Captured Desire Read online

  What’s Inside

  His amused chuckle sounded wicked, even to his own ears. “It can, yes. So, I would follow my instructions in bed carefully. So, are we playing, or have you decided it is too much for you?”

  His perky self was wide awake now. His voice was gentle, husky. His erotic self was sending off signals he knew she was receiving loud and clear. He was scorching with desire. She was breathing shallower now.

  “Now, how much experience does my girl have?” he asked as he began repositioning.

  “With what exactly? I’d think you guys would talk more.”

  “Sex with our girl is not a topic of discussion. Now, I won’t bind you because I have a feeling you’ve not had any good experiences there, but we will get past your history and make new memories someday. That day will not be today. But sucking cock?”

  “Um, for real? Once. But I’ve practiced.”

  “Practiced? Well, it's time you upped your reality experience. You may return to your task.”

  Placing her face over his cock, she lowered onto his member and began her loving. Wilder moaned his approval but soon he needed more. He pulled her up from between his thighs and put her back against the headboard.

  “Wrap your hands around my hips and don’t let go.” He said as he moved into position. “I’m going to put a pillow behind your head. Here, let’s use the long one so it won’t slip easily.”

  Satisfied she was in place and comfortable, he spoke again. “Open your mouth, honey. Flatten your tongue and allow me to ease in. Ah, yes, that’s it. God your mouth is so fine. Hot, moist, soft, just what I like. Now you might feel like gagging and that’s okay. I won’t choke you. Don’t panic.”

  He entered her slowly, not going so far that she choked. He would control the play, but he would be careful not to scare her. Wilder was proud of her when she allowed him to sink farther, faster until he was doing what he said he would do. He was fucking her face. Her hands were holding his pumping hips and his were stabilizing her head. Just as her gag reflex was triggering hard, he stopped.

  “Catch your breath, honey. You were perfect, are perfect.”

  Finally, he kissed her tenderly, his hands gliding over her now chilled skin and his lips following. Licking, kissing, lapping, sucking every place he passed.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  Amara trembled and shook as he took his pleasure. Her nipples were bunched tight, and he pinched them, hard. When she squeaked in surprise, he laughed. It was a low malevolent sound that sent more anticipatory shivers up her spine. The physical tremors excited him. She gushed on his hand.

  “You are a sadist,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  “Aww, honey, I’m really not but I do like the sounds of my woman aching for me to finish her off. Is that what your little whimpers are? Your pleasurable pain of need, your ache to release and yet I’m holding it just out of reach? You’ve flooded my hand, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Captured Desire

  Tasha Winters

  ©2018 by Blushing Books® and Tasha Winters

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Tasha Winters

  Captured Desire

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-948140-38-6

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book contains fantasy themes appropriate for mature readers only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual sexual activity.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Tasha Winters

  Prologue

  Amara Finauu –Year 2179 Cailis Island, Pacific Ocean

  Global Office of Scientific Health Training Center

  The mental and physical anguish was excruciating. Amara couldn’t contain her cry of misery as the woman next to her wailed. The fears of the surrounding women had melded with her own and the culmination of it was, at times, overpowering. It didn’t divert her own misery; it highlighted it.

  “Are you ready to admit that there is no way out? Will you agree to the surgery to make you what you need to be to do your part, your duty?”

  “I’m a prisoner only.” Her chest heaved with the exertion of speaking. “I give no consent.”

  The searing burn came immediately after the sharp snap of the leather implement of torture. It was similar to an old weapon called a whip, giving the sound of the tool of agony, bringing her senses to levels of terror. The burn, however, was from a probe that seared her skin, tearing it at times, scorching it always. Amara’s scream, and the added pain of the others’ anguish that she carried inside, took her consciousness for a blessed moment but only that.

  The burn and then sting of the leather bit into her skin, bringing her back to the present. The resounding slap seemed to echo the emotional cries of those women around her, compounding her own feelings of panic. Her gift, in this environment, was indeed a curse. Empathic abilities had enhanced her understanding of people for as long as she could remember. Now it was keeping her from shutting down. The echoes in her brain kept her aware of her surroundings, plaguing her with the constant knowledge of where she was and what was happening to her.

  The cold air was blowing on Amara’s heated body, bringing her back into the room of horrors. If it were another circumstance, she would have welcomed the time she was left alone and the cooling air, but she knew that once the heat had been disbursed from her sweaty body, the cold air would not be turned off. It would continue to blow on her until she was frigid, her body going from overheated, to shocked, to frozen, another brand of torture she could barely endure. Their island was tropical, cold being foreign. She had no tolerance for it. The tremors were beginning. She tried to separate her thoughts from the situation at hand.

  Amara had been taken to her room and dumped on her mattress. The end of the day must have come, or they had better things to do. Either way, her second day of torture was over, and she couldn’t believe she had survived it. She knew, however, that the next day would be more of the same and she shed tears she didn’t think she had left for the way her life had turned out. Falling into an exhausted sleep, Amara’s mind drifted and she dreamed of the men who would protect her. Her fantasy dreams were all that kept her alive at times.

  She had survived, thought Amara the next day as they forced her into the chamber of horrors as she now knew this room to be. She could hear and feel the sound of the pain the captive next to her endured. Amara finally realized what some of these methods of torture were. They were greatly exaggerated forms of the sexual pleasures they had shown the women in training. When only pleasure was the goal, they were exciting, but when they were used in a deviously malicious way, they were true torture.

  As it always did for
a few moments at a time when their anguish was too much, the plea of deliverance pulled Amara from her own misery for seconds before her own body spasmed with the heavy thud of the leather. This time no electronic searing, just a two-tongued devil. She was to become a slave to men’s pleasure because they were stronger than she, because she had refused to be a breeder by acquiescence, and this was the result. She was to be beaten into submission. She felt liquid trickle down her back and wondered briefly if it was merely sweat or sweat mingling with her own blood. That had been a normal event for her recently due to her refusal. Relieving darkness descended.

  Chapter 1

  Amara

  It wasn’t until much later, when her heart quit it’s violent pounding and her mind had cleared of the first fog of horrific fear, that Amara realized how ingenious the use of the old truck was in deflecting discovery and ownership of the deed. Who would suspect the growing universal government to possess a rogue faction? The regime that had done so much good in the last years already had insurgents. Surely the ruling administration that would soon guide the entire world, would never condone such callous abuse of women if they knew.

  A mandate had been sent to the leaders of her community that her island was one of the chosen elites. They were given the privilege of helping to repopulate the world. A mandate of similar fashion had gone out to other parts of the world several generations ago, to help reestablish the balance of males to females after the last war. There were three females to every male then and multiple female partners were encouraged. Gender selection was a new concept then.

  Unfortunately, the ramifications of trying to create more male children than females had backfired. Now the male population extended to more than a two point nine male to female ratio. The population was diminishing as men couldn’t find females and women didn’t want to mate exclusively. Some didn’t want to procreate at all.

  Something must be done. This was their solution. Reverse gender engineering to force multiple births, though choice had nothing to do with the program now. Women were forced to participate, for their full childbearing years, and then given a pension if they survived being a baby factory. It disgusted Amara.

  Her family rejoiced they had only one daughter. They were assured that each family could keep one female, per generation, to further the island people’s own line. But it, as so many other things in the recent past, was a lie.

  “Johan and I won’t allow them to keep you, Amara,” vowed her cousin Karik, as the sanctioned kidnappers held the two strapping males at gunpoint, while others drew her further from her home. They were forcing young women of the island to participate in their nefarious plan of “Mating for Mankind.”

  Karik grunted as the butt of the rifle slammed into his temple. Amara prayed he didn’t die from his injuries. Not because of her. She watched Johan stand stoically but with utter hatred and fury in his normally kind eyes. She believed if they could save her, they would.

  Amara was told from a young age she could see, hear, feel things that most others could not. Her mother had the same torturous talent. She’d been able to use it for the good of the island and Amara had wanted to do the same—until her capture. Now, in this environment, Amara could only feel the anguish of the surrounding people. “When the time is right, you will help others and feel proud that you have been given this gift,” her mother had assured her. Perhaps now was that time.

  She, like other women on the island, had additional genitalia. More fleshy bits than most, is what she was told. One doctor had come to the island and said the women were hermaphrodites. Amara’s mother vehemently denied the women’s differences were that. But again, her mother had reassured Amara that one day she would come to understand and appreciate her difference.

  Amara had never mentioned it again. Of the two things making her so different, her empathic abilities were not something she could ignore or pretend didn’t exist. While she didn’t announce the anomaly, many knew of her as a psychic or seer. She wasn’t. She could predict things based on people’s emotions, could even decipher their thoughts at times, but she couldn’t see events in the future. Her family had hidden Amara when the surveyors had come around.

  “The women of this island are strong, well built, and made for breeding,” the representative from the Global Office of Scientific Health told the community when they had arrived. “You should be proud you will be a part of the survival of mankind, excited that your genetic makeup will be in many peoples of the world.”

  Some of her island community did not see it as a privilege to give up their women to be trained, altered as needed, emotionally and physically and then used for breeding. They would never find a family or create a home if allowed to be used in this way. They were to go to men of high intellect, great influence and even more power, all to ensure these men’s DNA, their essence, wasn’t lost but passed on in their children. The women would not stay to raise their children unless the men were a group and then the agreement was they could stay long enough to procreate once for each of the group.

  Evidently there was a protocol in those instances. Each man must mate exclusively with the woman provided until she was impregnated. Then he could have her as he wished until she was ready to be impregnated again. Then the protocol was reinstated. Amara’s family heard that the women were taken from their infants and given four months to rest before finding them another receiving male. The process would start all over. Consent was not required.

  Each woman would produce until they could no longer bear a healthy child or was rejected by two men. They were then returned to their families—broken—with a monthly stipend for the rest of their lives. It was rationalized that the women had no true meaning until they were the mothers of the wounded world. Then their value as a commodity, their quality of life in a materialistic sense, rose. It was enough compensation for their enforced slavery.

  Amara disagreed. “We have minds. We’re intelligent beings, born of the same seed that men are born of and we can change the world, save the world with our abilities, our minds, not our bodies.” Amara had tried to reason with her captors, but there was no hope for it. They wanted her, and they had her. She had prayed every night since her abduction that her cousins could steal her back before it was too late.

  The first days of captivity were torture because of the frightened women all around her. She was absorbing their pain as well as her own and it was crippling. Then the training began, and soon the women fell into a routine, which seemed to calm many of them. The women who relinquished their control, even the true hermaphrodites, were given much pleasure as they learned to please a man. Everything was geared to gain the women’s willing acceptance to their fate, and no luxury had been denied them, except freedom.

  Amara had undergone the first part of the training, mostly because it was expected, and it was not unpleasant. She was not made to couple with a man, so the training was informative. She was given pleasure when she accepted it, but she was never violated. Some women bought into the propaganda. By the end of the training, most did. They felt they were part of a special group of people with a special task. Their sole purpose in life was to ensure the continuation of mankind. Not Amara. She was biding her time until her cousins could rescue her.

  As she began to go into the transition stage, things changed. She was lured like the others by accolades and special treats to give her consent to physical alterations. In her case, she was to have removed the small, extra appendage—at a minimum. As the process began with the women who had signed consents, Amara saw her friends and neighbors change drastically.

  Once the surgeries had taken place it was almost as though their will to live was also removed. They became risky and their behaviors erratic, nothing appeared to matter anymore. They were often warned that this was a dangerous time in the training process because the highest rate of self-destruction happened during the healing time after the surgeries and before the emotion eradication happened.

  The population on Amara
’s island was small, meaning not many women escaped the capture and training process unscathed. Amara didn’t believe, no matter what she was told, that it wasn’t simple enslavement under the guise of humanitarian efforts for the good of all mankind. She had overheard one of the surgeons with another high-ranking official speaking.

  “Do you believe the complacency, the stupidity of these people? I could never guess at our good luck. Finding this out of the way island, and them living this secluded life. They are so gullible. They trust when no one else in the world does.” She recognized the surgeon’s voice from his explanation of the procedures.

  The other man chuckled. It was a sound she could still hear. He was the one who told the community leaders he would not take them all and that it was a totally voluntary service.

  “Yes, it’s unbelievable that they don’t make a public outcry with those in the rest of the world. They could actually stop this, but they are like lemmings following their leader to the slaughter.”

  “Amazing but true, just like that group found in the Himalayas. I hear there are others who have escaped total modernization and have been recruited. They have given over without a fuss and made our job easy. I hope the potential intellect isn’t as dampened as their self-preservation instincts. It would ruin the efforts.”

  “Or at least lessen the benefits. Damn women. But they have always been the lesser gender.”