Moving Day!

April 19th, 2015

Hello. I wanted to let you know that I am moving to WordPress.

If you want to keep up with me, you can find me there.

Heather in Haven Review

March 14th, 2015

I want to thank BDSM Book Reviews for reviewing Heather in Haven.

Their rating:

Story Rating: 2 out of 5 paddles

Sting Factor (kink): 5 out of 5

I liked the review. It is good to see a balanced review of a book, looking at both the good and the bad. Admittedly, Heather in Haven was not as much of a character driven story as it could have been. Reading the review, though, I think the book does offer what I wanted it to offer, some good, easy to read, BDSM fantasy.

So, my kudos and thanks to the reviewers at BDSM Book Reviews. I was so excited to see my book make it up there.

Gates of Haven – Lesson One

January 24th, 2015

Heather did her best to keep herself calm as she entered the club. Tanya was nervous enough without having to deal with her being giddy or silly. She certainly did not want to give the impression that she thought this was a game – that was far from the truth. Heather looked back to her friend and seeing the shy nervousness there offered her a smile.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Heather stopped and turned around. They stood in the foyer of the club and let other patrons walk past. No one paid them attention out here. Heather still had her jacket on, covering her bare and pierced breasts. Tanya wore a short skirt and a cute tank that Heather thought looked adorable on her. She wanted to touch her strawberry hair and just pet it, but held back.

“As ready as I will be.” Tanya returned Heather’s smile and took in a deep breath. “It’s not like we haven’t met before, right?”

Heather thought back to her own first meeting with Mistress Victoria. It had certainly not gone the way it did for Tanya. Victoria had appeared to her on the shadowed balcony, ready to accept her as she was. Heather had been able to accept that, had wanted that so badly. Tanya was not her, though, and she was not ready to leap into this world the way Heather had been.

Victoria had met them once a week for coffee and chat so that Tanya could get to know her and they could simply talk. That was, Mistress had told her, the way any relationship should start. Theirs had been different, arranged by a mutual friend to get them together. That such things worked out was a rarity at best, and something that Mistress admitted that she would not advise anyone to do.

Heather understood the importance of the meeting as she watched Tanya slowly begin to open up about herself and Victoria’s shyness slowly melt away. She had been shocked to see shyness at all. At the club, Mistress Victoria held her head high and was assertive. In the coffee shop, she had been almost timid, slow to start conversations and leaning on Heather to break the ice. It had been endearing and amazing to her to see such a stark contrast in the woman she thought she had known so well.

But this is the point. This helps me learn a whole new side to her.

“Exactly,” Heather said. She held her hand out to Tanya, who took it, and led her into the club, dropping her jacket at the desk as she did.

Tonight the music was loud and the atmosphere was full of energy. On the stage, One and Two danced for the enjoyment of the patrons, their bodies turning and twisting together to the music. Heather felt a tug at her hand and stopped. Tanya seemed transfixed by the show on the stage. Heather smiled and decided to enjoy it as well. One and Two, whether bound, assisting their Mistress, or performing on stage, were always a delight. Even when all they did was dance, they seemed to know how to draw the attention of the crowd.

“They are beautiful,” Tanya said.

Purchase on Amazon.

New Experiences

January 15th, 2015

Darlene paced across the living room floor of her apartment. She used to say that she was so tired of this place, the trip ten floors up the elevator and a balcony that looked over a concrete jungle. She wanted a house in the suburbs with a green lawn and quaint neighbors who said “hello” every morning and asked how her day went when she got home.
Today, the light from the approaching sunset reflected off the windows of the neighboring building, bathing her living room in golden light. Darlene stopped and watched the dust flakes float in the air through the sunlight. They were so small, so fragile, and so insignificant. The slightest breeze stirred them. She thought of the violent way they would spin from the fight that was coming.
I have to do something.
Darlene looked down at her phone again. She had swiped away the offending pictures, but nothing could swipe away the memory.

********

The conference hall was alive with sound, the tinkling sound of glass on glass, the loud murmur of business people discussing their latest acquisitions. Somewhere under it was music, but Darlene could not make out the song. Somewhere between the noise and the alcohol, she seemed to lose the ability to make fine distinctions.
“That is when I told him that he would have to just file the whole thing under loss, because it was done.” Mark Kingsley laughed and patted the other man, Darlene could not remember his name now, on the shoulder. “He just stared at me like I was speaking another language. It took him five minutes to realize he had lost the deal.”
Darlene gave a small laugh as well and gave up on trying to remember the other man’s name. If he were important enough to remember, she would do so, even with a few glasses of wine. Mark gave her another of his secret looks, and she felt her stomach tighten. He had spent most of the night flirting with her, casually and subtly of course, but as the dinner moved to conversation and mingling, it slowly became more serious. Occasionally he would slip some small innuendo into their conversation, about how nice it was to take orders from a woman from time to time – Tammy Winslet was his boss at Cole Enterprises – or some other little tease that their industry peers were either too dense or too drunk to catch onto.
Darlene had not missed a single one of them. She had no idea how he knew. She did not talk to anyone about it. She supposed that she must have given off some kind of signal. Had she looked at him a little too long? Had their hands lingered when she first shook his? She tried to think of she had said anything that could be construed as innuendo, but the alcohol was muddling that. In the end, it did not really matter. Mark had caught on that she wanted something, and his signals indicated that he was more than willing and able to provide it to her.
Mark spun the man toward a new group and gave a small gesture with his head. He wanted Darlene to follow him. She gulped the last two sips of her wine and did so, placing her glass down on a table as she passed it. As they stopped at small groups to offer quick input into conversations, he leaned in close to whisper to her. “Go out the door in front of you. Follow the hall to the left and meet me.”
Darlene felt warmth move through her abdomen and between her legs. She could not remember the last time a man had made her feel this excited. She slowly made her way to the doors he indicated and slipped out after offering her opinion on textile grants. She let the doors slip closed behind her and checked the hall both ways before turning left. She turned the corner to see Mark coming through his door. He also checked the hall before walking up to her. He pressed his body against her, pushing her against the wall. The scent of his cologne was strong and turned the warmth between her legs into a throbbing ache.
“What would you like me to do, Mrs. Trendley?” He touched his lips to hers softly but did not kiss her. He pulled back and looked up into her eyes. Darlene saw his want and something else as well, a deep eagerness to please her. She was not used to seeing that in a man’s eyes, and the rush of power made her feel even more light-headed and bold.
“Not here,” Darlene whispered. “What if someone comes out?”
“Upstairs then?” Mark moved to her ear and whispered into it, his lips brushing her earlobe. “We can get a room and I can do whatever you tell me to do.”
Darlene bit her lip and pressed herself harder against him, feeling his hardness against her. The thought of him thrusting into her caught as a moan in her throat and Mark kissed her ear lightly. She placed her hands around his hips, letting him grind against her through her black cocktail dress.
“Someone might see us still,” she panted and let him go.
Mark pulled back again. The desire in his eyes was still undaunted. “I know of another hotel not far from here. It’s cheap and one of those places. However, no one here will see us. If they do, they certainly won’t talk about it.”
Darlene nodded and Mark pulled back. It was settled then. She was going to go to a cheap hotel and have a fling with this young man. His dark hair and darker eyes had captivated her, and his willingness had enraptured her. He whispered the address to her and told her to meet him there in an hour. He would leave first and set up the room. She had only to ask for him.
If I don’t like it, then no harm done, Darlene thought to herself. She made her way to the restroom to straighten herself out before returning to the conference.

Read more at Smashwords

Julie’s Game

December 10th, 2014

Mark swatted Julie lightly on the ass with the dishtowel as she continued to laugh at her joke. She gasped and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, leaving a handprint of suds behind on his t-shirt. She turned back to the sink and dishes. Mark wiped away the suds and waited patiently for the next dish to be handed to him.

“You are mean.” Mark took the cup that Julie offered to him and dried it gently with the towel before placing into the dish rack. “Anyone can burn crepes. It has been done plenty of times.”

Julie shook her head and handed up a new dish. “There is no excuse for a chef to burn a crepe at home, without any kitchen stress.”

Mark sighed and rolled his eyes, taking the offered plate without any further defense of himself. Julie was being playful and it was nice to see her in good spirits again. Her last two weeks had been nothing but stress at work, with the company making staffing cuts this past Monday. Mark knew the company would have been foolish to let Julie go, but convincing her of that impossibility when she had watched so many co-workers, more seasoned than she was, being walked out the door was a challenge.

Now the week was done, Julie’s job was safe, and she was finally relaxing. He decided she could pick on him as much as she wanted tonight. Hearing her laugh, after tears and stress, even a couple of arguments over things so silly that Mark could not remember what they were, was a treasure.

Mark had offered to make dinner for the two of them, something nice and restaurant quality. Julie had not wanted to go out to eat, and after how stressed she had been, Mark was not going to push it. She would feel social again soon, but if she wanted a home-cooked meal and a quiet movie, Mark was not going to argue with that. The burning of the crepe had been due to her movie choice, a flick she said she had picked up in a discount bin called Bound in Love.

He did not have the chance to ask her what discount bin. Mark knew this particular title and was stammering out a protest when the pan began smoking. Dirty movies were not something that the two of them typically watched together. He had caught scenes of this one on line, and it was a hot one.

They finished dishes with more laughter and playful banter back and forth before moving on to the living room. Julie started the movie for them and joined Mark on the couch. He let her nuzzle up to him as she skipped the disk through its rather tawdry previews. It started the way all these movies did anymore. A lonely rich man with flashes of scenes hinting at strange perversions, an innocent and repressed young woman with dreams of being owned.

Julie poked fun at the movie when the meeting and initial romantic scenes fell into tropes, but she seemed to be enjoying it. Mark relaxed and brought Julie up to kiss her, remembering the scenes that were coming up. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, and Mark began to slowly make his way up her shirt, tickling her sides before finding her ample breasts beneath their silky bra.

A smack sounded from the television and Julie broke their kiss to turn to the screen. On it, the pretty blonde actress had the rich man tied to the bed, with an apologetic look on her face after striking him with his flogger. As a twist, this director had decided that the perverse rich man would win his innocent submissive’s trust with a role reversal first.

“That looks fun.” Julie turned back to Mark with a glimmer in her eye that made Mark tighten and harden. “Can I?”

Read more at StreetWraith Press, Amazon, or Smashwords

At One Slight Bound

December 5th, 2014

Abe closed the small card and breathed out slowly, picturing his nervousness as a balloon being pushed away from him. He did just as Mistress Leslie had taught him, measuring his breath so that he could count to fifteen in his mind. He opened the card again and looked at the writing, carefully rendered so that the curve of each letter was perfectly uniform. He had never met someone so disciplined, so controlled.

The idea of her controlling him sent a thrill up Abe’s spine.

Abernathy Taggart had just earned his Masters of Business Accounting. He had worked hard, spending every summer taking classes, doubling up during his undergraduate program to earn his Bachelors in only three years. He was about to embark on a completely new part of his life now. He still had offers for interviews, some promising top consideration, that he had not looked at yet. They flooded his email box daily.

The most exciting part of his life was soon coming up, however. This Christmas he would be going home to visit his family. There, he would reunite with his old high school sweetheart, Marley Smith, rekindle their relationship, and ask her to marry him. That had been his plan when he left his small town life behind for college. It never changed.

The two of them were not dating. Two states and five years apart made that impossible, even with the internet. Abe did not want to tie her down to someone she would only see, maybe, on holidays. They had ended their relationship when he left for college, promising to stay in touch. They did. Abe had decided that if she did not find anyone else who made her as happy as he did, then when he returned home after graduation, he would ask her to marry him.

He had everything planned out in his mind, every minute detail. He would invite her for Christmas dinner with the family. The two of them would talk. They would find that their regular contact over the years kept them close, and that bond from their high school days would return. By New Year’s Eve, it would be apparent to both of them that, as far as love was concerned, time and space did not matter. He would ask her to marry him on at the New Year’s Eve party and she would say yes.

The rest of the fantasy varied a little. He knew that she had saved herself for marriage, and that she had not found anyone yet that she wanted to marry. Their town was small. If you did not know by the time you were thirteen that you wanted to marry someone, it was a safe bet you never would want to. Abe appreciated her resolve in that regard. He had also saved himself, but not by design. His school schedule had simply been too busy for dating, and he did not want to risk entanglements from one-night stands.

Marley’s virginity was by choice. His own was the product of his determination to dedicate himself to his studies. In each of his fantasies, everything broke down when his inexperience caused him to flounder, sometimes embarrassingly in his mind. He wanted everything to be perfect. He would carry her up to their honeymoon suite on their wedding night. He would take her out of her dress and draw a warm bath for her, bath her, tell her how beautiful she was, and wash her curly brown hair. Then he would dry her and massage her on the bed, helping every part of her relax from her long and wonderful day. When that ended, he would move on to pleasuring her until she was so eager for him that she pulled him up and into her.

He had the fantasy down, until it came to actually performing. He wanted her first time to be perfect. No clumsiness. No insecurity. No oops or accidents. If he were going to be her only lover, he would make sure that from their first night she would have no reason to want for anything. That meant that he could not be a virgin.

That was where Mistress Leslie came in.

She was not a prostitute. Women like her never were. She was a professional, however, one acutely aware of how to help people understand and fulfill their fantasies. She was one of the most highly sought Dominatrices, a member of Haven, and, if rumors were to be trusted, one of the few people to be in the confidence of the exclusive club’s matron, Mistress Victoria.

Abe’s mentor had arranged their meeting. Meeting John had been one of the most fortunate accidents Abe had ever experienced. John was an alumnus of the University, visiting the campus for a game. Abe had run into him, literally, when he failed to look before walking backwards. John had been a good sport about the accident, and Abe had taken an instant liking to him. They talked, and when John learned of his interests in accounting, had taken Abe under his wing, helping him to make the business contacts that now flooded his inbox.

John was more than just a mentor. He was also a friend, a big brother in the big city. When Abe could not take his insecurity anymore, John listened attentively, and with understanding that his college buddies would never have shown. He promised a solution for Abe. A few weeks later, John introduced him to Mistress Leslie. The rest was –

When you come to the restaurant, only tell the Maître d’ that you are there to meet with Miss Sheehy. He will bring you to my table. I want you to arrive promptly at Seven P.M. You will not come to my table a minute before, or a minute after.

Read more at StreetWraith Press, Amazon, or Smashwords

Promenade

November 26th, 2014

Mark watched Julie as she slipped on her dress for the party. He moved his eyes from the mirror to her back and to the mirror again, transfixed by the transformation that vantage gave the dress. In the mirror, he traced Julie’s light skin beneath her dark hair, which she began pulling up into a casual bun. The dress dropped off the shoulders in a gentle swoop over her bust line. Below the breasts, it traced an hourglass with open sides and hugged her hips down to her upper thighs. Behind her, the dress swooped down her shoulder blades creating a wide band across her back, leaving the back open. The skirt draped over her hips and butt, trailing down to the floor, where Julie stood on her tiptoes as she tilted her head in order to see the placement of pins in her hair.

Only the sleeves seemed to be the same from front to back. They traced down the arm to the elbow, where they opened and hung down to her wrists. Mark took in the full vision of Julie, in the mirror and from behind, enjoying the way the dress accentuated her slender figure and brought her breasts and hips into prominence. He thought of how eyes would linger on her later and licked his lips, feeling his desire pulsing, but knowing that it was almost time to head downstairs.

“You like the dress then?” Julie smiled at him in the mirror and leaned over the counter. The skirt slid over her hips and hung between her slightly parted legs. Mark imagined the front pulling up, barely hiding everything important, and swallowed hard. “I’m glad. I was afraid it would be too conservative.”

Mark shook his head and took a breath. “I don’t think that dress has met conservative before.” He allowed his eyes to linger a little more, imagining how many would do the same tonight. He admired Julie for being able to not only endure, but blossom under the gaze. She loved the attention, and he loved how her body responded after they came home from an evening out. “It is fantastic.”

Julie turned around and leaned against the vanity counter. Her skirt hugged her upper thighs, higher than intended. “If you like the dress, you love these then.” She slid the skirt up, revealing the black, lacy panties beneath. He could trace the thin, well trimmed patch of hair under the lace and the smooth vulva below.

“We really need to head down to the party.” The statement was more for Mark’s benefit than Julie’s.

Read more at StreetWraith Press, Amazon, or Smashwords.

Sorry, my little pet …

November 26th, 2014

I have been neglecting this site. I’ve been working on content for On the Scene. I wrote a review for StreetWraith Press Afterdark. I am working through Fiverr and have some articles and stuff I’m working on.

And I’m working on an erotic fantasy novel.

So I am putting stuff out, just not getting here to talk about it.

Sorry my lovelies.

Heather in Haven – Complete

September 26th, 2014

Heather in Haven is now complete. Because it has been a while since the excerpt of the first chapter was posted, I’ll give you a taste of the story with it …

Music filled Heather’s senses, a smooth sensual groove that twisted around her body and caressed her neck and ears. She walked through the crowded club, glancing at the patrons as they sat at their tables. The stage and the lithe creature that danced to the sultry music held their attention. She was thin, far more so than Heather thought possible for a woman. She twisted her body as she stood; feet shoulder width apart, wearing a short red skirt that flared at her thighs. Her torso was bare, save for a single ring piercing her navel. She wore a sport bra, the same deep red as her skirt, that covered her slight breasts. She tossed her short black hair back and forth as she moved her head in time to the music. She wore no shoes and, as she lifted her left leg, Heather could see how delicate and perfectly formed her foot was. The dancer pulled her foot around and up behind her back, leaned forward over her right leg, and slowly brought her back and left leg parallel to the stage.

Heather could not take her eyes off the dancer. The woman seemed to notice and glanced at Heather, giving her a quick wink before pulling her left foot forward. She brought her foot down onto the stage floor and planted her hands, bringing her right leg back and twisting her legs around into the air, allowing the skirt to fall to her waist and reveal the bare pink lips of her pussy. Heather’s instinct to look away was quelled as the dancer brought her legs out to either side in a split and arched her back, offering her and the patrons a clear view of the pink lips that twitched slightly as she flexed her pelvic muscles. She brought her head up and met Heather’s gaze once again. The dancer blew her a small kiss and brought both feet down in front of her shoulders and onto the stage. Slowly, fluidly, she pulled her arms back, bringing her body up in one smooth, effortless motion, until she stood erect once more.

Heather felt her breath shallow and quicken, and wished she had a chair to sit in. She felt the fluttering sensation at her belly button that signaled intrigue and arousal. Around her, the tables were filled with patrons, strange faces she did not feel comfortable approaching, especially with how aroused as she felt. She felt a flush move through her body as the dancer pulled one arm between her legs, her body following as she raised her left leg into the air, once again revealing those pink lips that twitched in time to the music.

With effort, Heather broke her gaze away from the dancer and looked around her. The dance floor was empty, but clear of places to sit as well. Along one wall, plush couches and chairs created a lounge for the dance floor, but a young man and his entourage of women occupied these. Across the club, patrons filled the tables all the way to the stairway that led up to the darkened balcony. Heather had been warned that this was off limits to visitors of the club, roped off and guarded by two bouncers.

Except tonight, it seemed.

Tonight, the velvet rope hung limply to one side of the stairway and the foretold bouncers were gone. Heather made her way between the tables, ignored by the patrons who still watched the dancer with the same intensity she felt. Heather stopped at the entrance to the stairway and looked around. She had been told that the balcony was solely for the use of the club’s owner, an elusive Domme who rarely graced the club floor with her presence. Heather touched the mahogany handrail and frowned. She supposed her friend could have made it up, perhaps dreaming up the entire thing to explain a temporary closure of the area. That Heather had been abandoned in this club was enough to call any story about it into question.

“I’ll see you at the club at ten,” Olivia had told her as they walked to their respective vehicles after work. “I’ll meet you in the front lounge.” Olivia had handed Heather an invitation, a simple business card with the silhouette of a dancing woman on one side and “Haven” in bold black lettering on the other. No address. No website. The recipient of this invitation was expected to know where to go.

When Heather arrived, she found a line of people wrapping around the building and into the side alley. She was relieved when the bouncer recognized the invitation and ushered her in. She also did not miss the glares she received from those waiting outside. Many of them, she learned, stood in line every weekend, waiting in vain for a chance invitation. This was Heather’s first time.

Olivia was nowhere to be found. Heather had waited in the front lounge for a half an hour before deciding to explore the club for herself. She did not want to imagine the glares or jeers if she dared to leave so soon.

Heather glanced around one more time to see if anyone took notice of her at the balcony entrance. The bouncer on this side of the club floor, who moved his head in a slow, steady motion from left to right, then right to left, took no note of her. No patrons offered her polite warning glances. Satisfied at this tacit permission, she walked slowly up the dark stairway to the balcony above.

A plush maroon seat lined the wall to her left and wrapped around into the dark corner ahead of her. The lighting here was very dim, but it did not appear that anyone else was up here. To her right, short cocktail tables lined the balcony railing, affording her a small pathway to walk. Heather noticed that from here, she could see over the entire club and its patrons and had a perfect view of the dance stage and its contortionist performer.

Heather walked forward slowly, looking for a good place to sit, unnoticed by the patrons below but with a good view of the stage. As she walked, she reached out her left hand to touch the plush backing of the seat. The satin velveteen material was inviting, and she stopped to press her hand into it, relishing the cool surface and warm softness.

“It’s about time you came up,” a woman’s voice, smooth, light, and stern, spoke from the darkness of the corner.

Heather gasped and withdrew her hand as if slapped. She turned and peered into the shadowed corner ahead of her, trying to pull a form from the darkness there. Slowly the thin silhouette of a woman formed and walked forward. She was fair skinned with long black hair draped over one shoulder. Dark eyes, set above thin, rounded cheekbones, gazed back at Heather with amusement and something else, something that made Heather’s stomach tighten in anticipation. The woman wore a tight black sleeveless dress that hugged her ample breasts and thin torso and flared out as it trailed to the floor. The front was slit open, revealing her thin legs and long, black, thigh-high boots. Heather followed the boots up, but she walked with small steps, one foot in front of the other, and kept the skirt from opening above the meeting of her thighs.

Heather looked back to the face of the woman as she stopped a couple of feet in front of her. The dark eyes continued to study Heather, tracing the shape of her face and body. Finally, the woman smiled.

“Olivia said you were shy, but not terrified. Do you think I’m going to bite you?”

Heather traced the curves of the woman’s thin lips and let out a small sigh. If God is good.

Purchase it on StreetWraith Press.

The Competition

September 23rd, 2014

Ayako hesitated as she stood at the door, looking at the doorbell. Did she want to do this? She could easily be walking into the lion’s den. She thought about Sada at the gym. She had looked contrite as she apologized for being so mean. Ayako felt her stomach tighten and flutter at the memory of the sauna. The Sada in the gym had been a very different person. Ayako supposed it was possible that Sada had felt badly. Maybe she had not meant to push them so far and had just been caught up in the moment.

Sada had invited her to work out at her house, claiming to have a small but effective home gym. Ayako had not intended to take her up on the offer, but theirs was shut down today. Something had gone wrong in the saunas and over the night; the entire building had been steamed. The sign had promised they would be closed through the weekend for cleanup, leaving Ayako desperate. The Central Texas Bikini Regional was this weekend and Ayako wanted to be toned and ready. Last year, she had missed placing in the top three by a tenth of a point. This year she had a real shot at first place.

Ayako rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and Sada smiled at her, looking genuinely happy to see her. Ayako relaxed a little.

“Come in.” Sada gestured for Ayako to enter. Ayako walked inside, looking around at the living room she was invited into. It was roomy and sparsely decorated. “I’m glad you took me up on the offer. I only go to the gym a couple of days a week, but I like having people to work out with.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” Ayako followed Sada through the living room, into the kitchen to an open door leading down. “I’ll admit, I was a little nervous, but your invitation ended up being a life saver.”

“I know. I heard about the sauna.” Sada shook her head. “I hope it was an accident and not someone’s stupid idea of a prank.”

“Me too.” Sada led Ayako down to the basement. Here, she had a nice gym set up with free weights, a machine to work arms and legs, a punching bag, and an open matted area for general workouts. Ayako also noticed a rack of medicine balls of different sizes and weights and two large exercise balls. Looking around her, she thought she might be in Heaven.

“I’m glad you like it.” Sada walked to the exercise balls and rolled them out onto the matted floor. Ayako walked over and sat on one of them, bouncing to test its firmness. “I’m pretty serious about working out and it’s nice to not have to worry about gym hours.”

“Yeah, I’m stuck in an apartment. Having something like this is a dream.” Ayako sighed. “I’ll get there one day. Thank you again for inviting me over.”

Sada waved a hand at her. “My pleasure.”

Read more at Smashwords or StreetWraith Press (Amazon link will work soon we hope).