Bound & Tamed

Bound & Tamed
Series: Bayou Bound, Book 4
Genre: BDSM
Tags: BDSM, Suspense
Publisher: Inked Press
Publication Year: 2014
Length: Novella

Rosaline Isnard is a woman on a mission to experience all the pleasures of the body following a devastating break-up. An arranged play-date at a private club with a dark new lover sends her on a roller coaster of highs and lows. As her damaged heart begins to beat again for a new love, she discovers that her mystery man has an objective of his own.

Kasper Hrna has harbored a desire for the hacker R0$3 since high school. Now, he needs that brilliant mind of hers to put a gang of criminals behind bars, but Rosaline has needs of her own. She pushes his control and the limits he thought he could keep on their relationship. What began as a matter of the flesh becomes one of the heart as Rosaline proves just how much power a submissive can have over her Dominant.

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An Excerpt From: BOUND & TAMED

Copyright © SIDNEY BRISTOL, 2014

All Rights Reserved, Inked Press

Kaspar Hrna shed his coat and handed it to the door slave. Tonight was not about pleasure, though he did have an itch to scratch. No, this evening was about business. Although he wasn’t sure how much could be done at a private BDSM party in the home of one of the wealthiest members of the local community. Here, he wasn’t Kaspar Hrna, computer forensics officer of the New Orleans Police Department. No, here he was Veles, a single Dominant and new to the city.

“Veles! Finally decided to join us?” The party’s host, Fletcher Perrine, strode toward him and pumped his arm. Unlike most of the patrons who preferred a uniform of black leather or nothing at all, Fletcher wore camel slacks and a plaid shirt half unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up. From his mussed curls, Kaspar could guess the man had at least one round of play under his belt already.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Is she here?” Kaspar hated to be rude, but his teeth were on edge and his patience short.

Fletcher tilted his head to the side. “Yes. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I am. I’d appreciate an introduction.”

Fletcher stepped out of the flow of people walking from room to room. Kaspar followed, prepared for the man’s objections.

“I’m happy to introduce you around, maybe find you a play partner for tonight, but Thorn is…” Fletcher sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

“Thorn is…?”

Black Thorn. One of many aliases used by a former hacker turned security consultant. And just the woman Kaspar needed.

“She’s a good girl, but she’s had a rough time lately.” Fletcher’s concern was genuine, but even more telling was what he wasn’t saying.

Kaspar wasn’t a badge-carrying cop, and his protective instincts rose to the forefront.

“If it makes any difference, I’m not looking to play with her. Just ask her a few questions.”

Fletcher nodded and gestured toward the back of the house. The old antebellum had been renovated to period style, but that was where the authenticity stopped. It was outfitted with X-shaped crosses, padded spanking benches, and every perverted type of furniture possible. The first time Kaspar had visited the house, he’d been more than a little impressed by its decadence.

His host led him out to a sunroom, where a buffet was laid out on one side, and small café chairs filled the rest of the space. It was louder, and there was no play going on here. A true social space.

“There.” Fletcher pointed to a trio of women.

Two were dressed in sexy clown outfits, but even with their outlandish outfits, the third caught his attention. She tossed her head back and laughed. It was hard to mistake her for anyone other than who she was—Black Thorn.

R0$3. Thorn. Rosaline. He’d ferreted out her names, using all of his skill at internet sleuthing until he’d found her. What had started as a juvenile crush had blossomed into something of an infatuation. Thorn in person was a hundred times more alluring than her photographs.

Her ethnic background was undoubtedly mixed, but whatever genetic make-up gave her the pale, caramel skin, high cheekbones, and generous mouth—it needed to be copied. Her hair was twisted up into a halo of tight, black curls, and when she laughed, they shook. She wore a short, black dress that might be a nightie to anyone else, but here it was a modest clothing choice.

She glanced toward them, and her gaze locked with that of the man standing next to Fletcher. Thorn paused in whatever she was saying, peering at him from across the room. He felt that moment deep in his bones, like an electrical surge.

“Introduce me,” Kaspar said.

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