I launched my new Submission Island serial today. Several months of traveling in the vicinity of the Caribbean sea inspired the setting. Maya ruins, connections between ancient rituals and contemporary sadomasochism, love and loss–and the undertow of desire that leaves you breathless. All of these things play a part in this secluded retreat.
Curvy, smart, 28 year-old Cleo needs a big change in her life. Sometimes, when you get what you desire most, you’re not ready. Named for Cleopatra, and often treated as exotic for her half-Egyptian heritage, she’s a woman with secret longings.
All of my erotica is personal. This one goes back to my earliest experiences.
A smart, curvy woman who needs to change her life. A mature wounded dom who isn’t ready to want a particular woman. An island BDSM resort full of secrets.
Cleo can experience fulfillment of her secret desires. She has only to ask.
A joking email from my favorite co-worker leads me to a naughty site. Submission Island offers a free, all-expenses paid vacation at a Caribbean resort for qualified women.
The application reads like a menu for perversion. I click off the Yes, No, Maybe activities and upload my most appealing lingerie photo.
Something happens when you face your deepest desires. You change. You can’t turn back.
I enter a labyrinth where I get to choose what happens to me.
I think a spanking will be safe.
My heart pounded. I stopped on the threshold, staring into the shadows. I smelled leather.
“Shut the door, please.” His deep, resonant voice sounded familiar.
That wasn’t possible. Had the knower changed rooms? Was this a set up? I bit my lip. It took all my willpower to shut the door on the relative safety of the hall that led to the exit. Shutting the door meant I was in here. Hell, opening it meant I made my choice. This was my one room for today. I may as well make the most of it. I let go of my fantasy that this was going to be a non-threatening experience.
The imposing figure of the man in the shadows was threatening as hell.
He had the bulk of a boxer, yet a refined profile. His ear, the one part of him illuminated, would have fit on a bust of the emperor Caesar. He had a neat beard, not one of those chin scruff things, a real man’s beard.