REPLAY REUNION 2: NAUGHTY VALENTINE

RR2 Naughty Valentine 6x9 sm

 

REPLAY REUNION 2: NAUGHTY VALENTINE

by Nia Farrell

Length 6,835 words. Release date February 22, 2019. FREE with KU.

Amazon Universal e-book     Amazon US e-book     Goodreads reviews

In this a standalone BDSM erotic romance, Replay Dominant Richard Franklin has been with Tory a year now.  The first five months were been the happiest of his life.  All that ended when Tory’s sister-in-law lost her baby and his ginger-haired witch lost her fire.

He wants his old Tory back.  The one who teased him.  Who challenged him.  The beautiful English heiress who captivated him even before she dared to cast a love spell using candle magick.  She was locked in there, somewhere.  He just needs to find the key.

Rich takes drastic measures and brings Tory to the Valentine’s party on the dark side of the resort, where RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink) scenes take place.  Can he get through to Tory and reclaim her, or will he lose her to the master of the whip?

This standalone short story has adult situations and a consensual power exchange that includes public exhibition, voyeurism, discipline, bondage, fire play, and sharing a submissive with another Dominant.  Written for Ages 18+.

Excerpt:

A clutch of black-robed priests and wimpled nuns stood to one side of the chamber.  Beyond them knelt five penitents, dressed in gleaming white robes and pointed hoods.  Even if she weren’t in this ancient space, she knew enough history to not assign them to a more modern era.  Their outfits predated the American Civil War by centuries.  The hoods were capirotes, worn during the Spanish Inquisition by penitents who would be flogged until their backs bled.

It wasn’t yet Lent, but that didn’t stop the first one from being stripped and bound to a whipping post facing her.

She recognized Conner from the eighteenth-century scenes that he’d done at the Georgian House.  When Rich slid his hands around her to cup her breasts and play with them, Conner didn’t even try to avert his gaze.  Instead, he focused on her and accepted the first lash of the whip on his back.

Tory flinched to see his reaction.  Pain twisted his features.  Watching her being fondled, knowing that she was out of his reach, just seemed to make it worse.

The next stripe fell.  The Dominant in priestly black robes wielded the whip like an extension of himself, each stroke as intimate as a bare-handed spanking.

“Watch,” Rich ordered when she started to look away.  “He thinks he needs to be punished, like his PTSD is his fault.  He feels responsible for what happened to his unit and guilty because he’s one of the few who survived.  You and I know that he’s not to blame, but he doesn’t see it that way, does he?”

“No, Sir,” she breathed, flinching when the next stroke fell.

Rich made her watch until Conner was let down and led away, headed for aftercare by one of the nuns.

Another man took his place.  Tory blanched when she saw that it was Luc Vashon and the priest wielding the whip was Replay psychiatrist Sir Josef.  This time, the scene didn’t end with a whipping.  Sir Josef tossed the whip aside, pulled up his robe, and impaled his submissive in one impassioned thrust that made Luc gasp and moan.

He took Luc where he stood, then freed him and led him away for aftercare.

Tory was a mass of seething lust by the time the fifth and final man was whipped.  Rich had kept her aroused and hovering on the brink of orgasm for what seemed like an hour.  She didn’t know how long that they had been here, but she was swollen and needy and craved Rich’s possession.

The whip-wielding priest scared her.  When he walked past the whipping post and stalked towards her, she instinctively shrank against Rich, silently begging her Dominant to protect her.

The priestly Dom had the look of a Spaniard about him.  Black hair.  Dark eyes.  Skin that looked kissed by the sun.  He spoke in accented English.  “I have seen your contract.  Are there any changes that you wish to make?”

Tory had reviewed its terms three months after meeting Rich, once she’d had a chance to observe the scenes at Replay and had a better understanding of what she was agreeing to.

“No, Sir,” she croaked.

His sculpted lips tilted in the barest hint of a smile.  “I am Don Diego,” he rumbled.  “In Brazil, we would call you a bruxa.  A witch.  You are a woman of power but for good or evil?  Not that it matters.  Tonight, you will be purified.  Bring her.”

Rich lowered her bound hands.  Tory’s arms ached from being extended for so long.  Rich rubbed at the tension, working her muscles once from the base of her neck to her wrists.  Cupping her shoulders, he guided her to stand beneath what looked like an oxen yoke with metal rings dangling from it.

It was the medieval equivalent of a spreader bar.

Don Diego lowered it from the ceiling.  Not to the floor, thank goodness.  She didn’t think she could take being strung upside-down.  She was freaking out enough when Rich untied her wrists and lashed each hand to one end of the yoke before it was hauled back up.

They didn’t stop until she was standing on her toes, feeling as close to a panic attack as she’d ever been.  Taking another bullwhip that he wielded with such skill, Don Diego ran the lethal leather coils down her sides, across her buttocks, and up her spine.

He stepped closer.  Close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and feel his breath stir her hair.

“Confess,” he rumbled.  “Unburden your soul.  What do you have to say, my child?”

Tory shivered, as much from Don Diego’s words as from the searing heat in Rich’s eyes.  But no words came.

Instead, there was a long moment of silence, then the lightning crack of the whip that left a fiery stripe on her skin.

Tory thought that she could take a lot, but the bullwhip was nearly too much for her to bear.  Rich was kinder in his discipline.  Firm but fair, he preferred rewards to threats of punishment.  Psychologically, she didn’t know if he would have been able to whip her.  He had spanked her and flogged her, but whips were far beyond the level of anything that they’d done.  She could tell that he was forcing himself to watch, yet he also enjoyed having her at their mercy.  His body didn’t lie.  There was a telltale tent in the front of his robe.

He wasn’t the only one who was excited.  When Don Diego inspected his work, he grasped her hips and pushed his pelvis into her backside, letting her feel his arousal. 

Rich knew what was happening and was okay with it.  His silence spoke volumes. 

He was letting this happen. 

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Five for Five Giveway!

5 for 5 sm
From Nia Farrell aka Erinn Ellender Quinn aka Ree L. Diehl:
The three of me are giving away five copies of Replay Reunion 1: Naughty New Year, a standalone, sizzling short story set at readers’ favorite BDSM theme resort. There are five things to do for your chance to win:
 
1. Join our Facebook group The Fold https://www.facebook.com/groups/THEFOLD3
 
2. Follow Nia Farrell’s Amazon author page http://viewauthor.at/NiaFarrell
 
3. Follow Erinn Ellender Quinn’s Amazon author page http://viewauthor.at/EEQuinn
 
4. Follow Ree L. Diehl’s Amazon author page http://author.to/ReeLDiehl
 
5. Subscribe to our gorgeous monthly newsletter http://bit.ly/NiaErinnReeNews
 
Go to this post in THE FOLD and comment DONE. https://www.facebook.com/groups/THEFOLD3/permalink/1292927400812613/
 
Our newsletter goes out once a month, beautifully done and packed with goodies. Here’s a link to the last issue http://bit.ly/Dec2017News.

Replay Reunion 1: Naughty New Year

REPLAY REUNION 1: NAUGHTY NEW YEAR

by Nia Farrell

Length 6,154 words. Release date January 1, 2018.

Amazon e-book http://mybook.to/RR1NNY  or https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077MMRBVP

Goodreads http://bit.ly/RR1NNYGR  or https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36631578-replay-reunion-1

The cast of Replay BDSM theme resort reunites for a very special New Year celebration, held in the latest expansion where future Steampunk weekends will be held.  Sir Piers built the Steamroom complex for his wife Eleanor.  Its design was inspired by the books that she enjoys as an adult and a board game that she loved in her youth.

It’s a rare evening out for Replay’s owner and his wife.  Time away from their daughter Adrienne creates problems for Eleanor, who’s still breastfeeding.  But Sir Piers is more than her husband.  He’s her Dominant.  When the pain becomes acute, he whisks her into the conservatory and gives her the relief that she needs.

It’s a brand New Year, and a very different Replay.  Written for ages 18+.

 

Excerpt:

The moon was nearly full tonight, and the sky was clear.  The ambient lighting in the conservatory made it harder to see the stars, but it enhanced the inner beauty of the space.  The stained concrete floor mimicked flagstones but the illusion of texture was far easier to clean.  Potted trees and plants formed a maze of pathways.  A mix of wicker, wood, and metal furniture was scattered throughout.

Piers had built the entire Steamroom complex just for her, inspired by the books she enjoyed as an adult and the game that she had loved when she was younger.

It was the first time that she had been included on a project from the initial concept to the completed design.  She’d thought that cutting back her hours of counseling at the community resource center would allow more time with Adrienne.  Instead, she’d found herself working with Piers and loving every minute of it.

The man was a visionary.  A genius, really.  And so very humble, considering his gifts.  He’d taken a dream and turned it into reality.  Every weekend, he made fantasies come true.

If she could be certain that she wouldn’t add to any guilt or embarrassment that Ashley might be feeling, she’d slide from her chair, crawl over to her husband, and show her appreciation.  Later, she promised herself.  Their first obligation was to others.  And denying herself now would only heighten her pleasure later.

She finished her snails and sipped at her wine, watching Piers eat.  For so large a man, he was incredibly graceful.  He had nearly finished when the orchestra began playing the song that they’d first danced to, dressed as the White Queen and King in Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland.

“I am sorry.”  He sighed.  “I expected us to be finished inside and ready to dance, if we were not already.”

“Oh, no!  Don’t be sorry.  It’s fine, Piers.  Really.  This whole night.  This place.  The food.  The wine.  The music.  Everything is perfect—or will be, if we can get Ashley’s stomach settled.  Maybe some clear soda, or crackers.  I went through boxes of saltines and graham crackers with Adrienne.”

“Indeed.”  At least he was able to smile about it now.  At the time, he’d been extremely concerned, and rightly so.  “Hopefully, next time will be better.”

“Hopefully,” she agreed.  “With Adrienne, the only thing easy was the delivery.  Two hours, and there she was.”

Piers dropped his gaze.  “The doctor said that your hips were made for birthing babies.”

He put his napkin on the table.  Rose.  Stalked over to her like a large jungle cat, took hold of her chair, and turned it to face him.  Kneeling, he slid his hands down her thighs and spread her legs, opening her, letting him smell the musk of her arousal. 

“So responsive,” he crooned, cupping her sex and feeling how wet he’d made her.  “But these are in the way of enjoying my dessert.  Knickers off, princess.”

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