Friday, May 31, 2019

With grateful thanks...

Speaking from the heart...

(Keep reading for a story from my BDSM novel Scandal For Sale, promised in my last post, January 9, 2018.)

After a lengthy hiatus, it's been a long journey back into the erotica world, a world that was once intimately familiar to me. In 1989 when I wrote my first novel Alexandra's Awakening, I was one of the lone voices penning erotic fiction in the United States. There was no internet at the time, and only a handful of markets were available for the kind of kinky fiction I liked to write. I was lucky to have my first awkwardly written novels published by New York publishers, and lucky to take those first successes and turn them into a profitable publishing company that thrived for nearly 20 years. Most importantly, I was fortunate to have so many fans and readers with like fantasies write to me, encourage me and faithfully continue to purchase my books.


Bottomline, this is a post about gratitude. My thanks to all the readers who, whether they loved or hated what I wrote, were willing to take a chance on the work of an untried author who harbored more fantasy they she ever could have imagined. 

Since 2012, (when my personal life crashed into grief) I've been back to this blog only sporadically. I published one new work in 2014, that I believe was one of my best...although it received little notice. (That would be Spontaneous Combustion...hit the link if you'd like to read a short excerpt from this work that was posted when the novel was released) In my disappointment over that experience, I walked away from writing erotica to explore new possibilities for my life... and have found many.

Doors have opened in the last couple years and a new me has emerged. However, it's clear to me that one common thread remains through all the changes during the thirty years of my career...I love to write. And I especially love to write about women and sex and the men that they love.

This post may be the beginning of regular posts, highlighting my old books and introducing my new work...I make no promises, but I look forward to being back in a world I love and sharing my work with old and new readers.

(By the way, there's much to do on this blog to make it current. When my company was bought out in 2016, the brand name was kept alive with the founding of Pink Flamingo Media. I'll have more about this soon. This means that most of of the links to my books in the blog posts need to be updated to the current website. It's going to take a while before that's all done. In the meantime, there are many great free stories and excerpts on this blog for you to enjoy. If you have any interest in knowing more about the books from which the excerpts are taken, check my complete catalog at: Pink Flamingo Media)

And now...that sexy excerpt from Scandal For Sale...


I am home from the most extraordinary night of my life.

         It’s almost midnight, but I can’t sleep.


          I arrived at Judge Perdue’s having no clue what he had in mind. His house is old, an English Tudor with a gnarled doorpost and ivy crawling up the sides like snakes. A gargoyle sits on the doorstep—a warning for those about to enter.


          He was so gracious, as was his wife, Mrs. Perdue. She laid her hands on me as she took my coat, being motherly with eyes as wise as an owl’s. I could tell she could see through me, although. I’m sure the two had discussed me in detail.


          “My, how lovely she is!” the woman exclaimed to her husband, as if I were a piece of fine china. The woman is handsome, over forty, with the look for fortyish women—collected, cool and in control, just like the man she married. She is a mature clone of my roommate and much more appealing. I wanted her to hold me for a long while.


          We entered their living room, which seemed innocuous enough. I’m not sure what I expected—racks and chains I suppose. But there were none. I was sure that I had completely misjudged the invitation to dinner, as my imagination took flight in kinky fantasy.


          Judge Perdue sat in his judicial looking chair, while she on the sofa. I was offered a small upholstered chair that could hardly hold my ass—which is not big at all. I know now there was a method behind their plans.


          “Some tea?” Mrs. Perdue asked.


          “Yes, ma’am,” I said to be polite. She served three cups of Orange Pekoe tea, and we settled back to talk.


          “A slave would take the floor,” the Judge started, and I turned to him.


          My tummy was in knots. Was this what he wanted me to do? Sit on the floor? I was too scared to ask.


          “A slave in the presence of their owner would only wear clothes if they were instructed to do so. They would wear only what was provided.”


          My gut wrenched again.


          “A slave would pleasure in humiliation, offer their body for inspection, allow themselves to be used in any way their owner desires, and consent to any sexual activity, public or private that was demanded of them. A slave would obey. Disobedience and hesitation would be punished, with punishment cruelly administered until the slave’s behavior had been transformed to obedience.”


          He cleared his throat while I absorbed these amazing thoughts.


          “This is what is expected of you,” Judge Purdue told me. “If this is the vision that you have of yourself, then you can have it,” he paused, looking somewhat unsure if he wanted to add, “with me.”


          “You, Sir?” My eyes bugged out, while my stomach flipped again.


          “You’ve given away your desires a dozen times, Miss Lourdes.”


          I knew this. He hardly had to tell me.


          “Do you want to spend your life waiting to have what you desire, wishing, hoping, thinking about it, masturbating to the thoughts that grip your soul? Or, do you want to choose slavery and learn what it means?”


          He was serious. This was no game, no innocent inquiry, no judicious study of a bizarre societal practice he offered, but real slavery.

         

I can’t believe now what I said. What I committed to tonight. I said, yes, a stunning, clearly distinct, YES. I answered in the affirmative with this steady voice so unlike myself. To my great admission, Judge Perdue nodded and Mrs. Perdue smiled. They seemed to know long before I made my commitment what my answer would be. I barely knew these two, and I was pledging myself to them! To intimacy. To total exposure. To a world a barely knew. Was I mad or just honoring what I’d desired my whole life?


          With this simple formality over, I sat back and listened to the Judge’s long monologue. The words fly by me now, not fit for memory, but the gist of my agreement was spelled out clearly.



          I will be his owned slave until school dismisses in the spring—at which time our agreement will be reviewed. If I am still wanting with my whole heart, the binding between us becomes more permanent. I will be his slave until he releases, sells or gives me away. Sells? Gives me away? I consent to give up my liberty. To give him my thoughts to mold, my body to use and my life to dictate.


          I cannot believe how much these agreements parallel the wickedness that has been hidden so long inside my fierce denial.


          I will remain in school taking courses he agrees to. For a time, I’ll stay in the dorm with my roommate and spend only the hours he designates at his home.


         I can tell this is my trial.


         My hand shakes as I write these words…my fingers can hardly work. The raw excitement of my evening lingers with me leaving every nerve in me on edge.


         “Miss Lourdes, please stand.” He said this quietly, yet his order seemed to clap like thunder through my body. His eyes were glorious, brilliantly passionate as they inspected me from the tip of my head to my toes. Then he said quiet simply. “Remove your clothes.”

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