New release... Can't Get Enough

It's release day for Tenille Brown's first foray into anthology editing with this Cleis Press collection, Can't Get Enough. It contains my sweet little story Mud and Pain. And by sweet, I mean two guys getting up to all kinds of masochistic shenanigans in preparation for a Tough Mudder-style obstacle race. I'll bring you a little excerpt soon.

Here's the blurb: 

Veteran erotica author and first-time editor Tenille Brown has collected stories for Can’t Get Enough that highlight the essence of insatiable desire. With contributions from authors like Rachel Kramer Bussel, Jacqueline Applebee, Giselle Renarde, and featuring a brand-new Becoming Hers (formerly Dominatrix Fantasy) story from New York Times bestseller Shoshanna Evers, this is a book full of diverse and dynamic characters who are bold and daring even when being sexily subtle. The authors here knock the Can’t Get Enough theme right out of the park with stories that will leave readers as breathless as the characters they’re reading about, dying for more.

Find out more about the book, including the full line-up of authors, reviews and links to all stops on the launch blog tour over at the Can't Get Enough blog.

You can buy the book at Amazon US. Coming soon for buyers elsewhere!

New release... Smut by the Sea 3

Smut by the Sea Volume 3 is with us just in time for summer holiday season! The perfect companion to lazy days on the beach...

Here's the blurb:

Light-hearted, sexy fun by the sea is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From exotic locales such as Croatia and Australia to the coastal caves of England, Smut by the Sea Volume 3 has it all. Whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Kinky role play, gorgeous artists, bobbing boats, sexy cougars, hunky hermits and more abound in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Did someone say kinky role play? Here's an excerpt from my story, A Hint of Piracy.

Smut by the Sea Volume 3, published by House of Erotica, is available at:

Amazon UK
Amazon.com
All Romance eBooks

Dungeon Crawl: More Smut for Chocoholics

Howdy, Dungeon Crawlers and welcome to my part of this week's offerings, brought to you by RTK Dungeon Crawl.. I'm bringing you an excerpt from the newly released More Smut for Chocoholics, published by House of Erotica. As co-editor with Kev 'Mitnik' Blisse, I claimed the privilege of writing two stories for the collection. This one is a delightful bit of femdom in which a naive young Spaniard stumbles upon a camp of Aztecs who have left their city in order to escape the strict regulations that ban women from consuming the revered cacao. 

September 8th, 1521

I have burnt the pages of this diary that recounted my earlier explorations in the Aztec territory. They are no longer of any consequence. Botany, geology, zoology... what attraction can these subjects hold to me, now that I have known Ixchel? I came here to test my mettle as an explorer, knowing that I would endure arduous treks, hunger, thirst, and great physical challenges. The prospect excited me; I knew that from my hardships would come great advancements in scientific knowledge. Little did I know the real danger, and ecstasy, I would face.

I stumbled right into the midst of their encampment before I realised. I was so thirsty, and the waterfall tumbled over the cliff face behind their clearing. It was all I focused on as I left the trees. But when Ixchel—for I know now the name of my captor, my enchantress—stepped in front of me, I turned and saw that I was surrounded by some dozen or so of the native people of this area.

I tried to utter some words of peace, thinking perhaps that a placatory tone would convince them I was no threat. But after the treachery and violence I had witnessed in their capital city, Tenochtitlan, I could understand their wariness of a Spaniard. How were they to know that I had joined the expedition out of a desire for knowledge and understanding rather than conquest?

Ixchel raised her arm towards me and placed one finger on my lips to silence me, then spoke a few words of command to her companions. Two men stepped to my sides; they removed my backpack and took my arms. The pressure they applied was gentle but firm and I allowed them to lead me, though it meant stumbling backwards over the stony ground, until I felt at my back the trunk of a tree. Another woman now came before me, carrying a length of twisted vine. She took it behind me and wound it about my wrists until I was bound inescapably in place.

You may wonder why I did not try to run, or to fight them off before I became helpless. And my rational explanation would be to call to mind my extreme exhaustion, the hunger and thirst I had endured in the three days since becoming separated from my companions and lost in this great valley. Perhaps I was indeed delirious. But the truth is that already Ixchel’s dark eyes had bewitched me. I felt as if I had no choice but to comply with her wishes. And it gave me the greatest of joy to surrender myself to her, a joy that I felt flare inside me like the heat of one of the Aztecs’ spiced dishes as it passes down one’s throat.

You can buy More Smut for Chocoholics at Amazon, Amazon UK and All Romance.

Keep crawling for more delicious excerpts and kinky musings...

An InLinkz Link-up

Rope and the great British countryside

I can't wait for my author copy of Best Bondage Erotica 2014 to arrive. I've been reading about all the stories on the book's Tumblr site, where authors are talking about their inspiration and sharing their favourite lines from their stories. And every single one sounds hot as caramelised sugar (and I should know, having suffered a popcorn-related injury recently). 

My story is called Tight Rope Walker and it focuses on two things: a karada tie and a walk up a hill. At the time I was planning the story, I happened upon this blog post by Fulani, which is a practical guide to tying a karada and proved to be most useful for research purposes. Most useful indeed. (And I've just realised he follows the word with an exclamation mark in the title, thus: Karada! That's how it always appears in my mind, like Oklahoma! for some reason.) 

Obviously, the anthology is about bondage. But there are just so many avenues you can go down to write a bondage story. Different styles, different purposes, different equipment, different relationships, different levels of experience, different mindsets... The funny thing is that you can't just write a description of ropes and knots and the process of tying. My story takes the idea of this quite elaborate tie, which creates a sort of rope corset, and then takes it out for a walk. 

One of my new year's resolutions as a writer is: Write less, walk more. I find many things - writer's block, backache, general grumpiness, existential angst - can be solved by going for a walk, preferably somewhere with a few trees or rocks or a bit of water. My characters take a walk up the Wrekin, a hill in Shropshire, England, with the karada, hidden under winter layers, being their delicious little secret. 

Best Bondage Erotica 2014, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press, is now out in paperback and ebook at Amazon, or for pre-order at Amazon.co.uk.

And for writers, Rachel also has a new submissions call for Best Bondage Erotica 2015.

Out now! Shakespearotica

I've got a new story out in this fabulously wicked collection - Shakespearotica: Queering the Bard, edited by Salome Wilde and published by Storm Moon Press.

The blurb starts like this: 'Frolicking in gender play and sexual diversity, the nine authors collected in this volume offer a dazzling array of queer erotica and romance. Stories range from comic to tragic and from historical to fantastic, taking up textual hints overt and subtle as they engage with the power of lust and love.'

I absolutely love Shakespeare. I reckon if he was around today, he'd be making my kind of movies. So this call for submissions was irresistible. But I did have misgivings. I've written gay stories before, but I was worried I wouldn't be up to writing something gloriously queer. I didn't want to inadvertently write something insensitive, or worse, offensive, because of my own naivety. But thanks to the wonderful work of editor Salome Wilde, who does know what the hell she's talking about, I believe I have avoided any faux pas. 

Shakespeare's plays, particularly his comedies, are of course wonderfully suited to a bit of gender-bending. You've got many a boy playing the role of a girl who dresses up as a boy. I wrote a sci-fi take on As You Like It. Mostly so I could do the wrestling scene as a electrified-cage fight. My tale follows what starts off as a lesbian relationship between Celia and Rosalind at a point where Rosalind, or Ross, has started making the physical transition into a man. And then I throw the fluid sexuality of Orlando into the mix, a character I came to love. He helps Ross to accept himself as he is, and consequently to accept sexual pleasure from his body as it is at that point rather than seeing it as somehow incomplete. The power play and themes of dominance and submission are much more subtle in this story than in many of my more overtly kinky tales (that's a kind of reverse content warning!)

As the story developed, I was thinking of the desert planet Arrakis in Dune, and that 'wretched hive of scum and villainy' Mos Eisley in Star Wars, while Salome thought my Orlando reminiscent of Captain Jack Harkness in Doctor Who and Torchwood. It was far from an easy story to write and I nearly gave up, but it's turned out to be one I'm particularly proud of. Oh, and it's hot, of course.

Shakespearotica: Queering the Bard is currently available from the Storm Moon Press website. I'll add more links as they go live. And I'll bring you an excerpt soon.

Snippet: True Love's Curse

As promised, I'm back to tell you more about my story, True Love's Curse, in The House of Erotica Witching Hour anthology. Out in time for Halloween, the book has thirteen stories from Victoria Blisse, Elizabeth Black, Heather Lin, Annabeth Leong, Lucy Felthouse, Gemma Parkes, Vanessa de Sade, Nephylim, Nicky Raven, Daddy X, Isabel Holley, and little ol' me. Victoria Blisse has two in there, just in case you're counting. It's available at:

All Romance

Amazon UK

Amazon.com

My blurb went like this: Hedgewitch Nadine knows that something is drawing her to a particular Welsh valley near the home she’s chosen to escape the bustle of modern life. But it’s only when a rock gives way under her foot that she finds him, a fairytale prince shackled to a slab of slate. She does the only thing one can do when faced with a fairytale prince: she kisses him. And then she has to work out how to summon the spirit of his true love and free him from the evil queen’s curse.

And the story goes like this:

I put my foot on a rock. It looked like any other piece of slate embedded in the deep brown earth. But the whole floor of earth and grass and stones and heather gave way. I’m tempted to say it was a surprise. It certainly should have been, would have been to most people. But I just thought, “Ah, now I’m getting somewhere."

And there he was. Naked. Debris from the collapse dusting his skin and clinging to the dark, curled hair around his genitals. Shackles enclosed his spread-eagled wrists and ankles, chains linking them to four thick iron rings set into the rock.

His chest was rising and falling gently but his eyes were closed. I brushed the bits of rock and soil from his chest and stomach. As I trailed my fingers down towards his hips – okay, towards his cock – he stirred, murmuring as if he was dreaming. His face was young and fresh and innocent. But troubled, a crease in his brow. I brushed myself off, then flicked the dust from his lips with my fingertips. There’s really only one proper thing to do when faced with a sleeping fairytale prince. I kissed him. Bending over and placing my palms on the slab either side of his head, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his.

New story!

Ah, Halloween. Or Samhain, if you prefer. That funny time of year when the boundaries between worlds weaken and strange beings from other realms might break through, the beginning of the year's darker half, a time for staring into the flames and seeing visions of the future. Or an excuse to dress up and eat sweets. 

House of Erotica has a new anthology out full of spooky goings-on, just in time for Halloween. The Witching Hour has, quite aptly, thirteen stories from some frighteningly fabulous authors. I'm afraid mine, True Love's Curse (f/m), contains no pumpkins, dressing up or candy. But it does have some chains. And a fairytale prince. And a curse. And a complicated spell. I'll tell you more soon, but for now you can buy the book at:

All Romance

Amazon UK

Amazon.com

Flash fiction: Fluffy Toys

I really should space my blog posts out better, but when I have an idea I get impatient. I've just penned this somewhat silly bit of 500-word flash fiction. I'm never likely to write a 'serious' story set in a BDSM club, but this just popped out. It's very tongue-in-cheek:

Cassie was repeating her safeword silently to herself in her mind as the taxi pulled up at the club. "Goldfish, goldfish, goldfish." But she kept her jaw locked shut to stop it escaping. She would not let this beat her. She knew she could do it. She could just imagine the look on everyone’s faces though – the shock, the sniggers. Her cheeks reddened at the very thought. These people were friends and more than friends, fellow kinksters who gathered once a month for a private play party where they could try new things, new equipment, learn from each other.

But worse than the image of their gaping was the thought that Lee was having a joke at her expense. He’d been smirking to himself since he first dangled them in front of her face at home as they’d got ready. In all the things they’d done together, laughing at her had never featured.

He helped her out of the cab and she put on her best five-inch-heels swagger. Lee liked her in heels and had perfected the art of incorporating them into her bondage. She thought he might have something of that kind in mind tonight, something that would draw a little crowd around them as he showed them where the ropework started, which knots to use, talking over her as if she were a plastic dummy.

He took her coat from around her shoulders at the front desk and handed it to the attendant. She took in a deep breath and allowed him to urge her forward with a hand on the top of her back. A bouncer swung open the door and she walked in. She wondered if she could sidle down the side of the room before anyone noticed them, but Lee had other ideas.

He steered her to a clear space in the middle of the room, a space that would become occupied later, but which, for now, had been left empty while people sat at the round tables surrounding it.

“Stay there. I’m going to the bar.”

She stood, back straight, cheeks flushed. It wasn’t the shoes that were padlocked to her ankles, it wasn’t the fishnet stockings or the tiny leather shorts. It wasn’t the tightly laced corset that pushed her tits into round globes – until someone unzipped the cups to expose them later. Not even the leather collar locked around her throat. She waited for someone to notice.

Then it happened. A hush as general chatter stopped and little whispers ran from table to table around her like a Mexican wave. She refused to hang her head. She kept her chin up and tried to maintain a serene demeanour.

She heard a woman at a table behind her. “Are they... what I think they are? Seriously? She’s wearing fluffy handcuffs? Here?” A pause. “They are. They’re pink, fluffy handcuffs. I can’t believe it.”

Cassie could believe it. Lee had surpassed himself this time. She’d never had the – was it luck or misfortune? – to be the sub of such a ruthless sadist before.

****

The long and the short of it: Part 2

Okay, I give up. 

Last September, I wrote about a novel I'd started work on but was struggling to progress because of all the short stories I was writing. I now have another novel and novella started, but, guess what, I'm struggling to make any progress because of all the short stories I'm writing. 

So, I've decided to stop worrying about it, admit that I actually love doing the shorts and let the longer stories sit. I'm going go all taoist on this one and just go with the flow. I'm sure there'll come a point at some time in the future when I look at my list of stories and realise there are no current calls for submissions that have tickled my fancy. And in that natural lull, I will sit down and concentrate on something longer. Honest. 

The thing is, short stories are great for trying out new things, playing around and having fun. (Which sounds like a recipe for a good night in, too...) These are the calls I have been unable to ignore at the moment, although meeting some of the looming deadlines is going to be a close one while that thing some people call real life (not to mention the odd good night in) keeps getting in the way:

Men of the Manor (Cleis Press, ed Rob Rosen) August 1st.
Romance between wealthy aristocrats and their hard-working estate staff with a pre-WWI backdrop. I have a kitchen garden in mind.

The Big Book of Domination (Cleis Press, ed DL King) August 1st.
I need to explain? I reckon the title says it all. And it says: 'Get writing - now!'

Locked Up (Storm Moon Press) August 31st
Men. And chastity devices. What's not to like? Scroll down through the calls to find this one.

Sapphic Smut in the City (House of Erotica, ed Lucy Felthouse and Kev Mitnik) January 1st
I'm not really a city kinda girl. But I have a great idea from a visit to Paris years ago, that gives a very different view of life in the city of love.

Smut by the Sea vol 3 (House of Erotica, ed Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse) March 31st
I am, however, a seaside kind of woman. And my writer's brain is brimming with ideas for coastal fun. 

And if you're very quick, there's still time to get a short in to Alison Tyler's call for bondage stories. She wants 500 to 1,000-word pieces and has extended the deadline to July 25th.

Random WIP excerpts

I'm doing my usual thing of working on far too many stories at once and deciding to write for far too many calls for submissions that stop me getting anywhere on the longer works I have on the go. But the end is in sight... until I see some fresh calls that tickle my fancy. 

These are what I'm working on at the mo. The first two are set to be those longer works I keep harping on about. The four after that are all short stories with summer deadlines:

1. This one's a contemporary story exploring what it means to be a male Dom:

She goes up to her bedroom and reaches under the bed for her toys, which she keeps in an old wicker picnic hamper. It makes it look like she’s going to pull out some cucumber sandwiches and a slice of Victoria sponge. What she actually takes out are two lengths of 8mm white cotton rope. 

2. And this one's a story of a couple who build their own house with lots of kinky opportunities in the design. Told by the male sub:

“I’ve been wondering what possessed me to grow these new-fangled round courgettes,” she says, showing me one that looks to me to be the size of a tennis ball, although my mind is probably exaggerating as it runs through the possible things she could do with it. I swallow and put down my hammer. I’ve already had trouble concentrating while I imagined what its handle would feel like inside me. We like to improvise.

3. And here's one in which a couple are separated for several months while he's on secondment so they start having webcam sex. She's just told him to gag himself:

He puts the black ball between his teeth and fiddles with the fastening. I see him cinch it so tight that the straps cut into the corners of his mouth. I’ve grown to love gagging him myself. I think it’s the moment when he opens his mouth and lets me slide it in. It’s another way of penetrating him, filling him all up... But seeing him do it to himself. That’s new. That’s something I’ll be doing again when he gets home too. 

4. And here's a fem sub to even things up a bit, although she's on her own in a 'special' kind of spa in this bit ahead of a date that evening:

My breath seems loud. Perhaps because it’s the only thing I can hear. No rainforest sounds CD, thank God. I’m starting to feel warm and my skin is tingling as my sweat activates the mud minerals. It is a spa treatment, after all. Just one that provides a little extra. If I survive today without dying of embarrassment, I might sign up for one of their shibari experience days. Sounds like something you’d get coupons in the paper for – try paragliding, try scuba diving, try rope suspension…

5. Here's one about sharing fantasies:

That night. It was a few weeks ago. Cabernet sauvignon had been on buy-one-get-one-free, so of course we drank both bottles. Then we started talking dirty. “Go on, there must be some fantasy you haven’t let on about,” I dared him. His turned out to be the relatively mundane one of wanting to watch me with another woman. My confession put a bit of a dampener on the evening. He sobered up pretty quick when I said, “I’d really love to fuck your ass with a strap-on.”

6. And here's a historic m/m one - a Victorian lord and his gardener. The 'fgfgfg' denotes some research still to be done (yellow rose variety around in the 19th century anyone?) And of course, in Tilly World, it's not going to be the gardener who ends up on his knees later...

He comes out onto the front steps to see them off. The parasites that have fed from his table and slept in his feather beds for nigh on a month. I don’t understand how he can be so polite to them all, rigorously observing all social niceties. I know he’s seen me here, kneeling in the rose bed weeding; he made one slight glance to where I’m working beneath the yellow fgfgfg before he turned back to his guests, smiling and shaking hands, lifting the ladies’ gloved fingers to his lips.

Smut by the Sea: Inspiration

Inspiration’s a funny thing. Stop by on Friday May 3^rd and you can read master storyteller Kay Jaybee’s thoughts on the matter. I’ve been thinking of the roundabout ways in which I pieced together my story, Stuck on the Edge, for Smut by the Sea Vol 2.

The story is set on Bardsey Island, where a happily married couple escape for their first holiday alone without the kids for several years. They have one last paddle in the bay near their little stone cottage before they’re due to get the boat back to the mainland and drive home. But it turns into a little more than a paddle – and then they discover that their journey home isn’t going to go quite so smoothly after all.

You’ll often hear the writing advice to ‘write what you know’. When it comes to erotica, I don’t believe that this means you have to be particularly promiscuous or have done every sexual act you write about. Horror writers don’t go around chopping people up with chainsaws, after all. If you had to write only what you’d personally experienced there would no fiction, only autobiography. This isn’t an excuse for not doing some research and getting your facts right – because you can bet some of your readers will have done the things you write about (unless we’re talking tentacles, which I gather is a big thing in fantasy land) – but the point of being a writer is that your imagination can extrapolate a lot of story from a little information.

I think writing what you know is more in the little details that bring the story alive. So what do I know about my story? Well, I almost went to Bardsey Island once. Yes, almost. It was as a reporter to write a travel feature. But the weather was too bad over several days for us to actually get there because although the island is not far from the end of the Llyn peninsula in North Wales, the waters are pretty treacherous. So I’d done some research and had an idea of what the island was like although I’ve had to use my imagination and stretch the truth a little in places. And I knew it was possible to get stranded there for longer than you might have planned.

What else? Well, I’ve swum in the Irish Sea and I’ve paddled in mountain lakes and when I describe the ‘bone-crushing chill in your ankles that makes you wince’, I bloody well know what I’m talking about. And I have a fondness for rustic pottery, which the couple’s cottage is full of. So when my female character whispers her reply to a milk jug, I’m picturing a jug I have that’s in shades of brown and cream with a vaguely Celtic kind of swirl scraped into the glaze.

Gareth stood behind me and put his fingers to the flimsy bit of fabric at my hips. He drew my knickers slowly down. I lifted my legs in a detached sort of way as I gazed at the view, as if I was barely aware of what he was doing. Although when he reached a hand under my ass to push his fingers up the slit of my pussy, I may have moved my legs further apart. Ever so slightly. I was wet already, and not with seawater any more. With his words and his tongue and my imagination. He found my clit and rubbed it gently, making me stick my ass up higher and whimper. A whimper that said “harder”, but which he ignored whether he understood or not. The clouds were racing across the sky and I saw a cormorant fighting into the wind.

“I’d better check the water,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” I whispered to the milk jug.

You can get your hands on Smut by the Sea Vol 2 at All Romance, Amazon UK and Amazon.com. And if you're free on June 22nd, why not come to the seaside in Scarborough for the Smut by the Sea launch. Entry for readings and talks during the day is free, and you can grab a ticket for the evening's entertainment along with all the info at the website.

I'm Out Visiting

I'm over at the fabulous Lucy Felthouse's place today, talking about why maps are so sexy that I wrote my story for Smut Alfresco all about them:

My story, The Explorer Challenge, is all about the British Ordnance Survey map, which may not sound a particularly likely subject for erotica. But I'm a map geek and proud of it. In fact, I've just ventured into my loft to count the maps in my collection and I have 62...

Click here to read more...

Out now: Smut Alfresco

I was really pleased when I found out my story had been accepted for Smut Alfresco. Having read the first Smut by the Sea anthology, which I reviewed here, I was instantly drawn to the whole idea. The bright and breezy nature of 'smut', the Britishness of it (although there are stories set around the globe, it just has a Brit feel to it), the wholesome, life-affirming nature of fresh air and sunshine. So to be able to participate as an author in the Smut family is just amazing.

There's a new Smut by the Sea anthology in the pipeline, but sister publication Smut Alfresco is out now and the blurb goes like this: 

Sex in the great outdoors is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the dramatic gritstone escarpments of Derbyshire's Peak District, to a quiet caravan site in deepest Wales, Smut Alfresco has it all. Whatever your interpretation of frisky outdoor fun, there's something nestling between the covers for you.

Sexy woodsmen, daring couples, rock stars, cougars, map enthusiasts, mattresses, ex-lovers, tour guides, hunky sheriffs and nature reserve rangers all appear in this hot collection of stories from erotica's finest authors.

I'm going to be heading over to the blogs of editors Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse to talk more about the inspiration behind my story soon.

You can get Smut Alfresco at Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com and other online bookstores. 

Review: Cute Boy Gets Squeezed by D.L. King

A big thank you to Alison Tyler, who's let me take part in the blog tour for her new anthology The Big Book of Bondage. Check out her blog, Trollop with a Laptop, for links to all the other reviews. I'm talking about D.L. King's story, one of 25 in this new offering from Cleis Press. So without further ado:

The real star of this story is not endearingly submissive Cute Boy or his kooky-but-caring play pal Evangeline; it’s a piece of equipment. The vac bed, to be precise – latex sheets out of which the air is sucked leaving the sub cocooned so tightly they can’t even twitch but with every contour of their body on display. I’d hazard a guess that most bedroom kinksters don’t have one and have probably never encountered one for real (go on, hop over to Google Images, I'll wait). And that’s what makes this story so irresistible. It’s the stuff of fantasy for most, rendered real in tantalising detail. The description of Cute Boy’s experience in the vac bed gains weight from the sparseness of description elsewhere; what the characters look like is largely left to the reader’s imagination.

The story has an easy, conversational style from the first-person viewpoint of Cute Boy. That’s in keeping with the casual nature of the relationship involved. There’s no romance and little emotional interaction here. But set against that is the intensity of Cute Boy’s physical need and his experience with this piece of equipment. Eve is no stereotypical Domme either; she’s more of a facilitator for his pleasure. She sounds more than a little bonkers and for Cute Boy there’s a thrill in the anticipation, the uncertainty, over what she’s going to come up with while knowing that, fundamentally, she’s not dangerous. Although there’s no seduction involved, she does constantly reassure him in her light-hearted way that everything is going to be ‘fun’.

It’s common for BDSM stories to try to untangle the psychology of submission or look for some reason for it in a person’s past experience. But that assumes a narrative viewpoint from outside of the world of kink, a place where justification and rationale might be demanded. Right at the start of the story, King openly dismisses this when Cute Boy begins to explain his kink and trails off with the words ‘yada yada yada’. But the whole story is, in a wonderfully subtle way, an exposition of a physical and psychological need that, in this case, seems to be completely natural. There are several moments when Cute Boy (who also goes by the name Pete!) has reservations – when Eve points out his ‘nice cock’ to her housemate, when there is the suggestion that said housemate is going to take photos of him, when she introduces the butt plug. But his expressions of unease are overwhelmed by his need. And when he sees the vac bed, his deep desire to feel its embrace shuts off the noise in his head and renders him hopelessly, sweetly, compliant. Add in a couple of toys and it leads to an orgasm the likes of which he’s never had before.

Cute Boy Gets Squeezed appears to be a simple, casual tale, but beneath its easy style lies an intensity of experience and a depth of knowledge about the nature of submission and restraint that is anything but.

Inspiration: Woods and wells

My short story, Pleasing the Nymph of Woodwell, is now live at Oysters and Chocolate.

Tom and Maria have packed off the kids to their grandparents so they can have a dirty weekend away, without any little ones wandering in and wanting to know why mummy's all tied up. But will their sexy exploits please the ancient spirit of Woodwell Cottage's magical spring?

One reader comments: 'That was probably THE most erotic outdoor story I have ever read! I hated to leave them! I hope there's more to this... or I'll have to come up with my own ending. My wife may be in for a real treat!'

I certainly hope she is.

I thought I'd share a couple of things that inspired it. One being this cottage owned by the Landmark Trust in Shropshire. It's actually called St Winifred's Well. The Landmark Trust takes historic buildings of character that are in danger of falling into disrepair and restores and preserves them as holiday cottages.

I've stayed at their properties before, notably a very remote converted chapel in North Wales, but not this one... yet.

In the course of my research, I also came across this wonderful little site, Wooden Dildos. Lovingly carved by craftsmen from Scottish hardwoods and sealed with an ultra-smooth waterproof finish - so no, you won't get a splinter! Sounds so much nicer than some kind of plastic affair made in a factory.

The top image is Water Angel by Stephen Perry, prints available at ObsessionArt.com.

Published: Miss Pemberton's Drawers

I have a story in this fabulous new anthology from Xcite Books and am so excited about appearing alongside the likes of Lucy Felthouse and Zara Stoneley. It's a collection of six erotic stories covering a range of themes and is currently available for the Kindle at Amazon.

In my story, Ideal Homes, Amy’s looking for a house to buy after moving to a new town for work. The fact her estate agent is hot is an added bonus. But after one drunken fumble with the gorgeous Michael, she can’t work out how to tell him she prefers her men tied to the bed and eager to please. Fortunately for her, the ideal opportunity arises when he takes her to see a house and she finds two sets of handcuffs in place in the master bedroom. And it turns out Michael is more than happy to play the submissive. The pair find themselves in a sticky situation with the unexpected arrival of the property owner – but he has a proposal of his own for Michael.

Alongside that tale, you'll find Miss Pemberton's Drawers by Lucy Felthouse, Dinner Break by Ariel Graham, Suitable Punishment by Abigail Thornton, Elevator Pitch by Zara Stoneley and A Night Off by Jenna Bright.

Very short story: Cosy

Drum roll please... I present Cosy, my flash fiction response to the Erotic Tea Cosy Challenge. It stems from Twitter, where, amongst other dazzling insights into my true nature, I trumpet myself as a Knitter of tea cosies. 'I'm looking forward to seeing how erotica and tea cosies go together,' wrote The Dirty Romantic. See what you've started @youmakemeneed. The picture, incidentally, is from the only tea cosy pattern I've actually got round to knitting, although I haven't even sewn up my version yet.

So put the kettle on, here's my attempt to make chunky handknits into a real winter warmer. Oh, those sharp steel needles...

She’s knitting again tonight. Each time I feel the shift of weight as she swaps needles from hand to hand for a new row I hope she might say, ‘I’ll just finish this one and then take you to bed.’ It’s her bare heels I feel, pressing hard into my back where she is using me as a footstool. Soon my shoulders will start to ache and I will have to fight the urge to collapse onto her handmade rag rug.

She’s been so busy since she launched her new design. The fetish tea cosy. A stripy pot warmer in cashmere merino blend, with appliquéd patches in Daisy Chains® floral cottons to make a cute face pattern: two eyes, button nose and a quirky embroidered smile. Suitable for all medium-sized teapots. That’s the cosy part. The fetish part? Well, it fits snugly over the head, a multi-coloured hood with appliquéd eye covers to prevent the submissive peeping out between the stitches. Quite endearing on a female; completely humiliating on a man like me.

Click, clack. She’s stuck to steel needles for this one. Size 6. That’s British sizing; I learnt early in our relationship not to get US and UK numbers mixed up. It caused a major disaster in my first attempt at socks; I had to rip it all out and start again under her guidance. Tonight, her fancy new double-pointed bamboo needles were free for her to use on me. Size 9. That’s just 3.75mm wide. Two clamp my cock, placed just beneath the glans and fastened tight with elastic bands on each end. Two more lock my balls into place, holding them firm away from my crotch. The sharp ends are starting to dig into my thighs. My cock is semi-hard. If it gets bigger, I’m going to really feel that top pair. At least she hasn’t done my tongue today. She tried it once, stretching the cosy over the ends of the needles to keep them in place through the rows. But she didn’t like the damp mess my saliva made when I couldn’t swallow. That wool’s gentle handwash only.

Fibres tickle my face. I’m sure there’s one, just one, fine wisp of cashmere, sticking up my left nostril. I twitch my nose to try to shift it. And fail. But really, this yarn is deliciously soft, like a caress on the cheek. It reminds me of the first time I met Diane. I had finally braved the Wednesday Woollies meet at the arts centre in town. I fancied learning to knit. Maybe even crochet. But I had agonised over going for weeks. My cock would be the problem. How to control my cock when I longed to bury my face in those big balls of super chunky pure wool Aran, with their maddening mix of smooth and scratchy.

She’d welcomed me in. Took time off her own project to teach me the basics of knit and purl, rib and garter. And then she did it. I almost burst with the effort of remaining polite and decent. She held out a ball of a new blend she’d found: mohair and silk. Hand-dyed in aubergine. Oh God, that mohair. Torture on the nose. Exquisite torture. She understood even then. Teased me with it, letting me nuzzle as my cock twitched, then snatching it away and tapping me on the fingers with her needles like a naughty schoolboy. I wanted to bury my face in her baby pink Angora-clad bosom.

She invited me to her place for private tuition. We’ve never looked back. I’ve moved in and now I support her as she gets her fledgling business off the ground following redundancy. And at night, she indulges my desperate passion for yarn. Once she used an entire ball of fingering weight acrylic to tie me up. And that’s harsh stuff. She’d had it at the bottom of her stash for years, bought before she learnt the difference between those cheap yarns from the market and the softest, finest wools a sheep has to offer. Goats even. Alpaca. That acrylic cut into me, absolutely unyielding, the squeaky texture enough to set your teeth on edge.

My face is getting hot beneath its hood. Cosy. That’s the delight of the knitted fetish mask. That intense feeling of warmth and constriction without any restriction to breathing. My forehead is growing damp. The yarn is tickling in at least a dozen spots now. Involuntarily, my tongue flicks out to taste the stitches and is rewarded with a tiny strand, stuck there until she allows me to move. Like a pube picked up during cunnilingus. I wish she’d shift her heels to new positions. But no, she digs them in a little more as she starts a new row.

‘I’ll just do one more darling. Then I’ll take you upstairs.’ God I love this woman. 

Story time: The joy of text

Here's a bit of quickie fun for you. Highbrow literature it ain't, but I'm on my holidays and have a tent pole to fix with duct tape before the next monsoon hits Wales. The bit about the online date recounting the plot of a zombie horror movie is, unfortunately for me, actually autobiographical. Enjoy x

I was playing a surreptitious game of space invaders under the desk on my mobile. I’d finished reading a very dull report about cost savings half an hour ago, but certainly wasn’t going to admit it. No-one thanked you in this office for being efficient; they just piled on more work. The phone buzzed and I missed a bonus shot. I clicked ‘read’.

‘Hey baby, I can’t stand thinking about you stuck in that office chair. When I want you tied to a chair here, where I’m the boss. Love Danny, xxx’

I was somewhat surprised, but hit reply and thought for a moment: ‘Interesting idea. Tell me more.’

I glanced up. The managing director was on the phone in his little glass booth, waving his hands about, making some very important point about our firm’s latest stationery range. Everyone else looked busy, apart from Sue next to me, who I knew was planning a romantic dinner for her new fella.

My phone buzzed again. ‘I want to sit you down on a massive dildo suctioned to a hard wooden chair and bind you to it, arms, legs, hips, tits so you can’t move an inch.’

My abdomen fluttered, from waist to clitoris. I could feel my cunt tingling. My heart hammered. I bit my lip and pressed reply: ‘You’re making me wet. What will you do to me when you’ve got me tied and helpless?’

As the ‘sending’ symbol revolved on screen I realised Sue was talking to me. ‘Do you want a cuppa?’ She waggled her mug. ‘I’m going to the kitchen. You with me? What are you daydreaming about?’

‘Oh nothing, you know,’ I stuttered. ‘Just trying to decide which nail varnish to put on for my date at the weekend.’ I handed her my cup and she marched off. I had a date with a guy from a matchmaking website. Another one. I hoped he was a bit more interesting than the last one, who had spent the night telling me the entire plot of a zombie horror movie he’d just seen.

My phone buzzed: ‘I’ll stick my cock deep in your mouth and make you suck until I come. Then I’ll make you swallow it.’

Sue thumped down a cup of tea on my desk. ‘Did that text say “cock”?’ she asked. ‘Who the hell are you getting messages like that from? I thought your last date was a disaster.’

‘Oh, it’s another guy,’ I said, airily. ‘One I met a while ago but we haven’t been able to find another date we’re both free yet.’ I hoped the lie didn’t show; I’m not very good at deception. And I didn’t want any more questions to distract me from what I was imagining. Fortunately Sue was no prude and didn’t seem surprised at me receiving texts containing the word ‘cock’. I gulped my tea quickly and headed to the toilets with my bag.

I locked a cubicle door and sat on the edge of the loo lid. I rooted around in my bag for my finger vibe and slid it on. I yanked my skirt up, pulled my knickers to one side and started to rub my clitoris with the vibrator. I took my phone in the other hand and typed a reply: ‘You’ve got me really turned on. I’m rubbing my wet pussy.’

‘You dirty girl,’ came the reply. ‘I shall have to punish you for masturbating.’

The slim vibe buzzed against my clit and I could feel my slippery pussy throbbing and swelling. Images ran through my head of a chair, and ropes, and a big, hard cock. I imagined the dildo in my cunt, the cock in my mouth. My orgasm began as a pulse in my abdomen and rippled out through my body. My free hand flung out wildly, the phone held in my fist clattering as I pushed against the wall of the cubicle.

As I enjoyed the warmth flushing through me, I typed into the phone: ‘I’ve just had a fantastic orgasm.’

I jumped as my phone rang. I hesitated for a second, suddenly worried. Then I hit the green button. He started to speak: ‘Oh god Louise, are you coming round here yet? I can’t wait much longer.’ He sounded quite young, with a northern accent.

He was waiting for a reply. ‘Erm, Danny, I’m afraid it’s not Louise. My name’s Sally.’

‘What?’ I waited while the truth sank in and he went on, sounding distressed: ‘Oh fuck. I’m so sorry. Oh god, those things I said. I’m not...’

I cut him off. ‘It’s ok Danny. I’ve led you on a bit too. And I have just had the most fantastic orgasm dreaming of all the things you described. I’m curious about why you’ve got my number though.’

He was still panicky: ‘My girlfriend changed her phone. She told me the new number. I must have written it down wrong. I’m so sorry, are you sure you’re ok?’

‘I’m fine,’ I told him. ‘Better than fine, Danny. You’ve really brightened up my afternoon at work. Louise is a lucky woman.’

‘Ha,’ he laughed. ‘I’m the lucky one. Louise is amazing. Anyway, I’d better let you go, Sally.’

‘I suppose so,’ I sighed. ‘But if Louise fancies a threesome, you’ve got my number.’