Showing posts with label taboo erotica. Show all posts
Showing posts with label taboo erotica. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 6, 2019

Forbidden Pleasures - #Taboo #Kink #Culture


breasts and banana

taboo (n): A social or religious custom prohibiting or restricting a particular practice or forbidding association with a particular person, place, or thing.

Origin: Late 18th century: from Tongan tabu ‘set apart, forbidden’; introduced into English by Captain Cook.



Every society has forbidden practices, particularly with regard to sex. Incest, bestiality, pederasty and necrophilia are among the most common sexual prohibitions. Many cultures condemn same-sex intimacy, sodomy and extra-marital sex. In some places, even today, any type of physical contact between unmarried males and females will be condemned and punished.

Humans are perverse creatures, though. We delight in breaking the rules. The more serious the taboo, the greater emotional charge associated with its violation. Fear mingles with desire to make the forbidden experience more exciting and intense than sanctioned sexual behavior.

Erotic authors are experts in exploiting taboos. We push our characters to step over the lines of propriety: to fuck strangers in a dark alley; to beg for a spanking; to watch a teenage brother jack off then slip into his room naked. Not every erotic tale depends on the flaunting of taboos, but I suspect that the majority incorporate some aspects of the forbidden, or at least, the officially frowned upon. Nice girls don’t get up on stage and take off their clothes. Proper, masculine husbands don’t get aroused watching their wives get serviced by big-cocked studs. Modern, emancipated women don’t allow themselves to be tied up and whipped by bossy dominants. In the world of erotica (though not in erotic romance), it’s rather unusual to find sex that conforms to social norms.

Some taboos are enforced by law, or by rules made because of fear of the law. In the United States (though not in some other countries), you can write about mother-son, daddy-daughter, or sister-doggy sex, but Amazon and many other outlets won’t publish or distribute your naughty tales. On the other hand, sex between teens (or heaven forbid, pre-teens) is strictly sanctioned. Porn film-makers are required to certify and document the fact that all their performers are over eighteen.

Other restrictions are based on convention. Many readers strongly reject any tale with adulterous themes, despite (or maybe because of) the large amount of cheating that goes on in the real world.

What I find most fascinating, though, is the way taboos shift. Back in Victorian times, a flash of ankle was considered terribly improper. Now tiny bikinis that cover next to nothing are perfectly acceptable on public beaches – and Victorian-style corsets are the height of sexiness!

Two or three decades ago, homoerotic activity fell into the prohibited category. Same-sex stories often focused on first-time scenarios, and included a lot of fear, shame and soul-searching. As societal attitudes have changed and become more tolerant and inclusive, LGBTQ fiction has changed as well. The conflicts tend to revolve around other aspects of the characters and their relationship.

Then there’s kink. The success of Fifty Shades of Grey brought BDSM out of the closet and into the mainstream. Before FSOG, we early practitioners of D/s felt like members of a secret society, brave pioneers, outcasts who broke the rules of vanilla sex and reaped the erotic rewards. Now leather-clad Dommes show up on daytime TV and bondage cuffs are sold in department stores.

Kink was a lot more fun when it was verboten.

On the other hand, I’ve observed a new taboo developing around sex without condoms. I subscribe to Selena Kitt’s Excite Spice newsletters, at least partly to see what other people are publishing and what sub-genres seem to be popular. At least once a week, I read a blurb about some well-endowed guy “taking” a woman “hot, hard and unprotected”. Of course, bare-back sex is fundamentally more enjoyable than sex with a condom, but it seems that to post-AIDS readers, it is also breaking the rules and thus has acquired a new erotic charge. Personally I find this emphasis a little peculiar, since almost all the sex I’ve had in my life has been “unprotected”, but for the generations who came of age in the nineties and after, unprotected sex is forbidden, risky and exciting.

This started me pondering the question of whether I could write a story about a society with taboos against using condoms. Perhaps the elders in this society believe that fertility is sacred and that women are divinely intended to bear children. In such a world view, creating a barrier between sperm and egg would be viewed as thwarting the will of the Creator, as well as offering opportunities for women to indulge in sex for pleasure rather than for procreation.

Wait a minute... this suddenly doesn’t sound so original...

I’ve penned a few pieces where I’ve played with the idea of how taboos develop. In Quarantine, after a devastating, AIDS-like plague apparently spread by gay men, M/M intimacy has become illegal and invisible. The US has succumbed to nostalgia for the fifties, heterosexual sex is the only kind that officially exists, and simply having a genetic predisposition toward homosexuality means indefinite imprisonment in a remote internment camp.

My scifi short Trespass (in the altruistic erotica collection Coming Together: By Hand) involves a society in which everyone wears gloves. Fashions display large amounts of skin, but bare-handed contact is strictly forbidden – and thus unbearably arousing.

Then there’s incest. The original prohibition against inter-familial sex supposedly derives from the dangers of inbreeding. In a world (like today’s) where fertility can effectively be controlled, is there really any reason for brothers and sisters not to get it on?

Sometimes I rage against taboos that limit what I can publish. On the other hand, if all the rules were to suddenly vanish, that might have a negative impact on my imagination. I could still write about sensual pleasure – but pleasure can be so much sweeter when it’s forbidden.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Erotica from the Edge -- #ChemSexv2 #aphrodisiac #sexandchocolate #Giveaway @RiaRestrepo


Chemical [se]X teaser

By Ria Restrepo (Guest Blogger)

From my earliest sexual fantasies, I've always been aroused by edgier erotic scenarios that some would consider taboo. I won't go into specifics—primarily for privacy reasons—but most are not unusual for a sexual submissive. There's an inherent power dynamic in certain forbidden relationships and situations I find highly titillating. Since I write what excites me and want to be a successfully published writer, I sometimes need to walk a very fine line between illicitness and what's acceptable.

In my story "Restitution," which appears in Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1, I danced in a grey area concerning the idea of coercion. The pop star protagonist finds herself in a compromising situation and submits to some rather unorthodox punishment.

At first blush, it might appear like a form of non-consent, but by the end, it's clear that things aren't as they seem. Throughout the story, it's obvious that the protagonist enjoys what happens and is entirely willing despite the circumstances. However, it was definitely borderline inappropriate with regards to consent.

One of my other favorite erotic tropes involves relationships between older men and younger woman. I've always been attracted to older men, primarily because of the intrinsic air of dominance they possess. Maturity, knowledge, control, and experience can be incredibly arousing—as far as I'm concerned, anyway.

My story "Elevator Confidential," which was just released in Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More, features a quasi-taboo erotic encounter between an older man and a much younger woman. Not only is there a twenty-year age difference, but the protagonist, Jackie, has also known Walden, the object of her secret desires, since childhood. To make the situation even more complicated, Walden is the best friend and business partner of Jackie's father.

Walden's father-figure-like status in Jackie's life might make some people uncomfortable, but I've always found forbidden scenarios like this intensely hot. Much like Jackie, I'm a long-suffering good girl who gets off on being bad. Truth be told, there is a lot of me in Jackie. "Elevator Confidential" contains some of my favorite erotic themes.

Jackie is the aggressor in this story, taking full advantage of a serendipitous event with the help of some naughty-shaped chocolates containing a powerful aphrodisiac. The erotic chocolates connect all the stories in the anthology, which was originally inspired by a brilliantly wicked story by Oleander Plume that launched the first volume of Chemical [se]X.

Despite the tangible chemistry between them, Walden displays a steely restraint in the face of Jackie's provocative seduction attempts. A scintillating battle of wills ensues that tests Walden's resolve to keep their relationship above reproach. Regardless of his seeming position of power, at no point does Walden take advantage of Jackie. Actually, it could be argued that the opposite is true.

The following excerpt demonstrates just one moment Jackie entices Walden to shed his inhibitions and throw caution to the wind. In this particular instance, she actually does it unintentionally—at first.


Even as hungry as she was, chocolates that fine were to be savored, not scarfed like M&M's. She brought one of the tiny cocks to her mouth and filled her lungs with the enticing aroma. Unable to wait any longer, she sunk her teeth into the hard, outer shell—only to be surprised when filling spurted out. Giggling, she used her free hand to capture a runaway stream of sticky sweetness before it dripped off her chin and ruined her favorite red silk blouse.

Jackie admired the wicked brilliance of filling naughty chocolates with white cream. Before any more of it oozed out, she put the rest of the morsel in her mouth, but let it dissolve on her tongue. Her taste buds exploded with the flavor of bitter chocolate and a sweet, minty confection that had a trace of something else. She didn't recognize the unknown ingredient, but it was definitely intriguing.

Humming with pleasure, she licked and sucked her messy fingers clean until every drop was consumed. "They're delicious, but messy."

When Jackie looked up at Walden, she froze at his heavy-lidded expression. If he looked hungry before, he looked positively ravenous now.

"You did that on purpose."

She knew what he meant. As much as she'd love to take credit for teasing him, she was innocent in this instance. Still, Jackie was smart enough to seize an opportunity when she saw one.


To read what happens next, you'll have to buy Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More!

I love pushing boundaries and testing my limits—both in life and in my writing—so I'm sure there will be plenty more erotica from the edge in my future. What salacious frontiers I might explore next, I can't say. Everyone will just have to wait and see.




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About the Author


Ria Restrepo may appear to be a mild-mannered bookworm who drinks too much coffee and spends most days tapping away on her computer. But beneath the quiet exterior lurks a filthy-minded sex kitten with a lurid and lascivious imagination. Writing erotica, romance, and all the shades in between, she truly enjoys entertaining readers with stories about strong women exploring and celebrating their desires—especially when they involve dominant men with a sensitive side.











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Enter to win a free e-book copy of Chemical [se]X 2: Just One More and a $10 Amazon gift card!


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Sunday, March 13, 2016

Sunday Snog 217: Incognito (#newrelease #erotica #taboo)


Next Tuesday, the expanded and revised version of Incognito will be available for pre-order at Totally Bound. In preparation, I've got a sexy, romantic kiss excerpt from the book. Hope you like it!

When you're done with my snog, head back to Victoria's, for lots more sexy kisses.



 
Heathcliff met them at the door. He nosed suspiciously around Mark’s sandals, then jumped up on the bookshelf and stared at him. Mark held out his hand. Heathcliff gave it a perfunctory sniff. Then he began rubbing his head and chin against the outstretched fingers, purring loudly.

He likes you,” said Miranda, delighted at Heathcliff’s approval of her new flame. “He’s a friendly cat, but he’s usually a bit standoffish for the first half hour or so.”

Mark scratched the orange tabby under the chin. The purr volume ratcheted up a notch.

He’s great,” said Mark. “And this is a fantastic apartment. Fourteen-foot ceilings, oak floors, and a marble mantelpiece. Does the fireplace work?”

You want a fire on a sweltering night like this?”

Not when I’m with a hot number like you. But it might be cozy to cuddle up here in the winter.”

Miranda found that she was blushing. His joking compliment, plus his oblique reference to a future together, made her feel even warmer. “So, would you like a glass of wine? Or would you rather go across the street for coffee?”

Mark flopped down on her sofa as if it were his own. Heathcliff immediately curled up beside him. “Wine would be wonderful. Coffee would keep me awake, and I need to be rested for that lecture tomorrow.”

Miranda retrieved the open bottle of Pinot Grigio from the refrigerator and poured two glasses. Handing him one, she sat down next to him with her own goblet, on the opposite side from Heathcliff’s tawny body. “To London,” she said, raising her glass.

To London, and other adventures.”

They took a few silent sips. What now? thought Miranda. She tingled all over from nervousness, but for once there was no knot of fear in her belly. Mark was looking at her, searching her face as if trying to read her thoughts. The silence lengthened. Ever so slowly, as if he were afraid that she might flee, he reached for her hand. His skin was warm and dry. She suddenly remembered the way he had stroked her palm, the first time they met. The recollection gave her a little thrill.

She wondered at her own shyness. Given her recent escapades, she could hardly be called sexually inexperienced, yet she felt as much like a virgin now as she had with Geoff.

He was still staring at her, their hands clasped. He must be waiting for me to make the first move, thought Miranda.

Mark…”

Miranda…”

They collapsed in laughter as they spoke simultaneously. Somehow, the shared humor erased the tension. Miranda turned toward him and kissed him.

His response was immediate and electrifying. His arms encircled her, pulling her close to his chest, while he returned her kiss with a ferocity that was astounding. It was a probing, aggressive, challenging kiss, a kiss that sought out her secrets. His tongue danced in her mouth, boldly exploring. Her sex rippled in response. It was almost as if his tongue was dancing down there, darting in and out of her swollen labia.

Miranda moaned and rubbed her breasts against his torso. Her nipples were hard and round as hazelnuts. She was hungry for him, dying to have him touch her.

As if in response to her thought, he slid one hand under her shirt and brushed a fingertip across her tit. That simple touch made her writhe. When he rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, the sensations dragged her to the very edge of climax. He continued to kiss her, more voluptuously than before, tracing the outline of her lips with his tongue, nibbling and caressing.

Hazy with lust, Miranda realized that she had never been this aroused. Not with Geoff. Not with Big Daddy. Everything Mark did felt good. He smelled good, tasted good. She wanted him to surround her and penetrate her. She wanted their bodies to melt together into one.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Beautiful Smut

I recently spent a while browsing around Excitica.com. This is a relatively new storefront created by Selena Kitt to market taboo erotica. The site sells books that would be banned elsewhere, featuring themes like non-consensual sex, incest in a variety of flavors, abuse and humiliation, golden showers, and so on. The listings, in some cases, are not subtle. I won't quote them here because I suspect they'd offend at least some of my readers.

You want to know my reaction to this site, though? Honestly? I wanted to see my own books up there on that page. I had a fierce desire to write some totally outrageous taboo erotica--or smut, or porn, whatever you want to call it--without censoring myself.

I could do it, I know, though I'd probably need to establish a new pen name, to avoid alienating my more conservative readers. While many of these taboo themes don't appeal to me, some definitely do. They feature in my own private fantasies. I'd love the chance to write them down and share them.

Of course, anyone can write porn. At least that's the general view, though I'm not sure I subscribe to it. What I want to do is write beautiful porn. I'd like to create absolutely filthy stories that are so exquisitely crafted, so breathlessly arousing, that you forget, while you're reading, that they're stroke fiction. I want to sweep readers away, into the depths of depravity, without them realizing it. I want to corrupt you, to lead you into my world of personal fantasy and show you just how hot things you'd never dared consider can be.

Sound dangerous? I suppose it is. I guess I'm reacting to my years of living under the thumb of erotic romance editors. I just finished an edit of one of my legacy books for a re-release. The editor pretty much forced me to take out several taboo sections, sections that I felt were essential to the book. I thought about pushing back, but eventually I caved. I decided the publisher probably knows their market better than I do. Still, I felt I was betraying my original erotic vision.

I probably won't act on this impulse, partially because I have no time, and partially because I still have some discomfort about being associated with porn. Much of it is so badly written--but readers don't care. Plus there are some themes highlighted at Excitica that I actually disapprove of. Even I have to admit that's hypocritical, though.

And if I'm already embarrassed by people's reactions to my explicit fiction, how would I feel if I owned up to being the author of Banging My Brother or Raped by the Billionaire?  Erotic romance is (just barely) respectable. Taboo erotica has a huge audience, but you won't find anyone admitting they read it.

So for now, this will remain nothing but a fantasy--like the ones kindled by some of Excitica's titles.



Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Review Tuesday: Bending by Greta Christina

Bending: Dirty, Kinky Stories about Pain, Power, Religion and More
By Greta Christina
Dirty Heathen Publishing, 2013

These are not nice stories,begins Greta Christina's introduction to her collection Bending. She warns the reader to expect borderline and even total lack of consent, sexual manipulation, degradation, violation, humiliation,a lot of fucked up shit. Of course, one isn't completely surprised by this, given the book's deliberately provocative sub-title. Furthermore, I agree with the author's assessment.  

Some of the activities chronicled here are extreme even for a kink connoisseur like me. Perhaps the most notable example is a scene in the novella which gives the collection its title, where a woman is fucked in the ass while her Domme repeatedly forces her head into the toilet water. Then there'sChristian Domestic Discipline, in which playful mutual exploration of spanking as punishment for a wife'ssinsturns into fanatic cruelty. OrCraig's List, where a woman advertises for a man to literally abuse her, and finds someone who more than meets her specifications. Or the more subtly disturbingWhat She's Not Telling Him:

Their arrangement is, in theory, completely consensual. Safewords, and limits, and all the usual stuff.

What she's not telling him is that, the moment he orders her in for a punishment, all of that disappears. The moment he tells her that she must be punished – no, even before that, the moment he gets the gleam in his eye that prophecies a punishment – her submission takes over her mind, and her safeword and limits and understanding that she has consented to this are obliterated. What she's not telling him is that, for her, the game of sadistic master and obedient slavegirl is real, and is becoming more real with every passing week.

The thing is, her partner begins to change. He starts as the model dominant, asking for feedback, checking her status, remaining aware of her as a person and a partner in kink. The harder he finds he can push without her resorting to her safeword, though, the more sadistic he becomes. As he administers ever more painful punishments and demands more degrading and disgusting indignities, she becomes her own fantasy: an object with no will, no rights, no recourse. As is characteristic of many of these tales, Ms. Christina allows the reader to decide what happens next.

This book overflows with physical perversity: a woman who gets her kicks opening her pussy for audiences to admire (“Open”); an ex-nun who pays to be chastised in order to expiate her guilt, only to find she feels even more culpable than before (“Penitence as a Perpetual Motion Machine”); a couple of escapees from a religious cult who recreate the savage beatings they received for “purification” (“Deprogramming”); intense breast torture (“Breasts”); being forced into porn (“Dixie's Girl-Toy Gets Spanked for the First Time”; brutal and anonymous butt-fucking in a filthy men's bathroom (“The Rest Stop”). However, the true action in these stories happens in the mind. These stories aren't really about physical sex – they're about obsession, fetishes, psychological games, terrible fantasies, all the secret and shameful notions that run through our minds no matter how safe and sane, rational and independent and centered and mature and careful we pretend to be.

These are wank tales - Greta Christina comes right out and says so – and her attention is on the psychological impact, because that's what turns her on. It's obvious, given their recurring themes, that many of these stories represent personal fantasies. Indeed, this author is a good deal more honest than most in proudly admitting this.

Consider the opening of “This Week”:

Here's what it is this week. A girl, a college student, is being spanked by her college professor. She's young, nineteen or twenty, young enough to be in college, but old enough to have some sexual knowledge. He's older, of course, probably in his forties, dressed casually but with dignity, a trim beard with a hint of gray. She is dress, not in the schoolgirl outfit of porn cliché, but in regular modern clothing that merely implies the schoolgirl look: a short skirt with a flare, a simple blouse, white panties. The white panties are important. She is bent over his lap with her skirt pulled up and her panties pulled down, and he is spanking her with his hand.

We have the setup here for this week's masturbatory scenario. Not particularly creative or unusual, but then, fantasies often are not. From here, though,the story takes a different track than the standard, because interspersed with the spankings and the scoldings, the red ass cheeks and the tears, Ms. Christina shows us what both the girl and her professor are thinking and feeling, and that's where the main erotic charge lies.

He's not an idiot. He's an adult, a middle-aged man of the world, and he can see what she wants. He wants it too; she's a lovely girl, she makes him feel powerful and wise, and the thought of bending her over his lap makes his dick twitch. At the same time, he's not an idiot. He knows how much trouble he could get into if he's guessing wrong, or for that matter if he's guessing right.

The tension between lust and responsibility – the awareness of one's own depravity and the fact that this doesn't diminish the fascinated desire – this is the payoff, not the spanking or the fucking or the abuse by itself.

Nowhere is this clearer than in the wonderful story “The Shame Photos”. There's no sex in this tale at all, just a conversation between a porn photographer and a businesswoman at a bar, during which he encourages her to elaborate on her fantasies of sexual shame. That's the key element that excites her, the element she says is lacking in the photos of his that she's seen online. Gradually it becomes clear that she will become his model, that she will let him create the shame photos she describes, that she can't help doing this because this is the essence of who she is and what turns her on. The story ends with him ordering her to go get a hotel room. The fact that she's about to obey him is the most shameful thing of all, and yet, it's just the beginning.

Ms. Christina leaves us to imagine the rest on our own.

Bending is organized into several sections, grouping together tales that the author felt were similar, under the following headings: Bad Ideas; Force, Power and Messed-Up Consent; Unicorns and Rainbows (which contains a single bizarre, hilarious story about a jilted unicorn fucking a rainbow); Religion; Sweet Stuff; and the novellaBending. I feel that the book would have been improved by mixing things up and providing more contrast. Some of the tales are seriously dark (as you are warned at the start). It would have provided some relief to alternate these with lighter or more emotionally fulfilling stories (like the deliciousA Live One, about a surprisingly real encounter between a peep show performer and a customer). Also, some of the categorizations seemed strained.The Rest Stop, for example, the only gay story in the collection, is thrown into the religion section, simply because the characters know each other from church.

The novella, though, is in a category by itself.

Dallas, the main character, has a very specific fetish. She dreams of being bent over. What happens next can vary: punishment, fucking, simply being forced to immobility in this vulnerable position. All she really cares about is the sensation of bending,the knowledge of accessibility, the uncertainty about what will come next. She acts this out on her own; she struggles to find sexual partners who will indulge her; she has insatiable craving to be nothing but an ass in the air.

Enter Betsy, an imaginative and horny dominant who fulfills her needs as no one has ever done, and gets a huge kick out of the process. They're perfect together, until Betsy notices Dallas is still restless, and asks her what she wants.

Unfinished. That was it. It dawned on her on the bus ride home. She felt unfinished. Hungry still. Like she'd had a huge meal, with chicken and potatoes and two slices of pie, and was still staring at the pie thinking that a third slice might be nice. And for all her sex-positive, slut-positive, I-am-woman-watch-me-fuck attitude, she still thought her hosts would think she was greedy if she asked for that third piece of pie. And not without reason. Some of her hosts had thought she was greedy for wanting the first one.

Unfazed, Betsy arranges for them to take two weeks off from their jobs, and promises to bring Dallas to the point where even she has had enough. Betsy fulfills her promise, but the psychological results are not what either of them expect.

Bending is just amazing, a brilliant exploration of the inexplicable, irresistible, labile nature of sexual obsession. The earlier stories in this collection impressed me, but this final offering dazzled me with its insight even as it made me squirm (yes, me!) with its filthiness. I wanted to applaud.

The book concludes with an extensive kink resource guide: websites, hotlines and books. This useful material, along with the cautionary introduction, frame the fiction in between, emphasizing the distinction between what happens between your ears and what happens in the real world.

Bending will not please everyone. It might shock some readers, and even if you're not shocked, you might not find the stories arousing. Indeed, my kink buttons are a bit different from Greta Christina's. I've never found shame to be a turn-on. Nevertheless, I highly recommend this book for its clever language and deep understanding of what makes us perverts tick. Bravo.