Home Page    Log in / register    Newsletter    Authors

Search by Title, Author or words


Shopping Cart

No Cart Open


Books showing a sign means books can be sent direct to your Kindle from our download pages or Member Library -
if your Kindle has the Personal Document Service feature! Other eReader formats (epub, etc) are also available.



Breaking Laiyla (Natasha Taylor)

Breaking Laiyla by Natasha Taylor

Click here for larger cover


Add To Cart

More By This Author

    • Average 5.0 from 1 ratings

A magical realm.

Torri, a beautiful virgin girl of her clan saw all of her loved ones fall to their death against a powerful opposing force. Determined to take revenge, she pressed forward alone, a mistake which would cost her independence, modesty and virginity.

She gets captured by Lord Venlen. As soon as Venlen finds that Torri is a untouched, exquisite virgin he realizes that taking her and ravishing her against her will in a magical ritual will bound Torri forever to him. He rechristen Torri as Laiyla. Now a fate and future awaits Laiyla which she would have never imagined on her own.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 2 / 2019

No. words: 76729

Style: Sex Slavery / Training, Bondage/BDSM Fantasy

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Chapter 1

Her time was running short.
She knew this with a certainty that burned in her chest and pressed into her skin. Darkness swirled around her and shadows flickered in her distant vision. From where she sat perched on the high, thick branch towering over the clearing, she watched as night fell in thick curtains of dark blue. The moon offered no protection tonight.
She shifted and stretched her hands up over her arms. Her slim body trembled with the tension of inaction. She had been sitting, waiting, watching, for hours. She longed to press her feet into the ground of the clearing, to feel the familiar connection to the lifeforce of the forest. She rested her hand on the rough bark of the Mother tree, sending a gentle burst of energy through the bond, and was rewarded with a warmth that spread across her hand and threaded through her body. The Mother tree had talked to her, wordlessly, in that most secret of languages, through her long hours lying in wait. It pressed images into her mind that filled her with hot and sticky dread, settling in her stomach like a coiled snake. Creatures, dark and cunning, had passed by the tree in the days that had brought her here to the clearing. Creatures that belonged to legends, that could not exist here. Somehow, they had come to life.
Something stirred on the far side of the clearing. She froze, her eyes narrowing at the tall shadow between two young saplings. Her hand instinctively felt for the dagger at her belt. She pressed the small hilt into her palm, reassured by its compact and balanced weight. She shifted slightly, her toned legs flexing, balancing, reading herself to jump. The shadow crept forward. She was out of time.
The Mother tree let out a silent cry, anguish and helplessness leaving her breathless. The trees had lost their power. They could no longer protect the young Fae who lived among them, the Fae whose numbers had been slowly dwindling. Her family was dying. She had come here knowing. Knowing they were there for her. Knowing she would have to end it, one way or another. She would draw them away from the others, giving them a chance to breathe, to recover. The creatures would continue to prowl, but they could protect each other, could hide together, if only the Shadows would stop their attacks.
Keeping her eyes on the dark figure, she returned the dagger to her belt. Slowly, silently, she crept from the branch. She was impossibly short for a Fae, her slight frame reaching a measly 61 inches. Her body moved fluidly under her tunic, the soft fabric hugging her curves. Slim, powerful muscles stretched gracefully as she moved down the wide trunk, swinging from branch to branch, her small feet barely touching the next branch as she swiftly climbed down. She was on the ground in seconds. The Knowing bloomed under her feet as she started running, finding the narrow path without having to look for it. There were three of them. They hunted her.
She sprinted through the darkness, barely registering the glowing eyes of her nighttime companions as she passed. They watched her run, wisps of dark hair escaping the braid that flew behind her. Blood pounded in her ears. They were too close. She needed time... She needed to get them further away than this. She ran harder, stretching her legs and finding pleasure in the burn of exertion, despite the fear on the back of her neck. Further... Further. She needed to get them further away. They wouldn't circle back, she knew, once they caught up to her. But if they caught her too soon, they might stay, might continue to pick off her clan one by one. Her eyes burned as the cool night air whipped past her face.
Laiyla. She staggered, her breath catching in strained gasps, the growl that carried her name echoing through her. Impossible. They couldn't know who she really was. They wanted her dead, she knew. They sensed what she was. But they couldn't know who she was.
She ran.
He watched her stumble, could feel her fear and disbelief. It charged the air around her. He chuckled softly. She was wild, evading him for far longer than he cared to admit. He leaned back against the towering birch, following her progress as she led them away from the clearing. He knew what she was doing. But he didn't care about her companions anymore. The killings had been a way of drawing her out, a way to make clear the consequences of her resistance.
It had worked.
His men followed her easily enough. He had ordered them to stay back, wanting to let her tire herself out in the chase. Lazily, he pushed off the tree and started walking.
She felt she had been running for hours. Her lungs burned unpleasantly. Her leg muscles strained beneath the fighting leathers she wore. Her nails dug into her palms. What were they waiting for? She strained her ears against the sounds of her own pounding heartbeat, the light thuds of her feet against the forest floor as she moved forward. She could hear nothing.
She chanced a glance back at the winding path. No shadows followed her. Her thoughts raced. They were playing with her. They were letting her tire. Exhaustion pressed in on her. When was the last time she had slept? Or ate, for that matter? She couldn't remember. The past few days felt like a blur.
A solid mass slammed into her middle. She flew backwards, stunned and breathless. Rough hands grabbed her collar and slammed her into a tree. Her head swam. Her vision blurred. She dropped heavily, her limbs a leaden weight. She looked up. Through the haze, all she could see was a hooded figure, his face hidden in shadows. Darkness swallowed her.
She felt eyes studying her, calculating, cold. She shifted. Pain bloomed beneath her eyelids. She raised her hands to her head and gasped. Her fingers touched a warm, sticky substance, and she knew that she was bleeding. Tentatively, she opened her eyes. Her world swam and spun. All she knew was pain. Firelight danced among the trees as she blinked up at them, her memory coming back to her in waves.
She was captured.
She sat up, instantly regretting the move. Fresh pain pounded in her head, her breath coming in strangled gasps. She turned to her side, bracing herself on her elbows as she tried to focus. Slowly, the world stopped moving. She looked up.
Cool, dark eyes bore into her from across the firepit. They were filled with rage. Rage, and... Something else. Something she couldn't place. She shivered. Her hand flew to her belt, searching for her dagger. It wasn't there.
"Did you really expect to keep it?" His voice was soft, unhurried, bored. She bared her teeth at him. He shrugged, anger simmering beneath the surface of his gaze. "What do you want?" she snapped. He looked at her blankly and didn't bother to answer. His gaze fell to her lips, and then roamed over her body. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she turned to look at her surroundings.
She didn't recognize this part of the forest. Unfamiliar trees surrounded them, and she reached toward them with her mind, recoiling sharply when she felt a blank space where their essence should be.
Something was very, very wrong here.
She looked back at him, feeling his immovable presence assessing her, measuring her. She studied his face. A shadow of a beard framed his square jaw. Thick lips parted, his breathing slow, measured, his chest rising and falling steadily. His eyes were a midnight black, gleaming in the light of the slow burning fire. He was impossibly big. Muscles rippled under the tight ivory shirt he wore as he shifted and flexed his neck. A deep scar ran up the side of his neck from his collarbone to his ear, and she grinned, imagining him injured and bleeding. He cocked his head and glared at her in silent demand.
"I'm just imagining how I'm going to kill you," she said, emboldened by the presence of the scar. "I think I'll take my time. Haste is waste." She flashed him a grin.
In a flash he was on his feet. She blinked. She hadn't even seen him move. In two strides he was on top of her, grasping her by the neck and pulling her up, pressing her against a wide birch. He growled, the deep rumbling filling her body, sending flutters into her lower abdomen. She wouldn't cower. She stared at him, a silent challenge in her eyes.
His thumb pressed into the hollow of her neck, and he reached up with his other hand and tugged sharply on her braid, pulling her head back and further exposing her neck to him. He pressed harder, and her breaths became strained. He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck, his lips tickling her ear as he spoke. "You should understand, Laiyla, that you are in a position of great power." He lowered his face further and she felt him smile against her neck. "Imagine how many lives you are still responsible for. All of your lovely friends. And some of them, so young. So tender." He pulled away and stared down at her. "Imagine how easily you could bring death to their door."
Bile rose in her throat. Her eyes burned and she stared back at him, seeing the truth in his threat. His grip on her throat loosened. She trembled. "What do you want?" she asked again, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.
His lips curved up in a wicked smile and he looked down at her lips. Heat rose to her neck, feeling the implication of his sharp gaze. He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "You're a Seeker," he said softly. "And a quite well known one at that. You speak to the trees. You can reach into minds. You will be useful to me."
She snarled at him, anger replacing her fear. She had always known it would come to this. Seekers were rare, and she had been on the run for a long time. Finding her clan had been a blessing and a curse. Attachments were a weakness, she knew. Still, she couldn't help but fall in love with her place there, a sense of belonging settling over her for the first time in her life, and the feeling was just too wonderful, too right, to deny. She had overstayed her welcome, and now they had suffered for it.
He watched her seething, watched the rage build in the wild look she threw at him, and looked satisfied. He pressed his hips against her, and surprise and fear flashed in her eyes as she felt his thickness prod her stomach. Why the gods was he so big? His eyes danced with amusement. His hand left her neck, and the back of his knuckles grazed her cheek. He ran his thumb over her lips and slowly parted them. Her breath quickened and her heart raced. He opened his mouth, about to say something, when a sound like a strangled animal rang out in the distance. His mouth closed as he looked up toward the noise, and his gaze hardened. He looked back at her, his eyes narrowing. "Sleep now," he commanded, and touched her forehead. Darkness fell.

Chapter 2

She felt like she was dancing. The breeze caressed the naked skin on her arms and legs. Laughter that sounded like bubbling water surrounded her and made her smile. Whispered promises of love and comfort swelled around her. She was a cup, filled to the brim with the feeling of ecstasy. She tried to move her hands over her head, to lift them toward the sky in reverence and supplication, frowning when she could not.
A feeling of unease tried to worm its way into the periphery of her being. The sweet whispers grew louder and more insistent. She tried to open her eyes to follow the sound but saw only darkness. That was okay. The darkness was wonderful, a comfortable cocoon, a blanket she pulled tighter around herself as she gave in to the whispers telling her to come back to them.
She heard her name, louder this time. She didn't recognize the voice calling to her. She knew she should try to place it. The feeling of unease grew. Colors began to swirl into her vision, patterns she should recognize dancing across her eyelids. She watched them for a while, transfixed. The whispers called to her, beckoning to her. She felt the sensation of being dragged under water, as if she was caught in a powerful current. Again, she tried lifting her hands, wanting to swim further into the darkness, trying to help the current carry her away, and again grew impatient when she could not...
Her eyes snapped open. For a moment, the world tilted dangerously, caught between the current of darkness and the awakening. There was no air, and she considered that she might actually be drowning. Then there was a sound like the snapping of a giant tree, and her lungs sucked in an involuntary breath that made her eyes water and her chest hurt. She gazed upwards and tried to focus. She needed to calm herself down. She counted her breaths, gradually slowing them and willing her heart to stop racing as she continued to look up at the sky.
Not the sky, she realized. The ceiling.
She was indoors.
After a time, when she felt she was sufficiently calm, she began to take stock of her situation. With deliberate slowness, she pulled forth her memories from the past several days. There was the relative normalcy of the Before, when her clan had been increasingly disturbed by disappearances and unexplained deaths of several of the older Fae women. Then there was the morning when she had awoken with the knowledge that the world had changed, the dread in her gut so painful that she had been sick before she had even left her bed. She had found Eila just a few hours later. Her best friend, her only true friend, the one person who knew both who and what she was and loved her anyway, had been butchered. Her beautiful face was almost unrecognizable. Her once vibrant blue eyes had stared forward lifelessly, having no future left to look forward to; her almost white blonde hair torn about her head in clumps that stuck together with blood and dirt. Sweet, lovely Eila. She shuddered with the memory, her eyes burning, and moved quickly past it.
Then there was her meeting with the Elder. The old Fae woman made the towering, ageless oak tree her home, and it was as much to the tree dwelling as to the Fae Elder that Laiyla had pleaded her case to. Neither had laid blame for her friend's death at her feet, but she felt the leaden weight of it pressing against her shoulders just the same. She knew there would be no going back to the life she had lived before Eila's last breath had been drawn. Spreading her fingers against the bark of the old tree, Laiyla had pushed wordless explanations of her past and her plans into the wood as she spoke more limited words to the Fae Elder. She told the Elder as much as she could without placing her clan in further danger. With tears streaming down her face, the Elder had held her chin between her bony fingers and had kissed her forehead, sending her away reluctantly with the blessing of the Ageless.
Then the days of wandering, of countless hours talking to the trees, of learning of the dark creatures that now plagued the woods she had come to love and call home. The cycles of dark and light melted together, and she could not remember how many days she had spent wandering in circles, waiting for the Shadows to come for her, offering herself up as bait in a trap that she understood would only catch herself, but would perhaps free those she loved dearly. She only knew that she had been weak with hunger and delirious from lack of sleep by the time she had finally seen what she had been waiting for.
The newest memories were sharp and clear. Her legs began to burn as she remembered the chase. Her head began pounding as she remembered being thrown against the tree. Her throat began to ache as she remembered the pressure of a giant hand around her throat. Then... A strange fluttering in her lower abdomen held her curious attention as she remembered the midnight black eyes dancing with firelight stripping her naked with their gaze, the feeling of an impossibly large body pressing against hers, the thickness of his manhood against her stomach...
She quickly turned her thoughts to other matters. She tried to bring her hands to her face to assess the damage and remembered the feeling of frustration and unease of earlier when she realized her hands had been bound and would not move more than a few inches in either direction from the center of her waist. She looked down, wiggling her toes tentatively as she did so. Although her ankles were also bound together, she could bring her knees up and extend them out without restriction.
Mercifully, she was out of her uncomfortable fighting leathers and dressed in a simple but comfortable cream-colored shirt. The shirt was obviously made for someone several times her size and the collar had slipped off her right shoulder, exposing the curve of her small breast. The shirt reached down to just below her knees. Underneath the shirt she was naked, and clean. Her cheeks burned hot with the realization that she had been stripped naked and bathed while she lay unconscious. A thin green fabric cord wrapped around her waist and looped around her wrists, bound with the same fabric that also held her ankles together. She was lying on a firm but not entirely uncomfortable surface. As she flexed and stretched the muscles in her lithe body as far as the cords would allow, she felt the soft material of a blanket underneath her. She was laying on top of a mattress.
She looked at the room around her. Stacked dark wood logs made up the walls. The room was large but comfortable. A stone fireplace dominated the wall facing opposite her, the glowing red embers remnants of the fire that must have been keeping her warm during her sleep. A window sat in the center of another wall, the glass thick and distorted. The night sky offered no stars or moonlight beyond the quartered pane. A large door sat opposite the window. The wall above her head was completely bare. Besides the large but simple bed with tall wooden posts, there was a well-crafted rocking chair facing the fireplace and a small bedside table to her right. A ceramic cup and glass pitcher sat on the bedside table. She swallowed hard, eyeing the clear liquid sitting in the pitcher, realizing how thirsty she was. Cautiously, tentatively, she cast out a small mental net with her mind. She was alone in the room, but she could feel the others. They were close. She withdrew the net quickly and considered her options.
Being careful to not move too quickly, she wriggled up into a sitting position. She drew her knees up and sat against the wooden frame of the bed, breathing heavily from the exertion and the pain the movement had caused. She could hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. She tensed, her hands curling into fists. Her palm ached for the feel of her dagger. Her bare feet pressed into the mattress. The loose fabric of the oversized shirt fell further down her shoulder, completely exposing her right breast, and she struggled to cover herself. The footsteps stopped right outside her door. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, and as the door opened, she pushed a silent prayer for strength and courage into the night beyond the window.

Author Information

Natasha Taylor is a prolific erotica author living in America. She loves Stanley Kubrick and Roman Polanski movies and tries to incorporate their dark erotic style in her writings.


Publisher Information

Publishers of non-adult and adult fiction. Authors, experienced and new are welcome. We have a number of different sites for various genres, including specialist sites for Romance (www.a1romancestories.com, our non-adult and erotica site at www.fiction4all.com and a number of adult sites based around our main site at www.a1adultebooks.com

 Contact Us    Terms and Conditions    Protection Policy    Privacy Policy    Refund Policy   

This Site Owned By Fiction4All - Copyright 2013