I’m so excited to have HOW TO DISCIPLINE YOUR VAMPIRE by Mina Vaughn on my blog today. Mina is a slush reader in Pitch Madness and a mentor in Pitch Wars. She’s always giving back to the writing community so what better time to spotlight her book than around Pitch Madness. This book is AWESOME! After you read about it sign up on the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win one of three eBooks, a query critique from agent Jessica Sinsheimer with Sarah Jane Freymann Literary Agency, a query and first chapter (15 pages max) from Mina, and a query and first chapter (15 pages max) critique from me.
Cerise Norrel, Type A substitute teacher by day, is ready to quit being a domme. Despite her best intentions, none of her partners can keep up with her scene fetish and attention to detail—let alone her demand that they have a costume and set waiting every afternoon by the time she’s home from school.
Over a dozen potential subs have left her in the past year, but just when Cerise thinks it’s impossible—that she’ll have to go back to vanilla relationships, or be alone forever–she meets William, who wants to make all her fantasies come true. He turns her home into a geisha’s dream apartment, a concert hall with a grand piano (which he uses to play an original composition while wearing a tuxedo), and even rents an abandoned loft for a zombie apocalypse scene—complete with canned goods.
But there’s something strange about William. Well, a lot of strange things. He must be absurdly rich, since he can afford to provide extravagant costumes and props on a daily basis without having to
leave work early. He must be insane, since he puts up with Cerise’s over-the-top demands. And most importantly, he doesn’t redden when he’s spanked, and his skin is as cool as satin sheets. When Cerise
discovers she’s become domme to the infamous “Chilly Willy,” as he’s known throughout BDSM urban lore, she begins to find out there’s a whole lot more to her handsome submissive than a creative mind and a hard body.
And when it’s William, ironically, who starts pressing Cerise to give him the kind of commitment she’s never given anyone, it’ll take everything she has to work through her issues, confront her past, and learn to be vulnerable.
Then, I saw him.
An absolutely beautiful specimen was making his way towards my little table.
I sipped the soda again, careful to not smudge my lipstick. Typically, Dommes were easy to find at mixers—the redder the lipstick, the stricter the rules. Mine was crimson on the border of downright arterial. I had hoped that my selection would weed out the weaklings in the pack. I touched it up just in case it had faded andbent down to put the compact back into my bag. By the time I leaned back up, he was in front of me.
“Hello,” he said sheepishly, eyes downcast.
This was a good sign. Subs ought to act their place at events like this—unlike that last jackass. Please, please be up to my challenge.
“Sit,” I said to him, gesturing. His posture was erect, but guarded. This man was very stylish—a corduroy blazer over a graphic tee, paired with perfectly fitted dark jeans. Urban, hip. Thank God no leather—I didn’t care how long I’d been involved in this sort of thing, I would neverget into leather. Unless it was required for a scene…then it would be acceptable. He folded his hands neatly in his lap, and began the conversation in a surprisingly self-deprecating manner.
“I have something,” he said, eyes still downcast, “I should tell you before we begin.”
I leaned forward, ready to berate him for speaking out of turn, and not letting me begin our conversation. The nerve of these guys.
Then again, this was speed dating and I didn’t want to waste time with a lecture, so I allowed him to begin.
“I’ve never been kept by a Domme. I have been advised to tell you in advance a few of my qualities that have been turn-offs. Firstly, I can tolerate any kind of pain.”
Odd, but not a deal-breaker. I did the “go on” gesture, rolling my pointer finger.
“I flinch at nothing, nor do I bruise or redden. Many women have found this off-putting, if you like that sort of thing.”
“Um, I’m a substitute teacher. I dish out pain all day. I’m not that kind of Domme,” I explained to him, trying to put him somewhat at ease. His posture relaxed somewhat.
I probably shouldn’t have disclosed my occupation to this guy, but what was he going to do? Show up at every secondary school in the Seacoast region wearing assless chaps?
“I also have very cold hands,” he said, trying to hold back his smirk. “It’s been problematic in nearly every encounter I have had. Here, feel.” I reached out my hands and touched his.
I recoiled slightly, but caught myself and steadied my hand. I said nothing. His eyes remained downcast.
He was stunningly handsome, I appraised, examining his face. Strong jaw, straight nose, blue-black tousled hair, and lips full enough to almost be considered feminine.
“I don’t mind cold hands. I’m from Nevada– I love to feel the cold compared to the heat I grew up in. It’s refreshing,” I said. Oh boy, here comes the hurt, I told myself as I handed him my list of needs and wants. “I do, however, have a very long list of requirements, and I’m afraid I’ve scared everyone off, too. I’m just as used to rejection as you seem to be,” I laughed. Half the local community thought it was great that I was a strong woman who won’t settle for anything less than what I want, and the other half thought I was an insane bitch. “In fact, they call me the deal breaker.” He smirked again, a small dimple forming in his chin.
He was wickedly handsome. If the room was less well-lit, I’d be tonguing his earlobe right now.
“Alright,” he said, glancing at the dossier. “Hit me.” He laughed at his choice of words for the situation. I did, too.
I shifted into uber-Domme mode and breathed in deep, ready for my long-winded explanation.
Last chance, Cerise.
“The requests I make of my subs are simple. Show up at my house Monday through Thursday at 2:00 pm sharp. On Monday through Wednesday, I will give you role play prompts. You must come up with the details, props, and costumes. You will email me details about the scenarios while I’m on my lunch break so I can arrive home in character. When I get home at three, you will be in costume and in character. Whatever outfit you may have for me will be hanging in my bathroom. We will perform the scene from three o’ clock until whenever I feel it’s over. You will then eat dinner with me and return home. On Thursdays, you will create an original scenario. You have free reign on those days, but please be creative. I may not be a Dominatrix in the traditional whips and chains sense, but I want your full subservience when you are with me. You will have three-day weekends to yourself.” My voice was strict like a smack on the wrist with a wooden ruler. I hoped he understood that just because he was creating one scene per week, he was not in charge of where it went. I knew my methods were unconventional, but hey, whatever gets you off, right?
He listened intently, head cocked to the side, eyes still not leaving the table.
“Is that all?” he asked.
I gasped to myself. A taker? Usually guys weren’t down with the hours AND the financial demands of coming up with new costumes and props four days a week. Then again, judging by this guy’s clothes, he could afford it. Don’t think I didn’t notice the curvy R’s on his Rock and Republic jeans. That cut retailed at $259 at Nordstrom.
And yes, in addition to being a Domme, I was a serious denim whore.
“No, that’s not all,” I said, worried that this will be the deal breaker. “You must come up with our first scenario right now. Don’t let me down.” I expected him to either tell me to fuck off, or to walk away in a daze after spending several minutes blathering his way through a half-assed attempt to come up with something that may excite me.
Of course, when hearing I was a teacher, nearly every potential sub told me the scenario where he was failing my class and wanted extra credit.
And would do “aaaanything” for it.
So, the men who usually made it to this round never made it out. Unoriginal pricks.
“I think I have one you’ll like, if I may,” he said politely.
I must be dreaming. “Proceed,” I said, both anticipating and dreading what was going to come out of his lips next. Please don’t be a student scene…
“I’m a vampire who has endured decades of loneliness. All I want is a woman who I can worship—who will look past all my flaws. I need a fearless Dominatrix who will punish me for all my past misdeeds.”
This guy was either insane, or a fucking genius.
And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t care.