Saturday, 20 September 2014

Dungeon Masters 4: Mold Me

Phoenix Moore is fascinated by The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM Club. She’s ready to find out if she’s a sub and to try out some of the amazing toys in the dungeons. One look at Dom Lachlan Campbell tells her she wants him to be her Dom. He’s the hottest man she’s ever seen. And then she sees Lachlan’s best friend, Callum Harris. She wants him, too. But it’s more complicated than that.

They’re both werewolf shape-shifters and she’s an unknown human. It’s much too dangerous to tell her their secrets until they’re quite certain they can trust her. Meanwhile, the farm behind their land is up for sale. What’s going to happen if a developer buys it and lots of families move in behind them? How will they have any peace and freedom to change anymore? And what if they lose Phoenix before they’ve ever really gotten to know her?


Phoenix Moore looked up at the delicious-looking security guard accompanying her, and asked, “Can I touch the floggers and whips, please?”

“Would you like one of our Doms to punish you with them so you could really understand how they feel on your skin?” he asked in reply.

Phoenix’s knees wobbled with lust at the thought. “I wouldn’t mind you spanking me.”

“Unfortunately, ma’am, I’m the security guard here to protect you.”

She was absolutely certain that gleam of light in his black eyes was a lust as strong as her own. “You’re on duty as a security guard now. What about when you’re off duty? Are you a Dom then? You look kind of Domish to me.”

“The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM Club adheres strictly to the safe, sane, and consensual rule. If you wish to make an appointment with a Dom, I can take you back to reception.”

“Let’s finish the guided tour first. Is this the only dungeon I’m allowed to visit? Is each dungeon set up the same?”

“Every dungeon is furnished slightly differently to allow for the different requirements of the Doms, but this one should give you the basic idea of how they operate.”

He kept talking but Phoenix wasn’t listening to his words anymore. She was certain that this guard was a Dom and equally certain that he didn’t dislike her. All she needed to know was what name he worked under as a Dom so she could book an hour or two with him. Of course, the damn strict rules here likely meant no fucking, but at least she’d learn about whips and paddles and floggers and all these other things that aroused her so badly she urgently needed a date with her cotton-candy-pink vibrator right now.

Phoenix had met some men from this club at a recent convention she’d attended for her job. The convention had been called “New Directions in the Adult Industry” and the two men, both Doms, had fallen in love with a really sweet woman she’d also met at the convention, Ryia. Phoenix worked for an erotic romance publisher and had been there looking to gather ideas for the publishing company’s future conventions. The company held a convention every second year and was always interested in finding something new to excite authors, readers, booksellers, and librarians. A visit to a BDSM club would be ideal, especially if they could know in advance what kind of stage shows would be held on the various nights so they could advertise them.

Phoenix liked her sex kinky. Not that she knew much from experience but holy hell, the books she’d read that sent her pulses pounding were the ones with kink, BDSM, and ménages. A Dom to punish her to orgasm and then fuck her to a second orgasm sounded like a free pass to paradise to her right now. And yummy Mr. Security Guard was going to be Number One in her bedtime games tonight for sure. It was a damn shame she’d only have him in her mind, not in her bed for real.

“Are there security cameras in here?” she asked, cutting across his explanation about the St. Andrew’s Cross.

“No, ma’am. The privacy of our guests is important to us.”

“Excellent.” Phoenix stepped right up into his personal space, wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers, and then kissed him with all the passion that her pent-up hormones demanded. His lips were soft, and he tasted faintly of coffee and more strongly of man. Absolutely as delicious as he looked.

“Now you can take me back to the registration desk, thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

His voice was hoarse, and even though he turned his back on her quickly she was sure the front of his uniform was tented by an erection.

Dammit, I knew it. He does like me at least a bit.

Thursday, 4 September 2014

Fill Me: The new Dungeon Masters book.

Ryia Laurie wants to learn how to make her adult store, “Paddle My Ass,” better and more profitable. Asher Roberts, senior chef, and Elijah Deakin, head of security for The Dom’s Dungeon BDSM Club, want Ryia as their mate. Can they all overcome the legacy of Ryia’s abusive ex husband, Miles, to achieve this? Ryia, Asher, and Elijah attend the “New Directions in the Adult Industry” convention with their separate agendas. But Ryia is so busy looking at the exhibition displays, taking notes at the lectures, and attending all the workshops that Asher and Elijah are hard pressed to catch her attention. When they do, her lack of self-esteem makes letting her know how very interested they are in her even harder, if not impossible. How are they going to catch her interest and get to know her before the convention is over?


Ryia stood in the center of her store, her hands on her ample hips, staring critically at the new stock she’d just arranged on her brand new shelving. She wiggled her nose, screwed up her eyes, and finally nodded. Yeah, it’ll do until I think of a better way to display it.

She’d spent most of her first year in college trying to think of a name for the adult store she planned to own. But no word starting with R fit with Ryia and an adult theme. After that she’d played with words to go with “Adult.” Finally, she’d settled on “Paddle My Ass” as her store name. It screamed adult store, and sex, and yet fun.

All through the second year of her course she’d been researching places to locate her store. It had to be in the type of neighborhood where people would appreciate the genre, yet it had to be a safe enough neighborhood people would visit the store on a cold, dark winter’s day as well as in midsummer. It also needed to be not too close to any existing store.

Finally, only a few weeks before graduation, everything had come together and she’d rented her store in a new warehouse supply neighborhood which was perfect for her as she could now have walk-in-off-the-street clients, as well as appealing to businesses in industries similar to hers.

It took her three months to get her store set up and during that time she also had a website designed and ready to go live the minute the store was officially open. Now she’d been here a little over a year, and the bottom line of her accounts had been black for the previous three months, and she knew it’d continue that way. She was already getting repeat customers and business customers who were wonderful as they bought more than walk-in clients did.

Her first year alone had been both wonderful, but also very strange and difficult to adjust to. She’d gone straight from being a schoolgirl, to marriage, to a control freak, and then to being totally alone, with no one to speak to and nothing to do.

Miles hadn’t let her spend time with her friends except for the occasional lunch or coffee date when he was there as well. Consequently, most of her friends had long ago stopped contacting her, and her father had died very soon after her wedding. It had been his dying wish that she marry Miles, and she’d been happy to accept his choice of man for her because she knew he loved her. Apparently his illness had blinded him to Miles’s true character and she was glad he’d died without finding out what a cruel and devious asshole Miles had turned out to be.

Once she was alone again, Ryia’d had to learn and relearn everything she thought she’d known about life. No longer did laundry have to be done Miles’s way, everything folded exactly into sections. She could eat whatever she wanted to, whenever she wanted to. She slept in a bed every night, instead of on the floor, unless her husband had wanted her for sex. But best of all she could wear clothes whenever she wanted to, and she could choose those clothes for herself.

Miles had destroyed and thrown away almost every item of her so-carefully-chosen wedding trousseau. Lingerie that she’d felt beautiful wearing. Soft, filmy, silky night dresses that had touched and aroused her skin. Pretty dresses that had made her feel mature and grown up, a fit partner for a handsome man like Miles. He’d liked her to wear jeans and baggy sweatshirts “to hide those repulsive rolls of fat” when she left the house. Yet at home, he’d order her to remain naked, in case he wanted to fuck her.

Now alone, Ryia had developed her own style. She wore long, flowing, ankle-length skirts in fall colors, and teamed them with soft, silky shirts in the summer and fleecy warm sweaters in the winter. She wore sturdy boots in winter that kept her feet cozy and dry, cool flip-flops in the summer, and comfortable athletic shoes when she knew she’d be on her feet walking around all day.

At first, she’d suffered from dreadful pangs of guilt each time she bought something for herself, constantly hearing Miles’s accusing voice in her head, railing at how ugly, and useless, and unworthy she was. But she’d forced herself to repeat over and over again that the money she was spending was her own. It had always been her own, not his.

I am not useless. I am not completely stupid. My store is a success now, and it will be an even bigger success as I learn more and more about the industry. I will support myself and I will be happy.