Surrender's Dance Read online

  Praise for the writing of Vonna Harper

  Scarlet Cavern

  If you’re interested in giving BDSM stories a try, I’d highly recommend starting with Vonna Harper’s Scarlet Cavern. For those who already enjoy a good BDSM story, Scarlet Cavern is a story you don’t want to miss

  -- Susan Biliter, eCataRomance Reviews

  [T]his is one incredible read and not to be missed, especially if you want to dabble in the BDS&M erotica venue.

  -- Sarah Silversmith, The Romance Readers Connection

  The sex is fabulous, inventive and orgasmic. I highly recommend this book for the Gold Star Award because it has outstanding character development in all characters including the secondary characters, an interesting truer to life depiction of the BDSM philosophy, and outstanding romantic moments that will touch your heart and leave you breathless.

  -- Julie Esparza, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  If you enjoy BDSM tales, you will enjoy this book… Vonna Harper has written an emotionally satisfying, and complex tale.

  -- Nancy Riggins-Hume, The Road to Romance

  It is a very passionate narrative, heavily erotic, whether in Shana's or Ranger’s point of view. It demonstrates some of the most gripping elements of the power exchange that is the basis of relationships that have the dynamic of Domination and submission.

  -- Maitresse, Novelspot

  Scarlet Cavern is now available from Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  SURRENDER’S DANCE

  Vonna Harper

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable (extreme BDSM).

  DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Surrender’s Dance

  Vonna Harper

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © June 2005 by Vonna Harper

  Excerpt of Tempest copyright May 2005 by Louisa Trent

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-126-1

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Allie McKnight

  Cover Artist: Fabiano Fabris

  www.loose-id.com

  Chapter One

  “So, how does it feel to be canned?”

  Because she was the only one in her bedroom, Asia Drake didn’t expect a response. Instead, she lifted her glass of wine and toasted her image in the dresser mirror. The polished image of a successful professional woman saluted back.

  “What the hell are you smiling at?” Asia challenged. “Your audience is gone. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

  Nodding in acceptance and defeat, she put the glass on the dresser and removed her heels. Relief at being rid of the damnably uncomfortable things briefly distracted her. Straightening, she again faced herself. After a momentary appraisal, she shrugged and started unbuttoning her new teal jacket. The jacket had set her back a couple of hundred dollars but was a necessary part of how she projected herself to her employers at Maximize Enterprises.

  “Amend that. Soon-to-be ex-employers.”

  Her hand shook as she finished with the buttons and pulled off the garment. After dropping it on her bed, she picked up the wine again and took a hearty swallow. Then she acknowledged that she hadn’t been fired so much as been a casualty of what the company’s board members called outsourcing.

  “Big fucking deal. Bottom line, old girl, is that you’re out of a job. Services no longer required.”

  But I created the marketing department. My campaigns put the company on the map. Doesn’t that account for something?

  Apparently not.

  Deep-down weary of the whole thing and more than a little scared, she focused on removing the rest of her work clothes. By the time she’d hung up her jacket, silk shell, and slim white skirt, she’d polished off the wine and replenished her supply. Now she stood facing her underwear-clad form.

  “You ain’t thirty yet. And you ain’t that hard on the eyes.” Head cocked to the side, she cupped her breasts and lifted. “No sag -- at least not much. Tight ass, flat belly, runner’s legs.” Shifting direction, she ran her fingers over her pantyhose-clad thighs. “The package ain’t that bad. You won’t have any trouble selling it to another company.”

  Wait. Was she really thinking about using her physical assets to get herself a job? It had to be the wine talking. But ... hell.

  “What can I say? Sex sells. And I know how to make it work.”

  Ridding herself of the pantyhose without snagging them took concentration. Still, as she slid the sensual material over her skin, she couldn’t help but admit that being young, female, and attractive had gone a long way toward helping her achieve career success. Just because her current employer’s bottom line and priorities had robbed her of a job didn’t mean she’d soon be selling pencils on the street corner.

  “Hell, no. If worse comes to worst, I’ll sell myself. And no street corners either.” She slipped a hand under her bikini panties. “This package deserves to be a kept woman.”

  Kept? Hmm. Now there was a possibility, a damn intriguing one.

  All right, so what was the life of a kept woman like? Sure there was the sex part, always available, willing, appreciative, grateful, a happy little energized bunny. But the rest of the time would be hers, as would a generous allowance and credit cards she wouldn’t get the bills for, right?

  Yeah, but other than spending money on herself and spreading her legs at the snap of a finger, how would she fill her life?

  A joyless laugh ended in a near sob, startling her. She hadn’t cried for so long she’d all but forgotten what it sounded like. And although the question of how long she’d be able to afford the payments on her luxury condo had to be faced, she wasn’t about to mire in self pity. Feeling sorry for herself, like giving into heartbreak -- something that had nearly destroyed her twice -- never changed reality.

  She switched off the overhead light and reached for the nightstand lamp but didn’t turn it on. Instead, she lit a trio of candles and let the scent of vanilla a
nd spices waft over her.

  In a precious few days, she wouldn’t be waking to an alarm clock before the crack of dawn so she could get in some exercise before going to the office. As long as she was unemployed, gaining a few pounds wouldn’t be that big a deal. She wouldn’t need her power suits, would have no reason to choose between her twenty-some pairs of heels. Would no longer spend too many evenings hunched over her briefcase. Instead she’d, what? Have a pleasure-fest? Come until she couldn’t come anymore?

  Wine in hand, she opened her nightstand drawer and contemplated her sex toy collection. As she recalled, the pearlized lavender vibrator had fresh batteries. She couldn’t say it was her favorite. It was just one of the precious few that still worked. Maybe that’s what she’d do with some of her spare time. Replenish her supply. And prowl the Internet for more sites specializing in sensual reading and viewing material.

  “Not just sensual, old girl.” She reached under the toys for the folder she hoped to hell no one ever saw and placed it on the bed. After another swallow of wine, she opened the folder and began spreading out the photographs she’d downloaded. In the uncertain light, some were hard to make out, but she’d seen them so many times that she went by memory.

  Every one portrayed naked or nearly naked women in various stages of bondage, ranging from rope spider webs circling their lush bodies to metal restraints that allowed only minimal movement. For the most part, the men responsible were photographed in shadow, which left a lot to her imagination. Too much. And unfortunately, she’d never been able to come up with an image of the perfect Dom. Big and strong, of course. Sure of himself. Dark and dangerous, but not over the top in that department.

  Sighing, Asia put down her glass, removed her bra, and returned to her drawer. Selecting a pair of gold nipple clamps, she ran the metal over her breasts. As she did, she felt her pussy loosen and soften. The familiar, safe fantasy took hold. It would work. It always did.

  In her mind she stood naked and exposed on an auction block. Because a bright light was directed on her, she couldn’t see the audience, but she could sense their presence. Powerful men had come to bid on her. The details of how she’d come to this place were always vague. What she’d been before she’d become a sex slave didn’t matter. Only the chains securing her arms over her head did. Only the large, elaborate clamp the auctioneer was placing on her nipple did.

  Panting, she steadied her right breast as she settled a clip over her hard nub. Sensation raced through her from breast to crotch. She closed her eyes and imagined knowing eyes raking her flesh and deep, approving voices as the auctioneer demonstrated how much nipple play turned her on by pulling on the clamp. Then he swept his hand over her pussy and held his glistening fingers up to the light.

  “The current offering comes to us from a flesh trafficker who prefers to remain anonymous,” the auctioneer in her mind announced. “She’s well-trained in the art of pleasing a man and is truly submissive. See how easily she accepts everything I do to her.”

  Although Asia attached the second clamp, in her mind, she stood still and heated while the man in charge of her sale did the deed.

  “However, because she was born free,” the auctioneer continued, “she still has spirit, which will provide her new owner with endless entertainment and possibilities. She fights her nature. See how she can be made to struggle to try to free herself.”

  Arms reaching for the ceiling now, Asia twisted from side to side. The gesture sent her captured breasts into motion. Moaning, she imagined her possible owners leaning forward so they could closely study her performance.

  “She is a slave to her sex.”

  Asia ran a hand under her panties. She didn’t stop until she’d reached her hot, wet flesh.

  “See how quickly she becomes excited. Although she fights herself, she orgasms easily and hates being denied. Hunger and frustration make her docile and compliant and eager to please. Use her instinct and what she learned at the hands of the trafficker to your advantage, gentlemen. Now, who wishes to start the bidding?”

  Trembling, Asia slipped her wet fingers into her mouth and sucked.

  A sex slave. My existence revolving around my pussy.

  Fantasy pulled her in even deeper and took her back in time to when she’d been captured by the slaver who’d prepared her for her life as a sexual object. He’d run her down, cornered her, lassoed, and hog-tied her before cutting off her clothes. Then he’d knelt beside her helpless body and forced a hard rubber dildo inside her.

  Imagining her fingers were the dildo, she rammed them home. Despite her desperate attempts, she couldn’t move as her captor continued his invasion. She begged and pleaded until he silenced her by securing a large ball gag in her mouth. The dildo remained buried in her pussy.

  He gripped the large, firm rod again, sliding it rapidly in and out of her vagina. The pace quickened, ignited hidden flesh, insisted on surrender and subservience. “That’s it, slut! Rock and roll. Let’s hear you whimper.”

  She did, the helpless cries muffled by the ball that forced her mouth to remain open.

  The dildo continued to work her. Tireless, relentless, frenzied now, it powered its way not just into her cave but throughout her. Her mind seized and froze. No longer distracted by rational thought, she rode the invasion.

  “Scream, slut. Scream!”

  “Ahhh!”

  “Beg for it.”

  Please, please!

  “You love this, don’t you? Say it!”

  Please, please, let me come!

  “What will you do for me?”

  Anything.

  “I can’t hear you, bitch. If I let you explode, what will you do for me?”

  “Any-thing,” she whimpered around the gag.

  Her captor drove the artificial invader home, impaled her on it, demanded. Wave after wave of sensation ripped through her. And she screamed again into her gag.

  As her shudders weakened, Asia’s fingers slid out of her. Her hands hung at her sides, and she panted. One clamp had fallen off. The other still pinched.

  Silence enveloped her, and as she stumbled toward her bed, tears blurred her vision. There was no slaver, no auctioneer, no masterful owner. And despite the powerful and vital fantasy, she couldn’t imagine ever taking it beyond her lonely bedroom. So there never would be.

  Chapter Two

  At a little after six the next morning, Asia parked her leased Buick near the entrance to the county park with its miles of jogging trails. She got out, and after checking the laces on her athletic shoes, she stretched her leg muscles, then took off at an easy pace. The conditions of her generous severance package called for her continuing to work for the firm through the end of the month, but she had no meetings planned for today. She’d get to work when she got there. When she’d extinguished the hot frustration that had stalked her restless night.

  As she lengthened her stride and let the familiar pattern take over, she struggled to put her mind on what she should do -- since she hadn’t been bought by a new, wealthy owner, after all.

  She could start her own company. Her experience with Maximize would speak for itself as she made the rounds of corporations. But the idea of knocking on doors made her stomach knot; she wasn’t looking forward to having to switch gears from what she’d done for Maximize to dancing to other employers’ tunes.

  Although she risked getting sucked right back in by the tide of desire, she allowed her mind to return to last night. As climaxes went, that one had barely merited a blip, but it was better than nothing. Still, she always felt uneasy as she put away her bondage pictures -- not because she was a prude, but because sometimes her imagination and secret dreams surprised her. After all, what was a nice, professional woman doing getting off on dominance and submission?

  Well, hell, she’d been horny as hell last night and in need of some serious stress reduction. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date, let alone had a living, breathing fuck.

  Looking aro
und, she realized she’d already run a mile. Most mornings, she quit at three so she could get cleaned up and to work on time, but today she could go as long as she wanted. As long as she needed. And with everything that was happening ... she needed to run.

  Under her practical sports bra, her nipples still ached from the clamps. What was it the auctioneer of her imagination had said? That she was a perpetually horny piece of flesh who’d do anything for satisfaction? Well, not anything. But if necessity called for masturbation and a dose of playacting ... so be it.

  Thanks to the Internet’s exploitation of the kinkier aspects of sex, she’d had plenty of material to feed her BDSM fantasies. Unfortunately, reading fiction about the submissive lifestyle and looking at staged videos hadn’t told her much about what being dominated was really like. Fantasizing was one thing, reality probably quite another.

  Still, as long as she was pretending, what would she want in the way of a Master?

  He’d be big and strong, of course. Supremely confident and in control. That much she knew. What else? Well, naturally, a fine, firm ass, shoulders and arms made for carrying her. Deeply tanned with dark, dark eyes -- mandatory. He’d understand how weary she was of assuming responsibility for her life and body. And he’d know exactly how to wrench that responsibility from her and make it his own. She’d want and need nothing more than to please him. When she did, he’d reward her with his tireless, oversized cock and mind-scrambling climaxes.

  When she displeased him, he’d bring her back in line, much as a dog trainer turns a puppy into a well-behaved pet. The idea of being strung up to a post while he laid into her ass with a stinging but carefully-crafted lash made her wince. At the same time, she wondered if the sound, like the pain, might turn her on. And the discipline. Sometimes she got off imagining having to wear a metal collar only he had the key to. Of course he’d keep her naked unless they were out in public, and he’d chain her in the bedroom or maybe in a basement to make sure she stayed where he wanted her. Sometimes he’d plug both her holes with remote-controlled vibrators and secure them in place via a chastity belt. Even if he was off at work, he’d periodically remind her of his dominance via random jolts that kept her sexually on edge.