Lost Artifact


Author's Note: This is my first attempt at erotic writing. This is meant to be erotic fiction, not pornography, so if you're looking for a quicky, this isn't the story for you. It has build up, but it will be worth it. I would appreciate any feedback or comments!



A drizzling rain fell over the smoothly paved sidewalks of London as cars hissed softly through puddles. I watched the steady stream of traffic from my office window, my hands clasped tightly in front of me, the words from the letter on my desk buzzing around my mind like an angry swarm of bees.

We think we might have found it at last, my brother Eric had written from his archaeological site in Jerusalem.

"It's not possible," I murmured to myself, staring at my muted reflection in the rain-spattered glass of the window. My long brown hair was swept into an elegant bun and my gold necklace and earrings twinkled in the night lights of the city. I had on my expensive black gown, the one reserved for such occasions as these. It hugged me gently from hip to ankle, a strapless satin creation with a sweetheart neckline that had cost me more than I wanted to admit. But it certainly gave me an air of regal superiority, heightening my meager 24 years into a sophisticated 29 or 30.

"Analise, are you ready?"

I turned away from the window and smiled at Barry Whitefield, the aging director of the museum with his head of white hair, crisp pinstriped suit and jaunty blue bowtie.

"This is your exhibit, my dear," Barry murmured excitedly, pulling my hand through the crook of his arm and leading me towards the elevator. "Our donors and guests will be enchanted with it, I'm sure."

I smiled. "Thanks, Barry. I don't think I've ever been the center of so much attention before, though. It's a little nerve wracking."

"Nonsense." Barry beamed as he pushed the button to call the lift. "You know your history and your artifacts. The exhibit is well put together and a beauty to behold."


"As many of you know," I began into the microphone, speaking to the over 100 guests who had been invited to the unveiling of perhaps one of the most controversial exhibits ever sponsored by the British Museum, "the journey of life taken by the man now named Jesus Christ is one known intimately by religious scholars through the writings of Christianity's Bible, but the search for the historical account of Jesus the Nazarene has been much less straightforward. Our exhibit, Jesus, the Man, will take you through the life of the man as we know it through historical representation and archeological and anthropological evidence."

I paused as the assembled guests applauded lightly and murmured amongst themselves in interest.

"With over 250 artifacts, it is perhaps the most comprehensive historical compilation of Jesus Christ that speaks to his actual existence in history and what we know of him outside of the Bible," I continued. "It will not make a case for divinity either way, but rather, will take you through his birth--documented by the census taken in Bethlehem in the time of Julius Caesar--to his death--recorded in an old Roman biography of Pontius Pilate by an amateur ancient historian."

I paused again for a deep breath and a smile. "I want to conclude with thanking you all for attending this evening and supporting this exhibit in its endeavor. Even though he could not be with us tonight, I also wish to thank my brother Eric, an archeologist who has been instrumental in uncovering many of the artifacts you will see tonight. Thank you."

I stepped away from the microphone to light applause and began making my way through the crowd, laughing and socializing with guests as I did so. The entrance room slowly began to empty as people made their way to the exhibit, and I made my way to a side table for a glass of water.

"Ms. Bourne." A hand stopped me and drew my attention, grabbing my not lightly by the hand, but strongly and powerfully around the wrist. Before I could register my shock as I turned around, the aggressive touch was gone as the man released me instantly.

"Luca Castello," he said with a charming smile, holding out his hand. His dark hair was thick and wavy, pushed back from his brow, and his eyes were the deepest blue. He stood at least five inches taller than me and was as lean and fit as a soldier.

"Nice to meet you." I placed my hand in his and those powerful fingers wrapped around my hand, holding tightly and but not uncomfortably. His assertive stance and disarming good looks flustered me, making me stammer. "I...uh, are you going to see the exhibit?"

"Oh, yes of course." He still had not let go of my hand, and as I tried to gently extricate it, his fingers tightened warningly. "But I had thought I would ask you a few questions first."

"Of...of, course." I glanced around, but the entrance hall was nearly empty. "Perhaps another time..."

"No," he answered simply. "Now."

"I beg your pardon?"

Luca grinned slowly, his gaze leaving my face for the first time and sliding slowly down my body, like a tiger surveying a deer. "Forgive me if I seem impertinent, but I will speak with you tonight."

Pleasantries be damned, I thought furiously.

"I should like it if you let go of my hand," I told him coldly, "and left the museum."

"Alright," he responded agreeably, and his grip shifted, wrapping around my wrist tightly as he began to tow me towards the elevator.

"What do you think you're doing?" I cried, losing my balance in my high heels and stumbling after him.

"You asked me to leave the museum," he answered with a grin over his shoulder. "So I am. And you're coming with me."

"I am not!"

Luca laughed and pushed the call button to summon the elevator. "Yes, you are." He suddenly jerked me to him, trapping me between the wall and his body as he settled his forehead against mine.

I twisted my head to get away and he let me, but used the chance to lean down and lightly bite the soft skin of my neck. "Smile and play nice for the cameras, sweetheart."

"Don't touch me!"

The lift arrived with a ding and he unceremoniously swept me into it before I could struggle, hitting the button for the basement as he did so.

My hand shot out towards the buttons to hit the one for the alarm, but he grabbed my hands effortlessly and used his sheer size and bulk to trap me in the far corner.

"You smell beautiful," he murmured into the silence of the elevator, pressing his nose against my hair. "This job is always so much more fun when it includes women like you."

"You seriously can't expect to kidnap me from my own museum!" I cried, trying unsuccessfully to wrench my hands from his grasp. "And in front of all those cameras!"

"No one will follow me," he told me confidently. "And no one will ever find you." He smiled wickedly, and I felt a shudder run through him. "I can't wait to punish you."

Before I could respond, the elevator jolted to a stop and the doors slid open. Luca grabbed me and hauled me out, clamping one hand over my mouth and dragging me through the rows of cars in the parking garage until we reached an expensive-looking SUV with dark windows. In a sudden panic, I knew that I could not let him get me into the car. I kicked back with the heel of my shoe, digging the sharp point into his shin. While he was distracted with a muffled curse of pain, I bit down hard on his hand and elbowed him in the ribs with all my strength.

I tore free and stumbled away, losing my balance and falling heavily to my hands and knees. Before I could scramble up again, he threw his weight on top of me, pinning me down flat.

"Poor choice, sweetheart," he growled, putting his hand across my mouth again as I tried to call for help. "Now you've ruined your dress!"

Quickly and efficiently, he hauled me up again, jerked open the door to the passenger side and forced me in. From inside the car, he grabbed a length of cloth and stuffed it into my mouth before ziptie-ing my hands together, fastening the seatbelt and then using another ziptie to fasten my hands to the belt. In under a minute, he had gotten in on the driver's side, started the car, and within five minutes, we were on the motorway, leaving the lights of the city far behind us.


"I don't think we need this anymore," Luca said after about thirty minutes of driving, reaching over and jerking the cloth out of my mouth.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked at once, my mouth dry and parched from the gag.

"Somewhere safe, sweetheart. Don't worry."

As we sped along the road, I turned away from him and looked out the window, looking for signs, trying to remember the turns we were taking. The need to escape was overwhelming, and I was so consumed by it, that I jumped when I felt his hand casually touch my knee. In a panic, I jerked my leg away, pushing as close to the door and as far away from him as possible.

Luca's eyes darkened as he looked over at me. "Come back over here," he warned softly, "or I'll pull over and give you your badly-needed lesson in manners right now instead of when we get home."

"You think I'm just going to do as you say?" I asked bravely.

"No." A slow smile spread across his face. "I would be disappointed if you did. I never dreamed you would be so much fun, sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that."

"I'll call you anything I like." His voice lowered. "Now, come back towards me. Don't make me tell you again."

"No." Heart hammering, all of my muscles were tense as they strained against the door, still trying to put distance between us.

Luca shrugged. "Have it your way." He veered suddenly across the motorway, taking the nearest off ramp and pulling over onto a deserted country road.

I remained tense, waiting for him to stop and make good on his threat, but we continued down the winding road until a small cottage came into view. Luca steered the car up the driveway and parked before coming around to my side and pulling out a knife.

I jerked back with a cry, but he merely tsked impatiently, grabbed my hands and cut through the zipties. "Get out."

I scrambled out of the car and away from him, my eyes straining in the dark to make out where we were.

"This is where I live," Luca announced with a wave at the cottage.

During the drive, I had discreetly managed to kick off my shoes, and when he turned towards the house, I broke away and went streaking down the driveway. Stones cut painfully into my feet, but I hitched my gown up and ran, determined to make it back to the main road to flag down a passing car. Luca, with his long stride, caught up to me in seconds, wrapping both arms around me and jerking me backwards, lifting me off my feet. I filled my lungs and screamed for all I was worth, but he merely laughed as he set me down.

"Save your breath," he advised, grabbing me as I tried to run again and slinging me bodily over his shoulder. "You'll need it."

I struggled, and then yelped as he brought his hand down in a ringing slap against my backside. "Ow!"

We were inside in a matter of moments, and before I could look around, Luca carried me up a set of stairs and into a large room. I squeaked in alarm as he dropped me suddenly, but I hit a soft mattress and bounced. Pushing my falling hair out of my face, I scrambled up to my knees.

"What's your plan now?" I challenged bravely. "Going to rape me, are you?"

"Hmm. No. Not tonight." Luca slid his jacket off and tossed it aside. "Although the idea does have certain appeal. It's late, sweetheart. We've one matter to settle between us, and then bed."

"I demand that you let me go."

"No." Luca smiled slowly. "I'll be making the demands, sweetheart. Come here."

I scooted across the mattress and stood defiantly, the bed between us. "Or what?"

Luca laughed. "I don't think anyone's ever dared to ask me that before."

"So this is what you do, is it? Kidnap women and bring them back to your lair?"

"Men too, sometimes," he said fairly, and then laughed at my expression. "But not for the reason that you think. People pay me to get information, Analise. I use different means to get it, depending on the target."

"I don't have any information," I responded, bewildered.

Luca laughed again, and then his expression turned serious. "Alright, sweetheart. I'm giving you a choice. You will come over here and join me right now, or I will have sex with you tonight. Understand?"

"What kind of a choice is that?" I cried. He stared at me impassively, and I knew he would follow through. As I thought it through, I decided that caving in and doing as he said was infinitely better than having him rape me. I slid across the bed and stood before him, my chin held high.

"Good." Luca took my face in his hands, and before I knew it, bent his head and kissed me deeply and passionately. He knew what he was doing. A wave of heat flooded my face and my knees weakened. As quickly as it had started and before I could clear my head, he had sat on the bed and wrenched me down so that I fell across his lap. He spanked me fiercely with what appeared to be all his strength. I was crying and screaming after the third blow, but he continued until he reached ten. Twining his hand through my hair, he pulled me up and gently and almost tenderly kissed my lips again.

"Pleasure or pain," he whispered softly. "Think about that when you answer my questions tomorrow." He chuckled and kissed the tears off my cheeks. "Be lucky I'm a professional or you'd be out of that dress and on your back. Goodnight, sweetheart." He kissed me again and got off the bed, closing the door.

I heard the click of the lock, and fought to catch my breath. My ass burned from the beating, and my heart raced from the passion of his kisses. Exhausted, I slumped into the pillows and slept.


End of Part One.

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