Slave Lessons: An Erotic Romance
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by Rod Harden
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance
Description: Shayla is a waitress nursing a broken heart. Her days are dreary and so are her nights. Until a masked stranger breaks into her apartment one night and forces her to take "slave lessons." What disturbs Shayla is that she enjoys these lessons, begins to awaken carnally and responds to the intruder as to no other man. Soon she begins to look forward to the intruder's return visits and the humiliating lessons he puts her through. Shayla even begins to suspect she may be falling in love. But Shayla doesn't dream that the masked intruder has a very special relationship with her. He is someone she knows. Someone who has a reason for the slave lessons he is giving her. But is his reason romance or revenge? Another great novel from the smoking hot keyboard of bestselling erotic novelist Rod Harden.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, 2006
eBookwise Release Date: April 2006
66 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [204 KB]
Reading time: 136-191 min.
CHAPTER 1. Lesson one
Carissa Rainer sighed as she looked out from the kitchen of the diner where she waited tables. It was almost quitting time and she was hoping to relax her last few minutes, even if it meant one less tip for the day. But the gentleman who had just entered grabbed a menu and headed straight for one of her tables.
She waited for him to get settled, and spent the moment studying him, as she did all the customers, especially the male customers. For an older guy, he wasn't too bad, she thought. Kind of cute, in fact. With his graying temples and neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard, he reminded her of her high school English teacher, the one she'd been madly in love with for an entire semester.
The stranger was certainly dressed well enough, too, in suit and tie, but that wasn't always a good indication of a big tipper, especially for someone so obviously out of place. What a man of means was doing in a cheap diner so late at night was none of her business, but she couldn't help wondering.
No matter, she knew her best bet for a big tip was to be perky and friendly. And so she would be. She took a deep breath and launched her five foot three inch frame into the dining room. She'd always wanted to be taller, like a model. And when she got moody she thought of herself as too plump, but her proportions were actually quite pleasing.
Walking briskly in her comfortable flats, she took long--for her--strides in her black cotton slacks. She was permitted to wear either a skirt or pants on the job, but usually opted for the latter. Her white blouse was form fitting, but not too tight, and showed off her chest to good effect, she thought.
As she took her place next to the table, she announced, "Hi, my name is Carissa, and I'll be your server tonight." She took care not to slouch, standing erect with her chest out, but not too obvious. Or so she hoped.
The man did not look up from the menu, though, and thus took no notice of either her posture or her bosom. Instead, he simply replied, "Indeed you shall, Carissa."
She waited a moment, then offered, "Can I get you an appetizer?"
This time, he took the bait. His head lifted toward her and he made eye contact for a fleeting moment, before sizing her up completely, from head to toe. When he was finished with his leisurely visual tour of her body, his gaze came to rest upon her chest, which he addressed as though speaking to her face. "No," he said. "Not right now."
Carissa felt a shiver run through her. Sure, she had wanted him to appreciate her figure, but the bold way he stared at her now was unnerving.
"Ready to order then?" she asked, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice.
"I'll just have the special."
"What kind of dressing would you like on your salad?"
"None," he said. His eyes rose to meet hers again. "I want it ... undressed, so to speak." His sly half-grin made her momentarily forget to breathe.
Finally, she managed a nod, and began a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
"And I'll just have water to drink," he called after her.
Back in the safety of the kitchen, Tia, one of the other waitresses, gave her a nudge. "Nice looking guy you got tonight, Cari. Kind of distinguished. I saw him eyeballing you."
"I know! God! It was actually kind of creepy for a second there."
"Oh, he's harmless enough. Probably. Old enough to be your father, of course. I bet he's the type who'll give you an extra big tip just for smiling and flaunting those boobs for him."
"Yeah, sure," agreed Carissa.
She adjusted her bra and sighed. It had been three years since she went from a "B" cup to a "D" cup overnight at the age of eighteen, and she still wasn't sure about the whole thing. Persuaded by her ex-fiancé that the implants would make him happy, she'd agreed, but now realized it was a decision made from naiveté. And when she'd learned he'd been fooling around on her even while she recovered from the operation, it hadn't helped her attitude toward her new breasts one bit.
But now she had to live with them, no matter how she felt, as she couldn't afford to have the procedure reversed. Her only consolation was that filling out her blouses more fully did seem to earn her bigger tips.
Such thoughts preoccupied her as she waited on the stranger. He finished his meal quickly without uttering another word to her, and then left without even waiting for the check. In fact, he left in such a rush, Carissa was afraid he'd stiffed them. But when she went to the table, she found a small stack of bills, enough to pay for the food, plus a whopping fifty percent tip!
Of course, she couldn't be sure if he'd been generous or merely forgot how much the meal cost. In any event, she didn't let on to the other girls. When Tia asked, she just shrugged, saying, "He was pretty generous, I guess," and left it at that.
As she thought about the odd gentleman, she tried picturing his dark piercing eyes, and realized what it was about them that still sent a chill down her spine. It was the certainty. He hadn't been undressing her with his eyes like so many other men did. He hadn't been merely imagining her standing naked before him. No, he knew exactly what her young body looked like. In fact, he knew everything there was to know about her. At least that's how it had seemed.
The shiver returned. But with the man safely gone, it quickly transformed itself from a feeling of foreboding into a more benign fluttering, a warm tingling that welled up from deep inside her. She couldn't help wondering what it would be like to "be with" a man like that.
At last, it was quitting time, one o'clock in the morning. She dashed out to the parking lot, getting her keys ready as she walked. The lot was so poorly lit, it always made her a little nervous this late at night, especially since a mugging had taken place there a few weeks before.
As she approached her car, she heard a noise in the bushes. It startled her and made her rush, which in turn made her fumble clumsily and miss the keyhole entirely. If only she could afford a new car, with one of those remote keys! Finally, the key slid in and she was in the driver's seat, safe.
She drove home along the mostly empty streets of town and pulled into her driveway. Her father would be asleep, or so she hoped. If he wasn't asleep, it would mean he'd been out drinking again, and was likely in a foul mood. But the fact that the lights were out was a good sign.
For the millionth time she couldn't help but think about missed opportunities, her failed engagement, and her abbreviated college career. What had happened to all her plans? How did she end up living alone with her alcoholic father and waiting tables on the late shift? What a crappy life for a bright young woman!
She was so intent on her sullen thoughts that she didn't hear the footsteps until it was too late. Just as she went to unlock the door to the house, a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind. One arm wrapped itself around her chest, pinning her own arms uselessly to her sides. Locked in place like a vise, the arm effortlessly lifted her bodily off the ground and swung her away from the door.
Her attacker's other hand clamped down firmly over her mouth, stifling her screams. The hand held a damp cloth against her face. It covered her mouth and nose. She knew instinctively the strange smelling liquid that permeated the cloth was meant to knock her out. She struggled and fought with all her strength, but with every desperate breath she inhaled more of the fumes. Soon she felt her consciousness slipping further and further away. The darkness of the night gradually became the darkness of oblivion.
There was no way to know how much time passed before she slowly came to. She wasn't even sure at first if the consciousness she felt was real or some kind of manifestation of the drug. Even though she thought she was awake again, she found she couldn't move. And she couldn't see anything either, despite her certainty that her eyes were wide open.
"You're awake now," came a male voice, close by.
"I said you're awake, now, Shayla."
"What's going on? I--I can't move. I can't see!"
"You're bound, Shayla. And blindfolded. But there's nothing wrong with you physically."