Roses and Chains Release Day!

Yay! Woohoo! Roses and Chains, the next 1-800-DOM-help book, is out today! It's an M/f/f featuring a new male Dom and two female subs. This was my first menage, and I hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The blurb:

Take one adorable suburban couple just starting to realize their D/s relationship isn't quite enough to satisfy. Add one cute and quirky sub who can't seem to find a Dom to suit her tastes. Place them in a room full of sex toys and candlelight, roses and chains...

And after a few smoking-hot nights of pleasure and exploration, all three might just find what they're looking for.

What's that? You'd like to read an excerpt? But of course (WARNING: it's a naughty, not-safe-for-work, grownups-only sort of excerpt...and it's an exclusive)!

AN EXCERPT FROM ROSES AND CHAINS

Copyright © DELPHINE DRYDEN, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Scenes in the main room at the club weren’t Mara Tyndall’s favorite thing. But they served their purpose.

Tonight, that purpose was to make her forget her very stupid recent attempt to date outside her flavor. He was Plain Vanilla, she was Rocky Road. She should have known it could never work.

“I think this side’s done. Time to turn you over and toast the other side, slutski.”

Mistress Amie was relentlessly perky. Her kitten-with-a-whip insouciance struck a particularly cruel note tonight, because she knew exactly why Mara was there. She knew what Mara needed. And in her relentless, perky, cruel way, she was not saying “I told you so.”

She was not saying it very loudly, with everything she did and every expression on her face.

“Fucking…cheerleader from hell,” Mara gasped as Mistress Amie loosened the leather cuffs around her ankles. For her sass she received a brisk slap on the upper thigh where the flogger marks were still flushing, blending into one blotchy pink map of the pain she’d endured thus far this evening. Mara groaned when the Mistress released the restraints around her wrists and she lowered her arms too suddenly.

“I can see we’re not quite there yet. Okay, stretch it out then face the cross.”

Amie really did sound as if she were leading an exercise class. Which was appropriate, because she was a Pilates instructor and personal trainer. The kind who made a lot of money making wealthy people hate her guts, but love the results she helped them achieve. After all, Amie was an expert at getting people to take more pain than they ever thought they could tolerate.

Mara knew the heights Amie could inspire her to. They had spent close to a year, off and on, exploring those heights, and although her mind might resist returning, her body was already responding all too eagerly to the cheerful Mistress’s wicked ministrations.

“And now,” Mistress Amie chirped, shackling the leather back into place as Mara inspected the top crotch of the St. Andrew’s cross she was now facing, “let’s work that rear.”

The paint’s chipping. Tad needs to touch this thing up.

“Count off.”

The flogger cracked against her butt and she reflexively shouted, “One!” before her brain caught up. “How high, Mistress?”

“I’ll let you know. You know math isn’t really my thing, sweetcheeks.”

“Two!” Against the upper thigh.

“Three!” Really hard across the shoulders.

The unpredictability slowly lost its edge, ceased to engage her mind and instead forced her to relax, to accept that there would be a blow, that she wouldn’t know where the pain would land next. She was buffeted this way and that, just a leaf, and Amie’s flogger was the wind.

“Do you need to come?” The chipper, smug voice in her ear was accompanied by a surprisingly gentle hand that traced the line of her spine from neck to ass. “Hmm? You want me to make you come for me, Mara?”

The hand dipped lower, following the curve of one cheek, ending up cupping the top of one inner thigh. Amie wouldn’t touch her pussy unless Mara asked for it. Tonight was just a favor, and an orgasm would be another favor. Another reason for Amie to avoid saying “I told you so”.

But she needed it too much. She needed to come, in order to feel as if the scene was over for the evening. Submitting to her own needs was more important than submitting to Amie. It took more humility.

She nodded.

“No. You know better. Say it.”

“Please make me come.”

“No. You know what I need to hear, slut.” Amie paused then added more quietly, “You know what you need to say.”

“Mistress. I need to come, please make me come, Mistress.”