”
“Oh, they’ll find out,” Victoria said despondently. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected there would be some physical trace of what she’d done. The young man she’d coupled with might not have been particularly skilled at lovemaking but he had been well-endowed. His massive cock had surely ripped away any possibility of her meeting the High Council’s impossibl
e standards of purity. “They’ll realize what I’ve done and they’ll punish me for it.”
“Even if they do find out, it might not matter,” Lucy suggested hopefully. “Your fiancé might not mind.”
“That seems unlikely.” Victoria knew how puritanical the male population of Earth could be and so did Lucy. Victoria had broken a sacred law in giving herself to a man who was not her husband.
“Well, perhaps someone will swoop in and rescue you.”
If Lucy hadn’t been grasping at straws before, she really was now.
“I doubt there’s another Andrew Rossingham out there,” Victoria said, referring to their friend Caroline’s new husband, who’d rescued her from the High Council at the eleventh hour.
“Well, maybe not, but what about the man you… eh… you…” Lucy’s voice faltered.
“No,” Victoria said firmly, sparing her friend the need to find a suitable euphemism for the quick fuck that she and Thom had shared.
“But doesn’t he care about you?” Lucy’s question betrayed her naivety. “Couldn’t he marry you?”
“Oh, Lucy, that was a one-off.” Victoria’s tone was tinged with regret, not because she’d had sex with a man she wasn’t in a relationship with but because she was about to shatter her friend’s romantic illusions about what it had meant to her. “He didn’t care about me and I really didn’t like him all that much.”
“So, why did you do it, then?”
“Uhm…” That was a good question, but she wasn’t sure what the answer was. To stick it to the sanctimonious bastards on the High Council? To show the world that at nineteen she was old enough to make decisions about what happened with her body? Because her friend Elizabeth was sleeping with a man and she wanted to try it too? None of those seemed appropriate reasons to share with Lucy. “I suppose it was because he made me feel special and I lost my head for a moment. I thought it would be exciting.”
Chosen for the Warrior (Brides of Taar-Breck Book 2) Page 1
