Please
welcome fellow BDSM erotic romance author Cari Silverwood to my blog today. I
met Cari in a BDSM readers/writers Facebook group I
started this summer and she is one of the contributing members and moving forces behind the
group’s BDSM Authors blog, The
Playroom.
Cari's got a wicked sense of humor and her romances give a whole new meaning to "steamy" novels. I think you'll also fall in love with her delightfully Dominant heroes, like Theo here. *melt*
New to steampunk as a subgenre? Well, think Victorian science fiction (H.G. Wells' Time Machine or Jules Vernes' submarine). The fashion is of the Victorian era; the machinery is steam powered; and, in the case of books by authors like Cari--the sex is steamy!
Comment (with your e-mail address!) below by 12 noon (US Eastern time) Saturday, Sept. 17, for a chance to win an e-copy of Iron Dominance.
Steaming Up the Pages
Ingredients: Sexy military men. A rich
handsome ex-Air Force colonel with a penchant for dominating his woman, who
also likes to keep a paternal eye on those who work for him. A man who doesn’t
shirk responsibilities and tackles his problems head-on if that’s how they need
being handled.
Theo’s also a man who keeps wolfhounds
for pets, fully operational tanks (aka landships) in the vehicle depot on his
property, and he has an employee who’s a whiz at inventing new devices to do
erotically naughty things to Claire, Theo’s newly submissive mistress.
These are some of the people of my new
novel, Iron Dominance, and I’ve been
thinking about the genres, or the story niches, that people feel comfortable
reading in. What makes someone choose a contemporary story with, say, a James
Bond type, or a navy SEAL, and yet not want to read a story that has a
steampunk setting? Many of the pieces of the story jigsaw are the same…you
could almost transplant the people from many action stories and they’d snuggle
in fine into a steampunk.
But I guess it all is so personal. If you want to identify
with the heroine, or the female main character, some find it only possible if
they’re in the ‘real’ world. Exactly how real that really is in some novels is
debatable, but I understand where that opinion comes from. Though, um, men with
huge cocks who can go all night and ménages with five men and one woman are
more ‘real’. Hmm. Maybe I need to get out more?
And no, Theo does not have a ten-inch
cock. A reciprocating sexual probe? Yes. A handy St Andrews cross installed in
his cabin on his airship, the Final Rebuttal? Yes. And, yes, he also has a
limitless account at Hinchcliff and Co, the well-known up-market fetish and
kink shop. He hasn’t however got the inflatable toy penis in the shape of an
airship because that is so tasteless. And Theo certainly also has good taste—in
women, in the men he chooses to work for him, in fashion, and also in BDSM
equipment.
Of course, I would love to imagine my story
as drawing new readers into the steampunk genre, but only some are likely to
rise to my bait. So here I am dangling it before your noses. Nibble it, sniff it,
measure it for size—and take a bite if it appeals. The excerpt is down there.
Go for it. Just don’t blame me if you get tangled up in some diabolical sexual
machinery and then get spat out feeling all dizzy, hot, and bothered.
Raised from childhood as an
assassin, Claire finds her world knocked off kilter when Theo Kevonis, a rich,
ex-Air Corp nobleman, rescues her from an airship crash. Being a soldier of a
hostile nation she cannot reveal her identity, but Theo sinks his steely Dom
fingers into her heart and soul, showing her the pleasures to be found in
surrendering to his touch. Captivated, Claire cannot help but bind herself in
lie after lie rather than risk losing the one man who’s ever loved her.
When
her loathsome commander returns from the dead, her deceit is uncovered.
Somehow, Claire must find a way to win back Theo's trust and destroy the man
who threatens them both.
To purchase a copy of Iron Dominance, go to:
Steamy Excerpt from Iron
Dominance
“Stay there,” he said.
She could smell him.
She almost opened her eyes to say something, but instead
balanced there. Why she obeyed him, she wasn’t sure but it satisfied something
primal, something deeply sexual. And letting go like this, made her feel
safe.
Anticipation strung her insides tight. She yearned for
further caresses. Her cleft swelled.
“Here. Raise your feet.” An article of clothing, both silken
cloth and something harder, slid with muffled clicks up each leg. Theo arranged
it about her torso, cool beads shifting across her breasts until the garment
fitted snugly on her body. Something narrow settled between her legs. She
gasped at a throb of pleasure as his fingers played in her moisture. A few more
adjustments and he led her off to one side. A light flared on. “There. Open
your eyes.”
In a tall mirror, she saw herself, dressed in a black corset
paneled with satin. Coming down from a halter, pearl ropes fanned out over each
breast with her nipples peeking out between. A tiny skirt of chiffon, divided
at the crotch, barely made it as far as her upper thighs. Lines of seed pearls
undulated down the satin and a string of larger pearls dove deeply between her
legs, emphasizing the split lips of her sex. She could feel it run up between
the cheeks of her bottom at the back. Even as she looked, she felt a renewed
throb, for every movement she made, from breath to heartbeat to shift of feet,
moved the line of pearls and rubbed against her clit.
In the reflection, she saw Theo beyond her shoulder,
bare-chested, the ringlets of his black hair stark against his forehead. He
raised a satin and pearl choker and positioned it about her neck, clicking it
into place. “And these,” he said, holding first one wrist and then the other to
snick matching black satin bracelets on her wrists. “They suit you.” From the
hardness, metal lurked beneath the black cloth.
Where the choker and bracelets rested on skin, her pulse
rose, thumping, to the surface and reminded her of where she was, who she was
with, and especially, how dangerous this could be. But…she trusted him.
To her surprise, her throat still worked, though the words
seemed to stick to her tongue. “How did you know my size? Where did this come
from?”
“Bought while I was away. I have a good memory, especially
for someone as striking as you.”
Which meant, he’d planned her…seduction, while she’d been
planning escape. She leaned back against him, fascinated by the allure of the
woman in the mirror. The heat from his body soaked into her like a glass of
wine. She lifted each wrist and examined the bracelets -- identical, and each
with tiny loops of steel projecting from them.
“That’s for a chain to pass through,” he whispered, mouthing
the nape of her neck. “Does it bother you? Think, before you answer.”
“Yes…” she said slowly, fearful of being again
restrained in cuffs.
“And yet?” He pressed a hand against her stomach, holding
her against him, making her feel the rigid line of his cock. The pearls slid in
her juices, pressing, rolling over her clit and anus. She let out a whimper.
“Ahh. You feel them working on you.” He chuckled. “And yet?”
And yet the idea of it, of being restrained by Theo, held a
strange and deadly fascination. She shied away from that thought, and shook her
head. “And nothing.”
“Ah-h. I can see my first project will be to get you talking
more.”
She stood there in silence. The fear she felt came
intertwined with lust in almost everything that Theo did to her. Taking her by
the shoulders, he moved her to face him, gray eyes inches away, then his mouth
descended, covering hers, devouring her. She breathed in his breath, letting him
do as he willed. One broad hand held the base of her neck, the other splayed
over the curve of her buttocks. His fingers wrapped around the pearl rope
running between her legs, tightening it. Desire ran rampant through her,
surging higher with every tiny movement of his lips on hers, and the rub of the
pearls on her pussy and nipples.
When she put her hands to the belt of his pants, he reached
between their bodies, snared both her wrists and pulled them round to the small
of her back where he held them with one hand. Again, the pearls shifted. She
bit her lip, a moan escaping her as she arched.
Eyes shut, she heard a soft animal-like growl.
“Claire, if you’re not damn careful, I’ll eat you up.”
What? She opened her eyes a slit, still panting,
to see that he’d stepped away a little, angling his stance so as to observe
her.
His gaze brushed her, lingering on her breasts before he
locked on her eyes. “Last chance. Do you want to stop? Are you too sore? It
might cause me irreparable harm, but I can stop.” Then he eyed her darkly, as
if he’d liked to do exactly what he’d threatened to -- eat her up.
The pain of the bruise at her neck had faded to nothing in
spite of the choker. With her whole being, she yearned for more of him. He
inflamed her past bearing and knowing that he watched her, swept her excitement
to another level.
She licked her lips, aware of her wrists still caught behind
her and the display of her body. God, if he didn’t do more than this, she’d
surely burst.
“No,” she said huskily. “Don’t stop.”
“Please?”
Ah, how he tormented her. “Please.”
“Over here then.” Still gripping her wrists he urged her
toward the bed, to kneel by the side of it, and lie face down across the quilt
with her bottom up. He spread her hands, palm down over each cheek of her
buttocks.
“Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear. “And I won’t have to
tie you.”
Tie me? She almost let go at that. Was this what
she wanted? But he held his hands over hers a moment. She stayed there.
“Good.”
His fingers trailed over the backs of her hands, over the
ends of her fingernails, and down her thighs. She quivered, sucking in air
through the quilt bunched beneath her mouth.
“Spread your legs, Claire.”
She shifted them, feeling even more exposed, a breeze
caressing her engorged labia. He traced down the line of pearls, reached her
wet cleft and followed deeper where the pearls seemed to have sunk into her
flesh. Slick and wet. The scent of her lust reached her. Slowly he went farther
until he reached her clit. He circled it, teasing, making her shift her bottom
to place the finger just right.
About
Cari Silverwood
Though I’d much rather stay invisible and spin you all tales
with my words, here’s a little snippet of my world.
I have a lovely family, with the prerequisite teenager who
dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs, a husband who raises eyebrows when he
catches glimpses of what I write, and a furry menagerie of other animals
barking meowing, and swimming about the place.
Before writing the novel Three
Days of Dominance I had never dipped my little toes in the hot and
lust-swirled sea of erotica. Now every time I turn around there’s someone
begging me to write down their story in the most lurid way. I’m sure I don’t know
where my people learnt their morals. They’re quite adamant about teaching me
creative new ways of making love. So, I doubt I’ll run out of ideas anytime
soon.
And, dammit, I can’t seem to stop reading other erotic
romance and erotica authors either. I have come over to the dark side. Someone please find
me a candle...and some rope. 'Cause if Darth Vader's here, I'm going to see if
he's up for some bondage and wax play.
