Prompt #111: Masturbation Fodder

(Second related theme : selfies)

You take a pic. You angle it for your best assets to show. You write a short piece. It’s hot sweaty sticky and delicious. You make these public, you share. Do you care what the viewer or reader does with them? Does it turn you on to know that you stimulate? Do they ask you for permission bringing you into their pleasure? Does it humiliate you to be reduced to their masturbation fodder, you a merely specimen of the species?

Conversely, that picture, the light, the angles, something’s clicks. The words, the ideas, the movement of the story. Your body reacts. You save it for later. You know why. A private movement and moment. Do you value it less for it’s immediate function? Is it art or literature when you masturbate over it? Are they human or porn in that moment of pleasure? Do you read the words or stare intently at the picture, or use it just to get you going? Do you return to favourite pieces?

Sorry, folks. I know my header clip is beyond obvious but I adore this Divinyls song – excellent memories of dancing about to it at university with a dildo and a whole bunch of other girls for the visual pleasure of a single guy (long story) – and just couldn’t stop myself from including it here.

Before I start babbling, can I just say that this is a bloody awesome Wicked Wednesday prompt by @tigger_sub. It made me realise that in the entire two years of blogging here on Chintz that I’ve never done a post on masturbation, which is both extremely shameful (not the act of masturbation, the fact that I haven’t written anything about it) and incredibly ironic considering that of all the sexual acts I enjoy and partake in, it’s the one I engage in most frequently.

Before I get to the crux of Tigger’s prompt, a little background …

I stumbled upon this rather delicious form of sex at a relatively young age and quite by accident. I used to ride a lot as a child and although it’s something of a cliché, I invariably discovered that when I sat astride a pony and my bottom was connecting with the saddle in a certain way (generally at a walk) something bloody amazing happened:

I got this incredible feeling between my legs.

A feeling that, provided I maintained whatever friction and rhythm I had going on against the tack, invariably spread over my whole body before peaking and leaving me feeling unbelievably good. Cataclysmically good … although on occasion pursuing it almost made me fall sideways off my horse. Needless to say, it didn’t take me long to work out that I could recreate this very moreish sensation with my fingers, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I don’t recall specifically when masturbation and fantasy started to hold hands with one another but I can tell you that when I discovered eighties bonk-busters, just before hitting my early teens, that the two become irrevocably intertwined. And that to this day, the written word remains my masturbatory aid of choice.

Why?

Well, while I definitely find certain images arousing to look at, I get far (far) more mileage and satisfaction out of scenes that I am able to paint in my own mind through textual cues. I like to be able to imagine – to spin a situation in my head to make it suit my purpose, i.e. getting myself off.

So, what sorts of things, exactly, will cause my fingers to drift south? And do I return to the same masturbation fodder over and over again? In asking myself these questions, I am reminded of a different one asked of Molly Moore during a session at Eroticon 2013:

“When did you know you were submissive?”

Well, if you were to ask that same question of me (and I consider myself to be a pretty messy mix of bottom and sub), I’d say that my textual masturbation choices gave me some pretty damn strong cues as to my sexual proclivities very early on, even though I didn’t acknowledge them or understand them properly until much later. Indeed, to this day, it is very, very unusual for me to get myself off to something that doesn’t have an element of D/s in it. And I’d go so far as to say that my ‘go-to’ masturbation texts over the years outline pretty clearly my personal sexual trajectory …

Age 14: Defy the Eagle, Lynn Bartlett

As a young teen, this scene absolutely fascinated me. It still does. It’s incredibly tame but even though there’s no actual sex in it, the forced bondage element fairly shouts its erotic intent. These few words had my hand (and mind) very quickly occupied.

Jilana lowered herself onto the pile of furs and, while Caddaric towered over her, stretched out full length. He knelt beside the pallet, dropped the rope and then his hard hands bit into her shoulders. When Jilana gasped at his touch, Caddaric merely raised an eyebrow at her and flipped her onto her side so that she faced the tent wall. He released her shoulders and a moment later, Jilana felt the bite of the rope as he coiled it around her ankles. Her arms were pulled behind her back and her wrists bound by the same length of rope which tied her ankles. In the space of a few minutes, Jilana was trussed in a manner that left her immobile. Even as Caddaric rose, Jilana could feel the strain in her muscles and joints as she was arched backwards over the rope.
.
.
.
She had to strain in order to turn far enough over her shoulder to see him, and when she did he smiled mockingly. “Wait for me, Jilana.”

With those sarcastic words he was gone and Jilana was alone in the dark tent. Wait for me. Jilana laughed a trifle wildly. As if she could do anything else.

Age 15: Till We Meet Again – Judith Krantz

This one, I read over and over and over and over and over and over. In fact, I don’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times my teenage self got off to this particular interaction between Sabine de Koville and Bruno de Lancel. I had no idea that what I was reading at the time was a D/s scene. All I knew was that it appealed to me. A holy hell of a lot.

“Madame must stand absolutely still. Madame must do whatever I tell her and nothing else,” Bruno said harshly. “Does Madame understand?” She nodded gravely, feeling the hot, heavy congestion grow between her thighs as she looked at the boy’s suddenly fierce features.
.
.
.
“Madam must stand against the wall,” he muttered. Madame will not remove her shoes.” She complied, her back straight and her breasts proudly high. He stood over her, only inches away, his thumbs roughly weighing her heavy breasts while his thumbs and forefingers sought her nipples under the thin folds of silk. He found them and pinched them, knowingly and repeatedly, with stern fingers that came perilously close to causing pain.

Age 36: Kaylee’s Keeper (Masters of the Castle, Book 2)

Skipping ahead a fair few years, lest this become a post of excerpts, a book that I picked up about a year ago and have returned to over and over again. There are a number of scenes in Kaylee’s Keeper that really hit the mark for me, but I do so (so) love this one, where the heroine, Kaylee, is punished in front of an audience.

“Look how wet she is,” Alan announced, and soft laughter filled the room. He laughed too, even as he purred down at her, “What kind of naughty girl gets wet during her punishment?”

“My favourite kind,” Master Marshall drawled, winning another round of chuckling laughter from everyone. “Open your legs for him, pet, nice and wide. Give him your naughty little pussy and ask Master Alan to spank it for you.”
.
.
.
“I’m waiting, pet,” Master Marshall said. Is there something you want to say to Master Alan or do I need to put you across my knee first?”

She shivered even harder, but dutifully raised her chin and, horribly embarrassed, whispered, “Please spank m-me–”

“Spank what?”

“Please, sir.” She moaned, hiding her eyes behind her hand as if that could somehow shield her from this wanton debasement. “Please don’t make me say it.”

And even more recently? This edgeplay scene from Cherise Sinclair’s recent Edge of the Enforcer.

As to the question of selfies … Do I care that people might get off on the pictures that I take of myself? Feel ‘reduced’ in any way? Nope. If anything, it kind of gives me hope that people are embracing the idea of everyday men and women with everyday bodies being sexy and erotic and desirable. Because, as I’ve said before, that’s my ultimate objective when I photograph myself in various states of undress.

I could very easily go on about this topic for another few thousand words but I’ll haul myself back at this point before I bury you any more than I already have done in a grave of verbosity. A thought to end if I may, though:

“To masturbate is to imagine: physically.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

The post Wicked Wednesday: I touch myself appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Title: 

Quiet.

That’s the word that springs to mind when I reflect upon Sorcha Black’s first solo novel, Ein. It seems like an unusual adjective to apply to an ‘erotic’ fantasy – I can’t recall a time I’ve ever thought of describing a story from this genre in such a way – but against all odds given the content (torture, sadomasochism, non-con), it just seems to fit. And this lack of literal ‘noise’ in Ein is in no way negative. Far from it. As a writer, it takes some serious, serious skill to wield a club weighed down with a heavy storyline and stop yourself from beating readers over the proverbial head with it. 

If I’m going to read fantasy, I generally prefer the urban kind. It’s not that I have a rubbish imagination, rather that I tend to enjoy those books that have some sort of link to my own reality. There’s a level of grittiness to a novel that’s only a few steps removed from real life that I just don’t seem to be able to find in one that’s infested with plagues of elves and goblins. Creatures that breathe fire and have hairy feet don’t really get my engine going. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is about my limit.

So is Ein an urban fantasy, then? Well, no. Somehow, it manages to sit smack bang in the middle of an erotic fantasy no-man’s (or should I say ‘no dragon’s’) land. And that’s a place that I’ve not visited before. It’s as if Sorcha Black’s gone a hundred metres towards Graceling, hung a left up the hill towards Comfort Food, crossed the bridge towards Robin Hood’s house, and finally pitched the Ein tent on a patch of land about a mile down the road from all three. Perhaps the reason the story feels so relatable is the mediaeval undercurrent that seems to flow gently through the world that the author has created.

The mold-breaking doesn’t end there, either. Einan, our heroine (Ein for short) isn’t, despite the hellish ordeals she goes through, a damsel dishrag in need of rescuing.

Halle-bloody-lujah.

The girl has a backbone of pure steel and is able to compartmentalise the sacrifices she makes with her body for the sake of her children in a way that we rarely see. She loves her man (and her woman) fiercely but her relationships don’t define her personality or her well of inner strength. Even when they’re not there, she survives and endures.

The BDSM content is intriguing, to say the least. There are clear markers for the modern D/s lifestyle – such as Ein’s simple and beloved rope collar – however, as with her characterisation, Sorcha doesn’t go for the obvious. This is definitely not the standard male Dom, female sub story. I won’t say any more than that to avoid introducing spoilers but even if switching and F/F are not normally your bag Ein is still worth your time; the characters’ relationships are twined together so beautifully that I’m pretty certain you won’t find the time to get hung up on who is topping and who is bottoming.

The sharp-eyed amongst you may have noticed that I wrapped the word ‘erotic’ in the first paragraph in quotation marks. That’s not unintentional. Even though Ein does have erotic elements (capture fantasy, D/s, polyamory) I would tentatively suggest that if sits closer to the dragonless fantasy genre than traditional erotica. Why? Because the Gutrian/Cedesian tapestry into which Ein’s love stories are woven is just too colourful and rich to ignore and, to my mind, supersedes the sexual content.

A wonderful, albeit intense, read and the perfect book to drag me out of the erotic romance cookie cutter funk I’ve been drowning in lately.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Ein – Kindle

Amazon.com

• Ein – Kindle

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

The post Ein (The Dustmother Trilogy) – Sorcha Black appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

• Picture one: The Flagellation 
• Picture two: The Crucifixion
• Picture three: The Benediction

*My blog layout is a bit restrictive with regard to showing my triptych full-size (although you can click on it to make it bigger). As such, I have placed the individual images in a larger format below the panel arrangement so that you can get a better look at them individually.

The post Sinful Sunday: In honour of Caravaggio appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

If you tell someone that you found some handcuffs in your friend Bill’s sock drawer (why were you snooping in there in the first place?!) or that you discovered a set in the glovebox of Granny Betsy’s car, it’s highly likely that you’ll see an eyebrow raised into a hairline and an appreciative-slash-knowing smirk rather than a look of horror at the news. 

I must confess, I am intrigued by this thinking. What is it about them that makes them so palatable to so many? Do they denote an ‘acceptable’ (and please don’t for one minute interpret my use of that word here as symbolising my own personal views on what is and isn’t acceptable between two consenting adults) brand of kink? One that it is ‘okay’ to indulge in? Most people seem to think nothing of a little restraint in the bedroom – bondage by any other name would feel as sweet – even if they don’t identify as kinky. But I suspect the reaction you’d get from a vanilla individual coming across a cane or a vampire glove amongst your personal items would be rather different. (Double-take and a step backwards rather than a blasé smirk?) I wonder if it’s because handcuffs don’t, generally speaking, involve any sort of pain on the wearer’s part and are thus far less confrontational than other forms of kink, which may have some sort of marked sensation component attached to them?

Funnily enough (and despite my initial assertion), I don’t personally include ‘traditional’ handcuffs – by which I mean the metal kind you’d expect a policeman to carry and see bedecked with horrid, fake fur on occasion – as part of my on kink landscape. They are uncomfortable, dig into the skin and are, in my experience, really only good for show or roleplay. A toy or gimmick that I don’t associate with safe, fun bondage, basically. Leather cuffs or even a warm set of hands wrapped around my wrists? Now that’s a different story entirely …

Image: Houdini in Handcuffs, 1918, Bettmann/Corbis, through The New York Times photo archive

The post Kink of the Week: Handcuffs appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Image: Energy Arc, central electrode of a plasma lamp – Piccolo Namek, via Wikimedia Commons

Growing up in a country known for its agrarian-based economy, I learned pretty early on that touching an electric fence was not a good idea. At the age of six, the jolt I experienced upon touching a live wire (of sufficient strength to keep Black Angus bulls contained in the appropriate paddock) was not only enough to make me dance and hop about like I was standing on hot coals, it also instilled a healthy respect for electricity and electrical devices in general.

I was the kid who was too frightened to touch the metal edge of the trampoline for fear of receiving a static shock.

I was the kid who was too terrified to touch the plasma globe at the local science show for fear of the unpleasant sensations it might generate.

So how on earth, you might ask, did I become interested in violet wands? Or, more accurately, how did I become interested in having one used on me?

Well, that’s the funny thing about kinks and, really, sex in general. Over time, as you explore your own personal hot buttons, become more comfortable with what they are and how they make you feel, it’s entirely possible for them to morph and change. Open up doors to places you may never have thought you’d venture. And suddenly, you find yourself peeping into a room full of possibility that, mere months before, you’d have locked up tighter than a prison cell.

But that doesn’t really answer my question, does it?

I’d have to credit my initial curiosity to a select group of electrical play scenes described in fictional texts. Inexplicably, and despite my previously described feelings about electricity, certain extracts evoked a response that I would, previously, have thought impossible. None of these situations described the use of a violet wand as punishment, although I appreciate that others might use them in this way (with the consent of the person being punished, of course). Rather, they were contextualised within exploratory and sensual parameters, with the wand being seen very much as a tool to heighten both erotic discovery and evoke feelings of deeper submission and trust. Take, for example, this extract from Maren Smith’s erotic romance Kaylee’s Keeper:

‘“At the first snap and subsequent buzz, she jerked back, but almost immediately reached again. Tap, flinch. Tap-tap, flinch. She spread her wildly buzzing fingers out and finally just let it chew its blue lines all over her shaking palm.”

.

.

.

“Are you reading to trust me?”

Trembling, she nodded.

He smiled again, and oh, how that look made her feel. Like his praise, his softly uttered ‘good girls’ bolstered her and helped to keep her fear in check while he lay her back on the coffee table and began to strap her down.’

You may say at this point, ‘Well, that’s all very well, Jane, but you realise that fiction is exactly that – fiction. And what occurs on the pages of a book can not, and should not, be used as a guide to real-life experience.’ And I would say ‘yes, you’re right – to a certain extent’. Because, ultimately, books are about gaining power through knowledge. Would I read an article on mountaineering and them immediately set off to conquer Everest? No. I would not. But I might find that article interesting enough to make some tentative enquiries down at the local alpine club and ask if I could come in and talk to someone a bit more about it before signing myself up for a beginners’ course.

And that’s what happened with my burgeoning interest in violet wands. I Googled. I read some non-fiction articles about them. I confessed my interest to my other half. And then I attended the London Alternative Market and allowed someone experienced in operating one to show me what they feel like. (More information on that experience in my next Violet Wand Diaries post.)

Of all the things M and I have played with to-date, the violet wand has been the trickiest to master; because of the way it’s designed, the degree of variation in the sensations it can generate is significant – hence the idea for this post series. Bluntly, we haven’t fully gotten to grips with our latest toy box acquisition (even though we both understand its potential) and I thought it would be useful to chronicle our progress and our learning curve.

Stay tuned for part two …

The post The Violet Wand Diaries: Part One appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

Anyway, brave lady that she is, Tamsin chose to include a snippet from an unpublished story of mine, Dark, in her line-up. Centred around erotic humiliation, it’s a tale I’ve had kicking about on my hard drive for a while now (I’m hoping to find a home for it in an anthology and am thus holding onto the full version with a death grip) but, as we head towards Valentine’s Day, I thought you were all deserving of a smutty little morsel to get you past the cheesy hearts and flowers currently coming at us from all sides. And it’s been a while since I posted some of my own stuff on Chintz.

I hope you enjoy this little taster of Dark; I’ll let you know if and when it finds a place beyond my laptop so that you can read it in its entirety.

Jane
xxx

PS – Tamsin’s up to yet more mischief with Superotica Valentine posts; she’s currently on Day 9, so hurry on over and catch your smutty selves up!

DARK

‘Give me a number.’

It takes me a moment to work out what you mean. My normally agile brain is completely sodden, struck dumb beneath a chaotic waterfall of thoughts.

You want to know if I’m okay. To gauge if this – whatever this is – is too much.

My lips part, a number that I know will bring everything to a halt perched like fluttering bird on the tip of my tongue. But then I press them together again, caging it in. Forcing myself to think before I let it fly free.

Am I scared?

Yes. I don’t know what’s going to happen to me. And like most sane people, I fear the unknown. This you, the you that’s managed to surprise me, is someone I’ve not met before. At least, not in a way that’s made such an impression. I think he frightens me a little. But … I’m not entirely sure I dislike the feeling. Really, it all comes down to whether I trust you. Whether I believe you’ll stop whatever it is you’re doing if it transcends beyond what I can bear. Do I believe that?

That answer is easy.

Yes. Absolutely.

So what is the number, then? I’m not hurting. I know you’re here with me, even if I can’t touch you. But I am further from my comfort zone than I can remember being for some time. Amazing, the games your mind can play with you.

Think, think …

A different bird flies free of my mouth, ghosting across the air between us.

‘Six,’ I hear myself croak. ‘Six.’

‘Hmmph.’ A satisfied grunt. Has my answer pleased you? Was it what you were expecting? I can’t see your face, so I have no idea.

‘Position her, please.’

What?! What do you mean ‘position me’? Who are you talking to?

Even as I ask myself these questions, prepare to voice them to you aloud, hands, firm but gentle, wrap around my upper arms and press into the curve beneath my bottom, pulling me backwards and down. I yelp in fright and kick my legs in panic – partly because the hands are not yours and partly because I don’t want to fall – but then I feel something firm meet my upper thighs and I steady. It feels like the hard edge of table. I’m dragged backwards over its surface until the backs of my knees hit the edge, and then someone cups the back of my head before pressing their palm against my sternum.

The unspoken command is unmistakable. Lie down.

I do.

The clinical detachment in your voice as you instruct an unknown someone to raise my dress and lift me feet onto the table is mortifying. Yet even as I feel fingers circling first my left ankle, then my right, the skin of my soles pressing into the smooth wood, I feel something else.

Humiliation. And it is making me wet.

Worse, exposed in this way, my legs crooked and spread, I know you can see that shameful truth. As can whoever else is with you.

A laugh. Not yours. ‘Quite the little whore, isn’t she?’

Oh, god. My skin tightens and burns with embarrassment, even as a sly feeling of pleasure at the base assessment spreads insidiously through my chest.

There is a smile in your voice as you answer, ‘Yes. She is.’

‘Pretty cunt, too.’ Another man’s voice this time, casually observant, as if he were discussing nothing more interesting than the weather.

‘It is a rather lovely pink. Especially when it’s wet like this.’

The rattle of ice in a glass, as if someone has tipped a drink to their lips.

‘Perhaps you’d like a closer look?’

‘Please.’

The burn of embarrassment turns into a prickling inferno. I suspect I know what you’re going to say next.

………………..

The post A little morsel: Dark appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.

What we used: standard riding crop
From: Jack’s Floggers
Material(s): leather, glass fibre
Price: £12.00
Reviewer(s): Lizzie & Thomas

A crop is a crop is a crop. Or is it? Find out what Lizzie and Thomas think of their newest purchase from U.K.-based Jack’s Floggers.

First thoughts

Lizzie
So, can I just say that my eyes were going all over the place when I saw Jack’s line up of truly beautiful implements at LAM (the London Alternative Market), which is where Thomas and I bought this lovely, lovely riding crop a month or two back. The quality of Jack’s products was abundantly clear but, not only that, they were all, without exception, incredibly stylish. This crop stood out to me, first and foremost, because of the colour – I’m a sucker for red – but as soon as I picked it up, I thought ‘ooh!’. Our current Bondage Boutique crop, the one we reviewed a while back, is now a little worse for wear and, lately, we’ve noticed the keeper has started to part company with the shaft.

Thomas
Like Lizzie, I noticed straight away that this crop of Jack’s looked and felt far superior to our current one. And although they’re both about the same length overall (approximately 27.5 inches from end to end) the leather strop/keeper on his design is much longer (7.0 inches at the attachment point as opposed to 4.5).

Construction

Lizzie
I’ll say it again. This is an absolutely stunning crop and the quality of the craftsmanship is evident everywhere you look: the beautiful braided handle in gloss red leather; the black braided handle butts; the slim, tapered shaft; the soft leather keeper embossed with the Jack’s Floggers logo. Everything on it is neat and tidy, the finishing impeccable, and, basically, it’s just really well made. This isn’t an instrument that’s going to fall to pieces on you in a hurry.

Thomas
This crop is far whippier than our old one (I gave Lizzie a few experimental whacks before buying it and the difference was immediately evident) and it’s definitely better put together as well. The leather keeper is more securely attached to the shaft and the shaft material itself, which is glass fibre, is superior, too. I like that the handle is braided as the uneven surface helps with grip. Overall, the finish is very, very good.

In use

Lizzie
I love the crop. It’s become one of my favourite toy bag items. The threat and tease of it as it’s run or tapped over my body prior to or during a session; the sting of the tip and shaft when it’s applied to my bottom and thighs with force. The ‘smacking’ sound the keeper creates when it hits the skin, too, never fails to send a little thrill of fright through me.

Thomas and I liked our last crop a lot but, wow. It pales in comparison to this one. For starters, Jack’s creation has far (far) more bite than the Bondage Boutique version. The slim, stiff shaft really smarts when it hits and the split keeper seems to give far more sting to the wielder’s flicks and swings. Thomas had to strike relatively firmly to generate bruises with our previous crop. This one? Well, I had some truly spectacular purple keeper-shaped marks on my bottom for far less effort on his part.

If you’re someone who enjoys stingy sensations, this crop is a slice of heaven … and maybe just a little bit of exquisite masochistic hell, too :-).

Thomas
Jack’s crop is far more aggressive than our last one. The shaft is slimmer and stiffer, and the leather strop is softer and longer. This all combines for a lot more whip and a lot more snap in the end – and so a lot more sting. Lizzie wriggles about far more than usual when I use this crop, which tells me I have her undivided attention.

Any downsides?

Lizzie
None that I can think of. Although I would say that the slightly longer-than-we-were-used-to keeper dimensions caught us out a little; Thomas mis-judged a relatively firm hit by a fraction of an inch and ended up catching me between the legs before he intended to do so (he normally warms me up a bit more before going for that spot). I can tell you categorically that a firm swat with this on the clitoris will make you jump about like nobody’s business!

Thomas
As Lizzie mentioned, the only issue with this crop was that I made the schoolboy error of not practising enough with it beforehand and assuming if would behave the same way as our old one. The lesson? Always put a new toy through its paces, even if the overall style is familiar, so that you get the reach right. This one caught me out because I placed it fractionally further into the buttock than I should have (although I don’t think Lizzie minded too much ;-).) If you are used to a crop with a short, unsplit keeper, you will need to be extra careful with your aim until you get used to it.

The verdict?

Lizzie
A superb riding crop that is amazingly priced, beautifully made, and a joy to be on the receiving end of. If you like sting with style, this is £12.00 you won’t regret parting with.

Thomas
A very nice crop nice to hold and use and very effective (especially when applied to the clitoris!).

In summary

Things we liked:

• The finishing. Truly beautiful.
• The design. Sting city!
• The price. At £12.00 this is a total bargain.
• Being able to try before we bought. Jack (and his stall) were fab. But he also offers a great online service, with worldwide shipping, if you can’t make it to the London Alternative Market.

Things we weren’t so keen on:

• Nothing!

Tickle your fancy? Click on the following link to visit the Jack’s Floggers website. (You will need to navigate to the Canes, Crops and Paddles etc. page.)

• Jack’s Floggers

*LAM (the London Alternative Market) runs the first Sunday of every month. Entry is £4 per person. Full details here.

The post The cream of the crop 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.

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.

Title:

Doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. (Well, mostly.)

How do I even begin reviewing Truth? Firstly, let me say that if you haven’t read the previous two books in the Finding Anna series, Slave and Need, you’re going to be seriously, seriously lost if you go straight in with this one. It cannot be read as a stand-alone. All three instalments are closely tied together and to truly appreciate the circumstances that Brianna and Stephan find themselves in, you need to understand how they got to where they are.

Where to start?

Stephan. Stephan, Stephan, Stephan. I want to be on your side. I do. Truly. You rescued Brianna from something truly hideous, are utterly committed to her rehabilitation and willing to protect her no matter what the personal cost. Do I fundamentally agree with your methods, though? Well, there’s the rub. Yes, you want to help Brianna. Yes, you are protective and caring towards her. But underneath all that are your own needs and desires; they’ve been bubbling away since the very beginning and, in this book, they start to seep out. No matter how benevolent you strive to be, can your actions truly be classed as selfless when they are ultimately influenced by your emotions, consciously or unconsciously? Is Brianna even remotely ready – or in the position mentally – to accept what you ultimately crave from her? Even you’re not sure:

‘Do you think she’ll be all right with this?’

‘I have no idea.’

It would be easy to say that Stephan is the white knight in of the piece but, whichever way you look at it, Briana is vulnerable – and to that end, his shiny armour has to be a little tarnished. The question is, can it be cleaned?

Just as they did in Slave and Need, the Stephan and Brianna both take turns telling the story, giving us the ability to see exactly what’s going on inside their respective heads. But crucially, their descriptions of the actions and reactions of Truth’s secondary characters with regard to their relationship – Dr Cooper, Cal, Lily, Oscar and Michael, in particular – provide the objective outsiders’ point-of-view. Give us glimpses beyond the bubble-like environment that Stephan has created for himself and Brianna to exist in. The thing with bubbles, though? They have a tendency to burst.

If you’re expecting a neat ending, to have all your questions answered, to have some light shed on the very murky circumstances surrounding Brianna’s abduction, then I’m sorry to say that you may struggle with the conclusion to this book. Truth takes you to the edge of the white cliffs of Dover and leaves you hanging by your fingernails.

I’ll leave you with this one word: felony.

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

Amazon.co.uk

• Truth – Paperback

Amazon.com

• Truth  – Paperback

Kobo

• Truth – ePub

*Please note that an advance copy of Truth was provided free of charge in exchange for a fair review by The Writer’s Coffeeshop and NetGalley.

The post Truth (Finding Anna) – Sherri Hayes appeared first on Behind the Chintz Curtain.