Vegas (Burnout) Read online

  VEGAS

  By

  Dahlia West

  A Note from the Writer

  I want to thank all the people who contacted me to say they loved Tex. Don't worry, I won't name all of you. Your secret's safe with me, but I'm so glad you loved it! I wrote it for you. Well okay, I wrote it for me, technically, but I wrote it because I knew I wasn't alone. I knew if I existed, then you existed and we all needed more than we were getting.

  Rest assured that I will be writing many, many more dark/BDSM erotica titles in the future. I know my upcoming projects are a little mainstream, but I haven't forgotten you. Just don't forget about me when I finally get around to releasing them!

  To Sir, with Love

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 1

  “Alright, pet?”

  Abby flexed her fingers. Her wrists were chained, arms over her head, naked, with her bare feet on the concrete floor. Alright was a relative term. Her heart was beating a staccato tattoo in her chest, she was nervous, but she was unharmed. Which was really what he was asking. She looked up at her boyfriend Mark and nodded. The ball gag in her mouth prevented her from giving more of an answer than that.

  Mark was shirtless, his hard muscles rippling over his large frame. Abby was certain no man had ever looked this good, especially when he was being so bad. He stalked around behind her, the air between them practically crackled with electricity. When she was no longer able to see him, a crack of another kind tore through the air. The riding crop came down hard on her ass. Abby jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. The sting of the blow soon gave way to a spreading warmth and she closed her eyes. When she’d lived in Las Vegas, she’d been surrounded by hedonism, but never once been a part of it. If someone had told her before she moved to Rapid City, South Dakota, that she’d be the part-time pet of an ex-Army Ranger with a penchant for heavy spankings, she wouldn’t have believed it. But here she stood, in the garage where Mark worked during the day building custom bikes, trucks, and cars.

  Except now Burnout was more of a dungeon of pleasure and pain, heavy on the pleasure part. Doing anything kinky outside the safe walls of the house they shared was always as nerve-wracking as it was exciting. Of course, Mark knew that. He’d lured her here by telling her that he’d left something in the office. The bastard. She’d give him a sassy look, if she could see him from where he was standing. It would earn her another stripe, a punishing one at that, but it might be worth it.

  Right now was just the warm up, the steady swats of the crop stinging her ass and thighs as she struggled in the bindings. It was good, though. With Mark it always was. He seemed to want to remind her of that just then, and she felt the triangle shaped end of the implement slide slowly down her back and then slip between her legs. She moaned as he rubbed her pussy with it. Mark always knew to how give as much pleasure as pain and somehow always left her wanting more of both.

  His lips were at her ear; his breath hot against her skin. “Little wet pet,” he teased. He replaced the crop with his fingers, caressing her folds and dipping into her. Lost in her need to come, she pushed back against his hand. Mark chuckled, amused, and let her masturbate herself with his fingers for a moment. His fingertips grazed her clit, just enough to drive her crazy. Just as she was feeling satisfied with her own efforts, he pulled his hand away. She groaned again, this time in frustration. Mark knew, too, how to keep her on that knife edge of almost-orgasm. In fact, he called it ‘edging’ and he did it a lot. Mostly it irritated her, but that was the point, she supposed.

  “I control your pleasure, pet,” he reminded her softly.

  Abby was disappointed, but not furious. Her orgasm would come… eventually. Mark never left her unsatisfied unless he was punishing her. She had to admit, her orgasms after an edging session were harder and longer than regular ones.

  Mark brought the crop down again before moving in front of her, trailing it along behind him. It slid over her hip and across her taut belly, making her shiver. He looked down at her with a dark gaze that she’d learned to covet with every fiber of her being. That look that said he was about to play with her, and Mark’s ‘playtimes’ were nearly transcendent. He skimmed the crop over her breasts and she took in a deep breath. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it easier. He swiftly brought it down over one nipple. Abby yanked on the chains, trying to move away. She couldn’t though. Mark hit her other breast, leaving two small red welts competing with her flushed areolas.

  She was breathing heavily now and juice ran freely from her pussy, trickling down her thighs. Mark skillfully worked her breasts over until she almost come from that alone. She knew, with no small amount of satisfaction, that even though Mark could let her come that way, he wouldn’t. He could never resist being inside her when she peaked. He could tell she was close now. After more than a year together he could play her body like an instrument he’d built himself, with careful patience and expert hands. He never seemed to lose control until he was fucking her; his desire for her overwhelming him just as it did her.

  He tossed the crop onto the work bench beside them and unzipped his jeans. He freed the large bulge and Abby admired it now just as she had a thousand times previously. His thick cock jutted up and she knew it was only a seconds before he impaled her on it. He moved forward, his large hands spanning her hips on either side. Abby deftly wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles together at his back.

  Mark slid his hands behind her, holding her ass, which was buzzing from the earlier whipping. The sensation only added to the experience. He slid in slowly, letting her adjust to him. The anal plug she was wearing made her pussy tighter and it ached when he filled her. She whimpered and he gripped her tighter.

  “I know, pet,” he whispered hoarsely as he fucked her. “I know what you need.”

  Mark needed it too and he was taking her maddeningly slowly. She felt every inch of him spreading her wide. She squeezed him tightly, like a good little pet should, and he groaned. “Come with me, pet,” he ordered. “Come for me.” He withdrew almost completely before slamming back in. Abby’s pussy grasped and clenched, trying to keep him inside. She was so desperate to follow his order that she bounced hard against him, trying frantically to get pressure on her clit. Mark slid out again, pressed the head of his cock against her swollen nub, and rubbed it hard on his way back into her.

  Abby felt the wave of orgasm rising up from her lower belly. She tightened her legs around him. “Oh, good girl,” he said. “Cream for me.” She screamed behind the ball gag as her pussy flooded, coating them both. Mark held her close as he came seconds after, jets of hot semen filling her as his cock pulsed inside her, stretching her impossibly more. “My fucking good girl, coming for her Owner,” he whispered in her ear.

  Abby pulled her jeans back on, wincing a bit as the fabric hit her reddened ass. Mark caught the look. He never missed anything.

  “Did I go too hard on you?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No,” she said honestly. She’d feel it all the way home, but that, she’d discovered, was never a bad thing.

  Not satisfied, Mark pulled the t-shirt down over his head and stalked over to her. He pulled her jeans back down over her hips and gazed at her bare ass. She blushed then. In the harsh light of day (though it was technically night now) the things they did seemed slightly embarrassing. Or maybe she was just embarrassed to admit she liked it so much. She had a pretty high threshold for pain and if she told Mark it wasn’t bad, it was the truth. Possibly he even believed her, but
he still never failed to mentally catalogue all her bruises and welts, checking for significant damage. When he was finished, he pulled her jeans back up for her.

  “I’ll give you a bath when we get home,” he told her, picking up the crop from the bench.

  Abby loved that part just as much as the sex. She suspected Mark enjoyed it, too. He’d wash her hair and then rub lotion over her welts to soothe them. He might have even made her dessert. She smiled at the prospect. She couldn’t have imagined that being ‘owned’ by a man would ever be something she’d want, but she couldn’t deny the way it made her feel: loved and cared for. And wasn’t that what everyone wanted?

  Mark bent slightly to kiss her. As his lips brushed softly over hers, his hands skillfully removed the leather collar at her throat. She felt a strange sense of loss when the cool air hit her neck. She wore it nearly all the time now when they were alone. It had become part of her afternoon routine. Come home, ditch the work clothes and put on the collar. She reached for her shirt draped over the workbench, but froze at the sound of tires crunching the gravel outside.

  “Oh, God!” she hissed, snatching at her clothes.

  Mark chuckled. “Relax,” he told her. “It’s just a customer dropping off their ride so we can get to it in first thing in the morning.

  Abby tugged her shirt down over her head and held her breath as the key drop box opened on the other side of the cement wall. It was ridiculous. No one could see in unless they came around to the side door and looked through the small rectangle of glass. Still, she swallowed hard and pressed her shirt tightly against herself. Mark appeared behind her, running his hands down her arms. “You’re going to have to get over this,” he told her.

  Abby shook her head. “What if they saw?”

  “What if they did?” She turned to gape at him. Before she could argue, he said, “What would they see?”

  “Us!”

  “I don’t think it’s me you’re worried about.”

  She blushed and looked away. Mark took hold of her chin and drew her gaze back to his. “You’re beautiful, Abby. I tell you every day.”

  She made a face but didn’t say anything. She might be pretty, she’d give him that much, but she had a few more pounds on her than other women; less Kate Moss and more Marilyn Monroe. Mark liked it, loved it in fact, but his acceptance of her had not been her usual experience with men.

  “I would never lie to you, Abby. And I’m getting tired of you basically accusing me of it.”

  “I’m not!” she protested.

  “And if I asked you to wear that little red dress to Maria’s Friday night?”

  She bit her lip.

  “Thought so.”

  “Mark-” she began, but he put his hand up to stop her.

  “It’s fine,” he told her calmly. Then she saw his eyes glitter even in the dim light of the garage bay and she sucked in her breath. “I guess we know what the next part of your training will be.”

  She dutifully stepped outside as he held the door for her, waiting while he locked it behind them. She had no idea what kind of training Mark had in mind, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. None of his training had ever been easy; but Mark had molded her into the perfect submissive, well, his perfect submissive anyway. And in exchange she’d gotten the perfect boyfriend, one who cared for her and cared about her. Even just having someone ask her how her day was had been a new and unusual experience. One she found she liked along with the gourmet dinners, over-the-knee spankings, and bike rides to the Badlands at night when the stars were out and the summer breeze felt like Heaven.

  Mark slid onto the Harley and she climbed on behind him. She’d given up her own bike for the chance to ride his and smiled to herself yet again as she slid her arms around him. As she held on she thought about holding on -to him- and decided that it was about time she did.

  Chapter 2

  Abby threaded through mid-morning traffic. Instead of turning into the parking garage of the Custer, she sailed past and out of town. Past the outskirts of the city, she drove past rolling fields and the Black Hills forest off into the distance. She wound her Camaro up a steep hill until she reached the last house at the end of the secluded lane. She got out and strode toward the log cabin’s front porch. She climbed the steps and entered the front door without knocking. She would have called out, but she didn’t want to risk disturbing the baby if she were napping. She turned the corner of the living room and found Sarah at the kitchen table, laptop open, and baby Hope asleep in a bassinet beside her. “Hey,” she whispered. Sarah smiled at her. Abby gave Hope’s single lock of brown hair a slight tousle as she passed by and slid into a seat next to her friend. “School stuff?” she asked, nodded at the computer.

  “Yeah,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes. “Online classes are good, but I forgot what college was like.”

  Abby smirked. “It’s a pain the ass, if I remember.”

  Sarah groaned. “I’ve got an exam on Monday that I’ll have to drive to school for.”

  “Is Tildy watching Hope then?”

  Sarah nodded and blew out a harsh breath. Her sable hair fluttered out of her eyes. “Are you sure you want to hire me?”

  Abby laughed. “Too late. The ink’s dry. I own your soul.”

  Hope stirred beside them and opened her eyes. She smiled at Abby and giggled at the two woman. Sarah reached for her but Abby swooped in. “I’ve got her,” she said. She scooped the girl into her arms and settled her on her lap. Hope snatched a handful of Abby’s red hair and tugged.

  “Hope! Sarah scolded.

  Abby laughed. “It doesn’t hurt,” she assured her as she grinned at Hope and bounced her.

  Between growing up in a Las Vegas hotel, working full time since she was a teenager and graduating college early, Abby hadn’t spent that much time with children, or any time at all really. She knew she liked them, had a vague feeling of warmth and comfort when she held Hope, but until she’d met Mark having kids had seemed like a nebulous, ill-formed plan that seemed like it might be a good idea, but without someone to share parenthood with, it was an idea that had remained mostly at the back of her mind.

  Holding the baby now, she knew she was at least on the path to domestic bliss. Abby had a lot to learn about parenting, but Mark would make a great father. In a few years when the hotel was running at optimal capacity and the restaurant she and Sarah were starting was humming along, Abby thought she might be able to find a whipsmart Assistant manager to help her with her workload. Abby didn’t know how babies fit in around play collars and bondage ropes, but she’d never felt more confident that she and Mark could make it work. Mark had told her that he only demanded obedience in the bedroom, which had turned out to be more of a general philosophy than an actual statement of facts.

  In truth Mark demanded her obedience in the bedroom, the bathroom, the living room, the kitchen, and once or twice on the weight bench in his ‘torture chamber’. What he’d meant was: her finances remained under her control, her hobbies were her own, and her career was all hers. In a few years when they started having kids, they’d have to actually restrict their playtime to the bedroom. Abby remembered fondly being strapped to Mark’s weight bench and vowed they’d have to work that in at least a few dozen more times before that room became a nursery.

  “But executive chef…” Sarah interrupted.

  “Is totally within your ability. Anyway, I’ll handle the numbers, you just build me a fabulous menu that’ll make us the best restaurant in town.”

  “You promise there’s a light at the end of this tunnel?”

  “Only if you promise desserts to die for. This is the hard part,” she said, gesturing to the computer. “The rest will be easy. Promise. And gee,” she said with a grin, “if only you had a great boss who would let you do most of that from home.”

  “I love you.”

  “Well, good because I need a favor.”

  Sarah looked up from the laptop. “What?”

  “I need somet
hing catered. Something special for Mark’s birthday. I booked the ballroom, just the two of us.”

  Sarah brightened. “I can totally do that!”

  Abby nodded. “I need a kickass ribeye,” she told Sarah, because it was Mark’s favorite. “And some sinfully decadent dessert,” she looked at Sarah with a sly grin, “that maybe we want to take back to the room with us.”

  Sarah’s face flushed deep red, likely remembering the time she and Chris had taken their own dessert to the bedroom. On an alcohol soaked girl’s night out long ago Sarah had told them all about it, mortified the next day that she’d revealed so much. Abby laughed as she watched her friend turned red from embarrassment.

  “I’m never drinking again,” Sarah grumbled.

  Abby passed up the Custer for the second time that day. This time she turned the corner and parallel parked four blocks away on a tree-lined avenue. She straightened her blazer, tugged at the collar of her silk blouse, and ducked under the awning of a jewelry store that Daisy had told her about a few weeks ago. She pressed the buzzer and waited for the store’s receptionist to visually assess her. A longer buzz sounded in reply and she grasped the handle of the door and pulled. She stepped into the air-conditioning store as the heavy security door. The receptionist smiled and greeted her warmly. Abby returned the nod.

  “May I help you?” asked another, older woman as she moved away from the front desk and out to meet Abby. Her shrewd eyes took in Abby’s pressed linen suit and Jimmy Choos. Abby swore the woman almost nodded appreciatively. As she got even closer, the woman’s eyes sparkled as she caught sight of Abby’s vintage necklace. The snakeskin chain was gold, a small jeweled flower made of rubies and diamonds sat nestled in the hollow of Abby’s throat.