Tricked Read online

  There had been a guy there who had a naked chick on a leash. She’d been covered in welts and bruises from head to toe, and no one had batted an eye. Intrigued, he’d managed to talk to the guy about his arrangement. “Is she really into it?” he’d asked the man, who called himself Master Wolf. “How do you keep her in line?”

  Master Wolf had smiled, shaking his head. “You kidding?” he’d replied in a thick German accent. “She’s the real boss in our relationship. She’s a total pain slut. No matter how much I give her, she wants more, more, more. Isn’t that right, meine Liebe?” He’d pulled the girl close, kissing the top of her head.

  “Ja, Meister,” she’d replied, flashing a bright smile. “Danke, mein Herr.”

  The Costa Rica Dark Club was just as intense, with very few restrictions on play. Yet even that sophisticated group had annoying constraints in place, like a club safeword.

  Where was the fun in that?

  Damon had come to understand he needed more than just BDSM “play.” For it to matter, it had to be real. No negotiations, no pretend contracts. In fact, a large part of the thrill was in taking what was forbidden, and throwing out all the usual constraints of civilized society.

  After his trip down to Costa Rica, he realized it would be the ideal place to bring his fantasy to fruition. There were a number of high-end homes for rent there that had caught his eye. People who could afford to rent the exclusive villas placed a high priority on privacy, and the managers of the properties catered to that desire. One of those villas would make the perfect hideaway.

  A little online research, a few phone calls and a quick return trip down had enabled him to find the perfect location—a gated villa in Peninsula Papagayo, set at the end of a private road, with a high privacy fence and gates that could only be opened electronically. He’d closed the deal on the spot, paying cash in advance. He’d stayed down there for two days, securing supplies and getting everything ready.

  He’d rented the villa for the entire month. He’d been annoyed when the agent explained the once-weekly landscaping and house cleaning crews were mandatory per the owners, but he’d just have to lock her up safe and out of sight on the days they were there.

  Thinking ahead, he’d driven into a seedier part of town while he’d been down there. He’d purchased a van, again for cash. It had needed some engine work, but the guy assured him it would be ready by the end of the week, and he arranged for it to be dropped off near the small airport he used when visiting the country. A quick call earlier that day had assured him the van was ready and waiting for his arrival.

  His private plane was thoroughly checked, fueled and ready for flight. His luggage was already aboard, including a gear bag filled with lots of fun impact toys and restraint devices he’d bought especially with Callie in mind. She was definitely his first choice.

  True, he was making some assumptions regarding whether she would show or not, but he felt pretty confident this girl was ripe for the plucking. If she bailed for some reason, he had several other potential girls lined up on various chat sites, eager to meet him in the flesh.

  He could always delay his flight schedule by a few days, if necessary. Meanwhile, his route was mapped out and approved, though the manifest claimed only he would be flying that night—no passengers.

  He glanced at his watch. They had three hours until takeoff, which was scheduled for ten o’clock that night. There should be plenty of time to have a nice, leisurely dinner and still get her loaded onto the plane with time to spare. It should be relatively easy to avoid notice, as no one else was scheduled to fly out of the small private airport that evening. Other than the dispatcher inside the tiny terminal, the hangar would be deserted.

  He’d arrived tonight at the restaurant a half hour early to make sure he got a good parking spot. He had a table with a good view of the entrance. He took a final sip of his scotch and soda and pushed the glass away. He would need his head clear for the evening ahead.

  His heart beat fast with excitement. Everything had gone according to plan, at least so far. From the minute he’d first pinged her in that chat room, the girl had taken the bait—hook, line and sinker.

  He’d easily found Callie’s Facebook page, which was completely unprotected by any privacy settings. It always amazed him how many people were so cavalier about putting their entire lives up for viewing on the internet. Not that he was complaining. It certainly made his pastime of cyber-stalking easier.

  Callie’s Facebook revealed she liked to hike, fish and go camping. There were lots of pictures of her looking wholesome and happy as she did outdoor, sporty things with her family and friends. No bikini shots or any decent pics of her body, but even in the flannel and jeans, he could tell she had a decent build. Back home, she had volunteered at the SPCA and taught painting and drawing to inner-city kids. Hopefully, she wasn’t one of those teetotalling goody-goodies, as that would make his first task a little more difficult, though not impossible. She was so girl-next-door-sweet and innocent. It would make the conquest that much more fun.

  She had told “Diana” all about her exciting new life in Chicago. She wasn’t due to start that job of hers for over two weeks, which was all to the good. There was no significant other in her life at the moment, another good thing. Her parents and her brother, Harry, were still back in Wisconsin. Odds were, it would be a while before anyone even missed her.

  And even if they did, so what? There was nothing to connect him to her.

  The door opened and a young woman who had to be Callie stepped inside the restaurant. She was even prettier in person than in her photos. She was a little shorter than he’d expected—not much over five-foot three or four and maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds max. That was fine with him, as she’d be easier to carry once she was out cold.

  Her straight, shiny hair was wind-mussed, her cheeks rosy from the cool night air. She wore a light coat, open to reveal a very nice body, though it was presently covered by a blouse and navy skirt that made her look like she was a secretary at some law firm. But the bare legs beneath were slender and shapely.

  He couldn’t wait to see her naked.

  She looked around, her expression a little anxious. The hostess moved toward her and they exchanged a few words. Callie’s gaze fell on Damon, who lifted his hand in a small wave as he rose from his seat. The hostess led Callie back to his table. “A wait person will be right over,” she said. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Damon extended his hand. “You must be Callie. I’m so sorry Diana couldn’t join us tonight. She was really looking forward to meeting you.” He helped her off with her coat and placed it neatly over the back of her chair.

  Once they were both seated again, the waitress appeared, menus in hand. When she asked what they’d like to drink, Callie ordered a glass of white wine.

  Excellent.

  “Another scotch and soda for you, sir?” the waitress asked Damon, taking his empty glass.

  “No, thanks,” Damon replied. “Just some tonic water with lime.”

  While waiting for their drinks, Damon asked Callie what she thought of Chicago so far. He liked her voice, which sounded even better in person than it had on the phone. It was low and a little husky, somewhat at odds with her cherubic face.

  The drinks arrived, and Callie took a big gulp of her wine. She was clearly nervous, and he wanted to put her at ease. He talked easily, keeping the focus on her. He pretended to be interested in her stupid little museum job and her boring life back home, pleased when she seemed to be relaxing.

  He kept the talk light and neutral during the meal, telling her a little about the non-existent philanthropic foundation that he managed for the family, and returning to her mundane life with feigned interest.

  “So,” Damon eventually said once the waitress had cleared away their plates and deposited dessert menus in front of them. “Diana tells me you’re into BDSM?”

  Callie ducked her head, a flush moving over her skin. “Oh, um. Not really into it. I me
an, I don’t have actual experience.”

  Damon lifted his eyebrows, pretending to be surprised. “But didn’t you and Diana meet on a BDSM website?”

  Her blush deepened. “Yeah. But I haven’t done any actual, you know, real live BDSM. I guess I’m what you’d call BDSM-curious.”

  Damon smiled. This was going to be so much fun. His cock hardened at the thought of all the wonderful, terrible things he was going to do to her. “The cool thing about BDSM,” he said aloud, “is that it appeals to and satisfies a broad spectrum of tastes and desires. You might find you just enjoy a little light bondage and playful spanking, or you might discover you crave the intensity of a full body flogging or intensive caning. For the true masochist, pleasure and pain blend together into a wonderful alchemy of sensation that’s far more powerful than plain old vanilla.”

  He placed his hand lightly over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze as he looked into those big brown eyes.

  Callie stared back, her pupils dilating, her nipples stiffening beneath that school-girl blouse of hers, the color high in her cheeks. She was into him and what he was saying. The girl might be an innocent, but she was ripe for the plucking.

  “I’m sorry,” he lied, withdrawing his hand and leaning back with a shake of his head. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  The waitress reappeared. “Did you make your decisions? The strawberry cheesecake is my personal favorite.”

  Damon looked to Callie, who put a hand on her flat midriff and shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  Damon smiled at the waitress. “Not tonight, thanks.” Then, as if the idea just occurred to him, he added, “But bring us each a snifter of your best cognac, along with the bill.”

  As the waitress scurried off to do his bidding, he turned back to Callie. “I hope you’ll excuse me ordering for you without asking. I just don’t want the evening to end.” He fixed her with a soulful gaze, guaranteed to melt even the hardest female heart.

  Predictably, Callie flushed prettily, her eyes widening. He almost felt guilty at how easy this was going to be. “Oh,” she said softly.

  Then, as if she were actually in cahoots with him, determined to make it as easy as possible, she added, “If you’ll just excuse me. I’m going to take a quick trip to the restroom.”

  As she walked away, Damon observed her ass—perhaps a little smaller than he would have liked, but nicely rounded.

  The waitress, as if she, too, were in on the plan, appeared at that moment, brandy snifters and a leather bill folder in hand. As she melted away again, Damon reached quickly back into the pocket of his sports jacket and grabbed the tiny vial of clear, tasteless liquid—the first phase of Callie’s medical cocktail.

  Unscrewing the tiny cap, he quickly poured the contents into her snifter. Mission accomplished, he pulled out a wad of bills and placed them inside the leather folder.

  Callie returned, hair smoothed and fresh lipstick applied, and once more took her seat.

  “Try the cognac,” Damon encouraged. “It’s a very fine brandy.”

  Callie lifted her glass and took a dainty sip. “Oh, this is good,” she enthused. She took another sip. Excellent. One more should do it.

  Damon lifted his glass to his lips as a subliminal message that she continue to drink hers. He couldn’t help but smile when she obliged. This was like taking candy from a baby.

  He glanced at his watch. The drug would take about fifteen minutes to reach its full effect. They needed to get going. He pushed back his chair. “Where to, mademoiselle? Did you want to check out my private BDSM club?”

  Not that he actually belonged to any such club. He couldn’t stand all their stupid rules about safe, sane and consensual. Where was the fun in that?

  “I’d be delighted to be the first to introduce you to ‘real live BDSM’,” he added with a smile. That much, at least, was true. He couldn’t wait.

  She brought her arms protectively around her torso. “Um, gosh. Thanks, but I don’t think so. Not tonight. Maybe another time? With Diana?”

  “Of course,” he said easily, not surprised. He got to his feet. She’d mentioned earlier in the evening that she was still getting used to navigating Chicago’s public transportation system. As he pulled on his sports jacket, he asked casually, “Can I give you a lift home? It’s no trouble.” Silently, he willed her to agree.

  “Thanks. I would appreciate that.”

  Bingo.

  It took all his willpower not to whoop aloud with triumphant glee.

  Consummate gentleman that he was, he helped her on with her coat and then escorted her lightly by the elbow through the crowded restaurant. As they got to the door, he reached into his jacket, curling his fingers around the syringe in the inside pocket. Everything was going just exactly according to plan…

  Chapter 3

  As they neared the rented sedan, Damon unlocked the doors with his key fob. He’d already made arrangements for the rental company to pick the car up the next morning at the private airport where he kept his plane.

  Callie stumbled a bit as they approached the car, the drug already taking effect.

  “Whoa,” he said solicitously, again taking her arm. “You okay?”

  “I’m—I’m not sure,” she said a little thickly. “I feel weird.” She gave a small laugh. “I think that brandy must have gone to my head more than I realized.”

  One hand on her arm, the other on the small of her back, he led her to the passenger side. Reaching around her, he opened the door. “No worries. I’ll have you home in a jiffy.” He kept his hand solicitously on her arm as she lowered herself onto the seat.

  “Let me help you with that,” he said, gently pulling her purse from her arm and settling it on the floor at her feet. She barely seemed to register what he was doing.

  “I feel really weird,” she said again, putting a hand over her face. After a moment, she reached for her seatbelt, fumbling ineffectually with the buckle.

  “I got it.” Damon reached across her to pull the belt over her. As he did so, he brushed his arm against one plump little breast. Again, she barely seemed to notice what he was doing. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

  Her seatbelt in place, he closed her door and moved quickly around to the driver’s seat. He glanced at her as he buckled his own seatbelt and started the engine. Her eyes remained closed, her head now lolling against the back of the seat.

  “You okay?” he asked softly as he backed out of the parking spot and turned the car toward the road.

  “Mmhm,” she murmured.

  Good thing he’d parked close to the restaurant. The drug was working a little faster than he’d anticipated.

  “What’s your address so I can put it into the GPS system?” he queried, not that he had any intention of doing so.

  She mumbled something incoherent, her eyes still closed.

  He entered the stream of traffic and drove for a while, his heart racing with nervous excitement. He’d envisioned this scenario a hundred times, imagining all the different ways it could go wrong. But so far, it was going without a hitch. There were only a few more hurdles to get past, and then he could relax.

  Damon exited the highway several stops before the turnoff for the private airport. He drove to the McDonald’s he’d scoped out earlier in the week. He waited until a couple getting out of their car went inside the building. Then he drove around back, pulling to a stop by the dumpster. Leaving the car running, he turned off the headlights. He was pleased to note the streetlamp located near the dumpster was still burned out, only the ambient light from the restaurant windows illuminating the space.

  Reaching across the slumbering girl to the glove compartment, he popped it open and removed the baseball cap and the pair of latex gloves he’d stored there earlier. He put the cap on his head and pulled it down low. Next, he put on the gloves.

  Reaching for the purse at the inert girl’s feet, he opened it and rummaged for her cell. He climbed out, caref
ul to keep his back to the building as an extra precaution. Her cell phone in hand, he walked around to the back of the dumpster, definitely out of sight of any possible cameras. He dropped her phone into a plastic bag he’d brought along for the purpose, along with the burner phone. Placing the bag on the ground, he stomped on it repeatedly. When he was sure the phones were completely destroyed, he tossed the bag into the dumpster, along with the latex gloves.

  Returning to the car, he slid back into the driver’s seat and tucked the cap into his jacket pocket. Callie was twitching again, her eyelids flickering. Time to put her under properly. He reached for the syringe from his inner pocket. Uncapping it, he drew back the plunger and reached with his free hand to flick up the hem of her skirt.

  He slid the needle carefully into her thigh and slowly depressed the plunger. That dose should be enough to knock her out cold for at least the next four hours. He’d dose her once more on the plane so she’d stay out until he got her settled at the rental house.

  He turned on the radio to some heavy metal as he pulled back onto the highway and opened the windows, letting the wind blow in his face. The pulsing energy of the music matched his mood. This was really happening. His wildest fantasy was about to come true.

  He glanced at the inert girl and reached out, placing a hand lightly against her slack mouth to make sure she was still breathing. Her warm breath tickled his hand. He placed his palm flat against her chest. Her heart was beating strong and sure.

  Unable to resist, he slid his hand into her blouse, reaching into the lacy bra to cup one sweet, round breast. His fingers found her nipple. He rolled it until it was erect and then gave it a sharp twist.

  She didn’t react at all.

  Replacing his hand on the wheel, he returned his focus to the road. A broad grin moved over his face as his cock stiffened with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to claim her properly.

  ~*~

  Callie opened her eyes slowly, feeling as if she’d just emerged from deep under water. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d been having the weirdest dreams. No, more like nightmares. She’d been trapped somewhere, unable to see or speak or move. The details were already fading, but the sense of helpless dread still lingered like a palpable presence.