The five pervertibles every kinky woman must own.
What, you’ve never heard of a pervertible? That’s a vanilla object that can be used for deliciously deviant purposes. They are really handy because they’re usually cheap, innocuous-looking, and easy to find. If you’re starting your toy box, head to your nearest Dom Depot, Walmart, or dollar store and pick up these five items:
• A wooden spatula: The flatter the better! Sometimes flat wooden spoons work as well. After you whip up (haha, see what I did there?) breakfast for your Dom, you can use it as a spanking tool! [insert photo 1 here]
• Clothespins: the cheapest, most evil nipple pinchers you’ll ever find.
• A bread board: first, you enjoy your fresh French loaf. Then you get spanked. Michael’s crafts (in their wood crafts section) usually stocks a thin, flat cheese board and a really hefty paddleboard. Actually, Michael’s, we should talk. This thing you’re selling called a “paddleboard” isn’t a pervertible so much as it is kinky fuckery under the guise of innocence. Well played, Michael’s…well played.
• Rope: if you’re just beginning to experiment with bondage, you don’t need to immediately invest in the nice rope (though when you do, look at the Twisted Monk http://twistedmonk.com/). Until then, poly blend (part nylon, part propylene) rope ¼ inches thick (and a really sharp pair of scissors—safety first, kids!) will let you explore. Go to your local home improvement store for the best selection. Depending on what kind of bondage or Shibari you’re looking to do, the length will vary. Ask specific questions in the comments section.
• White prayer candles ***not for beginners***: These candles produce slightly cooler wax and are easy to handle because the glass jar does not get hot. PLEASE read (and read some more) on wax play—and have a partner you really trust—before testing these out. That being said…if you’re going to try wax play, these are the candles to have on hand.
HEAT UP THE NIGHT by Skylar Kade
Can they find love without losing themselves…
Tovia Douglas has devoted her adult years to sheltering her mentally ill mother and ensuring her sister's independence. When Tovia turns 27, those lost years come into sharp, painful focus and she decides it's time to start enjoying life, starting with a little mental vacation through submission at her local kink club.
Keilor Branson grew up believing in love at first sight. He just figured his other half would feel it too. Instead, feisty new submissive Tovia runs from their emotional connection. Determined, Keilor must chip away at her walls and prove that love is worth the risk.
When family troubles lead to Tovia's change of heart, their roles are reversed. Now she must prove to her man, her Master, that while love isn't always perfect, they are perfect for each other.
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His face hit her like a fist to the stomach. Even after seeing him in her dreams every night for a month, she was still awed by him. Dark brows framed laughing hazel eyes, now serious, which led to a nose that would have looked oversized on anyone else, with its reset-bone bump. It just gave him character. More laugh lines around his mouth, and the beginnings of a goatee. That was new. It was the only hair on his head.
She’d never been attracted to bald men, but Keilor was so sexy that even his bare skull turned her on. She knew it was by choice. She’d worked a little Google-Fu after their first scene together and found recent pictures of him with a full head of thick, brown hair.
Warning bells went off, but they were drowned out by his voice.
“I’m sure Master Mike will be tickled to learn he has such a steadfast champion.”
Waves of subtle lemony air drifted over her, as they always did in his presence. Or they did during their one scene together. She hadn’t been able to serve a Lemontini since without her panties getting wet.
Tovia sighed at his teasing even as the little hint of jealousy in his voice made her stomach jump. She shouldn’t react, but her body betrayed her so easily. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
Laughter rumbled her bones at every point of contact with his body. “I’m an elite member. I’m here all the time.”
“Not since we—” She bit off the rest of her sentence before she could dig herself in further and tried again to wriggle from his lap.
“Silly girl.” His words gentled, soothed. One rough hand slid up and down her arm. Damnit, she should not like that. “I was in Greece. The owner of the Hellena sent me over there to sample food and wine vendors. I assumed you knew.”
Now he’d think she was pining after him. Just because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him didn’t mean she missed him. Or wanted a repeat that lasted all night.
No, because that would be ridiculous. Douglas women didn’t need men. It was practically the family motto.
To keep things light, she teased him back, ignoring the way her skin heated beneath his touch. “Oooh, poor thing. That must have been such a hardship.” A smile even teased at the corner of her lips despite her efforts to remain unaffected by his presence. When was the last time she smiled at a man who wasn’t tipping her for drinks?
Keilor stared down at her. “Actually, it was.”
Oh boy. She wasn’t touching the wealth of subtleties in those words. Not going down that path.
Keilor lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Butterflies hatched in her chest, then died when he said, “You look tired.”
She scowled. “Well if that isn’t what every woman wants to hear from an attractive—” Her jaw clunked shut around the foot in her mouth.
He nipped her forefinger, zinging arousal to all her naughty bits, then stole her breath when he kissed her nose, her cheek. “Do you get a freckle every time you sass a Dom?”
An indelicate snort escaped her. “Sure. The freckles are a little-known Dominant Warning System saying ‘steer clear of the angry redhead!’” Yes, she thought, hold dear to your sarcasm. It was her current chastity belt of choice, and that was swiftly crumbling at the edges.
“Good. Less competition.” His lips drifted to her neck, where he pressed kisses to random patches of skin still exposed around the edges of the blanket.
Oh shit. She clutched the soft brown cover around her, remembering what she wore beneath—absolutely nothing aside from her short shorts. Like flipping a switch, her nipples hardened and her pussy clenched. He could so easily expose her. Not that she hadn’t been naked in the club every weekend, but it was different now, with Keilor watching her.
“What…what are you doing?” His exploratory kisses had turned into sizzling nips to her collarbone.
“Counting your freckles.” He tugged at the blanket, playing momentary tug of war with her until he stopped fighting and simply went around the mountain. His hand slithered beneath her shield to scald her stomach, then higher. When the back of his hand brushed across her nipple, she moaned. “I need a baseline count. Scientific study and all of that.”
Skylar Kade, self-avowed hedonist and princess extraordinaire, started her writing career after throwing aside yet another romance she could not bring herself to finish. The run-on sentences! The purple prose! Oh, the horror of it was just too much. So she sat down to write her own tale. Her favorite part about writing is the extensive research.
She currently resides in sunny southern California, alternately cursing the polluted air and adoring the weather. Skylar spends her time asking the cabana boys to bring her more mimosas and feed her strawberries while she dreams up her next naughty adventure.
She blogs at the SkylarVerse and with the Nine Naughty Novelists.
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