Whips & Kisses by Lisabet Sarai has just been released for your reading pleasure. Lisabet will shower you in kisses if you read her latest BDSM erotic romance. Of course, if you don’t read it, she will use her whips to reeducate you. On your knees, eyes downcast, hands behind your back, and repeat after me, “Yes, Mistress, I’m sorry and accept your punishment.”

Then kiss her thigh-high leather boots and lick them clean while glancing at the treasures between her legs. Be careful, if she catches you peeking, you’ll get to taste the delicious sting of her whip, until she decides to sit on your face.

The Joy of Surrender

By Lisabet Sarai,

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 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.

For me, the essence of submission 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 take 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.

I tried to capture these truths in my first book, published in 1999. Twenty-five years later, I guess I really haven’t changed.

Buy Links

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F9495QN7

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0F9495QN7

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/234481548-whips-kisses

Add on Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/whips-kisses-bdsm-erotic-romance-by-lisabet-sarai

About Lisabet

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.

Join her VIP email list here: https://btn.ymlp.com/xgjjhmhugmgh

My wife and I have been in the Lifestyle for most of our married life and as such, get exposed to things that straights never know and can only fantasize about. BDSM is one of those interesting but sometimes painful kinks that a lot of people get off on.

Foxy has a Dom side that comes out when she’s around her slaves. A couple we run with, Larry and Ginger, is one example. He’s a high-ranking police officer who loves to squirm under the spike heel of Foxy in her bustier and thigh-high leather boots as she tells him what a worthless worm he is especially when he tries to gaze at her bald pussy while she’s whipping his worthless ass.

I think he looks at her naughty bits, so she’ll beat him for disobeying her. My amateur psychologist side tells me that Larry has to be in control as a big, bad cop, yet he relishes abandoning himself to my wife and doing anything she demands of him.

Another couple we know from Chicago is deep in submission. The man is an actual asshole professor of psychology, and his wife is this gorgeous creature who follows him around in a dog collar and leash.

Personally, I’d like to punch him in the nose for the crap he dishes out to his wife, but she eats it up. Like an obedient puppy, she kneels at his feet, eager to perform anything he demands of her. Go get the car, put on my shoes, suck my dick!

As an interested bystander, I get the opportunity to explore this kink without getting my fingers dirty. I’ve tried a clothespin on a nipple, and that hurts, but apparently it hurts differently on others.

Going to a house party is always a hoot and never the same from time to time. Before Vegas, we lived in the Midwest, and it’s interesting to see the differences in swingers’ parties here and in other parts of the country.

We enjoy a weekend trip to a big city and attending a local House. Party or swingers’ convention in a different state. You always meet interesting people and make lifelong friends.

We don’t travel as much now that we’re in Las Vegas, as being on the West Coast means everything is so far away. As a private pilot back in the Midwest, my Beechcraft Bonanza made quick work of most cities in the eastern half of the U.S.

A fellow pilot I know has a beach house in Marsh Harbour in the Bahamas. We used to spend a week away from the cold and snow, skin diving and getting sunburnt. Marsh Harbour is a getaway from the world, and going to sleep with the sound of the waves hitting the shore outside the window is nice.

On a more up-to-date note, my latest release, The Death of Innocence, is doing well. If you haven’t grabbed a copy, it is available in electronic or paperback versions from your favorite resellers. For more on the story, click this link.

I’m Larry Archer, and I write erotic stories for the huddled and yearning masses. Foxy and I are swingers in real life. I write about what we do and see, especially swingers, unicorns, Hotwives, and cuckolds. While the Lifestyle is not for everyone, it’s been fun for us. My smut is explicit and hardcore but with a somewhat plot. Larry Archer’s porn stories are generally positive and fun, as this reflects how enjoyable swinging has been to us. If you want to check out my stories, I publish at all the typical outlets. Larry Archer’s erotic romance stories are available in electronic, paperback, or audiobook format.

Kinky Literature
Amazon Kindle
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Larry Archer on BlueSky (take that X): https://LarryArcherAuthor.bsky.social
Larry Archer on Medium: https://medium.com/@larryarcher69
Larry Archer on MeWe (Explicit Content): https://mewe.com/i/larryarcherauthor

Excerpt from Power and Persuasion – Rated R

Olivia perched on the satin coverlet of the carved canopy bed, surveying the impossibly opulent bedroom where she had been installed. The chamber had to be at least thirty feet square, with a gilt-encrusted ceiling that soared ten feet above her head. Tall windows framed in emerald velvet looked out upon a verdant lawn that stretched to the ocean. Distant sails danced upon slate-blue waves and the breeze wafting through the open casements carried a hint of salt. The late afternoon sun sparkled among the crystal tears of the chandelier, casting shards of rainbow upon the polished oak floor. Nearer the bed, a plush Chinese carpet soothed the residual blisters on her bare feet.

She wore one of the delicate silk camisoles Andrew had selected for her as they’d passed through the town. Nothing else. The other garments he’d chosen hung in the rosewood wardrobe, all but the ball gown, which would be delivered, the dressmaker had promised, by Saturday noon.

Cocktails would be served at seven, Andrew had told her, and dinner at eight. In the meantime, he’d instructed her to await him here, in her current state of undress.

She’d never even considered disobeying.

Fingers entwined upon her lap, she breathed deeply in a struggle to calm her racing heart. Her nipples knotted against the silk, aching for stimulation. Her sex was as moist as the humid summer afternoon, her juices perhaps staining the pale green satin beneath her bare bottom. No matter. Andrew MacIntyre could afford to replace it.

Her entire body hummed with anticipation. He would be here soon, or so he’d promised, and the waiting would be over. She’d wanted this for so very long—long before she’d encountered the masterful young billionaire. They had not spoken openly of what was to come. She hoped she had not misunderstood his intentions. If she had, she’d die of embarrassment—or disappointment.

With her back to the door, she watched the snowy clouds drift and reform into fantastic shapes. Breathe. Relax. Open. She remembered perfectly, despite the years.

The hinges were soundless, but she sensed his presence as soon as he entered, the new aura of power that shimmered in the room. The lock clicked, shielding them from interruption and preventing any possibility of escape. She swallowed hard. The moment of truth had arrived.

He stood before her, silent, and she bowed her head automatically, her eyes on her clasped hands. Still, she knew he was gazing upon her near-nakedness. She felt the weight of his attention like a physical caress.

“Olivia.” With one word, spoken low and sure, he claimed her. Heat rushed to her pussy and the bed cover grew damper.

“Yes, sir?” It felt easy, natural—as though she’d never stopped.

“On your knees, girl.” She slipped to the rug, boneless and loose already, his to command. Did he find her compliance strange? No matter. She had been right about his desires and that was all that mattered.

“We’ll start slowly, this first time. Don’t be afraid.”

Afraid? The only thing that scared her was the intensity of her own dark desires.