What happens when an introverted artist who only likes sex when it's a one-night stand meets a computer-geek-extraordinaire with his own sexy secrets? Objectification, romance, pain, adoration, lots of kinky toys, and oodles and oodles of wonderfully imaginative sex.
Join Cara and Travis on their journey to mesh their distinctive sexual tastes into a loving relationship with blow-your-mind kink.
Ob•jec•ti•fi•ca•tion: 1. Treating a person as an object for use, with no regard for a person's personality or sentience. 2. Regarding someone as a commodity; considering them merely an instrument towards one's sexual pleasure.
Examples of OBJECTIFICATION: 1. A woman is on her back at the edge of a tall bed with hands and feet bound together and restrained above her head. A curtain drapes from a canopy above and puddles on the backs of her thighs. The man about to penetrate her sees only female genitals available for use. 2. A woman is dressed in a full latex blow-up doll costume with durable latex ‘pockets’ stuffed into her orifices. She is bound into a position giving easy access to all three holes at a party. Her face is completely covered excepting nose and mouth. The men do not know who is in the costume.
Safeword: Quinacridone is a stand-alone book. You do not need to have read the previous books in this series.
Warning: This title contains graphic language, consensual BDSM, extreme objectification, bondage, chemical play, fisting, temporary body modification with saline injections (one scene), watersports (one scene), and the use of toys including clamps, canes, plugs, paddles, whips, floggers, and zip-ties.
“Do you remember when I told you to say yellow if you couldn’t breathe, or needed me to understand something wasn’t working for you?”
She looked up, not sure where he was going, and nodded cautiously.
“Here’s one of my secrets. I like it when a girl begs me to stop but I can keep going. I like it when I can hurt her a little, but I don’t wish to cause pain she’s not okay with, and it wouldn’t be good for either of us if she really wanted me to back off. So we agree to a word that’ll mean stop, and then she can say no and stop and please don’t all she wants and we can pretend I’m forcing her. I’m telling you this because I think you’d like it too.”
“What word?” Her gaze returned to the comforter and she had to concentrate to sit still. She found herself intrigued, but mortified at her body’s reaction.
“It’s your word; you get to choose. It shouldn’t be something we’d normally say during sex and it’s better if you find one with special meaning, something personal.”
She raised her head again, needing to see his face but wanting to look at the comforter. “If yellow meant slow down and check in I’m betting red is used for something more serious, right?”
He nodded and she said, “Okay then. Quinacridone. That’s my stop word.”
His face broke into a lopsided smile, as if relieved she was going along with this. “Quinacridone. That’s a new one. What does it mean?”
“It’s a red pigment.” She suddenly felt shy again and looked away. “It’s used in higher quality paints sometimes.”
He chuckled, a happy laugh. “Do you have a word you’d like to use for yellow?”
Eyes still averted, she shook her head and focused once more on her big toe. “No, yellow’s fine.”
His fingers touched under her chin, gently lifting her face. “I want to spank you, Cara. I want to put you over my lap and spank you with my hand, and if you like it enough maybe with a paddle, too. Then I want to play with your asshole with my fingers, get you ready for me before I fuck you there. If you say quinacridone, I’ll stop and hold you and do everything I can to make you okay. If you say yellow I’ll back off, see what needs adjustment, and we’ll carry on.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “If you tell me to stop, or say no, or ask me not to do something, or call me a fucking bastard, I’ll keep going.”
He tilted his head and seemed to study her a few seconds before asking, “Sound like something you want to do?”
“Spank me? Like a kid?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not like a kid. This isn’t punishment; it’s for fun. I’ll make it good for you and if you don’t like it we’ll stop.”
The idea didn’t sound so bad, but the reality? To drape herself across his lap and present her ass for a spanking? Could she? She’d rather not have to submit to it, which was the great thing about most of the assholes she screwed — they did what they wanted and didn’t make her talk about it.
She felt so vulnerable when he made her look at him. His finger was still under her chin and she aimed her eyeballs down, trying to escape his gaze.
He moved his hand, letting her have control of her face again and said, “I won’t make you ask for it, but I need to hear what you’ll say if you want me to stop.”
Her eyes were focused on the navy and forest comforter, seeing the patterns in the soft brushed microfiber that felt almost like baby fine deerskin. “Quinacridone.”
“Okay. Over my lap then Cara Mia, you can leave the robe on if you like.”
He readjusted until he was seated with his back against the headboard and legs straight out. Cara crawled to him, as it seemed the easiest way to get there, but it felt odd and she was a little surprised to discover it turned her on. She draped herself over his lap, leaving her robe on.
A weight rested on her ass — no heat, just a weight — his hand over the robe.
“I like starting with clothes sometimes; it’s fun to reveal what’s underneath. Kind of like unwrapping a present.”
His hand smoothed its way down her bottom to her thigh, and she felt the warmth of his palm as it traveled lower than the robe and they were skin on skin. His fingers were silky soft as he drew them back up, pushing the fabric up her legs.
She felt herself grow wet and wanted to wiggle her ass on his lap, but she held oh-so-still, barely breathing. This was a brand new experience and her body loved it but her mind was reeling. His hand was at the top of her left thigh now, slowly sliding its way up, and the cooler air brushed her skin as he pushed the robe higher, and higher.