This is romantic erotica with detailed BDSM and intimate sex scenes for women and discerning men over 18. It’s also a character-driven adventure novelette and the first episode of a serial with dark fantasy elements. Anyone seeking non-stop smut won’t be happy here. Anyone offended by sexual exploration that focuses on a woman’s pleasure, male dominance, and sadomasochism should find something else to read. If you’re up for an unusual BDSM reading experience, you’re reached the right island.
Cleo discovers she can experience the complete fulfillment of her secret desires. She has only to ask.
A joking email from my favorite co-worker leads me to a naughty site. Submission Island offers a free, all-expenses paid vacation at a Caribbean resort for qualified women.
It doesn’t seem likely the exclusive resort would accept a curvy, half-Egyptian, twenty-eight year-old with limited kinky experience. The application reads like a menu for perversion. I click off the Yes, No, Maybe activities and upload my most appealing lingerie photo. Hell, I need a vacation full of sex with no ties except the ones that get undone after a happy ending.
This time, I’ll go for having my erotic dreams come true.
Something happens when you face your deepest desires. You change. You can’t turn back.
I enter a labyrinth where I get to choose what happens to me.
I think a spanking will be safe.
My heart pounded. I stopped on the threshold, staring into the shadows. I smelled leather.
“Shut the door, please.”
His deep, resonant voice sounded familiar. That wasn’t possible. I bit my lip. It took all my willpower to shut the door on the hall that led to the exit. Shutting the door meant I was in here. Hell, opening it meant I made my choice. This was my one room for today. I may as well make the most of it. I let go of my fantasy that this was going to be a non-threatening experience.
The imposing figure of the man in the shadows was threatening as hell.
He had the bulk of a boxer, yet a refined profile. His ear, the one part of him illuminated, would have fit on a bust of the emperor Caesar. He had a neat beard, not one of those chin scruff things, a real man’s beard.
