Posts Tagged ‘BDSM’

Kink and BDSM- is there a difference? by Mistress Cyn

Kink and BDSM- is there a difference?

By: Mistress Cyn

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First and foremost, I want to take the time to thank Selena for allowing me, Mistress Cyn, the opportunity to play on her blog. I know her time and blog space is valuable. Her time especially, since I know I call her often enough with my crankiness when characters say they’re kinky and I want to write a BDSM story. In many people’s eyes—BDSM and kinkiness are one and the same. They do go hand-in-hand, but that doesn’t mean they are interchangeable, though many people use them in that way. So is there really a difference between kink and BDSM? Should there be one? Or is it in all in our heads because we want to make ourselves look less or more sexed out than we really are?
Sex is as sex does. That’s a truth I’ve learned over the years and from talking to many people who are in the BDSM lifestyle and from those who just love sex in any shape and form. Whether you like your sex plain, swirled or all out freaky—there is something for everyone out there. Kink is where and how you find it. Maybe you enjoy having some restraint during sex—it’s what turns you on the most. Perhaps your lover wants you to wear heels during sex—it’s what gives his sex drive a boost. That’s kink. It’s not always necessary to have—but having it allows you to have a greater thrill and enjoyment than what you would have otherwise.
Those within the BDSM lifestyle—whether they are lifestylers, casually acquainted or who have been part of it on and off for years quietly—they will tell you that for them, that without the kink—they don’t feel complete. That they need to be flogged, to wear furry costumes, to become subservient, to dominate, to endure a certain level of pain to allow them to enjoy sexual release as well as physical release. Yes, many of them can have normal sex, but honestly, many have done without because it just wasn’t worth it if they couldn’t have their sex with the necessary accoutrements to make their lives more vivid, more worthwhile.

This isn’t saying that everyone will always go that route. That’s not true at all.
Sometimes a good fuck is a good fuck. Sometimes you need slow, loving sex like nothing else. Other times, you need to have your lover use toys on you to bring you to orgasm because it’s the only way you can come. Sometimes, the only release where you feel like you’ve completely let go is where you’ve role-played a scene where he’s the pirate and you’re the serving wench that he’s caught for the night. (This is really popular for both sexes. And let me tell you—sometimes it’s the women as the pirates—just saying!) Kink can help elevate a normal sex act into something special. It can make a ho hum, same old into something where you brag to your friends about how he made you orgasm X number of times because he did this new thing that just turned you on. Kink is your fantasy made reality in small bursts. It’s controllable and it’s done in such a way that you always control it, it doesn’t always control you.

BDSM walks a fine edge of danger. You often hear of people who live the lifestyle talk about SSC or RACK. They acknowledge that no matter how prepared you are- you can be hurt when you engage in some aspects of extreme kink aspects of that world. You can only prepare, be knowledgeable and know yourself. You rely on your partner to be aware and in the moment so you both know when it’s time to stop, reevaluate and more.
When friends and I talk about kink, BDSM and fetish—we often put it like this. We are not fetishists—who venerate objects sexually to get off. We love kink and use kink in our lifestyle because we are into BDSM. BDSM is the highest levels of kink within its description—if you think on it. It’s bondage, submission, domination, sadism, masochism. It’s being taunted, teased, dominated, submitting—all in a sexual manner—forcing you to acknowledge that part of yourself that you hide sexually.
You might admit you like sex against a wall. It’s kinky, you say. A person in BDSM might say, “Sex against a wall really makes me feel great because the pressure of the wall is a restraint where I can’t go anywhere—and I have to let the other person direct what is going on.” Notice the subtle difference? You might like the kink of having your hands held while having sex. For someone in BDSM—they would like their hands to be cuffed behind their back or stretched to where they’re holding heavy objects so their mind is focused on something other than whatever is going on in their mind. To them, the act of restraint frees them up mentally for their sexual release. It allows them to let go emotionally and sexually.
For many people, they’ll say that kink is one thing, BDSM is another. That kink is baby stuff and BDSM is the real thing. In many ways, they’re right. BDSM is a higher level of kink—but it’s still kink. It is a degree of kink that takes a higher amount of effort to bring about the desired effect on the person but it also does more emotionally as well. Good sex makes you feel good physically and emotionally. You feel more open, you feel relaxed, and you feel able to handle things that normally might bother you. BDSM does that and for many—helps them deal with their fears, sometimes their traumas of their pasts, and it can help them deal with stresses that often wear them down. People hear about corporate bigwigs who go to Dommes to boss them around—yeah, there’s a reason for that—they’re tired of being the one in charge for billions of dollars and many peoples’ lives. For once, they’re handing over the reins and letting someone boss them around to bring them some peace and release that they can’t find any other way.
Kink and BDSM, they’re cousins. They’re not exact matches and though many people interchange them, and in some instances it’s not completely inappropriate, they are different creatures. Kink ranges from the light, occasional splurges to those who might engage in what people might call baby BDSM. It’s light bondage or light role play. It’s not all the time in the bedroom, but it’s between a couple who trusts each other and has talked out what they want and need from each other. They want to bring each other great fulfillment and know that they enjoy more than just what’s considered vanilla sex. Then there’s the next step itself—BDSM. It encompasses the aspects that can seem a bit darker, deeper, and perhaps a bit scarier to people. The kink aspect is still there, but it becomes more necessary to have on a regular basis. It defines part of how they see themselves sexually. Those who are kinky don’t necessarily define them by their kink alone.
And I think that’s the big difference. Kinksters aren’t defined by their kink alone, not like those in BDSM. Kinksters often feel free to go try many things, see what they like and vary it up a bit. Those in BDSM will often explore but go back to that which really works for them time and again. It’s their main trigger and it’s how they really see themselves sexually—a dominant, a submissive, a switch, etc.
So the question is this—how do you view yourself in the world of sex—normal, kinky, or something more—like BDSM?

 

Comment to win a copy of Dragon Chef: Pixified by Cynnara Treagarth.

 

To find out more about Mistress Cyn go to www.cynnara.com

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Lexxie Couper

Can The Villain Really Be The Hero?

Of late, I’ve been a little obsessed with Megamind. Now here’s the thing about Megamind – he’s the bad guy. He’s a criminal genius determined to bring chaos and villainy to the world. Megamind is in constant battle with the hero of Metro City, Metro Man. Metro Man is the archetype hero – broad-chested, wide-shouldered, chiseled-jawed with an ego to match. Megamind is hell-bent on ridding Metro City of Metro Man and to this end, constantly kidnaps the city’s star reporter, Roxanne Ritchi (yeah, I know, it doesn’t make much sense but then, neither did Lex Luthor’s inclusion of Lois Lane in all his dastardly plans). I won’t give away the why and how of the end (for those that haven’t seen it) but Megamind become the hero and gets the girl. The villain no more.

Another villain I am totally enamored with who balances on the line of heroism is Dr. Horrible. Dr. Horrible is a wannabe villain who recognizes the world is a mess. Of course, he just wants to rule it, but it’s only because the status is NOT quo (and I just crammed as many quotes in those three sentences as I could). The thing about Dr. Horrible is he is basically a good guy with good guy intentions and a good-guy crush on a sweet girl, but (and thar be ***spoilers*** here) the actions of the hero—one Captain Hammer (“the hammer is my penis”)—pushes him to a place so dark he becomes the villain he thought he was. But by the end of Dr. Horrible’s Sing-A-Long Blog I can’t help but wonder if Dr. Horrible IS the hero: his bitter-sweet transformation highlights the superficial nature of society.

Professor Snape (Harry Potter’s universe) is a perfect example of a villain whose actions define him—eventually—as a hero. I won’t expand on Snape because to do so would ruin the story for those that haven’t read the books (and I’m sure there are at least a twelve people out there who haven’t read J.K. Rowling’s series yet), but the Professor is a mysterious, dark sometimes malevolent man with an ambiguous goal and equally ambiguous motives.

Villains quite often walk the tight-rope of heroisms and it is this tenuous walk that makes a large number of them so damn sexy. We never know where their actions are going to take them—we never know what they will do. They may truly be trying to bring about the end of the world, but they may just decide to leave the world alone because the girl of their dreams longs for a better place. They may however, decide to create utter anarchy when said girl misses a coffee date. You just never know.

I’ve written my fair share of villains. In fact, I once had a reviewer write, “The villain was, as always, reprehensible. Ms. Couper writes slime quite well.” Hee, I’m not sure what it says about my psyche that I’m proud of that snippet. But it does lead me to my latest villain, a bad boy I’m very very proud of: Asmodeus.

Asmodeus is very much a villain. There is little to redeem him. He is the Daemon of Lust and as such wields his power with an arrogant, charismatic charm that is capable of destroying a human’s life while giving them the most intense, never-ending orgasm of that life. Asmodeus however, has a wit sharper than a knife and a killer smile and if, one day, he truly finds the woman of his dreams (as twisted and rapacious as they may seem) he will no doubt show the worlds of man and daemon-kind alike just how damn heroic he can be. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing…or a scary thing.

Ladies and Gentleman, may I (briefly) introduce you to Asmodeus, my villain from Endless Lust

Seven Deadly Daemons, Book Two

Cate Sinclair is ruled by lust. Day and night, awake and dreaming, an unseen force plies her with pleasure to the point of pain. Each orgasm wrenched from her exhausted body stealing her energy, her very essence, until insanity seems a sweet relief.

When Eamon enters her life, Cate’s uncertain if the gorgeous, enigmatic man is her salvation…or the cause of her worst nightmares.

Reader Advisory: Our heroine endures endless amounts of forced seduction. But how do you fight advances from an enemy you can’t see?

“Now now, Xander,” a new voice uttered, smoother than melting ice—and just as cold. “Surely you’re not so weak you’ll let a mere Muse influence you?”

Eamon stiffened, his head swiveling toward the speaker. A silent curse fell from his lips, his eyes flaring golden heat, and he let Xander fall to a heap on the floor. “The Daemon Form of Lust decides to make an appearance, does he?”

Cate’s gaze was riveted on the new arrival and her stomach knotted. The man stood beside Xander’s easel, his hand playing on the canvas, long, talon-tipped fingers stroking its edge with slow caresses. A lover’s touch, intimately gentle and knowing.

Even through the gray fog of her pain, she couldn’t miss the similarity. The Lust Daemon was almost a carbon copy of Eamon.

Asmodeus.

The name whispered through the deep reaches of her mind and with each syllable, her sex constricted. Consuming her with a horrific hunger unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

Asmodeus. The creature who’d given Xander power over her body.

Hate filled her. Hate and (God save me) desperate carnal need. She was going to kill him. She was going to—

She threw herself at the Lust Daemon, a raw cry erupting from her throat.
“Cate, no!” Eamon yelled, his voice like cracking thunder.

It was too late. Her body slammed into Asmodeus, her shoulder driving into his hard gut.

And the second her body touched his, a ravenous lust surged through her, mind, body and soul. She screamed, her sex constricting with such force her whole body shuddered.

God, she wanted to fuck. And be fucked.

Sharp claws raked at her back, her shoulder. Long fingers knotted in her hair, yanking her head backward until she was staring up at Eamon’s smirking double. His lips curled, his eyes flashing every shade of red. “Oh she’s a responsive one, isn’t she?”

“Let her go.” Eamon’s growl stroked all of Cate’s senses, the menace in his voice making her heart thump harder and the dark lust possessing her vanish.

Asmodeus laughed, a smug, confident chortle. “Don’t think so, Muse. Her pleasure does belong to me, after all.” And with that, Cate’s body was once more on the edge of orgasm. Instantly. Painfully.

Bio –

Lexxie’s not a deviant. She just has a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get darkly erotic romances with a twist of horror, sci-fi and the paranormal!

When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family: a husband who thinks she’s insane, a pony-sized mutt who thinks he’s a lap dog, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.

Living in Australia makes it a bit tricky for Lexxie to pop by for coffee, but she still loves to chat! Contact her by email or find her at her website or her blog (http://lexxiecouper.com).
Email: lexxie@lexxiecouper.com
Website: lexxiecouper.com

Heroes, Villains and In-Between-Tilly Greene

Grey is a Good Starting Place

He’s your knight in shining armor, handsome, wonderful, and there to do whatever it takes to help you out of a horrifying experience. Then, once you’re free, he’ll take you away for a happy ever after life together. Or he’s bad, gorgeous, and with evil on his mind. He’s there to kill you and your family, ending all thoughts of living a long and happy life.

 

Black or white, hero or villain, that’s the way it has to be, right?

 

No, it doesn’t, in fact those existing in the grey area end up following an interesting path to their end.

 

In Linda Howard’s “All The Queen’s Men”, the bad guy – Louis Ronsard – is selling a highly explosive material to the highest bidder. No question, that makes him beyond bad, right? What if I told you he was doing it to make money to help save his seriously ill young daughter? When the heroine, Niema, asks if that’s the reason he became an arms dealer, he says:

 

“Yes, I had to have enormous sums of money and quickly. The choice was drugs or weapons. I chose weapons.”

 

Not so cut and dry anymore, is it, at least Niema doesn’t think so.

 

There’s another type of neither good nor bad character and that would be the one who made a big, huge, ugly mistake. You know who they are, maybe they were the town toughie growing up or stole a car as a teen, and those are the ones in need of a second chance. Personally, as a writer, I like working with this type of figure. Perfection sounds lovely, but flaws can also be fabulous.

 

April 15th “Tied Up For Love”, from the Mythological Messes Redux series, will be released and it is the epitome of grey being a good place to start again. Marsyas, the hero, didn’t kill anyone, but he did insult a God and must therefore die. Before the sentence is handed down, he leaves to prepare himself mentally for the end of his life and people. As he comes to terms with the consequences of his actions, he finds himself falling in love, and is ashamed to share who he really is and disappoint his lover.

 

“I was stupid to throw down the challenge and once it was accepted, should have held back, flubbed a bit, but I was lost in the moment. It isn’t in me not to give my all.”

 

There is no place for the ipotane to go but toward being a hero or death. For Marsyas, the place in between being good and bad is where he needs to be in order to get a second chance.

 

A character who is either black or white, good or bad, are great to write and read. However, when it comes to romances, there’s definitely a place for heroes, villains, and those caught in between – in the grey area.

 

Tilly Greene
WARNING! Red hot romances ahead!
www.tillygreene.com

 

Blog?Facebook?Twitter?ARe Cafe

 

Tilly Greene Mythological Messes Redux Series
Hephaestus Lays Down the Law – paranormal erotic romance w/bondage
Together Again? – paranormal erotic romance
Cyra’s Cyclopes – paranormal erotic romance w/ménage
Double Punch – paranormal erotic romance w/ménage a trios
Tied Up For Love – paranormal erotica romance w/bondage – April 15 2011!

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Joey W. Hill

A Different Kind of Dom by Joey W. Hill

Years ago, when I started the Knights of the Board Room series, I was driven by a basic theme. Five men, all top executives in a successful manufacturing/acquisitions company. All five sexual Dominants. Each book focused on one man finding his soulmate, the submissive he wanted to claim as his forever. And in each story, the other four men were willing to use a variety of combined sensual talents to help him win her over – body, heart, mind and soul.

Four of these men are very out front alpha types – Matt, Lucas, Peter and Ben. But Jon was the one who brought them all together. A deeply spiritual man who draws strength from the philosophies that underpin yoga and martial arts practices, he’d recognized their common code of conduct, both in the bedroom and the boardroom. When I wrote Matt, Lucas and Peter’s stories, Jon was a quiet force in their books, but somewhat overshadowed by the personalities of the others. If I now had the pleasure of sitting down with the other men to confess that impression (after I got over being tongue-tied and stammering) they’d probably exchange an amused, understanding look and then Matt would say, “People tend to underestimate Jon. And he’s the strongest of all of us.” After writing his story, I now agree. As the story unfolded, Jon surprised me, on so many levels. Though he was a different type of Dom, the underlying nature of a Dominant that appeals to a submissive personality was there in full force. Today, if I had to choose among all five of them (and mind you, I wouldn’t turn any of them away – lol), he’d be the one I’d choose for myself.

The reviewer for Whipped Cream blogspot noted: “I have a feeling that anyone would submit to Jon. The author did a great job displaying his strength without making him harsh. As a reader I found myself wanting to do whatever he demanded along with Rachel; that is how much power he wields. His character had me asking myself if men like him really exist and if so where can they be found? …This story has a strong yoga/tantric/Buddhism element to it. This helped to demonstrate why Jon was so comfortable with who he is and how he lived his life.”

To give you a more concrete example of what kind of hero Jon is, I chose a couple snippets from the book I thought you’d like. The following one comes at a point in the story when, in a desperate attempt to deal with her desires and escape her feelings for Jon, Rachel (who is a yoga instructor and physical therapist) goes to the wrong kind of club. This is a couple days’ afterward, when Jon comes to her apartment and confronts her about it. They’re sitting on her bed.
* * * * *
He put a hand on her face, the uninjured side. “Rachel, why did you do this?”

When he was little, her son had taken martial arts training. For some reason, at Jon’s direct look, the firmness in the hand on her cheek, Rachel remembered one of Kyle’s instructors. He’d been gentle, careful, intelligent. Yet when he helped the boys spar, there was a concentration in his gaze that suggested it was best not to underestimate the power of a gentle, focused man.

She closed her eyes. “Jon, we can’t have this conversation. I can’t have this conversation. It was stupid and pointless. That part of my life was over a long time ago. I’d accepted it. It was just…”

“I started something with you I didn’t finish, and left you nowhere else to go.”

“No.” She opened her eyes immediately. “This was my stupid decision, Jon. You weren’t responsible. I appreciate you coming by to check on me, but…”

It was as if he were weighing the significance of every word that came from her mouth, noting every minute change in her expression, the uncomfortable shift of her body. Since he was sitting on her bed, his hip brushing her thigh, he now slid his hand from her cheek to her shoulder, his thumb resting on her collarbone. It effectively stopped her babbling. She couldn’t seem to continue, to tell him she was fine, that he needed to leave.

“Breathe,” he said. “Like when you start your yoga class. Three count. And keep your eyes on mine.”

His thumb shifted so it was on the pulse in her throat, making short strokes there as she drew in a breath. She felt foolish, but she took that deep breath, drew it in for a count of three, even as she remained conscious of those two points of contact, his hand on her throat, his hip against her leg. When she let it out, emotion welled up in her chest, making it tighter. She got the second breath out, and it got worse, such that more tears spilled forth.

“I don’t want you to see this.” Her voice broke. “I can’t—”

“One more,” he said, not unkindly, though his hold on her throat increased, underscoring the relentless command.

It was a shudder of sobs, more than an indrawn breath, and as it crested, they broke. She’d cried a lot over the past day and a half, but this was different. This was the way a person cried when someone was there to hear, to help. Pulling her into his arms, he turned them so they were stretched out on the bed together, one of her arms wrapped around his back and the other around his neck, her face buried into his chest. He stroked her, crooned to her as she shook and cried, until she’d cried out the fear and shame, and was left limp with exhaustion.
* * * * *
Though the man captivates with his ability to slide inside a woman’s soul, he’s also fire engine hot (an added perk!). I’ve provided the gorgeous cover above, but on the Joey W. Hill fan forum, Katishka Taylor, one of our wonderful moderators and graphic artists for the site, designed a beautiful banner inspired by her impression of Jon. I provide it here for your additional viewing pleasure.

Now, in case I gave you the impression Jon was too gentle, let me leave you with another side of him –

She turned then, faced him, and it was so hard, for so many reasons, to meet that steady gaze. “I can’t have what you’re offering, Jon. You’re too young, too late and I’m too fragile. It took me too long to pull myself back off the cliff edge, and…” Her voice trembled once more. Closing her eyes, she steadied herself, spoke the desolate truth to that black space. “I won’t survive going there again.”

“I’m not offering anything.”

He moved then, closing the space between them. She wanted to shrink back against the glass, but managed to keep herself still. He had such a smooth way of moving, gathering an energy around him that would always turn a woman’s head. Her gaze latched onto the tie. His tie tack was a Japanese kanji symbol, one she recognized, because it was on a tapestry in her yoga studio. Perseverance.

Her palms tingled, wanting to reach out, touch it, flatten against his chest, feel his heat and heartbeat. When he laid his hands on her tense shoulders, she had another brief spurt of panic, but before she could wrench away, he’d pushed her against that panel of glass. It had absorbed a considerable amount of the sun’s heat, such that it burned through the fabric of her bolero and the thin blouse beneath.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“No.” The resolve beneath the deceptive mildness was terrifying to her. Gentle, thoughtful Jon, so interested in the philosophy and spirituality behind yoga, yet he also understood the strength of it as well. A mountain could be placid, but it didn’t make it less immovable, less capable of demonstrations of utter power. However, while he could easily overcome her physically, he didn’t need that. His voice and manner alone arrested her.

“The instruction I left you this morning wasn’t an offer, a suggestion or a proposal, Rachel. It was a command. I’m not going to give you a choice. Not right now. Because you’ve been given far too many. That isn’t what you need, is it?”

The ache low in her belly was becoming that spinning wheel she knew too well, a wheel with blades that were going to cut her insides to pieces. “Please…don’t.”

“Keep your eyes down, Rachel. You’ll meet my gaze when I give you permission. You understand?” The implacable tone shut that wheel down, made her knees weak. He leaned in, until his lips were at her temple, trailing down her skin in a highly distracting way until he reached her ear. “Tell me you understand.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she realized she’d latched onto his shirt at the waist, digging her fingers into the cloth as an anchor. A hard shudder ran through her body.

“Ssshh, girl. At the end of the third class I took with you, you told me you saw an old soul in my eyes. We talked about how we both believe in reincarnation, the idea that the physical body isn’t the sum total of a human being. You remember?”

She nodded. He tightened his grip. “Well, when I look in your eyes, I see a young soul, one who had her wings clipped too soon. She doesn’t realize they’ve grown back, that she can spread them out and fly, finally realize the potential that’s been there all along.”

“Jon—”

Shifting, he closed his hand over one of hers at his waist. When he detached her fingers, he gave them a quick squeeze and then turned, taking her across the room to the drafting table, the stool there. He slid a hip onto it, then perused her with that lingering, appraising look. “Take off the shoes.”

He’d tolerate no disobedience, no discussion. She didn’t know what that would mean if she resisted, but her pulse thudded hard against her throat. Her shoes. If that was all he was asking, she could do that, right? And truth, they were pinching her feet. As she slid out of them, giving up the two-inch height they’d offered, she immediately realized why slaves were made to go barefoot. There was a distinct difference in status, looking down at her feet clad only in thin stockings, positioned between his polished dress shoes. Her toes curled into the deep carpet.

“Now the hair. Take it down and hand me the pins.”
* * * * *
I hope you’ve enjoyed this view of one of my heroes. You can read further excerpts and blurbs about the whole series on my home page, www.storywitch.com (direct link http://www.storywitch.com/Books/KBR/KBR.htm). You can also visit the JWH fan forum, where you’ll find further graphics of the Knights, character interviews with them and more (instructions on how to access the site, click here). In the coming months, I’ll be posting free vignettes there about Ben, my final Knight, to whet your appetite for his story. (Coming later in 2011 if all goes well!)

Thanks for letting me join in the fun with Heroes, Villains and In-Between. Best wishes to everyone.  :mrgreen:

Coming July 5th, 2011 to Berkley Heat

 

Bio: Joey W. Hill is the author of over twenty-five award-winning titles of paranormal and contemporary erotic romance, most of them of the BDSM genre. She is a two-time nominee for the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Erotica. She writes vampires for Berkley Heat, mermaids and angels for Berkley Sensation and contemporaries (as well as a smattering of anything-goes paranormal) for Ellora’s Cave Publishing, so you have your pick of a wide range of heroes!

Heroes, Villains and In-Between- Ann Jacobs

Heroes, Villains and In-Between…

by Ann Jacobs

Heroes always get the girl. But why?

Dark and dangerous, emotionally and/or physically wounded, my favorite heroes often have flaws that both attracts and repels the heroine. For the most part, they’re Alpha guys, Doms who compel their women to submit.

Guy, the hero of PLEASURE SLAVE, coming March 9 from Ellora’s Cave, has all these traits and more. Gravely injured and restored with cybernetics, he can never return to Earth, where such enhancements are forbidden. Posing as a sexbot, Guy entrances the Earthling woman he has chosen for a mate–but it takes all his powers of sexual persuasion to entice her to give up the life she knows to become his mate and make a brave new world with him in an unknown place–Luna Ten.

What makes a hero? I think it’s a tarnish on male perfection. For instance, consider Jared, the wounded soldier in ROPED; Kurt, the workaholic in A MUTUAL FAVOR who one wife has left and who needs another to play mom to his troubled son; Dave, the washed up pro quarterback looking for new life and a new love in HOT IN THE CLUTCH; Jack, who hands control of his sex life over to his Mistress to protect his career in END RUN; and all the others of my heroes. They have different problems, different limitations–but all sixty or more of the heroes I’ve written have found ways to solve their inner conflicts and find love.

Troubled heroes appeal to me in other authors’ books, as well. One of my favorites, a RITA winner from a long time back, is Justine Davis’ THE MORNING SIDE OF DAWN, about a former baseball player who lost both legs in an accident and now has trouble believing a gorgeous supermodel can possibly love him as he is.

I guess my taste in heroes can be summed up by saying I want them to be tortured–either emotionally or physically–but they must grow beyond their conflicts into the man their heroine can love.

 

 

Bio:
Ann Jacobs is a sucker for lusty Alpha heroes and happy endings. Erotic romance, to her, is the perfect combination of sex, sensuality, deep emotional involvement and lifelong commitment—the elusive fantasy women often dream about but seldom achieve.

First published in 1996, Jacobs has sold more than fifty books and novellas. She is currently nominated for Romantic Times’ 2010 Lifetime Achievement Award for excellence in erotic romance, as well as having had books nominated by RT reviewers for best erotic romance in 2007 and 2008. Her books have earned awards including the Passionate Plume (best novella, 2006, second place contemporary, 2008), the Desert Rose (best hot and spicy romance, 2004) and More Than Magic (best erotic romance, 2004). She has been a double finalist in separate categories of the EPPIES and From the Heart RWA Chapter’s contest. Three of her books have been translated and sold in several European countries.

A CPA and former hospital financial manager, Jacobs now writes full-time, with the help of Mr. Blue, the family cat who sometimes likes to perch on the back of her desk chair and lend his sage advice. He sometimes even contributes a few random letters when he decides he wants to try out the keyboard. (Most of the time Blue just curls up, hides his eyes with his paws…and sleeps!)

She loves to hear from readers, and to put faces with names at signings and conventions.

Links:

To Visit Ann’s Website Click Here

Click Here to join Ann’s newsletter group.

Click Here to join Ann’s chat group.

Heart of the West Myspace

d’Argent Vampires Myspace

Guest Blogger: Vonna Harper

Tie Me Up, Please!
By Vonna Harpe

Welcome to my world, a kinky, great fun world IMO! Here’s a poorly-kept secret. I love writing bondage/capture stories. Its my fantasy, where I go in my mind when the world gets heavy or simply for fun.
For those who think I’m blowing smoke, here’s an example from my recent Loose Id release Brought Down.

http://www.loose-id.com/Brought-Down.aspx

“Yes, my captive, yes. Right now, you don’t believe me. I don’t blame you.” His expression sobered. “You believe the only way I can get you to cooperate is by force, but force breaks the spirit.”
The whole time he’d been talking, his rough fingers had tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed, sending strange sensations throughout her lower leg. There was nothing forceful in what he was doing, and his grip was far from painful. To her shock, she regretted it when he stopped.
“A woman’s body is quick to heat,” he went on. Releasing her shin, he pressed the heel of his hand against the side of her calf. “Just as a wolf answers to his belly’s needs, a woman heeds her sex.”
What had he said? If not for those words, surely her attention wouldn’t have turned to what lay hidden between her legs. No longer just pressing on her calf, his hand now moved back and forth. Even more disconcerting, he’d started lightly raking his nails over her knee. The touch put her in mind of a bird’s wing.
No, not a bird’s wing.
She couldn’t get away. Struggling would serve no purpose. As he continued his unexpectedly gentle exploration, she relaxed a little. She should fear this man with the thick, rich black hair that brushed the tops of his shoulders and bushy eyebrows. Unlike some men who wore beards, he’d taken a knife to his cheeks and chin, but not for the past few days. The shading added to his wild appearance.
“I didn’t think your flesh would be this soft,” he muttered. “It should be rough from the wind.”
His uncertain tone pulled her back from her study of his appearance. For the first time, she noted curiosity in his eyes and wondered if today was as much a journey for him as for her. Yet the differences were telling. He was in control of his journey, while she had no say. He’d captured her simply because he could.
Sighing, he changed from a crouch to kneeling. Once settled, he ran his hand along her thigh. Both dreading and anticipating what was going to happen, Kahsha breathed through every inch of the journey. He could be cruel yet wasn’t. Could draw blood but hadn’t. Instead he studied her while slowly, so slowly, guiding his hand to the inside of her thigh. Her dress barely covered her crotch, yet he didn’t take advantage.
“You can’t want this,” he muttered. Leaning forward, he exhaled his warm breath on her leg. “You hate everything I’m doing.” He sighed. “At the same time, you want to know what’s going to happen. That will make you tremble, and in the trembling, you’ll give up pieces of yourself. Hand your body over to me.”
He was right about the shivering. To her disbelief, insisting she wanted nothing to do with what he was doing would be a lie. Surely it would be different once she fully recovered from whatever he’d injected her with.
Ah, that was it; there was still poison in her system. Nothing to do with wondering what his fingers on her core would feel like.
Maybe he’d tapped into her thoughts, because after patting her knee, he slid his hand between her legs. It’s going to happen, his deep eyes said.
“Time,” he muttered, “to begin.”
Barely believing what was happening, she stared at his forearm and what she now could see of his wrist. The upward march fascinated her so that she couldn’t concentrate on remaining erect. His rough skin burned hers. She tried squeezing her thighs together, only to sob and let go when her muscles threatened to cramp.
He was saying something in a language she’d heard a few times but understood nothing of. Only the tone, soft and low, mattered. Perhaps what he was saying had nothing to do with her, but maybe he was detailing everything he had planned for her.

Anyone except me hot and bothered now? What’s truly amazing to me is that before I dove into the world of writing erotica, I kept my fantasies under wraps. Why? Because of my upbringing. Let me explain.

In purely psychological terms, Freud was a nut. In 1908, he declared that, “a happy person never fantasizes, only a dissatisfied one.”
Fortunately, a great deal has changed since those uninformed days with such experts as psychologists Harold Leitenberg and Kris Henning doing extensive studies on peoples’ sexual fantasies. Their conclusion: only about 5% of people don’t dream up sexy romps. In fact, it’s now considered pathological not to have such fantasies.
Whew! Good news for me because my erotica banks on readers’ need and desire for the aforementioned. But it isn’t enough for an erotica writer to simply open the bedroom door wide and call a pussy a pussy. There has to be a reason for the pussy to get into the act, like a plot to go with the sex. Many times I decorate my plot around bondage.
Good choice because psychiatrist Ethel Person of Columbia University reports that 51 percent of women imagine being forced to have sex and another third get off on pretending to be a slave who must obey a man’s every wish. Yep, I’m in good company, something I didn’t know back when the muse (or my carnal imagination) compelled me to write my first Ellora’s Cave capture story, Forced. http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-5333-77-forced.aspx (Ask me how much I dig the cover)
In it, a downsized lady cop gets pegged to go undercover to expose a slavery ring. Unfortunately—or fortunately—the first step calls for her being taught what it’s like to be a sex slave. With every like-themed book, I kick up my own fantasies another notch and judging by reader reaction, I’m on the right track.
So why do scenes full of ropes and chains touch so many people’s hot buttons? For the answer, I went back to the shrinks. According to Leitenberg and Henning, “Women who find submission fantasies sexually arousing are very clear that they have no wise to be raped in reality. In their fantasies, women control every aspect of what happens.” According to the article, “Power, Desire, and Pleasure in Sexual Fantasies” by Eileen Zurbriggen in the Aug, 2004 Journal of Sex Research, women who fanaticize about submission have a more positive attitude about sex and are less sexually guilty and more open to a variety of sexual experiences. Female submissive fantasies may be one aspect of an open, positive, guilt-free sexuality.
Why is that? Blame or credit the brain. The brain is as potent a sexual organ as the genitalia. As a result, our imagination allows us to safely explore our sexuality without waiting for Mr. Right or Wrong. No one is going to judge and criticize our thoughts. We can let them run wild—or handcuff and hog-tie them if we so choose.
I’ll choose the handcuffs, thank you very much. And throw in a blindfold and dildo for my helpless, writhing, and over-the-top excited female captive while I’m at it. And, most important, add one (or more) male hunk who can’t keep his hands off her helpless body because real women get off on being desired. As Leitenberg and Henning put it, “Women tend to envision something being done to them and to concentrate more on their partner’s interest in her.”
In his Psychology Today article, “The Safest Sex—Sexual Fantasies”, Peter Doskoch maintains that men have Playboy to prime their pumps while women turn to the “cookie-cutter” Harlequin romances which always include an emotional, passionate romance for mental and otherwise stimulation. Well, guess what. Those vanilla romances aren’t enough as witness by Ellora’s Cave’s phenomenal success.
Women readers want and deserve and are now getting more, a hell of a lot more. Their pumps are primed because erotic bondage (and its relatives) include emotion and passion, in spades.
In other words, it’s a short step from book to bed.

Just because, my latest Samhain release, Predator, also touches on capture themes. http://store.samhainpublishing.com/predator-p-6252.html

Ai Week: Taming Kate by Sedonia Guillone

Taming Kate
Author: Sedonia Guillone
Genre: Contemporary Western; BDSM;
Length: Novel
ISBN: 1451596324
MSRP: 8.49
You pay: 4.99
Trade paperback: 7.99
Release Date: April 8, 2010
Purchase link: http://ai-press.net/2010/04/08/now-available-taming-kate/

Blurb:

It’s going to take a lot more than sweet talk to tame this Kate…

Kate has given up on men. They’re all unreliable gold-diggers or worse. Besides, who needs men when she has her work? Unfortunately Daddy has other plans. He wants to see her happy, and he knows just the man for the job.

Enter Peter Manning, the incredibly sexy horse-whisperer, whose healing skills work on more than just horses. He’s got all the right tools for taming this wild filly – rope, blindfolds, his bare hands.

Kate’s acid tongue and prickly manner are no match for Peter’s strength and determination. And pretty soon, their battle of wills leads them into each others’ arms… and beds.

Publisher’s note: This book was previously released at Loose Id.

Excerpt:
Kate looked down just as a pair of heavy work boots came to a halt in front of the swinging doors of the dressing room. Her gaze traveled upwards, meeting his. He was staring at her over the doors. Terror and anger at feeling so naked and vulnerable pulsed through her. She especially hated the way her nipples tightened against her brassiere. She hated the way she wanted him to come into the little booth with her.

She stared back, astonished as the anger drained from the darkening green hue of his eyes. His breath caught in his throat as his gaze roamed over her negligee-clad body. If his eyes had been hands, he would have been running his fingertips over her skin, reaching for every intimate spot.

“My God,” he whispered. A million heartbeats seemed to pass as he gazed at her and she stared back, half entranced, half-terrified.

She pressed her back against the wall. “What are you going to do to me?” Her legs trembled and she struggled to keep her balance, unable to tell whether he was going to tan her hide or come in there and …

The sound of her voice seemed to jar him out of his hypnosis. He grabbed hold of the doors and swung them open, his brawny physique filling the doorway. His unshaven jaw flexed with tension. His dark blond hair was tousled. “That was a pretty good bit of engineering there, Kate. “Her anger at feeling vulnerable took over, and she glared at him; damned if she would let him see her fear. Or her desire. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He waved his hand toward her scantily clothed body. “This lacy get-up. You figured by the time I came to confront you, you’d turn on the sexy act to control me, right? Flash the goods and I won’t take you to task for the paint job on my truck?” Kate jammed her fists on her hips, forgetting that her pink nipples were visible through the black lace of both bra and negligee. “I did not engineer anything. I was simply trying on something I wanted to buy. I have no interest in controlling you or anyone. I want to be left alone. I figured you would be halfway home by now.” Peter stared at her a moment before a look of understanding lit his chiseled features. He crossed his arms and leaned casually against the wall. Even in his relaxed stance, there was barely room to move. “I see.” He leaned in closer, his breath a warm caress on her face. The tight quarters did nothing to lower the simmering in her loins that continued in spite of her tension. “You were fixing to get rid of me, weren’t you? Testing me to see if I’d prove you right?” Kate blinked, trying to push away the weakening effect he was having on her. She was probably in a heap of trouble with him, yet instead of worrying about that, she was getting aroused. She had never met anyone who made her feel that way. Until now. “Of course I was. What did you think? Neither you nor my father will listen to me.” Peter looked down and sighed. When he looked back up, he trapped her gaze with his. His face was so close, Kate could see the gold flecks in his irises.

“Well, this does change things a bit, Kate. If you’re really that dead set against doing this.” He rubbed his chin with thumb and forefinger, a pensive look in his eyes. “Hmm.” He stopped and looked at her. “Are you going to tell him? Or am I?” Kate sagged against the wall, narrowing her eyes at him. “Damn you.” Suddenly she found herself caged close between his chest and the wall, his palms pressed to the wall on either side of her head. “No, Kate. You know what? Damn you . Your father cares about you, so much so that he’s had to call on a horse whisperer because he’s run out of options. As for me, I’ve got an eleven-year-old nephew who’s developmentally disabled because his father abandoned him when he was five. I’ve got a ranch to run and a horse that’s recovering from a trailer accident. And now I’ve got to get my truck to the body shop so it doesn’t continue to look like the wall of a subway station. You think I’m on holiday here?” He bent his face to hers, so close that their noses almost touched. The insight into his personal life worsened her guilt. She wished suddenly she could go back and handle the situation differently. She wished he would kiss her instead of reaming her a new asshole. She wondered if he felt that way too, pressed up close to her when she was wearing nothing but a bit of lace and silk.

She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “I think you’re wasting your time. And of course I’ll pay for the damages.” “Damn right you’re going to pay for the damages,”he shot back. “But it’s not that easy, Kate. Your father begged me to work with you as much as he begged you to let me work with you.”He paused and heaved a deep sigh. When he looked at her again, his lids were heavier over his eyes, which had darkened and grown dusky. He shook his head. “Damn shame that I have to teach you a lesson now. I’d much rather be kissing you.”Kate caught her breath, not only from surprise but also from the reality that he felt what sizzled between them. The small space had grown feverishly warm from their bodies, and Peter pressed his more snugly against hers. Her breasts crushed against his rock-hard chest, and she weakened further, sagging against the wall, fighting the urge to part her legs and let her lips fall open for a kiss.

A soft groan escaped Peter’s throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. From the look of it, he was fighting for control. He dipped his head forward, his lips close to her ear. “I’m going to teach you not to destroy another person’s property, Miss Rossi. After all, I didn’t do anything to you to deserve that. This is for your own good.” Kate’s arousal dissipated and her lip trembled. “So … so … how are you going to –” “I’m going to put you over my knee.” Her heart lurched. He couldn’t be serious! “The hell you are,”she spat, her remorse over his truck forgotten in her shock and fear-induced anger.

He stepped further into the room, filling the small space. His hard, muscular body pressed against hers. His masculine scent, primal and musky, filled her nostrils, weakening her. Before she knew what was happening, iron-strong hands gripped her and dragged her out of the dressing room.

“Let … go … of me, you bastard!” Kate twisted and struggled as the clothing racks and shelves passed her view. He was heading to the front of the store, to the counter where her stool sat behind the register.

Flailing her arms, her nails flexed, she clawed at his face, raking a trail down his cheek.

“Ow! Damn you, Kate!” “Let me go! Let … me … go!” “Not until you get what’s coming to you.” “I’ll sue you!” She writhed in vain. Peter’s arms held her in a viselike grip.

“You’re the one who damaged my truck.” “My father will, then.””Your father’ll thank me.” “Someone will see us from outside! You’ll be in trouble then!”He dropped onto the seat, bringing Kate with him. If they can see through a shade, maybe.”In spite of her thrashing, she was no match for him, and he maneuvered her until she was across his knees, the flimsy negligee hanging around her head.

One arm held her firmly in place. Then whap! A hand came down firmly on her left butt cheek, delivering a stinging slap.

“Ow!” Kate cried out and struggled, but Peter just held her more firmly.

He delivered a second slap.

The blood rushed to Kate’s face. A pulsing sprang to life in the cleft between her thighs. Damn it! It’s not supposed to feel good! She struggled less fiercely. Her hands hung like a rag doll’s. Her breasts were crushed against Peter’s muscular thighs. Suddenly the entire energy between them shifted, and she couldn’t remember whether he was punishing her or pleasuring her.

The third slap brought a pleasant sting that shimmied through her, into her pussy and thighs. Kate felt her resistance slipping. Her head lolled against his leg.

He slapped her a fourth time, bringing a rush of sexual wetness through her slit. She moaned softly.

She waited for a fifth slap. She glanced up, seeing Peter’s hand frozen in mid-air. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the air around them. He released her, causing her to roll off his lap to a heap on the floor.

The negligee had come untied in their struggle and lay open. Kate braced her hands on the floor, staring up at Peter. Her nipples were erect in her black lacy bra. She, too, breathed raggedly, watching him for what he would do next.

http://ai-press.net/2010/04/08/now-available-taming-kate/

Reviews:

Sedonia Gullone has written an extremely captivating tale in TAMING KATE. I couldn’t help but empathize with both of the characters. They’d both been through horrible events that had shaped them into the people that they are. Kate had buried her feelings deep inside herself and protected herself by lashing out at other people. Peter had found strength to get through his feelings by relying on his faith in Buddhism. I thoroughly enjoyed all the verbal sparing and stunts Kate pulled in an effort to run Peter off. They both have extremely strong personalities, but while Kate’s was more “in your face,” Peter’s was calmer and depended on what was needed at the time. Kate had deep emotional scars that she’d never allowed herself to deal with. TAMING KATE is a combination of ‘The Horse Whisperer’ and ‘Taming of the Shrew.’ I loved being able to lose myself for a while in this very charming story. I got so involved in the characters lives I just couldn’t put it down. This is definitely a book I’ll read many times.

4.5 Blue Ribbon, Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies
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Sedonia Guillone’s TAMING KATE is a new take on a classic love story. This is no remake; the story is crisp and enchanting with unforgettable characters that will touch your heart. Kate and Peter each come with their own baggage and through the love they find, are able to deal with the past. The author has a wicked sense of humor that will have you laughing out loud. This should not be missed.

4 Angels, Tewanda, Fallen Angel Reviews
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TAMING KATE is a story of two people dealing with the harshness of the life that they have lived. Both have painful pasts that still consume them to varying extents. Peter is the perfect caring alpha male. He is bound to his family, the land, and the horses that he heals. He is the man so many of us look for and never find. Kate has been hurt so much that she has become hard hearted, arrogant and rude. There are times you will want to shake her and tell her to grow up. Beneath the hard exterior though is the heart of a loving and gentle soul. The sexual tension that builds in the book will have you longing for relief. It builds steadily from the first meeting until it explodes. These two are like molten lava when they finally come together. However, as great as the sex is, this story is about redemption, faith, and the willingness to care.

4/5 Stars, Oleta M Baylock, JERR
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TAMING KATE was a book that was impossible to put down. The feelings between Kate and Peter are so explosive. This book will show you that love can overcome a hurtful past.

Sherry, Coffee Time Romance
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Author Sedonia Guillone writes an arousing tale of love and passion with TAMING KATE… Ms. Guillone shows how a kind word and a soft touch can go a long way on the road to love.

Sinclair Reid, Romance Reviews Today
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TAMING KATE is a story of love but it’s also a story of a man’s commitment. Kate is more than just a job to Peter and he sees past the stubborn Kate and brings out the woman that is searching for true love. You won’t be able to put this book down.

Louise Riveiro-Mitchell, The Romance Studio
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TAMING KATE is an emotionally charged tale that combines heat, sensuality, intimacy and love in one spicy package. This modern day twist of “The Taming of The Shrew” will taunt, tease, and please all of your senses.

Lena Matthews, Author