Shameful Desires 2: Mastered ($14.95, 268 pages, ISBN: 978-1-60381-495-9), by P.J. Proud, is the much anticipated second book of the Shameful Desires trilogy, an edgy and passionate saga about two  men whose love affair is a constant battleground.

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Happily Ever After
Jeremy Piper is in love. He has embraced the Dominant/submissive lifestyle as a “sub” and is moving in with his Master, the movie actor Andre Jackson. Jeremy has everything he has ever wanted.

A Dream Shattered
Role-playing for a scene is worlds away from living the lifestyle, and Jeremy is unprepared for the reality: his stern Master, wrestling with ghosts from his past, is rigid, unyielding and demands complete obedience from his slave, both in and out of the bedroom. Although eager to please, Jeremy is just as strong willed as his Master and chafes against his authority, refusing to be tamed.

Secrets and Lies
A secret is revealed, a trust is broken, and the two headstrong men drive each other to the breaking point, unwilling to admit their own insecurities and confess their mutual need.

Mastered
Can the Master learn from his past? Can the slave become the teacher? The battle of wills is fierce as Jeremy and Andre continue to discover and explore their shameful desires.

Mastered is Book 2 of the Shameful Desires trilogy, which began with Enslaved. Coming soon: Shameful Desires 3: Unbound.

Always hungry for ways to create more sparks in life, P.J. PROUD enjoys drawing and painting in addition to writing, music, exercise (a fanatic!), skiing, getting lost in the woods (thanks to being directionally impaired), helping people, and spending as much time with family as possible. P.J. has been writing gay-themed short stories, novellas, fan fiction and poetry for over two years. Shameful Desires 2: Mastered is the author’s second novel. Shameful Desires 1: Enslaved was the first, a coming-out story of sorts, penned from a dream and a haunting lyric, “I drew a new face and I laughed,” from a Jason Mraz song called “I’m Yours,” which urged the author to take a chance and change the stars.

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,”
–GM Horn

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.”

You can find I.J. on the Web at www.ijmiller.fannypress.com and www.ijmiller.com.

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 info@fannypress.com. 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.

“Ask me.”

“Can’t, Mistress.”

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.”

Shameful Desires 1: Enslaved ($17.95, ISBN: 978-1-60381-493-5, 288 pp., 5″ X 8″ Trade Paperback) by P.J. Proud, is a ground-breaking erotic, gay BDSM romance tailored to please both gay men and the growing ranks of women who enjoy gay male erotica.

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ALSO AVAILABLE IN KINDLE AND OTHER EBOOK VERSIONS ON SMASHWORDS.

“Even though it’s long, this book is a quick read. The sex is hot, hot, hot, and even the spanking was a turn-on.”   Read more …

–Mandy, The Forbidden Bookshelf

Read Chapter 1 on Scribd.com.

P.J. Proud writes in an elegant style: innovative, literary, and lyrical. The story itself does not disappoint. The intense sex play and on-again off-again romance between the two complicated and compelling protagonists will keep readers guessing—and panting for more. Those who become hooked on the first book will be delighted to hear that two more episodes are coming their way in 2011 and 2012.

Jeremy Piper has idolized Andre Jackson for years, and now Andre is acting in Jeremy’s movie. But the fledgling screenwriter is quickly disillusioned with the flesh-and-blood actor, who strikes him as rude and narcissistic. When the talk turns to bondage scenes, Andre throws down the gauntlet, swearing he can break Jeremy’s will with erotic spanking. Jeremy refuses to submit and the chase is on, with a determined Andre bent on bringing Jeremy to heel. With his life spiraling out of control, Jeremy can no longer resist Andre’s challenge. The scene that follows changes them both, revealing Jeremy’s deep-seated desire to submit and Andre’s equally strong need to dominate. Submersed in subspace, Jeremy begs Andre to make love to him, to own him, and Andre can’t refuse his willing, handsome slave. Thus begins their romance. Events and their own proud natures will conspire to tear them apart. Andre has a fiancée, Jeremy a wife. Will they ever come to terms with their shameful desires?

Always hungry for ways to create more sparks in life, P.J. PROUD enjoys drawing and painting in addition to writing, music, exercise (a fanatic!), skiing, getting lost in the woods (thanks to being directionally impaired), helping people, and spending as much time with family as possible. P.J. has been writing gay-themed short stories, novellas, fan fiction and poetry for over two years. This first novel is a coming-out story of sorts, penned from a dream and a haunting lyric, I drew a new face and I laughed, from a Jason Mraz song called “I’m Yours,” which urged the author to take a chance and change the stars. You can find P.J. online at www.pjproud.com.

The Kindle version ($4.95) and paperback edition of Enslaved are available on Amazon.com as well as Amazon.de, Amazon.fr, Amazon.co.uk, and Amazon Japan. Books can also be purchased by contacting info@fannypress.com or through Ingram or Baker & Taylor. Other electronic versions can be purchased on Smashwords ($4.95) and from most major online ebook retailers.

Keep Reading for an Excerpt:

He’d always written for fun, for pleasure, poems, short stories and even a couple of novellas but once his marriage turned sour—

Well, it became as necessary as breathing.

It was the only place where he felt safe, untouchable, where he could create and play to his heart’s content, where he was a god and characters did his bidding, acted the way he wanted.

Where it was once a hobby, now it was a compulsion, trying to work through the blackness that lived inside him through words, sinking deeper and deeper into his own world, putting on the good husband face for Evie, putting on his patient, caring face for his job and not giving a shit about either one of them, truth be told … just going through the motions. The only thing he really cared about, that stirred any kind of excitement in his heart, was writing.

Well, that … and Andre.

He’d written the story for Andre. He’d changed his life, broken his marriage, and risked his job … all for Andre.

Jeremy was in love with him.

He doesn’t know how it happened, hell, he wasn’t gay or anything, nope, he fully appreciated the beauty of the female anatomy, tits especially and he’d been taken off guard, thrown for a loop at the intensity of his feelings for another man, the fucking rawness of it surging inside him, scaring the shit out of him.

Jeremy had seen Andre on TV, a medical show and he freaking hated those but the man’s presence caught him, held him and stopped him in his tracks, made him drop into a chair, open mouthed, blown away by the guy’s looks and sheer talent and right then and there, he’d fallen in love.

The man’s delivery of even the simplest lines was mind blowing and watching him for five minutes told Jeremy everything about the character he was playing, every fear and worry, every love and want, and damn, it took his breath away.

He fascinated Jeremy.

And the more Jeremy watched, the more his intensity grew. Andre could bring him through such a range of emotions in a single scene, have Jeremy laughing at a sarcastic remark and then two seconds later, move him to stinging tears with a mere look, a lift of eyebrow, a quiver of lips.

It also didn’t hurt that Andre Jackson was fucking gorgeous.

In his mind, Jeremy knew there was no way he’d ever meet him, ever know him but he’d spent over a year dreaming about it, hoping to one day stare into those green eyes, watch those gorgeous lips up close and maybe, just maybe, get the chance to touch Andre, to shake his hand or talk with the man.

He spent hours on the computer, scouring websites for information on Andre, hungry for each tidbit of news, learning everything Jeremy could about him and falling harder, deeper with each new face, each new quirk to the man’s personality.

Andre was almost a god in Jeremy’s eyes, so perfect, so stunning that it never even occurred to Jeremy that he shouldn’t be in love with him—

Even though he had man parts and Jeremy wasn’t gay—

Even though Jeremy was turning into a crazy ass stalker who probably should be locked up—

Even though he couldn’t figure out just who he was in love with, the doctor in the show or the real man.

You know him, in your gut, in your heart. You see the secrets and passion in those eyes, the promises of more. The little voice in Jeremy’s head was relentless, making him insane.

For some reason, Jeremy felt like meeting Andre would change his life.

Each week, he hung on every word, every scene, worrying about the dismal ratings of the show and scared about cancellation because without seeing Andre every week, Jeremy would be lost.

Then, a dream in the night, a story took hold and he’d written it fast and furious, pounding out the words at all hours of the day and night, driven to finish because he was writing it for Andre; he was the hero of Jeremy’s story and no one else could play it like Andre could.

He’d honed it, tugged and pushed at it, then sent it off to publishers, with little hope of a reply but he was sated and exhausted. It was out of him and that was that, as far as he was concerned.

He kept working dog hours, trying to make ends meet, smiling at the thousands of faces that crossed his path each day, trudging home exhausted each night, trying to write into the wee hours of morning, trying to recapture his muse but Evie would stare at him, pace around behind his back, whining that he never had time for her, never wanted to talk with her anymore, to make love anymore and that he wasn’t there for her.

What the hell did that mean? He was there, always had been there, never left, just pulled back on the reins a little because he’d fallen in love—

With a character on the television screen and how fucking sick was that?

And then, the letter … “accepted your submission … provide us with agent name so that we may make an offer …”

And the publication, the sudden fame. Book signings and television interviews, newspaper articles and magazine write-ups and his life had suddenly changed, different, scary and exhilarating at the same time. When he’d been contacted for a screen play, he’d almost passed out from excitement—

Until contract time and he’d held out for Andre, wouldn’t sign a thing until they had him in place for the lead.

It had taken months but he’d finally done it and his sister, a legal assistant, covered his ass with the contracts and the paperwork, not letting him sign until they’d given him everything he’d demanded and then—

Well, then he’d finally gotten to meet the love of his life, the only person he’d ever be gay for—

The man himself.

And he’d been—

Jeremy didn’t like to remember that time. Andre had been cold, barely meeting his eyes, reserved and so fucking standoffish that Jeremy, able to talk the ears off anyone, was speechless, at a loss.

They’d met in an office, Jeremy in jeans with his laptop over his shoulder and Andre in a suit, rushing to catch a plane.

After they’d shaken hands, Jeremy had stuttered about what a pleasure it was to finally meet him, always admired his work and Andre had giving him a searching look, a dart of puzzled green eyes before pumping his hand fast and dropping it, like Jeremy felt nasty or something—

And Andre had muttered out polite words, lips barely moving, the smile on them not reaching his gaze, “It’s a pleasure to meet you and thank you for giving me this opportunity. I’m, ah, a little confused about why you insisted on me but glad it worked out with the shooting schedule and hey, great story, man, truly, you’re very talented—”

And then he was gone, just like that and Jeremy deflated, his high hopes crashing down around his ears because Andre hadn’t even seen him—

And he’d shaken it off, sure that next time they met, it would be different—

“I usually prefer a lot more romance in my books, but Sharazade is such an excellent writer that I thoroughly enjoyed myself. It’s hard to pick my favorite, but the ménage would probably be it. I enjoyed watching the woman learn to love her body exactly the way it is. Our flaws just make us real. I also enjoyed learning a bit about the world without feeling like I was getting a history lesson. I will never travel again without thoughts of these stories flitting through my mind.”   Read more …

—Kris, BittenbyParanormalRomance.com

“Transported: Erotic Tales is a lusty book full of sultry encounters…. Sharazade gives her readers nine hot stories that are so well written that you almost forget that it is erotica…. these stories aren’t about doing the deed and getting it done. They are all about seduction, the build-up, the sensual ride and then the mind blowing release. They will get your heart racing, and your body tingling. Sit back, relax and enjoy the ride.”

— Clea R. Gellar, Bookwenches.com Read more….

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“I found every story to be a wonderful example of fine writing. Not just fine as in ‘of high quality,’ but the type of ‘fine’ with which you would preface ‘wine,’ ‘detail’ or ‘hair.’ It’s all about context…. I highly recommend this book.”

—Willsin Rowe, Coffeefuelederotica.blogspot.com Read more….

“The strength of these stories is in their realism, their ability to convey the feelings of man-loving women (who can be submissive exhibitionists in the right circumstances) and woman-loving men who know how to make the most of an opportunity. The reader who travels with these characters will discover (or rediscover) that sexual excitement is more of a journey than a destination.”
Read more ….

—Jean Roberta, Erotica Writer

Meet our newest author, Sharazade. Just in time for summer—the perfect beach reading. Even if the weather’s cool, you’ll still be hot!

Shar is the author of Fanny Press’s newest release, a collection of short stories entitled, Transported: Erotic Travel Tales (110 pp, $14.95, ISBN: 978-1-60381-465-2). Sharazade is the nom de plume of a professional writer and educator with more than fifteen books published under another name. Transported is her first venture into the realm of erotic fiction. One of the stories in this collection, “Just Browsing,” was a finalist in the 2009 bettersex.com erotic fiction contest.

Read an interview with the author at “Rude Words for Readers of Erotic Fiction.”

Something about traveling can bring your blood to the boil: Is it the exotic locales? The chance encounters with attractive strangers? The break from the routine? These nine sizzling tales of love and lust on the move capture a few of these scenarios: A single woman, wandering the dusty corridors of an old bookstore, runs across a book of erotic woodcuts… and a man with like interests. A slide presentation at an Alaska hotel has some of the guests squirming. A long train ride offers a young woman a chance to examine how she truly feels about her body … with two other passengers. Two lovers on a business trip to Japan confront their problems and their passions in a steamy outdoor bath. A man on a layover makes excellent use of his downtime. Told from both male and female points of view, Sharazade’s inventive stories of goings and … well, you know … will have you at the edge of your window seat, spinning your own fantasies about the unexplored potential of planes, trains, and hotels.

Although Transported touches on themes of exhibitionism, voyeurism, bondage, and group sex, its stories contain a large dose of old-fashioned romance and feature independent women with healthy egos. “I enjoy stories that are realistic enough that they might have happened,” the author says, “and fanciful enough that they might not have. I value communication, adventure, exploration, passion, and love, and they’re present in some form in all of my stories.”

Sharazade divides her time among Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and the U.S. You can read more about the adventure of writing and publishing Transported by visiting her blog.

Buy it on Kindle or other ebook versions on Smashwords.

You can download the first story for free at Scribd.

Here’s an Excerpt from “Just Browsing”:

I can’t seem to find anything I like in Travel. I don’t want to read about someone’s chartered wine tour of France or family road trip through the Midwest in a camper trailer with Nutsy the Dog. Doesn’t anyone bicycle solo through Pakistan anymore? I stroll down to the end of the aisle and turn. Art? Either I’ve come full circle or someone can’t alphabetize. I intend to walk straight through it, but my eye is caught by something Japanese. I step in to take a closer look. Oh…erotic Japanese woodblock prints. I glance up and down the aisle to see if anyone’s around (not that there’s anything wrong with perusing an art book), but there’s no one in sight. I open the book at random and turn a few pages. It’s nicely done … not too samurai-n’-geisha, and the quality of the printing is superb. I check the publisher—as I suspected, a small Asian press. I slow down my page turning, studying the pictures in more detail. They’re quite arousing.

I stop at one of a woman alone, nude, lying half on her side, half on her stomach, and bound with rough hemp rope. The background is vague—some arrangement of cloth—so the focus is all on her body. Her arms are twisted behind her and tied tightly, almost uncomfortably, and her hair is in disarray. Only part of her face is visible, eyes half-closed and her expression one of…not pain exactly, or at least not entirely, but some intense feeling. She seems to be waiting for something, a blow or a kiss. I imagine that her lover is in the room with her, just out of view of the picture frame, and I wonder what he has been doing to arouse her feelings of pain/pleasure.

I don’t hear your footsteps until you’re almost behind me. I’m tempted to shut the book quickly, but then I’ll just look guilty. And it’s art, after all, the kind of book one is actually encouraged to browse through. Besides, I assume you’re just moving through to some other section.

You turn sideways to fit behind me in the narrow aisle, and I press up a little closer to the shelves to let you by. But you don’t pass. Can you possibly be searching for a title in this section? Should I move? I take a tentative small step to the side, in case I’m blocking something you’re looking for and close the book slightly. “Oh, sorry,” you say, in a low, resonant voice. “I was looking over your shoulder at the picture.” You move in tandem with me, so that you’re still standing behind.

What? Did you really say that? I feel a blush spread across my face, invisible to you. How embarrassing. What must you think of me for looking at pictures like this in a public place? I scramble for an excuse. “Oh, I lived in Japan for years, so … um … Japanese art … I mean, historically, it’s …” Who am I kidding? I don’t have a thing to say about Japanese art, other than that these pictures turn me on. “Yes, they’re very well done, aren’t they?” you say, easily, seeming not to notice my stuttering embarrassment. “The artist certainly captures the expressions well. And … how nice to see a woman who can appreciate the visual.” As though we were two serious art students. I open the book again, almost defiantly, this time making sure that you can see the page as well.

I glance around to see if anyone watching—no, and thank goodness for that. To assess the situation, though, I had to step back one step. In the meantime, you had somehow moved closer, so that now I’ve accidentally backed into you. And … I’m sure I felt the hardness in your trousers. Oh, dear. Now what? I can’t leap forward or you’ll know that I felt you, and then you might feel embarrassed. These things happen when looking at erotic art, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of. Best to pretend I didn’t notice, to act completely natural and nonchalant. I shift my weight, which eases me very slightly forward, and then casually turn the page, showing you the next picture. Nothing wrong with two people just looking at an art book.

N.T. Morley, the Past-Mistress of SM Erotic Romance, has added four new erotic masterpieces to her exciting body of work.

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Buy The Appointment on Kindle or other ebook versions on Smashwords
Buy The Limousine on Kindle or Smashwords
Buy The Parlor on Kindle or Smashwords
Buy The Visitor on Kindle or Smashwords

The Appointment, by N. T. Morley

The Limousine, by N. T. Morley

The Parlor, by N. T. Morley

The Visitor, by N. T. Morley

The Appointment: Full Contact Therapy expert Dr. Rachel Quarry believes that to properly counsel certain clients, physical discipline for all misbehavior is an absolute must. But Dr. Quarry has her hands full with Vanya Garrison, a rich bitch wife who can’t seem to keep it in her pants. Between Vanya’s sordid confessions and the swift application of paddle, whip and strap to the misbehaving client’s behind, Vanya’s sessions with Dr. Quarry are almost as exciting as the masturbatory antics engaged in by Dr. Quarry’s voyeuristic secretary, Crystal—who can’t help inveigling her idol, porn star Savannah Grande, into the mix. But when Vanya learns that her fabulously wealthy husband Roland might be craving the stern hand of discipline himself, can Dr. Quarry keep her practice even remotely on the up-and-up, or will ethical considerations be forgotten in an onslaught of torrid lust?

The Limousine: Fascinated by her roommate Kristi’s illicit sex life, the young professional Brenda covets Kristi’s unending parade of dominant men. She is tempted into a web of ecstasy when she agrees to perform for the “Master” Kristi has been seeing. Without ever allowing his plaything to see him, the Master first guides her into bed with Kristi—and then into submission to her as well as to the Master himself. After the Master tempts Brenda into a meeting where she is savagely disciplined and sexually used, Brenda surrenders all control—entering into a pact of mutual submission with Kristi that leaves both girls utterly at the mercy of their Master. But what dark plans does this unseen man have for his two willing slaves?

The Parlor: Kathryn accepts her dream proposal: a contract for a year of sexual servitude in the mansion of the gorgeous Sarah and the mysterious John. Introduced to the pleasures and pains of severe bondage and discipline, Kathryn discovers that John and Sarah intend to place every portion of her anatomy available at the service of their guests, friends, and co-conspirators. She is given again and again to faceless men and women, pierced to display her submission, and punished exquisitely for the least transgression—or merely to amuse her owners. Before long it becomes clear that far more than mere submission is taking place—Sarah is far more than a mortal dominant, and the darkest embrace awaits those who offer her absolute submission. Can Kathryn resist her desire to give herself over to total pleasure and unending surrender? Or will she resist Sarah’s touch and become an enemy of this powerful creature?

The Visitor: Virginal 18-year-old ingénue Cecilia Roswell is the illegitimate child of disgraced noblewoman Mary Drew, who has since been married off to the much older Lord Arthur Drew. Cecilia is shocked one afternoon to see her mother, disgraced noblewoman Mary Drew, misbehaving quite shamefully with a mysterious visitor, Mr. Beckwith. Cecilia is even more shocked when her stepfather, Lord Arthur Drew, invites Mr. Beckwith to stay at the estate for a few days. Before long, it becomes clear that Cecilia herself is the target of Mr. Beckwith’s interests, and that he intends to train her as a sexual servant through a scandalous regime of spanking, exposure, and steadily increasing erotic humiliation. As Cecilia slowly discovers her craving for these very treatments, she realizes that the life planned for her is not that of the hidden child of a noble family, for whom she is a mere inconvenience—but that of the submissive slave of a scoundrel who will stop at nothing to inveigle her into his web of sexual indulgence.