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.)
Today is your LAST
CHANCE enter my drawing! You could win one of several bookstore gift
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