A Matter of Perspective

It seems the issue of perspective comes up a lot in my writing. 

In my upcoming novel, For Her Pleasure, Mistress is always reminding Paul that everything is a matter of perspective. I came across this article the other day and had to giggle. It is true that you should probably steer clear of saying any of these things - "You've never gotten me off," "Are you done already," "It could be bigger," etc. - in a vanilla relationship. But anyone who knows anything about the dynamics of a D/s relationship knows that what would never fly in any other situation, might be extremely erotic in the right context. I'm certain that Mistress would say many of things the person who compiled that list would consider as "never say" and not only would Paul not mind, they would make him crazy with lust. 

Isn't it interesting how context, delivery ... and even love, can skew things?

So my friends, I guess what I'm saying is, it's fine to search online for little tips. But take things with a grain of salt. Nothing is ever finite. One size does not fit all. Know your partner. Create an atmosphere of non judgment, openness and love. Then...talk. Share. Explore. Experiment. Have fun!

And if you have no idea how saying "I'd rather use a toy" could ever drive any man crazy with lust ... Well, stay tuned. The book drops in 76 days! 

Judging a book...

Hello all!

Just a quick post today to invite you to have a look at the great new covers HarperCollins Mischief has done for some of their titles, in particular here and here. The saying goes that you should not judge a book this way but I must admit, I often pick up a book or not depending on what the cover looks like. So it is certainly an important factor in marketing.

I really love the direction they're taking and it makes me really look forward to what they might come up with for my upcoming title, For Her Pleasure. What do you think?

KC

Customer Reviews

Where do you get your reading material from? Being a former employee, I'm a huge advocate of the library. And lots of libraries, the one I worked for included, now offer ebook borrowing which is a wonderful additional service. But if you're like a lot of readers, you at least occasionally purchase books from distributors like Amazon. If you do, you're probably familiar with Customer Reviews.

Reading Customer Reviews is a great way to make decisions about what to purchase, although you have to do so with a discerning eye. There has been quite a bit in the media about authors paying for reviews. It can be really annoying to pay for and download a book that has rave reviews, only to end up with something that is littered with typos and has all the plot depth of a frying pan. This only has to happen once before most people learn to look out for reviews obviously written by the author's Aunt Mavis.

Knowing how important reviews are I try and keep my eye out for what people have had to say about my work. So I was thrilled to stumble across this review the other day of one of my older short stories Adam Gets Perspective. It is one of my favourites. If you'd like to read an excerpt from it have a look here. 

Not only is it important to be discerning about reading reviews, it's also a good idea to post some yourself. If you read something you love, let people know! If you hated it, say why! Even when a reader finds my work just isn't her cup of tea, I'm still interested to know why she feels that way. Plus, the more unbiased reviews there are, the easier it is for people to make an informed purchase. 

Happy reading and reviewing everyone!

KC 

Getting Ahead

I find the topic of sex endlessly fascinating. Hence my career choice. And oral sex in particular is just a fun conversation point. Don’t you think? Just me?

I like head. I think blowjobs are fun. Not just giving oral. I write a lot about receiving. Cunnilingus scenes are some of my favourites to read so a lot of my stories include enthusiastic tongue on clit action. With regard to oral sex, what people like, what they don’t and why is a subject I find really, really interesting.

So I wanted to write today about blowjobs. 

A reader once mentioned to me that blowjobs are like flowers for men. That certainly seems to be how things are portrayed in media, like face fucking is the holy grail of men’s sexual conquests, the thing they want most and never get enough of. But is this really the case?

I’ve heard elsewhere (during one of sex columnist Dan Savage’s podcasts) that in reality this is not so. Fellatio, Savage says, is just another sex act that some men love, others like, others could take or leave and still others would rather pass on. Just like some people would rather eat pizza than chocolate (me, for example), some men would rather have straight up intercourse than have their chrome polished.

I’m going to say something now that part of me wants to scream NO at! Are you ready? Here it is: Perhaps the issue is the majority of people don't like to give head. 

 

Is this true? That's a huge generalization, I know. I, for one, am an exception. But perhaps not liking sword swallowing is the norm… and to be expected. The pipe job is a pretty selfless act and generally people are selfish. While there is a vicarious thrill that some of us really get off on, there is no direct physical pleasure for the person slobbing the knob. So people are less likely to want to do this than do something that directly feels good.

It is human nature to want what we can't or don’t have. So if most women do not enjoy playing the skin flute then maybe it seems more illusive. And guys are going to want it more. It is one of the laws of supply and demand, right? If there are fewer instances of knob polishing around then the value of that act goes up. Maybe if all things were equal, if women inhaled the oyster as readily as they fucked, then most guys would prefer fucking. (Strictly speaking it does feel better, right? Vaginas don’t have teeth.) I failed economics though so I’m just talking out of my butt. Feel free to lambast me for my flawed interpretations of economics 101. 

 

I know. In most relationships it’s not so cut and dry. It’s not like you have to choose between one or the other. Maybe you get a little hum job before you get down to the straight up monkey love. Maybe you give a little and get a little in return … maybe at the same time. And all other permutations and computations. 

But guys, I want to hear from you. Just how much do you like the tongue job? And ladies, yay or nay? Fun or nasty or ho hum? Tweet, post, comment!

And yes, I did use a glossary of blowjob euphemisms to aid in writing this post. Even a smut peddler can use a little help now and again.

"Cougar" excerpt

So you voted... and the excerpt from the Cougar anthology, Dear Fuckbook got the nod. So here it is!

October 15

I need a place to vent. This has to be it. I’ve never been a Dear Diary sort of person. To me it reeks of teenage angst. Oh god, to be starting it at 43… I am officially old and sad.

What to say? Where to start? They say, begin at the beginning. But I can’t. Not right now. I haven’t the strength. It would take too long, be too painful. I just need an outlet. So I’m going to start with a rant.

I fucking hate cell phones! Do people even call them cell phones anymore? God, I’m so out of touch I don’t even know what to call them. Personal, hand held, bloody instruments for ruining a marriage! Oh god! No. It’s too much. I can’t do this.

November 1

Let’s try again.

I’m not even going to go there this time. I’m going to start with the positive.
            I went out last night! I mean, out, out. The kind of out I used to go when I was twenty-one. Except that when I was twenty-one I didn’t appreciate out. Not really. Out was just what we did on a Thursday – a Thursday! – or Friday and definitely on Saturday. Does twenty-one, single with no kids ever appreciate out? I certainly didn’t. But I did last night!

I went out. And I hooked up. That’s what they say now, right? That’s what I’m saying. I fucking hooked up. And I say “fucking” now too!

Let me tell you about the old me. The old me was a scared little girl. She did what she was told. She looked down when she walked. Never met anyone’s eyes. Never got hit on. Never got laid.

I retired that scared, pathetic little girl last night.

I must say, I like the new girl. No matter how much pain was needed to birth her. Birthing hurts. That’s a fact. This one was no different.

But now she’s here. The new girl walks with her head up. She’s got confidence. She meets people’s eyes. And it’s amazing the friends you make when you meet people’s eyes.

I cannot understate how good it felt to walk into that club last night and not know what the end of the night would bring. There were possibilities. Possibilities! What a delightful word! Not casserole dinner and watching TV and no talking and perfunctory sex, no! Fuck that. Give me strangers and conversation and flirting. And sex. Sex that’s anything but perfunctory.

Hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself! First: I looked HOT last night. Hot! Me! I’ve never looked hot in my life but here’s something fabulous about a seriously less than fabulous situation: when your heart is broken you don’t want to eat. So you lose weight! It’s the diet secret of the century! I can just see the commercial:

“The problem with other diets is that they don't deal with those pesky cravings. You're eating a salad but you're thinking about dill pickle chips. With the Heartbreak Diet those cravings are gone! Your stomach is constantly churning. Your head is wrapped in pain and trauma. Cravings vanish! Hunger, gone! The pounds melt away. Friends will be jealous and ask how you did it. Only you'll know the secret: The Heartbreak Diet! (Cheating Husband and Conniving Bitch Best Friend sold separately.)”

A marketing possibility, I’d say. But I digress.

I took my skinny ass to the mall and bought the hottest, sluttiest outfit I could find. Black. Lots of skin. Lots of cleavage. I put on all the makeup my mother forbade me from wearing in junior high.

And.
I.
Went.
Out.

Oh yes, there’s a new sheriff in town.

She’s fucking guys and not taking last names.

November 5

Tonight was Bradley.

I met Bradley last Thursday. Bradley is basically the guy in high school who I wrote love letters to I never sent. It’s the age old story: geeky, book worm secretly loves football jock. If only I wore black rimmed glasses and had my best friend Alicia Silverstone give me a makeover it could have been the fourth most popular John Hughes film of its time. In reality it was twenty-five years in the making. And Alicia was too busy with my husband’s cock in her mouth.

The sheriff had her war paint on. She was meeting stares. And returning them. Bradley was the third guy to buy me a drink and the first to peak my interest.
            I say he was the jock from my high school but in fact he couldn’t have gone to high school with me. Since when I was in high school he wasn’t born yet.
            There is something so delicious about the young ones, isn’t there? And boom, just like that, I’m a cougar. Who knew? Not Bradley. He still thinks I’m 26.
            I’ll admit, the lights were low. In the club, all the way home in the cab, back at his little apartment over the tattoo shop, the lighting was thankfully dim. Was it naughty of me to keep up the charade? When he saw the photo of my daughter on my phone and asked if it was my sister, what should I have said? I don’t know now and I didn’t know then which is why I kept my mouth shut and the lights dim and half my clothes on while I straddled his condom sheathed cock. He soon forgot.
            Bradley with his thick thatch of dark hair, on top and below, his muscled and tanned young body, his smooth skin almost hairless, his dark eyes that have yet to be jaded by mortgages and early morning feedings and lay offs and … disappointment. Oh, he was so good, so trusting, so eager.

When he first said, ‘Shit, babe. Why are you slowing down?’ I admit I got off on that a tiny bit.

‘Shhhh, Bradley, it’s okay,’ is what I bent over and whispered in his ear as I stilled my naked body on top of him. ‘You want this to be fun for me too, don’t you? I haven’t come yet.’

I wonder how many girls Bradley’s fucked in his young life. I’m sure there have been quite a few, handsome as he is. I’m equally sure they were pretty one-sided romps on the pleasure scale, judging from the way he seemed so ready to just blow inside me as I rode him.

Here’s another secret: I’ve always wanted to know, what’s it like to make a guy wait?

What’s it like to make a guy want it so bad he’d give you his car, sign over his last penny, curse his mother, sell his soul, just to be allowed release?
I wanted to experiment early on with the person whose name shall not be mentioned here, but he wasn’t interested. Waiting made him impatient and annoyed. So I’ve only ever explored in my imagination. It’s been my naughty secret for the last twenty odd years. But now the gates of the playground of my imagination have been broken wide open. I cannot run out fast enough.

I wanted to make a guy wait. I wanted to feed off his desperation. What would happen if I did? I wanted to know.

 
And at that moment I decided Bradley was gonna help me find out.

 

Writing news

One good thing about not having posted much lately is that now I have lots of news to share with you!

The first is that I have new material out! In case you haven’t seen my tweets (and if you haven’t, why not? You should be following me on Twitter, silly!) the new HarperCollins Mischief collection Cougar came out at the end of last month and it includes my short story Dear Fuckbook. It’s a naughty little tale about a recently dumped woman in her forties who decides to take advantage of her new found freedom to go a little wild. Debauchery and sluttiness ensue. I actually blogged about it back in June so if you want a tiny peek at it, have a look here.

Second up is an update on my very first HarperCollins single author title. And the title is what I need to tell you about. Remember how I asked for your help, I put some suggestions up, conducted a poll and you voted for At Her Feet? I was so happy with your input; that was the name I liked too! So I was all content and satisfied that I had the best title. Well guess what? They’ve changed it. Ha. That’s how things roll in this industry I guess my friends and as much as I wanted to stamp my feet and insist they use my title, I thought better of it in the end. It is HarperCollins after all and you have to figure they know a little more about publishing and what sells books than little ol’ fledgling writer me. So For Her Pleasure it is!

And I have a publishing date for it now! February 21, 2013! I’ve even put a little countdown up here so that you won’t forget. Do you want to hear what my editor said when he read the manuscript? He said it’s “one of the best femdom books I’ve read in years.” Gah! I cannot tell you how thrilled I was with his praise. He is an excellent editor, not someone who just hands out compliments willy nilly and he’s been clear in the past when I’ve submitted work that was just not up to snuff – which I really appreciate. He keeps me on my toes. His opinion matters so much to me so you can be sure I celebrated his words with more than one glass of wine!

Finally, I am pleased to tell you I have finished the second installment of my trilogy. Draper Estate Book Two: Sapphic Secrets has been submitted and I await news on its acceptance. I will let you know ASAP when you can expect to have it available for purchase.

So now you are all up to date on my work. Stay tuned if you want to hear about the trials and tribulations of immigrating across the world. What? That’s not what you come here for? Oh, you want smut? Well, okay then! Why don’t I post an excerpt from one of the three stories I’ve mentioned here? But I need you to tell me which you most want to read. So what will it be? An excerpt from Dear Fuckbook, For Her Pleasure or Sapphic Secrets. Tweet me, email me or comment below and let me know!

Love,

KC

Skipping class and book two excerpt

Friends, did you ever skip school when you were young?

Okay, perhaps you’re all much more serious and studious than I. University was a time when I was on my own for the first time in my life. I was young and passionate and curious … mostly about things that happened outside of the classroom. So I was often naughty and skipped class. (I know, I deserved a spanking, right? Unfortunately I hadn’t even had those thoughts yet!) But it was definitely a bad habit to get into because often once I’d skipped one class it was harder to go to the next one knowing I would be behind from not attending previously. So then I’d skip again. You can see how this would have a snowball effect. It’s a wonder I ever got my degree!

Why am I telling you this? Because strangely, getting out of the habit of posting on my blog felt similarly. There were things I wanted to tell you about but the more time that went by without an update the more and more shy I felt about posting one. Pretty soon the thought just made me want to crawl under the covers in my bed and hide!

Left unchecked I’m sure this could balloon into some kind of social disorder. Before it does, I’m going to jump right back into posting on a regular basis. So without further ado, here is another post from The Draper Estate Trilogy, Book Two: Sapphic Secrets. You may recall in book one, Lilly was left in fear of being at the mercy of Celeste in the lab. It appears her fears were warranted…

Celeste tightened the bonds firmly at Lilly’s wrists.

                ‘I’m so glad you are here to play my games with me now that I no longer have Yvonne, madame,’ Celeste said.

                ‘Celeste. No. I didn’t say that,’ Lilly said. Her housemaid had succeeded in slowly peeling off all of Lilly’s clothing while only undoing one bond at a time to get the clothing completely off while still ensuring Lilly could not get free. Now Lilly lay totally naked, more helpless than ever.

                Celeste gazed down at her. ‘You look so beautiful,’ she said, as she circled Lilly’s body, trailing her fingertips all over her, making Lilly shiver. ‘I know you will enjoy them too, nos jeux, our games,’ she said as she ran her fingers up Lilly’s arm to her breast before slowly circling the pucker of her nipple. ‘See? Look how your nipples stiffen for me,’ she said, tweaking each one. Currents of sensation ran straight down to Lilly’s sex as she gasped.

                ‘Celeste, no. Please. We can’t do this.’ But Lilly’s protests sounded weak, especially as Celeste continued to pluck at her sensitive peaks and her body was bathed in arousal. Celeste bent her head down and began to tongue the little puckered bit of flesh closest to her as she rolled the other between forefinger and thumb.

                ‘No, Celeste! No!’ Lilly panted, all while her hips bucked up.

                Celeste looked up then. Suddenly the faraway look in her eyes was gone and the darker shadows were back.

                ‘You want me to stop, madame?’ She went down and stood in the V made by the narrow tables Lilly’s legs were strapped to. ‘If I part your nether lips,’ she whispered, ‘will I find the seed the doctor speaks of?’

                ‘Please, Celeste,’ Lilly breathed. ‘Don’t.’

                Celeste sat down on the chair and, with fingers on either of her outer lips, she eased Lilly apart and peered between her legs. ‘You are very wet, madame,’ she said. Lilly moaned as Celeste pressed two fingers inside her and with a scooping C motion along the inner walls of her clenching hole, pulled out an abundance of clear gooey wetness.

                Lilly had never seen the evidence of her wanting like this, never had it studied, sampled and presented to her in this manner and she squirmed in embarrassment as Celeste held her sticky fingers up. Celeste, however, was unabashed as she stared in her mistress’s eyes and hungrily licked Lilly’s arousal off her fingers. ‘Madame,’ she whispered silkily. ‘It is necessary for you to be bound here with me all day, non? Perhaps we can find a way to make it a little more pleasant,’ she said, standing and stripping off her own clothing. ‘Then maybe I could clear away the evidence of your seed each day before Monsieur Draper gets home.’ Totally naked now too, she came close to Lilly’s bound frame and leaned down so that her mouth was by Lilly’s ear. ‘With my tongue.’ Oh god. Her tongue. Lilly shivered to her core at the memory of what Celeste’s tongue could do. She knew she should stop her, tell her no, but her sex pulsed hungrily in desperation for that slithery tongue.