On Dangerous Ground – ebook

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On the run from her threatening past, Jordan needs a place to hide, and she needs it now! At a roadside diner, she impulsively hops a ride in the back of a truck, only to find herself in the midst of a freight-load of females, all blindfolded, bound and being transported to god knows where. But this is not the time to panic. She goes along for the ride, swiping a blindfold and cuffs so it appears that she’s just another captive. After being intoxicated, Jordan and her companions awaken at a secluded compound called Sanctuary where the business at hand is all about sex. When one of her fellow captives is taken to the ‘rack’ for a demonstration, Jordan know that it’s only a matter of time before she gets the same treatment.

Description

On Dangerous Ground by Alexander Kelly

On the run from her threatening past, Jordan needs a place to hide, and she needs it now! At a roadside diner, she impulsively hops a ride in the back of a truck, only to find herself in the midst of a freight-load of females, all blindfolded, bound and being transported to god knows where. But this is not the time to panic. She goes along for the ride, swiping a blindfold and cuffs so it appears that she’s just another captive. After being intoxicated, Jordan and her companions awaken at a secluded compound called Sanctuary where the business at hand is all about sex. When one of her fellow captives is taken to the ‘rack’ for a demonstration, Jordan know that it’s only a matter of time before she gets the same treatment.

Jordan is swept into a world of sadomasochistic sex, where she learns to take the beatings and the hard sex and still survive. Rough as it is, it’s a whole lot better than what awaits her outside the safety of the Sanctuary.

Once she gets her bearings, Jordan sets her sights on one of the Sanctuary ‘nobles’, Gavin, who’s making plans to leave the country with a personal submissive. She aims to be that submissive. But a menacing Mistress Gisele suspects that Jordan is an SM faker, and blackmails her into obtaining information from the powerful Gavin. Jordan’s caught in the midst of a dangerous game. But she’ll stop at nothing to reach safety, submitting to every master, mistress and trainer in Sanctuary, and even if that also means going along with Gisele’s destructive plot.

Both male and female domination, with heavy bondage and whipping, discipline, punishment, suspension, submissive training, public exhibitions, collars, gags, punishment devices and plenty of coerced sex, including oral, anal, straight and lesbian.

Additional information

Artist Credit

Cover Art © www.powershotz.com

ISBN

9781936173167

Publish Date

11/28/2007

Word Count

75284

Page Count

132

Excerpt

Something filled my mouth.
It pressed down on my tongue, pushed out against my teeth and the sides of my cheeks. I tried to work my jaw and found I couldn’t do that either. A thin strap, secured tight underneath my chin, prevented any movement. More straps pressed all around, a wide one across my lips to wrap around my head, another one above that ran from my forehead to just below my crown in back, and others that angled up from the corners of my mouth alongside my nose to a point on my forehead. The scent of leather pervaded everything.
My gummy eyes blinked and I slowly turned my head. I was still in the back of the bouncing truck, its lurches now also waking up the other women. All similarly gagged now, and bound in thick straps like me, most of which held our arms tight in back, legs welded together and torsos upright against the wood slats behind us. The truck probably wasn’t going that fast, but the enforced vertical position was for our own protection since we were no longer on smooth roadway, but rough terrain. Whoever was running this show didn’t want the cargo injured. Whatever that was worth, I took it for a good sign. But, based on the fear in everyone’s eyes, that was the only one.
Freckles awakened. Green eyes slowly focused and over the engine whine, once she realized her current state, she emitted more than a few whines of her own. The young one that had held the older woman’s hands let loose with some squeals, but the others remained silent. The older woman next to her, who sat opposite me, seemed to have an air of grim resignation about it all, as if this was just another in a long line of incidents that needed to be tolerated. She scanned the others, studying each one for a brief moment, then our eyes met. I sensed an endurance, a deep well of hidden strength of which no one yet had discovered the full depth. From that point on I ignored the others and tried to draw courage from that gaze. For the most part, she returned my look, briefly breaking away now and then to lay her head in reassuring comfort against the young, scared woman.
The truck slowed even further, then revved up a steep slope and suddenly leveled off. The bouncing ceased as the truck found a smooth surface, then stopped. A garage door rolled closed and the tarp flipped up. A young man with small, round glasses, and then a tall woman, her age close to my own late twenties, climbed into the truck bed. She carried a clipboard and exuded an officious air.
“So, these are the latest?” she said. She strode up and down the truck bed. Straight, dark red hair curled inward to high cheekbones while delicate hands checked things off on the clipboard, the edge of which pressed against her flat, tight stomach. Utilitarian riding boots clumped on the floorboards. “Well, well, never thought I’d see you here, Coretta,” she said to the older woman. “Finally decided to take the plunge?”
Coretta glared and her nostrils widened in response.
The officious woman chuckled, then scanned the rest of the group while her pencil checked away. “A couple of nice, fresh faces here.” She grabbed the young, scared one’s chin and held her face up for a moment. The woman smiled, a razor thin, malicious thing with no warmth. Showing a little fire of her own, the young woman pulled her chin away. The officious woman laughed and checked her list again. She frowned.
“What’s this?” she said, and recounted all the women. “There’s only eight on the list, but nine here. Logan!”
Logan climbed into the truck bed, grabbed the clipboard and studied it. “So they forgot to add one. Big deal.” He held a hand up to quell forming protests. “Take it easy, Gisele. We’ll backtrack on this, but it’s going to take time. For now, just process them.”
Gisele grabbed the clipboard and sniffed. “Well, since you don’t think it’s such a big deal, I don’t see why I should either. But it is.” She started at the end of the bench opposite me. “All right, Coretta,” she said to the woman there, “you’re Number One.”
Gisele ripped the top of the woman’s red, satin shirt apart, exposing two well-shaped breasts in a white, lacy bra. The woman jumped a little, but Logan’s big hands pressed on her shoulder held her still. With a black grease pen Gisele quickly wrote the numeral “1” on the upper left breast.
“And guess what your new name is, slut?” she said to the young, nervous one next to Coretta. Buttons popped as Gisele tore apart her sheer, white blouse and then the simple, light blue, tank top and white bra underneath. She was Two.
So it went all around, the numbers going up on each woman. Then Gisele got to Freckles. I’m sure she would have been treated no different from the others, but Freckles glared back at Gisele.
“Well, well, well. I know that face. Been a long time, hasn’t it, Hilary,” Gisele said. “A long time. And I know that look. It says, ‘Go ahead, take your best shot’.” She got right down in the woman’s face and all trace of fake warmth vanished. “You’re mine now, bitch. Burton.”
Gisele snapped her fingers at the man with the glasses who deposited a switchblade on her open palm.
The knife flashed out, lightning fast, and, with controlled fury, Hilary’s simple black t-shirt hung in tatters. A couple of quick twists on the bra and generous breasts fell out. But Gisele didn’t stop there. With Burton’s help she tore away Hilary’s jeans, sliced off her panties and flung them away in the back of the truck. A large number ‘8’, somewhat laid over on its side in Gisele’s haste to write it, graced Hilary’s left tit.
“Get ready, number eight,” Gisele said, waving the blade under Hilary’s wide eyes. “It’s only going to get better from here.”
It was too much to expect Gisele to calm down when she got to me. Like Hilary, my clothes were also soon in shreds at my bound feet. A cool breeze wafted over my bare skin and ‘9’ graced my upper tit and lower shoulder. Then Gisele found my small purse and wallet. She rummaged through them.
“What is this doing here?” she demanded. “No personal effects allowed!” There wasn’t much in there, but just the purse and wallet’s presence was enough to earn the evil eye. But Gisele did find something. When I had emptied my purse and wallet of all traces of my past, I still left other things in there. I never knew when I might need them, certain items a woman these days never did without.
“Condoms!” Gisele held them up, about a half dozen. “Forget it, honey. You’re not going to need these. Ever again.”
I snorted through the gag.
“Don’t believe me? Since I have to assume you’re a newcomer to Sanctuary I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. But you were told to leave everything, everything, behind. So, just to give you a preview, number nine, before you even get processed, we’ll get on now with the first fuck.”
They hauled us out of the truck, hoisted up, handed down, stumbling on the cold, concrete floor into a ragged line up. Logan and Burton carried out a kind of rack I’d never seen before. That it was meant for someone to lie down on it was plain enough, but instead of keeping the legs together, a couple of stout two by fours split apart at wide angles. A well-worn wooden headrest was set near the top while leather straps hung everywhere.
Gisele strolled up and down the line, an index finger pointed under her chin. “Who should it be? Who gets first crack at the rape rack? You?” She regarded me. “No. You brought the rubbers so giving you a fuck now seems more like a reward. Then how about you, Number Eight? No, I’ve got special plans for you. Let’s see. Let’s see.” Her boots echoed in the garage. She stopped in front of the young, nervous one, Number Two, who stood there shaking like a leaf. “Hmm. You look like you need it. And, who knows? It might do you some good. But I think… Yes, Number One, come forward.”
Coretta slowly stepped out.
“Yes, you,” Gisele said. “I know this isn’t your first time on a rack. Show the newbies how it’s done.”
Gisele grabbed Coretta by the arm and led her to the rape rack. Coretta didn’t resist, didn’t hesitate, although she did stumble a little when she stood next to it. In quick, experienced moves, Logan and Burton soon had her on the rack, arms stretched out, legs spread wide. Her skirt was pushed up and panties ripped away to reveal a small patch of glistening pubic hair and pink lips. Logan unhooked her bra from in front and Coretta’s fully developed breasts lay to their sides. Underneath the head harness straps, blue eyes flicked back and forth. Her breaths quickened.
Logan hefted a breast, ran a hand over her inner legs. “Nice and smooth. No wrinkles. Good, firm muscle tone. You take care of yourself. That’s a good quality in a slave, Number One.” He glanced up at us. “Let that be a lesson to the rest of you. Don’t let your self-care stop just at the surface.”
“Get on with it,” Gisele said.
Logan threw her a look and I got my first lesson there, even if Gisele didn’t mean it. She was in charge, but only because the men allowed it. They had given her the power, and could just as easily take it away. Slowly, like he didn’t have anything better to do, Logan unbuckled his pants. Burton stood close by, his own cock already exposed, erect and eager.
Logan speared Coretta who moaned in her throat and closed her eyes. Her hands formed into fists but she didn’t try to stop Logan. His hips pumped, rubbed against her inner thighs. He kneaded her breasts; his tongue circled one nipple, then the other. Lips nibbled them fully erect and then suckled and lightly bit each. Coretta moaned again, deeper, longer. She did have some play in her hips and now they moved in time with Logan’s, little buffets to match his whenever they met. Logan’s hands gently ran up her arms, opened her clenched hands. Fingers entwined. He leaned down, kissed her between the head harness straps; his tongue licked her eyelids, gently massaged her eyebrows. Then he rammed her. Not a fully sadistic move, but one calculated to wake her up, make her know his cock had invaded her.
Coretta’s eyes flew open, lips worked about the red ball but the harness held it tight in her mouth. Vague half-words of protest formed deep in her throat. Logan ran a hand over her tightly pulled back black hair, reached behind and let it loose. Coretta shook her head, tried to avert her gaze but Logan’s large hand squeezed her cheeks and wrenched it back around to face him. His hips shifted into another gear and Coretta’s half-words turned into full-throated, animalistic growls. Her own hips bounced on the rack, rocked up and down, not due so much to Logan’s rhythm as her own passions run amok.
And then they both froze, a brief moment of them both ready for climax. Then Coretta flung her head back. Her back arched, legs and arms twisted within the straps and the animal cry transformed into one of raw wildness. Logan sagged on top of Coretta, his own breaths deep and passionate and they gripped each other’s hands, as if they would never part. When, at last, Logan stirred he whispered to her. I was the nearest one to it and so only I heard what he said.
“You’ve submitted before, but never as a slave, have you?”
Coretta’s eyes slowly opened. She gazed at him and a single tear welled up and spilled out.
Logan stroked her forehead, then stood up and got himself back together. He turned to Burton and said something like “…first time in years…” and “…not quite ready…”
But Gisele was having nothing of open secrets. She planted herself right in the middle of the men’s conversation with an expression that spoke of a storm ready to break. Logan spoke sharply to her, low and intense, then everything got real quiet. At last Gisele nodded in agreement. Grimacing, Burton struggled to tuck away his cock and unbound Coretta. She slid to the floor, quivering as they bound her arms, and then dragged back to the line. But we weren’t done with the rape rack yet. Not hardly.
Gisele once more strutted in front of us. “Just because Number One can’t handle more than one cock at a time doesn’t mean any of you are off the hook.” She stopped in front of me and viciously smiled. “All right, Number Nine. You started this whole thing. You can finish it.”
I refused to budge. Burton came at me and I fought back, kicking, shaking my shoulders free of his grip. I surprised him and managed to pushed him away, but only temporarily. Logan helped and together they lifted me up, my legs pinwheeling in the air, my stuffed cries bouncing off the walls. Logan got in between my legs and wrapped his strong arms around my thighs while Burton and Gisele gripped my torso.
Thump! On the rack now but my hips rocked and rolled to get off. I fought and strained against the strapping down of one arm, then the other. My feet kicked against Logan’s strong back but he stoically endured the attack, letting up just enough on the leg locks until they were anchored in place too. The straps wrapped tight against my ankles, just below and above the knees, and also across the upper thighs. Overhead my hands felt numb already. I tossed my head, shoulders and hips this way and that and tried to shout past the wide gag strap.
“Uughers! Uughin’ ock uogers!”
“She isn’t tied down enough,” Logan said. “Give her the full treatment.”
More straps passed over my shoulders to pin them against the woodwork. Another two angled up from my crotch to the outer hips to firmly hold them in place. I tossed my head but that didn’t last long either as two more straps, one across my forehead, another that ran from one side close to my ear, under my chin, then back up the other side, robbed me of even that feeble protest. Then…
COCK!
My snatch! Oh, jesus fucking god!
A bull. That was Burton. He just pounded. Harder, harder. Faster. Faster! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Ram, pound, pound, pound. Bangbangbang! Hot jets poured into me. Zzztt, zzztt, zzztt. Burton’s cum overflowed from my pussy, dripped to the floor and I swear I could hear it sizzle. He pulled out and left me open, exposed and cold.
But I wasn’t finished. Or rather, they weren’t finished. I mean, Gisele. The rape rack lurched and I descended about a foot. The men stood aside. I couldn’t turn my head but from the corner of my eye I caught Gisele doing the final adjustments on the most fantastic strap-on I had ever seen.
It was all red and perfectly formed, from the helmet and fake spew hole right down to the swinging balls. Her hand stroked it, as if it were a part of her and she needed to keep it hard. “All right, Number Nine,” she said. “Let’s see how you hold up to a real rape.”
It wasn’t going in. It wasn’t going in!
Boy was I wrong!
Gisele didn’t ram me like Burton. Instead she started off slow, as if to savor every shove. One side of her mouth curled up and a glint in her eye said she was in no rush. She didn’t need to be either. This erection would never fade, would never go soft and she meant to take advantage. She pushed deeper with each thrust, plunged further into my hot depths more than any man. Harder, now, then easy. Faster…Faster! Slow…Slow. Slower. Oh, ah, oh. Her hand dove between my legs and soon my clit…oh, my clit…No, please, please. Oh, oh, oh!!!!
Hands clenched. Eyes squeezed shut, fireworks exploded in my darkness.
I think I started to cry.
“That’s right, Nine. Let it all out,” Gisele said. “Good. That’s good. For a start.”
Oh, fuck. I was already coming again! “Eeiiimphh! Eeiiimphh!” My shoulders pushed up against the straps. Bark arched. Urgghh, urgh, urgh.”
Gisele didn’t stop. I lost all sense of time, measured now by how often I shook in climax. Some were soft, but most racked my whole body, spasm after spasm of intense pleasure. My hair matted and sweat stung my eyes. How long? How long? I don’t know. Forever.
Then forever ended. Gisele pulled out and came around the side. “Wow. You’ve got a lot of tension. What’s been keeping you so uptight?” Through a watery haze I tracked her, trying to breathe through my sniffles, ease my racing heart. The curl of her lip was still there, but a little softer now. She stroked one of my tits and motioned for Logan to join her. He stood on the other side. “Process the others, but save this one for last. I’ve developed a certain fondness for her. Wipe her down and put her out in the garden. Let her get one last look at the sky.”
They marched the others away and left me alone in that huge garage. Then Logan returned and gently toweled off my sweat. One by one the straps fell away, limp, their impressions deep on my skin. My wrists cuffed in back, I half-leaned against him as he led me to a green, flower filled spot under a blue sky laced with soft, puffy clouds. Between two thin pine trees he spread my arms overhead, then my legs. A thick, leather belt wrapped my waist, then a strap passed between my ass cheeks and then over my crotch to buckle in front. A small dildo attached to the crotch strap invaded my spent pussy, not going in nearly as far as any dick or even Gisele’s strap-on, but then Logan turned a knob on the bottom, outside portion of the strap and the dildo hummed its own quiet song pleasurable tease.
Logan stood back, arms folded. He glanced over me, at my arms and legs at their fullest stretch, then left me alone. It was early afternoon and I hung there the rest of the day, with the birds singing, the pure scent of nature awash over me. I don’t know how many times I came. I don’t know. I don’t care. But when they returned for me, and I hung limp, shivering, my ‘tension’ was gone. Now replaced by a fear that something inside me had awakened and, once roused, would never allow any rest.

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