Courtesan

( 19 )

Overview

Newly revised and previously released, 89,000 word, BSDM historical

New York 1883

With her deceased father's creditors pounding at the door, starvation imminent, and nothing left to lose, eighteen-year old Sarah Winslow signs a note to excuse her indebtedness. Little does she suspect that she's just sold herself into an exclusive brothel, her ruination orchestrated by Sebastian Turner, a wealthy gentleman who ...

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Courtesan

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Overview

Newly revised and previously released, 89,000 word, BSDM historical

New York 1883

With her deceased father's creditors pounding at the door, starvation imminent, and nothing left to lose, eighteen-year old Sarah Winslow signs a note to excuse her indebtedness. Little does she suspect that she's just sold herself into an exclusive brothel, her ruination orchestrated by Sebastian Turner, a wealthy gentleman who has bought and paid for her virginal innocence for reasons all his own.

For eighteen long years, Seb has methodically plotted to destroy the Winslow name. And he succeeds. He now owns all of Michael Winslow's possessions, including his lovely daughter, Sarah. Seb has everything he ever wanted.

Only now that he does, it's not enough. He wants more...from Sarah. His needs know no bounds but those of pleasure--a rawhide lasso and gold bondage bracelets--when it comes to the prim and proper lady he has made his Courtesan.

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Editorial Reviews

Sandra Garcia-Myers
4 STARS: Romantic Times Book Reviews

With fully drawn characters, this journey of physical and psychological exploration, which includes bondage, domination, oral and anal sex, may be disturbing for some, but it's one you won't easily forget.
Francesca Hayne
Just Erotic Romance Reviews : GOLD STAR

Each carnal scene is so well placed that although the encounters become less tender and more dominant, the underlying currents of their animalistic need leave a powerful impact. I found the story would not have hit me quite so hard without the combination of the excellent plot and provocative sex scenes. Overall, I truly felt moved by Ms. Trent’s latest novel and feel it easily justifies receiving the Gold Star Award.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781467996730
  • Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing
  • Publication date: 12/29/2011
  • Pages: 342
  • Product dimensions: 5.50 (w) x 8.50 (h) x 0.76 (d)

Read an Excerpt

In this swanky Park Avenue establishment, not everyone came to act out his own private fantasies; some members came to look at others enact theirs, and not so privately. What did Seb care if a voyeuristic patron masturbated while watching another man do the actual deed? The gal saved time, and the royalties still went to the house.

That would be him.

As the silent and, up until just recently, distant partner of Leonard Dutton, Seb held joint ownership of this exclusive brothel.

For protection of the gals, every room came equipped with strategically placed locked peepholes. The ones drilled in the walls of Seb's downstairs office provided excellent views of the ballroom, gaming room, and the front entranceway.

Seb squinted into the ballroom lookout and had the distinct pleasure of spying an oily gent put the squeeze on the new whore's rump. Sarah Winslow's already erect stance stiffened, sort of like a red-hot poker had just been stuffed up her ass. Both the pinching and poking fell well within the rules--so long as the house got paid first.

As this wily gent had neglected to grease Seb's palm before putting it to Sarah Winslow, he had violated house rules.

House rules also decreed that both patrons and prostitutes alike wore masks. Sarah's feathered creation prevented Seb from getting a clear bead on her eyes, but the uncovered portion of her features made her disapproval of her partner's antics pretty damned clear. Hell, could a nose get any further out of joint?

Seb's perusal moved to her lips, which she had puckered to lemon-sucking tightness. Prim. Prim. Her lips were tight-ass prim, like her drawers had just gotten bunched, thenwedged up that tight, prim ass.

And her chin ... Mercy! Her chin! The mulish jut of her regal jaw told Seb everything he needed to know about Sarah Winslow's character.

Seb chuckled to himself. Someone had better tell that gal real quick that the house paid her to be obligin'.

His mirth flattened out when the oily patron danced Sarah into a proverbial corner. Specifically, into an area set aside for guests with exhibitionist tendencies. There, amongst the potted palms, gentlemen who were so inclined could publicly woo similarly inclined partners.

Sarah Winslow did not look similarly inclined.

Her face first registered snootiness, then horror, and finally fear. By rights, Seb should have found this turn of events highly satisfying. Even amusing. But, personal vendetta aside, he ran a respectable establishment, and gents who forced their attentions on unwilling whores not only broke cathouse rules; they undermined profits.

Snapping the peephole shut, Seb raced from the office.

"Let-her-go," he said, dropping the three small words on top of the gent's shiny hairdo.

Apparently not looking to mess with the muscle behind the management, the patron reconsidered his breech of manners and snaked away, presumably to inflict his oily presence on the poker players in the backroom.

Sarah's gratitude shone through the eyeholes of her feathered mask, all that positive regard bestowed upon him. In a serious case of misdirected admiration, Sarah Winslow had evidently cast him in the role of Sir Galahad charging to her rescue on a fancy white steed. Too bad he always rode black stallions, and he never, but never, saved the damsel in distress.

"Thank you so, so much for coming to my assistance, sir," the deluded Miss Winslow enthused, flinging herself into his arms.

A first.

A lady looking to him for comfort had never happened to Seb before, no how, no way. Working gals, yeah, plenty of those, all ranting and raving, and weeping in their ale, their crying jags a calculated ploy to get their own way. He dealt all the time with hissy fits over a broken nail or a missed dressmaker's appointment or an overspent monthly allowance, but nothing like this.

This was different. True, Sarah Winslow had him in a chokehold, but the underlying cause of her upset remained all bottled-up, her emotional upheaval trapped inside. She just 'bout vibrated with corralled sorrow. Seeing as how he had instigated her problems, his conscience should have been fretting him something awful.

Seb never felt a twinge, his inner judgmental voice having given up on him long ago. He had waited too many years for this moment not to savor it now. He reckoned gloating was due him.

"There, there." Seb patted Sarah's shoulder with studied sympathy, smoothing his palm over the glossy white satin of her ball gown, a demure Parisian confection he had personally selected.

Inside joke, that virginal apparel. The kind of twisted humor only a jaded bastard like himself would appreciate, preferably in a dark room over a double shot of whiskey.

Both laughter and liquor would need to wait for later--Seb had himself a crisis on his hands.

Out here in the East, where a man made his fortune based on the crispness of his tailoring, Sarah's embrace was not only putting a wrinkle in his suit, but in his bankroll, too. Already, her hug had rumpled the perfection of his pristine shirt linen and crushed the knife-straight lines of his black swallowtail coat, not to mention the unsightly creases her stubborn chin had made in his imported silk cravat. If she kept this up, he would be a disgrace to all gentlemen impersonators everywhere.

Seb eased Sarah away.

With an audible gulp, she pulled him right back. "But, sir, what shall I ever do if the eel returns?"

They came from two different worlds, but that made no never mind. Seb understood Sarah's meaning right off. "How 'bout this? You go outside, take a breath of fresh air, while I escort the eel to his carriage." Hell, he had to do something to save his expensive duds.

"But-but ... Mr. Dutton expects the ladies in his employ to dance." Blue eyes peered owlishly at him through the holes in the facemask.

"A swooning gal on the dance floor is bad for business. Now scoot. You look 'bout ready to keel."

She dropped him a curtsey. "Thank you again for saving me, sir. Please forgive my precipitous departure." Pivoting on the heels of her white kid slippers, the prim and proper and oh-so-snobby Miss Sarah Winslow made her escape.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 3.5
( 19 )
Rating Distribution

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(6)

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Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 19 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted April 25, 2011

    Dark Desire

    When you need a break from the conventional, sappy romance novel with the perfect hero and heroine, Louisa Trent is the author to look to. Trent doesn't disappoint in Courtesan. The non traditional hero, Seb, is flawed, but it only adds depth to his character and the story. He originally plans to use Sarah to seek his revenge against her father. His plan backfires when he falls love with her as he trains her to be a courtesan. I highly recommend this book and all of Louisa Trent's books to anyone who likes to take a walk on the dark side every now and then.

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
  • Posted July 8, 2011

    more from this reviewer

    I liked the story in theory

    but in reality not as much. I guess I'm just not a fisting kind of girl. I read the warning on some of her other books, but after I already bought this one. They should probably mention that it's in this one as well. Maybe if the story was strong enough I would not have cared but for me it wasn't.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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    Posted January 23, 2011

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