Addicted to the Mistress

by Alex Jordaine

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

David Warren has disappeared and confidential investigator Mark Collins has been hired to try and find him. Mark's search turns into a thrilling personal odyssey as he becomes increasingly drawn into the deviant world of erotic domination and submission to which he discovers the elusive David now belongs. Mark's investigations lead him to the vivacious and stunning Sarah who is heavily into BDSM. She awakens a dark and perverse sexuality and submissiveness within him and they fall madly in love. Mark finds out that David has become the slave of a mysterious dominatrix called Alyssa who subjects him to a strict and constant disciplinary regime in her remote country residence. When Mark, with Sarah's assistance, finally tracks them down he is alarmed at some of the sexual humiliation he witnesses being inflicted on David by Alyssa when working in unholy alliance with her equally formidable Lady Sonja. It seems to Mark to go beyond the level of kinky role-play and to be needlessly manipulative and cruel. But he discovers that all is not what it seems.

Release date: July 22, 2016

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 322

Sample

It was dusk as Rachel Michaels turned her car into the parking area of the twelve-storey apartment block where David Warren had once lived. She parked but left the engine running. What was the point of getting out of the car and trying to enter the block? She had checked and double-checked and knew for certain David didn’t live there any more. He wasn’t going to magically reappear just because she’d turned up. So why had she come here again? Good question. It wouldn’t get her any closer to finding out where the hell he’d got to.

The weather had grown increasingly muggy and warm as the day had worn on, and Rachel felt more conscious of it now the car was at a standstill. She turned up the air conditioner and unfastened another button on her silky white shirt. Gazing distractedly through the windscreen, a distant look in her big hazel eyes, she cast her mind back to the one and only time she’d ever been inside David’s apartment. But what a time it had been: that marvellously impulsive one-night stand she’d enjoyed with the tall, handsome, athletically built man. His hair was as dark as hers was blonde, and he had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. Rachel remembered the way they’d made passionate love, over and over. She remembered, too, how after they’d both climaxed together in spasms they had remained wrapped in each other’s arms, holding one another tight, him still inside her.

It really should have led to something, that wonderful night of passion. They should, at least, have started a short-term relationship, maybe even a long-term one. Had things worked out, it could have resulted in the ultimate happy ending. They could have turned out to be the perfect couple, a match made in heaven.

Or maybe – OK, probably – that wouldn’t have happened. Their relationship might have begun well but not lasted. It might have ended up being a disappointment; a case of steadily diminished returns and lowering expectations. They’d have grown increasingly tired of each other until their relationship finally fizzled out altogether. Or perhaps it might have ended more dramatically, in a storm of angry recriminations and bitter regrets.

In truth, it was impossible to know what might have happened to them, as a couple, after that steamy night they’d spent together. Because they’d never actually become a couple. There’d never been an ‘after that’ for them.

And that was because on the very next day – the day that, by rights, one thing should have led to another with David – her whole world had been ripped apart. He hadn’t been with her when she’d got that dreadful phone message, heard those awful words: ‘I’m afraid I have some extremely bad news for you’.

Not that she’d ever given much thought to such matters before but Rachel, an only child, had always assumed that her adored parents would die before her. We all have our allotted time, after all. But she’d never thought it would happen like that: not both of them wiped out in a hideous car crash. It was so random, so pointless, so merciless. In the days that followed that dreadful tragedy, Rachel had been in pieces, reeling with misery and grief. And it hadn’t got much better for some time afterwards, either. Her dark night of the soul sometimes felt to her as if it would never end.

Eventually, though, Rachel had emerged from her trip into the depths, and her life returned to something resembling normality. She’d discovered that a thought had been hiding away, right at the back of her mind throughout that desperate time, a secret hope that she could get together with David again and, well, see where it took them. Otherwise, she knew she’d always wonder what might have been. But there turned out to be a problem with that idea, a very big problem. Because she’d discovered he’d gone missing. The way David had upped and left his apartment had been as sudden and unexplained as the manner in which, more or less simultaneously, he’d parted company with his employer. It was all very mysterious.

Rachel had done her best to try to find out what had happened to him. She’d asked questions, made phone calls, searched online; done all the obvious checks she could think of. But, despite her dogged efforts, she’d found out nothing useful. David had completely disappeared, as far as she could see. Perhaps he’d wanted a fresh start, a clean break. Which raised the obvious question: why?

She had racked her brain to work out what the answer might be, but to no avail. What he’d done continued to make no sense to her. Perhaps she’d thought about it too much and could no longer see it clearly. Perhaps, at the end of the day, she simply knew too little about David to have any hope of seeing it clearly. The bottom line here, she’d reminded herself, was that she’d had a one-night stand with a virtual stranger. It wasn’t much to go on, to say the least.

Even so, Rachel had thought that maybe the enquiries she was making might somehow percolate back to him. The idea that he might, one day, show up or call her had kept her hopes alive. Whenever her phone rang, there was always a small part of her that wondered if it was David making contact. But it never was. The hope that he might come back into her life was one she realised she’d already allowed herself to indulge for too long. And she knew she should abandon such a vain hope and move on but, for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

Rachel noticed the main door to the apartment building open. A man emerged, head down, and started to walk towards the parking area. He was tall, long-limbed, and had dark hair. Her heart felt as though it had stopped for a moment. Could it be David? she asked herself before she got to see his features more clearly. No, it couldn’t, the voice inside her head groaned in response, because he doesn’t bloody well live here any more. She followed the man who wasn’t David Warren with her eyes as he climbed into his car and drove off.

Rachel thought sometimes she’d imagined that amazing night with David, that it had been the ultimate masturbation fantasy, and not real at all. But no, it had happened all right. She wasn’t mad. Well, maybe she was, a little. Otherwise why was she here, sitting in her car, outside a place where she knew he didn’t live any more? Why did his name keep filling her head like a mantra? Why did her mind so often become a cinema screen that played only one film, a film of what had happened between her and David during that unforgettable night of passion?

And why did worries about the man’s wellbeing compete with all the other thoughts and questions about him that were forever tumbling through her mind? There was no need to worry about him, surely. Oh, really? Why, exactly, had he disappeared, then? That was a question that raised so many others, some of them positively alarming.

Had he been in some kind of trouble, some kind of danger, even? Was he on the run from somebody – a violently jealous married man, say, or someone he owed a lot of money to? Had he needed to escape to somewhere he couldn’t be found? Had he been hoping that his problem, whatever it was, would vanish as long as he took care to cover his tracks and stayed out of the way long enough?

Rachel let out a deep sigh. She didn’t know the answers to these questions any more than she did to all the others she kept asking herself about what had happened to the elusive David Warren.

Then, of course, there was the ultimate, the scariest question of all of them. Was he actually no longer even in the land of the living? Rachel was not sure why, but her gut instinct told her that he was not dead, that he was still very much alive. It wasn’t remotely logical, she knew, but she felt that David’s almost constant presence in her mind was proof he was alive somewhere.

It had grown darker. Rachel glanced down at the clock on the dashboard. She put the car in gear and released the clutch. It was high time she drove home. What passed for home in David’s case these days, though, she couldn’t help wondering. Maybe he had made a completely new start somewhere far away. That was a thought ...

David Warren stood naked at the French window of his room and gazed into the night. All was silence out there, apart from the sound of the Mediterranean ocean as it washed lazily against the shore. There was a crescent moon and a scattering of stars in the sky, which illuminated the rippling dark waters with silver patches of light.

David let out a sigh, luxuriating in the feeling of lassitude that had him in its sensuous embrace. What a magical time he was having here on this idyllic, sparsely populated little Greek island. He loved basking naked in the bright sunshine and swimming, equally nude, in the crystal clear waters of the ocean. And the sex. Oh, my God, the sex – so extreme, so kinky, so incredibly addictive ...

He turned away from the window and started to pad across the room, its marble floor cool against his bare feet. He caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror that hung on one of the white stucco walls. He stopped and lingered there, standing directly in front of it.

David liked what he saw reflected back at him in that mirror. His body was tanned a rich, golden brown all over, his thick, dark hair had been lightened by the sea and the sun, and his deep tan made his eyes even bluer than usual: as sparkling blue as the ocean at the height of the day. His long limbs were beautifully toned from all that swimming, and his big cock was jutting, semi-tumescent, between the tautness of his thighs. He felt a surge of arousal building – could practically hear the blood pounding through his body – and his shaft started to throb as it grew harder.

David tilted his head from side to side, checking his body from all angles like some handsome male model about to do a nude photo shoot – a hardcore one. He felt wickedly narcissistic, standing there admiring himself naked and erect in the mirror, and couldn’t resist the temptation to move his right hand towards his cock. David brushed it over his erection, sending a shudder of excitement through his body. He could feel more blood surging into his cock, the shaft still throbbing.

Lust glittering in his eyes and his breath coming faster, he touched himself again with his right hand, this time encircling his cock with his fist. He rubbed his erection softly at first, flicking his thumb over the slit of its glans. David then started to make love to himself in the mirror in earnest, his eyes half-closed with mounting desire as he jerked his shaft rhythmically. It felt thrilling; a building heat that was pure and sexual.

As David continued to delight in the reflection of himself in the mirror, stroking his hard, pulsing cock, it occurred to him that he knew a way by which that pleasure could be enhanced, made even more intense. He temporarily stopped masturbating and went over to his bedside cabinet. He opened its top drawer and took out a set of chained clover clamps.

He returned to standing in front of the mirror and murmured deliriously, trying to stifle the cry that sprang to his lips as he attached the clamps to his chest. The nipple clamps pressed cruelly hard, so that he experienced an explosion of white-hot sensation that went straight to his shaft.

David pulled at the chain between the clamps with his left hand, the pulsing heat of his nipples building the layers of pleasure and pain and adding to the ever-mounting swell of his sexual arousal. He closed his eyes, feeling another explosion of sensation as he yanked at the clamps. David felt as though his chest was on fire, his nipples molten points connected to every erogenous zone of his body.

He began to pull at his erection again, this time more vigorously, making it strain within his grasp. He was lost in a state of half-dreaming now. His breathing had become laboured as he moved his right hand up and down his shaft and pulled at his nipple clamps with the other, subjecting his chest to exquisite daggers of pleasure-pain.

David pulled even harder at the clamps, and his strokes grew shorter as he pumped his fist back and forth over his erection, clear ooze seeping from its head. His body was pulsing with pleasure as he got ever closer to the ecstasy of orgasm.

He felt his climax building ... so close, so close. But he knew he mustn’t let that happen. It was essential that he stop his climb before he reached the summit. David opened his eyes again and looked in the mirror in front of him. He saw immediately that he was no longer alone.

David’s Mistress, Alyssa, stood in the doorway, her shoulder-length, raven hair shimmering in the half-light. She looked ravishing in the über-sexy outfit of shiny purple rubber latex she had on. It consisted of a minidress with a deep cleavage and a hem that barely reached her sex, and long boots with high heels and pointed toes. Her body was to die for: the curve of her firm, high breasts, the narrowness of her waist, the graceful bow of her hips; the length of her legs, made even longer by her high-heeled boots – she was perfect.

Alyssa’s gaze was fixed on what David had in his hands, both of which were now motionless. She looked up. Their eyes met in the mirror and locked but neither of them spoke. Alyssa’s beautiful face, with its high, angular cheekbones, small, straight nose, and full-lipped mouth, was impassive. Only her large, oval eyes had expression: eyes that were dark violet and staring directly into his.

David brought his arms to his side and turned slowly round from the mirror to face her directly. He was silent for a moment before drawing breath and saying, ‘I hope you don’t object to what I was doing, Mistress.’

Alyssa looked at the nipple clamps attached to his chest and at his cock, blood-flushed and throbbing fit to burst, a rivulet of precome drizzling from its swollen head. Her eyes flicked from his erection and back to his face again.

‘I’d only have objected if you’d allowed yourself to come,’ she told him. ‘As it is, I choose to interpret the sight I walked in on as being that of my slave performing the tantric masturbation exercise I taught him when I was training him to improve his orgasm control.’

‘And on this occasion,’ David said, ‘your slave was incorporating the nipple clamp variation of that exercise that you also taught him, Mistress.’

‘That, too.’ She moved slowly towards David. Alyssa exuded power, having the kind of charismatic presence that filled a room as soon as she entered it. ‘Am I correct in that interpretation of what I walked in on, slave?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Mistress,’ David whispered. His clamped nipples were throbbing and he was conscious that his shaft was still pulsing constantly, too, its mushroom head continuing to spill precome.

Alyssa considered him closely, her expression now sceptical. ‘But you brought yourself extremely close to orgasm, slave,’ she said, advancing slowly. ‘I saw it with my own eyes.’

A pause. Then, ‘That’s true, Mistress, and I must admit, I did get a bit carried away.’

She cocked her head at him. ‘If you hadn’t opened your eyes when you did and seen me,’ she challenged, ‘you’d have ejaculated, wouldn’t you?’

‘No, Mistress,’ he said.

She was staring at him, her eyes dark and probing. ‘No?’

He met her gaze. ‘Not guilty, Mistress,’ he insisted. ‘I’m well aware that I must never ejaculate without your permission. You have made that very clear to me.’

‘You are confident in your ability to control your orgasms,’ she said, moving nearer, ‘even when you are close to the brink like that, slave?’

David took a deep breath. ‘Yes, Mistress,’ he whispered.

She rested a beautifully manicured hand on his arm. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes, Mistress,’ he said. ‘You have taught me well.’

‘I like to think so, slave,’ Alyssa said. ‘But let’s put things to the test.’ She moved her hand away from his arm, ran it over his stomach, and then firmly grasped the thick length of his cock, starting to stroke it. ‘You’re not allowed to come until the moment I give you permission,’ she said.

Alyssa began to masturbate David rhythmically, each stroke sensual torment for him. Her fingers soon became wet with the rivulet of silvery fluid that drizzled constantly from the glans of his shaft.

After a while, she started to tug at the chain between his nipple clamps with her left hand while she carried on masturbating him with her right, doing to David what he’d previously been doing on his own. Continuing to pull at the chain between the clamps attached to his nipples, she smeared her fingers with sticky precome as she pulled his shaft ever harder.

David tensed his body, strained every sinew, in an effort to control himself. He knew he could not give himself up to his pleasure and climax until Alyssa had given him the word; she had made that crystal clear. He had to hold back, no matter how difficult it became.

Alyssa was clearly tantalized by the sighs that escaped from his lips, excited by his squirming and tensing as he valiantly fought back the pleasure she was giving him. Then she abruptly stopped what she was doing.

David watched wide-eyed as she moved her hands closer and closer to his clamped nipples. She pulled both clamps off simultaneously, the rush of blood flooding back to his pinched tissues far more painful than the clamps themselves had ever been.

Hot, brutal pain surged to his nipples, sending a jolt of sensation, as shocking as a thunderbolt, sparking from his punished chest to his aching shaft. David concentrated with al. . .