Category Archives: book release

Amorous about Amorous Congress

Amorous Congress is my third anthology with Riverdale Avenue Books (preceded by the award-winning Tie Me Up and Bases Loaded). As an editor, I have published over a dozen anthologies, but the just published feeling is something that I can never get over–the feeling is close to orgasmic! Anthologies are special, you get several authors giving you their take on the theme–and in my case their erotic take on the theme. A hard, but layered with pleasure job, to go through all of them to find the creme de la creme for you!

I wanted to do this anthology, because at the time I was very obsessed with the dearly departed Museum of Morbid Anatomy in Brooklyn, New York. Repeated visits there, filled me with a sensualism that I was not expecting and that kept me enthralled. The Victorian era was very sensual–even with its intimate observation of death. I went to the Met at this time as well, and saw their exhibition Death Becomes Her which focused on the fashion for widows at this time. I even felt that the mourning ritual was sensual, which was solidified by getting to speak to one of the Met curators at Morbid Anatomy who confirmed this.

Or maybe I just feel everything is sensual?!

But seeing what had been going on at that time, I wanted to focus a bit more on it, and the idea for Amorous Congress was born–since erotica is my thing. The stories I got, were more than I ever could have expected. They are contemporary, steampunk and historical erotica–including a rewrite of a character from a period classic. Every story in Amorous Congress is sensual, and left me breathless. I am a seasoned pro, but good erotica does that to you!

I wanted the cover to be special, so I asked my friend and graphic artist extraordinaire Oleander Plume to design the cover for me. She did an AMAZING job, yes, you have to judge this book by its cover! It is my most photographed cover ever, and it is worth it. The cover is amazing–worthy of the period–and the inside will blow you away! There is nothing dusty or stodgy about this collection, the period if nothing else makes the stories even more sensual…

I know you are drooling over the cover! Go get your own copy to drool over here in bed!

amorous congress photo by nicolas laborie

Super Duper Guest Blogger Oleander Plume Brings Superstar Horatio Slice to Us in a Flash!!!

Horatio Slice is hot af! *Fans* When Oleander Plume asked me to be part of his blog tour, I was a groupie just like anybody else! And she wrote a sexy flash for me which I am going to post here, and at my Friday Flash blog. Oleander and Horatio are just badass like that, gotta spread the love!!!

 

It’s only rock and roll but I like it…

When I see his name on my calendar, I cringe. Horatio Slice. Just the name sets my teeth on edge. According to my editor, Patty Shane, this interview is top priority.

“Like him or not, the kid sells,” Patty says, “Have you seen the proofs of the cover photos? Sweet Jesus on the cross, Caleb, if I had a uterus, I would fill it with his baby.”

“Why the fuck do I have to meet with him in person? No one does that any more. I interviewed Bono over the phone just last week.”

Horatio Slice, Patty informs me, hates talking on the phone, something about a fear of being misquoted, which I think is bullshit. But, Patty signs my checks and I like to eat, so I reluctantly agree to meet with this new era rock god in his hotel room.

I think I’m prepared, until he answers the door. The dude is huge. Linebacker huge. He smiles and sticks out a hand.

“Wow, Caleb Wallace from Rolling Stone magazine, I feel like I’m dreaming, man.”

I don’t like the firm way he shakes my hand while staring into my eyes. It’s unnerving. The fucker. No one should be that good looking.

“Let’s get this over with,” I mumble, feeling like a dick when I notice the hurt expression on his face. “I mean, you’re probably sick of talking to reporters, right?”

The smile returns. “Yeah, maybe a little, but I can’t wait to talk to you. You’re Caleb Wallace.”

By now I’m thinking the kid is a little stoned. I follow him inside, and we both take a seat in the living room of his fancy suite. I set my mini tape recorder on the coffee table and press record.

“So, Horatio Slice, how goes the tour?”

“Amazing. Happy to be in New York, my home base.” He flips that long hair out of his eyes. “Hey, would you like a beer or something?” A glance at my recorder. “Sorry. You can edit that out, right?”

Yup. Stoned. “No worries,” I say with a force smile. “I understand you’re quite the sex symbol. What’s that like?” Glancing around the suite, I don’t see what I expect, namely women’s panties draped over every available surface.

His expression tightens. “I don’t consider myself a sex symbol. Just a musician.”

“Come on, dish me some dirt, Horatio. Strictly off the record.” He just stares at me. “I’m an old man, kid, let me live vicariously through you.”

After a long sigh, he says, “I thought you’d be different. I thought you’d want to talk about the music.”

The music. That’s the reason I became a rock journalist in the first place. When did I turn into such a jaded prick? “Let’s start over,” I say, rewinding the tape. “Let’s talk about the music.”

And we do. Minutes turn to hours. One beer turns into four. The conversation drifts from sixties acid rock to nineties grunge and all points in between. Somehow, we end up sitting next to each other on the couch. His knee touches mine and my balls tighten.

This is why I balked at the interview, I realize. I knew I’d want him, knew I’d want to touch those firm muscles and stroke that olive skin. Slide that zipper down and suck and suck and suck. Even at 40, I’m in shape, attractive even, but this guy is way out of my league.

And I hate accepting that.

But a few whiskey shots later, my dick tells my brain to fuck off. Something about the way he’s looking at me – lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded – makes me think he won’t mind if I slowly slide my fingers over his bulge.

“I want to suck it,” I say, enjoying the way his dick hardens beneath my touch.

“This is, like, the best interview ever,” he says.

The rumors are true. Horatio Slice has a behemoth between his legs. Erect and majestic. I lick the crown and the taste of him goes right to my head. Now starving for cock, I swallow that beast and suck with all I’m worth.

He likes to talk dirty. “Suck me with that hot mouth,” he says, fingers gently playing with my hair. “Then, I’ll blow you until you come. Or maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Would you like to fuck me?”

Like he even needs to ask.

Yes, you now have an all access pass to Oleander Plume's AMAZING new novel, with my friends at Go Deeper Press! I know I want a slice of Horatio Slice…sigh…

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To Have…Guest Blogger Malin James Talk About Roadhouse Blues!!!

Malin James is a special friend, and as far as I am concerned (and as I tweeted yesterday), she is the gold standard as a writer, and more importantly as a human. I am honored to have her as my guest today, with a decadent post after my own heart to promote her new collection, Roadhouse Blues, with Go Deeper Press!!!


Thank you so much for having me, Ms. F! It’s a privilege and honor to be here! 

My collection of linked short stories, Roadhouse Blues, came out this week with Go Deeper Press, but I didn’t want to do a standard Please Buy My Book!!! promo post, (though if you’re at all inclined to by my book, please do – you won’t hear me complain). Don’t get me wrong, I’m damn proud of the collection, but I wanted to talk about it in a different way—one that taps into some of the aesthetics Ms. F and I share. So. Let’s talk about noir.

I love noir and classic films. I always wanted to include a noir story in Roadhouse Blues, but I wasn’t quite sure how or where a story like that would fit. Roadhouse Blues is set in Styx, a blue-collar, truck stop town in the middle of nowhere. It’s dusty and oppressive and the most glamorous thing around is the tabloid rack at the local Pak ‘n Buy. It’s about as far from a gritty urban jungle full of hard-nosed men and glossy, sinister dames as you can get.

I was about ten stories into drafting the collection and had pretty much decided to save the smoky, Sam Spade feeling for a different collection, when I started writing what would become the title story, “Roadhouse Blues.”

Roadhouse Blues” is one of a handful of stories set in Rowdy’s Roadhouse, the only strip club for miles. Mick, the protagonist, tends bar and keeps a general eye on things. At the start of the story, he’s getting over a messy divorce and has pretty much vowed never to get involved with anyone ever again, but that doesn’t mean he can’t text (and maybe sext) with a woman named Jett, whom he met on a classic film forum online. But when Jett comes to the roadhouse late one night, she upends Mick’s lonely intentions.

Jett is sultry and sassy and damn, can she crack wise. The woman walks around like she was filmed in black and white, but under the Lauren Bacall glamour, she needs to get away from a life that isn’t working, so she runs to the middle of nowhere, straight into Mick.

As soon as Mick saw her standing in the doorway, I knew I had my film noir story. A beautiful woman with a mysterious past, a good man worn down by life…. So, I stayed with it until it became clear that the whole point of the story was to get Mick from “of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine” to “here’s looking at you kid”. It just took a little rough sex to get him there.

While there are no crimes or gangsters or dead bodies in an alley, there’s a lot going on in “Roadhouse Blues” that directly references or pays homage to noir and classic film—the damaged characters with difficult pasts, the spikey chemistry, and yes, rough sex. More than anything, the rough sex. 

In a lot of noir and classic film, sex is a fade to black thing, but there are plenty of women getting slapped or dragged around in an implied sexual context. In the film and fiction from the ‘30’s, ‘40’s and 50’s, casual violence towards women is a window into the attitudes of the early 20th century. It’s an interesting historical snapshot, but not something I wanted to sexualize or glamorize in an erotic story in the 21st. Which is why I wrote the sex scene in “Roadhouse Blues” the way I did. As opposed to the standard trope of the femme fatale getting punished by a dominant man, Mick and Jett unequivocal equals—equals who just happen to want to slap each other around.

I like rough sex. I like it a lot, but only with the right partner. The chemistry has to be right for that kind of dynamic to work. Happily, the chemistry between Mick and Jett was right. I wanted to let consensual violence play out between two strong people, but if I was going to do that, it was important to establish the fact that they were meeting on equal ground. Mick spanks Jett, Jett decks Mick, but they do it in a way that is actively consensual, which let me dig into the dynamic to find the sweetness in the rough. I wanted to give the reader the sense that the night they spend together is full of joy for them.

Mick and Jett have a rare kind of chemistry. They naturally communicate through short hand, like the dialogue in To Have and Have Not or Double Indemnity. Because the connection they have is instinctual and highly tuned, they are able to do things that, with a different partner, would be off the table. Jett holds her own, and Mick trusts her to voice her boundaries. Jett, in turn, trusts Mick to respect them, which he instantly does. It’s an ideal version of how a dynamic like this could play out with two well-paired equals.

Unlike in noir films, when a man slaps a woman and sends her sprawling before a fade to black, Jett gives as good as she gets, and Mick falls for her because of it. I wanted to see how their dynamic would play out, especially with the ghost of black and white film underpinning the story. I wanted to see what would happen if Bogart and Bacall got a little rough with each other while they were falling in love. I didn’t think I’d have a chance to do that in this collection, but Mick and Jett surprised me, and I’m glad they did.

 

To read an excerpt from the story, “Roadhouse Blues” click here.

Are you swooning like me? Want more Malin? I am so happy to be part of her blog tour–here are the links to the rest of it!

The Go Deeper Press Launch Post

Interview with Xan West

Interview with Emmanuelle de Maupassant 

Review by Ella Dawson

Interview with Jade A. Waters

Review by Jo Henny Wolf

 

 

 

 

Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Us The Reward!!!

I am so honored to be here today! First, it’s such a treat to get to visit the lovely F. Leonora, especially with her incredible cheers and notes of encouragement to, like, everyone in the writing community. She is a superstar and I have never been more grateful to know such a sweet person! But today, it gets even better—because Leonora has honored me beyond belief in celebration of the release of the last book in the Lessons in Control series, The Reward

See, our dear F. has long been enthusiastic over my poetry habit. Because of this, I’ve always been eager to not only talk about flow and verse with her, but to share poetry connected to book one, The Assignment, like I did back at the launch of the series. But today, fantastic Leonora has paid the biggest, most hugest of honors to me.

She wrote a poem for the Lessons In Control series!

 

bottle

you’re like a mist

the thin film of you invisible

tactile to the flesh

an ache from your aura

this desire i fell over every crevice

nothing untouched

that burns me up inside

there is always a fever

deep in my

core

you reach in so deep where you

touch

i cannot quench myself

i need you all of you to slip

into me like i am the

bottle that contains you as a

genie

you are magic

hidden as a mist but

everywhere upon

me

 

That’s right, guys. Right here, you get to see Leonora’s verse. Yes! What I particularly love about this poem—besides the fact that she wrote it inspired by my series and sent a picture of it to me in its early form written in her beautiful cursive—is that it really captures the feeling between Maya and Dean throughout the series. Theirs is a passionate, deep, intense love that is fueled by their sultry sexual dynamic, and I can’t get over how beautifully Leonora sprung off that to write her poem. When Maya and Dean meet in book one, The Assignment, Maya is compelled to find out more about Dean…and by the time we get to The Reward, out now, they are both deep in their sexy relationship with no signs of giving up their D/s exploration. I had such a blast writing this series, and now having Leonora write a poem inspired by it? Hot damn. That’s better than any fan fiction I can think of!

So, let’s give a round of applause to Leonora for writing this sexy poem and for sharing it here today. I have no doubt you’d find it as delicious as I did! Thanks for the tribute, Leonora!!

Speaking of sultry, Jade is a frequent guest–read her previous guest posts here. Can’t get enough of Jade? Go visit her blog!

The Reward is out now!!! Reward yourself, and get your copy here! You can also get the first two Lessons in Control books on sale now!!!

 

 

Jade A. Waters Gives Us Well Deserved Discipline!!

First there was The Assignment, and now there is The Discipline! I am always happy to invite my friend Jade A. Waters on my blog because she is AWESOME! Even before I knew Jade, she was an inspiration to me. And with the completion of this series, I am in complete awe of her because she is the real deal–and she writes like a dream! Unless you have been under a rock, I cannot imagine that you do not know what a brilliant and beautiful writer Jade is! But it is not beneath me to initiate you into the world that is Jade’s, with an excerpt from her latest!!!

Excerpt from The Discipline, by Jade A. Waters:
“I’m dying to know more of what you’ve got planned,” I said.
“Mmm. Good.” The gravelly sound of his voice hastened my pulse. We were almost nine months in, closer, stronger, well versed in this magical game between us, yet the gravid atmosphere of the room bristled with an all new energy in the time it took Dean to lead me into the lounge area before stopping me beside one of the couches. “Because I have many things in mind.”
My knees wobbled beneath me, my chest lifting in sync with the speeding of my breath. Sparks burst along my spine and spread through the base of my skull as he stepped in front of me and sat on the arm of the couch. “Will you share? What do I have to do to earn my rewards?”
Dean lifted his fingers up to his neck to loosen the tie he’d worn. His gaze was so heavy I clenched my knees together. “For every thing we do, every test, you’ll get a reward.”
Test. God, I loved the things he said to me. I didn’t move, keeping my hands flush against my sides while he unfastened his top button. With his tie askew, the top of his chest exposed and that magnificent light in his eyes, I was amazed the clank of my heart hadn’t deafened me yet.
“Whatever fantasy you want, Maya, it’s yours.”
He remained still, the picture of confident, sexy and in control that I loved. I’d gotten used to every side of him, including the scruffy and relaxed version that tied me up while he wore something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt. But dressed up and debonair, the drawl of his words and the casual sling of his body shot a current of lust through my veins.
“What’s my first test?”
“You pick your poison.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Get everything we brought,” he said, tilting his head toward our bags. “Lay it all out. Pick the one—the ones—you want tonight. But…” he paused, one hand caressing my waist, “…the condition is that whatever you pick must include some way for me to bind you.”
I pressed my hands tighter to my thighs, somehow knowing it was better to wait, no matter how much I ached to scurry about and make it start. I needed his touch, his command.
Dean’s fingers slipped along my hips, squeezing me once before he dug his thumbs into my hip bones. When I moaned, he said, “Let’s go, naughty girl.”
My heels felt unsteady as I crossed over to our things, Dean doing nothing but sitting in place to watch. I picked up the cinch bag I’d repacked before dinner, then rummaged in his suitcase for the bag he tended to carry our things in. The mass of them both in my arms was heavy, and I clutched them to my chest while I walked back to Dean. After I set the bags beside the glass coffee table, I kicked off my shoes and dropped to my knees to better spread everything across its surface.
“How are you so damn good?” Dean stepped up behind me, one hand curving under my chin to make my groin flex. His presence against me, grazing my shoulder as I started pushing each piece around, made it difficult to contain my breath. But this test was sexy. I arranged everything like it was meant to be on display in a gallery; first I laid out Dean’s black rope, then the coil of burgundy rope I’d brought. Next the vibrator, lube and flogger, this last piece taking up a whole corner of the table on its own. In his bag I also found the bed straps we often used at his place. After that, I lowered the leather cuffs to the table.
Dean ran his fingers through my hair, stroking the long strands from the root and down as far as he could reach. “We’ll need more in time, but we’ve got a good little selection going, don’t we?”
The heat steamrolling my body almost made me scream when Dean gave my hair a firm tug to tilt my head up. He was grinning.
And I was wet.
“We do.”
“So what’s your pick, beautiful?”
I reached for the cuffs first. Dean groaned.
“Exquisite. You look extraordinary with those around your wrists.”
I curled my toes in the carpet, then pitched over the table. My hand floated over the rope, a purposeful tease before I looked up at Dean and shifted my hand above the flogger. This time, I grinned. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and Dean gave my hair another tug.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I want to try it.”
He was the breathless one now, and it turned me on even more—how bright his eyes were, how, for a moment, he couldn’t keep his calm.
“But…I want more,” I said.
Dean wet his lips as I laid my hands on both the vibrator and the lube.
“I want you to fuck my ass after.”
“Is that your fantasy tonight, sexy?” He twisted my hair in his hand, the pressure firm on my scalp. “How you’d like to come?”
I resisted his hold to swing my head up and down, the move exciting us both, and once Dean drew me into his arms, his body pressed hot to mine. When I started to drag my hands up his back, he pushed them behind me. From the opening in his shirt, I smelled the hint of amber on his skin over his masculine, natural scent. In his embrace I already felt myself falling before his mouth drifted closer to mine.
            “Whatever you want is yours.”
The Discipline, book two of Lessons in Control, available now!
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A Slice of Horatio

So when an anthology comes out from Go Deeper Press, the brainchild of Lana Fox and Jake Louder…and Oleander Plume is sharing an excerpt from her upcoming hot af first novel, featuring her sexy mutha protogonist Horatio Slice–I have to share the love! Here is a slice of Horatio, from the hot af anthology Alternative Fucks!  

Gunner snapped out of his cock-induced trance and smacked Horatio’s hand away. “I worked my ass off building a machine for the sole purpose of bringing you back to Earth, and all you want is a blow?”

Horatio glanced at the mass of wires and batteries. “You made this to bring me home?”

“Yes.” Gunner tried his best to look pissed.

“Nice work, kid.” Horatio patted Gunner’s cheek. “Thanks for bringing me back to Earth. Now how about sucking my dick?” He pushed down on Gunner’s shoulders.

Gunner sank to his knees and stared down the length of Horatio’s one-eyed beast. It looked less intimidating from that angle until the wet crown tried to separate his lips. Gunner’s brain told him he should tell Horatio to fuck off, but his tingling balls told a different story. The confusion loosened Gunner’s tongue, and he babbled without thinking.

“Maybe we should get to know each other first.” Gunner said, turning his head away from Horatio’s cock. “We could find clothes for you and then get food, or coffee, or something.”

Gunner cringed over his awkwardness.

“Food?”

“Yeah. You must be hungry, right?”

“Look, kid, I was this close to getting some action. Somebody needs to finish me off before my nads explode. Guess it’s your lucky day.” The delicious flavor of pre-come lingered on Gunner’s tongue. Although he hated to admit it, sucking off Horatio Slice sounded awesome. The man was hot. Hotter than hot. On a scale from one to ten, he was a twenty-seven. And a half. Horatio tapped his cock against Gunner’s bottom lip and said in a sing-song voice, “Come on. You know you want to.”

Once, following a heavy workout, Steven dared Gunner to sniff his jock strap. Not one to back away from a challenge, Gunner took a good whiff and almost heaved. He would remember that rank man funk for the rest of his life. But Horatio didn’t carry the odor of ball sweat and dirty underpants. He gave off the enticing aroma of clean skin, dryer sheets, and male arousal. Gunner took his first tentative lick, followed by another, and then another, quickly falling in love with the taste of Horatio’s cock.

“Damn, that’s good,” Horatio mumbled.

Spurred on by the sounds that Horatio made—moans, grunts, quick breaths—Gunner explored every crevice. He swirled his tongue around the flared edge of Horatio’s cockhead and dug the tip of his tongue into a divot he found underneath. Without thinking, Gunner wrapped his fingers around the shaft, mind-boggled over the girth. A long “Mmm,” slipped out, and he blushed.

Horatio touched Gunner’s hair and said, “Look at me for a second.” Gunner peered up, the tip of Horatio’s cock resting against his tongue, and saw Horatio shiver. “C’mere,” he said, tucking his fingers under Gunner’s chin.

“Why? What did I do?”

“Just c’mere.” Horatio nudged Gunner to his feet, surprising him with a soft kiss that tasted like peppermint and whiskey.

He was kissing Horatio Slice. With tongue, even. 

Gunner’s throat vibrated. Did he moan? Out loud? Fuck it. He didn’t care, especially when Horatio stroked the back of Gunner’s hair with one hand and brought him closer with the other, causing his hard cock to rub against Gunner’s thigh. Gunner’s own bulge bumped against some part of Horatio, and Gunner worried he’d come in his pants because he was damn close to doing just that. Horatio broke away from the kiss and smiled. “Hey cutie,” he said as he tugged open the snap on Gunner’s jeans. “Why am I the only one who’s naked?”

Want more? Look at the hot lineup on the cover, and then click to buy!!!

Guest Blogger Jade A. Waters Gives Me the Best Assignment Ever!!!

I am practically lachrymose posting this piece, because I am sooooooooo very proud of my friend Jade A. Waters! Unless you have been living under a rock, you know that her amazing first book, The Assignment in her new series has been released. To see Jade’s star shine like this makes my hear glow! She was one of the first friends I made in this community, and I love her to bits and pieces. I love having her as a guest, and to be privileged to be part of her book tour is beyond humbling.

Jade is the real deal, a writer and poet extraordinaire and, and…well here is Jade!!!

Hi everyone! I am so excited to be here today—and I’m sending a giant thank you full of juicy kisses to the generous F. Leonora for having me over! As many of you are probably aware, F. is one of the sweetest supporters of our genre—and on the entire planet—so I was tickled she invited me to stop by to talk about my new release, The Assignment. Thanks, F!

Now, our lovely host left the door open for what I should discuss today, and since the two of us often talk about poetry on the social media circuit, I thought I’d spend some time focusing on flow. I mean this in two ways. One, in a writerly sense—as in, the style we each use in choosing our words and pouring sentences on the paper in the formation of a cohesive whole. For me, the second manner sweeps fairly naturally in and out of the first, in that I have a bit of a watery world obsession that keeps sneaking its way out into my stories.

Let me back up a bit—I’m still not sure if it’s because I took too many emotional walks under a downpour of rain as a teen, or that we should blame it on a last name of Waters, but I’ve long had an obsession with watery environments. I’ve lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for almost twenty-five years, which means I’ve had my fair share of exposure to coastlines, piers, beaches, and pretty much anything to do with life this near the ocean’s edge. Having spoken before on how important building the setting of The Assignment within the Bay Area was to me, the essence of our near water life of course had to make its way into the story. How could it not? We have views of majestic bridges over churning spans of the Bay, coastlines on which one can take a contemplative walk, calming beaches so easy to get to, marina life at our many docks and ports, the perfect (and moderate) sprinkling of rain in the winter months and in general, all this water, water everywhere.

And we mustn’t forget the tides. They affect so much—flooding parts of our freeways and cities at lower elevations after all—but they are beautiful nonetheless. I guess I’ve always considered the rise and fall of tides much like love; it’s a crashing wave sweeping in and overpowering everything beneath it at times, and yet, a wondrously slow, retreating roll at others, leaving remnants and bits (good and bad) in its wake. I wanted that tidal churn to serve as a backdrop to the romance between Maya Clery, the heroine of The Assignment, and her romantic lead, Dean Sova. Sure, they live in this watery area—but as I worked, I envisioned the rise and fall of tides as a sort of quiet echo of their budding romance and D/s dynamic. In some moments, it’s heavy and intense, a dance of sexual play between them. But at others, it can just as easily be a gentle caress or sweet, soft words they share.

Pulling it back to the craft level—while the two of them are actively engaged in their play together, I, too, am playing with my words. I love stories that ebb and flow, prose that draws you in and cocoons you in details rich enough to let you feel sensations as the characters do. It can be the smell of the salty air, the sound of the waves, the view of the crests rolling up on to a sandy shore—I want it to envelope you as deeply as the swell of their romance, or the anticipation and tension in their sexual encounters. This desire might be thanks to many years of writing poetry, which started as a way to address a gush of feelings I didn’t know how to say aloud. But with rhythm and pacing so important in verse, I found that when I’d immerse myself in writing a scene between Maya and Dean, the words had to dance for me like the couple did. Each action had a purpose, each snippet of dialogue had to further the connection, and every movement needed to flow into one cohesive whole. No scene can be a mass of prose, or all dialogue, just as it can’t be a repetition of short staccato sentences or excessively long ones. They must work together, dance together, as if swirling around to create a symphony of expression.

I am continually learning and growing as I write more and more. Hell, just through the course of the entire Lessons in Control series, I’ve found myself challenging and morphing how I write, playing with patterns, words, and styles. But no matter how I change it up, I like to hold on to a lyrical feel in the moments I can. Erotica is, after all, focused on a sexy, smooth act—and I like the words to follow a similar course.

All right. That’s enough technique mumbo jumbo for one day, don’t you think? I might have gotten a little swept away. 😉 But, since I’ve mentioned all the poetry, I’d like to wrap up with “Earth,” something I’ve posted in the past on my poetry site. This particular poem was inspired when I took a jog along a coastline near my house (much like the heroine of The Assignment, Maya Clery, often does). I kept envisioning a scene near the end of the book that she shares with Dean beneath the rain and on the coastline. It’s a highly emotional scene—one of my favorites, actually—and somehow this poem popped out in their honor. If I could build a poetry-track rather than a soundtrack for The Assignment, “Earth” would definitely kick off the album:

EARTH

We lie here, together
One with this earth
Bodies writhing,
Chests pressed
Arms stretching in soil,
We seek to grab anything,
Clawing into ground.
Muddied and sore,
Our fingers lace, tight—
Mine are yours
Yours are mine
And your kisses
Take my cheeks, my lips,
Shocking like raindrops
That tumble down from
The murky sky.

As we fuck, the dirt
Spreads, surrounds,
Hugs the grind of our hips
The arch of my back,
The dig of my heels
On this sandy shore.
Ours are desperate groans
That sway and hum;
They are the sweep of waves
Filling the universe
With an infinite, noisy lust.
For this, we press on,
Our hunger that of the dirtied—
Wanting, bearing down;
Together in this soil
We are one.

There is a tremor
Earth-shattering
A cry that fills our ears,
Rattles our souls
And we shudder in this caress.
This is closeness,
Us
But our need is harder,
Heavier,
Sweaty and raw
We are lost
In this feral clutch,
Longing to be closer
To be deeper, and part
Of the very earth
On which we grind.

I hope you have enjoyed both “Earth” and my musings on flow today. You’ll find much of the watery life in The Assignment, as well as later books in the Lessons in Control series, and while that certainly isn’t the focus of the story, I do hope it’ll sweep you in and that you’ll catch yourself floating alongside their relationship as you follow their tale.

Until then, happy reading to all, and a tremendous thank you to F. Leonora for hosting me today!

XX,

Jade

Jade A. Waters is an erotica author and poetess in sunny California. A lover of candy, coffee, dancing, and endless karaoke, she is happiest when surrounded by words—be they on the page or shared in good conversation. Her short fiction and poetry is featured in over a dozen anthologies from Cleis Press and Stupid Fish Productions, and currently, Jade is hard at work on the next book in the Lessons in Control series from Carina Press. Visit her at http://jadeawaters.com, or follow her at http://twitter.com/jadeawaters.

Guest Blogger Mrs. Darling on Exhibitionism and More!!!

I met Mrs. Darling at BDSM Writers Con last year, where I was dazzled by her retro style and am BEYOND thrilled to have her as my guest today with her new book! Read on to discover how it all came together for her!

Three years ago, I awoke in the middle of the night and felt like crawling out of my skin. It was the evening after a BDSM lifestyle event, not much different than any I have attended over the years. But something I was asked that evening, was like a splinter stuck in my brain keeping me from peace. At some point during the easygoing conversations amongst friends and strangers, a question came to my Dominant and I. It was a question that kept coming up over and over again. 

People wanted to know about our transition from a vanilla egalitarian marriage, to the one we lived in at the time. We lived 24/7 TPE D/s (which means full time, all day, in and out of the bedroom, Dominance and submission). Our new marriage was so inherently different than our “old” one.

“How did it all start?” I was asked over and over again.

We gave a simple explanation as always: we were unhappy in our non-kink relationship. One of us brought the idea of BDSM up, and together we began researching  and educating ourselves, practicing power exchange in the bedroom first, etc. Every time we told the story my husband (referenced in my non-fiction writing as Mister or MR), clasped my hand tight to slow my rising pulse and comforted me in the invisible way only those closely connected can communicate. 

This story, the real and rich deep down story, circled around the worst time in my life. Every time it came up I walked down a path filled with sorrow and tears, all while smiling and speaking with a forced politeness. I looked forward to the drive home so I could sit in silence and let the tears fall, feeling alone and ashamed and afraid of anybody learning the heartbreaking path that was actually “How did it all start?”

It started as catharsis. 

So in moonlight after another evening of mournful recollection, with a silent house asleep around me, I pulled out my laptop, turned on some tunes and started writing. I wrote it out; wrote it all. The bad. The worse. His mistakes. Mine as well. I wrote of struggling to see the silver lining. I wrote out my anger in knowing for so long that I wanted BDSM and submission to be a part of my life, but feeling like I was a damaged person for wanting it. I wrote of my husband’s struggle in his path as a Dominant. I wrote about fucking, I wrote about fucking up, I wrote about fucking around. I wrote about our developing SM play. 

I wrote for a year. In the middle of the night, in the early morning over coffee with my children’s cartoons playing in the background and during their nap time. Some of my hobbies went on the shelf, to make room for writing time. It consumed me.

I wanted to cut this story out of my system. I wanted control back of our beginning. I wanted to confront my emotions head on for the first time since living the experience.

See, the truest story about “How did it all start?” for us in Dominance and submission is the basic story of the phoenix. The Mister and I, the “old us,” had crashed and burned. We were entirely broken, had died emotionally, and had no other choice but to help first ourselves and then each other rise from the ashes. It was so… incredibly… painful.

Writing it out freed me from the pain. Submission though, submission is what allowed me to fly again. When I became a submissive I began journaling my path. I wrote my private journal and shared it online, in a public forum and quickly fell in love with the kindness, support and camaraderie I received from the BDSM community. I waded through submission and there were others who had walked similar paths, and encouraged me along the way. I always have simply written from my heart. 

I almost exclusively wrote non-fiction about our experience in kink, about our 1950s household, about our bedroom affairs. I’m not one to craft a character or storyline; any attempt comes up flat. People seem drawn to my authenticity. One of my friends once wrote in comment to a very personal journal, “You’ve got this wonderful ability to suck the reader in, put them in your shoes, and then drop them on the other side feeling awed to have gotten a glimpse.” All of a sudden it clicked for me. 

I am an emotional exhibitionist. 

It manifests itself by way of creative non-fiction. 

Darling Discovered: A True Story of Submission is an encapsulation of the two. 

This book that I wrote over the course of three years gave me exactly what I needed. It is a way for me to both expose my weakness to the world, ensuring that it can never jump up on me again, but also give me power over the story told. While writing Darling Discovered, I probably shed as many tears telling the story as I did living it. I laughed, I lost sleep over it, I re-lived the tale. Creative non-fiction, which presents real, accurate information in a fictional literary style, gave me both the structure I needed to once and for all answer, “How did this all start?” and the literary freedom to expose my soul to the reader. 

The happenings happened, sure. 

But when you can accurately articulate things like self consciousness. Ecstasy. Rage. Remorse. Anticipation. And not just articulate the guess of those raw emotions but write from actually living the situation described, well, it lends the story an authenticity that I personally find hard to duplicate. In the end it leaves the reader as the voyeur in this true story of starting submission. Even for those not interested in kink or BDSM, this is a tale of self-acceptance, self-awareness and of learning to love the imperfect version of ourselves. 

I am grateful for that night years ago when I was asked, “So, how did you go from there to here?” It gave me the courage to answer it openly and honestly, once and for all.

I am finally free. 
Darling Discovered: A True Story of Submission won in the non-fiction category at 2015 BDSM Writer’s Con and was published June 2016. It is available in print and all ebook formats at major retailers. DarlingDiscovered.com for more information.

A special thank you to F. Leonora Solomon for hosting this guest post onto her lovely website, fdotleonora.com.

Mrs. Darling is the lady of a Modern Day 1950’s M/s Household. She is a regular contributor for SubmissiveGuide.com and her work can be seen elsewhere online.

Guest Blogger Lana Fox Invites Us Inside the Castle of Depravity!!!

Lana Fox is no stranger to my blog, and I am delighted to have her back to talk about her latest, Castle of Depravity! Ever the sensualist, get ready for Lana to set your senses to boiling with this one, another nod to Anaïs Nin!

On Kinking Shame – Castle of Depravity

Shame. I was raised in it, soaked in it, and I “left my body” because of it. I believed my erotic feelings, which saturated me as a teen, were the reason I’d go to Hell.

I thought the universe loathed me.

But you know what? When I found erotica, I started to say, “If I’m going to Hell, then I might as well choose it. And I might as well have fun before I burn.”

It took several years of reading erotica before I put pen to paper myself, but once I had, I began to realize that the shame I was recovering from was the same stuff I longed to kink. In fact, I was obsessed with the Baron in Anaïs Nin’s ‘The Hungarian Adventurer’ in Delta of Venus, and enjoyed The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by Anne Rice, both of which indulge in what I call “kinking shame.”

My most recent release is a 1920s series entitled Belted Venus, which honors Anaïs Nin in its title (you’ll notice it’s similar to Delta of Venus) also plays with this kink. In fact, the delectable chastity belt in Delta of Venus helped to inspire Book One, Castle of Depravity (also available at NOOK).

In Castle of Depravity, Lucerne comes of age and goes to stay with her stepbrother Simeon whom she hasn’t seen for years, even though he has forbidden her visit because of the sordid life he leads. As Lucerne soon finds out, Simeon lives in what he calls “a castle of depravity”—an old castle by the sea where rich, sexually adventurous Englishmen pour their wealth into a life of carnal pleasures. Simeon, rather like myself as a teen, has accepted that he is surely going to Hell, but when he and his sister find themselves desperately attracted to each other, he has to decide whether he can bear Lucerne going to Hell too—and all because of the power of his desires.

So strong is their attraction, in fact, that watching his sister being seduced by his friends is both torture and delectation for Simeon. After all, she is still a virgin—and one who longs to lose that “chastity.” Even so, Simeon soon finds a delicious way to kink his own shame and prevent his sister from taking all that she truly wants:

My brother slid the chastity belt up my legs, glossing my bare skin. We were in my bedroom at the time, moonlight dancing through the arched castle window, and he was crouching behind me, his hot breath falling against the small of my back. Standing next to the mirrored wardrobe, I was naked in front of him. I felt like every feather-light touch might tip me into an agony of bliss — one I desperately needed.

I was trembling and wetter than ever before.

The belt was formed of layer upon layer of gold chains that clinked and jingled against my flesh, rather like the jangling contraptions that bellydancers wore — or so I’d heard. These chains also formed a gusset at the center, which would pull between my thighs like underwear, clutching at my sex and hanging heavily on my hips, as if desperate to drag me to the ground. I whimpered with excitement. This was all too sensual, too torturing and forbidden.

He rose as he slid the belt higher and higher. At one point, he clasped my lower thigh as if he might fall if he didn’t, and the groan he released made me run my hand over my naked breasts.

I was quivering, amazed at the sensations in my body, which were pouring through me, crashing into my sex, hardening my nipples like never before. Every graze and shimmy of the metal against my skin made me gasp with pleasure, especially since I knew the perpetrator was my own stepbrother.

When he pulled the belt over my thighs, where its coldness broke my breath, I grew dizzy and had to steady myself against the wardrobe door because my brother was touching me where a brother never should! As I caught myself, he let out the deepest of moans and clutched my thigh suddenly, as if he, too, had stumbled from sheer erotic need.

The chastity belt that stimulates and also denies struck me as a wonderful BDSM punishment. If every step you take brings you both pleasure and captivity, prolonging your erotic torture and thus building your thirst, how deeply you can kink the notion of shame. You are, after all, prevented from true release, yet also erotically tortured for your “sordid” desires.

The belt also pushes me to be erotically inventive as an author. And yes, there’s tons of ridiculously kinky sex that can be had while it stays on….

What fun!

I have to say, I think the kinks in Castle of Depravity have been more erotically enticing for me to write than almost any other. That castle by the sea brings a whole host of exciting scenarios, and a reason to lavish every scene with deeply explicit material.

I hope you’ll take a look and let me know what you think, if you do….

Thank you to the lovely, talented F. Leonora for having me!


Buy Castle of Depravity at Amazon

Buy Caslte of Depravity at NOOK

Happy Mother’s Day Guest Blogger (And Sexy Mother) Kayla Lords Writes Us Kinky Love Notes!!!

So in case you did not know, I adore Kayla Lords! This is not her first rodeo as my guest blogger either, as evidenced here and here. When I heard she had a new book of poetry, I had to have her over again! And on what better day than Mother’s Day, for a sexy mother like her? Salivating for sexy verse? Read on…
XOXO to Leonora for letting me visit her sexy corner of the world today! I’m here to pimp myself, er, my new book, actually. No, it’s not a steamy story of a Dominant with brooding eyes and a submissive who melts into them (although that does sound like a good story…). Nope, this time, I did something a little different. I put together a book of erotic poetry specifically with Dominants and submissives in mind. Most of them are simple haikus which sounded like kinky love notes  (so the title Kinky Love Notes was born).
My hope has always been that my words will inspire others to their own kinky fun or turn them on so much they can’t keep their hands off of themselves. This time, I’m hoping to do it in as few words as possible while at the same time giving D/s couples a way to help express our desires and love through poetry. But ya know, if I turn you on while you’re reading, I’m gonna call that a win. Ha! I hope you check it out and enjoy!

About Kinky Love Notes

Pictures are often painted with words. Lust, love, desire, and kink are no exception. Instead of lines and lines of prose to express need and want, Kayla Lords uses simple poetry. Within these pages, you’ll find haikus, couplets, and free verse with one thing in common: notes of the sensuous pleasure, kinky fun, and power exchange found between a Dominant and a submissive.

Excerpts from Kinky Love Notes 

The Things You Do To Me

Waiting patiently
For you. Hot and wet, dripping.
Anticipating.

You make me feel things
In every nerve ending.
Don’t stop. Give me more.

You belong to me.
The taste of you imprinted
On my tongue always.

***

Please, Sir?

Collar me,
Cuff me,
Restrain me,
Blindfold me,
Want me.
Please, Sir?

Spank me,
Paddle me,
Flog me,
Bruise me,
Mark me.
Please, Sir?

Bite me,
Finger me,
Fuck me,
Take me,
Use me.
Please, Sir?

Stroke me,
Hold me,
Kiss me,
Soothe me,
Love me.
Please, Sir?

I know you want more of Kayla’s poems, here’s where you can get your copy:

Amazon: http://mybook.to/KLN

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/1qkrscT

iBooks: http://apple.co/1qLwQGN

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/1Q3LtJL

Kayla Lords Bio

Kayla-Lords-Bio-Pic-1

Kayla Lords is a kinky submissive, an erotic author, a sex blogger, and a podcaster.  She writes about BDSM and kink from a loving and realistic view. This is her first book of poetry, erotic or otherwise. She also is a regular contributor to Kinkly, Fetish.com, Fuck.com, and Submissive Guide.

Follow Kayla Lords

Website: http://kaylalords.com

Amazon: http://author.to/KaylaLords

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/KaylaLords

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KaylaLordsAuthor

Google+: http://plus.google.com/+KaylaLords

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