Whipped (262 pp, $17.95, ISBN: 978-1-60381-498-0) , is the first of three novels by new Fanny Press author I.J. Miller. All three books can be classified as literary erotica: beautifully-crafted, sensual stories with strong characters and fascinating, unpredictable plots.
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4.75 Stars: “Whipped is a haunting tale of a woman trying to fight for her life on a multitude of levels. This story is touching, thrilling, and satisfying, and it will keep you turning the pages right up to the very end.”–Clea R. Gellar, BookWenches.com
“A different sort of psychological thriller that offers a penetrating look at the complex motivations behind the professional Domme scene. The emotionally complex, haunting characters will stay with you after the covers are closed.”
–Sharazade, author of Transported: Erotic Travel Tales:
“Whipped is an often wrenching, always gripping story of numbness awakening, of relationships and identities confronted, of a woman’s sudden, desperate fight for life against both the burning danger of an external predator and the palatial, frigid emptiness she has long called home. I.J. Miller’s narrative is adroit from start to finish and intimate in all conceivable ways—a full-length naked portrait of an existentially incapacitated and emotionally hungry individual on the verge of either self-actualization or self-destruction.”
–Jeremy Edwards, author of Spark My Moment
“One of those rare books that has the ability to keep you captivated throughout with its mixture of suspense, intrigue, and lashings of erotica,”
Carla Peters is nearly immobilized by her empty, malaise-filled, affluent suburban lifestyle. No love in her life, strained relationships with both her daughter and second husband, Carla is desperate to move forward in some way, to connect to her family again, to find the intensity of love, to get off the Valium prescribed for her as a cure-all magic carpet.
Carla’s one salvation seems to be her strong, powerful alter ego: Mistress Domina … a leather-booted, stiletto-heeled sex goddess who discovers a talent for rendering men as vulnerable as she feels in real life. There’s a sound in her house she can’t identify, a knife in her tire, a forbidden videotape, deviant demands from an unknown stranger. Who is the stalker? Her second husband … the bouncer at the brothel … a client … or any of the men she has depended on all her life who claim the right to control her?
A handsome detective is hired to keep her safe. But he won’t let her become dependent on him and insists she rely on herself. Their connection inspires a new sense of self-worth in Carla, opening the door for greater intimacy. Yet the stalker’s deadly presence continues to block her way. Will she crumble, or rise up against him to complete her journey forward?
East Coast Author I.J. Miller’s first novel, Seesaw, was published in three languages and sold over 132,000 copies. Seesaw will be reprinted by Fanny Press in 2012. His second novel, Whipped, is also available in a German edition. Debuting soon will be a collection of short stories called Sex and Love.
I.J.’s books straddle the line between genre fiction and erotica. “Anything pornographic?” I.J. says, “I don’t think so. Perhaps it all seems a little steamier because the characters are real and the stories ring true. You decide.”
Whipped is available in Kindle ($4.95) and print editions on Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk, Amazon.de, Amazon.fr and Amazon Japan. Bookstores can order through Ingram or by contacting firstname.lastname@example.org. Other electronic versions can be purchased on Smashwords or at any of the major online ebook stores.
Keep reading for an excerpt:
Adonis was not a talker, but always did as she commanded. He always showed up in jeans and a sweatshirt. Mistress Domina guessed that he didn’t have to do much to make a living and probably spent most of his time working out. He always had a tan, which provided quite a contrast to his sharp blue eyes. They were in a corner of the room, in front of a full-length mirror. “Strip! Show Mistress Domina what you have to offer.” He began a slow, provocative undressing, while she circled and watched.
Any of her friends would probably be willing to pay to sleep with him. He would be a plaything they had to have. Even Suzanne would make a move. It had shocked Suzanne how handsome some of the men were who came to Lorraine’s. She had expected a lot of hard-up creeps. But Mistress Domina was able to understand from the start that this wasn’t about men who couldn’t find women, but about those needing something missing from their lives, something that at least simulated some sense of fulfillment.
Adonis had his sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers and socks off and was clad in plain white briefs. “Touch your titties,” she ordered. “Play with yourself … Pinch your nipples … Caress your stomach …”
His abdomen was a hard knot squared into an elegant six-pack of muscles. Mistress Domina was certainly not attracted to him and, for that matter, Carla would turn him down flat even if he weren’t a client of Lorraine’s. He was something pleasant to look at, certainly someone she wouldn’t mind walking into a restaurant with, arm in arm. But he would certainly never be interested in her, nor any of her friends for that matter. Because they weren’t him.
She watched his eyes stare at his reflection in the mirror, then follow his hands as they caressed various parts of his body, a bulge already looming large under his shorts. The more he watched himself, the more erect he became, the more erratic his breathing, the less it seemed Mistress Domina was even there.
Adonis had been coming to her on and off for only a few months, but she had his needs down cold, almost from the beginning. Sometimes the men revealed themselves by saying, “No, don’t make me do that,” or some other false protestation. She had a keen ear for understanding the rhythms of their moans and breathing and could glean what would work best. Then there was her incredible instinct that identified for so many what they wanted, when perhaps they didn’t even know themselves. She understood (too well) their fears, their insecurities; she understood what would make them vulnerable.
“Ask me for them,” whispered Mistress Domina into Adonis’s ear, a soft husky whisper.
“Please, Mistress,” whispered Adonis, a pleading whisper, the first words he had uttered so far.
She stuck the whip down his shorts, jerked the elastic away from his body, revealing heavy, black pubic hair. Then she let the elastic go and it snapped against him with a loud smack. “You will ask,” she said. “You will beg. You will plead for Mistress Domina’s panties.” The mere mention of the word sent a shiver through him and his breathing picked up into a heavy pant. “Her flowery, sexy, skimpy, satin panties with the little skirt … You will whimper like a plaything and ask to wear them.”