Title:

Two words: still recovering. Bind and Keep Me is non-con BDSM erotica at its absolute best. If you like your tales dark, you’re not going to want to miss this one.

*You can click on any of the stick figure drawings below to make them bigger. Which many of you will likely need to do if your eyesight is as bad as mine and you can’t read the writing!

JANE’S TAKE

This book should come with a health warning:

Caution! Jaw may drop to floor and disconnect from face. The author assumes no responsibility for readers who spontaneously combust with arousal and/or spend days wondering whether their moral compass needs resetting as a result of reading (and enjoying) this book.

Leave your sanity at the door because there is absolutely no way that Bind and Keep Me can be put into either the Safe, Sane and Consensual (SSC) or Risk Aware Consensual Kink (RACK) buckets. There is unsafe play in spades. There is insane play by the truckload. There is non-consent to the power of a hundred overlaid with the veneer of incredibly dubious consent. There is risk with a capital ‘R’. And there is kink. Oh, man is there kink.

But the scary thing is that it works. Almost too well. So well that you come out the other end of this book and think ‘I’m one twisted individual for enjoying that. And wanting more.’

A sadist who’s completely off the chain? Check.

Thoroughly illegal activity (murder-slash-manslaughter and abduction)? Check.

A ‘victim’ who has absolutely no say, no outs, no choice in what is done to her? Check, check, check.

Why is it that this book is so deliciously frightening? Because it feels so believable. You could actually imagine the scenario it describes happening. Cari Silverwood has taken everyday characters and situations and completely run them through the twisted kinky wringer to create something that is, pardon my language, a thoroughly arousing mind f*ck. (Let me assure you, you will never look at accountant in quite the same way.)

I was expecting a continuation of Klaus and Jodie’s story, which began in Take Me, Break Me. What I got was a tale that took me on a totally unexpected right-angle and went far deeper and darker than it’s predecessor. And as I read, I could not get out of my mind the following passage from that first book, the one in which Klaus truly begins to understand just how far his sadistic desires go:

‘My new epiphany turned creepy cold. Sharing hadn’t been last on the list, killing her and burying her on the beach had been it. Christ. Thank God, I wasn’t that man, but it made me wonder who I had become. I doubted I could change back.’

So just how far will his desires push him to take things in Bind and Keep Me?

To the limit, people. To the limit.

And what can I say about the ending? I’d have thought that Klaus would be a pretty hard act to follow but reading the Bind and Keep Me epilogue, it seems Ms Silverwood is going to crank things up even further with the next Pierced Hearts entry; Chris frightens the cr*p out of me – but oh, hell, do I want to read about him …

MICHAEL’S TAKE

I’ve decided to keep this review as spoiler-free as possible.

So after Jane and I read Take Me, Break Me a few months ago I learned that there was a second book in the Pierced Hearts series. At first I was confused but then I remembered that there were several possible supporting characters who could be featured in the next story.

So when Jane sent me the Bind and Keep Me review copy, I just picked it up and started reading. And found that it featured Jodie and Klaus. I was surprised, obviously, but decided to just go with it and see where we ended up.

And then … Boom! I didn’t see that coming.

What Cari had to do was tricky. Add a third character to the mix. Create someone who was likeable enough that we did care what happened to her. And yet at the same time make her unlikable enough that we didn’t get too upset at what she went through. I think she pretty much succeeded.

I am still trying to process the ending. Did I see it coming? I definitely saw it as a possibility earlier but had kind of eliminated that from the list by the time it happened. How do I feel about it? Honestly, I am still kind of unsure.

I gave Klaus a lot of leeway and the benefit of the doubt the first time around. Truth? He scares me more than a bit now. I am not sure where he is going to draw the line anymore.

Is there room for a third book? Actually, there is. I am not going to make any assumptions next time around, though.

*Please note that advance copies of Bind and Keep Me were supplied free of charge by the author in exchange for a fair review.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Bind and Keep Me – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Bind and Keep Me – Kindle

The post Bind and Keep Me – Cari Silverwood appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

If you recall, Michael reviewed Leila’s Confessions Collection Vol.1 back in February and was left wondering just what was going to happen in the next instalment …

‘Two men. One a politician on the verge of greatness and the other a philanthropist on the cusp of corruption, each own a piece of me.’

This is a short review but this latest instalment in the Confessions series really isn’t that long.

I’ll admit that this is one of those books that took me some time to get started with but, after that, I was genuinely pulled back into the story.

The positive thing for me is that Desniah seems to be gaining more control over her life. London only plays the smallest part and Desniah makes a massive decision at the end – or at least I hope she did.

Caden makes a huge step forward as he finally realises the truth that has been staring him in the face for long.

Rhys I have nothing good to say about. Trying to create a total power exchange relationship with someone who isn’t totally enthusiastic about it is wrong. Telling someone that you intend to complete their hard limits list is also wrong.

Going in I probably liked Rhys more than Caden. I’ve changed my mind at this point.

*Please note that a copy of Bond Confessions (London Brown) Volume 2, Novella 1 was provided free of charge by the author in exchange for a fair review.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Bond Confessions (London Brown) Volume 2, Novella 1 – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Bond Confessions (London Brown) Volume 2, Novella 1 – Kindle

Smashwords

• Bond Confessions (London Brown) Volume 2, Novella 1 – ePub

The post Bond Confessions (London Brown) Volume 2, Novella 1 – Leila DeSint appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: courtesy of Tech Affair

‘Do you talk during sex? Do you like to be talked to during sex? What do you say or what do you like to hear? Does it excite you or does it turn you off?’

Words. They have the ability to steal the breath more effectively than a cane, settle beneath the skin more deeply than the thud of a flogger, bind and hold us more firmly than any rope.

When I saw that this was the topic prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday, I was thrilled (superb suggestion, Lord Raven). Why? Well, words are a huge (huge) part of my personal kink.

Sex, for me, is rarely silent. It’s always better when there’s verbal communication going on, because, in my opinion, while our bodies generally give our partners a pretty good idea as to whether we’re enjoying ourselves (or not), the right words have the ability to elevate and texture an exchange in a way that nothing else can. They give the speaker and the listener the opportunity to further engage the senses, to fall more fully into an experience and connect more deeply with one another. Over time, I’ve come to understand that I actually need the verbal element in order to reach the places that I find most satisfying. I don’t mean that I require a constant stream of words and chatter to orgasm. Far from it. Rather, that a few choice words and phrases have the ability to elevate sex or a D/s exchange to a whole other level. Put simply, my brain needs to be engaged for me to be aroused and language plays a massive part in its stimulation.

It can’t just be any old dirty talk, mind you; the verbal cues I like are very specific and they all play into other aspects of my sexual personality and kinks. A set of instructions, orders, requirements, quiet threats; a commentary of what I look like in a particularly vulnerable position or perhaps following a perverted set of directions; name-calling. If the words have anything to do with control, objectification and debasement then, yeah, I’m pretty much a puddle of mush in my OH’s hands. There. I said it. I’m not sure why, but it took me a fair amount of time to admit, out loud to him, that explicit language, more specifically, derogatory explicit language, turned me on in a big, big way. That I was interested in far more than the standard ‘I’m going to f*ck you’ fare (which is all well and good but doesn’t really tap into anything for me psychologically). Is it because the things I like him to say would be completely unacceptable in an everyday situation? Maybe. I know that words can induce incredibly strong reactions, even when they’re on paper. (Check out the very unscientific Talk Dirty to Me experiment I conducted with four ‘vanilla’ readers last September.) Put it this way: it was far easier for me to come out and say ‘I’d like you to hit me with a crop’ than it was to say ‘It turns me on no end when you humiliate and debase me with words’.

It doesn’t work both ways, though. I’m not a talker. I would far rather be spoken to than speak to him during an exchange (although sometimes he insists that I articulate what I am feeling or wanting because he knows that it will add to the feelings of embarrassment). But I love to listen. Oh, man, do I love to listen.

Here is the important and most crucial, point, though. I am only okay with being spoken to in the way I’ve outlined by one person, and one person only. My other half. And only in the context of a sexual or D/s exchange (although, for us, the two are so closely linked they cannot be really be separated). If he, or anyone else called me a ‘whore’ or a ‘slut’ or any of the other words I like to hear in any other situation or context, believe me, you’d see and hear the nuclear explosion all the way from the North Pole. And perhaps that is why it took so long for me to confess the desire to be spoken to in this way. Words are extremely powerful things, but I finally understand that it’s okay to let myself explore, experience and enjoy them with someone I trust to know the difference between their use during sex/play and everyday life.

The post Aural Sex appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Photo courtesy of Love Hate Sex Cake

Welcome to e[lust] - 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 e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #50? Start with the newly updated rules, come back September 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A pill for that?

When I Get Annoyed, Shit Happens.

The Dildo Wars- Dildology & Doc Johnson

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Sense, Sensibility and Censorship

Triggers, Asses and Subby Places.

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

There is no Freedom Without Risk

Blogging

Decisions, Decisions….
Voyeurism Rant About Blogger/WordPress & Host

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY IS OFFENSIVE
Beautiful Rope Work – Easier than you think
Kinky Assumptions
As I promised…a singletail video!
Bootblacking
Chronic Fatigue and BDSM
NSA BDSM: Failure and Success
Supporting your dominant’s dominance
How to Get Your Boyfriend to Spank You

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Rabbit Vibrators: How to measure for fitting
Acting! Thank You!
TItty Fucking
What’s Wrong With Sexy Scientists?

Erotic Non-Fiction

Keep Me Nasty
No Safewords
Being on the Ropes
The Lead Up
My Birthday Spankings#BirthdaySpankingsforRei
More Like An Earthquake
Lessons
Stag at a sex party
A Fan of Fans
Let the rain come
Gangbang Club
The Polka-Dot Dress
Dinner for Two

Erotic Fiction

The (Not So) Innocent
Master’s Bad Day
When She Comes
Summer Storm
Lolita Twenty-Thirteen, Part Seven
Eight Ball
A Hole in the Pack

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

He hears me.
Why Doesn’t She Respond to Cunnilingus?
I Don’t Rape.
5 Reasons Straight Men Fear MFM Threesomes
Cap D’Adge and swinging
Boys & Their Toys
Anal Sex is Motherf***ing Awesome
Words of Wisdom
Seeing Red

The post e[lust] #49 appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Stunning, no?

I’d like to say that I was reading saucy books and writing more Garden but I, um, spent most of my time exploring the gorgeous North Devon coastline and getting myself wet in the mighty Atlantic. Oh, and eating fish ‘n’ chips and scones slathered in jam and clotted cream. (Lush. Totally, totally, lush.)

This week, I’m back in the land of gadgetry and mobile phone coverage but I just wanted to let you all know that I’m going to be quiet for the next few days, too, while I try and catch up with all the writing I should have been doing on that cliff top. Garden is chugging along, albeit slowly – thank you for all the kind comments and words of encouragement you lovely people left on part nineteen – and Michael and I have some more joint-reviewing to do. And the next My Life in Books post and vibrator write-up I promised a few weeks back are still stuck in the queue …

Hmm, maybe I should run back to my camping idyll?

The post Running off to Devon … appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

MICHAEL’S TAKE

I guess it was sort of inevitable if we did this long enough.

A lot of people are comparing this to Captive in the Dark. I can see why. And I can certainly make the case for comparing them. A young woman is kidnapped. Mexico. International human trafficking. An anti-hero with a troubled past. But there comes a point when this has to sink or swim on its own merits. That is where Jane and I disagree.

Probably the biggest difference is Marco. He is a little hard to describe. He’s a monster, right? The evil human trafficker who forces his captives to do his bidding to further his criminal empire. Simple. Only at least some of his slaves delight in serving him, happy that he rescued them from a life of poverty and despair. In fact, at least one is desperately in love with him. And he could have killed our young heroine right at the beginning instead of taking her into his home. And he certainly could have taken her anal virginity … because … well, the reason he didn’t I didn’t quite get. In fact, I found that entire subplot a little odd.

Douglas. Colin Douglas. That doesn’t actually appear in the novel and Colin never got assigned a designation starting with a couple of zeros but the whole MI-6 thing was an interesting choice. But it was such a minor issue that aside from adding some unintended humour it didn’t make much difference.

Angela’s character was obviously inspired by Natalee Holloway. In fact, when Jane suggested this book, I deliberately just started reading without knowing anything about it. So I had no idea what was about to happen although perhaps I should have seen it.

Ultimately it came down to whether I liked Angela and Colin. And I did. They weren’t Livvie and Caleb but they had their own strengths and weaknesses. I was really hoping things would work out for them. And they did – although not without a few twists right up the very end.

I’m sorry this didn’t measure up for Jane but there is always next time.

JANE’S TAKE

I live in the U.K. Granted, I wasn’t born here but I’ve spent the last decade of my life residing and working in Britain and, over time, have become reasonably familiar with all the dialects therein. Although I will never get the hang of Cockney rhyming slang (the first time someone asked me if I ‘fancied a butchers’ I had all sorts of bizarre images going through my head – we were going to some sort of butcher appreciation event? Some sort of sausage festival? Seemed a rather unlikely turn of events given the nature of the conference call we were having …). My point is that I have a semi-reasonable handle on regional accents these days.

I’ve worked with a few Scotsmen. One of my neighbours is from Edinburgh. And I can tell you right now that NONE of them sound remotely like Colin, the Scottish dude in this story. If ‘C’, said neighbour, started talking to me the way Colin does at certain points in Escape from Paradise, I’d probably think she’d been drinking a lot of Glenfiddich. In short, I could count on one hand the times I’ve heard ‘och’, ‘lass’, ‘lassie’, and ‘ken’ come up in conversation with Scottish people my age.

Reading the blurb for Escape from Paradise, I was excited – in fact, this was my reading choice rather than Michael’s. I like dark erotica, non-con in particular, and I thought this was going to be in the vein of C.J. Roberts’ Captive in the Dark, which I adored. Unfortunately, I fell rather heavily from the wagon within the first quarter of the book and just couldn’t get back on it again.

It wasn’t just the dialogue that flipped the off switch for me, but the rather erratic characterisation of both Colin and Marco, neither of which felt believable. The first does a dramatic personality one-eighty in the space of a few paragraphs, albeit due to a major life event (narcissistic party boy to avenging angel) and the latter is, well, just off somehow. (I was incredibly surprised that he didn’t kill Angela at the very beginning. I realise that would have stopped the story dead but, ultimately, that reaction from him to the circumstances would have been far more true to type.) Oh, and the way the police show up and deal with the crime involving Colin’s younger brother at the very beginning of this story? Er. No. It just wouldn’t happen that way here.

“I’m sorry to tell you this,” one of them said softly. “But we must work quickly. Your parents have been murdered and your brother’s gone missing. We’re taking you into custody for your own protection.”

Maybe this book works better for non-U.K. readers? Looking at this review I can see a lot of my gripes are to do with context and setting. For a comparison, it would be like me trying to write in a caricature American accent.

‘Howdy, Michael. Are you swell today? Because, dude, I totally I am. I am a total hot mess. My checking account is full of cooties and there’s a stick shift stuck in my drywall.’

Eh, something went wrong for me, that’s for sure. I wanted another Caleb, another Livvie – and I didn’t get either. Although looking at all the positive reviews Escape from Paradise is getting, it would seem I’m in the disliking minority.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Escape from Paradise – Kindle
• Escape from Paradise – Paperback

Amazon.com

• Escape from Paradise – Kindle
• Escape from Paradise – Paperback

The post Escape from Paradise – Gwendolyn Field appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title:

Oh, ho-ho. Michael knocked it out of the park with this joint read-and-review choice. Spanking, D/s, violet wands, vegetable safewords. Funny, hot and totally sexy.

MICHAEL’S TAKE

So Kaylee has been saving up for the moment of her life: a trip to The Castle, the hottest BDSM resort in Central Ohio. She gets to spend three whole days living out her fantasies.

She just has one teeny tiny little problem. She’s no clear idea of what her fantasies will be like in real life. She has never played, never been to a club, never done anything. And she is sure of one thing: if she tells The Truth, admits to her inexperience, she’ll be spending her entire stay in the kiddie pool wearing water wings.

So she lies. Not a big lie. She just wants them to think she has some experience. What could go wrong? It isn’t like they are going to drag her down to an underground dungeon and send in a Hulking Brute in an Executioner’s Mask with a Bullwhip, is it? Okay, so maybe it was a big lie.

What I loved most about this one was how patient the staff were with her. A fantasy doesn’t work out? Sure. No Problem. As soon as she’s dried her tears, they send her back to costuming and try again. (They had so many things to choose from in that department, I don’t think for a moment we saw everything it had to offer.) Not unlike Goldilocks, Kaylee just has to try and try again until she finds the kink that’s just right.

I think the most negative thing I can say about Kaylee’s Keeper is that it’s a little sad that The Castle isn’t actually real.

JANE’S TAKE

Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “Jane! Can you skydive?”
Jane: [Hell no, but you look kind of hot so I’ll give it a crack]: “Yes, of course I can! In fact, I used to be an instructor.”
Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “Awesome. Grab a parachute and get your arse in that plane over there.”
Jane: [How hard can it be?] “You’ve got it.”

6,000 feet later …

Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “Are you okay, Jane? You look kind of green …”
Jane: [Fucking hell this is high!!!] “Oh, fine, fine. I think I had a bad prawn at lunch.”

12,500 feet later …

Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “You ready to jump?”
Jane: [FUCK!!!] Totally … absolutely … er … definitely. My, that weather doesn’t look at all good, does it? Maybe we should turn back?”
Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “It’s 30 degrees and sunny with no wind.
Jane: [FUCK x 10!] “See! Terrible conditions!”
Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “Er, Jane? Are you sure you’ve done this before?
Jane: [Oh, my God. Does Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear suspect something? That I’m not, perhaps, the skydiving goddess he imagines? Act defensive! Put him off the scent!] “How dare you! What exactly are you suggesting?”
Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “That you may not know how to skydive?”
Jane: [He’s fishing! Play it cool; there’s no way he can know I’m not telling the truth …] “Now why on earth would you say that?”
Attractive Random Person Dressed in Skydiving Gear: “Well, for starters, you’re strapping yourself to the emergency first aid kit rather than your parachute.”

Have you ever fudged the truth a little? Massaged your C.V. to get that perfect job? Not been entirely honest on that health questionnaire: “How many times a week do you take regular exercise/eat chocolate/drink more than two units of alcohol?” (Never, no, every day, only at Easter, and only at weddings. (Snort.)) Well, Kaylee’s Keeper is all about what happens when a sub pretends to have a little – okay, a lot – more BDSM experience than she actually does (none).

“Have you ever engaged in BDSM play before? Kaylee checked off her answer, yes, and kept going, swallowing back that same slight twinge of guilt that she’d felt back when she first typed that lie. She had never played. Up until now, all of her spankings had been received through fantasy and daydreams.”

I loved this book for a number of reasons. It did a wonderful job of showing that the fantasies in our heads don’t always play out as we imagine they will in real life. It did a wonderful job of showing how important open and honest communication is between partners. It did a wonderful job of showing that we don’t automatically know what will turn us on, that we often discover these things over time, through experience, with patience. Oh, and it absolutely showed why it is never ever a good idea to lie to a Top.

I don’t want to say too much more and ruin this delightful tale for you, but I will confess that the violet wand scene at the end of this story is awesome, as is the one that leads up to and includes Kaylee’s first use of The Castle’s universal safeword, onion. You’ll never look at an Allium cepa in quite the same way again.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Kaylee’s Keeper (Masters of The Castle #2) – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Kaylee’s Keeper (Masters of The Castle #2) – Kindle

The post Kaylee’s Keeper (Masters of The Castle #2) – Maren Smith appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

It has been ages since I posted a Garden of Earthly Delights instalment. Ages. In fact, the last episode went up back in April :-/ The story has been continuing, though. Oh, yes. In fact, I am now roughly 15,000 words away from completing Nick and Grace’s story, which, when all’s said and done, will clock in at around 60,000. (I’ve inadvertently written a full-length erotic romance novel – how on earth did that happen?! Can’t quite believe it given that short stories have always been my thing …)

So, slight deviation from the original plan: this will be the last Garden of Earthly Delights episode posted on Behind the Chintz Curtain. It’s really become far too big and unwieldy to be read in blog form now (your eyes will likely fall out if you try to consume it from end-to-end, given its size) and I’ve made the decision to remove all but the first chapter from my site and self-publish the full version – properly edited – upon completion.

A big thank you to everyone who has read along to-date and/or encouraged me to keep going; I promise I’ll let you know when I finally hit the finish line!

Jane
xxx

THE GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS – PART NINETEEN

When Grace arrived at the office just before eight the following Monday, Jack was already hard at work drawing – and clearly had been for some time.

‘Morning,’ she called as she made her way across the room to her desk, trying to ignore the aching soreness between her legs.  She’d been at Nick’s almost the entire weekend, the sex they’d had on the Friday night kicking off an explosive two days that had seen him fuck both her body and her mind in practically every position and in every room of his house.

On her back on the floor of his study, her arms bound above her head, his fingers pulling at her nipples until the discomfort collided with the blissful feeling of his cock tunnelling in and out of her pussy.

On her hands and knees in the living room, Nick holding her in place by her hair and massaging her clit until she came.

Standing with her back to the wall in his shower, while he alternately licked her pussy and bit at the soft skin of her inner thighs.

She’d had absolutely no say in the when or how – he’d simply told her where he wanted her and ordered her into position. On Saturday morning, when she’d dared to make noises about going home to fetch her toothbrush, he’d confiscated her car keys, ordered her onto her knees and told her the only way out of his house was with her safeword.

She hadn’t wanted to use it. Couldn’t bring herself to. And, after a small internal debate, during which she’d attempted to rationalise her need to give in to Nick  (and failed), she’d settled on the floor at his feet.

He’d proceeded to reprimand her for her dithering with that fucking glass dildo, bringing her to frustratingly close to climax three times before finally sinking himself into her and stroking her slowly to orgasm with his cock and his fingers. When she’d next gone to the bathroom to tidy herself up, though, she’d found a clean brush and toothpaste waiting for her next to the sink.

Surprisingly, the weekend hadn’t been all about sex. In between bouts, they’d stopped to talk, cook, and eat. Taken turns choosing films to watch on Nick’s enormous flatscreen. He’d made her sit through Blade Runner; she’d retaliated by selecting Gone with the Wind. Both the sex and the company had been … comforting. Although how that was possible given the power exchange dynamic between them, Grace wasn’t entirely sure.

Nick had finally given her back her keys – and her clothes – on Sunday evening. But not before he’d leaned her over his dining table between their dirty supper dishes, slid a lubricated finger into her anus and told her that the next time he saw her he was going to plug it. Grace couldn’t stop herself from clenching her buttocks at the thought; although Nick had penetrated her bottom with his fingers more than once over the two days they’d spent together – and she’d enjoyed the edgy discomfort of it – the thought of having something bigger than a digit embedded in her rectum scared her.

‘Well, from the look on your face you definitely had a good weekend.’

‘What?’ Grace, completely lost in her thoughts, looked up to find Jack standing next to her, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement.

‘Your weekend. I take it you had a good one?’

‘Oh.’ Grace felt herself blushing, hideously aware that her neck and face were probably turning a bright, embarrassing pink. ‘Yes, it was fine, thanks.’

‘Fine?’

‘Yes, fine.’ She leaned down, pretended to fumble in her bag for her mobile. Where had her vocabulary gone? And why was she feeling so embarrassed? There was no way Jack could have guessed what she’d been up to over the past two days. And then a mortifying thought struck her: had he spoken to Nick? She jerked her head up, all pretence of rummaging forgotten. ‘You haven’t, er …?’ Yet even as she started to form the question she realised what an absurd one it was; the Nick she was coming to know would never do that to her – would never talk about her like that with Jack, even if they were best friends.

‘Haven’t …?’

Grace shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

Jack laughed. ‘I’m not even going to ask, Gracie.’ He clapped a large hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘But can I just say you look about a hundred times happier than you did the other week.’

A hot little bloom exploded in her chest and she couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. ‘I feel a hundred times happier, too.’

‘Coffee?’

‘Yeah, a coffee would be great.’

…………….

‘Nick!’

Nick looked up from the plan he had spread out on the hood of his Defender to see Lexie, his site office manager, wearing a red hard hat and picking her way towards him across the building site. ‘There’s someone here to see you,’ she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the noise of a digger churning away in the background. ‘A Tristan Hursthouse?’ She drew to a stop just on the far side of a large footing hole and looked at him questioningly.

Nick felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘Tell him I’ll be right there,’ he hollered as he let go of the plan edges, allowing the sheet to roll in on itself. ‘Just got to go and drop this groundworking revision off to Mike.’

Lexie waved in acknowledgement and began striding back in the direction she’d come, dust kicking up around her as she walked. It had been hellishly dry for the past week and the site was like a giant dirt bath.

Plan in hand, Nick made his way around to the open driver’s door of his car and hauled himself inside. Tristan’s visit was unexpected, to say the least. Given that their friendship was, for the most part, built around their respective interests in kink, social visits during working hours weren’t exactly the norm for them. Although, to be fair, they hadn’t exactly had much time to talk over the past few weeks; after the whole thing with Grace had kicked off, Tristan had jetted off to some legal conference in the States.

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled up in the site carpark to see his friend lounging against the side of an old Mercedes convertible. Wearing dark-framed reading glasses and dressed in a light charcoal suit, Tristan looked every inch the litigation lawyer he was.

He straightened as he saw Nick pull in and, as he started to climb out of the Defender, began walking towards him. ‘Nice ride,’ Nick said as he smiled and slammed the door. ‘New?’

Tristan looked back at his car. ‘Yeah, it’s an old 230. 1965. Just finished restoring it.’

Nick blinked in surprise. ‘You actually know your way around an engine?’

Tristan pressed a hand against his heart and grimaced. ‘I’m wounded, man. What, you think a sissy lawyer boy doesn’t know how to get his hands dirty?’

‘Just never picked you as a man who’d swing anything other than a flogger,’ Nick said as he came to a stop next him.

‘Arse.’ Tristan punched him lightly in the arm and then briefly grasped Nick’s hand in greeting. ‘How’re you, anyway?’

‘Good. Better than good, actually.’

Tristan regarded him thoughtfully. ‘So I take it Grace forgave you for our monumental balls-up, then?’

‘Fuck knows why but, yeah. Yeah, she did.’

‘Thank Christ for that.’ Tristan looked visibly relieved. ‘It’s been chewing at me ever since it happened.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets and toed the carpark scalpings with the tip of one well-shod foot. ‘I know you said Jack talked to her but …’

‘She’s fine, Tris. Better than fine, actually.’ Nick found it impossible to stop the smile spreading across his face. ‘We tried again. Caelan stepped in and we’re …’ He looked out over the construction site. Watched one of the construction workers direct a concrete truck over to a foundation trench as he searched for the right words. ‘… in really good place,’ he said eventually.

‘I’m glad, Nick. You’ve needed someone like Grace for a while now.’

Puzzled, Nick cocked his head. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone with the ability to give you back your confidence, you dumb bastard. Really give it back. Or did you actually think you were happy with me holding your hand and playing with all those club subs who you let top from the bottom?’

‘I don’t follow?’

Tristan looked at him shrewdly. ‘You haven’t been in the driver’s seat – really in the driver’s seat – since Tess got hurt. You’ve been dipping your toe in the water but you haven’t ever allowed yourself to plunge into it again.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘If it were any fucking truer it’d be gospel, Nick. Look, I know what it took for you to start playing again – and I know you’re terrified of hurting someone by accident. I get it. What happened between us and Grace that first night sure as hell didn’t do your confidence any favours, either.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘I should never have let you talk me into helping you. You would have been far better off on your own and following your instincts.’

‘That was totally my fault and –’

Tristan held up his hand. ‘I should have just said ‘no’. I wanted to help you but, in hindsight, all I did was provide you with a broken crutch. Nick, I can tell just by looking at you that you care about this girl – could see it the moment you laid eyes on her the night we fucked up, too. Which means you’re not going to be able to say ‘no’ when she asks you for more. Her inexperience is going to force you to get past your anxieties. You’re going to have to take control in order to show her – and give her – what she needs.’ He smiled at the slightly shocked look on Nick’s face. ‘That’s what I meant when I said you needed someone like Grace. I think she’s good for you because I think she’s the one who’s going to make you move on.’

The sound of something mechanical whirring loudly in the background saved Nick from having to say anything straight away. ‘Is this why you came out here today? To tell me I’m an emotional cripple?’ he asked eventually.

‘Well, to see for myself that you were doing okay, mainly. And because I was kind of curious to see your dust bath of an office.’ Tristan gestured at the busy construction site behind him with his hand. ‘I like what you’ve done with the place, by the way. That pile of dirt? Very House & Garden.’

‘Smart arse.’

Tristan slapped him on the arm. ‘I need to get going,’ he said as he started making his way back over to his car. ‘Client meeting at two thirty.’

‘That’s it?’ said Nick in disbelief as he kept pace beside him. ‘You really drove all the way over here to tell me …’ He raises his hands an shoulders in exasperation, ‘… What are you telling me exactly?’

Tristan opened the door of the convertible and turned his head as he dropped down into the driver’s seat. ‘Nick,’ he said as slammed the door shut and cranked the key over, ‘when the time comes, please trust yourself to do the right thing.’

And with that, he drove off, leaving Nick standing, perplexed, in a soft cloud of dust.

…………….

Jack dropped his wrist onto the drafting board and looked up from the drawing he was working on. Although he did all of his final plans on the computer he still preferred to use the old-school method of pen and paper to explore initial designs and ideas for his buildings. Not only did sketching help him to think more critically, it also made him feel … relaxed. With the project deadlines he had looming over the coming week, though, it was fair to say that having a clutch in his hand wasn’t helping the way it usually did. The price of success: more money coupled with a seemingly insurmountable mountain of work.

He rubbed a dark eyebrow with the back of his hand, stretched his arms up over his head, and looked at his watch.

3.00pm.

Shit, this day was dragging like a bitch. He’d spent all weekend in the office finalising the drawings for three of his other jobs and felt like he was living in the place. Jack flexed his fingers and glanced at over at Grace, who was smiling to herself as she worked at her computer. Whatever crap had been going on between her and Nick these past few weeks was obviously working itself out. He didn’t share his best friend’s sexual proclivities – couldn’t see the appeal of all that kinky shit he seemed to thrive on – but after fucking up with Grace so royally to start with, whatever the two of them were doing now seemed to be making her – and he hoped Nick – happy.

Jack looked away from Grace and gazed longingly at the bright sun on the other side of the studio windows. Man, he really needed to hit the climbing gym this evening, work off some of the stress that had been building up as a result of his ever-increasing workload. It was only a block up from the office and, normally, he went twice a week for a bouldering session with some other regulars. But for the past month his schedule had been completely hellish and everything, including his morning swim sessions, had gone out the window. Jack wasn’t the sort of person who liked sitting around indoors for too long, and the need to get out, to do something physical and relieve the tension inside of him was becoming a scratching ache. Tonight, he told himself firmly, he was going to have a blow out. He’d been putting in the hours, was nearly on top of things; he needed some down time.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

The sound of his mobile vibrating against the desk had Jack glancing over, reaching for it when he saw the name on the display.

‘Tess.’

‘Hey, Jack.’

‘What’s up?’ He looked at his watch again and frowned. ‘Shouldn’t you be at work?’ His twin had trained as a physiotherapist and – normally – it was next to impossible for her to make or receive calls during the day given how busy the practice she worked at was.

‘I am. I just ran outside for a minute to phone you.’

Jack took a swig from the coffee mug on his desk, grimacing when he realised that the liquid in it was stone cold. ‘Is everything okay?’

A hesitation.

‘Tess?’

‘Well, um, I was wondering if maybe we could have dinner tonight? I know you’re busy with work and everything but …’ There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone, the sound of Tess’s light breathing – as if she was bracing herself for what ever she was about to say next.

A feeling of unease stirred in Jack’s gut. ‘What’s wrong, Tess?’ he demanded.

‘It’s nothing urgent,’ she assured him, the words tumbling out in a hurry, as if she was trying to convince herself as much as him. ‘And I’d really rather not talk about it over the phone, if it’s all the same to you.’

‘Tess–’

‘Please, Jack. Can you make dinner? Are you free?’

Jack felt a stab of guilt at his twin’s words. ‘Of course I can, Tess,’ he assured her. ‘Look, I know things have been crazy lately but I always, always have time for you. You know that.’

‘I just don’t like to be a nuisance,’ she sighed. ‘It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with enough of my crap over the past few years.’

‘You are not a nuisance, Tess. A pain-in-the-arse twin sister, maybe. But never a nuisance. And I’m more than happy to deal with your crap. You’re my fucking family.’

He heard her laugh lightly, the sound soft like little bells.

‘Okay, then. I’m on a late shift today; I finish at seven forty-five – shall we meet at that Italian on Parchment Street? Say around eight thirty-ish?’

‘Tell you what. I’m going to run over to Peaks at six and do some bouldering with the guys for an hour or so. How ‘bout you meet me here at my office at eight and we can walk over together?’

‘‘Done.’ He could hear the relief in his sister’s voice. ‘See you tonight.’

‘Looking forward to it, Tessie.’

‘Love you, Jack.’

‘I love you, too.’

…………….

Title image: Historic drafting board via Wikimedia Commons

The post The Garden of Earthly Delights – an erotic tale (part nineteen) appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: Maja desnuda censurata by Twice25 (via Wikimedia Commons)

Adult content. Pornography. Legal. Criminal. Consensual. Fantasy. Responsible parenting. Child abuse.

What do these words and terms mean to you? How do they make you feel? And if I asked you to separate them into ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’ buckets, what would you put where?

In the wake of the U.K. government’s plans to default censor pornography (David Cameron announced last week that all British households will be required to ‘opt in’ if they wish adult content to appear in search results), these questions will become more and more pertinent. Everyone, and I mean everyone, regardless of whether they feel they’re directly affected by these proposed changes, needs to be asking themselves ‘How do I feel about government imposed censorship?’ and ‘What value do I place on my right to discover legal content on the Internet?’

I’m willing to bet money on the fact that any normal, well-adjusted person reading this post will have put ‘criminal’ and ‘child abuse’ into the ‘Bad’ bucket and ‘legal’, ‘consensual’, ‘fantasy’ and ‘responsible parenting’ into the ‘Good’ bucket. But where did you put ‘adult content’? Where did you put ‘pornography’?

Up front and in a loud, shouty voice: I do not, for one minute, condone any pornographic content that is produced illegally, without the actors’ consent, or features children. Anyone who has any sort of involvement in that kind of sick sh*t needs to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Legally produced pornography, however, is another matter entirely. By definition, it is just that – legal – and it’s a dangerous and slippery road we travel down if we decide that governments have the right to automatically restrict our access to material that may make us uncomfortable but ultimately complies with the law.

I will be blunt: as far as titillation goes, visual pornography is not my thing. I come across it on my travels around the web and usually keep moving right along – I far prefer to explore sexual fantasy in text form. But the fact that legal pornography doesn’t work for me, that it is not a hot button in my particular case, in no way means that I have the right to tell another responsible adult that they cannot source and enjoy it. That would be projecting my own tastes and values on someone else and I have absolutely no right to do that. Do I see legal content on the Internet that offends me? All the time – and do you know what I do? I click away. The same way that I put a book down if the content is objectionable, switch off a television programme I dislike.

‘But isn’t this move about protecting children?’ I hear you say. ‘Won’t all this default censorship better shield them from the cocktail of sexual content lurking just a few key taps and mouse clicks away?’

For about five minutes. If we, as parents, think for one second that this move is going to absolve us from teaching out children about online safety, sex and sexual responsibility then we need our heads read. We live in a digital age and we need to get our heads around that. Fast. What happens when they go to another child’s house to play, those filters are switched off and they’re surfing the web unsupervised? What happens when they discover how to deactivate the filter on your home computer and have a good old poke around when you’re in the kitchen cooking supper? There is no substitute for age-appropriate discussions about sex and what is morally right and wrong. No substitute for providing a frank and thorough education about the online space and what they may or may not discover there. Frankly, I have more immediate concerns about the content on the various music video channels, which is readily available, at any time of day, via a digital T.V. box.

It is my job as a mum, as a responsible parent, to make sure that I educate and supervise my kids, ensure to the best of my ability that they are not exposed to pornography, and not rely on the government to semi-babysit them at the expense of normal, law-abiding adults. Because what the government is basically saying with this proposed legislation is that we, as a nation, cannot be trusted to turn on a filter system on our own, and that porn and the people who engage with it are bad, lumping them in with all those who are truly criminal. Nice.

What I would like to know is how this censoring is going to stop child pornography, because that, to my mind, is the issue that needs urgent attention. Tell me, Mr Cameron: how is this default filter going to stop those who are putting it online and those who watch it? How will it help with prosecutions? What are you doing to teach young people about online safety in schools and (controversial suggestion ahead), at the appropriate age, about ‘good’ versus ‘bad’ porn? Are we giving children any tools to cope, teaching them what to do if they discover the latter? Do they know how to report it?

What has also become very clear from all the commentary out there is that many people are confusing legal and illegal content. Further, we don’t seem to be able to distinguish between fantasy and real life:

‘Possessing pornography that depicts simulated rape is to become a criminal offence in England and Wales to make Britain a place where there is a “sense of right and wrong”.’

– via The Independent

Remember that word I used at the beginning of this piece, ‘consensual’? It’s sitting in your ‘Good’ bucket, yes? Well, let’s for a moment attach it to the word ‘fantasy’, also on the ‘Good’ sheet. ‘Yes, yes, Jane,’ I hear you say, ‘That’s perfectly all right with me. Consensual fantasy. Totally acceptable.’ Okay, then. Now imagine that the fantasy involves consensual non-consent between adults – by which I mean that the participants willingly choose to play out a non-consent scenario. What is your stance now? Keep in mind that none of the elements in these fantasies can be attached to the two things we’ve placed in the ‘Bad’ bucket, ‘criminal’ (there’s consent) and ‘child abuse’ (only of age adults are involved). My point here is that this scenario may make you feel uncomfortable – it may make you squirm more than a little – but it is, nonetheless, a consensual fantasy, and one that the participants or observers have every right to engage with or in. (You can read a brilliant article about this very topic on Musing of Rose’s blog; she herself is a rape survivor, and she articulates the complexities of such a scenario far more eloquently than I ever could.) I am not saying for one minute that some people won’t find this particular proposition offensive or that rape is ever acceptable in real life – rather that we have the right to engage or not engage in consensual fantasies of this type. And I’m not the only one who thinks this; per the Twitter account of author and columnist Louise Mensch:

‘It is not for our government to police consensual simulation, between adults, of one of women’s most common fantasies. I would hope that any such law would be challenged in the courts and fail in the courts. It is inhuman. Rape and rape fantasy not the same.’

I have to wonder, if the government pursues this line of thought, are they  going to go after the Mills & Boon back catalogue, which throughout the 80s and 90s featured the awful ‘rape plot’ device? In my opinion, the messages in those books promoted a far more damaging idea (‘rape as romance’).

And this leads me on to my next point: copy.

I can’t help but notice that the media hoopla surrounding this whole pornography crackdown has focussed largely on the Big P in its visual form, that there has been very little said about text. Will these measures affect the written word? What about short stories, books and articles? Will these filtered by search engines, too?

According to David Cameron:

‘It will depend on how the filters work.’

– via The Independent

Well, that clears that up then. And who, may I ask, will be deciding what is pornographic? Who, pray tell, is going to become our moral compass? What exactly will be included on the hit list? Sex education blogs? Sexual health sites? Erotic romance bookstores? Sex toy retailers? Fetlife? Blogs just like this one? (I had a friend recently tell me she got a pop-up warning saying that Behind the Chintz Curtain was a ‘porn’ site. Wow. News to me.) Oh, and I read non-con erotica. Am I going to be prosecuted for having C.J. Roberts’ Captive in the Dark on my bookshelf?

Freedom of speech and expression are not always comfortable. But we cannot just choose to be liberal with the easy stuff. We’re very lucky that, up until now, we have automatically been given the opportunity to decide what we see when we search for material online. (At this moment in time, you can choose to visit this site, read this post, decide I am or I’m not talking complete rubbish, and stay or leave.) But if we let this type of default censorship become the norm, where does it stop? Per Molly Moore and Harper Eliot: First they came for the pornographers – but who’s next?

I’ll leave you with this map of world Internet censorship below; I suspect that the U.K. isn’t going to be green for much longer …

Image: via Wikimedia Commons

The post Sense, Sensibility and Censorship appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Prepare yourselves. This could get a little messy.

—————————————————————-

Jane: Welcome, Ms Savill! It is an honour to have you here in my erotic Laura Ashley-stroke-Cath Kidston paradise. First of all, why don’t you give us a brief run down on YOU. Who is Sheri, really, and what is she about? What does she spread on her toast in the morning? Does she take milk in her coffee? Does she pay her electricity bill on time?

Sheri: Greetings Jane! And if I may, just a quick hello to the last of your readers as they rush for the doors. So glad to be here! At last! I’m Behind the Chintz Curtain. And may I say it is every bit as lovely as I had suspected it would be. The pictures do NOT do it justice. I expected nice, but this is really elegant. And thank you for setting out the cheesy poofs for me. A most thoughtful gesture.

Jane: Let’s begin our Bound for Disappointment discussion by talking a little bit about Tara Febreze, the book’s intrepid erotic author heroine. What – or who – inspired her creation and could you tell us a little more about the etymology of her name? It has a very French feel to it and I am curious as to whether you may have been influenced by the great Anne Desclos of Story of O fame.

Sheri: Very perceptive of you Jane, to notice the literary influences as to Tara’s name. Yes, the name conjures cheap French perfume and odour-masking aerosols. The name Tara … I was thinking of Scarlett O’Hara’s plantation and of course Scarlett wore corsets. See how it all connects so cleverly? So well-crafted, isn’t it? Or, maybe I just got up one morning and, before I’d had that first life-giving slug of espresso, let out a breathy sigh and said to myself, “Hmm. Name for character. Let’s see. How ’bout Tara? Febreze? Yeah, good a name as any. Clackety-clack.” Oh no! Trade secrets given away here on Chintz Curtain. Redact!

Jane: In the initial stages of the book, burritos and flip flops play a significant role in the storyline. Can you expand a little on your decision to include them in the text and perhaps explain their metaphorical significance?

Sheri: Burritos are terribly underused in most great literature, don’t you agree? And why is that? It got me to thinking. Kept me up at night. Then I hit upon it: the burrito is a perfect metaphor for BDSM. It’s got all these bits sort of bound up inside. Bondage. And flip flops, of course, can be removed quickly, and used to slap at things. Like if you wanted to kill a bug crawling along the floor. So, burritos and bondage, flip flops and slapping at things. BDSM. I thought it was pretty ham-handed and transparent of me, really. But readers should see these things through the prism of their own experience.

Jane: Tara comes across as a very emotional heroine. Do you think that sometimes her feelings get the better of her? Is, for example, the scene in which she demolishes a neighbour’s topiary with a chainsaw typical or atypical of her from a behavioural point-of-view?

Sheri: Tara is a bit … high-strung. She’s creative; has that artistic temperament. So of course she’s going to react to blatant hypocrisy with a chainsaw massacre. Who doesn’t? For readers who don’t know, I’ll tell you a little (without spoilers): In the story, when the big online retailer starts censoring smut books, Tara just loses her shit completely. Personally I would never do something like that. Say a big online retailer made me change a beautiful book cover of mine, and then the next day I saw sixty-three others that are much much much more provocative than mine ever was, and the retailer let all of those stand, and they’re still there as we speak. Would I grab a chainsaw and go on a rampage next door? No. I’d write a polite letter of inquiry to the retailer, and then delete it. And then I’d probably say, “Well, right then. I’m going to write some snarky shit about this, at least, and then sell it on their site, because I do enjoy a nice slice of irony now and then.”

Jane: Vageena Royale, Tara’s arch nemesis: is she as Voldemort is to Harry? As Iago is to Othello?

Sheri: Vageena is annoying, isn’t she? I actually based her on a character from school. Someone who hid library books we all needed for research papers. Very cutthroat shit, that was. I have to figure karma got her. So I learned from that … trust no one! Make fun of them twenty years later in a book. No, they won’t know you’ve done it. But you will. Petty? You bet. Oh! Random fact you must know: As I wrote BFD, I constantly typed “Vegeena” instead of “Vageena.” I didn’t say it was an interesting fact. Just a random one.

Jane: It’s very difficult to prevent at least some of who we are, as authors, from seeping into our writing. How heavily do you, Sheri Savill, feature in Bound for Disappointment?

Sheri: I’d say Tara is 100% me through and through. Not just with regard to my penchant for wearing corsets and thigh-highs while out on errands, but the way she deals with the bad reviews, and the way she fondled the burritos. All those little details. Very much me.

Jane: At one point, Tara is told to edit her writing to make it ‘less smutty’, more acceptable for mainstream distribution. What parallels can we draw from this incident with real life and, say, the move to censor adult content by governments and large multinationals?

Sheri: Seriously I could rant about this all day. Censorship just infuriates me. As Mark Twain said, “Censorship is telling a man he can’t have a steak just because a baby can’t chew it.” I don’t like babies either. Sorry. But censorship with no logic, and being applied unevenly, and without explanation? Infuriating. Dangerous. And some are saying we mustn’t talk about it because we might be banned “for good” from certain … places. That’s some self-censorship right there, eh?

Jane: Would you ever recommend looking for a Dom in the frozen foods aisle?

Sheri: Yes, by all means. Look for the black flip flops and other tell tale signs of Domliness. Really, I think Doms are hard to find these days. It’s all submissives now. They’re being hatched somewhere. Someone needs to spray, or set out bait traps. The big ones. Where HAVE all the Doms gone? Who has them? Is there a ransom note? How much do the kidnappers want? Can we raise the money, Jane!? Online petition? Why isn’t there a rent-a-Dom service? Why? I don’t want to buy one because they lose more than half their value the minute you get them off the showroom floor. My head swirls with questions like this pretty much all the time. You know how they say a creative mind is like a computer monitor with 2,853 windows all open in separate tabs, all at the same time? My mind is exactly like that, only there’s a 404 on every page.

Jane: Lastly, I’d like to ask you about the book’s title. Does it suggest an ill-fated ending for Ms Febreze, or is it perhaps more hopeful, hinting at disappointment only if she continues to pursue Tops by the name of DOM?

Sheri: Well, Bound for Disappointment sort of sums up my personal “journey”.  The glass is half full. The wheels have fallen off the wagon. Someone’s stuck a pin in the balloon. But I’m known as an optimist.

I don’t want to give away the ending because I spent a good three minutes – at least – plotting it. But I’ll hint. There may be sequels. Yes. Because I have – I mean Tara has – angst. She’s sensitive. She needs to vent when people leave inane reviews of her books. Me, I shrug and go about my business all cheerful-like. I don’t give it a second thought. Because I’m a professional. I can take harsh, poorly-written criticism from strangers who’ve never read erotica, much less BDSM erotica. “My that’s an interesting point you make. I’ll be sure to …” The chainsaw is gassed up and ready.

Excerpt:

‘When Tara reached home she opened her laptop and checked her email. There was one marked URGENT, from her editor, Deke:

“Hey, Tara. Our distributors are tightening up some categories for smutty BDSM books. There have been complaints that your stuff is too … hardcore. So we have to be a little more careful. No biggie, just means changing a little wording in your new books, here and there, to adapt. No more references to “cock” “pussy” “fucking” “tits” “ass” “holes” “come” “coming” “wet” “hard” “breathing” “licking” “sucking” “fingers” “smacking” “bruising” “blowing” “moaning” “hot” “touching” “thrusting” “whipping” “caning” “spanking” “toys” and “sex.” I’ll send the full list later.”

“What in the name of FUCK-ALL?!” Tara said aloud, to her pet goldfish Skippy, who was doing a backstroke in his bowl on her desk. Actually he was Skippy 17. She numbered the Skippys now, because she traveled a lot and, well, you know. When she returned from trips it was just a matter of a quick flushing and then on to the next Skippy. Tara knew that people with pets were generally happier and better adjusted overall. Dealing with a string of senseless fish deaths made her better able to handle the stresses of everyday life with grace and aplomb.

“Are these fucking prude-ass distributors on meth!? How am I going to write smut without cocks and pussies and assholes and come? MY STUFF IS TOO HARDCORE?! This is smut, for God’s sake! Smut is supposed to be … SMUTTY!”

The rain pelted the windows. Thunder rolled, rattling the light fixture over her desk. Tara felt a furious bubbling froth of anger rising up from the pit of her stomach. She jumped up and headed to the backyard. She stopped at the shed and grabbed her perfectly-maintained gassed-up chainsaw. She pulled the cord. It started instantly and she charged over wet grass in her five-inch black patent heels in the darkness and heavy rain.

“I’ll show these motherfuckers! TOO HARDCORE?! MY STUFF IS TOO HARDCORE?!?! FUCKING ASSHOLES!” She thought again how having pets allowed her to channel her feelings in healthy ways.’

—————————————————————-

* Sheri Savill is a real-life submissive who “came out” about it back in the mid-90s, somewhat at least (went to dungeons, etc.). She knew she was submissive since she was a pre-teen, and there are still whips and chains in the house. She’s worked at damned near every sort of media outlet there is over the years – as a magazine editor, reporter, freelance writer, copy editor. Now she writes smut and does web development. When she’s working, she wears headphones and listens to soothing rainstorm sounds that promise to keep her centered and calm. It doesn’t work.

Bound for Disappointment tickle your fancy? Click on the following links to purchase a copy:

Amazon.co.uk

• Bound for Disappointment – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Bound for Disappointment – Kindle

Barnes & Noble

• Bound for Disappointment – Nook

The post Interview: Sheri Savill – Bound for Disappointment or untold fame and glory? appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.