You'll have to be brave, and trust me -- #MFRWHooks #LGBTQ #PrideMonth

 

Welcome to the weekly MFRW Book Hooks blog hop!

I’ve been traveling for most of the month, so my posts on Beyond Romance have been rather sparse. Furthermore, here we are in the final days of June, but I’ve hardly done anything to celebrate Pride Month.

To partially remedy both omissions, I’ve got an excerpt from my lesbian erotic romance story “Sundae, Bloody Sundae”, which is part of my collection Burn, Baby: A Sapphic Six Pack. 

This story, which has a good deal of personal resonance, is about dominance, submission, and eating disorders. Not your typical romance topic, right? However, I know from my own experience how much love and trust are necessary to heal the craziness that leads to anorexia.

The Hook

“Girl, you're not doing justice to this fine crustacean,” I laughed. “Come here.” I grabbed one of the claws from her plate, extracted a succulent chunk of meat and dunked it in melted butter. I held the dripping morsel to her lips. “Open wide,” I ordered.

If I'd consumed a bit less wine, I'd probably have been able to label her expression. Recalling that instant now, I realize that what I saw on her face was pure terror. At the time, I thought that she was simply being stubborn, refusing to part her rosebud lips.

“Jana? Come on now, eat it.”

She shook her head. “Please, I'm not hungry, Mel.”

“It's delicious. Have a bite.”

“No, really...”

“Do I need to pull you onto my lap, flip up your skirt and wallop your scrawny ass right here in front of everyone?” A spark of lust mingled with the dread in her eyes, hardening my resolve. “Do as you're told.”

I smeared some of the butter over her lips. She shrank back in her chair, away from the laden fork. “Jana,” I warned, struggling to keep my temper in check. “You're disappointing me. I want you to eat the lobster.”

She knew me well enough by then to recognize that I was not going to back down. Like a slow motion film, she opened her mouth and allowed me to place the butter-drenched meat on her tongue. I watched her chew and swallow, then presented her with another piece.

“No...”

“Jana.”

Reluctantly, she accepted the tidbit.

“That's my girl.” She favored me with a weak smile. “Again, now.” I stopped feeding her after another few bites. She looked so uncomfortable that I thought she might not be well. I wasn't terribly surprised when she excused herself to go to the ladies' room.

When more than fifteen minutes had passed without her returning to the table, though, I started to worry. I paid our check, grabbed my shoulder bag, and headed after her.

I pushed open the restroom door. “Jana? Are you all right?” After the tasteful dimness of the dining room, the glaring fluorescents made me blink. It took me a few seconds to locate my lover.

She huddled on the tiled floor, back to the wall, knees drawn up, arms hugging her chest. Her cheeks were chalk white. Her eyes were closed, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her green hem had ridden up, exposing her lean, pale thighs. She looked forlorn and frail, like an abandoned child. A faint whiff of sickness hung in the air.

Comprehension smashed into me like a speeding truck. I crouched next to her and smoothed the fine wheat-blond hair off her clammy forehead. “Why didn't you tell me, baby?”

Jana's face showed far more pain than it ever did when I flogged her. “I — I was ashamed. I thought that if you knew, if you saw the real me, you wouldn't want me anymore. I'm foul, disgusting, an ugly, jiggling lump of blubber...”

“Don't be ridiculous! You're actually a bit skinny for my tastes — I like some flesh on my girls, otherwise spanking hurts my hand. But I figured that your work required a certain body type. It never occurred to me... Oh, Jana!” I clasped her to my breast, acutely aware of the fragile skeleton under her delicate skin.

How could I have been so blind? I knew eating disorders were no joke. I'd lost one friend to anorexia in college. Another had suffered permanent kidney damage. I shivered at the thought that happening to my sweet little ballerina.

“How long have you been doing this?” I demanded. She shuddered in my arms.

“Since my last year in high school,” she replied, her voice muffled by my clothing. “Forever.”

“Well, you're going to stop it now. I'll help you.”

“It won't work.” Her alabaster cheeks were streaked with tears. “I was hospitalized for three months. In therapy for five years. Everyone thought I was better, but as soon as I was on my own, I started again. I can't help it, Mel. I'm so hungry, all the time. There's this raging demon inside of me, screaming to be fed. If I give in, I'll turn into a fat pig. That's the real me, the one nobody knows. When I look in the mirror, I see her staring back. I see the layers of fat piling up on my thighs and belly. It's sickening. I feel them wobbling like jelly, burying me, smothering me...”

Hysteria lurked in her voice. I swallowed my dismissive reply. Rationally, she knew this was all nonsense. She didn't need me to tell her. That didn't make her hallucinations any less real or her terror less overwhelming.

“We'll beat this, baby.” I helped her to her feet. She leaned on my arm, seeming weak and drained. “You're going to move in with me. Would you like that?”

“Yes, of course, but...”

“We'll eat together, as often as possible. I'll take care of you. You don't need to be afraid.”

“But...”

“You're forbidden to weigh yourself more often than once a week. And if your weight goes down...” I tried to sound stern. Deep down, though, I was full of doubt. Jana was a born masochist. What sort of punishment could I propose that would actually change her behavior?

“You want to please me, don't you?”

“Oh yes — more than anything!”

“Then you'll have to be brave, trust me, and eat what I tell you to. I won't let you get fat, I promise.”

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks event!

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