At long last, another blog post! A bit after the fact, given the anthology I’m celebrating was published months ago. But in all fairness, I’ve spent 2017 recovering from breast cancer, consuming an almost vegan, organic food diet, with much time spent perusing videos and articles by alternative health experts about cancer and how to avoid re-occurrence — so far so good! Plus I’ve been caught up in my daily life with a husband who is gradually losing his ability to walk — and the care of our two senior dogs which falls mainly to me. Not to mention the political Patriarchy running a-mock in our country, and my time spent resisting it. Consequently the bulk of my writing time has been spent editing my soon-to-be published, creative non-fiction memoir, Perfect Strangers: One Woman’s Journey Through the Swinging Seventies. I’ve also fine-tuned other erotic stories which have found homes in other anthologies. I’ll be offering Sexy Snippets of those stories soon.
Without further ado, I’m delighted to announce my inclusion in an outrageously potent, erotica anthology from Stupid Fish Productions, Dirty 30 Vol. 2.
First, let me state that Editor, Rose Caraway isn’t known as the Sexy Librarian for nothing! Each of the thirty short stories in this collection is deliciously hot in its own distinctive manner. Each one is introduced by it’s own library card catalog of information. My story, I Really Do Belong To You, is categorized as M/F BDSM, involving: 1) Silver Seniors 2) Submit and Serve and 3) Public Punishment.
A worthwhile effort on my part, if I may say so. Here’s a Sexy Snippet from my story — enough, I hope, to entice you to purchase Dirty 30 Vol. 2 to read the rest — and of course, the 29 other finely crafted stories contained within.
I Really Do Belong to You
I’m silver-haired and in my mid-fifties when Sir and I meet at a friend’s birthday party. Our eyes connect from across the room, and his smoldering look summons me. My groin comes alive with arousal as long-suppressed yearnings rise up within me, of being swept away and compelled to submit to someone with desires stronger and more focused than my own. And in this finite, potential-filled moment of attraction, my everyday life is forgotten — adult children, successful art gallery, and feminist persona. I’m simply Claire. Pliant, yielding, ultra-female. I go to him in a trance, head high, hips swaying — drawn like an iron filing to a magnet or a prey animal to a predator. I stammer slightly as I tell him my name.
Sir, five years my senior, has a mane of iron-gray hair combed back from his face. He’s thick-necked and wide-shouldered, with high cheekbones,and full, kissable lips. Not strictly handsome, but with a robust male energy that steps up my heart rate. His voice is low and calming, and while the party swirls around us, we sit together in a corner of the room on an overstuffed sofa, sipping wine, laughing, and conversing for hours. His dark piercing eyes focus on mine as he listens with flattering interest to every word I say.
“Tell me everything about you. Your interests, tastes, preferences, passions.” Leaning closer, his large hand strokes the smoothness of my cheek. Unseen by others, he slaps it lightly, surprising me.
Did he really do that?, I think.
He pulls me to him, his fist clenching into the wiry fullness of my hair. He kisses me hard on the mouth. I melt into him, never wanting the kiss to end.
“You’re responsive,” he observes, releasing me.
I stare at him, blankly, still open-mouthed, my senses reeling.
“I treasure that quality in a woman. Female submission arouses me, Claire. I have a hunch it turns you on too.”
Arousal jolts through me at his words, accompanied by an icy stab of fear. “If you mean the fantasy of being spanked, bound, and controlled by a man, yes, it does,” I blurt, blushing. ” I visualize those images in my head whenever I’m turned on, but I’ve never allowed myself to experience them.”
“Has a man never pinned your wrist to the bed while he penetrated you? Or blindfolded you with a scarf? Or playfully slapped your shapely ass?” Sir inquires.
I meet his gaze. “No, those things have never happened,” I say.
“Would you like them to?”
“Yes, I’d like them to.”
“Then tell me what it is that frightens you about your submissive nature, Claire?
I’m silent. My mind races, deciding how honest to be about fearing the loss of my hard-won independence, while Sir waits for my response.
“Supposing I agreed to submit to you sexually,” I whisper, “what exactly would you do to me?”
Sir smiles and responds gently. Not one thing more than you’ll willingly agree to do.”
If you enjoy top-notch erotica, don’t miss out on Dirty 30 Vol 2!