Candelabra - "Nice" Excerpt
Copyright © Afton Locke, 2009 - All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
“Welcome to Loch Enya Castle,” the ruddy-faced bus driver
announced. “Are ye ready for the thrills awaitin’ ye?”
Thrills? Oh yeah. I’m thrilled enough to throw myself under the
tires of this bus.
There should be a law against such cheerful bus drivers, Tandy
Davis thought as she tried to rub the dampness out of her long, red hair. She
was wet and miserable and her sinuses threatened to explode any minute from a
lousy head cold.
“This historic castle is five-hundred years old,” the driver went
on. “Rumors say it’s haunted but if you hear any bumps or screams, it’s most
likely The Smoky Daggers, the wildest BDSM group in all of Scotland. You might
be doing some screamin’ of yer own, I daresay,” he said, guffawing at his own
joke.
Whatever had possessed her to go all the way to Scotland and
experience BDSM sex? It had seemed like a great idea when she’d signed up for
it. After almost losing her job and driving her family and friends nuts, she’d
decided to finally do something about her “control freak” tendencies.
Little did they know the “seminar” she planned to attend was
really her first BDSM session. What better way to learn how to hand over the
reins than to be a sub? The hot sex would be a bonus. It had been way
too long since she’d had sex...
I can’t do this, she thought as she got off the bus with
the others and entered the gray, stony and very depressing-looking castle. Submissive
sex with a total stranger? No way. She collected her ancient room key
and orientation packet from the front desk.
Tandy squinted at the map as she stumbled up a winding flight of
stairs and down a dark hallway to her room. With its stone walls and fireplace
it looked just as foreboding as the outside. Warming her hands over the heater,
she peeked through the drawn velvet drapes at the foggy, gray loch outside.
A pigeon cooed from somewhere on the complicated roofline. Chicken,
it seemed to say. How could she face everyone back home knowing she’d chickened
out?
She opened the orientation packet and saw the list of activities
she’d signed up for—bondage, the ultimate challenge for a control freak, and
wax play because she and an old boyfriend had messed around with a candle once
and it had been kind of fun.
She decided to go to the orientation, which was in an hour
according to the schedule. Then she’d skip tonight’s session and play tomorrow
by ear. But first she desperately needed a nap.
* * * * *
ours later, Tandy bolted upright and cursed. It was
twilight—gloaming as they called it here. She’d slept for hours, missing the
orientation and the evening BDSM session had already started. If she hurried,
she could tell her assigned partner she was too sick to participate.
Taking her key, she got all the way down the hall before she
realized she’d memorized the room number for her session but had forgotten her
castle map. Oh well. How hard could it be to find?
Minutes later, she was hopelessly lost. She’d given up on finding
it and was just trying to return to her room. When she found a door that
resembled hers, she turned the key and breathed a huge sigh of relief when the
door swung open with a squeak.
So why was there a naked man hanging from her ceiling? Another
man flicked his whip impatiently with one hand and applied lube to his own cock
with another.
“Excuse us,” he said. “We’re in the middle of something.”
Obviously. “I’m terribly sorry,” Tandy muttered. “I must
have the wrong room.”
She closed the door and frowned at her key. How nice. They must
use the same lock for multiple rooms here. She kept walking until she found
another door like hers. This time she decided to knock first. A woman with pins
and clamps lacing her nipples opened it.
“Top of the evening to you, little chickadee. Care to join us?”
Inside, men and women wearing various chains and clamps eyed her
like prime tenderloin.
“Some other time,” Tandy said hurriedly before she shut the door.
Enough was enough. If she stumbled into one more scene like that,
she wasn’t sure she’d make it out of the castle alive. BDSM? What had she been
thinking? She decided to go downstairs and ask for directions.
On her way, she found a door she was sure was hers. She crossed
her fingers and knocked. Her heart sank when it opened. Wrong again and she’d
already viewed more than enough kink for one night.
Instead, she found herself face-to-face with the best looking man
she’d seen on this entire trip. Dark, wavy hair brushed his shoulders, matching
the neat goatee against his pale skin. But his eyes were what snared her. They
were the color of brandy and as intense as a hawk’s. They blazed as if lit from
within by a fire.
“Good evening,” he said, bowing to her. “I’ve been expecting
you.” His voice, thick with an almost Shakespearean accent, sounded as
historical as he looked.
Since he wore a leather vest with laces over a white peasant
shirt, he must be part of the BDSM group and into role-play. Heat flooded
Tandy’s face when she looked down and noticed an erection straining against his
snug, brown breeches.
“N-no,” she stuttered. “I’m lost. This isn’t—”
But before she could finish her sentence, the man grabbed her
wrist. Warmth and energy radiated up her arm from his touch as he pulled her
inside his room—which appeared to be on fire—and closed the door. What the hell
kind of scene had she stumbled into this time?
Then she was up against the wall, pinned in place by his gaze on
her face, hands on her forearms and erection pressing against her pelvis.
Everywhere he looked and touched, he scorched her. There was something unusual
about him and it wasn’t just his historical outfit.
The flames burning behind him and all around them danced before
her eyes in white, yellow and orange streaks until she couldn’t see anything
else. The harder she breathed, the more she noticed the acrid tang of smoke in
the air. Stunned, she couldn’t have screamed or moved even if he’d released
her.
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