Erotic author, Natalie Dae writes mainly BDSM erotica. She loves a Dom/sub relationship and is fascinated by how it all works. The trust issue is the best thing about it for her, so creating characters who have to adopt trust is one of her priorities. “Watching my characters bloom under tuition is such a treat,” she says. “I find it such a privilege to be able to write about something that makes me learn something new with every book.”
She lives with her husband and children in an English village and spends her spare time reading—always reading!—and her phone, complete with Kindle app, is never far away. “I can’t imagine not reading or writing,” she says. “It’s a part of who I am. Without it I’d be more than a bit lost.”
We managed to tear Natalie away from her books for a couple of minutes and she was kind enough to answer a few questions and share a hot excerpt from her new book, Master M.
1. How long does it take you to write a book? I’m lucky in that I can write a novel in about five or six days. Most of my shorts were written in around six hours. The story grips me and doesn’t let go until I’ve finished!
2: What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
Work at my day job, sleep, and read. I don’t really do much else, to be honest. I’m a bit of a hermit, and Hubby has to remind me that I need to go out, usually when I’ve stayed indoors for about a fortnight. LOL.
3. Do you have any strange writing habits (like standing on your head or writing in the shower)?
I wear the kind of ear buds used on flights. They drown out all sound, and as soon as I put them in it’s like a trigger to my brain that says I have to write, no exceptions. I also play a game where I give myself a goal—I can go and make a cup of tea once I’ve finished a chapter or I can get up and walk around for a while. I find it keeps me focused, and if I want that cup of tea badly enough, I write faster.
4: Is this your first book? How many books have you written prior (if any?)
I’ve stopped counting how many books I’ve written. I have a few pen names, and at the last count I’d written 83 books spread out over all the names. Some aren’t published now, but I plan to revise them and resub. It’s finding the time to do that, though!
5: Do you ever experience writer’s block? If so how do you get past it?
Not these days. I started looking at writing differently to how I have in the past. Even if I don’t feel like writing, or I think the words won’t come, I sit down and start writing. It doesn’t matter what I’m writing, so long as words make their way onto the page—usually babble about my life or random stuff about the weather. It sets the creative side of my brain off, then I find I can go to one of my WIPs and just get on with it.
6: If you only had one word to describe yourself, what would it be and why?
Insane—because every time I tell myself to take a break, I still listen to the voices and then it sets me off writing another book.
Natalie was good enough to share an excerpt from her new book Master M which is book six in her series entitled: The Marshall Cottage Series which is a sex den. Yes, that’s what Marshall Cottage is. A BDSM lover’s delight. Follow the men and women who frequent the mansion and see exactly what they get up to with their whips and floggers…
Excerpt From Master M
“Shareena enjoys her back being whipped,” he said, voice stern yet pleasantly soft. “Her shoulders”—he paused—“her tits and nipples. It gives her release. She doesn’t necessarily have to come. She tells me that every single bite of the whip is an orgasm in itself. Can you imagine that? Twenty strikes, twenty orgasms, one after the other?”
How well he understood me. How well he’d listened to what I’d had to say.
“It’s no wonder she’s wrung out after a whipping session. I can’t imagine coming so much, but then men don’t have the luxury of that option.”
Some of the audience chuckled.
“Coming isn’t the be all and end all, either, I find. A Master or sub doesn’t have to come during play. And satisfaction can be gained by being fully dressed—no orgasm achieved. Holding off and coming much later, denying yourself, teasing yourself until you can stand it no more, can lead to a richer experience.”
Not only a richer experience but more intense. He had done this so many times. I had held off too, let the euphoria of the whip take me to a place no orgasm could. Then, after he’d soothed my skin with balm, he’d licked my cunt or filled it with his hard cock until I’d come.
He reached out and a member of staff stepped from the shadows at the side of the room. The man handed Master M a whip. My stomach muscles contracted—here we go, here’s what I want, it won’t be long now—and I breathed deeply to semi quell the rush of excitement that bubbled up. Too much too soon brought on lightheadedness.
“Now,” he said. “You’ll notice I haven’t asked my good lady to undress. I prefer to warm her up, striking outside her corset at first. And so I shall begin.”
I held my breath, closed my eyes—I wouldn’t open them again until we were done if I could help it. This part was always the best. Anticipation. Skin prickling with it. Nerves buzzing.
I heard him move away, knowing he’d gone to stand behind me. I imagined him getting into position, telling himself that performing, showing a side of himself he rarely did, wasn’t a negative. I’d explained that if the guests saw him in a different light, it wasn’t a bad thing. They’d know he felt the same way as them, that he wasn’t some superior being, one who acted like an eagle on a tree branch, staring down at his prey, waiting, ready to swoop to the ground and clutch them with sharp claws if they so much as looked at another guest funny.
It’s okay to be your true self from time to time, Master. It really is okay.
The sound of the whip sailing through the air didn’t faze me. He wouldn’t strike me without a signal. But that sound, God, it set my soul on fire. I shivered, pretending the whip had met its target. Pretending that pain lanced through me, streaking from my back then blazing out through the skin of my stomach, a fiery flame of goodness. Pretending that he wasn’t just making sure his position was right. That he wasn’t just preparing me.
As the whip stopped short of contact, a whisper of displaced air cooled my bare shoulders, the nape of my neck. I swallowed, lacing my fingers in my lap. He touched my shoulder with his fingertips, and I nodded—some of the watchers might have caught it, some might not. I waited for him to arc that whip again. The sound of it being wielded repeated, and I straightened my back, bracing for impact. There it was, a strip of biting pain just below my shoulder blades. I jerked my torso forward, curving my spine, hanging my head back. Heat spread from the stripe, stunning and all consuming. I waited again. Another hit came quickly, increasing the warmth.
I straightened my spine once more, eager now for the proper whipping to begin. Those first two strikes had been tame, a precursor, something to whet my appetite.
It wasn’t only my appetite that was wet.
He laid into me then, hit after hot, hot hit. They found their mark and, I knew, had marked me. I imagined the redness beneath my corset—how, because he was striking randomly, I’d have a criss-cross pattern. At no time did he let the whip meet with my skin, yet I wanted him to—needed him to. Waves of pleasure rolled over me, my cunt spasming, my tits aching, nipples throbbing. A spectacular lift took over—a lift of spirits that guided me away from the stage, away from the audience and their groans of wonder. I shook from the intensity. Each line on my back belted out heat, their close proximity to one another resulting in the warmth merging, becoming one big accumulation.
This. This was where I wanted to be.
He touched my shoulder.
I shuddered with delight.
“Take off your corset,” he whispered in my ear.
If you enjoyed that expert as much as I did, you can purchase Master M by clicking on the link.