His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire) His Indecent Secrets (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire) Midpoint HIS INDECENT SECRETS (Volume 4 of ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’) By Aphrodite Hunt This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Copyright 2012 by Aphrodite Hunt Cover art by Aphrodite Hunt EROTICA BY APHRODITE HUNT The ‘Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire’ series His Indecent Proposition His Indecent Demands His Indecent Desires His Indecent Secrets The ‘Initiation’ series Open Your Legs for Me Blindfolded and Spread-eagled Thighs Wide Apart Teacher, Please Spread my Pussy The Final Initiation The Initiation: A Bundle of 5 Stories The ‘Initiation 2’ series Open Your Legs for my Family Bend Over for my Family Publicly Display Yourself for Me Sex Slave at Sea Paraded before the Billionaires Sex Slave at the Auction The ‘Initiation 3’ series Sex Slave to the Dictator ‘The Royal Captive’ series Prince Miro’s Capture Prince Miro’s Submission Prince Miro’s Enslavement Prince Miro’s Punishment Prince Miro’s Escape Prince Miro’s Final Confrontation The Royal Captive: Vol 1 to 3 The Royal Captive: Vol 4 to 6 The ‘Naughty Nymphomaniac’ series I was a Naughty Nymphomaniac Officer, Please Spread and Cuff Me Gang Banged by the Chain Gang Tempting the Hot Navy SEAL The ‘Delicate Piercings’ series Her First Clit Ring Her First Clit Ring 2: Menage Her First Clit Ring 3: Desensitization The ‘Undercover’ series Undercover: Exposing the Bad Doctor Undercover: Stealing from the Sexy CEO The ‘Alien’ series Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens Trapped with Sex-Starved Aliens 2 Hot, Wet and Steamy (individual stories) When He’s Inside You My Stepson is a Naughty Stripper The Gorgeous Naked Man in my Storm Shelter (Erotic Suspense) WORKS BY ARTEMIS HUNT EROTIC ROMANCES The ‘Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male’ series A Virgin Enslaved The ‘Maid for the Billionaire Prince’ series Mysterious Desire Forbidden Desire Infamous Desire Royal Desire ROMANCES The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick Snow White and the Alien Dear reader, as this list is not always comprehensive due to more stories being churned out after this point in publishing, please visit http://artemishunt.blogspot.com/ and http://aphroditehunt.blogspot.com/ for more stories and updates. I write as Artemis Hunt for erotic romances with a more romance feel and Aphrodite Hunt for pure erotica and erotic romances which are slightly kinkier. So please be aware of what you’re getting into, dear reader, when you read one of my stories. Thank you so much for your support. HIS INDECENT SECRETS 1 It is pitch black. The blindfold doesn’t allow Susan Chalmers to see even the slightest glimpse of light. No reddish band through her closed eyelids to denote they might be travelling through the day. Only her ears are her radar, and her instincts – which scream to her that she is in extreme danger. Car doors slam. Her wrists are handcuffed in front of her as her body jerks back and forth in the backseat with the lurching of the car. A man sits beside her, his thigh touching her clothed one. There is certainly more than one person in this car besides the driver. She doesn’t know if any of them is Hugh. She hasn’t heard his voice since he blindfolded and cuffed her. Her vagina is still sore from his rough fucking. Once she had found out who he was, he had grasped her wrists together and forced them over her head. She screamed. But they were in an isolated area, surrounded by nothing but the trees and the chirps of birds. He let her shriek herself hoarse. Then he said, “Are you done splitting my eardrums? Then listen up. It’s easier for you to open your legs and submit to me willingly and gratefully, like a good little girl. Because if you’re gonna to fight me, I’ll make sure that when I see my brother, I’ll make his death excruciatingly slow instead of quick and painless. But if you do everything I ask of you . . . I may be persuaded to be merciful.” His blue eyes – exactly the same as Channing’s – were so piercing and ruthless than she quailed beneath him, trembling. “I’ll do anything you want,” she whispered. “Just please . . . please don’t hurt him” “Fuckin’ hell,” he said, grinning, “instant obedience. Not ‘please don’t hurt me’. It’s ‘please don’t hurt him.’ Does he even know you’re in love with him?” She shook her head, frightened. She didn’t think she could hide the truth from Hugh. Anger seethed through his eyes as he slammed his cock into her, as though to punish her for her honesty. “Yeah, he’s always got that charm with the bitches. They’re always falling on their faces over him. What’s he got that I don’t?” She was too terrified to answer. No homicidal maniac tendencies, perhaps? She let him ride her until her insides were sore. It was surreal looking into his eyes. He was Channing and not Channing. If she blinked hard and fast enough, her mind would trip over and she could just pretend that they blurred into one – The car in her present screeches to a halt. She is dragged out, her head docked by somebody’s hand like a prisoner. Around them, she hears the high- pitched whine of a plane engine. She’s going on a trip. But not to where Channing originally intended. Hands grip her shoulder. Channing’s voice. (No, not Channing.) “This is going to hurt a bit but you’ll be the better for it.” She tenses as he straightens her arm. She feels a needle prick. Oh my God. What is he doing to me? She cries out, but dizziness envelops her and she falls into a swoon. This isn’t good, she thinks as she collapses, her body folding into someone’s rock solid arms. * When she wakes up, she is in a bed in a strange room. The furniture is sparse and plain, with wooden closets, a desk, a chair and a chest of drawers. A bedside table holds a silver flask with two overturned coffee mugs. The walls are painted in Mediterranean colors – red, blue, green – like pieces of an Italian decorative plate. A ceiling fan slowly rotates as the balmy, humid atmosphere hits her. Her skin is prickly and sweaty. Where is she? The barred windows portray a clear blue sky with scudding clouds. The sun is high and blazing with scorching heat. It shimmers over the placid waves of a sea. So she is in at some sort of beach. There is no clock in the room, but from the sun’s position, she reckons it’s about midday. But midday where? What time zone is she in? The weather feels tropical, and yet the room is done up in Latin decor. Under the thin white sheet that covers her body, she is naked. The bedclothes are sodden with her sweat. She sits up, self-conscious. She remembers everything that has happened, but not anything beyond the needle prick. She doesn’t know how much time has elapsed. All she knows is that the soreness in her pussy has abated. Obviously hours . . . maybe even days . . . have passed. Although she is alone, she is certain that hidden cameras are watching and recording her every move, and so she drags the sheet around her body as she gets up fearfully. Channing. What has happened to him? Is he alive? Is he dead? It’s so terrifying not to know what is happening. Channing, Channing, I love you. This is not your fault. I don’t hold you responsible. There comes the click of a key in the lock. The door swings open. Channing stands there, as handsome as he has always been – short hair, shocking blue eyes, wide sensuous mouth, body like a god’s in his tight T-shirt that shows off his arms with their bulging veins so superbly. No, he’s not Channing. Why the fuck can’t she get that right? He is not alone. A youth is with him. A nervous youth with curly big hair and bronzed skin who looks all of about eighteen. He carries an open laptop in his hands. What are they going to do to her? She takes a step back and clasps the sheet closer to her body. Her pulse flutters like a moth above the roaring of her ears. Hugh says, “Look at you. All ripe and ready for the taking.” She fists her palms. Submit to me . . . willingly and gracefully . . . and I’ll make his death excruciatingly slow instead of quick and painless. “What do you want with me?” she says. “What do I want with you? Oh baby, you have no idea.” He strides into the room, the frightened youth in tow. “But first, I’m going to give you a little treat. You’re going to get to talk to your boyfriend, my brother, who has absolutely no fucking clue you’re in love with him.” Channing? Her heart leaps. “By the way, this is Miguel, but don’t bother probing him for answers. He’s not from around here and he doesn’t want to die.” Miguel darts frightened brown eyes at her as he sets the computer down on the desk. “Come here, darling. Go talk to your boyfriend. I’m sure he misses you.” Hugh holds his hand out to her. For a moment, she’s afraid to take it. His startling blue eyes arrest her. “I’m not a monster, Susan. I’m capable of treating you with kindness. If you behave.” She doesn’t know what to believe. But the thought of Channing on the other side of the computer – wherever he is – makes her feet pad faster than she thought possible to the desk. She seats herself, sheet wrapped demurely around her. Hugh has not forbidden her to say anything. But what can she tell Channing? I don’t know where I am. Your brother fucked me. I thought he was you. What a shitty twisted world we live in. The video winks on. Channing is on the other side, the spitting image of Hugh. The same intense blue eyes, worry creases around them. “Susan? Are you all right?” She can tell that he’s in some sort of room. Where, she doesn’t know. He might have already flown to Rome or Luxembourg or wherever a billionaire usually holes up in if his house gets burned down. “Channing!” Tears spring to her eyes even though she promised she wouldn’t break down in front of him, lest he be more anxious over her. Her hand touches the screen. How she wishes she can touch his face. “Susan. Please tell me you’re OK. If I get to wrap my hands around that little fucker’s neck, I swear I’ll choke him so hard that he won’t be able to rise from the grave ever again.” “I’m OK.” She’s not sure she’s OK, but seeing Channing lifts her hopes up to almost stratospheric levels. Channing’s eyes blaze. “Did he touch you? Because if he did – ” Hugh cuts in, “Yeah, what are you going to do about it? The same thing you did when your house burned down? Because I’ve already fucked her and she gave her cunt to me willingly. Didn’t you, princess?” He grabs her face roughly and kisses her full on the lips, right in front of the camera aperture on the open laptop. Susan can only imagine what Channing must be thinking. Channing . . . who has never kissed her before. Channing – who equates kissing with profound intimacy. But Hugh obviously has no such hang-ups. She struggles, but his grip is firm. She remembers what he threatened about what he would do to Channing if she didn’t submit. So she lets her body go lax as he kisses her voraciously. When he finally lets her go, there are indentations of his fingernails on her chin. She can scarcely feel her circulation. She realizes that the sheet has fallen off her body and her breasts are