THE FEMDOM ADVENTURE CONTINUES

Dancing Backward: An Adventure in Male Submission started, like so many of my femdom fantasies, as a submissive daydream—and just kept growing. It ended up at 40,000 words, the longest piece of female domination fiction I had ever attempted, let alone finished. (The sequel, however, turned out to be 70,000 words.)

And I do mean finished, because I brought the story of adoring, adorable Christopher and his ravishing Goddess wife, Kelly Ann Shelton, to what I considered a most satisfactory conclusion. I only hoped that it would find favor among readers, male and female, who share my fated attraction to this most erotic and intimate of lifestyles.
I was delighted and surprised to find that many, many readers did
enjoy my naughty novelette, and a surprising cohort of these even requested a sequel. Some, in  fact, went so far as to demand one, and one fan bugged me regularly on the matter until I finally set about obliging him.
That sequel is now, after a year’s gestation, published— DancingBackward 2: Final Descent Into Male Submission , 70,000 words this time, with another enticing cover by a terrific graphic artist, Jun Ares.

At the end of DB1, as you may remember, Christopher is convinced that his abasement has reached its ultimate nadir—that he has gone about as low as he can go. DB2 immediately disproves that. In the opening chapter it is made clear to the reader that his voluptuous owner, Kelly, is just getting started with the enslavement of her toyboy husband. Successive chapters chronicle Christopher’s ongoing humiliations and degradations in what I intend to be addictively delicious detail.
Will there be a third installment? Can Chris descend lower yet, and Kelly rise even higher in her power and sovereignty over him? I will leave that question to my readers. Please let me know your thoughts when you’ve finished DB2.
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I wanted to mention briefly here, or perhaps confess, that Dancing Backward, like my book of three short femdom tales, Rapture and Capture, is a product of a submissively fevered imagination, and that I have been beset by such erotic imaginings from the age of 4.
I kid you not.
In DB1 Kelly and Carmen share their earliest memories of domming male playmates all the way back to their playground days. Like sitting on a boy’s face in the sandbox. Because that’s exactly what happened to me at age 4. I remember as if it were yesterday being pinned down in the sand by a darling brown-haired, brown-eyed moppet, an experience that deeply imprinted by submissive soul and which I have vividly reimagined countless times.

Again in third grade, when I was age 8, a female classmate, one considerably taller and stronger than I, not only held me down in the sandbox but pinned my face between her darling thighs for a long time as she teased me. I nearly passed out from excitement while she giggled throughout, obviously relishing the effect she was having. I had no volition or desire to be anything for the rest of my life than her helpless victim.

You will understand that Kelly Ann Shelton is a direct descendant of that 8-year-old nymphet—my latest, but definitely not my last, effort at celebrating the majesty and puissance of the gloriously superior sex.
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