Ye Olde Kinke Faire

Book Cover: Ye Olde Kinke Faire
Part of the Elan Isle series:

Kendrick Finleigh has been searching for a place for he and his friends to call home, a place where they can let out their kinky selves with no reprisal. Investing in a kinky renaissance faire on a private island seems just the ticket.

Becca Hesse came to work at Ye Olde Kinke Faire thinking it would be fun, only to find the owners have no idea what kink is. When new investors take over, she’s thrilled, especially when Kendrick shows interest in her.

With problems in getting the Faire up and running, there seems little time to express how they truly feel for one another. One error leads to a huge misunderstanding and before long, what was once a promising relationship, crashes into the surf. With Becca on the run, Kendrick has to call on all his reserves to bring his sub home safely. Or risk losing her, and what could have been, forever.

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Publisher: A Thia Thing
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The Faire didn’t officially open until June. However, they were open for a few hours a day trying to get everyone into their characters so that they all were prepared come Grand Opening Day. Even then, there were quite a few guests about. She glanced around to see if there was anyone she knew as she was from Seattle, but she didn’t recognize anyone. Her eyes did, however, linger on a tall man with wide shoulders and dirty-blond hair who stood over by the side of the stage staring at it with interest in his face. She wished she was close enough to see his eyes.

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Would they have the deep fathoms that the Doms she’d served in the past had? There had only been two who had that certain gift, but one look in their eyes and she’d gratefully dropped to her knees. Serving them had been the highlight of her life. Unfortunately, neither had wanted a sub long term. So she had hung out at a few BDSM groups and clubs. Real Doms were hard to find. There were tons of non-dominant sadists in the greater Seattle area, but that wasn’t who she was looking for.

Built Guy turned slightly and she was able to see more of his face. It was like he was chiseled by an artist: high cheekbones, defined chin, and high eyebrows. And lashes. Damn it. Why was it men had long lashes? It wasn’t like they needed them.

“Hey.” Startled by the whiny voice, she turned away from Built Guy and stared at a man only a couple inches taller than she was. He wore black leather pants which looked brand new and a black leather sash over one shoulder. He was also wearing a Zorro-style mask. Oh dear God. Was he going to try and whip a Z on her back? “We’re up,” he said. “Don’t make me look bad.”

She raised both eyebrows but the look of scorn was lost on him since he’d already turned and walked up the three steps to the stage.

“Gentlemen,” he said loudly, but still sounding like a whiny geek, “this wench has disobeyed orders and has come to receive her punishment. I say fifty lashes with a single tail. Who’s with me?”

Fifty? Even for an actor that had to sound insane, didn’t it? No Dom had ever given her more than twenty-five, though those weren’t for punishment either. She glanced over the audience. None of them looked impressed. That heartened her.  Perhaps they were more into kink and could see a poser when they spotted one.

“Come on, wench.” He grasped her shoulder and pushed her in the direction of the whipping post. The post was wood and about seven feet high with leather shackles hanging from the top. He grabbed one and it took him a full minute to figure out how to unbuckle them. While he worked with it, she cast a glance over her shoulder and smirked. She needed to keep the audience’s attention or they would walk away.

“Perhaps this is why I don’t obey,” she said in as much of an English accent as she could muster. Ugh. She sounded awful. She’d have to convince them to let her talk in her own voice. “He can’t even get the cuff undone.”

A few of the men chuckled and Built Guy watched her. She still couldn’t see his eyes but his features once again grabbed notice. Until the idiot yanked her arm over, making her yipe as her shoulder twisted in an odd direction, and affixed the cuff. She glared at Idiot Guy and he glared right back. “Asshole,” she said in a sing-song voice loud enough that anyone in the vicinity could hear it. “You’re nothing but an asshole.”

“Shut it,” he snapped and yanked her other arm up and affixed the other cuff.

“Make me,” she bit back and he stepped back.

“I intend to, wench.”

He stepped behind her and she wrinkled up her nose. It was a good thing this wasn’t a real scene. That type of bratting would have ensured she couldn’t move without discomfort for days. But everything was telling her this was a really bad idea. For seven days, she’d seen nothing to make her feel good about the Faire itself. Not much in terms of safety, though they did have a doctor on staff… or so she’d heard. And most of the other actors looked down on BDSM. Perhaps she should just head back to Seattle and twiddle her thumbs for the rest of the summer.

Crack!

She jumped at the sound of the leather hitting the stage and she glanced over her shoulder warily. Her eyes widened at the whip the idiot had in his hand. A bullwhip? What person thought it would be a good idea to put a bullwhip into Idiot Guy’s hands? Instinctively, she moved closer to the post to get as far away from him as possible.

“Stop moving, wench,” he called out before he pulled his arm back and let the whip fly again.

She knew when she spotted the angle that it was going to hit and horrified, she turned away and hid her face. Fire lit up along her shoulder as the edge of the whip shredded the gauzy material of her gown. For a moment, she stood there in shock. He hit her. The asshole hit her.

Fire erupted across her upper back and after she shrieked at the pain, she screamed, “Red!”

Almost instantly fire lit up along her left shoulder. “Red!” It lit along her buttocks and she started to freak out. He wasn’t stopping. She’d called out red twice and he wasn’t stopping. Becca wanted to try and move around the post away from him, to catch the eye of one of the guys in the audience, but she was terrified to move. If he was even half aiming and she moved at the wrong moment, it could prove disastrous.

However when pain slammed into her spine, she’d had enough. Screaming “Red” at the top of her lungs, she tried to move around the post, aware of yelling behind her. When she got to the other side, she dared to peek around it, surprised to find Idiot Guy on the stage, flat on his stomach with two guys on top of him. Built Guy was striding toward her with a look of fury on his face.

He paused a couple feet away, his palms out and his fury dissipating. Calm took its place. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said in a firm voice. “We’ve stopped the bastard from continuing. I want to get you to the doctor’s. Your back’s pretty bad.”

She whimpered as the fire trickling along her back and buttocks made itself known in a huge way.

“I know,” he said in a gentle tone. “Let’s get you to the doctor’s office. You need to get those cuts looked at.”

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