Saturday, May 21, 2016

A Change of Perspective

I had stepped into someone else's life. Everything I had on was new or rented—the tuxedo, the shining black leather shoes, the binder that concealed my breasts, the cock stuffed into the front of my pants.

The woman on the other end of the leash I was holding didn't belong to me either. Kristina, my best friend, had begged me to put on this show for just one night, for just this party, and I had agreed.

I had stripped her naked, buckled her into a leather collar so thick she couldn't bend her neck, locked it with the padlock she had given me, and led her into the main party room by a leash handle that could double as a spanking implement. The temptation was to clutch it because I wasn't sure I knew what I was doing, but I forced myself to hold it loosely instead. Max, the character I was playing tonight, wasn't the type to over-grip. He was the definition of cool and smooth, because I'd made him up to be that way, and I focused on walking and moving like I'd imagined he would.

Those are the opening paragraphs of "A Change of Perspective," my new story in Silence is Golden. The more the main character focuses on walking and moving the way Max would, the more she discovers about herself—hot, feral, toppy feelings; attraction to her best friend; and the alluring sensation of embodying a a handsome, sexy, well-put-together man.

Here's a description of the anthology:

If someone is unable to speak, how do they communicate with their partner? If a sub or Dom can't hear well in crowds but loves to play at parties, what mechanisms are in place to ensure everyone stays safe?

The kink-inspired stories in Silence is Golden are sexy and bold. You'll meet strong, diverse characters across the spectrum of sexuality who revel in their desires. From silent Doms and Deaf lovers to submissives who can't be silenced and those who seek out the quiet. This sizzling collection brings together the finest erotic stories from Annabeth Leong, Dale Cameron Lowry, Sienna Saint-Cyr, Leandra Vane, Anna Sky and Janine Ashbless.

I'm really excited about my story for this, and I'm looking forward to reading the others. Also, can I fangirl for a moment about being anthology buddies with Janine Ashbless? She's one of my heroes. (Check out Named and Shamed, for example, which is one of my favorite erotic novels ever.)

I hope you'll take a look at Silence is Golden. You can find it here.

Friday, May 20, 2016

My Sexy/Scary Words In Your Ear

When Jen Blackmore asked me to write a story for her erotic horror book What Lies Beneath, I didn't know I was about to invent an evil that would compel me for years afterward. I didn't want to punish sex, but I also didn't want to blunt and tame darkness. Here's a taste of the result—a sinister dance of trades and bargains, blood and sex:

They dance for hours, until Mercy's feet bleed and her knees quiver. Still, she does not want to stop. Samuel senses her weakness, supporting her weight and drawing her closer to him.

"The night will be over soon," he whispers. Mercy shakes her head in disbelief. They dance alone. She did not notice the other creatures retreating, did not see the moon fading before the coming dawn.

"Will you keep the dress and be my bride?" His lips smile against her ear. "Or will you return the gift to me now?"

Mercy freezes in his arms. "Now?"

"Oh, yes. Something of yours must remain at my hill in exchange for what I sacrificed." He grips her hips tightly. "Let it be you. My mistress under the hill. And ask what you will." Again, that significant glance, into the distance this time. Mercy holds no doubt—he stares directly at her father.

Mercy pulls back, and is a little surprised when Samuel lets her go. SHe hesitates, lifting her fingers to the buttons of the dress but not following through.

"Look at what I did for you," he says. He loosens his own clothes. The marks of teeth purple at his throat. Angry, scabbed scratches mar the sides of his arms, his chest, and his back. The wounds seem to writhe against the canvas of his colorless skin.

"I don't understand."

He steps free of his trousers, his cock a tall, hard cylinder standing out from his body. "Take off the dress."

Mercy shivers and obeys. She peels the sweat-stained dress away from her skin, its expensive scent mingled now with the smell of her own body.

"Look at it," Samuel says.

Mercy glances down, at the wrong side of the fabric. Stains she hadn't noticed bloom across its surface, sticky and fresh. "What did—?"

"Its owner did not give it over easily."

The implications of the rusty color marring the inside of the dress sink in. Mercy screams and thrusts the garment out at arm's length, paying no mind to the chill pre-dawn air playing over her naked body.

Samuel steps closer. She recognizes the smell of his cock. The red of his eyes deepens, mirroring the stains on the dress. "I want to give you what you wish for most of all," he whispers. "Anything you asks. I want to serve you. Please. I need to."

Mercy vibrates with longing. She cannot release her grip on the beautiful dress. Neither can she step back from him.

This week, Nobilis Reed let me know that this story, "The Mistress Under the Hill," is going to be featured in the next episode of Nobilis Erotica. It'll be up tomorrow at noon. Everything Samuel says plays in my head in a certain particular tone. I can't wait to see how the voice talent reads it.

I also recorded a short piece about the inspiration behind the story—and confessed that I was sort of picturing David Bowie when I wrote Samuel.

I hope you'll check it out. Nobilis has done an incredible job every time he's featured a story of mine, and I'm really excited I get to take this trip again. And if you love this, consider supporting the podcast on Patreon. Nobilis is working hard to produce a quality product while paying good rates to writers and voice talents, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that.

Monday, May 16, 2016

New Story Coming Soon: "A Change of Perspective" in Silence is Golden

I signed a contract last week for a new queer story, "A Change of Perspective," which Sexy Little Pages will publish in their forthcoming Silence is Golden anthology.

The book will be full of kinky stories involving silence in some way. In mine, Maddie takes on the role of Max in order to take her best friend to a kinky party on a collar and lead. Though Maddie has topped before, she's never gone out publicly presenting herself as male, and she chooses to remain silent so the sound of her voice won't disrupt her sense of herself as Max. The change of perspective unleashes powerful desires—for her identity, in her kinky life, and for her best friend.

I believe Sexy Little Pages plans to release the book in the near future, so you won't have long to wait to read the story. In the meantime, though, you can check out the first story I published with them: a tattoo-themed lesbian first time story called "Scissoring," in the Inked anthology.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Guest Cover Reveal: The Tutor

I'm really interested in erotica that explores nontraditional territory, as any fans of my work will know. My book, Untouched, focuses on a character who is sexually voracious but can't stand to be touched. She starts out treating her condition as a problem, but in the end claims and embraces it, declares that she's worthy of love as she is, and does a lot of hot things on the way to that realization.

I personally am very turned on by limitations. (I mentioned this recently at a workshop I was teaching, and an astute friend and reader commented, "Says the person who wrote an entire erotic novel about someone who doesn't like to be touched." I thought it was a good point.) I often think that's what hottest isn't doing anything and everything but finding ways to accommodate desire around the needs of the individuals involved in an encounter.

That said, I was fascinated to learn about KD Grace's forthcoming novel, The Tutor, which also explores sexual situations that don't involve direct touch. The glimpses I've gotten are evocative and intriguing, and I know KD Grace to be a fabulous, creative, generous writer. Her book will be available for preorder starting August 30th, for early download from her publisher's website (Totally Bound) starting September 13th, and for general release from all over the place starting October 11th.

I'm very excited to share an early look at it. Without further ado, I'll turn this over to KD:


Sometimes It Sizzles When Things Go Pear-Shaped

by KD Grace

I've been barely able to contain myself this past two weeks, just bursting to tell you the good news, and now at last I can. Not only can I tell you that my steamy contemporary romance novel, The Tutor, has been snapped up by the Totally Entwined imprint of Totally Bound, but I can now reveal the gorgeous cover which sizzles with the creative genius of Emmy Ellis.

The Tutor has a very special place in my heart because it had its beginnings last October at Smut Manchester during Kay Jaybee's wonderfully wicked "trip to the supermarket" workshop on inspiration. We were all given an item from the supermarket shelf and told we'd been called over the loudspeaker to go to the stockroom. From that we were to write the beginnings of a story about what we'd find in the stockroom and what we'd do with our item in said stockroom. I still remember the smug little smirk on Ms. Jaybee's face when she handed me the slip of paper that read A tin of pears in heavy syrup. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that before the weekend was out, I'd have the seeds for a novel that just had to be written. In fact, it needed to be written so badly that I signed up for NaNoWriMo—National Novel Writing Month in November and wrote the whole 95K in one month! Here's just a taste of the end result. Enjoy!


Struggling writer Kelly Blake has a secret life as a sex tutor. Celebrated sculptor and recluse, Alexander ‘Lex’ Valens, can’t stand to be touched. When he seeks out Kelly’s advice incognito, the results are too hot to handle. When Kelly terminates their sessions due to what she considers her unprofessional behavior, Lex takes a huge risk, revealing his identity to her at a gala exhibition, his first ever public appearance. When Kelly helps the severely haphephobic Lex escape the grope of reporters and paparazzi, rumors fly that the two are engaged, rumors encouraged by well-meaning friends and colleagues. The press feeding frenzy forces Kelly into hiding at Lex’s mansion where he convinces her to be his private tutor just until the press loses interest, and she can go back home. They discover quickly that touch is not essential for sizzling, pulse-pounding intimacy. But intimacy must survive the secrets uncovered as their sessions become more and more personal.


“Was this your idea or Dillon’s? Kelly asked, hoping to relax him.

“It was mine, after Andy told Dillon and he told me. I thought it was something that I …” The muscles along Lex’s jaw looked as though they were made out of iron, and a fine blush crawled up his neck tinting his ears bright pink. “I’ve never touched a woman … in that way.” He forced a laugh. “Obviously. I’ve …” the blush deepened and he avoided her gaze. “I’ve put lube on some of the sculptures – you know -- down there, but I … well it isn’t the same.”

“The pears won’t be either,” she said, her heart suddenly aching at the physical isolation this man endured on a daily basis, and it wasn’t just her heart that ached, she felt his lack deep in her core. It had been easier with Andy. She had been almost flippant with him. She was sorry for that now. She spread one of the towels on the Queen Anne chair across from him and settled herself onto it so they were facing each other. “The texture will be different and with the pear there’ll be less give.” She dipped her fingers in the bowl and rubbed the heavy juice between her index finger and her thumb. “If you touch a woman, she’ll be much warmer.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “You’ll be amazed at how warm and how soft she’ll be down there when she’s ready to be touched. With Andy, this,” she nodded down to the pears, “was improvisation, this was the best I could do under the circumstances, but a woman, well a woman feels like nothing you’ve ever touched before.”

He was no longer avoiding her gaze. His eyes were locked on her, and he was struggling to keep them on her face, she knew that; she understood the urge for him to drop his eyes to the place of which she spoke, the place with which she was so intimate, the place that couldn’t help but respond to the topic, to the situation, to the strange intimacy they had shared almost since the moment they’d met. “You can look, if you want,” she opened her legs so that he could see the place in between clothed in black denim, completely disguised and yet so very obvious. “And I’ll look at you too,” she nodded down to his own jeans straining to contain him already. “It’s what men and woman are naturally inclined to do when there’s a sexual attraction.”

With her heart hammering in her throat, she took one of the pear halves into the cupped palm of her left hand, then she brought it down between her spread thighs, feeling the juice of it run over her fingers and drip onto the towel as she spread her legs a little farther and held her pam to mimic the position of her vulva. “Touch it like a woman would touch it, and you’ll always get it right.” She drug her index and middle finger up from the bottom of the pear to the center and felt her own body respond in empathy. “The pear has no folds, no secret valleys, no swollen flesh to be teased open, so you’ll have to use your imagination with that.”

Lex gave a little moan soft and deep in his chest as he shifted to make himself more comfortable. “I know the anatomy,” he said. “I’ve watched porn and I’ve studied drawings. I know how it looks like it might feel. I know the response it elicits.” His tongue flicked nervously over his upper lip. “Of course that’s just acting, isn’t it?”

“Porn is about fantasy, about voyeurism, and it doesn’t matter if it’s real if it gets you off. But when it is real,” she spread her index and middle finger up the sides of the pear’s central opening, “if you’re good, if your sensitive, you’ll feel the spasms of your lover’s orgasm, even see them if you’re using your tongue; and you can feel them gripping at your cock when your inside her. If you’re paying attention.

“The clitoris,” she laughed softly, “Well with Andy I used a Ticktack, but he’s a chemistry major. He likes charts and graphs and periodic tables. You’re an artist, you live in your imagination, so you don’t need a Ticktack. Some women like the thumb stroking and circling while the other fingers work inside. Some women like to use their fingers.” She demonstrated on the pear, and Lex groaned. “It’s always best to ask and be sure.”

“What do you like?” His words were a labored rasp against the back of his throat, and Kelly found herself stunned by the question, and way more aroused than she wanted to be. He shouldn’t have asked. She should have answered. But she did.

“I like it this way.” She shifted her hips and opened a little further so he could see her thrust and scissor, circle and probe technique, and her body responded with the tight grip and release of muscle memory.

“Jesus,” he whispered, moving forward on the sofa and leaning closer for a better look. “And when someone uses their tongue?”

She caught her breath in a giddy laugh. “Afraid I can’t tell you what I do since, sadly I’m not that flexible.”

“But you can tell me what you like.” His voice had gone rough.

“I like the flat of the tongue to part me and then probe me, circle my clit and then kiss and suck.” She closed her eyes, finding it difficult to meet his gaze when she spoke about something so intimate, so secret. Come to think of it, she’d never had a man actually ask her how she liked it. The few who had given a rat’s ass about her pleasure had been happy enough to let her order them about, but never quite got the hang of it.

It was the loud schussing sound that caused her to open her eyes. Lex had moved the coffee table out of the way paying no attention to the slosh of pear juice all over the towel V had spread. His eyes were locked on Kelly as he fished out his own pear half and fell to his knees in front of her. When she realized what the man was about to do she dropped the pear she’d been holding with a little gasp of surprise and scooted as far back in the chair as she could. He knelt low, holding the pear in the cup of his hand, as she had, placing it against the edge of the chair between her legs! She gave a little yelp and scrambled back in the chair still further, spreading her thighs over the rise of the chair arms to keep from touching him. He moved forward, the back of his hand so close to her crotch that she could feel the heat of it, and he lowered himself still further until his hair nearly brushed the insides of her thighs. Then, still looking up at her from his position on the floor, he began at the bottom of the open pear half and ran his tongue flat and undulating all the way up, flicking in just slightly in a little circle at the top end before he closed his lips around the apex and she could hear the slurp and suck of the sweet syrup.

“Oh! Lex! Ah!” And then she went non-verbal, holding her breath, tightening muscles deep inside her body, the only muscles she dared to move if she were to keep from touching him. She raised both arms and fisted her hands in a suicide grip around the back of the chair to keep from curling them in his hair. Her thighs trembled from her efforts to keep her legs on the chair arms and not throw them over his shoulders for leverage. She didn’t move. She didn’t breath as he licked and nuzzled and suckled until pear juice ran down his chin and onto his tee-shirt, until his face was damp and sticky, until his forehead was sheened with perspiration, and still he held her gaze as though they were locked together in each other’s orbit neither able to move without the other’s consent.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come.” She barely managed a warning when his own convulsion brought him dangerously near her body. He had stopped breathing, she was sure of it. She practically climbed the back of the chair to keep from touching him as he lost control. Then with a tremendous gasp of oxygen, he straightened, let the pear fall from his hand onto the aubusson carpet and looked up at her.

“I’m going to pass out.” And he did.

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall:

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really is all about sex, well, sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is. Otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

K D has erotica published with SourceBooks, Xcite Books, Harper Collins Mischief Books, Mammoth, Cleis Press, Black Lace, Sweetmeats Press and others.

K D’s critically acclaimed erotic romance novels include The Initiation of Ms Holly, Fulfilling the Contract, To Rome with Lust, and The Pet Shop. Her paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book of her Lakeland Witches trilogy, was listed as honorable mention on Violet Blue’s Top 12 Sex Books for 2011. Books two and three, Riding the Ether, and Elemental Fire, are now also available.

K D Grace also writes hot romance as Grace Marshall. An Executive Decision, Identity Crisis, The Exhibition, Interviewing Wade are all available.

Find K D Here:


Monday, May 2, 2016

Timeless Lust

Myths have always been a major source of inspiration for my work, and I'm not the only one. Now, Forbidden Fiction has put together a collection called Timeless Lust, which includes three of my stories, and eight others.

My contributions include:

Hunting Artemis

Dedicated to remain virginal for Artemis, it is not until Nikia meets the hunter Theron that she realizes what she has given up with her vows to the goddess. In the heat of her newly-discovered passion, no touch but Theron’s can remove Nikia’s lust. Nikia and Theron form an uneasy kinship, united by the cruelty of unrequited desire. Together, they will make unlikely sacrifices for Artemis, and together, they will receive an impossible reward. (M/F, F/F, M/F/F)

The Snake and The Lyre

Eurydice longs to marry Orpheus, but his self-centered love for his music blinds him to her sensuality. A cruel Naiad seduces and kills Eurydice, unleashing the full hunger of her desire. When Orpheus braves the Underworld to save his lost Eurydice, can he pull his bride away from its depraved pleasures? (F/F)

Andromache's Prize

When Briseis had belonged to noble Achilles, she had been better able to bear slavery. Now, though, the heroes had all sailed away home, leaving baser men to strip the carcass of Troy. Briseis had been given into the hands of cruel Calygdus, and nightly she suffered for his every shame and weakness. Until the night that Andromache and the women of Troy fell upon the Greek camp, slaying the men and releasing the women slaves, promising them freedom in the City of Women. Freedom, and love… (M/F, F/F)

If you can't wait to read those stories, you can pick them up (and more!) in my collection, Liquid Longing.

Of course, I'd love you for checking my book out, but I think you should check out Timeless Lust, too. Forbidden Fiction is a fearless publisher committed to publishing interesting, boundary-pushing work. Timeless Lust will give you a good sample of what kind of work you'll find in their catalogue.

Here's a description of Timeless Lust:

"There have always been lusts that transcend limits. The rush of fire in the blood, the hunger for touch, the compulsion to bury oneself in the flesh of another. Ancient storytellers enraptured audiences with tales of love and lust, of the dangerous passions of gods and heroes and monstrous creatures, pursued sometimes to destruction.

These modern interpretations of those ancient themes span histories and cultures from Greece and Rome to Egypt and the Holy Lands, stories of love and betrayal, of vengeful gods and goddesses, and pleasurable peace. There is much more to a palace eunuch than meets the eye. One man must face his greatest sins, while another battles to save his lover’s life. A woman must balance appeasing her ethereal deity and her earthly desires, and another is imprisoned behind the bars of a gilded cage.

Eleven tales of intense lust in the ancient world crafted by ForbiddenFiction’s best authors, ready for you to peel back the cover and indulge your carnal appetites."


Timeless Lust will be released on May 24th, and there are a lot of cool events and posts planned. I'll be participating in the release party online on May 26th, and the other authors and I have been writing a lot of behind-the-scenes info.

Watch this space for more information—I'll be hosting a guest from among my colleagues, and I'll share pointers to the posts Forbidden Fiction is putting together about the historical settings of the stories in the book. Of course, I'll also tell you how you can find us on the 26th—it's a great chance to chat with authors, read hot excerpts, and win prizes.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Guest Post: Not for the Faint of Heart

My friend Lisabet Sarai has released a new, expanded edition of her book, Incognito. I am so here for books that don't portray love and lust as opposites, and I am so here for Lisabet's uninhibited, sensual writing style. Check out what she has to say (there's an excerpt, too)! Lisabet is one of the writers who inspired me when I was starting out, and she continues to inspire me. I'm really excited to see this latest release. Without further ado, here's Lisabet:

My publisher has slapped a paragraph-long reader’s advisory on my new release, Incognito. Personally, I don’t like the prissy tone of their notice. On the other hand, I don’t want to offend any readers who pick up the book without a clear understanding that it contains taboo content.

And I’m willing to admit, some people might be shocked. The book is not for the faint of heart. Both Miranda and Mark are polymorphously perverse characters, attracted to both their own and the opposite sex. They’re natural switches, drawn to roles on both sides of the BDSM power equation. The book includes pretty much every variety of sexual encounter, from age play to cross-dressing. I’m sure that some readers would dismiss the book as nothing but gratuitous sex.

That’s not how I see it, though. Incognito is, first and foremost, the story of one woman’s journey to realize and express her sexuality. Miranda’s heart-crushing initiation into sex leaves her emotionally scarred, unable to reconcile the experiences of love and lust. She’s ultimately healed by her relationship with Mark, a man who’s open and accepting of all her desires.


Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.

During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.

Reader Advisory: This book contains mention of incest involving an aunt and nephew and also scenes of incest involving a pair of M/F cousins. There is both M/M and F/F content within this book, as well as public sex, ménage et trois, swapping of partners, use of foreign objects during sex, anal sex and a scene of dubious consent.


She rose, circled the table, and sat down beside him, taking his hand. “I’m more than ready,” she told him. “But since we are playing Truth or Dare here, I have to be honest about what I have been doing the past few weeks.”

Putting aside her embarrassment, she recounted her amorous adventures since their meeting. He knew, of course, of the ménage à trois, and tonight’s kinks. She told him about coupling in the alley with the Japanese businessman from the subway. She described her experiences with Big Daddy’s discipline, her frightening delight at being spanked and sodomized. Wincing internally, watching his reaction, she confessed her risky debauchery on the billiard table. Mark’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

“Finally,” said Miranda, “this sexual frenzy is intruding into my work life. You remember that day you found me in the library? If you had arrived only a few moments sooner, you would have found me with my fingers in my pussy, grinding away in orgasm.”

“Yes,” said Mark, amusement in his voice. “I knew about that. But these other tales—Miranda, you amaze me!”

“You’re not angry? Or shocked?”

“Of course not.” He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. “I’m delighted that I’ve finally found a partner as adventurous and horny as I am.” He nipped at her earlobe. Sparks leapt up between her legs. Miranda’s whole body sprang to attention, nipples alert, straining to be touched, clitoris equally insistent. His mouth captured hers in one of his fierce, all-consuming kisses, while his hands wandered over her silk-clad torso.

“Let’s go into the bedroom,” gasped Miranda, when she could breathe again. She ached to lay down with this man, to open herself to him.

“I have a better idea,” said Mark. He stood and stripped off his shorts. His erection stood proudly, bobbing in the candlelight. Miranda pulled her dress over her head and tossed it in a corner. The remains of her hairdo disintegrated, ebony locks tumbling over her shoulders.

Moving to one of the windows, he threw it open. Before Miranda grasped what was happening, he stepped through, and held out his hand to her. “Fire escape,” he said with a hint of his usual grin. A thrill passed through her as she understood what he had in mind.

She followed him through the window. A cool breeze off the harbor caressed her bare skin. The wrought iron platform was rough under her feet. She smelled fried batter, rotting fish, incense, anise. A neon sign on a neighboring roof painted her body in lurid reds and greens.

The apartment looked out on an alley. It was nearly three in the morning. Still, if anyone were to pass by, she and Mark would be completely exposed.

She loved that thought.

Mark positioned her with her back to the iron railing. “Spread your legs, and hold on.” He crouched before her, gazing at her moist folds arrayed before him. He blew lightly on the delicate flesh. She twitched and trembled in response. “Oh, Miranda,” he sighed, and buried his hungry mouth between her thighs.

There was no tentativeness here, no teasing touches designed to arouse her. In one swift movement he sucked her throbbing clitoris into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Miranda’s knees buckled. She forced a fist into her mouth to stifle her moans. Mark ate her pussy the same way that he kissed, forcefully, ferociously, with a single-minded intensity that left her dizzy and weak.

Now he used his hands to open her labia wide. He fastened his mouth on her inner lips, applying a delicious suction as if he were devouring the sweet pulp of some juicy fruit. Meanwhile, his tongue probed her deeply, setting up echoes of his studded cock earlier in the evening. Mark’s saliva felt scalding hot on her sensitized tissues, still inflamed from their earlier battering.

The memory of his leather-clad erection superimposed itself upon the current scene. She felt his tongue grow longer and thicker, until it seemed to fill her completely. She pushed her sex at his mouth, her hips tensing as she tried to drive him deeper. She smelled his sweat, and hers. Faintly, as if in the distance, she heard again the snap of the lash and the ribald encouragement of the audience.

The iron railing bit into her back, awakening the sting of her welts, but Miranda hardly noticed. All thought, all attention, was focused on the glorious play of sensations between her legs. She sank her fingers into her partner’s hair and pulled his face into her crotch. He changed his technique in response, sweeping his tongue along the length of her crevice, from her clit to the tender edge of her rear hole and back. Faster and faster he stroked, while Miranda felt orgasm coiling within her, wound tight, waiting.

The aching need suffused her flesh. Her body was strung like a harp, every nerve stretched toward elusive release. She was so close. It seemed that the merest touch would topple her over the edge, and yet she hovered there, seemingly forever, while Mark plied her sex with fingers, lips, tongue and teeth. Her pleasure was tinged, however slightly, with frustration.

Suddenly, Mark rose from his haunches and stood before her. He brushed her lips with his. Miranda felt stickiness, knew the salty seaweed taste of her own arousal. “Relax,” Mark murmured, cupping a breast while he nuzzled just above her collarbone. “Just relax, and trust me.” Miranda felt something shift at the warm sound of his voice. A clenching in her chest, of which she had not been consciously aware, loosened and seemed to evaporate. “Give yourself to me, Miranda, all of yourself. Don’t hold back.”

As he uttered these words, he reached down and thrust four fingers into Miranda’s cunt. She convulsed around him, finally released. The orgasm went on and on, waves of delight radiating from her center. Fingertips, toes, earlobes, nipples, tingled and sparked as electric pleasure surged through her. Dimly, she heard herself scream, harsh and shrill as some exotic bird in the night. She would have fallen to her knees on the wrought-iron platform, if Mark had not caught and held her.

Where to Find Out More:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

Totally Bound

All Romance
An All Romance Best Seller!


About Lisabet:

LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads and finally, on Twitter.

Also, Lisabet and I blog together at Oh Get a Grip! The writers there explore a new topic every two weeks, from many different angles. I'm super proud of the writing I do there, and Lisabet is our fearless leader. :)

Sunday, April 17, 2016

One Time at Porn Camp...

I spent last weekend at the Circlet Press Editorial Retreat, also known as #porncamp. I like the name because it embraces the sexuality we're trying to celebrate. At the same time, I don't think it accurately represents how deep things get there. I have a master's degree in writing, and I've been to all sorts of conferences and classes, and I've never been to any event or class with as high a degree of really useful information and activities as #porncamp. Here are some impressions of the whirlwind:


I got to see a proof of the print edition of my anthology MakerSex: Erotic Stories of Geeks, Hackers, and DIY Projects. (Ebook edition is available now, and the print edition is on its way!)


We recorded a podcast of a live reading with Nobilis Erotica (you can hear me last, reading from my genderqueer science fiction story "Always the Same, Always Changed", which you can hear in full in The Sexy Librarian's Dirty 30).


Laura Antoniou, writer of the Marketplace series clued us in on tips for writing and sustaining a series. I've always wanted to try writing one, so I was glad to learn from a master. Cecilia Tan also shared insights about serials, which is another form I've been curious about, and that wasn't covered in my formal writing education.


Social media is hard for me. I genuinely like talking to people, but maintaining that day after day online takes a sort of energy and attention that I often feel I can't afford—too often, it seems it would come at the expense of my writing or my significant personal relationships. So much talking about social media in writerly contexts is about shame and endless to-do lists. I really appreciate that at the Circlet Retreats we've talked about it with more attention to pragmatism, personality, authenticity, and emotional needs. Last year, we talked a lot about depression and social media. This year, Avery Vanderlyle came up with some great ideas for how writers can support each other while being social. I'm really looking forward to working with her and Artemis Savory on allowing a bit more of myself to live online. Also, Artemis and Avery are wonderful. This post wouldn't exist without them, so it's already working!


I moderated a panel on safer sex in speculative fiction worlds. I've said for a while that I prefer contemporary erotica stories to include safer sex because there's a lot of characterization that one sees in how those discussions, negotiations, and practices are handled. There is an ease to handwaving those issues away in speculative fiction, but I think that leaves a fair bit of world-building on the table, and denies a chance to get to know more about who's in the story. This could be a giant post in its own right, but I framed some categories for us to talk about, and then enjoyed what Circlet authors and editors had to say about them.

In no particular order, I think consider safer sex in specfic could produce really interesting details about barrier types (psychic as well as physical? something else?), negotiation techniques (verbal/nonverbal? ritual? etc), cultural beliefs (matching science or not? consistent across cultures?), consequences (complex, definitely), and opportunities for display of trust and intimacy. These are all really cool things to think about when designing other worlds. I want to spend more time sinking into these ideas, either in story or post form.

(I'm thinking a lot about safer sex lately—don't forget that I'm currently looking for submissions for Positively Sexy, which will feature erotic stories about characters who have STIs.)


I finally, finally got to play Slash: The Game, which I've heard about every year at #porncamp. I'm still thinking about Barbarella paired with Morticia Addams, and Mr. Spock finding love with Castiel.


And last but not least, Circlet's publisher Cecilia Tan never lets us get away without writing something new, so I have the beginnings of a lesbian robot story that I'm going to be finishing up in the next few days. Here's a taste:

"Fuck them," I said, as I began to fuck her. "It's not our fault they fucked up the programming. I don't give a fuck if they die because we're off mission."

If they'd wanted us to act rationally, they shouldn't have made us so human. They shouldn't have given her the capacity to get so gloriously wet, to squeeze my finger with such taut muscularity. They shouldn't have connected my here endings with such complexity, shouldn't have let my body sympathize with hers so well, shouldn't have made me so I shivered at the base of my spine at the effort of working my fingers deeper into her tightening cunt.

So that starts my afternoon off right. Having participated in the group activities, it's just about time for me to head back to my bunk ;)