By Desiree Holt (Guest Blogger)
It’s
been seven years since I discovered the world about BDSM as a writer.
I really have to thank Joey Hill, whose exquisite love story The
Ice Queen/Mirror of My Soul
captured
my imagination, my interest and my heart. I began to do research,
because I believe if you are going to write about something you need
to know what it is you’re describing. Especially if it’s
someone’s lifestyle.
One
of the first things I realized was that a D/s relationship is perhaps
the only one founded completely on trust. Without that, it simply
does not work for either person. I also learned the meaning of
respect for your partner and the importance of communication.
I
have been fortunate enough to meet more and more people in the life
as I’ve continued to do my research, people who have had a great
influence on my writing. Perhaps two of the most important people
I’ve met are Master N and Master Shack. Master N is one of the
owners of a public dungeon in San Antonio, The Lair. Master Shack
owns the Alamo Training Academy, where you can learn all the aspects
of the lifestyle. (Who even knew there was such a thing!)
Recently,
for our Wild Wicked Weekend which I host with five erotic romance
author friends, I was able to arrange a trip to The Lair for some of
our WWW attendees and the experience was memorable, exceptional and
rewarding. Master N, Master Shack and the others who came to perform
for us treated us as if we were royalty. They had recruited members
to demonstrate for us and permitted those in our group who wanted to
play to have the opportunity.
Three
words describe the entire experience: safe, informative, respectful.
We could not have asked for a better reception or for people to be
more welcoming. Everything from the presentations to the
demonstrations was carefully couched to give us the most enjoyable
and enlightening experience - to let us know as authors as much as
possible about the lifestyle we choose to base our stories around.
I
personally learned the specific technique for both the single tail
whip and the flogger, especially for the procedure known as
Florentine flogging. I learned how to administer pain and how to
accept it, and how it arouses the body. I learned how to watch a sub
for signals and how subs present themselves to their Masters. No
question was out of bounds.
For
those in our group who are in the life, arrangements were made for
them to enjoy playtime at The Lair. Those who asked to experiment for
the first time were treated courteously and appropriately.
As
we discussed the event afterward, we were all in agreement that we
learned far more than we expected. That we have a more realistic
understanding of what we put into our stories. That it was one of the
most enriching experiences we’d ever had.
But
the highlight of the evening was the collaring ceremony, where Master
N collared his longtime sub. We were so honored that they chose to
share it with us and I know from discussions that it will show up in
a lot of stories in the coming months. I know for myself I can
approach the books I write with a great deal more knowledge and the
ability to create these complex relationships. And to hope I honor
everyone with my words.
So
if you are in the San Antonio, Texas area and want to learn about the
lifestyle, or live it and want a place to play you can’t do any
better than The Lair. Thank you, Master N and Master Shack, for being
the outstanding individuals you are and for sharing your community
with us. I hope those of us fortunate enough to participate in this
experience can honor you properly with our work.
And
a note for your calendar. We’ll be hosting the Wild Wicked Weekend
again in February 2015, with another trip to The Lair included. Watch
for the dates.
Beyond
Addiction by Desiree Holt
Sequel to Dangerous
Addiction, from Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 1
When Fallon Crowe discovered
her submissive side, she indulged it fully, reveling in her erotic
nature—until she stepped into the brutally possessive world of
Brian Willoughby. More than a year after she was literally dragged
away from his abusive clutches, Fallon is finally building a new life
with Cord Jamieson, a Dom who reminds her that punishment can be
loving, pain an aphrodisiac.
But when Fallon unexpectedly
runs into Brian, he reawakens an addiction that never quite died. Now
she’s torn between the caring relationship she’s established with
Cord, and Brian’s darkly mesmerizing lifestyle that goes beyond
safe, sane and consensual.
The choice is Fallon’s—the
wrong one might destroy her completely.
Inside Scoop: This
story features an abusive scene from a power-hungry man who’s
perverted the lifestyle for his own sick pleasure. It may be too
intense for some readers.
A Romantica® BDSM
erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Excerpt
Cord hung his Stetson on a peg in the
back hall and toed off his boots. They were covered in mud and
various other substances and badly needed cleaning, but at the moment
he was just too tired. He and the hands had spent most of the day
riding fence line and making sure every pasture was secure before his
new shipment of cattle arrived. They’d been a steal at an auction
and he couldn’t resist. The bank had extended a substantial line of
credit and that was the perfect reason to tap into it.
Everything was coming together much
better than he could have hoped. The herd was finally at the size it
needed to be and in the spring there would be new calves. The
pastures of coastal hay were in good shape. And the work on the event
center was nearly finished. Next week, he’d work with the hands
who’d be leading trail rides and giving lessons and offering other
guest activities, and oversee the finishing touches to the stables.
At least he could relax where the party
was concerned. Fallon was working her magic with an ease that he
admired. He smiled as he thought about how much pleasure she brought
to all areas of his life. After the party, after the post-event
details were seen to, he planned to take her away for a long weekend
where he could tie her to the bed and pleasure both of them in as
many ways as he could dream up.
Just the thought of that was enough to
make his cock harden and strain against the fly of his jeans.
In the bedroom, he stripped off his
clothes and dumped them in the hamper, then stepped into the bathroom
and turned on the shower. He was so aroused he was almost tempted to
take himself in hand and smooth out the edge while the hot water
poured over him. Then he thought about Fallon, who was due home very
soon, and decided he had much better ways to satisfy his lust.
He was just wrapping the bath towel
around his hips when he heard her moving around in the bedroom. He
opened the bathroom door, smiling—until he took a good look at her
and his body tensed. Nearly all the color was gone from her face, her
soft-pink lipstick seeming like a slash of vivid red in comparison.
Her movements as she undressed were jerky, not smooth, as usual. Her
body language was that of someone who had been through an emotional
wringer.
What worried him most was the lack of
eye contact. That was so out of character, at least for the woman he
was used to.
“Fallon?” He moved closer. “Did
something happen today? Your lunch with Claire? Something happen with
the errands?”
She just shook her head and continued
removing her clothing like a robot.
What the fuck?
And then out of nowhere, it hit him.
She’d seen him.
The bastard who’d fucked up her life.
Fucked up her. Had she run into him or had she deliberately
sought him out? Shit, he didn’t know how he’d handle it if it was
the latter. It took all his willpower not to smash his fist against
the wall.
Pulling himself together, he used his
best Dom voice. “Fallon. Look at me. Now!” he snapped when she
continued to look down at her feet.
She lifted her face to his, her
expression a mixture of regret and disgust, but didn’t meet his
gaze.
“You saw him today, right? That
asshole you refuse to talk about?”
She nodded.
“Was it deliberate? Did you call
him?” He was barely holding his temper in check. “Answer me,
girl.”
“No, Sir.” She still hadn’t
looked at him. From the moment he spoke she’d been in full
submissive mode, only her attitude was more one of defeat than
supplication.
What the fuck happened out there
today? She was doing so well? We were doing so well.
Something had suddenly changed and he
damn well wanted to know what it was, although he had his suspicions.
He used every ounce of control to contain the rage erupting inside
him.
“Did you run into him somewhere?”
“Yes.” The word was so soft he had
to strain to hear it. Despite his instruction, she lowered her chin.
“Goddamn it, Fallon.” He hauled in
a breath and clenched his fists, fighting for control. “Look at
you. You’re a wreck. Did you run into Brian Willoughby?”
This time her answer was a whisper.
“Yes.”
Cord felt as if someone had punched him
in the stomach.
He let the next breath out slowly. He
would have to do this very carefully.
“I want you to look at me, girl.”
He made his voice as firm and steady as possible. “Keep your eyes
on me and answer my questions. Do you understand?”
She stood before him, nude, stripped
down to the bare individual. If she had any defenses against either
her situation or his anger they were completely submerged.
“I asked you a question.” He took a
step closer. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was still so
low he had to strain to hear it.
“Tell me what happened today. Where
did you see him?”
“A-At La Cantera. The valet parking.
I didn’t even see him until he was right there beside me.”
“And did you talk to him?”
Haltingly, fingers twisting together,
she related their conversation. With each word, his rage grew. He
could visualize the scene—the smooth, domineering bully using his
magnetism to mind-fuck a woman who still harbored traces of an
addiction.
Based on the little she was telling him
of their encounter, Cord was beginning to realize that in leaving
Brian, Fallon had challenged him. Challenged his control.
And Brian Willoughby didn’t seem like
a man who would let that go over easily.
“And how did you leave it with him?”
He was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“I—I ran from him, Sir.” She
swallowed audibly. “I ran into the restaurant.”
“Did he follow you?”
She shook her head then, apparently
realizing he wanted words, said, “No. Sir.”
So many conflicting emotions were at
war within him, Cord didn’t know where to begin. The first thing he
planned to do was put on some pants. He couldn’t possibly
discipline a sub wearing only a towel. He left her standing there,
fingers linked together, gaze lowered again, while he dug out a clean
pair of boxer briefs and some jeans. He turned his back until he’d
fastened the snap on his jeans and tugged up the zipper. He had to be
careful that his anger didn’t bend his control.
“I can tell just by your attitude,”
he said, “that you’re expecting a punishment session. Am I
right?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice trembled. “I
deserve it. I want you to punish me.”
“Not until you tell me what you did
wrong. We aren’t playing for pleasure here. Not at the moment.”
She studied the floor and clasped her
hands behind her back. “I didn’t tell you all about him before.”
He could barely hear her. That would
never do. “When I ask you a question, girl, I expect you to answer
in a loud, clear voice. So tell me again why I’m going to paddle
that sweet ass of yours.”
“Because I hid things from you.”
Louder this time. “Because I didn’t let you know everything about
him.” She wet her lips. “About B-Brian. About our relationship.
Because I wasn’t going to tell you about t-today.”
“And why is that important?” he
prodded.
“I should never keep secrets from my
Master. Secrets that might…affect our relationship.”
“That’s correct,” he nodded. “And
this is a big one. A very big one. Because Brain Willoughby screwed
up your head and I need to know how to straighten it out.” He
paused. “We can’t make this work unless we have complete honesty
between us. You need to have that impressed upon you.”
“Yes, Sir.” She bobbed her head.
“That’s why I need to be punished.”
“No.” He ground his teeth. “Not
tonight. I will never punish you for what someone else did to you.”
He loved the way Fallon embraced
punishment, riding the edge of pleasure and pain that drove her to
intense orgasm. But that was always within the context of the bedroom
play. This was the first time he had ever seen her stripped down to
almost nothing emotionally, pleading with him to reprimand her
inappropriately, for something that was beyond her control.
But this situation was fraught with
danger. He had to make her understand the depth of his feelings for
her, and understand that punishment for running into someone
completely by accident was cruelty, and he was not a cruel man.
Still, he had to handle this in a way
that illustrated who was in control.
He blew out another breath. “On your
knees. Hands behind your back. Forehead to the floor.”
He watched as she arranged herself as
directed, bent low, ass in the air. The slight discomfort would serve
as the punishment she thought she needed. He sat at the foot of the
bed, hands on his knees. And steeled himself for what was to come.
“Now,” he said. “I want every
single detail, what happened from the moment you bumped into him
everything you said and felt. Leave nothing out. And speak up, so I
can hear you.”
Fallon’s halting recitation of the
run-in with the fucking asshole made him grind his teeth in silent
rage. Her description of the man’s effect on her, of her fear, as
well as the addiction she battled, made him want to shoot someone.
Preferably Willoughby.
Cord was a well-trained Dom. He’d
studied at a couple of the best dungeons in Dallas and observed other
Doms carefully. Safe, sane and consensual had been drummed into him.
Respect. Negotiation. For every D/s relationship, there was a
different degree of intensity, different definitions of how far to
take things. But the basic rules were always in place. If anyone
violated them, the D/s community policed its own.
To hear that Brian, someone who
obviously had only a sketchy knowledge of the philosophy and
practices, had subverted BDSM because he could, made Cord angrier
than he ever remembered being. He’d never understood how any man
could so extremely abuse a privilege granted to him. Listening to
Fallon made his blood boil.
When she was finished, he sat for a
moment, gaze fixed on her bent form. He wanted to pull her into his
arms, soothe her, tell her they would get through this together and
everything would be fine. But he knew that she wouldn’t believe
him. So much of her emotionally destructive upbringing still
lingered, still fed her insecurities. Punishment was like an anchor
to her, but it had to be for the right reasons.
And tonight it would have to take a
different from.
“And that’s all of it?” he asked.
“Yes. All of it.” Her voice was
muffled by the carpet.
“Yes, who?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And he will never intrude into our
lives again, correct? If thoughts of him distress you, come to me at
once and I’ll talk you through them. If you run into him, you call
me right away. If you need me to pick you up because he’s upset
you, I’ll be in my car before we’re off the phone. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He didn’t remind her again that she
hadn’t used the honorific. She was in enough emotional distress as
it was.
“All right. Get up, girl,” he
ordered, doing his best to hold on to his own emotions. He had to
physically restrain himself from racing out of the house, finding
Brian Willoughby and strangling him with his bare hands for causing
so much anguish and distress to this very special woman.
He watched her balance herself
carefully as she managed to get to her feet, her equilibrium
off-kilter because she couldn’t use her hands. When she was
standing before him, he cupped her face with his palms. He hoped when
she looked into his eyes she could see the depth of the love he felt
for her, as well as the respect. He chose his words carefully.
“No punishment tonight, Fallon. At
least not the kind you’re asking for. I think today did enough
damage to you.”
“But—”
He touched a finger to her lips. “Never
argue with your Master. Tonight it’s all about doing what I can do
to wipe away this blackness gripping you.”
She wrinkled her forehead. “Sir?”
He could see she was confused, but the
kind of pain she expected was the last thing she needed right now. He
might want to beat every last trace of Brian Willoughby from her body
but that would be irresponsible on his part. How could he punish
someone who was so visibly punishing herself? He was smart enough to
know that he couldn’t erase one kind of brutality with another, no
matter how lovingly delivered. In her fragile state, he was sure if
he did what she asked it would destroy her, and he loved her too much
for that.
But tenderness was as much a part of
being a Dom as pain and punishment, both for pleasure and discipline.
Tonight it was important to show her how much she meant to him and
what a special place she held in his heart. Had he taken the time
before now, he wondered, to let her know his depth of feelings? Or
had he just assumed from everything they did that she got the
message? After the event center’s grand opening, when she filled in
the missing details for him, he would decide how to move forward.
Right now his mission was to subject her to torture of the sweetest
kind.
“Perhaps it’s my fault for not
making sure you understood exactly how important you are to me,” he
told her, putting as much feeling into his words as he could. “How
much I value you. How I feel about you. That’s what this will be
about.” He stroked his fingers lightly on her cheek. “Now. I want
you on the bed, flat on your back. I have a specific kind of torture
in mind.”
When she was situated as commanded, he
knelt between her thighs and braced a hand on either side of her. For
a long moment he stared at her still-pale face, saw the anguish and
conflict in her eyes and made a silent vow to protect her from this
asshole no matter what.
Provided, of course, she let him.
About Desiree
Known the world over as The Oldest
Living Erotica Author, and referred to by USA Today as the Nora
Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt is three times a finalist for
an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice
Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at
The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book
of the year, winner of the Holt Medallion, multiple winner of the
Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award, the Love Romances Café Readers
choice Award and is published by five different houses. She has been
featured on CBS Sunday
Morning and in The
Village Voice, The
Daily Beast, USA Today and
numerous other national publications.
“Desiree
Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is
more fulfilling then the last.” (Romance
Junkies)
Learn
more about her and read her novels here:
Twitter
@desireeholt
Pinterest:
desiree02holt
Also on
LinkedIn and Google+
