Behind the Chintz Curtain » Words

Wicked Wednesday: Beginnings

Jane — Wed, 25 Jun 2014 04:27:41 +0000

Image: MAKY. OREL via Wikimedia Commons

There’s nothing quite like penning the first few lines of a new story. Realising a new character, allowing them to step out of your head and onto the page; setting a scene and creating a world for them to walk about in. In fact, I think I may have a slight addiction to beginnings because I’m particularly good at writing these as opposed to middles and ends! Looking in my Drafts folder, I’m greeted by a veritable wash of documents containing snippets of text – monuments to ideas that I absolutely had to get down before they disappeared into the black hole of lost thoughts and then, after typing those critical words, promptly did nothing with.

It’s not that I consciously abandon creative flashes, rather that I an idea strikes and nine times out of ten I’m working on something else that means I can’t give it my undivided attention. Inevitably, by the time I have the breathing room to explore it, the urgent creative outpouring I initially experienced has ebbed or I’ve forgotten that I had the idea in the first place. There have been quite a few occasions when I’ve gone to open a document up, seen a file I have no recollection of creating, opened it, and gone “Oh, yeah! Why didn’t I keep going with that?”

So, I need your help, my lovelies. Below, are snippets from three stories I started writing and failed to continue with. There is one that stands out more than the others to me but I thought it would be fun to see which introduction is most appealing to you.

Given the choice, which story should I continue to write? Which would you most like to read?

EXCERPT ONE: “CLEAN”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

I shriek, spinning around as I do so. Almost slip on the wet, soapy tiles.

He’s standing right next to the glass door of the shower cubicle, completely naked, a grim look on his face.

Busted.

My face flames and I drop my guilty hands to my sides, the hot shower spray washing the last of the frothy suds from my belly and between my legs, sending them swirling down the drain.

There’s nothing I can say.

We both know that I’ve broken my promise.

I’d hardly say that I’m a neat freak. I’m not the sort of girl who folds up her clothes after wearing them, who makes her bed neatly every morning before skipping merrily off to work. No, more the kind who leaves the washing in the dryer for as long as possible rather than putting it away. Leaves flowers in vases until the blooms have long dried up, withered and crumbled into dust.

In fact, I’m not really tidy at all.

But when it comes to cleanliness? Well, you know that old mantra. It really is next to Godliness in my book. Especially when it comes to my body. I shower at least twice a day, every day – and always, always after sex.

The drip and trickle of rapidly cooling semen coating my pussy and legs?

The sticky smear of my own arousal?

The urge to wash both from me pounces within seconds of him pulling out.

I know it’s irrational. I do. And he hates that I’m so eager to wash the evidence of his possession off of me, his disappointment seeping into me like a cold, dismal damp. I think we both knew that my promise to try and accept the mess of our joinings was a hollow one but to have my lack of commitment to our agreement confirmed is worse than I imagined.

His gaze bores into mine.

“Get out of the shower. Go and lie on the bed.”

EXCERPT TWO: “DOCTOR’S ORDERS”

Your eyes are as wide as saucers; white moons eclipsed by little planets of deep green. “I … I’m sorry?”

Mortification perfumes your voice, makes it vibrate and shiver like smoke.

Oh, this is perfect.

You heard me. No question. But on this occasion I’m happy to repeat myself – not least because I want to see the look on your face when the words finally sink in.

“You’re going to be examined,” I say blandly, careful to mask my pleasure at your reaction.

“But …” Your eyes skitter across to the shiny metal table winking beneath the bright, hanging lights and then dart quickly away, as if the sight of it burns your retinas. Even as I watch, the skin over your collarbone turns a delicious shade of strawberry. “You know I don’t like being …” You trail off again, wavering from the path of speech.

I remain silent, delighting in your struggle to find the right words. To admit the truth. And your fear. Bless. There really is nothing more beautiful, more intoxicating, than a sub who’s just realised she’s about to be eaten by the wolf. That he’s going to sink his teeth in.

“People will see me,” you finally blurt out, your gaze locked to the floor, seemingly absorbed in watching your left foot paint awkward patterns on the wooden floor.

“They’ll see your cunt, you mean.”

The blush climbs your neck and threatens to scorch your lovely, pale cheeks.

“I can’t do it,” you say, almost defiantly, although when you finally look up, your eyes silently plead with me for mercy. Mercy we both know I’m not going to show.

For a time I simply watch you, enjoy observing the war you’re waging with yourself play out across your face: your ingrained sense of modesty versus your need to submit. To me. I know what the outcome of the battle will be, of course – knew before the skirmish was even declared – but I have no doubt your humiliation will be far, far deeper if you agree to this without any form of coercion on my part. None of this “he gave me no choice” crap.

I want to fuck both your body and your head. Invade every recess of both and turn you inside out until you’re nothing but a ball of shame and need.

You’re going to hate me for it, without a doubt. But you’re going to adore me in equal measure.

It’s just the way it is.

EXCERPT THREE: “LOT”

The auctioneer’s gavel strikes like an axe against a neck.

“Sold, for five hundred pounds, to the gentleman in blue.” Polite applause. “Congratulations on your purchase, sir.”

Don’t look, I tell myself. Don’t look. But, inevitably, I find my eyes scanning the audience of smartly dressed men, trying to spot the buyer. It isn’t difficult; he’s tipping his head slightly in acknowledgement of his purchase, a smirk on his too perfect face. Arrogant shit. I stare at him for a few moments but the sounds of a struggle pull my attention abruptly away.

It’s the red-headed woman he’s apparently just bought. She’s being led from the auction block, resisting like crazy, by a huge blonde man.

“Please. Not him. Please, not him!”

Her feet scrabble at the floor as she tries to pull backwards but her jailor pays her absolutely no attention, remains completely unperturbed. He just marches her relentlessly forwards until she stands, trembling, before the blue-shirted man who has paid for her.

The buyer doesn’t bother to get up, doesn’t touch her. Simply regards the naked woman in front of him with a detached expression. A faint smile plays about his lips, though, and it appears that he is pleased with his purchase.

A tug at my neck startles me and I jerk in fright before remembering the collar at my throat and the leash dangling from it like a thin, black snake. I turn and glare at the man holding the latter.

“Watch it,” I growl.

He chuckles slightly. “You’re next, darlin’.” Nods his head towards the stage and the auction block at its centre.

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#RealBodiesAreSexy

Jane — Fri, 20 Jun 2014 02:42:04 +0000

The other week, in my The Times They Are a-Changin’ post, I referenced my growing interest in self-portraiture. As someone who always used to run in the opposite direction when a camera came out, my desire to take pictures of myself – often without my kit on – may, to many, seem a little odd.

I am a very average woman, unexceptional in almost every respect.

I’m not beautiful.

I’m not Frankenstein (well, maybe first thing in the morning).

I just am.

The other week, I saw a comment on fellow sex blogger’s post that literally made me do a double take.

Emma (the very same one who wrote the recent guest post on Femininity) posted a picture of herself on her site, Dirty Little Whispers, as part of Curvaceous Dee’s Scavenger Hunt meme and had her image criticised by a certain commenter. He expressed ‘concern’ over her body shape, the specifics of which I won’t go into (if you want find out more, you can click here), and basically implied that she needed to change herself to fit his idea of the perfect female.

Many of us profess to know that the bodies (and faces) we see in magazines, on television, in porn films, aren’t real. Yet we persist in using the images that bombard us on a daily basis as yardsticks to measure Janet and John on the street. Despite our awareness of the smoke and mirrors employed by commercial entities, we wilfully disconnect ourselves from reality, on the one hand saying ‘Oh, she’s definitely been airbrushed’ and on the other ‘I don’t measure up because I’m short a size zero waist and a set of double-D breasts’.

Some time back, a friend shared this image with me via social media:

It’s the cover of the 1994 edition of Sports Illustrated and features the so called Dream Team of Elle Macpherson, Kathy Ireland and Rachel Hunter. Twenty years ago, these women embodied the ‘ideal’ body type. They look beautiful (although the shot undoubtedly caters to another perceived notion of ‘the perfect woman’) – and yet I cannot recall the last time I saw those with their stature on the cover of a magazine. (Incidentally, the friend in question posted the image with a note saying ‘After looking at this, I’m going to let myself have that extra piece of bread’.)

In Emma’s particular case, it was wonderful to see how many people came out in support of her, both on and off her blog, and attempted to educate the commenter in question on his perceptions of the female body and the inappropriateness of his words (it never ceases to amaze me how the – relative – anonymity of the Internet makes people think that they can abandon all sense of social nicety and basic manners), although it’s anyone’s guess as to how much of their words of wisdom were actually absorbed.

I am a size zero. I weigh forty-seven kilos (forty-five if I’m stressed). If you’re measuring me by the current commercial ideal of the perfect size, I tick the box. The realities of being naturally small like this, though? Trying to find a bra small enough to fit me is an uphill struggle (I’m a 30 AA), every doctor’s graph I’ve ever seen tells me I am underweight for my height (although if I actually take my clothes off, I don’t think I look like a skeleton) and I’m constantly being asked by people whether I eat anything (yes, I eat and eat well) or if I’m anorexic (I’m not).

The one that annoys me the most, though? People I’ve known for all of five minutes calling me a ‘skinny b*tch’. (Oh, but it’s usually said in a jokey way, so that makes it ‘okay’.)

I’d also like to point out to everyone out there (Yes, I’m looking at YOU, Emma’s commenter) even at this size – and I walk every day with my dog and am reasonably fit – my thighs touch and I have a bit cellulite on my butt. I am a female and no matter what weight we are, that’s how we store our reserves.

I am never going to look like Rachel Hunter, or Kathy Ireland or Elle Macpherson. But I absolutely believe that my body and those of all other shapes and sizes can be sexy and powerful and erotic.

And that right there is why I photograph myself.

My figure will not be to everyone’s taste. Don’t like it? That’s totally okay. Look away and move on. But it’s real and it’s mine and for every person who sees its minuses there will be someone else who sees its pluses.

This last photograph (from the same series as the Tramp image I recently posted to Sinful Sunday and Dee’s Scavenger Hunt) is a tribute to the very lovely Emma (and Bawdy Bloke, who posted a similar one when he came out in support of her a few weeks back).

Emma, you’re gorgeous. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

#RealBodiesAreSexy

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e[Lust] #59

Jane — Mon, 16 Jun 2014 22:09:55 +0000

Back in the land of the living, and kicking off my return with this month’s edition of e[Lust]. Enjoy!

Photo courtesy of Frisky in the 916

Welcome to Elust #59 -

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 #60? Start with the rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Considering Cocks
I Love Interrogation, or Diabolical Genius
Yes all Women but Not All Men Rant

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

I Kissed A Girl (& Her Man) And I Liked It

10 Things No One Warns You About Nonmonogamy

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

Andromeda

The Times They Are a-Changin’

Jane — Sat, 07 Jun 2014 08:53:58 +0000

Next month, on 3 July, it will be my second blogiversary. Flake that I am, I didn’t actually do anything to commemorate the first year of Behind the Chintz Curtain – mainly because I was preparing to move countries – but this year, I really do hope to mark the occasion in some way. With the two-year line looming, though, I thought it was a good time to take a look at the blog and how it’s evolved.

Scrolling through the various posts published over the past twenty-three months, it’s amazing to see how much Chintz has changed in content and emphasis. In the beginning, there was a much stronger focus on book and sex toy reviews but, as time has passed, I’ve found that I’ve taken things in a rather different direction and posted more and more commentary articles and more and more photographs. I like to babble much more than I thought I did – about censorship and portrayals of women’s wants and needs by large corporations, apparently! – and have discovered, thanks to Molly’s Sinful Sunday meme, just how curiously addictive photographing yourself in various states of undress can be. I never would have imagined that I’d find such freedom through self-portraiture (I’m one of those people who hated having their picture taken) but in this age of media-perfect bodies I feel its becoming more and more important to get images of real ones, like mine, out there.

What do I hope to do more of going forwards? Writing. Both long-form and short. I have actually been writing erotic fiction for various submission calls outside of my blog (there are some stories that I’m really pleased with waiting in the wings that will, fingers crossed, find a booky home before too long) and want to continue with that, but I’m also keen to get some more Five-minute Erotica pieces out there, too.

As for The Garden of Earthly Delights? Well, as some of you have already noticed – Hi Connie! – the serial is no longer on the site. I finally finished the story (huge 60,000 word achievement, the longest tale I’ve ever written) but, unfortunately, I’m not happy with how it turned out (probably because I wrote it over such a protracted period) and I know that I can pen a better, more cohesive story. The more I write, the more I realise that I’m better when I give myself permission to really let go. To give all those ideas in my head, no matter how odd or kinky they might seem at first glance, room to breathe and see how they work on paper. That said, if you were reading Garden and really want to find out how it ends, please email me via the contact page. If there’s enough interest, I’ll mark off some time to finish editing it and create an ePub for those who want it in its entirety.

So where to from here? More articles, more photographs, more erotic stories. I’m still going to review toys and books that interest me but beyond that? Well, that’s the joy of blogging. Whichever way the wind blows the curtains.

Oh, and I’m on a boat for the next seven days so things will be a little quiet around here. Feel free to listen to Mr Young in my absence.

See you all soon.

Jane xxx

The Times They Are A-Changin’

Come gather ’round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You’ll be drenched to the bone
If your time to you
Is worth savin’
Then you better start swimmin’
Or you’ll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won’t come again
And don’t speak too soon
For the wheel’s still in spin
And there’s no tellin’ who
That it’s namin’
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don’t stand in the doorway
Don’t block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There’s a battle outside
And it is ragin’
It’ll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin’.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin’
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin’
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin’.

- Bob Dylan

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At Any Turn – Brenna Aubrey (Gaming the System)

Jane — Thu, 05 Jun 2014 09:35:13 +0000

Title: At Any Turn (Gaming the System)
Author: Brenna Aubrey
Publisher: Silver Griffon Associates (28 April 2014)
ISBN: 1940951046
Reviewer: Jane

The angst! Oh, the angst!

At Any Turn should seriously consider a brand partnership with a pharma company manufacturing Captopril (“Free bottle with every copy!”) given the elevated blood pressure levels people are likely to experience when reading it. My daughter recently discovered a cartoon series on Netflix, appropriately titled Total Drama, and I’m pretty sure that this book is a more grown-up version of it, all rolled into a convenient, three-hundred-and-sixty-seven page package. I swear, if you’d hooked me up to a pressure cuff or stuck a finger on my pulse while I was reading this thing, you would have rushed me to the nearest A&E.

At Any Turn picks up where At Any Price left off (spoilers ahoy-hoy for those who haven’t read the first book in the Gaming the System series); videogame millionaire, Adam Drake, and gamer-girl blogger Mia Strong are attempting to explore a post-virginity-auction relationship. Adam is working on controlling his workaholic tendencies and Mia is anxiously waiting to find out if she’s managed to get into med school. Given that the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ drama of book one, I thought that At Any Turn might follow a slightly smoother plot trajectory. You know, give readers a bit of time off for good behaviour.

No. No, no, no, no, nooooo.

Unlike At Any Price, which was narrated by Mia, Adam takes the reins in this one, and I can only say that, emotionally, he is like a light switch at the mercy of toddler – turned on and off repeatedly until you think you’re in an 80s discothèque. One minute he wants to stay in a relationship with Mia. The next, he’s totally over the whole thing or playing silly games with her emotions.

I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t.

Fuck it. Fuck her. I pulled my eyes away and never looked at her again.

“When can I see you again?”

“April says you’re taken and I as pretty sure that you were single. So which is it?”

… in spite of the warning bells at the back of my head, I decided to milk it a little.

“I am currently unattached.”

I was willing to concede, finally. I was willing to put this in her hands.

I was starting to hate the fact that I was still so hung up on her. Maybe it was just time to walk away from this mess?

“… we are done. Forever.”

… it was time she knew she was mine. “I love you,” I said hoarsely as she turned the knob.

You get the idea. (Quick ‘thank you’ to Katniss for standing in for Mia and Ken for Adam. Although I do apologise for the fact that Mia’s hair colour remains the same throughout. The Children’s Toy Box Production Company didn’t have a suitable Barbie replacement.)

In all fairness, Mia, bless her, certainly doesn’t make things easy on old Adam. Granted, her character is going through some pretty heavy stuff but crying all night into a self-help book: what does every single relationship councillor on the planet tell couples going through rocky patches? That’s right, they use the ‘C’ word. No, no that one, this one:

COMMUNICATION.

I do like a book that builds tension but, to me, it felt like that there was a lot of drama for drama’s sake and it all could have been resolved much sooner with a simple conversation between the protagonists. Ultimately, that would have made me like them both a lot more than I ended up doing – and not left me with the overpowering urge to hit both of them over the head with an Xbox controller.

As to the gaming aspects touched on in the story: if you read my review of At Any Price you’ll know that I was originally attracted to the book because of its inclusion of game development in the plotline. As someone who used to work in the videogame industry, I was intrigued as to how Brenna was going to weave the rather unglamorous life of game dev. into the storyline.

While most of the story was believable, two things stuck out for me – the hidden quest in Adam’s online game, Dragon Epoch, and the paintball match against rival developer Blizzard (who actually exist in real life).

Now, according to the book, Adam is the only one who knows exactly what the hidden quest is – which in the real world is highly unlikely because implementing any sort of gameplay isn’t just the work of a single coder. Even simple mechanics require concept artists, modellers, riggers, animators, lighters, a sound team. Then you’ve got the problem of inserting something into existing software. Nine times out of ten, something will break when you do this. Okay, maybe I’m being a little melodramatic, but the bottom line is changing code is (really) risky. That’s why new stuff, after it’s been made by a raft of people, is always always put through its paces by a group of testers before it’s released to the general public. And why the entire studio will take turns shooting you with a Nerf Gun if you ask for a change in the days prior to publishing/manufacture approval.

I know this from personal experience.

As to the paintball game; the only people who usually get shot at these kind of videogame studio corporate get-togethers are the executive and senior producers. And ‘friendly fire’ is a relative term: arm a dev. team with paintball guns after three months of twelve-hour days and eating Domino’s pizza night after night, there’s going to be anarchy.

Reading this review back, I think I sound a little harsh. That actually wasn’t my intention. Brenna is an excellent writer and At Any Turn is a fine example of self-publishing; the copy is wonderfully clean and the story hangs together well. However, I would be lying if I said that the constant on-again-of-again plotline didn’t wind me up and leave me feeling exhausted. I just hope that the third Gaming the System book dials back on the deliberate miscommunication. I don’t think my blood pressure can handle another round of Adam and Mia sabotaging their relationship at any and every turn.

*Please note that a copy of At Any Turn was provided by the author free of charge in exchange for a fair review.

**REVIEW UPDATE: Brenna (who, I might add, has been an excellent sport about the Barbies) has confirmed that Adam alone is not responsible for the secret Dragon Epoch. Misunderstanding of the text on my part. So you can consider that portion of my review A Very (Very) Brief Overview of Videogame development.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy.

Amazon.com

At Any Turn – Kindle

Amazon.co.uk

At Any Turn – Kindle

Kobo

At Any Turn – ePub

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Guest Post: Femininity – Dirty Little Whispers

Jane — Tue, 03 Jun 2014 04:47:46 +0000

Today, I have the pleasure of hosting the very lovely Dirty Little Whispers here on Behind the Chintz Curtain. I’ve had the privilege of meeting Emma both online and in person (thank you, Eroticon 2013!) and when I was pondering the idea of femininity and what it means to us in this day age, was beyond pleased when she agreed to share her thoughts on the subject.

Before I hand over to Emma, a little background on this post … A few weeks ago, Molly, who runs the weekly Sinful Sunday meme (which both Emma and I both regularly take part in) asked for photographs themed around men, maleness and masculinity. What did those words mean to each of us? And how did we interpret those words visually? The prompt produced some beautiful photographs and it was really interesting to see the diversity of the pictures and how varied our perceptions of the words were. Which lead me to think more about the word feminine. Does it still have the connotations it did, say, ten years ago? Thirty years ago? And how do we each define our womanliness?

Over to you, Emma …

FEMININITY

Femininity isn’t a word I use, partly because I can neither spell (thank goodness for spell check) or pronounce it (unless very slowly), but also because I don’t like the word. It isn’t a word I hear much either. Is it something we really need nowadays? Traditionally it generally refers to the female gender and the gentler, delicate things in life, sensitivity or empathy. Are these really female traits these days? Times have changed and females are no longer stuck in the kitchen or sewing children’s clothes.

Recently Andrew Garfield was caught out by Girlfriend Emma Stone as saying that sewing the Spiderman costume was a feminine thing to do. Emma instantly questioned as to why it was feminine. Traditionally, sewing would be feminine, but today, are all men incapable of sewing things themselves still in fear of being emasculated? Times have changed and I wish the language would move on too. Mixing gender roles seems to be seen as an insult at times, as though you have to justify it. I’ve often heard “Why are you crying like a girl?” as though it is fine for girls to cry, but not boys. Is there a fine line between femininity, masculinity and sexism?

I’ve never liked other languages which have sexes for items either. A chair is a chair, I don’t want to have to remember whether it is female, male, or neutral. It’s a chair, they should all be neutral.

In the same sense, a dildo is a dildo. It doesn’t matter to me whether a man or a woman is using it. Does wearing a strap-on make you any less feminine if you chose to be? You can choose your sexuality. If you want to be feminine you can be, or if you want to be masculine, or both. I can’t define what feminine means to each individual person though.

So what does femininity mean to me? Not a lot. You could say that wearing pretty lingerie is feminine, but to me it’s just lingerie. I like pretty lace dresses too, but so can a man in the same respect that I like DIY. I don’t want to be feminine, or masculine. I want to be accepted for who I am.

Emma Whispers.

*A big thank you to Emma for taking the time to write this piece. For more whispers, please visit her at her blog, www.dirtylittlewhispers.com.

What does femininity mean to you? How do you relate to the word? Have our traditional interpretations of it become outdated? And how do you, personally, define your ‘womanliness’?

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Wicked Wednesday: Pulling the trigger

Jane — Tue, 27 May 2014 23:51:08 +0000

“The above screenshot comes from an article of The Guardian, which was linked on Twitter. If you have anything to say about trigger warnings, now is your chance. But you might want to read the article first.”

Wow. This is one hell of a Wicked Wednesday prompt. Where, oh where do I start?

Firstly, by saying that I don’t believe in the censorship of books. Period.

Secondly, that I’m well aware that this liberal view of mine comes at a price. There’s no question that there are grotesque things out there in written form, things that I have no interest in reading. Ever. But I know that for freedom of expression to be truly ‘free’, then we must allow writing on all subjects, whether or not they offend us. When we start drawing lines, defining what is and isn’t okay from a personal viewpoint – and, ultimately, all censorship comes down to an individual (or individuals’) own set of judgements and beliefs – we risk getting ourselves into serious trouble: persecution, marginalisation, oppression.

The beauty of freewill is that we get to choose what we read. And what we don’t. You only have to look at the various books that have been banned over the years to see just what a blunt instrument censorship is. It doesn’t understand fine detail, it doesn’t make subtle distinctions. It is wrecking ball that smashes its direct target but also tends to take out everything else within a hundred-mile literary radius.

So, then. Trigger warnings. We’ve all seen them. In fact, it’s actually becoming increasingly difficult to purchase a book without being hit in the face with one. They run the gamut.

From the very simple:

To the incredibly detailed (A.K.A. ‘the entire book in a paragraph’):

To the vaguely humorous:

But if we accept that we’re not going to censor the written word, that we’re going to allow the publication of books of all kinds, regardless of whether we personally abhor or champion the content, shouldn’t we as readers expect to be explicitly warned about potentially distressing content (in the manner of the above) lest we encounter something we’re not prepared to deal with?

Well, no, actually.

Because giving a reader a pre-emptive Get Out of Feeling Free card has the ability to be more harmful than exposing them to potentially controversial content.

If we are only ever advised to read books that detail the safe and happy and benign, are warned away from texts that have the ability to shock, challenge and make us question our beliefs, our conduct – our morality – then are we not devaluing our humanity? Our ability to feel? Our ability to make our own informed choices?

The idea that reading should spare us tough or difficult emotions, that we should live in a perfect bubble where we pretend nothing bad ever happens, frankly, scares the living daylights out of me because it suggests that we could very easily become a society that doesn’t acknowledge or deal with anything difficult. An apathetic human race.

Just think about what that would look like for a second.

I’m personally guilty of using trigger warnings in my own work. Have employed them in the past to alert readers to content that I think they might not be expecting – pseudo non-consent in my short story Frostbite, for example. In writing this post, I’m actually starting to feel a little unsure as to whether I should have done so. My intention was to ‘protect’ readers who may have stumbled across my blog (and thought they were going to get something light and fluffy and ‘floral’) from an unwanted textual encounter. But in using trigger warnings, have I not made assumptions about their expectations? Censored their experience of my writing? Pushed them away and told them that I don’t believe that they’re capable of making a decision about a story’s content for themselves having read the first few lines?

The irony is that I pay little attention to trigger warnings when I’m deciding what I, personally, do and don’t want to read because I’m not prepared to rely on another person’s judgement of a text. I am my own barometer and I’m far, far more concerned with writing quality, an engaging story and an author’s ability to engage my head and my heart. My emotions.

It’s our reactions to books to books that count.

Hate.
Compassion
Distress.
Peace.
Anger.
Love.

These are normal human feelings. And we shouldn’t be warned away from them.

The post Wicked Wednesday: Pulling the trigger appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Dungeon Crawl: Thorn King (A.K.A. shameless self-promotion)

Jane — Tue, 20 May 2014 21:35:59 +0000

I’d just like to say that Sheri Savill shamelessly guilted me into joining in with this week’s Dungeon Crawl. There was much crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth – and then she launched an online assault that was so wicked, so pointed, I felt I just had to submit:

She’s shameless, that Savill is. No limits. No boundaries.

So in retaliation, I’m going there. I’m going to ring my own bell and promote my short story Thorn King, which, as some of you may be aware, has just been released as part of Cleis Press’ erotic fairy tale anthology A Princess Bound.

See what you made me do, Sheri? See? Post a dark erotica excerpt. How could you? (The Corvette’s in the post.)

THORN KING

Just what is this … thing, this creature?

There is no time to consider the question; my mind blanks to a sheet of white nothing as a blisteringly hot tongue begins lapping at the crimson trails smearing my leg. I groan, my head falling backwards like a heavy, dead weight. The feeling is … indescribable. Sublime. Completely foreign.

Arousing.

The idea that some strange being is tasting my blood – feeding on me – should fill me with horror. Yet, with each lick, blood rushes to my clit until it is so tight and swollen I feel as if it might burst. It’s almost as if the cut in my leg has become a soft, luscious cunt and the tip of his tongue a tiny, rapacious cock.

I stare at the umbrella of leaves above and see a heavily pregnant moon shining between the trees. It leers down, a sinister voyeur to this strange, twisted encounter. His tongue continues to stab relentlessly. To probe at my flesh until it feels as if it has invaded my body, that he’s slid inside me like a dark, dark river.

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Cleis Press

A Princess Bound: Naughty Fairy Tales for Women – paperback

Who else is joining in with this week’s Dungeon Crawl? Click on the banners below to find out.

An InLinkz Link-up

The post Dungeon Crawl: Thorn King (A.K.A. shameless self-promotion) appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Squirm: Cari Silverwood talks inches, virgins, billionaires and tentacles

Jane — Sun, 18 May 2014 23:54:34 +0000

Bored with the same old billionaire bikers? Tired of erotic romance heroes who only have nine-inch penises? Not enough grease in your Chanel No. 5? Then you need …

[Cue voice of Brian Butterfield] …

CARI SILVERWOOD’S NEW EROTIC ROMANCE PARODY, SQUIRM!

Every erotic romance you’ve ever read over the past two years rolled into one handy novella. Horny virgin? Check. Fifty shades of Charlie Hunnam? Check. An enormous penis – I mean tentacle – that just won’t stop poking? Check.

Cue interview …

JANE: Does eau de biker have a two-stroke top note and can I buy it from Selfridges or John Lewis?

CARI: I hope you appreciate how much Googling I had to do for this – I’d heard of Selfridges though. To let the US and rest-of-the-world readers in on this, think Target and Walmart with a smidge more class.

I think two-stroke would be a wonderful way to describe this sought after perfume. Although the exact ingredients are a closely held secret by all motorcycle clubs, there’s definitely a base of petrol/gasoline along with the other obvious ingredients like beer, grease, and pizza leftovers.

I doubt you can buy it at Selfridges/Walmart due to the price being the blood of an untamed virgin … or the kiss of one. My inner voice just yelled at me that blood is too icky for a humorous story about a tentacle monster ravaging a virgin. Let’s stick with kiss.

JANE: As you know, women like their erotica light and flowery, because – let’s face it – as a gender, we’re all about puppies and kittens. That said, I see Squirm really pushes the boat out with regard to naughty, sexy language. Do you feel that you’re breaking down barriers by referring to Virginia Chase’s lady garden as a ‘downstairs department’ and how heavily were you influenced by the ground breaking work of E.L. James and Anastasia’s ‘down there’ area?

CARI: Oh my. Do other women have a downstairs department? Wow.

I’m not sure if I’m breaking anything except hymens in this story. Crap. Apparently that was crass, too. Pardon me.

In all seriousness, I don’t think there are very many erotic parodies out there. Hens’ teeth are a little more common. So in that way, I’m breaking new ground. I was taking a bit of a risk with Squirm. Although I can parry and riposte smart-ass witticisms on Facebook now and then, when the wind is coming from the right direction, I had no real reason to think I could do a whole funny book. I should probably get a medal for this.

I think the genre needs a bit of fun thrown in to counterbalance the enormous load of sheer passionate emotions erupting from the pages of most romances. There’s so much crazy. The lust. The passion! The devastation from almost dying due to the grief of breaking up with a boyfriend, and the weeping and the screams of Noooooooo when he leaves the toilet seat up. People just plain throwing their arms in the air, dancing, and being freaking crazy in LOVE.

Bikers, billionaires, rock stars, assassins, bunny rabbits, werewolves, vampires! Rock-hard cocks that come and go all night, only to then get used to beat up the ninjas springing through the window. All that.

I think I lost track of what I was talking about somewhere up above, but the world will tip off its axis if we don’t laugh a little.

With regards to the terms I used to refer to lady bits, I’ve probably set erotic fiction back by a decade.

Karl did say cunt, too, though. Does that count?

Excuse me while I quickly flash read that E.L. James work referred to above.

Whips, chains, an inner goddess, and a stalker. Lucky girl.

I was vaguely influenced by that other book. My lawyer told me to say that. *shifts on seat* Moving on?

JANE: Would you call Virginia size-ist?

CARI: She does like big schlongs, doesn’t she? Yes. She’s size-ist. Poor Jace was probably a perfectly good lay, even if he was easy, and only a measly nine inches.

JANE: Let’s talk influences. Bikers, billionaires and sea monsters – a natural venn diagram if ever there was one. In fact, I’m incredibly surprised that no one has thought to combine them in a story before. Danger, money and multiple appendages; it’s every woman’s fantasy come to life. To what extent did you base your characters on Byker Grove [if you click on this link, try not to fall over with laughter when you see that users who 'liked' this series also 'liked' Sons of Anarchy – the two have about as much in common as a bicycle tire and a cock ring], Wall Street and Paul the Psychic Octopus?

Not one bit. I based it on all the information that flows through my head daily. There’s a lot of stuff in there and though most of it is totally useless, sometimes I can make sense of it all. It’s not like that monkey pounding the typewriter keys analogy though. Mine is more like a shaken snow globe method. If it’s pretty and sparkles, it goes into the Word .doc.

I had a whole bunch of Beta readers from the Badass Brats street team for this and all they did was nod and cheer. Talk about monkeys. I’d sack them but they work for peanuts and bananas. And I love them.

My lawyer said to put that, too.

P.S. I’m so glad my tentacle, biker, billionaire fantasies tee up with yours. Multiple appendages is such a clever way to describe it and almost sounds acceptable to normal society. I’m writing that one down for my next tea party.

“Why yes, Janice, do have a cucumber sandwich. And when is your next appointment for a multiple appendage sex orgy?”

JANE: Lastly, let’s talk about Cari, the writer. How has Squirm challenged you and where do you feel it sits within your dark erotica oeuvre?

CARI: It was a rollercoaster ride. I’d been stewing on writing a parody for a year possibly – ever since I caught sight of the zillionaire vampire cowboy book. And then the Booty Call for Cthulhu hit me. Shucks.

I wouldn’t say it was a challenge as much as a surprise. I didn’t know I could do this. But it was easy to write and so much fun. I tried to get Sorcha Black to join in and she ran away screaming – despite an earlier promise to help write one of these.

Where does it sit within my dark erotica oeuvre? Gah. My fingers fell off retyping that last word.

It doesn’t. If it’s there at all Squirm is sitting fidgeting and looking sideways at the exit. This is a silly, short, monster sex book that pokes fun at everything I could get think of that fitted the plot. Admittedly some of the ideas were bunged in with a sledgehammer.

I’ve been told I’m an ADD author and this parody is a prime example of my wandering attention. It doesn’t even have to be shiny to attract me, just wriggly and able to be used in various orifices. Oh look! World’s biggest gummy worm!

Joking. I think.

From the cover:

A parody of everything great and weird in erotic romance that could be stuffed into one book without it exploding.

For some girls, one tentacle isn’t enough.

Having a bad day isn’t good but when Virginia Chaste has a bad day, she gets felt up by a tentacle monster. If it simply has to happen, let it at least be a billionaire and a hot biker.

Virginity isn’t all it’s cracked up to be and her search for the Holy Grail of Erotic Romance, the ten inch purple-headed schlong, may have finally borne fruit.

Yeehaw! Playing hide the tentacle has never been so much fun.

Ready for some tentacle love? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.co.uk

Squirm – Kindle

Amazon.com

Squirm – Kindle

Smashwords

Squirm – ePub

*A big thank you to the delightful Cari for agreeing to step behind the curtain and subject herself to my ridiculous questions.

The post Squirm: Cari Silverwood talks inches, virgins, billionaires and tentacles appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

e[Lust] #58

Jane — Fri, 16 May 2014 03:09:35 +0000

As ever, there are some excellent articles in this month’s edition of e[Lust] but I’d just like to say how pleased I am that Cara Sutra’s post has made the top three. A balanced, articulate and well-thought out piece that skilfully tackles the subject of rape fantasy. A tricky and emotive topic – one that many of us will likely disagree on – handled with care, surety and aplomb. Bravo.

Photo courtesy of Pandora Blake

Welcome to Elust #58 -

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 #59? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!