Bound for Revenge
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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: She Took All the B&D He Could Dish Out--and Asked for More! When three high profile kidnappings of trophy wives subjected to use as sex slaves plague the city, Michael, a successful P.I. goes deep into a part of the nightlife of the city that he never imagined existed, the world of BDSM. The victims released, unable or unwilling to say what happened cannot help him, but he finds an unlikely partner. The last victim's sister more than willing to do anything to bring about justice. That means going undercover into the world of bondage and domination, with Michael as the Master and her as the submissive slave. The hot sex they hav makes it more pleasure for Michael than work, his partner taking everything Michael can dish out in the way of dominance and punishment. For their strategy is to convince the kidnappers that they are players in the dark side of the nightlife. Are they convincing enough to get the captors to play into their trap? And are they really acting at all, or is each coming to enjoy bondage and submission in a way they never thought Can they stop the next kidnapping before another innocent victim has to go through the same humiliation?
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: October 2008
45 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [260 KB]
Reading time: 176-247 min.
Michael was sitting on the patio of his office overlooking the San Diego Bay and the Coronado Bridge, having his morning coffee. He had moved into his new office only weeks ago, finding a great bargain in the Gaslamp District of San Diego since the "credit crisis" had spread to the commercial development downtown. No matter what the rest of the economy was doing, Michael's business was booming. It seemed that even in bad times, people needed the help of a Private Investigator. And most of his clients were immune to the vulgarities of the everyday market having built sufficient wealth beyond what could be spent in a lifetime. Most of them were more interested in privacy. And seeking justice when the local police couldn't help them. Or wouldn't help them. That is where he came in and Michael was good at it. The best.
Kimberly brought him his coffee, no sugar, just a splash of half and half. She looked at him on the patio, almost wishing she hadn't taken the job. For Michael had strict rules about mixing work and pleasure, at least as far as with his employees. Besides her, he had ten other employees, though most worked outside the office. They were called on short notice to do things that most would think impossible but never illegal. For Michael was as ethical as he was handsome.
She stared at him, her panties growing wet with desire, the thin pullover clinging to his chiseled chest, his large arms almost popping out of the sleeves. She had watched him when he walked onto the patio, his pants clinging to his firm buttocks, his thick thighs and muscled calves rippling beneath his pants or at least Kimberly's imagination saw it that way. Though she had never seen him naked in person, he monopolized her dreams and she knew almost every inch of his body. He had a rugged face, always looking like it had been hours since he shaved, a five o'clock shadow prevalent. But it was his eyes that mesmerized all the women, their knees going weak when the dark blue eyes stared into their souls. It was almost as if he knew what was going on in their heads. And it was usually him that swam in their brains, Michael able to see their most lustful desires. Very few women failed to succumb to him when he wanted them. None ever regretted it.
And nothing drew a woman closer to a man than danger, a forbidden thrill running through them when they met a man that seemed all wrong for them. And when Michael packed a revolver hung around his side tucked beneath his arm, he was the most dangerous man around. And it drew women to him like a magnet. A former member of CIC, the Army Criminal Investigation Command, he suddenly retired from the military after twenty years, at the ripe age of 38. It took him about a year before his PI business took off, Michael being in the right town at the right time. It had been almost two years since that day.
Kimberly handed him the morning Union Tribune along with his coffee. "Do you need anything else, Michael?"
Michael looked up at her, smiling broadly. Kimberly was smart as well as attractive. She had an MBA from Pepperdine University, but she chose to be Michael's right-hand woman instead of another job more befitting her education and intelligence. He did pay well and if Kimberly worked out as he expected, within a year she would have the dream job, one of his investigators or researchers. They were paid well, never having to punch a clock but always on call with the shortest of notice. And to say the jobs were challenging would have been an understatement. For most, they would have laughed at his requests, calling them unreasonable and impossible. But his staff never failed to complete their assignments and under the most demanding and dangerous conditions. And they thrived on it, for all of them were adrenalin junkies. Just like Michael.
"Nothing, Kimberly. Slow Monday. So far. I have some paperwork to finish up on the Carlson job but that is about all. But something is coming our way. I can feel it in my bones. Something very challenging." He watched as Kimberly walked back into the office, the gentle sway of her ass in the tight skirt stirring him. He went back to his coffee, opening up the paper to the broad headlines splashed across the top.
Third Mysterious Disappearance
He began to read, remembering the last two. The first was about six months ago. The wife of a wealthy stockbroker went missing for two days. She was 25, her husband almost 60. A trophy wife the papers played up. There was an intense manhunt for two days and then suddenly it disappeared from the front page as if it never happened. Only if you looked on the last page of the paper could you find that she suddenly showed up at home, unable to explain her absence. The papers hinted at sexual scandal, but it died as quickly as it started. The wealthy didn't like publicity. The next was two months ago. Like the first, the young wife of a La Jolla businessman that made his money in grocery stores. He was even more powerful, his 30-year-old wife disappearing from the La Jolla Neiman Marcus store one afternoon in plain sight of hundreds of people. He put political pressure on the police, another intense manhunt, sightings reported almost every hour. The police checked out each as if that was the one, finding nothing. Then on the second day, he returned home to find her sound asleep in bed, no explanation given. Or at least reported in the newspapers. The story disappeared from the papers with barely a whimper.
He began to read the article, it suddenly hitting home. One of his clients Charles Barcelona's wife had gone missing. She was last seen at a popular downtown eatery with a group of her girlfriends. They all split up after dinner, taking their limousines home; his wife, Charlotte, telling the driver that she forgot something in the restaurant. She went back in, the driver growing nervous when she didn't return. He went in, the waiter remembering her coming back in but not leaving. The police were called, Mr. Barcelona first. They combed the Gaslamp with hundreds of officers last night, finally calling off the search after all the restaurants and bars closed. They were combing the back alleys and dumpsters this morning, but not a clue could be found.
"Kimberly, get me Charles Barcelona on the phone. Right away."
Kimberly dialed the number immediately, hearing the urgency in Michael's voice. "Michael Stetson for Mr. Barcelona." She waited for a minute before his voice came on the phone. "Just a moment, Sir."
Michael picked up the line. "Charles, I'm sorry about Charlotte. Anything I can do?" He spoke to Charles for over ten minutes, finding out that the police didn't have a lead, but Charles wanted to give them a chance before he involved Michael. Michael assured him that he would see what he could find out while keeping a discrete distance, having good connections with the San Diego detective unit. "I'll call you back in a couple of hours."
* * * *
Michael walked the few short blocks to the San Diego Police Headquarters on Broadway. It was easier to walk than try to find a parking spot. He was passed through the first set of locked doors with only a smile to get the lovely Sergeant to push the button. She knew him only too well. It was one of his fantasies, one night finding them together at a bar that the police officers frequented. It was in the alley, Michael pushing her up against the brick wall, hiking up the skirt of her uniform and shoving into her from behind, his cock so much harder at the thought of fucking a uniformed cop. It was as good in real life as it was in his fantasy. And she enjoyed it also by the way she got down to her knees and brought him back to life for a second round.
He knocked, entering the office without waiting for a response. "Morning, Sam." Detective Sam Elliott, head of the San Diego homicide division. They had met over a year ago, Michael working on a San Diego case. They got along fairly well, in spite of Michael's interference. Michael's clients had high political connections, so he didn't have much problem getting cooperation from the police.
"I expected you sooner, Michael." Sam motioned for him to sit down. He shoved a folder across the large mahogany desk. Michael didn't say a word while he read it. It didn't take long, the police didn't have a clue and like the last two, thousands of sightings were pouring in since last night and each one had to be checked out meticulously.
Michael looked up from the meager folder. It was almost like the last two. It was as though the police were just waiting for the two days to pass and she would show up again and everything would end as abruptly as it started. But this was different. Whoever did this messed with the wrong person. Charles Barcelona was taking this personally and he was very powerful. "Did the other two cases go on once the women showed up?"
"No, we were told to back off. From very high up." Sam had wanted to dig deeper. It just wasn't possible that the women knew nothing. They were hiding something. Maybe this one would be different.
"Maybe I can talk to them. Charles Barcelona knows both of the husbands."
"Anything to help would be appreciated, Michael. I want to stop this as much as you do. I get beat up bad by the Mayor and the press each time. And I'm getting sick of it." Sam was willing to take any help he could get. Maybe Michael could go where he was forbidden.
Michael shook hands with Sam. "I'll keep you informed, Sam." As he was walking out, he snuck up behind the Sergeant. He nuzzled her neck, though she wasn't startled when he did. "I think next time I need to put you under arrest. You do have handcuffs, don't you?"
She looked up at him, looking around to see if anyone was looking. Her pussy was wet, wishing she could take a break with Michael behind the building. "I can be real naughty."
"I'm sure you can," Michael said, kissing her neck, seeing the goose bumps appear instantly. As well as two perky nipples pushing out the front of her uniform. "I hate to leave you in such a state."
"You can make it up to me. Soon." She watched him as he walked out. She knew it would be Michael in her head when she masturbated tonight. Maybe she would try out the handcuffs on her ankles, spreading her legs to her bedposts. It would be good practice for when she saw Michael again.