Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 469(@200wpm)___ 375(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Brandon came closer, his deep-set eyes boring into hers with almost hypnotic power. “Marjorie likes to read passages aloud to me to give me ideas.” He winked at his wife. “Your writing is very descriptive and catches much of the nuance and power of D/s.”
Face hot with embarrassed pleasure, Hannah grinned stupidly at the compliment. “You’re very kind.”
Katie returned to the foyer and dropped into a graceful kneeling position beside Brandon. “We look forward to bringing some of your creative scenarios to life at the dungeon party later tonight,” Brandon added. He placed his hand lightly on Katie’s head, his lips lifting into a cruel smile. “Don’t we, slave?”
“Yes, Sir,” the naked girl replied a little breathlessly.
Hannah swallowed hard as several dark, erotic possibilities flitted through her mind. Was it hot in there, or was it just her?
Chapter 3
They moved from the foyer into a living room so large it contained two fireplaces. A huge picture window dominated the back wall, revealing the dark night sky beyond. There were several seating areas set around the space in conversational groupings. The furniture looked elegant but comfortable, beautifully upholstered in rich leather and brocade. Intricately patterned Persian rugs covered most of the hardwood floor.
The space was at once grand and intimate. Hannah caught her breath not only at the obvious opulence, but at the warm, welcoming vibe. The foyer, with its medieval torture devices, coupled with Charlotte’s vivid descriptions of the dungeon, had given Hannah the erroneous impression that the entire place was like The Garden, just on a much grander scale.
Still, this wasn’t just any living room, and this wasn’t just any group of friends gathering for a party. There were easily a dozen or more people, some seated, some standing in small groups. Naked or nearly naked subs knelt here and there on floor cushions near their Masters and Mistresses.
A small wedding arch had been set up in front of the larger of the fireplaces. Black and red silk roses had been artfully woven through the latticework. In front of the arch stood a small padded bondage table draped with black satin.
A naked man with close-cropped blond hair knelt on a cushion on one side of the hearth. A naked woman with light brown hair hanging in a shiny curtain down her slender back knelt on a cushion across the hearth from him. They both appeared to be in their early to mid-twenties. They each wore slim black slave collars around their necks with steel O-rings dangling at the front and back. Their hands were crossed behind their backs, their heads bowed.
“Jim and Charlotte,” Brandon said, “Let’s head over to the hearth there so we can go over a few details before the ceremony.” He turned to Hannah. “If you’ll excuse us, Marjorie will take you around to meet our Enclave family.”
“Of course,” Hannah said.
As the others moved away, she asked Marjorie, “Are those two young people kneeling at the hearth slave trainees? Charlotte told me The Enclave has a training facility.”
Marjorie glanced toward them with a nod. “That’s right. We presently have three slaves we are training. Those two are Michael and Ellen.”
Hannah looked again at the pair. How, she wondered, did one get recruited into the training program? Were they already “owned” by someone? Had they left their jobs to be here? She had so many questions, but now obviously wasn’t the time to ask them.
Instead, she asked, “Where is the third slave?”
“Lia is presently being punished. She’s down in her room in the slave quarters, chained to her bed.”
“Oh,” Hannah breathed, intrigued by this information, delivered so casually. “What did she, uh, do?”
“Sorry to say, I’m vague on the particulars. Lawrence, our primary disciplinarian, could give you more details if you’re interested. I’ll introduce you to him and you can ask him directly.”
Marjorie took Hannah around the room, making introductions. They stopped first at the sofa where Hans knelt on a floor cushion between two men.
The first man had chiseled features, a square jaw and wavy light brown hair. Christ, the guy was drool-worthy. The second guy had his own appeal, if you liked the burly shaved head heavily tattooed type, which Hannah did not. No, she’d much rather focus her attention on Mr. Gorgeous. Or should that be Master Gorgeous?
“Gentlemen,” Marjorie said as they stopped in front of the trio. “I’d like you to meet Charlotte’s guest, Hannah. Hannah writes under the pen name Angelique Rose, one of my favorite BDSM romance authors.”
“How delightful,” Master Gorgeous said in a to-die-for British accent. The big guy grunted noncommittally. The odds were good neither had any idea who Angelique Rose was. Not that Hannah was especially surprised, as her readership was primarily female.
Marjorie turned to Hannah. “I believe you’ve already met Hans?”
“Yes,” Hannah, smiling at the kneeling man. “Hi, again.”