Apr 15, 2014

#DungeonCrawal Into the Barnyard.


Welcome Back Dungeon Lovers... This week I'm going to continue with Wonderlust and present you with the Barnyard scene. If female dominance or male milking turns you off, you might want to click out of here now. 
 I'm probably the author your mother warned you about.    
                     For the rest of you adorable little lovelies... please have a seat and enjoy the show.


Soon the two men were carting off the partition and the whole backdrop of the stagehand been changed to look a country barnyard. In the middle of the stage was a bale of hay and a small stool like the one back in the basement of Jim’s garage. 
A young man was being brought up onto the stage by way of a slightly older woman decked out in tight black leather and very high heels. Her breasts were cinched up into a black half-cup corset so that her nipples were protruding just over the top of it.  He was on his hands and knees and naked. Around his neck he wore a black collar with a big silver ring. Attached to that was a leash that the woman held onto as she led him to center stage.

“Kneel up for your audience, my little cow,” she boasted loudly so all could hear. 


The man lifted his hands and placed them behind his neck, his head remained bowed as he looked at the floor. There was no hair on his chest and it glistened as if he had been rubbed down with oil. He spread his knees apart and there was some kind of plastic cage device on his cock with a gold colored lock like the one on the collar I had worn. 
His genitals had also been shaved and oiled. 

“My little cow here has not been milked all week. I imagine he has a lot of milk stored up,” the woman said as she pulled a ridding crop from behind her and put it under his chin, forcing him to raise his head and address his audience. His face was a bit red and I could tell he was not very comfortable being put on display like this. 

“Are you ready to be milked, my little cow?” she daunted. 
“Yes, Mistress” he looked at her as he spoke. 
“Good boy.” She patted his ass cheeks with her crop, and led him over to the bale of hay behind them, instructing him to sit on the bale. 
His back was facing the audience while she stood in front of him using her heels to slide his feet into the positions she wanted them in. His hands were resting on the bale at his sides. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned down so that her breasts were right in front of his face. She told him to get his key and he buried his face into her half covered bubbly mounds and pulled a key from her cleavage. 
She turned his head so that the audience could see the key and then she took it from his lips and knelt down between his thighs and removed the plastic cock cage. 

“Thank you, Mistress,” his voice sounded meek. 
She instructed him to lie back across the bale and to place his hands on the floor outstretched on each side of his head, forcing him to view his audience from an upside-down position. while she stood and walked around him, tapping the crop dauntingly into her palm as if trying to decide where to slap him with it first. 
She placed the crop tip onto his chest and started to caress his chest with it. You could see the man’s chest rise and fall as he took deeper breaths. She moved the leather tip of the crop all up and down his exposed chest and then moved it to tops of his legs and inner thighs. 
His cock started to swell as she trailed the crop over his balls. He let out a soft groan and she pulled the crop back and then slapped him with it modestly right on the shaft of his cock. His chest jerked and his face showed a slight wince. 
I was sure that this wasn’t his first time receiving such treatment. He kept his eyes shut while she taunted him with her crop. She told him he was too pale and needed some color while she proceeded to slap his chest, his legs, and the exposed underside of his arms.  Occasionally she would reprimand him for moving his hands or his feet with a harder slap to a more sensitive area.  
His whimpers could barely be heard in the back of the room, but it was clearly audible when he would say, “Thank you, Mistress.” 
His cock was rock hard even after a couple of good swats to his balls. The anguish showed on his face as he yelped, and twitched. 
She tapped her crop on the head of his cock. “Good boy.” 
After making sure he had enough color the Mistress ordered that he hold his feet up as well as his hands, and to hold himself still. 
After doing as instructed she took his hands and turned his body, along with the bale, so that the audience now had a side view of what was going on. I watched his stomach rise and fall while she went to that little table at the back of the stage. She came back with two pairs of leather cuffs. She placed his hands and feet back into the positions she wanted them, cuffing them to the floor so that he was arched over the bale.  Surprisingly his cock was still  hard, and the side view was really nice. 

“Are you ready to be milked, my little cow?” 
“Yes, Mistress,” he begged. 

The Mistress walked over to the table at the corner of the stage again and put on a single tight black latex glove. She let is snap as she pulled it down tight to her wrist, I don’t know why, but I flinched. She walked slow and dauntingly back over to her little cow and started touching some of his more sensitive little red welts. She was saying something to him softly but it was too faint to hear in the back of the room. She positioned the stool with her foot so that she could sit between the man’s legs. 

She pulled a small little packet of what I presumed to be a lubricant from the pocket of her tight leather pants and lubed up her index and middle finger on her right hand. With her left she fondled and played with his balls telling the audience how full and heavy they felt. His cock lurched and he moaned softly as she inserted her lubed fingers into his asshole. He groaned loudly and his body flexed, his legs trembling.

She started working her fingers in and out of him slowly at first. His body writhed and squirmed against his restraints. His hips began to move with the movements of her fingers. She began pumping her fingers into him harder and faster, his moans and groans getting louder and more frequent. The muscles in his arms were tight and rigid. His legs flexed and pulled against the cuffs attached to his ankles. Climax claimed him and his cock quivered and jerked as it erupted like a fountain shooting milky white come onto his chest as far up as his neck several times while his body bucked and lurched. I was amazed by how much he had released. 


“I think you have more, don’t you, my little cow?” 
“Yes Mistress, thank you, Mistress,” he stammered, his voice quivering. 

The Mistress kept her fingers inside of him while she took hold of his still rigid and stiff cock and started to stroke it. The man was whimpering, groaning and squirming. She used his wetness, teasing the bulbous head of his cock terribly while a vivacious smile spread across her lips. 
“Give me more, little cow… now!” She held his shaft tightly in her hand and pulled it back a little so that the audience got a good horizontal view.   

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned. His cock erupted again, this time she held onto it and pulled the skin taut as he released almost as much as the first time. His back was arched up off the bale and his body was stiff and rigid as his milky white come shot high up into the air. 
I could only imagine what that looked like for those sitting in the chairs up in front. 
The man thanked his Mistress again and she told him he did very well. And again the two men brought out the partition to block of the stage while they rearranged and set up for the next performers. 

“Quite the young stud, wasn’t he Misty?” 
“Yes Sir, quite a performance.” 
“You know, I felt your body tense up both times when he came.” 
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” I said, blushing again. 
I wondered if I should tell him I heard his heart beat pick up the pace a couple times during that performance as well, as I readjusted myself a little, pulling my head from his shoulder. 

“I think we should head back up to the room, the last performance might be a little… strong for you at this point,” he explained, pulling his arm from my shoulder. 

I straightened out my top, looking into his eyes the best I could in the darkness. Even in the dark he couldn’t hide the vibrant blue of his eyes. I knew going upstairs would mean I had to render him a decision as to whether I would agree to stay with him. I almost didn’t want to go just to avoid having to decide. 
“I’ll take your word for that, Sir,” I said as we stood up to leave.


Thank you for visiting my barnyard today, I hope you enjoyed the show. Please be sure to crawl on over to some of the other wonderful authors who continue to make the DungeonCrawl such a delightful part of your Wednesday.







Apr 14, 2014

My Writing Process- Blog Tour

I'd like to thank Jolynn Raymond for mentioning and tagging me in her writing process blog post. I found that she and I share some common threads when it comes to the process of writing. I've also learned that we share a love for the darker side of imagination. Such as in her book 'Elizabeth's Destiny' a Kinky Historical Romance.

Now, let's talk about the process of how that blank page (paper or digital) goes from empty to full, page after page after page, until we have what we call a workable Manuscript/Story. I was given 4 questions to focus on while answering what the writing process is like for me.

1. What am I working on? 
I'm working on a few things actually. From a story standpoint I am currently working on a collection of paranormal stories I plan on calling (The Dare series). The first book, -pending publication- is about a young woman in her  mid-twenties who like many of us, has an other than admirable past. (How typical, right?) Well, yes and no. 
When Cassandra Dare meets Gregorie Darnsworth her typical and other than admirable life changes. Because the setting takes place in modern day Cassy can do little more than laugh when Gregorie makes his confession to being a Vampire. We all know vampires are little more than legendary myths and misconceptions, right?

I got to thinking though, especially in this modern age that we all currently live in. What if all those myths and legends DO have a ring of truth behind them after-all? How could I, as a writer, convey to others that what they passively dismiss as fantasy, urban legend, and myth, could in fact be closer to reality than we might think? 
The first book in this series touches on a specifically marked year in history and gives a somewhat logical explanation as to why vampires might really exist. Not having met under the best circumstances, Gregorie and Cassandra are off to a bittersweet beginning. The moment he lays eyes on her and smells the blood of her wounds he knows she is a descendant of his late wife. Having all but given up on finding any happiness in his life for nearly the last 100 years, Gregorie is inspired by the sight of this young woman and feels compelled to make her his. 
Cassy on the other hand wants nothing to do with the strange but handsome dark haired man who had drugged her and held her captive under sedation for 4 days, that is, until she learns he's a real vampire. 
In the second book, my theory on why vampires might really exist is further elaborated on through the story of a couple that was briefly introduced in the first book, which is the story I'm currently developing, in my spare time, when I'm not tweeting, engrossed in facebook or other social media platforms.

2. How does your work differ from others of it's genre? 
 That's a tough question for me because I consider myself a relatively new writer. Not new to the love of writing, but new to the world of being a published author. 
I think that one of the main attributes that sets all writers apart whether they publish in the same genre or not is their style. The unique voice inside their head that tells them which words to use when conveying their story. No two people ever see something in exactly the same way, and this is what I feel is unique and sets me apart from others. 
Maddie Taylor and I embarked as budding new authors at nearly the same time and have helped each other learn along the way, and although we write in the same genres our work could not be more different. Maddie is a feisty, fun loving, and upbeat person. I find that the characters in her books portray a reflection to the zest and zeal I see in her as a friend. I love her books. She always offers a spicy plot with hot, hunky, heroes and feisty, smart witted heroines who always find a way to make me laugh.

I tend to focus more on the darker side of things. I like to explore a single thought, idea or myth and then bring it to life through my characters and see where they take me. Most of the time that ends up being some dark passage through my mind that opens up into a world of bittersweet possibilities. 
For example in my first book, 'Seduction: The Story of M', we start out with the heroine being abducted and throughout the story we see how Misty's first impressions of this man change from day to day. In the end he's not as much the bad guy she thought he was.
The Story of L opens up with a woman making the decision to give up all her independent rights and undergo a special form of slave training in order to please the man she thinks she loves. The full story fans out over the course of 3 books and explains what L learns about herself during her journey to better understand her submissive nature. 
So really I think that was makes my work different... is me! which brings us to the next question. 

3. Why do I write what I do?
Because one of my favorite things to do is subtly pry into the minds of others. Most people get really annoyed when I start peeling back the layers of their psyche with my probing, and sometimes disturbing questions, so I turn to making up characters and stories that allow me to do so without upsetting anyone. 
I like to write about what I find intriguing and fascinating... dark secrets, inhibitions, dominance and submission and almost anything have to do with BDSM. 
I keep hearing the phrase..."Write what you know." 
I guess I have a bit of an issue with that because it's a lot more fun to write about what I don't know. It engages my imagination to fill in the blanks and tell a unique story from an unproven source of reality. For me it's more fun and freeing to experience something through a character than to commit myself to the physical aspect of such an experience. Which is also probably the reason I enjoy writing my stories from a darker point of view. 

4. How does your writing process work?
It's a delicate recipe consisting of coffee and whatever life throws my way for the day. I'd like to have a schedule and set hours of when no one is allowed to interrupt me, but so far that hasn't happened. I have this really cool looking 'Do Not Disturb' sign for my writing room door. It blinks in 3 different colors and has an audio alarm that goes off if anyone touches the door. My dogs love it. They purposely scratch at the door to trigger the alarm and then bark at it until it stops only to repeat the sequence over and over until I pull the battery out. 

I need to be alone when I write. It's like my imagination demands the whole room, shrouding it under an invisible force of security so that the little thing we writers call our 'muse', feels free to come out and play. Only mine doesn't really come out to play. I would describe it more like being temporarily possessed one character at a time.

Many writers like to use outlines, but I'm not one of them. I'm a panster and enjoy getting the story as the characters develop and show me who they are. I never know how a story is going to end until I finally get there and it all comes together. Sometimes I get a little worried when I get to that part where I think I should be finding my conclusion, but can't. I've learned that when that happens it's best just to leave the grumpy muse alone for a few days and come back when she or he is done being pissy at me.
I like early mornings when the house is quite and the birds are just starting to stir for the day. 
Once the phone starts ringing and the day comes to life with all it's perfect imperfections and tedious little demands my muse gives me a hug and says 'see ya later'. 
In between the demands of the day, I try to squeeze in some social networking and blogging, which has lead me to some very useful tips and full array of other deliciously talented authors, which is why I enjoy these blog hops.

This hop doesn't have a linky list, it's simply meant to be passed on by way of mentioning other authors who you admire and would like to learn more about, which is why... 

I'm tagging Maddie Taylor. Her stories will rock your socks off. Don't believe me, go to her page and pick one. You won't be disappointed. One of my Favorites is Marshals Law. The heroine gets into a strange and unfortunate accident and when she wakes she realizes she's no longer in the same time period as she was when her car veered off the road. Learning about how she handles being stuck back in time is sweet, funny, sexy, and endearing in only a way Maddie herself can describe.

I'd also like to mention Trent Evans I'm not tagging Trent, just mentioning this unique author because I've been following his excerpts on other blog hops and his talent for use of interesting words and story telling is amazing. I've just finished reading  'A Lady and A Maid' and I am blown away by how captivating this story is and how the author wraps you into the plot like a warm blanket while your reading.

And with that, I'd like to thank you for visiting my blog and wish you a wonderful week full of scary spiders and things that go bump in the night... errr... What I meant  was, I hope you have an exceptionally happy day as a result of viewing this blog.