Captivated: Spellbound (Book Two) Read online

  Captivated:

  Spellbound

  (Book One)

  By

  Trinity Night

  Velvet Sky Publishing

  ***

  Copyright © 2013 by Trinity Night

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Join Trinity Night's mailing list for updates on new releases at www.trinitynight.com

  Spellbound Series

  Mesmerized

  Captivated

  Entranced

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  “I want you to wear this while you are here,” Alexi said, handing me an outfit Laura Ingalls would have thought was out of fashion.

  “You’re kidding me right?” I said, staring at the mid-calf length skirt, billowy peasant blouse, and head scarf, “I can’t wear that without laughing at myself.”

  “It will turn me on,” he said handing me the outfit.

  I relented and accepted the clothes. I liked to turn him on, but couldn’t his tastes be a little more— conventional— like maybe a black negligee or a pink teddy? Alexi was anything but what I knew as conventional. The half gypsy, Ukrainian looked like a Transylvanian lord standing in front of me with his gleaming blue eyes and shoulder length black curls. Arcane tattoos showed beneath the neck of his shirt hinting of dark magic that was unknown and unthinkable to me. I wanted to please him. Every time I opposed with him, I looked at his round face and wondered how I could possibly disagree with someone so utterly gorgeous.

  “Did you bring my backpack?” I asked, walking into the bedroom to change, “I can’t wear this costume all the time.”

  “I will bring it to you tomorrow. I left it at my flat. In the meantime, you should acquaint yourself with what it is like to live here. The well is around back and so is the outhouse. You will need to learn to build a fire. You can find coal in the shed. First, you build a fire with paper and wood, then you add the coal. It isn’t that complicated. For hot water for washing, you can use this electric water-warmer.”

  I walked out of the bedroom wearing the outfit he’d given me. I felt really stupid. But, I had to admit, it had a certain charm. He looked at me and smiled his slow, wicked smile. Then, he held a long metal rod in front of me. The electricity in the cottage was random at best. Standing in that ridiculous outfit in a kitchen with no running water, I suddenly felt foolish for staying in Odessa with Alexi. He had a lot of bizarre ideas that an American girl like me just couldn’t rap my head around. Maybe Ukrainian chicks didn’t mind living like it was "Ye Olden Days", but women like me had expectations-— like refrigeration and a toilet.

  I sighed, taking the stick from him and placing it on the rough wooden counter. He moved into me, his rich spicy scent filling my nose with the promise of forbidden lust. He leaned his leg between mine, pressed against my pleasure zone, and breathed down on me. I felt the trance-like state that followed Alexi wherever he went.

  “My Darling, you will enjoy this. Just think of it like, what do you call it? The camping?”

  “Yes, the camping.”

  I put my arms around him and waited for him to lean in to kiss me. His strong arms moved around my waist and held me tight; his mouth moved down to mine— lips parted, barely brushing my lips with the taste of cloves and cardamom. He drew away, and I licked my lips as he stood back. I’d done a lot of camping. I liked camping. Even though I usually wore clothes from REI rather than clothes from the Renaissance Fair.

  He kissed my cheek and handed me a basket of food. It was mostly raw produce, a packet of milk in a plastic bag, some kind of dry porridge, a loaf of crusty bread, salt, oil, cured sausages, tea, sugar cubes, and cookies. Typical low budget Ukrainian fare. I took the heavy basket and placed it on the table. It was plenty for food. Better than I’d been eating before I agreed to stay. The British kids I’d traveled from Budapest with and I, had very meager meals during the last week.

  I could have gone back with them, but I didn’t want to give my parents the satisfaction of telling me “I told you so.” This was supposed to be my summer, my adventure, my time to learn about life and about myself. I was tired of them always telling me what to do. I graduated with the dumb business degree they wanted me to get— with honors— and it was time for me to do what I wanted for once. Alexi was what I wanted, for now anyway. I wasn’t thrilled about the whole rustic cottage situation. I would have much rather stayed in his luxurious flat overlooking the Odessa Opera House, but he was all into this peasant girl roll play.

  I’d heard of this kind of kink back in Seattle. Not that I was into that kind of thing back then. I had boyfriends, but I wasn’t the kind of girl who had one-night stands or the kind of girl who went to kinky nightclubs looking for perverted hook-ups. The kinkiest thing I ever did was having sex with my boyfriend in the bathroom of a disco on New Year's Eve. And once, he tied me up. But he wasn’t very good at it, and my arms kept slipping lose. Plus, I think the idea turned him on too much. He came in like two seconds.

  Alexi was different; he was full on— hardcore all the way. There was no playing around with this guy. It wasn’t a game, like it had been with my old boyfriend. It was serious business. He had plans, he said. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted something out of it. Of course, so did I.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking an apple out of the basket. I bit into it. It was juicy and ripe, a variety I had never eaten before. The flavor was subtle and spicy. I wiped juice from my chin and watched him walk out of the cottage and drive away in his black metallic black Porsche.

  Ok, so there I was, a house hussy wearing a long skirt and babushka. I was about to laugh myself sick. I wished I had my camera, so I could post photos of myself on Facebook and get a good laugh from my friends back home.

  I was hungry and needed to figure out how to light the weird ass coal-burning fire place. The fire place was at the center of the house and took up half a wall of several rooms. I guessed the thing was used for heating in the winter time. I didn’t need to heat the whole house; I just needed to be able to cook. It was really hot outside and the only thing that was keeping me cool was the fact that the house was made of brick and clay.

  I was kind of curious about how it worked, so I took the coal bucket from under the sink and went around the back of the house. I was glad no one could see me; only old women dressed like this around here. Most Ukrainian woman I’d seen dressed way more upscale and sexy than Seattle women. It was all about heels and tight skirts and big hair.

  Around the back of the house was a stone well that had a bucket with a crank. Next to that was the shed where the coal was stored. On the other side of the yard, away from everything else, was the outhouse. I hadn’t had the not-so-pleasurable experience of going in the outhouse yet, but I wasn’t looking forward to it. I’d seen some of the traditional Eastern European toilets, and they were basically disgusting holes in the group. I peeked in the outhouse. It wasn’t too bad— it didn’t stink— and there was a seat to sit on. I’d seen outhouses like this wh
en my family traveled through Montana a few years ago. I sighed with relief and went to look into the coal shed. Inside, it was dark and smelled of coal. There was a small hole in a metal chute that emptied into a bin full of coal. I found a small shovel and filled my bucket about half way. This was just an experiment. I didn’t want to get too crazy with it.

  I took my coal bucket and placed it near the well and peered inside. There was water in there alright. I wondered if it was drinkable. Alexi hadn’t said anything about whether or not it was. Crap. I really was going to have to build a fire if I wanted to drink water or tea. I didn’t want to get dysentery or giardia or whatever on my first day in the cottage. That would be a little embarrassing and not at all sexy. I had no idea what Ukrainian hospitals were like. Judging from the look of their public toilets, they probably weren’t a place I wanted to visit.

  I brought my coal bucket into the kitchen and searched around for matches and kindling. There were plenty of matches and old newspaper in a kitchen drawer, but I couldn’t find any kindling. Then I remembered there was a wood pile out back and an ax in the shed. Great. I was going to have to chop my own wood. I went out back and grabbed the ax from the shed and put a small piece of firewood on a cutting log. The hours of exercise I used to turn my brain off from thinking about the constant compromise of going to business school paid off. I cut the log down to thin strips of kindling in a few seconds.

  With that in hand, I went back to the kitchen and opened the door of the stove. Inside, it was incredibly small. I’d never seen a wood burning stove so small, and I guessed it was because this monstrous fire place was meant to run on coal. It might as well be foreign and weird, everything else was. I crumbled up some paper and made a little teepee of kindling and soon had the wood burning hot. Then I gently nudged some coals on top of that. I let it burn slowly, adding small shovels of coal until I had the grill above the fire pit going pretty hot.

  Now I wanted to make tea, so I took my water bucket out to the back yard and dumped the well bucket down into the well. That’s when the whole thing kind of sunk it. It was all so dream like. I felt like I was slipping into another reality— like I was a woman living a hundred and fifty years ago, in a time when women served men and asked no questions. Turning the crank, a full bucket inched up to the top of the well. I took it and poured the water into my metal water bucket which I took back in the house. My fire was still going pretty well. It wasn’t heating up the house too much. I imagined you could get this thing going really hot in the winter if you filled it with coal. Grabbing the tea kettle, I poured water in it and placed it on the stove.

  It took quite a while for the water to boil. I had to keep feeding it coal, or it would burn out. I didn’t want my entire house to be like an oven, so I just added enough coal to heat the stove. Finally, I could make a pot of tea and porridge. I cut up the vegetables and made a kind of salad by mixing them with a little oil and salt. My exertion made the meal even tastier.

  Chapter Two

  After I was finished eating, I went to fill my water bucket again and brought it back in the house. I needed to clean up, or flies would be all over the food. I’d covered my produce with a cheesecloth towel, and I covered up some leftovers in the same fashion, but I needed to wash the rest of my dishes. Alexi had left a water warming stick I could use to heat washing water which I placed inside the bucket on the kitchen counter.

  There was an outlet in the kitchen, and the water-heater stick slowly buzzed to life. It didn’t take the stick all that long to heat the water, so I unplugged it and set it carefully on the counter. Then I plugged up the sink and poured in warm water and soap. Suds rose in the sink and the warm water felt good on my hands as I scrubbed the dishes.

  Behind me, I heard the front door of the cottage open and footsteps walking in through the hall. I turned half way from the sink and placed one soapy hand on the counter.

  “Alexi?” I felt nervous. What if it was some weirdo?

  “Yes, my Darling,” he said walking through the room. I was happy to see him and went to rinse my hands, but he placed his lips on the back of my neck.

  “Finish your work,” he said, breathing down my neck, his arms tight around my body. I could feel his erection on my ass as his hands moved to hold my breasts. His mouth was on my neck, and I could barely think. I plunged my hands back in the water and continued to wash my dishes. Suds covered my forearms; warm water sloshed through my fingers. He rubbed my ass with his cock while he squeezed my breasts. My mind blanked into the expectation of dark pleasure, captivated in his arms. I held a bowl in one hand and a washcloth in the other, trying to wash it, but my head tilted back, and I gasped with pleasure.

  Then his hands were down around my legs, tugging the long skirt up over my waist. He tore at my panties, ripping them off.

  “No panties, in this house,” he grunted at me, his cock hard under his pants rubbing my bare ass. He shoved my head down; my breasts touched the soapy water, wetting the front of my shirt. I was prone; my ass was in the air, and my head was nearly in the water. Then I felt the wind rushing toward my ass and felt a stinking slap across both my cheeks.

  Smack!

  Smack!

  My ass burned and each time he spanked me, the pressure caused pleasure to rise in my loins. I called out and he just smacked again. Pussy juice ran down my leg.

  “What did I say?” he whispered fiercely in my ear, leaning over my body his fingers between my pussy lips.

  “No panties?” I said, breathing hard, waiting for his next moved, like a doe waits for a wolf to pounce.

  He rubbed my pussy with his fingers, encouraging the juices to flow and grabbed the back of my hair. Then smacked me again.

  “Och!” I yelled, unconsciously.

  He just smiled at me wickedly and unzipped his pants, his hands still holding my hair. My skirt was up over my waist; my breasts were soaking, and my ass was burning red, but I was dripping wet and ready. His cock slid inside slowly as he held my hair pulling my head backwards, arching my back. Then he put both hands around my waist and thrust— hard. I felt like I was skewered, and I liked it. My whole being wanted to serve his desires. It was as if I lived for his pleasure alone. My body was his instrument to play upon.

  His cock filled me up deep inside. He thrust again, and I moaned. I was pushed against the sink, my shirt soaking. He pounded me from behind, and I had to hold on to both sides of the sink to keep from falling into the water. He slid his hand down the front of my soaking skirt and pulled my breasts out to dangle in the soapy warm, water while he fucked me. He bent his knees and thrust into me, holding my waist pinned against the skin. The warm water on my breasts and the warm cock between my legs sent an electric shock of pleasure through my entire body.

  My pussy convulsed on his prick, but he pulled out and picked up a soapy wooden spoon and thumped my ass with it. Then he spun me around and hoisted me up on the sink. My ass fell half way in the water, and so did my skirt. I was soaking wet as he thrust into me. I rapped my legs and arms around him, pushing my hips against his.

  His mouth was on mine, tongues pressing and flicking in time with our thrusting hips. He held me over the washing water, my body covered in it. I had my hands on the back of his neck pulling him into me, seeking his darkness, seeking the sweet release of his seed into my sopping wet pussy. His hand gripped my exposed, wet breast, and he exploded hot jizz into my core.

  “Oh God,” panted, clinging to him. He pulled me to a chain where I sat on this lap as we kissed softly. I could see the tattoos on his exposed arms.

  “What are these?” I said, running my fingers along the outline of a strange arcane symbol.

  “This is my power. Someday I will show you what they are for.”

  “Mmmm.” I felt the pleasure of his embrace. I felt so complete with him. It was like I’d never really had a full sexual encounter until I’d met him. Everything before had been a pale pantomime of what sex really should be.

  “Oh, Alexi,”
I breathed, “I love you.” I caught myself off guard saying it.

  He chuckled. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, my little Capitalist,” he said running his hand up my leg under my wet skirt. I felt so warm and safe in his embrace. It was like I was finally home after a long, weary journey that had taken an entire lifetime.

  “Now,” he said rising, his tone became commanding and businesslike, “What did I say you are not to do while you are in this house?”

  “No panties?”

  “Exactly, my Darling.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me gently. “I must leave you. I will be back tomorrow. I’ve brought you your backpack and a few other things. They are in the hallway.”

  “Why must you go?” I said clinging to him. I wanted him to stay with me, be my man, be the master of my house.

  “I have business to attend to. Calls to make. It would be very boring for you, my Darling. Why don’t you make some paintings tomorrow?”

  I sighed. The cottage and vineyards would make excellent subjects. I had been so busy I hadn’t really thought about it. All I'd ever wanted to do with my life was paint. That was the main reason I'd run away to Europe: to avoid my parents and make a stand for myself, once and for all.

  Chapter Three

  I walked into the hallway and found my backpack, a desk fan, a portable electric range— hallelujah— and a dorm sized refrigerator on wheels— and can I get an Amen! Maybe he’d put in running water and a toilet? Then this place might be almost tolerable. I carried the range into the kitchen and set it up on the counter and then pushed the fridge into an empty space on the wall before putting all my produce and milk inside. This would make things a lot easier.

  I decided to make more tea, so I put the kettle on the electric range and turned it on. Then I remembered I hadn’t asked if the well water was safe to drink. Oh well, at least now I had an easy way to boil it. When my tea was finished, I brought into the bedroom and began to unpack my backpack