Modern day Kylie enters the unbelievable world of sexual slavery, a world designed to resemble ancient medieval times. Bought by the notorious Pain Master, a Man so feared He is spoken of only in whispers, she believes her nightmare can't get any worse. Then she gets a taste of His whip and her nightmare becomes her deepest fantasy. As Kylie receives more training in the arts of pleasure, she discovers glorious delights from a Master who is at heart simply a Man longing for love, yet is forbidden to do so. Centuries ago, Brendan made a choice that cursed him to walk the earth until he fulfilled his vow. Separated from his beloved wife Brianna, who must remain a Shadow until his curse is broken, he must discover a way to correct his wrong before time runs out and he is forever damned. Celtic goddess Dubh Lacha guarded her adored Erin Isle and its women until the witch Chlaus persuaded the world of men gods and goddesses weren't needed. Caught in an ageless battle with Chlaus, she makes one final wager to determine who will be the victor, who will eternally disappear and the fate of Master's world. Intense with dashes of humor, hot sex, cat fights, belly dancing and lots of BDSM, SHE WAITED is a multi genre novel that begins with a promise broken to a goddess and a slave auction like no other. Add in a Master determined to ignore the Immortals trying to shape--or end-- His world; a woman determined not to be a submissive-- until she experiences the power a submissive truly holds; and a long suffering Shadow determined to be a silent spectator no longer and all the elements of a mesmerizing journey fall into place. SHE WAITED-- for bondage? Freedom? Power? Victory? Love? Read on and find out.
He moved slowly into the darkened room, the shadows concealing the others. The air was thick with the smell of cigar smoke and unwashed bodies. He hated these games, this attempt at the Old Ways. But He would do His duty. Then leave.
His eyes scanned the dimly lit area directly in front. A small circular stage rose a few feet above the packed dirt floor. Curtains concealed those behind this raised disc, yet He sensed one. One above the rest. His heart picked up pace. Was this the day then? The day predicted long ago by a woman He’d always believed delirious from the pain of being separated from her beloved?
A tall man in flowing brown robes stepped to the middle of the disc, bowed and clapped his large hands three times. Instantly, bright flood lights lit him, threw the rest of the room into deeper shadows. The man, known simply as Keeper since he had charge of the slaves before they were brought to auction, bowed again and swept his arm and body to the side.
The first slave parted the curtains slightly and walked slowly to the middle of the stage to kneel. Keeper had chosen well, He thought, to begin with one of rareness to whet the appetites. Dressed in the customary sheer white gown, her long blond hair was unbound to fall against her generous hips. The sheerness did nothing to conceal large firm breasts as evenly tanned as the rest of her skin. She knelt with head bent, eyes on the floor, hands clasped together and bare feet motionless beneath her body.
And so it began.
By the time eighteen others had been presented, had been bought, sold, delivered to their owners, He was weary. He had, as always, kept careful note of which men brought which slaves. This information could be needed in the future. But He hated this part, hated the surge of anticipation He could not seem to rid Himself of, no matter what He tried. This was foolish, His mind screamed as it did every time He came here. Foolish nonsense from a mourning woman meant solely to--
She stepped out. His mouth went dry. His heart thumped against his ribs now, so hard it nearly staggered Him. No. She staggered Him. Her.
Unlike the others, she stood with her arms clasped around her body, head high. She was not beautiful in the classic sense; but her face drew His eye regardless. Her eyes were deep pools of darkest chocolate, her skin pale and dotted with freckles. Her hair was a glorious shinning red that caught and held light as if it were a living flame. She made eye contact with none. Yet she did not keep her eyes modestly upon the floor as all the others did. She stared around the room, over the heads of the men, as defiant and proud as any warrior queen. She was small, beautifully formed and deliciously curved.
This one. Her. This one.
Above the growing murmurs from the men gathered around, He could hear her breath. He shouldn’t have been able to hear the slight, quick sounds. Yet He did. His head tilted as he breathed in her scent.
This one. Her. This one.
Red Sage Publishing, Inc. © 2014 All Rights Reserved
I used to follow tradition, play things safe. It's boring. And it doesn't fulfill you. Like eating broccoli when you really want chocolate: you always have this gnawing need for something else, something better, something more. Finding what exactly that is can often be a long, hard battle with loads of choices and decisions along the way. But it can also be the most satisfying, sigh-inspiring thing you ever do. Settle in with me, a cup of tea, some chocolate and Kylie's story. You won't regret it
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