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The Journal, BDSM Erotica Release Day!

The Journal CoverI’m thrilled to say that The Journal, written with Liv Honeywell, is now available on Amazon in both Kindle and paperback formats! :).

Here is the back cover copy:

“Come to my study at eight o’clock sharp. Dress for dinner. Wear high heels and put on that dress – you know what I expect of you.”

When the order comes Livia is torn between anticipation and dread.

Does he know? How could he possibly know what she has done? And how can she find the words and the courage to tell him?

As eight o’clock edges ever nearer, Livia waits outside the study door, trembling; uncertain of what she will find when she comes face to face with her Master.

If he knows… If he does, there will be consequences. There is no doubt about that.

What will be the price for her moment of disobedience?

Buying Links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

And here’s an excerpt from the very beginning of the book, written from the Master’s view point. If you click here and go to Liv’s page, you can read the same part of the story from the slave’s point of view :):

Excerpt:

He heard the knock on the door of his study. This was her signal that she had complied with all his instructions, not a request to enter. She would come in when he said so and she would never dare to knock again.

He had asked her to dress immaculately, smartly; as if they were going to dinner. Her hair must be perfect, away from her face. Her make up flawless, perhaps to look a little tarty, but she would know how far to go and the penalties for going over the top. She would be wearing elegant, high heeled shoes.

He told her to come in, gently, softly; as if she were merely coming in for a coffee or cocktails. Immediately she stepped into the room; looking down with her hands behind her. She would never look at his face directly without his express permission.

“Come to me.”

She had no idea what to expect. Would he be soft and tender? Or would he sweep her off her feet by mauling her like an animal. She knew that her body was his and he could treat it in any way that pleased him.

He ran his fingers through her hair, gently folding it back and forth and her head moved with his every gesture. Then he thrust his fingers deep toward her skull and tugged at her hair, moving her head in all directions. She let out an involuntary squeal.

“This is no time for making such noises.”

The quiet scream stopped immediately. She was under his power, his presence; his dominance. There was never any doubt about it.

He put his hands over her eyes and closed them, turning her face downwards. With effortless ease, he bound her hands behind her by her wrists and elbows. He loved the way that this pushed her breasts forwards and outwards. He had no need to bind her but it pleased him; a bound woman was an aesthetic pleasure.

He put one hand over her mouth. The other roamed over every contour of her body; her pouting breasts, her waist, behind her neck. He moved to her pussy and felt that it was already wet. Then both hands wandered quickly and powerfully over her whole body. She let out a yelp of pleasure which he immediately silenced with his strong fingers. She was his to do with as he wished.

He turned away from her, then turned back to look. She was beautiful. She was his. Her pain would be his pleasure…

My Bio:

Domitri Xavier comes from a rich heritage, including Russia, France and Yorkshire. He is the quintessential English gentleman and lives alone in his cavernous mansion, Upton Abbey.

Domitri is not only a writer, composer, pianist, raconteur, wit and poet, he also enjoys a number of hobbies; he breeds Basset Hounds, plays chess (although he has yet to record a victory) and he is a renowned collector of used tea bags – Earl Grey, naturally.

He fills his remaining time writing erotic fiction, much of it based on his own lifestyle at the Abbey.

The Journal is his first book and his poems have been published on Bitten Press’s website.

You can find Domitri on his author page on Facebook, his Facebook friend page, Goodreads and Amazon.

Liv’s Bio:

When not writing about delicious, hot male dominants and the female subs who love them, I’m usually doing something craft-like, reading, baking, eating the results of said baking, and attempting to satisfy the demands of His High and Mighty Dominance (the cat!). My first story, Imagine, was published with Silver Moon Books last year and Coming, Ready or Not is my first solo book. The Journal was co-written with Domitri Xavier.

You can follow me on my blog, Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads and Amazon.

The Journal, BDSM Erotica – Cover Reveal and Excerpt!

I’m delighted to announce that my first book will be published this coming Friday, 12th July. Written with Liv Honeywell, The Journal is the first in His Master’s Voice series and the cover has been designed by the endlessly talented Blue Harvest Creative. Here is the cover:

The Journal Cover

Back Cover Copy:

“Come to my study at eight o’clock sharp. Dress for dinner. Wear high heels and put on that dress – you know what I expect of you.”

When the order comes Livia is torn between anticipation and dread.

Does he know? How could he possibly know what she has done? And how can she find the words and the courage to tell him?

As eight o’clock edges ever nearer, Livia waits outside the study door, trembling; uncertain of what she will find when she comes face to face with her Master.

If he knows… If he does, there will be consequences. There is no doubt about that.

What will be the price for her moment of disobedience?

Excerpt:

He asked her to look at him and almost before the words had left his lips her eyes were upon him; gazing, giving, willing. She could never know how beautiful she looked at that moment. That moment belonged to them and it was to see her complete loss of ego, her supplication to him and only him; that was what lent her such radiance. Her mouth was quivering and he knew why.

At that moment he just wanted to celebrate their togetherness and he kissed her fully on the lips, firmly, with no reserve of passion or lust or desire. He felt her body. She reminded him of what it was like to melt, to go weak at the knees. She told him this with every sinew of her body, with every gentle touch of her tongue on his, the way her body leaned back into his arms, her trust absolute.

He moved away just a little and put his hand between her legs. She was wet and he picked up moisture on the tips of his fingers. He took this to her own mouth, allowing the wetness to hover on the very corners of her lips. He knew she would never try to brush the moisture away without his consent. She stood, mouth open, wet with her own juices.

He took his fingers further into her mouth, deeper and deeper until she gagged.

“No!” he yelled at her.

She cowered for a moment then stopped and allowed his fingers into her mouth, which was fully open now, just like the rest of her.

Those prominent breasts enticed him there again. He put his hand under her dress and caressed them. He made her lick his fingers, then rubbed her nipples, gently, painlessly, lovingly. But then the pressure became firmer, stronger; irresistible, and his long, slender fingers caressed her whole breast and she fell back against his body, weak and longing. He knew she would be able to feel his erection as she slid her body against his. But he was not ready for that yet.

because it pleases me

I place this gag in your mouth
not because I fear you will speak to me
but because it pleases me

I place these ropes around your wrists
not because you will refuse me
but because it pleases me

I lock your elbows together with strong twine
not because I do not trust you
but because it pleases me

I tie ropes round and round your succulent breasts
you will struggle to get free
and that is fine
because it pleases me

I will drip wax onto your flesh
clothes pins on your body
slap your face and make you blush
in part to punish you but also
because it pleases me

and because you please me
because it pleases you
I will kiss you
and hold you
and cherish you
and treasure you

because it pleases me

Shreds

you bought that dress
because you thought I’d like it
did you?

well come here and I will
tear it from your lustrous body
bit by teasing bit
and leave it
and you
decimated and in
shreds
lying on the floor

I will lay you down and
kiss you
so tenderly
your mouth will moisten and
give way to me

later
the ardour will increase and
you will scream in my ear for more
and I shall give you more
until you beg
beg
beg
for more
and more
and more

when it is all over
(if ever it is)
I shall run my fingers
through your hair
and stroke your back
so that my soft fingers
make you tingle

and of course
I will replace the dress

it will all have been worth it
just for that one long
long moment

What remains of you…

I can still smell your scent on the bed sheet
the juices that spilt from every orifice
the lipstick stains from where I turned you on you back
and fucked you hard
almost breaking you in two

I can still see your lipstick on my fingers
where I held you tightly across your mouth
to muffle you
later I made you lick it off
but some of it remains and I kiss it and suck it

I can still smell you on my fingers
where they went deep
deep inside you

I can still taste you in my mouth
from when my tongue exposed you
and explored you
(and I will not taste coffee to make it go away)

the ropes that bound you are still on the floor
crumpled, tainted and no longer white as they once were
but flayed and torn and fringing where they
bound you tight to keep you at my mercy
(not that I needed them – but you look so beautiful bound)

I can still hear the sound of your voice
whispering, screaming, squealing
begging for more
or less
panting
exhaisted

outside the world is back to normal
the traffic murmurs and people go off to work
dogs bark
the odd horn yelps

but you are still here

what remains of you

Just because you want to

the first time you slept in my bed
you emerged from the bathroom
with your panties as your only garment

you moved with such grace
to slide under the sheets with me
and you looked so beautiful
I had to remind myself of the necessity
of breathing

and you did this
just because you wanted to

your delectable flesh
your delicate skin
your deep pool eyes
your moist-drenched lips
which fell open at my touch

all these you gave as a gift to me
just because you wanted to

when I spanked you
until your ass turned blue
and your eyes streamed tears
and it hurt so much
you never said enough Master
not once
you were giving me all your heart
and all your strength
all this
just because you wanted to

you do all this
because you love me
and you know I love you

you do all this
you give me the prized and peerless gift
of your total submission

just because you want to

Don’t Stop Squealing

I’m sorry?

did you not hear me when I said no squealing?
were you thinking of something more important?
were you distracted by a bumble bee?

no squealing
and if you do
I’ll just add on and extra
ten stokes with this hairbrush
you so kindly found for me

I’m very happy to gag you
but that would just lead to
muffled squealing

I want peace while I am about My work
not all this fuss and yelping
if I want you to yelp
I’ll give you something to yelp about
little lady

I am an artist at work you see?
a craftsman
a Man who just loves His work
and your squealing is just making it harder

wait a second
that’s not the only thing getting harder
wow
sweet fuck girl
whatever you do

don’t stop squealing!

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