His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire, BDSM Erotic Romance)

by Hunt, Aphrodite

  His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire)

  His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire)

  Midpoint

  HIS INDECENT SECRETS

  (Volume 4 of ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’)

  By Aphrodite Hunt

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright 2012 by Aphrodite Hunt

  Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt

  EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT

  The ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’ series

  His Indecent Proposition

  His Indecent Demands

  His Indecent Desires

  His Indecent Secrets

  The ‘Initiation’ series

  Open Your Legs for Me

  Blindfolded and Spread-eagled

  Thighs Wide Apart

  Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy

  The Final Initiation

  The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories

  The ‘Initiation 2’ series

  Open Your Legs for my Family

  Bend Over for my Family

  Publicly Display Yourself for Me

  Sex Slave at Sea

  Paraded before the Billionaires

  Sex Slave at the Auction

  The ‘Initiation 3’ series

  Sex Slave to the Dictator

  ‘The Royal Captive’ series

  Prince Miro’s Capture

  Prince Miro’s Submission

  Prince Miro’s Enslavement

  Prince Miro’s Punishment

  Prince Miro’s Escape

  Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation

  The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3

  The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6

  The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series

  I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac

  Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me

  Gang Banged by the Chain Gang

  Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL

  The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series

  Her First Clit Ring

  Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage

  Her First Clit Ring 3: Desensitization

  The ‘Undercover’ series

  Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor

  Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO

  The ‘Alien’ series

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens

  Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2

  Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories)

  When He’s Inside You

  My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper

  The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense)

  WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT

  EROTIC ROMANCES

  The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series

  A Virgin Enslaved

  The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series

  Mysterious Desire

  Forbidden Desire

  Infamous Desire

  Royal Desire

  ROMANCES

  The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick

  Snow White and the Alien

  Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/ and http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances with a more romance feel and Aphrodite Hunt for pure erotica and erotic romances which are slightly kinkier. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support.

  HIS INDECENT SECRETS

  1

  It is pitch black.

  The blindfold doesn’t allow Susan Chalmers to see even the slightest glimpse of light. No reddish band through her closed eyelids to denote they might be travelling through the day. Only her ears are her radar, and her instincts – which scream to her that she is in extreme danger.

  Car doors slam. Her wrists are handcuffed in front of her as her body jerks back and forth in the backseat with the lurching of the car. A man sits beside her, his thigh touching her clothed one. There is certainly more than one person in this car besides the driver.

  She doesn’t know if any of them is Hugh. She hasn’t heard his voice since he blindfolded and cuffed her.

  Her vagina is still sore from his rough fucking. Once she had found out who he was, he had grasped her wrists together and forced them over her head. She screamed. But they were in an isolated area, surrounded by nothing but the trees and the chirps of birds.

  He let her shriek herself hoarse.

  Then he said, “Are you done splitting my eardrums? Then listen up. It’s easier for you to open your legs and submit to me willingly and gratefully, like a good little girl. Because if you’re gonna to fight me, I’ll make sure that when I see my brother, I’ll make his death excruciatingly slow instead of quick and painless. But if you do everything I ask of you . . . I may be persuaded to be merciful.”

  His blue eyes – exactly the same as Channing’s – were so piercing and ruthless than she quailed beneath him, trembling.

  “I’ll do anything you want,” she whispered. “Just please . . . please don’t hurt him”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he said, grinning, “instant obedience. Not ‘please don’t hurt me’. It’s ‘please don’t hurt him.’ Does he even know you’re in love with him?”

  She shook her head, frightened. She didn’t think she could hide the truth from Hugh.

  Anger seethed through his eyes as he slammed his cock into her, as though to punish her for her honesty.

  “Yeah, he’s always got that charm with the bitches. They’re always falling on their faces over him. What’s he got that I don’t?”

  She was too terrified to answer. No homicidal maniac tendencies, perhaps?

  She let him ride her until her insides were sore. It was surreal looking into his eyes. He was Channing and not Channing. If she blinked hard and fast enough, her mind would trip over and she could just pretend that they blurred into one –

  The car in her present screeches to a halt. She is dragged out, her head docked by somebody’s hand like a prisoner. Around them, she hears the high-pitched whine of a plane engine.

  She’s going on a trip. But not to where Channing originally intended.

  Hands grip her shoulder.

  Channing’s voice. (No, not Channing.) “This is going to hurt a bit but you’ll be the better for it.”

  She tenses as he straightens her arm. She feels a needle prick. Oh my God. What is he doing to me? She cries out, but dizziness envelops her and she falls into a swoon.

  This isn’t good, she thinks as she collapses, her body folding into someone’s rock solid arms.

  *

  When she wakes up, she is in a bed in a strange room.

  The furniture is sparse and plain, with wooden closets, a desk, a chair and a chest of drawers. A bedside table holds a silver flask with two overturned coffee mugs. The walls are painted in Mediterranean colors – red, blue, green – like pieces of an Italian decorative plate. A ceiling fan slowly rotates as the balmy, humid atmosphere hits her.

  Her skin is prickly and sweaty. Where is she?

  The barred windows portray a clear blue sky with scudding clouds. The sun is high and blazing with scorching heat. It shimmers over the placid waves of a sea
.

  So she is in at some sort of beach.

  There is no clock in the room, but from the sun’s position, she reckons it’s about midday. But midday where? What time zone is she in?

  The weather feels tropical, and yet the room is done up in Latin decor. Under the thin white sheet that covers her body, she is naked. The bedclothes are sodden with her sweat.

  She sits up, self-conscious. She remembers everything that has happened, but not anything beyond the needle prick. She doesn’t know how much time has elapsed. All she knows is that the soreness in her pussy has abated.

  Obviously hours . . . maybe even days . . . have passed.

  Although she is alone, she is certain that hidden cameras are watching and recording her every move, and so she drags the sheet around her body as she gets up fearfully.

  Channing. What has happened to him? Is he alive? Is he dead?

  It’s so terrifying not to know what is happening.

  Channing, Channing, I love you. This is not your fault. I don’t hold you responsible.

  There comes the click of a key in the lock. The door swings open. Channing stands there, as handsome as he has always been – short hair, shocking blue eyes, wide sensuous mouth, body like a god’s in his tight T-shirt that shows off his arms with their bulging veins so superbly.

  No, he’s not Channing.

  Why the fuck can’t she get that right?

  He is not alone. A youth is with him. A nervous youth with curly big hair and bronzed skin who looks all of about eighteen. He carries an open laptop in his hands.

  What are they going to do to her?

  She takes a step back and clasps the sheet closer to her body. Her pulse flutters like a moth above the roaring of her ears.

  Hugh says, “Look at you. All ripe and ready for the taking.”

  She fists her palms. Submit to me . . . willingly and gracefully . . . and I’ll make his death excruciatingly slow instead of quick and painless.

  “What do you want with me?” she says.

  “What do I want with you? Oh baby, you have no idea.” He strides into the room, the frightened youth in tow. “But first, I’m going to give you a little treat. You’re going to get to talk to your boyfriend, my brother, who has absolutely no fucking clue you’re in love with him.”

  Channing? Her heart leaps.

  “By the way, this is Miguel, but don’t bother probing him for answers. He’s not from around here and he doesn’t want to die.”

  Miguel darts frightened brown eyes at her as he sets the computer down on the desk.

  “Come here, darling. Go talk to your boyfriend. I’m sure he misses you.” Hugh holds his hand out to her.

  For a moment, she’s afraid to take it.

  His startling blue eyes arrest her. “I’m not a monster, Susan. I’m capable of treating you with kindness. If you behave.”

  She doesn’t know what to believe. But the thought of Channing on the other side of the computer – wherever he is – makes her feet pad faster than she thought possible to the desk. She seats herself, sheet wrapped demurely around her. Hugh has not forbidden her to say anything. But what can she tell Channing?

  I don’t know where I am. Your brother fucked me. I thought he was you.

  What a shitty twisted world we live in.

  The video winks on.

  Channing is on the other side, the spitting image of Hugh. The same intense blue eyes, worry creases around them.

  “Susan? Are you all right?”

  She can tell that he’s in some sort of room. Where, she doesn’t know. He might have already flown to Rome or Luxembourg or wherever a billionaire usually holes up in if his house gets burned down.

  “Channing!” Tears spring to her eyes even though she promised she wouldn’t break down in front of him, lest he be more anxious over her. Her hand touches the screen. How she wishes she can touch his face.

  “Susan. Please tell me you’re OK. If I get to wrap my hands around that little fucker’s neck, I swear I’ll choke him so hard that he won’t be able to rise from the grave ever again.”

  “I’m OK.” She’s not sure she’s OK, but seeing Channing lifts her hopes up to almost stratospheric levels.

  Channing’s eyes blaze. “Did he touch you? Because if he did – ”

  Hugh cuts in, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it? The same thing you did when your house burned down? Because I’ve already fucked her and she gave her cunt to me willingly. Didn’t you, princess?”

  He grabs her face roughly and kisses her full on the lips, right in front of the camera aperture on the open laptop. Susan can only imagine what Channing must be thinking. Channing . . . who has never kissed her before. Channing – who equates kissing with profound intimacy. But Hugh obviously has no such hang-ups.

  She struggles, but his grip is firm. She remembers what he threatened about what he would do to Channing if she didn’t submit. So she lets her body go lax as he kisses her voraciously. When he finally lets her go, there are indentations of his fingernails on her chin. She can scarcely feel her circulation.

  She realizes that the sheet has fallen off her body and her breasts are displayed. Miguel’s eyes are popping out of his head. Channing is screaming something into the camera. His eyes are bloodshot and anguished.

  “I know. I’ve turned off the sound,” Hugh says. He taps the sound icon again and it turns from red to green. “If you’re done yelling, listen up. The only reason she let me fuck her . . . again and again . . . is because I threatened her I would make you die a slow, painful death. You’re going to die anyway, big brother, but I can make it quick so you don’t suffer. Well, as quick as I can, considering you left me in Iraq to burn.”

  “You didn’t burn, you fucker!”

  “Are we going to play nice?” Hugh adjusts the laptop screen to face him. “Now listen up. I’m going to kill her . . . nice and slow . . . in a way that even you will have never thought of. Unless – ”

  She knows it will come to this. She cringes.

  “You’ll have to decide how much she’s worth to you.” Hugh pauses significantly. “You see, I’m taking a gamble that you won’t let an innocent woman go to her death, even if you don’t have any feelings for her. And I’m willing to bet you don’t. You never do, big brother. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  The vein on Channing’s temple looks as if it is about to burst.

  Hugh lifts a tendril of her hair and starts to stroke it. “This will come as a test of your moral character. Even if you have no feelings for this woman, whom you’ve obviously fucked in every way, you’ve involved her in a very personal family feud. That’s got to mean something even for you.

  “You’ve got to decide – just like any superhero who involves innocent bystanders when he’s battling the demon beast from hell – if you’re gonna take a break to save your damsel in distress.”

  He grins.

  “Superman always does.”

  “What do you want?” Channing hisses from the other side of the world.

  “Only what is due to me, big brother. From your share of the Iraqi spoils, you built your company from ground zero and listed it. I only want what’s mine. What should be mine. Half of whatever you have, and believe me, I’ve checked your net worth. What do you say to sending over five hundred and forty million to a private bank account in Cayman Islands?”

  Five hundred and forty million! She feels faint.

  “In exchange for her?” Channing’s voice is strangled.

  No, no, she thinks. He’s not going to think I’m worth it. It’s literally half his fortune.

  She sits limply in her chair, the sheet bunched at her waist, her breasts exposed. Waiting for the axe to fall.

  There’s a stretched silence.

  I’m going to die. She wonders if she will get a chance to tell Channing she loves him. If only her tongue would untwist itself.

  A visibly strained Channing says, “It’s going to take some time to move tha
t kind of money. It’s tied up . . . in company stocks, among other things.”

  His expression is pained. Not pained because he is forced to part with half his money, she thinks. Or wants to think. But because both of them have been forced into this situation where they have to barter with terrorists.

  Hugh says, “I’m patient. I can wait. I’ll give you five days to come up with something.”

  “I’m going to need more than that.”

  “It’s you call, bro. I’m not going to tell you what will happen to her in five days. Use your imagination. You were always good at that.”

  “Touch her and you’re dead.”

  “Figuring you’re gonna try to kill me anyway whether or not I touch her, I think I will indulge.” Hugh lifts her hair to his nose and inhales deeply. He says to her, “Hmmmm. What do you say we give my brother a little pointer on how to be lovers, shall we?”

  He bends down to kiss her again. Slowly, deeply, lovingly.

  She suppresses a shudder. Not because Hugh is a cold-blooded killer, but because her body – as much as she tries to fight it – is responding to him in the same way she does to Channing’s.

  Oh help me, God. What’s happening to me?

  2

  It’s been two days, and she hasn’t heard anything from Hugh about Channing. She is sure Channing has changed his mind.

  Half a billion for a woman I scarcely know? Fuck you. Let her die.

  She’s restless and fretful. She’s confined solely to this room, and all she can do is peer out of the window and wonder where they are. She has completely lost consciousness during the plane ride phase and she has no idea how many hours they flew.