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This Prompt Got Picked for Fourth Place!!!

 

I was on the train, and took this picture based on a comment that sub-Bee made on this post. I cautiously took this photo, because it reminded me of the image that she described:
There is something truly hot about being on my knees in front of a man in a suit.

I was not planning to enter this contest, but with that inspiration, and since my friend Oleander was lovely enough to host it–I did!
Congratulations to Julia Von Rist the winner, read her story here, and find the rest of the results here!

For an encore…here is my story–with a new filter on my photo!

Veronica wanted him so bad, sometimes she couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t because he was one of the top executives in her company, she had ached for him before that. When he was an architect just out of grad school she had, and now he was a partner at the firm. She started as a receptionist, and now she was an executive assistant.
His.
Their careers were in very different directions, but they had known each other the entire time. He did not have that air about him that so many of the others at the firm did. He was always accessible and warm to her. Whether he was going to a meeting and wore jeans á la business casual–the way only he knew how–or he was in a three-piece suit, his affect on her was almost fatal. 
He had a particular passion for watches, his one excess, his one vanity and she admired it. He had catalogs from all of the auction houses on a shelf in his library. She got them all, either walking to the one that was near them or having them messengered over. 
Veronica bid for him over the phone. He never had a limit, he just expected her to win it and she always did. Including one for his former fiancée. It had been hard for her to look at the delicate diamond piece that he had selected for her. Veronica knew he did not ask for it back when they ended their engagement, and that made her crush on him even harder.
If that was possible.
Her fingers moved languorously over the red tab that marked the pocket watch that he had his eye on. She let her finger linger over it, imagining it on his lightly haired wrist. Veronica especially wanted to win this watch for him. He was moody since he had broken up with his fiancée, and it was would cheer him up.
Veronica waited on the phone, while she was looking at his schedule. Being his right-hand also meant that she was responsible for all of the administrative staff, so when a literal fight broke out between two of her admins…she had to run to break it up.
When she came back to her desk, she had underestimated the time it would take for his lot to come up. Damn it! She had missed the lot! His lot!
It was with a heavy tail between her legs, that she knocked on his door. He sat inside facing it.
“Can you close the door, Veronica?” 
She nodded, her tight chignon even tighter as she did.
“You were not at your desk, and you missed the lot.”
“How did–”
She wanted to snatch back her words, how dare she question him? Nervously, she tugged at the edge of her silk blouse first, then her pearls.
“How did I know? I just happened to get off of my conference call early, and was going to tell you I could do it for a change. When I buzzed you, you were not at your desk…”
She twisted the pearls, and bit her lip.
“You’ve never disappointed me before V, this is uncharted territory for us. You are always perfect. How are you going to make me feel better…about this?”
The length of his gorgeous tall frame was slouched in his chair.
“So much is going wrong around me V, and now even you…”
“I always want to please you–”
He raised an eyebrow at her. His desolate expression shifted, as he studied her face.
“I usually please you don’t I?” she asked.
He sat up straight, and suddenly in her silk dress that was only sheer on the top and the edge of the skirt, Veronica felt transparent. 
“You always please me V, you always have…”
Veronica was unable to breathe, as he stood up and walked toward her. His finger caressed a tiny polka dot in the sheer area of her dress. 
“There is only one thing I want more than that watch, and it cannot be bid on. You do not have a price tag do you Veronica?”
“What do you mean?!” She huffed, her breasts rose between them.
“I phrased that clumsily, I meant you are not for sale. But I want you…I’ve always wanted you.”
Veronica saw that iconic scene from Butterfly 8, when Elizabeth Taylor writes “No Sale,” on a mirror with lipstick.
“But what about your fiancée?”
“I wanted you first…”
“But you never…”
“We work together so I never, but now only you can make me feel better…”
He kissed her, and she pulled away from him panting. He caressed her scalp and loosened her chignon, before he steered her back gently against the door. Veronica held his hand, her finger slipping inside the band of the gorgeous watch he wore today. He took her hand and put the watch on her, slipping it up along her arm until it fit.
“That’s all I want you to wear right now…” he said pulling at his tie. 
Veronica took his hand, and kissed it.
“You can leave your suit on, and tighten your tie.”
“Why?”
“It’s how I always imagined it when I fantasized about you…”
“You fantasized about me?”
She pulled his tie tight about his neck again.
“Do you want me to talk about my fantasies about you, or do you want to do me?”
On the train this morning, a man in a gorgeous suit stood in front of her. She had one of those fantasies then. All men in nice suits reminded her of him, she transferred their suits onto him and fantasized.
He unzipped her dress in reality, and pulled it down her arms.
“You can keep these on too,” he breathed, tugging her pearls.
Veronica did as he asked. standing in just her pearls and his watch. He kissed her. The door was not locked, and it did not need to be since they were against the door, his hands on her ass and her hand inside his shirt. She kissed him with every bit of need she had ever had for him, and he startled her by returning it.
“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned almost with pain as he kissed her shoulder, gnawing on it softly.
“So are you,” she said.
He caressed her face, and she kissed his palm. She felt her kiss as he caressed her breasts and further down, float down her body. Her finger nestled in his navel, she felt the apex of his desire. His nipples and penis were equally hard, his breath as wild as hers. He slipped into her like a thief, she was so wet she almost only heard the click of her come alerting her that he was there and the amazing fullness that made her gasp from the tumultuous pleasure she felt. The heavy door rattled thinly as he rode her, its thickness soothing as their bodies moved together. Her hands caressed the small of his back under his shirt, she pulled down his pants so she could grip his bare ass. She came herself like a thief, as he swallowed her cries in a kiss. 
Veronica hit her head softly against the door when they were done. She pulled up her dress, though she was lavishly clothed in the remnants of their lovemaking. 
“Did I please you?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
He smiled as he tucked himself back into his pants, pulled her close and kissed her.
“V, can you call the auction house to make sure they deliver the watch to me tomorrow?”
“What watch?” Veronica was puzzled.
“The one I bid on.”
“You got the damn watch, and you made me–”
“What did I make you do?” He grinned.
“You fucked me under false pretenses, and you got that damn watch anyway?! I am going to keep this one!” She petted his watch on her arm.
“You don’t have to, I didn’t get the watch that I wanted. I got one for you. Crusted in pearls…”
“So you made me pay for it with my body?”
She crossed her arms, and raised her chin indignantly.
He walked toward her, and caressed her chin.
“I want to give you the world V, and I just wanted you…for far too long…” He kissed her. “It made me just as happy to get something for you, as it did to get something for myself V…”
She wrapped her arms about him and kissed him. Looking down at his suit, she never imagined that her fantasy on the train this morning would come true…
…at last.

newly filtered photo by f dot leonora

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Wicked Wednesday #161 — Self-Image

He could smell her on the bedsheets. Rafe rubbed his face over the pillow, he had not changed the sheets since the last time he shared a bed with Eliza. He needed her scent to still have something of her.Neither one of them had tried to call the other. He knew she would not try to contact him, and he did not contact her because he knew she was hurt. She needed time, and he would give it to her.

When he started his relationship with her, he liked that she was bohemian. He had been raised very conservative, with all the trappings of an upper-class family. Fiona had managed to escape the expectations, she was the artist. A successful artist, but nonetheless not what their parents had planned for her. Rafe was the practical one, pursued the safe career in finance and did all of the things that his parents wanted him to do. His parents admired Fiona more than she knew, but they did love that he did all the things that they expected of him. 

Eliza was like a diamond in the rough, and had changed for him. She had always changed for him. She became the art director of a major publication instead of being freelance artsy like she was when he met her, and she became polyamorous because it suited him. 

Maybe because he had done everything else the way his parents wanted was why, he at least wanted his relationships to be what he wanted. He was a hedonist, he savored his pleasure with the women that he was involved with. But just because he was not monogamous, did not mean that he did not value the women he was with. He knew that the reason Eliza was upset was because he had gotten involved with Sandrine without telling her. It was wrong, but he and Sandrine had gotten close again. When it seemed like Sandrine had given up on him, it was too much for him to bear. He loved her, even though he was not with her, he loved her and would always love her. He called her and told her what had happened with Eliza, and she soothed him.

“We messed up cheri,” she told him, her French accent heavier from being in France. “We messed up, and we both hurt people we love. I hurt Marcus…but I know we will be okay. You and Eliza? Do you think that she will, that you will be okay?”

Rafe rubbed his unshaven cheek, unable to dwell on whether or not he would get her back. Whether she would come back of her own free will. His self-image was so tied up in being with Eliza, that he did not feel like a whole person now. He could smell her on the sheets, he smelled her everywhere really. She had only taken some of her things, there were reminders of her as he walked to the kitchen to make coffee. He was stabbed tinily with one of her pumps was on the way there. He cursed as the buzzer rang to the apartment. Hoping Eliza had forgotten her keys even though it made no sense, he pressed the buzzer.

Moments later looking at his sister, he was silent. Continued to go about making coffee, now for Fiona as well. The steam that came from the cup, looked like clouds in his coffee. Like an impending storm. 

He gestured to Fiona which cup was hers, yet after he made the coffee he did not touch it. Just looked at the clouds of smoke gathering from it.

“How do you expect to get Eliza back if you look like you lost the battle already?”

Rafe shrugged, and knocked over his cup of coffee. The steaming hot liquid spilled all over his pants, and he did not even flinch. He hurt far worse on the inside.

He did not know how to be without her, Eliza would have told him to not leave the coffee on the edge of the counter like he did. Like he always did. The same way he always told her she could do anything that she did not think she could do. Because she was talented, she was talented, beautiful and smart. But mostly, she loved him the way he was. She never tried to change him. She changed for him, she was the chameleon in their relationship. He was the caveman, the one so set in his ways. He kept hurting her, because he did not know how to change and now she had forced change on him.

Without her was a change.

“Fiona, I really do not need your philosophizing right now. Just because you the one who is in stable relationship, does not mean that I want to hear you tell me what to do.”

“You mean you do not want me to tell you that you fucked up with Eliza as usual,” she said sipping her coffee. “But the good news is that she put up with this much from you, so you have a chance brother. You have a chance to get her back. But you have to put yourself together…for your own self-image you have to look like you think you have a fighting chance. Because some other man or woman will snatch her up. You are lucky I am with Alice, because you know I love Eliza…”

Rafe smelled coffee now instead of Eliza, as he pulled up a stool and stared at the gorgeous female version of himself and saw a reflection in the shiny appliances of his unkempt appearance. He was in a quandary, unsure what his next move was going to be. Spilled coffee mingled with Eliza’s scent, and he realized that he needed to get her back.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

  

coffee photograph with filter by f dot leonora

 

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Masturbation Monday No. 43

The light returned to the city in smatterings. Manhattan was lit, but Brooklyn was not. Nichy and Gavin decided that they would split the cost of a hotel room and stay there until the light returned to their borough. There was a gorgeous boutique hotel that was tucked into a random corner of the West Side, that she had seen many times when she was in a cab. She immediately recommended it to Gavin, and he agreed while they were sitting together in the back of a taxi.

“It is almost like a horror movie what we are going through–No Escape from Manhattan!” she laughed.

“Do you want to escape from me?” Gavin asked her.

There was no need for a verbal response, when his hand rested on her thigh. She wrapped her arm about him, and shifted her legs over his lap to deepen their kiss.

She was breathless and flushed from kissing him, and because he insisted on paying for everything. The cab, the hotel which she began to hotly protest while they were in the lobby…but then he kissed her and she stopped.

“What kind of man would I be to make you pay for anything on our first date?”

“Gav–”

He kissed her again. Every time he kissed her the red velvet interior of the hotel lobby left her vision, like red velvets curtains on a stage coming down. She would open her eyes, and wonder what was going to come next.

“Are you hungry?” he asked holding her hand, and gesturing to the jewel-like restaurant that was also encased in red velvet. 

She shook her head.

“Maybe after we get settled in our room?” she said.

Gavin squeezed her hand tight, and nodded.

The night before, everyone slept where they could find a place to sleep in their office. She and Gavin found a place together. Nichy had been draped over him like a blanket, and he was under her like a bed. His hard body was exactly what she needed to lull herself to sleep. She fell asleep easily in his arms, but he slept fitfully. Every time he shifted, he kissed her softly and caressed her face, neck…later drowsily her breasts. Then consciously, very consciously he caressed them. 

Since touching her breasts was like touching her clitoris, the feeling of them being caressed, her nipples being tugged or inadvertently stimulated while he was fondling them made her shift against him. With her eyes closed tight, she squeezed her legs tighter then opened her eyes gasping when she came.

“Did you just come?” he whispered against the soft skin under her ear in the darkness of their corner of the office. He licked her there just beneath her earlobe. When he kissed her, she could taste the remnants of her perfume on his lips and tongue.

Nichy started panting softly now, as they got into the elevator. The hotel was called The Red Velvet, so the decor was everything was red velvet covered. The thickly-painted ceiling resembled cream cheese frosting, in a much more decorous way.

Gavin studied her face, as her head rolled against the plush red velvet interior of the elevator. She saw the look in his eyes, that unmistakable look that let her know he wanted her. She wondered what her face looked like to him. If he could see her naked lust as well. Neither one of them looked away, until they ended up on the top floor because neither of them pressed the button to their floor.

Nichy felt like she was walking into a dream, as they walked out toward the glass doors that led onto the roof. Putting her hands on the decorative cream-colored ledge, Nichy watched New York spread brightly before her. Because it was daytime. She knew that there were parts of the city that were still dark, that was why she was here with Gavin. He was not touching her, but she felt his presence and heat more than she felt the sun.

More Masturbation Monday here:

  

  
red velvet cake via duck duck go images cropped and filtered by f dot leonora

 

 

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Sunday Snog Meets Kink of the Week, June 16-30: Chains

Harley fulfilled Veronica’s secret fetish. She loved formalwear, on herself. And on the men she was with. Maybe because she was a dancer and not required to dress that way, it made it extra special to her. Even before they were together, Harley’s corporation had sponsored the ballet’s galas for years. She had admired him in a tuxedo, he was a very attractive man and wore traditional tuxedos with suspenders. Now they raced down a street on the Upper East Side, after getting out a cab from a ballet matinee at Lincoln Center. Harley was in his tuxedo, and Veronica was in a violet cocktail dress with matching gloves. Harley had his arm about her waist, and kissed her bare shoulder as they stopped at a red light. His lips lingered on her shoulder, before he kissed her shoulder blade.

Veronica was glad her hair was up, so that he could caress her with his kisses.

“You are like a violet confection…” he said along her neck. Veronica loved her neck kissed, she closed her eyes as her kissed the hollow of her throat. 

They reached the door of the apartment that they were going to, Harley opened the door and held her hand as they walked in. The apartment filled with the savory scent of home cooking. Adele and Martin loved intimate dinner parties. It was for the four of them today. Harley and Adele worked together, but had been a couple for a long time and were now close friends. Adele had become fairly close to Veronica since she had begun seeing Harley.

“It makes me happy to see him with someone like you,” Adele said to her once, when she had been drinking a bit. Veronica always believed what people said when they had been drinking. Alcohol was like truth serum. “You are beautiful, and you have an honest face. I only wish the best for him you know? We were together for so long…”

Veronica did not feel any jealousy about Adele. Adele was involved with Martin, they were the kind of couple that brought you into their dynamic. 

When they did not see them right away, they started to make themselves at home. Harley turned and kissed Veronica on the mouth, before he went into the kitchen. He took a bottle of wine out of its bucket filled with ice, and grabbed two glasses to pour wine for the two of them. Veronica held her chilled wineglass to her cheek, because it was hot in the apartment from Adele having cooked. Harley took her hand, and they walked into the living room which was decorated with fetish photography of Adele.   

Walking over to one of the framed photos, Veronica studied Adele sitting with her knees to her chest. Adele’s wrists and ankles were in chains, her long hair covering her face.

Adele walked out into the living room in a short sequined cocktail dress that accentuated every bit of her. She kissed them both on the mouth in greeting.

“Glad you made yourselves at home,” she said. 

Her jewelry was thick links of bronze chains.

Harley had shared with Veronica, that he and Adele had engaged in a sexual relationship with BDSM influences. She and Harley did in their own way as well. There was not anything in particular, but there had been nuances of it for sure between them. Veronica liked it when he tied her wrists with his tie in particular, or his bowtie. But they had never tried chains together.

Harley kissed her neck before she became too pensive, and she closed her eyes savoring the sensation.

“You are such a sexy couple,” Adele said standing beside another photo of herself in chains, this time her hands were chained behind her back. 

Veronica’s eyes fell on the chains when she opened her eyes to smile at Adele, still savoring Harley’s lips on her neck.

I combined two memes for the first time, so get another snog here, and more chains here!

   

  

chains via duck duck go images with filter added by f dot leonora

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Wicked Wednesday #160 — Disability

Maybe because she was in a hotel room alone in New York was why…Eliza had been alone in hotels in Shanghai and Paris, and not felt like this. But being alone even in this plush boutique hotel room, reminded her of being alone in the hospital after the car accident. For the most part, she was never really alone after the accident. Most of her nights in the hospital and during her short-term disability leave, Rafe was with her. She had been very lucky to not have been more injured than she was, as it was she had been more injured than Rafe. 

Things had been hard. The first time she saw her bruised face in the mirror, she had cried. She was so badly bruised, and had broken bones that had broken through her skin. Oscar had kissed her bruised hand, and she had fallen in love with him even more at that moment.

Love, she laughed bitterly as warm, salty tears covered her tongue.

She couldn’t sleep. She stood in the middle of the hotel room, in her dress that was mostly unbuttoned. Her breasts were bare, her nipples hard as she alternately flicked them. She was not aroused, she touched them like a lullaby to soothe herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she let her fingers slip under the lace of her thigh highs. It was damn late, but she called Marcus all the same. He had led her down this rabbit hole, he should support her as she moved through it.

“Eliza?”

She wondered how accidentally she had really called the wrong number, as she heard Oscar’s lucid voice.

“I am sorry, I meant to…”

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes flooded with gold tears, gold reflecting the gold-colored room that she was in.

“Why do you care about me?”

There was silence.

“Why do you care?” she repeated. “I mean why do you still treat me like we are still together?”

She closed her eyes. This was the hotel where she had met Oscar when she was unsettled about her engagement to Rafe. Now that she had broken things off with Rafe, talking to Oscar felt like dejá-vü. 

Like he should be there with her, but she knew that they were over.

“Where are you?”

“Oscar, I know you are with Polly now. I don’t want to–”

“Where are you?”

“Where we first met…”

“At the bar?”

“No, I am upstairs in one of the rooms.”

“I will meet you at the bar. Go wait for me.”
Eliza obediently sat at the bar waiting for him. She did not look as well put together as she had the first time he met her. He had kissed her bruised hands and bruised face in the hospitalq, she did not feel she had to knock herself out for him. Her hair was down about her shoulders, and all she had done was button up her dress. She had not put her bra back on, so her breasts jiggled as she tugged on the lace of her thigh highs to pull them up. Eliza felt them run, as she looked up and saw Oscar.

He sat on the stool beside her.

“You did not have to come…” she started. 

“You act like I just stopped loving you, you act like nothing ever happened between us. I care about you Eliza. I will always care about you, and I know something is very wrong…”

“I left Rafe, I broke off the engagement. I am staying here.”

Oscar stared at her like she was speaking another language while she talked.

She stopped talking.

“And you are sure that you do not want to marry him?”

“He has made it very hard for me to stay, I can’t just forgive him this time. I changed for him you know? I lost you because of him, if I had met you and I was not with him…”

Oscar put his hand on her thigh, and she put her hand over his.

“This is like some crazy kind of dejá-vü. But we are not going to end up in bed, because you are with Polly…”

Eliza looked down at his hand on her thigh, she watched it slip just under the lace band of her thigh high because she had not buttoned her dress all the way. When she looked up at him, his hand was higher up on her thigh. 

Their kiss was so sudden, her teeth hit his because she was surprised. She moaned low in pleasure, but the moan had the sound of pain. He pulled away from her mouth, and looked at her.

“I just needed once more to do that, just once more. So I can forget…”

“But now I remember…” Eliza said inside another kiss, her eyes filled with amber tears mirroring the amber bottles at the bar.

This was my soundtrack while writing this post: http://youtu.be/zMBTvuUlm98

More Wicked Wednesday here:

  
 

bar photograph with amelie filter by f dot leonora

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Discussing The Joy of Anthologies with Kate Hill Today!!!

Last week, Del Carmen featured an excerpt from Tie Me Up on Kate Hill’s blog. Today, I am Kate’s guest! I am talking about the joy of anthologies–go over and see my post

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Masturbation Monday No. 42 

Her computer went off with a whoosh, Nichy was submerged in a pool of black. She remained calm, but she heard the panic about her and it unnerved her. The entire office was dark, the entire floor and the phones were not working. Outside was dark, It felt like something from The Twilight Zone. It always amazed Nichy how someone always managed to have a battery run radio for times like these, when no one really used them anymore.

The blackout was exclusive to New York City, and the cause had not been determined yet. The electric company was frantically working to restore it, but it was unclear when that would be. The city was at a standstill, the reporter stated with a bit of glee like if it was not real life but a movie.

It was past the end of the day, so her colleagues who lived in the city made the dark trek home in numbers. The rest of them who lived in the outside boroughs, were resigned to staying in the office. There was no alternative. The well-stocked company refrigerator was raided, because people felt the food would spoil anyway.

Nichy looked at her phone which had a very low signal. She was not hungry, as she wandered into her boss’s office. Outside was black, there were no streetlights through the large windows that she walked over to. Her face pressed to the glass, Nichy gasped.

“Are you scared?”

She recognized Gavin’s voice.

“Starting to get scared that I am not supposed to go on a date with you! Now natural disaster is preventing us!”

Gavin pulled her close, and kissed her. The sound of semi-panic in the hallway was drowned, as she chewed on his lip when he pulled away.

“I thought you were scared of me…”

He pressed her into the dark corner of her boss’s office. Her boss was out for the day which was why she had slipped in there. Gavin pressed her against the wall, and kissed her again. It was pitch black when she closed her eyes as she kissed him, as if she was blindfolded and all she could do was absorb him.

The blackout reminded her of 9/11, a random blackout awhile after that and Hurricane Sandy. She was not scared, but she remembered the anxiety and emptiness of those times. Being with Gavin made her feel alive in a way she had not then. 

She could not keep her legs together because of the quivering of her labia when she looked at him, and when he kissed her…

Gavin closed the door behind her, and gasped for air from kissing when he pressed her to it.

“Are you still scared of me?” Nichy opened her eyes at his words, it was dark except for the brightness of his. She closed her eyes when they kissed again, and his hand moved from her jaw, slowly down her side until he reached the edge of her dress. Her hips were thrust toward him as a silent invitation, and her leg curled on the outside of his. His hand firmly gripped the very top of her thigh, before his finger slipped inside the damp crotch of her thong. It was only a bit of lace and cotton, but it was thoroughly damp. His finger sought every bit of her labia, as if it were a maze that her had to cover every part of. She undulated with every contour of his touch, her eyes flew open when he caressed her clitoris. Absently at first, and then with purpose. She bit her lip in an ugly way as his finger lingered in a particularly sensitive part of her, she sucked the light blood from her wound as she came. “Are you? Still scared that is?”

Nichy panted, as she shook her head.

“Are you hungry?” he changed his line of questioning.

Nichy laughed.

“For what?”

“I am hungry to be properly alone with you, but I meant for food. You know there will be nothing left if we don’t go soon…”

Nichy turned to grasp the doorknob.

“I am going to spend the night with you here princess, and I promise you…one day very properly…”

ahe kissed her neck.

She turned around to face him, he was haloed by the black city and stood as her bright light.
More Masturbation Monday here:

  

blacked out times square via duck duck go images

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Book Review: Cathedral of Furs by Lana Fox

***From deepest taboos to ardent longing that ignites the page and makes the heart thump harder, no one writes passion like Anaïs Nin. That’s why erotic author and publisher Lana Fox created Cathedral of Furs—five ardent linked stories inspired by Anaïs Nin’s diaries and creations.
 

Much like Nin herself, the protagonist Arielle refuses to let her heart be bound by rules that make no sense for her. Thus she embarks on a journey of honeyed liaisons, exotic revelations, and courageous encounters that society would have her shun in spite of their heart-driven passion.


It is not surprising that Lana Fox’s own blurb for Cathedral of Furs her new release, would be sufficient enough to describe the honeyed beauty of her work. It is no secret that I am a HUGE fan of Lana’s ever since I read “The Silver Belt,” which was featured in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s anthology, Passion. I interviewed her on this blog, and she described how Anaïs Nin saved her. “The Silver Belt” was filled with Ninesque style, but Cathedral of Furs is a top-notch thank you letter to Nin. 

Lana is an amazing writer, her own style is lush and makes me close my eyes as I pause and savor her prose. Her love of words is obvious, and she manipulates them to convey warmth, longing or fulfilling desire in the unforgettable way only she can. Writing in Nin’s style is not that different from her own, but there is an exploration of themes and emotions that she reincarnates from the pages of Nin’s journal that floored me. So much beauty, I could hardly bear it.

Although the stories describe different relationships in Nin’s life, they flow in a breathtaking way that unites them. I took in passages that made me stop and wonder, was I reading Nin or Lana? And yet, Lana manages to make it her very own, with a intuitive contemporary angle. Lana is like a legit medium, filling us with the deepest secrets of desire. 


“When asked for my favorite erotic books,” says the author Lana Fox, “my answer is always Anaïs Nin’s unexpurgated diaries—the most erotically charged, emotionally intense writing I’ve ever read.”
 

Through Cathedral of Furs, Fox hopes to either share her own passion with those who already adore Nin, or encourage those new to Nin to read and be moved by her breathtaking work.***


I can say Cathedral of Furs is now a favorite erotic novel of mine, because the degree and daring of emotion catapulted me to where I need to be as a reader–completely immersed in the world of the novel I am engaging. I think Cathedral of Furs should be mandatory reading for those who study Nin. Lana Fox is without a doubt her literary descendant. 

Enter the Cathedral of Furs!

http://godeeperpress.com/projects/cathedral-of-furs-by-lana-fox/

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/551392

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1122154629?ean=2940152198874

http://www.amazon.com/Cathedral-Furs-Erotica-Inspired-NINspired-ebook/dp/B00ZYKNGYS 

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Wicked Wednesday #159 — Give a Dog a Bone 

Eliza realized that if her eyes had been open, it would have been obvious to her that something was going on with Rafe. She had noticed that he was spending more time with his phone, but she suspected it was Severine, which they did not speak about. Because she was known about, she was not a secret. But Sandrine…She had always seen Sandrine as his gorgeous ex, and when she finally started not to…this.

When she walked into their apartment, she had not expected it would be so quick to bring the affair up, but give a dog a bone! Right there on his abandoned phone, was an incoming text from Sandrine. Eliza looked at her watch. It was three o’clock in the morning in Paris.

Rafe had a drink in his hand, and sauntered over to her. She could tell he had been drinking too much which was not usually his style. He kissed her, and handed her his drink to sip.

Which she threw in his face.

“You motherfucker!” she screamed, while he wiped his face.

He grabbed her shoulders roughly.

“That stung, what the–”

Moving out of his hold, she picked up his phone.

“The least you could do is not leave your phone out for me to see Sandrine is calling from Paris! But it is late, maybe it is an emergency!”

Eliza thrust the phone at him as if she wanted him to take it, then threw it across the room.

Rafe’s body slackened, and he leaned against the wall.

“Liza,” he called her like he did when he knew he really messed up. “I know I should have told you…”

“You should have told me that you never stopped with Sandrine? How long has this been going on? How long have you both been lying to me? Is that the way to your faithfulness? To be one of of your French girls? Mais oui?”

“Eliza, stop it! You are acting hysterical! Stop it! You know there was nothing after we got together, this is recent.”

He straightened up, and walked over to her.

“Don’t touch me!” 

Eliza moved back, and kept moving back.

He followed her as she moved back, until she was in a corner where she crumpled. It all just got to her, and she slumped down the wall until she was crouched in the corner. She heaved violently, but tears would not even come. 

She was so done, there was nothing left inside of her. The edge of her engagement ring was like a tiny knife as she caressed it.

Rafe got down on his knees beside her, though she jerked when he tried to embrace her. It was complete exhaustion why she let him hold her, and she heaved all the more.

They were completely silent, Rafe held her until her breathing became regular again which was a long time.

“Let’s go to bed. We can talk about this later. I’ll get you ready you don’t have to do anything, I’ll bathe you. I’ll get you some wine…”

His voice was disembodied in her head, as she caressed that tiny knife that was her engagement ring to her now.

“Let’s end this, that is what I will say in the morning too.”

The gentle force with which she took off her engagement ring, felt like a wish being granted. She put the ring on the floor beside her and got up.

Rafe looked completely sober now, his face stern.

“End us?”

“I am done Rafe, done! I am done with you!”

She went to walk past him, and he grabbed her.

“I’m not done with you, I messed up I know I always do but I have never been done with you. You don’t love me anymore?”

Eliza heard that question like glass shattering.

She realized that this ring that she left on the floor had caused her so much duress, that was how she met Oscar from the demands of that damn ring. Of being engaged to Rafe.

“I will tell your parents and Fiona, if you want me to. I will do whatever you need me to do, to make this easier.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

“I will pack some stuff now, and then I will have movers come get the rest.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Eliza walked into their bedroom, and starting moving her things out of it. They were her things, but they smelled like him because she lived with him. She was not sure she would ever forget how he smelled, she was not sure she would.

“You don’t love me anymore?” he asked her that haunting question again, standing by the door watching her pack.

“I won’t be much longer,” she said. 

She continued with her immediate stuff, and then picked up her suitcase.

“I’m done.”

“I’m not done with you…”

He blocked her from walking out of the bedroom.

“If you want to beat me up and make me stay here I cannot stop you,” Eliza said, looking up at him somberly. His hands or words could not batter her anymore than she already was battered.

“You are acting like you do not know me, like you do not know I love you…”

“I know you love me Rafe, and I love you but it does mean much anymore. It doesn’t mean much of anything anymore.”

She knew her words about him hitting her, would freeze him. He had never hit her, or done anything to harm her physically. But she was so wounded from everything, she needed to retreat. She needed to stop relying on love as a crutch because it wasn’t…

She needed to stand by herself now…

Sooner than she had expected, she was sitting sunken in the back of a taxi, and running an itinerary of places she run to.  
More Wicked Wednesday here:

 
taxi via wikipedia with dreamstate filter added by f dot leonora

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Kink of the Week — June 1-16: Anonymous Sex

I wrote something new for this KOTW post, but as I was finishing it up…completely out of the blue…a good friend reminded me that I wrote this piece. It was part of a blog swap with Kenny C. based on the photo accompanying it, so you might have read it on his blog. If not, here it is appearing for the first time on my own blog! You can read the post Kenny swapped me for here as well

She had outdone herself. Her taste in men was always particularly bad: an assortment of overzealous creative types, addictive personalities, semi-abusive–she had been lucky to get out of that. And now, now, she smiled as the rain beat against the windows of the car and on its roof like a melody she must observe. Now she was heading to a motel to meet a man whose online darkness was sparkling. He told her he’d do things to her she would be ashamed she asked for. It was all part of the game. He said he could kill her. The rain blurred the image of the motel’s fluorescent lights, but she saw them nonetheless and was prepared to get out of the car. She had no desire to put her umbrella up, so she walked into the pouring rain. The sight of the car that he described let her know he was there, and her response to it was Pavlovian.

In the lobby of the motel, she saw a bride in a very smart suit and a suggestion of a veil about her head, holding hands tightly with her new husband. She rained rose petals everywhere she went, blood red rose petals.

Felice went to the counter, and asked for the keys, the number of the room she had to fumble through her messages from him to get. She did not know his name, so everything related to him was in a folder she marked with a capital ‘H.’

She took the keys and headed up the stairs, where she pressed her damp body to the wall and tried to breathe properly. Her heart raced quickly, as she clutched the keys in her tight fist so their jangling would stop jangling her mind.

There were rose petals leading to room number eight, because the bride had already walked by it. Not because there was anything romantic that was going to happen there. H. had told her that. As well as to arrive without makeup or perfume because he did not want any artifice about her. What she wore was her choice. A little black dress was her first thought. It was would be easy to remove, with her thickly seamed in the back thigh highs. She felt okay even without panties which he did not request, but she felt was right to do.

She opened the door, he jumped her which is what he told her he would do. His kiss was warm like he had extracted summer from the day before this rain. She loved the press of him so close to her.

Then he pushed her away.

“You are wet,” he said.

Felice burned up to her temples, ashamed that he knew just how wet she was and beads of perspiration formed there. Then she realized that she was wet from the rain, and he probably meant that.

“I did not put my umbrella up.”

She looked down on the floor and saw she had dragged in rose petals with her. He plucked one from her shoulder, she had no idea how one had gotten that far up.

The heat from his body could have set her on fire. He put his hand on her thigh and lifted her dress. She saw her legs bare in the mirror straight across the room.

“Nothing?” he questioned as he skimmed her bare bottom with his fingers.

“No, I thought you would like that best.”

He smiled which filled her with relief.

“You are very smart, aren’t you?”

Felice frowned when he said that. Being smart had been the bane of her existence. She had never been able to have her baser desires fulfilled because no one thought she would want them.

“I tried to be intuitive,” she said and he smacked her bottom which made her labia quiver.

Then he touched her there.

“Very wet.”

This time she knew that he was talking about between her legs, and she avoided his eyes.

He raised her chin to look up at him.

“I do not want you to look down, I want you to look at me and observe everything that we do to each other unflinchingly…”

His eyes lingered on hers, then he moved away. Felice felt a shiver when he did. Like he was the only source of heat in the room.

“Well take off your dress, didn’t your mother tell you to take off your wet clothes when you came in from the rain?”

She pulled off her dress, which did not have buttons or zippers to delay its removal. She hated that there was a mirror and she could see herself first naked except for her bra, and then completely naked.

“Sit down, you have time don’t you?”

Felice sat, between her legs was sticky wet. H. was dark online, and even more decadently so in person. Her excitement was at its peak, her nipples indicated it, she could see them in the mirror in the dim room.

Without thinking she walked over to the window, a soft release under her high heels was a rose petal she was sure. She looked at the red lights from the sign which made H. look like Lucifer as the light hit him. She saw in a flash Lucifer’s fingers.

“I can do every dark little thing you want now,” he said his hands about her neck, which pleased her.

She had told him all of her fantasies. He knew the things that she liked, there was no secret from him. Slumping into him, he stroked her spine, soft first then roughly. Every part of her body came to a dark life.

“Do you want to play?”

His fingers squeezed tighter about her neck, and she suddenly felt weak as everything went black.

More anonymous sex here

  

photograph found on tumblr