Thursday, August 28, 2014

Rachell Nichole's Masters of Kink Scale!

I am so excited to share my blog space today with such a wonderful master of Erom, Rachell Nichole! She’s the most clever and funny woman you will ever meet, so listen up as she shares a little from her latest release, To Sir.

Hey there,

Thanks so much for having me stop by today to talk a bit more about my recent release, To Sir.

I wanted to share with readers a bit more about the book, in particular, something I created while writing it: The Masters Kink Scale! J

Now, there’s a scene in the book where my hero, Chase Masters, is describing the world of kink to my heroine, Liz Clark. Liz is an author who’s plagued by the idea for a kinky book she can’t shake, but she’s awash in a sea of the unknown when she starts down the path to writing Hawke and Sarah’s story. So she turns to Chase, a local Dom and club owner, to help guide her. But she’s unprepared for the carnal reaction she has in his presence, and for the way what started as research quickly turns into something much more personal. And terrifying.

I’d like to share how the Masters Kink Scale came to be. While I was writing the scene where Chase is explaining how kink works on a nun to kinky as hell scale, Liz, lovely writer nerd that she is, draws it up as a bell curve chart, I came up with the idea of Liz naming Chase’s bell curve… among other things. J
So she draws it all out, and Chase takes her through it, step by step, from nun to all out Kinkiness! Liz was the one who dubbed it the Masters Kink Scale. I completely had nothing to do with it, I swear. She’s obviously far more clever than I am.


So here’s the Master’s Kink Scale:
And that’s that, folks. So now, without further ado, here’s the scene from To Sir that I’ve promised you…



So it’s not like the Kinsey scale of sexuality? There aren’t, like, two ends of the spectrum—totally gay and totally straight, and everyone is pretty much in the middle?”
He twisted the napkin tighter in his fingers. “Well, maybe. So let’s put nuns on one end of that spectrum, then the vanillas—you know, people who only like straight sex, and by straight I don’t mean not gay; I mean sex without any kind of kink. Think like total-missionary, once-every-six-months, and blowjobs-on-birthdays kind of vanilla. Then as you move more toward the middle, you get people who like different positions, more spice, maybe ménages, and a bit of tie-me-up, tie-me-down with silk scarves and soft blindfolds. Then as you keep moving, you get to people who like the harder stuff, like whips and nipple clamps, spanking, debasement, orgasm denial, reward and punishment. Then all the way out here are the real edge players who use blades and fire and stuff.”
Liz shivered. Fire and blades. How could you ever trust anyone like that? She started drawing the scale, in a completely nerdy bell-curve kind of way, trying to slow her pounding heart when she thought of a blade pressing against her skin while she was utterly at someone’s mercy. According to Chase, most people fell somewhere in the middle, between vanilla and kinky as hell.
“For some, the line is here.” He reached over and traced an invisible line down the middle of her bell curve with his thick index finger. “They’re mostly vanilla, with a little slap and tickle, and they won’t go any further. For a lot of people who come on the scene the first time, they fall somewhere in here.” He rubbed back and forth from the middle to halfway through the second half of the curve in a sensual slide that made her throat go dry. She could picture that finger rubbing back and forth like that along her skin, and she clenched her thighs together, holding the heat at the center of her body close.
“Sometimes they push themselves and find they’re actually out here.” He captured her hand in his, and she let him trace her finger to the outlying edges of her curve. “And some people think it’s cool and trendy and dangerous to pretend they lie here.” He brought her finger back toward the middle. “When really, they’re way the hell over here.” He jerked her hand all the way across the page to where she’d written Nun. The soft paper teased the pads of her fingers with every movement.
“Others who have been taught how evil and dirty it is to want to be spanked spend their entire lives miserably stuck in Vanilla Land.” He circled her finger around the word. “They never admit to themselves, let alone their partners, what they want, what they need. And then they have unfulfilling sex for eternity. It’s sad.”
She’d been watching his large, calloused hand as it held hers captive and skittered across the page. But now she looked up and locked gazes with him. His penetrating stare seemed to see deep into her soul, and she tried to shrink back from it. He didn’t let her. Was he talking about her? Her sex life wasn’t unfulfilling. It was nonexistent.
“Okay, so I get the whole where-sexual-preferences-lie scale thing. I understand the hardwired stuff. And the need to be truthful to yourself about your desires.” Did she sound like she was admitting she was one of those people in denial? Or like she was consenting to let him show her how to stop denying herself? She wasn’t sure. “Hawke and Sarah know who they are, what they want. It’s not about them exploring boundaries or where they are on the Masters Kink Scale.”
“What is it about?” He didn’t seem inclined to release her gaze, or her hand, anytime soon.
“I can’t take notes with you holding me hostage,” she said, her voice breathy, restless.
His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip. Her thighs clenched tighter together, the pressure at once feeling wonderful and awful at the apex of her legs. He leaned in close over the table, his large frame suddenly crowding her, though there was still at least a foot between them. “If you really want me to let you go, you have to say so. Don’t make some passive-aggressive comment about not being able to write in this position.”
God, this was like the best and worst game of are you nervous ever. She’d played it as a kid at those parties she’d sneaked out to attend. She’d always won, while some boy’s—or girl’s—hand crept higher and higher up her thigh, attempting to make her squirm. But this guy made her squirm without even trying.
Still, he was going to make her say it. Make her admit what she wanted and voice it. “Let. Go.”
There. An implacable direct order that didn’t make her sound weak at all. She wasn’t asking, wasn’t pleading with him to release her. She was demanding it. But what the hell would she do if he refused?


Oooh, boy. Wasn’t that yummy? As you can see Chase and Liz have a bit of an explosive relationship. Sparks most definitely fly when they’re in a room together.
If you’d like to read more, and honestly, who wouldn’t, To Sir is on sale now!


All Romance Ebooks:  http://bit.ly/1nzX2eT
  
And for all of your Sizzling Romantic Entanglement goodies, be sure to follow me on Twitter @RachellNichole, like me on Facebook: www.Facebook.com/RachellNichole or check out my website for links and info on my upcoming BDSM books – www.RachellNichole.com

Thanks again so much for stopping by and I hope you fall in love with Chase and Liz, just like I did!

~ Rach



Rachell Nichole is a contemporary erotic romance author, who loves writing sexy romances about memorable characters who have to fight to hold on to love.

Rachell holds two undergraduate degrees, one in Professional Writing and the other in French. She also received a Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction at Seton Hill University. She is the author of The Marietta Hotels Series, Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce, Break(Through) the Ice, To Sir, and Queen of Hearts.

Rachell lives in New York with a mountain of books, a loving family, and an invisible cat who loves to snuggle.


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