The Joy of Surrender
I’m not afraid to admit it (at least not while I’m sheltered behind the mask of my pseudonym). I love BDSM stories. Give me a well-written, convincing tale that incorporates bondage, spanking, whips and clamps, blindfolds and tests of a sub’s devotion, and I’m in a state of bliss.
Much of my own writing incorporates BDSM elements. Even when I’m not writing an explicit BDSM story, I find that elements of power exchange tend to sneak into my characters’ relationships.
Why do I find BDSM exciting, to read and to write? It is not, primarily, the taboo nature of the topic. It’s not because I think that restraint or pain is pleasurable or sexy per se. And unlike some romance authors, I don’t add bondage or discipline to my work just to “spice it up” with something naughty. Rather, I’m drawn to relationships involving dominance and submission because of the fundamental eroticism of surrender.
The essence of submission, for me, is offering one’s whole self to the dominant. The sub relinquishes control to her master. She holds nothing back. She bares not only her body but her doubts, her fears, her secret fantasies. She lets down all her barriers, trusting her Dom to takes responsibility for her pleasure and safety.
Surrender is arousing because it creates a deep psychic and emotional connection between the Dom and the sub. The intimacy of a successful D/s encounter is almost overwhelming. I know this from personal experience. The sub cannot hide behind a mask of propriety. The Dom knows what she wants, however extreme or forbidden. He may understand her better than she understands herself. The sub no longer needs to struggle with her conflicts or confusion. She does not need to make any decisions, once she has made the essential choice: to place herself in the dominant’s hands and under his control.
Surrender can be intoxicating for the Dom as well. It is thrilling to realize you have earned such profound trust from another human being. The Dom can exercise his will over his sub, do anything that pleases him, knowing that his actions also excite and satisfy her–because his pleasure makes her surrender more complete.
In my first book, published in 1999, I tried to capture these truths. Twenty two years later, I guess I really haven’t changed.
When the Berks Hills Summer Playhouse offered me my first real acting job, I never expected to share a stage with theater legend Geoffrey Hart – let alone his bed. Nothing in my education or experience prepared me for the paradoxical pleasures of submission.
Now I’m devoted to my master, for better or worse. According to the rumors, though, Geoff’s heart is taken. Dumped by his long-time sub, he has escaped to the Berkshires to lick his emotional wounds. Geoffrey’s dark games arouse me beyond belief, but I fear I’m just a substitute for the real object of his affections. Am I willing to settle for the role of understudy in this perverse passion play?
Note: This book was previously published by Totally Bound. It has been revised, expanded and re-edited for this release.
“You’re still here, Sarah.” Hart wheeled to face me, breaking into my bitter internal monologue. “Good. After all, I didn’t tell you that you could go.”
Amusement lit up his handsome features. He towered over me, close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. Embarrassment washed over me but didn’t quite submerge the undercurrent of arousal.
“May I leave?” I asked, my voice a weak quaver that disgusted me. Why was I asking, anyway? Who was he to tell me what to do?
“Not yet. I need your help unpacking. Go open the bag you carried up. It’s not locked.”
No, I wanted to scream. But I obeyed him anyway, pressing the chrome-plated catch on the sleek grey Samsonite case and flipping up the lid.
I gasped when I saw the contents. “It’s true!” I blurted out.
Hart came up behind me and looked over my shoulder. He didn’t touch me, but his mere presence was overpowering. “What’s true?”
I heard laughter in his voice. I pointed at the leather restraints and the rubber paddles, my hand shaking. “That—that you’re kinky. Into S and M, just like Adele said.”
“I prefer the term ‘D and S.’ Dominance and submission. My focus is on the exchange of power, not the administration of pain. Though I’m not averse to using pain if that’s the right thing to do.”
“The right thing to do?” I turned to face him, hiding behind my indignation. “Are you joking?”
He was close, too close for comfort, deliberately invading my personal space. I tried to step backward. I succeeded only in banging my shin against the luggage rack.
His eyes drilled into me. “I’m completely serious. D and S is not a game, despite the way it’s portrayed in popular culture. It’s not a fashion statement. It’s much, much more, a new way of being in the world. A doorway into a new kind of relationship, deeper and more intimate than anything you can imagine.”
“Right,” I muttered. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I stared down at my sandals, feeling the blush crawling up my cheeks and across my chest. “I’m sure that’s what all the perverts say.”
He caught my chin under his forefinger and raised my eyes to his. I trembled when his skin met mine.
“I can’t pretend it’s not exciting, of course—trying new implements, pushing the sub’s limits, testing her devotion. But that’s not the main point.”
I burned in the heat of his stare. I felt myself begin to melt, the crotch of my jeans growing damper with every beat of my pulse. I didn’t want to listen but I couldn’t hide my fascination.
He stroked his thumb across my cheek. I held my breath, wanting him to stop, dying for him to go further.
“Aren’t you curious, Sarah? Wouldn’t you like to drop your diligent, high-achieving, good little girl persona and find out what’s underneath?”
I couldn’t answer. How did he know these things about me, this man I’d met less than a half hour ago? Did he really understand the way I’d pushed myself in college and grad school, working for the top grades, following the rules, determined to succeed in my chosen path despite the odds? Did he know that I hadn’t had a lover for nearly four years? I hadn’t had time. Anyway, I’d been all too aware of the fact that everyone around me was both a colleague and a competitor.
I read compassion in his chiseled features, mingled with lust.
“I know you, little one. I know what you really crave. What you really need. Open yourself to me and I will fulfill the desires you don’t yet dare to admit, even to yourself.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He simply claimed my mouth as though it was his by right. I struggled for a moment, as his strong arm snaked around my waist and pulled me to his chest. Then I let go, let his tongue slide between my lips and his fingers slip under my shirt.
Kinky Literature – https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/4427-the-understudy-acts-of-submission/
Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B092VYT8DN
Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.th/dp/B092VYT8DN
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1080182
Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57802100-the-understudy
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.
You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com/books.html), along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com), she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub, BingeBooks and Twitter.
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