UnSub
Page 1
Unsub
Kendra Greenwood
Blushing Books
Contents
Pssst... Amazon Customers.... Free Stuff
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Kendra Greenwood
EBook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
Blushing Books
©2017 by Blushing Books® and Kendra Greenwood
All rights reserved.
No part of the 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 Blushing Books®,
a subsidiary of
ABCD Graphics and Design
977 Seminole Trail #233
Charlottesville, VA 22901
The trademark Blushing Books®
is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Greenwood, Kendra
Unsub
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics
EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-244-3
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Pssst... Amazon Customers.... Free Stuff
Do you love Blushing Books and our spicy stories by your favorite authors, Livia Grant, Vanessa Vale, Maggie Ryan, Yasmine Hyde, April Hill, Carolyn Faulkner, Alta Hensley, Stevie MacFarlane, Mariella Starr, Maren Smith, Misty Malone, Maddie Taylor and dozens of others?
We have our own store, but we know many of you prefer to buy from Amazon, and now we’re making it much easier for you. We’ve started a new newsletter, aimed at just our Amazon customers.
We’ll be sending out one newsletter per week, letting you know about our most recent releases. In addition, everyone on this newsletter is guaranteed TWO free stories per month, and to sweeten the deal, we’ll be giving one person on the list
A $25.00 AMAZON GIFT CERTIFICATE
every week. Nothing to buy... just stay on our list and you’re eligible for the drawing.
Signing up is easy. Just text blushing2 to 22828
OR use this link.
WOULD YOU LIKE FREE STORIES ON YOUR KINDLE EVERY MONTH?
That's right. FREE. And we're not talking about some short “throw-away.” Every month, Blushing Books gives our customers two novel or novella-length stories (typically at least 15,000 words) completely free. You can always download our current month's stories at our website, located at http://www.blushingbooks.com.
But we're offering an additional service for Kindle customers - we'll send the monthly free stories directly to your Kindle device. They will also come automatically if you’re using a Kindle app on your smart phone or tablet. You don't need to do anything, pay anything or remember anything. Every month, free stuff will just magically appear.
Here’s how:
1. Email us at blushingbooks@gmail.com, and put FREE KINDLE STORY in the subject line of your email. The email address you mail FROM will not be kept or mailed in any way unless you also sign up for our newsletter with that address.
2. In the body of your email, you will need to provide your KINDLE's email address. Your Kindle email will end with @kindle.com. If you do not know your Kindle email, you need to log on to your Amazon account and find it under "manage my Kindle."
3. You’ll also need to add blushingbooks@gmail.com to your permitted email list on Amazon (otherwise your Kindle will not accept email from us.) If you don’t do this step, you will not get the story. This is also found under the "manage my Kindle" section of your Amazon account.
Once we get an email from you, you'll be added to our free monthly story list. You'll receive two free stories per month. And remember, if you prefer, you can always get the free material at www.blushingbooks.com.
Chapter 1
Friday
“The dead women found on Gull road out in Hampton Shores weren’t prostitutes. They were women involved in the BDSM scene.”
The big boss had spoken. And the words coming out of his mouth proved both shocking and somewhat expected. Special Agent Alyx Cameron sighed—part disgust, part lament. Working for the FBI in New York City certainly had its sick twists.
Summoned to a 9:00 a.m. meeting, the eight female agents sat in rigid silence around the conference table. Alyx spoke up, “So, what are we talking, pervs? Bondage? That sadomasochistic shit?”
“Not exactly how I'd put it, but yes,” Division Chief Robert Scarborough said. As a supervisor, he rated right up there. Yet he could be intimidating. Tall and strapping, fiery red hair; he reminded her of a Scottish warlord. “We must act quickly, or more women—innocent women—may die.”
“So, we’re going under in sex clubs?” Marta said, the stocky brunette sitting across from Alyx.
Sipping at her coffee, Alyx contemplated posing covertly as a hooker. She’d done it before and didn’t find it particularly difficult. The worst aspect? Dressing the part and then the interminable boredom while she’d waited to lure in a john, and ultimately a pimp. She thought the whole thing a waste of time, actually. If consenting adults wanted to pay for sex, let them. As long as some pimp wasn’t holding women against their will, then who cared?
“That’s the plan,” Agent Scarborough said. “Seven clubs in the metro area have been identified, as well as the one on the east end of Long Island, and we believe a group called the 6X Enterprise—advertised as three X’s above a triple X rating, kidnapped these women. The underground population calls it “SEX” for short, you know, six... ex… sex? Myself, I’d call it sick-sex.” Rob paused, wondering whether his audience understood his word play. When nobody said anything, he went on, “They sell women as sex slaves. Not your garden variety slave either.” He ran his hand over his face, stress lines creasing his brow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. What I mean is the victims are sold to seriously demented sadists. Men who don’t only get off on the sex, they get their jollies beating and mutilating these women, slaughtering them like animals.”
“Evil fucks,” Alyx murmured, glancing around the table at her fellow agents as a wave of revulsion passed among them, too. She already wanted in.
“So,” her boss continued, “we want to place decoys in all the clubs. The local authorities haven’t had any luck tracking the perps and asked for our expertise. They’ve tried to infiltrate with decoy buyers but haven’t been successful because buyers need a referral to get invited. And even if they got a referral, they’re transported in vans with anti-tracking gear and they constantly move the auction locations.
“I’m not going to blow smoke up your ass, this assignment is a bit unorthodox and purely voluntary. To be convincing, you may have to cross uncomfortable lines. We’ve fast-tracked some training before you enter the club, which will theoretically make you an attractive target for the slavers. Our most recent intel indicates they’re seeking brunettes. There’s an auction in two weeks and it’s being billed as ‘Bitchy Brunettes’.”
The glaring fluorescents overhead underscored the foul mood pervading the room. Alyx grabbed her long ponytail of chestnut-colored hair and twirled it around her finger before releasing it. Like her, every woman here was a brunette, except Jenny, who’d probably be heading to the drugstore immediately after the meeting, if she signed on.
“All right,” Agent Scarborough s
aid, “we’re on a time crunch here. I’ll give you until the end of the day to decide, unless anyone is already on board.”
Alyx threw her hand in the air. “I’m definitely in.” Geez, she looked like a first-grader volunteering to erase the blackboards for her teacher. And seriously, she’d no idea what really went on in a BDSM establishment. Would she actually be required to have intercourse with men she didn’t know? It certainly wasn’t uncommon, or prohibited, for undercover male agents to become intimately familiar with suspects to crack a case—even though such specifics were kept off-book. Plus, she wasn’t hung up on the notion that sex must necessarily be linked with love. It could be for pleasure or playtime. Adult play-dates, possibly.
Agent Scarborough’s eyebrows shot up. “I applaud your enthusiasm, Agent Cameron.”
“Honestly, Sir, I cannot wait to bring down this perverse organization,” it was the reason Alyx had joined the FBI Division of Covert Operations in the first place.
Then came various responses from her colleagues, “Count me in. Me too. Let’s get these bastards.”
“I’m pleased to see everyone’s a team player.” Agent Scarborough distributed a folder to each agent. “Inside, you’ll find the name of your assigned club and the agent who will act as your liaison with the club owner. The members of the BDSM community are as anxious to catch these guys as we are and more than willing to help.
“There’s also background info on the club and the BDSM lifestyle. We’ve included online references where you can learn more about protocols for submissives, which will be your role. Do your homework. Each owner has arranged for a trainer in their club to assist.”
A roomful of eyes—some wide with astonishment, others unemotional, a few squinting and skeptical—perused the folders’ contents.
“On the file tab, you’ll find the name of your task force’s lead agent. Meet with them immediately. You’re expected in your assigned club sometime today. Since the auction is only two weeks from Saturday there isn’t much time to get up to speed.” He turned toward Alyx, “Agent Cameron, you’re working with me.”
Minutes later, Alyx settled in at her desk, nursing a fresh cup of coffee with her favorite hazelnut creamer. She studied the folder’s sordid contents, then hit the Internet for further research. Her partner, Matt, suddenly appeared at his desk across from her. His blond hair glistened, still wet from a shower. He and his wife had just welcomed a new baby and he’d been late every day this week. His usually bright green eyes were bloodshot and he sank heavily into his chair, landing his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands. He blew out a long breath.
“Goddamn, that kid has no concept of sleep. He’s killing me, Alyx. And Jillian is a friggin’ crank-pot. I’m not sure I’ll survive this.”
She loved Matt like a brother and couldn’t help but smile while he whined. This had become his new morning greeting. “Poor baby. And I mean you, not the one in the crib.”
Matt looked up wearily. “I’m glad somebody has compassion for the father. Everyone is sympathetic to the mother and us dads get ignored.”
Alyx smiled compassionately. “Most parents live through this. I’m sure you will too.”
“So, I strolled in past roll call. Did I miss anything important?”
“We had a meeting with Rob and actually you weren’t included. It was about those murders out in Hampton Shores.”
“Same ol’, same ol’. Some pimp knocking off ladies-of-the-night?”
“Let’s just say you can’t make this shit up.” Alyx detailed her new assignment, explaining how the girls weren’t streetwalkers. And, she thought, what if they had been? Every life had value.
Matt frowned. “I don’t like it. The Bureau is full of it, actually asking you to undertake something like this.”
“I’m not naïve. I’ll probably have to get a little dirt on me, but somebody has to help these women. You know that I find sex-trafficking to be about the most heinous crime on the planet, the vics can be as young as fourteen and fifteen. In this case, they’re over eighteen but it still makes my blood boil.”
“I get it. Just not sure you do. What if the fact you’ve been sex-starved most of the year is clouding your judgment?”
“Excuse you? It hasn’t been a year and this is not a joking matter.” Yet perhaps Matt had a point. Last night she’d slept in Jason’s tee shirt again, which made absolutely no sense. It’d been six months since she kicked Jason-the-Philanderer to the curb and she hadn’t missed him for a single minute. This morning, she’d spent nearly five minutes sitting on the side of the tub deciding if she should start another month of birth control. Why bother? Well, her periods were much better on the pill, a check in the plus column. Maybe this would be the month she’d meet somebody new. On the other hand, it might not be a bad idea to give her ovaries a break from hormonal assault.
In the end, she’d swallowed the little yellow pill and chased it with a swig of tepid tap water.
Matt said, “You can’t stop me from worrying about you.”
She stared at him. “Let’s just tie up the loose ends on the MacAvoy case before I have to leave.”
They worked right through lunch, the day going by in a hectic flash. When Rob appeared at her desk, Alyx checked her phone: 4:00 p.m.
“Time to go,” Rob said. “I hear traffic’s already hell.”
She bid a quick farewell to her unhappy partner, gathered her purse and followed her boss out of the building.
Climbing into Rob Scarborough’s black Escalade, she put on her aviator sunglasses and stared out the open side window. They exited the parking garage and the New York City sun hit her face. The crisp autumn air filled her head with thoughts of pumpkins and apple picking. Fall had always been her favorite season. Maybe she should bake a pie. However, she’d wind up eating the whole goddamn thing herself. Not gonna happen. When you enjoyed cooking, but lived alone, you ate everything you made for an entire month. The last time she’d made a pot of soup she’d had it every day for a week and then finally threw the rest out. She’d tried freezing stuff, but that caused another problem. The contents of her freezer could feed a high school football team for an entire week.
She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, chewing on a fingernail. Her plans for visiting some friends in her hometown tomorrow had gotten derailed. The promise of unseasonably warm weather for the weekend had teased her with images of walking along the beach and breathing the salty air while the ocean tickled her toes. She’d even hoped to catch a few waves. Life was good in Westhampton Beach and she missed those simple days as a teenager where her biggest worry was whether the surf was up or not. Having inherited her dad’s house, she used it as a getaway whenever she could grab some time off. Sadness dampened her sublime mood. Her crazy-ass father, she still missed him.
Sweat clung to her neck, her face suddenly flushed and she leaned closer to the open window. What had she agreed to? Was she out of her ever-loving mind? She twisted her long dark hair into a tight knot and secured it with a tortoise shell clip from her purse. Sometimes the hair falling against the back of her neck gave her a serious case of claustrophobia, especially in the summer. Maybe she should cut it short, it would definitely be easier to maintain.
* * *
Daniel parked his black Mercedes in the lot next to the St. Andrew’s club. He rubbed his temples and sighed. He really didn’t want to be here. The strain of the last few days had taken its toll and he wanted to go home and catch up on some sleep. It’d been a year since he’d played here. Bored with the constant flux of women, he’d abandoned the lifestyle and figured he’d try dating the normal way for a change. That hadn’t gone so well. He couldn’t seem to drop the bossy attitude in the bedroom and most women resented his need to maintain control. Then he’d met Lacey and well, the fucking wasn’t great but he considered it a tradeoff for her other qualities.
Jack, the club owner and one of his former compadres, had lured him here with the pretense of needing some big favo
r. He and Jack had kind of lost touch, but he remembered Jack’s compulsion to play matchmaker and hoped this wasn’t another lame attempt to hook him up with some woman.
Zach, the overly muscled security guard at the front door, gave him a huge man-hug as he entered. “Hey, bro, where you been hiding out?”
Nobody in Daniel’s circle called him ‘bro’ and he balked at the unfamiliar greeting. “Zach, good to see you. How’s it hanging?” What was wrong with him? He never talked like that.
“Good, I’m good. Jack’s upstairs in his private quarters. He said to go right up.”
“Thanks.” Daniel resisted tacking on “buddy” at the end there.
Zach buzzed the door open and the familiar smell of leather, sweat, and sex smacked him in the face. The lingering scent of amyl nitrate perfumed the air as the use of poppers frequently compensated for the limited use of alcohol. Jack imposed a strict two-drink limit at the club, and that included staff. Poppers produce an instant rush with few after effects, while at the same time decreasing anxiety and easing pain. Daniel remembered them being particularly popular with the gay community.
Adjusting his eyes to the dark, chaotic atmosphere of the club, he glanced at the bar on the far wall where he knew some of his old partners-in-crime would be slugging down a drink. Although it might still be a little too early for that.
He hoped to sneak by them and, if he’d thought about it, probably should have gone around back to Jack’s private entrance. No chance now.
“Holy shit. Daniel? Long time no see.” Steve’s booming voice penetrated the overly loud music emanating from the dance floor and there was no way Daniel could pretend he hadn’t heard him. He weaved his way through the maze of leather clad Doms/Dommes and naked subs engaged in a variety of carnal activities. Moans and screams, mingled with the sounds of slapping flesh, brought him back to a time when he thought this fun. He’d never participated in anything particularly brutal. As a healer, there were certain lines he’d never cross.