The Book

DISCLAIMER: All characters in this and any additional parts of this story are all over the age of 21.

This tale involved BDSM. If that subject does not interest you then I wish you well and hope you find a story on the site which you will enjoy.

If you choose to read this tale then I thank you in advance for doing so. When you have finished I hope you will leave a comment or a suggestion and I would ask that you please vote as well.

This is a standalone piece, completely separate from the two series I currently have featured here on Literotica.

I wanted to pay homage to a vision that another writer had, when she created the club Valhalla. I was captured by the mental imagery, her words painting such an incredible picture, and she was kind enough to allow me to use it as the setting for this tale. I send my thanks to Abby for her help in capturing the proper protocol for the hall and for inspiring me. She and her Owner Missy return, those of you who are familiar with The Finishing School series, will remember them fondly, as I do.

*****

It had been a most unusual request. The package arriving, complete with an electronic reader, a book held within which part of a panel of three would discuss. The radio interview would be taped for a later airing on a satellite radio channel available throughout North America, and I had been selected because the novel and I shared a common theme. I wrote a blog for a syndicated periodical which held a prominent place in the world of BDSM, discussing and reviewing everything from print to film about the subject. I took a look at the title, The Master Plan. The cover photo of what looked to be a dark haired dominant woman, her blue eyes with the come hither type of look which might draw a reader's possible interest.

It was advertised as a sensual mystery, the reviews I saw at the end of it glowing, though they only numbered two in total. I couldn't help but smile, the words about how it had been a fascinating introduction into the world I not only wrote about but lived in everyday, thinking I will be the judge of that. Sitting down, I began to read, the prose at first humorous, but by the time I reached the second chapter, I found myself being drawn into his world as I read,

I knocked the machine off the table in my haste to start it. Her grin told me just how much she enjoyed this little tête à tête. She sipped at her drink as I finally managed to push the record button. She proceeded, giving me a front-row view into her life. We sat there for an hour, me listening, her talking about her craft. She obviously took great pride in her subjects, bottoms or subs, being the correct term for a submissive individual.

"Tops are people such as me, dominants and they can be male or female. For some at a basic level, say perhaps a husband and wife, one is dominant, the other submissive in the bedroom. For those like myself who embrace the lifestyle there are different terms. Men are called Doms or Masters. Women like me, Dommes or Mistresses. Some even prefer the term Dominatrix, but that's usually when speaking of those who portray themselves as such in the professional arena. Tell me Jonathan, why did you place the ad as a submissive male? Were you trying to tell me something, dear boy?" My mannerisms and faltering speech showed my naiveté. But, this time it drew a deep-throated laugh from my tormentor.

"You must forgive me Mr. Samuels. The role I play calls for not only physical and visual stimulation, but verbal sparring as well. The transference of power that the submissive desires is great. They want some level of control to be taken by the, what they see in my case, superior being. For each submissive, it is in the degree of the control that they are willing to relinquish that tells me what they do or do not desire. By making them uncomfortable whether by teasing, taunting, by even at times humiliating them, it's all part of the process. It's what they desire, what they crave. For some it's like the air that they breathe. They require it in order to actually live, to truly feel alive."

Alexandria's words were intoxicating, almost hypnotic as she continued. "There are many fetishes, desires, fantasies which some might consider taboo. For example, a male who wants all the power stripped away from him, who desires to relinquish the control he has in his everyday life. Perhaps another who finds that he craves pain in order to find even greater pleasure. A woman who desires to be used by more than one man or another woman; a housewife by day, someone completely different come night." She gave me a wicked look. "In the end, it's what brings an individual the most happiness in their life. If they're not hurting anyone, then they should embrace what they desire, not what society dictates they might."

I lost track of time as I read, the afternoon sun giving away until night had fallen, and I was looking at the words THE END. I let out the breath I seemed to have been holding. Moving into my kitchen, I poured a glass of wine, looking out into the darkness while my thoughts remained centered on the individuals on whose lives I had found myself caught up in during the past several hours. It had indeed been what one of the reviewers had said but for me it had been so much more. Standing there, I thought about how this writer had captured the mental aspect of a D/s relationship, while still remaining true to the romantic mystery he had penned.

Walking back into the living room, I picked up the e-reader. William Womack was named as the author but there was nothing about him to be found at either the beginning, or at the end of the book. That night I dreamed about what I had read, the figures coming to life as I played a part in the proceedings. My nocturnal visions as much a delight for the senses as they were for the body.

Over the next few weeks, prior to the taping of the upcoming discussion, I let my mind wander; forming my own mental picture of what the author might look like. From the plain, average individual he had spoken of in the words of his novel perhaps? Or would it be the face of one who might grace the cover of the same book, the leonine look favored by the later version of the actor in the lead role. I would often catch myself smiling, wondering which of the two might be correct while knowing in the end, it would be what it will be.

When I arrived at the studio on the appointed day, I met the young woman named Francine who would be conducting the interview. She was a rather precocious Goth like looking; dark haired beauty that pronounced herself a fan of mine and gushed on about how much she enjoyed my work. I gave her my warmest smile and a hug before we moved into the area where the interview would be conducted. As soon as I stepped through the door, I stopped, seeing a figure already seated, a face which I had felt I had seen in my recurring dreams having come to life.

One of my assumptions had been quite correct. The man who stood up, his face showing the same smile, the almost same shyness as the reporter in his book had featured, extended his hand while saying softly, "Good afternoon Miss, I'm William Womack."

My eyes sparkled at the sight of the brown haired, blue eyed man whose eyes didn't quite look directly into mine as I said, "Well good afternoon sir, I'm Natalie Edwards." I could feel the slight tremor in his hand as it shook mine, the realization that the man who stood before me, I now believed, was the exact same individual he had written about in his words. The two of them were as I surmised the same.

We both found our seats next to one another as the engineer adjusted the sound levels, but as the time drew near for the beginning of the taping, the third seat remained unoccupied. In reality, if it had remained so, then I think none of what ended up transpiring by the end of the day might have been either avoided, or would not have come to pass. But, life has a way of reminding us the only constant in it, is change.

Finally, the moderator announced we would begin, the studio booked afterwards for another and as the tape began to roll I heard her say, 'Welcome, I'm Francine Chadwick and we're talking today to the author of the novel The Master Plan, William Womack. Joining us is syndicated blogger Natalie Edwards, to discuss not only the book but also the misconceptions about the lifestyle that many have. Welcome, both of you."

We both favored her with our thanks as I heard, "Miss Edwards, would you give us your impressions of this gentleman's work?"

I saw it out of the corner of my eye, how he leaned forward, hopeful yet worried as to how I might respond. I chose my words carefully saying, "I found the book to be quite enjoyable. When I read one of the reviews which stated that it was a good introduction into the world of BDSM, I wondered if perhaps this might be one of those lurid tales which featured more physical interaction, versus a storyline. I was delighted to find, this wasn't the case. In fact I...," as my words stopped, the door to the studio opened, and this time the familiar face I saw brought a frown to my own.

The man, who entered through the door, did so with an almost sarcastic smile on his face, his voice later to be heard softly, and then more loudly as he sat down in front of the third microphone. "My apologies to everyone for being late, most pressing business I'm afraid. Please Mistress Natalie, continue to share your enthralling words with this captive audience, he seems to be eagerly awaiting them."

The pompous asshole, his words of sarcasm as always impervious to me, but not to the man who sat beside me. The author's eyes turning dark as I put my hand on top of his, shaking my head as I tried to defuse a potential bad situation. The man who even now glanced at the writer showing him how he was beneath his notice was named Jonathan. He was a dominant of note; his word not mine, and was also a published author. He had a penchant for his verbal assaults and I couldn't help but wonder why on earth they had invited him here.

"As I was saying, I found the book to capture the mental aspect of the lifestyle to be quite similar to my own views. Too many times people focus on the torture, or physical nature of the lifestyle, which though it might be a specific desire of the submissive at the hands of his or her owner, is only part of the equation. They forget that it is precisely as what Mr. Womack wrote in his book. It is in the mind where true submission is found. Once the mind is lost, then the body is helpless to follow."

I could almost sense his relief when I stopped, having spoken the truth, but the problem was I wasn't the only one in the room.

"The gentleman who just joined us is also a published author. Mr. Jonathan, did you read the book? What were your thoughts on it?"

I could tell immediately this was going to get personal, the look he gave the author as he leaned in saying, "I found it to be basically pornographic pabulum for the masses. I've seen people who call themselves writers, come crawling out of the wood works trying to cash in on the current glut of novels being passed off as literature, all in hopes of having their proverbial fifteen minutes of fame. Once my book achieved such success, I had a feeling there would be a swarm of copycat authors such as him, who would follow. He's no better than the rest."

The silence that hung in the air was palpable, the tension level rising with each passing second as the hostess tried desperately to keep the train from derailing. "Well William, it's only fair for you to have a chance to speak your mind concerning the opinions of our panel members."

For a moment, I thought he would be like the character in the first part of the book. The man who would take the abuse because that was simply his lot in life, the position he saw himself in. Feeling he was unable or unwilling to defend himself. In the end, I was proven wrong.

"I thank both Miss Natalie and Mr. Jonathan for their respective opinions. If an author can't take the good with the bad then they probably should not have put their words out to be read by anyone and everyone in the first place. I do however have a question for Jonathan, if I may Sir?"

He nodded his approval, as if talking to one of his subjects, a man of royalty amongst peasants as I heard, "First of all, congratulations on the success of your book. I wrote one of my characters based against one of my observations when I read it. May I ask your thoughts about Charles, from my book?"

Now the game was truly on. I turned, giving Jonathan my complete attention, seeing if he would willingly step into the trap that the author had just set. Of course with his inflated sense of ego, he could do nothing but.

"I found Charles to be like the rest of the individuals in your sordid novel, more caricature than character, adding absolutely nothing to what was already a very flimsy storyline. The plot, if you can call it that, being almost laughable in all sincerity."

I felt a smile begin to tug at the corners of my mouth as the writer turned his attention to our hostess saying, "Well Miss Francine, I believe this gentleman now owes both you and me an apology for lying to us. When you asked if he had read my book he gave his dissertation concerning it and when I asked him his opinion on a character which did not appear in the novel, he went to great lengths to disparage my work without having actually read a single word of it."

The look the moderator gave the dominant was not a happy one but he seemed rather nonplussed by it while saying, "I didn't need to read your book to know it's just like the rest, inferior to those of us who actually have the skill to practice the art of writing, such as myself."

I thought I saw a gleam in the blue eyed author's orbs as he replied, "That reminds me Mr. Jonathan. One of your legions of fans asked if I might pass along a message to you. Perhaps you remember the name Stephen Preston?"

I didn't recognize the name but based on the look the dominant gave the man sitting across the room from him, he had struck quite a chord. "Mr. Preston is the man who signed a contract with you stating he would not tell the world that he was the author of the book that you speak so proudly of. He ghost wrote it for you, when you agreed to pay him a portion of the royalties you would receive on a monthly basis. He wanted me to let you know that you are three months behind Sir."

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud, tears forming in my eyes as I applauded the author while my counterpart stood, his eyes shooting daggers as he heard, "By the way, do not blame my friend Stephen for this. I signed no such contact with you so I have no problem telling the world you're nothing but a fraud, both as an author and I can't help but wonder, as a dominant as well. You're only here because you're in love with the sound of your own voice and you were sure others would be as well. I'm afraid that's just not the case."

It was only a matter of moments later that there were only three of us remaining in the studio. I took one look at Ms. Chadwick; she was clearly out of her element. I could also tell the gentleman sitting beside me, while he had kept his emotions mainly in check, was on a razors edge based on the way his clenched fists shook. Thus I did what I normally did. I took charge of the situation.

"So, now that we have that rather nasty piece of business behind us shall we move on? Ms. Chadwick, you've asked us if we've read the author's book. May we ask the same of you, or would you like for Mr. Womack to verbally berate you as well?"

A spot of color came to the young woman's cheeks, her voice not quite her normal one as she said, "Yes, I've read it."

I gave her a moment before saying, "Well then go on girl, and tell him what you thought of it."

The poor thing was caught unaware, having been put in the position she normally would those who sat across from her would. Finally though, she regained a bit of footing while saying, "I thought it was very good. It had a bit of something for everyone, mystery, romance, intrigue, humor and sex." She blushed again, as I gave the man to my left a wink, seeing how he too had begun to find his composure as he thanked her for the kind words.

For the remainder of the interview it was more like an informal chat with the three of us sharing parts of the novel, our favorite characters and such. By the time the hour drew to an end, it was good to see the gentleman's confidence grow a bit, having found an appreciative audience. By the time we parted, I saw the long haired man thank the young woman profusely for her kind words, and for her time. As they shook hands, I could feel her eyes on me. Perhaps a not so subtle showing of some hidden desire which she kept neatly tucked away in a dark corner of her mind.

For now though, the two of us walked out into the early evening dusk as I heard, "Thank you so much Miss Natalie for your kind words. I did not wish to say anything prior to this but I enjoy your blog very much. It's a weekly read that I always greatly appreciate. As one of your many readers, thank you for the insight into your world."

I gave him my full smile, the compliment was unexpected but certainly welcome as I looked him up and down saying, "Perhaps you might like to join me for a drink young man?"

As we sat, I watched him closely, now having a reference point based against the book versus the human being seated across from me. "So tell me William, is the book autobiographical in the sense the main character is based on you?"

He didn't try to deny it, only nodding as I heard, "I had a feeling if I were to ever meet someone like you, that it would be quite obvious. I've often heard you write what you know but for me, I wrote what drew my interest, and I was able to research the subject quite extensively. It would have been nice to have someone like you, or in the characters case, someone like Alexandria to talk to."

"So, are you telling me you wrote this without any actual real life experience in the lifestyle?"

The blush did not lie, and I was astonished to see he had accomplished this without such. To show such insight into what could be a rather difficult subject for many to understand suggesting there might be much more to the individual across from me than even I had given him credit for. That got me to thinking as I said, "So, have you given any thoughts to a sequel perhaps?"

He laughed, the sound pleasing to hear as he talked about how he hadn't given it much thought. The rather time invasive period it had taken him to write his current book, left him feeling like perhaps, he had exhausted his creative juices. I however, had a way to make them flow again, a thought having come to mind as I said, "I am going to a club tonight William. A rather exclusive one at the very least, and I would like for you to accompany me."

I purposely had not asked it as a question, more of a statement, as I played with the fine line between reality and fiction. It was precisely as he had with his book. I could see the look in his eyes, the almost dream like expression on his face, as he gave my request serious consideration. Looking down at the polo shirt and jeans he wore, I sensed he thought he had an out in saying, "I'm afraid I'm not very presentable to go to any type of club, certainly not one which would probably frown on this type of attire Miss."

I gave him a grin, taking a sip of my wine as I said, "Don't worry about that dear boy. I think we can make...proper arrangements."

I excused myself to use the ladies room, using the interruption to make a telephone call to a friend of mine. I gave the short version of what had transpired, asked for her permission which she kindly granted, and then made my way back to where the gentleman waited.