What’s your darkest fantasy?
The Candy’s Store stories by Chastity Vicks, published by Freya’s Bower, are a selection of naughty treats to tempt even the sweetest tooth…
Available from Freya’s Bower, AllRomanceEbooks.com, and Fictionwise.
Under the watchful eye of a woman known as Candy, a place exists where all you have to do is ask for what you want. Welcome to Candy’s Store….
Book One: The Kidnap Room
Judith likes to be kidnapped and Marcus is just the man to do it. But what’s an employer to do when fantasy starts to give way to something more dangerous?
Excerpt:
Judith, a regular guest of Candy’s Store for almost a year now, sat on a chair in the center of the room, gagged, bound, and blindfolded. Her clothes—a white blouse, black skirt, and sheer pantyhose—looked disheveled, though I knew she’d changed into them when she arrived. Like all good movie studios do, I had appointed a team in charge of distressing some of our costumes. Maintenance Danny, for example, could do wonders with a dry iron and a pair of nail scissors.
“She likes to pretend she’s been kidnapped,” I explained and tugged again on his arm. “The, uh, kidnapper comes in and…well, it’s about abdicating responsibility. She likes to be under his control.”
Mr. Newbie stared as the door to the Kidnap Room opened and Marcus swaggered in. A magnificent creature, made of copper and pearls: deep red, truly auburn hair, honey-colored skin, and bright green eyes, with teeth that could cause snow blindness. Body polished to perfection in our in-house gym and pool. Arrogant bastard, but so fucking gorgeous. Most of his masculine beauty was currently obscured by his uniform of the day: Levi 501s, a black sweater and balaclava. He carried a knife, too, and Mr. Newbie tensed up beside me. Not good. I didn’t want a little rough play to be a deal breaker on what had the potential to be a very lucrative contract.
“All the usual rules apply, of course,” I assured. “Safe words and positional procedures….”
Book Two: The Pool Room
Marcus crossed a line, and his boss isn’t happy. What plays out in one bored housewife’s fantasy afternoon promises to be a more complicated battle of wills than anyone could have imagined.
Excerpt:
The cool blue of the pool water dappled the walls and ceiling in syncopated ripples, the scent of chlorine mingling with that of the massage gel we use for clients who like a rubdown. Latex friendly and available in a range of fragrances. By the smell of it, Mrs. Abernathy had opted for organic jasmine today.
She lay face down on a padded massage table, naked except for a white towel folded over her lower back, covering her ass and thighs. Not in bad shape, I had to admit, though the average leisured housewife had both time and money to throw at problems like middle-age spread. Tanning sessions and spin class, or maybe twice annual Bahamian holidays and yoga…I wasn’t sure which type Mrs. Abernathy was, though I had no real desire to know. Her dyed red hair spilled over her crossed arms, her face turned away from me towards the water.
Marcus, gel bottle in hand, strutted by the pool’s edge, making a show of greasing up his hands. His slow movements gave her a good view of his butt and thighs, encased in the tight shorts. She loosed a throaty little chuckle; anticipation more than half the fun in this game. I sighed under my breath and settled down to wait on the pine bench.
“Mr. A’s away again this week, ma’am?”
Marcus’s voice—clear as a bell, a slight touch of an Irish accent on the vowels—echoed in the stillness of the room, setting up the scene for the bored and neglected spouse. I guessed they’d already got through the ‘pool boy, bring me a towel,’ dialogue. He stepped to the side of the table and lowered his hands to Mrs. Abernathy’s bare brown back.
“Mm…. Yes, he is. Such a very long time. He’s always so—oh, that’s nice, Gregory—so busy these days.”
A smirk of satisfaction touched my lips. Gregory. I didn’t know if there was a real Gregory—some unattainable lust object for whom Marcus filled in— or if Mrs. A. just had a hard-on for the name, but I liked the fact they were using it. It showed the rules were still intact. Not like the debacle I’d come down here to reprimand Marcus for—using a date with a client just for a rampant fuck. I’d suspected Judith, the girl concerned, of getting overly fond of him but never that he would…. My God. Was I jealous?
Book Three: The Girls’ Room
Gina and Serena work well together–perhaps too well. When one client requests a frontier threesome, Candy wonders just how divided her girls’ loyalties really are.
Excerpt:
Mr. Harcourt proved to be the sort of client everyone likes to entertain. Well-built and well-mannered, nothing off-putting about his long, lean legs and firm body, though the paleness of his skin and lack of tone to his belly spoke of a sedentary job and little playtime away from the office. I knew he was a junior partner in a law firm…long hours indeed. His short, fat cock stood to attention from a nest of tangled mousy curls very much like the hair on his head—unruly yet unremarkable—its tip an angry red. His abdomen tightened, semblance of his lust, when Serena and Gina leaned down to tongue his nipples in tandem, pretty mouths meeting above his chest in a kiss.
Harcourt put a hand to the back of each of their heads, his gaze meeting mine for a brief moment, his cheeks hollowed for a long breath in, and gratitude scrawled all over his face. I smiled.
“Girls? It’s only polite to ask your guest what he wants, remember.”
In a rustle of satin, Gina peeked over her shoulder at me. “Yes, Madam.”
I heard the suppressed giggle in her voice before she turned to her client.
“I-I…do it again,” Harcourt muttered, a strangled whisper tight behind his teeth. “K-kiss her.”
Serena needed no second encouragement. She leaned in, snatched Gina’s soft lips to hers in a slow, grinding kiss, opening her mouth so Harcourt could see her tongue tease Gina’s, first tickling the tip then sliding along its length. Her hand caught the back of Gina’s waist, holding her steady for a deep series of repeats, both display and promise. Gina moaned into the breath held between them, and I twitched my lip, reminded faintly of Marcus’s romantic transgressions. However, I needn’t have worried.
Serena broke away and gazed steadily at Mr. Harcourt.
“Would you like me to suck you like that?” she whispered, her hand sliding up and down Gina’s back, fingers probing the fastenings of her gown. “Suck your fat cock in my mouth? Or do you want to see me make her come?”
A breath of laughter escaped Gina’s lips; against the softly tinkling piano music and the satin dresses, it almost sounded coy. Harcourt’s gaze darted between the two girls, then he glanced at me. I looked back, realizing what he needed from me watching; not just the sense of being observed, but the feeling of approval. His thin cheeks flushed, and his eyes hardened. He cleared his throat.
“I, uh….” He dropped a hand to Serena’s ass and squeezed through the crumpling satin and crinoline. “I want to fuck you while you lick her.”
Book Four: The Back Room
James Brooker has needs, and Candy’s the woman to fulfil them…with a little help from Wild Bill the sex machine and his detachable dongs. But could breaking her usual abstinence from clients’ dates lead to breaking a bigger rule?
Excerpt:
James Brooker shuffled into the room with his eyes downcast, closed the door behind him, and looked first at Bill, then me. His gaze trailed up my legs, the outline of my body beneath the dress, my pink-tipped hands resting on the arms of the chair and, finally, lingered on my face. He smiled breathlessly.
“You look beautiful. Thank you. Thank you so much.” He licked his lips, attention flicking again to Wild Bill and all it promised. I tilted my head to one side.
“You’re quite welcome, Mr. Brooker. Would you like to take off your clothes?” I nodded to the changing booth, behind a curtain at the end of the room. He traipsed meekly to it, and I waited while he shed his exquisitely tailored casuals, pretending I wasn’t eager to see if the body that lay beneath them lived up to the promise of his face.
He sported a pattern of tan lines on his upper arms and chest–the suggestion of a v-neck shirt–that spoke of modesty, though he wasn’t unduly pale. A sparse blond fuzz traced the chiseled swells of his chest–the physique of someone whose primary love must be swimming, I thought. Slim hips, neat waist, but broad shoulders and well-muscled legs. I pressed my tongue up behind my teeth, left him standing there in uncertainty while I looked him over. He shielded his flaccid cock–uncut and puckered like a shepherd’s purse–behind his large, square hands in a flash of modesty quite absurd, given the position I would shortly see him in.
“Turn around,” I said kindly.
He obliged, a slow twirl, glancing at me over his shoulder as he revealed a toned, pert ass. Yes, a swimmer indeed, his body polished and honed by the water.
“Very nice.”
The suggestion of a blush kissed his cheeks, and he smiled. I crooked my index finger at him.
“Now come over here. I have something for you.”
He nodded and obeyed, his gait awkward, too self-conscious of his nudity.
“I hear you like to take cock.”
I made sure to sound every consonant, the final ‘k’ cracking sharply into the still air. Mr. Brooker nearly stumbled over his own feet. Arriving before me, he stared at the floor and blushed furiously.
“’s.”
“Pardon?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“I thought as much.”
I rose to my feet, luxuriating in the movement, the slip of the shimmering dress across my body. I only reached midway up his chest, and I could tell the thought of this tiny woman taking charge of him excited Brooker. Already, his dick had begun to stir. I walked slowly around him, the click of my heels a deliberate metronome beat on the solid black floor. He really was a well put together man. I inhaled, taking in the scent of a woody, oakmoss-based shower gel or shampoo. Summer freckles peppered his upper chest and shoulders. I reached out and–delicately–ran my hand over his ass. Smooth skin yielded to warm, ripe flesh in my palm, and Brooker pulled a gasp across his teeth, shivering against my touch.
“You like it up there, hm? Hot…throbbing…dick?”
He nodded.
Slap!
“Good,” I said brightly.
Available from Freya’s Bower, AllRomanceEbooks.com, and Fictionwise.
