Something a little different today – an audio offering.
The extract is from my first novel “Maid For Pleasure” – available now on Amazon or by clicking here.
Hope you enjoy it!
Something a little different today – an audio offering.
The extract is from my first novel “Maid For Pleasure” – available now on Amazon or by clicking here.
Hope you enjoy it!
Through the branches I could see glimpses of them. I could hear their frenzied breathing, laughter, and the rustle of clothing being discarded amongst the autumn leaves. They did not know that I was there. How could they? I had watched them arrive though I knew that this was where they met. It was their secret place but I got here first.
He was standing over her now and watching whilst she lifted her hips to slide her panties down over her thighs. Her shoes were still on and I liked that. I like the way her white flesh ended in that hard leather. He was pulling at his belt buckle and then unpopped the buttons on his jeans. They spread open and his large cock rose from between the denim curtains. She giggled and reached up for him, pulling on him, dragging him down towards her. She wanted him and I wanted her to want him.
I did not move. I did not breathe though I was tingling at the sight of them. I watched as he moved down and knelt between her parted legs. She moaned as he lapped at her and a strange silence hung in the air punctuated only by her soft moans, his wet licking. She must be so wet by now. I was wet too. I could imagine how his tongue would feel. I knew that tongue. I knew that what he was doing to her, he had once done to me. I enjoyed the power of that knowledge and reached down to touch myself.
He took his hard cock in his hand and told her to watch as he twisted his strong hand round the shaft of him, making the skin strain and his tip burn with that purple hue of desire. I watched as he spat on his hands. I had liked it when he did that, praised him for it. I had taught him well.
And then he moved between her legs, pushing himself deep inside her. He slid in easily and she gasped at the sheer size of him as he ground himself deeper into her. He began to thrust – slowly at first and she moaned and tipped her head back against the damp leaves, her blonde hair spreading and tangling itself amongst the roots of the tree. She peaked and that pushed him forwards. this would be no slow, shuddering peak. He was going faster now and I knew that within seconds he too would peek and his hot seed would spill out inside her. She would feel that wave of warmth deep inside her and its presence would create a deeper orgasm. That too was a memory – the feel of a climax which emerged like waves from the very core of her, rippling out from her centre so that she would forget herself in the softness of it.
He fell forwards onto her and I knew to wait for a few minutes. There would be no lingering caress, no whispered tenderness. For a second she reached out towards him, to stroke his face perhaps, but then her hand withdrew and she reached for her scattered clothing which lay around them like discarded papers. He rolled off and lay on his back. His wet cock glistened in the autumn sunshine and he closed his eyes, as if to sleep. But he was not sleeping, he was hiding his eyes from the sight of her as she pulled her clothes towards her and tried to dress without standing up.
When her clothes were on, she stood up. “Same time next week?”
He looked over towards the bush where I was hidden, and nodded. “Same time next week, yes.”
And I nodded back at him. Same time next week.
Another Friday Quickie for you. I hope you are enjoying these little stories. I have had a busy week of writing “Hunting the Tiger” and cannot wait to share a few snippets with you. But not yet… I am not ready to share my characters yet – they are too precious, they are not quite ready! When they are, you will be the first to know.
I would love some of your ideas for FQ stories. If you have something you would like to share then do leave a comment. The most enticing idea will be popped in my notebook so that the seed can germinate between those darkened covers. If I do decide that your idea is intoxicating then I might even send you a free copy of “Maid For Pleasure”, my first novel about a Victorian girl who is taught the art of seduction. Pleasing her master is all that she desires.
If you can’t wait then you can get the book by clicking on the link on my Bookshelf page which is HERE.
Until then, have a sensual and fulfilling weekend my loves,
Born in Austria in 1836, Sacher-Masoch gained early fame for his writings on Galician life. However he is best known for his seminal work “Venus in Furs”. The term Masochism is derived from his surname and is use to describe sexual gratification derived from one’s own pain or humiliation.
But he was not just a writer of erotic fiction. His work spans a catalogue of writings on socialist and humanist ideals and he was known as a man who believed in utopian thinking.
His family were of Spanish descent and his Roman Catholic father was an Austrian police director who had married Charlotte, a Ukrainian noblewoman. During his working life, he was a professor who had studied law, history and mathematics. Fascinated by folklore and the culture of his Galician homeland, he soon turned his back on lecturing and became a man of letters. This decision led to his non-fiction writing soon being surpassed by his fictional works.
There was an idyllic quality to much of his work which were translated into Ukrainian, Polish, Russian and French.
In 1869, he embarked on a grand scheme to create a series of short stories entitled “Legacy of Cain”. “Venus in Furs” was one of only two that were completed. They marked a shifting towards more misogynistic themes which explored Sacher-Masoch’s fantasies and fetishes. His primary peccadillo being for dominant women clad in furs.
It was in that same year that Sacher-Masoch signed a contract with his then mistress, Baroness Fanny Pistor, which made him her slave for a period of six months. She was to wear furs as often as possible and especially so when she found herself feeling the creep of cruelty within her darkest soul. He liked to be called ‘Gregor’, and acted the role of servant for the Baroness. When they traveled to Italy, he traveled in a third-class compartment whilst she was holed up in the luxury of first-class. This experience later affected his marriage to Aurora von Rumelin, who did not find pleasure in the arrangement. They divorced eventually – their bond falling victim to Sacher-Masoch’s desire for excitement and stimulation. Her memoirs of the marriage were published in 1906 under the pseudonym Wanda v Dunajew, and revealed a man labouring under his ‘perversion’ and dominated by his sexual desire.
He died in 1895 after the deterioration of his mental health – his last years were spent under psychiatric care and there were rumours that he had ended his days in an asylum.
As a writer, he remained well-respected and his influence on erotic fiction rivals that of the infamous Marquis De Sade. It is no accident that his desires for domination are often put hand in hand with De Sade’s own desire to humiliate and inflict pain – sadism.
As a man, Sacher-Masoch was dominated by his sexual needs. As a writer, he touched on something essential about human nature – the need to submit to our desires and be controlled by the object of our fascination.
A copy of Venus in Furs is included in “Victorian Erotica 101” which is available FREE along with six other works of erotic fiction from that period by signing up HERE. I will be posting a review of the novel soon but would urge you to read it for yourself. It’s a fascinating read with some interesting ideas about dominant women and the men who adore them.
Until then, have a great time with your reading material,
She was sat on the edge of the bed. The darkened room was a blessing. She was unwilling to take in its tawdry cheapness, the little touches by a landlady unable to rise above her own limited thinking. It was the right place for this. It was the right place for him.
She spread her thighs wide so that her dark mound of hair was visible in the mirror opposite her. She ran her fingers down the side of her pert, naked breast. The nipples were alert – form the cold, from anticipation, from fear too. The netted windows let in a sickly yellow glow from the street lights outside and she could hear the drunken laughter of holiday revellers. She could have been out there with them. She could have drunk herself into a state of abandon. But that was not what she wanted. She wanted this – this room, this time, this man.
He moved behind her onto the bed and spread her thighs a little wider. She did not look at his face, only watched as his hands gently swept the hair back from her neck. His kisses were gentle, insistent. She felt the light flick of his tongue against the pulsing in her neck. Her clit contracted and then released as wetness began to expand within her. He was running the back of his hands down her arms and when he got to her wrist, he circled it, guiding it forwards to her sex. She inhaled sharply, wondering if she was ready to share such intimacy with him. He was barely more than a stranger but she liked that. She liked the freedom that came with only knowing his name – nothing else.
She allowed her fingers to open her lips and stroked upwards, spreading the wetness from the depth of her up over her erect clit. He pulled back a little and watched as she slowly began to rub herself. Then his fingers pushed hers away and he took over, mirroring her actions, understanding what she wanted.
‘Say nothing,’ she had told him before they entered the room.
She reached behind her and took hold of the long shaft of him guiding its tip down to the point where her spine met the dark crack of her buttocks. It tickled a little and she lifted her hips to allow it to move down. There would be no entry. That was not part of their unspoken deal. But she wanted him to go further than she had gone before. She wanted a hint of what was possible in this room. Only a hint, not a promise.
His hands were moving faster now and she lost her thoughts to the slow, rhythmic grind of her hips. She loved this point when her body took over and she could escape into the hard feel of fingers circling her, rubbing her. No need to fantasize here. This was reality and her body knew the difference.
The wetness was increasing now as her muscles contracted. She wanted him inside her but she would not have him. That was going too far. Instead she licked her index finger and pushed it inside her. Their hands were entwined, moving together. Behind her, he pushed into her hands and she felt the gratifying moisture of his own desire spreading from the top of his member, making her hand glide a little over the taut skin of his long, hard shaft.
They were both moving faster now. There was nothing to think of anymore. There was only sweet, urgent sensation, the inevitable pushing forwards. She slid in another finger wanting to feel that resistance and grinding her hips into their hands. They moved, pulsed, rocked together. And then rubbing, rubbing, until her body opened to it. She felt the surge of him, his seed spreading down her crack towards the contracting mouth of her sex. Their hands were wet. She was moaning quietly as the waves spread through her and her head flicked back. One final gasp and then the softness, the darkness, the glow.
Say nothing, she had ordered him. Say nothing.
Another little interlude to ease you into the end of another week. It has been a rather drifty week for me as I move onto the dreaded mid section of my second novel “Hunting the Tiger.” I find myself often gripped by my Inner Second Guesser, questioning whether my words are really communicating the sensuality and sultry nature of the story. However, I will push on because I am damn well enjoying writing this new novel. And what better way to spend my days as the southern hemisphere slowly eases itself into Autumn. I love holing myself up with my characters and going on their journey with them – it’s a privilege to be experiencing these sensual things, albeit vicariously. Still I have my own moments of sauciness too….
If you haven’t downloaded your copy of “Maid For Pleasure”, then you might be interested to know that “The Mirror”, lessons 1 and 2 of Kitty’s education is available free on Smashwords. If you want to check it out then do click here. I would love your feedback – my readers have been so kind in offering me great ideas and I love to hear from you.
But I am also absolutely loving writing these little snippets of sexiness for you.
If you are enjoying them or have an idea for a story that you would like to read then please leave a comment below and I will do my best to oblige.
Have a gorgeous weekend, darling.
A saucy little video treat from The Courtesans. I stumbled across this when researching the enigmatic and fascinating Leopold Von Sacher-Masoch.
In my next post I will be giving you a little bit of background to this writer by way of introduction to my review of his work, “Venus in Furs”.
In the meantime, think of this as an apperitif, if you will!
The beach was deserted. I had guessed it would be. The frost still hung in the air, lifting itself sleepily from the sand. The waves were quietly breathing in and out, kissing the white sand with their foamy edge.
We paced along. He beside me, a slight distance apart. We were making chit chat. An amusing conversation conducted in the accent of a world far apart from us. There was nothing else in the world but this place, this time, us.
I thought briefly of my children, now safely holed up in a classroom on the other side of the harbour. And I suppose I gave a fleeting thought to my husband, my ring cutting into my finger, a callous formed around it. That was the reason I was here.
I shouldn’t be doing this, and yet where else could I go?
I did not dare look at him but I could feel his presence within the cells of my body. He was a tingle, like fear. I did not trust him but I wanted to be vulnerable. I desired to exist in that light space at the top of a spiral. I was not here for love. I was here for something far more real.
We reached the dunes at the end of the beach and I stood aside as he laid the blanket out on the sandy ground. We should eat now, he said. It was not a question and I submitted to his command. I felt a little sick. I knew what must happen.
We lay down amongst the tall, sharp grasses and the noise of the waves dimmed to a hush. No birds flew overhead. Even the breeze was quiet now. We were hidden.
Soon we were kissing. At first I was content to allow my tongue to explore his mouth. Another mouth. I had not kissed another man for so many years and the delicious taste of an unfamiliar saliva made my body spring to attention. Before long, my clothes felt restrictive and he tugged at my buttons, eager to see my naked flesh in the morning light.
We stripped our top halves and I pulled him to my breast. I wanted him to suckle me. I wanted to feel his teeth wrap themselves around my hard nipples and bite a little too hard perhaps. I pulled back, my nipple still caught between his teeth and smiled at the length of it. When he let go, it bounced back inwards to its waiting pillow. Suck me, I told me, suck me hard.
‘The sensation reached its tendrils down to my clit which contracted wildly then pulsed as the blood flowed through, fast and hard. I was pulling at this belt now and undoing his jeans. I had expected him to be hard for me, but instead his penis lay on his thigh, faintly stirring. I leaned over and stroked my tongue up and down its length, taking it into my mouth and holding it there in a warm, wet cave.
I do want you, he said.
Shhh, I commanded. The power had shifted and I was in control. His arrogance faded a little. He laid his head back on the blanket and closed his eyes. I moved my tongue down to the base of his shaft and began to slowly lick upwards in small circling movements. He grew hard underneath me, his hips shifting so that his balls were free from the fabric of his underpants.
When I reached the tip, I took the taut, purple flesh between my lips and moved them up and down, out then in, so that only the very peak of his member was inside my mouth. I was good at this, my husband had trained me well.
I used my tongue to push the tiny string under his tip from side to side and he moaned a little as the precum oozed out. Then I opened my mouth a little wider and moved it down over him, my lips pushing the looser flesh towards the ground. Then up again so that only the very top of him was inside my mouth.
He was lost. For a second I thought about keeping my eyes open but I had no desire to see his pleasure and my descent. I wanted to lose myself in the rhythmic movement of his member sliding in and out of my mouth. I wanted to forget myself with every movement of my hand up and down the length of him. I wanted to be far away from here, from my life, from myself.
He came quickly into me and I noticed the taste of him was slightly sweeter than that of my husband. Ironic really. At the moment his seed pulsed into my mouth, I knew that he had served his purpose. There would be no niceties afterwards, though I suspected that he would be the type who expected me to hold him for a while.
I swallowed, wiped the corner of my mouth and sat back. His eyes stayed closed as I put my top back on.
It was a long quiet walk back to the car.
Hope you enjoyed this little story and that it has whet your appetite for the weekend ahead.
It’s been a big week for me with the launch of my first book “Maid For Pleasure” (now live on Amazon and Smashwords if you want to take a peek!) and I am busy writing my next novel which has the working title “Hunting the Tiger”. It’s a sultry novel set in India. I had thought originally that it might just be a short story but it seems to be taking on a life of its own so time will tell. I will keep you posted.
If you would like to be in the know about when I release new work, or want to get your hands on Victorian Erotica 101 then consider signing up here and you will be the first to know when I am ready to share.
Until then, have a gorgeous weekend my darling,
The following is an extract from “The Mirror” from Episode 1 of the Kitty Cooper Diaries. Out now on Amazon. You can get your copy of the novella here.
I sat on the side of my bed. We were facing each other in the candlelight. I took a small nob of the ointment, just as I had watched Lilly do. Pulling out my breasts, I began to rub the ointment into my own nipples and breathed deeply at the sensation. It reminded me of dear John and how he had suckled at me with such urgency. Just the thought of John made me rub all the harder at my nipples.
“Slow down girl,” laughed Lilly, unpinning her hair as she watched me rubbing hard at my nipples. Her thick, black hair fell straight down over her shoulders and I was disappointed that it covered her breasts. Lilly stood up and came over to my bed and began to slowly unpin my hair which I had left pinned up in my tiredness. As she unpinned my hair, her breasts brushed past my face. I could hardly breathe as her warm, hard nipples brushed past my lips. She looked down at me.
“Let me show you how I do it,” she whispered and sitting beside me on the bed, she began to delicately rub the ointment into her breasts right there beside me. “I like to massage myself too. Like this.” I watched as she cupped both her breasts with her hands and pushed the flesh of her small breasts in towards her heart. Her nipples just about touched and I felt a wetness coming down between my thighs.
I confess that I have never before been so close to such a lovely creature. Her face has a brooding darkness that I have seen in gypsy girls before. Her eyes are the darkest brown. I got juicy just looking on her pretty face, especially her lips which were parted slightly as she purred demurely at the sensations of kneading her own breasts.
“Try it,” she said. “It’s so nice!”
So, I tried it too. I held my nipples between my thumb and forefinger and held on tightly to them. The rest of my hands slowly and rhythmically pushed my breasts round in a circular movement, meeting at the nipple over my heart and then out towards my armpits. As we did this at the same time, Lilly began to hum a soft sweet song and then sing the dirty words to accompany it. I could not help but blush. When she saw my blushing, Lilly leaned her head back and laughed. “Dear little Kitty, Miss H told me that you were a virgin but I did not think that you could get so embarrassed at a few dirty words. It’s nice though Kitty isn’t it?”
I could barely speak for I wished to moan aloud with the soft feel of my own hands touching my bare breasts, the candlelight and Lilly’s own darker nipples so close to mine.
“There now. They’ll be nice and soft for tomorrow now. Just how we like them!” Lilly gave me a wink and, to my disappointment, covered up her breasts, climbed back into her own bed and blew out the candle. I cannot say how long I laid there in the dark. I can say that the thought of what I had just seen made me ache for the solitude of the hay bales so that I could rub myself to a noisy climax. Instead, I had to satisfy myself on that first night with a quiet still rubbing, careful not to make the bed squeak for fear that Lilly might hear me.~
See you soon for another Friday Quickie and reviews of books in the erotica genre.
Every week, I will be sharing reviews of erotic fiction – classic and contemporary. I might also be tempted to share some sensual little scribblings of my own which I will entitle the ‘Friday Quickie’. So named for it being a quick read and possibly occurring on a Friday (genius!)
And, as I pen my erotic masterpieces, I will be keeping my readers posted on the writing process and the trials and tribulations of being an erotic writer. It’s a tough job but somebody has to do it.
So there is our itinerary. Join me as I delve deep into the sticky pages of saucy novels. I shall try to eschew the less refined of the market’s current offerings. I prefer boutique to street corner.
Think of me as your guide as we glide through the shelves. More Agent Provocateur than Sid’s Sexy XXX Store. We want class not pulp.
After all we are refined and elegant in our reading habits, not desperate for a quick thrill.