This Stream of Dreams (Mirella, Rashid and Adam Book 2) by Roberta Latow

males, or be used by men for their pleasure of torturing her.
    The visions of sex Humayun had had that night with two handsome young men plus twenty or more of Rashid’s male guests, who indulged themselves in any fashion they chose to — some bizarre, even frightening, and all of which weremadly sexually stimulating — were the most thrilling pictures Deena had ever seen, and would stay with her for the remainder of her life. To taste a fraction of Humayun’s pleasure, experience such boundless sensual delight, was to live and die in the same instant. Such an adventure as that was certain to enrich life, Deena understood now. She had to have that experience.
    Brindley removed the silk sandals from Deena’s feet. She watched his face in the moonlight and saw not one crack in the façade of English reserve he wore so well. Was the erotic passion there to satisfy her needs? He folded the skirt of her evening dress up onto her thighs, and raised first one leg then the other, unclipped her garters, and rolled each stocking down slowly, as if he were savoring the act. He tucked the stockings into the shoes and placed them neatly next to her, then he bent down and placed a kiss on her thigh.
    He stood between her legs, spanned her waist under the skirt with his hands, then moving them down over her naked flesh adeptly unhooked the garter belt and slid it from around her and dropped it in the sand. How could this gentle Englishman take her where she wanted to go, through all the sexual portals that led through debauchery to depravity, all those places so foreign to Deena that Humayun had shown her glimpses of?
    Brindley surprised her when he spread her legs further apart. She felt the strings of her bikini panties snap as he slid her off the boardwalk and the slip of silk from between her legs. Before the skirt of her gown could fall and cover her nakedness he tied it up around her waist.
    The night air was warm and it caressed her exposed flesh, wrapped itself around her like a seductive lover. It thrilled her like the touch of Brindley’s searching hands. She turned around and reached for his mask, abandoned on the boardwalk next to her, and broke it from its handle, while he was fondling and licking the luscious orbs of her bottom. Turning back to him again she pulled his tie. The bow dissolved, and she slid it from around his neck and, placing his mask across his eyes, she clumsily tied it in place. He understood and smiled. When she held her own mask up to hide behind, he took it away from her and threw it on the sand, took her by the hand and pulled her along the dunes now cool underfoot,and over clumps of grass covered with dew that startled the feet.
    Through the grass and shrubs he led her, leaving the beach and the bonfires and the people behind, and as the grasses grew higher and more abundant, the path of sand they were following grew more narrow, forcing them to walk along it in Indian-file, Brindley in back pushing her along, slapping her bottom whenever she hesitated. He stripped himself of his clothes as they walked, dropping items along the path. And now whether the half-naked man in the mask was capable of taking Deena on the erotic road she was determined to travel seemed less doubtful.
    In a small clearing, deep in the tall grasses, they found the old gray weatherbeaten boathouse. Yellow candlelight shone through the small uncovered window. They could see the shadow of two people moving about inside. The excitement of what was to come was almost unbearable, unnervingly so.
    Brindley put a hand on Deena’s shoulder and she stopped. Still silent they stood in front of each other and their eyes met. Slowly he unzipped his fly and dropped his trousers. Deena fumbled with her dress, unable to take her eyes from the wholly naked Brindley standing massively rampant in front of her. This tall, wiry, slim-hipped, masked man appeared to be all cock and balls, and, frighteningly, an instrument of boundless sex. It was