Vegas

VEGAS

By

Dahlia West

A Note from the Writer

I want to thank all the people who contacted me to say they loved Tex. Don't worry, I won't name all of you. Your secret's safe with me, but I'm so glad you loved it! I wrote it for you. Well okay, I wrote it for
me
, technically, but I wrote it because I knew I wasn't alone. I knew if I existed, then you existed and we all needed more than we were getting.

Rest assured that I will be writing many, many more dark/BDSM erotica titles in the future. I know my upcoming projects are a little mainstream, but I haven't forgotten you. Just don't forget about me when I finally get around to releasing them!

To Sir, with Love

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1

“Alright, pet?”

Abby flexed her fingers. Her wrists were chained, arms over her head, naked, with her bare feet on the concrete floor. Alright was a relative term. Her heart was beating a staccato tattoo in her chest, she was nervous, but she was unharmed. Which was really what he was asking. She looked up at her boyfriend Mark and nodded. The ball gag in her mouth prevented her from giving more of an answer than that.

Mark was shirtless, his hard muscles rippling over his large frame. Abby was certain no man had ever looked this good, especially when he was being so bad. He stalked around behind her, the air between them practically crackled with electricity. When she was no longer able to see him, a crack of another kind tore through the air. The riding crop came down hard on her ass. Abby jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. The sting of the blow soon gave way to a spreading warmth and she closed her eyes. When she’d lived in Las Vegas, she’d been surrounded by hedonism, but never once been a part of it. If someone had told her before she moved to Rapid City, South Dakota, that she’d be the part-time pet of an ex-Army Ranger with a penchant for heavy spankings, she wouldn’t have believed it. But here she stood, in the garage where Mark worked during the day building custom bikes, trucks, and cars.

Except now Burnout was more of a dungeon of pleasure and pain, heavy on the pleasure part. Doing anything kinky outside the safe walls of the house they shared was always as nerve-wracking as it was exciting. Of course, Mark knew that. He’d lured her here by telling her that he’d left something in the office. The bastard. She’d give him a sassy look, if she could see him from where he was standing. It would earn her another stripe, a punishing one at that, but it might be worth it.

Right now was just the warm up, the steady swats of the crop stinging her ass and thighs as she struggled in the bindings. It was good, though. With Mark it always was. He seemed to want to remind her of that just then, and she felt the triangle shaped end of the implement slide slowly down her back and then slip between her legs. She moaned as he rubbed her pussy with it. Mark always knew to how give as much pleasure as pain and somehow always left her wanting more of both.

His lips were at her ear; his breath hot against her skin. “Little wet pet,” he teased. He replaced the crop with his fingers, caressing her folds and dipping into her. Lost in her need to come, she pushed back against his hand. Mark chuckled, amused, and let her masturbate herself with his fingers for a moment. His fingertips grazed her clit, just enough to drive her crazy. Just as she was feeling satisfied with her own efforts, he pulled his hand away. She groaned again, this time in frustration. Mark knew, too, how to keep her on that knife edge of almost-orgasm. In fact, he called it ‘edging’ and he did it a lot. Mostly it irritated her, but that was the point, she supposed.

“I control your pleasure, pet,” he reminded her softly.

Abby was disappointed, but not furious. Her orgasm would come… eventually. Mark never left her unsatisfied unless he was punishing her. She had to admit, her orgasms after an edging session were harder and longer than regular ones.

Mark brought the crop down again before moving in front of her, trailing it along behind him. It slid over her hip and across her taut belly, making her shiver. He looked down at her with a dark gaze that she’d learned to covet with every fiber of her being. That look that said he was about to play with her, and Mark’s ‘playtimes’ were nearly transcendent. He skimmed the crop over her breasts and she took in a deep breath. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it easier. He swiftly brought it down over one nipple. Abby yanked on the chains, trying to move away. She couldn’t though. Mark hit her other breast, leaving two small red welts competing with her flushed areolas.

She was breathing heavily now and juice ran freely from her pussy, trickling down her thighs. Mark skillfully worked her breasts over until she almost come from that alone. She knew, with no small amount of satisfaction, that even though Mark could let her come that way, he wouldn’t. He could never resist being inside her when she peaked. He could tell she was close now. After more than a year together he could play her body like an instrument he’d built himself, with careful patience and expert hands. He never seemed to lose control until he was fucking her; his desire for her overwhelming him just as it did her.

He tossed the crop onto the work bench beside them and unzipped his jeans. He freed the large bulge and Abby admired it now just as she had a thousand times previously. His thick cock jutted up and she knew it was only a seconds before he impaled her on it. He moved forward, his large hands spanning her hips on either side. Abby deftly wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles together at his back.

Mark slid his hands behind her, holding her ass, which was buzzing from the earlier whipping. The sensation only added to the experience. He slid in slowly, letting her adjust to him. The anal plug she was wearing made her pussy tighter and it ached when he filled her. She whimpered and he gripped her tighter.

“I know, pet,” he whispered hoarsely as he fucked her. “I know what you need.”

Mark needed it too and he was taking her maddeningly slowly. She felt every inch of him spreading her wide. She squeezed him tightly, like a good little pet should, and he groaned. “Come with me, pet,” he ordered. “Come for me.” He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in. Abby’s pussy grasped and clenched, trying to keep him inside. She was so desperate to follow his order that she bounced hard against him, trying frantically to get pressure on her clit. Mark slid out again, pressed the head of his cock against her swollen nub, and rubbed it hard on his way back into her.

Abby felt the wave of orgasm rising up from her lower belly. She tightened her legs around him. “Oh, good girl,” he said. “Cream for me.” She screamed behind the ball gag as her pussy flooded, coating them both. Mark held her close as he came seconds after, jets of hot semen filling her as his cock pulsed inside her, stretching her impossibly more. “My fucking good girl, coming for her Owner,” he whispered in her ear.

Abby pulled her jeans back on, wincing a bit as the fabric hit her reddened ass. Mark caught the look. He never missed anything.

“Did I go too hard on you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No,” she said honestly. She’d feel it all the way home, but that, she’d discovered, was never a bad thing.

Not satisfied, Mark pulled the t-shirt down over his head and stalked over to her. He pulled her jeans back down over her hips and gazed at her bare ass. She blushed then. In the harsh light of day (though it was technically night now) the things they did seemed slightly embarrassing. Or maybe she was just embarrassed to admit she liked it so much. She had a pretty high threshold for pain and if she told Mark it wasn’t bad, it was the truth. Possibly he even believed her, but he still never failed to mentally catalogue all her bruises and welts, checking for significant damage. When he was finished, he pulled her jeans back up for her.

“I’ll give you a bath when we get home,” he told her, picking up the crop from the bench.

Abby loved that part just as much as the sex. She suspected Mark enjoyed it, too. He’d wash her hair and then rub lotion over her welts to soothe them. He might have even made her dessert. She smiled at the prospect. She couldn’t have imagined that being ‘owned’ by a man would ever be something she’d want, but she couldn’t deny the way it made her feel: loved and cared for. And wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

Mark bent slightly to kiss her. As his lips brushed softly over hers, his hands skillfully removed the leather collar at her throat. She felt a strange sense of loss when the cool air hit her neck. She wore it nearly all the time now when they were alone. It had become part of her afternoon routine. Come home, ditch the work clothes and put on the collar. She reached for her shirt draped over the workbench, but froze at the sound of tires crunching the gravel outside.

“Oh, God!” she hissed, snatching at her clothes.

Mark chuckled. “Relax,” he told her. “It’s just a customer dropping off their ride so we can get to it in first thing in the morning.

Abby tugged her shirt down over her head and held her breath as the key drop box opened on the other side of the cement wall. It was ridiculous. No one could see in unless they came around to the side door and looked through the small rectangle of glass. Still, she swallowed hard and pressed her shirt tightly against herself. Mark appeared behind her, running his hands down her arms. “You’re going to have to get over this,” he told her.

Abby shook her head. “What if they saw?”

“What if they did?” She turned to gape at him. Before she could argue, he said, “What would they see?”

“Us!”

“I don’t think it’s me you’re worried about.”

She blushed and looked away. Mark took hold of her chin and drew her gaze back to his. “You’re beautiful, Abby. I tell you every day.”

She made a face but didn’t say anything. She might be pretty, she’d give him that much, but she had a few more pounds on her than other women; less Kate Moss and more Marilyn Monroe. Mark liked it, loved it in fact, but his acceptance of her had not been her usual experience with men.

“I would never lie to you, Abby. And I’m getting tired of you basically accusing me of it.”

“I’m not!” she protested.

“And if I asked you to wear that little red dress to Maria’s Friday night?”

She bit her lip.

“Thought so.”

“Mark-” she began, but he put his hand up to stop her.

“It’s fine,” he told her calmly. Then she saw his eyes glitter even in the dim light of the garage bay and she sucked in her breath. “I guess we know what the next part of your training will be.”

She dutifully stepped outside as he held the door for her, waiting while he locked it behind them. She had no idea what kind of training Mark had in mind, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. None of his training had ever been easy; but Mark had molded her into the perfect submissive, well,
his
perfect submissive anyway. And in exchange she’d gotten the perfect boyfriend, one who cared for her and cared
about
her. Even just having someone ask her how her day was had been a new and unusual experience. One she found she liked along with the gourmet dinners, over-the-knee spankings, and bike rides to the Badlands at night when the stars were out and the summer breeze felt like Heaven.

Mark slid onto the Harley and she climbed on behind him. She’d given up her own bike for the chance to ride his and smiled to herself yet again as she slid her arms around him. As she held on she thought about
holding on -
to him- and decided that it was about time she did.