CAN A BILLION DOLLARS AND A SECRET PSYCHEDELIC DRUG MAKE MEN STOP RAPING?
Paul Wolniak is a privileged but sensitive white male whose life is turned upside down when Deliah, his struggling mixed-race wife, suddenly disappears. Divorce papers arrive shortly, but with no explanation and no way to reach her, Paul can't move on. Finding her naked dead body in a dispensary tycoon's BDSM dungeon only adds to his suspicion that she had far bigger plans than making it in Hollywood. Even more startling is his growing realization that Deliah's plans are still in effect.
As Paul plunges into the world of psychedelic drugs and underground sex clubs to discover why Deliah left him, he gradually uncovers the dark truths about her past. In doing so, he finds himself forced to confront his own childhood demons. But perhaps more importantly, he meets up with an unlikely cast of characters linked by the terrible traumas they too have suffered⌠and united by the quest to avenge Deliah to right the world once and for all.
PsycheDeliah is a psychological thriller filled with eroticism, despair, and a touch of joy. If you like sex and drugs and the pursuit of justice, youâll love Kite Jensonâs brilliant madcap adventure.
CAN A BILLION DOLLARS AND A SECRET PSYCHEDELIC DRUG MAKE MEN STOP RAPING?
Paul Wolniak is a privileged but sensitive white male whose life is turned upside down when Deliah, his struggling mixed-race wife, suddenly disappears. Divorce papers arrive shortly, but with no explanation and no way to reach her, Paul can't move on. Finding her naked dead body in a dispensary tycoon's BDSM dungeon only adds to his suspicion that she had far bigger plans than making it in Hollywood. Even more startling is his growing realization that Deliah's plans are still in effect.
As Paul plunges into the world of psychedelic drugs and underground sex clubs to discover why Deliah left him, he gradually uncovers the dark truths about her past. In doing so, he finds himself forced to confront his own childhood demons. But perhaps more importantly, he meets up with an unlikely cast of characters linked by the terrible traumas they too have suffered⌠and united by the quest to avenge Deliah to right the world once and for all.
PsycheDeliah is a psychological thriller filled with eroticism, despair, and a touch of joy. If you like sex and drugs and the pursuit of justice, youâll love Kite Jensonâs brilliant madcap adventure.
On our last night together, I took Deliah gently. I ran my hands through her hair, nibbled her ear, trailed kisses down her belly, and told her she was beautiful. I even flicked my tongue across her clit for the better part of an hourâsoftly and slowly like all the books advised.Â
She moaned and wriggled, but she didnât come. I whispered that she was my soulmate, my queen Iâd cherish forever. âI love you so much,â I cooed. Seeing her in our bed, sprawled out naked in the candlelight, I felt a shiver of amazement that she was mine. My incredible goddess wife.Â
It was the same shiver I felt every time I saw her sweet face framed by her long blonde braids and her delicious chestnut skin, her tight little ass, her perky breasts that were just the right size. She was the whole packageâthe image of perfection Iâd always fantasized about as a boy.Â
I stroked her thighs as my tongue delved deeper. My hands began to play with her nipples. âTell me what you want,â I said. âIâll do anything.âÂ
She raised her head slowly and gave me that look of sadness Iâd seen a hundred times before. Then she put her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes. I knew exactly what that meantâor so I thought. Funny how the little cues that youâre sure you understand are actually the most elusive. For six years, Iâd responded in the same manner and sheâd never once indicated discontent.Â
My cock was hard. Not super hard, but hard enough to get the job done. I abandoned my licking, just like I thought she wanted, and I climbed on top of her. I was very careful, as usual. I kissed her softly, stroking the back of her neck, grazing the tip of my phallus against her wet clit. And then I entered.Â
Like I said, I took her gently. Our souls intermingled in the darkness, with me doing all the work, in and out, tenderly and exquisitely. Because I loved her so much.Â
I thought it felt good for her too. I thought we were connecting more deeply than usual. Thatâs what I wanted to believe anyway.Â
How utterly full of crap I was. Iâd lived on the earth for 29 years and still I was a boy. I didnât know a god damn thing about reality. All my accumulated knowledge had been distorted and manipulated, baked in the oven of delusion.Â
I was the sucker. This world we lived in was a jungle. A predatory jungle of greed and deceit, manipulation and abuse.Â
Everything around us made that crystal clear, yet I refused to see itâeven though Iâd been a victim of it as early as age eight. I blocked out my own experience, my own direct knowledge, and convinced myself I inhabited a loving society. A society based on respect and compassion and fairness. What an idiot.Â
I hadnât been paying attention to what underlaid the MetLife billboards, the Nike commercials, the Google Ads that surrounded us. I focused on the shiny veneer of our capitalist system, not the hideous injustice upon which it was built. And every day, I dedicated myself to the mantra of sharing and intimacy. That was what would make our marriage lastâall the therapists said so.
For the six years we were together, I only looked at Deliah. Itâs true. My eyes never stole a glance at an unsuspecting femaleâs breasts. I always turned the other way, even if a hot babe was bent over on a beach volleyball court, showing me her bikini-clad ass. When the guys at work went to the local strip club, I stayed at my computer and worked on graphics files. I didnât even think dirty thoughts. Who needed that nonsense? I was completely devoted to my wife.Â
So it was on our last night together. The perfect husband, I made love to her like she was a rare and delicate orchid. Striving to bring us to new heights, I remained inside her for as long as I could, imagining by some miracle sheâd orgasm with me.Â
Deliah almost never came though. Iâd taken her over the edge a grand total of three times. Those three times all occurred in our first year of marriage and only after weâd consumed copious quantities of merlot.
Still, I followed my formula to the tee. I pumped her a little harder, but not too hard. I grinded her once more with a bit more force. Then I emitted a barely audible groan, pulled out with surgical precision, and came on the pre-approved region of her belly.
We held each other in an effete embrace for a minute or so, neither of us acknowledging her lack of release. I caressed her back for a few seconds, in a feeble attempt to deny the banality of our union. We both sighed and Deliah retreated to her side of the bed.Â
The entire routine was a catastrophic error, a cosmic debacle, a singular proof of my non-existence. I didnât yet know it, of course, but all my techniques had been one hundred percent wrong. My performance, from beginning to end, was the exact inverse of what she sought.
What I should have done was grabbed her by the wrists and tied her to the bedpost. I should have propped her up on all fours and demanded that she hold her ass high up in the air for me. âGive it to me, slut!â I should have howled.
At which point, I should have spanked her hard, right on those smooth brown cheeks. I should have taken out a leather whip and marked her so that her ass throbbed and stung and quivered. I should have pressed the handle of the whip against her hard clit, making her buck and groan. I should have tugged her cute little pussy lips, stretched them, and spit on them too.Â
When she whined and whimpered, I should have slapped her tits, her clit, maybe even her face, and pulled her hair. âYou know you want it!â I should have insisted. âBeg for more, slut!âÂ
If she didnât whimper in exactly the tone I wanted, I should have smacked her harder and pinched her nipples. âYou want to be used, donât you? Tell me you want to be used! Come on, say it! Say it, like a good little whore slut!âÂ
And when she finally admitted it, when she finally gasped, âYes, please,â I should have withdrawn any further attention and affected my most stern voice. âSay all of it, slut!â I should have boomed. âSay it properly or youâll get nothing more!âÂ
Her pussy would have been soaking wet then. It would have been so wet, she would have felt her juices dripping down her thighs. Her nipples would have been so rock hard, she would have had to finally release the truth. âYes, I want to be used!â she would have cried. âPlease give it to me! Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease use me, Paul!âÂ
And then I should have gotten behind her and slammed my hard cock deep into her pussy all the way to the hilt. Very hard. Again and again and again.Â
If only Iâd taken her like that, she still would have been alive today.
I will say first of all that the description does not match with the summaries given. Based on the description, I was expecting a powerful, woman-centered story with confrontations of abusers and healing from trauma. Instead, the first half of the book introduces us to a man whose judgements of his ex-wife leads him down a path neither he or the reader expect. There are actually quite a lot of spoilers in the synopsis, and the most powerful moment occurs in the last 15 pages. If I were to give any advice to readers, it's avoid reading the synopsis first.
Expectations aside, the character development is astounding and moving. This book takes readers through a journey with Paul, a man whose wife divorced left him because she says she could never love him. We watch as Paul struggles to determine what that means and vow to destroy the people he's convinced made her change her mind about him. Paul starts off as an angry, judgmental, and naive man. The first half of the book is all about his grief over his ex-wife and his struggle to figure out his own identity. Through delving into Deliah's past, he is able to heal some of his own trauma, becomes more open, and gets involved in a plot to stop a mass ring of rapists. The character development is spectacular because it reminds us all about how much someone's past can affect who they are in present day.
Psychedelia is not for everyone. It contains avid drug use, lots of mention of rape, and BDSM scenes that are not for people who don't understand this particular culture (or don't want to). It is not something I would typically pick up, but I was completely caught up in Paul's journey.
One of the biggest strengths in this book is that it outlines how much men can also be affected by rape and sexual trauma. There is a large cast of characters that show how different people are affected by their trauma. The reveals and the twists are interesting, and I found myself flying through the pages.
Overall, I would be selective about who to suggest this book to, but I thoroughly enjoyed this thriller.