Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Excerpt from Pure Paradise by Allison Hobbs


There is really not much more that I can say to praise Allison Hobbs. The fact that I have published more than ten titles by her says it all. If you are looking for the one woman on the planet who is actually freakier than me, Allison Hobbs is the one. If you have not read her books yet, you are really missing out. Read Pure Paradise and read all of her books. She is guaranteed to make you crave for more.

Blessings, Zane


A deliciously decadent glimpse inside a day salon that also caters to the sexual fantasies of its affluent clientele.

Behind closed doors, the Pure Paradise salon secretly offers a more salacious menu of services for its discerning clients. While the company is raking in the dough, its proprietor Milan cultivates her own personal Rolodex of willing men and women who crave to indulge her most voracious desires. It would seem as if Milan has it all, but she wants more. For Milan, the ultimate catch would be the elusive Hilton Dorsey, an unreasonably handsome, former football player. But her relentless, irrational pursuit of the golden boy has caused Milan to neglect her financial benefactor, jeopardizing her budding empire. Will her obsession with Hilton Dorsey be her ultimate downfall? National bestselling author Allison Hobbs returns with another heart-thumping erotic adventure with Pure Paradise, a thrilling novel that caters to the sensual tastes of a diverse audience that is sure to leave readers begging for more.



“What do you think? Do I look like a dominatrix?” Sumi asked Milan. Wearing thigh-high latex boots, a short black rubber dress with a zip-up front, and matching arm-length gloves, she held a black whip and struck a threatening pose. Sumi was an exceptional beauty, an exotic mix of Korean and Italian heritage. Her large doe-shaped eyes sparkled with sensuality. She twisted her pretty face into an exaggerated angry mask and cracked the whip.

Looking dangerously sexy, she wielded the whip like she was eager to thrash the crap out of a man and have him cowering and begging for mercy. Unwilling to admit that Sumi had captured the authentic look of a dominatrix, Milan gave her only a cursory glance. “You look cute,” Milan said with amusement in her tone.

“Cute?” Sumi questioned.

“It’s not Halloween, so what’s the deal? Did you get an invitation to a masquerade ball?” The thickly layered sarcasm was intended to let Sumi know that Milan refused to take her seriously.
Sumi’s red-painted lips turned down in disappointment. “Are you for real?” She glanced in the mirror and struck a pose. “I look hot.” Her words did not ring with conviction. “Don’t you think I look hot?”

Milan sneered. “I doubt that anyone would take you seriously enough to pay for your services. You look gorgeous. That dress is really sexy, but you’re not a convincing dominatrix.”

Sumi placed both hands on her hips, indignant.

“You are not a qualified dominatrix.” Milan went on, “so stop trying to add that to your job description. You’re my personal assistant and I want you to find a qualified person to do the job.”

“But you promised me the job—”

“That was pillow talk. I’m not responsible for the things I say when we’re in bed. Now, bring your sexy self over here and let me unzip that hooker dress.”

Sumi arched a brow. “Oh, now you’re calling me a ho?” There was more than a hint of defiance in her tone.

“If the shoe fits.” Ready to break the tension, Milan flung her a teasing smile. “Aw, don’t worry, Sumi. You’re not any ol’ ho—you’re my personal ho. Is that better?” Milan winked at her tauntingly.

Possessing a severe temper, Sumi stomped over to the bed where Milan lounged naked atop the satin sheets, waiting for her girl toy to join her. “I’m not your ho! I’m your lover. We’re in a relationship!”

Milan wanted to burst out laughing but Sumi was reaching her boiling point. And she was proficient in martial arts, so Milan switched to a placating tone. “Don’t I pay you a hefty salary?” she reminded her assistant. Sumi had not been a very good secretary—her typing skills were awful. Back when Milan merely managed Pure Paradise, Sumi was hired mainly as eye candy, a good advertisement. She was the look of perfection, sitting at her desk in an open area where potential clients could see her. Her exceptional beauty promised similar results to those willing to pay Pure Paradise’s steep prices.

When Milan became the owner, she’d elevated Sumi to the position of her personal assistant and Sumi had blossomed. She performed her numerous duties without complaint and with unfailing devotion. Now, she wanted to do more and Milan didn’t like it.

“Sure, you pay me a good salary, but I work very hard, so don’t insinuate that you’re giving me a handout.” Sumi was hurt, and her voice took on a higher pitch. “Every week I put in sixty hours or more and I never request overtime.”

Milan sucked her teeth. Screw Sumi and her freakin’ martial arts. She was taking her tirade much too far. “If you dared to ask for overtime, I’d fire you on the spot. I elevated you from a lowly secretary to your current prestigious position. You’re earning four times the amount you made before I took over Pure Paradise.”

Sumi shot a glance at the whip she still held, which made Milan feel a bit uneasy. “You practically run Pure Paradise! I allow you to strut around barking orders at the staff as if you were the actual owner of my establishment. What else could you possibly hope for?” She’d intended for her words to make Sumi melt but now Sumi was huffing and puffing, angrier than ever.

“I want respect. I’m doing the job of three people and I do it for you. I do it because I love you, Milan.”

What’s love got to do with it! Milan felt like belting out that old Tina Turner song but she couldn’t sing and Sumi didn’t have a sense of humor. It was sad but true; Sumi was confusing good sex with love. Though the moment was awkward, Milan wanted some of Sumi’s fabulous sex right now, so she forced her mouth to curl into what she thought would imitate a loving smile. “Unzip that dress, sexy, and bring your cute ass over here.”

Disappointment dimmed the playful sparkle that had shone in Sumi’s eyes when she first demonstrated her ability to crack a whip. “I’m not unzipping shit,” Sumi said with saucy impudence. “Why do you get such malicious pleasure from treating me like a plaything? I’m not your toy.”

Yes, you are! You’re my prized sex toy, my precious Sumi-toy! Milan was tempted to say, but she didn’t dare utter her inner thoughts while Sumi had hold of that damned whip.

Using amazing cunt tricks, Sumi had catered to Milan’s freakish desires, and had become a human replacement for Milan’s entire collection of battery-operated pleasure providers. She didn’t need them anymore. Sumi could get Milan off faster and with stronger eruptions than even her expensive, gold-plated fuck-buddy. And Sumi didn’t have to rely on a synthetic strap-on phallus to make Milan cum. She could do things with her cute little cunt that drove Milan to the brink of madness.

But the pretty little thing was so sensitive, Milan knew better than to piss her off by telling her to her face that she was nothing more than a sex toy. Sumi’s temper along with her Asian pride made her unpredictable. She was apt to fly off the handle and karate chop all Milan’s exquisite bedroom furniture. Knowing Sumi the way she did, it wouldn’t surprise her if the girl quit on the spot if Milan insulted her by calling her a “Sumi-toy.” Milan frowned as she was struck by the realization that it would be very difficult to replace her sexy Sumi.

With a placating smile, she gently grasped Sumi’s wrist and pulled her closer to the bed. “I’m sorry.” Milan tugged her wrist until Sumi dropped the whip and started unzipping, displaying pert breasts and a curvy petite body.

Sumi’s mons pubis, covered by a layer of jet black silky hair, was an alluring sight, causing Milan to unconsciously lick her lips.

Sumi bent and peeled down the top of her right boot. “Keep them on,” Milan insisted. She didn’t feel like waiting for her assistant to struggle out of the skin-tight boots. Besides, Sumi looked hot with the boots on.

Propping herself up on an elbow, Milan tugged Sumi forward until Sumi’s crotch was flush with her face. Playfully, Milan blew out a stream of cooling breath, blowing Sumi’s silken pubic hairs, making them flutter and lift until they parted and an olive-colored nub poked through.

Mmm. Milan’s mouth and her pussy started watering at the same time.

Flicking her tongue against Sumi’s little clit, she slowly broke her assistant’s resolve. She sucked softly, relishing the taste and texture as much as Sumi enjoyed getting her clit sucked. Milan sank her tongue into Sumi’s pot of tangy spice, which had a zesty bite that left a pleasant ginger-honey aftertaste. She ate Sumi’s pussy until Sumi was sufficiently stimulated.

It was her turn now. Milan lay flat on her back. Sumi climbed on top of her, fitting her petite body against Milan’s and running her hands along Milan’s lean mocha-colored limbs.

Milan grasped the sides of Sumi’s face and pulled her mouth to hers. Sumi closed her eyes blissfully as Milan slid her tongue between her lips, sharing the ginger-honey flavor.

Moaning, Sumi responded to Milan’s pussy-flavored kiss with slow gyrations and soft pelvic thrusts. With each thrust, Milan’s legs spread a little wider, giving Sumi more access to her opened treasure chest.

“Fuck me,” Milan murmured.

Lifting up, Sumi gazed at her lovingly as she stroked the bushy hair that covered Milan’s mons. She parted Milan’s pussy lips and toggled her clit until it moistened, became engorged, and darkened to a deeper hue. Sumi was gearing up for the good part.

Milan inhaled deeply as she readied herself. Sumi’s pussy tricks gave a stiff dick some hellified competition.

She straddled Milan, her silky snatch brushing against Milan’s bushy forest. Sumi aligned her parted pussy with Milan’s sensitive clit, and then sank down, clamping her tight pussy muscles around Milan’s swelling pleasure bud.

Each pussy bite from Sumi was thrillingly electrical. Sumi would soon take her over the edge. Milan had her share of sexual experiences with other women, but the pussy she’d been acquainted with couldn’t compare to Sumi’s. Milan had no idea how Sumi had trained her pussy to snap the way it did. Maybe it was all that exercising and martial arts training that made Sumi’s cunt so unusually agile, like a pair of lips, only tighter and with more grip.

With blissful expectation, Milan took in a deep breath. Using rapid vaginal clenching, Sumi’s strong cunt muscles seized Milan’s taut clit, tightening and then releasing, taking a series of nibbling pussy bites that stimulated Milan’s hot spot better than a mechanical device.

Milan shuddered and bit down on her bottom lip, bracing herself for the inevitable torrent of hot sexual release.

“Wait! Please, Sumi! Don’t make me cum yet!” Temporarily out of her mind with sexual tension, Milan was not too proud to beg.

Once the pleading began, the tables turned in Sumi’s favor. On top, her expression confident, Sumi lowered her head. “Kiss me, bitch.”

Helplessly, Milan sought Sumi’s lips; all the while frantically twisting her hips, silently pleading for more tantalizing pussy bites.

“You need my cunt, don’t you, bitch?” Sumi demanded angrily, nostrils flaring.

“Yes!” Milan gave a cry of agonized joy. Her hand touched the small of Sumi’s back, pressing her small breasts against her own. Their peaked nipples rubbed together, creating more excitement and friction. Sumi fastened her walls even tighter around Milan’s protrusive sex organ, making it throb, making Milan gasp with pleasure.

“Slow down, I don’t want to cum. Not yet,” Milan said, her voice hoarse with passion. But her body movements spoke otherwise. Undulating, she lifted up and then ground her distended female organ even deeper into Sumi’s extraordinary pussy.

Dispensing vicious cunt snaps, Sumi pulled and twisted Milan’s pearl of passion,, giving her pleasure so unbearable, Milan had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming.
Sumi palmed Milan’s taut buttocks, pulling her closer, intensifying the pussy friction as she fucked Milan senseless. “I don’t like sharing you and I shouldn’t have to. Nobody can fuck you like I do. That pussy is mine. All mine!”

Having Milan at a sexual disadvantage, Sumi put her in an awkward position. “You know how much I love you, Milan. Why can’t you love me back?” Her expression was a blend of lust, love, and sorrow. Lust, the dominant emotion, was spectacularly expressed as she clenched and grinded against Milan’s feminine region. With her swiftly rotating hips, her snapping pussy pulling on Milan’s engorged clit, Sumi demanded, “Do you love me?”

Milan was out of her mind with passion and willing to say anything to keep Sumi giving up the cunt. “Yes, I love you. You know I do,” she whispered. Milan felt confused by her own words, unable to distinguish fact from fiction. She actually felt something close to love as an orgasm pulsed through her. But survival had also kicked in. If she didn’t return Sumi’s declaration of love, the little hothead was apt to hop off her pussy, throw on her clothes, and storm out into the night, leaving Milan hanging in an awful state of sexual duress.

Holding Sumi and pressing her down, assisting her in using her hot-red snapper to get a tighter grip on her own peaked flesh, Milan’s could feel a fiery sensation, simmering at first, and then burning wildly through her lower region. She squeezed Sumi’s delicate shoulders, quivering and moaning as she convulsed and then exploded.

Keeping up her rhythm, Sumi kept winding her awesome little body until she joined Milan in soul-shuddering ecstasy.

Finally catching her breath, Milan smiled sardonically and stroked Sumi’s silky hair. “You’re getting out of hand, Sumi,” Milan whispered, her voice raspy with residual lust. She pulled Sumi’s silky hair hard enough to inflict pain and to remind her who had the real control in their relationship.

“Ow! Stop, I hate that rough stuff.” Sumi rolled her eyes and then began to sulk, begrudgingly relinquishing the power to Milan.

Back in full control of her sanity, Milan gave Sumi’s hair another yank. “Ow!” Sumi screamed and moved away from Milan’s reach. “I’m going home,” she spat.

“Go! I got what I wanted,” Milan fired back.”

“You’re such a bitch. I hate you.” She leapt from the bed and grabbed the dominatrix dress.

“I thought you loved me.” Milan laughed tauntingly while Sumi angrily pulled on the dress and yanked the zipper up. With her head tilted in thought, Milan watched Sumi. She seriously had to figure out a way to get more control of her hot-tempered assistant. Clearly, the surly little sexpot needed a few lessons in obedience training. Milan had tried and tried to break Sumi’s will, but she had only a loose grasp on the spitfire. Thank goodness she usually had sense enough to placate the pussy-snapping hussy until she gave Milan the blood-rushing climaxes she craved.
Sumi stormed out of Milan’s bedroom and stomped down the long corridor. Milan jumped out of bed and ran behind Sumi. “Sumi,” she yelled. Sumi turned around, her expression hopeful.

“You forgot something!” Milan tossed the black whip at her and slammed her bedroom door.


Pure Paradise Day Spa with its enchanting ambience—handpicked flowers, potted foliage, tinkling music, flickering candlelight, and intoxicatingly fragrant scents that wafted throughout the establishment—appeared to live up to its name. Swathed in comfy robes and slippers, the clientele looked pampered and relaxed. They milled about, sipping mimosas or herbal tea as they waited to be indulged with a Chocolate-Bliss facial, a sea kelp body massage, hot stone therapy, hydrotherapy, waxing, manicures, pedicures, or any of the numerous services offered.
On a lower level, private fantasy theme rooms equipped with costumes and props were provided for couples. A fantasy session was ridiculously costly, but affluent patrons didn’t mind spending big bucks to indulge their freaky imaginations.

In a separate room on the lower floor, Milan Walden, owner of Pure Paradise, greeted prospective clients, a husband and wife, with a very tight smile. Compared to her lavish office suite upstairs, the consultation room was rather smallish. She felt boxed in and out of her element in the modestly furnished office. Actually, Sumi should have been interviewing this couple, but Sumi was visiting a local dungeon, observing Mistress Veronique, a premier dominatrix, at work. If the woman was as cruel and intimidating as reputed, Sumi was to offer her a contract to work as a consultant at Pure Paradise.

Milan sighed. She needed two assistants. No, strike that. The way her business was booming, she needed three or four assistants. Sumi was not going to like sharing the power, but she’d just have to deal with it. The poor dear was being stretched to capacity as it was, and business was suffering. Milan corrected her thought. No, business wasn’t suffering…Milan was. She absolutely despised having to interact with clients.

Yet matters of a sexual nature were too delicate to be handled by any staff member other than Sumi. Admittedly, her assistant was good at her job—so good, she thought she was capable of taking on the additional job title of “in-house” dominatrix. What a laugh. Sumi didn’t have any real power. Milan allowed her assistant to execute her precise orders: reprimanding, hiring, and firing on Milan’s behalf. But the girl didn’t have a dominant bone in her cute little body. What a pity.

Lately, Sumi had started behaving like a diva. Milan didn’t like her assistant’s new attitude, so today she’d sent Sumi on a mission that would give her a badly needed reality check. After observing an authentic dominatrix at work, with her foot pressed down on a naughty slave’s neck, Sumi would come to her senses and realize she was too delicate to really crack a whip. Sumi needed to get rid of that latex dress, the boots, and the whip and devote all her attention and concentration on angling her snapping pussy around Milan’s ripened clit.

She was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea, a scheme that would put Sumi in her place. Milan shook her head, marveling at her own sheer genius. She gazed at the paperwork and then returned her attention to the oddly paired couple who sat on the other side of the rather ordinary desk. The plain oak desk made her yearn for her custom- designed power desk. Her desk screamed success! Made of six different types of exotic wood, it cost seventy-two thousand dollars—as much as some people spent on a luxury car. It was a spectacular piece of furniture and was most fitting for an extraordinary woman such as herself.

Milan glanced at her surroundings and wrinkled her nose. As soon as she got rid of this bothersome pair, she’d make a mad dash to her elegant office suite.

The wife, an attractive, slim blonde, had a snooty air about her and she had irked Milan on sight. She looked to be in her late twenties, professionally attired in pearls and a nicely cut business suit. The husband, on the other hand, swarthy with a big belly, was considerably older than his wife. Additionally, he had the unpolished look of a laborer and wore a T-shirt bearing the logo of a roofing company. The man was totally icky!

“Well, it looks like everything is in order,” Milan said, looking down at the paper work on the desk. “You’ve passed our requirements with flying colors.” She didn’t smile and maintained a business-like demeanor, sitting erect with her lips pursed, her eyes intense, her expression serious. She found the ill-matched couple nauseating and couldn’t muster any more than the same tight smile. “So…which fantasy interests you?”

“I own a roofing company. There’s good money in roofing, but I have to put in a lot of ridiculously long hours—”

Do I look like I give a shit? “And your point is?” Agitated, Milan glanced down at the application again. “Mr. Tamburro,” she said with a sigh.

“I’m getting to the point,” the husband said brusquely.

Milan searched the wife’s face, hoping for some type of intervention, but the wife squirmed and refused to meet Milan’s agitated gaze.

“I put my wife through six years of college,” the husband went on. “She has a master’s degree in business. I don’t claim to be a scholar, but I make a lot more money than she’ll ever dream of earning.” Mr. Tamburro looked at his attractive wife with contempt. The wife gave Milan a “See what I have to put up with” look, which Milan chose to ignore.

Mr. Tamburro would be footing the bill for the couples’ fantasy so Milan decided to reserve her attention for him.

“You’ve looked over the brochures,” Milan said with a sigh. Her patience was dwindling quickly. “Have you made a selection?”

A crimson shade of rage suddenly tinged Mr. Tamburro’s olive complexion. Clutching the glossy brochures, he blurted, “My bitch of a wife cheated on me! Not once…but twice…and with her co-workers.” He glared at his wife. “Seems she’s developed the hots for the suit-and-tie type. I’m not good enough for her anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Mrs. Tamburro whined.

Milan waved her hand, cutting off the adulterous wife and returning her attention to the bill-footing husband. “Is that what you’d like—a fantasy that involves wearing a suit and tie?”

Keeping the annoyance out of her tone was difficult. She’d given the couple a brochure with every fantasy Pure Paradise offered. She hadn’t anticipated taxing her brain to come up with an impromptu suit-and-tie fantasy session for the kooky couple.

”Hell no! I want her to get a sound spanking for cheating on me.” He rolled his eyes at his wife. The wife tried to maintain an impassive expression but couldn’t. Cringing with embarrassment, she dropped her gaze. Her cheeks took on a pink tint.

“Oh!” Milan perked up. “Well, you’ll be delighted to know we have a special room for corporal punishment. It’s equipped with an array of thrashing devices from paddles and hair brushes to whips and canes. I’ll just need you both to sign a consent form.” She pushed the consent form across the desk.

“Not so fast. There’s a slight hitch.” Mr. Tamburro’s angry expression changed to embarrassment. “I can’t do the spanking.” He cast a warm gaze toward his wife. “I love my wife. Besides, I wasn’t raised to mistreat or put my hands on a woman. I behave like a gentleman even when my wife takes it upon herself to carouse around like a stinking whore.”

Milan sighed in exasperation. “Okay, if you’re not in the mood for a paddling session, which fantasy interests you?” She spoke through gritted teeth. Pure Paradise offered a vast array of sex services but she’d be damned if she’d waste her breath with a high-spirited sales pitch. She would have never allowed the couple in the consultation room had she known they had yet to select a service.

It was obvious that the communication at Pure Paradise was badly flawed. But not for long. Milan would start interviewing new assistants immediately. She’d hire as many as she thought necessary to ensure Pure Paradise operated smoothly. Sumi would just have to get over herself and deal with some competition.

Milan stood. “Why don’t you two go home and look over the brochures again. When you’ve made a decision, call Sumi Cranston, my assistant.” She forced a smile and cut a dismissive glance toward the door.

“I’ve made up my mind and I’m prepared to pay in advance,” Mr. Tamburro said, leaning forward as he pulled his wallet out of a back pocket. He whipped out a credit card.

Milan ignored his offer of payment. She remained standing, hinting that the interview was over. “Mr. Tamburro. I’m a busy woman. You and Mrs. Tamburro should go home and discuss the service that suits your needs.”

“I already told you. My wife needs a good spanking.” He looked at his wife for confirmation. Wearing an expression that looked as pained as if she were being flogged at that very moment, the wife gave a curt nod.

“Like I said, I’m too much of a gentleman to hit my wife, but I’m willing to pay top dollar to get the job done.”

The wife gasped. Suddenly interested, Milan jerked her head toward the husband. “You want someone else to do your dirty work?”

Looking embarrassed, he nodded.“I’ll have to bring in a trained master and that will double the cost.”

“Not a problem,” Mr. Tamburro said.

“Honey,” the wife whined, her eyes wide. “I think we should discuss this matter privately.”

“My mind is made up,” he barked at his wife. “Either you get your tail whipped or go get yourself a lawyer.”

It was an unusual request. Most couples used the themed rooms that were listed in the brochure. They enjoyed experimenting with the equipment to indulge their perverted fantasies. She could have turned down Mr. Tamburro’s request, but Milan was eager for the challenge.
She cleared her throat. “Mr. Tamburro,” she said softly, “we offer several choices…” The husband nodded for Milan to continue. “There’s verbal humiliation with a light thrashing—a sort of erotic spanking, which is what I recommend—”

“What else do you offer?” he eyed Milan intently.

“Well…” Milan took an excited breath as she struggled to contain her own sexual arousal. The topic was quite stimulating and had her juices flowing. “We also offer a more harsh punishment. Your cheating spouse would be bare-assed and given a severe spanking.” Mr. Tamburro’s face lit with interest.

“You should be aware that a severe spanking will leave residual welts and bruising,” Milan said casually, though her mind was racing to come up with a more sadistic form of punishment. And there was a problem.

She didn’t have a trained master. All her employees were certified in massaging, aromatherapy, polishing toenails, and all sorts of therapies that didn’t meet Mr. Tamburro’s requirements. Hopefully, Sumi would get Mistress Veronique to sign the contract. If the woman was a true dominatrix she would be willing to dispense punishment to women as well as men.

The husband sat on the edge of the chair, rubbing his chin excitedly. “I want her to get a harsh spanking,” he said, nodding and looking vindicated. “The full treatment! Whatever it costs, I’m willing to pay.”

The wife jerked back, gawking at her husband. Her words came out in a sputter. “I’m not, uh, sure about this. We really have to talk.”

Milan ignored her. “Would you like to sit in on the session, Mr. Tamburro?” A devilish smile played on Milan’s lips.

“I sure would!” he exclaimed as he gleefully rubbed his hands together. The wife groaned. A sudden shadow fell over the husband’s face. “No. I couldn’t just sit back and watch while some sadistic fella beat the crap out of my wife.”

The wife brightened perceptibly.

Milan shrugged. “I was actually going to have a woman spank your wife. A skilled dominatrix.”

“A woman!” Mr. Tamburro reared back and snorted in disapproval. “What kind of pain could a woman inflict? If I’m going to spend top dollar for punishment, I want my money’s worth. I want a man to beat her. A big black buck!” he added and glared at his wife.

Where the hell would she find a big black buck who was a trained master? Gerard, her former trainer, came to mind, and she instantly tried to dismiss him from her thoughts but couldn’t.
At Milan’s insistence, Gerard’s benefactor, the evil Mistress Ming, had been financially crushed. Ming’s illegal “training center,” along with her wealthy husband’s chain of fitness centers had been gobbled up by one of Maxwell Torrance’s corporations. Maxwell Torrance, billionaire and tycoon, was Milan’s personal sex slave.

Maxwell had put Ming out of business, sent her packing. Milan felt a shiver of delight imagining the arrogant hussy back in China, living in poverty. Stripped of her jewels and couture wardrobe, and all her money, Ming was hopefully working her fingers to the bone in some rice field. Though Milan had no idea what had become of Ming, imagining the evil wench sweating as she toiled for a few coins was a delicious fantasy.

Gerard? He was most likely still in the States. Oddly, her heart didn’t race. She was over Gerard. Her heart was set on someone else—and once again, the man she’d set her sights on was playing hard to get. Milan sighed. She sure knew how to pick them.

Returning her thoughts to the present dilemma, she smiled at the couple. “Mr. and Mrs. Tamburro, as you know, Pure Paradise has designed numerous couples’ fantasies, but we’re flexible and are fully capable of tailoring a program that meets your needs. Don’t worry, Mr. Tamburro, you don’t have to go in the room with your wife. You don’t even have to accompany your wife here. I understand your unwillingness to view her chastisement firsthand, but might I suggest that you accept the complimentary DVD of her punishment session? I highly recommend that you and your wife view the DVD together, and often. Reliving the pain and humiliation repeatedly should discourage your cheating wife from engaging in future adulterous affairs.” Milan amazed herself with her brilliant creativity. Feeling proud of the sales pitch that she made up as she went along, Milan beamed at the married couple.

The wife cringed with horror.

“Oh, boy. That sounds like a winner,” Mr. Tamburro gushed, jubilant. “I’ll get a lot of pleasure watching the DVD with her.” He scratched his head. “How many times should we watch it?”
“Every night before sex,” Milan responded quickly.

“We don’t have sex every night,” Mrs. Tamburro stated, balking at the idea.

“It’s not too late to start. This woman here…” he pointed to Milan. “She’s a sex therapist and she knows what she’s talking about.”

Sex therapist! Sounds good to me. “You absolutely need to have intercourse with your wife on a daily basis, but without tenderness,” she cautioned, taking her new title seriously.

“You hear that, hon? I don’t want to hear anything about headaches or any talk about your menstrual cycle. No excuses. I want my daily ration of sex without a word of complaint.”

“Oh, fabulous,” the wife said sarcastically.

To Milan’s satisfaction, the deal was about to be sealed. She bestowed Mr. Tamburro with her most winning smile. “Sign right here.” She pointed to the lines marked with an X and sat down as the husband perused the form. He affixed his signature and then handed the pen to his wife.
Picturing the prissy Mrs. Tamburro getting her ass spanked made Milan terribly horny. The unmistakable twitching between her legs was getting stronger and more demanding by the second. She needed to get rid of the Tamburro’s and take care of her personal situation. “We can accommodate you next Wednesday at two.”

The wife consulted her BlackBerry and frowned. “I have an important meeting on that date. Do you have another opening—can you fit me in after five?” Her trembling tone pleaded for a different time slot.

“There you go…putting that friggin’ job before our marriage.” Mr. Tamburro gave his wife a stern look. “Listen up, Mrs. Cheater, I want you to cancel that meeting and get your buns over here at two o’clock on the dot. If you can’t make it, well, I guess I’ll see you in divorce court. I’m serious. Our prenup protects my money. You won’t get one single dollar. Let’s see how far you get with your measly salary.” He sneered at his wife and then looked at Milan. “Her job is nothing but show,” he said to Milan. “With all those degrees I paid for, she still doesn’t earn the kind of money she enjoys spending.” He poked himself in the chest. “I’m a wealthy man, but I don’t have to wear fancy clothes to broadcast how much I’m worth.”

At the mention of the prenuptial agreement, Milan felt an uncharacteristic stab of sympathy for the wife. Over a year ago, she experienced the humiliation of being forced to sign an outrageous prenup and could relate to Mrs. Tamburro’s dilemma. But that was all behind Milan. She’d come out on top. Now large and in charge, Milan defied anyone to try to tell her what to do. She owed a thriving business and, as shocking as it seemed, she had billionaire business tycoon Maxwell Torrance by the balls. Literally. She owned the man. She made him wear an engraved collar of ownership as proof.

Nothing had been handed to her. Unlike Mrs. Tamburro, Milan had overcome many obstacles to get to her station in life. Withdrawing her sympathy, she turned cold eyes toward the wife. “Do you agree to the two o’clock appointment?”

Tears clouded Mrs. Tamburro’s eyes. She turned to her husband. “I don’t think this is necessary. I’ve learned my lesson. Please, sweetheart.”

“It’s your choice…take the whipping or we’re getting a divorce.” Mr. Tamburro was adamant.
Resignedly, Mrs. Tamburro nodded. The husband gave Milan a conspiratorial wink and then tried to hand Milan his credit card. Milan recoiled as if handling the payment process would tarnish her. “Pay at the front desk, please,” she said with a grimace.

The moment the couple left the consultation room, Milan picked up the phone and called security.

“Royce, there’s an emergency in the basement consultation room. Get down here, fast!”

If you enjoyed this excerpt, I hope that you will purchase the book at your local bookstore or purchase it online at: http://www.amazon.com/Pure-Paradise-Presents-Allison-Hobbs/dp/1593092245/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1247601239&sr=1-1


Katlynne LaSalle said...

Hello Zane! As always we know we can look to you to publish books that bring the heat!

I bring the heat in my first novel called "Life on the Low: creepin' with hip hop"

Here's the link: https://www.createspace.com/3406184
check out my blog to read an outline of the story mydownlowlife3.blogspot.com. You will love it!

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