Jodie is scraping the barrel trying to stay afloat. An idea arrives that could rescue her finances and bring her together in a kinky way with a man she never gave up on. She's terrified and fascinated, and tempted as hell.
Capture fantasies rule her eBook. Re-enacting one in a documentary would surely be irresistible viewing to millions of women?
But Jodie and Klaus discover that underneath an ordinary man dark desires may lurk. What will win in the end? The man and lover, or the monster?
“I agree. This isn’t working.”
Pure agreeable statement, but she rocked back slightly before she nodded.
“Nice is bad, Jodie? You want mind fuck. You want mean. You want things you dream about. You have no idea.”
Her eyes widened.
“Starting now. The rules are gone. I make my own rules.”
“Uh. What? They were your rules.”
I took down the list from the door and held it, slowly tapping the laminated paper against my leg. “No. They were not.”
After unfolding the flaps of the cardboard box, I tucked the list down inside and pulled out the two gags. “Rule one. You don’t talk unless I say you can.” As her mouth opened, with the buckles trapped in my fingers, I dropped both gags into view, and dangled them. “Talk and I use these.”
Like magic, her mouth clicked shut. Now I had her attention. That had worked. I was perhaps as stunned as she looked. She touched her tongue tip to her upper lip as I stood before her, and kept her gaze swinging from the gags to my face. I had a feeling I’d never had a woman so rapt in what I said. Addictive. The pulse of excitement had centered at my groin. Nothing I could do about it. I already knew that looking at women in bondage revved my engine. But I’d never done more than look at pictures.
Now I had an inkling that any situation where I got to hold the reins, really hold the reins, was like oxygen to a man in the throes of suffocation. Incredible.
I ran through my epiphany, convincing myself as much as her. Bluntness was called for.
“My conclusions. You asked me to do this because you still want me in your bed. You want me to fuck you.” Her gasp, I answered by swinging the ball gag. She uttered no words. “Somewhere in your plans, you hoped. The rules, I made up those in line with what I knew you’d be thinking. You knew I’d not step beyond, or not much.
“This,” I swept my arm across, “This room was your idea. Your rules. Lock me up. Make me yours for a while, but not too rough or dangerous because that isn’t in my rules.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”
Though she frowned and shook her head I went on. It didn’t matter if she deluded herself.
“You imagined some safe little love affair, with some kink on the side? Doesn’t work that way. Either you hand over control, or I walk. No documentary. Nod if you agree.”
I waited. I could almost hear the clocks ticking.
When she nodded slowly, my heart kicked back in. If it had beaten at all for those last few seconds, I’d been unaware.
“Good. This room is no longer your prison. The house is secure and private enough. You’re coming upstairs as long as you behave. I’ll install more cameras.”
No protests. Good. For a woman who liked having an opinion on everything this was exceptional. I could have walked on a cloud I was so hyper-aware of everything she did. Were her lips fuller, her cheeks flushed, her breathing faster? I thought so, but she didn’t know what I intended.
“Let me point out what could have happened if this stupid plan had gone wrong. If you picked a less restrained, a less sensible man. You’ve given me a hundred filthy dirty ideas about what I could do to you. I never knew what depths my mind could plunge to. Now I do. If anyone was mind fucked so far, it was me. Another man would follow through. You think these gags are bad? This one with the red ball is simple, it just stops you talking.” I laid the other, metal-and-leather gag across my palm. “This one is a spider gag. With this in, you can’t close your mouth and your mouth can be fucked. Do you have any idea of the things on the internet? Wait.” I held up my hand. “I guess you do, from what’s in those books you read.”
I bent and rested my hands on my knees. Mind fuck. This I could accomplish.
“You want a list? How about the list of things a man could do to you in this situation? I could make you wash my dishes naked with a gag in. I could tie you up, cut your clothes off and just stare at you all day – just because I could. I could make you be a piece of furniture and ignore you. Humiliating? Yes. I could train you to be an anal slut. I could fuck your ass all day long. I could collar you and make you crawl around on the floor like a dog at a convenient height for blow jobs. I could share you with the man down the street, stick needles in your nipples and use them and some string to fasten you to eyebolts in the ceiling. Want to try that one? And at the end of it all, if I was the worst sort of man, I could kill you and bury you out there on the beach.” I swung my arm up to point. “Maybe no one would ever find you.”
Now she was truly speechless, maybe even scared. Served her right. I watched the little swallows she made for a count of five.
“But I’m not going to. I’m your friend. Remember that, no matter what I do.” I smiled one-sided but I’m sure it didn’t reach my eyes. The eyes are the mirror to the soul and right then my soul was very dark.
Then I squatted in front of her, a couple of feet away, reached out and ran the tip of my forefinger along her plump bottom lip. “My rules. Open.”
A second’s hesitation at most. She shivered and her mouth parted. Mind fuck, here we come.
“Good. Jodie.” Then I very deliberately held up the spider gag, slipped it between her teeth, pulled her head forward, and held her there while I buckled it. Hair made a great anchor point. I slid my splayed fingers into the roots and tilted her head back then I added a rule.
“Second rule. You do my dishes whenever I say. You wear the spider gag. You don’t speak unless I say. But first…” Eyes locked on hers, I advanced one finger into her mouth and stroked her tongue. And she let me.
Had I hypnotized her? She did nothing but stare back. What I wouldn’t have given to fuck her mouth right then and there.
Fantasy vs reality in BDSM
What we are talking about here is BDSM in fiction.
There’s been some debate about whether the BDSM in a story should be true to life. Sometimes people are worried about safety issues and imagine a novice trying something stupid that they read in a story and hurting themselves. I tend to think this is a bit of Darwinian selection. If you are going to do something like that without checking if it’s safe through some other information source, you are probably the same sort of person who takes a hair dryer into a bath tub. Check your facts people, is all I can say.
For me the problem with weird BDSM is that it pulls me from the story and makes me not believe in it.
On one hand, any story is fantasy. The writer is imagining. You dream up characters, conflicts, all those things that will happen to your people.
It’s when you really focus down on a story, when you zoom in, so to speak, that the fiction can come close to reality. If a writer wants a reader to be inside the story, to believe, they need to convince the reader that this story is happening, or could happen. One of the ways is to get the small facts right. But how right?
Because, sometimes real can be damn boring. Writing in every detail of a scene would be boring. So us writers only scribble in the bits we think we need. And we twist things so the story works. In real life Doms are not infallible; they do make mistakes; their shibari isn’t perfect, even if they’ve been practicing for years. Sometimes the sub has a headache or PMS and things go wrong but these real things don’t fit most stories.
In fiction, if we want to make the Dom seem competent, we make sure he doesn't do anything dumb. If we want conflict, we throw in a mistake.
We twist the facts.
In Take Me, Break Me, I have a scene where Klaus decides to use a cane and since this isn’t a club situation, he doesn’t have everything on hand, so he goes out and cuts down a piece of fresh bamboo. One of my beta readers – Candace Blevins – pointed out that in real life bamboo can split and cut badly. Rattan cane is used more for this reason, or there are also artificial substances, even steel.
There are a lot of sites out there that have details about caning on them. I would hope any readers curious about it after reading my book would go off and look for themselves. As a precaution though, I do mention in the story that bamboo can split.
The reality is that bamboo is a bad choice. But it was more fun to let Klaus go out and cut his own cane. Reality also – some people do use green bamboo. I doubt many of us reading this have a stand of bamboo in their back yard. I have some growing just down the street. Let me tell you though, it is a bitch to have growing in your yard because bamboo grows like crazy and when you cut down a stalk, another one pops up.
The main thing to take away from this is that you should never believe everything you read. Or maybe that should be anything you read…leastways not until you’ve checked it many, many times.
Yes, sadly, most Doms don’t have muscles like the Rock.
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