Latest Synopsis Sent Out

I sent out the synopsis of my next story to my editor today. It's a gender-bending, BDSMing, hard-partying M/M erom that I hope I nail big time! I'm almost afraid of even starting it because I totally want to do justice to the character I have in my head, Mistress Fanny Ferula, the Caning Queen of Cleveland. She is the most daring, dominating, drag queen domme you can imagine who wins the heart of timid little Gel from Kittengirls and My Two Doms. I actually haven't been this invested in a concept since Kittengirls, and that has been to date my most well received story, so I'm hopeful I can bring the same panache to this.

In the mean time, I'm finally reading one of the Gor books. I've never done this, and from what I've heard they are mostly geared to adolescent boys, but I like the old heavy metal fantasy, and the covers on these tend to be hot in that Conan style, so I'll give the first one a go. I know there are a lot of them.

I'm also doing some research into leather culture. Anybody got a good nonfiction reference to recommend? Or a documentary?

Sweetheart Submission Part Two

Here is the conclusion of "Sweetheart Submission":

Lanie stood there in her lavender, hot-pants romper and stared. How could Vito do this to her? Every glitter-lidded eye in the crowded club trained on her, and everyone expected her to join him on the stage.

But her feet seemed stuck to the floor, like a rat in a glue trap. If she could just gnaw off her feet... She couldn’t say no to Vito, though, and she finally forced herself to approach the stage.

The air turned to gelatin as she walked. She used everything she had in her to move through the thickness. After what seemed like many long, syrupy-thick hours, she stood just in front of the stage. Why am I so nervous? I’ve scened with him all the time. Spanking, St. Andrew’s cross, flogging... She’d done everything, but she never felt dread like this before.

Vito reached down to her, and she took his hand. He pulled her onto the stage and turned her around for the crowd. Lanie felt her cheeks burn as hoots and whistles sounded from the club.

The lights dimmed, and Vito positioned Lanie to stand facing the audience.

“For those of you that don’t know,” Vito said, ”This is Lanie. She’s been my special little slave around here for some time now. Isn’t she pretty?” Vito skimmed a hand down her arm and then let it rest on her hip. Lanie felt the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her romper.

“Kneel.” Vito’s tone left no room for discussion, and Lanie fell to her knees as if he controlled her by remote and he’d hit the Down button. Her body -- possessing muscle memory like any athlete -- immediately folded into a perfect slave posture. She dropped her head, and then the whole world around her melted away. She focused only on the man standing in front of her. Or -- more to the point -- his feet.

He reached down and placed on her upturned palm one large candy heart. She looked down at it. This was clearly some kind of custom confection. Larger than the standard box sweets, the pink sugar surface was embossed with vibrant purple icing, carefully scrolled out to say, “Marry me.”

Lanie swallowed but didn’t look up. She began to shake. She dared to glance up at Vito, and dangling from his finger was a collar, white leather with a captured ring. Only...

She squinted up at it. The ring wasn’t the standard stainless O, but a platinum solitaire, a huge pink diamond glinting in the stage lights.

He told her, “It comes apart, so you can wear the ring in vanilla company and the collar...in not vanilla.”

She had never in a million years anticipated this. When she was at the club, she only played with Vito, but she didn’t know -- or even worry about -- whether he played with other girls on the nights she wasn’t there. She’d never bothered to ask. She didn’t care, really. She thought she’d had no claim on him, but...

She knew him, didn’t she? Knew everything about him: his drink, where he liked to eat, even where he’d gone to school and the birthstone his mother had. Vito was no mystery. She understood him better than any man she’d ever known.

She lifted the candy heart to her mouth, placed it on her tongue, and savored the sweetness of it. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She may have never expected this, but she couldn’t deny how right it felt.

Vito leaned down and fastened the collar around her neck. Then he knelt in front of her, pulled her over one of his knees, and delivered three quick swats to her ass.

Lanie squeaked despite herself.

“That’s for taking so long,” he said.

He set her up on her feet, took her by the hand, and led her off stage. The club erupted in applause and cheers. They headed toward the private rooms, down a mirrored hallway with hidden doors lining either side. The mirrors could become clear or opaque depending on the wishes of those inside the variously themed chambers.

Tonight, the mirrors only reflected the hallway back at Lanie. Whether that was because the rooms weren’t in use or because tonight people wanted privacy, she didn’t know.

Vito opened the hidden door to the last room on the left and pulled Lanie inside. He shut it behind them.

Lanie had scened in a few of the private rooms with Vito, but never this one. The over-the-top, princess fantasy room, complete with canopy bed, white French Provincial furniture, and plenty of hairbrushes for spanking. All satin and lace, it fit the theme of the evening perfectly, and even standing in it made Lanie feel shy and virginal again, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Silken chords hung at the four posters to keep back the drapes of the canopy, but Lanie had an idea that they would get used for something else tonight, especially since they looked far too long to be simply decorative.

Vito came up behind her and with his big, warm hands, he pushed her romper down her body until she stood there naked. Immediately, her nipples peeked and hardened, not because the air was too cold, but because of the feeling of his hands on her body again.

He walked around to her front, brushed her hair away from her neck, and kissed her, just above the leather of her collar, right below the ear, and Lanie melted. Her knees turned to water as she wrapped his arms around her and took her wait.

He lifted her and set her on the bed, and then tied her wrists and ankles to the posts of the canopy bed.

Lanie’s heart beat hard. This would be the sweetest, most wonderful Valentine’s Day ever.

Vito undressed and without another word, sheathed himself in her hot, wet pussy. She realized she’d been ready for him since that afternoon in the bathroom at her work. Her entire day had been foreplay as she thought about what he’d have planned for her.

She couldn’t hold him, couldn’t move. He drove into her, hard and fast, filling her to overflowing and causing her to writhe and buck against him, trying to find release. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips, holding her against him, grinding her against him.

She gasped and sobbed as he thrust, pushing her closer and closer to orgasm, his onslaught relentless.

He released the grip on one of her hips and reached to tweak a nipple. That final jolt of pain was all she needed.

She screamed her release as she came. Vito stilled for a moment, letting her ride the waves of release, but then he resumed his pounding rhythm. Moments later, he came, and Lanie felt him jetting and twitching inside her.

He untied her, everything except one wrist, just to remind her who she belonged to. Then he pulled her against him and brought the covers up over them.

When she turned, completely content in the arms of her master and future husband, the heat of him against her back, Lanie couldn’t help but notice the large, pink silk pillow in the shape of a heart, the word embroidered on it: 4ever.

Sweetheart Submission Part One

In case you missed it in my newsletter, here is part one of my Valentine's Day story. Part two will post Sunday...

Someone had left a single candy heart on her keyboard, perched right on the H key. It said, “My way.” Or what? Lanie picked it up between thumb and forefinger and dropped it into her wastebasket. She hated those things, even more the idea that someone else had touched it first. They tasted like medicine, chalky and dry medicine. Why anyone thought they were sexy or romantic was beyond her. She wouldn’t even waste time trying to figure out who in the office had left the heart. She didn’t find any of them attractive anyway. Besides, this was work, not a place to pick up flings.

When she came back from her lunch break, another one sat in the exact same place. This one said, “All mine.” The possessive suggestion caused a little flutter in Lanie’s chest, but she quickly pushed it aside and threw that heart away too. This was ridiculous.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” she said.

The woman in the next cubicle, Katie, leaned back and looked at Lanie. “Really?”

“Really,” Lanie told her.

“‘Cause I’ve seen the guy bringing you those hearts and, well, I don’t think I’d hate V-Day if I were you.”

This piqued Lanie’s interest.

Katie went on unprompted. “Yeah, real fit. Tall. Built like you wouldn’t believe.” She waggled her eyebrows, and Lanie giggled despite herself. “You should pretend like you have a meeting, and then go stand by the ladies’ room. You can watch from there. He’ll come back. He’s even watching you now, I’ll bet.”

Now that idea gave Lanie the shivers -- whether good or bad, she couldn’t say exactly.

“Fine,” she hissed. She picked up a file folder, locked her computer, and headed for the corridor as if she were going to the conference room. Instead, she ducked into the alcove in front of the ladies’ room door and watched her cubicle.

Minutes passed, and nothing happened. Then she felt a presence coming down the corridor toward her from the opposite direction. She turned.

Vito stood there, staring down at her, and she nearly melted right then.

“They let you in?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly. He had no right to be in the building.

But he just nodded and pushed her into the ladies’ room, then locked the door.

Lanie’s face burned with shame. What if her coworkers had seen what just happened?

“We need to talk,” he told her.

“Oh no,” she said, but she knew she didn’t sound very convincing. God, she couldn’t say no to him. It just wasn’t fair.

“I know you hate Valentine’s Day.”

Lanie took a step back. He took a step forward.

“But you can’t push me away.”

She took another step back and felt the paper towel dispenser hit her back.

“Especially today.” He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “Give me your hand,” he told her.

Lanie did as he commanded with a mumbled, “Yes, Sir.” She couldn’t do otherwise. He dropped one more heart into her hand, leaned over to plant a searing kiss on her lips, and left. She didn’t go after him. Just stood there, giving him plenty of room and a chance for her nerves to stop jangling.

She knew what was in her hand. A final candy heart. On one side it read “You and me” and on the other, Vito had written the number seven. The time, she knew. And she knew the place too.

God, I wish I could say no to him.

* * * * *

Lanie stood outside the club. The bass thrummed through the walls toward her. She’d taken the time to go home, change into something appropriate, touch up her bikini line, and do her makeup. Once inside, she could just pretend this wasn’t Valentine’s Day. Just any old bondage night. She could deal with that.

She pushed through the front doors and into the foyer where she had to flash her membership card to the receptionist. The receptionist unclipped the velvet rope and let Lanie inside. Lanie pushed through the lush, red velvet drapes that hid the interior and stopped immediately.

Normally, Vito’s club hung in darkness, rich burgundies, reds, purples, and black the order of the day.

But something had happened.

Everything was...pink and white, marabou feathers and silver glitter, and shiny, bright vinyl to match.

The servers -- men and women -- wore pink sequined hot pants, angel wings, and nothing else. It looked like a Valentine’s Day Barbie factory collided with a Hallmark store, and the contents of both got upchucked into here. What was Vito thinking? But she had to admit, the place was filled with blissed-out couples and plurals of all varieties, pink rhinestone collars and white fun fur abounding on their bodies.

Evidently, she’d missed the memo about the theme night. She looked down at her black leather minidress and felt markedly out of place.

“Compliments of the house,” a server said as he approached. Folded neatly on his tray was a lavender and silver-spangled something. Lanie took it and held it up. This should do.

She went over to the corner and unashamedly changed into the deep-cut, hot pants romper. The front dipped clear to her bellybutton, and the legs rode up enough so someone could just see the bottom curve of her ass. A rhinestone heart clasp kept the thing closed over her ample breasts.

She approved. She handed her old dress and purse off to another server -- one she knew pretty well -- and went off to locate Vito. The fact that he hadn’t come to find her yet surprised her. What was he waiting for?

Then she saw him. Wearing white linen trousers, the dark tan of his bare chest contrasting above, he stood on the main stage where demonstrations and scenes took place. A huge smile plastered across his face.

When others saw him, they quieted. Clearly he had something planned. Lanie felt dread building in her gut. It probably had something to do with her. The music cut off.

“Lanie hates Valentine’s Day, don’t you, sweetie?” He spoke loud enough for the entire club to hear.

Lanie blinked, and her stomach flip-flopped. Why was he doing this to her? Did he need to give her more reasons? Her school years had been plenty, thank you very much. All those V-days with no candy in her bag, and then later having no date to the sweetheart dances.

She crossed her arms. “Yes, Sir,” she bit out through her clenched jaw.

“We’re going to change that here tonight. Come here.”

Lanie’s gaze swept the crowd. She couldn’t say no to him here -- let alone anywhere else. She forced herself to walk to the stage, climb the step, and stand obediently by his side. Whatever he had planned, she would just have to give in. It was what a good sub did, after all.