HER MASTER'S VOICE introduces a new Dom into the world of slave traders. Malachi Montgomery works differently his best friend, Jake Kariola, but his goal is the same: to allow women the opportunity to shuck their worldly cares and enter a life of sexual slavery. His current slave-in-progress is Emma, a web designer who's looking for a way to serve her fellow man.
This was a fun story to write. I started writing this book on June 30th and completed it before the end of July. But these two characters had a lot (a LOT) more story to tell, so we kept going. Book 1 of this new series clocks in at 47,000 words and Book 2 currently stands at 49,000 before editing. FOr those of you following me on Facebook, the word counts I've been posting? Were for these two books.
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So, a whole new series of books that are very naughty, very sexy, very erotic. Just remember that Mystic likes to push the envelope and her stories contain BDSM activities taken about as far as they can go. You've been warned!
(NOTE: Jake Kariola, Malachi's best friend, has his own series. Over My Enslaved Body, Traitor Slave, Fully Owned and Training Two are all his.)
Excerpt? You want an excerpt? Oh, okay...What follows is a tame one, since Blogger would blow up if I posted a truly hot part of the book.
HER MASTER'S VOICE (Book 1 excerpt from Chapter 1)
by Mystic Shade
All Rights Reserved
Wearing nothing under her long coat but a latex bra and panties accompanied by a set of garters with stockings, and having remembered to put the panties outside the garters this time, Emma knocked on the door to the hotel room, desperately hoping she’d written the number right. She checked the paper in her palm once more. Room 311. Yes. Still, when Master Malachi opened the door, she gave a huge sigh of relief. She’d made it.
Her relief was short-lived, however, as he slid a blindfold over her eyes as she stood in the doorway, but not before she caught a glimpse of movement in the room. He pulled her inside, her high heels making her totter a bit, but she was sure she’d seen another person here with him. That couldn’t be right…he hadn’t said anything about bringing in other partners, although she’d confessed to a guilty fantasy involving multiple partners a few weeks ago…many partners and all of them men who wanted to use her for their own sexual gratification. He’d promised he’d make that dream come true. Someday.
Before Emma could get her bearings, he tugged the coat from her shoulders, effectively trapping her arms. The slip of paper floated to the floor as he spoke softly into her ear and she strained to listen.
“It is eleven o’clock, Saturday morning. Per our agreement, you are mine for the next twenty-four hours. Mine to play with, mine to command, mine to use and abuse.”
She nodded her assent, though nothing he said was phrased as a question. His hand groped her pussy, rubbing the latex into her slit. She moaned, her lips parting…and a ball gag pushed against her lips. Without thinking, she opened her mouth for it before realizing his hands were busy…who was gagging her so tightly? She tried to speak, but only garbled sounds came out around the rubber ball.
“Mine to use, mine to abuse.”
The mind-fuck already worked on her. “Abuse” – she loved that word. It implied so many naughty things he could do to her. They’d negotiated this, talked about it at length. Was it abuse if the action was consensual? She wanted her boundaries pushed—and pushed hard. At his hands she already knew she liked sensory play; a good flogging started her descent into subspace like nothing else. And being bound and helpless. Vulnerable. Open and unable to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted.
She leaned against his strong chest and a soft moan came from the back of her throat as he palmed her covered mound. Two weeks ago he’d asked if she’d ever thought about shaving her pussy and she had admitted to a higher than needed bikini cut, but hadn’t had the courage to go further. As a result, short brown hairs curled under the red latex. He pressed his hand against her mound, the pressure establishing his possession of her body as her mind wheeled. He assailed her senses before she was even four feet into the room. Her breath quickened around the gag when she realized again that another set of hands other than his touched her. She tried counting as fingers caressed her skin, ran over her breasts, her neck, then gathered her hair off her shoulders to twist into a rough ponytail. With her arms still tangled in the coat, she couldn’t stop them. But then again, with such wonderful twinges going off in her pussy, why would she want them to?
Her nipple rose to meet the finger that slipped under the latex to fondle the nub. Another moan, one she couldn’t suppress, filled her throat and her head tipped back. But her mouth was full of saliva she couldn’t swallow—the gag effectively trapped her tongue—and she tipped her head forward again, widening her lips in an effort to release the liquid.
“My slave.” Her Master’s palm on her cheek. She’d recognize that touch anywhere. His thumb ran over her cheekbone, claiming her face as his own. Pressing against his palm, she tried to let him know every part of her belonged to him. He pinched her lip, pulling it away from the gag and letting her drool.
“I own your mouth. You swallow—or don’t—at my whim.”
Emma’s knees felt weak and she gave him her mouth. It no longer belonged to her. It was his to play with, to use in any way he wanted.
Letting go of the self wasn’t something she could easily do. It took practice. A discipline of both mind and body. But over the past six months, she’d gotten better at it, more able to allow that letting go and, therefore, faster at letting it happen. And Master Malachi helped. She loved going into trance as he hypnotized her so he could speak to her subconscious. His words helped her strip away her inhibitions, her shyness, and society’s strictures regarding sexuality.
Still, losing the sense of self and moving into a state where she was no longer the center of her own being, took some time. His words, his actions, everything he did to her and for her, were steps to help her go deep inside, find the self, and release it.
Her face, her mouth—they were gone to her already today. They belonged to her Master and he would use them as he wanted. Two bodies shifted around her. Hands that were not his pressed against her breasts and she felt the rock-hard chest of someone behind her. Someone tall and muscular, similar to her Master, yet not him. Someone who smelled of soap and leather with strong, powerful hands that now slid down along her arms, holding them as her coat fell away and revealed her body to their eyes.