The
title of this post is the first line in the blurb for my newest
erotica title, Babes in Bondage. A lot of the plot motion in
this sizzling novella (and yes, despite all the sex, it does
have a plot!) comes from the actions of an anti-porn terrorist group
who will stop at almost nothing to punish people who practice any
sort of “perverted” sexual activity—same-sex interactions, oral
sex, anal sex, and of course BDSM. As one of their protest signs
proclaims: “Missionary position: Good enough for my parents, good
enough for me.”
This
entire scenario is intended to be somewhat tongue in cheek— but not
completely. I try not to mix too much politics into my erotica, but I
do sometimes worry about half-crazy fundamentalists who want to
impose their sexual mores on me.
Don’t
get me wrong. I believe that each individual has the right to any
sort of beliefs about sex (or religion, or pretty much anything else)
and to live according to those beliefs—as long as they don’t
impose these beliefs on anyone else, or infringe on other people’s
rights to behave as they believe and choose. So, in my view, you’re
perfectly free to think that lesbian and gay people are going to
hell. You may not, however, attack, mistreat, or discriminate against
someone who’s lesbian or gay.
C’mon,
if you really believe those people are damned, let God take care of
it.
Meanwhile,
I think that in many cases extremist beliefs stem from the believer’s
personal uncertainties about the issue in question. It’s well
documented, for instance, that many men who exhibit homophobia
actually harbor secret homoerotic desires. If you weren’t secretly
fascinated by kinky sex, why should you care if someone else
practices it?
So
this idea found its way into Babes in Bondage also. Patricia
Hastings, the guiding light of the Anti-Porn Brigade (a more extreme
splinter group inside the Citizens Resisting American Perversion),
constantly fights her own kinky fantasies.
Of
course, given that this book has a happy ending—she ultimately
learns to embrace her inner submissive!
Here’s
the excerpt in which we first meet the delectable and conflicted
Patty.
“Lock
‘em up, lock ‘em up!”
The
TV footage of the righteous crowd besieging the convention center
entrance filled Patty with pride. This had to be one of C.R.A.P’s
most successful actions ever. Police armed with shields held back the
protesters, creating a gauntlet through which other officers escorted
the attendees and vendors exiting the facility. Looking harried and
scared, the perverts flinched away from the taunts and the occasional
rotten vegetable as they scrambled toward buses waiting outside the
perimeter. It served them right. Maybe the experience would make them
change their ways.
Patty
caught a glimpse of her father, standing with a mic on a flat bed
truck, leading the chants. In his tailored suit and white Stetson
hat, Senator Ernest B. Hastings was rugged and distinguished, a
beacon of moral rectitude, a man with a mission. A pity his tactics
were so old-fashioned.
The
broadcast cut to the buxom anchorwoman, who gazed into the camera
with feigned concern.
“We’ve
just learned that the Worldwide Pleasure and Lifestyle Exhibition
will close this evening, two days ahead of schedule. There are rumors
that the organizers plan to sue the city.”
“Whooee!”
Jinx and Joey, her two lieutenants, crowed in unison. “We did it!
We shut the pervs down.”
“We
did indeed,” she answered. “I really appreciate your help, boys.”
Jinx had hacked into the convention center management systems to
pinpoint the location of the electrical control room. Joey had driven
the motorcycle she’d used for her getaway. It had been Patty’s
job, though, to infiltrate the building, find the transformers and
plant the explosives.
It
has been surprisingly easy. Amid the garish costumes and general
lewdness of the Fair, nobody had thought twice about stopping a
pretty blonde wearing a leather bikini, high heel boots and
elbow-length satin gloves.
Her
father believed demonstrations by committed citizens would stem the
tide of twisted filth washing over America. Patty knew more radical
action was needed.
She
clicked off the news, then rose to her feet. “You’d better go.
The banquet’s at seven, and I’m supposed to give the keynote.
I’ve got to shower and get ready.”
Jinx
unfolded his skinny limbs from the hotel room couch. He stuck a hand
under his military-style fatigues to scratch his belly. “I’m
beat,” he said. “Gonna get some shut-eye before the festivities.
Unless of course you need s’more help…” His transparent leer
made her skin crawl.
“Thanks,
but no. You and Joey have done more than enough. See you tonight.”
“Okay,
Miss Patty.” Joey scooped up the last two potato chips from the
bowl in front of him and crammed them into his mouth, then lumbered
after Jinx. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Patty
closed the door behind them with a sigh of relief. She’d
deliberately recruited guys who not only possessed the skills she
needed, but who were also physically unattractive. She couldn’t
afford to be distracted by any weakness of the flesh that might
derail her plans. Furthermore, she had to maintain her image as the
incorruptible virgin vice-president of Citizens Resisting.
It’s
so, so hard sometimes, she thought, as she tossed her own
fatigues in the laundry basket. I’ve got desires, like any young
woman. But I’ve got to be strong, for Dad – and for Mom…
Want
more? Get your copy of Babes in Bondage today!
Barnes
and
Noble
–
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/babes-in-bondage-lisabet-sarai/1134430382?ean=2940163375479
