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Taken (Traci Wilde)


Taken by Traci Wilde

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Angela Martin is like everyone else. She wants acceptance. Love. Passion

For five years she’s lived with the pain of knowing her husband cheats on her. She’s dealt with the heart-rending rejection by rebuilding her life around her work, becoming the first woman detective in the history of the Moose Creek, N.C., police department.

Then she stumbles upon him. A man who reawakens desire, who makes her feel more alive than she believed possible by pulling her into a world of bondage and dominance, devotion and trust taken to a new level, fear mingling with desire, a craving stronger than anything she's ever known.

Soon women start turning up dead in Moose Creek, bound and tormented, tied in ways that Angela finds startlingly familiar. Angela’s heart tells her that her newfound love cannot be the killer, her detective instincts tell her otherwise, and her obsession with this new lifestyle draws her back to him, even at the risk of her life.

HELPLESS: FATAL OBSESSION BOOK 1 is a tale of sex and bondage, love and fear, desire and suspicion, with an ending that will leave you breathless, craving more.

Product type: EBook    Published by: author - self-published    Published: 04 / 2017

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 38300

Style: Erotica -    Erotic Domination - M/F, Erotic Thriller / Horror

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Click Here For All Books In This Series

Current all-time sales ranking: #2453


Excerpt..

“Are you ready?”

His voice was still soft, emotionless.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Angela looked around the hotel room. It was a basic, cheap room – particle board dresser, large TV on top, a small desk next to it. In the space behind the door was an area designated as the closet. Her clothes hung there. She had locked her gun and ID inside the car, hidden away. On the nightstand sat her work phone – the one that would signal their time together must end if it buzzed.

She glanced back to the mirror over the dresser. Staring back was a person she recognized – physically, that is. It also might just have well been a stranger. She wore a red chemise. The front plunged so low that her breasts nearly spilled out. It was so short barely any of her legs were covered. Underneath she wore nothing.

“Door unlocked?”

“Yes.”

“Kneel.”

Angela went to her knees.

“Blindfold yourself.”

Angela placed the phone on the floor, next to her, covered her eyes with the scarf, tied it securely behind her head. She felt for the phone, put it back to her ear.

“Done.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, done, Mr. Tanner.”
“Now the handcuffs.”
“Mr. Tanner, I cannot…will not be able to pick up the phone to let you know I’ve done that.”
“Just do it. I’ll be there when I decide you’ve had enough time.”
Angela put the phone down, felt for the handcuffs – she had purchased separate ones for use with Mr. Tanner, not wanting to risk even the slightest chance using department-issued ones could lead back to what she was doing. She snapped the cuffs around her left wrist, put her hands behind her back, paused for a few seconds, and then snapped the other cuff around her right wrist.
Oh god.
That was the only thought that formed, mingling with fear and a burning, almost primal sense of anticipation.
Angela wondered what she would look like to Tanner. She was kneeling, but not up on her knees. Instead, her legs were folded under her, her butt resting on her heels. She wasn’t sure if that’s how he meant for her to be, or if she should rise up on her knees, as she did in church as a little girl.
She waited, tiny trembles shaking her body every so often. How long? It seemed as if she had been there seven, eight, maybe even ten minutes, but Angela knew the time was probably much less. Waiting, in the dark, helpless, with a probable killer coming to have his way with her, time seemed to stretch and slow down.
I shouldn’t be here.
The thought stabbed through the haze of desire and mystery and fear, like the sudden emergence of a traffic light in a thick fog.
I need to get out.
Just as her body was about to respond to the thought, to rise up from her kneeling position, she felt lips press against her left thigh; fingers play lightly along her right one.
Oh my god.
She had heard nothing – Tanner, apparently, excelled at stealth as well as he did at understanding how to control her body, her feelings and emotions.
“Please?”
Please what? Please go on? Please take me? Please release me?
“Mr. Tann—”
Fingers pressed against her lips. Not hard, but firmly, enough to silence her.
As quickly as they had pressed against her mouth they were gone, then she felt them again…both of his hands, on her thighs, playing up and down her legs, massaging, caressing, his lips like feather touches across her chest, kissing, tongue licking, playing along her mostly exposed breasts.
Angela felt her heart racing, her breathing came in ragged gasps and her body grew warm. Hot.
Without warning, he was gone. She listened – her senses seemed heightened now, and Angela could make out the sound of shoes pushed off of feet, cloth whispering against skin – he’s undressing.
“Please rise to your knees.”
The sound of his voice – no, the fact he was giving a command which she must follow – sent a chill across her body. Angela felt her nipples erect against the silky chemise, moisture between her legs.
Hands grabbed her ankles, then rope wrapped around them. She remained still as he bound her ankles together.
“Sit back down.”
She did as she was told. The weight of her body, pressing down, hurt her bound ankles now that they could not move under her. He grabbed the handcuffs and pulled hard until her wrists were against the rope binding her ankles. He tied the cuffs to the ankle rope. As helpless as Angela felt when he first touched her, while her hands were cuffed, Angela now felt even more vulnerable. Her back was arched; chest out, and she found it difficult to make any sort of movement. Already she could feel her back tightening. If she were forced to remain in this position, Angela knew she would pay tomorrow with a stiff back.
If I have a tomorrow.
Before she could focus on the thought, Angela felt leather around her neck.
“What are you doing?”
Angela felt the sting of his hand across her face. Not hard enough, she was sure, to leave a mark, but the blow hurt.
“You do not address me in such a manner.” No anger, no frustration, just a simple statement.
“I…” Conflicting thoughts and feelings swirled inside Angela. Her body ached for him to continue, do whatever he desired. Her mind was now slipping from sex-starved unhappy wife to police detective. That second persona brought worry and cold fear to the fore of her thinking.
“I am sorry, Mr. Tanner.” She said the words, but did so as her mind was calculating, trying to determine her best option for resistance.
There are none.
Fear, cold as the barrel of her gun, seized her now.
Scream, with all you are worth.
She opened her mouth, but before the first sound escaped something hard and round was shoved far back into it, nearly cutting off her ability to breath. Then tape was slapped over her mouth.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
The thought played over and over in her mind, the only words that would form, but this time it was not arousal that brought forth the exclamation. It was the realization this truly was the end. Angela felt tears spilling from her eyes, no doubt rolling down her cheeks.
Then the leather was around her neck. Hard and thick – it forced her to hold her head high, neck extended, and the image of Qadesh, tethered to the wall at Mistress Sable’s home, flashed through her head. That’s what this felt like, the same sort of collar she saw on Qadesh.
“You will thank me for this,” Mr. Tanner said, softly thumping the collar.
Angela felt something in the back of the collar, something being threaded – the image of Qadesh returned, and Angela realized Mr. Tanner was attaching something to the ring in back of the collar – then he pulled, the collar growing tight against the front of her neck. Mr. Tanner continued applying pressure, until her upper body was pulled backward, her back arched painfully. Whatever he had attached to the collar, Angela felt him tying the other end to the handcuffs around her wrist.
Angela realized Mr. Tanner was no longer touching her or the bonds that so strictly constrained her movement. Despite her fear, Angela could not help but wonder what sort of image she presented to her captor now – back arched so severely, chest protruding forward, legs exposed.
As those thoughts played through her mind his kisses returned…hot and wet on first her left thigh, then the right. Angela knew she was as good as dead, that she had absolutely no way to resist, no opportunity to call for help.
Yet her body responded. She felt her nipples again growing firm, moisture dampening between her legs as his kisses moved upward, his hands played along her hips, up her sides, fingers almost whispering their way across her chest, breasts.
He was gone. No warning, no words, but he was gone. Still, Angela knew he was close, standing over her. She felt his hands again, this time on her shoulders, fingertips stroking her neck, playing through her hair….then the tape was ripped from her mouth, the object inside removed, and then...
Oh dear lord.
She felt him slip inside her mouth, full and hard, the taste of his sking mingling with the musky odor of his crotch.


Excerpt..

“Are you ready?”



His voice was still soft, emotionless.



“Yes,” she whispered.



Angela looked around the hotel room. It was a basic, cheap room – particle board dresser, large TV on top, a small desk next to it. In the
space behind the door was an area designated as the closet. Her clothes hung there. She had locked her gun and ID inside the car, hidden
away. On the nightstand sat her work phone – the one that would signal their time together must end if it buzzed.



She glanced back to the mirror over the dresser. Staring back was a person she recognized – physically, that is. It also might just have
well been a stranger. She wore a red chemise. The front plunged so low that her breasts nearly spilled out. It was so short barely any of
her legs were covered. Underneath she wore nothing.



“Door unlocked?”



“Yes.”



“Kneel.”



Angela went to her knees.



“Blindfold yourself.”



Angela placed the phone on the floor, next to her, covered her eyes with the scarf, tied it securely behind her head. She felt for the
phone, put it back to her ear.



“Done.”



“Excuse me?”



“Sorry, done, Mr. Tanner.”

“Now the handcuffs.”

“Mr. Tanner, I cannot…will not be able to pick up the phone to let you know I’ve done that.”

“Just do it. I’ll be there when I decide you’ve had enough time.”

Angela put the phone down, felt for the handcuffs – she had purchased separate ones for use with Mr. Tanner, not wanting to risk even the
slightest chance using department-issued ones could lead back to what she was doing. She snapped the cuffs around her left wrist, put her
hands behind her back, paused for a few seconds, and then snapped the other cuff around her right wrist.

Oh god.

That was the only thought that formed, mingling with fear and a burning, almost primal sense of anticipation.

Angela wondered what she would look like to Tanner. She was kneeling, but not up on her knees. Instead, her legs were folded under her, her
butt resting on her heels. She wasn’t sure if that’s how he meant for her to be, or if she should rise up on her knees, as she did in church
as a little girl.

She waited, tiny trembles shaking her body every so often. How long? It seemed as if she had been there seven, eight, maybe even ten
minutes, but Angela knew the time was probably much less. Waiting, in the dark, helpless, with a probable killer coming to have his way with
her, time seemed to stretch and slow down.

I shouldn’t be here.

The thought stabbed through the haze of desire and mystery and fear, like the sudden emergence of a traffic light in a thick fog.

I need to get out.

Just as her body was about to respond to the thought, to rise up from her kneeling position, she felt lips press against her left thigh;
fingers play lightly along her right one.

Oh my god.

She had heard nothing – Tanner, apparently, excelled at stealth as well as he did at understanding how to control her body, her feelings and
emotions.

“Please?”

Please what? Please go on? Please take me? Please release me?

“Mr. Tann—”

Fingers pressed against her lips. Not hard, but firmly, enough to silence her.

As quickly as they had pressed against her mouth they were gone, then she felt them again…both of his hands, on her thighs, playing up and
down her legs, massaging, caressing, his lips like feather touches across her chest, kissing, tongue licking, playing along her mostly
exposed breasts.

Angela felt her heart racing, her breathing came in ragged gasps and her body grew warm. Hot.

Without warning, he was gone. She listened – her senses seemed heightened now, and Angela could make out the sound of shoes pushed off of
feet, cloth whispering against skin – he’s undressing.

“Please rise to your knees.”

The sound of his voice – no, the fact he was giving a command which she must follow – sent a chill across her body. Angela felt her nipples
erect against the silky chemise, moisture between her legs.

Hands grabbed her ankles, then rope wrapped around them. She remained still as he bound her ankles together.

“Sit back down.”

She did as she was told. The weight of her body, pressing down, hurt her bound ankles now that they could not move under her. He grabbed the
handcuffs and pulled hard until her wrists were against the rope binding her ankles. He tied the cuffs to the ankle rope. As helpless as
Angela felt when he first touched her, while her hands were cuffed, Angela now felt even more vulnerable. Her back was arched; chest out,
and she found it difficult to make any sort of movement. Already she could feel her back tightening. If she were forced to remain in this
position, Angela knew she would pay tomorrow with a stiff back.

If I have a tomorrow.

Before she could focus on the thought, Angela felt leather around her neck.

“What are you doing?”

Angela felt the sting of his hand across her face. Not hard enough, she was sure, to leave a mark, but the blow hurt.

“You do not address me in such a manner.” No anger, no frustration, just a simple statement.

“I…” Conflicting thoughts and feelings swirled inside Angela. Her body ached for him to continue, do whatever he desired. Her mind was now
slipping from sex-starved unhappy wife to police detective. That second persona brought worry and cold fear to the fore of her thinking. />
“I am sorry, Mr. Tanner.” She said the words, but did so as her mind was calculating, trying to determine her best option for resistance. />
There are none.

Fear, cold as the barrel of her gun, seized her now.

Scream, with all you are worth.

She opened her mouth, but before the first sound escaped something hard and round was shoved far back into it, nearly cutting off her
ability to breath. Then tape was slapped over her mouth.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

The thought played over and over in her mind, the only words that would form, but this time it was not arousal that brought forth the
exclamation. It was the realization this truly was the end. Angela felt tears spilling from her eyes, no doubt rolling down her cheeks. />
Then the leather was around her neck. Hard and thick – it forced her to hold her head high, neck extended, and the image of Qadesh, tethered
to the wall at Mistress Sable’s home, flashed through her head. That’s what this felt like, the same sort of collar she saw on Qadesh. />
“You will thank me for this,” Mr. Tanner said, softly thumping the collar.

Angela felt something in the back of the collar, something being threaded – the image of Qadesh returned, and Angela realized Mr. Tanner was
attaching something to the ring in back of the collar – then he pulled, the collar growing tight against the front of her neck. Mr. Tanner
continued applying pressure, until her upper body was pulled backward, her back arched painfully. Whatever he had attached to the collar,
Angela felt him tying the other end to the handcuffs around her wrist.

Angela realized Mr. Tanner was no longer touching her or the bonds that so strictly constrained her movement. Despite her fear, Angela could
not help but wonder what sort of image she presented to her captor now – back arched so severely, chest protruding forward, legs exposed. />
As those thoughts played through her mind his kisses returned…hot and wet on first her left thigh, then the right. Angela knew she was as
good as dead, that she had absolutely no way to resist, no opportunity to call for help.

Yet her body responded. She felt her nipples again growing firm, moisture dampening between her legs as his kisses moved upward, his hands
played along her hips, up her sides, fingers almost whispering their way across her chest, breasts.

He was gone. No warning, no words, but he was gone. Still, Angela knew he was close, standing over her. She felt his hands again, this time
on her shoulders, fingertips stroking her neck, playing through her hair….then the tape was ripped from her mouth, the object inside
removed, and then...

Oh dear lord.

She felt him slip inside her mouth, full and hard, the taste of his sking mingling with the musky odor of his crotch.


Excerpt..

“Are you ready?”





His voice was still soft, emotionless.





“Yes,” she whispered.





Angela looked around the hotel room. It was a basic, cheap room – particle board dresser, large TV on top, a small desk next to it. In the

space behind the door was an area designated as the closet. Her clothes hung there. She had locked her gun and ID inside the car, hidden

away. On the nightstand sat her work phone – the one that would signal their time together must end if it buzzed.





She glanced back to the mirror over the dresser. Staring back was a person she recognized – physically, that is. It also might just have

well been a stranger. She wore a red chemise. The front plunged so low that her breasts nearly spilled out. It was so short barely any of

her legs were covered. Underneath she wore nothing.





“Door unlocked?”





“Yes.”





“Kneel.”





Angela went to her knees.





“Blindfold yourself.”





Angela placed the phone on the floor, next to her, covered her eyes with the scarf, tied it securely behind her head. She felt for the

phone, put it back to her ear.





“Done.”





“Excuse me?”





“Sorry, done, Mr. Tanner.”


“Now the handcuffs.”


“Mr. Tanner, I cannot…will not be able to pick up the phone to let you know I’ve done that.”


“Just do it. I’ll be there when I decide you’ve had enough time.”


Angela put the phone down, felt for the handcuffs – she had purchased separate ones for use with Mr. Tanner, not wanting to risk even the

slightest chance using department-issued ones could lead back to what she was doing. She snapped the cuffs around her left wrist, put her

hands behind her back, paused for a few seconds, and then snapped the other cuff around her right wrist.


Oh god.


That was the only thought that formed, mingling with fear and a burning, almost primal sense of anticipation.


Angela wondered what she would look like to Tanner. She was kneeling, but not up on her knees. Instead, her legs were folded under her, her

butt resting on her heels. She wasn’t sure if that’s how he meant for her to be, or if she should rise up on her knees, as she did in church

as a little girl.


She waited, tiny trembles shaking her body every so often. How long? It seemed as if she had been there seven, eight, maybe even ten

minutes, but Angela knew the time was probably much less. Waiting, in the dark, helpless, with a probable killer coming to have his way with

her, time seemed to stretch and slow down.


I shouldn’t be here.


The thought stabbed through the haze of desire and mystery and fear, like the sudden emergence of a traffic light in a thick fog.


I need to get out.


Just as her body was about to respond to the thought, to rise up from her kneeling position, she felt lips press against her left thigh;

fingers play lightly along her right one.


Oh my god.


She had heard nothing – Tanner, apparently, excelled at stealth as well as he did at understanding how to control her body, her feelings and

emotions.


“Please?”


Please what? Please go on? Please take me? Please release me?


“Mr. Tann—”


Fingers pressed against her lips. Not hard, but firmly, enough to silence her.


As quickly as they had pressed against her mouth they were gone, then she felt them again…both of his hands, on her thighs, playing up and

down her legs, massaging, caressing, his lips like feather touches across her chest, kissing, tongue licking, playing along her mostly

exposed breasts.


Angela felt her heart racing, her breathing came in ragged gasps and her body grew warm. Hot.


Without warning, he was gone. She listened – her senses seemed heightened now, and Angela could make out the sound of shoes pushed off of

feet, cloth whispering against skin – he’s undressing.


“Please rise to your knees.”


The sound of his voice – no, the fact he was giving a command which she must follow – sent a chill across her body. Angela felt her nipples

erect against the silky chemise, moisture between her legs.


Hands grabbed her ankles, then rope wrapped around them. She remained still as he bound her ankles together.


“Sit back down.”


She did as she was told. The weight of her body, pressing down, hurt her bound ankles now that they could not move under her. He grabbed the

handcuffs and pulled hard until her wrists were against the rope binding her ankles. He tied the cuffs to the ankle rope. As helpless as

Angela felt when he first touched her, while her hands were cuffed, Angela now felt even more vulnerable. Her back was arched; chest out,

and she found it difficult to make any sort of movement. Already she could feel her back tightening. If she were forced to remain in this

position, Angela knew she would pay tomorrow with a stiff back.


If I have a tomorrow.


Before she could focus on the thought, Angela felt leather around her neck.


“What are you doing?”


Angela felt the sting of his hand across her face. Not hard enough, she was sure, to leave a mark, but the blow hurt.


“You do not address me in such a manner.” No anger, no frustration, just a simple statement.


“I…” Conflicting thoughts and feelings swirled inside Angela. Her body ached for him to continue, do whatever he desired. Her mind was now

slipping from sex-starved unhappy wife to police detective. That second persona brought worry and cold fear to the fore of her thinking.
/>

“I am sorry, Mr. Tanner.” She said the words, but did so as her mind was calculating, trying to determine her best option for resistance.
/>

There are none.


Fear, cold as the barrel of her gun, seized her now.


Scream, with all you are worth.


She opened her mouth, but before the first sound escaped something hard and round was shoved far back into it, nearly cutting off her

ability to breath. Then tape was slapped over her mouth.


Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.


The thought played over and over in her mind, the only words that would form, but this time it was not arousal that brought forth the

exclamation. It was the realization this truly was the end. Angela felt tears spilling from her eyes, no doubt rolling down her cheeks.
/>

Then the leather was around her neck. Hard and thick – it forced her to hold her head high, neck extended, and the image of Qadesh, tethered

to the wall at Mistress Sable’s home, flashed through her head. That’s what this felt like, the same sort of collar she saw on Qadesh.
/>

“You will thank me for this,” Mr. Tanner said, softly thumping the collar.


Angela felt something in the back of the collar, something being threaded – the image of Qadesh returned, and Angela realized Mr. Tanner was

attaching something to the ring in back of the collar – then he pulled, the collar growing tight against the front of her neck. Mr. Tanner

continued applying pressure, until her upper body was pulled backward, her back arched painfully. Whatever he had attached to the collar,

Angela felt him tying the other end to the handcuffs around her wrist.


Angela realized Mr. Tanner was no longer touching her or the bonds that so strictly constrained her movement. Despite her fear, Angela could

not help but wonder what sort of image she presented to her captor now – back arched so severely, chest protruding forward, legs exposed.
/>

As those thoughts played through her mind his kisses returned…hot and wet on first her left thigh, then the right. Angela knew she was as

good as dead, that she had absolutely no way to resist, no opportunity to call for help.


Yet her body responded. She felt her nipples again growing firm, moisture dampening between her legs as his kisses moved upward, his hands

played along her hips, up her sides, fingers almost whispering their way across her chest, breasts.


He was gone. No warning, no words, but he was gone. Still, Angela knew he was close, standing over her. She felt his hands again, this time

on her shoulders, fingertips stroking her neck, playing through her hair….then the tape was ripped from her mouth, the object inside

removed, and then...


Oh dear lord.


She felt him slip inside her mouth, full and hard, the taste of his sking mingling with the musky odor of his crotch.



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Reviews

Very well written. Good story, well plotted. Well done! 5 out of 5 (Bigrdr)

Best Selling Books This Year By Traci Wilde

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Best Selling Books This Year By Traci Wilde

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Author Information

Traci Wilde is a member of the After Midnight Press cooperative, penning hot, steaming, erotic shorts stories and novels deep into the night.

Here's what her colleagues at After Midnight Press have to say about her: "The name seems to fit, as our self-described wild-child sometimes draws from her own real-life experiences for her tales."

That's not to say every story she writes happened, but quite a few of them have a basis in real-life events. She's single (and says she will always remain so), lives in North Carolina at present (though she moves around every so often), and counts among her hobbies running, watching the stars at night, and...well, having sex. Often.

 

Website:
http://aftermidnightpress.blogspot.com/

Contact Traci Wilde


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 Authors Suite

 Publishers Suite   

Affiliate Program

Contact Us

Terms and Conditions

Protection Policy

Privacy Policy

Refund Policy

This Site Owned By Fiction4All - Copyright Ó 2015