As you can tell from this pic, his warning did nothing to decrease my determination. If anything, I remember feeling excited by this challenge. I WOULD beat those older kids--most of them boys--oh yes I would! The whistle blew, we all took off running past the strange 1970's art sculptures the park had put up a few years past, and I was in second place!! Until....I tripped and fell down and everyone else raced past me.
God...the shame! I pulled myself up, drug myself over the finish line because in our family we finish the race! and then slunk off to a tree to mourn my loss....in private...because that's how I preferred to mourn...
But some jerk came over to take my picture!!! To document my shame!!! ARGH! I didn't even like my mom or dad to give me kisses when I fell down and scraped my knee, I preferred to go hide in the closet until I could stop crying and present my wound with some dignity. How dare this photographer whooo-ha DARE to come and snap my pic like it was cute that I was so deeply upset over my poor finish in the 5-8 year old race.
So I growled at him, as any self-respecting budding type A personality would and I think he went away. Then my dad came over and said he was proud I finished and we went and bought a Mellow Yellow and enjoyed the rest of the day, putting that low moment behind us.
So...there. I guess that tells you all you need to know about me, lol. I've mellowed out over the years, but I still take whatever job I'm at very seriously, whether it be mommying, writing, or cleaning the....okay, so maybe not the cleaning part. I've definitely mellowed out where the state of our bathroom floors are concerned.
There's more to share, of course, but I'm hoping you all will be around for awhile and we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other--and for me to pull out the nine year old pictures where I have the foot high eighties bangs :).
On to the excerpt!
"Main Attraction"
1st in the Perfectly Wicked series
by Anna J. Evans
Available April 11th, 2007
http://ellorascave.com
BLURB:
Edna Emily Rella runs Wicked Stepmother’s, the hottest S&M parlor in Kingdom City, but she has a secret…she’s not so terribly wicked. A dominatrix by necessity, rather than calling, she does her best to capitalize on her naughty reputation. After the smear campaign waged by her stepdaughter, Cynthia, there aren’t many employment options. She’s made the best of a bad situation…until now.
Frank, the Captain of the Queen’s guard, has been sent to protect Emily from the stalker threatening her life. Posing as a client, this dominant male soon realizes he’s in for more trouble than he bargained for. Emily is a born submissive, there’s no doubt in his mind. He can hardly resist the urge to show her what she’s been missing on the Mistress side of the fence.
Now Emily and Frank must make a decision, cling to lives that have left them unfulfilled or go outside their comfort zones for the chance at a love, and a passion, unlike either has ever known.
EXCERPT:
Seeing him standing, she’d guess he was at least six-foot-four and weighed in at double her own weight. His head was completely shaved, but his impressively muscled chest and tree trunk legs sported a healthy growth of coarse, reddish-brown hair, a testament to the testosterone no doubt surging through his body. Big Baldy was imposing all the way around, from his huge hands to his ice-blue eyes to the way his bare toes curled into the carpet. Even the cream loincloth the girls at the front desk had given him couldn’t make him look the slightest bit ridiculous.
Instead, the damn thing just allowed him to showcase the perfection of his body. He was composed of pure muscle, with a chiseled face as striking as the rest of him. He was a damn attractive man, more attractive than any lover she’d ever had. He probably had a different woman in his bed every night, all more than willing to fulfill his desires free of charge.
But it wasn’t his physical presence or stud factor alone that cowed her. She knew better than that. It was the commanding air that filled his voice, radiated all around him. It had intimidated and aroused her from the second she met his eyes. He was the only true dominant in this room, and they both knew it. What’s worse, she wanted him, and they both knew that too. Her own traitorous libido had worked against her as much as his reluctance to take her attempts at control seriously.
She was an idiot to have thought she could top him, to even have had the guts to try.
“Listen, I—”
“You’re crying,” Baldy said, his voice and eyes as soft as the rest of him was imposing.
“Yes, I am.” His unexpected compassion only made her want to sob harder. Goddamn Baldy, why did he have to choose this moment to play nice? Niceness got to her like nothing else. It was so much easier to keep up her tough girl act when the man she was dominating treated her like an object. When she was just a woman with a dangerous reputation who her client would have liked to fuck if she allowed the Mistress roll to go that far.
Compassion was the one emotion she’d never seen on a client’s face, and it made her want to run to Baldy and fall into his arms, to take comfort in his strength. She would gladly take whatever punishment, sensual or otherwise, he would dish out if he would hold her afterwards. In fact, her fantasy of being bent over and fucked from behind only became more attractive when she imagined him cradling her in his lap after they were done, kissing away her tears as she sobbed into his chest.
Maybe there, wrapped in his heat, she might finally feel safe for the first time in years.
Fuck, Edna. Get rid of this man before you do something really stupid.
“You win, okay? You’re right, I’m a complete fraud,” Edna said. Tears flowed freely down her face and her nose began to run. “Now will you go?”
“Don’t cry. We can work through this,” he said with that same commanding tone, but with a softer edge to his words. He reminded her of her high school track coach delivering a pep talk to the relay team. Just what she needed, a dominatrix pep talk.
The entire situation was so absurd that she started laugh-crying again, making a ton of unfeminine and un-dominatrix-like snorting noises that should have scared Baldy away if nothing else had already. Not only was she a fraud, she was a completely un-sexy fraud who snorted when she cried. Could she be more undesirable?
Better yet, why was she concerned with being desirable to a man she wanted out of her presence as soon as possible?
“You just need to take a few deep breaths,” he continued, crossing toward her with slow, measured steps that quickly banished her laughter.
She suddenly felt hunted, despite his kind words. The way he stalked toward her, eyes taking in every inch of her bare skin, should have been sufficient reminder that this was no track coach. This was a man who looked like he killed for a living and hunted for sport. The killing part was just plain scary. Unfortunately, her traitorous body liked the idea of being Baldy’s prey, liked it way too much.
“Think about a nice, safe, quiet place and imagine yourself there. Now start breathing more slowly, breathe in the air of that safe place.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Baldy,” Edna said, trying to laugh but failing miserably. She could hardly breathe with him this close, let alone laugh. His heat warmed the front of her body and her nipples tightened again as she imagined being pressed flat against him, her bare breasts smashed against his strong chest.
“Baldy?” His mouth quirked at the edges again, but his eyes didn’t hold the slightest hint of humor. Instead, they smoldered, boring into hers, telegraphing an invitation that was clearly sexual in nature.
“Do you prefer Big Baldy?”
“I prefer Frank,” he said.
“Well okay, Frank, but…I…uh…” Edna’s breath hitched and her words fled when Frank reached out and let one finger trail down the side of her corset. Idly, casually, he stroked her ribs and moved down toward the curve of her waist. Even with that simple touch, he conveyed a sense of ownership, and Edna had to admit that it felt right for him to touch her, to think of herself as his to do with what he would.
“Yes?” he prompted. His fingers curled possessively around her hip and pulled her a little closer. A few more inches and they would touch, and she would know if he was one-tenth as aroused as she was quickly becoming.
“I have a rule—if I know your name, I can’t play with you.”
“Okay, but what about me playing with you?” His fingers tightened, pressing into the flesh of her hip with enough force to hurt a little, and to make her pussy gush wet heat onto her already ruined panties.
Edna Emily Rella runs Wicked Stepmother’s, the hottest S&M parlor in Kingdom City, but she has a secret…she’s not so terribly wicked. A dominatrix by necessity, rather than calling, she does her best to capitalize on her naughty reputation. After the smear campaign waged by her stepdaughter, Cynthia, there aren’t many employment options. She’s made the best of a bad situation…until now.
Frank, the Captain of the Queen’s guard, has been sent to protect Emily from the stalker threatening her life. Posing as a client, this dominant male soon realizes he’s in for more trouble than he bargained for. Emily is a born submissive, there’s no doubt in his mind. He can hardly resist the urge to show her what she’s been missing on the Mistress side of the fence.
Now Emily and Frank must make a decision, cling to lives that have left them unfulfilled or go outside their comfort zones for the chance at a love, and a passion, unlike either has ever known.
EXCERPT:
Seeing him standing, she’d guess he was at least six-foot-four and weighed in at double her own weight. His head was completely shaved, but his impressively muscled chest and tree trunk legs sported a healthy growth of coarse, reddish-brown hair, a testament to the testosterone no doubt surging through his body. Big Baldy was imposing all the way around, from his huge hands to his ice-blue eyes to the way his bare toes curled into the carpet. Even the cream loincloth the girls at the front desk had given him couldn’t make him look the slightest bit ridiculous.
Instead, the damn thing just allowed him to showcase the perfection of his body. He was composed of pure muscle, with a chiseled face as striking as the rest of him. He was a damn attractive man, more attractive than any lover she’d ever had. He probably had a different woman in his bed every night, all more than willing to fulfill his desires free of charge.
But it wasn’t his physical presence or stud factor alone that cowed her. She knew better than that. It was the commanding air that filled his voice, radiated all around him. It had intimidated and aroused her from the second she met his eyes. He was the only true dominant in this room, and they both knew it. What’s worse, she wanted him, and they both knew that too. Her own traitorous libido had worked against her as much as his reluctance to take her attempts at control seriously.
She was an idiot to have thought she could top him, to even have had the guts to try.
“Listen, I—”
“You’re crying,” Baldy said, his voice and eyes as soft as the rest of him was imposing.
“Yes, I am.” His unexpected compassion only made her want to sob harder. Goddamn Baldy, why did he have to choose this moment to play nice? Niceness got to her like nothing else. It was so much easier to keep up her tough girl act when the man she was dominating treated her like an object. When she was just a woman with a dangerous reputation who her client would have liked to fuck if she allowed the Mistress roll to go that far.
Compassion was the one emotion she’d never seen on a client’s face, and it made her want to run to Baldy and fall into his arms, to take comfort in his strength. She would gladly take whatever punishment, sensual or otherwise, he would dish out if he would hold her afterwards. In fact, her fantasy of being bent over and fucked from behind only became more attractive when she imagined him cradling her in his lap after they were done, kissing away her tears as she sobbed into his chest.
Maybe there, wrapped in his heat, she might finally feel safe for the first time in years.
Fuck, Edna. Get rid of this man before you do something really stupid.
“You win, okay? You’re right, I’m a complete fraud,” Edna said. Tears flowed freely down her face and her nose began to run. “Now will you go?”
“Don’t cry. We can work through this,” he said with that same commanding tone, but with a softer edge to his words. He reminded her of her high school track coach delivering a pep talk to the relay team. Just what she needed, a dominatrix pep talk.
The entire situation was so absurd that she started laugh-crying again, making a ton of unfeminine and un-dominatrix-like snorting noises that should have scared Baldy away if nothing else had already. Not only was she a fraud, she was a completely un-sexy fraud who snorted when she cried. Could she be more undesirable?
Better yet, why was she concerned with being desirable to a man she wanted out of her presence as soon as possible?
“You just need to take a few deep breaths,” he continued, crossing toward her with slow, measured steps that quickly banished her laughter.
She suddenly felt hunted, despite his kind words. The way he stalked toward her, eyes taking in every inch of her bare skin, should have been sufficient reminder that this was no track coach. This was a man who looked like he killed for a living and hunted for sport. The killing part was just plain scary. Unfortunately, her traitorous body liked the idea of being Baldy’s prey, liked it way too much.
“Think about a nice, safe, quiet place and imagine yourself there. Now start breathing more slowly, breathe in the air of that safe place.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Baldy,” Edna said, trying to laugh but failing miserably. She could hardly breathe with him this close, let alone laugh. His heat warmed the front of her body and her nipples tightened again as she imagined being pressed flat against him, her bare breasts smashed against his strong chest.
“Baldy?” His mouth quirked at the edges again, but his eyes didn’t hold the slightest hint of humor. Instead, they smoldered, boring into hers, telegraphing an invitation that was clearly sexual in nature.
“Do you prefer Big Baldy?”
“I prefer Frank,” he said.
“Well okay, Frank, but…I…uh…” Edna’s breath hitched and her words fled when Frank reached out and let one finger trail down the side of her corset. Idly, casually, he stroked her ribs and moved down toward the curve of her waist. Even with that simple touch, he conveyed a sense of ownership, and Edna had to admit that it felt right for him to touch her, to think of herself as his to do with what he would.
“Yes?” he prompted. His fingers curled possessively around her hip and pulled her a little closer. A few more inches and they would touch, and she would know if he was one-tenth as aroused as she was quickly becoming.
“I have a rule—if I know your name, I can’t play with you.”
“Okay, but what about me playing with you?” His fingers tightened, pressing into the flesh of her hip with enough force to hurt a little, and to make her pussy gush wet heat onto her already ruined panties.
8 comments:
Yeay M!! I'm so glad you liked it. The next two in that series will be out shortly after too, so you won't have to wait too long to collect all three ;).
And yes, Mellow Yellow softens all blows. Haven't had one of those in years...now I have a craving, lol.
Anna J. Evans
Those are great pics! LOL. We're about the same age I'm guessing. But you were a way cute kid than I was :D
WHATEVER Shelli! Did you see how many split ends I had? Lol. And I went through a major awkward stage from about 9 to 15. This was pretty much the peak of my cuteness before I got a weird bump on my nose, and circles under my eyes.
Oh, and I'll come out of the age closet. I'm 29, getting ready to hit the big 30 in October. I'm excited about it, however. I think the thirties are going to rock. I wouldn't do my early twenties again for a big shiny new car full of money and ice cream--not mixed together.
Anna
(thanks for stopping by, by the way. It's so nice to know someone is reading, lol.)
Adorable pictures!
I would do my early twenties again in a heartbeat. I was HOT and did nothing but have fun, stay out all night with beautiful punk rock boys, and have more fun.
Yeah, I should have done that. Instead, all I did was work 60 hours a week waiting tables to pay for my NYC apartment and audition for stupid soap operas and off off Broadway plays and do really dumb things like sleep with boy actors. God, boy actors!! Talk about a bunch of self-involved pricks, lol.
I was too skinny, and under pressure to be skinnier, and have a nose job so I could be cute enought to be leading lady material. And Edward Albee told me I was a fat, untalented hack (I wore a size 3) and...god I could just go on and on.
I'm loving life so much more now!!
Anna
Anna, my God, those pictures are priceless! And yep, absolutely catch the essential ferocity of spirit.
And you're lucky. My awkward stage went till about 20! :p
Lol, Sierra! I just meant the worst of the awkward stage. I don't think I really learned how to fix my hair without it looking like a poorly tamed afro until I was about 21 and living with some girls who showed me the way of mousse, or alternately, flat irons.
Oooooo flat irons!
Anna
Such a cutie. I meant to stop in last night and then totally spaced it. I'm lucky to have two brain cells working at any given moment, but after about 8 p.m. it's a crap shoot. LOL
Terrific excerpt. :)
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