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Saturday, 29 December 2012

Sugar Lumps

photo by kind permission RestrainedElegance.com
I can’t be sure but it looks a little like a bridle. One made to fit a person. Not knowing what to say or how to respond for fear of being wrong or making a fool of myself, I simply stare at the device in silence. Seconds pass with painful awkwardness while I try to think of something to say. Anything. John eventually takes my silence for consent and moves to put it on me.
       Instinctively I flinch away but he grips he firmly by the arm and eases the bridle against my face. To my surprise, I don’t cry out or even speak; I simply acquiesce, trusting him completely. My surrender floods me with hot desire again and I find myself vibrating with excitement. I want to play. I want to resist and be taken. I want to be enslaved; I want to be free.
       I shake my head a little, offering a token show of resistance which he easily overcomes. The leather straps are cool against my cheeks and I feel a powerful throb of heat between my legs as he fastens the buckle behind my head. I tremble.
       ‘There’s a good girl,’ he says soothingly, stroking my cheek as he would a horse’s.
       His tone calms me at once and I am immediately reassured. A little voice at the back of my mind tells me I am completely safe, that it’s OK to let go, that there’s nothing to feel self-conscious about.
       You’re standing at the door to a fantasy, I tell myself. All you have to do is walk through it.
       I do.


from "Sugar Lumps" by Rose de Fer

Available in Come Play With Me

Published by Mischief Books

Monday, 3 December 2012

What I learned from erotica

It's Naughty Question Time again! Today Mischief wants to know:

photo by kind permission RestrainedElegance.com
"What have you learned about yourself or the world around you from writing erotica?"

I suppose writing down your fantasies for others to read inevitably helps you zero in on just what turns you on. I find myself returning to certain scenarios and writing variations on favourite themes. For instance, petplay is very erotic for me but I'd never read any petplay stories before I began writing my own. My first was "Best in Show" from the Submission anthology. The next was "Sugar Lumps" from the forthcoming Come Play With Me anthology. I know there are whole pet and ponyplay societies out there but for me the fantasy is very personal and private. It involves complete trust and casting off of inhibitions and yet it has such a playful element to it. Once I started really exploring aspects of it in writing I saw what a perfect venue it is for really deep submission.

Another peculiar fascination of mine is koonago ("tiny woman"). I suspect this one buried itself in my sexual subconscious at a very early age but it wasn't until I wrote a few of my fantasies down that I realised just how deeply ingrained it was. I kinked up the homunculus scene from Bride of Frankenstein and turned the tiny ballerina in a jar into a tiny nymphomaniac in my petite novel Lust Ever After. It's another heady fantasy for me of ultimate vulnerability and one I wasn't really in touch with until I started writing about it. Now I can't help wondering what other fantasies are lurking beneath the surface, just waiting to be unleashed when I write about them!

Thursday, 29 November 2012

Lust from the Mummy's Tomb

Photo by kind permission of RestrainedElegance.com
Val sighed at the sensual pleasure as the gauze swallowed her inch by inch. It was soft as silk against her bare skin. There was something strangely soothing in the constriction of the material tightly wound against her skin, both minimising and intensifying her sense of touch.
When Peter reached the delta of her sex again she moved her hips in a sinuous figure eight, gyrating like a belly dancer. He grinned and kissed the shaved mound of her sex, teasing her for a moment with his tongue before returning to the first aid kit for another roll of bandages. 
‘Not yet, my sweet,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘Your arm, please.’
Val gave a little moan of desire and frustration before doing as she was instructed.
        When Peter finished wrapping both arms, he fed the bandages around her chest. When he pressed the gauze against her breasts Val gasped and writhed a little at the teasing contact. She felt her nipples tighten and she whimpered, widening her eyes pleadingly at Peter, urging him to touch her. But he remained focused and carried on with his work, manfully ignoring her entreaty as he encased her torso in bandages.
        She gave a little cry as Peter pulled the bandages tight up against her sex and tucked them into a strip he’d looped around her waist. He made several passes, winding the gauze tighter and tighter before tying off the end. The slightest movement was almost unbearably stimulating. She pressed her thighs together, flushed with heat.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her deeply before starting again at her neck and working upwards. He wound the bandage around her mouth, her upper lip, her nose. Val tried to slow her breathing and calm herself as she felt herself disappearing bit by bit.
‘I love you,’ he whispered. Then he drew the last strip across her eyes, blindfolding her.

from "Lust from the Mummy's Tomb" by Rose de Fer

Available in Holiday Affairs

Published by Mischief Books


Monday, 26 November 2012

Lust has a new look!

Same kinky story, sexy new cover! Lust Ever After has a new, more Bride-like cover.

Available from Amazon.co.uk

Many of the Mischief titles have got a makeover, so go take a look...

Mischief: Erotica and Erotic Romance eBooks









Thursday, 25 October 2012

Holding Still

Photo © RestrainedElegance.com
And then I feel the steady gaze of someone’s eyes on me.
  The spicy aroma of a man’s cologne teases my nose as he circles me, quietly studying me. Voices waft across the room like currents of air but my observer is alone. Intrigued by what he sees, he reaches out a hand to caress my hip, my thigh. I remain perfectly still as I have been taught, willing away the gooseflesh that threatens to mar my smooth skin and spoil the illusion.
‘Alina,’ he says, reading my name off the little bronze plaque beneath me.
Seeing the man’s interest in me, the curator approaches. He introduces himself and explains that I am new, that this is only my first exhibition, but that I have shown immense promise and he is sure I would be a worthy addition to any collector’s home.
The man nods and reaches up to stroke my cheek. He traces a finger down my throat and along the curve of one bare breast. He cups me gently and I feel my nipple stiffen in response to his touch. It’s exactly the kind of reaction collectors want, the kind that surprises one into remembering that we are human after all. He laughs softly.
‘She’s very responsive.’ He slides his thumb over the hard little bud, sending a jolt of pleasure through my body. I focus all my concentration on maintaining my position. I must not sigh or gasp or moan. I mustn’t close my eyes or even flutter an eyelash. I am a statue. One of warm flesh and blood rather than alabaster but a statue nonetheless.
The man draws his hand down along my pale arm to my wrist. Then he presses against the delicate skin to feel my pulse. Doubtless my heart is beating faster now than when he first approached me and his touch makes it beat even faster. He gives another appreciative laugh.
‘Yes, very responsive.’
He has a nice voice, cultured and kind. I like the warmth in his touch, the amusement in his tone as he examines the rest of me, stroking the soles of my upturned feet and running a finger down the line of my spine. My legs are closed but he comments favourably on my smoothly shaved mound. I fight the blush that threatens to stain my cheeks as he asks whether he might part my thighs to see the rest.

from "Holding Still" by Rose de Fer

Available in Instructed to Play

from Mischief Books

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

My favourite erotic films

Naughty question time! This time the Mischief blog wants to know our favourite erotic films (or scenes).

I said:

Oh, it's very difficult to choose just one favourite! But there's a scene in Waxwork (a not-terribly-good horror film) where a girl gets sucked into the Marquis de Sade exhibit in the evil wax museum. She finds herself a victim of the real Marquis. Two pretty maidens string her up between a pair of columns and unfasten the back of her dress. Then de Sade whips her as entertainment for a visiting English prince. When her dorky boyfriend arrives to rescue her, she throws herself at de Sade's feet and begs him not to let her boyfriend take her away.

Another of my favourites is from David Cronenberg's Dead Ringers, where Genevieve Bujold's character is tied to the end of her gynaecologist's bed with rubber tubes and clamps. It's a short but potent visual image, and one of the most erotic I've ever seen. I saw it at a very impressionable age and it featured in all my fantasies for years afterwards.
I have to say I do still fantasise about those rubber tubes...

Thursday, 27 September 2012

Journey's End

photo by kind permission RestrainedElegance.com
Swallowing her fear, Alice peeled off her holdups before she had to be told. Her legs tingled as they were released from the constricting nylon and she curled her toes into the soft pile of the carpet. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror, standing naked before this stranger. It was all she could do to resist the urge to cover herself but she was too frightened of his disapproval. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. They hung by her sides, her fingers plucking nervously at the gooseflesh on her thighs. 
       ‘Are you cold?’
       She shook her head. Just nervous, she thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t necessary; he could see she was terrified. He also seemed to be relishing her fear.
       ‘Hold out your hands,’ he said.
       She obeyed at once, both the command and her instant compliance sending hot little pulses through her body. When she saw the ropes she gasped and took one hesitant step back, but she didn’t lower her hands. She saw his eyes register her moment of fright and then his lips curled in a smile that was both sexy and sinister.
       ‘I asked you if you were a good girl, Alice, and you told me you were.’
       Her face burned at the gentle chastisement. She swallowed audibly. ‘I am,’ she said in a voice that was barely a whisper. ‘I’m sorry.’
       ‘I’m sorry what?’
       Blood rushed so violently to her head that for a moment she thought she might faint. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
       ‘That’s better.’
       He pushed her wrists together and then wrapped the coil of rope around them. Tight enough to hold without being painful. He knotted the rope and then wound the free ends up between her wrists, tying them off to create a pair of coiled manacles.
       Alice didn’t need to test whether they would hold her. She wouldn’t have tried to escape for anything.


from "Journey's End" by Rose de Fer

Available in Take Me: a Collection of Submissive Adventures

Published by Mischief Books

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

So what's your favourite?

"What inspired your favorite story you've written for Mischief and why is it your favorite?" -- asks the Mischief blog. I talked about Lust Ever After, my naughty Bride of Frankenstein petite novel.

But you can't really compare short stories and longer works. Forced to choose a favourite story, I'd have to say "Best in Show" from Submission. It was the first proper petplay story I ever wrote. I'd never read any before and I'd only explored writing aspects of it in other stories. So I dived right in and wrote the fantasy that had been kicking around in my head for a while.

photo by kind permission RestrainedElegance.com

Phoebe bounds over to her master and adopts a puppy play-bow, arms flat on the ground, back arched, bottom high in the air. Then she barks and leaps up, playfully grabbing the lead in her teeth and scampering back to the fireplace with it. There isn’t a trace of self-consciousness in her. She fully inhabits her role with gleeful abandon.
       The watchers seemed charmed by her antics, chuckling good-naturedly as her master feigns exasperation and goes to fetch her. She drops the lead when he tells her to and blinks up at him, wide-eyed and adoring, as he fastens it to her collar and walks her over to the handler and passes him the lead.
       “She’s all yours, Mr Veith.”
       The handler gives Phoebe an affectionate pat on the head and the show begins. He takes her through a series of basic obedience commands – sit, stay, fetch – and then leads her around the ring. She is very nimble on all fours, much more so than I am, and she tosses her head as she prances past the men I take to be the judges. Her enthusiasm is infectious and I find myself looking forward to my turn in the ring, my turn to show how good I can be, how obedient and responsive.

from "Best in Show" by Rose de Fer

I loved the idea of being put through the routines and rigours of a traditional obedience trial, along with the intimate physical inspection of a conformation show. I'd seen dog shows before and, because I have an irrepressibly kinky, subby mind, I couldn't help wondering how it would feel to be displayed like that, made to perform in a ring and be exhibited before a group of discerning judges. It's such a hot fantasy for me and I'll definitely be writing more!

Friday, 31 August 2012

The Hunt

Her long limbs and body had been painted a warm tawny brown that emphasised her lean, athletic physique. Her hands and feet were painted black to resemble delicate hooves and when she turned away to glance behind her Niall saw the flick of a little white tail above her heart-shaped bottom.
       She picked her way towards the table with all the grace of the creature she was emulating, her deep black eyes scanning the glade for any sign of threat, her costume ears pricked as though she might actually be listening with them. Her body seemed to be vibrating with energy, with a wary anticipation that she might be caught at any moment. Niall remembered what his friends had said the night before about how the fear was so exhilarating. 
       He slowly raised his gun, determined not to let this one get away. But even as he fired, she triggered the wire beneath the table and a net sprang up from behind her. It closed over her like a mouth and she gave a little cry as she found herself caught. She flailed helplessly with her arms and legs but she only succeeded in tangling herself further in the knotted mesh.
       Her left hip and side were coated with bright blue paint and Niall grew even more excited at the thought that she was now marked as his. He approached her with the same caution he would have used with a real animal he’d just captured. He held out his hands in a calming gesture and her eyes went wide as she saw him. A moment later her surprise dissolved into a shy smile and she lowered her head. She ceased her struggles and sank to her knees as he drew near.
       A wave of arousal swept over him at this gesture of submission. He stood over her and began working to free her from the net. She held out each limb obediently so he could untangle it from the mesh and she made no move to escape once he had done so. Instead, she stayed on her knees and merely watched him, a shy smile dancing in her liquid brown eyes.
       ‘Well, my little doe,’ Niall said at last, ‘what am I to do with you?’

from "The Hunt" by Penelope Hildern


Published by Mischief Books

Thursday, 23 August 2012

The Game's Afoot

Photo © RestrainedElegance.com

‘I hope your husband appreciates such lovely feet,' Kumiko said slyly.
       Lauren blushed, uncertain how to respond to the strange compliment. She’d never thought of any feet – especially her own – as lovely. You either pampered them to make them less ugly or you hid them with killer shoes.
       ‘I’m afraid he’s more interested in football than feet.’
       ‘That’s a shame,’ Kumiko continued. She lifted Lauren’s right foot and held it with all the care of a museum curator handling a priceless artefact. ‘Look how high the arch is, how delicately formed the toes are. And this ––’ Kumiko wiggled the longer second toe ‘–– is so refined. It’s what they call the Greek foot. Statues of Aphrodite have toes like yours.’
       Kumiko’s fingers painted oil across the top of Lauren’s instep and down the length of each toe before sliding her thumbs underneath to press the sensitive arch beneath. The feeling was exquisitely sensual and Lauren couldn’t restrain a little moan as Kumiko’s thumbs skillfully erased every bit of tension.
       When Kumiko turned her attentions to the other foot Lauren felt her legs begin to tingle like the aftershock of an orgasm. The pleasure spread along her nerve endings and she gasped as her sex began to pulse in response. It was intoxicating. Every bit of it.
       Seeing the effect her ministrations were having, Kumiko looked up at Lauren with an impish little smile. 
       ‘Wanna play?’

from "The Game's Afoot" by Rose de Fer

Available in Too Fast for Love: Opportunistic Encounters

Published by Mischief Books


Monday, 20 August 2012

A "lovely little smutty gem"

That's how erotica writer Kyoko Church described Lust Ever After in her enthusiastic review

If you're like us and you enjoy a bit of kinky Victoriana with wicked doctors and lustful but submissive maids, look no further. It's a paranormal romance of a different kind, a loving tribute to one of my favourite films and a modern take on a beloved classic. I've always thought the premise was excruciatingly sexy. A man who is both master and creator, lover and exploiter... It's my ultimate fantasy.

You can get a taste of that little smutty gem yourself from Amazon.co.uk..

     ‘She has no memory of who she was,’ said Pretorius, ‘but she seems eager enough to learn the pleasures of the flesh. You must teach her.’ He took Justine’s hand and presented it to Frankenstein as though joining them in marriage. ‘Your master,’ he said.
     She looked from one man to the other, her mouth twitching in a strange half-smile. There was a touch of madness in it that Frankenstein found disquieting, but he couldn’t deny the way his own body was responding to the sight of hers.
     ‘Master,’ she said. She slipped her hand free of his and pressed her cool palm against the bulge in his trousers.

from Lust Ever After by Rose de Fer

Saturday, 18 August 2012

Naughty advice from Mischief authors


Today we're up to no good with some advice on writing erotica

Janine Ashbless says it best:

"Fifty Shades of Grey is a fluke, driven by media hype. You are not going to make a zillion dollars. Do this because this is what you want to write, and for no other reason."

Come by and see what the rest of us had to say!

Sunday, 12 August 2012

Review: Nymphomania by Kyoko Church

Wealthy businessman and owner of Draper Estates, Ewan Draper needs a wife to give him the respectability demanded by polite Boston society. He’s drawn to the newest of his mill girls, the wild and passionate Lilliane, and arranges a hasty marriage. But when Lilly’s enjoyment of sex is diagnosed as nymphomania, an affliction that, it is claimed, will send her mad if left untreated, Ewan’s good friend, Dr Phillip Samms, devises a radical cure. A cure that only leaves Lilly wanting more …

Kyoko Church has been writing erotica for quite a while and I've enjoyed the stories of hers I've read in various Mischief anthologies. So I was delighted to see she'd published her first book, the first in a trilogy. We both share a fascination with Victorian misconceptions of female sexuality and the archaic 'cures' devised by medical men of the period. A little time spent reading the clinical descriptions of sex on Wikipedia, particularly the article on female hysteria, inspired Ms Church to write it all into a story and this trilogy is the result.

There's something extra kinky about a purely clinical approach to erotic situations - or at least the appearance of a purely clinical approach. The poor 'afflicted' Lilly is at the mercy of Dr Samms, whose offer to treat her nymphomania may not be as selfless as it seems. Her husband Ewan insists on participating, both because he finds it unseemly that any wife of his should misuse her sewing machine in such a scandalous fashion (more delicious historical authenticity!) and because he finds her treatments rather arousing himself.

I really enjoyed the way Lilly's 'treatment sessions' are described. Dr Samms uses the same dispassionate language any nineteenth century doctor would as he coolly discusses how "normal women do not desire or even need physical gratification the way a man does", all the while stroking her to show how 'unnatural' her responses are to such stimulation. Oh, did I mention that her husband is holding her wrists above her head whilst this is going on? Dr Samms goes on to explain that 'hysterical paroxysm' (ie, orgasm) is only a temporary cure and that the lady patient needs frequent - er, applications to keep the nymphomania under control. "Paroxysm," he says, "must be reached only by medical massage. And it is to be brought about slowly, extremely slowly, so as not to excessively excite the patient."

That Ms Church chooses to show much of the action from a point of view other than Lilly's is in keeping with the tone of Victorian detachment. The clinical descriptions of extremely arousing activity take on an added dimension of kinky appeal when seen through so dispassionate a lens. I'd like to have seen more passages from Lilly's perspective, to get inside her head more as all these things were done to her body 'for her own good'.

On the geeky tech side, can I also say what a pleasure it is to read a book that's clearly been proofread? I'm a voracious reader (of more than erotica) and it frankly shocks and dismays me at the number of typos one finds in mainstream fiction - in books that clearly have larger production teams than this? So full marks to Church for both her meticulous historical research and for the obvious care she took with this book. Here's to the rest of the trilogy!

Nymphomania is published by Xcite Books and is available from Amazon.

More information on Kyoko Church and her writing can be found on her website.

Friday, 10 August 2012

The sexiest cities

 On the Mischief blog we were asked for our sexiest cities and whether we'd set any erotica there. I don't know why I failed to answer this one. I guess I just wasn't paying attention in class that day...

I couldn't choose just one. There are too many sexy, exciting places out there and too many ways to have fun in different locations. But so much of Old Europe pushes my buttons. It's dark, gothic and mysterious, full of little winding cobbled roads that lead you deep into even stranger places. There are so many erotic associations with the past.

Angela Caperton mentions some specific time periods - 1920s Paris and 1930s Berlin, both of which are gloriously decadent and evocative. Several writers mentioned London and I'll go along with that, but only in Victoria's day. (OK, maybe Edward's too.) Crumbling ruins, castles, standing stones and abbeys are more to my taste when it comes to Britain-based erotica.

At the time we were asked I also hadn't really written any city-specific erotica. But I did recently set one in Paris and it was fun weaving the city into the narrative. I'll definitely have to do more of that. And that means field research - the very best kind! I'd love to see Budapest, Vienna, Florence, Moscow, Tokyo, Rio... So much romance, so much sex, so much potential. Watch this space!

Friday, 3 August 2012

Why I love writing about BDSM

Naughty question time!
"What is your favourite aspect of BDSM to write about and why?"

Oh, where do I start? I could have written a book in response to this one but here's what I said:

photo by kind permission RestrainedElegance.com
Bondage and general dominance/submission dynamics. I love to describe the heady and secure feeling of surrender. I'm not really into pain. For me it's more about the psychological angle. I love the theatre of BDSM and roleplay. Petplay is a favourite. The idea of trusting someone enough to be that open and vulnerable is just irresistible.

I'll go a step further and add that it's also the thrill of danger that isn't really danger. It's the psychoerotic equivalent of jumping off a cliff and knowing you'll be caught. But not until you've flown.

You can read the other responses on the Mischief blog.

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Sleepwalker's Secret

Photo by kind permission of RestrainedElegance.com
He was so open and trusting, so beautiful. She found herself staring at his deep brown eyes as he tried so hard not to meet hers. Would they widen with horror if he saw her truest self? Would they be tainted by fear at the sight of the untamed white wolf? Or would they shine with the same kindness and understanding she’d seen when he found her in the alley?
       Martin soaked the sponge again and stroked it lightly over her cheeks and forehead, revealing the smooth pale skin beneath the mud. Water trickled into the tub and she heard his breathing over the tiny splashes. His hand trembled ever so slightly as his fingers brushed her face. Mia sighed and arched her back a little more before reaching up to guide his hand lower. She drew him down over her throat, along the ridge of her collarbone and down the line of her breastbone. Then with both hands she squeezed the sponge, sending a torrent of soapy water coursing over her breasts.
       ‘Mmm, very nice,’ she murmured, opening her eyes at last to meet his.
       His eyes were wide with a kind of helpless expression she found utterly charming. His thoughts were transparent.
       ‘You’re not taking advantage of me,’ she said teasingly.
       When he continued to look conflicted she reached over and pressed her hand against the hardness that was straining inside his jeans. His eyes closed and he dropped the sponge into the water. Beneath her fingers she felt him grow even harder and after another second’s hesitation he leaned forwards and mashed his lips to hers.
       Mia returned the kiss, pushing her tongue deep inside his mouth, tangling it with his. She threw her wet arms around him and pressed herself against his chest, soaking him. His arms slid around her wet soapy body and he lifted her to her feet. Water streamed down her legs.




from "Sleepwalker's Secret" by Rose de Fer

Published by Mischief Books

Friday, 20 July 2012

My sexiest clothing

Another naughty question from the Mischief blog: "What is the sexiest piece of clothing you own and why?"

There's nothing in the world sexier than a corset. The feeling of being cinched into perfect posture, the discomfort, the restricted breathing... it's all a kind of domination. Fashion bondage.

There are so many myths surrounding corsetry, some of which still persist to this day. My favourite is that women had their lower ribs removed to accommodate tight-lacing. I have no idea where that little urban horror legend came from but there's no evidence that such a thing ever happened in the name of fashion. It's a good story, though!

Of course the most persistent myth is that men forced women to wear corsets and that, further, they made them tight-lace down to impossibly tiny sizes. In reality husbands and doctors and so-called "dress reformers" pleaded with women to stop being slaves to fashion. The hysteria was all in the men's camp, where they fretted about women destroying their bodies, ruining themselves for motherhood, their only true duty.

The idea of forced tight-lacing came from the erotica of the period - a fascinating example of fantasy trumping fact. (I'm as guilty of it as any of my Victorian predecessors - forced tight-lacing is one of my most pervasive fantasies!) The letters pages of certain mainstream publications were also often infiltrated by fetishists masquerading as girls and claiming to have been ill-treated in fiendish finishing schools by being whipped and forced to wear extremely tight corsets. The idea that all this kinky stuff was paraded in plain sight and accepted as fact is just another delicious example of why I find the Victorian period endlessly fascinating.




Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Erotica research

It's naughty question time again! Now the "Up To No Good" Mischief blog wants to know: "What's the most interesting research you've done for your erotica?" Mmmm, that's a good one...

I really enjoyed reading about Victorian cures for "hysteria" and some of the kooky (and scary!) gadgets they used to treat it. I love the thought of all those "afflicted" ladies going to doctors for pelvic massage and "hysterical paroxysm" because to give themselves relief would be immoral. It wasn't considered an appropriate job even for a husband to perform. There's just so much kinky potential in the idea of medicalising the female orgasm. I worked some of it into my petite novel Lust Ever After but I expect it's a subject I'll return to again. And again...

I'm not alone in my fascination and I wasn't a bit surprised to find that others had also been seduced by some of the same historical info I had. I found even more references to these bizarre "treatments" in an erotic steampunk anthology I read later and I hope I can find other excuses to write about it.

Monday, 2 July 2012

My First Erotic Reads



It's Naughty Question Time! The makers of Mischief asked several of us who write erotica what our first erotic reads were and how they affected our own writing.




The first erotic writing I encountered were the little hints of BDSM in mainstream romance novels. I never actually read the books but I had a friend who pointed out several juicy scenes for me. There were also scenes in the books of Eric van Lustbader of women being dominated by strong men. Heady stuff to an impressionable subby teen girl! Blush, blush...  don't know whether it really affected my own writing or not, although I'd certainly love to capture the slightly surreal and spooky psychological atmosphere at the end of Story of O.

The other writers had some interesting answers too.

Monday, 25 June 2012

Lust Ever After


‘And so, gentlemen, although this is a purely scientific demonstration, you can see that the subject is nonetheless displaying clear and unequivocal signs of arousal.’
       The girl, Daisy, was indeed very flushed. She lay naked and splayed on the rugged wooden table in the centre of the room, her skin glowing in the light from the paraffin lamps. Some two dozen young men in frock coats and cravats peered down into the arena of the small operating theatre. Daisy heard the creak of floorboards and the rustle of fabric as they shifted to get a better view. Although she was quite warm, gooseflesh rose on her skin as Dr Frankenstein trailed his fingers over her body, pointing out various features of her anatomy. She was finding it very difficult to remain still, despite his frequent admonishments. 
       ‘This specimen is particularly responsive,’ Frankenstein said, his voice crisp and cultured, his hands adept and precise. ‘Observe how her nipples react to even the slightest stimulation.’
       Daisy felt them respond just as he described, stiffening instantly. His fingertips gently touched the hard little peaks and she gasped, throwing her head back and pressing her thighs together around the hot pulse she felt quickening there. She trembled, fingering the leather restraints on either side of the table.
       As though reading her mind, the doctor said, ‘If you can’t be still, my girl, I will have to use those.’

-------------------------------------------------

Yes, my kinky little mad scientist petite novel is out today! The excerpt is from Chapter 1, "The Anatomy Lesson", and it only gets naughtier from there. I don't think I've ever blushed so much in my life as I did while writing this book. It's easy to let all those submissive fantasies roam inside my head, but actually writing them, in essence showing my most intimate self to the world... Well, it's the kind of exposure that's both edgy and exhilarating for me.

You can read the entire first chapter here. And I hope you'll want more. I certainly do...

LUST EVER AFTER - available now from Amazon.co.uk!

Monday, 16 April 2012

Even death cannot restrain her

‘She’s alive!’
       Justine raised her head and rose slowly to her feet. A smile crept across her features and her predatory gaze softened as her eyes fixed on her creator. Her bosom rose and fell tantalisingly with each breath.
       ‘She has no memory of who she was,’ said Pretorius, ‘but she seems eager enough to learn the pleasures of the flesh. You must teach her.’ He took Justine’s hand and presented it to Frankenstein as though joining them in marriage. ‘Your master,’ he said.

London, 1881. The brilliant Dr Frankenstein has a thriving practice in the city, treating ladies for ‘hysteria’ and seducing them along the way. When his pretty chambermaid Justine meets with an unfortunate accident he spies the perfect opportunity to create what he has always dreamt of – a sexually liberated woman.
       When Justine wakes in the laboratory she has no memory of her former life. All she knows is that she has a ravenous sensual appetite and she will let nothing stand in the way of her desires, least of all Frankenstein. Soon Justine finds herself drawn into a world of sensual delights, first with her female friends, and then with a mysterious young man named William, with whom she feels a strange and unearthly bond. An unbreakable connection that her creator will do anything to destroy.

.......................................................................

I've always found mad scientists sexy. Especially Victorian ones. Especially wicked Victorian ones with a penchant for using their scientific and medical expertise in kinky ways. The idea of a man who is not only one's master but one's actual creator has always been the ultimate submissive fantasy for me. And I do love writing naughty Victoriana so I'm grateful to Mischief for letting me indulge myself! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Featuring bondage, blindfolds, corsets and steampunk-y sexual devices...

Coming soon from Mischief Books!

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Makin' Mischief


"It's only a scandal if people know what you're reading."

That's right, ladies (and gentlemen) - today is the official launch day of Mischief Books, the erotica / erotic romance eBook imprint that's already made the 'respectable' publications sit up and notice.

And there's already a wealth of sexy reading available for your second favourite handheld device. I have stories in 3 of the featured anthologies (Submission, Sex & the Stranger and Girl For Hire), with many more on the way. And watch for Lust Ever After, my kinky retelling of Bride of Frankenstein, which is due for release sometime this summer.

Whatever your kink, we've got it covered:


So come along and join the fun. It's hot, it's romantic, it's explicit, it's passionate, it's kinky, it's seductive -- and it's here now!


We're on a mission to arouse!

Monday, 5 March 2012

Sorry, Right Number


Photo by kind permission of RestrainedElegance.com
‘Very nice,’ he said. ‘Now, since it seems no one has explained the rules to you, I advise you to pay attention. I am your master and that is how I expect to be addressed. With every word and every movement you will demonstrate your submission to me. You not speak unless spoken to, nor will you look me in the eyes. You are a slave and you must learn your place.’
       Juliet’s face burned as he laid it out for her and she felt herself melting into the role, becoming meek and obedient even as he told her she must be. She had often entertained submissive fantasies, but it had never occurred to her that anyone else had similar ideas.
       He seemed to be waiting for something and at last she whispered ‘Yes.’ She hesitated a moment, then swallowed and said it. ‘Master.’ The word felt delicious on her tongue, like a fine wine that took time to reveal the full range of its flavour. 
       ‘Very good. Now go stand in front of the fireplace.’
       She did as she was told, her heels clicking on the marble. Her feet were already throbbing and she tried to hide her immense relief as he told her to remove her shoes. She prised them off and set them neatly to one side, enjoying the chill of the marble beneath her burning soles.
       The man turned away and went to fetch something from the bedside table. She heard the jingle of metal and began to tremble in anticipation of whatever he was going to do to her. 


from "Sorry, Right Number" by Rose de Fer

Available now in Girl For Hire: The Secret Encounters of Amateur Escorts

Published by Mischief Books

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Moondance

Photo by kind permission of RestrainedElegance.com
The night was chilly against her bare skin but she would be warm soon enough. She kicked off her shoes and stepped forward, gingerly placing her bare feet on the ground. Mud squished beneath the covering of leaves as she began to dance. There was no music but the sounds of the night – the crunch of dry leaves beneath her feet and the whispering of trees in the breeze. The moon hung low in the sky like a giant eye, watching her.
       She made shapes against the standing stones with her body, undulating her arms, arching her back, moving sinuously through the leaves. As a child she’d had a handful of ballet lessons, but any knowledge she’d gained had long since worn off. She simply followed her body, going where it wanted, moving as it dictated. It was like being guided by an external force, as though she were at the mercy of a powerful but benign puppet master.
       Natalie had always imagined that the sensation of being naked outdoors would be scary. Instead, she found it liberating. Exhilarating. Even though there was no one to see her she felt watched by a thousand eyes. The crisp air against her naked skin, the cool mud between her toes… all of it made her feel primal and wildly sexual.
        She pictured herself led naked into the clearing by sombre robed figures, an iron collar around her neck, iron shackles round her wrists and ankles. Two of the men guided her to the stone altar, where they laid her on her back without a word and secured her chains to rings they had bolted into the stone. The figures formed a circle around her splayed body, the flames from their torches flickering in the dark. 
       Then, one by one, each man took his turn with her. Purifying her, defiling her.


from "Moondance" by Rose de Fer

Available now in Sex and the Stranger: A Collection of Casual Fun

Published by Mischief Books

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

Best in Show


photo by kind permission of RestrainedElegance.com
I hear the door close and then the man is crouching in front of me. He holds a thin strip of red leather in his hands and I realise he must be the handler. I obediently lift my head so he can fasten the collar around my neck. There is the soft jingle of a metal tag and I feel its chill against my throat. The collar is a strange comfort. It crystallises my position more than any other single step in the elaborate ritual. It instantly suffuses me with warmth and security, inducing a powerful feeling of submission.
       As the man clips a lead to my collar I lower my head. He gives the lead a gentle tug and I follow him down the corridor and into a room towards the back of the house. The low murmur of male voices grows louder as we approach. I hesitate in the doorway, peering in.
       We’ve come to what looks like a ballroom, although the room is obviously not used for dancing. The floor is covered with thick, luxurious Oriental rugs that cushion my knees as I am led inside. A huge space has been cleared in the middle, bounded by a semicircle of chairs. A show ring. Some of the men are seated and several others stand off to one side, talking amongst themselves. A fire roars warmly in the hearth along the near wall and two women, naked like me, kneel before it.
       “Saskia.”
       I look up in response to the familiar and cherished voice of my master and I find myself quivering with happiness as he emerges from the group and comes towards me. I kneel up to reach him, placing my palms against his legs as he strokes my face tenderly.
       "Is my little pet going to make me proud today?”
       I nod my head, pawing gently at him with one hand. He smiles indulgently at my puppyish behaviour before unclipping my lead. Then he reaches into his pocket to withdraw a morsel of chocolate. I nibble the treat from his hand while he scratches me roughly behind the ears. If I had a tail I would wag it.


from "Best in Show" by Rose de Fer