Some Write It Hot

February 12, 2011

Meet Cari Silverwood by Cherise Sinclair

Filed under: Who we are — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , ,

Alas for lost innocence. Author Cari Silverwood has left it far behind. In fact, she’s jumped so enthusiastically into the kinkier side of erotic romance that we heard her inviting Darth Vader to a bondage and hot wax session. (I think he accepted)

Although Cari is previously published under another name in another genre, I think she’s going to stay on the dark side for a while. Her characters have given her a long list of sexual activities they want to try, and she’s having way too much fun trying to incorporate the various positions, places, and…other things…into her stories.

Surprisingly serene despite having a teen and preteen, Cari lives in Australia with a husband who is master of the raised eyebrow when catching glimpses of what she writes. Since she’s a pet-lover with an amazingly diverse menagerie–dogs, cats, lizards, fish, and birds–it’s not surprising that her cocker spaniel managed to sneak his way into her story. And you can get an idea of her sense of humor–the floppy-eared, puffy-pawed spaniel is named “Killer”.

Her first erotic romance, Three Days of Dominance, is coming out this spring from Loose Id, and having read parts of it, I’d say readers are in for a thrill.

Blurb for Three Days of Dominance
When a man with mint-green eyes steps from a lake and offers to rescue Danii’s dog in exchange for three days of total obedience, it’s obvious he must be either joking or crazy. And, being a police officer, she knows how to handle the crazies. But when it comes to Heketoro, she’s the one being handled. Each day their lovemaking becomes wilder and Danii discovers exactly how far this man can take her. Though the tattoos drawing themselves on his body make it clear he’s not quite human, to Danii what’s more important is their burgeoning love for each other.

An ancient curse prevents Heketoro from returning to his world. With one last ritual of love needed to break this curse, Heketoro’s enemies return and threaten to destroy him by using his only weakness — Danii. Will love, or their enemies, triumph?

Excerpt (note – this is an early, unedited version)
Her wrists were drawn taut, above her head, secured to the headboard by ropes of thorned red rose and bougainvillea. The pricks of their thorns threatened to puncture her dream. She resisted that, wanting more. Raising her head, she stared down the length of her body, past her red protruding nipples, and along her stomach where sweat lined the floral rope fastening her thighs up against her body. With her bottom tilted and her legs spread, her pussy was open, available.

The man, his black hair spread in floating streamers about his head, lifted his head from between her thighs and she gasped, rolling her hips upwards. The wet tip of his tongue slid across as he licked her juices off his lower lip. Her clit, so recently probed by that clever tongue, pulsed. If he didn’t put it back there, soon…

She panted, feeling his thumbs glide in the slickness of her labia, felt them sink deep, then deeper inside, and gasped again, lost in the molten sensation. She tried to move her arms, her legs, and couldn’t. Trapped and pinioned for him to do what he wished. Excitement screwed her insides a notch tighter. Her vagina squeezed around his thumbs. He pulled them out and she mewed at the loss.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he rose to his feet, shifting position until his hands wrapped around her thighs and the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

Anticipation made everything feverish bright, sent lust snaking, thick as syrup, to her groin. Her thigh muscles juddered as she pushed up vainly against the rope. The rope tightened. The thorns bit down.

The man smiled with satisfaction as her struggling subsided, becoming a trembling acceptance of what was to come. He drove the head of his cock into her, sliding inside, and halted. She groaned, anticipating the thrust as he penetrated farther.

Watching her intently, he skated his finger in tantalizing circles about her clit, sometimes touching the aching nub, and sometimes not. He gripped it between finger and thumb, and squeezed, then thrust with his cock, then squeezed, then thrust — the rhythm driving her closer and closer to the edge, her clit so swollen she was sure she’d explode if her release was held off a second longer.

Withdrawing until the head barely parted her lips, he poised there, making her ache, making her want.

Aaah. She arched, threw back her head, opened her mouth…and something soft and furry landed on her. A long tongue swept across her face. The dream dissolved.

Danii opened one eye. Two doggy eyes looked back.

“Killer,” she rasped. Her Cocker Spaniel barked twice and squirmed closer. She plonked a hand on his head to still his tongue and squinted at the alarm clock.

“Six o’clock. Gah! Couldn’t you have waited one more minute? We nearly did it this time!” Not that it would have mattered. Her dreams always ended before she came, though this time had been close, much closer than usual.

Danii squeezed her thighs together and groaned. She really needed a lover. Only, good men didn’t grow on trees, especially not men that did special tricks with bougainvillea. Whoa, that had been something, way too kinky. She’d never let a man do that to her for real, but in dreams, in dreams it was…nice.

Killer barked again, more urgently.

“You want to go for your walk, don’t you?”

He ruffed and sat up, tail swishing across the sheets.

“Okay. Okay. I’m getting up.”
* * * * *
Getting her mind in gear in the early morning was something she’d had practice at for years. Within half an hour, Danii was at the lake, having wrenched on jeans and a top and collected the neighbor’s dog like she’d promised. The lake was pristine blue-green, cool, and still. The sun’s rays struggled over the horizon in little sparks and glints that hurt her eyes when she looked up.

Preoccupied by thoughts of what might await her at work, Danii barely noticed the concrete path under her feet, the ducks cruising on the water, or the myriad other life in and around the lake. She’d been here a million times and the dogs more than made up for her inattention as they sniffed weeds and tree trunks, a patch or two of sodden grass, and eyed off everything that moved.

Most likely there’d be a long list of thefts and assaults to investigate today. No court appearances, thank heavens.With a wrench she brought her mind back to the here and now — time for all the stresses of work later, when she had to think about it.

Killer and Jugsy, the neighbor’s Dalmatian, easily kept up with her on the lazy walk around the lake, though the Dalmatian had a habit of doing pretzel maneuvers around Killer every so often.

A distinctive child’s hat with butterfly appliqué rested abandoned on the grass ahead. She knew Marie, the mother of the child, and went to pick it up. Jugsy’s lead tangled with Killer’s at the same time she bent over. She absentmindedly fiddled with the lead, and dropped it.

In that one millisecond of sloppiness, a dragonfly darted across Jugsy’s nose, and he took off like a spotted rocket. She lunged then dived for the loop of the lead, and missed. With a gigantic splash, Jugsy plunged into the lake and was yards out before she’d scrambled up off the grass.

Holy hells. Who was to know the dog could win an Olympic medal in dog paddle?

Visit Cari’s website at www.carisilverwood.netfor a longer excerpt and, well, just to say hello!

January 31, 2011

Releasing February 1–Masters of the Shadowlands Five: Make Me Sir by Cherise Sinclair

== Blurb for Make Me, Sir =====================================

Her job is to make his life miserable. His job is to make her submit. Whose heart will surrender first?

Across the country, rebellious BDSM submissives are being systematically kidnapped, one from each club. When her friend falls prey to the slavers, FBI victim specialist Gabrielle volunteers to be bait in a club not yet hit: the Shadowlands.

She finds that being a bratty sub comes naturally, especially when she gets to twit the appallingly conservative Master of the trainees. But she soon discovers he’s not as stuffy as she’d thought. Or as mean. She’d expected punishment, even humiliation, but she sure never expected to fall in love with a damned lawyer.

Courtesy of a prima donna ex-wife, Marcus loathes disobedient submissives. When the club owner insists he admit an incredibly bratty trainee, he’s furious. But as he comes to know Gabrielle and sees the alluring sweetness beneath the sass, he starts to fall for her.

Unfortunately, Marcus isn’t the only one who believes the feisty redhead is a prize worth capturing. And in the world of the slaver, such treasure is worth a hefty fee.

===Excerpt for Make Me, Sir =======================================

The model-gorgeous guy in the suit didn’t like her. Gabrielle saw that already, but no real problem. The only one she had to impress was Master Marcus, and hopefully the suit wouldn’t tell on her. The man positively oozed rich and powerful, so he must be a big shot in the club. “I guess I’d better get back there before my boss arrives.”

“Who?”

“Master Marcus. I’m waiting for him.”

“You most certainly possess a poor idea of how to wait.” He stared at her for another minute, disapproval radiating from him. “I have a notion that introductions are in order before you work your way further into trouble. I am Master Marcus.”

She choked. Oh, no. This day is so not going well. “Ah.” She cleared her throat and tried again. “Nice to meet you. Um –”

“And might I ask your name?” he asked politely. Too politely.

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”

He cocked his head. The guy was way too good-looking. Tall, broad-shouldered, lean. His hair, a rich brown shading to gold on the ends, was flawlessly styled. Definitely a perfect person like her parents. Gag. Even his tan wasn’t leathery, but just dark enough to set off incredibly blue eyes. Very sharp blue eyes, in fact, and turning colder by the second.

“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked.

Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”

He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter — amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.

She felt heat flooding her face and decided she really didn’t like him. Maybe he was the club accountant or administrator or something. Shifting her weight, she looked past him. Hopefully the Marcus guy would arrive soon. She needed to get all established before the arrival of the kidnapper — the unsub, as a real agent would call him. She frowned. Unsub sounded too much like fake submissive. That would be me. Maybe she’d call him a perp instead.

“Best you tell me about your previous experience in BDSM,” the suit said, and damn but he appeared totally different when he smiled. How many women had he destroyed with that devastating dimple in his left cheek and crease in the right? “Was it mostly in downtown clubs? Perhaps of the Goth variety?”

“Well, yeees. Why?” Several years ago too, but that’s not what she’d written on her application.

He motioned for her to precede him down the hall, and when she stepped in front of him, his hand closed on her nape. Firmly, as if she were a stray dog. “I do believe you’ll find a private club a mite different. A wider age range, diverse incomes, assorted tastes. Many doms here wear leathers and black; some prefer other attire.”

Her stomach sank with the authoritative way he’d gripped her neck. No accountant from the back would act like this — she’d run into a dom. In a suit. Who called himself…? “You really are Master Marcus?”

“I’m afraid so, darlin’.” He stopped at the place where chains hung from the low rafter and released her, only to walk around her slowly as if she stood on a display stand. “Is all your experience in public clubs?”

“Uh-huh.” In her college days, she’d pop into a club, have some fun, and maybe take someone home. But she hadn’t indulged since then. She’d set her sights on the FBI from day one and wasn’t about to mess up her chances by doing anything less than respectable.

“I see.” He tapped the ribbing on her bustier. “Remove that, please.”

She stared at him. Just like that? I only met you, dammit. She hesitated, but the merciless look in those blue eyes kicked her into gear. After undoing the hooks, she tossed the bustier onto a chair outside the ropes that fenced off the scene area. She forced her arms to stay at her sides and tried to ignore the air-conditioned draft on her bare breasts.

“Very pretty.” When he brushed sure fingers over her shoulder, into the hollow below her collarbone, and over the upper curve of one breast, her body woke up from her breasts all the way to her pussy — and that was damn disconcerting considering she didn’t even like the guy. But he had that ruthless attitude going for him — the dominant edge that put butterflies into her stomach as if she’d swallowed fluffy bugs.

“And did you play somewhere else?” he asked. “Privately?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Not…really. I might have gone home with a man after, but for kinky stuff, I stayed in the clubs. More public or something.”

“I see. You didn’t trust any dom enough to let him restrain you without other people around.”

“Ah.” She’d never thought of it like that but — okay. He was right. She nodded.

“I prefer to have verbal answers,” he said ever so softly. “‘Yes, Sir’ will serve for now.”

She couldn’t keep the shiver from running down her spine. The guy wielded a razor-sharp voice, no matter how soft it was. “Yes, Sir.”

“That sounds very pretty, sugar,” he said, and the caress in his voice turned all her bones into a seriously mushy state. Until he added, “Remove the skirt, please.”

She looked up, and his eyes could be just as lethal as his tone. Why did he bother to say ‘please’? She stepped out of the skirt, wishing she’d done more time in the gym. Done any time in the gym. Maybe walked a little at least. Nothing like a fat ass to impress a man.

But hey, this wasn’t about impressing the fussy dom. She’d come here to lure a kidnapper — a killer — into a trap. She shivered.

His eyes narrowed. “Do you have a problem with being unclothed?”

Hell. Keep your mind on business, Gabi. “No, Sir. Just cold, Sir.”

“Um-hmm.” He walked around her again, inspecting her as if she were the star at a dog show. Totally insulting — and yet she felt her nipples contracting to dagger points and a disconcerting wetness between her thighs. She shifted to put her legs closer together.

“Master Z requested I take you on. Did you read the rules for the trainees?”

“Um. Yes.” She caught the hint of ice in his eyes and added a hasty, “Sir.”

He unhooked a set of golden-colored leather cuffs from the back of his belt. After buckling them on her wrists, he carefully checked the fit and then attached her left cuff to a chain dangling from the rafter. “The safe word for the trainees is red,” he said as he reached for another chain and did her right arm. He kept the chains long enough her arms could remain at waist level. “I want for you to use it if you become overwhelmed in any way, from fear, pain…whatever. It will bring the dungeon monitors a-running.”

“If I use a safe word, does that mean everything is off?” She couldn’t afford to blow this.

His face softened. “No, sugar. It means I stop whatever we’re doing and we sit down and chat for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Um, Sir.” Can I really see this through? This lethal dom wasn’t anything like the ones she’d played with in the downtown clubs. Fear wavered inside her, and she shoved it away. Mostly.

She saw his gaze on her and realized her fingers were tracing the scar on her cheek. He pulled her hand down and enfolded it in his warm one. “Gabrielle, do you have a problem with bondage you didn’t mention on the application?” he asked.

“No, Sir.” When he didn’t move, she added, “Really. I’m just a little nervous, Sir.”

“All right then.” He walked to the wall, and the chains attached to her wrist cuffs began to tighten, pulling her arms over her head. He stopped before she had to go up on tiptoe.

She tried to be grateful for the small concession, but suddenly she felt…naked. Really naked, much more than when she’d taken off her clothes. Then she’d worried about how she looked. Now…now she felt the intensity of his gaze as he strolled around her again.

“What…what are you going to do?”

“I’m fixin’ to acquaint myself with my new trainee’s body as we have a chat.”

* * * * *

Buy from Loose Id

Read more from Cherise her website: www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales
Author of Masters of the Shadowlands series

October 4, 2010

The BDSM Lifestyle by Jenika Snow

Filed under: Writing life — dangerouslysexy @ 04:00
Tags: , , ,

**Warning: This post has material that some readers may find offensive.

What is BDSM? Well according to Wikipedia…

“BDSM is a type of roleplay or lifestyle choice between two or more individuals who use their experiences of pain and power to create sexual tension, pleasure, and release. The compound acronym, BDSM, is derived from the terms bondage and discipline (B&D, B/D, or BD), dominance and submission (D&s, D/s, or Ds), sadism and masochism (S&M, S/M, or SM).

BDSM includes a wide spectrum of activities, forms of interpersonal relationships, and distinct subcultures. Many of these experiences are still considered to fall out of conventional sexual activities and human relationships.

Activities and relationships within a BDSM context are characterized by the fact that the participants usually take on complementary, but unequal, roles. Typically, participants who are active — applying the activity or exercising control over others — are known as tops or Dominants. Those participants who are recipients of the activities, or who are controlled by their partners, are typically known as bottoms or submissives. Individuals who move between top/dominant roles and bottom/submissive roles – either periodically within a relationship, or from relationship to relationship – are known as switches.”

While researching for Blush, I came across many different “devices” that are used for BDSM. I’ll admit, some where a little scary, but others were tantalizing. I was surprised even with myself because I never thought I would be into something so…taboo?? Sure, haven’t we all experimented with being tied up or spanked?1 Come one, I know someone out there is with me on this.

So one of the “devices” I used in my story were nipple clamps.

I had a lot of different items to choose while picking out the items I wanted to use for this story, but nipple clamps just stood out in something that I definitely wanted to use. With nipple clamps comes other clamps to be attached to various body parts and while I only have so many “places” I can actually put these clamps the other most obvious spot was on the clit. Now I now most might be disappointed, but I don’t have an actual picture for a clit clamp.

Now believe or not, Wikipedia actually has a definition of what nipple clamps are for. Below is straight from the source:

“A nipple clamp is a clamp used to stimulate the nipples by applying varying degrees of pressure. Its basic principle relies on restriction of blood flow to the erect nipple. They are often used in certain BDSM activities, on both men and women. The use of nipple clamps is often portrayed in the media as deviant or kinky sexual behavior.”

I also decided to do a scene where a spreader bar is used. Now, researching various “paraphernalia” for use in this story wasn’t my only form of research. I also read may different authors that specialize in BDSM, as well as had a great crit partner that was experienced in this genre.

The spreader bar wasn’t originally going to be in my story, but I realized that it needed that special little “umpf” to bring it to that climax…or so to speak. I am sure there are others out there besides me that have no idea what the hell one is.

Below is the definition of this device through the eyes of Wikipedia.

“A spreader bar is an article of bondage equipment consisting of a metal or wooden bar, with attachment points for bondage cuffs at each end, which can be fastened to wrists, ankles or knees to hold them apart. They are used in bondage play, and sometimes in bedroom bondage, usually in association with other bondage equipment.

When applied to the wrists, a bar keeps the arms spread away from the body, providing an unimpeded access to the subject’s torso. When applied to the ankles or between the knees, it immobilizes the subject by preventing all but the most awkward walking, and keeping the legs spread to allow unimpeded access to the subject’s groin and trunk. If bars are applied between the knees and between the ankles, the subject may be forced to bend their knees, making walking even harder. A pair of bars may hold the subject in a spreadeagle position.”

Now these are a few of the many items that can be seen in the BDSM lifestyle. Some are to the point of extreme, others are more tame in nature. Many have the same idea though: making your submissive submit fully and completely.


Jenika Snow…Tales to Tantalize

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