Guilt-the moral flogger

According to Wikipedia, Guilt (emotion) is an emotion that occurs when a person believes that they have violated a moral standard that they themselves believe in. Many people wrestle with this on a daily basis, stepping over an invisible line they’ve drawn for themselves then battling the guilt they feel. It could be something as simple as wrecking the family budget during impulse shopping and not being able to pay the important bills to keeping a secret to harm someone.

I think every one of us has harbored guilt over something at one time or another. When I was writing this I thought of Shannon, my heroine from I Dare You. Shannon was frustrated and unhappy with the sex between her and her significant other. She wanted things—extreme things—that she was sure would offend him, so she was afraid to bring them up.

Instead she began trolling the computer at night when he was sleeping, looking for satisfaction in cyberland and perhaps someone who understood her sexual tastes. And all the while she was doing it, guilt niggled at her. And even more guilt when she had the chance to make what she found a reality.

She was perched on the hard edge of a moral issue (and haven’t we all been there at some time) but, like so much of the population, she sat on that guilt as she found herself helpless to stop what she was doing.

How did she solve her moral dilemma? Check out the story to get the answer. Here’s a taste of it for you.

Blurb:

She met him online in a desperate bid to save her faltering sex life. Connected only by computer, unable to see or hear him, Shannon is drawn step-by-step into the world of BDSM. Each night, as she learns the role of the submissive, she performs the most intimate acts, describing them in detail for her cyber lover. She can almost feel his hands, his fingers and tongue stimulating her body. She spends each day aroused, wet and throbbing, anticipating each “meeting”.

Now he wants to meet her in person, on a treasure hunt that he promises will end with the most erotic, sexually fulfilling night she could imagine. Should she dare take the challenge?

Excerpt:

Her watch showed one minute shy of seven when Shannon walked into the Hot Java. It was crowded, as she expected it to be on a Saturday night. The first stop for people on the hunt before they hit the bars. She took a seat at the end of the bar, prepared to order a coffee until she could figure how who to ask about her package.

She’d taken great pains to prepare for the evening, shaving every bit of excess hair from her body, soaking in the tub for hours then massaging her special lavender cream into every inch of skin. Even her insides were squeaky clean. And she’d taken great pains with her makeup—not too much, not too little.

She was indulging in one of her favorite pastimes, imagining what Cock Robin looked like, when the perky server behind the counter approached her.

“Are you Misty?” she asked.

Shannon nodded. “Why? Do I look like a Misty?”

The girl laughed. “No, but you look the only person in here about to jump out of her skin. You came for this, right?” She reached under the counter and brought up a square white box, fairly large with a note taped to it. “Would you like a coffee? It’s on the house.” She winked. “Already paid for.”

“Um no, thanks anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” She left to wait on another customer and Shannon opened the note.

Go into the ladies’ room, take off every stitch of clothing and put this on. Only this.

Shannon was afraid to open the box in front of strangers. Who knew what the hell was inside? She hitched herself down from the stool and headed for the restroom, which fortunately at the moment was empty. She locked it, set the box on the counter and opened it. A thin red silk coat nestled in the tissue paper. She touched it with her fingers and found the fabric the softest she’d ever felt.

Take off your clothes.

She jumped as if she’d actually heard the words spoken aloud. With trembling hands she took off everything she was wearing, folding it into a neat pile, and pulled on the coat. It had no buttons, only a very wide belt. She’d have to be very careful when she walked.

Beneath it, in the box, lay another note.

I wish I could see you in that coat, the silk clinging to your body. But soon enough, Misty. Soon enough. Pack up your clothes and get moving. Your next stop is Hampton Jewelers. I’m sure you know where it is. Hurry. They close soon.

Hampton Jewelers? She knew the store. It was a half-hour’s drive away. What the hell could he have waiting for her there? Surely he wasn’t already buying her jewelry.

“I’m on my way to Hampton’s,” she told Marti.

“Maybe he’s buying you a diamond,” her friend said with heavy sarcasm.

“How harmful can a jewelry store be?”

“Just give me a call when you leave.”

She waved to the server as she pushed through the front door, tossed the box on the backseat of her car and headed for the jewelry store.

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