Tracy St. John's Blog, page 209

Tutorial Tuesday: Naughty Bits – Naked Emotions

Far more than the actual physical act of sex, emotions give erotic scenes their poignancy.  I’m not referring to your characters being turned on with simple upswelling of lust.  Happiness, guilt, sorrow, and fear can infuse your sex scenes with extra vitality.
Yes, I know I mentioned more seemingly negative emotions than positive ones in that last sentence.  But your characters need to bring their baggage into everything, including the sex.  It can turn a hot moment into so much more that serves the whole story.
Let’s look at guilt and fear.  I use that emotion extensively in my novels, notably in the Clans of Kalquor series because Earth and Kalquor don’t get along.  The human heroines experience these emotions in spades because they’re turning their backs on their home planet to be with the alien men they love.  And in many cases because Earth is so sexually repressed, the women are going into their first sexual experiences with the Kalquorians as virgins, which lends its own terrors.  Lindsey McInness in Alien Salvation has a lot of guilt and fear after offering herself to Bacoj’s clan in exchange for food, especially when she sees what Nobek Japohn is packing in his pants:
            The first stab of fear since Bacoj’s bite hit Lindsey as she looked at the looming Nobek.  Perhaps the intoxicant was wearing off, because the sheer size of the man was overwhelming.            “You’re extremely endowed, Japohn, much more than I expected when I made my offer.  I’m not sure a girl my size can handle you.”  She tried not to stare at his burgeoning sex but found it hard to take her eyes away.  She looked him in the face with difficulty.            His face lit in a smile, shocking Lindsey with its sudden absence of ruthlessness.  She hadn’t realized how truly savage he seemed until the predatory expression he wore was wiped away.  It amazed her to recognize Japohn could actually be charming.            The bass rumble of his voice was just as alluring.  “No fear, Matara.  No hurt.  Much pleasure.”            Lindsey was getting tired and starting to ache down below.  But it wasn’t fair to have struck a trade, have sex with Japohn’s clanmates, and then deny him the same privilege.  She had every intention of living up to her word if possible.            “You’re sure?  It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that—”Her voice died out as he approached her.  Japohn’s mere presence was enough to steal her ability to speak.  Lindsey felt every bit of strength flee.He stroked her hair, his touch as gentle as a father soothing a child.  “Bigger Kalquorian men with smaller Earther female than you.  Make good sex, no pain.”“There are even bigger men than you?”  Lindsey was aghast.Bacoj and Vax laughed at her expression, but their hilarity wasn’t mean.  Bacoj nodded.  “Japohn big, no biggest.  Japohn careful to Lindsey.”Well, she’d have to trust them on this, she supposed.  She’d made an agreement.  “Okay.  If you’re sure.”Japohn’s arms gathered around her, pulling her carefully off Vax.  “I bite, if help?”Lindsey thought about it.  She was curious to learn if sex would be as good without the intoxicant, but with its influence waning, fear was making giving in to the Nobek hard.  “That might be best.”Bacoj helped Vax off the bed.  “Bite part normal sex for Kalquorians.  Make pleasure more.”Japohn held her close, her back to his chest.  His sexes curved up tight against her buttocks.  Lindsey swallowed to feel the immense, throbbing flesh beneath her.  “Yeah, I’ve had no complaints so far.  It was pretty — ow, darn it, that smarts!”The bite came suddenly, and again the pain began to fade before she could finish her complaint.  There had to be some kind of anesthetic in the aliens’ saliva, she guessed.  Good thing, because the brief flash of agony was more than enough to bear.Her attitude about being bitten started to change within seconds.  Euphoria settled its warm embrace around her, and Lindsey relaxed in Japohn’s arms.  The hot flesh of his erections was more titillation than a dreaded prospect now.  Oh yes, she definitely looked forward to having this man too.  She squirmed against him to let him know he was most welcome to take what he wanted.

Other excellent opportunities for guilt in sex would involve the misgivings of cheating on a lover (even if that lover is dead or cheating too) or perhaps the character feeling as if they don’t deserve a fun sexual romp.  Fear responses can include something as benign as a character being uncomfortable about their less than perfect body to the thought that the person they’re with is something of a threat.  The feared lover was a major theme I covered in Unholy Union, in which the anti-hero is a demon.
Sorrowful sex is perhaps the most difficult to pull off while keeping the physical part feeling good.  How can people in agony possibly engage in a sensual encounter that simultaneously delights and pulls at the reader’s heartstrings?  It can be handled in two different ways.  First, the characters can use sex to escape the despair they’re in, even if only for a few minutes.  Many of us have used lovemaking in this fashion at some point in our lives.  Like drinking, it offers momentary solace, but when it’s over, the problems are still there.  Desperate sex is hot, and the underlying emotional storms can feed it to the boiling point.
The second way of handling sex in sad situations is to treat it as honestly as possible.   Think of it in this way:  After Romeo killed Tybolt, he and Juliette had one night of lovemaking before he had to run away.  They knew seeing each other again would be far into the future.  Shakespeare didn’t share the details of their one night together, but imagine the mingled ecstasy and mourning their tryst would have entailed.  One moment euphoric with the delights of joined bodies; the next moment, devastation to know it would end with the dawn.  How amazing that sex scene would have been!
This is the mindset I had when I wrote the following in Alien Salvation.  I don’t want to give away the important plot point that ends with Vax and Lindsey making sorrowful love.  Suffice to say something bad has happened before this scene:
The whisper of her name on the breeze turned her towards the base camp.  A dark silhouette approached, and in the soft glow of the camp’s outdoor lights, she recognized the shape of the man.  With a ragged cry she ran to Vax and threw herself in his arms.  He clutched her close, his mouth feeding at hers like a starving man.  They fell to their knees in the sand, grasping and pulling at each other’s clothing, desperate to claim warmth.            The instant their sexes were naked, Vax sat her on his lap, his livid cocks claiming her inner recesses in one stabbing thrust.  Lindsey grunted with the welcome force, the instant of pain unimportant in the relief of being melded with him.  The moment she was fully impaled on him, they both went still.            Lindsey barked a harsh cry, and Vax answered her in kind.  Forehead to forehead, the lovers cried unashamedly, tasting each others’ tears.  Lindsey’s arms wrapped around Vax’s neck, and he clutched her to himself, his arms iron bands against her back.  They broke down completely, emitting gulping sobs that left them shaking.  For a long time there was nothing else to do but wallow unselfconsciously in their shared misery, their weeping carried over the sand on the shivering night breezes.              Even the greatest grief can be clung to for just so long before the emotions must rest, even if for only a moment.  At long last their tears dissipated, leaving them hiccupping with deep, shuddering sighs.  The glow of where their bodies combined beckoned, and they let it draw them into its sweet shelter.  Vax rocked back and forth on his knees, making his sexes shift within Lindsey with the slightest of motions.  She burrowed her face against the firmness of his chest, taking the temporary comfort of his strength.  It seemed impossible she could be aroused when her heart hung so heavily in her chest, but the delicate rubbing of his groin against her clit, the infinitesimal shifts of him inside brought quivering tickles throughout her core.  She grasped his hips with her legs, caging him as if she could contain him forever in the sweet prison of her desperate embrace. 

The best sex means a hefty dose of emotion.  Make sure your characters have a lot invested before climbing between the sheets.

Monday Man Time Suspended Indefinitely

Hi all,

It has come to my attention that my posts of sexy guys that I find on the internet is in fact, a copyright violation.  Yes, I know we all post them like maniacs on sites like Facebook and Pinterest, but using pictures without permission by the original photographer can get me in trouble, despite the fact I am not making any money off it.  An author who used a picture she found on Google was recently sued by the photographer though she made no money off it, credited him as the owner of the picture, and immediately took it off her blog when he complained.  She ended up going to court, paying for a lawyer, etc, etc.  And while this situation does not usually happen to those of us who use pictures we find lying about on the web, pictures that appear quite often on other sites, I am not willing to take the chance I too will be sued.  Not only that, but you know the dim view I take on piracy, and I am not about to be a hypocrite and steal someone else's hard work.  So at this point, I must sadly suspend Monday Man Time.  Thanks for your understanding.

Six Sentence Sunday – Alien Rule (Clans of Kalquor 2)

I wonder if Jessica McInness is repressed in her desires Clajak thought, and he glanced at her where she stood in the shadows.  Her eyes darted away.  Ah, he’d caught her peeking.  Was this perhaps the game Earthers referred to as ‘playing hard to get’?  Clajak grinned.  He liked games.  
Available through Kindle, Nook, Smashwords, and Kobo

Guest Blog - D. X. Luc

I am delighted to have erotic author D. X. Luc back on my blog to promote her book The Wager (Touch of the Gods).  This is a very original take on the Greek gods, specifically Hephaestus and his brother/rival Ares.  Want to know what happens when a hot Greek god falls for a modern gal?  Read on:





Blurb:

When love and war make a little wager, what could possibly go wrong?

I am Hephaestus. God of inventions, blacksmiths, and volcanoes. Sounds like I'm awesome right? Well, I'm not. In fact, I'm the loser of Olympus and a new bachelor to boot. Living the single life is great until a decade passed. Honestly if my divorce from the Goddess of Love wasn't bad enough, I am still being rejected by the other women of my home.

Because of an incessant need to make me a pawn in his game, my brother, Ares convinces Eros to make a little bet. A wager that puts my lack of love life to the test. Sent to Earth, I'm skeptical, when suddenly I lose myself in the sensual scent and beauty of the full bodied Vanessa. She is my everything, my perfection.

Sadly, from a single caress upon her silky flesh, I sent our lives into a downward spiral of hell. To save her, I must get beyond my demons of the past. And to save me, she will have to decide if I'm worth giving up everything for.


Excerpt:


She warned me as well about the neighbor, but if I knew us both, she was probably in her apartment dreaming of him, while I was back at my kitchen window staring at the home across from it. The lights were on inside, but I saw no movement, which seemed strange. How could anyone miss a man that large? Sighing, I decided that stalking him was probably not the best way to handle the situation and I forced myself up to my bathroom for a nice shower. Trust me when I say, working in a hot kitchen and mixing beans all day didn’t make you smell like roses by the end of the day.            Thirty minutes later, I was clean, wearing my long shirt. I grabbed a late night snack, so I could watch some television before bed. Spring break was in three days and I couldn't wait for the time off. It was another lonely night and as I flipped through the channels, I felt boredom come over me that I couldn't shake. I knew I shouldn't, but the urge nagged at me until I could take it no more.Rushing back into the kitchen, I looked out and to my dismay saw that his lights had been turned out. He had probably gone to bed. Bummer. With a dejected sigh, I moped back to my couch and flopped down. Thankfully, I had a triple chocolate cheese cake to keep me company, and later a vibrator who I was considering renaming 'Mr. Hot Neighbor'.             My mood had darkened with each passing hour and I had consumed the whole cheesecake. Nothing worthwhile was on, which left one choice to make my night end on a high note. I cleaned my mess and headed up to my room, where I pulled out the largest of my toys. A monster of a device, it didn't meet the girth the handsome stud possessed, but it would have to do. Cranking the dial, it buzzed with gusto and I couldn't get my clothes off fast enough. Already, I was picturing the plastic novelty gift as his heavy dick.           Lying flat, knees bent and open, I ran the vibrator along my labia, the blood that had begun flowing to my pussy already sensitizing them. Each time I reached my clit, a moan seeped from my mouth and in no time, I had created enough juice to put artificial lubrication to shame. Closing my eyes, I glided it in, imagining that it was hard satin over satin and arched my back. Images of him collaged in my mind, his eyes shifting from ocean blue to sinful flames. I moved my hand, about to pull back but I couldn't seem to do so. It was as though a force was holding it in place, letting the pulsations flow through me.           “Ise omorfi.” You are beautiful.           My eyes flew open, where they saw him, the mammoth of man who had somehow come alive and was in my room. I didn't think I had such a strong imagination!He shifted the toy, twirling it around until I quivered and yet, he wouldn't stop. Braced on his elbow, the grin on his lips was playful with a hint of mischief. I gasped, my breath catching in my throat after he pushed in deeper and used his thumb to press down onto the swelled clit. A shot of electricity traveled from the vibrations inside my cunt to the roots of my hair. My head thrashed from side to side on the pillow as my nerves came alive with heat that only he seemed to ignite in me.            "Thélete perissóteres?” You want more?            Why I understood him made no sense, so I chalked it up to my horny head making it that I could. I guess I didn't answer him fast enough, because he practically ripped the toy from me, and replaced my empty hole with three, thick fingers. The breath I held, whooshed out from the force of his thrust and if my eyes weren't crossed before, they certainly had at that point. His energy is strong, my sister had said, and it became apparent that my brain took her words literally, because through my desire-fogged eyes, he glowed with a red outline. He was my secret, love demon this night.            I reached a hand down, so I could feel his plundering inside me, my wetness making slick sounds that echoed through my room. My body was on fire and when he leaned down to kiss my lips, I silently prayed I wouldn't spontaneously combust. He continued keeping his weight on his arm, but I wanted him covering me, pressing his solid frame into mine and I tried to convey my need by raising my body to his. Of course, the change in position ended up causing his fingers to repeatedly graze the bundle of nerves that was my g-spot and I pretty much died from there. “You want to come, little beauty?”His voice brought me back some, as mushy as my mind had become.I was glad he spoke in English. Then again, with either language, that accent he had was sexy as hell! “Oh, yes. I want you in me.”            He chuckled and changed his angle, so that I could feel that his body was being affected as much as mine. It did something for my ego to know a gorgeous, young guy thought chubby, old me was arousing.           “Not this night, Vanessa.”          “When?”          “Soon. Now, come for me. I want to feel your juices flowing around my hand, so that I may lick up your offering.”          Vaguely, I wondered what he meant by 'my offering', but was quickly overwhelmed by a cataclysmic orgasm that tore a scream out of me so loud, car alarms went off outside. He drew my cream from my clit like his fingers were a straw and I was his favorite drink. He finally pulled away from me and as he promised, licked each finger slowly, his fiery eyes locked on mine. He savored it, every last drop until his fingers no longer glistened. He smoothed his hands over my body as though to imprint it to his memory, and then placed a finger to his lips.My vision dimmed briefly and when it returned, I was still on my bed, vibrator in hand. It was coated with my essence, suggesting I had used it well. Looking around, I saw that I was alone, sated, but alone. Turning it off, I placed it back in the nightstand drawer, confused as ever. He couldn't have been here, it was impossible. “I'm as crazy as Willa!”          Shaking my head, I donned my shirt and panties, returned to my bed with my eyelids heavy. Again, I told myself that what happened was merely a strong projection of a yearning fantasy. So why, I wondered as I drifted to sleep, did my room smell like a smoky blacksmith's forge?


Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/The-Wager-TOUCH-GODS-ebook/dp/B0080S7PS4/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1342732905&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Wager+%28Touch+of+the+Gods%29
Amazon Paperback: http://www.amazon.com/Touch-Gods-The-Wager-Volume/dp/147762242X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1342732905&sr=8-1
Author D. X. Luc
~Sinfully Unrestrained~
Visit my blog: http://welcome-to-the-island-of-dxluc.blogspot.com/

First Five Friday – The Phucket List (WIP)

Scene 2
O’Flannery’s Pub had the hands-down best Guinness draft in Atlanta and astounding wings.  Valarie happily chomped away on a double order of the honey barbecued variety dripping with blue cheese dip.  Damn the calories and the diet the doctor had put her on.  What was the point in staving off the inevitable?  She would live, really live, from this point forward.

WIP Wednesday – Alien Redemption (Clans of Kalquor 6)

Rachel Hicks has something to prove to Imdiko Conyod.  They’ve been struggling together for quite some time for a breakthrough on her inability to speak. 
Her doctor’s voice brought her back from her contemplation of the mountains that reminded him of home.  “What do you want more than anything, Ray-Ray?”She turned to look at him.  His eyes were big, bigger than most Kalquorians she’d seen.  The vibrant blue-purple orbs almost seemed to glow against his dark skin.  She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat having nothing to do with the blockade against her speech.  What did she want?  Boy, she would love to give him an earful on that.Conyod nodded in encouragement.  “If it’s something I can get, I will.  Then all you have to do to claim your prize is say just one word.  Any word.”Love.  I want to say love.  Because every time I look at you now, that’s what my heart screams.  It might just be infatuation, but damn it, it feels like the real thing.He leaned close to her, his gaze avid.  “There is something you want.  I can see that.  Tell me.”  He nodded at her handheld computer sitting on the floor next to her cushion.  She used it to communicate with the staff, since her stubborn throat refused to open up.Damn it, she didn’t want to type.  She wanted to talk.  But fear of what she might say, the secrets she might tell, kept it all bottled up.  Back on Earth, she’d been beaten and tortured for information.  She’d kept the words inside, only screaming as hideous pain was inflicted on her poor body.  I’ll never, ever tell you anything had been her internal mantra for all those terrible months.  And now she couldn’t tell anyone anything at all.She wanted to make Conyod proud.  And he’d said she could say any word.  Perhaps a word her now-dead torturers wouldn’t understand?  Rachel opened her mouth.  Thought of a new word, saw its brightness in her head.  Watched it travel down, down, closer to her mouth, approaching where the blockage always appeared just in time to keep her silent.  Closer still, the passage still open, almost there…“Retig,” she said.        The word was little more than a breath, with just enough grating undertone straining through to make it audible.  It had been years since she’d spoken, and the weakness of her surgically healed vocal chords was obvious.  But she’d said a word.  Damn the bastards who had shut her up, she’d talked.Conyod's mouth dropped open.  He blinked.  Then pure, unadulterated delight suffused his face, making him smile broader than Rachel had ever seen him smile.  Her heart thumped painfully to see how he transformed with unguarded happiness.He laughed hard, and the deep, rolling sound of it filled the room.  Rachel had never heard Conyod laugh before, and it was a beautiful sound.  His eyes were bright, as if they'd filled with tears.  He reached for her as if to gather her in an embrace.  Apparently he remembered himself just in time and settled for clapping.Boy, she wished he'd hugged her instead.She'd said hello after all.  True, she'd said it in Kalquorian, but she'd done it.  And he was so pleased.  She smiled at his undisguised delight with her.
Coming fall/winter 2012

Tutorial Tuesday – The Naughty Bits: Feeling Good About What You Write

When John Updike says it’s a good thing, who are we to argue?  “Writing my sex scenes physically excites me, as it should,” he stated.   I take that statement to heart, as should you.
Yes, the sex scenes you write should arouse you.  You should be clenching your thighs together as you compose.  By the end of writing a sex scene, I’m hoping you’re looking to jump on your sweetie (or having a solo flight, if necessary).  Why?  Because if you’re not getting something out of your sex scenes, chances are your readers aren’t either. 
That doesn’t mean treat us to all your deep, secret lusts.  I certainly don’t try to put myself into my books, especially the erotic scenes.  I’m sure my readers don’t want to see my pale, fluffy body superimposed on my heroines’ as they romp with the heroes.  Good heavens, I don’t want to see that either.  And when I read someone else’s work, I don’t want the characters to suddenly do something completely out of their natures because the author put her likes ahead of theirs.    
Instead, let your delightful experiences and fantasies inspire your sex scenes.  Keep the naughty thrills within the framework of your story and characters.  Keep all that wildness true to them.  Live vicariously through your fictional people; don’t take them over. 
Take those little seedlings of personal desire and grow them within the confines of your characters.  See where it takes them.  If you don’t enjoy it, uproot the whole crop and plant a new one.   Because if you’re not getting off on what you’re writing, chances are it will show.  Readers will notice and the scene will be just as flat for them.
For example, those who enjoy public humiliation play would probably not like any scene I write that incorporates it.  Now you all know from what I write I’m into the kinkier stuff, but I have a hard limit on being subjected to public humiliation.  I embarrass myself enough on a regular basis without someone helping me along.  I despise being in such a position, so you will rarely if ever see my characters getting off on public punishment or being degraded.  If it makes me cringe, I won’t write it, at least not in what is supposed to be a sensual scene.  Naughty girl being spanked, fine.  Heroine tied up helpless for her man’s delight, terrific.  Submissive being made to dress up like a puppy and do tricks at a formal party while everyone else is dressed to the teeth … no way.  I realize some get off on being put through their paces in this fashion, but I can’t go there.  That means my heroines can’t go there either because I can’t write such a scene effectively.
I do use my discomfort with public humiliation to make what could be a sensual scene anything but.  For example, in Netherworld 2:  Blood Potion No. 9, Brandilynn commits a serious infraction against her Doms Dan and Tristan.  Because she has hurt them both in a profound way, she asks to be punished.  What everyone agrees on is public humiliation, and it’s no thrill for her or her boyfriends.   This will not be a sensual scene because it doesn’t do anything good for me.  I am instead using it to underscore Brandilynn’s attempt to make things up to her men.
But back to the stuff that does rock my boat and how I’ve used it to arouse my readers.  I’ve blogged about one of my favorite sexual positions, sex up against the wall.  I believe I have used this (or some version of it) in every one of my books, because for me it is simply beyond delicious to imagine being taken that way.  One of my favorite scenes utilizing this comes from Alien Rule.  Here, Nobek Bevau goes animal on Jessica, much to their (and my) shared delight:
            She never sensed him move.  An instant later, she found herself crushed between the wall and the handsome Kalquorian, his mouth smashed against hers.  She gasped as much at his supernatural speed as the violent kiss he consumed her with.            Bevau leaned back.  “Fight me,” he invited, his expression eager.            “Fight you?”“Nobeks like a challenge.  Feeling you struggle against me would be exciting.”“I can’t possibly have a chance.”            “You don’t, but I want to pretend I’m taking you against your will.”  He kissed her, and the gentle brush of his lips was an odd counterpoint to his request.  “I like being rough.”            A tinge of fear crept in, making Jessica’s heart beat faster.  With a will of their own, her hips ground against him.  “Are you going to hurt me?”            “Do you want me to?”  He licked his lips.  “No permanent damage, of course.  Some women like it.  It makes the pleasure that much sweeter.”            Jessica swallowed, thinking of how Clajak’s forceful lovemaking had driven her crazy with desire.  “All right.”            She’d barely given her permission before Bevau tore at her blouse with violent force.  She cried out and lunged to escape him.  He caught her by the throat with a masculine chuckle and held her against the wall.  His grip was enough to keep her pinned without choking her.  His other hand continued to rip her top apart, baring her bra.  He went after that next.            Jessica slapped and punched at the alien beast holding her prisoner.  She kicked, her ballet-style slippers bouncing harmlessly off his tall boots.            “Is that all you can do, little girl?” he laughed, clearly enjoying his mastery over her.  He ripped her bra from her body, and she cried out in mingled pain and desire.  Her breasts quivered free, her nipples hard.  Honey gushed, overflowing her panties to coat her thighs.  The tangy sea-salt aroma of her scent mixed with the heady perfume of the flowers.            Bevau growled triumph, slapping Jessica’s breasts with a meaty hand.  “Oh,” Jessica breathed at the sting.  She felt her helplessness keenly.  She pushed against the Nobek prince’s chest with weak hands and wondered what he would do to her next.            His hand left her throat, and he scooped her up with his arm beneath her buttocks.  Jessica knew he couldn’t help but notice how wet she was.  He lifted her so he could bury his face in her breasts.  He sucked on one mound hard, drawing as much of it into his mouth as he could while he pinched the nipple of the other.  Jessica sobbed as pleasure rolled hugely in her womb.  She pounded tiny fists against Bevau’s shoulders and upper back.  She pulled his long hair.            He let her yank his head back, getting his voracious mouth off her sensitive flesh.  He looked up at her face and hissed.  His fangs flashed wickedly sharp at her.            She screamed as his head darted forward again and his fangs sank into the roundness of her upper breast.  He pulled back out in an instant, and Jessica moaned to see rivulets of blood seep from the tiny holes he’d made.  He licked the blood away, growling deep in his throat.            Bevau stepped from the wall and let her go.  Jessica fell the short distance into a pile at his feet.  Unhurt, she scrambled on all fours to escape her beautiful tormentor.  With a cruel laugh, he caught her by one ankle, and picked her up to dangle upside down in the air.            Her short skirt fell to expose her pink lace panties.  Bevau grasped the crotch of the thin fabric and yanked as Jessica thrashed.  Scraps of pink fell like confetti to the floor.  Her secret flesh was naked and vulnerable to Bevau’s whims now.            “Very nice,” he said, his voice full of approval.  His open palm cracked against Jessica’s bared buttocks once, twice, three times.  She wailed as her flesh throbbed with warmth.  Her sex spasmed.            He dropped her gently to the floor, making sure she didn’t hit her head on the way down.  Again she scuttled away on all fours, and this time he let her.  He followed her with measured paces around the room, pulling his hard, ready sexes free of his formsuit as he stalked her.              “Nowhere to go, little Jessica McInness,” he gloated when she looked over her shoulder to see him hunting her.  His eyes glittered and his lips stretched over his fangs in a predatory grin.  He was all Nobek now, a brute to be feared.            Jessica emitted a little shriek and lurched to her feet, preparing to run.  For an instant an iron arm circled her waist then Bevau had her pressed against the wall again.            She fought him as hard as she could, kicking, slapping, and punching, her head whipping from side to side in negation as he manhandled her into position for his first thrust.  “No,” she gasped, feeling the tips of his cocks at her entrances.  She screamed as he crushed against her, holding her writhing body in place.  “Please,” she begged as he paused, savoring his domination before taking what he wanted.            His hips pushed against her, impaling her moist, eager flesh with his own.  He shouted triumph in a beast’s howl as he traveled deep into her body.  Jessica shrieked at the mingled thrill and agony of the sudden invasion.  They cried out together, predator and prey.            Bevau rode her, thrusting his considerable sexes in hard.  Jessica held on for dear life, her arms clutched around his neck and legs around his waist.  Already she could feel her senses overloading, tipping toward glorious orgasm.            Her legs slid down his waist, letting her calves run over his buttocks.  She tightened her grip there and flexed to help him drive into her harder still.  Bevau’s head fell back, his face filled with bliss at her urging him on.            He let her direct the rhythm of their lovemaking, timing his thrusts to coincide with the squeezing of her legs.  She made him take her fast for a little while, feeling her body rushing ever closer to orgasm.  Then, sensing she was nearly there, she slowed the pace, letting them both hover at a steady pulse of pleasure, calming a little, before quickening once more.            All the while he kept her pinned to the wall.  With her strong dancer’s legs binding his hips, she imprisoned him.  Jessica gloried in the sensation of being both master and mastered.            Bevau’s breathing came quicker now, and he began to ignore her rhythm.  His hands grasped her buttocks, squeezing and molding the rounded flesh.  He worked her faster, and Jessica knew she couldn’t hold out much longer.  A mewling sound escaped her lips, and the Nobek responded with a growl.  His thrusts became stronger, and he drove deeper into her than ever before.            Deep pleasure bloomed in her gut, and her entire abdomen contracted in a massive spasm.  The walls of her vagina grasped Bevau’s cock as if to pull him in even deeper.  His howl joined her scream, and he let go of one hip to pound his fist against the wall.  Jessica’s womb, rolling in huge waves, milked his pulsing penis, determined to suck every drop of seed from his body.            Bevau crushed against her, and another orgasm rocked Jessica.  She bit into his shoulder and tasted the tartness of the Kalquorian’s blood.  They raged and twisted against each other as lust had its vicious way with them.  There was no thought, no conscience, no sense of anything but primal urges that had to be met.  If anyone had heard them, they would have been convinced a fight to the death was in play.
I hope that was as good for you as it was for me.  And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find Master St. John. 

Monday Man Time

Time for the boys of summer:






I'll take the lineup of Hawaiian dancers myself.  Happy Monday!

Six Sentence Sunday – Alien Interludes: Sins of the Past

            The unknown man bowed respectfully before her.  “Greetings, Matara Dani.  I am Dramok Pertak.”            The name was familiar, and after a moment Dani remembered where she’d heard it.  The smile was wiped off her face in an instant.  She stepped back.
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Control Freaks

(Still on vay-cay, so it’s another repost.  This blog originally appeared June of last year.)
I had to laugh the other day. I was reading a forum of erotic fiction readers who were debating the merits of their favorite books. When the subject of BDSM stories came up, several ladies immediately went into a tizzy. "I just can't stand it," one woman commented. "Reading about how a woman gives up all control to some overbearing man; how she submits and feels good about being ordered around like a sex slave! I hate how BDSM makes women into doormats, both in fiction and real life!" 
I could practically smell her keyboard burning as she pounded furiously on it. And I shook my head with a roll of my eyes. So many just don't get it. It took a lot of self-control to not jump in with my two cents, because as a writer of light BDSM I know better. 
It's easy if you're on the outside to think the man issuing the commands or tying his partner down is the one in control. After all, he's the one having his every order obeyed. He calls the shots. So the woman kneeling at his feet, bending over for his discipline, or hanging helplessly in chains must be a doormat, right? 
Wrong. So totally wrong. She's the one in control, my dears. She OWNS that man. 
The dominant man in a D/s relationship is often an illusion. The submissive woman has given him the reins because she likes the fantasy of being controlled. But what modern woman, fighting for equality in the workplace and society, would enjoy such a thing? I suggest there might be more than you suspect. 
We women are responsible for a lot in our daily lives. We have so much on our plates from careers to childcare to parent care to managing household finances, so on and so forth. We rarely get a break and when we do, most of us feel guilty about taking it! Is it any wonder some ladies want to walk away from being in charge once in awhile? To have one aspect of our lives be someone else's problem? To revel in the blessed freedom of not making all the decisions for a few precious minutes? That can be one key facet of what female submission in the bedroom is all about. 
Ah, the decadence of not worrying about whether or not your beloved is pleased with your performance! He's dictating it so if he's not happy, that's his shortcoming. You were just doing as you were told. Not your problem. Meanwhile, you're the recipient of his decadent attention, the center of his demanding affections. You get to relax and go along with whatever his wicked mind conjures, not concerned with making decisions and not held to any expectations (not even your own unattainable ones). 
And if you doesn't like where the situation is going? If the boundaries are pushed beyond physical or emotional limits? With one word, you shut the entire scene down. In BDSM parlance, it's known as the 'safeword'. I like "sharkbait". That lets him know that if he doesn't quit what he's doing RIGHT NOW I will tear him to pieces, much like Jaws chomping on a naked swimmer. (Those who read the Netherworld series know this is also Brandilynn's safeword.)
That's right. The sub owns the ultimate control in the situation. There is nothing doormat about that. My BDSM fiction, particularly the Clans of Kalquor series, doesn't always allow for the heroine to call a halt to the proceedings, but that's because it's a fantasy, not meant to be perceived in any way, shape or form as reality. And my alpha males are always on the alert for real distress from their women. Those heroines, for the record, are not wilting flowers either. Even when overcome and made helpless by the heroes, they are tough chicks who refuse to bow (at least mentally) no matter what. 
I recognize there are many women who love being in control no matter what the scenario, and they don't like to see any other female give up that control even in fiction. That's fine that you're so take charge, Ms. Reader. If you like your heroines calling the shots in every aspect of their lives, there are plenty of books out there for you to enjoy. But don't think your way is the only way. Some women have no wish whatsoever to call the shots in a sexual setting. It doesn't make them wrong; it's simply a matter of different tastes. Stories like mine reflect that very valid preference, and I thank you to recognize if we were all like you, it would be a very boring world indeed (filled with a lot of pussywhipped men -- now there's a terrible thought). 
My beloved readers, by virtue of what you buy, YOU have the final word on what I write. You are my mistresses and masters in this realm. I gleefully submit to your wish for captive sex, light discipline, bondage and D/s relationships. I happily serve those of you who prefer the fantasy of being under another's command, letting you release the awesome responsibilities real life loads you down with, if only for a little while. I'll keep writing these things for you, not just satisfied, but indeed thrilled to give you all you want and more. I do this because pleasing you pleases me. Now don't you love having that kind of control?