Monday, June 09, 2014
When I saw the call for D.L. King's anthology Slave Girls: Erotic Stories of Submission, I knew I had to submit. Not just because D.L. King is an overall fantastic editor--which she is--but because ever since I met her in person at an erotica writers' salon in New York in 2008, she has inspired many idle daydreams and many of my favorite stories.
I've written about that fateful evening here (scroll to the bottom for the spicy part) on my blog before, but since a picture is worth a thousand words, I thought I'd repost my photo of D.L. King's toy closet.
I mean, we all hear about readers of Fifty Shades of Grey buying all the rope in the feed stores of Iowa (an urban legend, I believe), but Madam King is someone who not only talks the talk, she walks the walk. I'm all about authenticity in my writing, and I like that in my editors, too!
I've enjoyed following the Slave Girls blog tour (see a list of sizzling stops here), and am in special agreement with Victoria Behn's comment that submission is really about trust and ultimately gaining control of your pleasure. My story, "Passing the Final," definitely plays with the slippery exchange of power, where things are not always what they seem. Where you give away to get back, where submission to another's rules brings new self-mastery. As I wrote, I had a general path in mind for my tale, but the unfolding was as much a mystery to me as it was to my protagonist. The writing process was a submission of sorts with a very satisfying ending--being part of this wonderful project with so many amazing writers.
In that spirit of mystery and discovery, I'd like to whet your appetite with an excerpt from the story's opening:
From "Passing the Final"
She’d always done well on exams, but this one was different. There was no reviewing of notes or practice questions. She was simply to prepare herself as if for a date she knew would end in bed—a little extra perfume in secret places and sexy underwear—and report to his house at nine o’clock sharp. Of course she did exactly as she was told.
Her stomach clutched sweetly as his eyes flicked up and down her body.
“You look lovely. Now go into the bedroom, take off your dress, and put on the robe on the bed. Then lie down and wait for me.” His tone was as neutral as a beige ceiling, but her pulse leaped. This was how their games always began.
His bedroom was illuminated only by two thick, round candles arranged like an altar on the nightstand. A satin robe lay shimmering in the golden shadows across the pillow. She hung her dress in his closet, kicked off her shoes, and slipped the robe over her lacy, bride-white bra, matching thong and thigh-high stockings. She paused to check her reflection in the closet mirror.
Don’t be afraid. The Master said you were ready.
He hadn’t elaborated exactly what she was ready for, but she would find out soon enough....
Get yourself a copy of Slave Girls, and so will you--I know you're ready!