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- Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
- Kategorie: Erotik
- Sprache: Englisch
Tasha is eighteen-years-old with nowhere to go. She's lucky that she's picked up by Madame Nijah, owner for a risqu nightclub that offers her patrons entertainment of a different kind. "I have a client who just lost his Submissive," she says, eyeing Tasha up and down.
She can't help but squirm. She doesn't look exactly her best right now. "You could be his type."
~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~
Nijah looks at her considerately for a long moment. Long enough that Tasha would've started worrying about her driving if the road wasn't still completely straight and there was no other cars on the road. "Do you want to know what I do for a living, darling?" she asks.
Tasha nods, curiousity getting the better of her.
"I provide a safe space for people to reenact their deepest, darkest, sexual fantasies," she says smoothly. "You're not bad-looking. You could be one of my girls," she says.
Tasha tenses, hugging her bag closer. "What?"
"Relax, darling. I won't make you do anything you don't want to. But if you want to..."
Curiousity has always been one of her worst traits. "If I want to what?" Tasha prompts.
"I have a client who just lost his Submissive," she says, eyeing her up and down.
Tasha can't help but squirm. She knows she doesn't look particularly attractive right now. Her clothes are torn in several places, her face a mess of tears and dirt, and her hair hasn't been watched in days. She waits for the woman to say 'forget it' and dismiss her, except Madame Nijah opens her mouth and says:
"You could be his type."
"What type?" she asks. Surely someone like her can't be anyone's type right now.
"A natural submissive," Madame Nijah states a matter-of-factly.
"I'm- I'm not a natural submissive."
Madame Nijah cocks her brow again. "Got you in the car without even having to raise my voice, didn't I?"
Tasha blushes. "You seem like a nice person."
"I'm a very nice person," Nijah reassures her with a laugh. "Raphael is my best client. Pays for the room on time, brings his own submissive and shares her with my other clients without asking for discount," she says. "I just rent the room for him and makes sure it's clean. He's a good guy and his sexual preferences are easy enough. You don't have anything against werewolves, do you?"
Tasha shakes her head.
"You're petite, so he'll have to work you up to taking him and his knot. I bet you'll both enjoy the process. He's particularly fond of high-end toys."
Tasha doesn't know what's wrong with her because instead of pulling back in disgust at the vivid descriptions of what the man intends to do to her, she asks, "What if he doesn't like me?"
"Then, he'll pay for your services and I'll find someone else to his liking. I have a feeling that won't be a problem, darling. I can tell you're exactly his type."
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
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Copyright 2019 Marilynn Fae
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.
This steamy short story contains scenes inappropriate for 18-years and below. An innocent virgin is filled and knotted by a strong Alpha Werewolf and strangers in a dungeon. It also contains exhibitionism and voyeurism, werewolf knotting, domination and submission, dubcon, size-difference (large male, petite female), bareback, and creampie.
Prologue
The hot morning sun glares down on her pale skin as she walks down the long stretch of road that seems to go on forever. If she's lucky, there are trees that gives her enough shade so she wouldn't be burned red at the end of the day. It's not a lucky day for her.
Still, it could be worse. She could be back at the halfway house. She has never been more alone than when she was there for the last three years. She thought familiarity would eventually take the sharp edge off, but it turns out the discomfort she felt the first day when she stepped into the rundown house with too many rooms but not enough beds never goes away. Her stomach twists badly when she remembers the old lady who had been in charge there.
Sure, she had never abused any of the children under her care, but she didn't care about their comfort either. The children there are all broken in one way or the other. She remembers the cold-eyed look in their expressions, the way they aren't like other children at all and shudders. She was like them too, she supposes. Losing her parents had been a traumatic experience for her.
It's probably why they didn't send her into an orphanage. Why they changed her name and gave her a new identity before abandoning her in the Halfway Home like she had done something wrong to deserve spending the rest of her childhood being unloved.
She clings onto how good her life was before everything. Her parents loved her so much and they had a quiet, peaceful life in a farmhouse that is far enough away from civilization that she didn't know until it's too late that her parents had been hiding. They had taken down a massive cult and had received so many death threats with the government being unable to help them in any way for so long that her father decided to sell his business, handing it all over to his partner, and move out in the middle of nowhere.
It's a peaceful life. She loves it there. Loved it there. They had animals in their farm and plenty of fruits and vegetables in their garden so they are never hurting for food. Every year, her father's friend would come and visit with gifts that he would bring in a huge truck. She doesn't remember his name but she recalls she used to call him 'Uncle Rafa'. Not for the first time, she wonders what he's up to now and if he thinks about her at all.
Because of the way her parents had died, the police dealing with the case decides to put her in witness protection and send her to a Halfway Home until she is old enough to take care of herself. She thinks it's a terrible way to deal with things, but it's not like she has much of a choice in the matter. She was mostly mute from the shock of losing two more important people in her lives so suddenly.
By the time she came out from her shock, she was already fully absorbed into the system.
She's free now, at least.
The sun is still hot and her legs still hurt, but at leas she's out of that wicked place. She has a little bit of money from when she had worked part time for the local grocery story.
It's nice, not having to go hungry for once. She switches the strap of the backpack to her other shoulder, shifting the weight there as she continues to walk down the long stretch of road. The next town she stops in, she's going to buy a giant hat.
