Murder at Roissy: An erotic novel

Overview

The classic BDSM crime thriller, available in a new e-book format

Exclusive BDSM lifestyle vacation hideaway, Roissy, is rocked by the murder of one its regular clients, Ruth “Mistress Raven” Park, strangled with bondage rope in the dungeon playroom. All the guests at Roissy had a reason to want her dead, but which of them is responsible? As Sheriff John Clarke hunts the killer, he finds himself in a world where pain and pleasure are ...

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Murder at Roissy: An erotic novel

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Overview

The classic BDSM crime thriller, available in a new e-book format

Exclusive BDSM lifestyle vacation hideaway, Roissy, is rocked by the murder of one its regular clients, Ruth “Mistress Raven” Park, strangled with bondage rope in the dungeon playroom. All the guests at Roissy had a reason to want her dead, but which of them is responsible? As Sheriff John Clarke hunts the killer, he finds himself in a world where pain and pleasure are inextricably linked …

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781909840362
  • Publisher: Accent Press
  • Publication date: 6/20/2013
  • Pages: 160
  • Product dimensions: 5.00 (w) x 8.00 (h) x 0.37 (d)

Read an Excerpt

With a start, George realised that she was right. The subdued travel make-up was gone, and in its place she had created a face that a goddess would envy. Subtle eyeliner and eyebrow pencil made her dark eyes seem elongated and slightly slanted. Lipstick pencil outlined her lips, which were luminous with a slightly lighter colour. A delicate, sophisticated use of base and powder brought out her high cheekbones and drew the gaze back to the vivacious eyes.

With long practice, he sank to his knees in front of her and bent his head forward so she could lock the collar around his neck. She fastened the leash to the collar and led him toward the door of the room. When he realised where he was going, a wave of panic gripped him. He stopped, ignoring her tugs on the leash.

She turned. One perfectly shaped eyebrow raised and she said, ‘Are you refusing?’

Once, white-water rafting, George had fallen out of the boat and had been swept helplessly along for more than half a mile before he was able to break free of the current. He felt that wild disorientation again.

‘You don’t want me to walk out in the hallway – like this?’ he said, knowing the answer. He could feel the tiny muscles in his scrotum trying to pull the bag up into his body cavity, a primitive fear reaction.

‘Of course,’ his wife replied calmly. ‘We are going to the dungeon. Don’t you want to be properly dressed?’

Then she took his head between her hands and said, ‘I want you to.’

George felt his resistance fade, and his erection begin to grow.

The fear grew as he stood in the hallway while Sara locked the door of their room behind them. He looked both ways in a funk that any moment another guest might come by. Most humiliating was that, rather than going away, his erection got larger and more painful.

The dungeon’s door was less than 40 feet from their door, but to George, the walk was endless. He locked his eyes on his wife’s firm buttocks and willed himself to invisibility. Only when the dungeon door clicked behind them did he relax.

‘Did you lock it, Mistress?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Please.’

‘No, we aren’t going to be using the entire dungeon,’ she said, calmly, setting up several candlesticks from the black bag she had brought with her. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to hog it – besides, I don’t mind someone watching. Should I call Mistress Flame?’

George stared at the floor. He knew he could object, and she would defer to his wishes, but he hoped she wouldn’t realise that having Mistress Flame watch didn’t really bother him. It was the thought of another man seeing him so helpless that terrified and excited him.

She put a single wax taper into each candlestick and lit them with a disposable cigarette lighter. Then she walked over to the control panel and turned off the white lights, leaving only the red accent lights burning.

Turning back to him, she smiled. ‘Lie down on the table,’ she said.

The door to the dungeon was unlocked, but as soon as Tom opened the first door, they both knew it was in use. A low quavering moan came through the closed inner door. They exchanged a glance, and Tom shrugged. ‘Flame said that anyone who wanted privacy should lock the door,’ he said.

As he opened the second door, the first thing he saw was a blonde woman who seemed to be wearing only high-heeled boots. She was facing away from the door and a glow of candle light came from in front of her. Only a few of the red accent lights were on, giving the dungeon an air of excitement and mystery.

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