I have to say that for most of my years, my sex life could be classified as vanilla with a hefty dose of cinnamon—all the things on the vanilla to do list but with a heavy dose of spice. Even when I married Hubby Number Two, my very own cowboy hunk who is the model for alpha males, we added some hot pepper—okay, a lot of hot pepper—but I wasn’t writing erotic romance then. Play, I wasn’t writing anything then!. So those parts of our relationships that fit into BDSM were—just parts of our relationship.
Then, a few years ago, I read my first book by a BDSM author and I thought, OMG! Where have I been all my life? Not only was it a beautiful story about a relationship, it depicted the BDSM lifestyle in such a manner that I became a shopaholic—I combed epublishers for BDSM books.
Okay, okay, call me obsessed. And no, he doesn’t cuff me and spank me naked on the front porch, or decide to put on nipple rings in the middle of the grocery store. And we’ve had to find a balance in our relationship because we are both very, very strong personalities, and submission does not come naturally to me.
But as I began writing BDSM, like everything else I write I wanted to do my research so I would not depict the lifestyle in a manner insulting to those who live it. There are many, many really good sites on the Internet that give you a lot of information about the lifestyle, and really explain the emotional side of it.
Then I took a leap of faith, joined a chat room (using a screen name) and explained who and what I was. I got very lucky. Two people have become my online friends, willingly answering questions for me as long as they have a guarantee of anonymity and respect.
I’ve learned a lot about them—and about myself. I learned that the D/s relationship is all about sharing and caring. That the Dom provides and tremendous sense of emotional security for his sub, and at the same time the sub is as much in control because her submission is the source of his pleasure. I learned how to establish a give and take when there are strong personalities to establish a balance.
And I learned that whether you are totally into the BDSM lifestyle or just enjoy parts of it, those parts can enhance your life beyond anything you can imagine.
I began to reach a point where BDSM is a part of the relationship in ninety percent of the books I write. The extent to which it plays a part really depends on my, characters, but it’s always there. And the more I write about it, the more I understand my own feelings, and realize that in every Dom there is a hint of a submissive, and in every sub there is a hint of the Dom.
It’s one of those things where I want to tell people, who ask me how I can write about it—don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Any portion of it.
So if you want to try one new thing today, or this week, or this month. Pick up a book by an author who writes about The Life and you’ll discover you’re really in for a treat.
Go on. Stick your toe-or any other part of your body-in the BDSM waters and see what happens.
Come visit me at http://www.desireeholt.com/ www.bookswelove.net/holt.html www.myspace.com/judithdesiree
I love to hear from people.
by Desiree Holt.
For Kari Loftin life was all about control, in every aspect of it. But she realized that at forty two she had managed to shut out every form of pleasure b y keeping a tight rein on herself. With her beloved Cubs on a winning streak, she tossed away her control for one night and ventured into the world of Petey’s Sports Bar. Little did she expect to meet a hot young stud like Riley Tucker, who showed her a side of herself she’d never dared to explore. One night together and Riley wanted more. Much more. Could Kari get past the age difference—something that didn’t seem to bother Riley at all?
He settled his hands, big and warm, on her shoulders, the heat from them burning through her t-shirt. While she watched with wide eyes he bent his head and licked her lips. Just a very, very light sweep of the tip of his tongue but she felt it all the way through her breasts to her womb. Heat crept over her skin and the beat of her heart tripped over itself.
“Mmm, good.” He licked his own lips, then slid his hands up to cup her face. “I knew you’d taste delicious.”
His mouth came down on hers again, his lips like rough velvet. She was sure he’d be the kind to attack voraciously but instead he seduced her mouth. He nibbled at each lip, his teeth teasing around the shape of her mouth, his tongue touching each tiny bite. He rubbed his lips against hers, then drew in her bottom lip and sucked on it gently.
Her bones felt like wax and more liquid soaked her panties. She felt as if she was suspended in space, attached only to his wonderful mouth.
When his tongue pressed against the seam of her closed mouth she opened with a sigh and thought how good he tasted. It swept inside, pleasantly shocking her as it stirred the nerves on every inner surface. Not an inch was left untouched—the roof of her mouth, the insides of her teeth and her cheeks, the pebbled surface of her own tongue. Tentatively she stretched it out to touch his and in seconds they were tangled together.
He kissed even better than he looked. She couldn’t breathe. Every bit of air was trapped in her throat. She lifted her hands and wrapped her fingers around his wrists, not to pull him away but to hold him in place. Her brain felt fuzzy, her body weightless and she wanted this kiss to go on forever.
Then a switch snapped on in her head and she tore her mouth away from his. Inbred insecurity reared its head and skittered along her spine.
“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait, wait, wait.”
He lifted his head and took a step back. “For what? What’s wrong, Kari”
“I have to tell you something. Please.”
He frowned at her. “Like what? You’re married?” He lifted her left hand, the ring finger glaringly bare. “No ring, unless you’re one of those liberated women who doesn’t think they’re necessary.”
“No, no.” She yanked her hand back. “It’s not that.”
“So what else could it be? You’re really a man who loves cross-dressing? Hell, I think it would be very hard to fake luscious breasts like those.” He skimmed the palm of one hand over her. “Yup. Real and made for touching.”
She took a step backward, wet her lips and let out a breath. “I’m forty-two.”
Riley stared at her, confused. “And?”
Why is he being so stupid? And why did I come upstairs with a man eleven years younger than me?
“I’m forty-two years old,” she practically shouted. Get it out now and get it over with.
“And that’s a problem how? I’m sorry. I don’t get it.”
She clenched her fists in frustration. Why wouldn’t he understand. “How old are you, Riley? Thirty? Thirty-one?”
He shocked her by bursting out laughing. “Jesus, Kari. For a minute you had me scared there. I thought there was a real problem.”