Hey my friends,
Starting around midnight, or whenever Amazon decides to change the price, Eating Out will be free for this weekend, March 16th, and 17th. The reason is because I’m partaking in the GET LUCKY facebook event run by Shayne McClendon and Karli Rush where hundreds of Indie Authors are offering you their books for free as a gift.
Eating Out, featuring Samantha and Ryan, is free today and tomorrow on Amazon. Now is your chance to read the hot story every one is talking about. Talk about an office fling… They scorch the pages in their erotic lunch story. I’d love if you left a review and rating after you read it! Thank you so much for your support.
This is from the Journal of Cordelia Kelly, who is the lead in my Dark Novella Work in Progress.
I own this photo
There is an explosive anger that resides in me
When cornered, I lash out.
A toxic viper tongue
A flash rage of white hot inferno.
I singe all those who dare enter my protective circle.
My mind is a sieve, a black hole of information ready to be hurled at you.
I know your weaknesses.
My voice is the conduit for my emotional turmoil.
My void.
All that I feel, all that I absorb.
I have a deep well of calm –
but my reserves are boiling over, spilling out and burning
There is no containing me.
My facade is slipping, my masks are crumbling
I’m finding it harder to hide my darker nature.
The duality of myself has always been my biggest conundrum.
My burden.
Sweet, caring and loving, yes I can.
Poisonous, spiteful and cold, yes I can.
There is a reason my favorite colors are red and black –
My life exists in shades if Grey.
I am an anomaly — Unique and Emotive.
I am afraid of myself.
The photo is from Winter Wolf Studios, an amazing photography Studio. Please, check them out.
by: ER Pierce ©2012
Cordelia lay with her cheek upon the soft, springy moss, pouring the pain back into the earth that cursed her.
She tore off her mask and gloves, throwing them as far away as she could. The sky above her turned dark at her blatant defiance. The tears streamed down her face causing her makeup to cascade and create a kaleidoscope of color. She was a beautiful mess.
Her body ached from the tremors and wracking soul deep sobs. All their agony coursed within her, and she’d had to hold it all inside and filter the negative energy back into light. Now her desolate and depleted body thrummed as sweat beaded down her spine. Her nerves were alive with electricity, the fine hair on her arms stood stalk straight.
Her fingers raked down her face as she screamed up into the sky, “Why me! Why did you choose me for this?” Her pulse danced a chaotic punch line and her thoughts beat a frantic chorus against her temples.
The sky opened as the God of Thunder showed his wrath and let the rain loose. Cordelia pounded her fists against the earth as her mind and heart shattered like the stone strewn all around her.
“How did I get here?” She asked the wind with a plea, “Why did I allow this to happen.” She closed her eyes, trying in vain to forget her mistakes – all her missteps and misdeeds. All the ways she messed up despite her good intentions. The road may be paved with nobility, but if you’re not careful you could end up on the wrong path with no idea how you got there.
Or whether it’s possible to get back.
Lets see, what to confess this week. I mean really, how deep do I want you to get into me? Uh, I mean, get to know me. Maybe that can be my confession this week. I love double word play, and enjoy witty banter…but… nah. I can ‘come’ ‘up’ with something more enjoyable for you to sample about me. Shit. I mean learn about me.
*laughs*
So…
In Confession #1, you learned I cannot fall asleep. It takes me hours because my very active brain doesn’t have an off button.
In Confession #2, you learned I am a junk food junkie… Yea, I know. Sugar addicts unite!
This week I am at a loss what to confess.
I could tell you that… No, no. I can’t tell you that until later, when I have my claws firmly dug into you and you have no desire to escape. I could probably confess I love…Shit. Nope can’t confess that juicy little morsel either.
Damn.
So let’s start with some basic fears, shall we?
1) Spiders. Yea, I know it’s cliche. But those fucking eight legged creatures scare me to death. The other day, I was in the shower and a rather large one crawled out of the drain at my feet and, of course I had already shampooed my hair so I had soap running down my face as I screamed and jumped out of the damn shower. *What? I don’t want him crawling up my legs! Shudders* So I got out, frantically wiped my eyes with a towel, turned off the water and squashed that fucker with one of the kids toys. *Dust hands off* Then resumed and finished… my shower. Nods.
2) Heights. Again, I know — cliche. I freaking LOVE roller-coasters though. When the SUPERMAN first came out at Six-Flags in Massachusetts, I sat in the very front seat going down the first drop was so amazingly scary and exhilarating. Fun stuff. But you will NOT catch me on a cliff, overlook, or on the roof of buildings looking down. *shakes head* No way, no how. I get woozy. My dad is an Ironworker and he’s constantly up on 4″ steel beams — yea, not me!
I will never: Jump out of a plane, bungy jump, scale buildings (unless I had a super cool supernatural power) or stand precariously on the edge of something with a drop that could potentially –or definitely — kill me.
3) An internal fear of mine, is that I will be too honest and alienate myself from others. Occasionally I have a problem with saying things that float through my mind before realizing what I’m saying. My brain works and processes information very quickly, and most times –accurately. However, I need a better filter for my mouth. (And I can see a few of you shaking your heads at me with yours firmly in the gutter, no, no ball gag’s for me! I guess I could confess to a quick gag reflex. I’m working on it 
Practice makes perfect and all that juice. *mwah*
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The night passed so quickly, given the potency and charisma of the man walking her to her hotel room door. His heated looks, and slumbering bedroom eyes drove her wild, and when his hand had slipped up her dress under the table and grazed her exposed lips? She’d been putty, melting in a hot rush of longing.
They swore they’d only be friends. They’d promised if they met in person they could behave.
They’d tried so hard to keep their hands off each other. But the little touches – his hand at the small of her back, the pads of his fingers caressing down her arm as he grasped her small hand in his, sent shivers of desire down her spine and straight to her core.
Now here they were – He said he’d walk her to her door, make sure she’d be safe.
Safe from whom?
He let go of her hand and pressed her up against the door, careful not to touch her, but invading her space all the same. His breath – harsh against her sensitive skin as he breathed in her scent.
“Caroline, I – Shit.”
He whispered seductively, “Just one taste, I promise.”
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Hope you enjoyed my wares! Now onwards, to the flashers!
Naomi Shaw: http://
Julez S Morbius: http://
Molly Synthia: http://mollysynthia.com
Lee Brazil: http://
Dianne Hartsock: http://
Venus Cahill: http://
Leann Mitchell http://
Cyril J. Michael: http://
Benjamin T. Russell http://
Bonni Sansom: http://
Gemma Parkes: http://
Cassandre Dayne: http://
Havan Fellows: http://
Muffy Wilson: http://
Don Abdul: http://don-abdul.blogspot.com/
Ray Sostre: http://
Currently, I’m working on a project that requires a total level of trust, and it made me start to think about trust, and how hard it is to earn, and how fast it can disappear. There are so many fake people in the world, who will use and abuse, manipulate and attempt to garner favor at the demise and detriment of others.
There are basically three levels of trust, according to my research. I have summarized from Leading with Trust, and a few other sources.
Deterrence based trust is commonly found in the workplace, and within work relationships.But it is the first step in any relationship. It is the knowledge that one will not take advantage of another for their own personal gain.
Knowledge based trust is a more intimate level of trust, and is usually found at the beginning of relationships with friends and lovers. This means that you have a pretty good idea of the person on a fundamental level, and you can gauge how they will react in situations, and to your quirks. Knowledge based trust is ruled by information and mutual understanding.
Identity based trust is the deepest and most intimate level of trust. You share your hopes, dreams and fears with another, and hope to fuck they don’t squander your heart. You allow yourself to become vulnerable and you know in your heart, soul and mind the other person won’t take advantage of you or hurt you on purpose.
“Only a few relationships move to the stage of trust grounded in mutual identification.
Factors that may prevent this progression include lack of time, energy or desire to make a
deeper commitment to the relationship.” from CMS
I bring this up for a few reasons. I read a lot. (Duh!) and lately, I find myself drawn to D/s (Dominant/Submissive) books. There has to be such a deep level of trust between a Dom and a sub.
I hope to delve deeper into trust and the meaning of trust in future installments, and interview a few other authors who write about, and are possibly into, the lifestyle themselves.
But I digress.
Total Trust with someone is almost impossible to achieve, because you have to let that person see all facets of you. The bad and the good. You have to stand bare in front of someone–soul and heart open, and pray you don’t fillet yourself. Or your partner doesn’t fillet you over hot coals. How many people want to even contemplate a situation where you deliberately put yourself in the path of potential harm?
I think the majority of people hide parts of themselves, even though they don’t think they do. It’s an ingrained response to shield yourself from hurt.
I’ll be honest and say–I know I hide. After some self-reflection, I figured out I share about 85% of myself. The other 15% is terrified that my chosen partner will run screaming from the room, especially with the amount of circular shit that goes through my mind. Random thoughts, and strung together ideas. Criticisms I don’t want to share because I don’t want to alienate my friends. I have to constantly battle to keep my mouth shut. Not everyone wants to hear my unique brand of honesty.
So I hide.
But I wonder sometimes. Why should I hide? Why shouldn’t I share all of myself with someone. Why shouldn’t someone know all facets of me? There are days where I believe that someone would love me for me–and not laugh at some of my absurd thoughts. They would encourage my dreams, bask in my hopes, and help me stave off my fears. They would understand what makes me, me–and they would love me despite my faults.
Six people in my life are at the Identity-Based Trust level. Four of those are family. One of them is, of course my husband.
Six people I trust not to harm me irreparably. And even those six people are at different levels of honesty. :shakes head, sadly:
So the question I am asking you, my fair readers is… Do you think total trust and mutual identification is achievable in a non D/s relationship? Do you think ‘traditional relationships’ could have, or should have, that level of intimacy and trust?
And if you don’t think it is possible, why not? I have some ideas, we can discuss in the comments or another post 
Hey everyone, it’s friday and for the first time in many weeks, I’m late with my flash. It’s been a long day and it’s only *looks up* 1:42pm. Without futher ado, I hope you enjoy my flash this week.
100 words, no more, no less.
The moment I saw him I knew.
I sauntered up to him in the smoky, crowded bar and whispered in his ear, “Come with me, don’t ask questions.” Then I turned and sashayed out of the bar, hoping he’d follow.
From that one small touch, that one shallow inhale, his essence clung to my skin. As we strolled down the sidewalk towards my apartment I sensed his eyes caressing my body. My core heated and I led him upstairs where I told him to lay on the couch, facing my easel.
I unzipped my dress and began to paint.
Join my other cohorts in flashing, follow the links and see what they thought of this weeks photo prompt:
Muffy Wilson: http://muffywilson.blogspot.com
Lee Brazil: http://leebrazilauthor.blogspot.com
Katie Harper: http://katieharperwrites.blogspot.com/
Jp Archer: http://jp-archer.blogspot.com
Kendel Davi: http://kendeldavi.wordpress.com
SLira as Michael Mandrake: http://tabooindeed.blogspot.com
Gemma Parkes: http://gemmaparkes.blogspot.com/
Davee Jones: http://finless.blogspot.com/
Cassandre Dayne: http://cassandredayne.wordpress.com/
DH Black: http://dhblack.wordpress.com/
Sancre Darling: http://sancredarling.blogspot.com/
SJ Maylee: http://SJMaylee.com
Patricia Logan http://naughtypassions.blogspot.com/
Yvonne Nicolas: http://yvonnenicolas.wordpress.com/
Havan Fellows: http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com/
Flash Fiction Friday is here! My favorite day of the week. This picture was chosen by Author Sharita Lira
Here is my 100 word story, no more, no less.
Ugh, I can’t stop looking at her ass.
Look away. Look away dammit! Don’t get soft. Don’t you dare get soft!
“Come on, Jagger, I like it dirty. You’re cock feels amazing, but I need more. Play with my hole.” Rain panted in between hard pounds of Jaggers huge cock. For a small man, he was hung like a bull and she craved him like caffeine.
What the fuck are those?
“Jagger, what the hell. You’ve never had a problem before.”
Jagger brings his finger to his mouth, but then says, “I can’t, Rain.”
“Hemorrhoids are nasty!”
This is a continuation from my Sadness Fiction post. (I would recommend you read that snippet first) This is a scene a little further into the Work in Progress.
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Pepper exited the plane and for a moment her heart stopped beating. She froze as wave after wave of fear overtook her gross motor-function. People thumped into her, pushing her in their haste to get into the lobby and meet their loved ones, or friends, or get to wherever the hell they needed to go.
But not her. She stood stalk still, staring blindly at the door as it opened and closed. Her breath coming in short bursts.
“Whoever he is, honey, just open the door. You’ll never know, unless you walk through it.” A soft female voiced whispered from behind her, and then a leggy blonde gently nudged her as she walked over and held the door open. Waiting with an eyebrow arched on a perfectly cherubic face.
Eyes closed, and heart finally thumping again, Pepper forced her feet to move and she marched through the door, only to have a lump wedge in her throat as she caught sight of him standing a few feet away, holding a cardboard sign with her name written on it, and her favorite flowers in his other hand. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, time ebbed and slowed down, her skin flushed with warmth and she watched rapt as he drank her in.
Her bag slipped from her hand and then she was running and launching herself into his outstretched arms. He’d promised her a public display of affection the likes of which the airport had never seen, and by God she was going to get it. She wrapped her legs around his waist and when their skin connected, flesh to flesh, a tingle of electric current pulsed through her haywire system and she relished it.
This. This is what she’d been missing all her life. The sound of flowers and cardboard hitting the ground at her feet made her joy broaden.
He stood taller than she expected, and much larger. His milk chocolate skin begged her to have a taste, and when he caught her in his arms with little effort and hugged her close, she pressed into him and sighed deep from the bottom of her heart. She let her head rest on his strong shoulder, lips turned to his throat as she breathed him in, her heart and mind quieting down by just finally being in his presence.
Pepper pulled her head back as his arms tightened around her like steel bands. She wanted to stare into his eyes for the first time up close and personal. He’d always hid his eyes, and if she were honest, it bothered her, but not right now. Not when his big, full lips hovered so close to hers she could taste his breath. He smelled like cinnamon, and his eyes were the color of dark, raw, wildflower honey. Millimeters separated their lips and the moment was suspended by lost time and a torrent of emotions flashing through her body.
He reached up and touched her face with the pads of his fingers, before cupping her cheek in one large palm. She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek into his hand just like the cat she was. She could hear his heart racing in time with hers, and suddenly her only fear was not being able to finally kiss him. To finally know what his soft lips would feel like moving against hers. Would he ravish her, or would he be sweet? Would he caress her with his tongue before plunging into her heat? Would he—
The wet tip of his tongue traced her lower lip and she quit wondering as an explosion set across her skin, imploring her to find more of the exquisite sensation. She opened her mouth on a gasping moan and he sealed his mouth over hers with firm, yet tender pressure, his tongue slowly slipping inside to coax hers into playing.
