Welcome to The Erotic Writer
A collaboration between:
RedBud · William Crimson & Monocle · Raziel Moore
The first of many reasons we created this blog was to have fun and to interact with our readers. Your comments inspire new stories and help us to improve. If your thoughts don’t fit a particular story, then comment here. Say hello or tell us what you might like to read.
- Monocle, is taking a break from regular story posting, and will be sporadic for a while.
- Redbud, chirping cricket that he is, posts as the winds of fortune blow.
This senryū story originated with Scarlett Greyson (@ScarlettGreyson), a wonderful writer of hot things, who wrote the a lovely senryū on Twitter – the start of the story, though nobody knew it. I responded, fairly off the cuff, but almost immediately a back and forth developed and a little epic began to write itself as we went. As Scarlett notes, we had no other communication it regards to it other than to compliment each other’s work, so the plot emerged spontaneously. I am cross-posting the story here, but it looks even better on Scarlett’s Blog. The red stanzas are hers, the grey, mine. -M
Castle Walls
Dark thoughts tunneling
sappers at the walls, breaching
will she surrender?
Undermining her
seducing her from within
his words bear sweet fruit
A Trojan’s deceit
Welcomed, enveloped in her
beware bitter seeds.
The entry, conquest,
all is lost in the moment
heedless of the future.
In prudence she bows
Yielding is not surrender
Victory is hers.
Captured conqueror
In taking, he is taken
but does not feel loss
Ripe fruit devoured
bitter seed planted within
a careful attack
Something twisted, wrong.
New victories feel empty.
Something left behind?
Cold and windy spire.
Castellated widow’s walk
Hero ne’er returns?
Ragged, tested, spent
where did it all go so wrong?
Retracing his steps.
A kingdom awaits
sapped from within by his words
stronger than his steel
Familiar walls loom
breached, but impervious, now,
to compromised hearts?
Ice clad heart, warm flesh
Conquered, cast aside, locked out
Find the long lost key.
Two lessons hard learned:
Words – as swords – have two edges;
Forgotten seeds grow.
Thin, reedy, it’d bloom
for want of warmth and tending
Life beyond battle.
Broken sees broken.
Wanting sees wanting; wonders.
Despite… A way through?
Winter breaking, sun
seeking; finding her dreams,
once only moon-clad.
Iron and deceit
the old, too familiar tools;
he tries to reach past.
Rain chased, worn smooth path
Veined – Vined?- life coursing within
All leads to the heart.
Forging a new way
stepping through green, thorn heedless
strange territory.
A tainted dowry
Impure; Suitors disregard.
The seed planted grows.
Barrier of wounds
grown germs of his own sowing
arise with vengeance.
Veiled with life’s earned scars
Tender of bodies broken,
One familiar face?
The source, seed, and root
can demons born here be slain?
Choice now in her hands
Healer’s touch, binding
Drawn blood staining him; rampant
Her essence cleansing.
Buried truths burn free
as eyes and heart open clear
barbs, armor cast off
Anemones bloom
Lost is lost yet found and claimed
The seeds they will tend.
~fin~
Even if we’re on a little break, there’s still good reading to be had… And my sincere thanks to Dangerous Lily and crew for picking Uncoiling a top three selection! -M
Welcome to e[lust] - your source for sexual intelligence and inspirations of lust from the smartest & sexiest bloggers! Whether you’re looking for hot steamy smut, thought-provoking opinions or expert information, you’re going to find it here. Want to be included in e[lust] #8? Start with the rules, check out the schedule in the site’s sidebar and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~
Uncoiling – I slip the blade between your hip and the fabric of the undergarment, and slide. The pretty thing splits easily, and the panty leg opens, revealing your skin underneath.
Ahead of Time - I know you don’t like to know ahead of time when I’m going to let you out, but I just wanted you know that it’s going to be, well, a long time.
Blogging For Choice: My Story – Should I begin with Catholic high school? Sure, why not. I suppose that’s when I first began thinking about abortion, especially when the opportunity for double credit for community service hours rolled around.
~ e[lust] Editress ~
Vignettes: Virtual Peep Show - I kept my bullet vibe on low to draw it out as long as possible for me as I stared, mouth open, at the two cute girls who loved to show off. I let the room in general, and the girls too, know that I was watching, appreciating and jerking off with them. I was encouraged by the greedy, horny men in the room to join them on camera.
~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~
I missed you… – I could smell your cologne as I reached past you, key in my hand to unlock the door. That smell always set me off and you knew it. Your eyes told me what you wanted. You saw in mine what I couldn’t say out loud.
See also: Pleasurists #62 and #63 for all your sex toy review needs.
read more…
If any of you have noticed that your belovèd RedBud hasn’t been posting as much, it’s because I need a breather.
Stay tuned.
I will write more, and want to focus on writing more Daydreams & Distractions. It’s nice just to stretch and get away from the keyboard. Give me a week or two.
I’m ticklish below my bellybutton. The only place I am, really. She knows this. She’s using it against me. With her tongue she’s teasing that line of hair that leads down, slowly tracking, leaving my clenched stomach muscles wet. It actually makes me squirm. Me! And she likes that. I can see the quirk in her lip, the arch of her eyebrow as she crouches over me. She likes doing that to me. Turn about is fair play. I see the thought in her eyes.
She knows what she’s doing to me, not just from the jerking of my abdomen under her touch. My cock prods the space between her breasts, achingly hard. Another tease, surrounded by heat and softness. Teeth gritted, I think about grabbing her by the hair, tight, and lifting her from me to force her wicked mouth down on my shaft. But that would be admitting a limit to control; that there was something I couldn’t take. Something from her.
So I concentrate on relaxing, will myself to feel her touch as a caress, as the smooth and sensual thing it is. I work to let the defenses rest and let her in. I’ve managed it before. I recall the tentative hands of exploration from long ago, a different life. She was sweet, and we’d melted together, once. I seek that peace, that trust, once again, ignoring what came after in a different life.
The sorry end… Don’t say you weren’t warned! – M
Spell Failure (Part 3)
“GODDESS!”
Vala lurched bolt upright in bed, panting and sweating. It had been the worst nightmare. Something had been holding her and…she couldn’t bear to think about it.
Her hands shot to her midsection, frantically feeling her flat, athletic tummy, though unsure as to why it was so important to check herself out that way. Increasingly self-conscious examinations of her breasts and between her legs revealed nothing out of the ordinary, other than the surprising fact she was naked rather than in her ususal nightgown. And that her pussy was wet with nocturnal arousal.
It was OK now. She was in her small efficiency, on her white-sheeted bed, morning light just beginning to stream through her lone window. She couldn’t remember returning from her ritual in the old building’s boiler room. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember much of the ritual itself at all.
Automatically she reached for the glass of water she always put next to her bed before going to sleep and drank from it with reassurance. Her rapid heartbeat slowed to normal levels. She put the empty back down and settled back for some more snoozing.
It was Sunday morning, and she felt like she could sleep the whole day away. As she leaned back, her left hand settled against a hard lump next to her in the bed. She shrieked and jumped to the side. Someone was in her bed!
Stung
A Daydream & Distraction by RedBud
A Thursday afternoon, hot as hell, and dusty with grain, pollen and dirt roads.
There was a break, midsummer, before the haying, but even then, there was more to do. Kyle and Trish finished painting a last board as the sun came round their side of the barn. They wanted a small breather, some water and maybe an apple. Trish was a neighboring girl who worked the farm stand toward the end of summer and Kyle was going to be starting college in the fall, leaving the farm to his Dad and older brother.
They had grown up together. They were like brother and sister. Whenever there was farm work to do, she had always come next door to help. She had a thin freckled face and wore heavy black glasses. But she was still a girl his age and even though she wasn’t his type, he couldn’t help noticing how her faded jeans fit her hips and her nipples sometimes poked from behind her T-Shirt.
She talked and talked about the goings on in town.
She asked Kyle what he was going to be studying and whether he planned on coming back to the farm. Then she talked about her own plans, how she didn’t have a whole lot of money, how she wanted to sing and play guitar – and she was a damned fine guitar player. She talked about how there was nothing to do in this godforsaken part of the country but how she sort of liked it too. Just the little things – she said. The smell of the wheat fields just before the days started getting colder. She liked how she knew people and people took care of each other.
She was making Kyle homesick before he’d even left home.
This post is a written continuation of two podcasts and a follow up discussion, so it may or may not be the most coherent of things. I write in response to the most recent edition of The Good Parts Podcast: Episode 14. The Good Parts is podcast produced by three great erotica writers: Helen E. Madden, Nobilis Reed & Ann Regentin. A thoughtful and incisive rebuttal was podcasted by the incomparable Remittance Girl.
My remarks may make little sense even if you have heard these podcasts, but will almost certainly make no sense if you haven’t listened to them:
The Good Parts: http://thegoodparts.libsyn.com/index.php?post_id=576529
Remitance Girl’s rebuttal: tabooinerotica_remittancegirl.mp3
And lastly, my thoughts:
When listening to The Good Parts podcast (TGP), the trio seemed to me over-focused at times on the aspects of how taboo affects publishability. This has never been my own concern, and never the reason for writing – or not writing – certain topics. In a way, I was a little disappointed they didn’t discuss the reasons taboo topics were taboo. Most of those are obvious reflections of our current mass Western culture, but they do bear examination in the realm of erotic writing. For my part, RG did an excellent job of describing the whats and whys of taboos in erotica, and then added passionate and true commentary about the social acceptability of all erotica.
Like RG, I don’t have a real desire to sell stories or publications (though I have discovered the rush of it). When I first started writing and putting stories up, I didn’t really think about audience either. I wouldn’t have put anything out there if I didn’t want anyone to read and like the stories, but for me it was – and still is – reaching out to connect with other people who resonate with certain fantasies. 99+% of that connection is one way, I discovered early, since the vast majority of readers never communicate back, but that <1% has made a difference to me.
I explore the taboo themes – primarily noncons and other aspects of reluctance/submission and what have you – for precisely the exploration of control RG talks about. Having it, losing it, giving it, taking it, and the needs and fears based around that exchange. In both sexual and nonsexual ways, that’s something I’ve been sef-examining all my life. Writing about it in stories, and sharing them is both a turn on and an exposition of inner dialog.
I’ve only slowly been edging toward the “literary” side of erotica. Looking back on a lot of my older stories, which I’m still posting on the blog, most of them are far from literary in quality – and were really never intended as such. The viscera and rawness of the act, both in its romantic and animalistic incarnations still dominate the way I want to write erotica, and a good number of those themes fall squarely in the realm considered taboo.
Nobilis’ point, that the business side of erotica is dictating these restrictions is based on salability, which is also based on cultural perception of the publishers. A perception of public perception. The fact that pornography is a multibillion dollar industry – and the darker sides of it are a non-trivial corner. Look at Kink.com at the tip of that iceberg. Part of what TGP is missing, I think, is that all erotica is taboo for the majority of people. That doesn’t stop much of that same majority from consuming it, but very few will do so above board.
The distinction between taboo subjects _within_ erotic literature is an argument between saphire and aquamarine about blue. Our book and movie – and TV – industries have no problem protraying the vilest and most twisted parts of our violent natures – and deal no less with control than does non-consent erotica. They cover themselves with gore and pain instead of pleasure and cum. Which one is really more dangerous to the human psyche?
And then, I’ll also take issue with publishability. That restriction exists only so long as the publishing world holds these taboos as taboos. Today, e-books are beginning to come into their own, and there are people willing to stretch those accepted bounds. My first book (and the upcoming), and RG’s books with Republica Press demonstrate that today. If the next couple of years are going to be a wild west of e-publishing, it’s quite possible we’re going to see both erotica and taboo erotica walls begin to breach. It would do well to begin to realize that there really is a low wall between “taboo” and “mainstream” erotica. The difference is between a John Woo R rated film and a Quentin Tarantino.
There, I don’t know how coherent or sensible that was, but it sure felt good to say it.
There’s far more to say and discuss. I know more bloggers are planning responses to the podcast. I’ll add links to them here when they go up. If you have any thoughts please share them!
-Monocle
Spell Failure, Part 2
He withdrew almost completely out of her abused sheath. But it was not the end. With an animal snarl, the demon rammed into her again, thick yellowish cum spraying out of Vala’s pussy as it was displaced.
The demon Pyt fucked her faster and harder than the first time, if that were possible. Vala felt herself going into shock; body going numb, consciousness rising away from the assault. The brute ceased talking now and concentrated on fucking.
After an unregistered period of time, he readied to cum again. This time, though, instead of slamming viciously into her plundered body, he moved slowly, pushing carefully in to the fullest. Vala’s detached mind noted the misshapen organ seeming to twist inside of her. The yellow beast-eyes locked onto hers again as he tensed and came, and the first thick stream of jism brought with it sickening understanding that yanked her awareness back into her body and trapped it there.
“NO!!!!”
He was injecting his sperm directly into her womb! She could almost see it in her mind. By some foul magic or black art, the demon had opened her cervix, and the aberrant cockhead was now pressed right up against it, spewing its putrid seed directly into her very center. She felt the weight of it surging deep, filling her. Each gush drove her terror higher.
There was no rest when the torrent of cum finally subsided. Unbelievably, the fucking began again, just as before. Vala was beyond screams now, beyond tears. She lay passive as the red, horned figure resumed rutting her raw pussy. Thrust by vicious thrust, the depleted scrotum again grew heavy and full, ripening with a new load of demon-seed.
Vala felt in her very soul the creature’s burning sense of purpose. There was nothing she could do about it as the column of hot flesh advanced and retreated endlessly. Suddenly it was coming again, long and powerful, filling her belly with its thick stuff, pumping and pumping until the fucking resumed again. Though locked in the terror of her body, she was thankfully at least somewhat inured to it by now. Nothing hurt, nothing felt good.
“Fuck… fuck. You b-bastard.” your breath broken, the panted words sound bitten off of something inside.
“Mmm. Yes. That’s me.” Still hard, still buried in you, the trailing shudders of your orgasm milk my cock for its last drops. No matter what you’d said, you’d come hard enough to hurt both of us. “Yes. Fuck me is right.”
“Oh, God, I never…”
“I know.” I mock, “you’ve never done that before. You could never do that. It shouldn’t feel good. ‘Good girls don’t. Sane, healthy women would never…” You squirm under me, pinioned, our sweat slick between us.
“But you’re not a good girl, are you. You could. And you did.” Your skin is so soft, so hot against mine. I lick your neck up to your ear; the bite mark will be hard to hide. You shudder at the sting of saliva on broken skin, and I feel it all the way down, your insides fluttering around me in reaction. The noise you make is halfway between moan and sob.
“What…what are you doing to me?” Your eyes are so pretty with the welling of tears, the dilation of climax, the tremor of fear and uncertainty.
“Darling. You know. I’m making you mine. Making you my whore.”
