Content Includes: #MMM #Submission #fantasy #erotica.
Blurb
Island paradise hardly describes the erotic secret man-society Alonzo has entered...lust, love, passion, submission...possession...
There’s danger in the initiates becoming too closely acquainted. After a night of passion, Trailmaster Phelix arrives to change the balance. He’s been watching them and now he has an eye for Alonzo in particular. The jungle may not be the only challenge awaiting Alonzo...
Excerpt
The Trailmaster's firm hand clamped onto Alonzo's jaw and tilted his head back. Flinty gray eyes that reminded Alonzo of forged iron looked down at him from a very great height. A flash of sunlight changed the color, suddenly reminding Alonzo of the barred cage at Wetham's private club.
Just for you, Alonzo.
Wetham's ghostly voice whispered inside his head. He heard the sharp clang as the door to the cage was closed, shutting him inside. The click of the steel lock, imprisoning him securely. The laughter of the men as they clinked glasses.
"So. You are Alonzo," the Trailmaster said. "I've heard of you. You were much desired at the ceremony the other night. So much so in fact, that it's said one of the Ancients had to have you." Eyes focused on the sand, Alonzo said nothing. There was no question in that statement that required his response.
For you, Alonzo. Just for you.
"Well, we shall see just how amenable you are. That is what they call you, right? Amenable Alonzo?" The Trailmaster dropped his hand away, but he did not order Alonzo to join the others. "I am Trailmaster Phelix. You will address me as Master Phelix at all times. And you will follow every order I give you without question. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master Phelix."
"For this trip you shall serve as my...personal servant. You will track me, stay at my side, a step behind, serve my meals, attend to me in all ways. I've chosen you instead of one of the others because if I've judged right, your submissive nature will keep you in line without an inordinate amount of discipline. You've served men before, haven't you? And not just common men, but gentlemen."
More wine, boy. Fill our cups.
Alonzo, his legs manacled, the clink of chains rustling filling his ears, had served the gentlemen, filling each cut-glass, gold-rimmed goblet with the expensive wine. The chains, forged and fashioned in the ironworks owned by one of the fine gentleman, banded his wrists, grinding together as he moved to each man. His cock bobbed free as he shuffled from place to place.
Wetham's specter, like some demon, constantly rode him, ever at the forefront of Alonzo's mind. A collage of the other men, Wetham's friends marched across his memories.
