No Way Out

By Rachel Cray

Adults only.
The sequel to "Snatched".
Once again, Julia Bennett finds herself abducted into a nightmare of sexual humiliation in a foreign land far from home. The man who had kidnapped her in "Snatched" has broken free and now seeks revenge... assisted by an unlikely companion whom she thought she could trust. Naked, locked in a prison cell, where her captors speak a language she can't understand, how can she escape? Without a passport, can she prove her identity?
Her boyfriend is still searching for her, but has no clue where to start.
How can she reach him from her bleak, far-away dungeon?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Cray
• Release date: Mar 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781465928597

Rachel Cray

Rachel writes erotic romances to two sub-genres: the first she calls "law firm erotic", where her characters are the horny partners and employees of a U.S. law firm, and whose spare-time activities may best be described simply as sex-related. The second sub-genre she calls "village erotic", where the cast are the horny inhabitants of Maybourne, a fictional old market town in the heart of England with a number of olde worlde villages, Tudor buildings, a ruined abbey and other picturesque features in both rural and urban settings.She has worked in several European countries, first as a secretary and then as an executive assistant, before returning to her roots in Surrey, England, and close to London; for many years she was the director of administration at the London office of a large U.S. law firm before leaving to run her own recruitment company. Now in semi-retirement, she devotes most of her spare time to writing erotic romance novellas, drawing on her life's experiences in a variety of fields. She is married with children and grandchildren.

Book preview

No Way Out

by Rachel Cray

Smashwords Edition

Copyright Rachel Cray 2012, 2013

Rachel Cray’s home page

Discover other titles by Rachel Cray at Smashwords.com:

Law Firm Love series:

Interview for Love

Working Overtime

The New Client

Dirty Pictures

Snatched

(No Way Out is the sequel to Snatched)

Maybourne series:

A Close Match

Village Accounts

Kate's Return

Lucy and Friends series:

Jack and Me... and His Lodger

One Man too Many

Needing Her, Needing Him

and

A Stranger in My Bed

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission by the author, except for brief quotations for review purposes.

This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

Smashwords Edition : Licence Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

NO WAY OUT

by

Rachel Cray

CHAPTER 1

I had been reading a memoir written by two English academics, Anne Moberly and Eleanor Jourdain – both of them senior staff members of a respected college at Oxford university – who, in the summer of 1901, were visiting France and decided to walk round the Palace of Versailles, some distance outside Paris. In the palace gardens, they had lost their way and wandered through an open door in a wall; they found they had walked straight into a time capsule, a world inhabited by people over a hundred years earlier. This ‘time-slip’ had captured my imagination, and I spent an hour or two afterwards, mulling over the possible explanations as to how it had occurred.

It was possible that it had really happened, and that they had travelled through time. Alternatively, they were both reckoned to enjoy a lesbian relationship – it was known that they slept in the same room at the college, which was unusual because of their seniority – and the intensity of their liaison had created some kind of hysteria that they shared. Or, thirdly, they were both psychic and had the ability to experience simultaneously the same phenomena. A final explanation offered was that they had stumbled upon a tableau given by a local resident, who dressed up everyone as characters from the French revolution. Being something of a romantic, I’d like to think the time-travel possibility would be a viable option, but the controversy is still being discussed.

That acted as the catalyst for a strange dream I had that evening.

I was with a group of people visiting a large country house somewhere in Wiltshire; I had somehow become detached from the rest of my party on their guided tour and began to panic, since we were due to depart in less than 30 minutes. I opened a door and found myself in an office; a well-dressed figure stood behind a desk with his back to me, and was looking out of the window. He turned, and I recognised him instantly. My heart sank as he smiled at me. His name was Max Stamm, and he was a wealthy Swiss industrialist; he had imprisoned me in a bizarre episode of my life around three years earlier.

Before he could speak, I turned round and ran out of the office; I tripped and found myself in a darkened room, lying on a table. My wrists and ankles had been strapped to the table; a dozen men, of varying ages, were there; they were in their underwear, and all blindfolded. They approached me, bound prostrate on the table, and began feeling my body through my clothes. Once one of them had located my breasts or my crotch, he shouted out excitedly and the others came to paw me. I noticed they had erections growing in their underpants as they continued to explore me.

As they became more sexually aroused, some of them pushed their crotches into my palms; my hands, being bound at the wrists, had nowhere to go. I moved my fingers gently over the bulges, fondling their soft balls and then massaging their erections. Some cried out softly in ecstasy as they reached their climax; I saw the moist spots on their underclothing where I had masturbated them to completion.

I felt a delicious moistening between my legs, at the top of my thighs. This vision was stimulating me. But, although they were caressing my open pussy hidden underneath my underwear, none had touched my clit. I writhed and moaned with the pleasure I could feel approaching. If only my imprisoned hands could stretch down there and finish off –

The door flew open noisily. Be gone! Stamm yelled at the helpless, blindfolded men who were pawing over me.

They dissolved. Impossible things can happen in dreams. Now only Stamm remained; in an instant, I was standing naked in front of him, my back to a cold stone wall. He noticed my wetness, trickling faintly down my leg.

I want to drink your lovejuice, he said softly, in his charming Germanic tone. You hate me so much, but I am going to drink your desire.

He fell on his knees, forced my thighs apart with his hands, and opened my pussy lips. He looked at my crotch for a second, then sank his tongue into me. I felt it lap against my clit, and his finger run upwards along my thigh to collect the juice that had already escaped.

I held his head in my hands as his tongue performed its dexterous activity upon me.

I looked at my watch. It’s late! I cried. I got lost, and the group I was with have driven away! I’ll never catch up with them now.

You don’t need to worry about them, said Stamm, turning away from my crotch and looking up at me. I’ll look after you. Stay here and love me.

The sexual lust that had consumed me turned quickly to violent revulsion.

I’ll never love you! I hate you! I hate you!

Ignoring me, he returned his attention to licking my clit again. Suddenly his tongue became dry and hard.

I felt a hand at my shoulder.

Julia! said a voice in my ear. It wasn’t Stamm.

Julia! Are you having another nightmare?

I opened my eyes. I was in my bed, looking up at Greg, my boyfriend; he had turned the light on, but that hadn’t been enough to wake me up. I looked down; my hand had been at my crotch while I had slept.

It’s all right now, he said reassuringly. You’re awake now.

I… I had another dream. It was him, again.

Stamm?

I sat up in bed, and nodded. He came back.

Greg held me in his arms. Shhhh… he’s in prison, remember. And he’ll be there for a long time. There’s nothing for you to worry about.

I know… but he can still get to me in my head. Time and time again.

We need to get you away for a short break somewhere. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I’m too tired now. I had a long day and we didn’t finish until two.

I looked at the alarm clock by the bed. It was 3 a.m. I knew Greg – a corporate lawyer – was working on a long deal at the office and had warned me that negotiations might drag on until late.

Do you want me to sleep in the other room? he asked.

No. I want you here, more than ever. I need to cling to you. We were visiting a stately home in my dream, and I lost you…

Tell me about it at breakfast. Let me take a shower, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, if you can, get back to sleep.

I turned on my side and waited for my love to join me. A wave of euphoria came over me, knowing that it had all been a bad dream. Although the monster still lurked in my memory, I would never have to face him again. I had Greg to protect me, as well as other professionals who had been engaged by my firm to help me recover after my first encounter with Stamm.

Some three years earlier, I was working as a legal secretary in the London office of Sutcliffe, Waldron and Windsor, the prominent New York law firm. By curious coincidence, we took on a new client with the same name as me – Julia Bennett. She was extraordinarily wealthy and ran a number of international corporations. What we didn’t know at the time was that she had made a serious enemy in her business dealings in the past; his name was Max Stamm, a powerful entrepreneur based in Zurich but with busy fingers – and contacts – all over the world.

Stamm wanted to remove the other Julia Bennett (whom I shall call J.B. here, to avoid confusion with my own name) and his team bungled the task. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I was snatched instead. While in his clutches I suffered the most unspeakable forms of humiliation and sexual deviance; once I managed to get free, I was helped by J.B. and her assistant Anya, and I was able to testify at the trials of Stamm and some of his team, where they received long custodial sentences. J.B. remained a close friend thereafter; she felt responsible for the appalling treatment I had received from Stamm and his cohorts.

I had a lovely boyfriend – Greg was a lawyer who worked in a different section at the same office as me – and there were plenty of friends to look after me. I had nothing to fear any more. It was Greg who suggested that it would help if I were to write down the whole story, which I did. And I found it provided a huge release for me. But, tempting the hand of fate in the final paragraph, I had written:

Nothing and nobody could come between us again…. Greg and I continued our love from where we had left off, without any further unforeseen interruptions.

I fell asleep and didn’t hear Greg return to the bedroom after his shower, and I didn’t hear him get up the following morning. I found him finishing his breakfast when I finally surfaced.

So where do you want to go on this short break? he asked. We can’t go too far away – there are so many deals happening right now, and some of them might close before we expect them to.

And a few of the others might collapse too, I smiled. But we don’t talk about those.

I could book a weekend in a room in one of those old mansions in –

No, I said firmly. No mansions, country houses or stately homes. I was locked up in a country house, remember? And I visited another one in my dream last night.

But don’t you think it might be therapeutic? I’ll be with you all the time.

No. Not yet, anyway. I think we should see if we can get the time off work first, and then consider where we can go.

And that’s where we left it. Greg usually allowed me the last word.

* * *

When we arrived at the office, we parted company at the main entrance; Greg went his way, up to the third floor, and I went mine, staying on the ground floor and walking straight towards my desk in Mike Lucas’ team. Mike was a partner in the corporate department, and I had been his secretary for