Hello Everyone!
Today, the talented Trent Evans is on my blog to talk about his latest book, Expecting Surrender!
Can you please tell us a little bit about your story?
Thank you for having me over to your blog, Meredith! Expecting Surrender follows a married couple who’ve just begun to explore a more serious D/s dynamic. Things become a lot more complicated when the heroine turns up pregnant. While both are overjoyed at the news, both also worry that they won’t be able to go deeper into what’s become – for both of them – a fascinating, exciting D/s sexual relationship. Just when they think they’ve gone as deep as they think they can go, new insights, and desires arise. But how can they make an increasingly intense D/s marriage and pregnancy work? This novel tells that story, how one couple take that journey, not really knowing how it might end…
I think that's the scariest type of journey to be on! Your main character, Kristen gets pregnant just as her husband and her are starting to explore the world of BDSM. Most authors seem to avoid pregnancy and kids. What made you write your story this way?
Because it’s a real thing people grapple withJ I think children are a blessing, and to me they give us purpose, something more important than ourselves, a reason to strive, to persevere, to never give up. Though couples may not discuss it openly, kinky couples have to tangle with a whole different set of complications and considerations – and fears – when it comes to raising a family and yet still being true to themselves. Some kinky couples may choose to put that side of themselves away, at least until the kids have moved away, but others try to balance it, and still enjoy who they are within the bounds of privacy and discretion. In this novel, this couple struggle with these complications and considerations.
I’ve always been frustrated at the way most books seem to gloss over (of avoid entirely) the closeness, the intimacy, and the eroticism that pregnancy brings to a loving relationship. Yes, for some, there’s nothing less sexy than pregnancy, but for others it’s something that brings two people closer in a way that nothing else can. I’m definitely in the latter camp!
Awww! I loved the whole concept of the Dominion Trust. How did you come up with that concept?
I know a handful of wealthy people – though I’m just about as far from wealthy as it gets – and one of the things that always fascinated me was the different sorts of lives people lead, based on socio-economic level. The super wealthy seem to live almost in a different reality from the rest of us – but deep down, we’re all the same. We all love, we all feel loss, we all need intimacy, and we all desire. The Dominion Trust is an expression of how those same drives might be exercised, channeled, harnessed by a group of powerful, like-minded individuals for … greater purposes. The question is – are those purposes benevolent or otherwise? What is the Dominion Trust – and what are its real aims?
Guess we’ll have to read to find out.
Did you have any specific woman in mind, while writing the character Kirsten?
I know some writers like to picture a real person (a celebrity, a personal acquaintance, a complete stranger) when building characters, but I’ve never done that. It gets in the way for me. I tend to leave a lot up for interpretation when it comes to my characters physically (I respect the readers’ ability to picture a character as they will), but it’s the motivations, the personalities, the desires and fears that I like to delineate more clearly. God, that was an uber blather-y way of saying “no”
It's okay, I understand what you mean completely. My favorite question to ask writers is what is your writing style?
I used to be a 100% pantser (no outline, not even so much as the protagonist’s name, and I’d go writing off into the night), but I’ve since become sort of a hybrid pantser-plotter. I do not do a full outline – I think it saps some of the freshness from a story for me, which makes it harder for me to complete it. What I do instead is come up with a Heroine and a Hero, devise a rough sketch of a situation and a conflict, then put together some very, very rough story beats. These beats usually hit the major milestones of the story (though not always), and then as I write, I will fill in more and more beats as I go along. I almost never know how a story ends until I’m nearly done with it though. It would be soo much easier if I did…
Are you working on any other stories right now?
GAH. Too many. Next up is a paranormal erotic romance that might actually turn into urban fantasy. We shall see. This may end up a serial or a series, but I’m not sure yet.
I’m planning on writing a sequel to The Fall of Lady Westwood sometime Q2 or Q3 of this year, and another entry in the Dominion Trust series will be in the offing either Q3 or Q4.
The sequel to What She’s Looking For has had beats done for it, but I haven’t had a chance to sit down and start writing that one yet. Maybe end of 2015?
I’ve got probably 5 or 6 percolating at any one time though, so who knows – might publish a couple others too.
When you aren't writing, what does a normal day look like to you?
When I’m not writing?? What does… this does not compute… (LOL!) Seriously, I’m a regular dude. I occasionally try new things in order to expand my frame of reference and deepen the well of life-experience to draw upon (a good thing for writers), but really I’m pretty boring. I spend most of my non-writing time with my family, and I’ll leave it at that!
I'm sure that you aren't a boring person! Five Question Game!
What was the last book that you read?
Owned and Owner by Anneke Jacob (reread this one – incredible book)
What is your favorite color?
I don’t think I’ve thought about this since I was a little boy. I do like blue…such a boy answer.
Blue is a cool color! The Superbowl is this Sunday! Are you cheering for the Patroits or for the Seahawks?
Since I’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest most of my life, unsurprisingly I’m a lifelong (and long-suffering, until last year) Seahawks fan. Seahawks by 10.
Go ‘Hawks;)
If you could time travel to any year, what would it be and why?
Damn, this is a tough one. I think that – despite all the horror, and sorrow, and injustice in the world -- there’s never, ever been a better time to be alive than right now. I’m optimistic about the future. Perhaps 50-60 years from now (I’m young enough that I might, theoretically, still be alive then, but let’s assume I’m not). I’d get to see the world my sons inherited. It won’t be perfect, but I’m positive it’ll be even better than the world we inhabit now.
I'm sure that you'll be around then Trent! Who knows, maybe we'll both own cars like the one above. Who do you view as a writing role model and why?
Hmm, I’m not sure I’ve got one writing role model, per se. There are writers I’m in awe of:
Anneke Jacob – Easily the most literate, fearless and uncompromising writer in erotic fiction. If forced to pick a single writer as my favorite, she’d be it.
Joey W. Hill – Nobody in fiction conveys emotion as effectively as Joey does. Her characters are just so real. Stunning facility with characterization. Oh, and she writes hot as hell.
Jacqueline Carey – I’ve never encountered another writer – in any genre – with the command of the English language that this woman has. Anyone who wants to learn how prose is really done, need only read one of Ms. Carey’s books. Phedre is still one of the most fascinating heroines I’ve read yet. If you haven’t read either of her Kushiel trilogies, my God, you need to. Now;)
Chelsea Cain – Her thrillers are as ghastly as they’re unputdownable. Sure, yeah, that’s a word. I wish I had one tenth this woman’s talent for description, mood, and economy of prose. If any writers want to learn how to write tight, compelling, page-turner fiction, read Chelsea’s stuff. She’s good;)
I think Max Hastings and Stephen Ambrose are simply incredible writers. They’re both non-fiction history authors but their writing is so gripping, so immediate, I feel like I’m right there.
I’ll stop here as I could go on forever ;)
Now it's time for a sexy snippet...
She moved her hands to his head, running her fingers through the thick, dark hair.
“Put them at your side,” he said, between soft kisses to the flesh around her navel. “I didn’t tell you could do that.”
Holy shit.
“Um, why not?” She wanted to reel the words back in before her lips were done forming them.
His gaze snapped up. “This is what you wanted, right?”
She nodded, nibbling her lower lip again. The combination of his piercing dark eyes and his roving hands was getting her hot, and she wondered if he could smell her arousal.
“Then the first thing you’re going to need to do is listen to me, and do as I say. Right?”
She nodded, the hated blushing back at her cheeks.
“Good.” He reached around under the fabric of the robe and clasped both of her vulnerable buttocks in his hard hands. He looked up at her, his expression stony, almost cold.
She dropped her hands to her side with a tiny sound of protest.
“Watch yourself, Kirsten.”
Her pussy clenched at the words; so stern, just as she’d always fantasized about. She wondered how many other women secretly reveled in the menacing rumble of an angry man’s voice. Perhaps she was one of kind?
“Do you think you’ll be saved just because you’re waddling around, carrying our child? Hmm?”
Her blood ran cold, even as her cunt spasmed. “Saved from what?”
He smacked her bottom, the lush flesh wobbling under his hands. “That.”
“No — I don’t know.”
I don’t want to be saved. I want more, so much more.
“Turn around. Pull up your robe and show me your ass.”
She obeyed immediately, feeling the slick lips of her cunt slipping together as she moved. She hoisted the fabric of the brief robe, ensuring it was held well above her buttocks. His fingers traced random patterns over the smooth flesh.
“So pale.” He laid a still hand against the curve of one cheek. “But I guarantee you, they won’t be this way very often from here on out.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, daring to push back against his hand ever so slightly.
He gave her ass another crisp slap, and she yelped more in surprise than pain.
“I guess we need to go over the rules now.”
She looked back at him. “Rules? Keihl, I—”
“Be quiet. Face forward.”
Oh dear God.
He kneaded the flesh of her buttocks in his strong hands, his grip harsh. It hurt, and she instinctively pulled forward.
He spanked each cheek twice, hard. The slaps rang out in the quiet, dimly lit dining room, the sharp pain shocking her into momentary stillness. He was serious after all.
She could feel her cunt dripping fluid down the inside of one thigh.
“Rule Number One: Do what you’re told. Do you understand?”
She held her tongue, as much in shock as in stunned, bone-deep arousal.
“I’m waiting, Kirsten. I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question. That’s not one of the rules, but you’d better remember it too.”
“Okay — yes, I understand. Jesus, Keihl, can we talk about—”
“No.” His hand clenched a buttock threateningly, and she tensed. “Be quiet, for now.”
After a moment, he continued. “Rule Number Two: Be honest with me, and yourself. Tell me the truth even if you think I’ll be angry.”
“Yes, of course.”
That one would be easy. Right?
“Lay over the table.”
Hesitating, she glanced pointedly at the centerpieces with their still burning candles. He followed her gaze, then chuckled. “No, I suppose that won’t quite work, will it?”
She watched him quench both flickering candle flames between his fingertips, marveling that the searing pain seemed to faze him not one bit. In mere moments, he’d removed the centerpiece, the scent of the wispy smoke from the blackened wicks lingering in the air. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, urging her over.
Bending forward, she laid her hands on the cool wood.
“Did I tell you to do that?”
“Do what? You said bend over the table.”
He gave her bottom three quick smacks. “I said ‘lay’ over the table. Do what you’re told, remember? Now put your hands back where they were — holding up that robe. I want to be able to see that ass.”
She obeyed, the heat starting to build in her buttocks. He’d never smacked her more than a few times during sex. She wasn’t at all sure she’d like much more pain than she’d already had, but her pussy was embarrassingly wet at the possibility. The view she was exposing to him made her shiver with an embarrassed arousal as she pressed her cheek to the dark cherry wood of the dining room table.
His hands stroked over her bottom, then down her taut hamstrings, the long fingers caressing the vulnerable flesh of her inner thighs. Her swollen cunt pulsed as the edges of his fingers just brushed the fine hair covering the plump labia. It was maddening, this perusal of her prostrate form at his leisure.
“Any more rules?” She tried to keep the snark out of her tone, but wasn’t completely successful.
“That’s it for now,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, and it relaxed her a little.
His warm, inviting smile always did.
Fingers slipped between her sodden labia, stroking lazily through the soft folds. Then two long fingers plunged deep, exploring the depth of her cunt, eliciting an ascending moan of pleasure from her. He stroked in and out of her several times, the wetness of her cunt easing the way with an embarrassing swiftness.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Nice and hot.”
She wanted to hide her face in her hands, but she knew he wouldn’t approve.
Be careful what you ask for, Kirsten.
But this was exactly what she wanted. This and whatever else he wanted to do to her. That was the point. She didn’t want to call the shots anymore. The idea of giving herself to her husband, being controlled by him, held a dark seductive power for her. Just the idea made her cunt gush and her clit positively sing.
Wet fingers eased along the edges of her inner labia, the sensation making her shiver. Then they found her clit, and she moaned as he touched it.
“Ah, God,” she whispered, her hips rotating ever so slightly.
He palmed the plump purse of her cunt, the tips of his fingers pressed to her hardening clit. But rather than stroke her he just held them there. Maddeningly still.
“Rub that cunt on my hand, girl. If you get to come at all, you’re going to work for it.”
She moaned and thrust her hips up and down, over and over. He lessened the pressure of those fingertips just enough to keep her climax just out of reach, but her pussy was awash in wetness, and the pleasure of her labia sliding along his warm palm as his devilish fingers tormented her poor clit was almost enough in itself. She could feel the wave building, her thighs trembling.
But he must have seen it, for he pulled his hand away just before the wave could crest. She let go a frustrated groan, the pleased rumble of his laughter both arousing and embarrassing to her.
He had her acting like a bitch in heat.
“Please, Keihl!”
“Please what?” His hand rested on the curve of her hip, his slick fingers wet against her skin.
“I need to come! God, please.”
“We’ll see, Kirsten. Be good now.”
His gaze snapped up. “This is what you wanted, right?”
She nodded, nibbling her lower lip again. The combination of his piercing dark eyes and his roving hands was getting her hot, and she wondered if he could smell her arousal.
“Then the first thing you’re going to need to do is listen to me, and do as I say. Right?”
She nodded, the hated blushing back at her cheeks.
“Good.” He reached around under the fabric of the robe and clasped both of her vulnerable buttocks in his hard hands. He looked up at her, his expression stony, almost cold.
She dropped her hands to her side with a tiny sound of protest.
“Watch yourself, Kirsten.”
Her pussy clenched at the words; so stern, just as she’d always fantasized about. She wondered how many other women secretly reveled in the menacing rumble of an angry man’s voice. Perhaps she was one of kind?
“Do you think you’ll be saved just because you’re waddling around, carrying our child? Hmm?”
Her blood ran cold, even as her cunt spasmed. “Saved from what?”
He smacked her bottom, the lush flesh wobbling under his hands. “That.”
“No — I don’t know.”
I don’t want to be saved. I want more, so much more.
“Turn around. Pull up your robe and show me your ass.”
She obeyed immediately, feeling the slick lips of her cunt slipping together as she moved. She hoisted the fabric of the brief robe, ensuring it was held well above her buttocks. His fingers traced random patterns over the smooth flesh.
“So pale.” He laid a still hand against the curve of one cheek. “But I guarantee you, they won’t be this way very often from here on out.”
“Thank God,” she whispered, daring to push back against his hand ever so slightly.
He gave her ass another crisp slap, and she yelped more in surprise than pain.
“I guess we need to go over the rules now.”
She looked back at him. “Rules? Keihl, I—”
“Be quiet. Face forward.”
Oh dear God.
He kneaded the flesh of her buttocks in his strong hands, his grip harsh. It hurt, and she instinctively pulled forward.
He spanked each cheek twice, hard. The slaps rang out in the quiet, dimly lit dining room, the sharp pain shocking her into momentary stillness. He was serious after all.
She could feel her cunt dripping fluid down the inside of one thigh.
“Rule Number One: Do what you’re told. Do you understand?”
She held her tongue, as much in shock as in stunned, bone-deep arousal.
“I’m waiting, Kirsten. I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question. That’s not one of the rules, but you’d better remember it too.”
“Okay — yes, I understand. Jesus, Keihl, can we talk about—”
“No.” His hand clenched a buttock threateningly, and she tensed. “Be quiet, for now.”
After a moment, he continued. “Rule Number Two: Be honest with me, and yourself. Tell me the truth even if you think I’ll be angry.”
“Yes, of course.”
That one would be easy. Right?
“Lay over the table.”
Hesitating, she glanced pointedly at the centerpieces with their still burning candles. He followed her gaze, then chuckled. “No, I suppose that won’t quite work, will it?”
She watched him quench both flickering candle flames between his fingertips, marveling that the searing pain seemed to faze him not one bit. In mere moments, he’d removed the centerpiece, the scent of the wispy smoke from the blackened wicks lingering in the air. Then she felt his hand on her shoulder, urging her over.
Bending forward, she laid her hands on the cool wood.
“Did I tell you to do that?”
“Do what? You said bend over the table.”
He gave her bottom three quick smacks. “I said ‘lay’ over the table. Do what you’re told, remember? Now put your hands back where they were — holding up that robe. I want to be able to see that ass.”
She obeyed, the heat starting to build in her buttocks. He’d never smacked her more than a few times during sex. She wasn’t at all sure she’d like much more pain than she’d already had, but her pussy was embarrassingly wet at the possibility. The view she was exposing to him made her shiver with an embarrassed arousal as she pressed her cheek to the dark cherry wood of the dining room table.
His hands stroked over her bottom, then down her taut hamstrings, the long fingers caressing the vulnerable flesh of her inner thighs. Her swollen cunt pulsed as the edges of his fingers just brushed the fine hair covering the plump labia. It was maddening, this perusal of her prostrate form at his leisure.
“Any more rules?” She tried to keep the snark out of her tone, but wasn’t completely successful.
“That’s it for now,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice, and it relaxed her a little.
His warm, inviting smile always did.
Fingers slipped between her sodden labia, stroking lazily through the soft folds. Then two long fingers plunged deep, exploring the depth of her cunt, eliciting an ascending moan of pleasure from her. He stroked in and out of her several times, the wetness of her cunt easing the way with an embarrassing swiftness.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Nice and hot.”
She wanted to hide her face in her hands, but she knew he wouldn’t approve.
Be careful what you ask for, Kirsten.
But this was exactly what she wanted. This and whatever else he wanted to do to her. That was the point. She didn’t want to call the shots anymore. The idea of giving herself to her husband, being controlled by him, held a dark seductive power for her. Just the idea made her cunt gush and her clit positively sing.
Wet fingers eased along the edges of her inner labia, the sensation making her shiver. Then they found her clit, and she moaned as he touched it.
“Ah, God,” she whispered, her hips rotating ever so slightly.
He palmed the plump purse of her cunt, the tips of his fingers pressed to her hardening clit. But rather than stroke her he just held them there. Maddeningly still.
“Rub that cunt on my hand, girl. If you get to come at all, you’re going to work for it.”
She moaned and thrust her hips up and down, over and over. He lessened the pressure of those fingertips just enough to keep her climax just out of reach, but her pussy was awash in wetness, and the pleasure of her labia sliding along his warm palm as his devilish fingers tormented her poor clit was almost enough in itself. She could feel the wave building, her thighs trembling.
But he must have seen it, for he pulled his hand away just before the wave could crest. She let go a frustrated groan, the pleased rumble of his laughter both arousing and embarrassing to her.
He had her acting like a bitch in heat.
“Please, Keihl!”
“Please what?” His hand rested on the curve of her hip, his slick fingers wet against her skin.
“I need to come! God, please.”
“We’ll see, Kirsten. Be good now.”
Blurb for Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust 3)
They’d called it The Game. An intriguing truth or dare, a little spice to an already hot sexual chemistry between two married professionals. But what started as a mere game evolved into something so much more, a dark, exciting adventure into serious power exchange. It soon became the center of their lives, the beating, lust-fueled heart of their sexual relationship.
They’d called it The Game. An intriguing truth or dare, a little spice to an already hot sexual chemistry between two married professionals. But what started as a mere game evolved into something so much more, a dark, exciting adventure into serious power exchange. It soon became the center of their lives, the beating, lust-fueled heart of their sexual relationship.
It was an exploration of pleasure, of pain, of elemental desire. A married couple diving deep into the waters of Dominance and submission. Like forbidden fruit, The Game had opened their eyes to the primal drives, the animal lusts lurking within each of them — and they knew they’d never be the same again.
Then came the day she’d received the surprise news… in the form of a positive pregnancy test.
Now Keihl and Kirsten, deeply in love, facing a profound, joyful change in their lives, must contemplate the prospect of putting aside The Game, just when things are really heating up. After all, pregnancy and BDSM are utterly incompatible. Right?
Or was there a way to have both? Perhaps Kirsten’s pregnancy might open up an entirely new world to them within the alluring, lust-drenched context of a loving, yet strict, Dominance and submission dynamic? Perhaps the pregnancy might change them both in ways neither of them yet understand?
Two lovers will discover if Dominance and submission, if pain and pleasure, and finding the real people they are inside is indeed still possible, now that a baby is on the way…
Publisher's Warning: Intended for mature readers. 18 and over only!
This is a contemporary MF BDSM erotic romance. The novel contains the following themes: explicit sexuality, pervasive D/s, exhibitionism, spanking, bondage, and other BDSM activities. If such content might offend you, please do not purchase this book.
Word count: 134,520 words.
Page Count: 470 pages
Buy Links for Expecting Surrender (Dominion Trust 3)
Want to contact Trent Evans...here are some links!
Thank you for visiting today Trent! :-)
I finished it the day after it came out. It's hot! And I love all the Dominion Trust stories. I really enjoyed this interview!
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