My original series THE CHRONICLES OF SURRENDER have been out of publication for a few years now. This week’s re-release is book one: SACRED SECRETS…The book that started it all for me. . . . is now available again in ebook and print
It has been revised and expanded.
Here is a little snippet…
I’m the last slave to be auctioned and the excitement level has reached a chaotic frenzy. I catch myself chewing my bottom lip and force myself to stop. In a self-conscious effort, I rub my tongue over my top teeth, hoping to erase the clinging tracks of red. I rub my lips together furiously to redistribute the remaining color.
Doug turns me to face him.
For a second, I think perhaps he will kiss me as all the previous owners have done with their slaves. I brace for it, hoping he isn’t a slobberer, but then I blink, not believing he just ripped the front of my sheer black dress.
What the hell?
He pulls the ruined fabric completely off me and tosses it aside. Wide-eyed, I’m both shocked and horrified. Granted, it was barely more than lingerie, but it was something!
Panicked, I can’t move. We didn’t practice this. We didn’t even discuss it! Is he trying to make sure the welts are seen? I can’t believe he isn’t giving up on this. I feel every eye on my bare skin and I want to die. Too late, I realize it is my face, my reaction larger than life on the screen. The heat of the blush begins at my closed-toe stilettos and travels upward until even my cheeks are flaming.
Strangely, my dark, sheer, lace-topped thigh highs make me feel even nuder, not less. For the most part, the crowd has been relatively well behaved throughout the auction. Now they are wild. I’m suddenly very aware of the wire mesh, floor-to-ceiling security fence separating the stage from the crowd. Several people try to climb the fence during the frenzied moment. Security swarms.
“Walk the stage, bitch, or do I drag you?” Doug’s spit sprays over my face with his shout. He jerks hard on the leash. Leather bites my neck.
The noise from the crowd is deafening.
Red-hot drama. This is what they came for.
Garrett Lawrence steps forward and forces the leash from Doug’s hand. For a moment, Doug struggles to hang on, but is quickly overwhelmed by Security and removed from the stage. I watch his struggle as he is led out of the building through a side fire exit. Thankfully, Garrett Lawrence returns to center stage, leaving me—at least momentarily—alone in the shadows to get my shit together.
Fighting tears, it registers— I feel abandoned. No one is more surprised than I—loner girl, avoid relationships at all cost girl. Until now, I was unaware Doug was my security blanket. Now I’m alone and naked—talk about adrenaline rush.
Looking outward, Garrett Lawrence gestures a command for silence and the crowd goes still, doing for him what the paid muscle couldn’t achieve with brawn. Everyone obeys the Master on the stage and I’m as spellbound as the rest.
He turns and his gaze falls on me; my breath catches. I lower my face, not daring to look up, not even chancing a breath as I feel his assessment. There is a long moment where all I can do is tremble.
The announcer calls out, “Seventy-three!”
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