Wow, how the week has flown. Saturday again already? Well that means that it's time once again for some #MyWickedSaturday. This week I'm going to bring you seven paragraphs from a book I just contracted with Decadent Publishing. (So this an obviously unedited snippet, where Venus finds that Madame Eve has set Venus up her boss.) Wyk's Surrender is a FemDom book for their popular 1NightStand series. I don't have any cover art yet, but check out the blurb below and yummy picture I posted to go along with it. Enjoy! Oh don't forget to stop by the rest of the peeps on the hop. Now off to check out the rest of the blogs.
Edging the door open, she gazed into the sitting room of the suite. As she expected, her date had arrived and was kicking off his shoes. Displeasure flowed through her, despite the revealing of his dark body in exercise shorts when he stripped off his t-shirt. His abs were well-defined and he had just a smattering of tight curls below his navel. Her attention was drawn away from his washboard stomach, when he struggled into the basic leisha position she’d requested.
Parting his thighs, the material stretched tight over his upper legs and groin, cupping and accenting his cock and balls. Her breath caught in her throat. But when he gave a muffled grunt as he crossed his arms behind his back, she shook her head. The over-anxious fool was going to screw around and hurt himself. Sighing, she entered the room, shutting the door behind her. The loud click had the man’s head swinging up in her direction. Thankfully, due to the lone lamp on the far side of the room, she was standing in the shadows, because nothing in her life as a Domme had prepared her for the sight of Wyk Havas, his body half exposed to her gaze as he knelt before her.
Her heart raced. She backed up until she ran into the closed door. Surely this had to be a joke. Madame Eve couldn’t have set her up with Wyk. There was no way her boss actually wanted to be at her mercy. She fumbled with the door handle, looking for an escape, but as he continued to kneel, her nerves settled. Was he truly the man she was supposed to be meeting or was it some kind of sick game Wyk was playing with her? More than once she’d cursed her loose tongue for screwing up the one and only time she’d taken him up on his offer for after-work drinks. She’d nearly spilled all her secrets after a few too many glasses of red wine. And my boss never looked at me the same again.
“Mistress V?” Her name came out a bit hoarse, drawing her attention. His dark eyes shone with uncertain need as he struggled not to move. A sigh escaped her when he unknowingly used her Domme name. She could do this. He had no idea who she was. An idea was forming in her head.
“Eyes down, slave.” She injected enough steel into her voice that amazingly Wyk’s gaze lowered. “When was our set meeting time?”
“Eleven-thirty, Mistress.” He started to lift his head, but caught himself when she growled with displeasure.
“And what time is it now?” She moved towards the bag she’d set on the sideboard. Unzipping it, she pulled the blindfold out along with the flogger. Turning, she approached him on light feet, until she stood in front of him. She was so close she could hear his shallow breathing. He was nervous. He had reason to be. A ticked-off Domme was never a good thing – at least not for the submissive.
©Dakota Trace All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.