A Totally Bound Publication
Pain and Pleasure
ISBN #
978-0-85715-680-8
©Copyright Harlem Dae 2014
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright March 2014
Edited by Sarah Smeaton
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form,
whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of
the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound
Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs
and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator
of the artwork.
Published in 2014 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road,
Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This
story has a heat rating of Totally Taboo and a Sexometer of 3.
A Bit of Strange
PAIN AND PLEASURE
Harlem Dae
Book two in the A Bit of Strange serial
Shopping for pleasure can be a risky business, especially when you want a bit of pain thrown into your
cage.
Isabella can’t help but throw another fantasy Gabriel’s way. It’s risky, it’s kinky but it’s
something she just can’t get out of her head.
But will he go for it, or is it pushing his boundaries too far?
Luckily for Isabella the dominance that runs thick and vital in her stranger’s blood is heating
up to boiling point. Before she knows it, the most innocent of places becomes completely
thrilling in the middle of the night.
She’s caged, expertly tortured and brought to a place where only pleasure and pain exist. Her
head is dizzy, her heart beating only for him, but will she ever come down from the high?
More importantly, does she want to?
Dedication
To Dillon and Jose and the wonderful job they do!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Millets: Blacks Outdoor Retail Ltd.
Coke: The Coca-Cola Company
Burger King: Burger King Corporation
Volkswagen: Volkswagen Group
PAIN AND PLEASURE
6
Chapter One
I paced the living room floor. No, paced wasn’t the right word, stomped was better. I
stomped impatiently in high-heeled boots, black and so shiny they looked like liquid. They
were tight, too, as snug as a latex glove, and creaked in the silence when I moved. I would
have liked them to rise to my thighs, but just above the knee would have to do.
And, besides, I was only going to the supermarket.
The little brass clock on the mantel struck one a.m. and the single sound echoed around
in my head, increasing my irritation.
Damn it. Two hours to go.
I really should have taken my own advice and tried to get some sleep. It would have
passed the time. But how the hell could I go to bed? All day at work I’d been looking forward
to my next meeting with Gabriel. Thinking about the dark promises in his eyes and the sinful
suggestions his words held had kept me highly aroused.
Promises, yes, promises that I would bet a year’s salary he could deliver. And not just
deliver, but give to me with a hefty dose of expertise and experience.
Hell, this was a guy who carried an implement of BDSM sexual torture around in the
lining of his suit jacket. What else should I think? Admittedly, the misery stick was small,
easy to conceal, but my God it could pack a punch, and my arse still had the evidence to
prove it.
I swiped my hands over the back of the short black skirt I wore—yes I had a black
theme going on—and was relieved when spikes of pain darted through my buttocks.
The welts he’d delivered so skillfully to my bum on the train that morning during our
first stolen meeting were as raw as ever, not least because I’d squirmed on my seat most of
the day, enjoying the erotic memories they’d induced. I’d probably made them worse by
doing that, increasing the swelling and irritating them.
In fact, I’d wriggled so much my boss had asked me if I was okay. I’d blushed furiously,
knowing that the state of my makeup had only added to his concern. But he was an old man,
like a father figure, kind and with a greying mustache. If he knew his secretary had snuck
Harlem Dae
7
into a store cupboard on the train with a stranger on her way to work, been brought to a
pain-laced orgasm then fucked hard by a man who’d insisted she’d called him Sir, he’d no
doubt block off one of his coronary arteries in shock, or stroke out at the very least.
No, I couldn’t tell anyone about my liaison with Gabriel. Ours was a very unique
relationship.
I flicked on the TV, whizzed through the channels, jammed a hand on my hip and
tapped my foot, then tossed the remote aside. Nothing on—nothing that could hold my
interest anyway.
The kitchen beckoned, or, rather, a glass of wine did. I clacked to the fridge, yanked at
the door then studied the contents. I didn’t need to go to the supermarket in Bridgewater. I
had plenty of fresh veg and salad, some cooked chicken, organic yoghurts and a punnet of
cherries. There was a thick slice of quiche leftover from my dinner, and I cut myself a wedge,
figuring I would need the energy for later.
Quiche eaten and glass of merlot in my hand, I moved to the window. I parted the blind
and looked out. The rest of my small cul-de-sac was sleeping. The glow from a couple of
upstairs hall windows mixed in with the amber light of the street lamps. It was odd, this all-
night opening at the supermarkets. Was it really worth the shop’s while? Especially in a
quiet, commuter belt residential area like this where sleep was high on everyone’s list of
priorities before they joined the rat race the next morning.
What did I care?
The fact that the supermarket was open—open with skeleton staff—gave my fantasies
fodder. I’d been thinking about those big cages for weeks. Ones I’d seen being pushed
around the store full of stock. They looked so sinister if one imagined being imprisoned
within, like an animal or a showgirl, but not a showgirl with feathers in her hair and a sequin
bikini—no, a showgirl from my world. My black, sordid fantasy world where pain ruled,
exhibitionism scored points and Gabriel—my fantasy man had a name and a face now—
doled out delicious torture.
I could picture it—me in the cage, scantily clad in my black lacy best, my crotchless
knickers rudely showing off my plump cunt lips. I’d grip the sides, curling my fingers
around the metal, pressing my face up against the hard wire mesh. I’d be a prisoner, and
he’d be able to do what he wanted with me, tie me up, whip me, beat me, fuck me—oh yeah,
PAIN AND PLEASURE
8
fuck me hard as he delivered delicious sensations that had me high on endorphins, flying
with the painful stimuli that always went straight to my clit.
It was my preferred way to come, in pain. Oh, not stubbed toe pain or the misery of a
headache—I liked sensual pain. And Gabriel, it seemed, loved to dish it out.
We were a match made in heaven and I couldn’t wait for him to take me there, even
though to many it would look like he’d sent me to hell.
A shiver of longing went through me. My clit tingled and I squeezed my legs together.
For a brief moment I considered masturbating, shoving my fingers up through the gap in my
underwear and filling myself, perhaps rubbing against the kitchen counter at the same time,
applying pressure to my mound. But I soon scrubbed away the idea. The trouble with
enjoying painful rides to orgasm was that it was very hard to administer them to yourself. I’d
tried, of course I had, but I’d always ended up feeling like a failure and completely
unsatisfied. No, I would wait, wait until Gabriel could see to my needs and hope to fuck we
could find a quiet corner at the supermarket with one of those cages to play in.
Three a.m. couldn’t come soon enough.
* * * *
Fifteen minutes before our meeting, I drove the short distance to the supermarket. I
reckoned I would be okay after just one merlot, and besides, it was creepy walking out when
the streets were so deserted, the night so black and still. I really hadn’t fancied it.
After clicking my VW locked, I glanced around the car park. There were six vehicles
there, not including mine. I had no idea what Gabriel drove, but I hoped his was one of them
so we only had five staff to contend with. Sounded about right—one on tills, a security man
at the front door and a few stacking shelves or cleaning.
I tugged my leather jacket shut, dragged up the zip then shoved my keys into my
pocket. It was pretty damn cold, especially when not wearing much.
Luckily, as I stepped into Bestco a blast of hot air hit me and the automatic doors slid
shut, trapping the warmth inside.
An overweight security bloke sat at a small station that held a gray monitor. He glanced
up at me.
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9
“Hi,” I said, smiling.
His gaze dropped down my body. He nodded, once, then went back to reading a
paperback. I didn’t think he’d give me any cause for concern. I’d hazard a guess he only
moved from where he sat to go and grab pies from the canteen.
The lights were dazzling after being outside, full-on fluorescent. Gabriel had instructed
me to leave my mascara streaked after our morning fuck, said he wanted me looking like a
‘little slut’. I wasn’t into taking orders, but when he’d said I’d tapped into him pretty well
that had given me a good measure of him—oh yeah, I was efficient at that. He liked the slut
thing as much as he enjoyed being called Sir.
Well, I could do slut. I could be his slutty butterfly all night and all fucking day if that
was what he wanted.
There were two ladies on the tills, sitting next to each other, chatting. I couldn’t hear
what they were saying and they took no notice of me. I wondered if maybe there were more
customers in the shop and I wasn’t such an oddity. Two cashiers seemed excessive when no
one was paying for anything. Maybe they were just getting away with it, being paid for
gossiping.
Good for them if they were.
The magazine aisle called me first, and knowing I had a few minutes to spare I perused
the racks of glossy covers. The men’s one piqued my interest. I liked the words on the front,
the enticements, headlines to make men curious enough to pick up the goods. Was that really
what men wanted to read? Six pack in six days. What does her sleeping position tell you about what
she ‘really’ wants in bed? Protein diets are the new must-do. How dull. I was sure men really
wanted to read things like Get her to suck your cock the way a man would, because surely men
‘got’ exactly how to do it, and Drive her so wild with your box of toys she’ll still be screaming your
name when the sun comes up or Want anal? Teach her to love it.
I laughed a little at my own silly headlines. I was sure they’d sell more magazines,
though.
Passing farther into the shop, I came to the fruit and veg section. This was where we’d
said we’d meet. At three a.m.
PAIN AND PLEASURE
10
Fuck, I hoped he’d show. What if he didn’t? Here was me in my whorish get-up, out in
the middle of the night, and if he was a no-show, what the hell would I do? Buy some
groceries and go home, I supposed.
I trip-trapped to the salad section. Thought about what I’d said earlier to Gabriel about
bananas and cucumbers being like cocks.
I picked up a cucumber, one that had a cellophane wrapper on it, kind of like a condom,
tested its weight and its girth then passed it from one hand to the other.
Gabriel had a nice cock. Heavy and thick, long too, but not too long, just right. I liked
the fact that he was circumcised—that always appealed to me. Cocks looked pretty when
flaccid without that extra bit, but each to their own. I wondered if it hurt when…
“Excuse me, Miss.”
I spun at the sound of a deep, familiar voice.
Gabriel stood next to me, hands in the pockets of a navy jacket that bunched at his hips,
the sparkle of dew in his hair. His cheeks were flushed and the scent of night rushed off him.
I guessed he’d walked.
Had he needed a drink, more than one, before meeting me? Or did he live really near to
the supermarket?
“Yes?” I replied, tipping my head questioningly.
We had a deal—a deal to pretend we didn’t know each other.
Well, we didn’t know very much about each other. Not really. I didn’t have a clue what
his surname was, his age or what job he did. I knew other stuff, though, fun stuff.
“I was wondering,” he said, “since you’re holding one, if you know a good recipe for
cucumber.”
He set down the empty basket he was carrying and I realized I’d forgotten to pick one
up.
Oh well.
“Yes, actually I do.”
I half smiled as I took in the stubble on his chin and down his neck. It hadn’t been there
this morning—he’d been freshly shaved then. But I liked this just-got-out-of-bed look. It
matched his slightly roguish features—the bump in his nose, the heaviness of his eyebrows.
Harlem Dae
11
He wasn’t model handsome—more rough and ready in an expensive suit, a delicious
combination for a bad girl like me.
“Are you willing to share your recipe?” He picked up a cucumber of his own. Curled
his thumb and index finger around it, like he was stroking a cock, and gave a few lazy rubs
up and down it.
I swallowed tightly and a sudden thought of watching him do that to his cock blustered
into my mind. Damn, that would be so hot, to watch him wank. I hoped it would be on our
agenda. If not, there was another fantasy to keep me warm at night.
“Sure,” I said, “take one cucumber.” I paused and positioned my cucumber as if it were
a dick protruding from my groin. “And a pot of cream. Smother the cucumber in the cream,
add a little spice if that’s your thing, then let it marinate, slowly. To allow the flavors to soak
into the ripe, moist inside of the cucumber, let the cream coat it all over. Best way to do this is
by sliding it in and out of the cream…”
His face broke into a grin. “Just as well I like cream, then.” He bent his head to mine.
“Your cream. I could taste it on my fingers all fucking day. Kept me hard—hard for you.
Damn it, lose the cucumbers and let’s go and do this.”
PAIN AND PLEASURE
12
Chapter Two
I’d intended more of a stalk around the shop, a few, ‘Oh, please can you reach that tin
from the highest shelf for me?’, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t
complaining, though. If Gabriel had been hard for me all day, then I’d been wet for him. I’d
also realized that crotchless knickers were not the best thing to be wearing right now. My
thighs were gliding over each other as I walked, my arousal having made the insides damp.
“You know this place well?” he asked, touching my elbow and guiding me past the
tomatoes and toward the grapes and bananas.
“Only as a shopper, but I’ve been around the back once, when I got in a muddle trying
to get out of the car park. I know they have those big cage things stored in a separate section
of the warehouse once they’re empty or not in use. The huge back doors were wide open, it
was summer, and I could see right in.”
He huffed and glanced left and right, as though checking we weren’t being watched. I
hoped the security man was still absorbed in his book.
“You look like a whore,” he said into my ear.
“Yes.”
“A dirty whore out on the town, looking for work. Those boots, they’re slutty. Your
skirt, fuck, I can almost see your pussy.”
“That’s the idea, for you, so you can see my pussy.”
He turned to me. “I’m gonna do so much more than just look at it.”
A tremble of nerves went through me. It was the masterfulness of his voice. His
absolute determination to get what he wanted.
A member of staff suddenly appeared, pulling one of the cages that I adored so much.
My knees weakened a little and my breath stuttered. Gabriel tightened his hold on my
arm.
“Good evening,” the middle-aged man said then laughed. “Or morning.” He slid his
gaze over me, at the way Gabriel had a possessive grip on my arm.
“I suspect so,” Gabriel said. “We’re looking for…”
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“That way.” The man pointed to his left. “In the toiletry section. Second aisle about
halfway down.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.” Gabriel nodded and headed in the direction we’d been sent.
“What was he directing you to?” I asked, tottering beside him.
He smirked. “I’m guessing condoms.”
“Fuck, is it that obvious we want to screw each other senseless?”
He stopped then, sliding his hands around me until he cupped my sore backside. He
squeezed—hard—and I groaned.
“I think it is.”
He stared at me, his dark eyes just as I remembered them from when we’d been in the
train carriage. Penetrating. Piercing. I could come just from looking into them.
“Your arse,” he said. “Still sore?”
“Yes.” I paused, then added, “Sir.”
“You minxy whore. You called me that on purpose, where I can’t do anything but touch
you innocently. Where’s the bloody storeroom?”
“Over here.”
I pulled away from him, leading the way to a set of plastic swing doors I’d seen
workers breezing in and out of, or getting stuck with those cages, the wheels snagging on the
jambs. I glanced left and right, then pushed one of the doors open. The large area that
greeted me was bland—gray floor, gray walls, gray ceiling. The only breaks in color were the
glint of the stocked silver cages beneath the harsh strip lighting and the beige of the
cardboard boxes they held. I strode in, glancing back once to make sure Gabriel had
followed, then walked much deeper into the warehouse, all the time tiptoeing, making sure
my heels didn’t click on the floor.
It was still and quiet. No one appeared to be around and I could only hope the security
cameras hadn’t caught us going in or that any were in operation inside. The last thing I
wanted was our encounter caught on camera, a free porno for the workers to watch
tomorrow at lunchtime over their egg mayonnaise sandwiches. Or, God forbid, evidence if
they passed it to the police. Being the star of a film like that wasn’t something I would relish.
“This way,” I whispered. “To that far corner there.”
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14
We walked quickly, and I pushed through another set of plastic doors. Gabriel was so
close his every breath blew on my neck.
Finally we were in the space I’d seen from the outside, last summer. Behind a stack of
wooden pallets stood a row of empty cages. The light was dim in here, no fluorescents, the
air a little cooler—just as well, I was so damn hot.
Excitement churned within me. What was going to happen next was the seedy stuff of
my fantasies, or so I hoped. “See the cages behind?”
“I see them.”
Impatient to begin, I tugged his arm and walked toward them, thankful they were
stored somewhere secluded. If anyone came in, we’d be shielded by the towering pallets.
“This is decidedly dangerous,” Gabriel said, although he didn’t sound bothered.
“That’s the whole idea. A bit of danger. Gets the blood pumping. And your cock if I
have my way.”
“Oh, you’ll have your way all right—after I’ve had mine. I have a wickedly sinful idea
for this encounter. Been thinking about it all day—to the point I had to pretend I needed the
restroom during my meeting today. I had to…go and squeeze my cock.”
I flushed with pleasure that he’d been thinking about me like that when he should have
been concentrating on other things. That I’d dominated his mind was something to be proud
of, an accomplishment I’d hoped to achieve but hadn’t thought I would.
“Did you have to wank?” I asked, sliding between the end of a stack of pallets and the
wall, then finding myself in around a twelve by twelve space with three empty cages. I
turned to watch Gabriel coming in behind me. “Did you have to”—I tugged his tie by the
end, drawing him closer to me—“give yourself a good seeing to?”
“Almost,” he said, gripping my waist and yanking me toward him so our bodies were
flush. “But after coming so hard earlier on, and the thought of coming later, I held off.” He
licked my mouth, one solid, quick swipe across the seam, then turned his lips in on
themselves as though he wanted to lick those too, tasting me. “And knowing what was to
come was bloody torture, but now I’m here, so worth the pain.”
I smiled, trying to hide the fact that he was making me flustered. My heart was
pattering nineteen to the dozen, and if I wasn’t careful, my knees would give out. He’d had
such an effect on me I was hard pressed to think straight. I blinked a few times to clear my
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15
mind of images that had begun sweeping through it, of us on the train—his sordid little stick,
the drawing pin digging into my face, his cock in my cunt.
“So,” I said, needing to get this show on the road. “Where do we go from here, Sir?”
He swallowed, shifting his gaze from me to the cage farthest from us. It was tucked
right into the corner, trapped by brick walls and a pile of pallets. The door hung open, the
only one inviting me to go inside.
“Get in there,” he said, pointing to it. “And get undressed. Leave your boots on,
though. I want to see you in nothing but them.”
My stomach turned somersaults and I gladly obeyed his command. Thankfully the cage
had a floor that wasn’t like the rest of it—inch-wide squares—and was a flat piece of sturdy
plastic. Inside, I turned to face the door then began taking my clothes off. When I stood in
nothing but the boots and my panties, he widened his eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “Now then, they can stay on as well.” He darted forward and rudely
swiped one finger up my slit. “Crotchless. Yes, you’re such a filthy little slut.”
I could smell him—aftershave and the faint aroma of the outdoors. And myself. That
tangy, musky scent that would only get stronger as time wore on. Already I was damper
than I’d been upon seeing him again, my cunt drenched, my anticipation of what was to
come making it grow wetter by the second. I had what felt like butterflies fluttering around
in my chest, and if I didn’t know better I’d swear the edges of their wings were tickling me.
“Yes, I’m a filthy slut, and I want you to treat me as though I am one. A dirty, brazen
hussy who likes nothing more than a good fuck in public places. And you’re good at that,
fucking in public places. The idea of getting caught turns you on, doesn’t it?” I panted for a
second or two, the images my words had conjured sending me lightheaded. “Except in here
we’re not locked in, we’re not safe like we were on the train. Here, anyone could walk
through that gap there and find us. It gets to you, doesn’t it, Sir?”
“Fuck, yes. And you being in that cage, the one who’s standing there in nothing but a
pair of boots and a skimpy pair of knickers, would be the one who’s going to be looked at
first—and for longer. Imagine that security guard if he finds us. Think about the shock you’d
give him. And the hard-on. Yes, sub, you think about that while I get my toys ready.”
“I’m not your…”
PAIN AND PLEASURE
16
He shot me a look then turned to face away from me and ferreted about in his pocket. I
craned my neck to see what he was doing then stopped myself. Wasn’t the anticipation part
of the fun? Not knowing what he was going to produce? I didn’t care what it was so long as
it gave me pain—and lots of it. I craved the ache of bitter sensation, the rawness, the utter
severity of a streak of agony going through me as I built to orgasm.
God, I wanted him to hurry up, to swivel to face me and reveal what he’d brought with
him.
“Are you ready, sub?” he asked, keeping his back to me, holding his hands in front of
him, hiding what was within them.
“Yes, Sir. Are you?”
“Oh, I’m more than ready. I’ve had this on my mind for hours. All that’s left is to see
how you cope with what I plan to do.”
My stomach lurched at the same time my muscles there decided to spasm. I was high
on excitement, on pins and needles to get this thing started. My arms were by my sides, but if
he took any more time about it I’d end up massaging my tits and fingering myself. I needed
stimulation, my body was screaming for attention.
“Shut the door,” he said. “And secure it.”
I did as he’d asked, dropping down a small catch. The thrill that gave me, being locked
in but on show, like an animal, a possession, was out of this world.
And tonight I was his possession.
“Now then,” he said. “Move to the door and push yourself against it. Make sure your
nipples poke through those square holes. I want to see your flesh bulging through them, too,
small hills of skin that I can poke and hurt, just the way I think you like it.”
Oh, yes, he knew exactly what I was after, knew my fantasies just as well as I knew
them. I pressed my body to the door, my toes, my mound, my tits and face, glancing down to
make sure I was applying enough pressure. My nipples, distended and so rock hard they
ached, jutted proudly through two of the squares. I looked debased, as though this act alone
had violated some form of code where couples just didn’t do this kind of thing with one
another. Except in the world I longed to inhabit full-time they did—every day, every night
and every spare moment between.
“Close your eyes,” he said, voice sterner than I’d heard it before.
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I did, holding my breath, unable to stop a blast of visuals streaking across the insides of
my eyelids. I couldn’t latch on to any of them, couldn’t harness them and inspect what they
were, to tease myself with each image and revel in the feelings they produced. They raced by
too fast, as though they were there to entice me to chase them, knowing they were too swift,
too clever for me to catch them up.
The warmth of his breath touched me first, then the slight connection of his tongue
swiping across my mouth through the cage. I gasped, having been expecting pain and not
something so delicate, so arousing, albeit on the other end of the scale.
“You taste like cunt,” he said against my lips. “Salty. You’re hot, aren’t you—so hot,
almost feverish.”
I would have nodded if I hadn’t been so close to the door. “Yes, Sir.”
“And you’re about to get hotter.”
He pinched both of my nipples, twisting them violently. I gasped, thrilled at his sudden
attack on them.
“Does that hurt, sub?”
“Yes,” I said, no longer having any energy to dispute that I wasn’t his sub. I was just a
pain slut—oh yeah… And there it was, pain of the most delicious variety.
“Not as much as it will in a few seconds.” He licked my mouth again. “And this”—he
jabbed his fingers inside my slit while still twisting one of my nipples—“what does this feel
like?”
“Torture, Sir.”
“But I haven’t hurt you there. Yet.”
“I didn’t mean that kind of torture.” My words had come out rapid where I was
struggling to breathe—this was getting to me in a way I hadn’t dreamt possible.
“Tell me what you do mean.”
I raised my hands and gripped the door, sliding my fingers through the squares then
curling them downwards. The metal bit into my skin, making my bones hurt.
“I meant that it was torture because I want you to be more aggressive on my cunt, Sir. I
want to come already, and if you just…shove at it, I’ll go over the edge.”
“A bit of nipple play and you’re ready to go? My, little sub, you’re a firecracker. A
wanton, filthy firecracker.”
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If he kept up that kind of dirty talk I’d go off like one soon. He twisted my nipple the
other way at the same time as delving into my wet cunt.
“That’s as far as my fingers can go because of the cage,” he said. “So if you imagined
me ramming my fingers in and out of you while you’re in there, you’re going to be
disappointed. Still, you could always hurt yourself. While I watch and do…other things.”
I swallowed, my mouth watering. “Please, Sir. I’m aching. I need more than that—more
than what you’re doing to my nipple.”
He scissored his fingers between my labia, catching a slip of flesh between them. Then
pulled. “Like this? Do you like this kind of more?”
I sucked in a breath. “Yes, Sir. Yes, like that. Please do it again.”
He did, harder, and I bunched my eyes closed tighter, hissing out a long breath.
He took his fingers away from my pussy, let my nipple go, and I opened my mouth to
protest.
“And this,” he said.
A snarling bite of pain lanced through my nipple. Evil and so sinfully brilliant, it
flooded my system with alarm. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out, wanting
to open my eyes to see what he’d done.
“Don’t you dare look,” he said.
I panted as the pain seemed to bloom before it receded somewhat. My nipple throbbed
along with the pounding of my clit, and the pulse in my neck joined in. I was a mass of beats,
my body the instrument he was playing so well.
A menacing shard of hurt gnawed at my other nipple, and I groaned, long and low,
drowning in the beauty he was producing, that wonderful, such sought after agony I’d been
wanting. Something clanked against the door, and I remembered just in time to keep my eyes
closed.
“You can open them now, sub,” he said.
Slowly, I peeled them open, oddly wanting to prolong the anticipation of what I’d see
now he’d given me permission. I stared at the clamps he’d put on my nipples, vicious-
looking silver sparkles, teeth shark-like and I imagined just as sharp. A slim and elegant
chain joined the clamps, and it hung much like the letter U on the other side of the cage door,
the bottom curve as low as my navel.
PAIN AND PLEASURE
20
Chapter Three
He slid one finger beneath the chain loop then curled it. Gave a short, sharp little tug. I
groaned at the lash of pain that whipped from my nipples deep into each breast. He lifted the
chain—still holding it with that curled finger I wished was inside my cunt, the end of it
rubbing my G-spot—and held it mid-air.
He tugged again. Harder. And didn’t let the chain have any slack.
I stared down at my nipples. They were distended, pulled so taut the soft circles of
darkened skin around them were drawn through the squares. The pain went beyond
immense, beyond anything I’d experienced before, but rather than push into the cage even
more to lessen the wretchedness I was feeling, I reared back a bit to heighten it.
I looked up at him, challenging him to pull even harder.
He raised his eyebrows, as though questioning if I were serious.
“Do it, Sir,” I said.
He paused before he gave the chain another sturdy yank.
This time the pain was greater than anything I’d ever endured. If I thought I’d been
hurting before, I’d been wrong. It was like my nipples were blistered, as though fire raged
through them, a torture that made my knees buckle and my cunt get wetter.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “Oh, God…”
“That’s it,” he said. “You’re taking this very well.” He applied a bit more pressure.
“And that. Aren’t you such a good girl?”
“Yes,” I managed.
He stepped toward me, giving me a breather as the chain slackened.
Then he wrapped it around his fist a couple of times. I felt my nipples turn toward each
other, and I stared down at them, at how they were so out of shape they’d become
unrecognizable.
“Have you had enough, sub?” he asked, resting his forehead on the cage, trapping my
abused nipples between his chest and the door, giving them a fresh wave of misery.
“No, Sir. I want more.”
Harlem Dae
21
“Good, so you won’t mind me doing this.”
He fumbled lower down between us, then the touch of what must have been his
fingertips prodded at the top of my slit. He pushed them into my wet folds. And pinched my
clit. I was in no doubt that he was using a finger and his thumb now, such was the intensity
of his grip.
“No,” I said, gasping to control my breathing. “I don’t mind that one bit, Sir.”
“That’s all right then. So you won’t mind if I do it again, will you?”
Before I could answer, he tweaked my clit again and gave the chain another wrench. I
dropped my head back and gave in, having to push my body back into the cage to relieve
some of the pressure.
“Open the door,” he said.
Somehow, I managed it. He stepped away, letting the chain go, pulling his finger and
thumb back through the squares. The sensations in my nipples grew worse, not better,
flooding my system with the mad alert that my God, I was on fire.
“I think it’s time I joined you in there, don’t you?” he asked, pulling the door so the
chain was taut and my nipples once again distended.
I gasped and the sound mixed with a bang echoing toward us.
I froze, held my breath deep in my lungs.
“Shit,” he mouthed, glancing over his shoulder at the slim gap we’d squeezed through.
I was hot and cold, the temperatures combining on my skin in a confusing contrast. I
was also attached to the cage door he was holding open, the chain leading from my left
nipple, taut through the mesh, before clamping onto my right nipple. Not only was I caged, I
was also tethered.
Fuck it. Was someone really coming back here, to where the empty pallets and cages
were stored?
I could hear my pulse in my ears but nothing else. My pussy was humming, the
lingering discomfort of him having pinched my clit and stretched my lips still murmuring
sweetly to me.
Silence enveloped us. The shadows wrapped us up once more.
“It was nothing,” I said after what seemed a long, quiet minute. “And distant, too.
Perhaps a car door outside or something?”
PAIN AND PLEASURE
22
He nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” A slow smile spread on his face. “Damn, this is
getting you off, isn’t it? The thought of getting caught?”
“It adds to the urgency, adds to the need for you to get the hell on with it.” I pouted.
“Come on then. Get in.”
He released the door and took a step back. Raised his eyebrows and folded his arms.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on. Get the hell on with it.”
He tutted and shook his head. “Oh, dear, that’s really not very good behavior, is it?”
Frustration bloomed within me. I could tell he was going to make a point of this
obedience thing at exactly the wrong moment. I was gagging for it, my nipples, and the pain
in them, ruling my thoughts. I needed tension on that chain again. I needed my pussy
filling—properly, not just a swipe over my lips and a quick poke inside.
“Mmm,” he said, eyeing me from toes to tits. “I suppose I should get on with it, time
being of the essence and all, but just so we’re clear, there will come a day when I teach you
patience, teach you how to hold off an orgasm when you’re in this state for a full twenty-four
hours.”
‘In this state’—that’s what I was, in a state. The urge to masturbate was almost
overwhelming. “Please,” I begged. “Please, Sir.”
“A bit of begging will get you everywhere…tonight,” he said, suddenly stepping into
the cage with me. It rattled a little and shifted under his added weight.
He reached around me, pulled the door shut and flicked the catch.
His body heat was like a balm to my flesh, the feel of his clothing on my bare skin
almost more arousing than nakedness. The buttons on his jacket were sharp and cold on my
back, the material a little rough. The tight weave of his trousers on my sore arse, combined
with a solid bulge, made me groan and shut my eyes.
“Put your arms out, hold onto the door,” he said, guiding my hands to the metal
squares. “That’s it, now step back, until the chain is tight.”
I did as he’d asked. When my elbows were locked, the chain was at full stretch,
elongating my nipples so they were slender and shouting loudly to my nerves about their
abuse.
Harlem Dae
23
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed into my ear. “Perfect, just as I’d dreamed of seeing you. Fuck,
that’s what almost made me come at work, thinking of you like this. Caged, owned by my
chain, at my mercy. Fucking hell, Isabella, you’re so damn good at this, why do you deny it?”
“Deny what?” I panted.
“That you are a sub. Jesus, look at you. Could you be any more controlled, subservient,
compliant to my demands?”
“I just want you to fuck me,” I said, a sob bubbling up as I let my head hang low.
“Please, fuck me, hard, while my tits are like this, please.”
“Please what?” He ran his hands down my back, drifted them over my arse then up my
front, my stomach, my ribs, around to my shoulders. “Please, what?” He gave my right
buttock a stinging slap.
“Ah…” I jerked forwards then backwards. The slice of pain mixed with the darts of
agony my movements had created in my nipples.
“Say it,” he snarled. “Dear God, say it or I swear I will fucking walk away now. Leave
you here like this.”
He wouldn’t. Surely not? He had a hard-on that could rival a piece of timber and I
could practically smell the need coming from him.
“Say it. Say I’m your Master and you are my sub, that you will obey me, come only
when told to, perform whatever I desire of you in return for me giving you pleasure of the
extreme variety and protecting and caring for you.”
“Yes, whatever…ah, bloody hell!”
He’d coiled his hand into my hair, dragged my head up so I was looking at the ceiling
of the cage. “You should know that I am a fair Master,” he said hotly against my neck. “But I
will not finish this scene, in here, with you, unless you admit to what is buried deep within
you.”
“Sir…” I panted, each breath generating new shards of pain in my breasts. “I have
nothing buried within me.”
“I can see it as plain as day.” He kissed my ear noisily, then down my neck. “You’re a
pain slut, yes, but when you call me Sir, your pupils go wide from your excitement. You obey
orders like a professional when you forget to be subordinate, and my God…” He paused, ran
PAIN AND PLEASURE
24
his fingers down the crack of my arse and found my pussy. “Has anyone else ever got you
this wet without fucking you? Just teasing you a bit, ordering you around?”
“No, Sir, I don’t think so, Sir.”
He spread my moisture—he was right, I was sodden with need.
“It’s just a few words, that’s all I ask,” he said. “And those words will stay here, in this
cage, when we leave. But they need to be said, my lovely Isabella, so let them fall from your
lips. You’ll be surprised how right they feel.”
He ground his cock onto the cleft of my arse again. Cunning bastard. How could I risk
not getting that dick inside me? It was a no-brainer.
“Yes,” I said. “You’re right, you are my Master and I am your sub.” I paused, hardly
believing I was saying something I’d refused to entertain in the past. “And…”
“And you will obey me.” He slid into my pussy with two, maybe three fingers.
“And, oh, yes, I…I will obey you, and come only when you say…”
“Good girl. Nearly there.”
He caught my clit with his thumb, and I had to lock my knees to stay standing. It was as
though my nipples were attached to my pussy and could generate their own orgasm. Had I
been wired differently from other people? I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to complain, it
was bloody lovely.
“Stay with me,” he snapped. “What else?”
Think, brain, think. “Oh, yes, I will do whatever you desire and know that you will look
after me…please, Sir…”
“I suppose that will have to do for now.” He bit my neck—a sharp nip that I was sure
would leave teeth marks. “Though if you were my sub outside of this cage, you would be
whipped for having such a lack of conviction in your tone. I don’t like to not be believed,
especially when I say I will protect and care for you.”
My face was wet with tears. His words were registering, but I would take them out later
and sift through them. Right now I just needed him to fuck me until breathing was the only
other thing that mattered.
Suddenly it was there, his cock, nudging at my entrance.
“Don’t worry, I’m wearing,” he whispered. “Spread your legs a little more. In fact, put
your foot up on the side of the cage. That’s it, good girl.”
Harlem Dae
25
He gripped my hips. I was aware of him curling his pelvis under, getting ready for a
deep, determined plunge. I squeezed my eyes shut, kept my elbows fixed so my nipples were
ravaged by the clamps, and held my breath.
The few seconds he teased me were as torturous as the misery stick had been. But
finally, at last, he plunged in. It was a smooth ride that stretched me blissfully.
A cry escaped my lips.
“Shh.” He pressed his palm over my mouth. “Keep it quiet.”
Oh, what a request. The secure hold he had on me was abusing my nipples further. I
dreaded to think what inflamed state they’d be in tomorrow. Wearing a bra would be a
bittersweet reminder of this moment.
“Keep it quiet, but come when you want to. We haven’t got time for a lazy ride to
orgasm.”
He was clever with his hands. While he was holding my face with one, over my
mouth—a gesture that was feeling spine-tinglingly possessive—he pinched my clit with the
other. He grasped it the same way the clamps had a hold of my nipples.
I was folding in on myself, whether he’d given me permission or not. My climax was
there, building spectacularly, better than ever before, so it seemed.
He was fucking me, but not wildly, the cage couldn’t take it. His in-out movements
were slow, controlled, but good and deep. It was my clit, the pinch he had on it, that was
taking me there, so fast, rapidly… I held my breath and my whole body shook as the final
seconds toward release weakened my bones.
He held me up, gripped me to him, and I came. Freed all that tension, let the pain and
pleasure own me, seize me, take me where I needed to go.
My groan was muffled, so was his as he shot his climax into me. I was aware of his
shaft pulsing, my pussy contracting around it in synchrony.
We fitted together so well, our bodies like two pieces of a puzzle slotting in. Thank
goodness we’d been brave enough to see if our contours matched.
“Ah, sub, so good, you do that so good to me, yeah, keep hugging me with your
beautiful pussy,” he whispered against my neck.
His words made me glow, and I purposefully clenched my pussy around him.
PAIN AND PLEASURE
26
“Oh, Jesus.” His knees seemed to give a little and he held me all the tighter, pulling
those chains.
I moaned, dropped my head back and wished that the moment could last and last.
“You’re fucking awesome,” he said breathlessly, releasing my mouth. “And so damn
dangerous.”
“Yes, yes, I am. So are you…” I pulled in a deep breath and leaned forward, lessening
the grip on my nipples. Instantly the pain changed. It flooded me with heat, the sting of
sensation blurring my vision.
“You okay?” he asked, stilling.
“I think so.”
“I’m going to let go of your clit now. You might want to brace yourself.”
I nodded and curled my fingers tighter around the metal.
He moved his hand and his cock from my pussy.
I let my leg fall back to the floor as blistering heat lashed through my pelvis. “Ah, ah,
oh, Jesus,” I moaned.
“I’ve got you, I’m here.” He molded himself to my back, arms tight around my waist.
I gave in to the weakness in my legs and spine and allowed him to support me entirely.
The final tremors of my orgasm had been brought to life again, spasming through me with
the pain of him liberating my clit. I’d never known anything like it.
What Gabriel had given me was exquisite and unique on so many levels.
Harlem Dae
27
Chapter Four
Gabriel adjusted his trousers after zipping himself away. “This is going to hurt,” he
said. “Clamps coming off tend to sting a bit. But stings don’t seem to bother you.”
“Sting? It’ll more than sting, but like you said, it won’t bother me.”
With my cunt still pulsing, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d had another orgasm
when my nipples were freed. I was still coming down from the one I’d just had, the
sensations a low buzz now, but who knew? With that extra snap of pain…
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir.”
He raised his hands, taking hold of each clamp between fingers and thumbs. Swiftly, he
pressed, took them off my nipples, then let them go. They clanged against the cage, a tinny,
tinkling sound, and as I bit my lip to control the renewed agony, I looked down to see them
swinging on the chain. I was amazed at how something so small could create such pleasure.
My pussy throbbed with my need to have another orgasm.
“All right, sub?” he asked.
I stopped biting my lip. “Yes. Yes, I’m all right, Sir.”
“Good.”
He flattened his palms to my breasts and massaged them in slow circles, easing the
pain. I panted, the stimulation threatening to set me off again. If he massaged just a little
harder…
“My, you’re a greedy girl, just like I said.” He kissed the shell of my ear. “But I think
you’ve had enough. Any more and you’ll be wrung out. I know you love pain, but too much
of it in one session… No, I’ll not be giving you any more.”
I tipped my head back, resting it on him, wishing he’d pinch my nipples, give them a
wrenching twist so I could lose myself in pleasure again.
“You have no clue how sexy you look, do you?” he asked. “If you could see yourself
like I can…” He paused, then, “Isabella…”
PAIN AND PLEASURE
28
Him saying my name like that—no one had ever said it that way, breathy yet firm and
so full of meaning. Meaning I didn’t fully understand, but I hoped it was what I thought it
was. That we could maybe go somewhere, perhaps have a relationship. I’d found a man who
knew exactly what I wanted and how to give it to me. And his romantic gesture with the
paper flower—he wasn’t just a pain-giver. There were sides to him I really wanted to
discover, every facet, every slant, every hidden shadow he’d perhaps never been able to
show anyone before.
“My name,” I said, closing my eyes and relaxing, loving him kneading my breasts, just
being there, someone to take care of me. “You make it sound so sexy.”
“It is sexy, I’ve told you that before. And it suits you. Matches you perfectly.” He kissed
my neck. “Like you match me.”
Oh, God, he knew how to flick my switches.
“I want to take you home,” he said quietly.
“But I have my car, there’s no need.” I smiled, my lips moving slowly. I felt as though I
was dreaming, floating on a cloud that contained everything that was right in my world.
“And by the look of you when you arrived here, I’d say you walked, so it should be me
taking you home.”
“I didn’t mean that, Isabella.”
I frowned then caught on to what he’d really been saying. “Oh. Well, I…”
“What, you weren’t expecting me to want to see you in that way? In my home? In my
bed?”
“I thought… I just thought we were playing.” My heart tripped over itself. “That we’d
just got together for a bit of play.”
“My flower, didn’t that tell you anything?” He moved his hands from my breasts,
smoothed them down my belly to cup my mound. “I don’t just want this”—he pressed his
hands into me, jerked me back so he held me as close as he could get me—“I want to get to
know you. Wine you. Dine you. Everything.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say so remained quiet, my mind spinning with
possibilities. What he was offering was more than I’d expected, more than my fantasies had
contained. Yes, I’d hoped that meeting a stranger would turn into something more, but I’d
Harlem Dae
29
never quite allowed myself to skip off into the sunset with him while I’d daydreamed. The
idea had lingered, but to actually think about it to its conclusion? No, I’d never done that.
“Would that be something you’d want? Do you even like being wined and dined? I
know you said, when you saw my little picture on that petal, that you’d have said yes to that
invitation if I’d dropped the flower into your lap, but you could have just been being polite.”
He eased off on the pressure but still kept his hands on my pussy. “I drew those pictures
because, well, that’s what I’d like to happen. What I’d thought about happening. But if
you’re not into that, we could do other things.”
So he’d allowed his daydreams of me to go further. He’d wanted more right from the
start. That had to mean something, didn’t it? That maybe he was the kind of man who loved
relationships?
“Like what?” I wanted to know what he was prepared to do, how far he was prepared
to go if we got together. It would give me an idea of what he enjoyed too, and whether we’d
be compatible.
“I don’t know. Go for walks, go to the cinema. Sit on the back row munching popcorn—
among other things… Maybe, if you’re into that kind of thing, we could visit a museum. I
don’t know who you are, and I’d like to find out.”
I smiled wider. “I like it all. Meals out, although not all the time—I’m not high
maintenance—and the cinema, everything you said. I’ve already told you I get bored easily.”
He dipped a finger into my folds then circled my clit so lightly it was as though he was
barely making contact. “Yes, I worried when you told me that last time. That I wouldn’t be
able to keep you happy.”
I turned to face him, burying my face into the crook of his neck and wrapping my arms
around his waist. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t give it a try. You know, seeing each other
more regularly. Not just for sex. I’m willing if you are.”
“Fuck yes, I’m willing.”
Those words sent a tendril of warmth through me that spread to a full-blown hot flush.
Life had a strange and wonderful way of working out. I’d been alone, deep down wishing for
exactly this. I’d gone to catch my train, telling myself I’d indulge in a little fun and enjoy it
while it lasted, providing I could find someone to play with. I’d wanted to see my stranger
PAIN AND PLEASURE
30
again, but for things to have come to this so quickly? My head reeled with how swiftly this
had all happened.
He cupped my arse cheeks, and I moved my hands up, flattened my palms on his back,
settling my fingertips on the bottom of his shoulder blades. I had so much to discover with
him, the dips and rises of his body, the time to explore him fully instead of just the visuals
while he administered pain to me. I wanted to touch, to massage, to stroke, to…oh,
everything.
Something clanked in the main storage area, and I jumped, lifting my head and staring
up at him. My pulse thudded in my throat and my mouth went dry. A thrill zipped through
my body at the thought of getting caught like this, me in nothing but a pair of crotchless
knickers and long, sexy boots and standing in a cage.
He mouthed “Shh!” and I held my breath, as though if someone had come into our
secret hiding place they would have heard me breathing. Another sound, that of flapping—
the swing doors opening then closing?—and the shuffling of footsteps. Whoever it was
walked briskly for a few steps and began to drag something, perhaps a large box. The doors
flapped again and silence reigned.
I released my breath, my heartbeat thunderous, crashing around my body and leaving
me feeling weak. Resting my cheek against his chest again, I snuggled into him.
“We should leave,” Gabriel said, stroking my back and touching his chin on the top of
my head. “So, what do you say? Will you come home with me? I mean, take me home then
stay?”
I thought about what the time might be and how tired the morning would see me. I’d
have to get through a work day on little to no sleep.
“Do you have to go to work in a few hours?” I asked.
“Of course, but then so do you, don’t you?”
“Not if I’m ill I don’t. And my other fantasy—it involves daylight, a serious element of
being caught…”
He laughed quietly. “And this situation doesn’t? Christ, what on earth do you have
planned next? And I see where you’re going with this. Pulling a sickie, the pair of us ducking
off work to indulge in more play. You could get a man into trouble, you know.” He kissed
the top of my head. “Tell me this other fantasy.”
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31
I smiled again. “You might not be daring enough to go for this one.”
“You’ll never know unless you sound me out.” He laughed softly. “And if I’m bold
enough to fuck you in a supermarket cage at night… Go on, tell me.”
“We’d pretend we were strangers again—that’s a must. I’d see you in town. We’d have
eye contact and just know what was going to happen. There’s this alley—you know the one
between Millets and that phone shop? We’d go down there. No one else uses it much, not
that I’ve seen anyway, but there’s another little alley off it. Quite narrow and long and it
leads nowhere. It’s bricked off at the end. I want you to fuck me against that wall.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I know exactly where you mean. So let me get this straight.
You want to be fucked down an alley that’s full of rubbish, other people’s crap like empty
Coke cans and whatnot? In a moldy-looking place?”
“That’s exactly right.” I wanted seedy. I wanted to stand among discarded newspapers
and Burger King wrappers. I wanted…filthy pain.
“You’re something else,” he said. “But I love your way of thinking.”
I sighed out my relief that he did. “So we’ll go back to your place then? And I’ll have
nothing to wear except the clothes I have here. I’ll look like a tramp, which is exactly how it
should be, and you’ll wear your suit, won’t you? Your tie? I want you to bind my hands with
it. The red one, it has to be the red one.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“I do, Sir.” Just thinking about what would happen later had my clit swelling again.
“Will you get me off one more time here? Now?”
“No. Like I said, I won’t give you any more. Not tonight.”
I clamped my legs together to ward off the pleasure that was building between them.
Another quick orgasm wouldn’t hurt, but I wasn’t about to force him, cajole him into giving
me one. If he didn’t think I could handle it, well, there was plenty of time in the future to
show him that I could.
“You need to dress,” he said, letting me go then climbing out of the cage.
I stared at him through the open doorway as he stared back, and a connection sprang
up, strong and forceful, exactly how I wanted us to connect later in town. It was as though I
could read his thoughts and he mine.
PAIN AND PLEASURE
32
He looked away first, reaching into the cage, bending to collect my clothes. He handed
them to me one at a time, and I dressed, feeling slutty and dirty, in need of a long, hot
shower. Once I looked as presentable as I could, I stepped out of the cage and we crept back
the way we had come. In the store, everything was as it had been, the aisles deserted, the
stock on the shelves replenished. I wondered whether the employees who had seen us had
been speculating where we’d gotten to then I decided I didn’t care.
“You go and find something to buy,” Gabriel said. “And I’ll meet you outside.”
I nodded then walked away, conscious that I must have had that just-been-fucked look.
Again, I didn’t care.
I went over to the clothing area and browsed through the underwear, losing track of
time as I always did when deciding what to buy. I was drawn to a pair of lacy white
knickers. I was all for wearing the same clothes tomorrow, but the underwear had to be
clean.
At the till, the two women who’d been nattering earlier continued their conversation as
though I wasn’t there, one of them scanning my purchase.
“That’s one lucky lady,” the blonde one said. “What I wouldn’t give for my husband to
buy me those.”
I frowned, staring at the knickers. “What, these?” I asked.
“No, not these ones,” the brunette said. “Some bloke who was in here. Just served him.
Rugged-looking. Really—and I shouldn’t be saying this—sexy!”
I smiled, knowing she’d meant Gabriel. Oh, yes, he was sexy, but he was my sexy.
That brought me up short. I was already thinking of him as mine.
In too deep, too fast?
The brunette held her hand out for cash.
I didn’t have any.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered. “I’ve left my bag in the car. Could I just…?”
Blondie waved her hand. “Yep, it’s not like there’s a queue waiting, is it?”
They laughed uproariously at that, and I quickly walked off toward the main doors,
their chatter resuming behind me. Outside, a slap of wind barged at me, and I zipped my
coat up then dug my keys out of my pocket. I reached my car, looking around for Gabriel,
Harlem Dae
33
but like at the train station, he wasn’t there. I frowned, pressed the key fob, the resulting blip-
blip loud in the quiet night, then reached inside for my bag.
Something white caught my attention, to my right, on the windscreen. I turned to see
what it was. A pair of lacy knickers had been secured beneath the wiper—the exact pair I’d
been about to buy.
“Do you like them?” Gabriel asked.
I stood upright then turned around to find him standing behind me, the faint light from
a Victorian street lamp taking him from outright silhouette to gray. His smile was barely
visible in the darkness, but it was gentle, much as I imagined his eyes would be if I could see
them clearly.
“I saw you choosing,” he said. “And you kept going back to those ones, putting the
others on the hanger again.”
I swallowed the lump that had suddenly landed in my throat. “That’s… They’re
lovely.”
He went to the front of the car, raised the wiper then lifted the knickers off, holding
them up. “You’ll look beautiful in these. And I’ll have much pleasure ripping them off.” He
stepped around my open door and tugged me toward him, tossing the underwear into the
car. Kissed me soundly. “But for now, Isabella, you’re going to take me home, and we’re
going to have a nice long shower—shared, of course—then fall asleep, into dreams of dirty
alleys and fucks against walls.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
A Bit of Strange: Beauty and Pain
Harlem Dae
Excerpt
Chapter One
Every morning was the same routine, except for weekends, when I didn’t have to get
up at stupid o’clock to catch a train to work. Monday to Friday saw me wishing I could do
something different—so different that if my colleagues or friends heard about it they’d
possibly think I’d gone insane. I wanted…I wanted a man, plain and simple. A stranger who
wouldn’t see me as a brazen tart if I approached him in public and made it clear that I
wanted to have sex with him. A stranger who’d desperately want to see me again after our
first fuck, beg me to meet him at the same time the next day. Until we were together again I
would become his everything, dominate his thoughts, hold his desires harnessed.
Did such a man exist?
Did I have the courage to go and find out?
Had I already met him without knowing?
These were questions that spun web-like in my mind. But I wanted clarity. I wanted
answers, so today I was going to pay a bit more attention to what I wore and see if that kick-
started my luck.
I needed something alluring, a red skirt a little shorter than I’d usually wear to the
office, a flash of stocking lace visible, perhaps even the suspender clips. A black chemise,
with lace on that, too, just above my breasts, the kind that would make a man wonder if I had
a bra on underneath. I slipped on black stilettos then turned to look at my calves to make
sure my stocking seams were straight.
Perfect.
I secured my hair on my crown in a loose bun with tendrils hanging around my face. I
thought of the coming train journey and how, even though it was winter, the bright sun, as it
streaked through the window, would highlight the blonde. My makeup didn’t take long. I
went for the understated look—a thin covering of foundation, light brown dusting on my
eyelids, one sweep of the mascara brush per set of lashes and a faint tinge of red on my lips.
Downstairs in the kitchen I poured a coffee. With my backside pressing against a
cupboard, I sipped my drink and thought about the scenarios I’d envisaged so many times
before. Life rarely reflected my fantasies these days, but nevertheless I looked forward to
seeing just what would happen when I approached the man I’d been ogling for the past two
months.
Could he be the man of my sordid dreams?
Oh, he was very different physically from my last lover, Ian, who had been a dab hand
with the tools of the trade, but sadly his roving eye had meant he hadn’t been a keeper.
This bloke, though, I didn’t care if he was a keeper or not. He was a stranger and that
was the way my fantasies had headed of late. A little dangerous maybe, but hey, I could
never be accused of having boring daydreams. They always hung on the edge of extreme—it
was my favorite place to be.
He didn’t wear a wedding ring, this new man, but that didn’t mean anything these
days, did it? He traveled alone, boarding and getting off at the same places I did every
morning. He’d glanced at me a few times, but if I’d ever caught him staring it hadn’t
appeared to bother him. He’d stared harder, if anything, until I’d been the one to look away.
Today I wouldn’t.
I glanced at the time, startled to see it was bordering on seven thirty. I tipped my
remaining coffee into the sink, shrugged on my long black winter coat, slung the handle of
my bag over my shoulder then left the house.
October was a strange month, all frost with a mean bite, the wind sometimes so fierce it
stung my face. Thankfully the pavements weren’t slippery this morning, so my choice of
shoes hadn’t been a bad idea. I got into my car, a trusty red VW Beetle I’d had for years, and
peeled away from the curb, destination the train station. On the way there, I entertained
myself with thoughts of the man and how he was in for the surprise of his life today—
providing he was single and everything went to plan. Perhaps he was driving to the station,
too, an Audi or a convertible of some sort his vehicle of choice. Black, yes, it would be black,
new, to match his crisp suits, and he’d drive like the wind so he didn’t miss the train.
So he didn’t miss seeing me.
That was a nice thought, him feeling the same about me as I did about him. He’d given
no indication that he wanted to fuck me, his glances more along the lines of eyeing the goods
but maybe not wanting to eat them. But, God, how I wanted him to eat me.
I pulled into the station car park and got out to surreptitiously look around for black
Audis and convertibles. There weren’t any, of course there weren’t, but it was fun all the
same. After making sure my parking permit was showing on the dashboard, I secured my
car and walked toward the payment windows. There were small queues, perhaps three or
four people in each, and I tagged onto the end of one and stared around some more.
He wasn’t in any of them.
A swift gust of wind slapped one side of my head, sending loose strands of my hair
whipping across my face. I reached up to shift them, momentarily blinded as I fought to tuck
them behind my ear.
“Here, let me do that?” a man asked.
I turned to find him standing behind me. All six feet of him towered there, and he
looked down with a quirk to his lips and his dark eyebrows raised in question. I blinked to
cover my shock, making sure I didn’t let my mouth hang open. I struggled to find anything
remotely sexy to say—after all, hadn’t his offer been a sexy one? Intimate? People didn’t ask
if they could touch your hair if they didn’t know you, did they?
But he does know me. Sort of.
My stomach churned with the kind of excitement all my dreams coming true at once
brought. I swallowed, hoping the nerves I suddenly felt weren’t displayed on my face.
He was so bloody beautiful. Eyes darker than the most taboo sin, the stubble on his chin
just as dark. His lips were a color between red and pink, not scarlet or rose or anything I
could put a name to. He appeared to have broken his nose at some point, although it wasn’t
so skewed as to make it obvious, and with a rigid jaw and a look to him that spoke of a man
who could stand up for himself if he had the need, I thought he might be a boxer.
“Or would that be considered too forward?” he asked. “You know, me taking that
hair…” He held up one hand, finger and thumb poised as though he itched to sweep the hair
away.
“No, no,” I managed. “You can take it if you want.”
Take it in your hand and wrap it around your fist, tug it hard, make my head do what I’ve
fantasized it would do.
He reached out and brushed my face free of stray strands with his fingertips, his skin
dusting over mine and sending my knees weak.
“That’s better, I can see you now,” he said, hand lingering mid-air.
His voice was one that could send a girl insane with want, need, and every other sexual
emotion all at once. Like the darkness of his eyes, it reeled me in, coaxing me to respond.
“Thank you,” I said, annoyed that nothing else had come out. I wanted to say so many
things, had rehearsed them time and time again until I knew every scenario off by heart. But
this scenario—no, I hadn’t dreamt of this one.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he said, lowering his hand back to his
side. “You know, touch you in some way. But you don’t do that kind of thing, do you? At
least I don’t.”
“But you just did,” I said, sounding out of breath. And I was. It was proving difficult to
draw air in.
“I did, and I don’t regret it.”
“Neither do I.”
Someone coughed. “Next!”
I swiveled to see the ticket line had diminished and a large gap yawned between me
and the payment window. I wished I could say ‘fuck the damn ticket, I’m just talking to this
man here’, but I dutifully approached the window and apologized. I paid, received my stub
then turned to find the man had gone. I glanced about, hoping to spot him in another queue,
but he wasn’t in any of them. Deflated, yet eager to seek him out again, I rushed to the
platform around the corner of the ticket kiosk and looked from left to right.
There he was, sitting in his usual place on a red metal seat, all long limbed and broad
shouldered, his legs sticking out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He seemed at ease as
he held a newspaper and read it, although I liked to think that he wasn’t taking any of the
words in. That he was thinking about me instead.
Usually I remained standing on the platform, wanting to beat the mad dash when the
train arrived and avoid being crushed. To get my pick of seating near a window so I could
gaze out and daydream. Today, though, today was going to be different.
I walked toward his bench. A gust of wind sallied along, whistling through a wire mesh
refuse bin, jostling its contents before attacking his newspaper. He battled to keep it from
crumpling or being blown out of his hands and must have decided he was going to lose the
fight. He folded it as best he could then tucked it beneath one arm. I imagined him thinking
that he’d read it when he was settled on the train.
I had plans to distract him from reading.
I sat beside him then hooked one leg over the other, letting my coat fall open so he
could get a good eyeful of my exposed thigh, knee and shin. A sneaky look down confirmed
that the lace of my stocking top could be seen if only he’d lean across a bit and take a peek. I
placed my hands in my lap, entwining my fingers, and studied him.
He was staring at me—not at my legs as I’d hoped, but my face.
“Well, hello again,” he said. “I thought you’d have been standing over there like you
always do.”
“Why would I, now that I have someone to talk to?”
That had been the best I could come out with at this point. My lungs were tight, as
though being this close to him had rendered them useless, and I willed myself to breathe
normally, to appear a woman in control of her emotions. And perhaps I did appear that way.
He wasn’t to know that my heart was hammering wildly and my mouth had gone dry, that
I’d never done anything like this before in my life and hadn’t ever thought I would. But there
I was, sitting as close to him as I dared, our thighs almost touching, the tops of our arms an
inch or so apart. If I tilted my head I could rest my cheek there, feel the softness of his suit. It
would be cold, what with the weather, but would soon warm up.
“Fair point,” he said. “So, I’m going to be forward again. Is there any reason why you’re
dressed so…differently today?”
I didn’t answer on purpose. I was too busy gazing into his eyes and waiting to hear
what he’d say next.
“You’re usually in trouser suits, aren’t you, or at least a longer skirt,” he said.
So he had been watching me, then.
“Today,” I said, “I wanted to put something on that made me feel sexy.” I could hardly
believe I’d repeated one of the lines out of my fantasies, but I had and it hadn’t been so bad at
all. I decided to push on. “You know, to see if it would make you take notice.” I’d laid my
interest in him bare and could only hope he didn’t think me too shameless, too bold.
“I’d notice you whatever you had on.”
If someone else had said that I might have thought it was a standard pick-up line,
designed to make me fall at his feet. I’d already fallen a long time ago, but those words, as
they’d spilled from his lips, had sounded…right. Sincere.
“Oh really?” I asked, surprised.
“Really. There’s something about you. You stand out from everyone else. As though
you think things that would shock.” He paused and smiled. “Did you know that when
you’re on the train and you’re looking out of the window, you bite your bottom lip
sometimes? I’ve often wondered what makes you do that, what you’re thinking, and I always
come up with something risqué.”
Now that wasn’t a word I expected a man to use, but then he did have a refined air
about him, as though he might well have swallowed a dictionary between rounds in the ring,
and when speaking he dipped into the vast well of vocabulary and selected ones that stood
out.
“Risqué,” I said, loving the way it had rolled off my tongue. “Perhaps I do think things
like that.”
“Do you?” He lifted his eyebrows then cocked his head, urging me to go on.
“I do.”
“Ah, I thought so. And would you care to share those things with a fellow traveler? It’ll
give me something to think about other than my own risqué thoughts.”
“You’ve never given me the impression you think naughty things,” I said, a little
shocked at his revelation but trying to hide it.
“You’d be surprised. Even more surprised if I admitted they were all about you.”
Again, I could have thought he was stringing me along, saying things that he thought I
wanted to hear, but he stared at me with such a genuinely serious expression that I could do
nothing but believe he’d meant everything he’d said.
I mulled over what he’d asked. “I could share them,” I said, offering him what I hoped
was a sexy smile. “But I’d much rather show you.”
About the Author
Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae have been writing together for several years now on top
of their individual author projects. Their joint name is now Harlem Dae. They enjoy
being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and Totally Bound as
well as self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon.
Both live in the UK and gain great satisfaction from bouncing characters and their
raunchy antics back and forth, growing, nurturing and stoking plot lines until they
steam off the page and push boundaries. They consider themselves to be solitary,
whacky, spontaneous and desirous for many things including perfection and are
frequently caught sending messages back and forth referring to each other as Rodney
and Delboy.
Email:
Lily and Natalie love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information,
website and author biography at
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