Author's note: This story contains themes of incest, BDSM and Dominant-submissive relationships. If these themes offend you, please stop reading now!
All characters are fictional. Any similarities to actual people are purely coincidental.
I encourage all readers to comment and vote. There is no better way to hone your writing skills than feedback—good or bad.
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The Novelist: Part 1
The alarm clock blared on the deep mahogany nightstand. Tom Bolden reached up a weary arm and turned it off with a clumsy motion. It was 7am and the morning daylight was already sneaking in around the blinds. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, adjusted to consciousness, and then, in a swift movement hopped off the bed trudging toward the bathroom.
Tom twisted the handles on the shower and waited for the water to warm up. He stood in front of the large framed mirror and stared at himself contemplatively. Not bad, he thought to himself. Tom was thirty years old, and while not a sculpted model, he looked pretty good. His short brown hair was matted down from a restful sleep. He cupped his hands under the faucet, bent down and brought up a handful of cool water splashing his face. He stood up again taking a second look at himself and then flashed that wry smile of his, as if he liked what he saw. He slipped into the shower and doused himself under the stream of water and began lathering himself up.
"I've gotta to hammer out another few pages before lunch." He muttered to himself.
It was a reasonable goal. Tom had published a few books, and the recent one had finally earned him a sizable sum. Tom loved his life. He had never intended on being a writer. It just happened. He had been futzing around with the idea of writing an opus after college, and instead wrote what turned out to be a sexual thriller. He always thought it was amateurish bordering on erotica, and never intended on pursuing it. It wasn't until a friend of his submitted it to the literary agency where she worked using a pseudonym, instead of his real name, that Tom fell haphazardly into his new career. He often chuckled thinking about the overly slick agent hailing him as "fresh, dangerous and terminally talented". What did that even mean? He learned not to ask too many questions after it sold in a six-figure deal. He kept all his work under his pseudonym and few people knew any details of his career.
After a relaxing twenty-minute shower, Tom dried himself off and stepped into the large walk-in closet. He had good taste in clothing, but he preferred comfort most of the time. He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, slipped into a loose-fitting pair of jeans and grabbed his vintage Stones t-shirt. These were his work clothes when he planned on writing. He checked himself out one more time in the mirror, and then headed down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.
This new book had been giving him some real problems. After the success of his first few books, Tom felt the uncomfortable looming pressure of needing to meet the expectations of his publisher. In an effort to stay edgy, Tom had also stumbled down an entirely separate path in life. It was a few years back when he was researching his second book that he happened into the world of bondage and submission. Initially he told himself that it was only for the book, but he soon found himself returning to dark recesses of the city where these fantasies were lived out. He met repeatedly with the professional Dominants, and asked them endless questions. He sat in on training sessions, and learned the ins and outs of the lifestyle. The book was a resounding success. He remembered the reviews.
"Dark. Sexual. Brilliant"
"... intoxicating journey into the taboo world that will leave you wanting..."
"...his second novel has proven him a powerhouse making the reader confront their most base desires..."
Blah. Blah. Blah. Tom always thought that book reviews were horseshit. Who were these people anyway? The only thing Tom knew was that once the book was completed he missed the world of dominance and submission. His biggest problem was the very nature of the lifestyle. He wanted to discover it for himself, but there seemed no easy way in. Did one just have to jump in with both feet? Did one just proposition a woman? Was there no way for him to just dip in a toe and test the water? It seemed so unattainable. How was it, he wondered, that women entered into the lifestyle? Surely there must be women out there that wanted to explore their submissive nature that were too timid.
Tom pressed the button on the top of his Jura coffee maker. He had afforded himself a very nice home with the money from his second novel. It was by no means ostentatious, but it was expansive and tasteful on a generously sized piece of property nestled at the base Hollywood Hills. He took the pleasure of having it completely updated and wired to accommodate his technological obsession. His coffee maker, though, was perhaps his most prized possession -- the source of his motivation during periods of writer's block. Tom sipped his coffee and flipped through the news headlines on his iPad. This is how he started most days. He had an ease about him despite his obsessive tendencies. He was one of those rare people that seemed to fall into success quite by accident in almost anything he tried to do.
It was, in fact, almost by accident, or at least with little effort, that he fell into the second obsession of his life outside writing. Tom had decided that, with the windfall of success from his second novel, his third novel would be a prequel. That's how he had sold it to his agent and publisher. The truth, of course, was that he needed a reason to delve back into the world of bondage, dominance and submission.
So, it was a little over two years ago that he found himself meeting again with self-proclaimed BDSM Dominants, Masters and Owners -- however they chose to refer to themselves. He asked as many questions as he could. He wanted to know every nuance of how it worked. Tom sat quietly in the corner of one dingy room, and watched an attractive brunette submit herself to punishment. He was mesmerized by her strength. This, Tom finally realized, was the source of his excitement. It's not that she was obedient; it was her willingness to be obedient. He had cocked his head slightly as her owner rained down relentless blows with his paddle. She took each one with grace despite the obvious pain it must have caused her. Tom could feel his cock hardening. He had locked eyes with this woman as she took the punishment. Her face was a mix of pain and pleasure. Her glare never wavered. It was, he thought, as if she looked into his very soul.
He was haunted by her face for the next week. He had dreamt of her. He had daydreamed about her. At this point he had seen a variety of these interactions. He kept missing a certain perspective. It was in that shared look with the brunette that he soon realized his mistake. He had been learning from the men when he needed to understand the women.
He found himself voraciously reading every book he could find on the subject. He opened himself up to the lifestyle, and discovered that there was an etiquette to the whole arrangement. It was, he imagined, as if the Dominant and his submissive were engaged in a complicated dance -- a ballet of emotions. He found every aspect to be so rich with meaning -- kneeling, posing, performing. He craved the excitement it stirred inside him. He wanted to be a teacher unlocking the potential of his pupil. He wondered how many misguided men there were with a false impression of the nature of being Dominant. He wondered how many women there were that must secretly have the desire to submit. He felt somewhere deep inside him that he had discovered the deeper meaning. He was sure that he connected with it in a way that even the people that made the lifestyle their profession didn't fully understand.
Tom was only twenty-eight at the time. His success had allowed him plenty of flings with attractive women. He was by no means a slouch in bed. He had just never been able to sustain a long-term relationship. Lately he found himself sexually charged all the time. He had taken to masturbating a few times a day. It had become a distraction, but a distraction he most definitely enjoyed.
It was one afternoon while he was stroking his powerful erection that he decided to put out an ad online. It was for research purposes of course, although he even had trouble convincing himself that this was true anymore. If he could understand the female perspective then maybe he could discover the emotional hook to bring his character a dynamic and realistic arc. He kept it simple. It read as follows:
Successful novelist researching next book would like to meet with women involved in, or interested in sexually submissive relationships or BDSM. This is a purely research oriented, anonymous interview. Willing to compensate for your time.
He had quickly realized his mistake in offering compensation. He was flooded with e-mails from women willing to say whatever was necessary for a quick buck. He had spent a few days filtering through the multitude of responses. He had been dealing with an almost perpetual hard-on while his obsession grew. With some simple back and forth correspondence, he had narrowed himself down to about twenty-five people who seemed to be genuinely intrigued by the lifestyle.
