Just because you don’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there

By S. Dora (Guest Blogger)

Let me start by thanking Lisabet for her warm-hearted hospitality. It’s always such a pleasure to be here.

When I first got the idea for writing what would become Facing the Truth, a story about a man discovering BDSM while already in a committed relationship with another man, the main characters were both in their twenties. Soon enough I realised something: if I made the age difference considerable, it would add another, hopefully interesting, layer to the story.

I’m not just talking about the simple fact that an university student moves in an environment that is quite different from that of an office of an insurance company, or that experience and youth each have their own brand of power. In this case, it means that a gay man having been a teenager in the eighties in England very likely doesn’t have quite the same outlook on sexuality as his lover, who’s eighteen years younger.

Being gay when Isaac Newhouse was a teenager meant he wasn’t allowed to have sex with another boy or man until he was 21. Section 28 stated that a local authority "shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality or promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.” AIDS was epidemic among gay men. Homophobia wasn’t the hobby of a backwards minority of people, but was deeply rooted in English society as a whole.

By the time Tom, the younger of the two, discovered he was into other boys, attitudes towards homosexuality were already dramatically changing. There’s no longer a different age of consent for straight and gay couples and Section 28 has been moved to its rightful place, the dustbin. While many individuals and several groups are still homophobic, society as a whole started to realise that homosexuality is simply a fact of life and that a legal right like marriage might actually be a good idea.

By the end of Facing the Truth, I knew the story wasn’t over yet and so a series began. Since Calling the Shots is first and foremost a series about romantic m/m BDSM erotica, the social and political background is never really mentioned, but it’s in the back of my head while I’m writing this story. I personally had my first coming-out in 1979, so I know a little about Isaac’s state of mind. That knowledge influenced how I wrote Isaac’s hesitation to start a relationship with a much younger (but fully of age) man and his journey into BDSM and Tom’s “what exactly is the problem?” attitude.

Part two of Calling the Shots, The Right Direction, is now available. Here’s a small excerpt. Isaac and Tom enjoy a weekend full of BDSM fun, in and out of the bedroom. It’s time for dinner and they ordered pizza. The following happens:

***

Tom wasn’t out of the kitchen for more than five seconds before the doorbell rang.

“That’ll be the pizza,” Tom hollered from the living room. “I’ll get it, Sir.”

“Use the groceries wallet. And don’t forget to tip the delivery boy.”

Isaac thoroughly enjoyed the small details of Tom waiting to take his first bite until his Dom had given him permission, of his glass being refilled before he had to ask. It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that he put his fork down in sudden realisation. “He saw you…”

“Who? Oh, the guy delivering the pizza,” Tom finally understood. “Probably a student, just like me.”

“He saw you.”

“Yeah—he wasn’t blind. What’s the matter, Sir? Did I do something wrong? I didn’t flirt or anything—you know I only go for my sexy Master, because he really knows how to handle both his cane and his cock.” Tom squirmed on his chair to accentuate his words. “There’s no way I’ll ever forget who owns me.”

“No, I did something wrong. How could I be this stupid?”

“You’re scaring me, Isaac… Sir… Please tell me what’s wrong so I can make it up to you. I’ll accept any punishment, but please explain…”

“Your collar. He saw you wearing my collar.”

Tom gaped at him in total incomprehension.

“An outsider saw you while you were wearing your slave collar.” Why didn’t Tom understand what he was trying to say? Was it so hard to understand the possible implications?

“Uh, he didn’t. He saw a guy of his own age in black sweatpants, a black shirt, messed up hair and, yes, a collar. To him I probably looked like a Goth or an emo or perhaps, if he’s a student too, he might think I’m one of those artistic guys from Arts.” Tom all but giggled. “If he was one of us, he’d know, no matter what I was wearing. But he wasn’t one of us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I would know.”

Silly, naïve boy.

“Like you recognise all gay men because you’re one too?” The words hit like a badly made whip in the hands of a sick sadist. Isaac regretted them as soon as he had spoken.

“I’m not saying that…” Tom shrugged. Sadness clouded the happiness in his eyes. “You’re ashamed of us and of what we’re doing. Being Dom and sub isn’t our sweet little secret—it’s our dirty big secret.”

“No.”

Was it really no, and not perhaps a little bit, or somewhat, or even…yes?

“Tommy…”

What was he supposed to say? Hadn’t his panic spoken more truth than any of the excuses and explanations he’d been planning to use?

Facing the Truth: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1579

The Right Direction: http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1779

My blog: http://sdora.wordpress.com/

The Reluctant Alpha

By S. Dora (Guest Blogger)

Thank you, Lisabet, for being once again such a wonderful and generous host.

I have a confession to make. Don’t worry, it’s only a small and rather insignificant one, but for a writer of the erotic-romantic genre interesting enough to tell about. I don’t care for the alpha male as fictional character. You know, the one who combines a huge amount of self-confidence with a far above average talent to take the lead and make the decisions. Those traits often go together with an impressively muscled physique and unmistakable masculine facial features. Of course, if he isn’t actually in a leader’s position within his trade, then he will have a high-testosterone job, like soldier, policeman, fire-fighter or adventurer.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I can understand, up to a certain point, why this character is so hugely popular in the erotic-romance stories and why they are a fixed element in so many fantasies of straight women and gay men (and of course of bisexuals of both sexes). He’ll make sure you’ll never have a dull moment and looks good while doing that.

Also, the alpha male is perhaps relatively easy to write. He’s often the one creating the action, the one who has all the adventures, who takes risks and probably doesn’t run away from a fight. Whatever his weaknesses as a character may be, boring isn’t one of them.

And yet, the alpha male has never been a huge inspiration for me as (main) character for my stories. Not that I’ve always been aware of this fact, or that it was ever a conscious decision, it simply didn’t happen. It’s only recently that I started to notice the pattern. It doesn’t matter if it’s the “serious stuff” I write as R.A. Padmos or the erotica by S. Dora, none of my main characters could be described as alpha males by any stretch of the imagination.

My main characters are observers and outsiders. They doubt far beyond simply having initial doubts about something before they make up their minds. They are never quite certain about their own worth, honestly surprised as they are that a beautiful and interesting human being can truly be in love with them.

Take Isaac Newhouse, for instance. He’s the main character of my M/M BDSM series Calling the Shots. He’s close to forty, has a middle-management job at the office of an insurance company and he knows all too well he doesn’t have the makings of a romance hero. No way he could be the dominant in a D/s relationship with his younger lover, Tom. He, the gentle soul, could never order his lover to get on his knees and call him Sir.

But there you have it. What starts as an afternoon of sex with a bit of kink becomes so much more when Isaac finds the courage to admit that his lover’s need to be submissive during sex resonates something inside him that he hadn’t been aware of before. It’s not that he thinks there’s anything intrinsically wrong with BDSM, he just doesn’t believe he has the makings of a good (enough) dominant.

Isaac is an eager student, with lots of questions. He never assumes to be right about anything concerning his role as dominant. This makes him perhaps a bit different from the dominants we often see in romantic-erotica, but if a character like Isaac makes you curious, then I’m happy to tell you that Part One of the series,  Facing the Truth, is available at Total E-Bound and the next one, The Right Direction, will be published on August 24^th. Pre-orders, starting at the 13^th of August, will be rewarded with a 15% discount. (http://www.total-e-bound.com/authordetail.asp?A_ID=203#booklist) I hope to be able to present my publisher with Part Three soon.

A small excerpt from The Right Direction

Isaac had been slightly worried that the package of toys he had ordered from the online adult store would not get there in time, but on Thursday afternoon, right after he returned from work, the doorbell rang and the postman handed it to him.

He walked straight to the bedroom, with Tom in his wake. “Can I take a peek?”

“No.”

Tom pouted. “Not even if I wear my collar? You know, do a trial run?”

“Again, no.” Isaac managed to sound stern, but only just.

“Okay, I get the message. I’ll make supper.” Tom gave in. “It’s not like you can hide it from me, anyway. If I really want to know what’s in that package, I will find it.” He must have seen the look of disappointment on Isaac’s face, because he hastened to say, “That’s not what I meant. You can put everything in the toy drawer and I give you my promise not to peek unless you tell me to. Though if you’ve bought as many toys as I think you have, there won’t be enough space in one drawer, so you might want to use the other one as well.”

Isaac kissed him. “Thanks for being a good sport. What are we having for supper?”

Tom winked. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Before Isaac could react, his lover was gone. He laughed for a moment, then stared at the box wrapped in brown paper and went very quiet. This was what he had ordered and paid for. He had masturbated thinking about how he was going to use his purchases on his sub. While it was for fun and spicing up sex, he couldn’t help but think it had become so much more. They hadn’t needed any formal rituals to use a cock ring or a string of anal beads, yet Tom had knelt at his feet, called him Sir and had looked so full of joy when Isaac had given him his collar.

With slightly trembling hands, he tore away the paper and opened the box. He quickly unpacked everything and placed the items neatly on the bed. He gazed at the collection for what must have been minutes before he finally picked up the flogger. Starting by admiring the handiwork of the craftsman who had made the object was the safest option. Though he had never before held a flogger in his hands, Isaac recognised the exquisite detailing and perfect balance. According to the description on the website, this particular flogger was perfect for teasing a sub, but also made for a nice thud. Isaac hadn’t been sure what thud meant in relation to sting, but now that he was holding the object, the words came alive. He caressed the inside of his forearm with the suede stripes and smiled. In his mind, he could already see Tom’s shivers of anticipation when he introduced his lover to this fine instrument.

The cane, however, told a very different story. In all its stern simplicity, it spoke of danger. A disconcerting quiver of pleasure shot down his spine. His cock filled. Quickly, he put the cane back.

The whip wasn’t much safer either, though for some reason slightly more emotionally neutral than the cane, so he left it where it was. He assessed that, in order to be able to use it comfortably on his sub, he would have to practise. Preferably in private so Tom wouldn’t see or hear him. His sub deserved the best his Dom had to offer, even if the perfect stroke of the whip was not something his much-admired Sir had been born with. Illusion was as much a part of BDSM play as with any theatrical act.

S. Dora

R.A. Padmos

My S. Dora blog:http://sdora.wordpress.com/

My R.A. Padmos blog: http://rapadmos.wordpress.com/