Lady Emmi Rue: A Rough Ride by, CP Mandara **Blog Tour** Adult Content

An Exclusive Excerpt for Audiences 18+ ONLY!

'Right ladies, hands behind your backs because you won't be needing them.' His voice was deep and guttural and she, like the rest of the women assembled, obeyed instantly. He was a big, portly fellow and had a gold front tooth that wouldn't have looked out of place on a gangster.

The tattoos that littered his forearms and disappeared into the rolled-up sleeves of his bleached white shirt screamed 'do not mess with me!' A team of helpers quickly followed in his wake, and she found herself pressed firmly into the counter by one of them. Her arms, now gracefully pressed behind her, were arranged fingers to elbow in a box-tie, and this was secured at the wrists in a figure of eight knot. They were yanked tight together and the result was that her breasts and shoulders were thrust forward in a rather painful manner.

'Right, you can all turn around now and 'ave your trays fitted. Face forward,' the large man bellowed, and she whipped her body around smartly. Her assistant stood directly in front of her and even though she had known he was behind her, seeing him in the flesh still made her jump.

He was in his early twenties, either Spanish or Italian in origin, and obviously worked out. Muscles popped out of his shirt in all the right places and he had a sly look about him that spoke volumes. He did not have to work to get women; they fell in a heap at his feet. She wanted to run her fingers through the soft dark curls that rested on his collar bone, and taste the essence of man he was parading around him so boldly. She wouldn't, of course. For one thing, Mark would have his eye on her and it would be more than her life was worth to dishonour him in that fashion. For another, she had her hands tied behind her and any leaning forward on her part would probably cause her to fall flat on her face.

Something cold pressed against her stomach. She'd been so lost in her daydream that she hadn't spotted the clear plastic tray he held in his hands. He was buckling it behind her and as his face leaned over her shoulder to check the fastening, he pressed his lips to her neck. She shivered and hoped to hell Mark's attention was still focused on his meal. His hands lingered on her waist and when his fingers had managed to complete the simple belt fastening, they slid up and down the contours of her spine.

'Stop that,' she whispered, but only half-heartedly, feeling her body tremble beneath his youthful fingers. In response to her command the man playfully nipped her buttock, making her jump.

'Stop horsing around!' bellowed gold-tooth to his staff, unimpressed with their slow progress. 'Fit the trays, gentlemen, and then gag the ladies if needs be.

'As her assistant stepped back Marianna wondered idly how they would manage to fix the trays upright. At the moment hers was hanging over her stomach and the inverted 'V' of her legs. Chains dangled from two points on its outermost rim and if she followed them towards the floor she could just make out the twin jaws of two metal clamps. How on earth would that work? Surely they weren't going to attempt to attach them to her dress? It would fall apart in a matter of seconds.

'Querida, you are going to look muy beautiful when you serve like this,' said the smiling young man, who had proved himself to be Spanish. Marianna raised her eyebrows. She failed to see how going about with a large plastic tray on her stomach was going to... and then realisation dawned. The clamps were for her nipples.

That was how the tray would be

anchored. One clamp for each nipple and the tray would rest at a forty-five degree angle to her body. Any weight placed upon the tray would be borne by her tender...