For Love & Torture_A Submissives’ Secrets Novel Read online

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  Dirty Dom

  The water’s cold…She’s red hot!

  She sits on the white, rocky shore as I stalk her from behind.

  Her aspirations are as big as the Texas sky.

  I have other plans for the Yale College girl.

  Kinky plans!

  I’ll command her body and she’ll command my heart.

  The first step in my plan, make her crave my c*ck.

  Then everything else will fall into place.

  My only fear is that one day she’ll go away.

  Leaving me alone to miss her…

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  For Love & Torture

  A Submissives’ Secrets Novel

  By Michelle Love

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  ©Copyright 2017 by

  Michelle Love- All rights

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  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights are reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  FREE GIFT

  For Love & Torture

  Part One

  Part Two

  Part Three

  Part Four

  For Love & Torture Extended Epilogue

  Dirty Little Virgin

  Doctor’s Demands Preview

  Savage SEAL’s Virgin

  Filthy Commitments Preview

  Vengeful Seduction Preview

  Funhouse A Submissives’ Secrets Extra

  The Billionaire Bad Boy Club Extra Halloween Short Story

  The Billionaire Bad Boy Club Sneak Peek

  His Dark Desire Sneak Peek An Erotic Holiday Suspense Novel

  If you would like to read all Six Submissives’ Secrets Novels!

  Click here to buy the complete box set!

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  For Love & Torture

  His POV

  Darkness clings to my soul, so why does she allow herself to love me…

  I’m damaged beyond repair, but still she gives me longing looks and loving words.

  I’ve tortured her body and mind, why does she still claim to have love for me?

  I thought I would be okay without her. I thought I would be able to live my life working right next to the woman and never give in to her love.

  Everything was working for me for a long time, until he came along. Why did he have to join my club?

  Why did he set his sights on the only woman who has freely given her heart to me, even if I just played with it, instead of cherishing it the way I should have?

  If I’d only known the Halloween Ball would be how it all ends, I might have done things differently…

  Her POV

  I was hired to do a job, falling in love was never supposed to be part of that…

  His touch sends me into a state of euphoria every single time.

  He can bend me, nearly to the point of breaking me, and yet I can’t stop myself.

  I love the man.

  His heart is there, beating behind the hard wall he’s built around it, but I can hear it—feel it.

  It all seemed hopeless for such a long time, then he showed up, messing up everything in our lives.

  The Halloween Ball was supposed to be the best night of my life. It was supposed to be the beginning of a new chapter in my life.

  Why did it all have to go so devastatingly wrong…

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Grant

  The constant click-clack of the train moving over the tracks lulls me into a state of complete calmness—a state I haven’t been in for the last few days. I’ve felt more pain and anguish in these last three days than in my entire thirty-five years.

  Why did Dad do it?

  I keep asking myself that question, over and over again. He loved my mother with a passion one doesn’t see too often. How could he have extinguished what they had?

  My Aunt Betsy, Mom’s older sister, puts her arm around me and leans her head on my shoulder. Her hair is silky and soft just like Mom’s was. But Mom’s always smelled like roses to me. Aunt Betsy’s smells like lemons and honey. Not bad, but not Mom. “They had a true love. I can’t understand it at all, Grant.”

  I look out the window at the dark night, my forehead resting on the pane of glass that separates me from the outside. “Me neither.” My stomach twists on itself, the way it has since I got that phone call that wrecked my world, my mind, my entire belief system.

  Trekking through the vast wilderness of South Africa at night is a daunting task. None of us would be here if it wasn’t for what my father had done.

  My younger brother, Jake, moves up to sit in the empty seat across from my aunt and me. His hair is blonde and wavy, just like Mom’s was. He has our father’s light blue eyes though. A perfect mix of them both. “Aunt Betsy, can you tell us about the day they met? I love that story. And you can even leave in the risqué parts if you like.”

  My head is heavy as I pull it off the window. I turn my body to lean back and listen to the story our parents have told us a number of times. Maybe there’s something more to the story that we’ve all ignored all this time. Something that will let me know why he’d do such a horrific thing.

  With light laughter, our aunt starts the story about how our parents met, “Jack Jamison and Daphne Dupree were about as much alike as night and day. It was beneath the branches of a willow tree that grew along the bank of the Frio River in the hill country of Central Texas that they met for the first time.”

  “Dad and Mom sure did love to go back there,” Jake mumbles as he sits back. He lays his long skinny legs out on the bench seat and leans back against the window, much like me. He’s always been my little shadow. He’s not that little anymore, but he still mimics me more often than not.

  “They sure did,” I agree as I close my eyes and think about all the fun we had when they would take us to the place they met. “Do you remember how mad we’d get when they’d come back from a secret vacation and tell us where they’d gone, without us?”

  Jake nods as a big grin curves his lips. “I do. Leaving us at home while they went to play in the crystal-clear water was a crime in my book.”

  “Mine too.” I cast my eyes down, thinking the word crime was a thing we used to joke about—and still were. But now that a real crime has been committed by one of our own—our patriarch—it doesn’t sound so funny anymore.

  Aunt Betsy pats me on the back. “You silly boys, they wanted to spend time alone, rekindling the love they found that day thirty years ago. It was a love that stood the test of time. I, for one, thought it would last forever.”

  “Me too,” Jake says then looks down. I see a tear fall to his lap. He wipes his eye and turns away from us. “I don’t know if I want to hear about this right now.”

  Jake is eighteen—too
damn young for this to be happening to him. I’m not a hell of a lot more equipped for it myself. But I’m the big brother, the oldest of the four of us. Our sisters, Jenny and Becca, stayed back home. Only the three of us came to Africa.

  Becca is only fifteen, the baby of the family. Jenny has her hands full with her, I’m sure. I wonder how she’ll take everything, once we tell her what we’ve found out.

  Aunt Betsy re-situates herself, trying in vain to get comfortable. The seats aren’t made for comfort, I’m afraid. We sit in silence, the sounds of the train the only sounds we hear. Until Jake starts to snore and his head drops as he falls asleep.

  Aunt Betsy smiles, pulls an old blue blanket and a tiny pillow out of the overhead compartment and gets Jake settled in so he’s a little more comfortable. Then she comes back to sit with me and asks, “So, Grant, would you like for me to continue with the story?”

  It’s been many years since I’ve heard the story about Mom and Dad meeting. I think I need to hear it again. Maybe in that story will be a shard of information about what would eventually happen to them. Right now, nothing makes sense.

  “Sure, Aunt Betsy, tell it to me.”

  Chapter 2

  Grant

  The train pulls into the station and we get off. All three of us are weary from the long trip but we’re only a little while away from getting on a plane that will take us back home to America. A place my father has already been taken.

  He was handed over to the American Embassy and sent to Oregon. He confessed to cutting my mother’s wrist, murdering her. And he won’t say why. He won’t say anything else, as a matter of fact.

  I notice everyone stopping and dropping their heads as mother’s black casket is taken off the train and put into a waiting car. The long black car will transport us to the airport. Jenny is making the funeral arrangements.

  We’ll bury our mother in the cemetery that’s just a couple of blocks away from where they lived and we all grew up. And our father will spend the rest of his life in an Oregon Penitentiary for murdering her.

  Jake climbs into the car first and Aunt Betsy follows. I get in last, sandwiching our aunt between us as Jake asks, “When do you think the trial for Dad will begin?”

  “There won’t be one,” I tell him. “He confessed.”

  “I know that,” he says. “But there will be something, won’t there?”

  Aunt Betsy takes over, “No, a judge will decide how much time he’ll get.”

  “He’ll get life,” I say as I rub my temples. “You know he will. And I’m glad for that. If he was out, I’d kill him.”

  Jake glares at me. “You don’t know the whole story. Don’t be so quick to judge our father, Grant.”

  “And we don’t know the whole story because our usually talkative father refuses to tell us anything more than the fact that he cut her wrist. He didn’t say it was an accident. He didn’t say another damn word about it. He went willingly with the rangers and he went willingly with the officers who took him back to Oregon. He did it, Jake. He killed our mother—his wife! The woman we all thought he loved more than anything. He killed her. He deserves to die for that!”

  Aunt Betsy’s hand covers mine, patting it to quiet my shouting. “Grant, hush now. We’ll get nowhere throwing around harsh words about anyone. Your father is in shock, that’s why he’s not talking more about what happened. He’ll come around. He’ll tell someone what happened. I know he will.”

  Jake’s eyes, so much like our mother’s, narrow. “What if Mom was having an affair and he found out and he killed her over that?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Jake!” My entire body shakes as anger bursts out of every cell in my body. “If you say another bad thing about our mother, I don’t know what I’ll do to you. So just shut the fuck up!”

  “Okay, boys.” Aunt Betsy runs her hand over my leg. “Let’s be quiet and just relax on the ride back home. There’s a lot to do when we get back. Put this fighting behind you both. If I have to spend every visitation day with your father to get to the bottom of this, then I will. We will find out the truth. Don’t worry, or fight, or speculate about things.”

  Arriving at the airport, we wait in the car as Mother is transported to the bedroom in the private jet I chartered. We were asked to wait for them to secure the coffin before we came in. None of the nice people who’ve helped us with my poor mother’s body want us to see anything we shouldn’t.

  At least I was able to secure her a private ride home, instead of coming back in the belly of a plane full of strangers.

  Being the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar cellular company and having more money than most didn’t stop tragedy from finding me. All the money in the world can’t change what’s happened.

  And I can’t stop thinking that love can’t really exist if my father could do this to the woman he seemed to love more than anything in this world.

  Love cannot be real!

  We’re given the wave that tells us to come aboard. The walk to the jet is slow and somewhat arduous. It’s as if my feet don’t want to go where I need them to. The plane that holds my dead mother isn’t a thing I really want to get on. But I have to, so I take the seat across from my aunt as Jake takes one in the very back. I see her looking at me and she asks, “What about that nice girl you’ve been seeing, Stacy? Is she going to help you through this?”

  “No,” I say as I look out the window as the sun begins to rise. “I’m not going to see her anymore.”

  “Why not?” she asks with surprise. “She’s a sweetheart.”

  “She is,” I say then look at her. “And I could fall in love with her. And I don’t want that.”

  Aunt Betsy’s ponytail moves with her head as she shakes it. “Grant, stop.”

  “No, I don’t want to love anyone. Not anymore. Not ever.” Sitting back, I think about nothing more than what I need to do to keep breathing in this moment. Anger is filling me. Hate is taking over. I need to find a constructive outlet for all this pain.

  My insides are hot, as if molten lava is pouring through me. My head feels thick as I think about all that’s occurred. What my father has done is turning my brain into something I don’t recognize. It’s shutting out all the good emotions I once had.

  What I believed to be real is not. There is no love. There is only pain. Betrayal. Murder.

  I’ve never felt like killing anyone in my life. But I could kill my father so damn easily now. I trusted that man. I will never be able to trust another soul in this world.

  The anger that’s filling me is unbearable. I don’t think it will be leaving me, ever. I have to find some way to release at least some of it or I’ll do something insane. I feel the insanity clutching me already. There has got to be something that can ease it for me.

  The jet takes off and I close my eyes, trying my hardest not to scream obscenities as we take my dead mother back home. I never saw this coming. I never thought this could happen to our happy family.

  We were a happy family. Then Dad came along and ruined it. He ruined my mother and now he’s ruined me. I will never be happy again thanks to that horrible man.

  My heart pounds, my body is hot, and I need a release of some kind. Surely there is something that will help me. Surely this will not take me over completely.

  I wonder if there’s a place where I can take out my aggression on a willing participant. My skin comes alive as I picture myself with a whip, working out my emotions on a naked, faceless stranger. My cock gets hard as a rock as my imagination runs with the image, and all I want to do is fuck the shit out of some woman then walk away without her wanting more from me.

  Now, where can I find that?

  Chapter 3

  Grant

  Two years later

  A dreary morning finds me driving aimlessly. It’s been two years since my father murdered my mother and I’m tired of waiting around to see if dear old Dad will ever open his mouth about what he’s done.

  He took a guilty plea and received a pu
nishment of life in prison, but he’s never told his story. We know Mom’s left wrist was cut. The cut was so deep that it went all the way to the bone. The coroner estimated it took her twenty or so minutes to bleed out. Enough time that my father could’ve stopped her from dying. A tourniquet could’ve been fashioned out of a piece of cloth and wrapped around the wound to put pressure on it and slow the bleeding until they could get to help. Dad was a police officer. He would’ve known what to do.

  But my father didn’t do a damn thing. And no one knows why.

  He’s never said how the wound was inflicted, other than admitting he cut her wrist. There was a knife that was found with her blood on it. It was her left wrist and she was right handed; she could’ve done it to herself. I’ve thought through every possible scenario in the two years since it happened.

  In this last year things have started happening to me that have only added to my confusion. Things I don’t understand. Sometimes I think I can actually hear my mother’s voice. It makes me think I’m going insane, so every time I catch a shadow out of the corner of my eye and hear her voice, I shake it off. I leave wherever I am to get away from the insanity that seems to be trying to close in on me. The dead don’t speak—I know it’s all in my head.

  My father wouldn’t give anyone any information, so I suppose we’ll never know anything more about it. But there is a suspicion that has been lurking in the back of my mind that my father took the blame for something he didn’t do. But why he would do such a thing is still a mystery.

  With everything weighing heavily on my mind, I head toward Wilsonville, Oregon to the Coffee Creek Correction Facility. My father has been placed there, and it’s the weekend for visitors. What better way to spend a drizzly day than trying to talk to my father in a prison yard?