Submission and Switching: Reality Revised

Most couldn't guess by looking at her.  In her vanilla life, friends laughed and joked at the idea of her taking orders from a significant other.  In the scene, no one had ever seen her submit.  No one had seen her top either, for that matter.  She didn't dress like the other slaves or submissives she saw at these events, seeing no reason to run around naked or hanging out of tiny lingerie.  She didn't quite understand the correlation between level of nudity and level of submission.  Under her vinyl underbust corset she wore a long sleeve, black floral pattern lace shirt, the outline of her breasts and nipples evident without being obvious.  Her fitted skirt was short enough to be slutty without showing anything unless she intended to, stopping just below where her garter straps met her stockings.  Classic black ankle strap shoes with slightly wide three inch heel gave her that sexy wiggle walk while still allowing for stability.  He was pleased with how she looked and she knew it, something that gave her a little extra boost of confidence.  

She had come prepared to play, prepared to be under His hand and whatever tools He chose to use on her.  As so often happens, things weren't going to go according to plan.  The other girl with them went first, being placed in a cage to start off the night.  He had her tease the girl for a bit until word could spread that others could come have a bit of fun if they liked.  She could feel her sadistic tendencies rising to the surface, enjoying the whimpers, moans and yelps of the other girl as she sunk her nails hard in to the girl's skin, tracing lines around her breasts.  When finally someone else wanted a turn, He took the end of the leash He had tucked in to her corset and they wandered off.  Though she had just been starting to get in to what she was doing, relief washed over her.  She was glad for a few moments alone with Him, even if they were talking with other couples.  The other girl was safely occupied on the other side of the dungeon space, and that was what mattered.

As the evening progressed, eventually the other girl was brought out of the cage and given a few minutes to rest.  Now she would certainly get her chance, and she was right, though not in the way she thought.  The other girl was bound tightly to a particularly evil piece of furniture, a spinning cross of sorts called a fetish ferris wheel.  His toys were laid out, the other girl helpless and blindfolded, waiting for whatever was to happen next.  The leash was removed.  It was then that the shock came.  He turned to her and said, 
"Do you want me to warm her up for you?"
Her eyes went wide, her brain struggling to process what He had just said.  She had topped before, but it had been years.  Sure, she had recently dug out her favorite evil little friend, a black leather flogger with four thin tails that came to a point at the tips, just to practice.  That didn't mean she was ready for this.  She knew His skill, His reputation.  Even before she had become His, she had seen Him play.  She had been on the receiving end as well.  And she was absolutely terrified of letting Him down.  She struggled to find the words to answer Him, but all she could do was shrug.  He picked up one of His matched sets of floggers, found the beat of the music that filled the space and set to work.  She stood and watched, waiting for her heartbeat to return to a normal pace, mind racing, trying to come to terms with what she now knew was coming.

For her, He could have kept going much longer.  She still wasn't entirely ready when He stopped and motioned for her to have at it.  She glanced at her little black flogger and decided against it for the time being, still too terrified to use any kind of toy in front of Him.  She stepped towards the bound girl, hoping that the shaking of her legs wasn't obvious to everyone watching her, most of all Him, and began by using something that had never failed her - her nails.  With the edge of the nail on her index finger, she pressed in to the girls back and began to drag it slowly across on the diagonal.  It left a thin white line in it's wake.  Another one parallel, then the other direction.  The object of her work cried out and a small, evil smile crept on to her face.  Somewhere in her subconscious, she knew she was taking out her own frustrations at not being the one going first for the second party in a row.  She could feel her mentality changing.

She stopped contact and the bound girl wiggled in anticipation.  Without warning - because what fun would that be - she brought her hand down on the girl's left cheek, almost full force.  A pause, then the right got the same treatment. Her target yelped.  She gave an evil little giggle.  The girl had said she wanted pain, and that was exactly what she was going to get.  Perhaps more than bargained for.  One swat after another, picking up speed, with each the dominant side of her personality becoming more and more in control.  Cognitive dissonance began to build in her mind, unbeknownst to her at the time.  She was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't even notice the constant connection she had to Him slipping away.  Though she was still somewhat afraid of using toys in front of Him, when her hand finally began to hurt, she gave in and picked up her flogger, cursing whoever had put together the music play list under her breath as she struggled to find the beat.

Eventually, she got in to the swing of things, even becoming brave enough to use one or two of His toys when he offered.  From time to time they would switch places and He would take over for a little while.  It was nice to see things from that side, as she enjoyed watching Him work.  Given her own mentality at the time, she was seeing it in a completely different light than before.  Each time she found it a little easier to find her pace and when the scene finally needed to come to an end, she couldn't help but be a little sad.  The other girl was unbound and brought down to sit on a chair with a bottle of water with Him making sure everything was alright while she cleaned off the recently vacated piece of furniture.  All of that taken care of, the other girl dressed and recovering, He picked up the leash and sat, motioning for her to come and kneel before Him.  

It felt awkward, not natural as it had earlier in the evening.  She began to shake a little as fear set in again, the realization hitting that she didn't feel that connection she had grown to love, didn't feel her place.  She could barely look at anything but the floor, afraid of what she would see if she looked up at Him."Look at me, pet."  His words made her heart skip a beat.  She looked up at Him from under her eyelashes, forcing herself not to look down again.
"You did very well tonight, pet.  I'm proud of you."  She felt her posture straighten involuntarily, a smile playing on her lips.
He replaced the leash, the cold metal feeling almost foreign on her skin.  Then His hand was around her neck.  The look on his face changed, the tone of His voice becoming deeper, more stern.
"Who do you belong to?"
"Y..you, Master."  She stuttered, desperately wanting to look away.
"Yes, pet."  His grip on her throat increased.  "Who do you serve?"
"You, Master."  The words came more easily this time.
"Yes, you do.  What are you?"
She could feel that familiar tingle coursing through her, stronger than ever as the connection began to return. 
"Your slave.  Your whore.  Your property."
"Yes, pet, that is correct."  He released His hold on her neck, stroking her hair for a brief moment before commanding her to place her arms behind her back and gently pushing her head to the floor between His feet.  The connection returned full force and her heart soared.  She could feel Him again, feel her place.  Even when He removed His hand from her head, she had no desire to raise it.  Kneeling there before Him, forehead pressed to the cold concrete floor, she felt perfectly at peace.  Perfectly, completely His.  The rest of the world ceased to exist, nothing else mattered in that moment.  He could sense this and let her remain there a while before nudging her with His foot to sit up.  She grinned up at Him.
"Thank you, Master."
"You're welcome, pet."  He opened his arms and instantly she was in them, and everything was right with the world.  

Kink and The Real World 2: Dominance VS. Abuse

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100th Follower thank you teaser, from the as-yet untitled fifth book!

In celebration of reaching 100 followers on Twitter, I have decided to give you all a little sneak-peek at The Society Series Book Five.  It's still a work in progress, of course, but there are already some very steamy and sweet scenes featuring the heroine Annie and her gorgeous Irish Master, Sean.  After her ordeal in book four (yup, have to read it to find out!), Sean is slowly starting Annie's training in preparation for something big that's coming either at the end of book five or the start of book six.

When he shut and locked the door, I knew what to do. I slowly stripped off my clothing and, folding it, placed it back on top of the dresser. He put his on the bed, then sat on the couch. I was trembling as I made my way to kneel in front of him again.

"Din'na be afraid, lass. Tis jest me." He was stroking my head again.

"I'm trying not to be, Sir."

"I know. D'ye think ye can start on yer own, or dew ye need me ta guide ye?"

"I...I don't know, Sir." I knew how to do it. What I didn't know was if I could make myself. He took one of my hands and placed it on him.

"Ye can start that way, pet." I shivered a little at that name. It had become a favorite for both of us.

I ran my hand up and down his cock, the skin soft around his hardness. He watched me intently.

"Can ye give it a kiss, sweetheart?" He asked. I had to laugh at the cheesiness of it.

"Yes, Sir, I think I can do that."

"Go ahead then, pet."

I lowered my lips and gave the tip a kiss, breathing deep. The smell of him was familiar and comforting. Feeling brave I darted my tongue out to taste him. He gave a quiet moan.

"Good girl." His voice was getting lower, the green of his eyes deepening with desire.

Taking another deep breath, I forced myself to stick my tongue out further and run it in a quick circle around the tip. Sean shuddered. I have always enjoyed giving my Master pleasure, and seeing his reactions to me egged me on. Still shaking just a little, I took the tip in to my mouth and ran my tongue around it again. He moaned louder.

"Tha's my good girl."

Little by little, keeping my eyes open to prevent myself from having a flashback, I took more of him in to my mouth. Every time I looked up, he was looking right back in to my eyes, and I could see the love and concern in his, along with the desire. I had to get past this. I pulled back and began to run my tongue up and down the length of him. I couldn't ever remember actually giving him a blowjob in this manner. He definitely looked like he was enjoying it. I slid my mouth back down his cock, stopping just before it hit my throat. I definitely wasn't ready for that yet. Back up, then down again and soon I had a rhythm going. His muscles were tense from forcing himself to remain still. Every now and then I would pull back again and use my tongue or focus just on the head. He stroked my hair, head back, eyes closed. After only a few minutes, he told me to stop.

"I din'na want ta cum this way with ye yet."

I flushed again. I knew he was holding back because of my fear.

"It's alright, Sir. I mean, if you want to...you know."

"If ye can say it, then I will." He was looking in to my eyes again.

"It...it's alright if...if you want t...to cum...in my...mouth, Sir." I had to force myself to say it.

"Say it again, but din'na use Sir."

"It's alright...if you want to...cum...in my mouth, Master." I repeated, using the alternative term. I was still getting used to his preferences on that sort of thing.

"Tell ye what pet, wait right there." He stood and went to the chest at the foot of our bed, coming back with our Hitachi wand. It was the one toy I wasn't afraid of. He put a pillow between my knees to elevate the wand and hold it in place, then turned it on about half way. In seconds I was on the verge of cumming.

"How does tha' feel, pet?"

"Good, Master."

"Good. Now, tell me again."

It was becoming increasingly difficult to think, let alone speak. That was exactly what he wanted.

"It's alright if you...want to cum...in my mouth, Master." I was panting between words instead of pausing, struggling to hold back my orgasm.

"Alright, then. Back ta what ye were doin', pet."

I took him in my mouth again, feeling the beginnings of my old hunger returning. The wand buzzed away between my legs. I had to focus completely on his cock to keep myself from cumming until he allowed me to. I was loosing control quickly.

"Cum fer me, pet. I know ye need ta." Instantly I did, moaning around his cock. "Ah, god! Cum fer me again, Annie!" My moaning felt incredible to him and when I did just that while cumming a second time for him I felt his cum begin to fill my mouth. I was so lost in my own pleasure that there was no room for me to be afraid. I swallowed without even thinking about it.

"Good girl." He stroked my head as he came down from his climax, still firmly in my mouth. When he began to go soft, I sat back. I was still shaking, but this time from the wand still between my legs.

"Ye did very well, pet. Cum fer me again."

Somehow, without even really trying, he had managed to train me to cum on command for him. I moaned loudly as my third climax hit. Moments later, he turned off the wand and I collapsed forward on to the couch, panting.

Teaser from Slut University Series Book One, Freshman Year: Engaged and Enslaved

This teaser is from my second series, Slut University.  This series is shared universe with The Society Series, and eventually there may be some cross over between the two.  I'm doing this series in a rather unique way.  It is broken down in to "years" - freshman, sophomore, junior, senior.  Each year will consist of four novellas that will eventually be combined in to one larger book to make a set of four.  This series focuses on Jake and his fiance, Allie.  Jake has been married once before, to a rather prudish woman who berated him for his needs and desires.  Now, he's determined to mold his sweet, willing Allie in to his perfect slut.  The teaser scene below is taken from Allie's first day at the University.


It was two hours until dinner, and next on Allie's schedule was private instruction. Heading to the third floor, where most of the private rooms were, Allie found the one she was supposed to report to and knocked gently on the door. A very attractive man opened it, and she stepped inside. The room was slightly larger than the bedroom she shared with Brenda. On one side was a desk and chair, on the other an odd, padded table with adjustable legs. The man wasted no time, immediately ordering Allie to bend over the table. She sat her things down and obeyed.

“Jake indicated on the intake survey that he is the only man you have ever been with. That is going to change. As a slut, you will take as many cocks as he wants, starting with mine. You will also not be allowed to climax until I give you permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was shaking.

He pulled his large cock from his pants and slowly pushed it in to her, feeling the butt plug through her thin wall as he did. Leaning down, he said,

“I'm going to fuck you like what you are, Allie, and I'm going to cum deep inside your cunt. When I ask you what you are, you will answer me by saying you are a dirty slut.”

Righting himself, he began to pump in and out of her tight hole, holding on to her hips for leverage. Allie's mind was racing – she had a strangers cock in her pussy, and it felt so good, but she couldn't help but think that it wasn't Jake's. As he began to fuck her harder the pleasure she felt built and it became hard to think. Suddenly, he said,

“What are you?”

“I...I'm a dirty slut, Sir.” She replied, panting.

“Does my cock feel good, slut?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Say it.”

“Your cock feels good, Sir.”

“Be more explicit, slut.” He ordered, fucking her harder still.

“Your cock feels good in my cunt, Sir.”

“Good girl! Your tight little cunt feels good on my cock too, slut.”

He pounded in to her without mercy, asking her several more times what she was and each time she replied as she had been told. Her pussy ached for an orgasm, and yet she knew better than to touch herself. After nearly twenty minutes, he said,

“I'm going to cum, slut. I'm going to cum deep in this tight hole of yours. Tell me you want it.”

“I want your cum in my cunt, Sir.”

“Good girl! Here it comes!”

He fucked her hard, shoving his cock as deep as it could go as he shot his hot load in to her. She felt it begin to fill her and without thinking she said,

“May I please cum, Sir?”

“Yes!” He grunted, and her orgasm swept over her, her muscles clamping down on his cock and milking more of his cum from it as she climaxed hard.

A few moments passed before he pulled out of her to clean himself up. She could feel his cum begin to dribble out of her cunt and down her thighs, just as Jake's had done the day before. Allie moved to stand, but he pushed her back down with a hand firm on her back.

“You're not done yet, young lady.” He said firmly. “Your personalized curriculum says you will be starting with four cocks a day, three in your cunt and one in your slut hole. The others will be here in just a moment.”

Allie's heart began to pound as the reality of her situation hit her. Jake really was having her turned in to a slut. Though much of what she had been through already was embarrassing, she had become aroused by it. She felt sexy in the tiny uniform, high heels and heavy makeup. Being fucked by a man she had just met had been incredibly hot, and even sucking a fake cock in a room full of other girls hadn't been so bad. Now, as the strangers cum leaked down her legs, she waited. Shortly, they were joined by three other men she had never seen before.

“Guys, this is Allie.” She heard the instructor say. “You know what to do.”

The first man stepped up behind her, cock at the ready, and pushed deep in to her waiting pussy. He was about as big as the first, and she moaned. He pulled her tiny shirt up to reveal her tits and, holding on to them for leverage, began to fuck her hard. In mere seconds she was moaning loudly, pushing her hips back to meet his thrusts.

“That's it, slut.” The man growled. “Fuck back on my cock! Tell me what you need!”

“I need your cock, Sir!” She panted, half delirious. “I need my cunt fucked, Sir!”

“I know you do, you filthy slut! And I know you want me to cum inside of you, don't you slut?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Say it, bitch!” He commanded, increasing his speed.

“I want you to cum deep inside my cunt, Sir! Please cum in my cunt!”

“Good girl!” He grunted as he felt his orgasm building. Soon, he was shooting his load as deep inside her as the first had and she was pleading for an orgasm of her own. However, her requests were declined and so she desperately fought it back, thankful when the man pulled out.

“Damn, she's got a tight hole.” He said to the others as he cleaned himself.

“I bet her ass is even tighter, even though she's had that plug in all day.” Said the third, moving up behind her.

He pulled the plug slowly from her tiny hole, set it aside and lubed his cock in her pussy.

“You ever had a cock in your ass, slut?”

“Yes, Sir.” Her anxiety was clear in her voice.

“How many times?”

“Not many, Sir.”

“Reach back and spread your cheeks, slut. This is what you will do whenever someone indicates they want to fuck your slut hole. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

She obeyed and with one swift thrust his huge cock was buried in her tight rear passage. Though she yelped as her ass was filled, it hadn't hurt nearly as much as she had expected from previous experience due to the plug having stretched her open just a little. Just as the men before him had with her cunt, he began to fuck her ass hard. Once more, Allie moaned in pleasure as her body was used.

“You like that big cock up your ass, slut?” He said, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in to her.

“Yes, Sir!” She gasped.

“Say it!”

“I like your huge cock up my ass!” She groaned.

“Again!” His thrusts grew slightly faster.

“I like your huge cock up my ass!”

Over and over he made her say this as he used her tight hole, fucking her harder and faster as he felt his climax approaching.

“Do you want my cum in your ass, slut?” He asked, shoving his cock in to the hilt and holding it there.

“Yes! Yes, Sir! Please, Sir, I want your cum in my ass!” Allie panted, the training already starting to kick in.

He began thrusting once more as she shamelessly begged for his cum in her ass, her slut hole. It wasn't long before he gave her exactly what she wanted, spraying his thick load deep in her ass. She could feel the hot liquid, feel it stinging slightly from the salt, and once more began to beg for an orgasm.

Teaser from my just released The Society Series Book Four, Vanished!

The Society Series fourth book, Vanished!, is now available!  This time, we get to see a side of Annie that, until now, has not been shown on this level her submission to Sean deepens.  In honor of this morning's release of the book, I have decided to share this little tid-bit with you, dear reader, and I hope you enjoy it.

I was still hesitant about swimming at night, but I knew he'd be there with me and I knew that this estate was completely safe. I changed and followed him out to the pool. The heater had been turned on for us, the lights off and it felt surprisingly like swimming the pond I'd grown up with when I'd go swimming at night in the middle of summer. Sean reclined against the edge of the pool as I did several laps, waiting for me to surface. When I finally did, he motioned for me to join him.

“Enjoying the water, pet?” There was that name again, and the wave of desire to go with it.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Enjoying bein' m'pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” I couldn't help giggling, the wetness building between my legs again.

Sean pulled me against him, kissing me hard. My arms went around his neck, eyes closed, loosing myself in the moment. They flew open again when I felt his hand between my legs, nudging my bathing suit aside.

“Here, Sir?” I looked around nervously.

“Din'na worry, pet, no one can see us.”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice was shaking again.

He held me close, one finger circling my clit. Sliding two fingers inside, he murmured,

“My sweet pet. So ready again.”

“Yes, Sir. I...I can't help it!” I gasped.

“I din'na want ye tew, pet. I love knowin' ye get wet fer me sew easily.” His fingers were moving, his thumb making firm little circles on my clit. “Now, cum fer me, pet.”

I shuddered against him as the orgasm hit.

“Good girl, Annie. That's my good pet.” He kissed me again, pushing in a third finger. I groaned against his mouth.

“Ye like bein' full like that, pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Cum, pet.” He kissed me to stifle the moaning he knew was coming, which only served to intensify the moment.

“Good girl, pet.” I could feel his lips moving against mine as he spoke. “Cum fer me, pet. Tha's it, keep cumming.” His fingers wiggled and pumped, his thumb insistent. My body obeyed his order, my mind going foggy and blank.

After several minutes of near continuous orgasm, he stopped and withdrew his fingers. I felt desperately empty. With little effort he pulled me to the stairs and carried me from the pool, setting me down on a chair to dry me off.

“Dew ye want more, pet?”

I nodded.

“Can ye walk?”

“I...I think so.”

“Follow me.”

On trembling legs I followed Sean from the poolside patio back to our suite. Once we were out of our wet bathing suits, Sean pulled back the covers on the bed and motioned for me to lay down. Turning off the lights, he joined me, pulling me against him.

“I love yew, Annie.” I could just barely see his face in the pale light coming through the window.

“I love you too, Sean.”

“I want ye ta feel safe with me, safe bein' mine.”

“I do. Actually, I think I feel safer knowing I'm yours.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Can I hear ye say it?”

“I'm yours, Sir.”

“Yes, ya certainly are little one. And I'll nae let anyone hurt ye again.”

“Thank you.”

“Sew, ye really like it when I call ye pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” The trembling returned.

“Dew ye still want more, pet?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Such a horny little pet, aren't ye?” He pressed his hand between my legs, feeling the heat there. I nodded.

With little prodding my legs opened and his fingers were inside me, Sean propped up on his other arm so he could see my face. Within seconds I was panting under him, my hips moving on their own. It began again.

“Cum, pet.” Those words were all it took to push me over the edge each time he said them until I was a quivering, incoherent puddle on the bed.

“Dew ye want me inside ye, pet?” His voice cut through my haze of pleasure. I nodded.

“I can'na hear ye, pet. Say yes, Master.”

“Yes, Master.” I barely managed to get the words out.

“Tell me what ye want, pet.”

Submission and Fear

fear

fi(ə)r/

noun

1. 1.

   an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

Fear is a strange thing.  So are the reactions it causes in people.  These reactions have been ingrained in the human race pretty much since the beginning of time, and they aren't going anywhere any time soon.  Some people might say that experiencing fear within a relationship is a "red flag", a sign that you're in a dangerous situation.  This isn't necessarily true.  Who we are and what we have experienced in the past has a huge impact on what causes fear in us as individuals.  Instead of being a sign that we need to get away from what is causing the fear, it can simply mean that we are perceiving our current situation as similar to a negative one from our past.   Still, fear isn't always a bad thing.  Sometimes it is simply a hurdle one has to get over to reach a goal and, in doing so, find a freedom one didn't know existed.

sub·mis·sion

səbˈmiSHən/

noun

1. 1.

   the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.

Submission.  Unless we're talking about the style of wrestling, this is a "dirty" word of sorts in today's society.  We struggle and claw and fight for power, for control and if you have it, you're successful.  If you don't, you're a failure.  If you choose to give that power up?  You're an idiot.  You willingly give up that control to your significant other?  Clearly you are being abused and just can't see it.  Eeesh.  No wonder so many people spend their entire lives repressing their urges.  

Is it any wonder that the thought of submitting to someone can be a terrifying experience?  We are programmed not to give up our control, especially of our selves, to anyone.  When you have those urges, this can make things extremely difficult.  That fear doesn't mean you should turn tail and run, though.  In fact, I have found that having someone on the other end of things who understands the fear your urges are causing and who can help you work through that fear is more productive than giving in to the fear.  It's very much like with Annie and Sean in At The Manor, Part Two.  Annie experienced something in her past that caused her to push her desire to submit so far down that she nearly forgot it all together.  She may have been willing to submit in the bedroom, but she had the safety net of still ultimately being in control when it ended.  

Then came Sean.  He stirred things in her that she hadn't felt in a very long time.  Those urges came back, causing an intense fear when she realized that it could possibly happen again.  That she wanted to be able to hand over the control and power that she had fought so hard for.  He sees her fear and her urges battling in her mind and does what he has to.  This snippet shows exactly what I am talking about.

“It's not you I'm afraid of, I swear. It's letting go, submitting again. I've been terrified of it ever since that night. Francis even cut that part of my training short, because he knew where my mind was.”

I couldn't look at him. I could barely look at anything but the carpet.

“Annie, I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'd never harm ya. I dinna know what I need ta do ta prove it to ya, love, but I will prove it. To the rest of The Society, ye'll be my partner, and nothin' more. I may desire more from ya, but they never need know.” His voice was low and soothing, and I began to relax a little.

“Thank you.”

Annie, instead of letting that fear win out, puts her trust in him that he will never harm her.  Sure, she still needs a little push from him to give in to the urges, but once she does, the fear she had been experiencing due to past events turns to exhilaration and she finds a level of freedom she hadn't known existed.  Just as it is possible for a real life "Annie" to become aroused by the thought of submitting to someone, it is also possible for anyone with the urge to submit to another to overcome their pre-programmed fears and find that same freedom.  If it is in you, what good will come from suppressing it?  You can live your life in fear of the things that at your core you know you need, or you can find that someone who will see those fears and help you overcome them.  Chances are, you'll be happier in the end.

Teaser Time! Brand new material from Becoming Charity

Now that the edited version is close to being available, I want to share with you, dear reader, some of what I added.  This teaser is the new prologue, revealing a bit more about The Society and Annie's journey to accepting the practice of "acquiring" slaves.  Enjoy!

At first it had been shocking. We're all taught that slavery of any kind is wrong. It's a dark chapter in the history of any country, one that most people seem to prefer not to think about. This hadn't seemed any different, and to be honest, when The Society was founded it really wasn't. Very few had come in to it completely of their own free will. The techniques were extremely primitive I was amazed that this underground community had made it more than a few years. I could barely get my mind around the ways people had brought new slaves in to it. There were no rules, no guidelines, nothing to protect those on either side of the whip. It was downright scary. As with all things, however, The Society had evolved with the times. The concept of one living creature being truly less than another began to fade and the concept of slaves and such began to fall more in to the sort of social hierarchy that has existed in all cultures throughout time.

Within two decades of the founding of The Society there were breeding farms producing high quality, willing slaves for those who could afford them. That was the catch, though. One had to be able to afford them, and at the time there were few regulations on the pricing. Unscrupulous traders set their prices so that only the wealthiest could afford them, claiming to have the highest quality slaves descended only from the very first slaves acquired when The Society began. Acquiring, or abducting, new slaves was still the more common practice. Some women were sold into Society slavery by their families in times of financial hardship - which was often - as an alternative to selling them to brothels. Some found themselves there after being unable to repay a debt or committing some sort of petty crime. The ones who to those who had known them simply vanished in the night could have been taken for any number of reasons. With the stark differences in the social classes of the times, this had been an easier concept for me to come to terms with.

Mind you that even before my formal training began I was more than comfortable with the idea of consensual submission and slavery. That's how I had found my way in to a Society Mentorship in the first place. But the idea of forcibly taking someone and making them a slave still weighed heavy on my mind. At least until I got through the first several chapters of Society history. It took nearly a hundred years, but eventually rules had been put in place. It took a little longer for there to be more than a couple that looked out for the safety of the one being acquired, but they were there. By this time there had long been rules and regulations for the sale of born slaves and auctions at the breeding farms had gained widespread popularity. With this came a downturn in acquisitions, making the problems with this tradition far more obvious to those in power. The cruelest methods of breaking down and training an acquired slave were outlawed and harsh punishments enforced on the Owners who used them. It helped that more people were finding their way in to Society slavery at least some what willingly.

The early nineteenth century saw a global downturn in the slave trade and as such forced The Society to take a good look at its accepted practices. Suddenly I found I had far less of an issue with the idea of acquiring slaves as this practice became less popular. With the new regulations, most found it preferable to attend the auctions and purchase slaves that had been born in to it, especially as a wider range of set prices were put in place, making this a more viable option for the masses. For those who did still use acquisition to add to their stables the rules were tightened significantly. No longer could these slaves be kept in dismal conditions, be starved or beaten within an inch of their lives. Clothing or covering of some kind was required for them in cold weather. While they were still essentially human livestock, before this it was common for their Owner's cows and sheep to be treated better than they were.

Cue the modern era. Protocols were put in place to ensure the safety of The Society, the Owners within it and any new slaves they acquired. Groups were formed with the sole intention of tracking acquired slaves who managed to escape or to help cover the tracks of an Owner acquiring a new slave. At this point in my education I had acquired slaves pointed out to me by my Mentor. I didn't even need that to be able to see the differences between them and those who had been born in or come in on their own. Some were happy and relatively well adjusted, but most seemed to have a haunted look in their eyes. Most of them had visible scaring that I could identify as having come from a variety of tools and some even had clearly displayed brands of such low quality that I had to wonder if they had been cared for at all while healing. It seemed to me that there had to be a way to make sure that your newly acquired slave didn't spend the rest of their life behaving like a scared, semi-disfigured animal, but hours of research resulted in very little. That's what set me on the path to where I am today.

Submission and Arousal

Warning: For those who know me personally, you're likely about to find out a whole bunch of shit you never knew about me, and possibly never wanted to.  Just a heads up.

Life is a funny thing.  I spent a large portion of yesterday working on notes and outline ideas for the fifth book in The Society Series.  One thing I knew I wanted to work on including right away was Annie's training with Sean.  In At The Manor parts one and two, we see her become aroused by one simple, largely non-sexual thing - submitting to him.  Once she gets past the lingering fear she has from her past, the idea of giving over control to him is more arousing than anything he could physically do to her, and that's a level of eroticism I want to delve deeper in to.  Annie is an extremely strong, fiery, stubborn and independent woman who has made a life for herself developing and implementing slave training techniques.  She's the type to take charge in a crisis.  She specializes in dealing with difficult slaves, the kind many wouldn't give a second thought to.  And she becomes totally, completely, undeniably aroused by handing over the control she has fought so hard for to him.  Oh yeah.  I can hear you calling bullshit from here.  This has to be pure fantasy - it is, after all, from a kink erotica novel.  No way in real life would a woman like Annie go weak at the knees simply from the idea of giving over control to someone else, man or woman, no matter how good looking.

Alright.  Let's take a look at real life.  I consider myself fairly accomplished.  I've owned my own business since I was twenty-three, adding my second at twenty-eight (I'm twenty-nine now).  I teach.  I'm working on my seventh novel, with the prospect of some non-fiction pieces on the horizon as well.  I'm relatively well known in my home town, though not always by name for a number of reasons.  I'm stubborn to a fault, fiercely protective of my friends and family and not one to bite their tongue when it comes to sharing my opinion.  I have also experienced exactly what I write about there first hand.  It's rare, sure.  Very, very few men (and only one woman) have ever had the "Sean effect" on me, but when it happens, it's incredible.  One word, one look, and the crotch of my pants would be drenched.  Heaven help me if I was wearing a skirt at the time.  That look, that word?  Most commonly there is nothing sexual to it at all.  It's that look that says "I own you." or "I control you."  It's not so much what is actually said as it is the tone of voice, and the attitude of the person saying it.  It's that feeling I describe in this bit from At The Manor:

 Never had someone been able to make me feel so much by speaking only one word at a time. It was as though some unseen force had control of my limbs as I sank to my knees in the soft, dewy grass.

In my experience, it's been very much this way.  Sure, there has been that little voice in my head yelling "what the fuck are you doing!", especially in the beginning.  But in those moments there is nothing I can do but obey.  Not because of any threat, spoken or otherwise, nor any agreement.  It was for no other reason than because he said so.  Yes.  It's that simple.  It's hard to explain it any further, though I wish I could.  The feeling goes from head to toe, engulfing the entire body.  It's an electric tension, radiating and causing you to feel your heartbeat in places you either didn't know you could or hadn't in ages.  Since that first taste of it when I was eighteen, I've been hooked.  I can't help it, and I don't want to.  As I've grown, my desire to submit has grown right along with me.  Now, here's the twist - I'm a switch.  I've had two of my own submissives in the past, one male and one female.  I'm pretty sure I can still make him twitch and turn red with just two little words.  He was a large man, resembling a football player, and a good bit older than me, and that didn't matter.  He knew who he answered to.  I'll never forget, at least two years after we parted ways, getting a phone call from him out the blue.  He was calling to thank me for something I had taught him, as it had just played a part in landing him a major promotion at work.  I couldn't have been more proud.

Too many people confuse the desire to submit with willing to submit to anyone.  I've been at parties before where I was wearing a collar - sometimes given to me by my Dom, other times just an accessory - and had some asshat wannabe dominant come over to me and try to tell me what to do.  My reactions have ranged from laughing and walking away to looking strait at the man and saying, "Do you see your collar around my neck?  I don't think so."  I've been told I can't "really" or "truly" submit because I'm also able to be (and quite enjoy being) the dominant partner at times.  It has been only for the sake of good manners that I haven't told these close minded idiots off on the spot.  I'm just as capable of fully submitting as one who's never been on the wielding end of a whip.  If I want to.  I've been told I just haven't met the right guy that can make me "really" submit.  Oh, I beg to differ.  I've had my Sean, more than once.  Most people only ever see my dominant side.  Friends have laughed and cracked jokes at the thought of me being told what to do by my significant other.  I just smile and let them keep thinking that.  Those who have found themselves with the ability to control me on this level have taken great pleasure in having someone like me willing to submit to them.

I digress, however.  Submission and sex are frequently linked.  They don't have to be, but it does add a degree of fun.  In my experience (I know, I know, I keep saying that), submission and arousal are almost always linked.  Let's take a little trip back in time for another real life example.  I'm eighteen.  I've been hanging out in a hot tub with the man who would become my first Master (though we are nothing more than friends at this point), and become a bit over heated, so I'm sitting on the steps going up in to it.  He doesn't ask if I can walk.  Doesn't ask if I need anything.  He gets out behind me, hands me a towel and says two little words.  Don't move.  In the few minutes I am alone while he gets me water, I barely even blink.  In the back of my mind, I'm wondering why.  I'm also trying to figure out the sudden non-hot tub related wetness between my legs.  It wouldn't be until several weeks later that I would even begin to have an answer to that, and for years I've tried to figure out why it does what it does to me.  As the years passed, I got to the point where the mere idea of submitting to the right person, being totally in their control - if only for a little while - drives me wild.  I'll even admit that one of them is Sean.  I totally have a crush on my own character.  All the rest, as few as they are, happen to be real people.

It does happen.  A strong woman can find complete bliss in submitting to the person of her choosing, and once she does, the control she is used to having over her life is gone.  Sure, she may frequently make her own decisions, but that person's control is always there, and she knows it.  A woman who is dominant in her everyday life can become inexplicably aroused by the delicate chain collar around her neck, right in the middle of a meeting.  A powerful woman's happy place can be kneeling at the feet of the One who controls her as they watch television in the evening.  And it is totally and completely possible to become aroused to the point of inability to walk or speak or think clearly just by having that person completely strip away the power and control you have during your every day life.

Geek Time: My Doctor Who Theory

I have a confession to make. I am a Whovinite. A Whovinite is to a Whovian what a Trekker is to a Trekkie, or so it has been described to me. That said, you might be expecting my theory to have something to do with sex, or kink or the like. Given the nature of my writing, that assumption is understandable. It is also, perhaps surprisingly, incorrect.  With the 50th anniversary special looming near, this has been on my mind more and more, even as I struggled to finish the edit on my newest book.

Sadly, I did not grow up with the Doctor like so many I know. I was introduced about two years ago by my husband, who was lucky enough to grow up watching it (re-runs, mostly) with his Dad. Yes, I was introduced through the new series. Just watch one. That's how he got me. Next thing I knew I was watching one after the other on Netflix, thoroughly addicted. He got me into the original series the same way, though we started with his favorite,  the fourth.

Anywho, I promised you a theory. I know there are a lot of them going around right now, with Clara now the official companion, the 50th anniversary a few days away and the Christmas special regeneration fast approaching.  And, of course, who could forget the lost regeneration, the "war doctor", John Hurt. Right or wrong, this is mine.

It all starts with Asylum of the Daleks. Yes, the evil pepperpots hate anyone and anything that is not a Dalek.  They know pretty much every species in the galaxy. Actually, they seem to have a pretty extensive knowledge of everything in general.  After Souffle Girl, however, there is one thing they don't know - who the Doctor is.  Not only that, but they don't seem to have any clue what his species is, which would imply that they no longer know what a Time Lord is either.  While it seems obvious that this would mean the Doctor would have an easier time defeating them, there is also a larger and much less obvious  (in this writer's opinion) meaning.  

  Let's step back in time, shall we?  Back past Ten, and Nine, to the original series.  To a time when the Doctor sported a tell-tale mop of curls, a floppy hat and an impossibly long scarf.  That's right.  I'm talking about the fourth Doctor here.  During his time in the TARDIS, he was sent to the moment of the Dalek's creation.  He had the chance to stop them from existing, and didn't.  Sure, the Daleks had appeared previously, but this was a major defining moment in their history with the Doctor.  

  Stepping forward a bit, we see the beginning of the Time War.  Time Lords vs the Daleks in a battle for all of reality.  We're lucky enough to have gotten a small glimpse at what it must have been like in the recently released short, The Night of The Doctor, and even just that tidbit shows good reason for something that has only been mentioned once or twice.  The Time Lock.  Somewhere out there in the universe, the war rages on in an endless loop, each side doing it's damnedest to destroy the other.  While the Daleks most definitely hate everything non-Dalek, they seem to have a special kind of hatred for the Time Lords and from everything I can tell the most common theory on this is that it's because of the Doctor and their encounters. 

  Now, back to semi-present day.  They don't know who or what he is.  They have no memory of the Doctor, or of Time Lords in general.  They may hate him on principal now, but it's the same hatred they have for everything else that isn't a Dalek.  This brings me to my theory.  With all of this having been completely wiped from the collective Dalek memory bank, it would seem to me that there would have been no reason for this epic war to have begun in the first place.  No Time War means no Time Lock, no destruction of the Time Lord race at all.  All of this leads me to the core of my theory - the show is preparing for the return of the Time Lord race.

  Yeah, I said it.  I think they are coming back.  Dalek theory aside, we're coming up on a regeneration.  The twelfth, or thirteenth if you count the one going from Eight to John Hurt's War Doctor.  Then that's it.  The end of the line.  No more regenerations.  Could this mean no more Doctor Who?  Blasphemy!  It just means they have to find a plausible way around the regeneration limits imposed when the show first began, something that has been hinted at in interviews over the last few years.  If we look back to the original series once again, we see that the council of the Time Lords can grant a new regeneration, or series of, if they see fit.  What better way to get around our own beloved Time Lord reaching the end of his than by bringing back his home planet and with it his entire species?

  Looking at it purely from a production stand point, think of the new story lines!  The new twists and turns, new enemies and adventures!  With bringing back the Time Lord race, they would have episode material for years to come, and with the raging success of the reboot, why wouldn't they want to do something like that?

Anyway, these are simply my thoughts on the matter.  We shall see what happens after Saturday!