Showing posts with label Vanished!. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vanished!. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

More than a teaser - the prologue from The Society Series, book 4, Vanished!

Just as I might never have published at all had it not been for the man who's memory this book is dedicated to, I wouldn't have gotten anywhere as a published author without awesome readers like you!  I was just sitting here, thinking about that, and thought, 'Ya know what?  I ought to post something longer from one of the books.'  As I'm working my way through the as-yet-untitled fifth book in the series, this seemed appropriate.  I'd love to hear what you have to say!


In contrast to the drive to The Manor, the two hour drive home seemed to fly by, and before I knew it we were pulling up in front of the house. I had been gone so long that it was almost like I was seeing it for the first time. The fact that Sean was indeed seeing it for the first time only furthered this feeling.
“So this is home.” Sean said, gazing up at the house as I walked around the Jeep to stand next to him.
“Yes, it is.” I replied with a little smile.
“American Queen Anne. It suits ye, little girl.”
I turned and gave him a surprised look.
“How did you know that?” I asked.
“I guess I've never had reason to tell ya. I've a degree in architecture.”
“Well, in that case you're really going to love this place! Would you like the grand tour?”
The slaves Francis was lending me had already arrived and Derek was busy seeing that everything was brought inside and put where it needed to go. He nodded in greeting and we headed up the stone path to the covered porch that spanned the front of the house and wrapped around the left side. I pulled open the heavy front door, admiring the refinished stained glass panel, and we stepped in to the large foyer. The twelve foot, dark wood paneled ceiling had been refinished, as had the matching panels on the walls and the cream marble floor polished to a high shine. All of the dark wood in the room might have been too much if it hadn't been for the cream color on the walls in between.
The large staircase was a brilliant mahogany, the deep red carpet running up the middle and covering the small landing unchanged. We stepped through the sliding panel doors to the left – something I'd had replaced – and in to a parlor that could have been right out of a history book. My eyes went wide and Sean let out a low whistle.
“Ye must've had an incredible designer, lass. This has been beautifully restored.”
“What I had was a crew of workers that could follow detailed instructions. I did the design plans myself.”
“I'm impressed.”
Though my household colors were black, burgundy and gold, the room was decorated mostly in green and gold to match the window seat cushion and the oriental style carpet set in the floor. The drapes were the same green and gold brocade as the cushion, and the Queen Anne couch and chair set I had found had been reupholstered in a deep green with gold accents. The fireplace had needed no work.
Across the foyer on the other side was the formal dining room, which had been left as I had found it, with dark wood wainscoting and a striped gold wallpaper above it. A small gold chandelier hung in the middle of the room and again there was a fireplace on the far wall. A long mahogany dining table sat in the middle of the room and the matching chairs had cushions covered with black and gold brocade.
Going through a doorway off to the left of the staircase at the back of the room, we entered a small hallway with a half-bathroom off to one side. It lead to the kitchen in the back of the house, which was large and airy with windows on each wall framed in antique lace curtains. The walls had been painted a sage green and the floor was hardwood now instead of tile.
The cabinets were a natural oak, counter tops a black granite. There was a round, rustic wood table with matching chairs, an electric oven with a gas range, a very large refrigerator and a dishwasher. All of these had wood facades that matched the cabinets to make them blend in. Off of the kitchen was a small butler's pantry that opened in to the dining room on the other side with charming little white cabinets on either side of the room and a pull out tray for resting dishes before serving them.
Going back in to the foyer, we went up the stairs to the second floor. It opened in to a good sized, long hall way with the same carpet running from one end to the other. On the far end to the right, taking up one side of the house from front to back was the master bedroom and off of that through French doors a lovely little porch with brick railing topped with wrought iron. There was a fireplace on one wall and polished dark wood flooring. The walls had been redone in the same wallpaper as the dining room above the new chair rail, and below that was a gold and burgundy print. A door had been cut in the wall to give access to a smaller room next door that had been remodeled in to a large master bath where as the door to the original bath had been plastered over and a door cut in to it from the hall way. Across from the fireplace was a king size oak canopy bed draped with gold and burgundy curtains. The room also had matching dressers and a black velvet covered love seat next to a floor to ceiling book shelf. A flat panel TV had been hung over the fireplace so that we could watch from either the bed or the couch.
“So, this is our room, isn't it lass.” He said as he looked around.
“Yes, it is. What do you think of it?”
“It's perfect.” He replied with a smile.
The master bath had golden and cream colored marble floor tiles and a matching counter around the his and hers sinks. The large, deep claw foot tub was set in to a corner, a loop of copper around the top for the shower curtain to hang from. There were little tile shelves along the wall behind the tub for candles, a a larger one with a towel rack for a washcloth. There was a warmer built in to the wall with a bath towel rack above it, and dressing room lights around a small vanity not far from the tub. A half wall covered in tile hid the toilet from view.
From there, I took him down the hall to the library. It was a cozy room with thick, deep blue carpet, dark wood paneling on the walls and ceiling, little brass sconces every couple of feet on the walls and a fireplace. This room also had French doors that opened on to it's own section of patio. A bit further there was a smaller room that had once been used as a nursery, with it's hard wood floors and pale blue walls. Next to it was a similar room with lavender walls. One had a fireplace and one didn't, and the Realtor explained that they had originally been one room that was the family's sitting room in the house, just as the master bedroom had been the mens billiards room in the house and the master bath had been the secretary's study. The small rooms I had left as they were for storage, or for when I had children of my own.
I explained how the previous owners had remodeled the second floor for the family instead of using the original family quarters on the third floor as we walked. That was where we went next and where the main staircase ended. The original master bedroom was right above the one on the second floor, running from the front of the house to about two three quarters back, where the original master bath was. It was very much like the newer one, with a huge claw foot tub and his and hers pedestal sinks with tables on one side of each and a towel rack on the other. There was also a lighted vanity as in the other one. Almost right next to the second master bedroom was the door to a bedroom that was only slightly smaller and also had its own fireplace. It was decorated in greens, blues and golds. I made the mental note that this would be Devon's room, since no furniture had been ordered for it yet.
Further down the hall were three other bedrooms, smaller than the second one. One of them had been turned in to a training room, one in to a room for Cunt, or whatever slave happened to be my favorite and the other in to a small guest room, all of them cream with dark wood accents. From there we took the servants stairs up to the attic, which was just one large room that spanned the entire house, with the ceiling slanted on either side. The whole thing had new insulation and drywall, as well as a refinished wood floor. There were several dormer windows that allowed plenty of light, with curtains to help keep it warmer or cooler as needed. At one end of the room two small bathrooms had been built, each with sink, toilet and shower stall. Slightly larger than normal twin sized beds took up the majority of the room, with enough space left for a nightstand by each and a path down the middle. Each bed had a chest at the foot of it for the slave's clothing and other personal items, if they were allowed to have such.
“Twelve beds? Ya intend ta have a large household, don't ya lass.” Sean said with a slight laugh.
“Well, yes, but also wanted to be able to provide someplace for the slaves of guests if they are not sleeping in the same room.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Ye have a beautiful house here, Annie, and I'm proud ta share it with ya.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I felt myself blush a little at the compliment.
“Now, if ya don't mind, I'm starvin'!”
I laughed and led the way back to the kitchen for our first meal in our new home.

***

The first week or so back at home I was busier than I had thought I would be. On the second day back I had taken Cunt to see Frederick and he had suggested that she be sent to the nearby slave maternity home as she was close to delivery. Without her at home, I found myself preparing most of the meals and enjoying doing so. I ordered a bed, dresser, night stands, lamps, book shelves, a desk with matching chair and a small couch for Devon, rush delivery, within three days of being home.
For the most part my days consisted of working on notes for up coming presentations and arranging to go to local slave auctions for household staff. In the evenings, Sean and I swam in the small pool in the yard and enjoyed the end of summer weather. Francis and his wife were frequent visitors, and the use of some of their household slaves was much appreciated. One evening, after being home about a week, Sean and I were watching the sun set from the front porch when a thought hit me out of the blue.
“It needs a name.” I said, catching him off guard.
“What does?” He replied, confused.
“The house. Most society houses have one.”
“I'd never really given it much thought, but yer right lass. We'll call it Julie.”
“What?! No, not that kind of name.” I said with a laugh.
“No, I know, 'tis just the first thing that came ta mind.”
I thought for a moment, tossing several ideas before I said,
“Stormhold.”
“Stormhold? I like it, it's regal just like the house. How'd ya come up with that?”
“It's from a fantasy movie that came out a few years back. We'll have to watch it some time.”
“Indeed. I can'na remember the last time I watched a movie.”
“Well, we will have to do that soon. I should have it on the shelf in the bedroom.”
The next morning had dawned stormy, providing the perfect excuse for us to take a day for ourselves. We curled up in bed and spent the day watching movies, starting with the one that had given me the name for the house. We were on our third movie, some time after lunch, when the door bell rang. As Derek was at his own house, though he had an office in mine, and we did not have any borrowed slaves at the time, Sean offered to answer it.
“Ya look too comfortable there, lass. I'll get it.”
I listened to the soft pat-pat of his feet on the floor as he moved through the hall and down the stairs to the hall way, finding the sound comforting. When he reached the door he opened it without thinking, as there had been so many deliveries as of late. However, this time it was not a delivery. Standing there on the porch, soaking wet and holding an umbrella, was Devon. Sean unknowingly glared at him as he stood there dripping. Devon looked at him expectantly, and after a moment realized that Sean didn't know he was supposed to be there. A wicked little smile split his face and in a cheery tone he said simply,

“Honey, I'm home.”

Friday, November 29, 2013

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.”

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Looking Back at Becoming Charity

I let myself have the weekend off from actual writing, thinking I could give my brain a bit of a break.  You see, when I really get going, the scenes seem to play in my mind and it's as though I'm simply a fly on the wall, watching, my hand furiously typing away to get it all down on the page.  Sure, I start out on a new piece with a basic outline for the plot, but that's about it.  I love when this happens.  I'll go back and read over what I have and often find myself thinking, 'wow, I wrote that?'.  Ok, back to that whole giving my brain a break thing.  Yeah.  It didn't happen.  As has become more and more frequent, I found my mind wandering back to the first book I published, The Society: Becoming Charity.  What I was once so proud of has become a literary thorn in my side.

I began writing it nearly seven years ago.  It was a release, a way to deal with some things that were going on in my life.  I had no intention of it being published, ever.  I shared bits on a couple of different sites and with a few friends, and that was it.  Then my friends who had read it began telling me I should look in to getting published, and finally I did.  I worked hard to get the book to a good ending point, found a publisher who would take something that didn't have a romantic sub-plot and that was written in the first person instead of the third.  I was thrilled when it was accepted, waiting eagerly for it to go live.  Then came the second and third books.  It was somewhere between their publication dates that I began to wonder about the first book, started to think it might not be the best it could have been.


It really hit me when I had the compilation book The Society: The First Three published.  I went back through all three to double check for typos, continuity errors, etc.  I found myself reading through the first one and cringing more often than not.  Now, I know most artists are their own worst critics, and that people say you'll never be completely happy with your work.  Since I can be a perfectionist, I set a goal for myself in order to know when a piece was ready for publication.  It's when I can read through and have it be something that I would buy, read and enjoy myself.  I'm a picky reader, especially when it comes to erotica, so this seemed a reasonable goal.  It's worked.  Unfortunately, that goal was set after my first had been published and now I find that it doesn't live up to that standard.  Now, after a long while of thinking it over, I've finally started.


I copied the original content in to a new file and dove in, scalpel in hand.  Overly harsh or extreme scenes will be reworked.  Repetitive scenes will be cut and glossed over.  New scenes will be added to give the book a good, solid plot as well as to allow the characters to become more fully developed.  I refuse to be embarrassed by the book I was once so proud of any longer, and it is my sincere hope that you, dear reader, will not hold this against me.  I was young and angry when it began, and in my determination to be published, I gave you something sub-par.  Believe me when I say I can hear the voices of my English teachers back through the years, and they're all saying the same thing.  "What were you thinking!!"  I am not sure when the edited version will be available, but hopefully it will be soon, and followed by the fourth book in my The Society series, Vanished!


To those of you who actually read the original first book all the way through, you have my thanks and my apologies.  For those who put it down after the first few pages, I understand completely, and I sincerely hope you might give it a second chance when the edited version becomes available.  I'm planning to post some of the edited bits here so that you can decide if it will be worth it to you or not.


Now, enough living in the past!  Time for me to get back to work, the sooner to give you wonderful readers something you can really enjoy!