I, Mistress
I, Mistress will be FREE on JULY 21-22 2018.
I, Mistress is written in first person POV through the eyes and life of Angelica Ralston. She is not just a very strong, independent woman, but she is also a dominant in a D/s (BDSM) relationship with 3 submissives.
I am Angelica Ralston. I am a CEO and editor of my magazine. I’m a controlling, powerful woman who worked my way up from nothing in order to be successful. My life is about work and play. Yes, I love to play. I have three submissives, each one trying to be the one that will get me to keep them and cause me to get rid of other two. Get me to fall in love with one of them. Fat Chance in Hell. Or is it? Yes, I’m a Mistress. No, I’m not a Dominatrix. I’m a Mistress, and this, is my story. **Angelica is a BDSMerotica Mistress to three males.
Excerpt:
I looked at my watch again. Yes, Richard was late. I knew it and she knew it. Dammit! I hated tardiness. “I don’t know. He was supposed to be here,” I scanned the club and realized that he wasn’t here unless he hid his eyes behind a mask.
“Maybe he changed his mind. You did call him, right?”
“Yes, but if he’s working on a case or whatever he does at the police station, he may not be able to come. He always tells me, even if it’s a quick text, that’s he can’t make it. It’s OK; he’s just a lovely play toy right now.”
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” I heard a voice from behind me.
I turned toward the masked man, whose sculpted bare chest drew my eyes into him. “Um, it’s Mistress,” I said, firmly.
“I apologize, Mistress,” he kneeled instinctively at my feet.
I heard that voice before but I couldn’t quite place it but that chest is something I would’ve remembered. “I’m not your Mistress. Just a Mistress. On your feet,” I commanded. “I am Mistress Angel. Are you someone’s sub?”
“No, Mistress, I don’t belong to anyone, yet,” he rose to his feet in one graceful swoop.
Now, this was amazing. Even my most experienced subs have not been able to be so graceful with a rise. Only Mae ever rose to her feet like a ballerina, because she used to be one, many years ago. This wasn’t a ballerina rise, but a swift, flexible stunning rise without the simplest of wobbles or loss of balance.
“Permission to speak freely, Mistress?” he asked.
I looked at Mae, who smiled. “Here, take my seat,” she offered. “Ang, I see Master Avery. I think I’ll at least talk to him.”
“Don’t forget to ask for permission.”
“Yes, I remember everything you taught me,” she walked off in the crowd toward the tall, thin-but-trim blonde. She liked the blondes.
I focused on this interestingly submissive man with the light caramel sculpted chest. “Take a seat,” I said as I pointed to Mae’s chair. “And, yes, you may talk. I’m not your Mistress, but thank you for showing protocol.”
“I know it wasn’t right for me to approach you, but Master Dane pointed me in your direction, Mistress,” he looked over my shoulder.
