The Dark Side by Nia Farrell
The Dark Side (Replay Book 8)
by Nia Farrell
Actress Ashley Slade once filmed in Replay’s Versailles Room, and she’s been invited back for Cinema Classics weekend at the BDSM theme resort. Nursing old wounds and fresh hurts, she can justify the expense as research for an upcoming audition. Based on a true story, it’s a role that she desperately needs to salvage her career and save her home.
Ashley invested nearly all of her savings into her first movie as a producer. The film failed, as did her relationship with costar Cade Madden. The only thing that’s constant in her life is the chronic pain from a severe back injury. She refuses to use the prescription drugs that landed her in rehab.
Master Sorin (Sebastian Moldovan) is the Romanian Dominant who portrays a vampire Dom on the RACK side of the resort. A doctor who now teaches, Sebastian is assigned to guide Ashley throughout the weekend and keep her safe during play.
In the outside world, they can never be a couple. Keeping his job means maintaining his anonymity. But there’s no denying their elemental attraction to each other. When her 1930s Hollywood vamp meets his vampire, the chemistry is off the charts. What will happen in the harsh light of day? Can this star-crossed couple write their own happy ending, or will the circumstances force them to go their separate ways?
This story includes more extreme elements of BDSM and may contain triggers. Written for Ages 18+.
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The Dark Side
“Sir Josef and I have discussed the research that you hope to do on the RACK side of the resort. We are assigning a Dominant to you who will answer any questions you might have on anything that you observe. He shall also be your guide, should you wish to experience anything first hand. I have asked him here to meet you.”
Sir Piers pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Kitten? Send in Master Sorin.”
Unsure as to protocol, Ashley rose from her chair, turned toward the door, and watched it open to reveal the man who would be her Dom for the weekend. Master Sorin was tall, at least six three or six four, with thick black hair, black eyes, an angled jaw, and Slavic cheekbones that gave him the look of a gypsy prince. He was built like a tennis player, with wide shoulders, a trim waist, and muscled thighs that challenged the fit of his black dress pants. The sleeves of his white button-down shirt were casually rolled up to reveal sculpted, hair-dusted forearms.
The man’s aura was pure animal magnetism. His dark gaze was penetrating. Hypnotic. He moved with the lethal grace of a jungle cat when he crossed the floor to where she stood, transfixed.
“Miss Slade, may I present Master Sorin? Master Sorin, this is Miss Ashley Slade, the actress we discussed.”
He swept her with an assessing gaze and crooked his lips into the barest hint of a smile. “Miss Slade.”
His rich baritone voice resonated in her core. The man could make a fortune doing voiceovers. His accent alone was perfect to inspire fantasies. It sure as hell made her mouth dry and her panties wet.
“Sir,” she managed.
He arched a brow and leveled the full force of his gaze upon her.
“Master,” she croaked, in desperate need of a drink.
Those dark eyes flashed. Reaching for her throat, he wrapped his hand around it and squeezed slightly. This close, he smelled of exotic spices and manly musk. There was no hiding her very physical reaction when her breath hitched and her pulse raced beneath his fingers.
He hummed his pleasure and leaned to whisper in her ear. “I hope that you are ready for this, dragă. I will be very disappointed if you are not.”
He led her to the St. Andrew’s cross in the corner. A small table nearby held four leather cuffs, a flogger, lubricant, two sizes of anal plugs, and condoms.
Just thinking about the possibility of his possession made her soaking wet. He fastened the cuffs on her wrists and ankles and had her stand, facing the cross. When he ordered her to spread her legs so that he could secure them, there was no hiding the scent of her arousal.
He drew his fingers up her leg as he rose, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in his wake. He palmed her ass and slid his hand up her spine, past the scar on her low back to the base of her neck. Tracing the line of her shoulders and arms, he grasped her wrists, put them where he wanted them, and fastened them to the cross, too. Gathering her hair, he twisted it into a rope, brought it to her front, and tucked it between her breasts to help keep it there.
“Before we begin, I need your safewords. One to slow the play, another to stop it. What are your safe words, dragă?”
“I don’t know,” she said, feeling slightly panicked. She should have chosen them before coming. Now it was too late to be creative or clever. “I can’t think of any.”
“Then let’s make it simple. Yellow to slow, red to stop. Just like driving.”
“Okay,” she breathed, glad that he wasn’t going to make her come up with something more exotic. Her mind was too full of other things, like lube, anal plugs, condoms, and the hot, hard, and very sizeable erection that she felt pressed against her.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Master Sorin went into her bedroom’s en-suite and returned with wet washcloths and towels. “Now, we can begin. Have you ever worn a plug?” he asked.
“Have you had anal sex?”
“Did you like it?”
She’d only done it with Cade, and he had to be persuaded to go there. “It was okay.”
He grunted. “We’ll start with the plug for now. I’m going to check you. I need to see how tight you are and what size plug you can handle.”
Lubricating his finger, he circled the ruched ring of her ass and pressed against it, gentle but insistent, until half of his finger was inside her.
“Give me a word,” he rumbled, testing her opening, judging how much he could give her, seeing how much more she could take.
“Green. I’m good, Master Sorin.”
He pushed in deeper, penetrating her with one lubed finger, then two. Stopping there, he oiled the larger anal plug and inserted it into her rectum. “Color?” he asked, tapping on the plug.
“Lime,” she wheezed. “Just…give me a minute, please, Master? I need to relax my muscles, and the plug isn’t helping.”
Wiping his fingers clean on one of the washcloths, he started massaging the tension from her with those gifted hands of his. Hands that helped. Hands that healed. Hands that had held countless lives in the balance and done their best to bring them through to the other side.
She wondered, when he’d lost a battle, had he cried?
“That’s it, dragă. Relax. Let go. Trust me to take care of you. Trust me to give you what you need.”
Ashley exhaled a deep, cleansing breath and put herself fully into Master Sorin’s hands.
“And now, the flogger, for your pleasure and mine. Keep your muscles relaxed and welcome it. Here we go.”
He stepped back. Immediately, her body missed his warmth, and she shivered.
“Breathe, dragă,” he reminded her.
Ashley drew in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled, feeling some of her tension leave with it. She remembered to inhale when the first blow fell, the soft leather falls striking her upper back. He swung it again, aiming for the other side this time, checking his strength and easing her into it. Gradually, his blows got harder, and closer together, until he was raining them down on her back, her hips, her thighs. One carefully placed swing caught the anal plug.
Ashley moaned her pleasure.
Master Sorin dropped the flogger. Behind her, she heard the crinkle of a foil packet, the jangle of a belt buckle, the snick of a zipper, then his breath, hot and harsh against her neck. “One word stops it,” he reminded her, as if she could. Weeks of masturbation had her primed and ready for him.
“Please. Oh, please,” she begged him. “Fuck me….”
He hadn’t meant for things to go this far, this fast.
Sebastian shoved aside the thought. Ashley wanted this. Wanted him. Sooner or later, what did it matter?
Wetting himself on her juices, he notched his glans in her opening and pushed inside, not stopping until he had worked most of his length into her tight, wet hole.
He smiled to feel it. Not every woman could handle nine inches.
He hadn’t been worried. If he couldn’t bury himself in her sex, there was always her ass. She’d taken his fingers and the plug beautifully. But he planned to save anal for later. They had all weekend. There were so many things he wanted to show her. So many kinks that he’d like her to try.
Grasping her hips in a bruising grip, he began to pound into her, setting off a series of tiny orgasms that made her pussy gush, until her juices were running down her legs. Keeping one hand on her hip, he wrapped his fingers around her shoulder and snapped his pelvis, driving into her and hitting her G-spot. She came, hard, drenching them both with her juices.
“Yessss,” he grated. Continuing to fuck her, he brought her up to her next orgasm and kept her there, hovering on the precipice, until she was begging for release and he was ready to join her. He bit the base of her neck, twisted her nipple, and heaved inside, ripping a climax from her. He came, filling the end of his condom while her deliciously snug walls spasmed around him, milking his length.
She was perfect.
Before they’d met, he’d had his doubts. When he had expressed them to Sir Piers, Replay’s Master Dom had assured him that he would find Ashley Slade a pleasant surprise.
Sir Piers was right, as always. She was intelligent, curious, and very, very guarded. She had old scars and fresher wounds that were far from healed. She was fractured—but not broken. A recovering addict with a back injury that would never go away, limiting her on what they could do.
He’d never had a fragile submissive. The women he usually paired with on the RACK side of the resort could handle anything that he gave them and more. Given her medical history, it was possible that Ashley could not support the weight of his body when he finally took her to bed.
He kissed the place where his teeth had marked her and licked the petal softness of her skin. Still impaled on his cock, she moaned and pressed back, grinding against him.
“Give me a color, dragă.”
“Green, Master Sorin. Better than green. That was amazing.”
Indeed, it was.
A glance at the clock told him what he already knew. There was no time for a bath. A quick shower, dress, then they’d head back to wardrobe.
Pulling free, he took care of his condom in the en-suite. He returned with a fresh, warm washcloth for Ashley, wiping the sweat from her back and cleaning her juices from her thighs. He removed the anal plug before washing between her legs. Tossing the used cloth aside, he unfastened her ankles and wrists, checking the color and circulation of each one.
Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her towards him and kissed her temple. “Shower,” he said. “Then dress. If we don’t do anything else, we should make it to wardrobe with a few minutes to spare.”
Ashley rolled her shoulders and sighed. “Too bad,” she said, her voice still husky with arousal. “I love shower sex. And bathtub sex. Hot tub, swimming pool, ocean—just mention water, and I get wet. Better Pavlov’s dog than Schrödinger’s cat, I suppose.”
Sebastian smiled. If he wasn’t aware of her intelligence before, her casual use of scientific references would have clued him in.
Ashley Slade just became even more interesting.
He wasn’t looking for a permanent sub, and there was no way in hell that he could maintain anonymity with someone like her. He had agreed to be her Dominant, knowing that this weekend was all that they could ever have.
“Shower only,” he growled. “Tease me or try for more, and you’ll earn yourself a caning.”
“Yes, Master.” She said the right words, but he glimpsed the brat in her eyes, clearly itching to disobey.
Replay Book 8: The Dark Side by Nia Farrell
Length: 26,421 words. Release Date November 1, 2017.
Teasers and excerpts http://bit.ly/RB8WP or https://niafarrell.wordpress.com/2017/09/30/replay-book-8-the-dark-side/
Special Introductory Price 99 cents!