Tag Archives: erotica

Grand Openings, Readings, Piccies and Summer Fun

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I’ve not had a news catch-up in a while on A Hopeful Romantic, so today’s the day. And it’s a good thing because there’s a lot of news!  Hang on to your summer hats and sunshades. There are a couple of fun events coming up, so get out your diaries and write these down.

La Boudoir logoGrand Opening of La Boudoir Boutique

I’ve been asked to be a VIP for the grand opening of La Boudoir Boutique in Canterbury. And I’ll be in good company, reading a bit of smut with my colleague in naughtiness, the Queen of BDSM, Kay Jaybee. Canterbury may never be the same. If you’re in that neck of the woods around one next Friday the 23rd  of August, stop in for loads of fun.

la boudoir 2DSC08099We’ll be celebrating La Boudoir Boutique’s grand opening with our fab friend, the Saucy Cara Sutra, award winning blogger, with Jo Hemmings, behavioural psychologist to the stars, and with award-winning DJ, Charlie Sloth and Victor Ebuwa, who was a housemate on Big Brother Five.

There’ll be toys for grown-ups, books, sexy lingerie, goodie bags, a free raffle  and all kinds of fun stuff and naughtiness. Make sure to check the website for a listing of all the fun events and the schedule. It’ll all be happening from 1:30 onward in Canterbury. I can hardly wait to celebrate with Violet Hall and the gang at La Boudoir Boutique. And I hope I see you there.

Unit 26, 1 Sparrow Way, Canterbury, Kent, CT3 4AL

 

Sh! logologo2Sh! Reading and Poetry Slam

After celebrating in Canterbury, Kay Jaybee and I are heading back to London by fast train to party over at Sh! Women’s Store! Yes, that’s right, we are total party animals, and there’s a fantastic reading and poetry slam going on at Sh! Fun, fizz and filth for a fiver! That’s a great deal! If you’re in or near London, or if you aren’t but want to take a fast train, plane or bus, then do come join us. You can join us just to have a listen and a good squirm in your seat or you can join us and read your own filthiest to an appreciative crowd! Either way it promises to be a fabulous night of naughtiness.

Here are a few of the fab folks who’ll be reading besides yours truly:  Kay Jaybee, Meg Phillip Lexie Bay and Victoria Blisse to tease and tempt you, as well as the amazing poets such as Ali Brumfitt, Lisa Davies and Jane Fae!

poetry-slamHere are the yummy details:

Erotic Poetry and Reading Slam
Friday 23rd August
6.30-8pm
£5 (includes bubbly and cupcakes)

If you’re interested in performing on the night, email Sh! on events@sh-womenstore.com with a saucy snippet, and the lovely Sh! Ladiez will do their upmost to accommodate you into the schedule. It’s first-come, first-serve, so don’t hesitate to send that email!

Booking in advance is advised. Sh! is an intimately-sized venue with limited ticket availability. Email events@sh-womenstore.com to book your tickets today and come party with us!

 

Pretty Pictures in the Paper

KD-Grace-32It’s been almost two years since the fantastic portrait photographer, David Woolfall contacted me with the idea for a photo shoot and an accompanying essay on erotica writers, the women behind the smut. I saw a similar piece he’d done in the Guardian several months before with photos and an essay about ghost writers, so the idea was intriguing. By the time the scheming and planning was done, David had a great group of erotica  together – most of them women I know and respect, not only because they’re great people, but because they’re really ace story tellers as well. Over the course of the next few months, the photo shoots happened all across the UK. David booked a lot of miles in those months to photograph us all, and those of us involved compared notes on our photo-shoot experience via email and Skype. David was amazing to work with, quickly putting me at ease and shooting me in my jungle of a veg garden, back in the pre-allotment days.

Once all of the shoots were done and the photos finished, David put them up on his website. Several months later, the Independent ran an article that included a few of the shots, of a few of the authors, but David wasn’t satisfied. He wanted us all featured and he wanted the complete story shared. He promised us he’d keep working to get our photos, along with our interviews and even snippets of our work out to the world.

This week it happened in a big way, beginning with an article in Slate, followed the next day with an article in the Mail Online’s Femail section online and the next day in the Huffington Post online. All three had lots of David’s lovely photos from those shoots of us, as well as his observations, and the Slate and the Huff Post had our naughty little snippets as well. I couldn’t help but smile that when the actual print version of the Daily Mail came out the next day, they had replaced David’s story and pics of women who write erotica with a story about women who chose to be abstinent. Hmmm. I can tell you that of the two articles, the women erotica writers definitely had the biggest smiles on their faces. Make sure to check out the posts and all my lovely colleagues, Victoria Blisse, Lexie Bay, Lily Harlem, Kay Jaybee, Lucy Felthouse, Jacqueline Applebee, Liz Coldwell, Lavina Lewis, Janine Ashbless, and Louise Cross.

I’d like to thank David Woolfall once again, not only for the totally amazing photos and for all of his hard work, but for his persistence in getting his photos and his impressions and interviews with us out to the public. David, you’re amazing!

In Other News

TE new coverThese past few weeks, I’ve been scarce on social media. My head’s been down, and I’m hard at work on the final rewrite of the third novel of Grace Marshall’s Executive Decisions Trilogy, The Exhibition. Am I having fun? You betcha! I love the final rewrite of a novel. It’s all about seeing everything clearly and making sure everything is sharply focused so that the story is clear and demands the reader’s full attention. It’s in that final rewrite where I truly get enthusiastic about what I hope my readers will find as exciting to read as I have to write.

What can readers expect from The Exhibition? Well you can expect lots more romance and plenty of sex, but you can also expect plenty of dark, chilling twists and turns as old enemies show up again, and things are never quite what they appear to be. I hope to finish the final draft by the end of August or the first week in September, and after that Xcite will get it out to readers ASAP.

 

Summering On

In the meantime, we summer on! The allotment is overflowing with all kinds of wonderful fresh veg, including some truly inspirational phallic veg, and the great outdoors is where we’d rather be. I hope you are all enjoying whatever your version of summering on is and taking advantage of the long days and sunshine. Wishing you all fun and filth in the summer sizzle.

 

A Taste of Paris by Lucy Felthouse

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A Taste of ParisBook two of the A Taste Of… series

Ryan Stonebridge and his friend Kristian Hurst are traveling on their year off before going to University.

Unfortunately, Kristian has been called back home due to a family emergency. Ryan continues on to Paris alone, hoping his friend will join him again soon.

In the meantime, Ryan’s lucky streak with women continues, and by the time Kristian makes it to Paris, Ryan’s bumper box of condoms is depleting rapidly. However, there are more than enough women to go around, and Kristian intends to have some sexy fun of his own, and when the boys get a chance to play with two sexy ladies at once, they certainly aren’t going to turn it down.

Ellora’s Cave
Amazon UK
Amazon US
All Romance eBooks

*****

Excerpt:

Ryan could hardly believe his luck. After a sex-packed day and a bit in London, he was now being propositioned by a sexy older woman on the Eurostar. The Paris-bound train had just started moving and it seemed the woman wanted to spend at least some of the two-and-a quarter-hour journey to the French capital fucking him in the toilet.

He shook his head disbelievingly. Then, after making sure no one had witnessed their exchange—when she’d given him the come-on—he slipped from his seat and made his way as nonchalantly as possible in the direction the woman had gone. He quickly found her, standing in the area between carriages that also housed the public conveniences.

She looked around, ensuring no one could see through the glass doors at the ends of the carriages to either side of them, pulled open the toilet door and dragged him inside.

Ryan barely had time to catch a breath before she’d locked the door, slammed him against it and molded her lips to his. She tasted of expensive champagne—she’d probably been indulging in St. Pancras station’s champagne bar—and it suddenly made him very aware that, although she’d started their sexy rendezvous, he was most likely taking advantage of an inebriated woman. He twisted his head away.

“Hey,” he said, grasping her arms and pushing her gently away from him. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous and very, very sexy, but you’ve been drinking. I don’t want you to do something you might regret later.”

The woman laughed, long and loud, and Ryan worried that someone might have heard her and wonder why on earth there was a woman laughing to herself in the train toilets. The last thing he wanted was to open the door and find a pissed-off member of staff waiting there. There was no excuse for two adults being in a locked cubicle together that anyone would believe.

Clapping her hand over her mouth, the woman suppressed her mirth, then finally spoke. “Yes, gorgeous blond one.” Her French accent surprised him—he’d thought she was a tourist heading to Paris. “I have been drinking champagne. But only a glass. I’m certainly not drunk.”

With that, she pounced on him once more, and Ryan decided not to resist any longer. They were both consenting adults and he had protection in his pocket—so where was the harm in indulging their baser instincts? His cock definitely didn’t see any further reason for delay as it filled with blood and pressed against the crotch of his jeans.

He pushed his fingers into her thick black hair and pulled her more tightly to him, deepening their kiss. She was eager and, judging by the way she was rocking her hips against him, incredibly horny. He held out for as long as he could, exploring her mouth with his tongue, nibbling at her plump lower lip and pulling her hair to expose her white throat. Before long, though, the pants and tiny mewls coming from the woman’s mouth pushed him to the point of no return. His cock was all but bursting from his jeans and he really needed to be inside this woman’s pussy.

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012, 2013 and 2014 and Best Women’s Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Ellen March Talks About the Writing Life and Her New Novel, Escorting Sydney

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First I’d like to thank K D Grace for allowing me to guest on her blog site. She’s a diamond and has helped me through some dark times. You know it K D, and I’m eternally grateful to you.

Helen Duggan Ellen MarshEscorting_Sydney_51c305ab75df7_203x288Anyway who said being a writer is lonely. I find my mind awash with people, events, crimes, plots, erotic scenes, you name it and it becomes alive in my scrambled brain. I’ve got so much going on its unbelievable; even in my dreams characters invade every thought. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I actually began to sleep with a notepad and pen. Except without my glasses I can’t see what I’m writing so I’ve wisely given that up. LOL

It’s kind of weird; I can sit on a train look out of the window and miss all the whirring landscape. Instead I’m whisked off to the recesses of my oh so wicked imagination. I could be in the arms of a lover, one of my favourites! Or sometimes I’m the bitch that people love to hate. I discover that I play too good a part at that at times, and hope my inner self is not so dark. But know it’s not, because my sexy soul and naughty humor raises its head and takes over.

At other times maybe I’ll study a person, surreptitiously of course, LOL and wonder about their life. Who they are, what makes them laugh or cry.

What makes me cry, is being in my characters heads when they’re hitting a major sad milestone in their lives. When I’m writing, which is every day, because I cannot not write, I discover I become that person. The emotions, every part of them I feel with a deep intensity. Good, evil, sexy, it all thrives in me, I discover I’m a melting pot of emotions, of characters.

This can me a bit worrying when I write about a particularly vicious character as in Shadow Play which is the second book from the Doms of Drakos series. I loved the evilness of the characters, but again found myself in a murky pool of tears. My dark side also emerges in One Night in Heaven the third of the series, one which I found particularly stimulating. Sadly to such a degree, I began to question myself, my ethics and morals.

However the heroine from Escorting Sydney the first in the Doms of Drakos trilogy has to be one of my favourite characters. She’s overweight, clumsy, swears a lot, and has no sense of style. I can relate to her a lot. Sydney is a sweet laugh out loud rollercoaster of fun.

I’m often asked where I get my ideas from. And I really don’t know. A thought will flourish, and I will nibble at it for a day or two. Then bang! It erupts and I’m away, the words rush through me, the plots smash into each other. And quite honestly I’ve got to be the most disorganized writer around. The words shoot from my fingers, they erupt from my head, and all I know is that I can’t get them down fast enough. I have a rough draft in my befuddled mind, and an ending. I really do try to draft a rough plan, but my characters take me off on different tangents.

When I wrote Wolfsong Lullaby, my reader couldn’t work out who the killer was. How did I manage to hide it so successfully? It was simple, I didn’t know myself, I let the story take me. I have an outline the beginning middle and end. As to the rest I love to be taken along it, surprising me as much as anyone else.

My husband suggested putting up a camera to mirror my emotions. Because every word, every scene is expressed on my face, smiles, scowls, frowns, wickedly sinful giggles, and the tears. I can’t write a sad scene without a box of tissues close to hand. I don’t even know if that’s normal, if other writers experience the same intensity. I’m not acquainted with many, I’ll rephrase that, apart from K D none so that question remains a mystery.

The other problem with my haphazard writing, call it a flaw, I don’t know. But as I’m finishing one novel, my thoughts are already fishing around for another story. Recently I have discovered a love of the paranormal. And totally fallen for some rather hunky vampires along with wicked werecats. I’m currently on the third book of my Wolfsong trilogy, Wolfsong Soul. And my emotions along with theirs have been shredded, and I’m loving every moment of it.

Moving on back to my debut novel Escorting Sydney I wanted a character that everyone could relate to or actually know. A friend or a next door neighbour maybe? I love her crazy sense of humor and I love Logan. He’s so strong, sexy and oh so into BDSM. And he makes an excellent teacher as Sydney soon discovers. What Logan wants he takes, and its Sydney. It’s the classic of opposite’s attracting. An uplifting laugh out loud book that I’d like to think will give readers a happy for now day.

About Ellen March

Ellen March lives in Cefn Cribwr in South Wales. Her three grown up children have left home.  She lives with her husband Phil, one cat and five Alaskan Malamutes. Her hobbies are showing her dogs (Her dog Drago has taken two firsts at Crufts) She also enjoys back packing with them in the glorious countryside but her first love is writing.

Since she was a child she devoured any written word and acted out her fantasies in print. Her books take her from the usual nine to five into another universe.

Her ambition is to become a full time writer. She has written twenty five novels, including her first erotic romance, followed by psychological thrillers and recently the paranormal.  She is currently writing a trilogy on Vampires and Werecats.

BLURB for Escorting Sydney:

Pretty is an apt description, an exclusive word that just about sums up Sydney. Pretty plain, pretty overweight and pretty devastated when she finds her sister in bed with her boyfriend.

Can life get any worse? Sydney doesn’t think so until she mistakes a billionaire property developer for the male escort she’s hired.

Logan is only too keen to introduce her into his world, fulfilling all her deepest sexual fantasies. The ones she’s stored into the dark recesses of her mind. Under the compartment called filth, shackled with the chains she has dreamed of.

What Logan wants he takes, and it’s Sydney. For two weeks only, she’ll give her body, and he’ll introduce her into a world of sex she’s only ever dreamed of.

So why is she worried when he tells her he’ll only give her what she asks for

Excerpt:

Sydney snuggled beneath the sheet, dreaming. A smile touched and teased her lips. The bitch was there. Looking on when Oliver kissed her, she could almost taste his tongue running along her lips. God, it was so real.

“Mmm, Oliver,” she whispered, a sudden blast of cold air smattered across her skin. Her eyes flew open, straight into the harsh face of Logan. An arm each side of her, he leaned across her.

“Sorry to interrupt your dream.” His voice scraped over her, chilled and hard.

“It’s not what you think.” She attempted to assemble her jumbled thoughts. “I mean yes, I was dreaming and then you kissed me. And I kind of, well, got confused.”

“Honey, don’t you ever fucking confuse me with that asshole.” He was powerless to understand the consuming rage that splintered through him.

“Hey, calm down.” she said. His blazing gaze was directed at her. For fuck’s sake. “And aren’t you the lucky one walking out of my life tomorrow evening?” She felt bad, in fact felt like shit. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but Christ, what the hell did he expect off her, apart from sex?

Yeah, she knew, a paycheck at the end of the day. He’d be moving on, screwing some other lonely, lucky bitch whilst she—it went without saying—would be back dabbling in her toy room. Losing her mind talking to a frigging vibrator, and arguing with a fucking battery, then thought of bully. Her sweet golden boy.

Logan glared down at her, and was amazed that instead of looking nervous, worried, or even guilty, she was lying there with a mysterious madonna smile haunting her lips.

“What the hell are you thinking of?” His steaming anger scrambled through his confused thoughts. “More of Oliver?” he rasped, furious with her reaction.

“No, I was thinking of my toy room,” she admitted, at last glancing up at him. “When you leave that’s what I’m back to. Deciding who or what to use.”

Lady, I’m going nowhere, at least not without you. Logan leaned over, threading his hands through her hair, or attempted to and gave up. God, it was a mess. Forget threading fingers through soft tresses—hers was like an untamed hawthorn hedge.

“Did you use your toys with Oliver?” Wanting to know, he almost choked spitting the last word out.

“Er, no, why?”

“Were you adventurous in the bedroom with him?”

“No, strictly missionary. I wasn’t allowed anything else.” She didn’t want to elaborate in case he thought her strange as well.

“Why? Didn’t you go down on him?” Remembering the blow job, his dick began twitching again.

“Wasn’t allowed.” She fixated on her hands, not wanting to witness the sympathy cross his face.

“And you?”

“Nope.” She twisted the sheet.

“So he never fucked your ass either.” The words dripped out. At last he was beginning to see what sort of sex life they’d had, in total contrast to the night he’d spent with her. “Would you have liked that?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Shame blazed across her face. His hand slid beneath her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me what else you’d like.” His almost-black eyes bored into hers, commanding, not asking. “Now!”

“Chains and handcuffs, to be taken, to be dominated.” Sydney closed her eyes, convinced he’d think her sick.

“I’m glad you’re honest with me.” Fucking hell, woman. Your ex is one screwed-up asshole.

“So why are you asking? Do you think I’m sick?”

“No,” he swore. “Why? Did he think that?”

Dropping her gaze, she nodded her head. “You don’t agree with him?”

“No way.” His thumb grazed across her lip, an oh-so-suckable lip. “I like your freckles.” With a wicked slow tempo, a finger drizzled down her nose, edging across her cheekbone.

“Yeah, bloody great.” Dissolving beneath him, she tried to work out how the hell she was going to cope after tomorrow. She was determined to make the most of tonight, her last night of pure mind-blowing sex. She was going to miss him like hell, still debating whether to ring the agency for an extension.

“I like your wrists.”

My what? She tried to work out where the hell that came from. A fetish of some kind? She hoped so. Kinky?

“I’d like to tie you up.”

Whoa, now we’re talking. “And?”

“And blindfold you.”

“And?” God, she was breathless already.

“And fuck you till you didn’t know what day it was. Hear you screaming, begging me to come. But only when I allow it.”

Oh God! She slammed her thighs together. Her mind raced ahead, trying to work out where the hell she could get handcuffs at this time in the evening.

Logan’s lips twitched, skimming his hand under the sheet, polishing his fingers over her pussy. She was hot and wet. He wanted her now, but needed to keep her waiting.

Slowly, with an almost clinical precision, he dipped his finger in—first one, the second following, number three shimmying close behind. They slid deep, awakening a path of lust, invading her, massaging the spot that could drive her crazy, brushing the walls of her cervix. Flicking and searching, his thumb lazily circled her clit, pushing down, and his fingers tinkled and teased with a seductive tempo until she couldn’t breathe. His gaze slipped down. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising in rapid breaths. She was going to be such a responsive pupil. Then he stopped.

Sydney fluttered her eyes open, staring up at him in confusion. The all-consuming pulsing she was experiencing was sending her insane. She wanted him. Now. “Logan?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own: low, almost keening.

“That’s to remind you of what’s to come.” His voice dripped with promise, adding with a harsh growl. “And it won’t be off fucking Oliver!”

Oh shit, she’d hit a definite nerve there.

She wished he’d stop his intense search of her. His smoke filled gaze soldered over her, igniting her lava flow. He’d peaked her to the edge, and with or without him she was going over. She’d become a natural at masturbation over the last five years. And not all of it required toys. Scuttling a hand between her legs, she rubbed herself.

Logan caught the movement, and flicked the sheet back. “Come for me, Sydney,” he murmured, feasting on her, the rash of color that rose across her face.

“No, I can’t.” Closing her eyes, she felt his hand on hers. Massaging and circling, leaving it there to sweet talk her clit. She kept her eyes shut, drowning in the heady sensations. They plummeted, flooding over her, a cataclysmic effervescent whirlpool that surged with the speed and devastation of a cyclone.

“Come on, baby.” Logan’s words careened her over the edge, releasing his cock he fisted himself in unison. His hand slid up the entire turgid length with an unhurried ease.

She bucked into an excruciating arc. Her body quivering, she whimpered, groaned aloud, and shuddered with a crash of relief against her hand.

Sydney felt his hand on hers again, smooth yet rough, a mixture of contrasting textures. She refused to open her eyes. Her whole body flushed in a deep shameful cringe, and embarrassment colored her. She couldn’t believe she’d masturbated in front of him. Oh Christ almighty, what was he doing to her?

“Open your eyes and look at me.” The tone of his voice commanding,

she couldn’t deny him.

Beautiful grey eyes smouldered into hers. His fingers dipped low, moving in an indefinable lazy stroke between her sensitive folds. Raising them, he licked each digit, sucking on them, little by little, one by delicious one, and her stomach flipped over.

“I like the taste of you honey,” he whispered.

Oh, fucking hell.

Buy Escorting Sydney Here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Escorting-Sydney-Doms-Drakos-ebook/dp/B00DIF0V30/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top

http://www.amazon.com/Escorting-Sydney-Doms-Drakos-ebook/dp/B00DIF0V30/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1375382135&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=escorting+sydney+Ellen+Marsh

http://www.ravenousromance.com/modern-love/escorting-sydney-the-doms-of-drakos-book-one.php?keyword=Ellen+Marsh

Find Ellen March here:

Web page http://ellenmarch.jimdo.com

 

 

 

Why Rachel Kincaid Writes Challenging Erotica

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It’s my pleasure to welcome Rachel Kincaid to A Hopeful Romantic, knowing that anywhere romantic is probably not where you’d normally find Rachel, but I loved her piece, Second Chance, which she read at Smut by the Sea,  and knowing that it was uncharactoristic of what she typically writes, I asked her if she would be my guest and talk a bit about why she writes ‘challenging’ erotica. Welcome, Rachel! It’s such a pleasure to have you here!

I met KD Grace at Eroticon 2013 in London when she ran a wonderful session about finessing a sex scene. I then met her again at Smut by the Sea and like all nervous writers we were twittering about what we were going to read and comparing plots. Everyone was surprised when I said that I was going to be reading a lovely little premature ejaculation story. It appeared incongruent. How can you have ‘nice’ and ‘premature ejaculation’ in the same sentence? I also stated that I had written a nice little necrophilia story but that the host had asked me to err on the side of caution. I really struggled with this, I don’t naturally do caution or toned down stuff so ‘Second Chance’ was it.

Rachel KincadeIMG_20130630_055146I have been writing non-fiction stuff for years so when I first forayed into the world of fiction I cast my mind around for things that I wanted to read. Remittance Girl wrote a wonderful piece about a writers first love, our reader, and how initially that is ourselves and that over time it progresses to a style where we have a ‘map’ of what our readers/fans want from our work. My own reading is very varied. I am a huge Terry Pratchett fan because you can re-read all of his books and find new things in them. That is what I love about it and what I aspire to do, to write a book that stands up to being read more than once. It is why Dan Brown and EL James gets such a slating. They write tomes that are discarded because they offer something insubstantial, disposable. I love Agatha Christie and Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected, I like trying to work out what is going to happen next and who dunnit. Huxley’s Brave New World, Orwells 1984, Margaret Atwood’s Handmaid’s Tale all challenge me and leave tendrils of their plots lingering in my conscience.

So here I am; a well educated, well read (ish) woman writing erotica. Writing any genre well you need to read a lot of it. I have read right across the landscape from soft and gentle romance to porn and through to erotic horror. I found that I instantly forgot the fluff, I don’t recall the plots or the authors (unless they are really bad). I’m not knocking the softer stuff, I have read enough of it, but it does not float my boat and nor is it usually well written. The work that I recall is not necessarily the stuff that I would do with a sexual partner, it might be too extreme, or full of pathos, or heart breaking sadness.  Erotica, for me, is about escapism, this may not be into something soft and fluffy, it may be dystopian horror or an excellent flogging BDSM scene. Talking to my fellow writers and readers these are the plots that they remember too. Ask any writer all they want is for their stuff to be read…and remembered, this is why I try to write something ‘different’.

Now being different is dangerous. I run the risk of not being published, that I will turn the reader off and alienate them, of people asking me to tone down so that I ‘fit in’. I don’t fit in and that is what people like, they like edgy and different. Sex Pistols, Iggy Pop, Oasis (before all the terrible cocaine choices they made), Andy Warhole, Marquis De Sade, Margaret Thatcher (subliminal messaging about me putting her next to Sade? Maybe), Lawrence of Arabia, Mary Shelly. All of these people are ‘different’ in their own ways and are loved or remembered because of it not in-spite of it.

In my mind stories should be about escaping into something where we do not normally go. In addition to this if I am writing something about places where people have not gone, I have a responsibility to educate too, to give the correct information; something EL James epically failed at. As did, in my opinion, Pauline Reage in her classic Story of O, the anal training is written by someone who has not experienced it or understands the bio-mechanical elements of what she had written, although she does eloquently explore the emotional state. I care about my reader, I want to take them down the rabbit hole, to show them how far it goes, excite them, turn them on, thrill them, scare them. I often tweet that I am mean to them too because I dump them in the middle of a plot and as soon as they get their bearings I whip the legs out from under them. I can always see where the line is, and I always cross it; life is more fun that way. Nice and nasty? No, not really. I am a firm believer in that people have a lot more intelligence than they give themselves credit for. I do not believe in dumbing down. It is like those well crafted documentaries e. g. Wonders of the Solar System, that get across difficult concepts without alienating anyone. There is no need to over simplify things. Sex is not simple, it never has been and never will be, so why make it so? In all of my writing if I pitch it right, then the very smart ones are not bored, the less intellectually gifted can keep up and then the mainstream are in for a treat too.

Once I started to write, or think about writing, outside the usual boy meets girl, girl is tempted away by the ‘bad’ man but goes back for the ‘good’ boy. Oh shoot me now! Dull as ditchwater. Why can’t she marry the nice boy and have great hot wild sex with the bad man and then possibly have even hotter sex with both of them…at the same time. Now that is much more interesting.

To expand it even further (because you can always go further), sex does not just happen to young and nubile people. Some of the best sex I have had is after my body is covered in stretch marks, with wobbley bottomed cellulite and there was probably a fanny fart thrown in there for good measure. So if this is when I have enjoyed sex the most, why not write for that audience too? I don’t want to stop having wild sex until the day that I die, at about 100 should do, preferably no sooner.

Combining all of this opens up so many opportunities and challenges for me as a writer and communicator. Today I am releasing my first piece of writing with Naughty Night’s Press called Just Let Go. Very exciting. As is my want, it is not a traditional erotic story; no one orgasms, there is not sex in the traditional sense but I guarantee you that it is exciting and sexy and erotic. A challenge to write? Yes. A challenge to read? No, because it will whisk you along and take you somewhere special. After you read it you will remember it (I hope) and it should stand up to being read more than once.

So here I am, a new erotica writer, daring to be different, daring to stand out from the crowd, taking a gamble and being prepared to fail. Want to come with me on this ride?

Just Let Gohttp://naughtynightspress.com/nnpstore2/index.php?main_page=product_info&Rachel Kincaia storyAReNHSJUSTLETGORachelKincaidcPath=5&products_id=96

How do you get a charismatic and professional dynamo in a high-powered profession to let go a little?
You tie her up and keep her guessing.

Catherine rushes home for a date with her husband and Dom, and what follows is an adventure in sensory deprivation, bondage, and the magic that can happen when both Dom and sub have needs and gifts that fit so well together.

How does Catherine manage to keep it all together? What does it take to get a woman accustomed to command to surrender?

And how far does her Dom go to get her there?

Excerpt from Just Let Go:

 “Tonight.“

That was all the text stated. Her mind emptied of all the meetings and reports and detritus of office life that crammed into her head. It was as though someone had jump-started her heart because it leapt out of her throat. Catherine ran her tongue around her dry mouth and over her teeth, making strange semi circles with its tip. She wondered what he would be up to, what he would have planned for her. Rubbing her fingers over her lips, she sat there in contemplation.

Catherine had everything. She was pretty, smart, witty, friendly, with a high-powered job; she had it all. In fact she was very happy with her life, particularly at this moment.

At that instant Tina entered. “Just some more letters for you to sign and I…” She halted mid–sentence and stared boggle–eyed at Catherine before gathering herself; “Oooh, you look like the cat who got the cream. What are you up to?”

Coughing, covering up the moment required to try and pull her thoughts together, Catherine stated bluntly, “Nothing.” It was complete failure trying to maintain any semblance of decorum around Tina.

“I know a smirk when I see one. What are you planning?”

Catherine looked Tina squarely in the eye like her father had taught her during all business meetings. “It was just a text,” she said with all the haughtiness she could muster.

Snorting, Tina exclaimed, “Just a text, my arse! You are on a promise. It looks like sex for you tonight, m’lady.”

Find Rachel Kincaid Here:

Rachel Kincaid blog http://rachelkincaid4.blogspot.co.uk/

About Rachel Kincaid

Rachel Kincaid is a professional woman who thinks and writes about sex a lot. She Is a firm believer that erotica should not just be about the young a nubile, nor should it be dull and uninteresting. Her writing frequently covers taboo topics in new and interesting ways, thishas earned her a cult following across the globe.

 

 

Lily Harlem Talks about the C Word & the New Harlem Dae Sexy as Hell Trilogy

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Lily and Emmy VirginSAH_sidebar_readerquoteCunt, now there is a word that can make people gasp, or smile, or their hackles go up. Even seeing it spelled out can make some people tremble. I use it in my novels sparingly – note the word sparingly – because I like the impact it has. But because of its power, it can also be a word that knocks readers from a moment when you really want them to be immersed in the story – but more about that in a minute.

First of all, a quick sweep around the world wide web about the origins of this complex word.. (not a polemic, just a bit of info!)

It seems that etymologists debate the word cunt but the overall belief is that the word derives from the Proto-Germanic word kunton meaning the female genitals. What is known for sure is that by the 13th century cunt was being widely used. The earliest known citation of the word comes from a street in London known as Gropecunte Lane. This name was common in many towns in Britain as the street where prostitutes conducted their business. The street name described the activity that took place, e.g. grope meaning to touch for sexual pleasure and cunte meaning female genitalia. This street existed under its current name in London up until fairly recently when the residents decided to change its name to something a little more PC – I’m just guessing at this new name LOL!

So originally cunt didn’t have the obscene connotations it has today, it was merely a noun for the ladies private parts. But over the years its meaning evolved, by Shakespeare’s day it seems to have become quite obscene and although the great playwright never actually used the word in any of his completed plays, before him, Chaucer did in Canterbury Tales.

However, moving forward a few centuries, the way in which Anais Nin used cunt in her writing is pertinent, titillating and I think beautiful. Erotica is more likely to use cunt with acceptance & grace unlike the rest of society who’ve pushed cunt to the outer rims of the majorities vocabulary. For a long time cunt was an outcast. Only uncouths and drunks used the word that once all enjoyed so merrily, until fairly recently when, luckily for it – society liked to shock.

Now it is the golden age of cunt, everybody uses it from the humblest beggar to politicians in a way they hope will get a gasping reaction at their daring. There is, however, also a long-standing movement among feminists that seeks to reclaim cunt not only as acceptable, but as an honorific, in much the same way that queer has been reappropriated by LGBT people. I for one, hope they succeed.

But despite its resurgence many are still confused on when and in what company it is okay to say the previously unutterable…

lily and Emmy virgincumminstreetUntil the feminists are victorious in changing the general population’s opinion of the word, utilising cunt in the modern age is a difficult balancing act. If you underutilize or refuse to say it then you are missing out on one of the most powerful words in the English language. If you overutilise cunt then you run the risk that people will think you’re either a misogynist or a feminist, depending on your gender, and cunt will lose all its punch and forcefulness. (information sourced from Live Leaks, sexloveliberation)

So, back to Anais Nin who paved the way for modern day erotica authors and readers. Since I have a new trilogy out this week – Sexy as Hell co-written with Natalie Dae – that uses the word cunt in several different ways I thought I’d share a few examples of how Natalie and I like to work it into stories.

This is the first snippet, and what I should point out is that cunt is in the very first line of the very first book. Why? Because it shocks, it hooks, it shows us a lot about not just the female lead, Zara, but also the reaction of the man she says it to. Here goes…

Excerpt from The Virgin, book #1 in the Sexy as Hell Trilogy

Chapter One

“Lick my cunt,” I said.

I wondered what Victor saw, standing there fully dressed as he was against my bedroom wall. A woman sprawled out on the bed, naked, her fingers spreading her slit apart, or me, Zara Watson, the girl he’d picked up in a coffee shop after work? Or so he’d like to think. I’d picked him up, but I wasn’t about to let him in on how. It had been easy, making him believe he had the gift of the gab, what it took to successfully snare a woman, but in reality I’d orchestrated every move. I doubted his ego could take the truth.

“What?” he asked, dark eyebrows going up, eyes widening.

Lily and Emmy VirgindaisySo he wasn’t as sophisticated as he’d made out. In my experience, they were all the same. Confident and all-knowing until someone like me threw them. Came out with a simple statement that had them reeling. No idea how to claw back their self-assured air without a pause to take in what had been said. The shock of it was usually too much. Hang on, lady, you’re not meant to be saying things like that to me. It should be the other way around. I ought to be shocking you.

“You heard me,” I said, holding back a smirk. “So?”

He remained where he stood, more was the pity, and smiled, a tactic I’d seen so many times before. I‘d bet his mind was swirling, him trying to think what he could say that would get him back on top. I only wished he would get on top, or at least do something that would live up to the promise of his sexy words in the coffee shop. I sighed. All mouth and no trousers, that one. Shame he still had his trousers on. Black ones that matched his shirt. A grey silk tie that could be taken two ways—he was either a stuffy prig or had no choice but to wear it for his profession. And he’d told me all about that. An architect, don’t you know, well paid and with a flashy car that he’d wasted no time in describing to me. As though a hunk of metal was of interest. The only hunk I was interested in was him, and the way things were going, I wouldn’t be getting my mitts on him as quickly as I’d envisaged. Shame, because he was a great-looking guy and I wouldn’t be surprised if his body matched the aesthetic appeal of his face.

“A bit forward, aren’t you?” he said, rubbing the cute, vertical dink he had in his chin.

“Is that a problem?” I leant back, bracing myself on my hands. My breasts didn’t move. Pert things, they’d brought many a man to his knees. A pity this one wasn’t on them between my legs now, supping the cunt I’d so graciously offered.

“Well…” He frowned, seemingly at a loss on what to say.

“Well what?” I smiled inwardly. Talk about getting to him. I could almost see him trying to hold in a squirm.

“You…you didn’t seem this type when we met.” He lifted one hand, running his fingers through his floppy brown hair. Sprinkles of silver weaved through his sideburns and the wispy, longer hairs at his temple.

“And what type is that?” I was enjoying myself.

Lily and Emmy VirginHD_bannerJPG_3

Zara goes on to ask him how a naked lady on a bed, asking him to ‘lick her cunt’ can fail to turn him on. It’s clear from his reaction that it’s that one word that’s thrown him, the straw that broke the camel’s back in this scene, and a great place to start his character development.

This next snippet is from book #3 The Vixen, a shorter excerpt because it’s quite plot heavy and I don’t want to throw spoilers around, but I wanted to use it as an example of cunt being a word filled with hate and the power it can have when used that way. Plus it’s such a short, hard word on the tongue, can be almost spat out, that even when reading and not saying it out loud it still reverberates.

*****

I hadn’t had to put the incredulous in my voice, because I could recall my shock when they’d asked me, or rather Conner had told me what I had to do.

Conner. I’d told myself I’d never say his name, never think it, but things had changed. He was the one who’d liked the games the best, the others had just watched with folded arms and amused sneers on their faces.

Cunts.

*****

This is just a tiny section of Zara’s thoughts in that scene, but I still think the depth of her hate is evident on the page from that final word.

Finally, an example of cunt used in a heated moment which leads to lots of loving and caring and written as a thought while in the heroine, Zara’s, point of view.

This is taken from book #2 The Player.

lily and Emmy VirginSAH_magazine_coverOh, God, he meant it. The fire in his eyes was plain to see. I’d pushed him way too far. What the hell had he and Ollie been talking about?

He shoved me and I fell onto the bed, the backs of my knees against the edge of the mattress. Still standing he straddled them, loomed above me, staring down with such menace in his eyes I knew I really should give him a snippet of the truth before he exploded in spectacular fashion. His cock tented his jeans—oh, yes, it tented them quite nicely—and I clenched my cunt muscles to stave off the stirrings of desire.

“I don’t know the proper rules,” I said. There, there was some truth. “All I know are mine and the games that I play. I don’t know any other way. Satisfied?”

My chest went up and down as I fought to catch my breath. It seemed as though my admission had taken all the air out of me, had left me weak and boneless, vulnerable—something I’d vowed never to be again.

*****

Fairly subtle in that last one, but I like how it is in the protagonist’s thoughts, again it tells us a detail about her, how she thinks, that she’s comfortable with the word if she has it in her head like that, and also that she uses it in different ways herself.

On a different note, KD and I were recently at a reading in Cardiff with fellow erotica and erotic romance authors Lucy Felthouse and Kay Jaybee and we had a question and answer panel at the end of the readings and the open mic. One of the audience asked us about using the ‘c-word’ in our books. I took the route of it having positive female connotations in history as a noun and that I found it particularly useful when writing. I also put forward that if readers are picking up erotica they’re not too likely to be shocked by a single word. This seemed to be a general opinion of the other authors on the panel, and I know full well, because I’ve read and loved all of their work, that they, too, use cunt in a variety of different ways.

Do share your thoughts, I will do my best to check in and say hi! And again, I’ve just skimmed the surface on this subject, it can be debated at length…

Lily x

 Sexy as Hell Trilogy  –

The Virgin, The Player and The Vixen

By Harlem Dae

Sexy as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

Dare to take this twisting journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist and binds like a collar.

Get to know Zara, his sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.

Victor has his layers peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…

Yes, the time has come to for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her virgin, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.

Please note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read in order.

lily and emmy virginSAH_image_2

About the Authors

Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae have been writing together for several years on top of their individual author projects. Their joint name is now Harlem Dae. They enjoy being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and Total-E- Bound as well self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon. Both live in the UK and gain great satisfaction from bouncing characters and their raunchy antics back and forth, growing, nurturing and stoking plot lines until they steam off the page and push boundaries. They consider themselves to be solitary, whacky, spontaneous and desirous for many things including perfection and are frequently caught sending messages back and forth referring to each other as Rodney and Delboy.

Buy Links

Amazon US

The Virgin – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251FBW

The Player – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251FOO

The Vixen – http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E251KU8

Amazon UK

The Virgin – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Virgin-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251FBW/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518725&sr=1-1

The Player – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Player-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251FOO/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518725&sr=1-2

The Vixen – http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Vixen-Trilogy-Erotic-ebook/dp/B00E251KU8/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1374518774&sr=1-3

Author Links

Harlem Dae website http://www.harlemdae.com

Harlem Dae on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/NatalieDaeandLilyHarlem

Harlem Dae on Amazon US http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Harlem%20Dae&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank

Amazon UK  http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Harlem%20Dae&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank