Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 64
January 12, 2016
Goblin King
Like many, I was saddened to hear of Bowie's death this week. I'm afraid I was never much into his music (bar a few singles like The Man who Sold the World), but OMG he has a place in my heart and an eternal imprint in my psyche thanks to his role in this movie, which I still rate as one of the greatest fantasy films ever:
Labyrinth was released in 1986, so I'd have been nineteen, which is a bit late for any of these "awakening my sexuality" confessions that have been going around. But my goodness he had an effect on it. Not so much the Infamous Bulge:
(I don't actually recall noticing it at the time). More the hair actually...
I'm a hair perv and I don't care.And the hoards of muppety goblin minions... 
I mean, who doesn't adore a goblin army?No, in all seriousness, what I fell in love with was the film itself - just endlessly inventive, funny, creepy and visually stunning - in which King Jareth was just the sexy icing on the cake. Labyrinth was extraordinary for the time because it was a magical quest with a girl as the hero. Since the invention of children's fiction we have been up to our eyeballs in boy-heroes going boldly forth to rescue, save, explore and make good of themselves, but NEVER until then was it a girl.
Sarah has a character arc where she starts off imaginative but unhappy and self-centered, and then gets to display and develop courage, cleverness, loyalty, strength of will, discernment and tenacity. She's cunning at making allies. She's also forced, at 15, to resist the temptations of easy romance and the "princess dream" when Jareth fakes up his pretty ballroom scene for her - and that's a big ask for a fifteen year old.
I mean, shit - I'd abandon my baby brother and all my friends to shag him any day. I'm no good at adulting!There's a deeper exploration of the revolutionary girl-hero here, and a sweet male-POV eulogy for the Goblin King here.
So that's part of the reason why Labyrinth made such an impact on me. But there's more! The relationship between Jareth and Sara is a deeply uneasy one in which power and sexual attraction are double-edged weapons. It's creepy and complex, and in the end it turns out that the Goblin King is as trapped as she is.
Can you understand the impact of this dialogue in a movie essentially for children?
Oh, and I now realise that a reflection of King Jareth turns up in my BDSM novel
And there he was.Who would have thunk it, eh?
I really don’t see how he’d managed to sneak up on me, riding a big horse like that. It was a black stallion, with an arched neck and a mane like rough silk that was hung with tiny silver bells. The Brenin was dressed entirely in black too — a hodgepodge of fashion stolen from history. Mr. Darcy boots, a long Victorian riding coat, biker leathers on his legs and a belted medieval shirt embroidered down the front — all topped off with a black half-mask in the form of a skull. Behind the skull’s eye-sockets his eyes glinted. His hair was a dead white and it hung down as far as his elbows, while his skin, where it showed, was the colour of long-buried bone. Frankly, he looked like a manga villain, and he should have been risible anywhere outside of a convention auditorium . . . but he wasn’t. I could feel reality crinkling up around him, like cellophane exposed to heat.
So I will miss you, Goblin King. Long may you reign immortal in your castle in the heart of the Labyrinth...
January 11, 2016
Blue Monday: Zak Jane Keir guests
Every Monday I post a wicked excerpt for your entertainment!
My first guest of 2016 is Zak Jane Keir with a snippet from her hot new collection Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette
Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette is a collection of short stories including BDSM, roleplay, bisexual party games and obsessive lust.
A newbie sub comes up with the perfect birthday present for the mistress he adores...
A game of Truth or Dare goes further than expected when fantasies are shared...
A DJ becomes erotically obsessed with the girl who calls him every week to talk dirty...
A Master and a Mistress find their mutual attraction is too hot to handle, even though neither is willing to submit...
All this and more: seven sexy stories from an author with a reputation for having experienced most of it before she wrote about it.
The following extract is taken from A Little Aural, where a hot-talking DJ becomes fascinated by the woman who calls him up on air every week....
Every week, she listened to the show, listened to him, and spent the entire two hours in a state of dreamy arousal. It wasn’t just his voice, it wasn’t just the tracks he played, it wasn’t just the things he said, but some irresistible blend of everything that made her nipples tight and her pussy wet. Jade licked her lips and wriggled, feeling the satin sheet ridge up beneath her hips. He was talking dirty again, his voice low and confiding, about what it felt like to lust so intensely, to want to go deeper and harder. She heard herself whimper, and she cupped her breasts in her hands and gave them a little squeeze, her arousal growing stronger. The song he was fading up was new to Jade: throbbing bass and a languid string section overlaid with urgent, guttural lyrics, and she knew she was going to do it this time.
Her mobile was on the bedside table; she sat up and felt about for it. All the DJs asked the listeners to tweet and text and only rarely suggested they might actually phone in, but the number was available on the website and she’d managed to key it into her phone memory a few weeks ago, even though she told herself she’d never actually use it. Twitter and texting were too much effort for too little reward, but an actual conversation? She made herself focus; waited for the package of adverts and station info to kick in; pushed the buttons.
“Hello?”
It wasn’t the voice she was expecting, and she nearly dropped the phone.
“Oh. Um, is this - er -”
“Yeah, Redhot Radio. You want to go on air? Talk to Chas?”
“I... er... Jade’s palms were sweating. She took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”
“OK, turn your radio off. Have to do that or it makes a horrible mess.”
She rolled over on the bed, scrabbled for the switch, couldn’t find it for a couple of seconds but then there it was.
“I”ll stick you through now, love.”
A moment or two of silence and, before she was wholly ready, he was speaking to her. He was speaking directly to her.
“So I have a caller. Hey, caller, how's it going?”
Get a grip, she thought. Either get a grip or hang up.
“It’s good,” she said, and her voice barely shook at all. “I was listening to the show and it made me feel...”
“Oh did it now? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Will you play a song for me? Something really dirty?”
“I might do. Will you tell me what you’re wearing?”
Jade ran her free hand over her bare breasts, feeling her nipples tighten under her own touch.
“Nothing. Nothing at all, I’ve just had a shower.”
“Best way to be,” he said. “Specially when it’s hot, and you’re pretty hot, aren’t you. girl?”
Jade heard herself moan, didn’t care. She spread her legs and raised her knees, opening herself to the hot night.
“You want it, don’t you?” His voice was teasing, but there was affection there, not derision, and a hint of arousal on his side. “You like it, you love it…”
“So do you,” she said, and she knew it was true.
“I’ve got something for you, girl,” he said, and he was laughing at himself, a little, she could tell. “A whole 12 inches…”
She pressed the phone close to her ear; she could hear him breathing even over the opening bars of the song he’d chosen for her.
“Enjoying it?” he said, suddenly, and Jade gave a little squeal: her fantasies had been advancing at such a rate she’d almost forgotten she was genuinely, really, actually on the phone to him. Her hand was cupping her mound, her fingers making their first tentative little forays between her juicy, swollen lips as the insistent, sleazy bassline worked its magic.
“Oh yeah,” she whispered.
“Going to tell me what you’re doing right now?”
“How many times have you done the same thing?” Jade felt a sudden urge to take back at least a little control of the situation.
“You’d be surprised.”
“I could surprise you, too. But I have to go now.”
It took a couple of fumbles to hit the right button to end the call, but she managed to find the switch to put the radio back on within seconds, and the same track was still playing. The intensity of her desire was close to painful now, and she wondered briefly if she should have gone with it, brought herself off on air, told him exactly what she was thinking while she did it. No, that was a step too far, she wasn’t bold enough, or not bold enough yet. She stretched out on the bed, glad she’d turned the volume right up. She really needed to come.
She could talk, now, when she was talking to the man she imagined: she could talk and moan and even scream if she wanted to, and no one need ever know.
Jade began to stroke herself properly, circling her clit, spreading her pussy lips and caressing them. She could use both hands now she didn’t have the phone in one of them. One hand on top of the other, her palm against her mound, her middle finger dipping in and out of her slick, juicy channel in time with the music, she began to breathe faster and more noisily.
“I want you, you know I do,” she whispered, just as the track playing began to fade and he spoke again. This time he was addressing all his listeners, not just her, but it didn’t spoil her mood and simply increased the speed of her body’s race towards orgasm. He was still talking about lust, about desire, about heat, and those times you couldn’t hold on any longer but you just had to give in, you just had to let go. Jade had to let go, had to give in, two fingers pumping in and out of her snatch, her hips jerking, her thighs tensing: she came with a series of guttural moans.
Buy Sticky fingers and Warm Leatherette at
Amazon US :: Amazon UK:: iTunes
Zak Jane Keir has been writing about sex for a long, long time. She generally prefers femdom and pansexual material but doesn't mind a bit of heterosex now and again. Her latest collection of short stories, Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette, is available now in e-book format.
Goodreads
Twitter
Facebook
My first guest of 2016 is Zak Jane Keir with a snippet from her hot new collection Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette
Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette is a collection of short stories including BDSM, roleplay, bisexual party games and obsessive lust.
A newbie sub comes up with the perfect birthday present for the mistress he adores...
A game of Truth or Dare goes further than expected when fantasies are shared...
A DJ becomes erotically obsessed with the girl who calls him every week to talk dirty...
A Master and a Mistress find their mutual attraction is too hot to handle, even though neither is willing to submit...
All this and more: seven sexy stories from an author with a reputation for having experienced most of it before she wrote about it.
The following extract is taken from A Little Aural, where a hot-talking DJ becomes fascinated by the woman who calls him up on air every week....
Every week, she listened to the show, listened to him, and spent the entire two hours in a state of dreamy arousal. It wasn’t just his voice, it wasn’t just the tracks he played, it wasn’t just the things he said, but some irresistible blend of everything that made her nipples tight and her pussy wet. Jade licked her lips and wriggled, feeling the satin sheet ridge up beneath her hips. He was talking dirty again, his voice low and confiding, about what it felt like to lust so intensely, to want to go deeper and harder. She heard herself whimper, and she cupped her breasts in her hands and gave them a little squeeze, her arousal growing stronger. The song he was fading up was new to Jade: throbbing bass and a languid string section overlaid with urgent, guttural lyrics, and she knew she was going to do it this time.
Her mobile was on the bedside table; she sat up and felt about for it. All the DJs asked the listeners to tweet and text and only rarely suggested they might actually phone in, but the number was available on the website and she’d managed to key it into her phone memory a few weeks ago, even though she told herself she’d never actually use it. Twitter and texting were too much effort for too little reward, but an actual conversation? She made herself focus; waited for the package of adverts and station info to kick in; pushed the buttons.
“Hello?”
It wasn’t the voice she was expecting, and she nearly dropped the phone.
“Oh. Um, is this - er -”
“Yeah, Redhot Radio. You want to go on air? Talk to Chas?”
“I... er... Jade’s palms were sweating. She took a deep breath. “Yes, please.”
“OK, turn your radio off. Have to do that or it makes a horrible mess.”
She rolled over on the bed, scrabbled for the switch, couldn’t find it for a couple of seconds but then there it was.
“I”ll stick you through now, love.”
A moment or two of silence and, before she was wholly ready, he was speaking to her. He was speaking directly to her.
“So I have a caller. Hey, caller, how's it going?”
Get a grip, she thought. Either get a grip or hang up.
“It’s good,” she said, and her voice barely shook at all. “I was listening to the show and it made me feel...”
“Oh did it now? Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Will you play a song for me? Something really dirty?”
“I might do. Will you tell me what you’re wearing?”
Jade ran her free hand over her bare breasts, feeling her nipples tighten under her own touch.
“Nothing. Nothing at all, I’ve just had a shower.”
“Best way to be,” he said. “Specially when it’s hot, and you’re pretty hot, aren’t you. girl?”
Jade heard herself moan, didn’t care. She spread her legs and raised her knees, opening herself to the hot night.
“You want it, don’t you?” His voice was teasing, but there was affection there, not derision, and a hint of arousal on his side. “You like it, you love it…”
“So do you,” she said, and she knew it was true.
“I’ve got something for you, girl,” he said, and he was laughing at himself, a little, she could tell. “A whole 12 inches…”
She pressed the phone close to her ear; she could hear him breathing even over the opening bars of the song he’d chosen for her.
“Enjoying it?” he said, suddenly, and Jade gave a little squeal: her fantasies had been advancing at such a rate she’d almost forgotten she was genuinely, really, actually on the phone to him. Her hand was cupping her mound, her fingers making their first tentative little forays between her juicy, swollen lips as the insistent, sleazy bassline worked its magic.
“Oh yeah,” she whispered.
“Going to tell me what you’re doing right now?”
“How many times have you done the same thing?” Jade felt a sudden urge to take back at least a little control of the situation.
“You’d be surprised.”
“I could surprise you, too. But I have to go now.”
It took a couple of fumbles to hit the right button to end the call, but she managed to find the switch to put the radio back on within seconds, and the same track was still playing. The intensity of her desire was close to painful now, and she wondered briefly if she should have gone with it, brought herself off on air, told him exactly what she was thinking while she did it. No, that was a step too far, she wasn’t bold enough, or not bold enough yet. She stretched out on the bed, glad she’d turned the volume right up. She really needed to come.
She could talk, now, when she was talking to the man she imagined: she could talk and moan and even scream if she wanted to, and no one need ever know.
Jade began to stroke herself properly, circling her clit, spreading her pussy lips and caressing them. She could use both hands now she didn’t have the phone in one of them. One hand on top of the other, her palm against her mound, her middle finger dipping in and out of her slick, juicy channel in time with the music, she began to breathe faster and more noisily.
“I want you, you know I do,” she whispered, just as the track playing began to fade and he spoke again. This time he was addressing all his listeners, not just her, but it didn’t spoil her mood and simply increased the speed of her body’s race towards orgasm. He was still talking about lust, about desire, about heat, and those times you couldn’t hold on any longer but you just had to give in, you just had to let go. Jade had to let go, had to give in, two fingers pumping in and out of her snatch, her hips jerking, her thighs tensing: she came with a series of guttural moans.
Buy Sticky fingers and Warm Leatherette at Amazon US :: Amazon UK:: iTunes
Zak Jane Keir has been writing about sex for a long, long time. She generally prefers femdom and pansexual material but doesn't mind a bit of heterosex now and again. Her latest collection of short stories, Sticky Fingers and Warm Leatherette, is available now in e-book format.
Goodreads
January 10, 2016
January 8, 2016
Vrubel's Demon
[click to expand pictures - they're worth it]
Demon Seated (1890)
Whilst poking around on t'internet for inspiration for Cover Him with Darkness , I came across the art of Mikhail Vrubel (1856-1910). He was a Russian member of the Art Nouveau and Symbolist movements, and though he started off with a lot of religious art, it was eventually a fallen angel that destroyed him ...
Head of a Demon
Vrubel became interested in illustrating a long poem by Lermontov, Tamara and the Demon (full English translation here). In that work a fallen angel, tooling about feeling bored with doing evil stuff, falls in love with Georgian princess Tamara when he espies her dancing at her wedding.
Having no great grasp of either timing or subtlety, the demon has the groom killed and commences nagging / wooing Tamara into becoming his eternal bride.
"Give me thy love - for thee is waiting
Eternal life for earthly span;
For I, in loving as in hating
am great like God, not weak like man."
He's so besotted he even promises to give up evil and obey God for her - and at that point she gives in and lets him kiss her.
Which kills her on the spot.
Oops.
Demon and Angel with Tamara's Soul
An angel takes Tamara off to heaven, and the poor demon is left to fly over the earth again, lamenting and alone.
Demon Flying
Ah ... That's romance for you ;-)
Demon Overthrown
Vrubel became obsessed with his own particular image of the demon (who you have to admit is pretty damn sexy!). He sculpted and painted the character over and over again.
Demon Flying
He wouldn't stop repainting the face on this one even when it was hanging in the gallery:
DemonProstrateAnd at this point he lost it all together and had a total breakdown. Several periods of hospitalization dominated the last few years of his life - it seems to have been tertiary syphilis that caused his insanity and encroaching blindness.
He never painted his Demon again. But he did paint Azrael, the Angel of Death, in 1904:
Six-winged Seraph (Azrael)
He died in 1910.
Full biography and gallery of his paintings here
Demon Seated (1890)Whilst poking around on t'internet for inspiration for Cover Him with Darkness , I came across the art of Mikhail Vrubel (1856-1910). He was a Russian member of the Art Nouveau and Symbolist movements, and though he started off with a lot of religious art, it was eventually a fallen angel that destroyed him ...
Head of a DemonVrubel became interested in illustrating a long poem by Lermontov, Tamara and the Demon (full English translation here). In that work a fallen angel, tooling about feeling bored with doing evil stuff, falls in love with Georgian princess Tamara when he espies her dancing at her wedding.
Having no great grasp of either timing or subtlety, the demon has the groom killed and commences nagging / wooing Tamara into becoming his eternal bride.
"Give me thy love - for thee is waitingEternal life for earthly span;
For I, in loving as in hating
am great like God, not weak like man."
He's so besotted he even promises to give up evil and obey God for her - and at that point she gives in and lets him kiss her.
Which kills her on the spot.Oops.
Demon and Angel with Tamara's SoulAn angel takes Tamara off to heaven, and the poor demon is left to fly over the earth again, lamenting and alone.
Demon FlyingAh ... That's romance for you ;-)
Demon OverthrownVrubel became obsessed with his own particular image of the demon (who you have to admit is pretty damn sexy!). He sculpted and painted the character over and over again.
Demon Flying
He wouldn't stop repainting the face on this one even when it was hanging in the gallery:
DemonProstrateAnd at this point he lost it all together and had a total breakdown. Several periods of hospitalization dominated the last few years of his life - it seems to have been tertiary syphilis that caused his insanity and encroaching blindness.He never painted his Demon again. But he did paint Azrael, the Angel of Death, in 1904:
Six-winged Seraph (Azrael)He died in 1910.
Full biography and gallery of his paintings here
January 6, 2016
Deeper than expected
At long last I've finished the second installment of my Lover's Wheel quartet. Or at least edited it to the point that I can no longer write any more because my brain goes Pfffft.
Falling Deep clocks in at 52,500 words, which is over 10K longer than Summer Seduction (somewhat to my surprise - I was expecting it to be short) and covers September thru November in the story of Liz's initiation into sex magick. Thank god I didn't try to write the story as a single volume!
The autumn months include Harvest-Home and Samhain, and in this tale start a shift from enthusiastic but cheerful vanilla sex into darker D/s territory. Brace yourselves for human sacrifices and visiting undead, as well as Arthurian revelations and betrayal.
And if you think that's scary, just wait for When Winter Comes ... ;-)
January 4, 2016
January 3, 2016
January 1, 2016
Could Try Harder
I'm a bit torn about 2015 TBH. On a personal level it was a great year full of fun times, and one in which none of that Bad Shit waiting in the wings of every life (yes, every life) was given its cue to lumber onstage. It Was Good. Even if I did start going grey...
Gold star 2015!
But I didn't get enough writing done . For great swathes of time other things took priority. And when I did have time I very very often managed to fuck it up. My procrastination fairy is earning bonuses. And nothing is more unsettling to a writer than not writing, believe me. It is the loose shale undermining a mountain of crazy just waiting to crash down.
I'm less driven as I get older, I know that. I'm less idealistic about the possibility of breaking through to a mass readership (Hah!) but I'm also genuinely lazier, I'm afraid. I used to rely a lot on my inner determination and work ethic to see things through, but alas ... the fuel tanks of Protestant guilt are finally running dry.
I think I may also be having too much good sex to need to write about it any more. What can I say?
Anyway, I'm going to try to turn things around in 2016. I've promised I'll get The Valleys of the Earth out (that's Cover Him With Darkness #2) because quite a few people want to see that.
It's my resolution for 2016.
Fingers crossed!
And here's wishing you all, whether you've made resolutions or not, a very Happy New Year. May 2016 be better than 2015, that's all any of us can hope for :-)
December 29, 2015
2015 in the rear view mirror
They say that older you get, the faster time flees by. At this rate I'll be in 2017 by the end of next week! Yes, once more the Wheel of the Year has zipped around, flinging off cultural gems and turds at random. Just like last year, I'm going to take a moment to remember the highlights - all only my personal opinion, of course
Best Movie (cinema):
This was a really good year for lead and interesting female characters in movies, even though Star Wars : the Force Awakens didn't actually make my cut.
My top five in order:
Mad Max: Fury Road Inside Out The Martian Straight Outta Compton Sicario
Worst movie I watched: Sorry, but it has to be Fifty Shades of Grey...
Best Movie (DVD and download):
2015 was a year in which I made a special effort to watch horror movies that got no cinema release anywhere I could find. Some oddball and low-budget gems here, ranging from an MR James-meets--Lovecraft-nightmare...
The Borderlands
... to a japantastic YA dystopia with GIGANTIC MONSTERS!!!
Attack on Titan (live action)
Best TV:
Yes yes yes, I'm at least a year behind everyone else else. But without a doubt the boxed set that dominated my year was True Detective ... series one. God, that was awesome. Many many happy hours on the sofa!
Shame about series two, really. And you can say much the same about series one and two of Penny Dreadful.
Eva Green is WONDERFUL tho
Best Music:
A year of two halves. While I was going through a worried phase, I played Gary Numan's album Splinter over and over. It was a hand held in the dark.
Now that I'm more chilled, I have discovered Fall Out Boy's back-catalogue and they are great : -)
Best Book:
There are surprisingly few really good readable tree books out there - this one manages to combine both a strong practical knowledge of living and working in a wood and a solid grounding in biology, with tree history and lore and folklore and personal anecdotes. Beautifully evocative, yet (despite the misleading title) it is not in the least New-Agey. Thoroughly recommended.
Best Picture:
This year, a video. One I loved - because of the orangutan's clear demonstration of object permanence, and because its reaction was to laugh at the surprise. We are so close as species.
Best Movie (cinema):
This was a really good year for lead and interesting female characters in movies, even though Star Wars : the Force Awakens didn't actually make my cut.
My top five in order:
Mad Max: Fury Road Inside Out The Martian Straight Outta Compton Sicario
Worst movie I watched: Sorry, but it has to be Fifty Shades of Grey...
Best Movie (DVD and download):
2015 was a year in which I made a special effort to watch horror movies that got no cinema release anywhere I could find. Some oddball and low-budget gems here, ranging from an MR James-meets--Lovecraft-nightmare...
The Borderlands... to a japantastic YA dystopia with GIGANTIC MONSTERS!!!
Attack on Titan (live action)
Best TV:
Yes yes yes, I'm at least a year behind everyone else else. But without a doubt the boxed set that dominated my year was True Detective ... series one. God, that was awesome. Many many happy hours on the sofa!Shame about series two, really. And you can say much the same about series one and two of Penny Dreadful.
Eva Green is WONDERFUL thoBest Music:
A year of two halves. While I was going through a worried phase, I played Gary Numan's album Splinter over and over. It was a hand held in the dark.
Now that I'm more chilled, I have discovered Fall Out Boy's back-catalogue and they are great : -)
Best Book:
There are surprisingly few really good readable tree books out there - this one manages to combine both a strong practical knowledge of living and working in a wood and a solid grounding in biology, with tree history and lore and folklore and personal anecdotes. Beautifully evocative, yet (despite the misleading title) it is not in the least New-Agey. Thoroughly recommended.
Best Picture:
This year, a video. One I loved - because of the orangutan's clear demonstration of object permanence, and because its reaction was to laugh at the surprise. We are so close as species.
December 27, 2015
"Sheer prurient bliss" - EftBB Best of 2015!
In a year in which I feel - very guiltily - I have been to some extent faking being an erotica writer (I've subbed as many horror stories as erotica) it is an absolute pleasure to be able to announce that the Libidinous Zombie collection made it onto the list I most covet - Erotica for the Big Brain's Best of 2015!
What a treat! And what a great trick, too; bringing together eight of some of the best—and best known— authors in the business for an anthology of erotic horror that is simply fucking brilliant; highly imaginative, consistently well-crafted, diversely colorful, scary, entertaining, sexy—oh so sexy!— and just plain fun. I suspect that Libidinous Zombie will become part of many readers’ annual Halloween tradition alongside Jack-o-lanterns, candy apples, recitations of Edgar Allen Poe, and a tour through the local haunted house.
Here how my own contribution is reviewed:
Janine Ashbless’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice closes out the collection with an equally-scintillating story about a succubus; this one held captive by a well-heeled occultist. Needless to say, all kinds of horrifyingly orgasmic wackiness ensues when the master foolishly leaves his horny young assistant in charge for a week. Sheer prurient bliss!
Of course you should read the whole review and check out the rest of the Best of 2015 (which includes Richard Raiment's Aphrodite Overboard as featured here on Blue Monday) for your guaranteed reading pleasure!
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
