Rise of the Dom by Brenna Zinn - smokin' hot erotic horror - Available today from Ellora's Cave Publishing
Although this book can
be read on its own, we recommend reading Fatal Submission by Nicole Austin first.
It’s 1998, and what a great year it’s been for independent
yet sexually submissive Emma Sutherland. She’s secured a great job teaching at the
local university, bought a dream house in the country with its very own dungeon
in the basement and found a masterful Dom who fulfills her every desire. Who
could ask for more?
Chet Crosby can. Having hot, kinky sex with Emma is no
longer enough. He wants to take care of her outside the dungeon and have a real
relationship, which she’s not ready for. Ready or not, the horrifying and
unexplainable occurrences in Emma’s home have her scared, and Chet’s more
determined than ever to protect the woman he loves. Even if doing so means
facing unimaginable terror.
Reader Advisory: This story
contains graphic scenes of sex, bondage and horror that may haunt the reader for
several days.
By reading any
further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are
under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
An Excerpt From: RISE OF THE DOM
Copyright © BRENNA ZINN, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
Chet placed his arm under Emma’s bent
knees, then lifted her legs. When they were high enough that he could see the
familiar curves of her apple bottom, he stopped. “You have disobeyed me.
This is your punishment.”
He raised his hand over his shoulder
and held his position. Emma didn’t need to know exactly when his palm would
strike her ass. Better to prolong the suspense. Anticipation was such a
decadent tool to use with a sub. As far as she knew, she would stay in this
position for hours until he delivered the blow.
A sudden movement in the kitchen
distracted Chet. A shiver registered on his skin as the temperature
plummeted. He flicked his gaze in the direction of the stirring, but
nothing looked out of the ordinary. The bright kitchen and the white table
and chairs appeared untouched. Unmoved.
I
know I saw something…
Out of the corner of his eye, he
detected another movement. Something black. No more than four feet in
height. When Chet shifted his eyes to see what the object was, there was
nothing. Only clear countertops and an empty hallway leading to the living
room.
Chet mentally shook his head. When was
the last time he’d had his eyes checked? Three years? Five?
Realizing he still had his hand high
over his head, ready to deliver Emma’s punishment, he decided it was time.
His dick was hard and he wanted to feel the tight walls of her pussy
coaxing him to come.
Yet a noise, quiet but growing louder,
buzzed close by. He strained to identify the sound.
A
fly? A bee?
He turned his head left and right,
taking in every inch of the pantry and kitchen. Nothing he could see would
generate such a strange hum. Not even a trapped insect trying to escape out
a closed window. But the buzz was there, growing louder by the second.
He jerked back when he thought he
detected mumbled words within the buzzing. A man’s voice, deep and
forceful, whispered directly into his ear. At the same time a powerful
mixture of anger and rage overwhelmed his senses, filling him as though he
were an empty vessel.
You’re
too soft.
She’s
been willfully disobedient. She must be trained to obey.
Hit
her hard. Hurt her. Ensure she knows you are her Master.
Chet glanced back at Emma. She gave no
indication she heard anything out of the ordinary.
The
woman is your slave. Your bitch. Your cunt.
Punish
her. Make her writhe in pain.
HURT
HER!
Chet shook his head to rid himself of
the angry voice provoking him.
NO!
Chet silently shouted in his mind. I will not harm her. This is for her pleasure, not mine.
Tensing his arm, he swung down and slapped
her bare ass with his hand. Though he restrained from hitting her too hard,
the resulting loud smack broke the silence of the room. Chet remained unmoved
as the sting of the spank traveled up his arm. The throb, heightened by the
chill in the air, registered with his cock, which twitched beneath his
jeans.
Despite the strike to her rear end,
Emma made no further sound.
You’re
no Dom,
the voice admonished.
You’re
a boy.
A
pretender.
An
embarrassment.
Once again the odd noise buzzed in Chet’s
ear, but the intense feelings of anger and hatred melted from him. A streak
of darkness on the edge of his peripheral vision pulled his gaze over his
shoulder. He studied the limited view of the hallway from his place on the
stairs.
Nothing was there.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
Between the weird voice and the crazy tricks his eyes were playing on him,
he was losing his fucking mind.
Concentrate,
damn it. Don’t let Emma down. She’s depending on you to take this scene to
completion.
Out of guilt or for good measure, he
wasn’t sure which, he struck Emma’s ass again. She absorbed the pain,
uttering not a word, moving not a muscle.
Satisfied he’d punished her
sufficiently, Chet lowered his arm, allowing her legs to rest back on the
steps leading down to the dungeon. He repositioned himself, then slid his
hand up her thigh to remove her panties.
A crash, as though something heavy and
breakable had been thrown to the floor, sounded from one of the rooms on
the second floor.
Emma jerked upright and turned. Alarm
filled her hazel eyes. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes.” Heart racing with a jolt of
adrenaline, Chet grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. He stepped past
Emma into the kitchen, fully prepared to kick ass and ask questions later
if he had to. “Any idea what that was?”
“No.” She reached for her clothes.
Without bothering to put on her top, she held the blouse like a flimsy
shield in front of her chest while fumbling to put on her shorts. “It
sounded like it came from my bedroom.”
Chet rushed to a counter and pulled a
large knife from a butcher-block knife stand. The sharpened edge of the
blade glinted in the last remaining rays from the setting sun. “I know how
you feel about me roaming around your place outside of the dungeon, but you
said you saw something in your room last night. I need to check this out.”
As he turned to leave, she stood and
caught his arm. Lines of worry creased her forehead. A shadow of unease
covered her expression like a dark mask. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just
something that fell by accident. I probably didn’t set something on my
nightstand properly and it rolled off.”
“Whatever that was couldn’t have been
sitting on your nightstand. It sounded huge.” He tried to pull away from
her grasp, but she tightened her grip. “What? Why don’t you want me to go
upstairs?”
She frowned and shook her head. “You
don’t understand. I need a place I can go that’s all my own. A private
place that’s just for me.”
So
you don’t have to get too close to me. That’s what you really mean.
Impatience mixed with the adrenaline
already pumping into his blood and muscles. “I do understand, but your
safety is more important to me than your privacy. Let me go.”
“Okay.” Emma sighed as she removed her
hold. She tugged on her blouse. “But I’m going with you.”
Unwilling to waste any more time, Chet
nodded and ran down the short hallway. Emma followed closely behind. After
reaching the bottom of the stairs, he used his long legs to his advantage,
taking two steps at a time. He stopped at the second-story landing to catch
his bearings. Never having been on this floor before, he wasn’t sure which
door led to her bedroom.
“This way.” Emma edged past him, taking
a sharp turn to the left.
With his free hand, Chet grabbed the
back of her shorts and stopped her in her tracks. “Me first. I’m the one
with the knife in my hand. Remember?”
Taking the lead, he grabbed the door
handle and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He swung the door open,
holding the knife high in the air, ready to strike.
Near a bank of windows a cardboard box lay
on its side, its top flaps up and open. The contents of the box, mostly
picture frames and knickknacks, littered the carpeted floor. The force of
the fall had scattered pieces of broken glass all the way to the foot of
Emma’s neatly made bed. Other boxes stood precariously stacked against the
wall.
“See. No big deal. One of my boxes
fell.” Emma knelt and picked up a large shard of glass.
The short hairs on the back of his neck
rose as Chet entered the room and glanced around. When he saw the back
wall, his blood ran cold. His grip tightened on the kitchen knife. Unable
to utter a word, he tapped Emma’s back.
When she looked up, her gaze darted
from his face to the wall. A full heartbeat passed before she caught her
breath and let out a horrified scream.
