Rough Surrender by Cari Silverwood


Title: Rough Surrender
Author: Cari Silverwood
Genre: BDSM, Historical Romance/Fantasy, Mystery, Romance, Suspense,
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Words: 78,000


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Book Description:

At a time when airplanes are as new-fangled and sensational as the telephone, Faith dares to fly.

The one territory she has not explored is her own sexuality. In Leonhardt she discovers the man who can teach her how a woman surrenders her body and her mind. However, Leonhardt has a shadowed past and his own learning to do. He doesn’t have the right to keep Faith from flying, even if he thinks airplanes are flimsy death-traps made of canvas, timber and their inventor’s prayers.

Faith has her limits, Leonhardt has his flaws, and sometimes the nicest people get murdered by unscrupulous bastards. Even if Leonhardt can save the woman he loves, the battle for Faith’s heart will be the hardest one of all.

WARNING: BDSM, anal sex, orgasms galore, and a Dom who likes to claim his property with pen, ink and bondage.


“That’s better. Relax, darling. You’re meant to enjoy this.” His hands moved, untangling and unrolling the last lengths of her hair, drifting lower, following the contours of her upper back to her waist and circling her there, pausing for a moment before leisurely curving across the mounds of her bottom.
What she was allowing this man to do stunned her.
“You have lovely hair, Faith, a beautiful body. I could touch you like this all night.” He kissed her neck, tickling her with small nibbles. “I’m taking your dress off now. Your answer, my dear?”
An answer? He wanted speech when her throat had seized up? “Yes. Sir.”
The wall behind the chaise lounge was cream…the lounge was timber and blue and her legs shook. Already.
From the sound, he’d knelt then his hands encompassed her ankles and ran a little way up beneath the dress. Cool air caressed her body as he took the garment up. “Raise your arms, Faith.”
She did so. The dress pooled on the lounge where he tossed it. She’d never stood before a man in her underwear before–in corset, drawers and stockings–and this was a man who knew how to control her with mere words. The longing to know what he meant to do made her breath come harsh to her ears. Her lips parted.
“I like a woman who obeys my commands.” He rested his hands on her shoulders.
Before she could stop herself a small noise escaped her lips.
“Do you have a question?” His hands moved on her muscles, massaging and spreading a delicious warmth that pooled in her breasts and groin.
“Yes. Uh, sir.”
“Ask then.”
“I don’t obey.” She let her head slowly drop forward as he continued the massage, and his body moved in to mold against her back. A hard length pressed along the crevice of her bottom. “I don’t. Not normally. Just you. And here. Uh. That’s all, so nice.”
He laughed a little, softly, near her ear. “I could tell you liked it, sweetheart. Obeying me here and now is all I want.” He stepped away, keeping a single finger in the center of her back. “I’m going to take off the rest of your clothes, Faith and bind you.”
Oh my God.
“Now is when you should say, no, my dear. Then I’ll go.”
She licked her lips. Say, no? And miss what her body craved? He’d done what he had at the workshop–made her throb exquisitely in all her private places. She said nothing, wanting, needing, to see what else he could do.
“You want me to stay then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” This time she heard roughness in his voice. “Good.”
He drew off her shoes, her drawers, her hose and corset until she waited there naked with the air caressing her skin. The man in her room was still clothed…and she was naked. Her heart thudded, fast and anxious.
“Put your wrists together, behind your back.” His voice softened as he moved away. Something knocked, then came muted noises. Mr. Meisner returned and stopped there, just behind her, within reach, where she couldn’t see, waiting.
She sucked in a breath, let it out slowly, and did as he ordered–put her arms at her back. He wrapped some sort of rope around her wrists, tightened the bindings until she could do no more than twist her hands one against the other.
“The curtain cords,” he murmured. “Being an engineer, I like to use chains and metal when I can, but this will do, for your first time. How does that feel, Faith?” He set his hands on her hips. His skin on her naked skin. She shuddered, feeling wetness seep between her legs. “Turn around and look at me. Now.”
Of a sudden, seeing him looking at her was scarier than staring at the wall and knowing he did things to her behind her back. She bowed her head, felt her hands again–roped together. The position made her breasts jut out and as she looked, her nipples puckered and poked out like fat buttons.
“Faith. Turn and face me.”
“Yes, sir.” She shuffled around and his hands stayed on her, sliding at her hips, just above there, where she ached. His big brown eyes were on her and she couldn’t help but look up into them and be caught, the sensation turning topsy-turvy, messing with every thought in her head. Mr. Meisner had her in his hands.
“There, love. I do believe you like this.” His eyes crinkled and his mouth moved in the most heartwarming smile she’d yet observed. “You don’t need to answer that. I can see. In this.” He put both hands on her breasts, cupping them then brushing each thumb once across her nipples.
“Oh.” She swayed and found her eyes half closing.
“And this.” Deliberately, while his gaze still locked with hers, he let one hand leave her breast, trail down her stomach, across the triangle of hair…
No. He wouldn’t. She tugged at the ropes around her wrists but nothing gave. Her helplessness fed into the heaviness curling tight and low in her stomach. The nub of flesh inches from his fingers peaked and hardened. She tensed then arched into his hold, and still he watched.
His hand slid between her legs and paused there. “You’ve no hair on your lips down here, Faith.” His eyebrows rose a smidgeon.
He wanted her to speak? Just being there, still, his finger confused her, kept her thoughts centered on the minute details of what he did. “I…I remove it. A friend in Paris showed me. For cleanliness and all…um.” Her explanation trailed away, swallowed by the sensations bubbling up.
“Hmm, I like the result.” His gentle baritone hum…the spot his finger touched…her nakedness and the power this man had over her, and, oh, the way he watched, it all roiled deliciously around inside her.
She gulped then held her breath as…his finger followed the line of her slit, where wetness collected, and slow as a tongue licking the edge of an ice cream, nudged aside her lips, and dipped inside her. There. Oh. Yes. A coil of simmering energy seemed to squeeze down into the tightest ball, and quiver to be released. His thumb found her nub and pressed down firmly. Over and over and over.
Her heart stopped. The room shattered. Her breath came out in a choking squeak from her gaping mouth. Nothing existed except the storm of pleasure bursting upward from where he probed and pressed. Unable to stop herself, she jerked and moaned through each wave of the storm until her body was wrung dry of the very last shudder.
When the room centered and she raised her eyelids, Mr. Meisner held her in his arms, snuggled to his chest. He rubbed her back, just like he had on the boat. “There you go, sweetheart. Lord. Never seen any woman orgasm that easily. You do like this. Do you understand? You like being tied up.”
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About the Author:

Though I’d much rather stay invisible and spin you all tales with my words, here’s a little snippet of my world.

I have a lovely family, here in Australia, with the prerequisite teenager who dwells in the dark bedroom catacombs…a husband who raises eyebrows when he catches glimpses of what I write, and a furry menagerie of other animals barking, meowing, and swimming about the place.

I write stories that will blast you from your bed & heroes who will drag you back there by your hair and ravish you endlessly – think kink, adventure and alpha men.

Find the Author:

Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads |


My Thoughts From Last Year’s 10th Anniversary of 9/11



On this, the 10th anniversary of 9/11, I remember where I was that day and the events that occurred in the days immediately following it. I’m sure that every other American who was alive that day (and who was old enough to remember it), remembers the events of that day as well. I remember watching the morning news on CBS, as I waited for my sister-in-law to pick me up and take me to the ISU Daycare; I was being evaluated that day to see how I interacted with the children, and I was evaluating whether or not my MS (Multiple Sclerosis, a disease that attacks the body’s autoimmune system) could handle working at the daycare.
My sister-in-law picked me up immediately following the first plane being flown into a tower at The World Trade Center. When I left, I was still under the impression that there was a communication problem between the control tower and the planes flying into New York. It wasn’t until around noon, that I figured out that something more was going on. The majority of the international students at ISU took their children to the university daycare for childcare. In fact, most of the children in the class who weren’t American were the children of my Middle Eastern friends.
So, when my third friend came to pick up his two children, I asked him what was going on. That’s when I learned that a second plane had flown into The World Trade Center, and that a plane had hit the Pentagon, and another had been crashed in a Pennsylvania field. My immediate thought, was fear that my brother-in-law might have been hurt. He was a Marine who worked at the Pentagon, but luckily he wasn’t at the Pentagon that day.
The head of the daycare told me that I was free to leave for the day if I wanted to, because so many of the children had been picked up by their parents, I wasn’t needed. My sister-in-law picked me up and I decided to stay with her until my husband arrived back in town from work, and to be honest, I was a little nervous. It somehow felt “safer” to be with family. When we got back to my sister-in-law’s house, I found out that a bomb threat had been called into my oldest daughter’s elementary school. My second grader attended the elementary where the international students’ children attended; apparently, someone decide to call in a threat because they knew that “Muslim children” were there.
My husband decided to comeback into town early and pick my daughter up. The children at her school had to deal with two terror attacks that day, the planes that crashed and the bomb threat that led to them being evacuated from their elementary school.
Don’t get me wrong, I was terribly worried about the events that the hijackers caused that day. I was worried about all of the people in New York, and I felt a sense of pride at being a citizen of America, where First Responder’s were willing to risk their own lives, in order to save other’s. A country where our First Responder’s will rush into places where most people would run out of. A country where people rushed out to give blood and to sign up for the military, where the majority of it’s citizens came together as one, putting aside their differences. I think this is the point where my experience started to differ from the majority of my fellow citizens.
The next day when I arrived at my house, pushing a double stroller, I was greeted with the sight of 5 police cars. I approached two of the officers who were standing in front of my house, and tried to find out what was going on. However, when they said nothing was wrong I said: Look, my father was the first African American police officer in the town where I grew up, and there wouldn’t be 5 police cars in front of my house if there wasn’t a problem. So, WHAT THE HELL’S GOING ON???? That’s when I learned that there were a large number of bomb threats being called in about the mosque, which was located directly across the street from my house.
I lived in an Indiana city that had an average of 60,000 citizens; I wasn’t scared that “Muslim” terrorists were going to attack me. In fact, one of the perpetrators of the first attack on The World Trade Center was being housed at the federal prison in the town where I lived (the same prison that the terrorist Timothy McVeigh, was executed at). However, I was in fear of different terrorists; I was scared of the Terrorists in my town, the one’s who would dare to call in a bomb threat on that horrible day.
These were the Terrorists who were calling in threats to the mosque that was directly across the street from my house. They were the people who were threatening my Muslim friends, even the one who was white and obviously born in America. My friends were being terrorized whenever they tried to leave their houses’. My husband I had friends who were asking if we thought they would be safer if they shaved their beards, to which we told them the sad truth, that it wouldn’t make any difference. Their skin tone’s would also give them away and there wasn’t anything they could do about that.
My husband and I had to get basic items for some of our friends because it wasn’t safe for them to leave their houses. One of my friend’s had just given birth to a beautiful daughter, who had dual citizenship for the United States of America and Egypt. I also had a new fear; countless times I’d watched my daughters’ play with their friends who were Muslim. And you know what I realized after 9/11, I realized that my multiracial daughters’ had the same skin coloring and hair texture as their friends.
That’s when I realized that the terrorist I feared, where of the homegrown variety; the terrorists that I feared, where the people who were calling in the bomb threats against the mosque that was across the street from my house. The terrorists’ that I feared, were the one’s who would look at my daughters’ and be unable to tell that they weren’t Middle Eastern, and might hurt them when they were away from me.




Heart Stopping Orgasm in Under 200 Words


Heart Stopping Orgasm  By BlackHippieChick
Summer looks up at Sir, and feels the wetness spread between her legs. She looks back down at the floor, but not before he sees the flush of her cheeks. Sir knows her well; that look means that she was trying to hide her arousal from him.”Spread ’em,” Sir barks at Summer.
She turns so quickly towards the wall she doesn’t see the smile on his face, or the huge bulge of his cock. Summer raises her arms above her head and spreads her legs until they’re two feet apart. Her heart begins to race because she knows Sir is about to find out how wet she is. She wishes that she could make the need go away, but it begins to pull at her clit. Just as she begins to take a deep calming breath, Sir’s finger begins to softly graze against the outer lips of her pussy.
The room begins to spin, darkness engulfs Summer as she falls to the floor. Sir drops to the ground and begins to check for her pulse. She opens her eyes. “Damn, did you give me another heart stopping orgasm ?””Guilty as charged,” he says with a smile.Copyright BlackHippieChick ©9/9/2012   All Rights Reserved.  This cannot be copied in whole or in part without the author’s sole express permission.


English: Model Monique at Saltire Deutsch: Fot...

English: Model Monique at Saltire Deutsch: Fotomodell Monique im schwarzen Bustier und Minirock aus Lack/PVC, gefesselt am Andreaskreuz (Photo credit: Wikipedia)