Tag Archives: Femme Fatale

Sneak Peek at PornoCore, Courtesy of Jacob Louder and Tamsin Flowers

20112985_sHi! It’s Sunday and, if you’re in the northeastern part of the U.S., kinda snowy and wet and dreary. So why not warm up with an excerpt from Jacob Louder’s story “Straight Shooter,” which will be live on our  website December 20 (the full version) in celebration of our first birthday and our new imprint, PornoCore? It’s running as Day 15 on Tamsin Flower’s Superotica Advent Calendar (catch Lana’s excerpt, too, while you’re at it!). As the picture implies (thanks, Tasmin!), Jake’s story is all kinds of sexy, and we do hope you enjoy it. Let us know, won’t you?

Stay snuggled.

-A.

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Free Xmas Erotica from Tamsin Flowers

From TamsinFlowers.com

From TamsinFlowers.com

Hello, folks. Lana here. I have been slow to let you know that GDP author Tamsin Flowers included an excerpt from my story in Femme Fatale yesterday, as part of her gorgeous Supererotica Advent Calendar. And today, she features an excerpt from her sexy Cherries on Top — love this one. Check it out!

Also, our own Jacob Louder’s sexy advent calendar excerpt will be up on the 15th, so you can wait for that with baited breath.

Thank you, Tamsin. You really are the sexy Santa!

Thanks for reading! Guzzle up our sexy reads at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or Go Deeper Press (for all e-readers), and we’ll love you forever. Hearts.

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Our Dark Sides and, on Halloween, Femme Fatale for Free

Download for free this Halloween!

It’s almost Halloween—the one day a year that we all get to expose our shadows and dark sides, all that stuff we hide way deep down inside. We dress as witches and serial killers and vampires. (My apologies to those preparing their angel and fairy godmother costumes.) It’s sad to think we have only one “official” day a year. Imagine the fun we’d have, the understanding and the opportunities to embrace our full elves, if there was, say, a month relegated to exposing what we hide during the other eleven.

At Go Deeper Press, I’d like to think we let the shadow in 24/7. For me, revealing our darkness is what makes erotica transformative and titillating. It’s what makes erotica fun. Actually, Go Deeper Press may be one of the few erotica houses that doesn’t have a list of “No’s” on our submissions guidelines page, such as no underage, no rape, no incest, no animals, no anything that could make someone feel uncomfortable.

We welcome and honor everyone’s views on the “taboo,” of course. There are likely myriad reasons why a reader may not want to read anything from the list above. Then again, there are just as many reasons why a reader would: to explore, to live out a fantasy safely. And who could argue that there should only be specific topics explored in erotic fiction, where fantasies are the feature?

In our short 10 months of existence, Go Deeper Press has published plenty “taboo” content. We were going to push the whole “rebel erotica” tagline, but never followed through, I guess. Oh, let’s push it again! We are rebel erotica. And it’s not like we don’t have any titles to back it up: Zöe More’s “Hunger,” Lana’s Con (Lana’s everything, actually), and plenty of the fantastic short pieces from Shameless Behavior (“Holding” by Laurel Issac comes to mind), Huddle (Theophilia St. Claire’s “Punishment”), and Dirty Little Numbers (trust me—there’s enough here).

And then there’s Femme Fatale, which is likely one of the darkest of our collections, for obvious reasons. Last time I checked, Femme Fatales don’t run around in flower print on their way to church. Femme Fatale features sexy and “shadowy” fiction at its very best, and because Halloween is the day we can let it all out, it’ll be available as a free download all day tomorrow, Thursday, October 31.

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Rape Fantasy Erotica: Right or Wrong?

Bodice-Rippers often contain rape fantasies...

Bodice-Rippers often contain rape fantasies…

Sixty-two percent of undergraduate women have had rape fantasies. At least that’s what the studies suggest. Do these women enjoy their fantasies? According to the study, yes indeed. In fact, 14% of the women who were surveyed in the above study said they had rape fantasies several times a week. Do these women want to be raped in reality? I’m going to say no, no, no. And yet the world seems determined to push the idea that rape fantasies are immoral, especially when they appear in erotica and porn.

Interestingly, studies on men of any sexual identity who have rape fantasies are hard to find. But we do know that recent studies strongly suggest that if you watch porn, you’re less likely to be sexually violent. This Scientific American article by Melinda Wenner Moyer is brilliant and explains all. There is even the suggestion that men who turn out to be sexually violent were exposed to porn at a later age than those who aren’t. Interesting, hm?

Of course, women can be rapists, too. This is often silenced or forgotten, perhaps because society’s misogyny suggests that women can’t be strong or destructive. My goodness, how hard it can be for victims who’ve been sexually attacked by women to come out about their experience in a world that so often replies, “What did you just say?”

Now, let’s get even more personal.

Back when I was young, I had a very hard first 20 years of my life. Why? I was brought up to believe that sexual pleasure was disgusting, which led me into relationships with abusive people, and…well, let’s just say the story goes on. But over a decade later, I had some very significant healing through a consensual assault fantasy. Enacting this rape fantasy with a close and trusted partner led me to fear my memories far less, and also to enter my body more fully. The enactment told me, in its own way, “This role of victim is safe to play with, which means it is safe to recall and carry.” It also said, “You can enact this kind of scene, which means you don’t have to fear your real and vivid memories any more.”

For me, rape fantasy helped me heal virtually overnight. I felt that this terrible portion of my life was done and over.*

Do I read, write and enjoy erotic stories of assault/rape fantasies? Absolutely. In fact, my recent release, Con, Vol 1: You Can Play it Safe When You’re Dead (which is currently a free e-book download) is about con artist twins who long for one another, but would never fully act on their desires — not until a mark turns on them with a gun and tells them to do what they ache to do…

In Huddle: Sex with Sporty Queers (Vol. 1, Boys Varsity), I recently enjoyed (for the umpteenth time) Theophilia St. Claire’s “Punishment.” In this story, two boys on the same team have been warring with one another, and their coach knows it isn’t healthy. But while the boys certainly seem to enjoy the sexual “punishment” he doles out, in my opinion they also seem a little afraid of their coach, and, what’s more, they never verbally give their consent. Is this story rape fantasy for you, as a reader, or not? Either way, it’s hot stuff.

In Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women, Zoe More’s “Our Courtship, Our Romance” is, in my mind, one of the most romantic rape fantasies I’ve ever encountered. In it, a woman who has been hurt by society’s cruelties, falls for a Bluebeard-like character who murders the women that fawn over him. She has rough sex with these women before her lover murders them. And yet, when I say this story is romantic, I really mean it. If you didn’t think serial killers could fall in love, think again, my friends.

I’m also a big fan of the film Secretary, plus the opening of Anne Rice’s The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty is rape fantasy to die for. Then there’s Alison Tyler’s Those Girls — a wonderfully empowering novelette that fully, and hotly, embraces the dom/sub dynamic.

Some people say that rape isn’t or shouldn’t be erotic, and yet many people who have been raped explain in studies that they felt a profound erotic response in their bodies. (In fact, in the amazing Survivor’s Guide to Sex [Cleis Press], Staci Haines explains that some of us who were assaulted/abused might not be able to orgasm afterward because we feel bad about how good our bodies felt when the abuse was underway.) The fantasy of rape can be arousing, and, of course, as you’ll read in Melinda Wenner Moyer’s article at Scientific American, for those who dream about being an attacker, such fantasy can be a powerful way of expressing the wish and thus controlling it.

Whatever your feelings about rape fantasy, I’m sure you have good reason for them. But if “rape” means sex without the full consent of one party, then perhaps Fifty Shades of Grey contains rape fantasy too, especially when Ana isn’t too sure about what she wants. And perhaps many of the bodice rippers of yore are also about assault. The cartoon villains who tie blondes to the railway tracks are surely just as “immoral,” and let’s not even start on the comedy skits of Benny Hill.

Of course, there’s evidence that those who own their fantasies are far more likely to be in control of them. A fantasy, if owned and expressed, doesn’t have to be damaging. Yet a scorching, boiling, bubbling will that is constantly blocked down will rise eventually.

I know that the person who most ruined my young life was both anti-porn/erotica and obsessed with having a “clean mind.”

And that doesn’t strike me as unusual. Not one bit.

You can buy Con: You Can Play it Safe When You’re Dead, Huddle: Sex with Sporty Queers (Vol. 1, Boys Varsity), and Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women from either the GDP website or Amazon or B&N.

*Healing from sexual trauma is different for everyone — we each need to find what is healing or painful for us, in particular, in the aftermath of trauma. I full recommend the Survivor’s Guide to Sex by Staci Haines. Also take a look at the resources at the Pandora Project. Namaste.

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Titania’s Secret: A Twisted Shakespeare Rewrite, For Your Eyes Only

By Cris.real293 (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

By Cris.real293 (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

This rewrite of the story from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which the Queen of Fairies falls for a man with a donkey’s head, contains a forbidden surprise.  The piece first appeared at the wonderful Night Train Magazine and was written by yours truly.  (Also, check out the upcoming writing course on forbidden fairy tales at Grub Street, Boston, next Saturday.)  Enjoy!

 

Titania’s Secret                                                                                                 

 Truth be told, I still yearn for the ass.

Don’t misunderstand me, I would not have been unfaithful – had I known I’d been enchanted, I’d have stopped the spell.  And yes, the Queen of Fairies shouldn’t dote on a beast, but how was I to help it, in the end?  That wiry mane, those dark, wet eyes… and though beforehand I’d have loathed his smell, at the time it was sweet as summer hay.  Even his laugh was a poem – hee-haw…hee-haw…hee-haw!  The magic had only misshapen his head, but I sensed the beast elsewhere: it heaved within his tunic, sinewy and strong, as if he could lift anything, pull anything, for days (and suffice it to say, at the risk of being unseemly, his more manly parts were also built to suit!).

Before my husband duped me, we fought on a mountain making lightning crack the air.  Our quarrels – and there’d been many – made the poor earth suffer: the rivers flooded, pears rotted on the bough, oxen died in droves.  But still we clashed about the boy and what could I do?  I’d made a fairy promise.  His mother had died in childbirth, and I, who can break moonlight from a terracotta urn, could do nothing to bring her back to life; even at her final breath, I could see us eating mangoes on a Goan beach, where I’d cupped her belly and blessed her unborn child: she was dressed in emerald silk, her laugh smelt sweet and the white sands sighed beneath our soles.

Afterwards, my fairy-charges kept the child; played lullabies on grass-pipes, crowned him in daisies, made frogs belch bubbles from the lake; and I saw him clap his hands as they kissed his dimpled cheeks.  But my Oberon thought I’d just give him the boy because he was my lord and wanted – what? – a toy?  Well, I would not let him, and so he grew cruel and I forsook his bed.

Then came the night I woke to the moon and a most becoming song.  I rose, without thinking, and followed the voice.  It was a stranger by the elder trees, his ass-ears tipped with moonshine, singing at the sky, eyes half-shut.  At once, the scent of magic filled my head, but I thought it was this demi-god that tricked my senses so.  I fell to my knees, as a queen never should, told him I loved him, begged him to be kind.  He looked at me and spoke the humblest words:  “Mistress, there’s no reason for you to fall for me, but I understand completely!  Love and reason are not friends.”  I laughed for it was true – he was wise and divine – and I led him to my bower and bade him sit.  I called upon the forest to wind about him: the thornless rose caressed him, ivy lounged against his chest.  My charges filled the air, swift on silvered wings, as I sent them to the Orient, to Egypt and Rome, and they returned with purple figs and sweet, dark berries, which I fed him from my fingers, kneeling in his lap.  Once we were alone, I raised my skirts, and we made love in idleness, his beast-scent in my head: I rose and fell, light as glass, and crushed the flowers we’d decked him with between my fists. 

He brayed.  I kissed his neck.

I forgot to ask his name.

Oberon woke me at dawn, his thumbs on my eyelids.  I roused myself and looked at him; I felt he’d taken something.  His smile was half-cocked, there was triumph on his face.  “Look, my love,” he whispered and gestured to my side.  I stared, open-mouthed, as I saw the sleeping ass, and my mind raced beyond my breaking heart: I knew I had to play the part, or Oberon would quit me (no queen can be enamoured of a beast).  I fell into my husband’s arms, as if I was afraid, and, as he held me, I looked for the boy; I’d forgotten the mite – this was my sin – and I knew he was the reason I’d been duped.  “Where…?” I began, but my husband grabbed my face. 

“Do not fret, Titania.  The child’s where he belongs.” 

I hid my soul’s earthquake behind a mask of wax, bowed and said, “Yes, my lord,” for I knew the boy was taken and could not be mine, unless I used slyness and stealth.  I glimpsed my lover, found his ass-head gone.  He was human now.  I laughed to keep from crying. 

“Just a dream,” soothed my lord, stroking my hair.

What a fool to think a dream could mean so little!

Now his followers have the child, they’ll make him hunt and skin.  I can’t abide it!  This was not his mother’s wish.  From the elder trees, I glimpse him with his toy spear, and plan to break him free.  For I swore I’d protect him and I won’t forget, and my lord’s guard is lowering – he thinks I’m no threat.  He doesn’t know he wounded me, for how can I trust him?  The man who made me fall in love, then woke me up again?  Granted, he still charms me, makes moths dance round my head, claps fireflies from the darkness and makes them spell my name – and yes, I like to lie with him, to feel his hands upon me, and make the soft rain fall with him or hear him speak of need – but at nights, while he sleeps, I turn towards the dark and ache when his snoring sounds like braying.  And often, when I wake, I find him watching and know I’ve been murmuring, dreaming of the ass, and he kisses me fiercely as if to scold us both: for though it was my lover who wore the donkey’s ears, it was my husband made a cuckold of himself.

Are you after some sizzling fairy tale action?  Why not…

Look up my Forbidden Fairy Tales Writing Course in Boston on Saturday June 29th!

Go buy Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women or Alison Tyler’s sexy Those Girls for more forbidden fiction…this time, with a much hotter core.

Go rock those hips at the Donkey Show in Boston!

Go sign up for the first ever online mermaid-themed self-love spa, and love your erotic self, romantically, sensually, emotionally, bodily!

Namaste.

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I’m an Erotic Mermaid (And I’m Not Alone)

From the amazing "Oracle of Mermaids" by Lucy Cavendish (click on image to buy)

From the amazing “Oracle of Mermaids” by Lucy Cavendish (click on image to buy)

I’m an erotic mermaid.  No, really.  You can go and check out Carolyn Turgeon’s wonderful “I am a Mermaid” blog to find out how and why.  Carolyn, who is the author of the novel Mermaid and the forthcoming The Fairest of Them All, has interviewed me about mermaids and the erotic….and of course the Mermaid Voyage.  And she’s awesome.  Go look, go look!  We’ll also be hosting an interview at the GDP blog with Carolyn soon, so keep an eye out for that, dear readers.

Now.  There is more news.  For example, the Mermaid Voyage: A Two-Week Journey of Erotic Self-Discovery is available for a special discounted rate of $30 for a two-week course. It sets sail on July 1st.  So if you feel like romancing yourself erotically, with audio visulizations and solo lovemaking galore, come join us or shoot me an email with questions.

Also, if you want to write with me, whilst guzzling chocolate and having an inspirational erotic evening, come along to my erotic writing course next week in Boston.  Go Deeper, Baby: Writing Meaningful Erotica is always a delight of an evening.  AND you get a FREE erotic e-book too.  What’s not to adore?

Did you know that you can now buy our bestselling “Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women” for just $3.99?

Thanks for supporting Go Deeper Press. If you’d like to browse our erotic, sex-positive e-books for brain and brawn, you can find our website here.

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Go Deeper Press’ Links of the Week

Boston_Skyline_at_DuskOh, what a week it’s been. Happy it’s over, on almost all fronts. This week, our list is short, since we spent a good portion of this week licking our mental and emotional wounds. But do enjoy the ones we flagged because, of course, they’re worth everyone’s time:

Colbert on Boston, nipple chafing.

Looky look! The French take no shit. ‘Open Letter To Frigide Barjot’: Gay Man Slams French Gay Marriage Opponent In Facebook Post

HERO of the week: High Schooler Protests ‘Slut-Shaming’ Abstinence Assembly Despite Alleged Threats From Her Principal

Highlight of the week: Review of Femme Fatale on A Book Hunter’s Journal.

Sisters and Slaves over at the Vagina Antics.

Photo of Boston courtesy of 2nified on Wikimedia Commons.

Thanks for supporting Go Deeper Press. If you’d like to browse our erotic, sex-positive e-books for brain and brawn, you can find our website here.

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Bring On the Sexy Heist (and Some Free Erotica)

I’ve always enjoyed a good heist.  And since I’m writing an erotic heist series right now, entitled Con, (the first in the series will be You Can Play It Safe When You’re Dead) I’m all the more keen.  So I thought I’d share a few heist/con movie moments that I find particularly erotic.  The first of these is from the remake of the Thomas Crowne Affair, directed by John McTiernan, and my god, it’s worth viewing.  Piers Brosnan and Rene Russo spark with sexy stormheat (and Rene Russo makes Elizabeth Hurley’s famous dress — yes, that dress — look positively tame.)  Enjoy!

Also, my erotic piece, Smart Folks Won’t Screw Witless Girls (from Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women) is a thief story.  If you’re interested, take a look at the opening pages:

Smart Folks Won’t Screw Witless Girls

There’s one thing you should know about me: I don’t choose my victims. I just stand at a bar and wait for the mark to come to me. He’s usually a businessman or sometimes a businesswoman, and while they try to reel me in, I let them think they’re winning. They buy me drinks, flatter and flirt, brush their hands against my thigh, tell me I look hot in black. Then they offer me a ride.

So I go home with them, have better-than-average sex (which, I might add, is due to my own efforts), then when they’re asleep, I steal their stuff. Say what you like, I’m thieving from a thief. Just because I thieve for money and they thieve for sex doesn’t mean this isn’t a damn fair game—a game I usually win.

But last night, things were different. Last night, I met Elle Clearey.

“Elle,” she said, sliding onto the stool next to mine.

“As in the letter?”

She gave me a sideways smile that crinkled her powdered face. “What do you think, Sweetheart? D’you have me down as a one-letter trick?”

I smiled. “You’re good.”

“I’m also rich and thirsty.”

“Mine’s a gin and tonic,” I said.

She ordered Tanqueray with lemon, not lime, even though I’d given no preference. When I asked why, she raised a delicate eyebrow. “If I’m going to kiss you, my dear, you might as well taste of the good stuff.”

_____

It was a strange kind of seduction—different to the others. Not least because it wasn’t clear who was seducing who. In her red silk blouse and knee-length skirt, she was classier than my usual marks and seven times as bold. Her deep red lipstick had been flawlessly fixed, and her powdered face was mask-like with perfection. She had the most adorable snub nose that gave a constant air of irony, and she wore her brown hair in a delicate chignon, which she patted softly now and then.

She was also good at avoiding questions. Twenty minutes into our conversation, I only knew a handful of facts: She worked in the art world, hated the Dido track that was playing, and her husband had run off with a so-called friend—one she bitterly referred to as “Pussy Galore.” (When I laughed at that, she glared). “He wants the house,” she said, draining her final sip of wine. “The house that we bought with my inheritance money.” She raised her left eyebrow the tiniest amount and said, “He won’t succeed.”

I admit I began to like her.

After I’d told her I had a job as a secretary in an accountancy firm—a useful lie, because who’d ask about that?—I said, “Why do you still wear your wedding ring?”

“I thought you’d like the challenge,” she purred. I laughed at her obvious smokescreen. Before I could respond, she added, “And seeing as you’re all about the personal questions, who the hell are you, and why are you here alone?”

“I’m Tiff,” I told her. “And I’m here ’cos I’m filling a void.”

“A void?” she said. “How sexual.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“But it is.”

She held my gaze unflinchingly as she rubbed her knee against mine. Through my jeans, I felt the warmth of her and the friction of her stocking against my denim-clad knee. I also noticed that, beneath the layers of blouse and bra, her nipples had grown hard. I felt my sex burning as she leaned toward me, running a fingertip down my arm before covering my hand with hers. “You might have a void,” she said, breath warm against my cheek, “but with me, it’s something quite different.”

“You’re not like the others?” I said. “Behold the cliché.”

A half-smile. “Oh, kitten,” she said, “if only you knew.”

You can read the whole story in Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women, (available for Kindle and NOOK) one of our bestselling books here at Go Deeper Press.

All right, sexy readers.  The con is on.

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Femme Fat, Femme Fatale!

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Sweet pic taken from TheFrisky.com

I recently discovered Bevin Branlandingham (aka the Queer Fat Femme) via a post she published at the Frisky, entitled, “7 Ways to Be a Good Ally to Your Fat Lover” — a wonderful read.  An excerpt:

‘I learned this body affirming practice where anytime you say something critical about a body part you immediately respond with an apology and a gratitude: “I’m sorry, tummy,  for talking shit about you. I am so grateful to you for being so soft and comfortable.” Something like that.

I was thinking that if I was having a hard time with a part of my body it would be awesome for my partner to give it some extra TLC. Kisses, sweet talk, a massage, etc…’

The rest of the post is just as empowering and loving.  I recommend you take a look.

Also!  The folks at DieForHer.com (specifically ARH) have written a wonderful review of Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women, entitled, “Femme Fatale: Bedside Reading fot the Disposable Male.”  Thank you kindly, DieForHer.  We love how the review gives some favorite quotes from the collection and also notes that Femme Fatale isn’t only for women and female-identified readers — sex-positive men can enjoy it too.  What’s more, if you’re into femme fatale fetishes, do check out the (not always NSFW) DieForHer site.

And by the way, Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women edited by me, Lana Fox, is available from Amazon or Barnes&Noble or our hot online store.

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How We Like Our Sex (Let’s Show You!)

Available now from GDP!

Available now from GDP!

We read a lot of submissions, folks.  Really.  A helluva lot.  We’re lucky, because we love reading sex scenes, and we do receive a great deal of good work.  But sometimes, we come across well-penned sex scenes that just aren’t for us.

This is a very personal thing.  It’s to do with our aesthetic, rather than a clear judgment of “good” or “bad.”  If a scene is too flowery with language, for instance, or uses words that we find distancing (like “penis” or “member” or “vagina” — words that aren’t part of our preferred aesthetic), or if the scene is slushy or romantic in a chintzy kind of way, it’s easy for us to press the “reject” button.

So what sort of sex writing do we love?

In a word, edgy.

If you’re over 18 (the rest of this post is adults only reading, folks) take a look at this excerpt from Zoe More‘s “Our Courtship, Our Romance,” in Femme Fatale (which is still our bestseller — it has a full five stars on both Amazon and B&N, which totally wows us).  I think the following lines are even more fun if I don’t give you the context…

“I love to decorate my chamber with their flesh, their sighs, their screams.  Draping one across a settee and softly pressing her breasts to mine; pounding another into the pianoforte, my thrusts fisting her spine into the stained ivory; and then the quick slap of a blushing face peeking out from behind the velvet portieres.   They are lovely, and they are mine.”  To read more, you can find Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women at our online store, or at Amazon, or at Barnes&Noble.

We also love sexual fantasy.  We know that can be just as hot as a sex scene itself.  In Alison Tyler‘s “Those Girls,” for instance, Sandy, a bisexual male dom, fantasizes about the gossip columnist, Vanessa, who he has just been being punished beneath his whip:

“I had that flash again.  Blue porcelain bowl on my black-and-white tiled floor.  Vanessa naked in only a collar licking champagne from the bowl.  I started to tell her.  I started to explain, watching her body as the climax built within her.”  You can find Those Girls at our online store, Amazon, or Barnes&Noble.

In “Compassion’s Seed,” my story from As the Bishop Said to the Actress, my bishop also fantasizes…but his fantasy takes place in a less forgiving environment. (And this is another thing we love.  Erotica that gives voice to the “taboo”):

“Lost, the bishop continued his clumsy sermon, trying not to stare at the woman in blue.  But it was no use.  As the woman took a seat in the front pew, he imagined her falling to her knees and taking his sex in her hands and mouth.  She’d suckle him hard, rubbing and licking, hands as busy as her eager lips, and when he climaxed in this vision, he felt it vividly–his hips bucking in pleasure as he came so plentifully that her mouth overflowed…”  You can find As the Bishop Said to the Actress at our online store, on Amazon, or Barnes&Noble.

Just a taster (pun intended.)  But what about you?  Do you have any quotes that show us your own erotic aesthetic, or one that you love?  We’d be pleased to read them, so feel free to comment below.  Plus, if you quote your own stories and they happen to be posted or published (bravo!), you can always leave a link, of course, so that we can visit your page.

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