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Slaves of the Chalice

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Slaves of the Chalice by Rose Thornwell

Ariana is a coldly beautiful enchantress, green eyed and domineering. Colt Forbes is the adventurer she takes to bed for a searing night of passion and pain that brands him as hers, heart and soul. Colt wants to marry her, but Ariana has a different purpose in mind. Introducing him to her sexy and mysterious sisters, Ariana charges Colt and his partner Turlow Walker with recovering a priceless Golden Chalice deep in the jungles of South America.

Off to do her bidding, the two get more than they bargained for as they face a tribe of deadly Amazons, as well as the ruthlessly sadistic female who guards this treasure. The stakes are high, the mission dangerous and to fail could have disastrous results. Will they be able to please these masterful Dominant women and obtain the prize, or will they be lost forever in this treacherous jungle?

Their only hope is total submission to the whims of their betters. Beaten and degraded, the men must learn to love their pain, crawling and cringing, little more than beasts to be manipulated and used at will. A fast-paced plot full of hot action and beautiful women, from the first page to the last a book you won't want to miss!

Contains exquisite accounts of male punishment and domination by powerful females. Includes coerced sex, anal and oral, CP, bondage, slave training, and thoroughgoing domination, physical and psychological. Whips and chains, spells of captivity and terrible demonic illusions are just a few of the methods employed to thoroughly keep these men enslaved.

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“You have to pass the test first.”
“The test?”
“Sex, Mr. Forbes.”
Is it his imagination, or did her tongue just dart over the edge of her lips, luscious and ruby red, glossy, invitingly wet? “I’d assumed that was to be a sign-on bonus,” he smiles thinly. “Not a qualifying exam.”
“We don’t do business with anyone we don’t know, Mr. Forbes.”
This time he’s sure about the lip licking—it’s very fast and subtle, but quite undeniable. “I assume you mean ‘know’ in the biblical sense,” he supplies. “But who exactly is ‘we’? You’ve yet to make clear to me the nature and scope of your organization.”
Ariana’s shod foot comes up between his legs. “What would you do, Mr. Forbes,” she turns the conversation a hundred and eighty degrees. “if I masturbated you to climax, right here?”
He does his best not to flinch. “Is this another part of the test?”
The smile is prettier this time, coquettish. “I think I’m going to enjoy you, Mr. Forbes.”
Colt is barely holding on. His prick is throbbing wildly; somehow she’s managed to find the little vein on the underside, through his pants and boxers with the patent leather toe of her slender shoe. “Enjoy…as in use?” he boomerangs back her own words.
“Is that what you want…Mr. Forbes? To be used?” There’s a slight edge, as though the title is being employed out of hidden sarcasm and not actual respect.
“What I want is to know what the hell this mission is you’re sending me on,” he clenches his fists. “Nobody pays a million dollars to recover a goblet, even a solid gold one, unless it’s stolen or cursed. And since I don’t believe in curses, that only leaves one possibility.”
She purses her lips daintily. “I’m not wearing underwear, Mr. Forbes. I also happen to be ovulating; if you were to touch me, I would go off like a rocket.”
Visions of Ariana flash through his brain. Ariana, bent over the hood of the nearest car in the parking lot, her dress tugged up to her waist, face pressed to the still warm metal as he kneels to kiss her perfect ass. Ariana, scoots up on the bathroom sink, heels hooked on the edge of the Formica cabinet, inviting him to finger her pussy, for hours if necessary, till she’s sick and tired of coming. Or better still, any scenario at all involving the lovely green-eyed beauty and his penis.
“Maybe we could skip dinner and…just go somewhere…now.” His tone is pure surrender, peppered with a large sprinkling of desperation.
“I thought you wanted to know all about your mission?” she reminds.
Damn. He’s going to lose it. Talk about humiliating. If it weren’t for the server heading this way with the appetizer, he’d be looking at a sticky, hot mess in his boxers.
Ariana removes her foot discretely, avoiding detection. “Have you ever tried these, Mr. Forbes?” she indicates the splendidly arranged tray of appetizers.
“No,” he tries to focus. “And I do wish you’d stop calling me Mr. Forbes.”
“Would you prefer something more intimate?” she asks impishly, replacing her foot on his poor swollen cock.
He sucks an uneasy breath. She’s managed somehow to remove her shoe and now it’s her stocking toes that are playing over his erection. “Under the circumstances,” he notes dryly, “that would probably be more appropriate.”
Ariana flashes him a heart-melting smile, complete with a momentary flash of teeth. He swears in this mode she looks like a small child, a pretty little girl. “I really am enjoying you, Mr. Forbes—Colt—much more than the last one.”
Colt’s early warning radar clicks on. “Last one? What do you mean, ‘last one’?”
“Oh, dear,” she sighs, her brow furrowing. “I shouldn’t have said that. My bad.”
He watches in astonishment as she snatches his scotch and downs it in one gulp.
“There,” she decides. “That’s better.”
Colt doesn’t know whether to leap across the table and kiss her or strangle her. “Better for you maybe…”
“It’s like this,” she removes her foot and leans forward, this time affecting the sweet voiced enthusiasm of a schoolgirl. “The cup, the goblet thingy is very far away. In the jungle. In a spooky, moldy old temple guarded by some mean Amazons. We want you get it and bring it back to us.”
Colt is too charmed not to laugh. “That sounds like the plot of some really bad ‘B’ movie. Are you sure you and your friends haven’t been playing too many video games?”
“Oh, my,” she looks down at the empty glass, removing herself entirely from her prior train of thought. “Did I do that? I’m sorry. Would you like another?”
“No, I think I’ve had enough. And I’m betting you have, too.”
“Oh no,” she winks slyly. “I fuck much better drunk.”

Artist Credit

Raisa Kanareva - Shutterstock.com

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