I’m delighted to welcome the wonderful Tori Carson to my blog today to tell us a little about her latest release, Bondage Wedding. Tori has some fascinating thoughts to share with us about the various aspects of her personality which are displayed in her online presence. Tori got me to wondering whether those people who know me best – my close friends and family – would recognise the persona I adopt here. It’s almost like the online equivalent of my telephone voice…
What about you? Do you have a shiny online self – or maybe many selves? And another one for ‘real life’?
But less from me – time to hand over to Tori.
Blogs: Reflections of Our Soul or Alter Ego?
Have you ever wondered what people assume about you based on your blog? I certainly have, especially since I’m too fussy to have an eclectic blog that would give followers a glimpse at the many facets of Tori Carson. No, not me. I have to break down my interests and have a blog for each. The downside is, if a person only follows one of my blogs, they can get a very skewed view of me.
Recently, on Tumblr, a post crossed my dashboard that basically said, “On the internet you can be anyone you choose to be. Why choose to be a jerk?” The idea rattled around in my head until it transformed into the female lead character of my latest book.
In Bondage Wedding, James, our hero, has to find the answer to this question before he can move forward. While protecting Amanda from a stalker he discovers her blog, Confessions of a Virgin Sex Addict. James had been secretly attracted to Amanda ever since she’d taken the job as receptionist at the BDSM club, DiscipliNation. In all the time he’d known her, he’d never caught a glimpse of the persona displayed in her blog.
Her posts were inflammatory. They bashed the BDSM lifestyle and men in general. They portrayed a woman without a conscience, one who was out for her own gain. In her blog, she proudly explained how she’d played a male family member to acquire a cushy job with great pay and hours. Her excuse being…he deserves it. He’s a Dom and therefore he abuses women and isn’t worthy of respect or common courtesy.
The more James read, the more he began to question everything he knew about the quiet, shy Amanda. André, her relative, and one of her many victims, was the owner of the club, and a stand-up man. He’d give a stranger the shirt off his back without a second thought. After reading her posts, James worried that the stalker was a scam, just another play she was pulling to weasel something out of André.
Poor James has to watch his back, control his lusty attraction, and determine which is the real Amanda.
Looking at my blogs, it would be difficult to determine which is the real me. Each one shows a different piece of my personality. One blog is bright, showing vibrant colors and features positive outlook statements. Another has mostly black and white images. It’s an outlet for my darker passions. I also have one for my warm and fuzzy side. I have to laugh about that one. It’s my least active, but it still holds a place near and dear to my heart. I also have a blog where I post my thoughts and information about my books. The people that subscribe to that one probably see the closest picture of who I really am. Each blog features a different name. Two of them have nothing relating them in any way to Tori Carson, erotica author. Only a few observant followers have linked any of them together. As of today, no one person subscribes to the all of them and I kind of like it that way. It’s like a scavenger hunt…the many facets of Tori Carson.
Meanwhile, here’s a tantalising excerpt from Tori’s latest release, Bondage Wedding
James faltered as he walked into the security office and saw Amanda, the dark-haired, blue-eyed temptress who had haunted his dreams for the last three months, with tears streaming down her face. As the receptionist for the kink club, DiscipliNation, Amanda was the primary reason he spent his evenings off wandering around the great hall. It was pathetic and it made him feel like a damned fool, since she barely gave him the time of day. Not that he expected anything else from a collared submissive.
“André,” James greeted the owner of DiscipliNation and nodded to Amanda. It was bad form to speak to another Dom’s sub without their permission. Though he had virtually stalked Amanda for months now, he had no idea whose collar she wore. Ashamed to be fixated with a taken submissive, he didn’t allow himself to investigate her. Except for little tidbits of gossip, he knew nothing of her past. Instead, he spent every available minute of his time in her proximity.
“James, thank you for coming. We’ve got a situation here and we need your help.” The gentlemen shook hands and André waved James to a chair beside Amanda.
The office was small, not much wider than a hallway. Amanda was sitting with her back to a bank of video screens documenting the activity both inside and on the grounds of the club. Tonight, DiscipliNation was hosting a special public event. To keep security manageable, the privacy rooms were closed, thus the screens for those cameras were turned off.
As James sat down, he caught a whiff of Amanda’s perfume. It was hard to describe. Without meaning to, he leaned closer, inhaling the elusive, but alluring scent. Damn it. He didn’t need another reason to be obsessed with her.
“Someone’s threatening Amanda and using the club’s closed circuit video system to do it. Show him the latest picture.” André pulled James’ thoughts back to the business at hand.
His protective instincts went into hyper-drive. He’d been a bodyguard long enough to know he needed to stay detached, yet with Amanda that wasn’t going to be easy. She had the girl-next-door look in spades. Her body had delicious curves that sent his imagination working overtime. But her innocent, pixie face made him feel world-weary. Though they were only a few years apart, he felt like a dirty old man. He would gladly protect her from any threat, but how would he protect her from himself?
Amanda scooted the envelope and the eight-by-ten color photo she’d received that afternoon toward James. The picture had been taken outside the club’s main building in an area that had been set up for fire-play. It was obvious the photo had been tampered with. Amanda’s face had been superimposed over another woman’s body. The picture was artistic in nature—red and orange flames contrasted against the grey smoke and black night. It was clear this frame of the video had been chosen with care. Why?
As many times as he’d visited the club, he’d never spotted Amanda in a play area. It looked to him like she never ventured beyond her desk in the lobby area. He knew that couldn’t be true. Why would anyone work at a kink club and not at least occasionally enjoy the benefits the facility had to offer?
James took a closer look at the photo. While he wasn’t into fire-play, he understood the scene wasn’t one of violence. However, the words ‘Roast Bitch’ written across the photo in red marker left little to the imagination. He doubted there would be any evidence to be garnered by the photo or envelope, but he was careful not to touch them anyway. Using the eraser head of a pencil, James removed the picture from the envelope. He noticed it was addressed to ‘DiscipliNation, Attention: Amanda’. “Is this the way most mail comes addressed?”
“No, some of the suppliers use my name if we’ve been working on something special, but normally mail is sent in the club’s name only,” Amanda explained.
“You said this was the latest threat, what else has happened?” And why the hell wasn’t I notified after the first one? Bringing it up at this point would only muddle the issue, but he did intend to make damn sure he was aware of each development from here on out.
“First, I received an email. It wasn’t such a blatant threat.” She shook her head. “I thought maybe it was a joke or something, so I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Bring it up on the laptop. He needs to see it.” André pointed to his computer lying at the end of the counter.
Amanda pulled it onto her lap and brought up her email. The image showed her face superimposed onto another woman’s body. The woman was tied to post and receiving a whipping. Across the bottom was written ‘Let’s Party, Bitch’.
“It was sent by a Master X. Do you know anyone who goes by that name? It sounds a little melodramatic.”
Amanda gave him a tenuous smile then shook her head. André confirmed what James had assumed. “We don’t have any members who use that name.”
“What else has happened?” He knew there was more. Amanda looked like hell. She had dark circles under her eyes and her hands had trembled as she’d logged into the computer. This had been bothering her for a while. James looked at the date on the message. She’d received it over a week ago.