No corporate spy craves capture like Freya.
Freya offers herself up as the third volunteer in the Fantasy Guild’s erotic group adventures. Her dream spy mission promises to be the sexiest yet when the powerful and dominant man known as “Sir” agrees to help take her in hand.
Soon, Freya’s fantasy begins and she’s off to steal a dangerous prototype from a ruthless businessman. If she’s caught, she knows he and his gang of hot henchmen won’t rest until they’ve tortured every bit of intel from her helpless person, so she’d best not get taken, right? Er, maybe not.
Explicit language and sizzling sex scenes suitable only for adults. A sultry corporate spy struggles to keep her secrets from five lusty interrogators who know the best way to loosen a woman’s tongue is to drive her mad — with pleasure.
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Freya Gets Taken in Hand
Fantasy Guild #3
ONE EVENING, NOT SO long ago, some women gathered for their regular meeting. They called themselves The Ladies Naughty Book Club, a discussion group dedicated to sharing a love of erotic novels and stories.
The members of the LNBC were perfectly normal, respectable women, some married, some not, some dating, some single. For all that they loved a spicy read, they weren’t particularly sexually adventurous themselves. No, they held their wild sides in check, living vicariously through the fictional heroines in the stories they read.
Then a woman named Jasmine, on that one momentous evening, made an audacious suggestion. Why shouldn’t they live out their fantasies in real life? Brash Jasmine was ready to turn her daydreams into reality, and she wanted to start right away by planning her own gangbang, or group encounter as some of the ladies preferred to call it.
Reactions were mixed, but everyone wanted to hear how Jasmine’s experience went. So they formed the Fantasy Guild, and all agreed to meet once more when Jasmine’s night of passion was complete and she could report on the results of her experiment.
Jasmine’s fantasy turned out to be far beyond her and everyone else’s expectations, and the ladies thrilled to her sexy tale of a high stakes poker game gone wild. And so the fledgling group had its first success.
Then Pamela took a turn and the ladies envied her time spent poolside with her hired hands. And the guild members asked for a third volunteer.
Lovely Freya knew the moment for her fantasy had come.
FREYA GAVE THE CAB driver the address then sat back, tense and more than a little nervous.
The cabbie eyed her in his rearview mirror. “Are you sure that’s where you want to go? Kind of a rough area down there after dark.”
“I’m sure,” she said, then turned to look out the window, hoping he’d take the hint and leave her in peace.
“It’s your funeral,” he said, shrugging, and pulled away from the curb.
No, thought Freya. It’s not my funeral. It’s my gangbang, and it’s about damned time.
She stifled a nervous laugh.
When Freya agreed to be the third participant in the activities of the Fantasy Guild, she hadn’t spoken from a place of spontaneity. No, she’d been daydreaming for a long while, dreaming of multiple partners, gangbangs even, and she’d mentally played out numerous scenarios to fuel her most private moments.
Weeks before, when the first participant of the guild, Jasmine, told everyone about her experience at her fantasy high stakes poker game, she spoke of a powerful man known only to her as “Sir.” When Jasmine described him and told how he took charge, how he led her to sexy new heights, Freya had thrilled inside.
Sir. Mmm. And he was older, in his early forties. Freya herself was only twenty-eight, but she liked the idea of being with someone experienced, especially older men who knew exactly what they wanted from their women.
Pamela, the second Fantasy Guild volunteer, had spoken of Sir, too, only she’d called him Mr. Hunter. He’d played the role of her pretend husband during her gangbang. Pamela hadn’t gone into great detail about everything Mr. Hunter did with her and to her, but she’d said enough to send Freya’s libido into overdrive.
When the call went out for the next volunteer to be gangbanged, Freya knew she’d be stepping up, but she had a lone reservation — Sir must be part of her fantasy night. She wouldn’t do it without him.
Jasmine had hardly blinked at her demand, and had quickly ensured that Sir would be present for Freya’s gangbang. Freya had thought about little else since.
In working out the details for the night’s events, she’d spoken to Sir over the phone several times. His deep voice sent chills racing over her skin and quickened her pulse. If he looked half as good as he sounded, Freya might be in serious danger of falling into more than lust with the man.
The cabbie drove her through the warm night, the lights of the businesses and bars flashing past her window. It was late, nearly eleven p.m. The late hour was necessary for her fantasy, to give it a stronger sense of reality.
She swallowed hard, her mouth seeming dry. Not long now. She dug in her pocket for a mint, popped it in her mouth then fussed with her long hair. She’d let the hairdresser put some blonde highlights in her red locks and wasn’t feeling confident about the results. The hairdresser and his underlings gushed over it, but that didn’t mean anything, since they’d be fools to do anything other than tell her she looked fabulous before they reached for her credit card.
Leaving her hair in peace, she smoothed the fabric of her trench coat over her thigh. It was, technically, too warm for trench coats, what with it being summer, but she couldn’t do without it for her fantasy; she needed all the pockets, obvious and hidden, to tote the tools of her pretend trade.
Freya, for this night’s play, was a corporate spy. Her black trench coat was layered over a black, sleeveless tank and tight black stretchy pants. Even her shoes were black, and had flat, soft soles, all the better for silently creeping about in places she didn’t belong.
She had a black stocking cap stuffed in one of her pockets, too. She was fully prepared.
When the cab was a few minutes from its destination, Freya shot off a text message to Sir.
His response came quickly. “Text when arrived.”
Her heart beat a rapid staccato when the cab pulled up to the curb beside a huge brick building. She sent off her text then gawked out the window, looked up. The building was mostly dark, the lighting subdued. The bare minimum, she imagined. Emergency lighting. Eerie. Perfect.
The cabbie told her his fare and she pulled a few bills out for him but didn’t hand them over yet. Her phone chimed. It was Sir.
“All in place. Ok to go.”
She snapped her phone shut and gave the cabbie the money.
He took it and gave her a concerned look. “You want me to wait for ya?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m meeting someone. Thanks.”
“I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
He sucked his teeth, contemplated her for a few more moments then turned back to the front with a sigh. “Take it easy, then.”
“You too.” Freya opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
The cabbie didn’t pull away until Freya entered the building. The metal door clanged shut behind her and as she’d been told to expect, the key was in the lock. She turned the key and armed the security pad next to the door with the code she’d been given. There. All safe and snug in the night’s playground. She smiled a shaky smile.
She rubbed her sweaty palms on her coat and took a few moments to steady herself. It was time. Here she was. Let the fantasy begin.
The place smelled sweet, like candy, a powerful scent that pervaded her senses. Hints of cherry and grape, maybe. There was a factory inside. It must make candy. Regardless, in tonight’s scenario, the factory was nothing more than a cover, a blind for the real business that went on behind sealed doors, sealed doors she’d be breaching.
She cinched the coat tighter around her waist and pulled out the black stocking hat. She crammed it on her head and shoved her hair under it. Back home, she’d considered putting covert black gunk on her face, but gave it up as a bad idea. She didn’t want to have sex with big black marks under her eyes and over her chin and forehead, and it didn’t seem to fit the scenario that she ask everyone to wait while she went to wash it off before getting down to the business of fucking her.
The idea amused her, and helped relieve some of her nerves. How long had she dreamed about this? She didn’t know. Too long. Time to make it reality.
She searched inside herself to find her character. The corporate spy, out on a mission to retrieve a prized piece of research. Information for a price, and her price was high. She was the best. Had never been caught.
The corporate spy should have knocked on wood after that thought.
FREYA SLUNK DOWN THE long, shadowy hallway, moving over the old wooden floor with hardly a sound. The building was empty this late at night, the few workers who’d been forced to work on a Saturday having long since gone home.
Everything was exactly as she expected it to be. No cameras and no surprises. As long as the security guards stuck to their usual patterns, this would be an easy job, in and out in no time flat. Easy money.
She peeked around a corner, saw it was clear, and turned down a different hall. It led to a pair of large swinging doors which opened onto the main factory floor. She jogged silently down the hall and up to the doors, peeped through the slit of a window to make sure the room was empty, then pushed through and slipped inside.
It was eerier on the vast factory floor than it had been in the hallway. Every step she took seemed to echo in the empty space. The sweet smell was strongest here. Huge assembly machines hulked dark and menacing in the half-light, belts and conveyors and hoppers linked the larger pieces.
Freya kept to the sides of the room, skulking along the edges, seeking a particular door marked “No Entry Without Authorization.” She found it on the far side of the room.
The machinery occasionally made settling sounds, minor clinks and rattles that made Freya clench up tight, made her chew the inside of her cheek. There … a rustle. What was it? Machine? Animal? Human?
She fumbled with the security pad next to the door, then remembered she needed the identification card she’d secured at great peril from a confidential source. She found the card in a small envelope inside her coat’s breast pocket. After she ran the card through the reader slot, the reader beeped three times. The door clicked and she reached for the handle. She was in. Yes.
She tucked the card away, uncertain if she might need it again. Her intel ended at this point. She’d have to play it by instinct the rest of the way, rely on her experience and natural abilities to get the job done. Somewhere in this secured section of the factory were the secrets she sought, and which once found, would pay her handsomely upon delivery to her employer.
Another long hallway stretched in front of her, numerous closed doors on either side. She didn’t think the lab she was looking for could be in one of these rooms, being too close together to be of an appropriate size. These rooms were probably offices for the research scientists.
She’d need to find the office of the head researcher to see if she could find the plans for the prototype, but before that, she needed to find the device itself. Her employer had been adamant about that. Prototype first, plans if time allowed.
She crept down the dimly-lit hall and rounded a corner. The hall widened there and not too far down the corridor were a pair of closed, steel doors. Bingo, she thought.
Another card reader was on the wall next to the doors. She pulled out her card and swiped it. The reader didn’t respond. She ran the card again. Nothing. Damn.
She studied the device, wondered why it wouldn’t accept her credentials. It should have. What was up? She tapped on the box, tried to jiggle it, but it was attached solidly. She ran the card again. No response.
Double damn. She felt around the edges of the thing, trying to feel for anything she might be able to pry up to try to access the interior. Nothing was vulnerable.
Glaring at the card, she turned it over and checked the back side, seeing if maybe the magnetic strip had been damaged. It looked fine. Heat rose in her cheeks as she thought about what it cost her to get that card from the greasy lab assistant. He had said he had all-level access. Lying dickhead.
If she couldn’t get past those doors, the mission was over. Failed. No prototype. No on-time delivery. No payday. No satisfaction. She ought to track down that lab assistant and stick that card up his —
In an angry pique, she gave the card one last vicious swipe and at the same time kicked the steel door, not caring that it hurt when her toe bent backward. She cursed under her breath.
It took a split second for her to realize the reader beeped, and another half second to register that the doors were sliding open. Relief washed over her and she nearly shouted out in exultation.
A tiny flicker of guilt passed over her for badmouthing the greasy lab assistant. Oh well. He’d never know the difference. Plus, he was a fictional creation to begin with. She smiled.
She jumped through the doors before they changed their minds, which was entirely possible since she had no idea why it took the system so many tries before it accepted her card. Steady girl, she told herself. Forget about it. Focus on what’s next. And hope that was the last security check.
Freya Gets Taken in Hand
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Freya Gets Taken in Hand is approximately 65 pages long and contains explicit language and red-hot multiple partner sex scenes that are suitable only for adults.