Dark erotic fiction and so it features both dubious and non-consent, but my heroes are always loving and caring as well as being unleashed sadists.
PS. Bokkie is a South african endearment (means little doe if taken literally).
Pieter is South African, so he speaks Afrikaans at times, which is a language mostly derived from Dutch. Jazmine is Australian and this book is set in Papua New Guinea.
Her dress was thin and soft and my grasp of the hem made it ride up the back of her thighs. I gathered it some more until I pulled her off balance and she gasped and staggered into me. The knife carved through the fistful of cloth. Casually I tossed the weapon in the direction of the guard before I tore the top of each sleeve. The dress slipped to the floor.
Naked, and damn, that ivory-white expanse of female skin. No bikini tan lines. I sucked in a long breath. Pervert that I was, I couldn't help looking.
With her head covered, she appeared more of an object, a thing, than my wife had ever been in our S and m scenes. But what a pretty thing. The slope of her spine as it curved into her waist, the tease of her glossy hair across the small of her back, the tremble of her hip when I rested my hand there and pulled her to me, her ass to my groin.
I held her tighter, fingers digging in. So soft. My fingers dug in more, as if they were obeying another, deeper call, until she squirmed the smallest amount...and whimpered.
“I’m going to show you the other side of pain, bokkie.”
I recognized the familiar zing of anticipation. Inflicting pain on women did things to me. Before had been different. This time, I had consent, of sorts. She knew what I did. Why.
I needed to allow myself to enjoy the sadism. It gave me a hyperawareness I’d never get if I stayed distant and gritted my teeth. I had to devote myself. All amped up, I was a gourmet and expert sadist, I could taste the pain with my eyes, my hands...maybe my tongue.
Ja, she was a meal laid out before me. I circled her, twitchy to get going, to see what toys they had.
This was bad.
Be guilty after.
I had to zone in, see every reaction, every flinch, every blanch of skin and trickle of blood from the strikes. And there would be blood.
I'd realized last night that blood was the only way I'd be likely to convince Gregor and co that I’d done it properly. I hadn't told her that. It seemed wiser and kinder not to.
To find out more about the series, here is my book page with the other three books.