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Hi! My name is Kendall, I'm 28, a Media Graduate and I'm from Scotland. I'm a Reader, Reviewer, and Blogger.

Thursday 6 April 2023

Book Blitz & Giveaway: Power Zones [Billionaire Doms Duet 01] by Bronwyn Judde!


   Errol called me every day, and I met him for dinner or drinks almost every night. I felt safe to try more daring things with him than I had with Pete. I never really trusted Pete, but I’d liked his preference for rough sex. Errol was keen to show me all manner of debauchery, but he always gave me choices.
   His apartment had a special room that he referred to as his ‘Pleasure Room.’ It had almost as many toys as Salacity, and a platform bed that had restraints and straps and a waterproof cover. He tried out a number of sex toys on me while I was strapped down, totally immobilized, and brought me to orgasm so many times it was painful.
   I shrieked and screamed, but I never said “yellow,” let alone “red!”
   One evening, after dinner at a crazy expensive restaurant, he sat me on his knee. “Tonight, we’re going to try a crop, but only if you want to. It will hurt, Danica. I’ll start light, but unless I hear you say “yellow,” it’s going to get harder. I know you have a lingerie show in a week, so I won’t do anything that won’t fade by then.”
   “I want this. I’m sure I will like it.”
   “I’d be surprised if you like it at first. The pain will change into pleasure at some point, but you may not be able to get there yet. Promise you’ll be honest with me?”
   “I promise, Errol. I trust you. I kinda need pain sometimes. Will you tie me up?” He had already tied me a couple of times, using soft, red ropes.
   “No Baby. Not until I know your tolerances.”
   He had me lie on a leather bench that was designed for spanking. It curved high up under my hips, displaying my ass, and had two leather horns at the front for me to hold onto. We had used it a couple of times for floggings. I loved to be flogged. Even when the falls caught my nipples or my clit. Actually, particularly then.
   I settled myself on the bench with my breasts hanging over the end and my hands clutching the leather horns.
   Errol spread my legs, so my pussy was exposed, and my ass was tilted up. He went to a large closet where he kept his toys and came out with a riding crop, about two feet long. It had a leather flap at the end. He caressed my back with it, dipping it down between my legs and covering it with my arousal, then he teased my asshole with the handle, rubbing it around my hole until I was thrusting at him.
   The crop came down on my ass and I flinched. It stung.
   “Color, Danica?”
   “Green Sir. Don’t stop, please!”
   Another strike, then a pause. I wiggled, wanting more.
   Errol seemed to be comfortable with my reactions, so he began laying down strikes on my ass and my upper thighs. One ripped across my sit-spot, and I screamed.
   It felt as though I had been sliced open, flesh laid bare to the bone. The pain grew hotter and hotter. I was moaning and sobbing and then suddenly, I was floating. I felt the crop striking me, but it became part of the floating. My body convulsed as Errol threw down the crop and buried his cock in my ass.
   I was hooked. I wanted that floating feeling to last forever. My body craved it; my mind became obsessed with it.
   Errol seemed to know what he had released in me, and it worried him. The next time I was in his apartment, he refused to cause me any pain. Instead, he laid me on the bed and ate my pussy for a solid hour. His tongue was an impresario, and my cunt was a musical instrument of such rarity it had to be worshiped as it was played. He licked lightly between my folds, teasing the inner lips apart, then moving away from the core of me along my taint.
   I writhed in ecstasy.
   His long, talented tongue pierced my vagina and licked the inside of it, rubbing and flicking the walls in a way that made me gasp. He made it rasp against my anus, bringing all the anal nerves to life, then pierced that forbidden place. But best of all was how his soft lips surrounded my clit and sucked it with a fervor that had me losing my mind. I clenched so hard with the resulting orgasm, that I thought my bones would shatter. It was more than enough. He was more than enough. For now…

I was discovered by a modeling agency in New York City and my life abruptly changed from one of poverty and self-doubt to where I was the one in control. Yes, men used me for sex but I used them too; seizing power to get what I wanted: sex and pain, preferably together.

But no one owns me, and definitely no one possesses my heart.

Money and fame are mine for the taking and I take them greedily as I put my miserable childhood behind me and find power, particularly over men.

But I have an elusive feeling that something is missing from my life. Is it possible to find a person who could love me enough to overcome the need to protect my heart? I doubt it.

Power really is enough for me.

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Author bio:

Hello. I started writing erotic romances at the beginning of the pandemic, and found writing made me happy. Honestly, I wish I had started years ago. Erotic Romances are so much fun to write!

In my life I've run a tiny weaving company on a Greek Island, starred in a movie that never got released (just as well!) worked in a head shop, prepared taxes, and been a stay-at-home mom. My two adult children are my finest accomplishments.

I live in Buffalo, NY.

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