Comment to win a copy of Crack the Whip
My Rawhide series is all about a private BDSM club where members of a ranching community can play in discreet upscale surroundings. The first story, Crack the Whip, was about rancher Reece Halliday, a fullout Dom, and his expertise with the single tail whip. I had done my research of course, as I always do, but recently I had a chance to visit a club where I actually met a real expert. What I learned was very interesting.
For example, the direction of the whip is guided by your thumb on the handle, or your forefinger, whichever grip is most comfortable. Kind of like a directional point. The Dom/Domme then chooses the exact spots for the whip to land on the submissive. I also learned that sound makes a difference. When you hear the familiar crack! of the whip,. That means it has not landed anywhere on the sub, only split the air. That’s what makes the sound. When the whip actually touches the body the sound is more like a thud.
An expert Master applies the whip to elicit maximum pleasure/pain from the sub and watched the sub for his/her reaction. Everyone’s level of pain is different and a good Dom/Domme knows how to read the submissive’s signals.
The demonstration was fascinating. I want to thank The Lair in San Antonio, Master N, Master Shack and of course my guide, Darrell, for teaching me so much. I used what I learned in an upcoming book that will release I think late in summer. Watch here for more details.
Meanwhile, here’s a snippet from Crack the Whip. Leave a comment for a chance to win a copy.
When rancher Reece Halliday met the new manager of his fetish club, Rawhide, he was shocked to see Katie Warren, the woman he’d loved and lost because of his sexual preferences. But a lot of time has passed and Katie has discovered the lure and satisfaction of BDSM—including the pleasurable sting of the single tail whip. Will Reece be able to lure her back into his arms—and bed—when he cracks the whip during their private sessions?
Katie stood in the narrow passageway, staring through the tiny opening in the wall, her panties so wet she could actually catch the scent of her own arousal. She could hardly take her eyes away from Reece’s tall, lean body. Somehow it looked even better than it had the first night she spied on him, each muscle clearly defined beneath the taut layer of skin.
He was using the single tail whip tonight, each crack! reverberating through her body. She’d overheard him tell Clint one night that it was one of his favorites to use on his subs. That it had an earthiness about it that made him so hot and horny he was lucky he didn’t fuck himself blind. Each time he lifted his hand and smacked the tail of the whip across the buttocks of his sub she jerked as if feeling it herself. Wishing she was on that table. Wishing she was the sub he was using the whip on.
From the first moment she’d walked into a club in Atlanta the very eroticism of the BDSM had drawn her in a way she’d never thought possible. Over the years she experimented, but never with clients of the clubs where she worked. She met people at munches she attended but then on her computer researched and vetted them before allowing herself to be drawn into a relationship.
Her research had paid off, the information drawing her like a moth to a flame. She often worried that she was becoming a BDSM junkie. That it would interfere with her public persona which was strong and self-assured. But that had never happened. The one time she’d sensed it creeping she was smart enough to walk away from the relationship. She’d been with a total of four Doms, three of them very skilled. Her first master had trained her in the ways of a submissive and she’d soaked it all up like a sponge. Most of her subsequent relationships had been fulfilling and emotionally satisfying.
Only that one…He’d reminded her so much of Reece. More than any of the others. So much so that she’d been fooled, finally wrenching herself away from it with her inner self in shreds and tatters. She had never felt for any of them what she still felt for Reece Halliday but deep inside her she began to wonder if Reece would be that kind of Dom, so controlling that she became nothing but an extension of him. It hung around at the edges of her mind, like a bee buzzing at a honeysuckle bush.
Still, watching him tonight she couldn’t help wishing that she was the one strapped down to that table serving him.
Feeling the lash of the thin whip.
Hoping that maybe…
He kissed the reddened skin and suddenly she wanted it to be her skin his mouth was on. When he squeezed lube onto his forefinger, spread his sub’s buttocks and worked his way into her ass she clenched her own cheeks, hungry for the feel of his finger there. One hand stole beneath the hem of her short dress and into her wet panties, seeking her aching clit.
Her fingers stroked her hot nub slowly as she watched Reece light a long red taper and hold it over India until the wax began to trickle down the sides. Then, like an artist painting on a canvas, he dripped it onto her back in lines matching the stripes on her buttocks, a careful zigzag. Katie was fascinated. None of her Masters had been into wax play but she’d heard many subs rave about the sensation of the warm wax on their bodies and the heat it generated in their cunts.
Her fingers stilled as Reece finished creating his design. One hand slipped between India’s thighs to per pussy. When he withdrew them they must have been wet because he took his time licking them, his swollen cock flexing in response. What he did next had her fingers moving again, faster, faster, stroking, pulling.
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