Girl Trade - full length erotic adventure novel (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) Read Free

about my other wrist and tied my two wrists together behind my back.
    Now I did react. I screamed. I kicked at the man. I tried to bite him. But he moved away from my gnashing teeth and my screams vanished into the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. I thought for a second that I could try and run away, but I would tear my feet to shreds on the razor shells, and how fast could I run with my hands tied behind me?
    I was trapped like a cornered animal, bound, powerless. The horror of this realisation was like a spike in my chest. Great tears welled into my eyes and rolled over my cheeks.
    ‘Please. Please don’t hurt me. Please.’
    My voice was a whisper, a whimper. I had been slightly pompous. Now, I was pathetic.
    ‘Please,’ I said again.
    My eyes glazed in tears. The sun on my head made me giddy. I thought I was going to faint. Why had I swum away from the beach at La Gomera? It was madness. What was I doing sunbathing in the raw? I had always hated that sort of thing. The girls at school who wandered around after the showers without anything on were show-offs. That wasn’t me. I was embarrassed by my ripe breasts, my wild hair, the salt and sand sticky on my bare skin. I must have appeared like a girl eager for some raunchy action, but I wasn’t, I really wasn’t. I was petrified being there on the dunes with this stranger leering at me, and didn’t know why my nipples were so blatantly, shamefully erect, why standing there bound and naked my body had turned into a landscape of unfamiliar and inexplicable sensations.
    The man didn’t seem to notice my tears. He waved a warning finger that said don’t move. I obeyed. I didn’t move. I remained motionless while he ran his hands over me, down my sides, my hips, my thighs. He felt my breasts, pressing down as you would test the flesh of a chicken at the butcher’s. He then squeezed my nipples so hard I squealed in pain. Still I didn’t move as he ran his hands down my back and I thought I might die of shame when his dark fingers slipped between the cheeks of my bottom into my moist cleft.
    ‘Please,’ I said, my voice faint.
    He looked at my lips as I was speaking, as if he were trying to understand or was sympathetic to what I was saying. Then it dawned on me: perhaps he was mute, or deaf, a poor beachcomber who had never seen a naked girl before. I wanted to touch his arm, his shoulder, reassure him that it was all right. I wasn’t angry. I just wanted to go home.
    ‘It’s all right,’ I said in a calm voice. I spoke slowly. ‘Let’s go and get some help.’
    He nodded as if he had understood and, when I smiled, he smiled back through a mouthful of broken brown teeth. Again, in one swift motion, he swung me around and I couldn’t believe it as he laid the flat of his hand across the mounds of my bottom, the slap so fierce and shocking, I thought for a moment I was having a heart attack.
    ‘No, no, no,’ I cried, and he struck me again, much harder.
    Tears spurted from my eyes. I tried to move away, but he seized me around the waist, bent me double and held me tight as he spanked me as hard as he could, one slap after another, over and over again, the beat of those slaps so loud they blocked out the sound of the sea. A tide of pain radiated out from my bottom, down my legs and over my back. But the pain wasn’t as hard to bear as the humiliation, the unimaginable indignity of this stranger with bad teeth in a dirty blue smock bending me over and beating me like a child, like an animal, like … I don’t know what. I had thought he was going to give me that pendant and then insist on having sex. Being thrashed in this way was almost worse.
    ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch,’ I cried.
    And still his hand came down again and again, scolding the mounds of my delicate rear, one side, then the other, his leathery palm clapping like thunder against the burning plump cheeks as systematically he beat the soft surprised skin like a drum for some primitive dance. I