Release Weekend Party ~ Joey W Hill ~ Giveaway #2

This hour I have the fabulous Joey W Hill with me. She is here to talk about how to help someone understand the BDSM communtiy. Thank you Joey for being here.

A story is worth a hundred explanations… 

by Joey W. Hill

Due to the 50 Shades frenzy, I’ve been doing a lot of radio interviews lately, explaining the appeal of BDSM Romance. There’s the usual interest in the mechanics – toys, discipline, suspension, etc --but also a lot of curiosity about what being a Dom or sub means. Helping folks understand the deep psychology in a Dom/sub relationship is not a pithy, three-sentence answer. I’ve come to the conclusion the best response is recommending that the listeners read a few good BDSM romances, because so much of being a Dom/sub is about intuitive feeling. A story can draw a picture where clinical facts fall far short, or leave people with the wrong impression.

For instance, when I explain a 24/7 sub might keep her eye on her Master at a party, bringing him a new glass of wine, ensuring his plate is full, etc, I can feel some of my female listeners drawing the conclusion that the sub is a 1950s throwback who needs to be introduced to the feminist movement. However, what if I gave them this excerpt from Afterlife instead? 

In this scene, Rachel is in Jon’s office. He’s had her kneel by his leg, has been simply stroking her hair as he works on the design of a drawing. His co-worker, Peter, has come in. Even though Peter is also a Dom, Rachel is uncertain what to do with this new turn of events… 

Jon flexed his hand on her nape, a reminder to stay where she was as she began to push herself away from his knee. A flutter of embarrassment and uncertainty went through her, the muscles under his touch going tense as wire. “I was just talking with Brad in Costa Rica,” Peter said. “That CNC machine installed last week has some kind of weird shimmy in it that’s throwing off the tolerances. Their mechanics are baffled. I’ve got him on hold and he wants to run it by you.”

“Okay, put him on speaker.”

If there had been any discernible pause, anything she could call a surprised hesitation or shock at finding her here, she didn’t detect it in Peter’s voice. He also didn’t greet her, didn’t address her, didn’t acknowledge her separately. He was treating her as a slave doing her Master’s bidding.

She might not have been in any BDSM clubs until her ill-advised visit to Club More, but when she was at the peak of her crazed fever to integrate this in her life, she’d delved into hundreds of Internet scenarios that stoked her own desires. However, it wasn’t even that which told her Peter’s behavior was appropriate, expected. She just knew.

The realization sent a hard jolt through her, a combined physical and emotional reaction she couldn’t control. Peter touched her shoulder, an intimate slide of his fingers over the line to her collarbone. Through that casual touch, he would recognize there was no bra beneath, even if the stretch of the nearly transparent silk over her erect nipples didn’t. He pulled her hair, a mild tease, before he moved toward Jon’s desk and punched the button on the phone on the desk. “Brad, I’ve got Jon here. Go.”

Last night had been a shock to her system, the details of which she’d begun to deny and avoid almost before she let herself revisit them. So in all her years of picturing the first true Master-sub experience of her life, she never would have imagined this. Or how overwhelming and stimulating it was, such that the shaking was getting worse. She had to lock her jaw so her teeth wouldn’t chatter. She kept her eyes down, fastened on Jon’s polished shoe. She wondered who did that for him. Probably a dry cleaner. The laces were precisely double-knotted. The thin dark sock etched out the bones of his ankle. She couldn’t help herself. She made a track along the curve of that ball joint with her fingertip, a whisper of a touch, then followed the slope of the shoe’s mouth.

He was asking questions of the invisible Brad. The questions were involved, technical issues regarding machine programming and gears, engine parts. Listening to him talk like that, all while having her at his knee like this, was quite possibly the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. He hadn’t stopped that absent stroke of her hair, but as she slipped a finger inside his shoe, trying to trace his insole, he gave a lock of hair a quick tug, a reproof. She stopped, but kept her hand on his foot. He didn’t tug again, so she was glad the contact was okay. Her cheek was against his knee, after all, her temple against the inside of his thigh. From the position of his legs, she saw Peter was leaning against Jon’s desk, his ankles crossed. Unlike Jon and Lucas, he wore jeans, Nikes. He probably had his arms crossed over his broad chest, those biceps impressively curved.

Until this moment, she realized she hadn’t even thought about her blouse being open several buttons. In this position, Peter definitely could see the bare curves. Instead of being appalled, she was excited. She was safe, with Jon. A Master who would take care of her, like he said.

“Call us if that doesn’t work,” Peter said at last. “I’ll be down next week.”

“Hey, bring Dana with you again. She scalped me at poker last time and I want to win my money back.”

“You’re an embarrassment, Brad. Letting a blind woman beat you at five card stud. I’ll tell her you’re ready to lose more of your money, though.”

Peter cut the connection after a few more comments back and forth. “Thanks, Jon. I knew you were on a tight timeline on that drawing, but this was holding up production.”

“No problem. I’m pretty much ready to send this down to scanning. Just need to put the revision number on it. Rachel’s good for the concentration.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Peter pushed off of the desk and moved to stand beside Jon, studying the drawing in progress. As he did, he gave her shoulder that teasing caress again, and then he nipped the collar of her shirt between two fingers, eased it off her shoulder. Rachel held her breath, every nerve ending conscious of Jon’s fingers as he adjusted his sensual, slow massage so Peter could touch her, trace her bare collarbone. When he dropped to the upper curve of her breast, it made her jerk, sent a jolt through her nipple like electric shock, even though he was nowhere close to it. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

It wasn’t trepidation making her quake like that, not by a long shot. She was burning up with desire, two men’s hands touching her at one Master’s behest.

...let my friends gangbang you in an alley...

No. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t. She thrust her ex-husband’s deprecations from her mind, her hand resting on Jon’s foot. Whatever this was, she wanted it clean and pure, a treasure she could lock away from all that, because she was smart enough to know it was going to end soon enough.

“Hey.” She didn’t even realize her aroused trembling had become something else, or that Peter had left, until Jon bent from the stool and put both arms around her body, pulling her deeper into the vee of his legs. Her back was against the stool between them. She was twitching with an emotional reaction that felt too close to a panic attack for comfort. “Easy. Breathe. You’re amazing, Rachel.”

“You like your women edgy and neurotic?” She gave a harsh chuckle, but she was holding onto his arm that stretched over her breasts. “God, Jon, that was...I didn’t even...it didn’t bother me. I wanted...more.”

“I know.”

“This is the way it starts.” She needed to get up, needed to put space away from him. “I can’t get lost in this.”

He kept her captured inside his arms easily. “Rachel, if you’d been here alone, and Peter had done that, what would you have done? No, stop squirming. Close your eyes, imagine it. I’m not here. He is. You’re sitting on the sofa, and he leans down, unbuttons your blouse, pulls it off your shoulder to admire your breasts. How does that feel?”

She set her jaw. “Wrong. He’s engaged.” At his silence, she knew there was more to it, but she couldn’t say that, any more than she could call Jon...what everything in her wanted to call him. She settled for a whisper of the truth. “You aren’t there.”

He cupped her jaw, tilted her head up and back to his mouth and claimed her lips. Hot, strong, forceful, so she continued to quiver in his grip, submitting to the demand. When he lifted his head, she was nearly limp. “You’re damn right I’m not.” She saw that flash of steel, his lips set in a serious line. “You’re teaching tonight, right? But tomorrow your schedule is clear?”

She should wonder how he knew that, but all she could think about was the picture they made, her on her knees, pulled back against him, her body arched up to him this way, breasts straining against the partially open shirt, every part of her hungering for him. His long legs caging her on either side. Those blue eyes filling every corner of her vision. “All right, then. Tomorrow night, I’m going to come to your place at seven o’clock. It better be spotless, the way you normally keep it. I’m particular to eggplant parmesan and a good red wine, and from what I saw of your kitchen, you like to cook. You’ll put out one place setting. Mine. Any food you eat or wine you drink that night will come from my hands, my mouth.”

It would never happen. Between now and then, the enchantment of this moment would disappear and her fears would return. The spell only existed in his presence. She’d be calling him frantically, hoping to get his voice mail, telling him she’d had something unexpected come up. She’d run away to check into a hotel for the night. She’d—

“I’ll be on time, so five minutes before I get there, you unlock the door. Then you kneel by my chair. Submissive position. Hands behind your back, back straight, knees parted to shoulder width. You leave your hair down. You don’t do that too often, do you? Because you think you’re too old to wear it down like a girl, but you can’t bear to cut it.” Before she could respond, he continued. “Turn up your heat to keep warm, because other than this beautiful hair, you’ll wear only that pair of cherry-red heels. What’s your favorite flower?”

She couldn’t keep up with him, let alone voice her reservations. “Wildflowers,” she whispered. “No particular kind.”

“What grows wild and unexpected on the roadsides, hmm?” His lips brushed the sensitive skin behind her ear. “Perfect.” He slid his hand down the curve of her spine to her ass. Weighing one buttock in his hand, he smoothed his fingers over it then tightened, causing a whimper to come to her lips.

“I know you’re worrying that by tomorrow night you’ll have shut down or be running from this again. And you will be. But I’m going to give you a leash, something to keep you tethered to my will, even when I’m not with you to enforce it. Come with me.”

So what do you think? Does this answer the question better than some dry psychobabble (grin)? Hope you enjoyed this glimpse, and happy release weekend, Kally!

(Note: Afterlife is Book 4 in the 5-book Knights of the Board Room series. All five can standalone, but getting to know all the five K&A men from the beginning doubles the fun -wink). Find me and all my books at my website, www.storywitch.com.


Joey has generously offered a prize for the giveaway, please fill out the Rafflecopter below to enter.

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