Bound by Consent

Table of Contents

Cover

Copyright Page

Contents:

Foreword:

Dedication:

Title Page

Taming Bryana

Slave to Lust

Night Games

Meeting of Minds

Full Circle

About the Author

Other Titles by Dalia Craig

Lydian Press

Scanning, uploading and/or distribution of this book via the Internet, print, audio recordings or any other means without the permission of the Publisher is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Bound by Consent

Copyright©2013 Dalia Craig

ISBN 978-1-60054-710-2

Cover art and design by Dalia

All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

Published by

Lydian Press 2013

Find us on the World Wide Web at

www.lydianpress.com

Contents:

Foreword

Taming Bryana

Slave to Lust

Night Games

Meeting of Minds

Full Circle

All the above titles were originally published as individual eBooks by loveyoudivine Alterotica

Foreword:

Bound by Consent contains five short stories charting about a year in the lives of two women, Bryana Austin and Cassie Stuart, following them from a chance encounter on a Scottish mountain to London, Amsterdam, New York and finally back to Scotland.

Way back in 2008, when I embarked on Taming Bryana, the first story in this collection, I never intended it to be more than a single short story. Then several people said they wanted to know more about Bryana and Cassie and what happened to them.

In response, I began Slave to Lust, expanding on the lives of these two women by having them meet up again 6 months after Taming Bryana finished. However, that second story, left a few loose ends and unresolved issues. So I wrote another, Night Games, and then another, Meeting of Minds, both of these from Cassie’s point of view. Finally, I wrote Full Circle, to bring Bryana and Cassie’s story to an end. Or is it just the beginning?

Dalia Craig

September 2012

Dedication:

Larkin...
This book would never have been possible without your support.

I love you to bits. Muah!

Claudia...
Thank you for believing in me.

Bound by Consent

~

Dalia Craig

From Scotland to London, Amsterdam, and New York, two women struggle to build an enduring relationship in the face of adversity.

Taming Bryana

~

Bryana

Can Bryana place her trust in a total stranger?

“
Y
ou expect me to get up on that?”

I eyed the horse and wrinkled my nose with distaste at the unpleasant odor emanating from the stained gray blanket covering its back before switching my gaze to the butch dyke who’d ridden to my rescue. She had appeared out of the mist, mounted on an enormous, dark brown beast with evil eyes, with the other horse on a leading rein behind.

The woman, who’d introduced herself as Cassie Stuart, sat astride her mount with the easy confidence of someone who shared a close affinity with horses. With cropped dark hair and androgynous clothing, I had almost mistaken her for a man. Only the soft lilt of her voice betrayed her sex.

“It’s your choice, Ms. Austin.” Cassie glanced down to my feet then shrugged. “You either ride Tavish or face a five-mile walk to Auchtercairn.”

Some choice.

My day had started badly and then rapidly nose dived into a total disaster leaving me at a loss to understand how I’d ended up in this predicament. One minute I was driving along a discernible mountain road in early evening sunshine and the next... Nothing. Both the view and the road had suddenly disappeared, obscured by a blanket of white mist. I hit the brakes, expecting the car to slow and eventually stop but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Jazzy skidded off the road, gathering speed until it felt like she was flying, before eventually coming to a rest buried up to her axles in a sticky gooey mess of water and mud. I had no idea what damage had been done or how I was going to get her out and back on the road.

I shivered as the mist swirled around us. Although barely evening and still daylight, it might easily have been the middle of the night for all I could see. I momentarily regretted abandoning my shoes to the peat bog, but Jimmy Choo’s were never designed for a five-mile hike in rough terrain and neither were stocking-clad feet. If I wanted the promised hot bath, some food, and a bed for the night, I’d have to grit my teeth and do it. I nodded agreement and edged closer to the fetid beast, my sense of unreality growing with every step.

How the hell does one mount something this tall without a ladder, especially dressed as I am in a tight skirt?

“Let me help you up, Bryana.” Before I had the opportunity to protest that I’d changed my mind, Cassie freed her feet from the stirrups and sprang from her horse in one graceful movement. Then, in the blink of an eye, she had manipulated me into a position where, with no apparent effort, she hoisted me onto the horse.

Without a saddle or stirrups, I was forced to wrap my legs around Tavish and hang onto his long, silky mane as Cassie led the way along the narrow mountain track. But worse was to come when the friction of the rough horse blanket against my crotch began to drive me toward a climax.

God! What is the matter with me?

Sex should be the last thing on my mind right now; yet the memory of Cassie’s strong hands gliding up my thighs, as she eased the pencil skirt up to enable me to sit astride Tavish, made me crave the satisfaction of a good hard fuck even more than the hot bath.

I prayed for a speedy end to this torment and forced myself to think of anything other than sex in the struggle to hang on to my sanity.

Whatever possessed me to accept a commission so far from civilization?

Why didn’t I insist that we do the photo shoot for Esmée’s new collection of designer tartan in my London studio rather than on some wild headland in the north of Scotland?

And, more importantly, why didn’t I have the sense to stay put at the hotel until morning, like the rest of the crew, instead of driving off in a rage when I discovered Esmée fucking the brains out of that stuck-up bitch Marisa in our hotel bedroom?

God! I must have been blind not to see what was happening right under my nose. Now I know why Esmée always insisted on Marisa as her model of choice. Though what she saw in that haughty stick insect, I couldn’t fathom and quite frankly didn’t care; they were welcome to each other.

What I did care about was that Jazzy, my much loved Jaguar XJS convertible, together with all my valuable photographic equipment, was now stuck fast in a peat bog at the back end of nowhere, leaving me no option but to perch on this disgusting, smelly animal en route to some God-forsaken hovel.

Auchtercairn, when it finally loomed out of the swirling mist, disproved one misconception – it was as far removed from a hovel as one could get. Several security lights, switched on automatically by our approach, revealed a large square tower that dwarfed the well-preserved, gray-stone castle. The whole edifice sat squarely upon an outcrop of rugged cliffs above the sea. Cassie stopped at a side door, hitched the horses to a bar set into the stonework, helped me to dismount, and ushered me inside.

A bevy of dogs rushed to greet us with a flurry of wagging tails and excited barks.

“Don’t mind them; they don’t bite,” Cassie shouted to be heard above the commotion; then, barely pausing to pet the furry heads, she crossed the stone-flagged hall in a few long strides and was halfway up the wide staircase before she glanced back and beckoned. “The bathroom’s up here.”

I followed in her wake, admiring the swing of her firm ass. Although I would never be caught dead wearing a thick plaid shirt or worn jeans tucked into long leather boots, I had to admit they looked incredibly sexy on her.

Once we reached the landing, Cassie opened a studded wooden door then stood aside to allow me to enter. “Help yourself to whatever you need; there’s an assortment of bath oils to choose from, limitless hot water, and fresh towels in the press. Take as long as you want. I’ll need to see to the horses and then get Hamish to tow your car in before I fix us some drinks and a meal.” She paused; a frown creasing her brow as her gaze swept over my crumpled Giovanni d'Marco suit. “I’d better find you something more suitable to wear, too.”