Be the First on Your Block…!

The Cowboy Poet is out and ready at last! Please pop over to the fancy new 1PlaceforRomance site and check out The Cowboy Poet! There’s a great contest there too, the details of which will be announced in the 1PFR newsletter later this morning! So if you aren’t signed up for that newsletter, hurry and do so at the 1PFR site, so you can get in on the $30, $20 and $10 gift code giveaways! (I’m also going to be featured in The Author’s Spotlight in their Friday newsletter, and revealing a few secrets, so don’t miss it!)

Here are the links to two great reviews as well!

Dark Diva Reviews

Michele N Jeff Blogspot

EPIC EBOOK AWARD FINALIST TIMES THREE!

Click on the titles to check them out. I'm pretty excited! Fingers crossed, and we'll find out in March, 2011!

Wicked Hearts

Texas Surrender


Heart of Submission

Cowboy Poet is Done!

Greetings,

I am delighted to report I penned the last word (okay, typed it) last night! Well, of the rough draft, that is. I'm sure it will go through a few more iterations before it's finally done, but I'm still on schedule for an early November release, and quite excited! I am going to post a few snippets here to give you a taste of the novel. It's about a guy named Tyler Sutton whose standard MO has been to run from things that scare him, like his deeply held masochistic and submissive yearnings, and the bully who twisted his trust for his own gain... Enter Clint Darrow, a confident but laid back cowboy with a dominant mindset and a heart of pure gold...

Here are a few excerpts for you!

from chapter one...

He shot a glance at Clint, whose direct gaze made Tyler’s heart skitter around like a loose pinball. “That’s one of the great things about poetry,” Clint said. “Each person gets something different out of it, maybe something the poet never intended, but it’s no less valid because of that. If anything, those added layers give the poetry more life and meaning. What was it, exactly, that you heard behind the words?” Clint’s voice was low and raspy, as if it were laced with whiskey, smoke and hard living. There was a kind of power to it that drew Tyler and distracted him, despite his best effort to wear his reporter’s hat.

Tyler licked his lips, unable to look away from Clint’s dark gaze, even if he had wanted to. “The reference to an exchange of power,” he finally breathed, his words coming out in a whisper. Clint knew he was gay too. He was sure of it now. The small tape player whirred on, but Tyler knew he wasn’t going to complete the interview just then. He could barely remember his own name, much less the questions he’d had planned.

His eyes on Tyler’s face, Clint dropped his hand to Tyler’s thigh, his touch radiating like heat directly to Tyler’s aching cock and balls. “Go on,” Clint said softly. “Tell me more about what you heard in the poem.” Tyler was aware suddenly of the silence in the courtyard. Other than a few stragglers smoking cigarettes along the fence, the place had emptied, folks going inside to hear the music, Tyler supposed, or going home now that the readings were over.

He closed his eyes, distracted by the rhythm of Clint’s breath, the pitch of his voice, the feel of his hand still pressing against Tyler’s denim-clad thigh, the fingers brushing carelessly close to his groin.

He opened his eyes and their gazes collided. When Tyler spoke, his voice came out gruff. He cleared his throat and tried again. “The image of submission, of the horse giving over its power to its master. I felt like maybe you were saying something more…” Tyler swallowed, unwilling to go on, afraid he’d already exposed too much of his closely held feelings.  

“You’re very perceptive.” Clint tilted his head as he tightened his grip on Tyler’s thigh. “I could be wrong. Lord knows it wouldn’t be the first time. But I sense by your reaction that you identify with the wild stallion, the one who longs to be tamed by a real master.”

“Oh,” Tyler said, the word pulled from him. The night air was almost cool but Tyler felt a sweat break out on his upper lip and beneath his arms, as a shudder moved through his body in a snake of pure, raw lust.

“I take it that’s a yes?” Clint’s covered Tyler’s throbbing crotch with his large, strong hand.

Grateful for the semi-darkness that blanketed the courtyard, he thought about pulling away from Clint’s forward touch, but found himself rooted to the spot. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came.

~*~

They stood in the parking lot, their mutual decision to leave the bar together tacit but clear. Tyler followed Clint to a pickup truck, unable to deny the magnetic, almost overpowering pull of his attraction to this man who had somehow honed right in on his most secret thoughts and desires.

Not since the mess with Wayne Hurley that had sent Tyler running had he even allowed himself to think along these lines. …tamed by a real master…Those fantasies, fueled by the quiet desperation of a lifetime of vague longing, had flared into a brief but powerful reality with Wayne. What they’d shared had been forbidden and, for Tyler, filled with shame, but charged with power just the same.

“I’m stayin’ at the Motel Six, just down the road,” Clint said. “I could use some company.”

Tyler didn’t reply. He felt like he was burning up, desires he thought he’d left behind at the ranch six months before fanned into flame by Clint’s compelling presence. Though he wasn’t sick, he could feel the flush moving over his skin like a fever. Clint stood loose and easy, as if he had all the time in the world. He waited a long beat before adding, “I knew it, before you even said a word. You’ve got that wild stallion inside you. But I can see it gives you no peace. You’ve been mishandled, I’d wager. You need gentlin’ by a firm, sure hand.”

Tyler tried to laugh but it came out hollow. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He’d meant to add a sneer to his voice, but heard instead the defensive protest in his tone, which even to his own ears lacked conviction.

“Sure you do. No cause to deny it. Not with me.”  Clint opened the passenger door to his truck and nodded an invitation toward the empty cabin. He walked around the front of the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Tyler stood a moment, trying to tell himself he should bid this stranger who assumed way too much a good night, or at the very least tell him that he’d take his own car, thank you very much.

Clint started the engine, the barest hint of a smile moving over his face.

Tyler climbed in.

Snippet #2:

He fell back against the mattress, their sweat-slick bodies separating. Tyler at once curled into him, resting his head falling against Clint’s chest. Clint drifted a moment or was it longer…? When his heart had slowed enough to where he could catch his breath and regain the use of his muscles, Clint reached down, stroking the wet, matted hair from Tyler’s damp forehead.

Tyler opened his eyes, staring up at Clint with such naked adoration that, had Clint been the blushing kind, he would have colored to the tips of his ears. Leaning up slightly, Tyler kissed Clint’s chin and smiled the smile of a baby drunk on mother’s milk. A feeling of overwhelming tenderness swept through Clint, leaving him, for that brief moment, utterly defenseless.

“Thank you,” Tyler whispered, so softly Clint wondered if he’d only imagined it. He experienced a sudden sense of loss. It had been far too long since he’d felt that eager puppy spark, either in himself or from another. When had he traded in the promise of that kind of wild, powerful love for a life of satisfied, placid contentment?

Clint realized with a jolt that, if things had gone according to plan, he would be in the arms of his familiar, tried and true old friend and sometimes lover, as comfortable as an old quilt, and about as exciting. These poetry festivals and readings, away from the ranch and his usual life, were a good opportunity for a little stolen sweetness, but in the end, that’s all it was.

Was this time different? He knew it was crazy even to speculate. And yet the aching tenderness for the young man cradled in his arms still lingered. Something in Tyler called to him like a lone coyote’s howl, plaintive and filled with longing.

Would he be able to break through the walls Tyler had erected between himself and his desires?

(Cane + Rope) x Erotic Pain = Peace? Really??

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO 1ROMANCEEBOOKS.COM!



Thank you for visiting my stop on the 1RomanceEbooks.com one year anniversary blog tour! This is stop # 31. Your last stop should have been Delle Jacobs  http://dellejacobs.blogspot.com/ 

Remember, to participate in the drawing for the 1RE Blog Tour, you have to register. Simply leaving comments on the blogs will not make you eligible to win! So make sure you register at http://1romanceebooks.com to you can get a participant number, which you should include with every comment.

My prize to be given away by 1RE: signed paperback of your choice from Romance Unbound catalog (http://romanceunbound.com) (continental U.S. only) or ebook download of their choice fromhttp://clairethompson.net . And remember! The more comments you leave on the tour, the better your chances of winning the grand prize-a Sony E-reader!

What is it about erotic pain that can so dramatically shift one's focus to a place of profound peace? How can it be that the cut of the cane against tender flesh can somehow segue into pure, white hot pleasure? Can a thorough body flogging really send a person to that height of ecstatic experience sometimes referred to as flying?


To those who have never felt the yearning for the rope that binds, or the tingle of skin longing for the kiss of leather, it must be hard to comprehend this lust for erotic pain. Stubbing a toe is not at all sexually satisfying or desirable, yet the pinch of clamps against erect nipples can send a sexual masochist into spasm of pleasure.

Clearly there are different types of pain. How and why can submitting to erotic pain bring such utter serenity?

Is it the intensity of experience that is the draw? And what of this concept of flying? What is it, exactly? How do you get there?

For me personally, getting there isn't always easy. In fact it's never easy. That's part of its power. It's sort of like the religious concept of Purgatory - you have to go down into the fires in order to ascend to that place of perfect peace. Each stroke of leather tresses, each biting kiss of the cane, takes me one step closer to that state of grace. It isn’t that the altered state into which one enters puts out the fire out, but rather softens its flame. Instead of enduring the pain, one encompasses it.

I’ve tried to capture it over and over in my writing, but I don’t think, alas, it is truly possible to put it into words. Not that that’s stopped me from trying. Here are a few examples below from my novels.

From Accidental Slave:
"It hurts, oh, Cole, it hurts. It’s too much. I can’t do it." Elizabeth danced on her toes, twisting in a frantic, futile effort to escape the stinging lash.

"You can. You are. I can sense you’re almost there. Breathe. Go with it. Stop fighting the pain. Become the pain. Become the whip. You’re strong. You’re brave. You’re almost there."

Almost where? Where am I going? Ah... Elizabeth let her head fall back. She didn’t have the strength to lift it again. The sting was still there, but somehow more bearable. Her skin, a moment ago on fire, began to cool.

Her head still hung back, eyes closed. Her lips parted and she drew a slow, shuddery breath.

Something shifted. He continued to whip her, if anything harder than before. She felt the sting but no longer defined it as pain, no longer processed it as suffering. Her fingers, which she hadn't realized had been clutching the chains, relaxed. Her hands went limp and she sagged against the thick cuffs at her wrists.

She was aware of Cole behind her, aware the whip was still biting into her flesh but she no longer felt it. She no longer heard the whistling warning of its trajectory. Her mind emptied, her breathing slowed...

Silence.

Serenity.

Euphoric peace.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, blinking against the bright light. On one level she’d been aware of Cole dropping the whip, Cole releasing her from the cuffs and lowering her to the ground, taking her head into his lap. But she had been too deeply nestled in the cocoon of a trance to respond or speak.

She had no idea how long she’d been lying there. She hadn't been sleeping-it was more like drifting, or flying. Flying over a vast expanse of clear sky, weightless. She looked now into Cole’s handsome face. He was smiling at her.

"You did it."

"What did I do?"

"You got there. You got to that place of utter peace, didn’t you? I could feel it happening. It was the most incredible thing to watch."

"It was like flying," she offered, trying to find the right words. "Like soaring. I could still feel the whip but I didn’t feel the pain, if that makes sense."

"Perfect sense. You gave of yourself, Elizabeth. You worked past the pain, you trusted me, you trusted yourself."

From Texas Surrender:
Avery was paying attention, and clearly made an effort to obey, staying still all the while under the barrage of stinging leather. JD was impressed with his ability and willingness to take the whipping, but he wanted more. He wanted to take Avery beyond mere endurance, to that place where pleasure and pain lost their meaning as separate concepts.

He kept up a steady, methodical cropping over Avery’s ass and thighs, watching Avery’s face and reading his body language all the while. After several minutes, he no longer needed to remind Avery to breathe or relax.

Avery was breathing deeply, his hands open and limp on the bale, his eyes closed. The muscles in his face had relaxed, almost as if he were sleeping, and a small half-smile played over his lips.

Avery, this newbie to erotic pain, was entering subspace. He was flying. Though JD had never flown himself, not being one of those Dom who felt it necessary to experience every sensation they provided for their subs, he’d seen it often enough to know it when he saw it. It never failed to thrill and astound him-the knowledge that he was the one responsible for the euphoric trancelike state induced by intense physical play.

Because Avery was so new to the sensation, JD had to be especially vigilant. He would ease Avery into the experience, keeping a careful watch on his reactions. The intense sensations of both pain and pleasure triggered a dumping of endorphins and other chemicals into the bloodstream that acted much like morphine-increasing the pain tolerance of the sub as the scene became more intense. Because of that, Avery might not be aware or even capable of telling JD to stop.

By the same token, if he stopped too soon, he’d jerk Avery from the trance, denying him the complete experience of flying-a sort of subspace interruptus that he’d learned from lovers in the past was the most frustrating of experiences.

"Avery," he whispered, his mouth close to Avery’s ear. "You okay? You don’t have to speak. Just nod." He ran his hand lightly over Avery’s ass. The skin was hot to the touch and flushed a dark red from the cropping.
If Avery didn’t respond, he would stop. But after a few seconds, Avery slowly nodded his head, his eyes still closed.

"Want me to keep going?"

Again Avery nodded. JD dropped the crop and stroked Avery’s heated flesh with his fingertips. Cupping his palm, he caught the bottom half of one round globe, hitting him hard enough to elicit a faint groan. He hit the other cheek just as hard, leaving a handprint on the darkened skin. Again Avery groaned, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly. Gauging Avery had had enough, JD eased off, finishing with a series of light smacks that he slowly changed to more of a massaging stroke.

He sat down on the bale beside Avery, lifting Avery’s head gently into his lap. The smile still hovered on Avery’s lips, and he gave a long, low sigh of contentment. JD smoothed back the hair from Avery’s soot-smudged cheek and tucked it behind his ear.

Avery opened his eyes and twisted his head to look up at JD. "Wow," he offered.

JD grinned. "Feeling better?"

"I feel..." Avery paused, seeming to ponder this. He lay his head back down on JD’s knee. "Amazin’. I don’t even know how to describe it. It’s like, better than sex. No, that’s not it. It’s like bein’ drunk, only without the sick woozy feel after. No, no, that’s wrong. It’s like..." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "It’s like this one time when I was a kid and my mom took me down to Galveston. I went swimmin’ in the water, and I got kind of far out. I was tired, so I just lay back and let the water buoy me. I was floatin’ beneath this clear blue sky and it seemed like everythin’ was right with the world."

And, you might ask, what does the Dom get out of all this? (S)he becomes an intrinsic part of the equation.

The love, concern and total connection necessary between the two is essential to create the right environment for a sub to fly. It’s one of the few acts of erotic lover that can’t be mimicked in any masturbatory or auto-erotic fashion. It takes two, which makes it that much more special, and more powerful.

From Heart of Submission:
She sat at the bottom of the bed, perched on the edge, a look of dreamy contentment on her face. "Gosh, Chase. That was amazing. I’ve never experienced anything like it. I guess that’s what they call flying, huh?"
Chase knelt on the rug in front of Kate and put his hands on her bare thighs. "Yeah. It’s really something to watch, to be a part of. There’s no greater high for a Dom than taking his sub there. It’s..." He paused, trying to come up with the right words to capture what was, essentially, indescribable. "...it’s a moment of intense connection. There is no other time, or place, or past or future. Everything is completely concentrated in that moment. It’s like a beam of light as focused as a laser, and as powerful." He laughed at himself. "I know I’m making absolutely no sense."

"No, no, you are. I mean, I experienced that too-the connectedness. Like the flogger was an extension of your arm, like you were," she paused and ducked her head, finishing shyly, "making love to me with it." She laughed. "Now who’s making no sense?"

"It makes perfect sense," Chase murmured, stroking her impossibly soft skin. "It’s about trust. I could feel your trust and that freed me to take you further on the journey. You give me the power, you see, when you give me that trust. That’s what I mean about an erotic exchange of power. When it happens, there’s nothing like it. I take that gift very seriously, Kate. And I would never abuse it."

"Thank you," Kate whispered.

"Thank you," he responded, "for your gift."

And thank you for reading this far! Remember, nothing presented in this article is written in stone. It’s just my own personal take on the experience, and my feeble efforts to give words to the feelings. I’d love your comments on this post, on flying, and on your personal experiences and ideas.

Respectfully submitted, Claire
The next stop on the anniversary tour is #32 Keta Diablo URL:   http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com/
Have fun!

Take the Poll - Choose the Cover!

Vote in the Poll on the right hand column. Which cover do you like better?  Which one would be more like to make you NEED the buy that book?

Safe in His Arms - Hot Off the Press!

I'm delighted to announce my newest release, Safe in His Arms. This story picks up where Wicked Hearts left off, but don't worry if you haven't had a chance to read that one yet. Safe in His Arms is a stand alone.

Hank Seeley is an obnoxious guy - arrogant and entitled and definitely on the way down. A lot of readers who read Wicked Hearts asked me if there was any hope of redemption for this cocky, cruel scoundrel. I thought about this a lot - is there hope, no matter who you are, no matter what you've done, to turn things around? You'll have to read the book yourself and let me know what you think!

Click Here for the Blurb
Click Here for the Excerpt
Buy Link

1RE Anniversay Blog Tour - Free Sony Ebook Reader!

Amazing, but true! 1RE is 1 years old, and they are celebrating in style with an anniversary blog tour extraordinaire! I will be participating on July 30, with a blog entry about the powerful serenity achieved in letting go through erotic pain.  

There are prizes all along the way, in addition to the grand prize of the ebook reader. The more comments you post, the better your odds of winning! 

Here is the link to see how to get in on the action. It all starts Thursday, July 15th. So hurry over and sign up! You must register to be entered into the drawing.

1RE ANNIVERSARY BLOG TOUR! Click here 

Love, Claire