Authors: Saskia Walker
began writing in the late 1990s. She’d travelled the world, gained a B A and a Masters degree, and she’d worked in several diverse careers, but the stories in her head simply had to be written. Since then Saskia has penned fourteen novels and her short stories have appeared in more than eighty international anthologies. Her work has twice received the Passionate Plume award for Best Erotic Romance. She has also been nominated for a RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. Saskia lives in Yorkshire in the north of England with her real-life hero, Mark, and a houseful of stray felines.
Constable & Robinson Ltd
55–56 Russell Square
London WC1B 4HP
First published in the UK by Robinson,
an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2012
Copyright © Saskia Walker, 2012
The right of Saskia Walker to be identified as the author of
this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in
Publication Data is available from the British Library
“Richards Secret” © Saskia Walker, 2004. First published in
, edited by Violet Blue. Reprinted in
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 5
, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2006), by permission of the author.
“Watching Lois Perform” © Saskia Walker, 2006. First published in
Slave to Love
, edited by Alison Tyler. Reprinted in
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 7
, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2007), by permission of the author.
“The Inner Vixen” © Saskia Walker, 2007. First published in
She’s On Top
, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel. Reprinted in
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 8
, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2009), by permission of the author.
“Sign Your Name” © Saskia Walker, 2008. First published in
K is for Kinky
, edited by Alison Tyler. Reprinted in
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 9
, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2010), by permission of the author.
“The Woman in His Room” © Saskia Walker, 2009. First published in
Girls on Top
, edited by Violet Blue. Reprinted in
The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10
, edited by Maxim Jakubowski (Robinson, 2011), by permission of the author.
“The Devil You Know” © Saskia Walker, 2011. First published in
The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance
, edited by Sonia Florens (Robinson, 2011).
“A gimp?” Richard was a sex slave? Could it be possible? I swallowed, breathed deep and tried to make sense of what Tom had just told me. “But what does it mean . . .?” I looked up at him, spluttering the words out. “I mean, I know what it means ... I just don’t know what he means by it, by approaching us.”
Tom rested his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. There was a look of deep concern in his eyes and he was watching me carefully for my reactions. Oh, how I loved this man; when he had said he had something “a bit heavy” to talk to me about, I thought the worst was about to happen, that he was going to say there was another woman, that he was leaving me. The last thing I expected was for him to reveal this, Richard’s secret. Richard’s darkest secret.
I had actually known Richard longer than I had Tom. He had been working in the international trade department when I was transferred to the London branch, about six years earlier. Admittedly he was the dark horse in the department, and the office gossips plagued him with questions about his private life, all of which he managed to avoid and dismiss without being in the least bit offensive.
To me Richard was just a shy, reclusive guy; a small man, and very attractive in an understated way – nicely packaged, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. I just assumed he was comfortable around me because I was the only one who didn’t quiz him about his private life. That was also how I had learned more about him than the tenacious office gossips. He lived alone in an apartment overlooking the Thames and enjoyed a number of extreme sports, like acute and prolonged bouts of mountain biking, martial arts and kick boxing. I supposed that was what gave him his good packaging – the guy worked out, you know – but none of that seemed to go with his shy, understated image. Neither did this fetishistic sexuality that I had just learned about, but then . . . maybe it did kind of make sense?
I had kept the personal information he gave me to myself, which is why he liked me, I assumed; he appreciated that kind of respect. Now that I reflected on it, I guessed he had been even friendlier to me since Tom had arrived on the work scene and moved in with me two years ago; but shy single men often feel more comfortable around women who are attached. Little did I know he was observing Tom and me with this kind of proposal in mind. He wanted to be our sex slave, our gimp. My heart rate went up several notches and my body was hot, almost uncomfortably hot. I fanned myself with a magazine while trying to come to terms with the conundrum, and the rather extreme effect it was having on me – I had to admit it the idea made me horny as hell.
“Suzie, I can see you are interested, my love.” Tom folded his arms. He was standing in front of me and nodded down at my breasts, where my nipples were swollen and crushed beneath the surface of my silk blouse. There was no hiding it. My sex was clenching, my body was on fire.
“Yes, I can’t deny it . . . the idea of it makes me hot, but you know ... I want
to be okay.” I eyed his long, lean body, the fall of his dark blond hair on his neck. I couldn’t bear to lose this man . . . hell, I could hardly get through a day without wanting us to meld our bodies together and fuck each other senseless.
“It won’t affect anything between us, it’s just an adventure.” He began to stroke my face, pushing back my hair where it was sticking to the damp heat of my neck. “He said he will be transferring soon, so there wouldn’t be any awkwardness at work, it would just be a one-off.” My, he had thought of everything, and he’d obviously been planning the whole thing for quite a while, too. Tom lifted my chin with one finger, his thumb stroking gently over my lower lip. “He said it would be up to us, he said we could do what we wanted with him.” There was a dark, suggestive look in Tom’s eyes.
“I see ...” I mumbled, not sure if I did.
“One thing I’d like to see ...” His voice was hoarse. He ran a finger down the collar of my blouse and into my cleavage. He slipped one finger inside, pulling the blouse open, looking at the shadow between my breasts. His other hand lifted mine and led it to his groin, where his cock was already hard inside his jeans.
“What . . .?” I wanted to know. The blood was rushing in my ears; the magazine in my hand fell to the floor.
“I’d like to watch him going down on you.” His eyes were filled with lust. I groaned, my hips beginning to shift as I rocked back and forth on the hard kitchen stool, my sex hungry for action. He leaned forward and kissed me, his tongue plunging into my mouth. My fingers fumbled with his fly buttons, and then I was bringing his heavy cock out and stroking it with my whole hand. He pushed me back, over the breakfast bar. He was going to fuck me, right there and then, and I was ready; sweet Jesus was I ready. I hoisted my skirt up around my hips. He dragged my knickers off and pushed my thighs apart with rough, demanding movements. He stroked my inflamed clit, growling when he saw the juices dribbling from my blushing slit. Then he fucked me while I perched on the kitchen stool, pivoting on its hard surface with everything on display.
“Get your tits out,” he whispered as he thrust his cock deep inside me, his body crouched over me. I pulled my blouse open, my hands shaking as they shoved my breasts together, kneading them and tweaking the nipples, sending vibrant shivers through my core. I was whimpering, jamming myself down on his thrusting cock as hard as I could. Tom watched with hungry eyes as my hands crushed my breasts. I suddenly remembered Richard blushing when I had caught him looking at me over his monitor, just the other day. Was he aroused then? Had his cock gotten hard as he thought about me and Tom? He had glanced away, furtively, his color high. Dear God, the man had been thinking about us doing this; maybe even thinking about doing this
us. He had told Tom his dark secret, and Tom was now rutting in me like a wild man. I was on fire. I whimpered, my hands suddenly clutching at Tom’s shoulders. I was about to come. I had never come so bloody fast in my entire life.
“You look very beautiful, Suzie,” Richard said. My fingers fidgeted with my neckline, nervously. “I always thought you looked like Audrey Hepburn with your hair up like that.” He smiled; he seemed quite calm now, and he was leading the situation even though he was going to be the slave. We were nervous, but then we were the novices; presumably he had done this many times before. I glanced at Tom. He had chatted happily about work while we made our way through several glasses of wine, until now – until Richard had moved the conversation on to a personal note. Now Tom had grown silent and watchful.
“Thank you,” I replied, swigging another mouthful of wine. Both men were staring at me; the sexual tension had risen dramatically. “It’s the little black dress,” I added, with a smile. That morning I had told myself that I wasn’t dressed any differently; I always wore stockings, garters and high heels to the office. The little black dress underneath my jacket was the new addition. It was very soft and clingy, and now that I had abandoned the jacket I felt good in it. Besides, what does one wear when one is about to take on a sex slave?
“You want to know what I’ve got in the briefcase, don’t you?” He’d seen me looking at his black leather briefcase when we left the office that evening, the three of us headed to Tom’s and my place for drinks. Yes, I had been curious. I nodded. “I like to wear a mask,” he said. “I’ve brought it with me and I’d like you to put it on for me.”
My sex twitched. The combination of power and deviance he had suggested in that simple comment hit my libido like a narcotic entering the bloodstream.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I replied, as nonchalantly as I could manage.
Richard stood up, taking off his immaculate suit jacket as he did so, and placing it over the arm of the sofa. He picked up the briefcase and carried it over to the breakfast bar, where he set it down, flicked the combination lock and opened it. Tom and I both watched with bated breath. Richard undid his tie, rolling it slowly and tucking it into a section in the top of the briefcase. Then he lifted something out of the case and turned back to us, leaving the briefcase sitting open on the breakfast bar. As he walked back to me, I stood up.