I know, I've been pretty quiet for a little while. I've been working! The two new novels are close, so close, and so is a third Harper's Cove novella. It's getting pretty exciting up in here!
In the meantime, I thought I'd give you something you'll really like - some excerpts from
Adventurous Me. This little novel that I never intended to write has turned into something I'm totally in love with. Trish is so smart and funny and down-to-earth, and the guys are all so loveable; well, most of them. That Clint Winstead is kind of hard to read, though. Wonder what's up with that?
So here we go. Won't be long now. Enjoy!
*****
“Come on, let’s get you dressed,” she tells me. My pants
come down and I pull the leggings on. She nods. “Looking good. Better put the
shoes on. You may not be able to bend
over once you get the corset on.” There’s considerable doubt in my mind that I
can walk in the things, but I put them on anyway. She points to my boobs, so I
pull my tee up and off. “Get that bra off,” she barks, and I unhook it and take
it down. I feel very self-conscious standing there, naked from the waist up,
but she looks at me and says, “Nice tits! Here, put the lace tee on.” I pull it
on over my bare breasts and she holds up the corset. “Let’s get this on you and
I’ll tie the laces.” Corset in hand, she wraps it around me, zips the side,
then grabs the laces and pulls it tight – too tight. I can barely breathe.
“I know what you’re going to say, but you’ll get used to it. It makes your
waist look smaller and makes you look very sexy.”
When it’s tied, she takes me to a mirror in the shower
area. “Look! You look fabulous!” I see her pointing in the mirror and I take a
look.
I barely recognize myself. I look,
well . . .
Sexy. And adventurous.
She looks in the bag Dave handed me and says, “Yep, I
thought you’d forgotten something.” In the bottom in a small box are earrings
and two bracelets, all of very delicate silver. They’re intricate filigree and very
large, and I’m touched at the trouble Dave went to for me.
When I’ve got the jewelry on, the woman says, “Oh, by the
way, I’m Delilah. I’m a regular here. Are you a member?”
I shake my head. “I’m Trish and no, I just met Dave last
night and he invited me to come.”
“He’s a wonderful person.” She gets a serious look on her
face, kind of like the one Dave wore the night before. “Have you ever been to a
fetclub?”
“A what?”
“Um-hum. That answers my question. Look, if you have any
questions about anything that’s going on, just ask someone. They don’t mind
explaining. But don’t interrupt them when they’re doing a scene, okay? That’s
just poor form. A Dom needs to concentrate on his sub when they’re scening.”
“I have no idea what you just said,” I tell her with a
shrug.
“That’s okay. You’ll figure it out pretty quick. And
remember: At Bliss, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Safe,
sane, and consensual, always. Ready?” She holds out her arm to me like she’s
going to escort me.
“I guess so. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be ready
for.” There’s more going on here than I know or understand, and I’m terrified,
but I’m also excited. And that’s when, as I take her arm, she says the magic
words.
“Well then, come on out and start the adventure.”
There are strange sounds coming from the big room as we
walk out into the hallway and head back into the light. When my eyes adjust to
the lighting, I’m speechless.
There are three alcoves. In the farthest one, a woman is
kneeling on some kind of bench, her forearms and wrists bound down with straps
and her ass in the air, the bench turned so that her side is to the audience.
And she’s completely naked. A man stands to one side of her, facing the crowd,
and he has what looks like some kind of whip in his hand. As I watch, he begins
to lash her backside and she cries out, but she also has a peaceful look on her
face.
In another small alcove, a woman is bound to a big
cross-like apparatus, face out toward the crowd. There is a clamp on each of
her nipples, and it looks excruciating. A chain runs from clamp to clamp, and a
third chain hangs from the center of that one and runs down her stomach. It
goes all the way down to her . . . oh, god, there’s a clamp
there too. How can she stand that? As she’s standing there, the man with her is
getting out something that looks like a microphone. But he hits a switch on it
and it hums to life. It’s a giant vibrator, and he presses it right into her
slit. She shrieks and pants and, within a couple of minutes, she’s having an
orgasm, right there in front of everybody.
There’s another alcove, a bigger one, and I can’t see
what’s going on in there because of all the people crowded around. Whatever it
is must be popular. When we walk up, one of the men says, “Oh, excuse me,
ladies. Hey, guys, subs coming through.” The crowd parts with his words, and
Delilah and I walk right up to the front. That’s when I stifle a gasp.
There’s a woman, naked, on her back, strapped to a table.
Arms, legs, everything, tied down, and there’s a split in the table so that her
legs are apart, leaving room between them to just walk up. There’s red wax all
over her, her breasts, her chest, her ribs, arms, legs, everywhere. It’s
obvious it was dripped on her while it was hot. Some kind of cords are tied
around her nipples, their ends crossed across her body and tied to a d-ring on
either side of the table so that there’s a constant tension on them. And the
pain from the cords is probably intensified with any movement. Which there is.
There can’t help but be movement.
Because the man in the alcove is fucking her. Right
there. Right in front of everybody. His cock is unusually large and hard, and
he’s really giving it to her. I’m shocked, but no one around me seems to be the
least bit fazed by it. Then I realize something kind of scary.
Deep down, while I stand there watching, I
acknowledge to myself with great shame that I’m wishing I were her.
