Out of the Shadows and into the Darkness by Senta Holland

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About the author:

Senta Holland lives and loves in the shadows, in a world of BDSM from the inside out. Her passion has to be lived in secret. If the shadows don’t lift, you will never meet her and the only way to get to know Senta is through her book. Open the pages, and she will lead you deep inside her beloved darkness. But maybe you have met Senta already. Maybe you hear her soft voice in your dreams, maybe she is sitting right next to you on the Underground. And maybe you, yourself, are Senta in the shadows.

What inspired you to write your book?

I wanted to write a literary BDSM novel, and I wanted to write a love story for BDSM lovers. Our sexuality is more than sexual experimentation and it is real, not fantasy.

Here is a short sample from the book:

Excerpt from ‘Out of the Shadows and into the Darkness’ by Senta Holland :
Deeper into the darkness
Darkness had fallen utterly, above the city of ancient kings.
High up in the tower, my Nai was waiting for me.
He had insisted on that journey, on taking me from Bangkok, the city of the present, further up the slow night river to this other, older, more mysterious place, entangled in time and passionate longing for a life of promise after death.
So I came out in my little dress and my steel-heeled shoes and I stood and was looked at.
Was looked at for a long time, while his body changed and his look changed and he started to smile like the snake king.
‘You look like a wicked slut,’ he said.
I smiled. My body shivered.
He rushed towards me and lifted me up, I was carried high in his arms and he threw me on the bed. I thought just for a moment but I’m too heavy for him, but he will drop me, I will crash through his arms. I will sink down and down through the pillows through the bed through the floorboards through the concrete in the basement into the earth itself. But not.
With one hand he held me down, the other he pushed under my dress until he found the top of my knickers. ‘Ah,’ he said with satisfaction, ‘here they are.’
He held me even more firmly and then he pulled my knickers down over my bottom. They knotted in front and got entangled with my pubic hairs so I tried to push myself up again but he forced me down until my head was almost smothered by the pillows. He ripped the knickers along my legs until they hung halfway between my ass and my knees and then he gave me a good slap. Hard slap. Right in the middle of my ass. The upturned face, the top of the hill, the smooth curve just as big as the imprint of his hand.
You really get to know a Dom by the way he beats you. Beating styles are just as individual as fucking or kissing or as a unique accent when you speak.
I love love love love to feel his hand on the crest of my ass. Just resting there. His fingers, his palm, his thumb. I could draw an outline for the blind school. I lie on my face, on my stomach, naked, vulnerable, turned towards him, so tender, so white, so smooth. He holds me down and I can feel his power. The tiny hairs on my back and thighs stand up in slow shared electricity. I know he is going to spank me.
Suddenly I get nervous. I slurp the air in little puppy breaths. I want to run away in my sheets and knickers.
People say you can’t feel what your senses don’t tell you, so if you can’t see or hear or taste or smell there is no way of getting information, but I don’t know. I felt his hand hovering above my ass. I could feel how he was thinking, waiting, watching me. I waited, too. I waited and the waiting filled the space between us.
His delight and excitement was all his own, just like his voice that changed and sunk down almost an octave deeper into his chest when he got to this point in the session. It was as if he became part of something greater than himself, but still uniquely him. He had a very special way of responding to my responses, with sometimes a little time delay as he adjusted to an unexpected reaction. He loved those moments.
He later said that Doms were the ‘uber subs’, watching and listening for the submissives’ signals all the time, the moans the shouts the little squeaks of delight, the big screams of pain and ecstasy, the faintest echo of terror so they can stop if we need it before we even know.
How the colour of her skin changes. How she is warm or cold.
How she breathes.
Right now I breathe hardly at all.
I can’t see him, I can’t hear him, I can’t feel his touch, but my whole being is tuned into him. Sometimes I wish this part would last forever. Sometimes I dream of lying there, suspended, for a very long time, not knowing what will come. Knowing what will come.
He arouses my passion, he serves my passion. He expresses his passion on me. On my body. On my soul by driving me so, so forcefully, so harshly, so relentlessly into surrender.
Now I can take his passion into me. My body is there for only one purpose: to receive his beating. I enter a plateau of pain and passion. I am surrendering to the violent shaking of my body. My body becomes his. His to use, his to beat, his to own and transform.
The inside of my vagina is humming. My lips are aching to be touched. The strokes on my ass wake up all the connecting channels between my sexual organs.
I want, I want, I want, I want, so much to be fucked. Right now. Now, now, now, under the beating. Simultaneously. Beaten and fucked. Fucked and beaten. I want a hard penis in my vagina, I want it to be rammed in and I want to be taken as hard inside as I am beaten.
My screams change to deeper moans, I can hear the change myself, I’m not controlling it, it just comes out of my body, out of my voice, out of my mouth. I’m not controlling my voice, my master controls it. My master controls me. He plays my whole body like a big drum.
I feel submission rush through my skin from head to foot. To lie here, dress pushed up, knickers pulled down, on my face, on my stomach, to be pushed into the corner of the bed, to be held down by my Dom. To be spanked. To be beaten. I am getting a beating from my Nai. He dominates me.
He works on me, he works for me, he is the master and the magician’s assistant, he sends me where he himself cannot go.
I am so free. I am flying through the night, high above death. Finally, the wild savage physical sensations match the wildness of my inner life.
I am just my wildly vibrating, hugely stimulated, beaten, flying, surrendered body.
Excerpt 2: Power exchange
I am looking at him.
No, he is looking at me. And I am taking it in, the way he looks at me.
There is promise and thrill in this exchange. And a lot of love and trust. I am strong, I am free, I am wild. Just as he, in everything.
And I am here by my own choice.
I take in his energy. I let it go down into my very core.
He can see exactly what is happening. I hold the moment. I am in control. He humbly waits for my decision.
I choose to surrender.
Slowly, the balance of power between us shifts.
I give myself to him. He takes my power from me.
This is a complex, sophisticated process.
And it is wonderfully erotic and deeply fulfilling and dizzyingly wild. And it can happen without a word, without touch. Breath by breath.
I submit. I submit to his domination.
That is what I want. That is what he wants.
I am his submissive. Maybe for a lifetime, maybe just for now.
The tension between us is generating its own charge.
Submission to him arouses me. This is my true sexuality. Not my social role, not at all, but my sexuality.
Like many sexual orientations, it needs the right match to thrive.
Looking at each other, we have found it.
I am naked.
He is fully dressed.
He reaches out towards me.
He could do so many things to me, right now.
My submission calls for them. My vagina is opening her soft red mouth.
I want to yield and I want him to meet my softness with ruthless force.
I long to be subjected. In my way.
He touches my hair. Follows the long strands down over my shoulder and to the tip of my breasts. I am still.
My hands are bound behind my back.
Safely, in soft wide leather cuffs.
Securely, I cannot undo them, not that I want to or have ever tried, and I am powerless before my lover.
My dominant, my Dom.
He touches me, any way he wants.
I hold still. He gives, I receive. And I am in his power.
I don’t know what he is going to do next. And he doesn’t say.
That is another kind of power.
He tells me to go down on my knees.
My vagina gives a satisfied little tug.
My mind plays with the infinities of erotic subjugation.
I sigh.
I kneel on the floor, naked. He stands over me, still fully dressed.
‘Look at me,’ he says and slaps me softly in the face. A very light touch, almost a caress but not quite. I understand it perfectly. I should have looked at him without being told. This is part of his discipline. The understanding between us is part of the power exchange. We are very tuned into each other.
I look up at him.
My perspective has changed. I am much lower down now. This is my new and rightful place. At his feet.
I am getting dizzy. I am getting closer to the place of powerlessness, to the place of total yielding.
He slides his hand over my hair again but this time he grabs it, hard. All the nerve endings on my head start to scream. I have goose bumps all over my skin. He is making his domination physical.
I look into his eyes the whole time, although mine are filling with tears. He smiles. My subjection has been forced out into the open.
When he is satisfied, for now, he lets go of my hair and I kneel, hands bound behind my back, head dizzy in more than one way.
My master’s hands wander to his own body.
I am getting very moist. I think I know what is going to happen.
‘Watch,’ he says.
I do.
Slowly, very very slowly, my master is taking off his belt.
The sound as he undoes the clasp is humiliatingly, exhilaratingly familiar. I couldn’t stop looking if I tried.
He draws the belt out. Long, wide, well-worn leather. He slowly runs his hand along its length. I’m going to give up breathing.
He takes a step towards me until he stands so close that his crotch is pressed to my mouth.
I don’t know what he is going to do. Whatever it is, I will submit.
He is my master.
‘Down,’ he says quietly.
I understand. I obey.
I bend forward and lower my head until my face touches the floor, right next to his shoes. My bound hands sink into my back and come to rest on my shoulders.
Power has been exchanged.
He is the owner of my body and my soul.
He will do with me what he wants.
He may use his belt, on my naked, pale round ass, exposed and presented to him. He may turn round and take me from behind. He may play with the deep band of female arousal that goes from my ass to my clitoris, until I forget my name and even that I used to be a simple human.
Oh – what is this, exactly? Is there a name?
People call it BDSM. Yes it’s a Californian committee term.
I call it my sexuality.
My true sexuality, hidden under transparent veils.