Read THE STRICT BRITISH BARRISTER: ACT ONE for Free Online

cruise to write, not make new friends.
    What he didn’t tell her was that he was also a successful London barrister.
    Not knowing how his esteemed colleagues would view his extracurricular activities, Duncan kept private life private, and his wicked BDSM novels completely covert, though he didn’t have a private life to protect, not since losing a woman about whom he had cared deeply. It was his fault; he’d allowed his foolish pride to rule him, and it had cost him a great love, and worse, he knew he’d hurt her very badly.
    The breakup had scarred him, and though time had marched on he’d never regained his interest in dating, concentrating his efforts on his professional life, but he did find some gratification at his private BDSM club, The Bowler Hat. It had been formed in the Victorian era, when the Queen’s heavy frown had thrown a cloud of morality over the country. With such an innocuous name, and the founding members’ careful screening of potential members, the club had survived while many such secret societies had not.
    Being a busy barrister, Duncan had little time to pen his torrid tales of discipline and debauchery, usually snatching time late at night after a stressful day in court. He’d be too wired to sleep, and writing about his dark fantasies was a welcome respite.
    It was usually at the end of a grueling trial that he would book a cruise and finish a book. He would to fly to another part of the world and board the ship at a foreign port. Being away from the English accents that surrounded his daily life gave him a greater sense of being away, and though he would hibernate in his stateroom, when he was around others their voices were refreshingly different.
    On a cruise from Hawaii to Tahiti, he had never imagined a real life Scarlet Ohara with a maple syrup voice would grab his attention the very first moment on board.
    As he reached his cabin, his mind still swirling, he paused, looking down the corridor towards her door, and unexpectedly imagined her sitting on her bed reading his wicked words.
    I would love to take you to my club. You’d charm everyone, I’d be so proud to have you on my arm, and what am I saying? Why am I thinking such things? We just met.
    Shaking his head he entered his cabin, and settling on his couch he opened his computer to read the last paragraph of the chapter he’d left unfinished.
     
    His fingers tickled her inner thigh, then slapped down…hard. She winced, uttering an exclamation of pain, and the shackles holding her wrists to the wrought iron headboard clinked as her arms jerked. He cupped her cunt in a tender gesture, holding his palm against her as he repeated the exercise on her opposite thigh; a tickle then a slap.
    “Sir,” she gasped, “please, Sir.”
    “Please, what?” he frowned.
    “It stings,” she bleated.
    Ignoring her complaint he slid a finger into her depths, finding her lustily wet.
    “It may sting, but if it didn’t you’d be disappointed. A hard slap is far more satisfying than one that is too soft. Tell me that isn’t true,” he demanded.
    “It’s true,” she whispered, “but it’s a love-hate thing.”
    “If you’re a good girl the reward will be worth the hate part,” he reminded her, “and it’s not really a hate thing, is it?”
    “No, not really hate,” she sighed.
    He began to pump with his finger, then tickled and slapped again; she wriggled in response, her inner thighs tightening.
     
    Duncan sat back and read what he’d just written, and the image of Brittany spread on his bed, her wrists and ankles firmly secured leaving her completely vulnerable to him, danced in his mind’s eye.
    I wonder if you’ve ever been in such a position. I wonder if you’ve ever had your thighs slapped and tickled.
    Standing up he thrust his hands in his pockets and moved to the deck to stare out at the infinite ocean.
    I wonder if you’d be open to a some no-strings fun. Have you ever been subject to the desires of a true