Submission Practice

[taoschild]

Kevin Sparrow and I finished the stand alone sequel to, The Reluctant Domme, entitled Submission Practice. I will put some excerpts up here soon when I get a minute - work is tough right now.  Here is the copy cover and a super brief teaser excerpt.  The book is up on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09LHW79D9 and will be on Smashwords by the end of the day.

The disquiet after dinner was palpable. All of us felt it. Questions tumbled through my brain. Why is so much of my life defined entirely by my fetish? What happened to my hobbies, goals, and dreams? Am I one-dimensional? If I go ahead with this, will Jack forgive me? Can I accept him having sex with her after the two of us are done tonight? But desire overwhelmed my hesitation. The idea of legs spread, two powerful bodies smashing against each other, measuring the power of each thrust, colored my mind. Two women with raw, brutal power. If I agreed, we’d be using that tool tonight, or better said I’d be using her with that tonight. “That sounds intriguing. I like the idea of that.” I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the menacing tone from my voice.

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Tiffany Brooks is a powerful female bodybuilder accustomed to getting exactly what she wants -- especially in the bedroom. When she falls in love with a man who prefers to hold the power in their lovemaking, though, she turns to an old friend, Dani, for help. Dani and her husband have perfected the Dominatrix-Submissive relationship, after many long trials and tribulations of their own. But when they agree to teach her Submission 101 first hand, will it damage their own chemistry or amp it up further? How will the fiery, independent-minded Tiffany take to being the sub in bed? One thing's for sure -- things will never be the same again, for any of them.

[ArkhamAsylum]

Awesome. I can't wait to read this.

[crow004]

I just read the preview from Amazon. Although I don't really recall Tiffany from your previous book, it sounds like this will be another great volume to your works! You always seem to hit that perfect sweet spot of describing the man's passion and lust for a woman's muscles and the woman's display of her muscles, strength and dominance! And that short preview on Amazon was no exception!

[129qwer]

Excited to read the new book! When is it going to be out on Smashwords? I prefer to purchase it there.

[taoschild]

Excited to read the new book! When is it going to be out on Smashwords? I prefer to purchase it there.

I believe it is going up today.  Here is a sample from the start of the book. I will add more soon.
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More often than not I’ve done my most profound thinking from behind the wheel of a car. A seemingly endless straight black road with the persistent and orthodox yellow dashes in between has always provided me with a strange element of comfort. There is something about the intuitive nature of driving that has always given my brain space to relax. The effect manifested itself more often when I was driving alone; having Jack in the car sometimes made me nervous despite my now-cemented physical superiority in our relationship. It didn’t help that I had something uncomfortable to tell him that afternoon.

With a deep sigh, I finally got around to the topic. “So, I was thinking... ”

“You were? Dani, that’s so refreshing,” Jack quipped.

“Smart aleck.”

“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled.

If we were in the midst of our normal sub/domme dynamic, my retribution would have been swift and overpowering. Instead, I sniffed and said, “Ha ha” then struggled to continue. “Well, Tiff… Tiffany, she... well…” How was I going to present this?

“Wow, I haven’t seen a Dani like this since her submissive days. It’s like you’re afraid of me again or something,” he joked as he reached over from the passenger seat and squeezed my impregnable bicep. “You have these guns, remember? You don’t need to be afraid— certainly not of puny old me.”

I gritted my teeth and refrained from lashing out. My role as domme had become so routine that it was sometimes jarring when he stood up to me in normal banter. Part of me longed to pull over and take him over my knee for his insolence and slap his behind red before I made him eat me. In the end, I settled on refusing to flex my bicep. I would not reward him for teasing me. He didn’t seem to mind, kneading the hard muscles under his grip, finding little give despite my attempt to soften the fibers.

He murmured his praise under his breath which mollified me a bit. “I just can’t get over it. Such soft, smooth skin, and then impossibly dense muscle just beneath it.”

Leaning over awkwardly, he kissed my biceps lovingly.

“Flex them for me, please,” he said, his voice straining from arousal.

Rolling my eyes as I drove the lonely stretch of highway, I gave into his praise. Perhaps heating him up a little will make what follows a little easier. I began rhythmically tensing and unflexing my muscle as he let go to watch it flutter and feel it under his strong grip. His eyes grew wide and his breath ragged as he seemed almost to enter into a state of delirium. He began to mindlessly worship my arm with his lips, suckling the skin and nibbling the unyielding, veiny bulge of brawny beauty.

The past two years had put the two of us on a roller coaster ride which had both inverted and warped our relationship. One rainy evening, our rather blasé sex life had been lit afire. Our demure, happy-suburban-couple relationship had been transformed into a dungeon of sexual pleasures and pain. The change had centered around the usurpation of physical will and prowess.

It had taken me years, after learning of Jack’s obsession for muscle women, for me to best him in strength. The transition had been complicated by our dom/sub dynamic which added spice to our bedroom play. Initially, I’d been so enamored by the role of a sub that when I became stronger and switched to a domme, I’d struggled to fulfill the role. Now, I lived and breathed my dominance and, along with it, loved the idea of protecting my man. Submission to my power only roused his sexual passion further.

When he’d booked our getaway to a little snowy village outside Vancouver a few months ago, the intention had been to give the two of us some time to digest the enormity of the changes. We’d snuggle in the warm cabin, have some hot chocolate, and play together in the snow. We intended to set aside the focus on our sexual dynamic temporarily and prioritize each other. I’d already broken my end of the bargain and didn’t quite know how to tell Jack. Our long drive, I had hoped, would enable me to broach the uncomfortable change in plans with him. Instead, as the miles passed and I failed to bring up the topic, the pressure seemed to mount.

[taoschild]

Another small segment
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Looking up from his worship of my arms his swirling pupils suggested the intensity of his arousal. A quick check of his crotch confirmed my suspicion: the throbbing tool I loved so much was ready for action. He smiled back, but read the intensity in my eyes and readdressed the matter. “Look, you’re the boss here, Dani. I’m just along for the ride… quite literally, at the moment.”

“Yeah, physically I am, and you’d better remember that, buster.” I sassed back, “but it’s uncomfortable to ask you.”

“Wait, uncomfortable? You’ve done nothing but make me feel uncomfortable recently, talking about and reading my most private thoughts.”

“Touché, but I still don’t think you’ve told me everything.” Living the role of the Domme I’d recently read Jack’s ‘muscle journal,’ which both allowed me a window into his muscle fetish, but also raised more questions.

“I’m getting there. I kind of have to figure out what I’m trying to say. Trust me, I’m getting there.”

“Yeah, I know you are.” I reached over and stroked his face lovingly and he nuzzled my palm like a lap cat. It was amazing how much our relationship had changed over the past eighteen months. Even now, as my calloused hands caressed his cheek, I saw the passion light behind his pupils, but it was also chastened with determination.

“So, like you tell me all the time, Dani: spill it.”

“Okay…fine.” This is probably his lifetime dream, but I don’t think he’s going to like it.. I released a deep sigh and began. “Tiffany has a guy she really likes and she’s been dating him off and on, but recently it’s been getting more serious.”

“That’s great to hear. I’m happy for her.”

“Yeah, and while she hasn’t been exactly exclusive with him, she thinks he might be ‘The One.’”

“Well, if she thinks he might be ‘The One,’ then why isn’t she exclusive? And what does this have to do with us or with you being nervous to ask me something?”

“Well, she’s taking it slow…”

“And?” His patience with my hesitation and diversions was clearly wearing thin.

“Well, that’s why I’m uncomfortable.”

His eyebrows notched together in confusion. “Huh?”

“I mean, she’s always really dominant in bed.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he snorted. “She is about as forward as they get in regular life. In bed, I can only imagine.” His eyes bugged out as he realized what he’d said. “Not that I have or will ever think about that,” he explained.

I turned and delivered a tender, unthreatening smile to soothe him. The hard part was still coming. “You’d better not,” I winked. “Anyway, she wants to date him exclusively, but she thinks he won’t like her domme instincts. The guy has kind of hinted that he likes to be the Type A in bed and well, you know, we’ve talked…”

“About you being the domme in our relationship?” He frowned. “I don’t get it.”

My couched words tried to express both regret and an apology. “Actually no, but we kind of talked about when I used to be the sub. I promise I didn’t say anything about your muscle love, only that for a long time I’d appreciated being a sub and now sometimes play the domme.”

Telling someone else about his muscle fetish or his desire for submission was a bright red line I would never cross. It was just too personal for him, but I reasoned that it wouldn’t break Jack’s trust to talk to Tiffany about my own sexual proclivities. Though I was now the domme, pure and simple, I recalled fondly my time as a submissive.

“Oh,” he snorted. “That’s fine. If you tell her it's sometimes when it’s really always I guess that’s not too bad,” he chortled. “But what does this have to do with you? Do you need advice for her?”

“No, she wanted to practice.” The words hung in the car as if bandied back and forth by the hot air pouring out of the vents.

Finally, he responded. “With you?”

“With us,” I corrected.

[Fonk]

With huge apologies for the delay: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1115270

Really enjoyed my time working on this, and I hope it show when you read it!

[taoschild]

One more segment from later in the first chapter when they arrive at the secluded winter cabin for their sex games:
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“Wait till you see the inside,” he responded, beaming with anticipation. I picked up both suitcases and effortlessly lifted them over my left shoulder as if they were child’s knapsacks before grabbing my traveling weight set. Jack had purchased the 110 LBs adjustable dumbbells weights set which neatly fit in a handled box along with some surgical tubing for our vacations. After struggling so hard to build muscle, I wasn’t about to take long periods off and lose it. The only negative repercussion had been when I’d snapped some surgical tubing on our last trip and ended up with a nasty welt on my leg. Jack had been forced to go directly to a hospital supplier afterward to get the strongest tubing available.

Heaving the weights up in one hand like a biceps curl, my long black sleeve sweater stretched thin as my arm muscles bulged.

Jack stared at me, slack-jawed. “Holy hell.”

“What?” I asked, knowing full well what had stupefied him.

“Uh, well I… can I help?”

“Just open the door,” I laughed as I backed into the car door to close it. Jack continued to stare and I did a few reps with the box of weights to coax his eyes to my swelling biceps. The blood rushed to my arm and the achingly sweet feeling of power surged through my veins. Up and down my arm went until I finally began to tire. Not willing to let him see me falter, I distracted him.

“That was an order,” I reminded him, arching my eyebrow up with mock displeasure. “Don’t make me punish you after you got such a nice place for us.”

“Yes, maam.” He sang as he turned and rushed to the door. When the door swung open, it was my turn to gape. The place had looked big from the outside, but the interior was so spacious you could probably park all of Jack’s co-workers’ cars inside. Honestly, it was a home of opulent luxury more like something from a movie than a simple cabin. We walked into a grand open area with a kind of interior balcony on the second floor, so that we could see both floors at once. As we wandered through the building, mostly just gaping, we found our way to the game room in the basement. It took up most of the entire level, with a gorgeous king-size bed most likely prepared for guests. A maroon down comforter and silk sheets were surely meant for comfort on cold winter nights. My mind went a different direction as I began to conjure up plans that might have made a porno director cringe.

Upstairs there were three colossal bedrooms clearly intended for larger parties than our own, but it could work out well: if Jack needed to be punished for any reason once Tiff got here, as we’d each have our own rooms. And even with the size Tiffany and I were carrying, the California king-size bed could accommodate all three of us, for a stretch.

“Looks like we can all have our own room.” I teased as we strode back upstairs. “That way I can finally get some sleep. This could be a relaxing weekend after all.”

“But…” His lips trembled as he spoke, “I thought...”

“I’m just kidding, you can sleep in my room.” I picked the best room of the three. “But… you’ll have to ask… beg me to come in.” He nodded in relief. “I’m going to change and get ready for skiing.” I picked up his max-carry-on-sized E-bag and tossed it at him, watching him tumble onto the couch after he caught it. I smirked and watched the bulge in his sweats rise with my show of strength.

“You take the small room. I want Tiffany to have the second-best room for herself.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he pouted.

“Be ready in five minutes,” I pressed, my eyes tracking to his turgid manhood. My expression of dominance had fired him further. He wanted it. I wanted it too, but I’d deny myself for now in order to demonstrate my supremacy. I’d have him after our skiing jaunt. Twice.

Adjourning to my room, I pretended to ignore Jack’s pleading eyes staring at me as I closed the door behind me. Stripping down to my boy shorts and bra, I pulled my ski pants out of my backpack. Reaching in, I was almost startled by the level of the pump in my right biceps muscle. Twisting the muscle before me, corded striations danced with the movement, highlighted by a vast network of veins covering my forearms. Closing my fist and flexing the thick blue veins which traversed my biceps peak like a highway interchange made them pop to the surface of the swollen muscle. Hard muscle fibers visibly twitched under my tanned skin, reinforcing the sense of power I felt.

“You want to lift more, don’t you sweetie,” I cooed playfully. “That wouldn’t be fair. Lefty wants her turn.” Sitting on the bed and spreading my legs, I awkwardly maneuvered the long plastic box between them and began doing concentration curls with my left hand. The familiar bump quickly swelled with blood and the soft, delicate skin grew tight with the impossibly dense muscle bulging beneath. The weight was far higher than I was accustomed to, but I found the biggest obstacle to be the shape of the package rather than the weight: in other words, grip. Standing up and doing full curls proved easier and soon the pump exceeded that of my right arm, a colossal ball of muscle rising into the shape of a perfectly formed, peaked hilltop. I continued lifting until long after the appointed time to leave but Jack remained silent in waiting.

Finally, regretfully, I shoved the box under my bed, pulled on my ski pants and a white tank top, and threw a sweater over my shoulder. Beads of sweat pooled across my body, so I wasn’t ready to put the sweater on quite yet.

As I opened the door, Jack caught his breath. What was probably intended as a glib comment about women taking too long to get ready turned into an audible gulp. His eyes locked on my sweaty, vein-filled biceps, which seemed swollen with raw, unadulterated power.

“Were you saying something?” I smiled.

“You’re beautiful.” Even though it was probably the fifth time he’d told me that day, I still melted.

“You’re sweet and I love you for it.” I walked over to him and gave him a peck on the cheek and he used the opportunity to squeeze my biceps.

“Save that thought.” I chided. “Let’s go get some aerobics in before… our aerobics later.” We both snorted, grabbed our skis, and headed out the door.