I love the story excerpted here, "The Golden Ruler," by Giselle Renarde, because it highlights what happens when one half of a couple wants something and is trying--urgently, desperately--to convey it to the other. Sometimes directly asking is not an option, either because the person is nervous about the response, or because part of their fantasy if of the other person to see and feel their desire, especially if what they want is for that person to take over, to take control. Sometimes people and characters can eroticize the asking, and that is dramatized here. It's fertile ground for erotic writing because it's so real and common and human, that desire to have someone else see you for who you are, who you believe yourself to be on an extremely fundamental level. This story is about a woman's interior monologue, and it's riveting. Author Giselle Renarde makes us feel her impatience, her need, her yearning, and the push/pull of wanting what she wants rightnow and, somewhere inside, knowing that being made to wait is part of the power play.
I hope you'll read the entire story in Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission, out later this month, and if you like this excerpt, please like Serving Him on Amazon (yes, we got to 100, but I'd love to keep going). Previous excerpts: "Safe, Sane and Consensual" by Ariel Graham, "Run, Baby, Run" by Vida Bailey, "The Letter" by Tiffany Reisz part 1 and part 2, "Under Direction" by Teresa Noelle Roberts, "Chattel" by Errica Liekos, "The Coffee Break" by Kristina Wright, "What You Deserve" by Lori Selke and "Subbing" by me.
From "The Golden Ruler" by Giselle RenardeIf you liked this excerpt, please do like Serving Him on Amazon, where you can also pre-order it. You can also pre-order it from Bn.com. Kindle and Nook editions coming soon. THANK YOU!
Hit me, Lowell. Oh, god, I need to feel the sting of your palm on my ass. I need it; I need it; I need it. Are you listening, Lowell? Can you hear me? I need a spanking. Now.
Meghan’s face burned as she inched across the carpet. He was sitting on the couch, scotch in hand, acting like she didn’t exist. There she was, buck naked, wrists bound behind her back, ankles tied together, and he was pretending she wasn’t there. If she had to crawl across the living room like a caterpillar, so be it. Anything to get closer to him.
And he just sat on that leather couch, cool as a cucumber. She wasn’t even on his radar, was she?
Look at me, Lowell. I’m down here, laid out at your feet. Can’t you see me? Can’t you see how much I want you? How much I need you? God, Lowell, just spank me now!
Of course, she couldn’t say anything—not with her own cotton panties stuffed in her mouth. Meghan looked up at him pleadingly, but he still wasn’t paying attention. He had that jazz station on the radio, and he just sat there with one leg crossed over the other, listening intently. Meghan couldn’t see past his knees, but she was pretty sure his eyes were open. His eyes were open, he just wasn’t looking at her.
Lowell? Lowell, you know what I need. You’re the only man in the world who knows. Why can’t you just give it to me? Why can’t you look down here at the woman on the carpet and bloody well spank me already?