Queen’s Quest by Suz deMello

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Queen's QuestBlurb:

Janus is a planet that lacks both tilt and spin. Shadowlands is the pewter band of dusk dividing the violently hot Lightside of the planet from its Darkside, which is imprisoned by eternal night. Birth rates on the planet are low and indiscriminate mating and ménage sex are encouraged.

Audryn, Queen of Shadow, has reached that time in her life when she must choose a King to rule with her or fail to bear an heir, casting not only her realm but all of Janus into chaos. Despite her duty, she is reluctant to share power, even a bit distrustful. Janus’ nobles vie for Audryn’s hand. Although she enjoys trysting with all her suitors, none seize her heart.

Then Storne, the warrior Prince of Darkness, arrives to claim her as his bride, and she finds she cannot resist his masterful ways.

Inside Scoop:  This book contains lots of hot ménage action including a F/F/M scene.

Buy link: http://www.ellorascave.com/queen-s-quest.html

*****

Excerpt:

I sent a message to Storne, the Prince of Darkness, requesting that he attend me toward the end of my toilette, and told Maia to prepare me with especial care for that evening’s dinner. I sent out all other servants so I could speak with her privately about him.

As I reclined on a golden velvet settee, she shaved me, a bolster beneath my hips and my legs wide so my pussy was accessible. With quick, deft strokes of the razor, she cleared the curls from both sides of my delta, then from my labia, so the area ‘round my clitoris was smooth. She then cleansed me with a damp cloth before massaging my sex flesh with lotion scented with soothing lavender and chamomile.

I raised my arms above my head, lifting my breasts so they crinkled in the cool air. Storne, I thought, and I tingled from head to toe. “What did you think of him?”

She did not ask me the subject of my question, but said, “I like him. He is direct and honest in his ways, and has the respect of his men.” She fluffed a powderpuff between my thighs.

I sighed, my pussy throbbing. “How large is his…entourage?”

“Large enough, I trow. The DarkDwellers make dwarves of us all.”

“I have a task for you.”

Maia set the shaving implements on the sideboard, then turned to regard me with her fullest attention. I sat up and took a hairbrush, handing it to her. As she brushed, I talked.

“I do not wish the leaders of Darkness and Light to ever be alone together.”

She paused, and the brush stilled. “I see your concern. If they join against Shadow, we would have no chance against their combined forces.”

“Yes. We would be squeezed like an orange in a press, the life-giving juices extracted and the dry husk left to rot.” Fear twisted deep in my belly.

The brushing resumed. “Kaldir strikes me as ignorant of statecraft.”

“I agree. He may not have thought of such a strategy, but Storne…”

“Yes. I, also, believe it must have occurred to the Prince of Darkness. Storne is far too canny a warrior to allow this opportunity to pass unheeded.”

“Or at least considered the possibilities. He has a reputation as a fine soldier.”

The brushing concluded, she tugged at a bellpull. “I will make certain that Darkness and Light do not merge. But you must also do your part.”

I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”

Several of my ladies entered, opening wardrobes and bringing out gowns for my inspection. Others braided my hair and pinned it to the top of my head like a crown while others rimmed my eyes with charcoal, pinkened my lips with a rose tint. With unaccustomed nerves, I dithered over my choices, wondering which dress or what color would most entice Storne. I finally said, “The rose pink, the one trimmed with gold lace.” I felt overheated, and the gown was of thin, slick satin. Cooling, as in cooling my lust. I did not want to indulge in hasty actions with the Prince of Darkness.

I continued, “And high shoes. I do not wish to look like a dwarf.”

Maia emitted a sharp bark of laughter as she found pink stockings, which were fastened above my knees with ruffled garters of golden lace. She draped a pink chemise over my head, which was followed by a matching corset, laced tightly to show my narrow waist and lift my breasts. I slid my feet into the heeled slippers, and as the satin gown was tossed over my head, I heard a door open, followed by the clatter of boots.

“Lord Storne.” Maia’s tone was respectful.

I shook my head free of the enveloping folds of lace and satin as she tugged the gown into place. “Good evening,” I said.

“Audryn.” Without being bidden, he approached. He reached for me, then stopped. “May I?”

“Y-yes.” I did not know what he intended, but…

His smile transformed his angular face. He wrapped a big hand behind my neck. His grasp was firm, warm, the skin of his palm a little rough, from swordplay or riding, I imagined. I tried to breathe through a tight, nervous throat.

He kissed me full on the lips, rather than a chaste buss on my cheek, which would have been proper. Though he did not intrude his tongue, the contact was warm, vital and vigorous, hinting at the pleasure we could share.

As he withdrew, his gaze met mine, the gray eyes demanding, gentle and amused. How he packed so many emotions into one glance was a mystery to me. I told myself I was imagining more in his look than actually was there.

I had become infatuated by the Prince of Darkness swiftly…far too swiftly. That was bad. I could not make decisions affecting the history and welfare of my realm based on a passing fancy.

Maia bustled around me, fastening golden earbobs onto my lobes, bracelets on my wrists. Another lady laced my gown up the back. I was grateful for their presence, for the respite that the mundane tasks afforded; I could collect myself, regain my lost poise.

When I was dressed, Storne said, “Let’s walk before dinner.”

“Certainly.” I donned long, pink satin gloves. Fingerless, they wouldn’t impede me when eating or touching. Again, anxiety cramped me to the guts, but I laid a hand onto his elbow.

He had bathed from top to toe. Most of his dark mane hung loose, but the thick locks at each side of his face were braided, leaving his features, angular but pleasing, exposed. Amber and musk from the EastMarch scented his hair. He wore fine garments subdued in color: deep blue shot and trimmed with silver. The hue complemented his coloring. Hose of the same rich tone limned brawny legs. He was aware of Shadowland fashion, for his codpiece was large and embroidered with thick silver thread. His velvet doublet bore a design with the sacred oak and fiery mountain, traditional symbols of Darkside nobility, nature-worshippers all.

His gray eyes continued expressive, holding intelligence and humor, and his mouth was unexpectedly sensual. A fantasy image of his lips caressing my pussy drifted across my mind.

He led me through the palace with a sure step, showing no uncertainty. Our respective retinues followed. Behind me, the train of my gown swept the slates, but as it didn’t have panniers or hoops, our bodies occasionally bumped as we walked. Each contact shot a scintillating trail of desire along my skin.

“Do you know your way? Where are we going?” I asked.

He cast me an amused glance. “I had a free hour to explore your castle. It is an admirable stronghold.”

He took me to the same terrace where I’d so joyously given my virginity on my Exhibition Day. When our servants attempted to follow, I said, “It’s all right. There are plenty of people below.”

True enough; down on the lawns, tearing apart the sod, a herd of magnificent taqqa milled and stamped, huge animals with shaggy ochre-colored pelts, massive humped shoulders and curved horns, themselves long, sharp weapons. Some of the beasts were mounted by armored warriors almost as big as Storne, while the rest were laden. Servants, both Shadowlanders and Darksiders, busily unloaded and stacked boxes, baskets, trunks, rugs and portmanteaux. That our people worked together amicably was not lost on me.

“For you,” Storne said.

I stared at him.

“Tribute.”

My eyes widened. “You owe me no tribute, and you cannot buy me.”

“No, but I see that I must woo you.” That smile again, so unexpected from such a solemn mien. “I am but a rough warrior, but I wish to be your rough warrior.”

Pleasure robbed me of speech. I was touched by his courtliness, so at odds with his earlier arrogance. And he was an astute judge of character. He had taken my measure immediately and adjusted his approach. He had also come prepared for any eventuality.

He took out a small pouch from a hidden pocket in his doublet. “My first gift to you.”

My face felt too small for my smile. “Thank you.” Excited, I reached for the red satin bag, hoping it contained jewelry. Darkside boasted a wealth of minerals and gems, and its artisans excelled in the craft of jewelry design.

He pulled it out of my reach. “Let me show you. Rumor tells me that women of the Shadowlands enjoy this kind of gift, and I will enjoy knowing that you wear it.” He tugged apart the drawstring at the pouch’s top and upended it above his cupped palm. A stream of molten gold spilled forth, resolving into a fine chain, nearly three feet long.

Puzzled, I took it out of his hand and held it up to examine it by the light of the torches lining the marble terrace. The chain had little scissor-like appendages at each end, each maybe the size of my thumbnail. The scissors had curved blades that weren’t sharp but were lined with tiny seed pearls, leaving a circular gap in the center perhaps the size of a baby pea. The ends were curlicued to wrap around each other.

I raised my brows at Storne.

“Allow me.” But he didn’t take the chain, instead reaching for my bodice.

I gasped and pulled away. “Sir, you presume too much.”

“Do I?” He paced the length of the terrace, then returned. “Audryn, there is only one sure test of our ability to rule together, and this mating is a radical step neither of us can take without some…experimentation. I know you approach your seventeenth starturn, and you have sworn to crown your king on that day.”

My jaw tightened. “Your spies are most effective.”

“Thus, time grows short. Please.” He reached for me again, and this time I did not resist. He was right; besides, I wanted him to touch me intimately. Though his hands were rough, he handled my breasts with tenderness, lifting them above the gown and away from the corset’s confinement, resting them atop my lace-trimmed neckline. Cool air washed my breasts, a delightful sensation. My nipples wrinkled. He passed a hand over the mounded flesh, traced one curved pink aureole’s edge. Need flared through me, and my pussy dampened anew.

He smiled. “I suppose that I will have to learn to enjoy the public sex that your customs demand. And I may as well begin…now.” He slid an arm around me and bent his head to kiss first one nipple and then the other, licking around the aureole, sucking to lengthen the tips until they were hard and distended.

He gripped my left one between his teeth and gave it a sharp little nip. I gasped, “Storne!”

“Did that hurt?”

“A little.”

He rubbed his lips over the tiny pain he’d caused, and the sting dissolved into a haze of pleasure. He took one of the scissorlike appendages and opened the clasp, then closed it around my swollen nipple.

The tiny pearls gripped the very tip of my breast, lighting a spark of need that zipped to my pussy. I rested my face against his chest, breathing deeply in a vain attempt to control my reaction. I felt heat in my cheeks and the softness of his velvet doublet, my pulsing clit…an array of dizzying sensations.

He dropped the chain, and the slight weight tugging on my nipple built my pussy’s spark into a fire. He lifted my right breast higher and pinched my nipple, kissed and licked the tip. When it also swelled, he fastened the other clip to it. The fire roared into a blaze, and I grabbed his shoulders, flinging back my head. He laid a trail of kisses across my bare chest, up to my throat, along my jawline before he reached my lips.

This time, he took my mouth with a commanding kiss, holding me so tightly that I could feel the embroidery on his doublet abrade my naked breasts. My captured nipples rubbed across velvet, scraped across silver thread. I tore my lips away from his and I cried out, heedless of the warriors and servants below. I cared for nothing but the man who held me in his arms, who had claimed me when he chained my breasts, took my mouth.

*****

Suz deMelloBest-selling, award-winning author Suz deMello, a.k.a Sue Swift, has written over sixteen romance novels in several subgenres, including erotica, comedy, historical, paranormal, mystery and suspense, plus a number of short stories and non-fiction articles on writing. A freelance editor, she’s worked for Total-E-Bound, Liquid Silver Books and Ai Press, where she is currently Managing Editor. She also takes private clients.

Her books have been favorably reviewed in Publishers Weekly, Kirkus and Booklist, won a contest or two, attained the finals of the RITA and hit several bestseller lists.

A former trial attorney, her passion is world travel. She’s left the US over a dozen times, including lengthy stints working overseas. She’s now writing a vampire tale and planning her next trip.
–Find her books at http://www.suzdemello.com

–For editing services, email her at suzswift@yahoo.com

–Befriend her on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/sueswift, and visit her group at

http://www.facebook.com/HotWriters

–She tweets her reading picks @ReadThis4fun

–Her current blog is http://www.fearlessfastpacedfiction.com

Acting Like An Erotica Writer

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P1000816Writer Jane Wenham-Jones insists that most erotica writers she’s met look more like librarians. Most of us would happily admit to writing in our sweat suits or jeans or jammies. I don’t even own a corset and my feet are most often bare or in fuzzy slippers. Most of my erotica writing friends simply smile at the thought of writing in a basque and stilettos, and when we’re making a public appearance, I suppose we do look more like librarians than sex goddesses.

Most of us don’t mind so much when people say we don’t look like erotica writers. I confess the mental picture of me stretched out on a chez lounge with a feather boa and nose bleed heels scribbling away in a velvet notebook with quill is amusing, and it doesn’t bother me that I might look like a librarian when I’m out in public. I think librarians are hot. What does bother me, however and, what bothers most of my colleagues, is when people just assumed that we have DONE all the things we write about. Even that I could live with in a wink and a nudge sort of way, if it weren’t for the fact that sexual experience – especially for a woman – is sadly still stigmatized as something only ‘bad people’ have.

No one assumes Thomas Harris is a cannibalistic serial killer. No one assumes Anne Rice drinks blood and sleeps in a coffin. No one assumes Tom Clancy spent time being a terrorist. And yet, there are those who assume erotica writers have done everything we write about. For people who make that assumption, I have just one question; what part of ‘FICTION’ don’t they get?

Fiction writers don’t have to experience what they write in order to write about it. In fact, that’s why it’s fiction. IT DIDN’T HAPPEN — at least not outside the fertile mind of the writer. Erotic fiction is no different.

Fiction allows the reader, and the writer, to safely experience situations and worlds that, in reality, would not be safe or even be possible. In a world where safe sex has become a battle cry, as well as its own form of bondage, that has never been more true than it is with erotica. The erotica writer allows the reader to participate safely in an experience that can be both very wonderful and very dangerous. It’s no more necessary for erotica writers to have an orgy in order to write about one than it was for Thomas Harris to kill and eat a few folk before he could create Hannibal Lector.

Though it may add another layer to the psycho-sexual fantasy for the reader to imagine the erotica writer experiening first hand her orgy, bondage, or sex in a bus before she writes about, though that fantasy may be very sexy. It’s just that, a fantasy. In reality, what the writer has created it still fiction.

All that being said, I’m here to say that I do, indeed ACT like an erotica writer. In fact, I’m going to be even more general and say that I simply act like a writer. I see a world in my imagination and I recreate it on the written page. Some of what I write on that page involves sex, but not all of it. In fact most of what I write on that page is a story with an intriguing plot in which sex happens, in which sex helps drive the story. THAT is how an erotica writer acts!

writing image 2Like all other fiction writers, the world of an erotica writer is about plot, characters and setting. Unlike most other fiction writers, we allow human sexuality to be a powerful driving force in our stories, and we don’t shy away from the explicit when it serves our purpose. That erotic fiction is set apart from the rest of fiction simply because of its free and explicit use of sex saddens me deeply, as the stories being told by erotica writers are as relevant and as powerful as the stories told in any other genre.

Ultimately, if an erotica writer writes a good story with an intriguing plot, interesting characters and strong setting, then yes, she or he is acting like an erotica writer, behaving in character with all good fiction writers, using the same tools that writers in all other genre use – imagination, research and dedication to the craft. Erotica writers are just willing to give our readers a little extra heat — even if we do it in our jammies.

Books of Delight Delights Readers and Authors

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Books of delight bannerunnamedSince November, readers and writers alike have been enjoying Books of Delight, a fab new erotica book club with a twist. Books of Delight is the brainchild of the awesome Chris Unity Bowness and his equally awesome wife, Caroline. Chris had been doing guest spots on my blog for quite some time now, and he has always been a champion of erotica and erotica authors, so when Chris approached the Brit Babes for some feedback about his idea of an online book club for erotica, he got a resounding thumbs up.

I recently talked to Chris, who is also a Relationship and Sex Mentor, and he had this to say about the Books of Delight’s conception and exciting firs few months.

“I love erotica and, as a sex mentor, I have used it over the years, personally and professionally, as a tool to open up discussions about sex, because what’s great about Erotica is that it’s about the sex. Yes there are fabulous characters and wonderful story lines, but enjoying erotica and saying so, I believe, makes a statement that you are sex positive and enjoy sex. To enjoy erotica means exploring and exposing yourself to sex. I am intrigued by the psychology of erotica fans. (Which I’ll save for another post.)

Furthermore, having been involved with the genre for a number of years I believe erotica has an almost cult like following supported by authors who are hungry to engage with readers of the genre. I think this stems from the fact that to explore and find the best erotica, beyond E.L. James and Sylvia Day, you have to really go out there and look for it. And sometimes even when you know what you’re looking for the search is made harder by search engines and booksellers filtering it out. There has been a recent well publicised ‘cleaning up’ by Barnes & Noble, iTunes and Amazon of erotica from its ebook stores.

About two years ago I started sharing and posting the newest releases, offers and news from the world of erotica and was surprised by the amount of people stopping me in the street or massaging me to say they’d picked up a book I’d shared and how everyone of them had enjoyed it and in turn told me to keep sharing.

It was then I started looking at social reading sites to further explore and engage with other fans of erotica. I wanted to find a place where I could engage with others, where we could share other books but also where we could converse with authors. After going from site to site and finding bits here and bits there, I asked myself why I didn’t start something which exactly fitted my needs but also was what I believed a community could be built on.

I wanted to build a community where books could be recommended and discussed on a regular basis. This would be a place where readers could be guided to the best books and authors, where we could share with each other our love of erotica. It would be a community which would be supported and also engaged by the very authors being recommended. Books Of Delights was borne…”

After a lot of hard work, planning and organising by the Bownesses, the group began in November as a Facebook private group. I was lucky enough to have Grace Marshall’s novel, An Executive Decision be one of the two choices for the virgin run along with the amazing Tabitha Raynes’ novel, A Clockwork Butterfly.

“I was lucky enough to have one of my novels as a featured book in Books of Delights alongside the gorgeous Kd!,” author, Tabitha Raynes said. ‘I loved being able to interact with readers and see how they interpreted the story. It was quite thrilling to learn things about how the books are read and to be surprised that some of the things discussed hadn’t occurred to me! Just shows that once a piece of work is out there, it takes on a life of its own. That was really lovely – to have your writing come alive in someone else’s imagination and hear about it. Books of Delights founders Christopher and Caroline are wonderful at bringing out people’s enthusiasm for what they are reading and to promote lively and interesting debate on some of the issues that the stories might raise. A wonderful experience – especially getting to ‘meet’ readers. Some even took the time to leave excellent reviews – most appreciated and unexpected. I loved it and I thoroughly recommend joining!”

Reader, and new convert to erotica, Cheryl Jackson says, “Books of Delight is what it sound like and more. Erotic books to tingle the senses but also the very community is a delight. I’d not read much erotica before joining and was pleasantly surprised by the engaging stories I read and am now a definite fan. There is plenty of opportunity should you wish to discuss the books, concepts found in the books and indeed general points relating to sex positive ideas. There are also general conversations and you soon find yourself drawn into the group. Participants and authors mixing in a friendly way. There is no obligation to join in the conversations if you chose not to but you will receive a warm friendly welcome if you do.”

Caroline Bowness is in full agreement. “I like the way readers have access to authors to ask questions and interact. I hope as it grows and people get braver we will have more discussions on the books we are reading.”

Speaking from an author’s perspective, there’s nothing writers love more than to engage with people in a discussion about their stories, and for me, that was the very best part of Books of Delight, the write and reader interaction.  The Brit Babes were all invited to join the group from the beginning, and the Brit Babes do love to talk erotica, writing and S.E.X.

Author, Lily Harlem said, “As an author I love being involved with Book of Delights, it’s informal, friendly and a wonderful way to interact with readers who are fans of the erotica and erotic romance genre. Writing can be a lonely business, tapping away all day on a laptop creating characters and plots, so when it’s time for some social time where better to go than a place with likeminded people for stimulating, passionate conversations about love and lust and everything bookish.”

Author, and founder of Writer Marketing Services, Lucy Felthouse, had this to say about Books of Delight. “I think it’s a fantastic idea to get a bunch of enthusiastic readers together to read and discuss books. As a writer, there’s nothing better than being directly in touch with readers to find out what they’re enjoying, to answer questions they may have, and to ask some of your own. It’s great fun, and I’m looking forward to what fun the group brings next.”

Add to that interesting insights and links added by Chris and Caroline, and you have the formula for a dynamic, exciting new group, which has been so successful. Even though BoD is technically in a trial period until April, as exciting as the first few months have already been, in February, Books of Delight is evolving from the successful private Facebook group to something bigger and even more exciting. Keep your eyes on Chris’s mentoring and sex positive website, www.multiple-asms.org for the exciting relaunch in February. Once the trial period is over, Chris is aiming for a full launch in the 2nd quarter of the year in which Books of Delight will become a micro subscription service.

BoD It’s BODdy Brilliant! — Author, Victoria Blisse

BOD is beautifully bawdy. — Author, Kay Jaybee

 

 

 

The Joy of Writing Neurotica

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A Neurotic, and Timely, Romp Through the Archives

I’m biting my fingernails. I don’t know if I should tell you this or not. I don’t know what you’ll think of me if I do. I’ve racked my brain for hours, and I’ve lost sleep over trying to decide if I should share my secret. But then I wonder if you already know. Some of my close friends know because I confided in them, though they might possibly have already figured it out. Most of them are okay with it. Really. At least I think so …Most of them understand and are even empathetic. At least I hope so …

Okay, I’m just going to take a deep breath and tell you! Here goes!

I’m very, very neurotic. There. I said it. It’s the truth. I’m neurotic, and most writers are! No wait, that’s such a blanket statement. Please, if you’re a writer who isn’t neurotic, please don’t take it personally. I really didn’t mean to insult you or anything, and I hope you’ll forgive me and like me anyway.

My neuroses are many, but I have two biggies. The first is guilt. I feel guilty for watching three episodes of The Tudors on an evening when the Work in Progress is waiting untouched on the computer. Just because I wrote all day long doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have written a few more hours. Being a member of the international guild of neurotic writers means I always feel guilty, and if I don’t, then I feel guilty for not feeling guilty. I feel guilty for not writing enough. I feel guilty for writing too much and not keeping up with the housework. I feel guilty for needing too much sleep when I’m sure I should be writing. I feel guilty for not being able to sleep when I do go to bed. And since I can’t sleep shouldn’t I be up writing? Or cleaning house?

Writing imageMy other biggie is that I worry. I worry all the time. I feel guilty if I’m not worrying because surely I’ve missed something important or I’d be worrying. I worry that someone won’t like what I’ve written, and if they don’t like my baby, I worry that maybe they’re right not to like my baby and maybe my baby really is ugly and I just can’t see it. And if they don’t like my baby, maybe they don’t like me either. I worry about sales, I worry about promos. I worry about deadlines, I worry about rewrites. I worry about what will happen if I wake up in the morning and can’t think of a single word to write. I worry if my tomato plants will get blight this year, and I worry about the strange noise that comes out of our water heater periodically. My husband says I worry over just about everything. Still, I worry that I’ve missed something.

Guilt and worry. Those are the biggies. There are others. Lots of others. I’m afraid of loud noises too, and I don’t like rubber bands, but those are fairly innocuous compared to guilt and worry.

So now that you’ve heard my confession, here’s the part where when life gives me lemons I make lemonade. I write neurotica! That’s it. You heard me right. I write neurotica. It’s sort of a ‘physician heal thyself ‘tactic, really. It’s a case of me projecting all my lovely neuroses onto my characters and watching the crazy, twitchy, unbalanced fun unfold. Come on now, I can’t be the only writer who does this, am I? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not accusing anyone. Really! I believe you if you say you don’t do that. I even believe you if you say you don’t have any neuroses to project onto your characters. However, if you are neurotic and you’re not really using your neuroses on your characters at the moment, can I borrow them? I’ve got this new story in mind …

It’s true though, I can create the most realistic, multi-layered guilt complexes in my characters. And angst, oh how I can write angst! And every time one of my characters wrings her hands and walks the floor in the middle of a sleepless night. I nail it. And every time my character feels guilty for not being open and honest and carefree and at home in her own skin, boy, do I nail it. My characters are my therapy, poor things, and in some strange way they make me feel better about myself. They make me feel a little less neurotic. They exist in my head, and yet they often give me insights into my own unpristine psyche that I would otherwise miss. How do they do that? Is it only because of my projection? I feel sort of guilty for being so mean to them sometimes. But then I worry that maybe I’m just being too soft and sentimental about the whole thing.

Slave Nano Talks About Regulating our Fantasies and the Use of Safe Words

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It’s my pleasure to welcome Slave Nano to my blog today. Nano read Sunday’s post about the use of condoms in erotic fiction and has kindly offered to do a blog on another way in which our fantasies are regulated. Welcome, Nano.

Thanks to K D for having me on her blog page today.  Indeed my contribution is a response to her own blog, Regulating Fantasies, in which she discusses the topic of safe sex in erotic fiction and in particular whether stories should portray the use of condoms to encourage responsible sex.  I agree completely with her argument that our readers are intelligent enough to realise that erotic fiction is a work of imagination and understand the difference between fantasy and the real world.  I don’t believe it’s the place of erotic authors to write manuals for safe sex.

Nano BDSM no safewordunnamedIt occurred to me that the corresponding stricture on writers of BDSM erotica concerns the use of safe words.  There is something of a mantra that safe words are the touchstone of safe play but I don’t believe that’s the case, neither in the writing of erotic fiction nor indeed in real play.

There are two acronyms in use to define the principles of sensible consensual BDSM, one is SSC (Safe Sane Consensual) and the other is RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink).  The crucial difference between the two is that the latter accepts some activities involve an element of risk which participants acknowledge.  There seems to be an assumption that safe words constitute safe play.  On the face of it, this sounds so easy and obvious; one person is given a word that stops or controls an activity. But it’s far more complex than that.

I’m not going to be prescriptive, people will express their BDSM writing and relationships in different ways and safe words may have a role to play.  My point is that no one way is right for everybody. Sometimes I’m convinced this mantra that safe word = safe play is expounded by people who have no experience of BDSM.  Indeed, I would go further and say that safe words aren’t even safe!  Let me explain.

Safe words can lead to lazing ‘domming’ and that is dangerous.  What keeps a sub safe is an experienced, aware and responsible domme (I’m assuming female domme for purposes of this piece) watching her submissive all the time, gauging his responses and judging how best to develop a scene.  A domme sitting back waiting for a safe word and failing to engage fully with her play-partner is an unsafe practise as she will miss those critical reactions to stimuli.

Safe words don’t take into account the psychology of submission.  The whole point about the relationship between a dominant and submissive is the surrendering of control to another person.  Safe words get in the way of that.  In an intense scene a submissive attains a state in which he will go anywhere, do anything for that other person.  A person in that state of mind is not always in a position to make considered choices.  His focus is on serving and being taken as far as his mistress leads him. In these circumstances the judgement of an experienced domme is a much better safeguard than a safe word.

Edgy is part of it. Once again, this is about the psychology of submissiveness.  Edgy is exciting, it contributes to the sense of anticipation and being thrust into the unknown gets the adrenaline going and the endorphins rushing to your head.  Safe words miss the point. Humans knowingly do illogical and hazardous things and part of the BDSM experience is about taking that risk.

So, to sum up, if you trust the person you’re doing this with you don’t need a safe word and if you don’t trust them, be honest, a safe word isn’t going to do you any good anyway.

Ok, let’s get back to the writing now.  The extract below is from my book Adventures in Fetishland.  It is part of a scene with cling film mummification and breath play.  The setting of the book may be fantasy (it being a BDSM/fetish reinvention of the Alice stories) but underpinning it all is a psychological relationship between dominant and submissive that is real. This is edgy play for my two characters.  To have a safe word lurking in the background would undermine the whole purpose of the scene, which is to show my main character, Kim, demonstrate her trust in the Red Queen; as I think any discerning reader would recognise.

So, I support K D on this one in opposing the regulating of fantasies, whether that be in authors portraying safe sex in erotic writing or safe words in BDSM writing.  I don’t believe authors who write BDSM should succumb to the demands of the safe word police.

You can find out more about me and my writing at http:/slavenano.co.uk

Extract from Adventures in Fetishland

As the Egyptian goddess worked up her body pulling the cling film as tight as she could Kim felt strands Nano bdsm no safewrdunnamedof her long hair brush against her flesh and smelt her sweet and exotic scent.  She worked especially hard to pull the cling film over Kim’s tits and ensure that her soft mounds of flesh and her engorged nipples were wrapped tight.

She had reached Kim’s neck.  How far would she go?

“You trust me?”

“Mmm,” Kim was in a sensual daze and could only mutter her approbation.

“Take this and make sure you hold it tightly between your teeth. Don’t let it go.”

She inserted a plastic tube into Kim’s mouth.  Kim’s heart jumped a beat.  What did this mean?

The cling film was wrapped around her neck and then twisted around the plastic tube to hold it firmly into place.  Kim was wetting herself with fear and anticipation.  She knew what was going to come next and, although part of her couldn’t believe that she had allowed herself to be offered up for this mummification ritual, another part of her desperately wanted to surrender herself to it.  It was this latter part that won over as she laid there quietly, submissively, yearning to be enveloped completely and give herself up.

“This is the gateway Kim, the path into another world for you. The jackal-headed god Anubis is here to ease your path through it,” she said acknowledging the presence of the duchess in the mask.  Kim drank in this moment before she was deprived of sight, perhaps of breath and life itself.  Leaning over her was the imperious dark haired figure of the Egyptian goddess arraigned in golden jewellery and precious stones with her piercing blue eyes that penetrated right into her soul.  Next to her was the snout headed figure of Anubis beckoning her on, inviting her to take a further step into this strange world she had committed herself to.  She had one last chance to look down at herself, a bizarre figure mummified in Nano BDSM No safe wordunnamedwhite cling film.  Kim thought she looked fantastic; very exotic and sexy in a bizarre way.  She took one deep draft of air through her nose before the cling film wrapped around her face, over her eyes and ears until finally her head was covered. She tried to imagine what she looked like now, a cocoon of white with a plastic tube sticking out of her mouth.

Deprived of sight, sound and smell and with only the taste of the plastic tube in her mouth, she was totally immersed in the sensation of the thick white film clinging to her body.  She drew in deep gasps of air through the tube, that very act making her head spin even more. The psychological sensation of surrender and submission was overpowering.  She was immersed in her own body, the overwhelming feeling being that of the tight cling film holding her in.  She felt herself drifting off and would have loved to have floated in this submissive nether-world for ever but then suddenly something yanked her back to a perverse kind of reality and an awareness that there were still other people in the room, even though the sense of them seemed to be some distance away.

Buy links

At the moment Adventures in Fetishland is available for the insanely cheap price of 39p/$0.64

Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Adventures-Fetishland-length-erotic-novel-ebook/dp/B008G3N4HO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389727790&sr=8-1&keywords=adventures+in+fetishland

Amazon.co.uk

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Adventures-Fetishland-length-erotic-novel-ebook/dp/B008G3N4HO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389727450&sr=8-1&keywords=adventures+in+fetishland