The Darkest Master

The Darkest Master
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ISBN:  9781780801216
Author:  Rhea Silva
Word Count:  62,345
Format:  eBook



For All TimeFor All Time
Rite of PassageRite of Passage
Taming MariaTaming Maria


The blindfold was uncomfortable, the knot tangling with her hair, but the worst part was not being able to see him and judge what he had in mind. If the eyes are windows of the soul, then she had no way of telling if his was beautiful or ugly and twisted...

Fleeing a failed relationship, Kirsty buys a business and a cottage in Cornwall. But set up in the hills behind the cottage is a strange house and in it lives the reclusive Dirk Stratten; rich and remote, but devastatingly attractive.

And with him comes his friend Lucian - equally as handsome yet infinitely more dangerous.

Gradually Kirsty gets drawn into their world and learns a truth stranger than any fiction. And beneath the cruelty and depravity lies a bargain that must be struck to save a life.

Rhea Silva once again weaves her spells and produces a seductive romance that is atmospheric and bewitchingly erotic from the start.

He looked at her. 'The house is riddled with secret passages. I'm only just beginning to discover all of them. Are you brave enough to come with me?'
   Every sensible part of her urged refusal, but the pride that she was leaning to find in herself refused to be eaten. She stepped towards the opening. 'Will you go first or shall I?'
   His lips curled into a smile. 'I'll lead the way. The steps can be treacherous.' He reached inside the low doorway and flicked a switch. A light came on, showing her a spiral staircase that twisted down, lost in gloom. He ducked his tall head and began to descend. Kirsty allowed.
   It was like being on the set of some corny horror movie. She half expected to see Frankenstein's monster at every bend. It was cold and damp and she wished she had brought her wrap. Dirk retreated steadily and she hurried to keep up with him.
   She wanted to ask him to wait for her. No way was she going to do that and have him think she was afraid. At the bottom of the stairs she saw him just ahead. The passage had grey stone walls and an uneven floor. Low voltage electric bulbs gave off a yellowish uncertainty. He stopped and unlocked a door. It was arched and made of solid wood and had rusty hinges. The light sprang on as he indicated that she should enter before him. She crept inside, every hair on her body seeming to tingle. This was an alarming and wildly arousing situation. What was he going to do?
   The room was like a cell and equally bleak, but its contents left her speechless. There were icons and statues and golden objects of great rarity. Paintings by masters, church altar pieces, rich fabrics by the bale and relics from Ancient Egypt. Dirk threw back the lid of a brass-bound chest and she was dazzled by the contents. Not only was it filled with coins, but also held a variety of precious stones. These had been worked into chains, necklaces, pendant earrings and bracelets. He scooped up a handful and held them out to Kirsty.
   She took them. She had never seen such gems. He propelled her to where a mirror stood, its ebony frame serpentine and convoluted. She saw herself reflected as he stood beside her and draped her in jewellery till she resembled an empress from some lost civilisation.
   'Perfect,' he muttered, his eyes glinting like the emeralds that adorned her throat.
   'Did all these come with the house purchase?'
   He gave a bark of sardonic laughter. 'No. These were acquired by my sweat, blood and tears. I have many more, both here and in my other properties, to say nothing of bank vaults worldwide.'
   'You don't need all this wealth. It's obscene that one man should own so much when there are people starving to death in war torn countries.' She snatched off the jewels, almost flinging them at him. 'Why don't you give some of it to charity?'
   'Stop lecturing me. I would far rather it went to the woman who consented to become my wife.'
   'I shouldn't think that would be difficult. Most women would give anything to own a quarter of this.' She looked round her at the glittering array. It seemed tawdry and vulgar.
   'No doubt, but there is one stipulation.'
   'And what is that?'
   'She must love me for myself alone and be prepared to die for me.'
   Kirsty laughed, too confused to think clearly. Why was he displaying this stuff to her? Was he hoping to impress her? Was it a childish way of showing off? 'This sounds terribly overdramatic, Dirk.' She wanted to bring him down. He was just too confident.
   'It's true.' He came closer and she was so very aware of his height and hard-packed muscles, his dark, brooding face and cynical smile. They were alone there in that remote place and anything could happen. He brought all her deepest, darkest fantasies to the fore, and she didn't even like the man!
   She could feel herself getting damp between the legs and despised her own weakness. The very sight of him made her nipples peak and her clitoris throb. 'Have you shown me everything... your riches and power? I'd like o leave now.'
   He shook his head. 'Not quite yet, Kirsty.' He placed a hand on her bare arm and her skin tingled, the fine down rising all over her body.
   It would be undignified to struggle and she did not want to anyway. He propelled her through another door and into a larger room. It was like a vault. Braziers lit and warmed it, but this couldn't dispel its sinister aspect.
   She could only guess at the purpose of the objects there, delving into memories of magazines and porn videos devoted to S&M that had belonged to Martin, and things Gina had told her about. There was a crosspiece from which handcuffs dangled. A vaulting horse stood to one side, complete with straps. Racks held a variety of whips, paddles, flails and canes. More manacles and leather restrainers hung from hooks.
   The chill that raced through her was at odds with the heat gathering in her pussy. 'Was this designed by you?' She could not bear to look at him.
   'It was left by the gambling man. He got his kicks from it.' There was a thread of amusement in his voice.
   'You've never used it?' Somehow she didn't believe that he hadn't. The pieces of the jigsaw were falling into place. He and his sinister friend would be into kinky sex. A spasm of jealousy racked her.
   'Sometimes.' It was hard to get information out of him.
   'So you've had women here... girlfriends?'
   'If you can call them that. Would you care to try?'
   'No... I'm not into that kind of thing.' Memories of Martin's spankings made her pulse leap.
   'I don't think you're being truthful. Aren't you itching with curiosity? I can give you sensations you've never before experienced.'
   This was the point at which she should have declined and left abruptly. She did neither, hypnotised by his powerful presence.
   He stared deep into her eyes and she could feel herself drowning in the blackness of his pupils. He knew her so well. There was nothing she could keep from him. She found herself in his arms, the solid baton of his cock pressing against her. She was a helpless prisoner of his will, but more than that was her pity for the sorrow and yearning that possessed him. There was something he was begging her to do, his need for love overwhelming. This was no reprobate, no selfish seducer but a lost soul in desperate straits.
   'What do you want of me?' she whispered into the darkness of the hair that coiled about his ear.
   'Nothing... I can't ask you... it wouldn't be fair...'
   'Please. Tell me.'
   'No. Hush. For your own sake I'd prefer that you hated, not loved me.'
   He slipped off his tie and bound it round her eyes. What are you doing?' she gasped.
   'Indulge me.'
   Unable to see, her other senses became keener. Deprived of movement by the iron grip of his hands, she was aware of the personal smell of his body, overlaid by expensive aftershave. Her skin prickled as he found the zipper at the side of her skirt. The silky material slithered to her feet. He pushed up her vest top and unfastened her bra. The chilly air made her nipples crimp. His fingers entered the side of her panties and combed through her bush, finding the hard nub between her slick wet lips. She cried out at the pleasure of it.
   He abandoned her clit, swung her around and pushed her forward until she could feel hard wood pressing into her belly and breasts. She guessed it to be the whipping post. In an instant he had slipped manacles over her wrists and fastened them to it.
   'Stop it, you idiot! What the hell d'you think you're doing?' She tugged at her bonds to no avail. 'Stop acting so weird.'
   He ignored her and pushed down her panties. There was a harsh, metallic click as he snapped cuffs around her ankles and attached them to rings. Now she was spread-eagled and helpless. Fear made her shake, but it was not only that - it was mixed with the desire to find out what he was going to do next and if it included fucking.
   The blindfold was uncomfortable, the knot tangling with her hair, but the worst part was not being able to see him and judge what he had in mind. If the eyes are windows of the soul, then she had no way of telling if his was beautiful or ugly and twisted.
   'Take this damn thing off!' It was more of a command than a plea. He gave no answer and the heat of his body was suddenly withdrawn. She waited, strung out, vulnerable. Then pain shot through her as his palm connected forcefully with her bare buttocks. 'You bastard!' she shouted, though roused by the familiar feelings of pain and desire.
   He slapped her for a second time and, had she not been chained, she would have danced with fury. 'You have a lot to learn, Kirsty. I shall teach you.'
   'Too late, Dirk. I was initiated by Martin. He liked to punish me.'
   'But not like this. I shall be your first master.'
   For an instance there was silence then, with a swish, a whip contacted her flesh. Kirsty yelled, her body jerking involuntarily. The shock of it did not fully register before it was joined by a second lashing. She had never experienced such pain. It stung, flamed through her, and spread to her loins. Her very helplessness caused strange sensations inside her.
   She cried out, 'Stop! Stop!' Yet, deep within her, she acknowledged him. Her master. Her lover. The man she had been waiting for throughout her life.
   Twice more the whip descended, then she felt his fingers entering her vaginal lips from the rear. She expected his touch to be intrusive, but she was juicy and ashamed of this admission of lust. He spread her dew over her clit and started to drum on it. Kirsty moaned and ground her pubis against that tantalizing touch, the stripes on her flesh burning like fire.
   He undid her bonds, freed her eyes, spun her around and captured her mouth with his, tongue probing deeply. Thrills chased down her spine into her womb and she wanted to feel him inside her, a stranger who she hardly new. This was not her style. She was usually cautious, but what she felt for him was an emotion like no other.
   He was excited, his cock swelling behind his fly. He changed the rhythm of his stroking, the sharp staccato on her delicate little organ becoming a languorous caressing from stem to tip. He massaged the engorged lips on either side, bringing her closer and closer to bliss, her hungry clit standing up like a miniature cock.
   Then he did the thing for which she had hardly dared hope. He knelt before her, parted her thighs, held open her cleft and licked the pink flesh between. He drew her clit between his teeth and gently nibbled, then subjected it to a vigorous sucking. He stood up and moved to her breasts, biting her nipples into hard, aching points. When she was quivering with need, he moved lack, bent and thrust his tongue inside her.
   It wasn't enough. She needed a long, thick phallus to probe her after she had been brought to fulfilment. Dirk seemed to know what to do, either by instinct or experience. He raised himself, pushed her back against the wall and opened his pants. His erection jutted out, larger than she had expected. She wanted his touch on her clit, but he pushed into her, lifting her off her feet, his hands clasped around her hips, soothing the smart bequeathed by the lash. She settled on his cock, feeling the hot helm butt her cervix. He withdrew, circled her entrance again and entered. Kirsty squirmed, trying to find his cock root, her clit aching for contact. Dirk pulled out, slipped a hand between her legs and she was certain that this time - this time - he would give her release...

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