Wednesday, 10 November 2010

No third part of Sold just yet but I do have an Annabel Joseph book for you.

I read the excerpt weeks ago because I loved Comfort Object, Firebird and Deep In The Woods by this author. She always writes heroines that end up my favourite. When I read the excerpt of Fortune, the heroine wasn't Prosper or Sophie or Nell and it's not for that reason that I didn't buy the book straight away. I simply didn't like the Kat from the Fortune excerpt, I thought I've seen her before and she's a brat and I don't like bratty behaviour, I know also that my Dominant does not either, every BDSM relationship does have its dynamic though.

Yesterday,I needed a stimulating read. So I bought Fortune and when I got to page 40I had my notes and blog up. I wrote two paragraphs about Kat. Then I told myself to shup and read the rest of the book and once I did, I found myself loving the story and loving Kat.

See we wouldn't be people if we all didn't have things others can't relate to or think that's rude, it's these differences that make us exciting. And then there were things, that the author wrote that had I her articulation, I could have written. Things I just nodded to, yes I completely get that, you nailed it, etc etc. When I got to the end of the book, I wished that I knew Kat and Ryan. Like I wish I knew Nell and Jeremy (because also I'd like to be having words with Jeremy), Sophie and Dave and Prosper and......Jackson..I admit I had to look his name up because I mostly just think of him as messy haired, STRICT teacher who makes the image of tights on male ballet dancers look not too bad.

In the blog rant I discarded, I started ranting about giving away your body willingly to someone you met only very recently in a noisy club. Of course, the book is about the difference between giving your body away and truly giving your body to your Dominant, being your Dominant's submissive, slut, sexual slave, HIS. The hardships that Kat has, the journey she goes through make her someone who is a universal character, as a woman I can understand. Sure, I'm different to her, I found myself thinking that in fact maybe I'm not that different that maybe I COULD have been her, it's not like I have to relate to her to find her appealing but I COULD relate to her because I know what it is to submit and no matter the differences in every bdsm relationship, which there are and we have to remember not to stay stuck in our own little world, to see what's around us also.

I'll leave you with three excerpts that I have chosen from Fortune and a description of the book. I highly recommend it to you.

I noticed also on the link to purchase the book, there's one review in which I have to marvel at how the reader could possibly think Ryan treats Kat as a "blow up doll". She is used, that's an element of submission to submit so you can be used, but Ryan of all people asking her, checking with her, being careful and controlling himself, hardly treats her as a blow up doll.


Kat doesn’t know whether or how to end her six-night-a-week party habit, not to mention her unhealthy addiction to meaningless sex. Then an accident lands her in the hospital. She wakes to find a menagerie of origami figures—and a gorgeous neurosurgeon—beside her bed. The complexity of the paper creations is nothing compared to the complexity of dark-eyed, authoritative Ryan, who seems determined to give her life some direction. Trouble is, Kat’s just as determined to resist his efforts to tame her wild side.

With persistence, Ryan draws Kat into his world of dominance and submission, where quiet commands and lengths of rope awaken needs and desires she never knew she possessed. But Ryan’s intimate, erotic shibari sessions frighten Kat as much as they excite her, for each simple knot requires infinite trust and inspires complicated emotions.

Then a family crisis tests their love and threatens to snap the fragile ties that bind them. Will fortune ever smile on this unlikely couple, or will fate tear them apart?

Excerpts from the book,

"That was really wrong of you," she told him on the way to his house after dinner.

"What was really wrong?"

"Leading them on like that. Feeding them those bullshit lines about kids and family. I can’t believe my mother at least, couldn’t see through you."

He glanced over at her, then back at the road. "It’s not bullshit. I didn’t tell one lie to your mother or father. I told you, Kat. I never lie."

"Well," she said, feeling sulky at the reprimand in his tone. "You were trying to manipulate them. You manipulate people. I’ve seen you do it. You manipulate me." He made a soft sound, a cross between a laugh and a sigh. "Do you deny it?"

"I manipulate you every chance I get, doll."

"Ugh. Why do you keep calling me that?"

"Because I want to. Get used to it, doll. And you’re no stranger to manipulation, if you’re going to be pointing fingers."

She fell silent, watching the tree-lined sidewalks out the window, the tiny Cambridge house gardens. Little disciplined managed plots of color maintained in a crowded Boston suburb. She thought she would be disciplined and maintained that way by Ryan.

He would try to make her thrive where she didn’t naturally belong. And her mother and father were one hundred percent behind him—as Ryan had forecast, Elena practically packed her bags and carried them out to Ryan’s car. She felt anxious, scared. Excited. Ryan looked over at her and stroked her thigh softly for just a moment.

"You’re going to spend tonight without any clothes. When we get home, they come off and you stay naked until tomorrow morning when you go to work. Understood?"


"Yes Sir."

"Yes Sir. But um…may I ask a question?"


"Is that every night? Or just tonight?"

"It’s whenever I say so."

Kat looked down in her lap, at her hands clasped there. "Oh. What if I get cold?"

"You won’t get cold."

The way he said it left no mystery behind the meaning. When they got to his house, he took her inside and had her strip in the foyer. He took her clothes down the hall, into the room that was "hers". He returned and approached her in silence with that intent look that always rattled her a little, made her want to hide herself. He put his hands on her, pressing on the small of her back so she had to stand up straighter. He pushed back her shoulders so her breasts were thrust forward.

"Don’t slouch. Stand up straight and present yourself to me."

"For…for what?"

"For my pleasure." His curt words made some wild drumbeat commence between her legs. Her stomach flipped over and fluttered, although she tried to remain outwardly cool. Inside she was anything but. Her pussy was already growing wet and ready for him. He pulled at her arms. "Let them fall naturally at your side. Stand straight and open to me."

Breathe in, breathe out. He put his thumb under her chin, tipped her head up and straight. He looked into her eyes with that dark gaze that burned and searched her expression. She stared back, knowing it was expected. What did he see? Why did she imagine he saw more than she even knew of herself? He put his hands on her neck and rested them there, not moving her or controlling her. She straightened unconsciously, then licked her lips.

scrutinized her, tipped her shoulders back just one more iota. The positioning felt unnatural but he seemed to want that. "I’m going to bring your things in and put them in your room. You’re going to stand there and you’re not going to move. Not one inch. When I’m done bringing your things in, I’m going to take you in the bedroom and hurt you. Then I’m going to fuck you and put you to bed for the night. Any questions?"

"Are you going to put a collar on me?" she asked, trying to sound flippant.

"Not yet." His voice didn’t sound flippant at all. "Someday. When I think you’re up for it." He chucked her under the chin. "Baby steps. Now…" He stepped back and

She had trouble finding her voice. "No," she finally managed. He gave her a dire look. "No Sir," she corrected quickly.

With one last sweeping inspection of her body, he turned and went out the door. Kat found herself alone with her thoughts, standing naked and still at the behest of her Master. She was acutely aware of the heaviness of her breasts, the rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability of her bared ass cheeks as the cool air blew across them. The mounting heat at the apex of her thighs.

He made several trips, pausing each time to inspect her on entering. Her face burned from the scrutiny. The third time, before he headed back to the car, he took her wrists and pulled her hands up. "Lace your fingers at the back of your neck. Elbows out. Stand up straight." She swallowed and did as he asked. He wasn’t happy with her efforts. He pushed her elbows back until her breasts were forced even farther forward. Then, silently, he went around behind her and drove his knee between her legs. He began to spread them open, using his leather shoes to push her bare feet a distance apart on the floor.

She was strangled with lust and yet terrified. Cool air rushed up into her exposed center. She was terrified he would touch her and yet terrified he wouldn’t. He didn’t touch her, though, or say another word, just gave her another fathomless stare and turned away to make another trip to the car.

It felt like hours that she stood there, but the clock said ten minutes. He brought the last of her things in and then returned to take her arm, pulling her from her rigid stance. "You can unpack tomorrow."

He didn’t wait for any answer to that and she didn’t attempt one. In his bedroom he arranged her again. She was already quicker at it. Shoulders back, hips straight, ankles together, arms at her side. He gave a small nod, acknowledging her progress, however minor. When she was positioned to his liking he turned away and undressed, taking his time. He took off his tie, hung it on the tie rack. Undid his belt, hung it on another rack. Folded his pants and shirt and put them in a pile for the dry cleaners. She watched his muscles as he worked, as he leaned and reached and strode to the closet. So much leashed power.

It seemed inconceivable that this man spent his days performing neurosurgery, dealing in fine increments too small to be detected by the human eye. So much steadiness, so much finesse must have been required, and yet there was a wildness in him she could barely comprehend.

When he was fully undressed, he crossed in front of her to his bureau and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was filled with neatly coiled and tied-off bunches of rope of several thicknesses and colors. She watched as he sorted through them thoughtfully.

"Are you planning to hang me?"

He turned. "That would kind of defeat the purpose." He looked back in the drawer, drew out some rope, twisted it between his fingers as if testing the weight and softness. He stood and came to her, unraveling the bundle. "Kat, have you ever heard of shibari?"

"Is that some kind of power drink?" He took one nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching a sharp warning. "Uh…um…some kinky rope thing?" she guessed again.

"Shibari is another word for Japanese rope bondage. And it’s not just kinky stuff. It’s an art form." He gestured back toward the drawer. "As you may have guessed from my collection, I’m pretty into it." He lifted the frayed edge of the rope he held, drew it across the tender nipple he’d just pinched. She shivered at the ticklish sensation. "I’m going to tie you up, Kat."

"Um, okay. For how long?"

"For as long as I want."

"Somehow I knew you were going to say that."

"Hush, you little brat." He made her kneel, then pressed her forward until her forehead touched the carpet. "Give me your hands." She reached them back and he took them, cinching them together wrist-to-wrist with the rope. He ran the dangling tails around her waist and crossed them at the front, then pulled them back up again.

As he worked, she rested her cheek on the floor and gazed over at the jumble of paper cranes still scattered on the floor. She thought she should pick them up. At least someone should. All that careful, intricate work. Behind her back, the same fingers that had folded the cranes whispered across her skin, punctuated sometimes by the touch of soft, scratchy rope. He got up at one point and moved back across the room. She heard a drawer opening and closing but she couldn’t turn her head up high enough to see what he returned with. He put whatever it was on the small desk against the wall and knelt down again. She was still, compliant. She was curious about what the hell was going on. She felt the rope almost like a blanket on her back, a crisscrossing pattern. She felt a little tug and then rope being tied around her ankles.

That finished, he stood a couple paces in front of her and said, "Come here."

She started to move, rousing the usual muscles into action. She thought the rope behind her was loose enough to allow motion, but her legs stopped still. Her torso lurched, arrested. He caught her shoulders before she did a faceplant into the rug.

"Jesus," she snapped. "What the fuck?"

"Try again. Slowly. Come here. Think about how you’ll have to move."

Kat felt sudden tears burn behind her eyes. She felt humiliated, helpless. "I can’t move at all. You tied me up."

"I’ve hampered you, but you can still move."

"I don’t want to do this anymore." She hunkered over, resting her head on the floor. She hated the tremor in her voice.

He squatted down in front of her, patted the side of her hair as if she were a child or a pet. She wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. "Don’t be a quitter, Kat. And don’t overreact right now. How are you feeling?"

She pulled at the bonds, at her arms and legs hobbled and no longer under her control. "I feel restricted. Trapped."

"Good. That’s how I meant you to feel." He kept petting her, stroking her hair. "You’re trapped but I’ve got you. You’re okay. Do you understand? Now try it again." He stood in front of her again, a towering pillar to her supplication. "Move. Come here."

She moved more slowly, more carefully this time. He made an encouraging sound. She discovered that if she inched each knee forward and distributed her weight carefully, she could move forward without falling or tipping on her side. As she moved forward, he moved back. With painstaking progress she inched across his bedroom.

"Good girl," he said finally. "Stop. Remind me what I said I was going to do to you here in the bedroom."

"I was kind of hoping you were going to fuck me, but I’m not sure how you’d accomplish that with this—owww!" A slice of liquid fire lanced across her buttocks, and then another.

It took a moment for it to register that was doing it. There was a disconnect before she understood that he had brought back some implement from those drawers and was using it on her now. It took another moment for her to understand that she also had no power to get away, to evade any further blows. By the third stroke, the throbbing scary pain had her scrambling for an answer, any answer to make it stop. "Oww! Umm…ahh…"

"What did I say? Weren’t you listening?"

God, she needed to listen better. She thought back, thought hard.

When I’m done bringing your things in, I’m going to take you in the bedroom and hurt you. "You—you said you were going to hurt me."

"Very good."

"Which you’re kind of doing right now—ouch!" She gasped and tensed at the sudden stinging pain, cursing her sassy mouth. She clamped her lips shut, drawing her legs in more tightly.


"Yes Sir." She heard him put the implement back down on the desk, a minute sound that still registered in the form of relief. He knelt beside her with something new in his hands, a small chain. "Can I—please—can I just ask a question?" she pleaded.


"What was that? That you hit me with?"

Excerpt 2,

Kat looked down with a rueful smile. "Yeah. Ryan’s so good at everything. Sometimes it makes me feel so…"

"Hopeless? Helpless? Pointless?"

"Yeah," said Kat in amazement. "Exactly."

"I used to feel the same way with Dave. It took me a long time to understand that he liked me just the way I was. Maybe it’s a submissive thing, always wanting to be better for your Dominant. To live up to his expectations. When really, usually, their main desire is just for you to feel loved."

Sophie’s words made so much sense and Kat was anxious to really talk to Sophie about these matters, about Dominance and submission and relationships while she had her ear. "How long did it take? I mean, for you to really feel at ease with each other? For everything to feel…sorted out?"

"Sorted out?" Sophie laughed lightly, a sweet musical sound. "You know, we still have to sort things out. Regularly. Having Hunter really threw a wrench in things. Not that we don’t both love him to tears, but life has ups and downs. So do D/s relationships. What really matters is what’s in here," she said, touching her chest.

Kat sighed. "My father says that exact same thing. But sometimes it seems so much more complicated."

"It is. It’s definitely complicated. I guess all I’m saying is that as long as the love is there, and the will to be together, everything else works itself out."

Kat and Sophie noticed the quiet and stillness at the same time. They turned to find two pairs of eyes watching them—one dark, one light.

"Look," said Ryan. "A subby bonding moment."

"We’re discussing what’s more important," Sophie joked without missing a beat, "girth or length."

"Lucky for Kat, she has both," Ryan said, pulling Kat down to the floor.

Dave guffawed, moving up to sit beside Sophie. "I think we both know who has the King Dong here."

Sophie shook her head at Kat. "See? It always degenerates into this. Every time.
They actually measured last time and they’re nearly identical. Yes, they measured. Sad, I know."

Ryan laughed, rolling over so Kat was trapped under him. "She made us measure ’cause we wouldn’t stop talking about it." Kat looked up into his dark, laughing eyes. It was so fun, so novel to see him like this—boyish, silly, at ease with his oldest friend.

tried to school her expression, tried to hide the jumble of her feelings, but as always he saw right through her. "Are you having fun, Kat?" he asked. She nodded and bit her lip. His thigh moved over hers to rest on her pelvis, pinning her to the floor.

"Would you like to have more fun?"

She very much wanted to have more fun, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to admit it out loud. She flicked a glance over at Sophie and Dave. They were watching from the sofa, their expressions equivocal and friendly. It was pretty clear to Kat that the decision was hers, that they were waiting for her to agree and say yes or demur and say no. She knew either way they would accept it. It was Kat who couldn’t quite accept it yet.

"Answer me, Kat." Before her eyes, the boyfriend transformed, by degrees, into the Dominant. The face rearranged into more severe lines and the voice grew slightly deeper. "Would you like to have more fun? It’s totally up to you."

She only paused a moment before she answered. "Yes, I would like to have more fun, she said quietly. "Yes Sir."

It was actually Sophie who undressed her when they went into the bedroom. Well, Sophie undressed first while Kat watched..."


Excerpt 3,

"What?" She sounded defensive.

"What are you upset about? You didn’t like playing with Dave and Sophie?"

She shrugged. "I liked that part." He met her eyes.

Then what?"

She swallowed, bit her lip. He thought he saw her throat work a little. Was she going to cry? His hands stilled on the rope.

"Please talk to me," he said. "For once, just say what’s on your mind."

"I was just talking to Sophie…yesterday…" Again her lips trembled.

"About what?"

"She said you loved me. She said she knew it."

He smiled softly. Any other girl would have been gooey over it. Kat looked about ready to spit. "Of course I love you," he said.

"Surely you knew that. I’ve never said it because…because of how you are. Because I knew it would upset you. But you had to know."

"I don’t know what I know."

He touched her cheek softly and her eyes closed. "You always say that. But I think you do know."

She started to struggle then. Her hips twisted and her arms pulled in their weblike rope bonds. "Please untie me."


"If we were like them, with a baby, all married and stuff," she said angrily, "then you couldn’t do this anymore. This stuff you love so much. You couldn’t get naked and tie me in knots—"

"It wouldn’t matter."

"And fuck me whenever you want and…and have your friends come over and—"

"Kat. It wouldn’t matter. I would be happy just to be with you, just to love you. I love you." He leaned over her where she twisted on the floor. "What’s really wrong? What are you really upset about?"

"It’s just…I’m just…" She came to rest from her struggles, her chest heaving in her exertions. The rope slid across her taut nipples. "I’m afraid I’ll die without ever really knowing what I want. Without knowing who I am."

"Who are you then? Someone different than the girl I know? Tell me then, if you’re someone else. Who are you? What are you like?"

"I don’t know. That’s the problem. I’m just like my father. I’ve been pretending to be someone else for so long, I’ve completely lost who I am. I’ve played all these roles that aren’t really me for so long," she wailed, looking up at him.

"What do you mean? What kind of roles?"

"I don’t know. Wayward daughter. Mean sister. Club girl. Submissive. Slut."

"You mean you aren’t really a slut?"

She responded to his joke with a gaze like poison. "Untie me."

"I’m kidding, Kat."

"Let me go. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to talk about this."

"I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re going to talk." He held the edge of the rope hard in his fist, mid-tie, not letting her unravel the progress he’d made so far, not letting her get away. "Why do you play all those roles if it makes you unhappy?" he asked.

"I don’t know."

"Think about it. To fulfill people’s expectations? To hide?"

"I don’t know! Untie me. Please!"

"Okay, answer me one thing first. Are you playing a role right now? Drama queen?" His voice sounded harder, angrier than he wanted it to. She looked up at him and burst into tears.

"Please untie me."

Ryan relented, starting to untie the knots with shaking fingers. "You know," he said in a harsh tone. "Kat…you know…"

"What is it, Kat? Talk to me."

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