Tuesday, December 29, 2015

Guest Post: Rose C. Carole and CATERING TO HIS NEEDS

I'm delighted to offer a peek at Rose C. Carole's first BDSM romance, Catering to His Needs.
~~ Cris
Thanks so much, Cris, for hosting me on your blog. I appreciate your generosity.

Cris and I have become great friends. We met four years ago at the first BDSM Writers Workshop, which was hosted by Dr. Charley Ferrer and was attended by 11 people. We sat for three days in a hotel room and listened to Dr. Charley expound on the dynamics of Dominance and submission. (Cris has written quite eloquently about that first workshop on her blog. It’s worth looking back on it.)

Cris encouraged me all along the way in my writing journey. It is one of the reasons that my new release, Catering to His Needs, is dedicated to her. She encouraged me to join the Liberty States Fiction Writers, where I learned about process and developing a pitch and how to write a query letter and synopsis. I was able to pitch my novel to agents and editors at their annual conference.

She read my work and critiqued it. Every writer needs someone to give them a perspective on how they’re doing, and Cris was one of the people who did that for me. And when my first book went nowhere, she pushed me to keep going. And as I mentioned in my dedication to this book, she always introduced me as “my soon-to-be-published friend Rose.” With a cheerleader like that, it’s your own fault if you fail.

So when my next book was finally accepted by Totally Bound, thanks to being a winner of the BDSM Book Contest at BDSM Writers Con, I had to make sure I thanked Cris. Along with Dr. Charley Ferrer, she is one of the most important figures in my writing career. I am a very, very lucky woman to have her in my corner.
Rose C. Carole (center) accepting her First-Sale rose. Cris (left), Dr. Charley (right)
And, again because of Cris’s generosity, I get to introduce you to Catering to His Needs, the first book in my Kitchen Confessions series.

Ethan is at his wit’s end. His brother’s ex-wife has threatened to reveal that Ethan is a member of the Playground, an exclusive BDSM club, unless she gets more alimony from the family trust fund. The scandal that would arise from such a revelation must be avoided at all costs--not only for the sake of Ethan’s reputation, but for the future of his relationship with his treasured sub, Rebecca.
Rebecca is a single mother working hard to expand her catering business. The only peace she finds from her building stress is in the handcuffs of her strong Dom, Ethan. But Rebecca’s life is not her own. Her teenage son is not handling Rebecca’s divorce well, and Rebecca feels the responsibility for her son’s happiness like a weight on her shoulders. Between her business and her son, she has little time for herself--or the growing emotional demands from her Dom.
Ethan is determined to take their relationship to the next level, and Rebecca is equally determined not to upset her son further by revealing that she has a new man in her life. Fortunately, Ethan is a Dom with a passionate interest in seeing that his sub is happy--even if he has to whip some sense into her. He’s making progress until suddenly his own problems take a turn for the worse. His brother Zach has gone missing under suspicious circumstances and now it’s all Ethan can do just to keep himself out of jail. The cat, as they say, is out of the bag.

As they approached the doorway between the dining room and the living room, Ethan stopped. One after the other, he raised her arms above her head and attached the cuffs to hooks in the doorjamb.
He leaned forward. The words brushed by her ear so lightly she almost missed them. “Who is your safe call?”
“Samantha,” she responded.
“When are you supposed to call her to let her know you arrived safely?”
Uh-oh. Rebecca hesitated. She hadn’t exactly made specific arrangements. She had just told Sam she was going to be spending the weekend in the Catskills with Ethan, but that was it.
“Rebecca, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer without hesitation. Do I need to repeat it?”
“No, Sir. I heard you. I just don’t have an answer. I didn’t tell her I would call when I got here.”
“I know,” he responded and she quickly turned her face toward his steely expression.
“What?” she sputtered.
“Is that how you address me, Rebecca?”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I was just surprised by your answer. How do you know, Sir?” she amended in a voice she hoped was adequately contrite.
“I figured you would use Sam as your safe call, since she’s your best friend. So I contacted her through her Fetlife profile and made sure she had the address and phone number here—something you should have done—and informed her you would call tonight at five.”
“I didn’t think it was necessary, Sir. We’ve known each other almost six months and have been in a D/s relationship almost that long.”
“And have we ever been away together for a weekend?”
“No, Sir.”
“So no one besides me knows where you are, if you’ve arrived safely and if everything is all right here?”
“No, Sir.” She dropped her gaze. She couldn’t bear to face his disapproval.
“Look at me,” he commanded. She slowly raised her eyes. It was difficult to meet his gaze, but she forced herself.
“As we agreed before you came up here, you are my property for this weekend, and as such, I expect you to make sure you are careful about your safety. You have put your cell phone, wallet and other possessions into a locked box that only I can access and left yourself totally at my disposal without making sure that another soul knows where you are. I could have been planning to take advantage of you for some time, and you have no safe call to make sure someone comes looking for you if you don’t check in at a specific time. That’s not acceptable. For that you need to be punished. I don’t like starting our weekend this way, but it’s a lesson you have to learn immediately. Do you understand, Rebecca?”
She nodded her head.
Instantly he grabbed her by the chin. “Not acceptable, my dear. You know better.”
“Yes, Sir,” she responded and blinked her eyes to keep the tears at bay. He was right and she knew it. This lifestyle had inherent dangers, even when they were following safe, sane and consensual, and she had disrespected both of them by not following proper protocol to keep herself safe. She’d just gotten here and she’d already made a terrible mistake. How could she be so stupid? Would he still want to go through with the weekend as planned when she couldn’t even do the simplest thing?
Ethan stared into her eyes. “Where is your focus, Rebecca? It certainly isn’t on me.”
Damn. Can this get any worse? She turned her tear-filled eyes toward him. “Please forgive me, Sir. I know I messed up, and I’m sorry.”
His bent fingers traced down her cheeks and over her lips, then suddenly they were around her throat, gently but firmly letting her know he was in control. She was focused on him now.
“I know you’re sorry, but it doesn’t change the fact that we need to address this issue, Rebecca. And I need you present. Are you with me?”
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”
“Good. Let’s get this over with so we can get to the more fun things I have planned for the weekend.”
He walked over to a basket, and she gasped as he pulled out a cane. He had never used one on her before. It terrified her.
“What is your safeword, Rebecca?”
“Chocolate, Sir,” she whispered.
Ethan approached her, holding the cane in both hands. Even though she was tethered to the hooks above, she tried to move backward from him. Shaking his head, he placed the cane on an end table then wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” he asked.
She just stared at him, uncomprehending.
“You were backing away from me. Is that a sign that you don’t accept the punishment I’m about to give you or that you don’t trust me? Do you need to use your safeword? I will not touch you without your consent.”
His eyes bored into hers, and she realized she’d better tamp down her fear and accept her punishment or this would all end right now. He would never discipline her if she didn’t agree to it, and she had to trust he wouldn’t harm her. It didn’t mean this wasn’t going to hurt. He didn’t take punishment lightly. But she had earned it, so she had to suck it up and take it.
“No, Sir. I’m ready.”

Find out more about Rose at her website. Buy Catering to His Needs Now! Amazon | Amazon UK | B&N | Google Play | iBooks | Kobo| Totally Bound

Enjoy the reading experience of Catering to His Needs.
~~ Cris Anson

Tuesday, November 24, 2015


Every day the mail brings another glossy brochure touting a better supplemental Medicare insurance plan. Really, folks, I don’t need another reminder that I’m on the downside of 65.

But it got me to thinking. I don’t FEEL 65. I feel more like 45, especially when I’m thinking about, or actually participating in, BDSM activities.

So I scoured my brain and my friend list and set out to answer the question:

How old is too old?

Let’s see. There’s 75-year-old Tom who wears a pacemaker (his second one, he confides). He has ropes tied to the four posts of his bed and loves to provide forced orgasms, eliciting up to as many as 3 in an hour.

Or Dick, a retired cop of 72 who’s recovered from a recent heart attack and is back to doing what he loves best, grappling with a nearly naked female on a wrestling mat.

And Harry. Also 72, he’s still sailing and SCUBA diving, as well as enjoying the spanking bench and enduring clothes pins on strategic parts of his body.

By the way, did you notice the subtlety of the names Tom, Dick, and Harry? I’ll also be talking about Manny, Moe and Jack (do you have to be a certain age to recognize the Pep Boys?) These are all pseudonyms because I’m protective of everyone’s privacy. Some of the details are mixed as well, for the same reason, but they’re all details of folks I know. I’ve played with some of these characters, but I’ll leave it to you to figure out which ones.

OK, back to examples. How about 65-year-old Manny? He likes threesomes in hotel rooms, and can shift between being a vicious Dominant and a humiliated submissive as quickly as the weather changes.

Moe at 62 is quieter, but no less Dominant. He swings a mean flogger, but his specialty is caning. Ouch!

Jack is a polyamorous, kinky sexual addict who loves bondage toys and whips. Oh, he’s 63.

Yes, there are also women of my age group in the BDSM lifestyle. Let me tell you about Carrie, Alicia, Mariah, Taylor, Celine and other *ahem* musical friends.

Carrie, 65, is a gentle soul whose medical office is redolent of soothing candle scents. She’s a sensualist who enjoys bottoming for carefully chosen partners.

Alicia is also 65. She’s an outspoken proponent of Polyamory and, indeed, is a psychologist who specializes in their unique problems. She’s still undecided what her playing role might be.
At 59, Mariah is an intelligent and confident woman who runs her own business and takes no prisoners. She’s also a collared sub who willingly cedes control to her Dominant.

Taylor, 53, is submissive to two Dominants (at different times, and they know about each other) while running a testosterone-fueled department of van drivers and mechanics. Her dynamic is different from polyamorous.

Celine has been the center of an M/F/M relationship and loves being bound by rope, lots and lots of rope. Oh, she’s 57.

There are also a few ladies who coyly list themselves as 94 or 95. We know that’s not true, but it’s a measure of their vanity to not have others know they are actually in their 70s. Several, in fact, were in the BDSM/Leather vanguard 30 years ago and are the repository of so much history in their brains, it’s a pleasure to converse with them.

Now, how about a couple of couples?

George and Amal are both 58. He’s a hard-driving IT specialist who runs a Fifties-style household. As soon as George comes home, he hooks Amal to a sturdy eye-bolt in the central hallway with a 50-foot chain and she’s always tethered except when he’s away at work. During the day she cleans, runs errands, pays bills, and keeps house. And maybe sneaks in a nap.

Then there’s Antony and Cleopatra (ages 58 and 56, respectively). Married for over 30 years, they’ve been doing BDSM-style things behind closed doors until a couple of years ago, when they came “out” in a big way. Now Antony beats the crap out of her in public and Cleo, being a brat, eggs him on and deliberately provokes him for further bruising.

Let’s not forget Kim and Kanye. Mistress Kim is 53 and her slave is 55. Both work full-time, but when they are home, he wears a heavy collar and is often punished for infractions by being made to sleep in the closet. During playtime he’s also decked out in wrist and ankle bands, all the better to harness him to receive Kim’s heavy impact play.

Mistress Adele is a Domme of 56 who is married to a Dominant a dozen years older. They have a loving marriage but often pursue separate interests with a wide variety of submissives and bottoms. And toys.

To round out the picture, how about some committed threesomes?

Charles, Diana and Camilla come to mind. Charles is a 65-year-old Dominant who plays hard, hits hard, and squeezes hard. He often strings up Diana and Camilla alongside each other, or tied face-to-face, and is adept at giving them equal attention with a flogger in each hand. Both women are highly intelligent with responsible positions in the business world. They are 59 and 58 and they both adore him.

Then there are Brad, Angelina and Jennifer. In his mid-60s, Brad has two slaves and spends private time with each. He’s a heavy sadist and often leaves both of them bleeding and bruised and they come back for more. At 58 and 55, the women know what they want! And he gives it to them.

So. To reiterate the question,

When are you too old to enjoy BDSM?

Short answer: NEVER!

~~ Cris Anson