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Erotica: The Master and The Monster

June 9, 2021 By Joji Sada 6 Comments

sexy Asian slave bound
via stock.adobe.com

**This story contains depictions of edge play in the forms of electricity, knives, blood, and implied consent/CNC.  The implied consent is based on the Total Power Exchange of an M/s dynamic.  It also references past trauma as experienced by the slave who tells this tale**

I am often overlooked down here as I sit quietly at Master’s feet.  There is a thick leather collar around my neck and a steel band, around my thigh, whose chain is secured to an eyebolt in the floor.  It keeps me in place while still allowing me a moderate amount of movement.  But Master always leaves my arms free.  He has done so since the first time someone felt it right to attack his property.

Since then, he has also kept my mouth covered with black cloth when I am not by his side.  

You see, I scare people.  Or so I have been told.

My previous Master had a sick sense of humor.  He liked to play with his toys until they were broken.  And if he twisted us enough, he was sure no one would take us.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I bare the fewest scars, but I look the most fearsome.

There is a deep cut from my forehead, through my right eye, and down past my ear.  He took my sight on that side with a single whiplash.  He had my teeth sharpened to points.  I’ve been told that when I smile, its horrific.  There are slices down my back from when he played too rough while he was drinking, and a couple burns on my right thigh.  But it is my face that keeps people away.

I am used to it now.  I don’t speak anymore unless Master asks me a question.  I don’t dream.  I don’t ask for anything and I never allow myself to crave anything.

I simply exist.

I exist for Master’s pleasure.


The taste of blood is frequent, even after all these years.  I constantly swipe my tongue over my teeth and they nick it in protest.  I find it soothing. It reminds me of meeting an old friend.

Master is too kind.  He treats me delicately.  He holds back.

It…hurts.

I can see the craving in his eyes to bend me back and take his pleasure.  I see the desire to take his Sadistic needs out on my flesh.

But then I see the hesitancy when he caresses my face.  When his thumb slides down the marred flesh, I see a caring that limits him with me.  I want to tell him it’s ok.  I want to shout that I am forever in his debt and he can do as he wishes.

But I don’t say a word.

What right do I have to direct Him or His actions?

So, I wait.

Maybe soon, he will notice me as more than just a monster.

Maybe.


Master is Sadistic.  Have I mentioned that?  He likes to watch someone’s body tighten, to see them sweat.  He likes to see them grit their teeth to take what he gives.  But, most of all, he likes to see the bliss on their face.  To see them get satisfaction from enduring what only he can provide.  He likes to see them happy….and sore.

And they fall all over Him.

I watch beauty after beauty prostrate before him.  I watch them bend and burn for him.  I watch their pain, and their passion, and I see their growing attachement to him.

Not one of them will come near me.  

But he draws them in like moths to a flame.

He is intoxicating.


I think Master gets enjoyment out of watching me.  See, I love to feel his fingers through my hair.  Often, I curl between his legs, with my back to his chair, and lean my head on his thigh.  And though I never let Master see, I am sure to give a smile full of teeth to every person I watch pass our room.

He chuckles darkly from time to time when someone gasps.  They all try to be nonchalant, but no one has Mastered it yet.

It amuses me.

It makes the passing of time easier until he takes me to our private chambers each night.

While this probably makes me ill-behaved, Master hasn’t chastised me yet.  So, I must be doing something right.


My eyes are closed when another visits.  As I crack my good eye open, I see it is a far cry from another grovelling slave.  It is another Master.  I know better than to meet his gaze.  There are some things even I cannot get away with.

But I take him in.  He wears nothing but black.  His t-shirt and jeans are as dark as coal.  His vest is dark but blazing with colors.  They are too blurry for me to read.  His boots are dirty.  I can tell he must live in them.

He speaks softly and passes Master a note. This must not be for a slave’s ears.

Master taps my head twice and I instantly move back to the side of his chair.  As Master stands, my hands slip under his cushion and pull the black cloth.  I slip it over my face, in time for Master to give me a nod of approval.  

I lean my head against the side of the chair and close my eyes.  I know Master will wake me when he needs me.


I am unsure of how much time has passed when I feel Master’s fingers in my hair.  I look up at him and he is grinning.  

Two snaps.

I move to kneel in front if him.  He leans forward and removes the cloth from my face.  His hand cups the side of my face and his thumb trails delicately over the scarring.

“I have a gift for you.”

I cock my head to the side.  A gift?  I am curious as to what I have done to earn such a privilege.  

“Thank you Master.”  I smile slightly, with my mouth closed.

“It will be delivered shortly.”

Two snaps.

I return to the side of his chair.  I face the door.  My curiosity has the best of me.

With my last Master, surprises meant pain.  They meant a lot of blood and a lot of crying. But this Master is kind.  He takes care of me.  He lets me sit on a cushion instead of the cold floors.  He keeps me fed.  And he doesn’t look at me with pity or disgust.

I am uneasy but I know it will be ok.  Whatever the surprise, I am sure he knows what he is doing.

He is a good Master.


A girl.  You have gifted me a girl, Master.  

Do I get to play?

I stared at the girl thrown at Master’s feet.  She is stoic.  She is breathing heavily.  She must be nervous.  She won’t look up from the floor.  She is also refusing to rise onto her knees.  Her intentions are clear.  She is intending to refuse her orders.

I don’t need to hear what was said previously to see what is happening.  Master is good at training.  She isn’t the first to be put before him.  But she is the first to be gifted to me.

She must have offended him.  He is sending a message to her, and her handler, that she has not earned the right to be touched by him.  She is not worth his time.

But she is worth mine.

She is a pretty little thing.  Her hair is black.  It is braided tightly and cascades down to her ass.  She is petite and her skin is bronzed.  She has spent many hours in the sun.  Her arms and legs are thin. She is definitely not a work slave. I wonder if she is new to the fold or possibly a house or pleasure slave.

She has the gold markings around her wrists and ankles.  The rest of her is bare.  

When she finally looks up, I smile.  I see her eyes widen and I can feel her fear.

It’s delicious.


Master rarely lets me play with others.  I tend to be fairly sadistic.  The other Masters don’t let me near their toys.  So often, I am left by Master’s chair while he plays with others.  Unless he brings out the electricity.  Then I get to watch.  He lays them across his table, mere feet from where I sit.

I find it fascinating.  Watching the girls squirm is entertaining.  He goes so gentle with some of them.  Especially those whose Masters stay nearby.  But those left to him to take his pleasure from get a whole different experience.

Their bodies bow off the table, akin to a scene from Frankenstein.  Their voices are breathy, save for a few who unwillingly curse at Master.  It’s amusing to see his reaction.

The result is always the same.  They leave his table shaking and sated.  His eyes glow and his body vibrates with energy. It’s those moments that he unleashes me and takes his pleasure.  It is those moments that I feel useful and owned.

It’s those moments, brought by the subjugation of others, that I stop feeling like a monster.


Master stands and turns towards me.  I kneel up, my back rigid and my eyes firmly on the floor.  I let out a deep, cleansing breath.  I feel him unlock the leather collar from my neck.  In its place, I feel the cold snap of the metal collar.  Its electrified.  Should I disobey, punishment is swift and merciless.  The electric collar always comes out to play when I am unleashed now.  Apparently fighting other slaves is not an approved behavior.

Then he unhooks a key from his belt, crouches down, and unlocks the iron around my thigh.  As he sets the iron down, I lean forward until my head is between his boots.  I kiss the left boot three times and repeat the action on the right before returning my forehead to the floor and whispering, “thank you Master.”

Master returns to his seat.

Two snaps.

I kneel back up.

“Entertain me, pet.”

At his words, I prowl forward on my hands and knees.

I hope she tries to run.


She is shaking.  

It is delightful.

I make sure I move enough to give Master a good show of my ass.  It takes me only a few steps to cross the room to her.  She isn’t moving.  In fact, she has stilled like prey.

Is it bad I wanted a fight, Master?

I reach out and run a finger down her side.  Her skin is cool to the touch.  I briefly wonder how long she has been uncovered on the cold floor before she was put here.  

She jerks away and I snap my jaw at her, as if poised to bite.  She screams.  Her arms reach out as if there were spots in the floor to pull her away from me.

My hand clamps down on her hip and I flip her into her back with little effort.  My arms are much stronger than hers.

I straddle her waist and pin her wrists down with my right hand.  My left wanders down the side of her face.

“What a pretty prize you are.”  My voice is low and gravelly.  I cannot speak much more than a whisper. I don’t really know why.  I can guess but it hasn’t mattered in a long time.  Slaves aren’t meant to speak.

I brought my fingers down, hovering slightly over her nipple.  I turned my head to glance at Master.  He nodded in confirmation.

I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.  Her breath hitched.  She must be sensitive.  I tugged on it lightly before twisting it and letting go.  I flicked it several times before tugging and twisting again.  The more I did it, the more she arched under me.  When her nipple was engorged and aching, I switched my attention to her other nipple.  I swapped the hands holding her wrists and repeated the treatment. 

She is whining, low in her throat.  I can tell she is trying to be quiet.  She is trying to hold back.  

I click my tongue.  Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

I lean down to her ear so she can hear me clearly.  “You will scream for us before we are done sweetie.”  I licked the shell of her ear before returning to playing with my prize.

I let my nails drag across her stomach.  She is twisting beneath me.  My thighs can hold her tiny frame in place.  But I am excited to see her reactions.

It is much better play when the prey fights back.


I scoot my ass back a few inches until I am resting on her thighs.  I decide to see what she will do.  I let go of her wrists.

I lean back and rest on my haunches.  I stare her down.  I drag my nails down her chest, between the curves of her breasts.  Once my eyes left hers though, I learned my mistake.

I felt a hard smack to the side of my face.  My neck turned with the force.  I growled.  It’s not that she hit me Master.  Its that she hit me on my blindside.  That’s just dirty tactics.

I turned back to meet her eyes and I grabbed each of her wrists with my corresponding hands.  I gripped tightly.  I am trying not to bruise her…after all, she isn’t mine permanently.

I lean down near her shoulder and drag my top teeth across it.  They are sharp enough to draw blood.  I lap it up and hold it in my mouth.

I move her hands to her sides and kneel on them.  Then I grab her chin with bruising force and lean down to kiss her.  I let the blood, her blood, trickle into her mouth.  Then I cover her mouth with my hand until she swallows.

I watch her shudder.

She wants to hit me hard enough to taste blood, it is only fair to return the favor.


I lick the salty tears trailing down her face.  I am growing bored with her now.  

Master said I should entertain him.

An idea pops into my head.

I wrap her braid around my fist and move off her.  I give her a moment to flip over but she makes no effort to move.

So, I start dragging her.  She is begging me to let go.  But we both know how this works.  You go where directed or you are moved by force.

She made her choice.

I reach the wall and crouch down, still holding her hair. 

“Stand.  Or I will make you.”

She moves with purpose this time.  I stand her up, her back to the wall, and attach a metal cuff to each wrist.  They are above her head, stretched out to an X shape, leaving her standing on the balls of her feet.

Endurance.  That was a lesson I struggled with myself.  Let’s see if she can do better.

I roughly grab both her nipples without warning, pinching and pulling them away from her body.  Her feet are dancing, trying to alleviate the pain.

I lean in and bite the side of each breast, semi-gently.  I want her to heal.  As the blood begins to slowly seep out, I let her nipples go and watch her body bounce back in relief.

The blood is glistening.  It excites me.

I turn from her and kneel, facing Master.  My lips are still red from tasting her.  I keep my eyes down, waiting for the command to come back.

Instead, I hear his boots on the cement.  I still the quivering in my body.  I am riled up from playtime and I crave his touch.

His boots come into view and I immediately lean forward with my head on the floor.

Two snaps.

I am kneeling upright again.

Two snaps.

I climb it my feet and put my hands on my elbows behind my back.

Two snaps.

My eyes move to meet his.

He is grinning.  I can see the Sadistic glint in his eyes.

He pulls me forward by the electric collar and growls into my ear.  “You’ve done well, pet.”

He pulls my hair into his fist and tilts my neck before biting down at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.  My hands break rank as I grab for his shirt.  He knows this will bring me to my knees.  Harder and harder he bites until my first knee hits the ground.  I let out a breathy sound just before my second knee drops.  I can smell the copper tang.  He drew blood.

My head is tilted back and as he kisses me, my own blood trickles between my lips.  It is warm.  His tongue his hot against mine.  It is almost dizzying.  When he pulls back, I swallow the remaining liquid and stare up at him.  I feel drunk now.  When he lets go of my hair, my body slumps, heaving great breaths.  

Master really is intoxicating.


I almost forgot we had a guest.  Then I heard the tell-tale whine.  She is rattling the chains.  She is starting to give me a headache.  

She is interrupting my bliss.

I growl again and climb back to my feet, turning to face her.  I take the first step towards her and Master halts me with his hand.

I still.  I am dissatisfied with the direction, but I know better than to question it.  

He moves away from her and puts a finger to his lips to keep me silent.  I see where he is headed and I finally understand why.

I watch as he grabs his knife and tucks a cord through his belt.  He has just turned himself into a conduit for electricity.

He’s going to play with her.

He is going to paint her pretty with fine red lines of electric current through the tip of his blade.

She won’t know what hit her.


I can hear the soft buzzing of the electricity.  I am positive she can too, especially how this room echoes.

I am watching Master move.  His steps are light but sure.  He stays just out of her sight.  I can see the soft stains of the blood marks and sweat intermingling on her flesh.  It is both erotic and enticing.

I catch Master’s eye.  He smirks and I watch as he licks the blade from base to tip.  I shiver.  He is teasing me.  I doubt if he even feels the electricity anymore.  I am positive it must run through his veins.

He lays the blade flat on her stomach, covering her navel.  I know she won’t get much of a jolt with such a broad surface but the cold with react with the heat of her skin.

Sure enough, she looks down and tries to press herself back against the wall.  I am amused.  If there is something sharp touching you, it is best practice not to move.

But adrenaline and fear will often override common sense.  That’s what makes it so delicious.

Master slowly lifts the blade and turns it on its tip.  He drags it from her naval, up between her breasts, and slowly across both shoulders before sliding it back down.  He follows the path a couple of times, watching her.  She is mesmerized by the movement.  Where he turns the blade, her gaze follows.

He slides it down her breast, circling the dark patch around her nub.  He taps the blade against her nipple.  She gasps.  I watch him repeat the process to the other side before he reaches towards his belt.  He turns up the current.  The next round will be harsher.


Again and again, he works her over.  Turning the current up and down without warning.  He slides the blade up her thighs and across her stomach.  He tortures her nipples with both the blade and his hands.  He makes her stick out her tongue and he touches the tip of the blade to it.

I flinch.  I know that feeling.

I can smell her arousal.  It lingers in the air.  As much as she whines and cries, her body is betraying her.  Her sensitivity is heightened.  Instead of running away, her body arches towards him now.

They all break for him in the end.

He warns her not to move.  He drags the blade softly across her hips and down to her hood.  He reaches back and turns off the current for a moment, sheathing his knife.

I watch him mercilessly take two fingers and start rubbing her clit.  He does not give her any respite.  He keeps the pressure heavy and the movements fast.  

She moans and cries and begs him.  A littany of pleases leave her lips and he pays her no mind.  When she reaches the edge, he stops.  

Her body curls in on herself as tears form on her lashes.

He turns the current back on and runs the blade over her skin again and again.  Once he sees her body settle into the play, he flips it off and brings her to the edge again.

This time though, when he stops, he keeps her lips spread, turns the current back on, and taps the blade over and over against her clit.

I know from experience how sharp the sensation is.  But when you are in the state she’s in, it doesn’t matter much.

All you want is more.


Her chest is heaving.  I can tell she is tiring out. So can Master.

He has me sit down on the floor as he removes her restraints.  Her head rests on the floor next to me.  

I run my fingers through her hair.  Being worked over and left on edge is a hard lesson.  

She will be fine in a little while.

Master rubs her down with a burn cream.  We want her to heal.

Her eyes are only half-open, and the fight has left her.  She shivers from the cold floor.  

Master locks a matching electrical collar around her neck before he picks her up.  He moves to the other side of the room.  He opens the door to one of the iron cages, lined with wool blankets, and lays her gently inside.

He locks the door.

“Keep her company, pet.  She’s ours now.”

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm contract, bdsm erotica, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm safety, bdsm scene, bdsm toys, dominant, master, mistress, slave, submissive

This week in kink news: February 15, 2021

February 14, 2021 By Desdemona 2 Comments

Don’t miss Kink, an amazing collection of erotic stories that explores many aspects of BDSM.

Folks are saying this may be the “new 50 Shades of Grey!”

Click below to learn more from Daily Mail.com


D1 Softball News reports that Emma Watson is a kink advocate. She raves about kinksters being the best at communication.

Click below to find out more about her views on BDSM and feminism.

Emma Watson makes amazing revelations about her sexuality!

We, at Kink Weekly, support the Sex Work Industry and sex workers.

With this being said, please check out this important article that explains the negatives around consuming free adult content from healthline.

Click below to read more!


Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to kinkweekly@gmail.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink.”

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm erotica, bdsm play, bdsm relationship, bdsm scene, communication, consent, fetish, kink, negotiations, power exchange, Sex Work Community, sex worker rights, sex workers

Interview With Mira O’Hart

February 14, 2021 By slave_bunny 2 Comments

  1. How did you get into writing? What draws you to writing erotica?

I’ve always loved writing and language. It appeals to me that there are so many options in how to express something. I began writing this novel as a teen. It didn’t have its current form then; it was a compilation of short stories in my journal. It was a way of expressing thoughts and feelings that I didn’t have another way to express.

  1. Do you identify as kinky in your personal life?

Currently I identify as a Sadomasochist. I’m drawn to multiple aspects of BDSM and have enjoyed scenes as a top and bottom and had a long term BDSM relationship.

  1. If so, how does this affect your writing?

I think the fact that I have ‘played’ and felt and used the implements that I write about makes my work more authentic than a writer who has never had these experiences. For instance, someone who has never enjoyed a single-tail may assume they cause only pain, whereas I know they can bring immense pleasure in the right hands and when that person is finished with you- you’re thrilled to be a pile of goo at their feet. It’s this sensation I want to put across when aaron first meets his Master.

  1. What do you feel are the things that make great works of erotica?

I think for the reader to find the scene ‘hot’ the writer has to first find it hot. My work tends to have a lot of M/m with BDSM elements but not a lot of explicit sex or graphic depictions. Why? Because the chaining and beating and groveling are what does it for me. There are only two actual ‘sex’ scenes in the book, because, for me, sex is not the focus.

  1. Do you feel that erotica must always come across as ethical? Why or why not?

No. Readers need to exert their own judgement there. Some fantasies can be dark. In consensual BDSM scenes we negotiate them out and keep everyone safe. In a fictional world with fictional characters a writer can be free to take the reader on a more extreme ride. Is this the same as what we would actually want done to us? Perhaps not, but it’s great creative fuel for a fun consensual scene later. 

  1. What projects are you currently working on?

I am currently working on book two of the series. When I need a break, I have another less developed piece that I play with. It may become a novel someday.

  1. Besides being a writer, what would you like our readers to know what about you?

 I don’t fit well in any box. I’m a wiccan, I’m homoflexible, I am kind and loving and I’m a conservative. It’s terrifying to say that in today’s world, because you instantly get hated. I love animals. I have two cats I adore. I can’t wait for Covid to be over so that I can travel again or take in a museum or Broadway show. I’m fortunate to have a great family and friends, and I am still hoping to find a long- term lifestyle relationship (fingers crossed). 

  1. Where can our readers find you online?

I’m on Fetlife frequently; I use Mira O’Hart as my profile name.

  1. What would you say is your overall mission regarding your work?

To give life and expression to my characters. It was so fulfilling to publish book one. It’s an amazing feeling that people around the world are reading my words. This was my dream for decades as my characters took their first breaths in the pages of my diary.

  1. Any closing words?

I’d like to try to explain the world/setting a bit. In my fictional world: The United States are still operating under the Articles of Confederation – ie. The States never unified, slavery remained legal in some States and not in others, but it’s not a North/South thing. With today’s racial tensions, I had some fears that people might misconstrue it as a racially motivated work. It is not. In book two I might get to play around more with how differently some States developed. Technology is quite different (think 1940’s or so). Not everyone has cars, or phones. No computers, no cell phones. TV’s are very new and expensive. Also, slave names are intentionally lower case, like we do in the scene. The exception is Sugar, because she doesn’t even listen to me.


Mira O’Hart credits her life long love of words, books and language to her Mom, who read to her every day. “Bookie” was one of her first words and publishing her own novel became a goal by age 10. Mira studied Journalism and Psychology at Penn State and later returned for a Master’s Degree in Education. Her varied career has included journalism, community mental health and school counseling.

Her passions include reading, writing, animals and travel. Italy and Greece are two of her favorite places visited so far. Her love of the written word has inspired her to study ancient languages including Latin, Egyptian Hieroglyphs and Summarian. She lives in North Eastern Pa with her cats, Tilly and Chloe.

Tagged With: bdsm, bdsm community, bdsm erotica, erotica, fetish, kink

Erotica: Fits Like a Glove

July 10, 2017 By Laila Leave a Comment

She rolled the stocking up and over her knee, fastening it expertly to her pale pink garter. She grinned inwardly, knowing that she wouldn’t be wearing the thigh high for too long anyhow, but presentation counts!

She stepped back, admiring herself in the mirror. The pale pink set was exquisite on herself, even she could admit that. The shiny white patten leather heels weren’t too shabby either. A little tug here, a smoothing of the hand there, and she was ready to go. Sliding her trench coat over the impressive number, she grabbed her purse and was out the door.

She made good time getting across town which didn’t allow any time for the nervousness to set in. She breathed deeply, reminding herself that this wasn’t the first time for her to meet Vik. Parking, she exited her car and made her way to the front door of the modern, light gray home. Everything was hard lines, steel, and glass. It was clean. She liked it. The bell dinged, the door opened, and she was inside in a flash.

Shining her biggest grin, she greeted Vik with a hello. He was all business as usual, kissing her cheek, taking her coat, and leading her to the back room without a second glance at her carefully crafted lingerie set. She stifled her inner disappointment at that one and reminded herself that this was just the way he was. In her heart she knew he appreciated the effort in his own way…at least she hoped.

He pulled her by her hand as he heels clicked quickly on the shining floor. They entered the room and the door was shut with a snap. “Kneel,” was the only word he uttered and she did immediately. He unzipped his pants and her mouth was sheathed around his cock. She sucked and licked, only choking intermittently on his substantial dick. She’d been practicing at home with a sex toy after all. His hand gripped the back of her head as he abused her mouth, smearing her pink lipstick all over her face and his cock simultaneously. She languished in the feel of him filling her mouth. Abruptly he hoisted her to her feet, spinning her around to land her bent over onto a padded table. He pressed each wrist by her face, “Stay,” he said. There was movement behind her and suddenly she felt the crack of what she presumed to be a paddle to her ass. The hits were not horrifically painful but a bit more than a warm up to be sure. He continued with the strokes while simultaneously stroking her swollen wet pussy. Her face was red with embarrassment and the exertion of withstanding the increasingly heavy swats.

He threw the paddle aside and delivered several blistering swats with his hand. Without warning, he thrust her panties to her ankles, spread her legs, and filled her to the hilt with his fully erect cock. She stifled her moan of surprise into the table and savored the fullness she felt between her legs. Stroke after stroke punished her pussy and she loved every moment. He quickly pulled his cock out, smacking her ass with its heavy fullness and then plunged deep inside her again.

With a moan, he was spent inside her, coming fully into her, slowing his rhythm down until he collapsed over her. Breathing hard, he brushed her hair away from her ear and gave her a kiss. “Mmm, I love being in my little pussy, fits like a glove.”

Tagged With: bdsm erotica, erotica

Book Review: Comfort Object by Annabel Joseph

May 1, 2017 By anniebear 2 Comments

Comfort Object by Annabel Joseph is the first of a four book series. There is little similarity between the books within the series other than the theme of BDSM and the recurring appearance of characters threaded throughout. I’ve completed the entire series and the other three books don’t seem to capture the same magic and relationship as Comfort Object.

Comfort Object hit all of the buttons in what I like out of my erotica; BDSM themes, a strong dominant male figure, and a girl in trouble. To take a next step, the girl in this story is in trouble because the guy purposely gets her into it! We begin with Nell, she’s working as a professional submissive in a dungeon in LA. A very handsome man comes in one evening and pays to dominate her. Spoiler alert, this handsome man is not our main attraction for the book, rather he is to be the male lead’s assistant. Nell breaks the dungeon rules by meeting this man outside of the dungeon for sex. The head Mistress finds out and subsequently fires her. Come to find out, the sexy male assistant was on a search for his boss to acquire a new submissive. You heard that right, the assistant gets to “test” Nell out for his boss.

Enter Jeremy, famous movie star (of course). After his assistant gives him the information on Nell, he finds her at her new waitressing job and solicits her to be his new assistant. She eventually relents out of financial desperation, only the find out the new “job” is actually to be his live in submissive. I don’t want to give away the rest but sexy shenanigans ensue, Nell gets placed in danger, and you’ll need to read it to find out what happens!

I really liked this book because the BDSM scenes seem very authentic, as if someone who knows what they are talking about wrote them. The D/s exchange is really hot and I love the power play between Jeremy and Nell. I will say that Jeremy is borderline a terrible jerk for a portion of the book. He does not take care of Nell mentally and emotionally like a D/s dynamic should be but a lot of that is due to the contractually relationship they share. There are also a few moments where the contract and perhaps even consent were thrown the wayside. I would have liked Jeremy to be more stable as he was echoing some Christian Gray standards.

The book also shared group sex scenes which I really enjoy reading about. Many of the past BDSM themed erotica avoid this theme, centering the book solely on a monogamous relationship. This was a change to the repetition of the last few books I had read. I highly recommend Comfort Object for your summer reading. The other three books in the series, Caressa’s Knees, Odalisque, and Command Performance are also very entertaining but lacking that “spark” I enjoy in my erotica. I hope to check out more of Annabel Joseph’s books a sI rarely follow specific authors, so it would be nice to have a new go to! The Comfort Object series is available here.

anniebear is a submissive living with her partner Dexx in Los Angeles. She enjoys writing, modeling for friends, animal rescue, and teaching herself how to cook. You can catch her on Fetlife or Facebook.

Tagged With: annabel joseph, bdsm erotica, book review, erotica, reading

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