The Joy of Fear

Another Halloween has come and gone, and the goblins must be safely back in their caves under the hills. That particular holiday is mostly just silly, campy fun, at least for adults, but it’s also a journey through the harmless border regions of the sinister. Every Halloween we rediscover the exhilaration of playing around with imagery that taps into some of our primal terrors – the walking dead, monsters that blur the line between human and beast, things that go bump in the night. A hint of dread, divorced from any possibility of real harm, can be a wonderful intoxicant.

Halloween is, of course, popular among BDSMers, for more than one reason. People who enjoy dressing up in extravagant leather, rubber and latex outfits (a subset of the BDSM community that doesn’t include me or, as far as I know, My Lady) probably find that slipping into a costume at the end of October comes naturally, but I think there’s also a deeper affinity based on the idea of safely exploring the darker side of human experience. A dominant sadist, like a Halloween vampire, is cloaked in an aura of exciting menace but can be trusted not to pose a real threat to life and limb. However, the average party-goer in a vampire costume is unlikely to sink his or her teeth into anyone, whereas a sadist presented with a willing victim just might – metaphorically, and perhaps at some point quite literally.

Being taken on that kind of journey by a sadist, as I know from personal experience with My Lady and others, can involve a heady and bewildering mixture of sensations and mental states. Pain is the key ingredient, at least normally, but it can be accompanied by things like discomfort, degradation, helplessness, vulnerability, and even desperation. For me, however, the prevailing emotional texture of such adventures is defined by various kinds of fear, at every stage – fear of the sadist herself, and of what she might do to me. It begins with the nervous anticipation of knowing that a skilled and enthusiastic tormentor is going to make me suffer, an ominous feeling that rises to a crescendo as I find myself being prepared to receive her cruel attentions. There might be a slow walk to a well-equipped room in a suburban basement, a casual order to strip partly or completely naked, an implacable tightening of cuffs around my wrists and a gentle caress of dark fabric settling over my eyes. Nudity, blindness and physical helplessness bring a terrible and wonderful sense of vulnerability, an inescapable awareness of being in someone else’s power. As blows begin to fall and strong fingers begin to pinch and prod at the most delicate parts of my body, the agony is mixed with an inevitable fear that it might get far worse, that I might end up shrieking and sobbing and pleading desperately for just a little mercy. Certain cues can induce a more immediate terror: the swish of a cane from somewhere behind me, a threat whispered or growled into my ear, a hand meandering across my thigh towards my defenceless crotch. And when the torment is over, for the moment, I can start to worry about what ordeal might come next.

My Lady’s ability to scare me isn’t limited to the rare occasions when she can get her hands on me in person. I don’t think I’ve ever, since I first surrendered to her control, opened an email from her without at least a little thrill of trepidation. Subject lines such as the dreaded “Instructions” and the thankfully infrequent “Punishment” ratchet up the tension, but even messages with totally innocuous headings can contain alarming surprises. My Lady is, after all, a whip-smart and wickedly inventive dominant who has had a few years to get to know me and figure out how to push my buttons, and she doesn’t hesitate to use her knowledge and imagination to come up with unexpected ways to make me squirm. A few quick lines of text is all she needs to torture my naked flesh with clamps or clothespins, slide a plug deep into my submissive ass, harness my cock and balls in that tight leather and metal restraint she made me buy several months ago, or impose new restrictions on my culinary and masturbatory pleasures. It would be a miracle of complacency if I wasn’t scared of the woman.

What makes my fear of My Lady exhilarating and arousing, instead of miserable and debilitating, is that I know I can trust her not to go too far. She’s not going to kill, maim, infect or traumatise me, and she’s not going to send illustrated reports on my submissive side to my friends, family or coworkers. My dread of the suffering she inflicts so expertly and gleefully is quite real, but knowing that I won’t be harmed in the process (at least, beyond the odd welt or bite mark) prevents any slide into the sick horror I imagine I’d feel if I were kidnapped by mobsters or terrorists. The great paradox of my inner erotic life is that suffering at the hands of someone like My Lady is also tremendously exciting, and the fear both fuels the excitement and combines with it to create an irresistible cocktail. I’m sure that I could get something out of submitting to a dominant who didn’t frighten me, but a vital component would be missing from the experience – as if I was being stalked through a haunted house by a vampire without any fangs.

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BDSM and Bodice-rippers: Guest post by C. P. Foster

With the hope of starting a trend of having more substantive posts about D/s and erotica, I’ve decided to have guest bloggers. As my first, I’m delighted to introduce you to C. P. Foster, an author I met on the Absolute Write forum.  I haven’t read Foster’s books, but I enjoyed reading her blog posts tagged with “BDSM”.

BDSM and Bodice-rippers

by C.P. Foster

Back in the 1980s I read a bunch of romance novels by authors like Bertrice Small, Rosemary Rogers, Roberta Gellis, Katherine Woodwiss, and others. It wasn’t until years later when I got into BDSM that I realized why I loved these books. They were full of BDSM themes. Dominance, submission, bondage, slavery, discipline, sadism, masochism, you name it. Pirates or Sultans captured beautiful women and forced them to have sex (which the women thoroughly enjoyed). Dominant males swept women off their feet. Castle servants serviced visiting knights. No wonder I ate that stuff up like candy.

My first two books, Dark Studies, and the recently released Secret Studies, follow the example of those earlier writers. They are full of BDSM themes, but not in a modern BDSM context. There are no play parties or clubs, no structured Dom/sub relationships, no toy bags full of floggers, whips, and nipple clamps. But there is dominance and submission. Pain and pleasure. Endorphins galore. And blood play, of the vampire variety. (If you want to read more of my thoughts on vampires as mainstream blood play, check out this blog post: http://cpfosterauthor.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/the-bdsm-of-vampires/.)

Books like these are, obviously, fantasy. Modern BDSM springs from these kinds of fantasies, but has been “civilized,” so to speak, with rules and safe words. As necessary as those rules are, they sometimes dilute the underlying desire. That’s why I find myself going back to those old bodice-rippers, where I can completely submerge myself in the make-believe without worrying about negotiations, safe sex, dungeon monitors, or other mundane concerns. It’s a safe way to enjoy the forbidden, unsafe pleasures.

Secret Studies (Arcaneology Book 2)SecretStudes_ByCPFoster-200x300
C. P. Foster
Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance
Length: Novel
Warnings: Contains BDSM elements and dubious consent

Buy links:

Amazon
Barnes and Noble
All Romance Ebooks

If she could only stop running, she could start living…

With a million-dollar bounty on her head, Angie Clark has been hiding under the noses of her enemies for nearly a decade. But trying to prevent a war between humans and vampires has landed her in trouble—again. A vampire monarch bent on revenge has taken out a new contract on her, and Angie knows that if she’s caught, her enemies will torture her until she begs for death. Mired in violence and death, keeping her secrets becomes more important than ever. And as her life unravels bit by bit, she fears she’ll have to leave behind everyone and everything that matters to her and run.

But when Steffen Scott puts his life on the line in order to protect her, she can no longer deny her feelings for him. As the threat of war looms over humanity once again, it could mean the annihilation of both species, and Angie must decide whether to keep running or to turn and fight. And maybe find out what she and Steffen could become.

EXCERPT:

She went to him, and let him draw her onto his lap. He angled her so her legs dangled to one side while her back rested against his broad chest. His skin felt cool, but not as cold as before.

“Did you intend to tease me by leaving that lovely throat bare?” he murmured into her ear.

“Don’t you like it?”

His growl vibrated over her. “I’ve thought of little else since the moment I arrived. May I taste you now?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

With a gentle touch, he took the single curl that tickled the side of her neck and tucked it behind her ear. Grace closed her eyes as he settled his mouth over her vein. His fangs extended, thin as those of a snake, and pricked the soft skin. She held her breath.

He curved one arm around her waist an instant before he struck. Pain flickered for only a second, then a lush wave of pleasure overtook her, and she moaned aloud. His arm tightened while his other hand stroked up to cover her breast. He squeezed. Found the stiffening nipple and pinched. Grace arched with desire as he caressed his way to her thighs and edged them apart. The suction of his drinking, the quiet sounds he made, the way his body grew warmer with each passing second, all of the sensations engulfed her.

He eased her skirt up and nudged her panties aside so he could graze his fingertips over her moist lower lips. She tensed from head to toe as he traced a slick path to her bud and began to stroke. Her racing heart pumped blood into his mouth. Pleasure built, and when she came, he sucked harder to drink in her ecstasy.

~~~

To celebrate the release of Secret Studies, book two in the Arcaneology series, I am hosting a give-away for the next week. Entering is simple:

1) come to my Facebook author home page
2) hit like, if you haven’t already
3) leave a comment

That’s it! On Monday the 2nd of September I’ll put all of the names into a virtual hat and give away the prizes. What are the prizes? Glad you asked!

Prize #1: A digital copy (your choice of format) of both books in the Arcaneology Series (Dark Studies and Secret Studies).
Prizes #2 and #3: A digital copy of Secret Studies, plus a vial-of-blood necklace and a bookmark.
Prize #4, 5, and 6: A copy of Dark Studies, plus a blank-book journal and a bookmark.

You can find pictures of the prizes in my album. Come on over and enter today!

Bio:

C. P. Foster is a writer of urban fantasy, romance, and erotica. She lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband, Cuddles the caliby kitten, and a cat named Tom that is no longer actually a tom. She doubts he appreciates the irony.

Links for C. P. Foster:

Blog: http://cpfosterauthor.wordpress.com

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-C-P-Foster-Aphrodites-Writer/287293758037990

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/CPFoster1