Joey W Hill - Natural Law (Nature of Desire, Book Two)

NATURAL LAW

An Elloras Cave Publication, March 2004

Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

PO Box

Hudson , OH 44236-0787

ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-818-9

Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC)& HTML

NATURAL LAW 2004 JOEY W. HILL

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not bereproduced in whole or in part without permission.

This book is a work of fiction and anyresemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purelycoincidental. They are productions of the authors imagination and usedfictitiously.

Edited by Sheri Ross Carucci.

Cover art by Regina Brytowski.

Natural Law

Joey W. Hill

Chapter 1

Its your first night flying solo. Stay inyour comfort zone.

Violet heard Tylers parting words clearlyin her head, but no other part of her was listening as she watched the mostbeautiful man shed ever seen make his way through The Zones Tuesday nightcrowd.

She chose the adjective deliberately.Handsome or sexy conveyed surface appeal. Beautiful addressed the wholepackage, inside and out.

This man was big. Over six feet, thebroadness in his shoulders was enough to accelerate her heartrate. He was puremale animal. No matter what soap, deodorant or cologne he used, he wouldnt beable to obliterate the scent. He was powerful, a predator, but what made himabsolutely irresistible to her, overriding her common sense, was that he was asexual submissive. An alpha wolf who chose the role of beta in the bedroom, butonly for the right woman.

The more seasoned Doms hadnt seen him yet.Thank God that Marguerite, a Mistress who never had a regular partner,preferring to pick up her choice of sub for the night from those available onthe floor, had already paired off and was playing in the rentable rooms visiblethrough the clubs glass floor. It was one of the perks of The Zone, being ableto see down into all the playrooms, unless a darkening screen had been engagedby a particular group of occupants.

Violet preferred smooth, clean-shaven men.Usually. This man had coarse, dark hair on his forearms and soft curls on hishead, in a style cut short at the nape. He was mid-forties gray, but his hairhad refused to blend, so his mane of white, black and silver invited her touch.She wanted to grip it, tug that firm mouth down to her lips, or better, holdhis head between her thighs and see how clever those lips could be.

Violet crossed her legs, and took a sip ofher drink. Though every instinct screamed at her to go stake out her territorybefore some other Dom saw him, she held her seat. Patience was often rewarded,and shed rather suffer disappointment in anonymity if he was there to meetsomeone.

He had a straight blade of a nose, and arugged face. His beard and moustache again upset her familiar preferences, butthey were well-groomed. The beard was low on his jaw, just a line of gray andblack that followed that strong line to meet the clipped sideburn in front ofhis ear. She couldnt tell the color of his irises, but if they were gray, shewas a goner. The dark length of his eyebrows were straight slashes, perfectlyfollowing the shallow curve of his almond shaped eyes, giving an impression ofconscious strength, someone dangerous to push.

A lot of subs used the locker rooms tochange into role-playing clothing before taking the floor, a clearadvertisement of their availability for play, but he wore street clothes,well-fitted jeans and a crisp white shirt tucked into them. The rolled-upsleeves revealed those furred, strong forearms and a pair of beautifully tooledsilver cuffs on his wrists. The onyx inlay and scrollwork made them pass as anattractive accessory, but she knew what they were, had zoomed in on them like ahawk from a thousand feet in the sky locating a well-anticipated meal. Theybroadcast his status as a submissive here in The Zone, one of Tampas mostupscale and private fetish clubs for practitioners of the Dom/sub lifestyle.

Two hundred plus pounds of powerful maledesiring to be at the beck and call of a Mistress. Or a Master. She forcedherself to consider that, to squelch the scream of denial and disappointment inthe possibility. To her, he seemed a little too rugged for the sleek beefed-uptypes the male Doms preferred. Those muscles were put to some type of activeuse, versus being sculpted in a gym just for show.

Fuck it. She was going to go for it. Shecould imagine Tyler shaking his head at her, nursing her singed ego when hermale fantasy set her back on her heels, but her pulse was pounding and herhands were damp. This was the one.

She rose from her seat and went hunting.

* * * * *

Mac Nighthorse intended to stake out a goodplace to do some observation of The Zones evening crowd, but the scenariounder his feet caught his attention. Through the glass floor, in a roomappointed like a medieval torture chamber, a girl stripped down to nothing buta silver chain mesh chastity belt had been tied to a rack. Her Dom flogged her,snapping the end of a short braided whip across her stiffened nipples andleaving red marks on the inside of her thighs with pinpoint accuracy. Thechastity belt prevented stimulation of the area it covered, but of course thatmeant that the build to orgasm had been slow and excruciating. Mac had luckedout on timing and got to see the Masters work rewarded.

The girl shuddered, her mouth open on asilent scream of pleasure under soundproof glass. Through the duration of hersurrender, her Dom kept up the strike count. Her response, caught by thecandlelight illumination of the chamber, glistened down her thighs through thesilver chain leg openings of the chastity belt. Moving to her side, her Masterreleased her arms and let her hold him at last, stroking her hair, his face litwith pleasure and devotion.

That expression absorbed Mac, held himthere a few moments more than he anticipated. When at last he turned toward hisoriginal destination, a quiet corner in the shadows, he found his wayunexpectedly and deliberately blocked.

The obstacle had spike-heeled boots thatfollowed her legs like a second skin, so they were as feminine and delicate asthe dress she wore. Whereas most Doms preferred black and leather for thestrong message they conveyed, this woman had chosen a dress of hunter greenvelvet. The dcolletage was an elegant, low-slung drape that revealed the topsof her breasts and the lace along the edges of the dark green satin bra cupssewn into the dress. The skirt hugged round hips and flared out in a littlegarnish of slashes just below mid-thigh, giving him a glimpse of the lace topsof her silken thigh-highs beneath the boots.

He had to stop at her face much sooner thanhe anticipated. She was a woodland fairy, a pixie. With the heels, the top ofher head reached his shoulder. She wore a simple silver cross around her neck,and a pair of earrings that were a fall of silver stars. Silver glittersparkled on her skin over her breasts and sternum.

The raven black hair falling to her waistwas not hers, but a beautiful wig that did great things for her small oval face,her skin looking like cream in his coffee in the morning, liquid and smooth.Hed bet those lavender eyes were contacts, but her beauty couldnt bedisguised. Whatever her hair and eye color, she was a knockout. Her lips wereliquid red and full, just the way he liked them.

The smell of lavender clung to her, with anunderpinning of vanilla, and his nose was interested in having him take a tastybite, even if the rest of his body was being sternly admonished by his mind tostay in check.

She was so delicate, it was hard to believeshe was a Dom. But it resonated off her. A less-experienced sub wouldnt know,but he did, from the direct way she met his eyes, assessing him in a manner sopotent he found himself fighting the urge to please her by casting his gazedown.