REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

Venetian mask. Beautiful woman in vintage dress and a mask on hi

 

REPLAY REUNION 3: NAUGHTY CARNEVALE

by Nia Farrell

Release Date February 29, 2020

Length 6,975 words

Amazon Universal ebook     Amazon US     Goodreads TBR

 

A photojournalist caught trying to enter Replay under an alias learns her lesson under a Dominant congressman.

It’s Carnevale in Replay’s newest edition to the BDSM theme resort where patrons roleplay in the past. Renaissance Venice will be brought to life in the Doge’s Palace.  Masked attendees include celebrities, billionaires, politicians, business tycoons, Replay Dominants and their submissives, and one very nervous photojournalist.  Hopefully, no one will recognize Mikaela in her elaborate wig and mask.

The Dominant assigned to Mikaela Roberts knows exactly who she is, but Congressman Devon O’Rourke has no idea why she’s here. After years of investigative reporting, Mikaela has come to learn the truth about herself. But first, she’ll have to prove herself to her temporary Dom, and that may prove as hard as resisting her growing attraction to a man who wishes that she was anywhere but here.

Naughty Carnevale is a BDSM erotic romance with adult themes and consensual power exchange, written for Ages 18+.  The Replay Reunions are companion short stories to the Replay series, which includes two Golden Flogger Finalists for Best BDSM Book of the Year.

 

EXCERPT:

Sir Declan led her to the shaped metal cage suspended in the corner over a drain grate.

She had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling.

He opened the door and made a point of looking inside it. “Mask on. Clothes off,” he said smoothly. “An hour in here, then it’s twenty strokes with a crop.”

“But—”

“Thirty,” he said, daring her to say something more.

Public humiliation followed by corporal punishment. She was never so grateful for her mask. If she was lucky, no one witnessing her shame would recognize her. No one but the congressman from Utah would realize how turned on she was right now, knowing that he’d have to help her undress, that he’d be watching every inch of skin that she exposed. That he could touch her anywhere, anytime he wanted with his large, strong, capable hands.

“Armand!” he called, motioning to one of the wardrobe assistants who’d been watching the rock star get flogged. “She’s ready.”

Adding to her indignities, the congressman delegated the task of helping her disrobe to a man who had no interest in women. Armand undressed her, removing layer after layer until the only things left were her wig and her mask while Sir Declan watched, his expression inscrutable.

She stood, blushing furiously beneath her mask while Sir Declan inspected her, front and back. Just when she thought her humiliation couldn’t be worse, he pulled a green glass anal plug from his pocket.

“Come,” he said, sounding too damned pleased with himself.  “Bend over the spanking bench.  Good.  Now stay while I fetch some oil.”

She closed her eyes, jumping when she felt his hand on her bottom.  Spreading her cheeks, he drizzled oil down her crack then pressed the plug into place, working it in and out as if testing her ability to take it up the ass.

She’d marked vaginal, oral, and anal as things she was willing to do.  She wasn’t adventurous enough to consider double penetration but she’d put down fisting as something she’d consider.  She wished she knew what he liked or was likely to try.  She’d rather have an idea what to expect next than to get blindsided by something she hadn’t seen coming.

Like being plugged and put on display for everyone to see.  It was a far sight better than being gibbeted or put in an iron maiden.

He pushed the plug firmly into place and tapped the end.  Her greedy pussy wanted more.  Hot, swollen, her vulva throbbed and her vagina clenched, squeezing out juices that trickled down her thigh.

Naked as she was, there was no hiding her arousal.  The air was thick with her musk and her nipples felt hard enough to cut diamonds.  He stood over her, watching her, gauging her reactions.  Satisfied, he ordered her to follow him back to the cage in the corner.

The stone floor was surprisingly warm beneath her feet.  Mikaela realized that Sir Piers had built it with radiant heat beneath it so submissives were less apt to get chilled.  The room was warm enough for nudity, which might explain why some of the Dominants were stripped to the waist while they did scenes with their subs.

“In you go,” Sir Declan ordered, holding the cage still for her to step inside.

Mikaela felt a twinge of panic, realizing that she’d just drunk water and shed her clothes.  There’s no way that she could last an hour in a basement cage without making a mess of things.

She tried to warn him.  “Sir, I need to visit the ladies’ room.”

“Forty,” he rumbled, showing neither mercy nor patience with her when he pointed to the floor drain and she realized why it was there.

Prophetic or not, forty minutes later, her humiliation was complete.

She kept her feet as far apart as she could, braced against the curve of the walls, the tide of emotions swelling inside her.  Embarrassment.  Resentment.  Anger.  Lust.  The plug in her rectum only made it worse.  She wasn’t the only one suffering.  Sir Declan was hard and huge, his reaction clearly visible beneath his tights.  Whether it was strictly for her or a response to everything taking place in the dungeon, she didn’t know, but they were both in need of release.

If only he would set aside his personal prejudice toward her as a journalist and see her as a woman who’d come here to learn how to be a submissive.  She realized that she’d have to act the part and continue to do so.  Only by following BDSM protocol would she prove herself worthy of his Domination.

If she was lucky, by the time Carnevale ended, she would win his trust and earn his cock.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.