Chapter 1

Swamps edged the perimeter of the plantation grounds. The wet heat rising from the waters had caused the wooden casing of the house to warp, giving it a air of forgotten elegance. Willow trees dipped and swayed in the hot breeze wafting from the south, wild vines climbed rampantly over trestles. Disorder ruled the garden, plants and flowers taking freedom in the humid warmth of the Louisiana climate as they stretched over fountains and flagstone paths, invading the territory as if claiming it for their own.

She sat on a wooden garden bench, the rich scent of gardenias rising around her. Her body was taut with defiance, a sharp contrast to the yielding vegetation and atmosphere of succulence.

How long had she been here? Had it really only been two days? Since then, she had been nobody except "Angela," the name Gareth had given her when she first walked through the doors to offer herself in servitude. And in exchange, she would be anonymous, would be able to veil herself from the transgressions of her past.

"Angela." The deep voice came from behind her.

She turned. The tall, broad-shouldered man stepped onto the wraparound verandah. She suspected he had Creole blood; the evidence lay in the taut, light coffee-colored skin stretched over the sharp planes of his face and the fathomless depths of his black eyes. His name was Karek. It sounded exotic and strange, like a name from the ancient deserts of Egypt or that of a cruel, medieval king.

Without a word, Angela stood and followed him into the house. Her bare feet padded on the hardwood floor as she entered the drawing room behind Karek.

Velvet drapes were pulled back from the high windows that dominated the room, allowing the eerie twilight of dusk to permeate the air. Elegant antique furniture gave the room an atmosphere of the past. The third man was there as well- Marcus, a tall, dark-haired man with an aura of gentleness about him that the other two men lacked.

Gareth, Marcus, Karek. This was her dark trinity, these three men to whom she had given herself.

Angela paused next to Marcus, grateful for his calming presence, but her gaze went to Gareth. He was sitting on an ottoman, his fine, aristocratic features filled with lewd anticipation as his eyes scanned the length of her body. He focused his attention on the lower half of Angela's body.

"I think we'd all like to see your shaven cunt again, Angela," he said thoughtfully. "Why don't you pull up your dress and show it to us?"

Two spots of hot anger and embarrassment appeared on Angela's cheeks as she recalled what she had been told to do upon her arrival.

She didn't move for a moment, which gave the men cause to think that they might have to think of a creative punishment. They all stirred at the thought and found themselves to be a bit disappointed when Angela reached for her skirt and began to slowly draw it over her legs.

Three hungry gazes stared at the shorn apex. Her plump labia lips were nestled so lusciously between her rounded thighs that Marcus couldn't resist stroking the tip of his forefinger down over her smooth mound. His phallus stirred in his trousers as he dipped his finger between the humid folds, making Angela start with surprise. Marcus murmured his approval of the satiny feeling of her skin before he moved away from her and settled into an overstuffed chair.

Angela felt suddenly bereft without his presence beside her, for now she was truly on display in front of all three of them. Gareth had an amused look on his face that elicited a spark of apprehension in her belly, and then he said the words that she had been dreading since the moment she set foot in this heat-warped mansion.

"You've been a bit disobedient, haven't you, Angela? We've all decided that you require punishment."

Angela's skirt slipped from her hands, falling about her knees in swirling folds as she stared at Gareth in shock. "You can't..."

"Can't we?"

"You didn't tell me you were going to hurt me." True, she had fought them and argued with them upon her arrival here, and yes, she had known what was in store for her, but the very idea of pain made her feel ill.

"Ah, Angela, darling, we would never hurt you," Gareth replied gently. His dark eyes were soft as he stood and approached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He turned her around and lifted her skirt to exposed the rounded globes of her bottom, the enticing sight of her flared hips parted by the mysterious, dark crevice. He stroked his hand over the large mounds, making Angela quiver in response.

"No," Gareth continued, "Blood letting isn't quite our style, love, so don't worry yourself about that. Merely a bit of discipline to remind you that you want to be here."

Angela swallowed hard, tamping down on the rising bubble of rage that threatened to burst forth. Gareth's hand slipped down underneath her bottom, splaying over her upper thighs and cupping the fleshy cushions in his palms. His groin brushed against her bare buttocks in a movement edged with lecherous enjoyment.

"Come, love. Karek will do the honors."

Angela's throat tightened. She turned, her gaze going to Marcus in a desperate hope that somehow he would voice a protest over what was about to take place. Then, she noticed the heavy bulge straining at the front of his trousers, and her hopes dissolved like salt in boiling water. Disappointment settled heavily into her skin, for she had come to think of Marcus as the gentle soul of the triad. Instead, as the evidence presented, the mere anticipation of her punishment incited a raging arousal in him.

Nervously, her eyes slipped to Karek. His dark eyes watched her with a hint of dislike and coldness, his body as rigidly unyielding as the high-backed, oak chair on which he sat. Angela wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, not at all certain she would be able to cross the room to him.

"Angela." Karek's deep voice echoed in the room. "Come here."

Of the three of them, Karek's orders could not be disobeyed. Angela walked across the room slowly, innately knowing what he was going to do to her and yet unable to prevent it. At his instruction, she settled over his hard thighs, wincing when he lifted her skirt and arranged it with almost meticulous care over the expanse of her back.

A smile curved Gareth's lips as he settled into his chair. Angela's back arced forward in a graceful curve, her hipbones pressing against the top of Karek's thigh. How he adored seeing her like this, her pride reduced to being the recipient of a punishment as base as a spanking. The pale globes of her buttocks fairly quivered, as if trembling with dread for the discomfort that would surely result from Karek's large hand.

Gareth shifted, feeling his penis start to expand at the thought of Angela's anxiety. Oh, how he wished he could be the one to administer her first punishment. He would love to feel her helpless weight over his muscular thighs, the growing furnace of her buttocks as he rained his palm over the smooth cheeks until they glowed and burned with the rosy evidence of his control.

All in good time, Gareth reminded himself, still unable to prevent the stab of envy when Karek landed the first loud slap on Angela's rounded backside.

She gasped in surprise, perhaps more from the shock of it rather than any actual pain, but her body jerked forward to escape the inevitability of a second blow. Karek's hand came down again, the accompanying smack of flesh against flesh resounding through the room with a sharp tone of finality. A pinkish warmth glided upon Angela's bottomcheeks as Karek prepared for another blow, one which caused Angela to cry out in discomfort, her hips squirming enticingly against the man's legs as she struggled to escape. Karek's other arm clamped around Angela's waist, holding her weight down effortlessly as he spanked her again and again, each strike eliciting a wail of pain from its recipient.

Gareth's prick throbbed hotly inside his trousers, aching with the desperate need for relief as he imagined what it would be like to spurt his creamy seed all over the flushed, reddened buttocks of their captive. He very nearly spent at the thought, his gaze fixed lasciviously on the writhing movements of Angela's body. Her hands scrabbled at the plush carpet beneath them as she searched vainly for something to grasp onto to pull herself away, but Karek's grip was inexorable. His hand began to tattoo a rhythmic pattern on Angela's lush cheeks, even as the twin mounds wriggled around frantically to escape the hot stings of his broad hand.

Gareth and Marcus exchanged looks of amused satisfaction as they noticed the certain moisture that began to seep out from between Angela's silken thighs, bathing her smooth vulva with feminine liquids. Karek even broke the pattern of his slaps momentarily to dip his finger into the wet cavern, evoking another cry of shock and embarrassment from Angela as she tried to instinctively clamp her thighs together.

Karek landed his next blow with more force, as if in punishment for her trying to deny him access. Angela's dress gaped forward, her bare breasts dangling like ripe, little fruits, topped with nipples so hard that Gareth experienced a raging desire to close his lips around them and suck. He rubbed the hard bulge in his trousers fitfully, feeling fluid dripping from the tip in a desperate bid for total release.

He shot Marcus a covert look. The younger man was watching the scene before him with a look of flushed arousal, his own impressive manhood pressing lewdly against his trousers. Gareth's gaze slipped down to the bulge almost of it's own volition, and he was shocked by the sudden rush of curiosity that snared him. He'd seen Marcus's unerect penis before and had been impressed in a masculine way with the size of it, but he had never thought that he would feel the desire to witness the release of the large stalk from the confines of material, to watch it burst forth in a glorious erection pulsing with blood and desire.

Intensely uncomfortable with the thought, Gareth returned his attention to the scene before him, his hand clutching hard at his smaller but no less painful member. He gritted his teeth at the sight of Angela's flaming bottom, her face wet with tears as whimpers and pleas emerged from her throat in an unbroken stream. Her legs flailed and kicked behind her, as if desperately seeking an object on which to brace themselves. Finally, Karek's hand came to a halt. The hard planes of his face were set in a grim expression, his dark eyes hot as his hand slipped once again into the moist valley between his prisoner's legs.