If I asked you to describe a dominatrix, you’d probably come up with a tall, dark haired woman wearing leather, spike heeled thigh-high boots, carrying a whip and calling herself something like Mistress Payne. She lives in a big city and makes her living torturing subs in a club devoted to BDSM. Her makeup would be dramatic, and she’d strike fear in the hearts of a submissive with her voice alone.
That’s the stereotypical dominatrix usually depicted on television, sometimes in an almost comical setting. We’ve all seen the shows where the sub or dominatrix is exposed and their lifestyle is then treated as an aberration. The main characters snicker behind their hands about the fem-dom and her sub. I can think of one where this wasn’t the case, but that was definitely the exception.
Okay. So maybe those do exist, but I’m not a fan of stereotypes. So let me introduce you to the heroine of STILL TAKING CHANCES.
Mary Beth Winters is a dominatrix. She stands five feet four inches tall and prefers to go barefoot whenever she can. Her wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops and shorts. She doesn’t own a corset, or a pair of thigh-high boots. She makes her living sculpting cowboys, horses and other western scenes. She rarely wears makeup. In fact, she’d be hard pressed to remember where her small stash of mascara and lip-gloss is. Her voice wouldn’t intimidate a mouse.
What she does have is a toy box. It’s tooled leather and has a sturdy lock. She keeps it in the back of her closet, and wears the key on a chain around her neck. She hasn’t opened the box in five years. She’s tried her best to deny her sexual needs since moving to the small town of Prairieview, Texas, but when Elgin Huddleston shows up to take possession of his recently deceased grandmother’s house, there’s something about him that tempts her to open her heart and her toy box to help him.
Shame has followed Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston all his life, but add on the guilt of a mission gone bad, and grief over the loss of his only relative, and he’s on the edge of a breakdown. He’s come back to his boyhood home to get his head on straight before he goes back to his job as a DEA Agent. What he craves is a good session with a dominatrix, not a busybody pixy who wants to play with fire, but he’s just desperate enough to offer himself up as her plaything.
I don’t want to spoil the read for you, but I’ll tell you, Mary Beth is more than Elgin bargained for, but everything he needs. He’ll try his best to stay away because of all the Mistresses he’s served, this one won’t quit until she brings him to his knees.
After a mission in a South American jungle goes wrong, DEA Agent Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston returns to his boyhood home to lick his wounds. Despite his better judgment, Hud is drawn to the woman across the street, a petite Dominatrix with a freeze your balls off name.
Mary Beth Winters packed away her toys and put the BDSM lifestyle behind her years ago when she realized the men she dominated didn’t need her as much as she needed them. But when a troubled bad-boy, Elgin ‘Hud’ Huddleston, moves in across the street, she dusts off her toy box and risks her heart to help him heal.
Hud looked at the door, unsure what to do now. He’d gone for a walk and found himself outside her studio door, frozen to the spot. His heart pounded in his chest. He recognized the symptoms of the fight or flight response. Elevated heart rate, shallow breathing and heightened sensory perception. He couldn’t have mustered an erection if his life depended on it. His body was primed to do battle. He’d never run from a challenge in his life, and he wasn’t going to start with a pint-sized woman who thought she was a fem-dom. He remembered how she’d run practically screaming from his house when she’d seen his handcuffs. What real fem-dom would do that?
No, he had nothing to fear from Ms. Frost Your Balls Winters. He’d go in there, tell her what was what, and have her naked under him in minutes. Maybe he’d let her spank him a little first so she’d feel like a real fem-dom. He smiled. Yeah, she’d like that, and he would too. He knocked on the door. When she called out as if she’d been expecting him, he opened the door and stepped inside.
She sat with her back to the door and didn’t bother to turn and greet him. He took in her skimpy summer outfit, her bare feet with pink-tipped toes, her fire red hair pulled into a high ponytail and almost sighed with relief. No, this was no fem-dom, just a woman who was a little too brave for her own good. He mentally stripped her before he even got the door closed.
“Go relieve yourself,” she pointed to a door in the corner, “the bathroom is over there.”
What? He couldn’t believe his ears. She still hadn’t moved or so much as looked at him. He glanced over her shoulder to see what she was working on. Her attention was focused on a clay sculpture in front of her. He moved so he could see it better. The sculpture was about a foot high, and even to his untrained eye, he could tell it was exquisite. She was putting what looked like the finishing touches on a miniature cowboy carrying his saddle. Lines on his face conveyed his weariness, the lines of his body shouted his fatigue. Hud had never seen anything like it. At the sound of her voice, Hud snapped his gaze from the statue, to the artist.
“What part of that did you not understand?” she asked without moving her eyes from her work.
“I’m supposed to relieve myself? Is that what you said, Mistress?”
“Yes. Now. When you’re finished, stand over there.”
Why not? It wasn’t such a big price to pay for having a go at her delectable body. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time he allowed a woman to play out her fantasy. Hud followed her orders and took up his position in the spot she’d indicated. She continued to ignore him until he’d just about had enough, and then she looked up from her work.
Her eyes raked over him, and he had the impression she was mentally undressing him as thoroughly as he’d undressed her in his mind. Something about her perusal made him want to squirm, but he held still. “Do you always wear black?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Yeah, he could play this game. She jumped off the high stool she’d been sitting on and walked around the worktable. He followed her with his eyes, admiring the curve of her legs and the fine bones in her feet and ankles. She stopped and dug around in a large pink canvas bag that sat on the end of the flower-print covered sofa along the long wall opposite the door. His heart almost stopped beating when she pulled out a serious looking set of leather handcuffs and a length of chain. Whoa there! Where the hell did she get those? All the fight went out of him and all he could think about was getting the hell out of there, but she was such a little thing. How much harm could she do anyway? He willed his body to relax and his feet to stay put.
“Hold out your hands.”
Hud allowed her to fasten the cuffs around his wrists. She hooked them together with a short length of chain that looked like it came from a hardware store. If he twisted his hands around, he’d be able to unfasten the cuffs, he reasoned, as panic threatened to set in. He was momentarily distracted by the sweet curves of her ass as she walked away from him. She picked up a step stool and dropped it next to his feet. “Take your shoes off.”
He toed his shoes off and kicked them to the side. When he looked up from his task, Mary Beth was on the step stool, a head above him. In one hand, she held an S hook attached to a chain and pulley, the other she reached down to him. “Give me your hands.”
Hud swallowed hard and lifted his shackled hands. For the first time, he thought he might have underestimated Mary Beth Winters. She looped the chain at his wrists through the hook, and with a hand on the pulley chain, she jumped off the stool. Hud watched in dawning horror as she pulled the chain tight enough to make his shoulders burn and secured the pulley chain to a hook on the wall, well out of his reach, even if he had his hands free. He cursed under his breath. How had he missed the chain pulley overhead? If he’d been on a mission, a mistake like that would mean he’d be dead.
About the author:
Roz Lee has been married to her best friend, and high school sweetheart, for over three decades. These days she splits her time between their home in rural New Jersey, and Southern California, where her husband works. Even though she’s lived on both coasts, her heart lies in between, in Texas. A Texan by birth, she can trace her family back to the Republic of Texas. With roots that deep, she says, “You can’t ever really leave.”
Roz and her husband have two grown daughters they couldn’t be more proud of, and are currently raising a ten-year-old Labrador Retriever, Betty Boop, who isn’t aware of her canine heritage.
When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. No trip is too small, no tourist trap too cheesy, and no road unworthy of traveling.
Other books by Roz Lee – The Lothario Series - THE LUST BOAT - SHOW ME THE ROPES - LOVE ME TWICE. Look for FOUR OF HEARTS, Nov. 1, 2011
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