Image: Marlith (Own work) 

This week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is ‘Dark Street’. Something that might have happened on one in real life, or something that we wish had happened on one.

My original plan was to write a short, dark piece for this brief – I have the most fantastically vivid picture in my head of a woman being pushed, stomach-first, against an alley wall, loose grit pressing into her hands, her knees scraping against raw bricks as she’s taken by a shadowy stranger – but then I remembered I had the below story (or the start of it, rather) sitting in my Drafts folder. It’s another modified fairy tale, an alternate version of Red Riding Hood.

I’ve not written much more than what I’ve posted here but, reading it back, I think I want to continue developing it.

I do rather like the idea of being devoured …



“Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Alice froze mid-step. Felt her skin prickle and the hairs on the back of her neck lift. The voice had come from deep within the shadows of the alleyway but there was no mistaking who it belonged to.


From the gloom, a tall, broad shape sauntered towards her, slow and easy, coming closer and closer until, finally, a hard-looking face, punctuated by a pair of predatory dark eyes swam out of the blackness.

“Little Red,” the man drawled, coming to a stop in front of her, an amused look on his hard face. The toes of his heavy boots almost touched her own.

Automatically, Alice reached up to smooth a hand over her hair. “Don’t call me that,” she muttered – then immediately kicked herself for not remaining silent. What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Shut up! Don’t challenge him!

A sardonic eyebrow lifted. “Or what, Red? You’re gonna shut my mouth for me?” His gaze drifted down her body. Zeroed in on the v between her legs. “Cover it with something?” The flash of white teeth and the throaty rumble of his chuckle as he laughed at his own words made Alice clench her fists.

“What do you want, Wolf?” she asked, quietly.

The smile disappeared. “You know exactly what I want, Red. The only question is when you’re going to give it to me.” Continue reading


For last week’s Sinful Sunday, I posted a photograph that was very much a  ‘happy accident’. It was a test shot for another image I was working on and everything about it was unplanned/off-the-cuff – the composition, the lighting, the intent. But, when Molly saw it, she suggested there might be more to what I’d unwittingly captured and that I should explore the concept further …

“I hope you use this as a starting point to explore this shot more. I would love to see you play around with it again, reshoot it but get rid of the darkness beside the mirror, keep the scattered clothes etc but tilt up slightly to get your head in. You can mask your face behind the actual camera. One of the interesting things I have learned at Camera club is be that little bit more aggressive with your crop, really force the viewers eye into what it is you want them to ‘look’ at. At first I was dubious, surely you risk losing context, but actually that is rarely the case and I have found that applied at the right time it completely transforms an image.”

So, this week, I had a play around. I’m no longer in the house in which I took the original image so I had to use a different mirror and backdrop but – I hope! – the spirit of the original capture remains in these latest ones.

Molly? Did I pass my assignment?!


Molly's Challenge No.2 Continue reading


Cheeky minx
Photo courtesy of Cheeky Minx

Welcome to Elust #64 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #65? Start with the rules, come back December 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

On a special note I want to mention that the judges voting on Elust is often very close, this month more than most. You all do such fine work that it is very hard for us to come up with the final results.

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Ownership: On Sexuality & Feminine Relations

Tool Time

Seven – A Fairytale of Sorts

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

The Love Letter of O
To My Single Submissive Friends – Be Brave

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
What S/He Said: Pressing Stop

Continue reading


I’ve had this image sitting around for a while. It’s actually a test shot; I was messing about with a mirror, trying to work out positioning, light settings, etc., for another photograph. While looking back through my files, I re-discovered it and thought it was sort of cool, even though it wasn’t taken with any particular thought or intention other than to check technical elements.

What do you think? Does it work as in image in its own right?

Behind the Lens

Continue reading


My entry for this week’s Saturday Spankings is from my forthcoming release, Saving Grace. I actually posted another little teaser for this, the first book in my Garden of Earthly Delights series, for Wednesday’s WIPItUp, but I just couldn’t resist publishing the seven sentences below, too, as I think they perfectly fit this hop’s red-bottomed criteria. (For those who are unfamiliar, all Saturday Spankings entries must be eight sentences or less.)

I don’t think Grace is going to call ‘red’ – do you?



Nick’s hand met the skin of her arse with a resounding ‘thwack’, the blow significantly harder than any of the previous ones he’d delivered, his palm tingling with the force of the impact. A great whoosh of air shot out of Grace’s lungs; she grunted in pain, jerked, and tried to pull away but no sooner had he made contact, than Nick was raising his arm and striking again.

And again, and again. Continue reading


Icicles Glass Dildo

Today, as part of the WIPitUp Wednesday blog hop, an excerpt from the first book in my forthcoming Garden of Earthly Delights series, Saving Grace. Yep, you heard that right. After much encouragement from the lovely Natasha Knight, I’ve finally decided to publish this beast!

If you’ve been following my blog since its early days, you’ll know that Saving Grace started life as an online serial, which I posted in instalments here on Chintz. However, despite best laid plans, it got kind of … out of control, and what was supposed to be a 15,000 word short turned into a 60,000 word novel. Given how it grew, and that the end result was quite a fair way from my original vision (suddenly, I had a far more complex story on my hands, and plot arcs and characters I never initially envisaged) I became increasingly reluctant to publish it in its entirety. I even, cruelly, left a number of dedicated readers hanging at around the half-way mark! *hangs head in shame* But Natasha read the finished manuscript, gave me a stern talking to, and basically made me realise that different didn’t mean bad.

So, deep breath … May I present Nick and Grace. Again. :-) Continue reading



Image: John Anster Fitzgerald (1823-1906)

Fairytales. Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, The Red Shoes, Hansel & Gretel, Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, The Six Swans… I could go on and on (and this somewhat-comprehensiveWikipedia list does.) Is there a literary genre better suited to eroticizing? I can’t think of one. But maybe that’s because from my earliest memories of reading erotica, fairytales had a deep erotic allure to them. Eroticism winds subtly through so many of them, beating a steady, throbbing drumbeat just below the surface. Even the most innocent-seeming have a sensuality that tugs at my imagination.

Do they tug at yours as well? Do they inspire you to write or photograph something erotic and sensual, moody and dark, terrifying and creepy?

This week’s Wicked Wednesday challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to take a fairytale of your choosing and turn it into a piece of erotica. You can write a story, a snippet or a piece of poetry; or take a photo that you feel emphasizes an erotic element of a fairytale.

– Prompt by PiecesofJade

When I was a little girl, I had something of an obsession with Andrew Lang’s The Blue Fairy Book. My grandmother and grandfather had a copy and, despite its unassuming cloth cover and acres of dense text, it was one of the most exciting reading discoveries of my early childhood. Inside, the most brilliant collection fairy stories. Not the saccharin-sweet versions depicted in pretty picture books but ones with bite and grit. The endings weren’t always happy. Many of the tales were downright violent. Dark and painful.

I was both shocked and fascinated.

Thorn King, my very first published story (which appeared in A Princess Bound) was a fairy tale and, perhaps not surprisingly, it owes a lot in terms of tone and approach to Andrew Lang’s collection. In fact, my favourite reviewer comment to-date warns people about its content. I am exceedingly pleased (perhaps strangely) by this because it tells me that, like Lang, I succeeded in creating something provoking and different. (Many online reviews for The Blue Fairy Book state how ‘shocked’ they are by the rawness of its stories.)

Around the same time I penned Thorn King (which is an original), I wrote an erotic adaptation of the French fairy tale Bluebeard. (Of all the traditional tales, this remains one of my all-time favourites, not least because it still scares the living cr*ap out of me as much now as when I was a child!) It’s been sitting on my computer for quite some time but this Wicked Wednesday prompt seems like the perfect time to reveal a snippet. I really hope you enjoy it.



You probably know our story. Or think you do.

Let me guess.

You heard about how I took a wife. Threw temptation in her way by giving her a key to the door I’d told her not to open. That I promised to kill her when she disobeyed and discovered the bodies of my dead wives.

That I’m a cruel, wicked man who deserves death for what I would do to her.

It’s funny how we twist things to hide the uncomfortable reality, isn’t it? How we secret away those dark little parts society doesn’t want to see in forgotten corners. Paint them in a lighter colour.

Oh, don’t get me wrong – there are fragments of truth in the tale you were told, such as it is.

I am cruel.

I am wicked.

My wife did open the door. But she didn’t find bodies behind it. Oh, no. She found her salvation. Continue reading


The week’s Halloween-themed Sinful Sunday is celebrating all things spooky and wicked and sexy, and I cannot wait to see what everyone comes up with for this prompt. I went on a bit of a rampage in the local junk shop earlier this week and ended up with a number of potential props, including plastic spiders, centipedes and severed hands but, in the end, it was this $2.00 paper lantern that won the day. Now I just need to cross my fingers and hope that M responds to my Bat Signal …  Continue reading


I’ve not joined in with The Saturday Spankings before, so if we haven’t met previously, greetings! It’s lovely to have you here!

My entry for this week’s hop? A snippet from Diana, the first story in my recent release, Scene. If you like your Doms on the … crueller side, I think you’ll enjoy it. :-)

Thanks so much for stopping by.

Jane xxx


“Put your legs in the stirrups.”

Humiliation paints your neck a delicious pink but you comply, albeit slower than I’d like. I strip the gloves off, toss them in the station’s rubbish tin. Secure your wrists with the cuffs bolted to the sides of the table before fastening the stirrup restraints over your shins. You watch me the whole time, an intoxicating mix of shame, arousal and anger burning in your eyes.

Lovely, filthy girl.

I push the insulated stirrups apart, opening you completely, and lock them in position before stepping back and nodding at Steven.

“All yours.”

Continue reading



We have all had that first time sex experience. What was your first time like? We’re you ready? Were you nervous? Do you regret it? Was it exciting and sensual and everything you hoped it would be? After the very first time you continue to experience more firsts. Your first blowjob. Your first threesome. The first time you realized the way you enjoyed sex was different than the way others enjoyed it. And somewhere in there you even experienced your first orgasm. Tell us about one of your firsts.

– Prompt by Stella Kiink


I was sixteen when I lost my virginity. It was at a party, in a muddy stockyard, in the middle of winter, with a boy, G, from school. We’d been eyeing each other up for weeks, flirting during class, hooking up at various social events, things going further and further until the urge to have sex was itching at us both like a hair shirt, maddening in its intensity.

We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend but that didn’t matter to me – or him. I was never a hearts and flowers sort of girl and, unlike a lot of my peers, who generally had far more romantic notions when it came to giving away their virginity, I had a somewhat more pragmatic approach to sex. (Much to their consternation, my world-view didn’t really require that the boy I lost it to take me to the movies for six months and then profess his undying love over a candlelit supper.) Bluntly, having had a satisfying relationship with my own hand for quite some time, I was intrigued by the possibilities presented by a penis and didn’t place much value on waiting to ‘do it’ with someone special. My first time was very much something to get out of the way so that I could move on with experimenting and enjoying my sexuality.

I should say at this point that, although G and I weren’t officially an item, we were attracted to one another. With every look we shared – in the lunch queue, during seemingly endless maths lessons – the promise of sex was there and by the time the night in question rocked around, we both knew what was going to happen. He’d never done it before, either, and with the party raging in a woolshed roughly fifty metres away, the cold night air attacking every exposed bit of skin as we partially undressed and fumbled about in the dark with a condom it was, frankly, pretty awkward and uncomfortable. But neither of us was dissatisfied. Even more surprisingly, rather than it being a case of lost interest after the fact (as I suspected it would be) our desire to connect, against all odds, increased.

And that’s when things got interesting. Continue reading