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Pink and Scarlet (V.W. Singer)

Pink and Scarlet by V.W. Singer

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A collection of stories and poems featuring sex and sensuality from the dark side where pleasure and pain blend into a fever dream of lust. (M/F only).

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 3 / 2016

No. words: 67171

Style: Dark Secrets BDSM/Bondage, Adult Suspense/Thrillers

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


by V.W. Singer

Chapter One

Cathy couldn't resist switching on her ebook reader to peek at the cover and blurb of her latest BDSM novel. It had been a busy week with the grocery chain's internal auditors doing one of their regular inspections. But they were finally gone, and she was looking forward to a nice dinner, a glass of wine, and a steamy session with “Whips and Magnolias” accompanied by her favorite vibrator.
She waved at her boss and stepped out into the parking lot and looked around. The weather was still warm but not uncomfortably so, especially with the sun sinking below the horizon. Taking a deep breath of fresh, non-air-conditioned air she rolled her shoulders to work out the stiffness of working on her computer all day as she walked towards her car. She had just pressed the button on her key fob when a crunch of gravel made her turn around. Crime wasn't rampant in Burkesville, but robberies and muggings still happened. When she saw the knife in the hand of the approaching man, she grabbed for the door handle of her car.
“Did you think we wouldn't find you?” the man shouted as he charged.
Cathy managed to get into the seat just before the man reached her. She felt a punch on the shoulder, but before he could pull her out of the car, the engine started and she accelerated away, the door still open. She sighed with relief when she looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the man sprawled on the gravel of the parking lot. However, when she tried to close the door the movement set her shoulder afire and she cried out in pain. After stopping to reach across and slam the door shut with her right hand, she drove on, ignoring the pain while her mind gnawed on the question of how Bart's friends had found her. Trying to reason with them or Bart would be pointless since she had spent all the money she had borrowed from him, and when Bart had come looking for payment, she had made things worse by kneeing him in the balls as well as cutting his ear off with a kitchen knife. That had been eight years ago and there was no way she could ever repay him on her current salary. It was obvious that Bart had not chosen to forgive or forget. She would have taken her legal lumps and never involved Bart if she had to do it all over again, but at the time she had been younger and wilder, and now it was too late. And now they had found her again and Bart had obviously not forgiven or forgotten.
She drove on grimly through the night, uncertain of where to go. If they knew where she worked, they would know where she lived as well. And the hospital would be another obvious destination. All she could think of was to keep moving, perhaps get to another town before looking for help. The back of her dress felt wet and sticky, and every movement of her arm made her groan. Each set of headlights that appeared behind her made her heart hammer and the pain in her shoulder grow worse until they passed her slower moving vehicle. She only realized that her mind was growing fuzzy when she swept around a curve in the road and saw a pair of approaching headlights right in front of her. She realized she had drifted into the wrong lane, but her weakness and the stiffness of her arm betrayed her. Her desperate attempt to correct her heading sent the car skidding off of the road to slam into a small tree surrounded by thick bushes, which probably saved her life. Her foot slipped off of the accelerator and the car lurched to a halt too slowly to activate the air-bag. She wasn't wearing her safety belt and her face slammed into the padded centre of the steering wheel. She fell over sideways, dazed and barely aware of what had happened.


The car coming around the corner on his side of the road was a shock, and Jason Woods slammed on his breaks even as he watched the oncoming car swerve off of the road. He brought his Range Rover to a halt in front of the other car which seemed to have crashed into the trees. Out of habit more than any actual concern, he opened his glove compartment and extracted his .22LR SIG Saur automatic pistol with its clip-on holster and attached it to his waistband. He saw movement as he approached the crashed car. “Hello? Are you hurt? I'm trying to help you. I'm going to open the door.” He heard a groan, but the figure didn't sit up, so he pulled the car door open. His eyes narrowed when he saw the blood on the woman's back. Much of it was starting to dry, so it couldn't have been from the crash. With his hand on his pistol he peeked in the back of the car, but it was empty. Both of her hands were visible and she wasn't armed, so he leaned into the car and checked her body for signs of serious injury. But the bruises on her forehead and cheek didn't look bad and her neck seemed intact, as well as were her collarbones and ribs. From experience he knew that there was no cell phone signal at this stretch of road, so he couldn't just wait for help.


Everything seemed to hurt, and Cathy felt strangely weak and tired, but her mind had slowly begun to clear. She had not been unconscious at any time, but after the impact of the crash it had been as if she had been drunk or suffering from a high fever. The sudden bright light and the looming silhouette of a man made her stiffen in panic, but the increase in heartbeat and the urge to jump to her feet only made the pain and dizziness worse. She moaned and raised an arm defensively, or at least she tried to. She realized that the figure was saying something. She caught the words “… help you” and realized that it couldn't be Bart or one of his men. Strong hands gripped her and there was more pain as she was pulled out of the car and into the open air. There was the odd feeling of floating, moving.


Jason placed her into the passenger seat of his car, tilted the seat back and fastened the safety belt around the injured woman. He dashed back to her car and recovered her handbag and a notebook computer, and then he was back in the driver's seat and starting up the Rover. “Don't worry, I'll have you in a hospital before you know it,” he said, unsure if she even heard him.
Alarmed, Cathy managed to say, “No hospital! Bart will find …” before slumping back against the seat tiredly.
This response made Jason frown. Most people who avoided hospitals were criminals. On the other hand, she had said “Bart” rather than “police”, and the police didn't normally stab people, whatever else they did. He sighed heavily and after checking the road, made a “U” turn and headed away from the city. When he drove up to the woman's car again, there was another vehicle stopped behind it and a man rummaging through the empty vehicle. Jason quickly lowered the back of the passenger seat even more, putting it below the level of the window, and touched his pistol to make sure that it was in a position to be drawn. He slowed as he pulled up to the two vehicles and shouted out the passenger window, “Need any help?”
The man waved him away without turning enough to show his face. “I'm fine.”
Jason accelerated away, feeling better about his decision. It looked like he was going to have a house guest for a while.

Chapter Two

A beam of sunlight painting a glowing patch on the wall woke Cathy up. There was a moment of confusion at the unfamiliar feel of the bed and then the events of the previous night came back … she was still wearing her electronic watch and a glance confirmed that it was indeed the previous night, so she had not slept longer than normal. Her shoulder hurt, and when she reached across her body to touch it she realized that she was wearing a large man's T-shirt. Another quick touch confirmed that her panties were still in place, although her bra was gone. Her face was stiff and sore, and she guessed that it was unflatteringly bruised. Her fingers felt a large bandage and tape over the wound on her shoulder. She slowly rolled onto her back and studied the room she found herself in. It looked like a perfectly ordinary bedroom, the windows were open and unbarred, and she saw her torn and blood stained dress lying over the back of a chair. Her handbag and notebook computer were there too.


Jason looked up from his ebook reader when Cathy walked bare footed into the living room. He now knew her name from the contents of her purse as well as her occupation and place of work. “How do you feel? Don't move your shoulder or arm too vigorously or you might tear the stitches.”
“Thank you for not taking me to the hospital. I'm not wanted by the police by the way, I'm just having some um, personal problems,” she said, uncertain what to tell this stranger. She was still in shock from being found. After eight years, she had thought that she was safe. She had rebuilt her life, made new friends, and now it had been torn out from under her by that violent incident in the car park. She suddenly felt shaky and sat down in a nearby armchair.
Jason went to the coffee maker that sat on a sideboard, filled a clean mug and brought it over to her. “Here, drink this. I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, but I should warn you that someone was examining your car soon after I'd found you, so I wouldn't go back to it.”
Her face turned pale when she heard what he said. They were still right behind her. If this man had not rescued her, she would be dead or even worse, in Bart's hands by now. She swallowed a gulp of coffee, not noticing the burning heat of it.
“Careful, it's hot! You're safe for the moment. I'm sure nobody followed me, and I don't have any nosy neighbours. You need to rest and heal, at least until those bruises on your face fade and you can go about without attracting attention.” Jason wasn't exactly eager to have a house guest, especially one that looked like she was trouble, but he couldn't in good conscience toss someone in her condition out into the countryside.
Cathy stared at him suspiciously. “You'd let me stay here? But you don't know anything about me. I might be a wanted criminal or something.” She squeezed her thighs together, trying to tell if her pussy felt sore.
Jason laughed at her expression. “I don't have anything worth stealing that you could lift. Got a few horses in the stables and a backhoe,” he said nodding towards one side of the house. “I'm pretty sure that guy digging around in your car wasn't a cop, so if you're a criminal, you've got more on your mind than stealing the stuff of the only guy in a hundred miles who might be ready to help you.” Then he deliberately let her see him look her up and down, examining every inch of her from her bare toes to her hair. “And no, I won't be asking for payment in kind. Just get better and I'll drive you to the next town up the road. You've got cash and plastic in your purse, so you should be fine from there.”
Feeling ashamed of her suspicions, Cathy sighed and nodded. “I'm sorry. You've done more for me than I had any right to expect. Thank you.” The problem was, she didn't have anywhere to go. Bart would have someone sitting on her house, and she couldn't go to the police because she had not only cut up Bart's face, but she had grabbed a bag of cash that he had been carrying at the time. Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, give or take a thousand.


After she had her breakfast Cathy took the antibiotics and pain killers that Jason gave her. She noted that he was careful to hand her the sealed blister strips and not individual pills or capsules so that she could see what he was giving her. Given her condition it didn't take long for the medication to make her feel drowsy and she decided to return to bed.
Jason studied her long legs thoughtfully as the woman walked away from him and frowned. He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't worried about her being a threat, he was well able to take care of himself, but he might have drawn bigger problems down on his head. He sighed, poured himself another cup of coffee, and took it into his study where his computer was located. He didn't like poking at the screen of a tablet or cell phone unless he had to, when surfing the net. He still had some contacts who might give him a clue about who and what she was.


For the next week Cathy barely saw her host except for meals and when he checked on her wound. Her shoulder healed well and she spent a lot of time just wandering around the large, rustic looking house. Although she knew Jason had an Internet connection, he wouldn't allow her to use his computer or other Wi-Fi enabled devices. It was frustrating but she wasn't in any position to argue or insist. He did tell her that there had been nothing in the news about an abandoned car, nor had anyone reported her as a missing person. It depressed her that none of her colleagues or her employer had cared enough to make a report. She had probably been fired and already replaced. There was no TV in the house, so the only source of entertainment was a large library. It wasn't a showcase of obscure leather bound books, but a real library with a mixture of hard-cover and paperback books as well as magazines. Unfortunately most of the books were either technical or stories that didn't appeal much to her, catering largely to a male taste, heavy on action adventure. However, there was a large collection of erotica, ranging from classics to more modern titles. These were not romance erotica, but what many might have called porn, and mostly with a distinct BDSM leaning. With nothing else to do while recuperating, she read her way through them even though most of the stories were much harder than she was used to, and she was a bit shocked at the things that were done to the women in the novels, as well as the way they responded. Up to then, she had never imagined going beyond spanking and some mild whipping with a soft flogger, maybe a bit of bondage. But she found herself fantasizing more and more about severe punishments and extreme humiliation, although she still could never see herself doing anything faintly like that in real life.
Another thing the books did was to change how she felt when she took her top down to allow Jason to change her dressing and check her wound twice a day. She didn't know if she should feel frightened or intrigued at the thought that the same strong and competent hands that touched her had held a whip or crop, and had touched the skin of a woman that was covered with bloodied weals.
And then at the end of the week she masturbated for the first time as she read a very detailed scene in which a woman submitted to having her pussy flogged, and she was shocked by how much the scene resonated with her own erotic fantasies.

Author Information

Hate "lifestyle" BDSM?

Do you like stories that make sense? Female characters who are not just whimpering victims? Do you like the idea of an author who has actually whipped girls' pussies and crushed their clits with his fingers and listened to them moan - and had them come back for more?

Do you like detailed, exquisite, pussy torture?

Do you like it when the girls offer themselves up to you for punishment?

No ropes, no chains, but pure submission. For love, for fear, for money. Does it really matter?

Imagine her saying, "Take me and hurt me any way you like. I'll scream for you, and I'll come for you. As much and as long as you want."

Or, "I know this really great way to torture my clit. Would you like to try it?"

No impossible tortures or instant healing.

Sound good?

Polite comments or questions are always welcome.


Publisher Information

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