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Posts Tagged ‘Heather Cole’

  1. The Year That Everything Changed

    August 16, 2017 by Heather Cole

    I knew that 2017 was going to be THE YEAR. I wasn’t sure what that meant exactly or what precisely would make the year exceptional. All I had was a feeling in my gut. I remember telling my mama, “this year is going to be huge.” She and I talked every day about where we both were in terms of finances, personal growth, general health, our cats, and all the myriad of things you discuss with the person closest to you. Oh, the things we didn’t know at the beginning of 2017 could have filled a stadium.

    The year began with two big changes for me. I ended the most significant D/s relationship of my life so far, and this blog faltered as I scrambled around trying to figure out what I was going to do next. Did I want to keep writing here? Did I want to write more erotica? My writing was at a standstill, and for that space in time, I didn’t care. I continued to untangle the threads of my old relationship as I saved money towards the object of my desire. There was one thing I was certain of. I really, really wanted to buy a house.

    It had been my dream since divorcing that I would someday be able to afford a house as a single, self-employed woman. I was a homebody, a person who loved to nest. I enjoyed going out, but it didn’t feed my soul like cooking in my kitchen or curling up with Catsquatch in bed did. Home was definitely where my heart was, so I busted my ass cleaning up my credit, paying off my debt, and increasing my income so that I would be mortgage-worthy. I had no idea how it would work or how the puzzle pieces would fit together, but I knew in my heart that I wanted a house. It was the next stage in my personal evolution, and I knew I could do it. I didn’t know the details of “how,” but there was this rocket of desire pushing me to accomplish it this year.

    In April, on a whim, I began the mortgage application process to see if I could get approved, and by May, I was seriously hunting for houses. I couldn’t believe it, and I kept mentioning to Mama that it seemed impossible that my dream was coming true finally. She said that she was living vicariously through me, and we jokingly planned about how we’d arrange “her bedroom” which was officially my office. I began to plan our first Christmas in my new house with excitement, and a little anxiety, in my heart.

    The beginning of June launched a month full of inspections and repairs, and I became consumed by the house buying process. My end goal was tangible, and every day during our phone call, my mama asked for an update. She demanded to know all the details, but something was off. Her speech sounded slurred, and she was forgetting things more than normal. My brother and I had made plans to visit, and I reassured myself that I would haul her ass to the doctor once I got there.

    She told me it was the usual chemo side effects that lingered, and that she was fine generally speaking. I didn’t believe her and urged her to go to the doctor. For the first time, I felt like she wasn’t being honest with me. But I couldn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do. She finally admitted that she was afraid to go, because doctors always told her bad news. I couldn’t summon the words for an argument, because since being diagnosed with cancer over three years ago, the medical news had almost always been negative. Worry settled into my stomach.

    A week after that, my aunt called me late on Tuesday night. She told me that it was time to come home and that my mama’s health was worse than anyone had known. My brother and I scrambled to make arrangements, and I told myself not to panic. There were too many questions still. I hadn’t talked to the doctors, and I didn’t know enough yet. I repeated out loud, over and over again, “we still have time.”

    The day after my aunt’s phone call, I stood at my kitchen sink with my cellphone clutched to my ear.

    “I need you to be my reality check. I know it’s a burden, but I need you to tell me the truth.” My mother’s voice sounded weak.

    “OK,” I said, biting back a sob. “I think that you can do this exactly how you want. Regardless of what the doctors say or what my brother and I want, you can handle this in a way that you want.” I couldn’t bear to name the thing that loomed at the edge of our conversation. This was death, and I couldn’t name it.

    “That’s good,” she said. “I think you’re right.” She went on to talk about an alternative therapy, but we both knew it would never accumulate into action. She was too weak and out of options.

    Mama had finally conceded to go to the ER to have tests done. She learned that she now had a brain tumor, and cancer had metastasized in her lungs. She had a mass in her liver, and her oncologist projected six more months of life if she was lucky.

    She didn’t want to tell me. In fact, she had asked my uncle to break the news to me. It turned out that her diagnosis wasn’t the only thing that she had wanted to hide. She hadn’t wanted to tell me that she had gone to church with her pants on backwards or that her “brain wasn’t right.” I ended up reading about it in her journal, and before you scold me about reading her personal writings, I felt desperate to discover what she hadn’t shared. The woman I knew and loved had gone to a place untouchable by me.

    I had spent my entire life confiding in my mother, and she had confided in me as well. But she had been unable to tell me the hardest things that she had to face alone. I think because she didn’t want to admit them to herself. Because she was scared. Because she didn’t want to die.

     

    I think about that conversation every day, and I think about the last time I saw her. She chose to die when I wasn’t there. She didn’t really want anyone there, but towards the end she allowed her siblings into her room to say their final farewells. I didn’t get to do that. I was already home. I had left with her smiling and hugging me. I had left with the promise that I’d return in a week.

    I had to close on my new house, and I wanted to pick up my daughter. I had every intention of going right back to mama, so that she could have some time with her precious granddaughter. My best laid plans, however, were not what mama had in mind.

    I think now that she couldn’t die with me there. That somehow I anchored her to this world, and she didn’t want to fight me about leaving. God knows, I didn’t want her to leave. I couldn’t entertain the idea that she would leave me even though I knew the odds. My heart insisted that we had six months, and that a miracle could happen in six months. But she was suffering, and her body had betrayed her. Her brain no longer performed the way she needed, and she was in a lot of pain from years of chemotherapy and radiation.

    On the afternoon that she died, I held my daughter close and we watched Moana. There was a part in the movie when the grandmother told Moana that she should pursue her quest, because “there is nowhere you can go that I won’t be with you.” I was reminded of the pact my mother had made with me when she was first diagnosed with cancer. We vowed to find one another that somehow the three of us, my mother, me and my daughter, would be together again. I don’t know that I believe in the heaven that my church preaches, but I believe that I’ll know her again.

    June and July have passed in a blur. I interred my mother’s ashes, worked with my brother to settle her estate (an ongoing process) and cleaned out her apartment. We found a good home for her cat, and I sat at her dinner table and sobbed about never sharing another meal with her. I wrote and delivered her eulogy and hugged a hundred people who knew and loved her. I closed on my house, moved my mama’s things, and then moved my own. And I did all this with a hole in my heart the size of the moon.

    I am the walking wounded. You just can’t see it.

    The oddest thing was that the world didn’t stop even though I had lost the second most important person in my life. The sun rose and set. I still had to work. I had to figure out meals and do laundry. I had to take care of my daughter.

    The weirdest thing about this messy life, my messy life, was that sunshine pierced my darkest days. I could cry every day, and still go to the dungeon and have an orgasm. The gift of human connection and the ability to write about it existed alongside my despair. I learned, and am still discovering, that there was no “right” way to grieve and that it wasn’t this straightforward process of stages like Wikipedia may have lead me to believe. An acquaintance asked if I had “bounced back” from my mama’s death after reading the previous week’s post, and the words slapped at my face. Does anyone truly recover from losing their mother? I didn’t believe that writing about an evening of pleasure negated the loss of my mama. This year so far had been full of dreams come true and nightmares realized.

    Every day I reached for my phone to call her. I didn’t delete her texts, but I couldn’t bear to look at them either. She had influenced my life in immeasurable ways, had been my protector, advocate, and sounding board. She had been my dearest friend, the best mother I could imagine, and a devoted grandmother. She had born witness to my life, and suddenly I was unsure of everything.

    Who am I without my mother? And most importantly, what was I going to do without her? Hand over hand, bird by bird, I am doing my best to figure that out.


  2. The Proposal

    August 10, 2017 by Heather Cole

     

     

    The luxury car roared up the hill, its engine’s vibration thrumming through my seat. I was full of expensive wine and gourmet food, and I couldn’t help but think about what I was going to do with the man beside me. The proposal danced through my mind. My silk skirt inched up my thighs as I settled back to enjoy the ride. His broad hand fiddled with the console, and I could feel his gaze flirt with the hem that had fluttered below the juncture of my thighs.

    “May I turn up the music?” he asked.

    “Yes,” I said and moved his hand. I placed it on my upper thigh, forcing him to choose whether to crank the music or keep his hand tantalizingly close to my wet panties. He didn’t know they were wet at the moment, but I considered allowing him to.

    “Would your proposal really work?” I mused out loud.

    “It’s a simple plan really.” His hand inched higher.

    I thought back to the stories we had shared over our five-star meal and the confidences we had traded. He knew about my broken heart and had promised to never hurt me. He swore that he would always be honest with me, but I didn’t necessarily believe him. What I did believe was that he thought we were perfect for one another with our compatible kinks and lust for sexual adventure.

    His proposal was to foot the bill and fly me to whichever city he was working in for the weekend. I would have time to sightsee or write if I wished while he was occupied with corporate concerns. My only task was to find a suitable man for our sexcapades. Then at night we’d meet that willing man who would fuck me while my friend watched. He might participate or he might not. His fantasy was to watch me take big cocks and have loads of orgasms. I couldn’t deny the appeal of the scenario. I did love taking big cocks and having a plethora of orgasms. I even had a swingers’ website in mind to use.

    My friend had brought a vibrating egg with him to dinner and had challenged me to insert it before the waiter returned with our chocolate soufflé. I accepted of course, and then spent the next hour blushing furiously as he increased the vibrations and a loud whir filled the space between us. I was certain that the waiter heard, but by then the wine had had its way with me and I cared less and less about the small humiliation.

    Accepting the challenge of the egg was simpler than agreeing to run away with him on the weekends to fuck strangers. But I was too horny and too tipsy to think any further about it. I wanted release. The vibration of the bass teased me through the seat, and I squirmed, pulling his hand closer to my goal.

    “I almost forgot,” I said with a sigh. I lifted my ass and pushed my panties down. Then I spread my legs with my heels braced on the dashboard.

    He groaned. “God, that’s hot.”

    “Am I the first girl that you’ve fingerbanged in your Ferrari?” I didn’t wait for an answer but pushed his fingers inside me. “Make me come,” I ordered.

    He didn’t disappoint me.

    I had two orgasms, my body mirroring the crests of the hills that we flew over. I didn’t know how I was going to answer him, and luckily my body didn’t care. His fingers swirled inside me, muting my thoughts.

    Did I want a Daddy, a man happy to take me traveling and feed my voracious sexual appetite—protecting me while nurturing my kinks? It sounded too good to be true even though he swore there was no downside.

    Despite those incredible orgasms, I’m still deciding.

     

    Interested in reading my other anecdotes for Swingtowns? Check them out here:

    The Pink Unicorn

    5 Tips For Your Dungeon Experience


  3. My Mother

    August 21, 2016 by Heather Cole

    Mother mortal coil

    I wanted to return from my travels with a fresh post about my time in Italy and how it had surpassed my expectations. My time with sir in a country rich in art, steeped in history, and incredible food far exceeded my most passionate vacation fantasies. The reality of Italy proved almost dreamlike at times. Did I really sit and ponder Michelangelo’s David? Had I gazed upon Botticelli’s Primavera amidst a crowd of people and wished I could physically press myself into its flowery details? I drowned myself in art and food while I basked in sir’s attentions. Other than daily correspondence with my mother, I was out of touch with everyone. It was surprisingly delightful. I arrived home full of foreign sights and sounds, buzzing with love and wine, only to find that life hadn’t stilled during my absence.

    I came home to a sick cat who needed a trip to the vet, and my car needed new breaks. My daughter had a dentist appointment, and I used that hour in the waiting room to frantically search for a cat sitter who could come twice a day to give Catsquatch his medicine. Meanwhile I fielded emails and texts from my brother and both sets of parents to coordinate our visit the following week. Oh yes, I was leaving town again in less than seven days for a roadtrip to the motherland. There was packing to be done while I tried to catch up on work, and the buoyancy of Italy couldn’t compete. Especially with the latest news regarding my mother.

    Sir and I were in Rome when I received the email. My mom had sent an update to the family, telling us that the chemo wasn’t working. A scan had showed that it wasn’t having any effect on the nodules of cancer on her lungs. Her doctor recommended switching the chemo cocktail and perhaps applying for an experimental drug trial. She had said that she remained hopeful in her message, but I knew better. I could read how she actually felt behind the sunny missive, so I choked back my fear and planned a trip north with my daughter. It had turned into the most inconvenient time to leave home when I had barely caught my breath from Italy, but I had to go. My little brother was going to meet us there, and I couldn’t postpone our departure without fucking up everyone else’s timetable. The worst part was the fear that I couldn’t shut out. 

    I’m running out of time.

    My mother looked older than her seventy years. She was physically fragile and her movements slow. She used a cane to walk around her small apartment and sometimes a walker when she thought we weren’t watching. The chemo was a poison that killed cancer cells and seemed to be killing the rest of her too. It affected her skin, her joints, hair, and nerves. We referred to her lapses in memory and problem solving as “chemo brain,” and I silently recited my mantra of patience, patience, patience. Patience as I waited for her to slowly make her way across a room, patience to explain again what we needed to do, patience with the long list of chores that had to be accomplished before we left. I snapped at her, feeling irritated when she instructed me for the hundredth time exactly how she wanted her dishwasher filled. But beneath that bubbling anger was fear, a fear of what I will do without her. It was a pain so keen that it stole my breath.

    She asked us to clean out her cabinets, so my brother installed new shelves in her pantry as I pulled out boxes and cans of food. She sat at the kitchen table with a blanket around her shoulders while my brother and I moved expediently around her, sweat dripping down into the collars of our shirts. The summer heat and humidity failed to warm her, so we didn’t turn on the air conditioning but silently melted into puddles in our shoes. We teased her about the exploded can of sweetened condensed milk that coated one spot, and I scraped away at the blackened, sticky surface. Eventually I asked her what had inspired her thorough clean-out, and she shrugged.

    “Oh, you know. I don’t want to leave with all of this stuff still …” She gestured at the expanding trash bag.

    I swallowed hard. She had finally mentioned the shadow that had ridden me hard ever since reading her email. I felt cracks appear in the shields around my heart, and I struggled to control the overwhelming tide of emotion. My brain refused to process the implications of her unfinished thought. I distracted myself with another task to focus purely on physical labor even though the denial was slipping from me with each moment we spent together. My heart beat with a throbbing ache in my chest. I couldn’t breathe. With some flimsy excuse, I fled the room.

    I hid in the spare room with the excuse of completing some urgent work. Sir called me soon after, and beneath his gentle questioning, my armor dissolved. I related the conversation, tears streaking down my face. The scales had finally fallen from my eyes, and for the first time since she had come out of remission, I admitted to myself that my mother might never recover.

    Our unspoken family motto is: if you put enough effort and energy into something, it will work. And if the thing isn’t working, put your head down and work harder. The older I got, the more I realized that this motto was not without its flaws nor did it serve every situation. Until that moment with my mama, I had been applying it to her recovery from cancer. I had believed, mostly unconsciously, that if I prayed hard enough and believed fervently that my mother would recover, then she would. That to entertain any thought of the contrary was counterproductive. So when she came out of remission, when the first kind of chemo didn’t work; these were signs that I wasn’t trying hard enough. I know it seems ridiculous that this was somehow my responsibility, or perhaps its conceit that my personal thinking would have that great an impact, but some part of my internal reasoning thought to make her better through sheer will on my part.

    I can’t, of course, and with the crush of my disillusionment came a startling gift. Sir told me, “at least you know that your time is limited.” It took several days for that to sink in, and at first, a feeling of resentment swelled at the seemingly harsh observation. He’s right, though. I can see now, and more importantly accept, that there is an end to the timeline. Logically we all know it. No one lives forever, but feeling that truth is something else entirely. Feeling that truth for someone that you love with your entire being… well, it’s fucking shitty. And terrible. And somehow freeing too.

    Sir’s advice was to take advantage of what I could finally acknowledge, and that I should wring every possible moment from the time we have left together. I know he’s right, and at the same time, my brain refuses to imagine a life without her in it. I’m surprised by how hard it is to sit with the feeling that our time will end and to somehow be OK. I’m striving to accept that these are the moments I have now. None of us really knows how much we actually have but we like to tell ourselves that there’s always tomorrow. I can’t keep saying that. Instead I tell myself to hold tight and love hard. It’s the best I can do.

    When my daughter and I finally arrived at home, it felt like I was walking with a bubble of sadness encompassing me. It has taken the better part of a week for me to find my footing again, and running has really helped with that. I’m still processing, still crying and sad, but I’m functioning better and can feel happiness through the miasma of grief. I was on the trail the other day, pondering the universal process of coming to grips with our mortality, and a scene from Moonstruck popped in my head. I had to laugh. If you’ve never seen it, you should. It’s one of my favorite movies of all time, full of messy relationships, long-lasting love, and of course, life and death.

    One of the storylines is that Cosmo is having an affair, and his wife of many years knows it. Part of the movie is Rose trying to figure out why Cosmo felt compelled to cheat, and she asks different characters why they think men cheat on the women they marry. Finally she comes to her own conclusion and tells Cosmo. (At this point in the movie, Cosmo doesn’t know that Rose knows about his infidelity.)

     

    Hold tight and love hard, my friends.

     


  4. Before You Go Out To Play

    March 8, 2016 by Heather Cole

    Vagina Antics Dungeon

    Helping out at my local dungeon means that I see all types of people at play. Kink is a varied tapestry of body shapes, gender identity, lifestyle choices, and sexual preferences. And that’s just what I can see from the outside. Everyone brings their moods, their varying energies, and emotions to our extreme games as well. There is no “one way” to do kink, and on the days that I go to the dungeon, I’m reminded that I’m still learning and having new experiences. I doubt I’ll ever get to a place where I say that I’ve “seen it all” when it comes to kink. It was a recent dungeon encounter, and a new situation that I hadn’t experienced before, that gave me the spark of an idea for this post.

    Today, dear vagina fans, we’re going to cover a few basic concepts to consider before you go out to play. These tips aren’t only good for dungeons, but also for any type of sexual/kinky play. Whether you’re hiring an escort (Sydney escorts) for a special night, paying to see your pro dominant for a session, or renting some space/time at a BDSM club, there are some basics to keep in mind.

    Before you get on your high horse about me mentioning Jaipur escorts, pro dominants (i.e. dominatrix), or any other type of sex worker, you should know that I support sex workers and that I write from a nonjudgmental space. I condemn human trafficking. People who choose sexwork (for whatever reason) shouldn’t be criminalized for offering a service. If you want to read more about my views, you can click here. If you’re horribly offended… honey, this ain’t the blog you should be reading.

    Now on with our friendly, neighborhood kinky play tips:

    1.Cleanliness is next to… um, it gets you closer to the person you desire – This should seem like a no-brainer, right? You’re probably rolling your eyes, thinking, “of course I’m going to shower before getting naked with my special someone.” This is good. You absolutely should. However, if you’re going to the dungeon between meetings or slipping out for a spicy massage on your lunch break, you won’t be showing up shower fresh. In fact, a lot of body functioning could have happened between that shower you had first thing in the morning and the moment when the dominant is tying you up for some CBT (that’s cock and ball torture).

    Human bodies smell. It’s our nature to emit pheromones, and our bodies have a variety of odors depending on diet, etc. So do yourself and your play partner a huge favor, and freshen up, buttercup! Personally I carry around wet wipes. They’re not only for babies, and they’re handy for all sorts of situations (sexual and not). I promise you that the person you’re getting naked with will thank you too.

    Spruce up those genitals, y’all, and don’t forget your anus. Yes, I said it. Clean your anus. I’m being explicit here, because sometimes it gets overlooked if a person thinks no one is going to play with it specifically. Well, even if your anus is to remain virginal, if it’s unclean your play partner and anyone else in the vicinity will be smelling it. Of course accidents can happen, but being proactive and cleaning up before playing will win you huge points with your person/people of interest.

    2.  If you’ve reserved dungeon play space, or booked time with a companion, please show up when you say you will. If you can’t make the appointment, give the dungeon owner/monitors lots and lots of advance notice so that they can fill that time slot. Play space is often at a premium, so if you can’t use it, please give your kinky comrades a chance. The same goes for dates with Gurgaon escorts, and appointments with masseuses, pro dominants, etc. Just because it’s sexy, play time, it doesn’t mean that flaking out at the last minute (less than 24 hours notice) is acceptable behavior.

    3.  Paying money for a service doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to once you get there. This is a personal pet peeve of mine. If you pay for time/space at a dungeon and need assistance creating the scene that fulfills all your fantasies, please don’t act like you own the people who are helping you. A person can consent to helping bind you in restraints and then torturing your nipples until you cry, but that doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want to them because they’re part of your fantasy. You must ask if you can touch them if you haven’t negotiated this beforehand. You may have paid for the use of the equipment, space, and time, but you do not control the people involved.

    I understand that going to a dungeon is a heady experience, especially if someone has never been exposed to BDSM practices. Everywhere you look there’s skin, writhing bodies, and people in the throes of emotional and physical dynamics that can be intense and arousing. To the average person, I’m sure it looks like a sex circus. But everyone there has negotiated their scenes, paid their fees, and are creating their fantasies while respecting others around them and giving consent. (Or they should be. Nothing will get you banned from a community faster than breaking those basic tenets. Also, public dungeons typically have strict rules regarding penetration and exchange of fluids. In other words, there aren’t any.) So please be respectful of those who are helping you experience your dungeon fantasy. You won’t go wrong by asking before you touch someone else and cleaning up your play space afterwards is a sign of common decency. A heartfelt thank you to your host won’t go awry either.

    There are some great resources in print now regarding the ‘how tos’ of playing with others. I have a list of good reads in the ‘Beginners Kink’ section. Play clean; play safe, sweeties.  


  5. Coming soon: TEASE TO PLEASE

    August 9, 2015 by Heather Cole

     

     

    Tease to Please Printable 330 6x9

    Tease to Please

     

    EXTRAORDINARY AUTHOR EXCERPTS from  50 NYT, USA Today & Amazon Bestselling & Upcoming Authors

     

    Releasing August 2015

    ***FREE*** to All Our Fans

     

    TEASE TO PLEASE is a free book chock full of excerpts from 50 incredible authors. You can get a taste of a variety of stories before buying, and it’s a fantastic way to find new authors in the genres that you love. Think of it like as a free reading smorgasbord.

    • Discover new books in genres you love and find new titles that will delight you! Check out the genres below.
    • Love the excerpt — love the book! Indulge in this decadent collection of TEASE TO PLEASE excerpts from some of today’s most acclaimed, best-selling, and award-winning romance authors in a variety of romantic genres. This catalog includes excerpts from more than 30 best-selling romance authors.
    • Inside the ebook you can follow the author links to indulge in a great read, and sign up for the author’s newsletter, magazine, or blog subscription so you never miss a new release, free download, author promotion or giveaway/contest.

     

    Pick Your Favorite Romance SubGenre Author and Find New Ones:

     

    Erotic Romance: Christina Mandara, Gale Stanley, Paige Matthews, Leanore Elliott, Siobhan Daiko, Jade West, Normandie Alleman, A.R. Von, Ju Ephraime, Chloe Thurlow, Lucy Felthouse, Lily Harlem, Scarlett Flame, Jacqueline George, Shyla Colt, Teresa Noelle Roberts, Billionaires: Jaye Peaches, Chantel Rhondeau, Jacintha Topaz, Airicka Phoenix, Kim Carmichael, Cowboys: Mary J. McCoy-Dressel Paranormal/SciFi/Fantasy: Erzabet Bishop, LaVerne Thompson, Dariel Raye, P.T. Macias, Kayla Stonor, Ashen White, Lola StVil, Kiki Howell, Tabitha Rayne, Travis Luedke, A. K Michaels, Heather Cole, Romantic Suspense/Mystery: K D Grace, Debra Andrews, Natasha Knight, Marissa Farrar, Time Travel: Sky Purington, Multicultural/Interracial Romance: Cora Blu, Muffy Wilson, Vampires: Jordan K. Rose, Pablo Michaels, Carole Gill, Other: Bernard Foong, Athena Marie, Charity Parkerson, Jake Malden, Blak Rayne, Arla Dahl


  6. It’s my birthday-want a present?

    May 24, 2015 by Heather Cole

    I’m a very lucky girl. First, I get to wake up here…

    20150522_141125

    …with my sir.

    Second, it’s my birthday today.

    20150522_144734

    If you’re my Facebook friend or follow me on Twitter, then you already know that our brunch celebration on Friday can only be described as true debauchery. And holy hell it was fun. Four hours of gourmet brunch and a never-ending supply of champagne ushered in my special day with a bang. Followed by a very long nap.

    This entire month has felt like a celebration. Being reunited with someone I love passionately and reawakening the kinky fires between us has been bliss. And spending time with sir has been my best present of all.

    Today, my actual birthday, has been made auspicious by some deep throating in the shower and a long spanking that has left my bottom burning. I feel impossibly happy and doted upon, and I’m soaking up every second to take home with me next week. And so, I wish to pass along some happiness to you.

    I’m writing a new shapeshifter erotic romance series called the Lakeview Wolves. Book 1: A Recipe for Trouble will be released next month.

    LakeviewWolves1SMALL

    The first book is FREE if you sign up for my newsletter at heathercoleerotica.com. Expect to receive one newsletter a month, on average, with sneak peeks of new chapters, the latest information on new releases, and giveaways. You will never be spammed.

    Here’s an excerpt from A Recipe for Trouble:

    She didn’t know what exactly made her think family, but that was the word that popped into her mind. Jennie put the truck into park and sat for a second observing the strangers. They were all tall, even the women, and attractive. Not stunning in a way that made people sit up and take notice, but they were wholesome-looking. Jennie shook her head. They didn’t seem like regular folks at all, but there was no specific quality that she could pinpoint exactly as to what made her think that.

    “Stop daydreaming, J, and be helpful,” she muttered to herself.

    Jennie patted her ponytail absentmindedly, knowing that there was no hope of salvaging her appearance. She hadn’t thought to double-check her reflection before leaving the shop. More than likely she had flour smudges on her nose or forehead, and dried muffin batter stuck to her skirt. Her t-shirt had the company logo on it, but it was faded from countless cycles through the laundry. She sighed as she looked down at her kitchen clogs. She was most definitely dressed for a behind-the-scenes day in the kitchen and not a meet-and-greet with handsome strangers.

    By now the tourists had noticed her and were waiting for her to approach. She waved as she got out of the truck, hopping a little to make sure that her skirt was in place and not stuck to the high seat. She wondered what they saw. A curvy girl who had perfected her craft with lots of taste-testing? Or a frumpy local who might be as lost as they were? Jennie shoved the thoughts from her head and smiled. Ultimately it didn’t matter, because she needed to be on her way, the sooner the better.

    “Do you folks need some help?” she asked and came to a halt outside their group. From a distance they looked fit and capable, and upon closer inspection, they were downright intimidating. Jennie pushed her shoulders back and smiled brightly. If they caused her any grief, she’d leave their asses stranded in the woods.

     

    Thanks to all our readers and fans for contributing to my amazing year here. I’m grateful that I’ve been able to connect with some of you beyond these pages, and your comments and interactions are some of the bright spots of each day. Vagina Antics readers are the BEST!

    Now from the look on sir’s face, I may be in store for another spanking. Pardon me while I continue to celebrate. *giggle*


  7. A Little Help for My Friends–Golden Showers Edition

    May 5, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Legs and Heart

    Creating a BDSM scene takes creativity, communication, and cooperation. The submissive and Dominant work together to make an experience. The more complex the experience, the longer it takes to plan. This is one of the reasons I love having kinky friends, because when they have an idea that they need help transitioning from fantasy to reality, I like to help if I can. I’m a giver that way.

    I got a call from a friend who needed help with a scene with her male submissive. I had helped her before, and I admired her creativity and ingenuity. Her submissive was into degradation and humiliation, and he wanted more than anything to be pissed on by a female. My friend could have done it, but she knew she’d have her hands full (literally) with some cock and ball torture. There are times like these when Dominants could use an extra hand, and she wanted to know if I could donate… some pee.

    Urine is not a fetish of mine. In fact, I heartily object when sir wants to piss on me although I still submit to the treatment. In the scheme of things, I don’t find it arousing although the humiliation can be hot. Peeing on someone else, though, was a titillating idea for me. I’ve had many a kinky adventure with golden showers, and I jumped at the chance to try something new. Because really, who doesn’t want to pee on another willing human being for fun?

    At 9:00 a.m. I got the text that her submissive was amenable to her plan, and I immediately started pounding Mason jars full of water. My friend said that she wanted me “practically bursting” by the time I arrived, and even though my spirit was willing, my body had other ideas. My system figured we were doing some type of cleanse, and after the first couple quarts of water, I was in the bathroom. Which meant that I had to drink even more, so that I could pee on command for the guy. I tried to work, but instead I made one long, circuitous route from the kitchen to get water, upstairs to my office to drink it, and then to the bathroom. The entire time I asked myself, “can I hold it?” “How bad do I really have to pee?” “Do I think I have enough pee to provide a satisfying experience?”

    I arrived at the house at my allotted time (after downing another quart of water on the drive over) and opened the front door, knowing in advance that she would leave it unlocked for me. The sunken living room to my left was dominated by a wooden Saint Andrew’s Cross and a huge square frame that she used for tying up willing submissives. There was a tall, middle-aged man against the cross, naked, and stroking his very large cock. I had just enough time to murmur an appreciative hello before my friend waved me over.

    I barely had enough time to discard my purse before she had pulled a chair in front of the man and ordered me to strip. I did so as she scurried out of the room, only to return moments later with a large glass of water. I almost groaned out loud at the thought of drinking more, but she warned me that we wouldn’t start until all that water had disappeared down my throat.

    Sometimes it is so hard being a helpful submissive.

    I sat on the chair and opened my thighs wide, watching the naked man with greedy eyes. I quickly learned that I could masturbate and drink a glass of water at the same time. It’s slightly less difficult than patting my head while rubbing my stomach at the same time. The water was icy in contrast to the heat coming off my body. Every movement of his hand, from the base of his erection to the tip, made me think dirty thoughts about impaling myself. That wasn’t part of the game plan, so I concentrated on edging myself ever closer to orgasm. My legs started to tremble–I was so close. But my friend appeared with a Hitachi and motioned us upstairs. I was a little disappointed and tried not to pout. After all, this scene wasn’t about me getting off. It was about fulfilling the desires of another submissive.

    My friend expertly tied a long cotton shoestring around the man’s cock and balls, making his penis even larger than before, the color deepening into a dark red. We crowded into the bathroom, two naked people and one fully dressed, while she ran warm water in the shower to make it more comfortable for her submissive. She told him to lie on his back in the tub and instructed me to straddle him while I masturbated anally. Again, this was easier than patting my head while rubbing my stomach. I climbed into the tub and placed one foot on the soap holder so that he had a good view of my pussy and would be able to see my dildo move in and out of my anus. The entire time that it took for me to position myself, the sub rubbed his cock and ate up every inch of my body with his blue eyes.

    I felt the flutter of butterflies in my stomach as I stood over him, but I also experienced a rush of adrenaline. I knew in that moment that I was going to pee on that boy like a motherfucking champion urinator. (That’s totally a thing.) My friend crouched beside him and whispered filthy things in his ear as I let go of my golden stream. It splashed all over his genitals and against my legs. A small part of me had the instinctive reaction of “ew, gross!” A bigger part of me reveled in the sensations–the feeling of warm liquid trickling over my skin accompanied by the slight smell of ammonia in the air. Possessing control over myself, and to some degree, this other person was a big adrenaline rush. In that moment, his pleasure was mine to play with and do what I willed. I was grinning like a mad person, high on exhilaration and the dildo’s friction.

    The man groaned, and his pace quickened. I mirrored him, knowing that even if I didn’t orgasm, it felt too damn good to stop. I let out a gasp of surprise as the anal orgasm blew through me, and I grabbed on to the tiled wall for support. I collected myself as my friend and I both watched as he shouted and ejaculated on to his stomach a few moments later. We were a smiling, laughing, happy mess.

    My friend asked me later about the scene, and I was pleased to report that I had nothing but good things to say about my experience, even though I spent the rest of the evening peeing in the normal, boring bathroom kind of way. I’m looking forward to the next time she calls, because I do love helping my friends.


  8. Want a SPRING FLING?

    April 18, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Spring Fling Collage

    In honor of spring and all the things associated with it:  new beginnings, taking a chance, indulging a whim, a fresh look, bees getting busy, hayfever, and most importantly, NEW LOVE, the Kinklectic gang has written and compiled another anthology. SPRING FLING is our most eclectic collection of stories yet.

    You can buy it here on Amazon for $.99 or FREE if you have KU!

    Today, Saturday April 4, we’re throwing a Spring Fling party on Facebook. Attendees will get a free copy in exchange for a review. The fun starts at 2:00 PST or 5:00 EST and goes for three hours. C’mon by and join the hijinks!

     

    Here’s a taste of what you’ll get in this springtime bundle:

    7 Fresh Stories from KINKLECTIC! Perhaps our most eclectic bundle yet…

    THE SULTAN’S SPRING REVIEW by Heather Cole
    Every spring the Sultan of Saldyna opens the doors to his special menagerie for select guests, and this year, he invited the ambassador and his wife, Raya. Raya is surprised to learn that the sultan has a special request of her regarding a certain shapeshifter. And when Raya and the shapeshifter meet–sparks fly.

    SPRING RESORT by Jane Danger
    Still reeling from the very public demise of her last relationship, Willow is hard-pressed to get through a day without crying, let alone start looking for love again, but when a sexy new business acquaintance makes her an offer she can’t deny, what Willow thought was impossible suddenly becomes possible or so she thinks.

    Can paradise be just the thing she needs to begin anew or is she wading into dangerous territory by letting a wealthy banker tempt her heart and her body?

    2.0 by Troy King
    Katherine Zaya is beta testing a remarkable piece of software that’s about to get even more amazing with the upgrade to 2.0. Will she be able to retain herself when her mind becomes her ultimate playground?

    NIGHT NURSE: Spring Fling by Fallen Kittie
    Melanie, resumes her indulgent intimacies following her night shift. Clark incinerates her inhibitions; but this time around, flames also fly between best friends.

    SPRUNG by Audrey Lusk
    In a very near future of ultimate debt, some people still find a spot of brightness.

    SHIFTER – Grizzly PART 1 by Emerald Wright
    Cassidy is no longer an aspiring author. She hit the big-time, money-wise with her paranormal erotic romance shifter titles that are all the rage. She’s a success!

    With her finances secure, she is taking a break from the genre and revisiting a former dream of writing the great American novel. First, she needs to get her latest book completed and in the hands of her publisher, ASAP. There’s just one problem, she’s switched out the last three chapters and needs them to be edited. But her editor isn’t available. What’s an author to do?

    Help comes in the shape and form of Abe. New to town, a seasoned editor and ruggedly handsome, he’s not only willing to take on the editing job, he can do it fast. When they meet, the chemistry is instant and Abe is drawn to the curvy writer.

    UNDISCLOSED DESIRES by Evan J. Xavier
    Two best friends escape their college dorm and head to spring break for a week of debauchery in one of the most salacious places on earth, New Orleans, looking for both the ‘big’ and the ‘easy.’ One dark alley, a cowboy and an ex-pro NFL stepbrother takes center stage.

    Spring Fling


  9. Dear Heather: Can We Talk About Pain in Play

    April 4, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Sparks of blue water on a white background ...

     

    Heather,
    You have written about the pain you enjoy during play. Can you talk about / share tips on how to expand one’s pain threshold? How to find that quiet inner place and stay there?
    Thanks!
    Rachel

    Dear Rachel,

    The good news is that our pain thresholds are completely subjective. This means that with practice and training we can increase them. If you work at different pain coping techniques, you will be able to meld pleasure and pain into one or release the pain altogether. It’s within our control, as the receiver of the stimulus, to manage the pain in play. The Top who’s delivering the stimulus can help or hinder our processing, depending on their intention for the scene, but ultimately it rests in our hands. Er, brains.

    There are three factors that impact how I process pain in BDSM: 1. my headspace, 2. the intention of the Top applying the stimulus, and 3. the type of stimulus. #3 is of lesser importance than the other two, because again, it’s going to be my brain and mindset that will be doing the heavy lifting of pain management in a scene. All three of these factors have places where they overlap and interconnect, and you’ll be able to figure out the ways they work together for you.

    Finding your inner ‘quiet place’ takes practice, so I suggest exploring through visualization and meditation before you’re involved in a scene. This is the first step in stretching your pain threshold. My favorite quote from Dune is, “Fear is the mindkiller,” and you don’t have to ride giant worms through the sand to relate. The fear we experience anticipating the stimulus (regardless of whether it’s bondage, impact play, knives, needles, or whatever) is the checkmate to our freedom from pain. So the anxiety about how the cane is going to feel whacking your ass will counteract releasing those feelings and extending the experience. Let go of your pre-scene jitters through some deep-breathing/relaxation techniques, and the memory of how that feels to be peaceful and quiet can be your foundation as you begin a scene.

    Have you ever meditated? The elements of meditation are simple. Focus on making your breath deep and even. Although your body is undergoing physical, consensual stress, centering your focus on how you breathe will allow you to shift your awareness away from the stimulus happening to your physical self. With meditation, it’s a combination of deep breathing and relaxing your body that allows you to shift awareness. Our overall goal is to feel the pain but not hold on to it. The more we can let it go, the longer we can experience the stimulus and extend our play. Quieting your mind and evening out your breath will aid you in accomplishing this.

    Sometimes it helps me during a scene to visualize the impact as raindrops falling on water or bursts of colors that then dissolve into nothing. Think of it like fireworks. There’s the build of noise (which is the building stimulus), then a shot of color that bursts into stars (the pain of impact), and then the glittering light fades away into darkness (the pain goes away). Move that pain from the point of impact to nothingness. Again, it’s that shifting of awareness that transforms the pain into something other than this overwhelming thing that we’re desperate to escape.

    When I play with others, sir and I typically negotiate a date and I have lots of time to prepare. This means visualizing myself processing stimulus easily, and most importantly, feeling the pain enter and leave my body easily. We want it to leave, right? What we don’t want is to become so overwhelmed that we have to “red” and call all action to a halt, unless it’s necessary for your emotional or physical well-being. My mantra is that pain is fleeting, and my focus is on breathing through it. My darling sir, however, often wants to keep me on the edge. His intention is to keep my awareness sharp, and instead of letting me drift away on a wave of endorphins, he wants to test my boundaries. Delightfully sadistic, right? Sometimes, I can’t find that quiet place no matter what I do. My emotions are tumultuous, and I can’t catch my breath. Those are the times that I can only surrender and endure the rollercoaster ride. Despite my best intentions, sometimes pain gets the better of me, and I end up pleading for mercy. Let’s face it, sometimes our Dominants want tears. And this brings me to the second factor: the intention of your Top.

    If your Top is working with you to aid or train you to process pain, how they apply the stimulus can help tremendously. Several different chemicals are released naturally during the course of a scene, but the one that BDSM practitioners talk about the most is endorphins. Our endorphin friends are natural pain managers. The body releases them in waves, and your first hit can occur pretty fast with something as simple as nipple stimulation. Of course, everyone’s chemistry is different so the timeframe of release will vary. Generally you can achieve, with the Top’s help of course, your first endorphin rush within the first few moments of stimulus, and then it’s five to ten minutes to work up to the next release. In the example of a caning, the Top’s first hits will release endorphins into your bloodstream. Then it’s five to ten minutes of minimal stimulus, or a sensual caning, to allow your body to build up the supply, and harder hits to release it again. As more and more endorphins enter your bloodstream, your body will require more impact or stimulus in order to release more. It’s all about build-up, baby.

    I’m guessing, Rachel, that you might process some stimulus easier than others. Do you have a favorite implement? Is the thud of a flogger more soothing than the sting of a metal spatula? Or do you favor sting over thud? Practicing with your favorite impact toy is the easiest way to begin stretching that pain threshold. For example, the rhythmic thud of my favorite, heavy flogger feels like a security blanket to me. The flip side of the coin is that something sharp like a knife. Not only does the keen edge give me the flutter of anxiety butterflies of anticipation, but the sensation of being cut isn’t soothing to me. That pain process is trickier for me to release, but I’m working on it.

    The key to all of this, however, is consent and trust. I can’t stress this enough. I’m free to focus on my pain during play, because I trust that my sir isn’t going to do anything that will irreparably damage me. I trust that he wants my happiness as much as I desire to please him. We have spent a lot of time and effort discussing limits and giving consent to various activities. And if I play with someone else, the limits of stimulus are carefully negotiated. Nothing happens without consent from all parties involved, and during play, my sir or the Top checks in with me to see how I’m feeling during the scene. We use the colors “green,” “yellow,” and “red” to indicate how I’m processing physically and emotionally, and it’s that kind of clear, open communication that leads to a successful scene. Even though I may feel nervous about something we might do, I never fear for my safety. Neither should you.


  10. BDSM 101 Tips for the Newbie Kinkster

    March 17, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Valentine's Day BDSM gift

    No matter how hot things start out, over time, your sex life with your partner can get a little stale. You form a routine, and then before you know it, you’re in a rut. But instead of subjecting yourselves to a mediocre sex life, why not try some kinkier moves to help heat things up again? Before jumping into the deep end, take a look at our guide to help you dip your toes (and much more, of course) into the BDSM pool.

    Bondage

    In their Kinky Sex 101 guide, the writers at Adam & Eve describe the act of bondage as “a simple form of dominant/submissive sexual behavior where one sex partner is bound either to themselves (wrists tied together) or to a piece of furniture.” When experimenting with bondage, you can make yourself privy to your partner’s every whim by strapping into some cuffs, or practice your dom play by tying them up. If you’re new to bondage/restraints, it’s best to start with comfort-fit toys, such as silk ties, padded cuffs, and binding that has size adjustable straps. If you’re uncomfortable, or your extremities start to change color, your restraints are most likely too tight.

    Paddling

    Spanking or paddling can help you and your partner awaken some of your most sensitive areas. When selecting your spanking weapon of choice, your options are limited to your imagination in addition to what you and your partner are comfortable with. Beginners usually opt for classic toys like wooden or leather paddles. Eventually you can move your way up to more advanced toys that provide a little more sting, such as riding crops and leather floggers.Just don’t make the mistake of limiting your play to your partner’s rear. According to the team at the Art of Submission, “the back of the thighs and the inner thighs are often very sensitive, so you can get some nice reactions from your submissive when striking these.” Keep them guessing by varying the location and the intensity.

    Blindfolding

    Blindfolding your partner can add a whole new level of excitement to your play. Guessing where your lips, toys, paddle, etc. will venture next will have them writhing in anticipation of your touch. She Knows notes that “a blindfold is also a highly effective method for banishing body shame and shyness.” If you’re feeling too bashful to get in the BDSM mood, try eliminating the visual distractions. Get lost in the moment and focus on what you feel, instead of what you see.

    Sexy Extras

    For many kinksters, a Wartenberg wheel has become an increasingly popular addition to their toy collection. It was originally designed as a medical device to test nerve reaction and sensitivity, but it can also be used as a stimulating way to tickle your lover’s skin. Additionally, you can experiment with collars and leashes, or even nipple clamps for added excitement. Once you get into the spirit of BDSM, your options for play are truly endless.

    Just remember: you should never do anything that makes you or your partner uncomfortable. Aways have a safe word, and be sure to have established boundaries in place before getting started. Communicate, communicate, communicate about what you want to do (and not do) before embarking on a new activity. BDSM can be an amazing journey into emotional intimacy if you and your partner are open about sharing your experiences together.

    Who knows, you may learn that your sex life isn’t so “routine” after all.

     

    my37j