I’ve been writing erotic fiction for a very long time. My first novel was published by the groundbreaking erotica imprint Black Lace in 1999. Since then I’ve written eight other novels, as well as dozens of shorter works. I’m not nearly as prolific as some of my colleagues, but I’m still in the game. And in the past eighteen years, I’ve learned a lot.
To illustrate this, I thought it might be interesting to compare two excerpts, one from my first novel Raw Silk, and one from my most recent book Damned If You Do.
Nearly two decades separate the books, but they share some features. Both books include intense BDSM scenes. Both are contemporary, though Damned has some paranormal elements. The two heroines are both trying to understand their true emotional and sexual needs. Of course, both have happy endings.
To be honest, I think Damned If You Do is better written. That’s not surprising, given that I was a rank amateur when I penned Raw Silk. Last year I revised and expanded Raw Silk for a new release, so I had the opportunity to fix some of the more serious problems with the style. Still, my new book reflects the years of writing experience I have gained since my first attempt. The prose is smoother. The emotions are more subtle. Maybe most important, the characters feel more real—even the character of the demon!
Raw Silk was a compendium of all my personal erotic fantasies. And like most fantasy, it has a stereotyped quality. Without a doubt, Gregory Marshall’s the most alpha Dom I’ve ever written—too alpha to be believable (or so he seems to me now). During the revision, I had the chance to make him somewhat more vulnerable and insecure, but I still wouldn’t want him as my partner in a real relationship—he’s just too arrogant and demanding.
Nevertheless, Raw Silk continues to be my best-selling novel. I guess this means that my fantasies, as unrealistic as they might be, are shared by many readers!
Anyway, I promised you two parallel excerpts. First, a bit from Raw Silk.
With expert skill, he bound her wrists with the silken braids. “Silk is a marvelous substance,” he commented. “So soft, but incredibly strong. Like you, my little Kate. I know that you can endure much. Much more than you would believe.”
She shivered, wondering exactly what he meant. He was working on her ankles now, in a business-like fashion, leaving her knees bent and open so that her sex was spread wide. Every time he touched her, heat rippled through her to that burning center, still sensitive and hungry from her earlier ministrations. She squirmed a bit, pushing her pelvis toward him.
“Be still,” he said sharply. “Be patient. You must learn to wait.”
Finally, she was bound, restrained from all but the most subtle movements. She found she was panting. Gregory stood at the foot of the bed, admiring her, or his handiwork.
“Excellent. Just as I imagined.”
He began to remove his clothes. She followed his every gesture. When he dropped his shirt to the floor, Kate sucked in her breath. Marshall’s left arm, from shoulder to wrist, was elaborately and beautifully tattooed. A pattern of multicolored flames writhed over his flesh—scarlet, green and turquoise. A trick of the flashing neon, or perhaps simply the motion of his muscles, made the flames dance across his flesh as if they were consuming him. A similar flame flickered in his blue eyes as he pulled off his trousers.
He mounted the bed and straddled her with his thighs. His engorged cock hovered above her body. Despite her best intentions, she arched upward, drawn to his flesh like iron to a magnet. In response, he leaned over to pinch both her nipples, hard enough that she cried out.
“Still, I said! You are mine now, mine to do as I wish. I will fuck you, or not fuck you, as I please. But,” he added, smiling, “I do please.”
The bonds already held her wide open. Her sex was already drenched with arousal. Holding her pinned with those ice-blue eyes, he sank his penis into the heart of her, into depths she had not known existed.
* * *
And now a comparable excerpt from Damned If You Do.
She heard him rummage in the closet. “Face the chair and bend at the waist, with your chest on the seat.” The chair was probably an orphan from some dining room set, a solid piece of plain mahogany. She pressed her breasts against the smooth surface of the seat and slipped her arms through the open back, to grasp the rear legs.
“Naughty girl! You think you know what I’m going to do? Well, then!” Sinking to his haunches, he wrapped a strip of fabric several times around her right wrist and the chair leg, then tied a knot. “Might as well put these to some use. I never wear neckties these days.”
In a matter of minutes he had her bound securely to the chair. “Is that too tight? Any numbness?”
Wendy wiggled her fingers. The silken bonds were firm but comfortable. “No, Sir. It’s perfect.” It was, too. She felt that breathless dizziness that always seized her when she was about to be beaten, but flowing beneath her excitement was a steady current of security. With Mister B, in contrast, there had always been an undercurrent of danger, thrilling, but exhausting too. She’d never been able to completely let go. Deep inside, there’d always been a frozen nugget of fear.
With Daniel, she was open in a new way. No matter how far he took her, how deep into passion and pain, she had no doubt he’d keep her safe.
“Are you ready, Gwen?”
“Yes, Sir.” Facing the window, she rested her cheek on the cool, polished wood and slowed her breathing, ready for the first stroke.
He made her wait while he bustled around the bedroom, possibly removing his clothing. Noise came from the bathroom, the opening and closing of cabinet doors. He seemed to be taking forever.
“What are you looking for, Sir?” she asked finally.
“Lube,” he replied, unexpectedly close to her ear. “And this.”
He dangled a cylinder of purple silicone in front of her face. The object had a tapered tip and a flared base. “I hid it away so my cleaning lady wouldn’t find it.”
“A butt plug?” Though Mister B had frequently inserted plugs and other objects into her anus, she’d never expected to see one in the hands of her mild-mannered agent.
“One toy I thought I should invest in, after our interlude at the hotel. Endorsed by E.L.James herself!” He snickered as he squirted some lubricant into his palm. “Spread your legs, Pet. Wider.”
“Daniel…oh!” His nimble fingers smeared the slippery gel over the tight whorl protecting her rear hole, then pushed inside. Exquisite sensation coursed through her. Her infernal previous master had trained her well. She knew exactly how to relax the ring of muscle to allow penetration.
Dan pressed the slick tip of the plug an inch or so into her ass. “Does that hurt?” he asked. “I’ve never done this before.”
“Oh, no, Sir. You’re doing fine. Just push. Push harder—oh!” The bulbous object popped through the gateway to settle in her rectum. The pressure built, lovely and dangerous. She never got used to the sweet, dirty feeling of having her ass filled.
Daniel stood back to admire his work. “God, you look so hot! Tied and plugged, ready to be beaten…it’s better than every wet dream I’ve ever had.”
“Well, Sir,” Wendy murmured, knowing she was once again treading the thin line between obedience and brattiness, but too overwhelmed to care. “Then why don’t you beat me?”
The swoosh of the belt through the air answered her. Hard-edged leather bit into her flesh, making her gasp. “Oh…” she whimpered. “Oh, Sir!”
He brought the strap down upon her other cheek, leaving a searing trail in its wake. Fire streaked from there to her sex. She sucked air into her lungs and clenched down on the plug, triggering waves of terrible bliss. The belt landed on a new, untouched area of her ass, like a tongue of flame. With each blow the pain surged, and her clit pulsed in synchrony.
Why don’t you read both books and decide for yourself? (The links below go to Amazon, but both books are available at all popular bookstores.)
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