Becca and Greg at 314 Harper's Cove Read online

  Becca and Greg at 314 Harper’s Cove

  Deanndra Hall

  Celtic Muse Publishing, LLC

  Contents

  Welcome to Harper’s Cove

  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

  About the Author

  Also by Deanndra Hall

  Becca and Greg at 314 Harper’s Cove

  Harper’s Cove, Book 2

  Copyright 2013 Deanndra Hall

  Celtic Muse Publishing, LLC

  P.O. Box 3722

  Paducah, KY 42002-3722

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names of characters, places, and events are the construction of the author, except those locations that are well-known and of general knowledge, and all are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental, and great care was taken to design places, locations, or businesses that fit into the regional landscape without actual identification; as such, resemblance to actual places, locations, or businesses is coincidental. Any mention of a branded item, artistic work, or well-known business establishment, is used for authenticity in the work of fiction and was chosen by the author because of personal preference, its high quality, or the authenticity it lends to the work of fiction; the author has received no remuneration, either monetary or in-kind, for use of said product names, artistic work, or business establishments, and mention is not intended as advertising, nor does it constitute an endorsement. The author is solely responsible for content.

  Cover design & Formatting by:

  Drue Hoffman, Buoni Amici Press.

  Disclaimer:

  Material in this work of fiction is of a graphic sexual nature and is not intended for audiences under 18 years of age.

  Welcome to Harper’s Cove

  Writing novels is my first love. I like nothing better than to take a name, find a photo that represents the face I have for him or her in my mind, assign a birthdate, an occupation, a love interest, family, friends, and sometimes enemies, and let my imagination go wild. If novels didn’t take so long to write, I’d crank out one a week!

  That’s how I got the idea for this series. They’re short, quick reads that will get your motor humming and entertain you enough to wonder what the next couple in the cove will be up to. I was trying to figure out a way to plug in some short but quality reading between the volumes of the Love Under Construction series, and along came Karen and Brett and blew me away! I couldn’t wait to get started on this series, and I think it’ll be different from anything you’ve read before.

  Take a stroll down Harper’s Cove and see what’s going on. And try not to be too judgmental; we’ve all got skeletons in our closets.

  Love and happy reading,

  Deanndra

  1

  Gloria

  I talked to that pretty Becca Henderson today. She’s such an angel. She seemed to be in a hurry, so she didn’t talk long. I know she works in some office somewhere.

  They never have friends over, except for that one couple. I think they must be related or something. I’ll have to ask her sometime.

  If I can get her to talk to me, maybe I can get her to invite me in. I’d like to see the inside of that house. It’s one of the newer ones in the neighborhood―it was built after the house that used to be there burned down. I remember when they were building it, and it looked nice.

  I had to go to the store today. I told Russell where I was going, but when I got back home, if I hadn’t asked him to help me with the groceries, he would’ve just sat there. When he got to the last bag, he said, “Gloria? They don’t sell this kind of liquor at the grocery store.”

  “I stopped and got you beer,” I told him.

  “You got me one six pack and yourself two bottles of vodka and a bottle of Wild Turkey? Really? Wow, Gloria, thanks―thanks a lot.”

  Ingrate. I didn’t have to get him anything, but I was glad to. So I picked up a little something for myself while I was there. So what?

  Next time I just won’t get him any beer. He drinks too much of the stuff anyway.

  2

  Becca

  That crazy, nosy woman down the street is about to get on my last nerve.

  I couldn’t run fast enough to get away from her when I left my car in the driveway after work. Damn the mail―Greg can get it later.

  “Becca! Becca!” she yelled at me. “Hey, Becca, haven’t talked to you in a while!” She ran up, huffing and puffing and blowing the reek of some kind of liquor into my face.

  “Yeah, I’ve been very, very busy at work. I’m exhausted. We’ll have to talk another time.” I headed for the door, and she followed.

  “But the Reynolds―”

  She was still talking when I shut the door.

  Work has been brutal. I’m exhausted all the time, and I only work three days a week. If I worked full-time for them, I’d probably be dead by now.

  As soon as I get in the house, I draw all the blinds. Then I go to the bedroom and take off everything. Next I put on my thin leather collar―I feel naked without it―and go into the den.

  It’s the room that’s off-limits to anyone who happens to come to the house. My cage is in there. So are our St. Andrew’s cross, bondage furniture, and Greg’s tools. No one would understand, so they can just stay out. He had that St. Andrew’s made especially for me.

  Today I’m just so damned tired that I look at the cage with longing. I know I need to go in the kitchen and go through the refrigerator, but I just can’t. I could take a short nap though …

  I crawl into my cage. The mattress Greg had made for it is really comfy, and there are a couple of blankets in it and my pillow. Once I’m in the cage, everything starts to slow down and I start to calm. It’s amazing, really. I check―yeah, my robe is right by the door in case someone rings the bell. It would probably be that damn Gloria.

  Suddenly, I hear the front door. I look at the clock across the room―I’ve been asleep for two hours! I know this won’t be pretty. It’s too late―I rush out to see Greg in the doorway, looking around for me. I’m supposed to be in position beside the door when he comes in, unless I’m doing something that keeps me from hearing the car alarm, but I’m sure it’s obvious by looking at me that I’ve been asleep. Skittering across the room, I drop to my knees, then lean forward until my breasts are on the floor, my torso straight and flat as I can make it, arms straight out. And I wait.

  I hear him moving around but, unless I crane my neck uncomfortably, I can’t see him. He comes back to me and kneels in front of me. “And you were where when I came through the door, slave?” He calls me My Love, but in front of others, he calls me Angel. I love both names. I’m hoping he’ll call me one of them, but he’s disappointed in me, so I just get slave.

  “In my cage, My Master. I’m sorry, My Master. I was so tired.” A look passes over his face and I see him head for the kitchen. My world is about to be turned upside-down. When I hear the refrigerator door open, I feel sick.

  “What is this?” He’s frowning and I feel his disapproval like a stone on my head. “It’s been in here since last week. Slave, I don’t ask too much of you―
”

  “No, sir, you do not.”

  “Do not interrupt me! Today was the day, and this was not done. You know how I feel about old food.” I cringe and wonder what he’ll do to me. “On your feet. Follow me.” It takes me a bit to rise―I’m not eighteen anymore―and follow him to the den. “Climb on up facing outward,” he instructs me, pointing at the St. Andrew’s. I wonder what’s about to happen.

  He straps me in. This cross was made especially for me so that the junction of the cross falls right behind my waist. Sometimes he binds only my wrists, sometimes wrists and ankles. Today he binds my wrists and ankles, then pulls the straps up from the center and binds my waist to the cross. But I shudder when he brings out a ball gag and fastens it in place, then draws the binding up from the main support and around my neck. When it’s fastened, I’ll be completely immobilized and unable to speak. Once he’s got all of the bindings fastened, he turns to the chest and rummages around. When he pulls out his choice, I nearly faint.

  It’s the big wand vibrator. Then he does something that makes my blood curdle; he gets the stand for it. Now I’m pretty sure of what’s about to happen and I start to whimper, but he pays no attention. He adjusts the stand so that the vibrator is right on my clit, then looks up at me and frowns.

  “That’s the one thing I’m picky about, the only one,” he says, his finger tracing the outline of my lips. “And that’s the one thing you didn’t do. I do not want rotting food in my refrigerator. Do you understand?”

  I nod fervently. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind, but I’m pretty sure he won’t. He goes to the stereo across the room, turns on some classical music, and turns the volume up. I start to panic, but it does me no good.

  He starts the wand. Everything below my waist starts to contract immediately, and I know there’s an orgasm hitting me in just a few minutes. Then he does the thing that I feared most: He walks away, leaves the room, and closes the door behind him.

  The first orgasm hits, and I want to scream, but I can’t. Any sound I can manage to make is muted by the gag and the music. The vibrator pushes on, my pussy throbbing, and finally it starts to subside, only to have the next one build. It feels like my mind will come unhinged, and I really panic. I can feel the tears running down my cheeks.

  The second orgasm hits, and it’s stronger than the first, my hips trying to rock, my body shaking uncontrollably, but there’s no relief. With my waist restrained, I can’t even thrust. Full-blown panic takes over, and the orgasm subsides somewhat.

  But now my clit is hypersensitive, and I feel the third one coming on at breakneck speed. All logic and reason leave me, and when it arrives, I wonder how I’ll survive it. My entire body is convulsing, shaking, rigid. I keep thinking he’ll come back, but he doesn’t.

  By the fourth time I come, the room is starting to get spotty and there’s a buzzing in my ears. My knees have buckled and I’d be on the floor if I wasn’t belted in so tightly. My body starts to jerk uncontrollably and my clit aches. My pussy isn’t faring much better. As it tapers off, I feel another one building. I can’t take any more, but I don’t have a choice.

  The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, the ball gag is out, and My Master is wiping my face with a cold cloth. He doesn’t say anything, and I wonder what he’s thinking, if he’s still upset with me.

  He helps me up off the floor. I can barely walk; my legs feel like spaghetti. Worse yet, I truly hurt. Everything between my legs is throbbing like it’s been shocked with a Taser. The pain almost takes my breath away, and I start to cry.

  My Master leads me to the sofa and pulls me down into his lap. “Oh, My Love, it’ll be okay. We’ll get some ice packs―you’ll see.” He kisses me and I curl into his chest.

  Getting around the kitchen and cooking with my nether regions burning and aching isn’t easy, but I manage. After dinner, My Master gets me settled in my cage and helps me put ice packs on my swollen cunt. At bedtime, when he calls me to bed, I slip out of my cage, down the hall, and under the sheets beside him. I wonder if he’ll try to fuck my messed-up junk, but instead, he tells me to get up on my hands and knees and fucks my ass. “And what do you say to your master, My Love?”

  “My Master, thank you for being a kind and merciful master. Thank you for fucking me in the ass instead of my pussy, My Master. And thank you for the discipline that will help me become a better slave to you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day.” With that, he kisses me and pulls me up against him.

  God, I love this man!

  3

  Gloria

  When I saw Becca today she just waved and ran in the house. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to avoid me.

  She had a bunch of bags she was carrying in. I don’t know what was in them. On the side of one of them was the name of an adult store here in town. I don’t think she meant for me to see that. Those places are nasty. They have nasty things in there. She seems so sweet―what could she want from a place like that?

  Wouldn’t it be awful if a receipt from a place like that fell in the yard and someone saw it and knew what was bought? That would be terrible.

  I told Russell that it looked like she’d been shopping at one of those places. He asked me, “Gloria, how would you know about that?”

  “I drive around town. They have a big billboard. You can’t miss it,” I say.

  “Maybe you should go in there sometime,” he says.

  Like that’ll ever happen.

  4

  Becca

  Today I got a gift from My Master: A new collar. It’s red patent leather and shiny, and it has four rings on it. It’s going to be so much fun to use. And it matches my new bustier nicely. I hope I get a chance to wear it pretty soon. Probably will Friday.

  I cleaned the refrigerator especially well this afternoon. It’s one of my days off and I wanted it to look nice when he gets home. When he called me at lunch to instruct me, I asked if he wanted me to cook dinner. He asked for my roasted chicken. I’m glad he likes my cooking because I really enjoy cooking for him. I want him to keep his strength up; I need a strong master.

  I stayed in my clothes today around the house. Cleaning chemicals scare me so much that I was afraid I’d burn my skin with something. He was upset when he got home and I was dressed. When he asked why I wasn’t undressed, I told him I didn’t want to get a chemical burn and I was sorry I hadn’t gotten undressed before he got home. He laughed and said he didn’t want me to get a burn either, especially not on something he’d hate to see wearing a scar.

  The chicken smells fabulous. I made three different kinds of vegetables to go with it, and they’re all his favorites. He hands food down to me as I sit in my usual place, on my floor cushion beside him. One of my favorite things to do is to take food from his fingers, scrape my teeth along them as I do, and then lick them clean. It makes him incredibly horny.

  As soon as the dinner dishes are cleaned up, My Master tells me, “My Love, get dressed. Wear your red patent leather vest and skirt to go with the collar. Red stilettos. Tonight I’m taking you somewhere you’ve wanted to go.”

  I can’t imagine where it could be. There are lots of places I like to go, but he said somewhere I’ve wanted to go, so it’s somewhere I haven’t been. After he puts my seatbelt on, he cuffs my hands together and puts a blindfold on me, and I start to get really excited.

  When we get wherever it is, he undoes the cuffs, unbuckles my seatbelt, then puts the cuffs back on me and helps me out of the car. It’s hard to walk in the stilettos when I can’t see where I’m going. I almost fall a couple of times, so he just picks me up and carries me. My heart flutters every time he does that.

  Someone says, “Here, let me hold the door for you,” and My Master thanks whoever the man is and carries me inside.

  “Do you know where you are yet, My Love?” I shake my head, and he says, “Listen.”

  There’s an unfamiliar buzzing sound. And it hits m
e: “Oh my god, My Master! We’re at the tattoo parlor!”

  “Yes, My Love. I’ll pick out a tattoo for you and decide where I want it. Let me know what you think of my choice.”

  “Yes, My Master!” I’m breathless with excitement. I’ve wanted a tattoo since I was a teenager and I’ve never gotten one. He takes hold of the chain on my collar and we go to the big books.

  There’s nothing in the first couple of books that he likes. In the third book, he finds a compass rose. Some people call them the mariner’s compass. I love them so much, but I don’t say anything. It’s so exciting just to be able to get a tattoo that I’ll take whichever tattoo he picks out. He turns a couple of pages and I’m disappointed, but all of a sudden, he turns back and points at the prettiest of the compass roses. “I think I like this very much. What do you think, My Love?”

  “Oh, My Master! It’s my favorite! Thank you!”

  He leads me over to one of the artists and discusses the colors and placement. He’s decided he wants it on my mons, just above my clit, and big enough that a point will show even if I’m wearing panties. At one point he tells me, “My Love, settle down! If you’re too wiggly, it’ll be a mess!” and he laughs at me. I know I’m acting goofy, but I don’t care.