A Walk on The Dark Side

By Dan Bruce

A casual session of gratuitous dominance to teach a young girl a lesson turns into a full on weekend of hard sex. Annette is intrigued with the pain and assertion and wants to find out more about the BDSM life. Ralph takes her for a walk on the dark side, culminating in a visit to the club of the same name. It is there that she finds her limit - a strange one that neither expects.

Please note: this ebook is a modified version of Jack Brighton’s ‘The Wild Side’ – with the author’s kind permission.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Firm Hand Books
• Release date: Nov 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458090911

Dan Bruce

Dan Bruce is a British author who specialises in M/F BDSM erotica

Book preview

A Walk on The Dark Side

Book 6 in the ‘Tales from The Dark Side’ series

By Dan Bruce

Copyright Dan Bruce, 2009

Published by Firm Hand Books at Smashwords

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 reader. 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.

Please note: this is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store the material where it cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Please also note: this ebook is a modified version of Jack Brighton’s ‘A Walk on the Wild Side’ aka ‘The Wild Side’ – with the author’s kind permission.

Table of Contents

Author’s Note

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

The Dan Bruce Collection

Her Nemesis Series Extract – Her Nemesis Master

Abuse of Power Series Extract –Enslaved by the Karinovs

Other Books Extract –The Avenger

About the Author

Author’s Note on the ‘Tales from The Dark Side’

The Dark Side is a fictional nightclub situated in London’s Soho district, where extremely wealthy and powerful men enjoy games of sexual debauchery. The series of books which comprise the ‘Tales from The Dark Side’ is centred on the club and the people who are involved with it. All the books have an erotic theme with a strong BDSM slant.

Each book is a stand-alone work and they can be read in any order. There is a chronological sequence, however, which would make sense to follow if all the books are to be read. The sequence of books to date are:

Welcome to The Dark Side

A Taste of The Dark Side

Made for The Dark Side

Fisting Night at The Dark Side

Christmas at The Dark Side

A Walk on The Dark Side

Prologue

The evening was going well, no question about it - adhering to the plan that had been laid out in advance. But if Angus MacLeod was to be perfectly honest, he’d sooner be indulging in something more carnal, instead of having a cosy chat in front of the log fire following the dinner party he’d just hosted.

That in itself had been a huge success. His slave Lucrezia had taken care of everything there, the Italian beauty being an expert in all things gastronomic. A chef had been enlisted for the occasion – a new kid on the London gourmet scene who more than lived up to his innovative reputation, serving some outrageously tasty food which was highly original and beautifully presented, matched by a selection of extremely fine wines which Lucrezia had spent a small fortune on. And there had been no issues concerning the formality of roles for the seven people in attendance. Masters and slaves had sat at the same table, freely engaging in conversation, everyone relaxed whilst knowing their place.

That certainly wouldn’t have been the case with many of the rich and powerful men that MacLeod occasionally dined with - hard core traditionalists from The Guild of Masters, the controlling body that governed the secret world of voluntary slavery where the savvy Scotsman had handsomely prospered.

Ralph Daley wasn’t a member of The Guild, nor had he any aspirations to join. He wasn’t a stickler for etiquette either, sharing MacLeod’s more liberal views. So that made things easier with regards to interaction. But another aspect of his approach had a major downside as far as MacLeod was concerned. Not only was Ralph Daley a non-conformist in his lack of desire to be part of The Guild, he was also unusually possessive with regards to his only slave, not willing to share the girl liberally around.

Annette, the girl was called: a twenty year old youth with no formal slave training whatsoever, but whose charm and intelligence, facial beauty and stunning body, more than made up for this shortfall in education. The girl had come to MacLeod’s attention on Christmas Eve when he’d spotted her at The Dark Side – the exclusive nightspot that the Scotsman owned.

Now normally an invite to dinner with Angus MacLeod came with an expectation when a slave was invited as well. But oh no! Tasty young Annette wasn’t on the menu – something that Ralph Daley had politely explained when the invite was made. Of course MacLeod had expected this and laughed the notion off, playing down his desires concerning the girl. And sure that he wouldn’t turn things around immediately, he’d suggested that they have a diverging evening: dinner for everyone to start with; then the masters could sit by the fire and get to know each other better over whisky and cigars, whilst their slaves went out on their own for the night, hitting the mainstream clubs, or whatever else might take their fancy.

And what about Paddy? Ralph had asked.

Paddy McGuire was MacLeod’s second in command, who had a reputation that was the equal of his boss’s when it came to fornication.

Where would you prefer Paddy to be? MacLeod had asked in return.

Where I can see him, was Ralph’s immediate answer.

My sentiments exactly. And that’s where he’ll be. Always around so we both can see him.

So here the three of them were, the first Saturday in January, sitting by the fire, enjoying fine Havana and an excellent malt. And it was extremely pleasant, if the truth be told. After the seasonal excesses of Christmas and New Year, it made a refreshing change to just relax and chat. Ralph Daley was proving to be an interesting chap, and one that MacLeod could see becoming a good friend – ideally a friend who would eventually share more than just his company.

Not surprisingly, the conversation turned to relationships, MacLeod being the one to bring the subject up. He wisely started on relatively safe ground. His Italian slave Lucrezia was already known to Ralph, as was his Swedish slave Frida. They came as a pair, and MacLeod had bought them from a mutual friend. Although it was after they’d been sold that Ralph had met their previous owner, Roger Franklin, so his knowledge of these slaves was limited to their reputation.

That wasn’t the case with Paddy’s slave – Stella Marshall, who MacLeod had bought as a gift only six weeks ago. Ralph knew the girl very intimately from when Stella had worked at The Dark Side in the role of the club’s naughty public schoolgirl. This of course was known, but the matter was politely glossed over. It was history after all, and that’s what Stella was there for when she’d worked at the club.

Ralph appreciated their openness, and added to the twist of having the girls removed from temptation, it was an openness that deserved something similar in return. So with a good meal in his belly, fine wine in his blood, the smoke of rich Havana exciting his lungs, and eighteen year old Talisker flavouring his palate, Ralph Daley decided to open up as well, and tell his own tale that touched on The Dark Side, the club having featured significantly in the story. It was the events that brought him and his untrained slave together. When Ralph invited Annette to take ‘A Walk on The Dark Side’.

This is the tale as seen through his eyes, without the censorship MacLeod and Paddy were given…

Chapter 1

An Indian summer – that’s what we were having.

An American phenomenon, apparently. But not exclusively, or so it would seem. It was late October when all this started, and the sun was shining in a clear blue sky, the temperature scarily into the mid-twenties, which for England is almost unheard of at that time of year. I was itching to be part of it and get some fresh air, escape the metropolis for a few hours at least, and take full advantage of the freakish weather before the horror of a British winter set in.

No such luck, which serves me right for having a hobby.

I had spent the whole day in Wimbledon, but sadly not playing tennis. Instead I was stuck in a corporate training room, which was rather small for the group that I led. And to compound the already claustrophobic conditions, I had purposely increased the room temperature for the afternoon session – I wanted the guys in there to sweat!

I watched the final role play with the same degree of dismay I had experienced with the previous two. This was the crunch – the two sales people had gone through the process; interviewed the ‘buyer’ who was played by their manager, determined his needs in the scenario we had set, put together a proposal and presented their solution. Now they were going for the close.

Would I give them the business?

It was my job to decide on a winner. The sales team that I thought had performed the best over the three days of training. This pair was no worse than the others, but they would never have got the deal for real. They had lost control of the process right from the start. Failure had been guaranteed.

Control!

That’s what it’s all about: Know the buyer, get under his or her skin, take the control away from the one who should own it, and manipulate the game.

I had done it for years - a whiz kid salesman selling big ticket IT solutions into the global finance sector. I had made shit loads of money and powerful contacts then gracefully withdrew from the front line. With security for life and more collateral than I knew what to do with – I elected for a less stressful existence. I wanted to stay involved, but also wanted more leisure time to indulge in darker pursuits – give vent to a side of my nature that once it had been awoken, needed a steady stream of gratification. Setting up my own training company was the compromise – and doing much of the training was a pleasure for me – a hobby so to speak. But few of my pupils had any real flair for the game; few understood the meaning of control and how to use it to advantage.

I know about control.

I know it sounds arrogant, but I’m a master of control.

Control is my very existence – I doubt if I could live without it.

So, Mr. Johnston, do we have a deal?

I almost cringed at the question.

It had to be asked, but the young man posed it with such submissive uncertainty, it was embarrassing to watch and hear. If he had played the game properly right from the start, the final question would be a statement – a close full of certainty, where the response was almost pleaded in confirmation - a ‘yes’ of surrender to a superior will.

Instead he got an, I’ll let you know, from his disinterested boss. Not really the answer he wanted... but better than he deserved.

No. I would not be awarding the business to these guys. Not after that pathetic ending.

Nor would I award it to the team with the young woman who flashed me some cleavage earlier in the day, thinking that that would win me over. Silly cow! Did she seriously believe that a pair of nice tits would swing a deal like this in the real world? No – there was no chance of anyone falling for that: not in the high powered world of big corporate sales that she would have to tread in if she kept her job. She lost credibility at that moment. Oh, a real buyer might have nibbled and led her on – took her to dinner then later to bed - fucked her senseless, shot some spunk over her face – used her like the silly tart that she was... but he wouldn’t have given her the business. She would have got fucked, and fucked again, probably several times over; then at the end of the campaign she would have got fucked for the last time when the guy signed a contract with someone else.

No. On reflection I decided to award it to the black guy and the pretty boy who was obviously queer – the outsiders teamed up together by an uninspiring boss who clearly did not like them– he had given them such a hard time on the role plays. They had technically performed no better than the others, but I liked the honesty of the pair. They were honest about who they were – what you saw was what you got – something that I secretly admired. The black guy had no choice unless he hid behind a phone; but how brave of the gay guy to be out of the closet in a business world that was still predominately homophobic. Braver than me – that’s for sure. I had not been open about my line of deviance except with a very select few, beyond that other, darker, world in which I also lived.

I kept my reasons to myself, but for his openness I awarded the gay boy’s team the business; much to everyone’s surprise. This also had the benefit of annoying the sales manager who looked positively livid when I made the announcement – it was the highlight of a very dull session

Fickle?

Unfair?

A little bit warped?

Too true – but then that’s me. Some people say I’m a right nasty bastard. And they’re probably right. Although not many would be daft enough to say it to my face. I have this very ugly side to me that must never be provoked – a beast within that should always be caged.

Half an hour later I gave the devastating news to the gormless sales manager that none of his staff were up to the mark and that he would do better to spend his remaining training budget on a recruitment campaign. He didn’t take my assessment of his ‘handpicked’ staff at all well, and chose to blame my teaching methods for any underperformance. I tried to reason with him, made some helpful suggestions, but this only incensed him more. He bid me leave his office and never return – his company would have no further use for me. He cast me out in a blaze of insults, stupidly refusing to accept my ‘egotistical opinions’, preferring ignorance to reality, rose tinted glasses to clear sighted vision, trusting to chance rather than seizing control. Not knowing the man he was idiotically berating.

Big mistake!

His days in the job were numbered. Did he not realise that he was being assessed as well? A quick call was made to his CEO, a certain Roger Franklin who just happens to be a good acquaintance of mine in both my worlds, and whose perversions I know all too well having witnessed him perform quite a few. Lunch the following Friday was cordially arranged – I was in no rush to play my hand and take my just revenge. But in a week from today, two players of consequence would take time to further their mutual causes and revel in some sordid tales – exploits from our other world that embraces the darker side. Some difficult truths would be outlined over an excellent meal, and my business with his company, the man in control’s, would be extended to include some sales management training for the new man the CEO would undoubtedly bring in to replace his woeful incumbent.

You think that unfair?

No – of course it’s not. It’s just the action of a master of control!

Chapter 2

With the working week finished, my plan was to head over to the Docklands where I live: in a penthouse, with an amazing view over the River Thames. It’s not overly flashy - just an open plan living space and three large en-suite bedrooms, and another room of my own design where only ‘special’ guests spent some time. I wanted to freshen up after that stifling session, and chill for a few hours before setting out on the prowl in search of some prey for the night. The idiocy of the sales manager and his immature display had left me needing to vent some anger.

I wanted to freshen up after that stifling session and chill for a few hours before setting out on the prowl in search of some prey for the night. The idiocy of the sales manager and his immature display had left me needing to vent some anger.

As I walked back to the car park still seething from the review, I passed the coffee bar that I had favoured during my three day stint in Wimbledon. I enjoy good coffee – a double espresso is essential for me to start the day. The stuff they serve in offices is usually dreadful, so I tend to make my own arrangements. This shop had served me well.

Looking through the window I could see that it was empty with only the one girl behind the counter – off the main drag of Wimbledon High Street, mornings and lunchtime were what kept this place afloat. I hovered outside, my mind suddenly racing, the encounter with the sales manager fanning an earlier slight that made me thirsty for amusement flavoured with revenge. I don’t normally drink coffee late in the day, but I decided to go in anyway and partake of a cup. But it wasn’t coffee that I had a sudden urge for... I was thirsting for a girl called Annette!

I knew it was her behind the counter. The shoulder length blonde hair streaked with pink was a total give away. The hairstyle wasn’t really for me – I prefer the more natural look – but Annette had other attributes in her favour that earned her consideration.

She had a beautiful warm face under that juvenile hair; perfect pale skin with a natural rouge to her cheeks, mischievous blue eyes and full ruby lips which could form the most incredible smile. Annette was beautiful in a classical way which she stupidly tried to disguise. And her body was a dream. Full figured, voluptuous, a cacophony of incredible curves; her breasts were large and ever so pert and she had an ass most women would kill for. She was five feet nine with beautiful shapely legs which she flaunted by wearing a skimpy black skirt – part of the uniform she was forced to wear.

Annette really was a vision – young female eye candy of the highest quality, with a body that was made for fucking. A bit light on the intellect side, at least that was my first opinion based purely on the job she had. But I cared little for intellect as I watched her through the window, tidying things away before closing. What I needed right then was a sexy young body and a mind that I could subjugate with ease. I wanted a few hours