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IS Zak Jane Keir Keeping it Real?

SFWL COVERWhen it comes to being asked That Question, the one that gets asked of erotica writers far more than writers in any other genre, the ‘Have you really done all that stuff you write about?’ question, my answers have included ‘Maybe…’ ‘Well, what do you think?’ and ‘Look, pal, if I’d done all of that I’d probably be dead by now.’

 

Most erotica writers have had sex. Most erotica writers really like sex, and either spend a lot of time having it or thinking about ways in which they would like to have it, and who they would like to have it with. (People who really don’t like sex do not make good erotica writers, especially when they are people who think erotica is both crap and a shortcut to easy money.) Sometimes, we use the sex we’ve had, or the sex we might have, or the sex we want to have with certain individuals as yet impervious to our charms, as the basis for our stories, which is absolutely fine as long as we change the names and physical attributes enough to keep ourselves safe from outrage, hurt feelings or lawsuits. Not only is it ethical to remove identifying details if your starting point is someone you know – or would like to know better – but doing so takes your work where it needs to go: further into the wonderful, fertile, unlimited territory of the author’s imagination.

 

Some of the stories in my new anthology are just a little tiny bit based on things I got up to and things I might like to get up to. Because I run reading slams, that can sometimes make things even more interesting, should there be someone in the audience who recognises himself or herself in what’s being read out. Advice given to anyone new to public speaking often includes a suggestion of picking one member of the audience to look at and telling yourself that you are addressing that one person. I would have to say that if what you are reading is some erotica you have written and it has some particular relevance to a member of the audience then the last thing you want to do is catch that person’s eye when you get to the good bits. You will either go purple in the face with embarrassment or be consumed with such lust that you drop your clipboard and have to press your thighs together tightly. Other listeners may be intrigued and thrilled by the almost palpable erotic tension in the room, or they may just think you are a dipstick who hasn’t prepared your material very well – or that you are drunk. Depending on how much your actual relationship with the person in question varies from the one you have been writing about may also affect how well your performance goes, er, down: if s/he is someone you are seeing/married to/about to consummate a flirtation with then there is a good chance of thrills all round. However, if you have an unrequited crush and the object of your affections turns green and flees the premises, then you will just have to console yourself with the fact that your mortification has made the evening memorable for everyone else.

 

You may be wondering if this is the sort of thing that actually happens at DSW slam nights. My possible answers to that might include ’Maybe’ ‘What do you think?’ and ‘Why don’t you come and find out for yourself?’

 

EXTRACT: The Tops, from Sticky Fingers And Warm Leatherette

 

She sauntered through the crowd, head high, face composed. Her long, light-brown hair was caught up in a high ponytail on the crown of her head; her scarlet latex catsuit gleamed under the lights and her patent leather boots shone just as brightly. She carried a scarlet suede flogger with twelve tails, fastened to her wrist with a loop of plaited black leather, and her make up was still entirely flawless. Pausing for a moment at the far end of the bar, she contemplated getting another vodka, but decided against it. For the moment, she wanted to keep her head clear. Besides, soon enough some slave or other would probably want to endear himself to her with the offer of a drink.

 

In the alcove by the staircase, she saw a beautiful Japanese girl who hadn’t been around for months but was clearly delighted to be here tonight. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes shut and lips slightly parted, her fingers splayed on the table top. Passing a little closer by, Lynsey was able to tell that there was someone kneeling between the other woman’s legs, but couldn’t be sure if it was male or female. Not that it mattered, naturally. She smiled and walked on, silently wishing the pair of them well. House of Sinners was one of the more permissive clubs, and it was definitely one of those nights when people were inclined to go for it. Interesting, really, how the mood of a whole club could vary from month to month: even in the more behave-yourself venues such as the city centre wine bar that hosted Leather&Chain: from time to time there would be a night when there was something in the air and people would keep disappearing off to the loos, all giggly and conspiratorial and coming back with naughty, sated looks on their faces. Lynsey had had her own share of that sort of thing, though she tended to prefer waiting till the end of the night and taking her captive home in a taxi before getting really intimate.

 

She spotted another couple in a corner on the top floor, near the dungeon: this time it was a man sitting back with a blissful expression, and no table to conceal anyone’s view of the girl on her knees in front of him. She was naked, apart from a neat and unadorned set of black leather cuffs, and a matching collar round her slender neck. As Lynsey drew near, the girl raised her head slightly so that she held only the tip of her lover’s impressive tool between her gloss-smeared lips, her tongue presumably working on the little slit in his cock-head, probing and teasing and tantalising in the hope of triggering the mouthfuls of hot spunk she appeared to crave. Her eyes were half-open, but there was a moment where her gaze and Lynsey’s met, and Lynsey had a dizzying flash of imagining herself in that position, naked, on her knees, gobbling a huge cock, maybe fingering herself as she sucked and licked and all-but devoured… She shook her head and moved quickly on.

 

 

About Zak:

Zak Jane Keir is a veteran writer of erotic fiction and occasional ranty blog posts. She also runs Dirty Sexy Words erotica slams in London.

 

 

Find her books here:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Zak+Jane+Keir&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Zak+Jane+Keir&sort=relevancerank

 

 

Find out more about Dirty Sexy Words here:

https://www.facebook.com/DirtySexyWords/

 

 

 

Zak Jane Keir’s Black Heart: No Virgins, No Billionaires, Lots of Heat

On Writing Black Heart

Zak Jane Keir Black Heart postWhile I still haven’t actually read 50 Shades of Grey, I read a lot of the hype and praise – and criticism – of it last summer, and I started thinking about how boring I personally find the whole trope of Vacant Virgin and Bastard Billionaire. I wanted to do something that was about as far away from the standard woman-discovering-true-sexuality-at-the-hands-of-a-master as I could get, and I had this initially vague idea of an older woman and a gorgeous young man. And I decided to make him a musician because I have always been a rock chick with a serious weakness for musicians. That led on to the idea of two musicians in the same band, both of whom lust after the older woman and also have a strong attraction for one another and similar sub/bisexual fantasies.

I already had a ‘universe’ to work in, because I wrote a novella about five years ago called The Master’s Voice, which featured Ricky and Malorie, a couple of switches who run a sex shop and their friend Natasha, a dominatrix. I’ve also written a few short stories set in that world, and I felt as though I had a place to start, although Rosa, Daniel, Gary and Kester were all new characters. I think initially I was considering Rosa as someone who had left the fetish scene to marry some man who turned out to be a loser, or too vanilla, and then she would decide for some reason to go to a club for the first time in years and see Daniel on stage, but that seemed a bit too unoriginal. Also, Rosa was starting to come alive in my mind, and she just wouldn’t have done something like marry a bore; I wanted to make her back story more interesting than that, and also for her to have a reason for leaving the scene that wasn’t actually about having a broken heart or ‘falling in love’ and wanting to give up kinky stuff for the sake of Mr Right.

I’ve been ‘out’ on the fetish scene for years in real life, and I remember what it was like before the Internet was such a big part of all our lives – and also what the early days of online kinkiness were like. People did get terribly paranoid about the possibility of being outed as perverts, even though it was getting less and less of a newsworthy thing by the turn of the century, and also it was very easy for rumours to get a bit out of hand. I had a lot of fun dredging up my own memories of fetish clubs in the past, as well as going to some of the newer ones in the name of research for the present-day scenes.

One other thing I was determined to do was keep away from the concept that everyone is in, or aspires to be in, a monogamous heterosexual relationship. So there are maid-and-mistress relationships that don’t involve any actual genital sex; threesomes, a bit of gender ambiguity, lots of bisexuality and plenty of bondage and beatings.

Blurb:

Rosa’s has tried to put her kinky days behind her, and built a new life as the landlady of a popular pub. But the past isn’t easily forgotten. It seems like her beautiful new barman Daniel really needs a strict Mistress to take him in hand, and it’s Rosa he has a deep submissive crush on.

Natasha, Rosa’s new best friend, wants to help her rediscover her inner dominatrix, particularly now that legendary fetish club The Scarlet House is about to relaunch.

But Rosa’s previous ventures on the scene ended badly, and Daniel’s relationship with the drummer in his band is closer than he’s letting on. It seems like everyone’s got a dirty little secret deep inside…

Excerpt:
Maybe I am a goddess, she thought. Maybe I could be. Up here, adored, admired, all eyes on me and on my… victim? My prey? I could get so addicted.

His buttocks were already marked with stripes from the cane: three distinct strokes, perfectly spaced. They quivered slightly as he shifted his feet, presumably growing impatient for the next anticipated hit. Out there, in the darkness, she could hear the muted roar of the audience: chattering, whispering, encouraging, and she raised the cane again. It felt good in her hand; thin and whippy and just the right length. Her face felt hot in the black leather mask, and her nipples were hard. Down came the cane with a whoosh and a crack, and his whole body jerked, but he didn’t attempt to straighten up.

Zak Jan Keir Black Heart PostTMV coverThis one was a good bottom, obedient and respectful. He appeared to have plenty of self respect as well, and she liked that. She could be remote and cool and untouchable with the grovelling ones and the snivelling ones, but a little bit of personality, a touch of cockiness, those things appealed to her a whole lot more. Another swish, another impact. She’d laid five hard ones on his arse now, and there was one more to go. She licked her lips, drawing out the pause, making him wait for it, making them all wait for it. He wriggled, beginning to squirm, and she realised he was rubbing himself against the whipping stool, that his cock must be hard and in need of relief.

She wondered what was going to happen about that. Would it be considered her responsibility? Did she want to do anything about it? She didn’t want to take him home with her and though she knew that other people sometimes made use of the toilet cubicles for a more direct and immediate release of sexual tension, she didn’t think it would be at all appropriate for her to do so tonight. They were all supposed to perceive her as wholly out of reach, the one who gave nothing away, no matter what rumours they might have heard. That was why she covered herself almost completely in PVC and leather; skintight trousers tucked into high boots, a waistcoat over the corset that pushed her breasts up and out but still concealed all but a tantalising glimpse of cleavage and long, soft leather gloves as well as the mask.

Purchase links

http://www.eburypublishing.co.uk/editions/black-heart/9780753550199

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

About Zak:

Zak Jane Keir has been writing erotica on and off for over 20 years. She has had work published in Forum, Erotic Stories, Fiesta Digest, Penthouse and others. Her published novells incude The Switch and Cathouse And The Castle (out of print, completely unavailable) along with a self-published novellas The Master’s Voice and The Libido Lounge

http://www.lulu.com/shop/zak-jane-keir/masters-voice/paperback/product-5583989.html.

 
© 2018 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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