The Art Of Domination 4: Dominant Object

By Erika Masten

***
Damn Nolan for prying into me like that in my vulnerable moments, when my mind was as open to him as my body. I only ever realized that danger too late, when I found him on the wrong side of my defenses, always asking his probing questions. Always going deeper, figuratively and literally.
***

Becoming Nolan Beal’s sexual submissive and photographic obsession is supposed to be Iva’s twisted way of getting the bad boy photographer and the lure of his sensualist lifestyle out of her system. So she can get on with the safe, responsible, grown-up life she’s trying to build. So she can prove to her family she’s no longer the wild girl who tore their household apart with self-destructive behavior and scandal.

Claiming Iva Moreau as his submissive is a challenge Nolan Beal cannot resist after recognizing in Iva a driving passion and artistic talent, after touching a part of her that is real in a way that so many of the people in his life are not.

The art show they’ve been working on is finally happening, and new admirers turn their attentions on the lovers, for good or ill. For Iva that means a choice between facing the fact that she’s falling in love with Nolan and allowing a new admirer to help her with her commercial art career and that safe life that doesn’t involve bad boys. For Nolan, the choice is down to maintaining the persona that protected him when everyone he loved abandoned him to the streets or letting his mask down so Iva can see the real man and his feelings for her before he loses her as well.

From Bestselling Erotic Romance and Erotica Author Erika Masten
The Fourth Title In A New Eight-Part Erotic Domination And Submission Romance Serial

Novella Length: 20,700 words

The Art of Domination 4: Dominant Object is a domination and submission romance containing strong sexual content intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted in this story are 18 years of age or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

Bonus Material: Includes excerpt from the standalone sci-fi domination and submission romance Flower-And-Willow In New Angeles by Erika Masten, available now.

The Art Of Domination Series
The Art of Domination: Model Release
The Art of Domination 2: Photo Slave
The Art of Domination 3: Catchlight
The Art of Domination 4: Dominant Object
The Art of Domination 5: Soft Focus
The Art of Domination 6: Double-Exposure
The Art of Domination 7: Safelight
The Art of Domination 8: Flare

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erika Masten
• Release date: May 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311543783

Erika Masten

I'm the girl next door with an unexpected wicked streak (and an addiction to sexy high heels). I love turning forbidden desires and secret fantasies into erotic tales with literary flare and a dirty mouth. Let me tell you a naughty story...

Book preview

THE ART OF DOMINATION 4: DOMINANT OBJECT

(A DOMINATION AND SUBMISSION ROMANCE SERIAL)

by

Erika Masten

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2014 Erika Masten

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Erika Masten

Contact: [e-mail]

Website: http://erikamasten.com

Blog: http://erikamasten.blogspot.com

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Published by Sticky Sweet Books. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely coincidental.

Warning: Explicit content. Intended for mature readers only. All characters depicted herein are 18 years of age or older, and all sexual activities are of a consensual nature.

This is a work of erotic fantasy. In real life, please protect yourself and your lover by always practicing safe sex.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

The Art Of Domination 4: Dominant Object

Excerpt From Erika Masten’s

Flower-And-Willow In New Angeles

THE ART OF DOMINATION 4: DOMINANT OBJECT

IVA

Why do you keep trying to save me?

That was what he had asked, the infamous, the impervious bad boy Nolan Beal, six nights ago when I’d handed him the signed papers. Those deepest of blue eyes, irises growing darker toward the center until they formed sapphire coronas around gleaming black pupils, had been narrowed and weary with lack of sleep and uncharacteristic worry. It lent the celebrity photographer, a public personality in his own right, a lost little boy look that was anything but the Nolan I knew. Or thought I knew. The fashionable stubble on his handsome face had been as rough and heavy as his thoughts, after the news that his Amor Noir erotic photography exhibition at The Odyssey Modern Gallery had been cancelled. His show and a good portion of his career were casualties of the bad publicity surrounding the boycott of his fine art and fashion work and any clients who stuck by him, all spearheaded by a family values advocacy group that was little better than an extortion ring. The normally perfect ruffles of his cropped raven hair were sensually, adorably, heartbreakingly mussed from Nolan running his hands roughly over his head, wracking his brain for an idea to save the showing. I had met him in the dark of his apartment in those small hours, at the foot of his bed, with what little I had to give him: my faith in his talent, my body for his pleasure, and those papers.

Why do you keep trying to save me? he had asked as he took me, all of me, to the last gasp of pleasure he could wring from me. Why had I tried to talk the head of Mothers For Moral Media into a compromise on the boycott? Why had I stayed to comfort Nolan on that dark evening, in his black moment, when people closer to him and who supposedly knew him better had taken him at his word that he wanted to be left alone? Even I hadn’t known why I was doing it, or at least I wasn’t sure.

Obviously, probably regrettably, I had been motivated by more than lust. My affair with the hedonistic photographer was supposedly my effort to get him out of my system. Maybe it had been a cross between the emotional vulnerability instilled by the domination and submission games that we indulged in—submerged ourselves in—and the all too predictable protective streak running up my spine, in just the right combination, at just the right moment. I had handed him the signed model release allowing him to use the least exposing of the very private photographs he’d taken of me as photographic subject and sexual submissive, but there had also been the second paper. And every night since then, in Nolan Beal’s bed, I asked myself the same questions over and over. Not why I would try to save him but….

What normal, responsible, modern woman would put her name to a slave contract? What sane woman would sign a formal agreement spelling out her sexual boundaries as well as the explicit, wanton services she owed her dominant lover, her Master, her Dom? In this day and age, when women were every bit as educated and successful as men? When we didn’t need anyone to take care of us? And yet there remained a longing, pushed down deep, not to need to always be the one in control, in command, in a constant state of anxiety over the next obstacle in life or even just the next long, lonely night. There remained a very basic feminine desire to be desired, craved, claimed, protected, and even taken. But to acknowledge it so blatantly as to sign a submissive’s contract?

That would be me, I guessed, because that was what I’d done shy of a week ago. My moment of weakness and yearning had cast plenty of doubt on just how normal, responsible, or sane I was or had ever been. Lord knew this wouldn’t have been the first time people had reason to question my judgment, and they’d been right then. Reformed three years and….

And now, now I lay body still and mind racing in the quietest of the wee hours in the apartment above the painfully hip studio, all white brick and sleek hardwood, belonging to the man to whom I had pledged my sexual servitude. I lay in the loose circle of his arms and studied the carefully cultivated ruggedness of his features—the strong brow, the perfect planes and angles of his stubbled cheeks, the relaxed bow of his full broad lips—in the shards of shadow and light cast through the windows by the streetlamps far below and reflected down on us by the vaulted white ceiling. Nolan Beal slept in the peace of exhaustion with his smoothly sculpted pecs and lean swimmer’s torso rising and falling with grace and innate power with each breath. Our chests brushed whenever we inhaled at the same time, an instant of