Authors: Audrey Grace
Tags: #bdsm erotica
Check out Audrey Grace’s
Author Page at Amazon
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Check out this excerpt of Audrey Grace’s novella-length billionaire BDSM erotic romance, His Every Desire:
By Audrey Grace
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Clara Cotillard is just the temp working at the front desk. But her world is turned upside down when she is chosen to assist the enigmatic CEO billionaire Michael Koch, a man as sexy as he is intimidating. He says she is subject to his every desire, but what does that entail? When she's bent over his desk and punished for a simple mistake, it dawns on Clara that she may be in for more than she's bargained for, and that Michael Koch, CEO, billionaire, has a few dark secrets...
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I took a deep breath and then rapped my knuckles on the thick and dark door that led into Mr. Koch’s office.
“Come in,” I heard his deep voice say. It seemed to penetrate the wood of the door with ease.
“Yes, sir,” I said quietly, and I opened the door and entered the office. It was large and spacious, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining each wall. It looked almost staged.
Mr. Koch lifted his head up from something he was reading, and looked at me with intense and slightly narrowed eyes. His eyebrows, I realized for the first time, were quite thick, and they gave his face a natural look of severity.
The large windows behind his desk silhouetted him against the sunlight pouring through, sending shadows cast across his sharp features.
“Sir?” I asked, a little too chirpy for my own liking. I was beginning to feel nervous beneath his steely stare, and I was beginning to feel that he might be very angry with me.
But why could he possibly be? The meeting had seemed a stellar success!
“Sir?” I asked again, marshaling my courage and stepping forward. “Did I do something—” He silenced me with a finger to his lips.
“Please come here, Ms. Cotillard,” he said, and he leaned back slightly in his seat. I walked toward the two seats in front of his desk, and began to sat down when he banged his hand on the table.
“What are you doing?”
“I didn’t say take a seat. I didn’t say sit down. I said come here. To
“Sorry, Sir,” I stammered, straightening up. Goosebumps erupted on my skin, and I was extremely glad that he couldn’t see them. I almost wanted to shiver, and my stomach was knotted with anxiety.
“Around here,” he motioned with his finger, and I followed the invisible line he traced around his desk, until I was just mere inches away from him.
“Thank you, Ms. Cotillard,” he said, leaning back and smiling at me. In an instant all the severity and harshness of his features evaporated, and he was quite alarmingly handsome.
He stared at me for some time, as if he was appraising me internally. He didn’t just look at my face, though that is where his eyes lingered the longest. He looked me up and down my body as well. I was beginning to feel distinctly embarrassed at being
Finally his eyes rested on my own, and I forced myself not to look away.
“Please, sit down.” He patted the desk in front of him.
“On the table?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Yes. Please, sit down.”
He had said it in a low voice, and it was very much a command, rather than an invitation. The atmosphere between us was growing more viscous by the second, and the tension was nearly unbearable.
Something had to give.
“Please,” he repeated again. “Sit down.” I looked at him for a few moments, trying to figure out why he wanted me to sit on his desk. It seemed absurd, like something out of the movies. Was he going to make a pass at me? Were there any
I was expected to perform?
Because that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen!
Or… was this all just a trick, a test? Was he messing with me? That actually seemed the most plausible explanation, and so I hopped up onto the edge of his desk, glaring at him while I did so. I crossed my legs and looked at him with something of a challenge in my eyes, but he did not respond the way I had expected.
Instead, he just sat in silence and roamed his gaze up and down my body. I forced myself to steady my breathing while his eyes concentrated on the hem of my skirt, moving up my body to settle on my breasts momentarily before he met my eyes again.
“Tell me, Ms. Cotillard,” he began. “No, let me start again. Tell me, Clara,” and he paused to look at me. I was astonished he knew my first name, but on reflection, a man so obviously meticulous as he wouldn’t have missed a small detail like that.
“Yes?” I asked when he did not speak. He leaned closer toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. I wanted to shy away, to lean backward and increase the physical distance between us, but knew he would not take kindly to that. I detected his cologne, and noted that it was faint and subtle, so different from the overbearing scents that so many higher-ups wore.
Suddenly, his face broke out into a smile, and his eyes sparkled. I was mesmerized momentarily, caught off-guard by the sudden change in his features, and was once again made aware of just how attractive he could be when he wasn’t looking grim and severe.
I curled and uncurled my toes repeatedly. It was the only way I could fidget and relieve some of the tension.
“So?” he asked, spreading his arms out into a half-shrug. “What did you think of the meeting?”
“I think it went well?”
“Uh, yes, Mr. Koch. You were very good, and I got everything down.”
“Glad to hear it, Clara. Glad to hear it.”
A silence settled between us again, and I found it harder and harder to keep my eyes on his. Then, to my great relief, he spoke.
“I just wanted to ask you,” he said softly. “What you think about me?”
“Excuse me, Sir?” I replied faintly.
“What do you think about me?”
“Be honest, please, Clara.”
“I’ve only just met you yesterday,” I said carefully. “Everything I
about you is everything
knows about you.”
“Ah,” he sounded thoughtfully, leaning back. “Tell me, anyway.”
I nodded and gripped the desk tightly. “You’re one of the most influential men in the world. So, it follows that women want you, and men want to be you.”
“And?” he asked, his expression unchanging.
“And, um, that you have a temper that could kill, and that you demand the very best of everyone.”
“The first,” he said, “is I hope not true. At least, I’ve never killed anyone. Only maimed.”
“The second, of course, is true.”
I gulped and nodded at him, and he smiled at me again.
“Is there more?” he asked.
“No,” I chirped. “I think that’s it. I mean, the girls all say you’re very good looking, too.”
“So,” he said, and then he laughed softly, and for a moment even the hardness in his body seemed to soften. “I’m a very angry, very rich, very good looking asshole that men want to be and women want to be with?”
“That doesn’t even make any sense!” He chuckled, and leaned fully back into his chair, and his presence lost some of its intimidating capacity. My grip on the table loosened, and I realized that my breathing was slowing.
to me? This whole thing seemed crazy.
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Check out this sneak peak of Audrey Grace’s scorching BDSM OB/GYN short in Submitting to the Doctor:
By Audrey Grace
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Michelle Marshall is a Sub. She trusts her Master. When her Master books her a gynecological exam, and she thinks that it will just be an ordinary check up. But she couldn't be more wrong. Dr. Pike tells her that her Master has left him very specific instructions, and that she's to obey his every word. She can see the doctor is enjoying it, but what choice does she have?
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“I can also see by your chart that someone else called in your appointment for you.” He looked back down at the chart, nodded, then looked back up at me. “A Mr. Matthew Stone. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. That was Master. I felt a small prick of embarrassment that a man had called in for my gynecological exam, and desperately hoped that my cheeks weren’t turning red.
“He seems to have left some very… specific instructions,” the doctor continued.
“Oh?” I asked, feeling a surge of warmth in my face. My heartbeat quickened and I began to breathe a little more quickly. “I, um, don’t know about that.”
“Is Mr. Stone your regular doctor?”
This time, my cheeks burned. “Um, well, no, he’s, uh—”
“He’s your…?” the doctor prompted.
“My Master,” I whispered, looking down at the ground.
“I see.” Dr. Pike replied. A short silence settled between us before he spoke again. “That explains a lot, such as why he asked me to make sure that you were wearing a butt plug when you arrived here.”
I bit my lip and winced, feeling the prick of embarrassment and shame turn to a million stings. Goose bumps erupted on the tops of my arms and I shivered involuntarily.
“So, Ms. Marshall,” Dr. Pike said, and I heard something new in his voice. I looked back up at him to see that his boyish face had turned into something darker, something scarier, and his mouth was pulled into a devilish grin. “Are you?”
“Are you,” he began, spacing out the words and enunciating each clearly. “Wearing a butt plug?”
Shit, I thought to myself. I was going to pop it out when I changed into my gown, and when nobody was looking, but realized that I wouldn’t have that option now. I could see in Dr. Pike’s face that he was already enjoying this.
“Yes, doctor,” I admitted. “I am.”
The grin on his face grew wider, and his body seemed to brim with a new energy. He was clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Unfortunately, Mr. Stone has left very specific instructions. He told me that I am to check, physically, that you are indeed wearing your butt plug.”
“Oh,” I sounded, my heart racing. I was beginning to feel quite hot, and I wiped away beaded sweat from my upper lip.
“I’m going to need you to stand against the wall, placing your palms on the wall above your head.”
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling uncertain and a little afraid. Though Dr. Pike had managed to keep his voice relatively professional, I could see the bulge in his trousers, and could practically feel the sexual energy radiating off him. The man was aroused. He was getting off on my discomfort, getting excited just anticipating my coming humiliation.
But what could I do? These were Master’s wishes. These were Master’s orders. I shut my eyes for a moment, before standing up and moving slowly to the wall. The nerves and fear gave way to some excitement, some anticipation, too. My body was whirring, my emotions a complete clash. It was why I was practically panting. It was why my hands were trembling.
I recalled the conversation with Master I’d had when he set up this appointment. He hadn’t told me of anything special happening. From the way he’d told me, it seemed as though this would just be a regular exam.
Carefully, I placed my hands against the wall as the doctor had ordered. I instantly felt his hands on the outsides of my thighs, grasping them while he pushed my skirt upwards. He bunched up the fabric above my hips, and quickly began pulling my panties down my legs. I winced, gritting my teeth as he guided my two feet out of my panties. He grabbed my ass in either hand and spread my cheeks roughly.
“Good girl,” he growled, tapping the base of the butt plug lightly. I felt the vibrations in my rectum.
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Check out this sneak peak of Audrey Grace’s extreme tale of bondage and humiliation:
By Audrey Grace
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Ana's Master requests her help at his exclusive fairground stall; she accepts, but Ana has no idea she's in for. She finds herself locked naked in a tiny wooden box, bound at the ankles and the wrists and suspended in the air, legs spread and a two-way mirror in front of her. Sex toys are in position and on motors. She knows many men are watching her, but she is completely unprepared for her... humiliation.
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Inside the tent was a small wooden room. Steps led directly up to it. It was tiny, and smelled freshly of waxed wood. The room was well lit, and the birch looked great against my skin.
“Get in and sit down.”
I got in and sat down. The room wasn’t very large. I was able to place each of my feet in a corner, with my knees still bent and pointing upward. Drake squeezed past me and fastened leather straps (they were absolutely gorgeous and soft) around my ankles, tying me to rings on the floor in the corners of the room. My heart was really racing.
“Yes, Sir.” I lifted my hands above my head, and felt Drake fasten leather straps to them as well. They too were tied to metal rings that were hanging from the ceiling.
Then Drake left the tiny room, and I could only sit there, wondering at my situation. It wasn’t quite a predicament, but it was definitely a situation. You see, I hadn’t asked Drake how I would be helping him. That would have been… bad.
I heard Drake shuffling behind the small wooden room, and realized that I was effectively in a box, and that he could move around outside. A wooden panel was pulled up through the top revealing a mirror directly in front of me. With my legs spread, and my arms bound above my head, I could see nearly every inch of myself.
A bit more shuffling, and a small tube was lowered down near my face.
“Water,” I heard him call through the wooden box. I had become accustomed now to calling my room a box. It, after all, wasn’t really a room.
I tested the tube, and indeed cool water flowed. I knew at this point that my time spent in this box would be considerable.
Without warning, the rings my wrists were bound to were pulled, and I was suspended in the air. My bum lifted off the floor. I was hanging by my wrists, and anchored by my ankles.