Valley Of the Hostages: Extreme Taboo BDSM Erotica E-Book

Candace Spencer

• Herausgeber: Palimpsest Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Warning: Very taboo. Not for the faint of heart. May include BDSM, incest, and other taboo and forbidden elements. This is a vintage **full length** (100+ Pages), post-censorship erotic novel.

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CHAPTER ONE - Captured!
CHAPTER TWO – Oasis
CHAPTER THREE - Tied Up for Dinner
CHAPTER FOUR - Girls Punished in the Night
CHAPTER FIVE - Captives on Display
CHAPTER SIX - Captives, Wet and Making Love
CHAPTER SEVEN - My First Cropping
CHAPTER EIGHT - I Get Shafted
CHAPTER NINE - A Wanton Hussy Gets What She Wants
CHAPTER TEN - Golden Secret
CHAPTER ELEVEN - Ambush!
CHAPTER TWELVE - So Close Yet So Far
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Three Girls Tied and Tortured in One Bedroom
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Golden Torture
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Whipped Nipples
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Rawhide Torment


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Juan unlocked my wrist at the first light of dawn. To say that I was a sorrow girl would be an understatement. I was sore, my arm and wrists hurt terribly and my feet ached something horrible.

Perhaps as a concession to my very chaffed and raw wrist, my hands were not secured again. Instead a pair of handcuffs were locked upon my ankles. It was just as effective as securing my hands behind me, I could not get them off and I certainly couldn't run. The tiny steps I had to take were both very limiting and humiliating. Rather than wait for me to hobble along, Juan simply picked me up in his arms and carried me back to my bedroom. Marlow was nowhere in sight, so Juan simply dumped me on the bed and left.

I could have tried to escape, tiny steps and all, but it seemed simply too much effort. And doomed to failure anyway. So I curled up on my side on the bed and fell asleep. I didn't feel like sleeping on my sore bottom.

Lunch was my first meal that day, spent at the table eating with my own hands for a change. My feet under the table were joined by handcuffs but I didn't mind. I was hungry and considerably refreshed by the morning nap. My wrist was red and bruised from the hard steel but otherwise unhurt. What felt worst was where my bare bottom came in contact with the hard wood of the chair. I fear I was almost constantly squirming and wiggling in vain efforts to get comfortable. The men said nothing, but I was sure they were enjoying my discomfort.
 

Leseprobe

Valley Of the Hostages

Candace Spencer

Copyright © 2017

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE - Captured!

CHAPTER TWO – Oasis

CHAPTER THREE - Tied Up for Dinner

CHAPTER FOUR - Girls Punished in the Night

CHAPTER FIVE - Captives on Display

CHAPTER SIX - Captives, Wet and Making Love

CHAPTER SEVEN - My First Cropping

CHAPTER EIGHT - I Get Shafted

CHAPTER NINE - A Wanton Hussy Gets What She Wants

CHAPTER TEN - Golden Secret

CHAPTER ELEVEN - Ambush!

CHAPTER TWELVE - So Close Yet So Far

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Three Girls Tied and Tortured in One Bedroom

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Golden Torture

CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Whipped Nipples

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Rawhide Torment

CHAPTER ONE - Captured!

I know I made a mistake. I should have never teased that new hired hand. If I had acted more like the proper daughter of a wealthy landholder, I would not be riding to who knows where, my hands bound behind my back, my ankles tied to the stirrups, and my blouse torn enough to expose one breast. Well, partly expose it. I also wouldn't be hot, thirsty, and kidnapped.

It was all innocent enough. There was this new hand on the ranch. Well, let me explain that my father, Reinholt Walters, owns about the biggest spread west of the Pecos: cattle, horses, and plenty of land. Which makes him about the richest man around in a country where it is the land that makes the man rich. I'm his only daughter, Brenda. And, so long as I'm filling you in, I'm 19 years old, very pretty (all the men say so), and have a figure that takes after my mother, and she was a knock-out, believe me! And I'm a trouble maker, and a real head-ache to my poor father. But he loves me anyway.

The new hand was a drifter but not a saddle bum. I could tell that right away. His clothes were worn but not ragged.

And that big 44 hanging on his hip in its low holster tied down was not the gun of a saddle tramp. But he came along, asking for a job, and the foreman, Mark, took a liking to him and hired him. Marlow was his name. I never did catch his last name, just Marlow. Sort of handsome in a rugged way, with that strong jaw and those really deep blue eyes. And I didn't fail to notice that lean, hard body. He was maybe ten years older than I, but who says a girl can't look at older men?

As I bounced along on this gray, my wrists hurting where they were bound by tight rawhide, the hot sun burning down on me, I thought about my mistake. It was two nights before, after dinner. It was hot and I took a little walk down by the creek where the air would be cooler. There I found Marlow, just sitting by the creek, tossing stones into the water. I don't know what he was thinking about but his thoughts were sure somewhere else. I walked up and began talking to him.