Safeword: Davenport by Candace Blevins

  • ISBN: 9781609826604
  • Written by: Candace Blevins

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Dana has never submitted to anyone but her husband — he trained her, taught her to submit. He’s been dead a year and a half though, and she’s beginning to consider the possibility of dating again.

She sticks to vanilla at first, but quickly realizes she’s going to need more. As she’s considering the idea of finding someone who would enjoy hurting her without requiring her submission, her life is complicated by a Dom who pushes all of her buttons.

Safeword: Davenport is the first half of Dana’s story, it’s the personal part of her journey, and has a Happy for Now ending.

Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon is scheduled for release August 3, 2012, and will give the rest of her story.

Warnings: This title contains graphic language, consensual BDSM, bondage, intense sensory deprivation, extreme electrical play, enemas, and the use of toys including clamps, canes, plugs, cages, paddles, whips, and floggers.

Word Count: 77,000


firebolt level 5   Happy for Now   excess rating 4




La Crimson Femme gave it a 5 of 5 and said:

This is my FAVOURITE book by Ms. Blevins. In this lovely story, we are once again treated to some intense and arousing SM. No one does SM in a M/f relationship as good for me as Ms. Blevins. 

AlexJouJou at Manic Readers gave it a 4.5 out of 5 and said:

Candace Blevins writes amazing BDSM stories that ring authentic and true. These are not your everyday hot submissive meets “Club Owning” Dom novels (though those are good). These are vibrant, realistic, multilayered, and multihued with characters who come alive for you and engage you and make you care for them deeply. 

Shari at Delighted Reader gave it an A and said:

Candace Blevins has an incredible writing style and an in depth knowledge of the BDSM world and community. While I am not partial to reading sadist/masochist books, Candace can write them in such a way that it draws me into the story and won’t let me go. 




The first strike of the flogger landed on her right shoulder blade as the thought went through her mind, chasing it away.

Max quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm using a moderate flogger with restrained strength to warm her up. He gauged her comfort level well, gradually upping the intensity, staying just ahead of her endorphins, and thoroughly thrashed shoulders, back, ass, and thighs before moving to her front and flogging breasts, stomach, pussy, and thighs. When her front was on fire he switched to her back, changing floggers as he stepped around her. The world went hazy, and her body began trying to move into the strikes instead of away. She wanted more, forgot she could ask.

The rhythm stopped and he circled to her front again – her breasts hot and swollen, as if they’d grown twice their size, but she couldn’t wait for the first strike to fall. She was lost without the relentless pounding of the flogger, a ship on the sea with no wind.

The music changed to nineties techno, an insistent beat coming through the drumless instrumental, and her world erupted in wind and sensation. The hits came to the beat of the music – a strike to her left shoulder blade and left breast at the same time, quickly followed on the other side. Right-Left-Right-Left. A continuous loop. Her body tried to react, even though her mind welcomed it, but she was restrained in so many places she couldn’t move away from, or towards, the constant sensation of impact. She tried to keep up with it, but with four floggers moving so rapidly all she could do was let go and feel.

She felt her consciousness grow bigger than her body, at one with The Universe; and sensed the delineation between soul and body, could see them as two separate units.

Her body was being flogged, not her soul.

The wind stopped and she opened her eyes and howled as her spirit merged back into her body, the sounds and smells of the club assaulting her.

Max was in front of her, his face inches away. He moved in, his lips on hers, giving her another anchor. Not the leather of the floggers, not the wind, but his presence, his warmth. He pulled back and she opened her eyes again, still in her comfortable fog, but more aware of her surroundings. Brent was walking towards the cage, and Jacob had finally stopped holding himself up. His elbows were slack, head resting back against the statue, eyes closed. Dana thought he must be in that beautiful millimeter of space sandwiched between heavenly bliss and excruciating torment, where you could simultaneously experience both.

She heard the snap of a single tail, didn’t feel the pain. He hadn’t hit her. She tried to relax, realized she hadn’t tensed.

The snap and the pain hit her brain at the same time as the center of her right ass cheek blossomed in delicious agony. Her body strained, tried to run, struggled to move; her muscles writhed under her skin as her heart slammed in her chest, and the throbbing between her thighs became more insistent.

Left ass cheek. Not a blossom, but a pinpoint of magnificent anguish. She heard herself say, “Yes,” very low, and opened her eyes in shock at the sound of her voice.

Her right shoulder and then her left, only seconds apart, and both were on fire. The inferno always raged more on her back, the focused strikes going from skin to bone, without the muscles in the ass to absorb the impact, and she needed that intensity. She remembered she was supposed to tell him, it wasn’t Topping from the bottom. Not today.

She licked her lips, tried to make her tongue work. Finally got her brain firing the right way and said, “Yes, more up there.”

A voice repeated what she’d said, and then Max was behind her, his hands lightly resting on her upper arms. “Talk to me. What do you need?”

She struggled to put it into words, into a sentence. “Shoulders, where you hit… more intense. Need that. Stay there.”

“I’m going to keep moving around, to draw this out for you. Do you not want more on your ass, or are you saying you want the level of pain your shoulders are getting?”

“Need the intensity. Feel it more. Want to hurt. Please.”

“Okay. I’m going to move back and forth so I can make it last, but I’ll give you plenty on your shoulders, okay?”

She tried to nod her head, wasn’t sure there was enough movement for him to see, and said, “Yes.”

She wasn’t expecting the floggers, but he began the relentless Florentine pattern on her shoulder blades, striking over the single-tail marks, and Dana heard herself howling, the merciless pleasure/pain of the continuous blows pulsing through her body, catapulting her to dizzying heights.

The flogging stopped and she moaned in disappointment, but soon felt the single-tail on her ass again, the most violent strike yet to her right ass cheek. She finally screamed, shocking herself with the sound. Max was behind her again, his hands stroking her arms, sides, hips. Coaxing her into taking deep breaths, reminding her to relax and not fight the restraints. She hadn’t realized she was struggling – she didn’t want to be let loose.

“Good girl. Stay relaxed, it’s time for the next.”

Her left ass cheek received the same intensity, and she was screaming again, felt herself fighting the restraints as the adrenaline spiked through her body.

Max’s voice was back, and his hands. The mask was wet, she hadn’t known she was crying.

When she could breathe enough to talk she said, “More. Oh god, please more.”

“You’ll get more. Do you trust me to draw this out and make it last another thirty minutes? Or would you rather I make it super intense for the next five minutes and not have a spot left to hit?”

In a moment of clarity, her mind put a full sentence together, though her lips had a hard time saying it. “Make it last, but I want the intense five minutes at the end.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She felt him move away, waited for the next strike, but he returned with a bottle of water and a straw, holding the straw to her mouth. “Drink.”

She did, realizing her lips weren’t working because they’d been stuck to her teeth. She drank slowly, wetting her mouth without putting too much into her stomach. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled softly, caressed her cheek over the top of the hood. “Ready for more on your shoulders?”

“God yes.”

Sir Max went back and forth from flogger to bullwhip to single tail. She opened her eyes once to see Brent doing something that made Jacob struggle and fight his bonds. The next time she looked, he was gone.

Dana lost all sense of time – there were only the whips, the pain, the pleasure, Dana’s screams, and Max’s voice and hands.

Max was behind her again, his hands on her hips below the waist strap. “You know this can’t last forever. I’m running out of blank canvas, so this’ll be your final couple of minutes.”

“Will you draw blood? I want… feel the whip, break skin? Shoulder blades. Please?”

“I’m sorry, but no. I’ll make it hurt worse than I have, but I won’t tear you open with the bullwhip on top of what I’ve already done.”

“Do it. All of them.” His hands disappeared and then he was in front of her, holding her gaze until she fell into it. His eyes were intense, analyzing her, feeling her out.

“Make it hurt,” she said. “Like you’re drawing blood. I like asking, thank you.”

“Okay, but you’ll get a few on your ass in between the ones on your back.” He finally released her from his gaze and kissed her on the forehead, over the leather. “Enjoy it while it lasts, we’re just about done.”

The next two lashes were on her back, not too far below the previous strikes, and came as a one-two punch. Her ass blossomed in pain again not long afterwards, and then he returned to her upper back. The hits were coming fast and furious, without much time to deal with the heat and torment of one set before the next arrived.

She could see the pain in layers around her, the most recent strikes purple, the ones before that red, then orange, and yellow. She was so close to an orgasm, she kept thinking she just needed a little more to push her over the edge, but it never came.

There were two sets of hands on her. One taking off her hood, another removing the spreader bars. As more of her attachments came loose, strong arms held her up, and when the last chain dropped she was tenderly lifted and carried across the floor.

This book was added to our catalog on Thursday 21 June, 2012.

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