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The Dark Woods & Other Bondage Stories - ebook

Product Type:
eBook
Price:
$6.50
SKU:
PF4156
Author:
ISBN:
9781936173655
Publish Date:
5/30/2000
Quantity:
Available Formats:
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Kindle - .prc
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Product Description

The Dark Woods & Other Bondage Stories by S J Lewis

This collection of bondage erotica includes The Dark Woods, A Novella, plus six short bondage stories

The Dark Woods. Amy and Corliss are private investigators hired by separate parties to investigate the mysterious disappearance of several women. Who is taking them and where are they going? They aim to find out why despite the peril they face. Aware that Amy is on the case, Corliss sets her up as bait, then watches nearby as her colleague, after being taken from her hotel bed, is bound and led through the woods by well-armed men in camouflage. Corliss watches while hidden from view, unaware that her own movements have been tracked and it’s only a matter of minutes before she'll be found too. Once she's discovered, she’s taken to their camp where she becomes the object of the men's lust. Though part of her is repulsed by this terrifying scene, she’s also intensely aroused, as this story takes some surprising twists.

Other stories include The Countess and the General in which a rough old soldier teaches a lovely young noblewoman, some lessons in female submission and carnal pleasure. Then in Good Old Boys a big-city con-woman finds that the hillybilly she is trying to swindle is a lot smarter than she thought and a lot crueler than she ever expected. And then in Midnight Muse, a lonely, burned-out author of bodice-ripper romantic novels gets unexpected inspiration from a late-night intruder.

Three additional stories complete this collection. Another sizzling read for lover’s of S J Lewis’s erotic bondage tales. Lots of sizzling sex.


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Excerpt

“Come on, bitch,” the man growled. He tugged on the heavy chain. “Pick up the pace.”
Amy winced and whimpered behind the duct tape sealing her mouth. The chain was padlocked around her neck and it hurt when he yanked on it. Picking up the pace was the very last thing that she wanted to do. Every step they forced her to take took her further and further away from any hope of rescue and closer to those menacing dark woods. Since she had no hope of resisting, she obeyed as best she could. It wasn’t easy. She was dressed exactly as she’d been when they took her from her bed back at the old motel, in panties and an oversized black t-shirt. She was barefooted, so with every step she found yet another twig or rock to bruise the tender soles of her feet. Her hands were cuffed behind her, which made walking even more difficult. Her long, fine light brown hair hung loosely to her shoulders, and the morning breezes kept blowing strands of it across her face. She couldn’t brush them away, so she had to keep tossing her head so that she could see where she was about to step.
She felt lightheaded and disoriented. The last thing that she could remember clearly was flirting a bit with the big, bald, burly bartender back at the roadhouse while she tried to pump him for information. All that had gotten her was a couple of free drinks, and she was certain that he’d put a little something extra in the second one. She also felt a little chilly and a lot worried.
There were three men with her, all large and bulky-looking in their elaborate head-to-toe camouflage outfits. They also wore camouflage masks, which hid everything but their eyes. Amy didn’t want to look at those eyes. She saw no mercy in them, only interested speculation whenever they looked at her. The man in front was carrying a pump shotgun. He kept scanning left to right and back again as he led the way across the meadow. The next man in line was the one holding her leash. He carried a pistol in a holster at his hip. The last man, bringing up the rear, carried a scoped rifle. She couldn’t see him, but Amy was sure that he was also looking around as he followed along, whenever he wasn’t focusing on her bare legs. She was certain that she could feel his eyes on her every so often, but she didn’t dare turn around to make sure.
She had no idea why they were all swathed in camouflage. She had no idea why they were so well-armed. She also had no idea where she was, or how they had gotten her here. One minute she was roused from her groggy sleep by rough hands covering her mouth, flipping her over and cuffing her wrists, and the next she was being woken from another groggy sleep, laying on an old tarp in the back of a battered pickup truck. She’d been so out of it that she hadn’t even thought to look at the license plate until it was too late. All she’d been able to note was that the truck had been parked in a little clearing at the end of a rutted dirt road that disappeared into the surrounding woods. Then she was being led along a narrow trail that ended where the woods ended at the edge of a wide meadow. They were almost all the way across that meadow now and she’d seen no sign of any other people. Once she’d thought she’d seen a house…or a building of some kind, anyway…in the distance, but too far away for her to scream for help, even if she hadn’t been gagged with that sticky strip of duct tape. It looked and felt like early morning. The sun was still low in the sky, but climbing. From that she could at least tell that she was being led eastwards. She could hear no birds, or indeed anything other than the heavy treads of her captors, a muttered curse from the one leading her if she lagged too much to suit him, and her own muffled whimpers of pain as her bare feet found yet another thing to bruise them hidden in the ankle-high grass. She had only one consolation to cling to, and it was very small: They wouldn’t be going to this much trouble if they meant to kill her. That still left open the question of what they did mean to do with her. She could think of a number of possibilities, and didn’t like any of them. She stepped on something hard and pointy and whimpered. How much further were they going to make her walk? She was tired and thirsty and the morning air was uncomfortably cool on her bare legs.
She had plenty of reasons to worry. They’d probably tossed her motel room, which meant that they’d found her ID and her gun. They had to know that she was a private investigator. Would they torture her for information? If they did, she’d spill her guts right away. This was supposed to be a simple, straightforward case. She wasn’t being paid enough to play the hard-boiled PI, and she really didn’t know that much anyway. She shuddered. They might just have fun torturing her anyway.

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