REPLAY REUNION 2:

  NAUGHTY VALENTINE

  by

  Nia Farrell

  REPLAY REUNION 2: NAUGHTY VALENTINE

  by Nia Farrell

  Copyright 2019 by Nia Farrell

  Edited by Anita Quick and Anne Bright

  Cover Design by Crystal Visions

  Stock Photography from pixabay.com

  Formatting by Anita Quick

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used without the written consent of the author, except for brief quotes in reviews. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Release Date February 22, 2019

  Length 6,835 words

  ASIN: B07NKZYMKN

  Long Branch Books

  Shattuc, Illinois

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Author’s Bio and Links

  Previous Titles

  Dedication

  To authors NJ Cole and Oliver Durant for sharing their experience in the lifestyle in their Facebook groups and in their books. Their devotion to each other, as husband and wife and Dominant and submissive, is heartening, providing a shining example for newcomers to BDSM.

  ~ Nia

  Prologue

  Rich Franklin was at a loss. How long would it take before Tory stopped blaming herself? When would she see that Elly’s miscarriage wasn’t her fault? It was sheer chance that it happened on their girls’ day out.

  The baby’s loss had affected them all. Elly had changed. Tory had changed. As their Dominants, Piers and Rich were doing their best to deal with things. The men had spent endless hours discussing how they could help their submissives heal.

  Piers had had better luck than Rich. Planning their daughter Adrienne’s second birthday had given his wife Elly new purpose. Not even thoughts of mermaids in the Roman villa’s saltwater pool could dispel the remorse that clouded Tory’s eyes and dampened her spirit like a shroud.

  He’d been with Tory a year now. The first five months had been the happiest of his life.

  Until Tory’s sister-in-law lost her baby and his ginger-haired witch lost her fire.

  He wanted his old Tory back. The one who teased him. Who challenged him. The beautiful English heiress who had captivated him even before she had dared to cast a love spell using candle magick. She was locked in there, somewhere.

  He just needed to find the key.

  Chapter One

  February 14, 2019

  Victoria St. Leger watched her brother Piers show his daughter the pair of lit candles topping Adrienne’s birthday cake. Before this, Adrienne had played with the other children, alternately digging for treasures in a temporary sandbox and watching the three mermaids who swam the length of the pool, spending as much time below the surface as above.

  The far end of the room had been cordoned off. An attendant was in place to ensure that the Peter Pan-themed party remained private. Replay’s Roman villa was one of the most popular places to play, but separation between the orgy room and the Roman baths was necessary. Tonight was a time for family and friends to celebrate Adrienne St. Leger’s second birthday and to share the innocent joys of a child.

  Piers helped his daughter blow out her candles. Adrienne clapped her chubby hands and chortled with glee. Her mother Eleanor cut a small piece for the birthday girl, a bigger one for daddy, and yielded the cake knife to Nanny. Wearing a mobcap, Victorian dress, and period apron, Nanny looked ready to take the stage in James Barrie’s classic play.

  Replay’s head of security Marcus Vos had been the obvious choice for Captain Hook. Sir Marcus’s submissive, local librarian Gini Shelton, was perfect to play Wendy. Steampunk author Jeremy Randall had assumed the role of Peter Pan, while his Dominant Sir Courtney Reynolds played a pirate tonight.

  Actually, most of the men here were pirates. The exceptions were Piers, playing George Darling, and the band of Sioux warriors led by the former MMA star known as “Savage Joe” Greene. In real life, Jody Greene was a life coach and personal trainer. Tonight, he was a war chief and lead Dominant for the band clustered by the teepee in the far corner of the room. The traditional Plains Indian dwelling provided the perfect backdrop for the Native American beauty portraying Tiger Lily. Tory hoped to get a chance to introduce herself to the exotic-looking submissive, but she’d been placed in charge of the sandbox. She was effectively chained until the children grew bored or all the treasures had been found.

  Tory’s Dominant Rich Franklin wore his early eighteenth-century pirate garb with comfortable familiarity. He was one of the few who’d come armed with a cutlass at his side and a brace of non-firing pistols strapped to his chest. With his dark hair, scruff of beard, and six-feet, three-inches of sculpted muscles, he could play an intimidating brigand. Tonight, he was saving his scowls for Savage Joe.

  The former fighter had admired Tory’s cleavage as much as the seashells woven in her hair.

  Playing a landlocked mermaid tonight, she had traded her tail for bare legs, billowing skirts, and babysitting duties. The oldest child here was eight-year-old Alexis MacDonald. The daughter of Scottish billionaire Micheil MacDonald and his second wife Rowena had donned fairy wings to play Tinkerbell. She’d been a great help in making sure that the two-year-olds Kristoffer Falk and Adrienne St. Leger kept entertained. At six-and-a-half months, Nikolas Alexander Moldovan was as apt to eat sand as dig in it. He spent most of the time bouncing on Tory’s legs, watching the other children dig for seashells, rocks, and trinkets. Excavated treasures were brushed off and added to gallon-sized tin pails.

  Nikolas’s mother Leigh Ann—actress Ashley Slade—still had weight restrictions following her successful back surgery. Nanny and Tory had taken over baby duties, freeing Ashley and her husband Master Sorin to enjoy adult conversation with the other Dominants and submissives who were close friends or relatives of the St. Legers. Being on this side of the pond, the only other paternal family member here was their cousin Alex Boulton. Alex was engaged in a lively conversation with his partner Dmitry Chezhekov and resort psychiatrist Sir Josef, speaking German while their submissives Lara Eastman, Luc Vashon, and Aubrey Wolfe visited with each other using an odd mix of French, German, and English.

  Replay’s three adult Valentine’s parties would start soon. Once Adrienne’s birthday celebration ended, the children would go with Nanny to the St. Leger estate and the grownups would seek their pleasures here at the hedonistic Roman villa, in Replay One’s merry Tudor banquet hall, or in the ominous Citadel on the RACK side of Replay resort.

  They would be ferried by the resort to their next destination. Rich’s car was parked at Piers and Eleanor’s where they planned to spend the night, two doors removed from the noise of Alex, Lara, and Dmitry’s room.

  Master Sorin and Ashley were headed for the Citadel, revisiting where they’d fallen for each other on the dark side of the resort. Well, they’d done more than fall. Nine months later, their weekend dividend Nikolas was born.

  Tory bounced the baby on her hip and waited until his father claimed him before taking a piece of cake and joining her family. Eleanor made a beautiful Mary Darling to Piers’s George. Adrienne was a magnificent mess with icing everywhere—fingers, face, and hair. A true daddy’s girl, she was content in her father’s arms, which proved detrimental to his dark suit but saved his wife’s gown. The suit was more easily cleaned, and sparing the dress would keep them in better graces with wardrobe mistress Jewell Fraser.

  Eleanor should have had a five-month-old baby in her arms, too, but they’d lost Catherine early in the third trimester. Tory’s sister-in-law was one of those women who had trouble carrying. Tory knew her brother wanted more children, but she had to wonder if it was worth the risk.

  Piers had almost lost Eleanor, too.

  Guilt clawed at her soul, ripping at her heart, reminding her of how she’d practically dragged Eleanor out of the house. It will be good for you, she’d told her. She had made her walk. Made her rest. Made her split a favorite dessert at lunch.

  That’s when the pain started.

  One bite and their dreams of the future were shattered in an instant. She could still hear Eleanor’s keening cry and the sound of her fork dropping onto the floor.

  “Where did you go?”

  The sound of Rich’s voice pulled Tory from the traumatic past to the bittersweet present. She forced a smile and offered a half-truth. “I was thinking about desserts.”

  Rich dropped his gaze to the barely-touched birthday cake. His dark eyes narrowed speculatively. For a moment, she was afraid that he would challenge her.

  He rubbed a hand over his beard stubble and blew out softly.

  He’d become an expert at masking his emotions, too.

  Poor man. She didn’t know what she’d done to deserve him. She was lucky that he put up with her moody English arse.

  “Are you finished?” he asked.

  She’d forced herself to eat two bites, which was two more than normal. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Let’s take our leave and get our cloaks. No offense to Sir Piers and Elly, but it’s not just Adrienne’s birthday. It’s our anniversary and Valentine’s Day. What I want to do with you isn’t safe to be seen at work, let alone at a children’s party.”

  The gleam in Rich’s eye was unmistakable. A delicious shiver raced down her spine. He’d been tight-lipped about his plans for tonight. The suspense was driving her crazy.

  The blindfold that he added only made things worse. Putting a possessive hand on the small of her back, he guided her to the vehicle that would take them to their next destination.

  That ruled out playing at the Roman villa. The other parties were at the Tudor banquet hall and the Citadel where risk-aware consensual kink took place. If Master Sorin and his submissive wife had ridden with them, she would have known where they would end up. As it was, she could only guess.

  Attuned to her, Rich sensed her anxiety and grasped her hand while they rode. Thankfully, Piers had let the birthday guests take modern conveyances instead of caravanning them to the villa in horse-drawn wagons. Judging from the feel of the seats and the ease of entry, they were probably in one of the resort limousines.

  It pulled to a stop. Rich opened the door, stepped out, and reached to help her exit. “Watch your step,” he said, pulling her to join him in the chill night air. “The surface is uneven.”

  Tory’s stomach clenched when she realized where they were. The Citadel. He’d brought her to the dark side. The Tudor hall was at Replay One, whose poured concrete entrance was a smooth, modern surface. The Citadel resembled a Gothic mansion with a cobblestone drive and a paved-brick path to the massive entrance door.

  She was familiar with the exterior because of the landscaping that she had done at the resort. After moving to America, she’d put her degrees in horticulture and botany to work. Most of her time was spent in the Conservatory at Replay One. Last summer, she’d designed a Japanese garden with space for the Bonsai trees that she was training. She would finish the landscaping after construction on the Samurai village was done.

  Thankful that she was wearing ballet flats, not heels, she crossed the small width of cobblestones with Rich’s guidance and walked with him to the entrance. As soon as they were inside, he led her down a long hall and into a room that smelled of leather, metal, and freshly washed fabrics. Wardrobe.

  “Leave your blindfold on,” Rich told her. “You are to do whatever Lilith says. If for any reason the blindfold comes loose, you are to close your eyes and keep them closed until it’s refastened. Do you understand?”

  His Dom voice raised gooseflesh on her arms. “Yes, Sir,” she answered, acknowledging his orders. Curiosity killed cats and got bratty subs in trouble. She figured that she already had punishment coming for something or other. Rich had the memory of an elephant when it came to keeping track of things. She’d be lucky to escape with a spanking. Goddess only knew what they did for discipline here.

  Tory stood, blind and mute as a mannequin while the wardrobe assistant removed the mermaid ornaments from her hair and stripped off her clothes. Nudity didn’t bother her. She went sky-clad inside the sacred circles that she cast on sabbats and new and full moons. But while she relished connecting to Mother Earth through the soles of her feet during rituals, she usually wore slippers or socks or both when she was indoors.

  Having bare feet during scenes always made her feel vulnerable. Tonight was no exception.

  Lilith helped her into a coarse chemise that felt scratchy against her skin. Beneath it, Tory was naked from her crown to the tips of her toes. She wanted to fidget. She forced herself to stay still. Booted footsteps sounded, stopping in front of where she stood. Robbed of sight, she inhaled deeply and recognized the scent of Rich’s body wash.

  “It’s time,” he said. “Come.”

  Chapter Two

  The word “play” didn’t enter Tory’s mind when she thought of the RACK side of the resort. Her imagination went wild, envisioning the worst.

  Oddly, Rich’s silence was as foreboding as anything. He’d barely said a word after leaving the wardrobe department. She had no idea what he was wearing or what time period they would immerse themselves in, whether it was the actual RACK party or a private scene.

  It felt as if they’d walked the length of the Citadel before reaching their destination. Tory stepped through a door and immediately felt the difference from the hallway. There was a stone floor beneath her feet and a telling warmth to the room. Wherever they were, she was fairly certain that she would be stripped, her flesh laid bare for exhibition or punishment or both.

  Rich pulled off her gown and bound her hands with rough hemp rope. Making certain that it wasn’t wrapped too tightly, he caught the middle of her rope cuffs on a hook and hoisted her arms into the air, stopping when her soles were barely flat on the floor. Another pull, and she’d be balancing her weight on the balls of her feet.

  Rich moved behind her and undid her blindfold. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the light. Dozens of candles were scattered around the room. Torches glowed in forged metal holders that jutted from ancient stone walls. The whole space seemed hewn of rock. Carved pillars rose from paved floors to support a vaulted stone ceiling.

  One wall boasted a heavy medieval-style door, hewn of wood and studded with nails. The chamber looked like it had been plucked from an actual castle or monastery and teleported here. Piers would have done it, too, if it meant preserving a piece of history that would otherwise have been lost.

  A clutch of black-robed priests and wimpled nuns stood to one side of the chamber. Beyond them knelt five penitents, dressed in gleaming white robes and pointed hoods. Even if she weren’t in this ancient space, she knew enough history to not assign them to a more modern era. Their outfits predated the American Civil War by centuries. The hoods were capirotes, worn during the Spanish Inquisition by penitents who would be flogged until their backs bled.

  It wasn’t yet Lent, but that didn’t stop the first one from being stripped and bound to a whipping post facing her.

  She recognized Conner from the eighteenth-century scenes that he’d done at the Georgian House. When Rich slid his hands around her to cup her breasts and play with them, Conner didn’t even try to avert his gaze. Instead, he focused on her and accepted the first lash of the whip on his back.

  Tory flinched to see his reaction. Pain twisted his features. Watching her being fondled, knowing that she was out of his reach, just seemed to make it worse.

  The next stripe fell. The Dominant in priestly black robes wielded the whip like an extension of himself, each stroke as intimate as a bare-handed spanking.

  “Watch,” Rich ordered when she started to look away. “He thinks he needs to be punished, like his PTSD is his fault. He feels responsible for what happened to his unit and guilty because he’s one of the few who survived. You and I know that he’s not to blame, but he doesn’t see it that way, does he?”

  “No, Sir,” she breathed, flinching when the next stroke fell.

  Rich made her watch until Conner was let down and led away, headed for aftercare by one of the nuns.

  Another man took his place. Tory blanched when she saw that it was Luc Vashon and the priest wielding the whip was Replay psychiatrist Sir Josef. This time, the scene didn’t end with a whipping. Sir Josef tossed the whip aside, pulled up his robe, and impaled his submissive in one impassioned thrust that made Luc gasp and moan.

  He took Luc where he stood, then freed him and led him away for aftercare.

  Tory was a mass of seething lust by the time the fifth and final man was whipped. Rich had kept her aroused and hovering on the brink of orgasm for what seemed like an hour. She didn’t know how long that they had been here, but she was swollen and needy and craved Rich’s possession.

  The whip-wielding priest scared her. When he walked past the whipping post and stalked towards her, she instinctively shrank against Rich, silently begging her Dominant to protect her.

 

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