Email: rachelkramerbussel at gmail.com



 

Lusty Lady

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Tuesday, April 30, 2013

My job involves fact checking how to spell Guns N' Roses

This week's sex diary by a female music critic had me fact checking how to spell Guns N' Roses! I love my job. Want to write an anonymous sex diary and get paid? First, read a sex diary or three so you know what they're all about, then if you're still interested, email me at sexdiaries at nymag.com and tell me a little about you and why you'd make a good diarist.

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Monday, April 29, 2013

Happiness is writing about Hello Kitty travel

This Hello Kitty travel article for The Frisky is one of my favorite things I've ever written. Hopefully someone will want my report on the Hello Kitty Cafe in South Korea I plan to check out this summer. A little bright spot amidst moving mania.

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Sunday, April 28, 2013

Truth, fiction, and our fascination and indifference to the murky area in between them

I'm supposed to be purging books, getting rid of them like every other object weighing me down. I know, I know, and I am—I have donated probably close to 1,000 books to Housing Works in the last few months. And yet, it's the hardest part of this moving process, because each one I haven't read that I still want to read calls out to me. So even though I own several books by Paul Monette I haven't read, and some were slated to go in the giveaway pile, this morning I picked up his memoir Last Watch of the Night: Essays Too Personal and Otherwise. I skipped ahead and got sucked into reading his scathing words about the attempts to unmask young child abuse victim and, later, AIDS patient Tony Johnson. So powerful was the writing that I wanted to perhaps read Tony's memoir, A Rock and a Hard Place: One Boy's Triumphant Story, published the year I graduated high school, 1993.

The first thing I did was go to Amazon, where I found multiple one-star reviews, and learned that Armistead Maupin wrote The Night Listener about just this story. But on Amazon, the reactions are a fascinating exploration, pre-James Frey, about whether truth in memoir matters. One review title: "This is an amazing book... SO WHAT IF IT'S NOT TRUE." Another writes: "I was so sad to learn that Tony wasn't a real person, that I had shared my fears with someone who wasn't living with AIDS at all. I hope that Victoria, or whatever her name is who masquerades as Tony, gets the help she obviously needs. She very likely isn't a bad person and probably was a source of support and encouragement for a lot of people, particularly for abused and neglected children, but she could have done that without misleading people and without writing a supposed autobiography and making dishonest money off of unsuspecting people." New York drew parallels between Tony's story and JT LeRoy's:
Johnson was supposedly a teenager with AIDS who had endured an incredibly abusive childhood until he was adopted, at 11, by a “social worker” named Vicki. In the early nineties, he contacted the writer Paul Monette, who was himself dying of AIDS and who connected Tony to editors. After reading Tony’s memoir, Maupin asked to be put in touch with Tony and began a long telephone friendship. But nobody had ever met Tony in person, and it was noted how similar his voice was to that of his adoptive mother, Vicki, the only person who would claim to have seen him. Like LeRoy, Tony built a network of writers and celebrities, created a Website, and touched the hearts of an adoring public.
What I also found interesting is that even Snopes sites Amazon reviews in its piece, which seems...a little fishy. Opinions are, after all, opinions. I don't have time to research everything written about this topic today but ultimately I was left with this awe of the written word. Since I read Monette first, and he was so fierce and outraged at this attempt by Newsweek to debunk Johnson, and basically made it sound like only horrible people would question the story, it's mentally jarring to then read that probably (or perhaps, definitely) Monette was wrong. It all left me thinking about the power of the written word. Is Monette's writing less powerful even if he was wrong, if that ire was misplaced? I have to conclude, based on my own experience as a reader, no. It's a reminder that no matter how stirring the written (or spoken) word, the job of the reader or listener is never to be so seduced by it that we turn off our brains. We are all reporters, in a sense, and especially when veracity is in doubt, if we want to be informed readers, we have to think and dissect and analyze. Or, we have to be like that first Amazon reviewer I quoted, and accept that we read for different reasons, that perhaps overly relying on the "truth" of memoir, when of course it's constructed and massaged and always full of the frailty of memory and the fact that "truth " is subjective, means that we lose out on the humanity of what we are reading. And maybe we as a culture crave stories about those who would go out of their way to create fake sensational stories; I will cop to being fascinated by the lengths one would have to go to to create a fake person. I will read that story every time, because it speaks to something dark and twisted and outrageous.

In my case, it means I will keep the Monette book, because it did what I think a good book is supposed to do: it made me think. And perhaps that's more important than "right" or "wrong." At the end of the Newsweek story, Michele Ingrassia writes: "Charlotte, the spider in Charlotte's Web, knew what she was talking about when she said that humans were gullible, that they believed anything they saw in print." I am 100% gullible, in that good writing will always pull me in. But I also am grateful for the reminders, like today's, that I need to check my gullibility after the last word. That I, as a reader, always have a duty to not simply accept what's in print, but to press forward, to do my due diligence, and to question why I want or don't want to believe an author, whether of fiction or nonfiction, or some amalgamation of the two.

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If moving is making me sick, in 23 days I'll be well

I'm pretty sure I'm sicker than I was in Toronto, where I was pretty delirious, then got better and apparently yesterday my body decided it despises me and moving and just stopped working. I had fun in Central Park watching my cousins scamper up giant rocks but by the time I came home, I had to buy a box of tissues that were already gone today. That's the state of my body right now as I face the usual work deadlines and getting ready to go to Kansas City for the RT Convention. So I'm just taking Mucinex and DayQuil and NyQuil and will likely buy a few more meds to make myself feel like I'm trying to help, and tell myself that in 23 days it will be over, and this New York life and dust and moving hell will be behind me and even though I still don't think I quite deserve it, I get this chance to start over.

I realized last night and this morning in my feverish haze that New Jersey and our new apartment is where I want to be when I knew that I just wanted to sink into a bath and have my boyfriend tuck me in and take care of me. He's good at that. Usually I'm pretty stoic but lately I've been softening a bit, trying to not be quite so stubborn. I still am, a little; I scoffed at his suggestion I go to a doctor tomorrow because that seems to require a level of energy I just don't have on top of everything else I have to do. Maybe moving making me sick is a way of making me be totally ready to leave what's been my home for 13 years and two months. If I could move tomorrow, I would, but I can deal with 23 days, especially considering I need every single one. We are not getting married, unless, you know, hell freezes over or something, but I do believe in "in sickness or in health," and that goes both ways. I want us to take care of each other and help us build new lives that we couldn't have done on our own. And yes, that is scary as fuck because what if it falls apart? Where will I go? What will I do? I don't know, but I know that it's better to take that risk than stay with the status quo just for the sake of familiarity. Look where that's gotten me. Ha.

I think the weirdest part is how lonely this time is, the ripping up papers and bundling magazines and hauling books and dismantling bookcases and tripping over things and wanting to set fire to it all in my lowest moments. It's hard work, and even the joys of discovering a stray memory or forgotten book or old photo are mitigated by the sheer enormity of the task. It will be jarring to go from this time to living with someone, especially since I haven't had a roommate in 7 years and have never lived with a partner. So I think this time of dust and coughing and stress is a reminder that I'm doing the right thing, that by some grace of who knows who, I am getting this chance, one I clearly never could have done on my own. That is tough for me to accept--that alone, I would probably live forever amidst the dust and the clutter--but again, I'm trying to soften, to be more open, less brusque and stubborn. I hate being needy, but, whether I hate it or not, I am. So, 23 days. I am counting them, because what's on the other side is so different from what I've come to accept, from this lowest common denominator life. I have no idea, exactly, what that new life will be like, only that it has to be better.

Friday, April 26, 2013

30 is the magic number, so will you help me by reviewing my books on Amazon?

According to "People Who Know" (in quotes because that's what author friend Megan Frampton, author of Vanity Fare, posted on Facebook), Amazon pays more attention to your book if you have 30 or more reviews. I don't know exactly what "pays more attention to" means but presumably it means better placement and more people seeing your book. I have a lot of anthologies so can't focus on them all at once BUT I would like to target some of my recent and most popular books. The better my books do, the more books I get to edit (no, there's no quota hanging over my head or anything, but it seems pretty intuitive that any company would want to work with people who are doing well for them). So if you've read and enjoyed any of my books, I'd love it if you'd review it on Amazon. And if you'd like a Kindle or hard copy of any of the following books, I'd be happy to send you one IF you a) are in the U.S., b) have an Amazon.com account you've made a purchase from and c.) promise to review it within one month. I'll send one book per person (though if you review one and want another, you can email me), and this offer is good until I get to 30 review on the following titles. Email rachelkb at gmail.com with "Amazon" in the subject line and tell me which book you want and whether Kindle or hard copy. Kindle is faster (I will gift it to you today); for print copies, I'll send them out via media mail in two weeks, because I have to order them. And thank you! I'm incredibly lucky to get to work for myself and edit more anthologies (like these 3 upcoming ones, deadlines are June 1 and July 1!). Available titles: Best Sex Writing 2013; Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission; Please, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission; Anything for You: Erotica for Kinky Couples; Only You: Erotic Romance for Women; Twice the Pleasure: Bisexual Women's Erotica; Orgasmic; Women in Lust; Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories; Fast Girls; Cheeky Spanking Stories; Spanked.

Cracked

In lieu of scissors, which seem to disappear the moment I let them out of my hands, I've been using cracked CD cases and, in one case, a CD, to break off my packing tape. Yes, I have a handheld dispenser but that too often vanishes from my sight amidst the chaos that is packing up the last 13 years of my life. One particular CD had cracked in a spectacular way--in half, and then splintered in all sorts of ways. CDs, in case you're wondering, are not great tools for ripping tape, but will do in a pinch.

I wish I had a photo of that one, which later fully broke apart in two, but hopefully my description is enough to let you know that when I looked at the other night, it seemed a perfect metaphor for my life, which feels cracked and splintered and in limbo right now as I try to uproot myself and start a new life. I have a scratch on my wrist and bruises on my leg and arms and left shoulder seems to have developed a permanent crick. I have stopped counting how many boxes I've packed and am now wondering if the 75 boxes I've purchased from Uline are enough. I've had other mishaps which I've written about in an essay that I hope I will get to share soon. But mostly what I wanted to say is that I think sometimes it's good to be broken, cracked, destroyed, in order to rebuild. We haven't even started living together yet and already I see the tensions, our different approaches to life, his more practical, mine more impulsive. I've had to concede, despite myself, that my boyfriend was right that last weekend was a bad time to take a trip to Austin, much as I wanted to (thank you, JetBlue, for being such an awesome airline and my absolute favorite, and only charging $100 to cancel a flight the day before). More than I hated canceling that trip, I hated admitting to being wrong, but now that each day is one of my last in New York, I know I have to focus on the important things.

This process is daunting, and lonely. I will likely hire someone to help me, but even that feels like admitting defeat. There are so many things I'd do differently but those would require me to be a different person, and, much to my chagrin, I'm just me, with my good points and bad points. I joke about showing up with nothing, canceling the movers, tossing it all, and there is a part of me that loves that fantasy, that wishes I were that person who could live on nothing, live with nothing, but I am too vain or materialistic or nerdy to live without clothes and shoes and books. Those are the bulk of my belongings, and though I'm tossing most magazines, all those old issues of Index and Talk and Jane and George are ones I want to paw through. I find gems like an interview with A.M. Homes about a book I've never read that I then find on a bookcase. I read that she was inspired to write a whole book based on a conversation she overheard at Dean & DeLuca and that gives me some renewed hope for myself.

There is a part of me, a pretty large part, that hates being cracked. I want to be whole, together, perfect. I want to look and feel and be someone who knows what she's doing and where she's going, who doesn't have moments of doubt, who doesn't get tripped up with nostalgia by the most minute reminders. I want to be a girl who carries the flimsiest of purses, who doesn't have split ends or chipped nails or chapped lips. I want to always have a pen at the ready and never have my iPhone battery die. I want to have neatly organized files like I did once upon a time, all labeled and filled with the right papers, not with random ones just shoved any which way. But I also know that wanting to be a certain way is a useless emotion. You do it, or you don't, and each one serves a purpose. I don't want to be cracked, but I am, and this move is part of my efforts to uncrack myself, to figure out how to be more whole, more holistic, to take deeper breaths, literally and figuratively. Probably the thing that scares me most, the thing I hate most about being in a relationship, is having to show someone my cracks, up close, where there's no hiding them or glossing over them or pretending they don't exist. I write about my cracks so often in part as a way to go on the offensive, to say, in the words of Heavens to Betsy, i'm just fucked up and so are you. There isn't Hello Kitty tape to put people back together, but that's okay. I know that quest for being completely together is a myth, and that probably in my new home I'll discover new kinds of cracks in my armor. I'm ready--or at least, as ready as I'll ever be. 25 days. I'm counting.

Monday, April 22, 2013

RT Convention virgin

I'm very excited to be attending my first RT (Romantic Times) Convention in Kansas City next week, along with pretty much every romance writer ever, it seems. The conference agenda is overwhelming, to say the least, so if you're going or have been and have suggestions, please let me know in the comments or at rachelkb at gmail.com - I arrive Tuesday night and am honored to be on Kristina Wright's panel Thursday at 10 a.m.

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Sunday, April 21, 2013

Thoughts as I edit Best Bondage Erotica 2014

I'm reading submissions for Best Bondage Erotica 2014, which will be out in December, and realizing yet again that balance is one of the biggest challenges to me as an anthology editor. Especially in a themed kinky book like this, I have plotlines to balance—men being tied up, women being tied up, transgender people being tied up, and all of those doing the tying up, as well as which implements are used, motivations, newbies verses seasoned pros and settings. Then there's style—ideally, I'd like a mix of present and past tense, the POVs of the person tying someone (or several someones) up and the person being tied up. Anyone who can pull off the second person will almost always stand out since it's such a rarity in the submissions I get. Of course, this is all presuming I have any control over what comes into my inbox—I'm always at the mercy of writers. If nobody sends stories, I have no book to edit.

There are many other ways I hope to add balance and diversity to my books, and sometimes it's a struggle because there are elements I'd like to see but they don't land in my inbox, but for the most part, I've been lucky to get a range of varied stories each time. For my upcoming book of female fantasy erotica, I hope to go even further in terms of plot diversity, including usual suspect fantasies as well as ones I've never heard of or considered. I'm looking forward to wrapping up this book so I can move on to selecting 69 short short stories about submission, but for now, I'm reading bondage erotica and trying, as I select, to always think about "What's missing?" That pro-active aspect of editing books, not to mention trying to guess what readers will want or not want, is the most challenging. With a series like this, though, I have reviews and feedback and sales figures to try to guide me in terms of figuring out what readers want to see. I don't know that it's that helpful when facing a limited pool of submissions, but I like seeing what works and doesn't with readers, because they are the ultimate arbiters of my work.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

The hardest and easiest part of writing

The more I write—and, more importantly, the more I don't write—the more I realize that for me the best and worst thing, the hardest and easiest thing, about writing, for me, is the realization that nobody else will write exactly the same thing I will (or would), and vice versa. Ideally, this should be liberating; my voice is unique and special and what I have to say is something only I can do.

The converse, though, is what almost always keeps me from writing. I think: someone else would write it differently, which therefore means someone else would write it better. And then I stop. Or I "research," which is really just another way of saying "procrastinate." Or I wait so long that the idea is no longer timely. Or I purchase a research study with the hope that by investing in my writing, I will therefore push myself to actually write, and then let it expire. I don't trust in that uniqueness, that vision, those glimmers of ideas. I don't trust them because I don't trust myself. I imagine how easy it would be if I were any of those other writers, any of those other people. If I were anyone else.

I am combing through all my belongings as I prepare to move in 31 days, and I see so many examples of dreams I never imagined being fulfilled that have now come true. I used to subscribe to Penthouse, and then I got a job and kept it for seven years at Penthouse Variations. Yes, I still have those magazines from 2000 and 2001. I used to want to see my books on shelves, and now, while I haven't written them, my name is on the spine and cover; my choices make up the contents, and while they may not be that easy to find at Barnes & Noble, they are there. In high school, back when The Village Voice was free, my friend A. used to bring it back to Teaneck when she went into Manhattan for music school, and we'd look at the ads on the back page. Never ever back in high school did I think I'd write for that paper, or that if I did, it would be read by international audiences, or that many years later when that seems almost like a dream, people I greatly admire would know who I am because of it.

I meet so many people with brilliant ideas, read writers whose work I want to devour. In that same ideal world, their words should inspire me to create some of my own. Instead, I keep going back to that scared place where I'm so afraid of rejection that I only let myself write those words in the wee hours or frantically type notes into my phone or scrawl them on random pieces of paper I will lose. Part of why I'm moving is the hope that I will banish some of those fears, that with someone else relying on me I will be forced to step up, if only to not let my partner down by not being able to make rent. More so, I want to feel like I did everything I could, that I pushed myself, that I saw the ideas that come to me fairly frequently through to fruition. This unexpected weekend at home, which I chose rather than going away somewhere much sunnier and more fun, is my chance to start over. Not in 31 days. Now. Hardness and all.

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Thursday, April 18, 2013

BDSM and sobriety article at The Fix

I wrote about BDSM and recovery for The Fix in "Kinky, Sober and Free: BDSM and Recovery." Thank you to everyone who spoke to me for the piece, and Google for coming through with some fascinating resources (linked in the piece). If you like the piece, I'd love it if you'd pass it on. I have a few more pieces in the works for The Fix, including one on the DSM and sex/addiction, and love writing for them.

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Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Buy one get one free Kindle and Nook sale for Best Sex Writing 2013 ends at 11:59 p.m. EST

It's BOGO time! For 24 hours only on its official publication day, April 16th from midnight EST to 11:59 p.m. EST, I am offering you a special deal: buy Best Sex Writing 2013 in Kindle or Nook form, and I will send you any of my other Cleis Press ebooks, Kindle or Nook, totally free! Just forward your Best Sex Writing 2013 ebook receipt to bestsexwriting2013 at gmail.com with "BOGO" in the subject line and tell me which book you'd like of the following, and which format, and I'll send it as a gift! Important: This offer is ONLY good for ebooks purchased during that 24 hour period (if you're wondering why, as far as I know, bestseller lists are calculated based on the momentum of a book's sales in a given time period, so many people purchasing the book in the same day actually boosts the effectiveness of each sale and has the potential to let many more people see that this book exists). This book is one I'm extremely proud of--just look at the table of contents to see why. And stay tuned for the virtual book tour next month! I feel grateful and humbled and honored that all the people involved allowed me to print and reprint their work, and want to send that energy back into the world by making sure as many people as I possibly can convince read this book. This series has been a labor of love in many ways, but I believe in labors of love and in being passionate about what I do, so I hope you will take advantage of this deal if you plan to read this in ebook form. Book pick options: Twice the Pleasure: Bisexual Women's Erotica, Anything for You: Erotica for Kinky Couples, Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission, Instruments of Pleasure: Sex Toy Erotica, Caught Looking, Crossdressing, He's on Top, She's on Top, Yes, Sir, Yes, Ma'am, Please, Sir, Please, Ma'am, Rubber Sex, Spanked, Bottoms Up, Cheeky Spanking Stories, Tasting Him, Tasting Her, Going Down, Do Not Disturb, Suite Encounters, The Mile High Club, Peep Show, Fast Girls, Orgasmic, Smooth, Passion, Irresistible, Gotta Have It; 69 Stories of Sudden Sex, Surrender, Obsessed, Women in Lust, Hide and Seek Only You, Best Bondage Erotica 2001, Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Bondage Erotica 2013, Best Sex Writing 2008, Best Sex Writing 2009, Best Sex Writing 2010, Best Sex Writing 2012.



About the book (aka, why I'm so giddy about it and want you to read it):



Foreword Carol Queen
Introduction: A Different Kind of Sexual Education

Live Nude Models Jonathan Lethem
Can a Better Vibrator Inspire an Age of Great American Sex? Andy Isaacson
Sex by Numbers Rachel Swan
Very Legal: Sex and Love in Retirement Alex Morris
Notes from a Unicorn Seth Fischer
Rest Stop Confidential Conner Habib
When on Fire Island… A Polyamorous Disaster Nicholas Garnett
Cherry Picking Julia Serano
Holy Fuck: The Fourth-and-Long Virgin Jon Pressick
Baby Talk Rachel Kramer Bussel
Dear John Lori Selke
Sex by Any Other Name Insiya Ansari
Enhancing Masochism Patrick Califia
Submissive: A Personal Manifesto Madison Young
Ghosts: All My Men Are Dead Carol Queen
Happy Hookers Melissa Gira Grant
Christian Conservatives vs. Sex: The Long War Over Reproductive Freedom Rob Boston
Porn Defends the Money Shot Dennis Romero
Lost Boys Kristen Hinman
The Original Blonde Neal Gabler

Introduction: A Different Kind of Sexual Education

As editor of the Best Sex Writing series, and a writer about sex in both fiction and nonfiction forms, I’m privileged to hear from lots of people about sexuality, whether asking for advice or wanting to talk about the big issues of the day, whether that means attacks on birth control or Fifty Shades of Grey. The biggest thing I’ve learned, though, is pretty basic: we are all always learning. You can indeed get a PhD in sexology, like foreword author and contributor Carol Queen did, but that doesn’t mean you simply give up and assume you know everything about the wide world of sexuality and sexual variation. You can’t; it’s impossible.

Part of why sex writing is so vital is because we all have things to learn—about ourselves, and about others. While this book will not teach you how to have sex, you will learn about what motivates others in their sexual desires, whether to engage in multiple relationships, perform sex work, come out as bisexual, build increasingly advanced vibrators, or more.

I think it’s safe to say that whether this is the first book about sex you’ve ever read or the thousandth, you will learn something about what makes people tick, about sexual desire and sexual community. The latter is as important to me as the former, because it’s within the community of sex writers, educators and activists that I’ve carved out a place for myself as a bisexual, feminist, kinky sex writer. Lori Selke writes in her open letter, “Dear John,” about feeling disillusioned by the judgments being passed around her local leather community. “See, my kinky leather identity grew firmly out of my queerness and my feminism. All three of those elements are important and in some ways inseparable. It’s important to me to pursue the sort of social justice that ensures that our consensual relationships are someday entered into from a place of roughly equal societal power. Without that aim, we’re simply perpetuating oppression.” I suspect many people aren’t aware of just how committed to their ideals those in the kink and leather communities are. To assume it’s all about whips, chains, bondage and spanking is to miss the point—of course it’s about those things, but it’s also about much more.

The educational lessons here are often much more personal. When Conner Habib opens his essay “Rest Stop Confidential” with, “I was fifteen the first time I found out that men have sex in public,” I must admit that, at thirty-seven, I have only seen men having sex in public at parties specifically designed for sex. The first of many firsts Julia Serano details in “Cherry Picking” begins, “The first time I learned about sex was in fifth grade.” We are all both capable of learning more, and impacted by what we did—or didn’t—learn about sex at a young age.

Some of what you’re about to read is sad or scary or disheartening; I cannot promise you a book of shiny happy sex bouncing off every page, because that is not the world we live in. There are laws to fight against, AIDS plaguing the gay community, internalized oppression, questions that may have no answers, or multiple answers. I didn’t select these essays and articles because they purport to have all the answers.

Last year’s guest judge, the noted sexual commentator Susie Bright, when asked about The Guardian’s Bad Sex award, responded, “There is no art without sex.” I think the same could be said for the news; sex is not a topic squirreled away on the back page of the paper; it’s on the front page, in the sports section, the business section, the editorials. It’s covered in fashion magazines and newsweeklies. In Best Sex Writing 2013, hot topics include New York Jets quarterback Tim Tebow’s virginity and the laws governing condom use in porn.

Sex education remains at the forefront of the news and continues to be “controversial,” though, like birth control, another political battleground of late in the United States, I would think it would be a no-brainer. Yet I can still read articles like one in Time about the Mississippi county, Tunica, with the highest teen pregnancy that is only recently getting on board with sex ed, via a law mandating it do so. “During the four years Ashley McKay attended Rosa Fort High School in Tunica, Miss., her sex education consisted mainly of an instructor listing different sexually transmitted diseases. ‘There was no curriculum,’ she says. ‘The teacher, an older gentleman who was also the football coach, would tell us, “If you get AIDS, you’re gonna die. Pick out your casket, because you’re gonna die.”’”

We should not be reading articles like this any longer, but we are, and it’s not just youths who are in dire need of sex education. Just today, I received an email from an acquaintance asking if I could chat because, “I have found a wonderful woman with whom i have begun to explore areas of my sexuality i really have never followed through on or even verbally fantasized about.” He has questions. So do many people, but they don’t know where to turn.

This book doesn’t purport to have all the answers, and is likely to raise many discussions and propose multiple answers to questions about open relationships, prostitution, sexual orientation and other topics. It cannot take the place of talking about sex—with your lovers, friends, parents, children, neighbors and coworkers. Those shouldn’t be the same conversations, but they can exist, and by making sex a topic we don’t shy away from, we start to educate ourselves about what others are thinking, feeling and doing. So I hope that you won’t read this book and keep it tucked away on your bookshelf (or e-reader); while you are more than welcome to do so, I hope you will introduce some part of what you’ve read into a conversation, take it off the page and into real life. You will very likely learn something, and that is a process that can easily snowball; there’s never an end, because it’s a lifelong process, one that I look forward to every day.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

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Sunday, April 14, 2013

My dishwashing fetish story "Doing the Dishes," podcasted

Thank you to the amazing and wonderful Rose Caraway, narrator of the Gotta Have It audiobook, for bringing my story "Doing the Dishes" to life in podcast form, free! This is a favorite story of mine and one I'm definitely including in my first erotic short story collection, to be published by Cleis Press.

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Amazon.com reviewers wanted - free copy of Cheeky Spanking Stories

I'm looking for 3 more Amazon.com reviewers for Cheeky Spanking Stories - I'd send you a free autographed copy of the book, you are in the U.S., have an Amazon.com account you've made a purchase from at some point, and agree to review it on Amazon within 6 weeks. Interested? Send name and mailing address to eroticspankingantho at gmail.com with "Amazon" in the subject line and I'll send it out to the first 3 takers. For more on the book, see the introduction and table of contents and read 17 reviews of it. If you have a blog or are on Goodreads, etc., I'd love for you to review it elsewhere too, but this offer is specifically requesting Amazon.com reviewers.

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Saturday, April 13, 2013

All apologies

"Our thoughts are the most powerful tools we've got." Jen Sincero, whose work I adore, in You Are a Badass

Here's what happens when I make a mistake, like the one related to this article where I had the quote written three times in my notes correctly, but somehow still wrote "free trade" instead of "fair trade." I apologize, then do what I can to fix it, in this case, letting my editor know and updating my posts about it. But then where I go off the rails is not being able to let it go. In my head, it's not the mistake that's the mistake, it's me who's the mistake. It's all I can think about, and I feel awful for letting down both the publication I'm writing for and the person involved. Then from there I go to: I'm a bad writer, and therefore a bad person, I will never get another assignment from them again, what was I thinking trying to work on such a project, maybe I should just give up on all the other things I'm writing. Okay, maybe not quite that, but I do know that all day, until I finally addressed it directly with my boyfriend when I had to because I was freaking out.

I forget sometimes that mistakes are human, and that when I allow myself, I learn from my mistakes and work as hard as I can not to make the same ones over and over again. Yet there is still that underlying sense that the mistake mars not just whatever it was related to, but that it's this giant black mark on me, that it will stay with me through everything else I do. In this case, it's relatively minor and has now been fixed, but I've made more than my share of mistakes that I've then expanded because I could only see the mistake, taking up more than its fair share of space in my head. I worry it like a loose tooth that always stays on the verge of coming out but never does; it just teeters in that space between almost being gone but holding on.

I'm in the midst of trying to correct/amend/fix a many years long financial mistake and while it's wonderful to be addressing the problem, the fact that it's actually taking many months to even get to the part where I can start digging in to fixing it makes me, once again, feel like a failure, like I will never be rid of this problem and that that means that I shouldn't even bother trying. It's the inertia, and the tying of all my problems into one giant problem that seems to multiply until it overtakes everything else that's the real issue. Because even I'm smart enough to know that it's pretty much guaranteed that I'll keep on making mistakes of one kind or another until I do, but that what I do when faced with them is what matters. I could tell you that I was working too fast or had a cold or any other excuse, but I don't have one. It was an error, and what I can do to avoid such errors in the future is to very minutely go over everything before I turn it in.

If I'd been alone today, I likely would've simply obsessed over this and kept on feeling awful. Instead, I was able to talk to my boyfriend about the various mistakes that feel so overwhelming lately and help make a plan for how to deal with them in the future, how to tackle the ones still pending and, most challenging of all, how to let it go. Sometimes it's much easier for me to see my faults and flaws and fuckups, which feel myriad, than the fact that sometimes I do make mistakes and as long as they are not deliberate or mean-spirited, all I can do is try harder next time, and know that a mistake doesn't negate the other parts of my article or day or life or career.

I hadn't thought of this aspect when I read the chapter in You Are a Badass called "Forgive or Fester," because I was focused on where I have to forgive other people for their flaws rather than hold on to my anger at their misdeeds, but when she writes "Holding onto resentment is like taking poison and waiting for your enemies to die," that can be turned inward just as much as outward. I can't ever expect anyone else to forgive me for my mistakes and imperfections if I don't forgive myself first. The first step she suggests is to "find compassion," and elaborates: "Finding compassion for yourself or someone else who did something so so so so awful is like pulling a bullet out of your arm: You may kick and scream and hate it at first, but, in the long run, it's the only way to start the real healing." I gained a lot of wisdom from her book, but that chapter was perhaps the most eye-opening. It was a wakeup call saying, There is a better way. And now I feel like it's a double gift, because I can apply those actions to myself. I can take responsibility, apologize, recognize that I have no control over what happens after that, and move on and try to be as badass as I can on the next piece, and the next, and the next.

Or as Steve Tobak wrote at Inc.:
Don't wallow in it or lament what could have been. Just pick yourself up, gain whatever wisdom you can from the experience, accept it as the new reality, and go from there. You're still in the band. Play your next note.

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Friday, April 12, 2013

My Feminist Porn Awards and Feminist Porn Conference report

My report on the Feminist Porn Awards and Feminist Porn Conference is up at The Daily Beast! I'm so glad I attended. I learned so much and am very proud of this piece, and grateful to all my sources, including those I didn't get to include. And my apologies; I misquoted Tristan Taormino who calls her porn "fair trade," not "free trade." If any editors are reading this, I'd love to go back next year and write about it again. Hope you like the piece, and thank you to Good for Her and Tristan Taormino for putting on thought-provoking, wonderful events.

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Wednesday, April 10, 2013

3 new calls for submissions: erotic romance, female fantasy erotica, kinky couples erotica

New calls! For all three anthologies, I strongly encourage writers new to erotica and my books to submit; I love publishing new authors and each of these topics is rife for creative voices approaching them with a fresh perspective. Work MUST follow the guidelines below.

Couples' Erotic Romance Stories
To be published by Cleis Press in 2014

Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is looking for romantic, primarily heterosexual erotic stories for a 2014 anthology of erotic romance. Stories can feature couples exploring new erotic territory, strangers who share a spark, lost lovers or exes reuniting, etc. Final book will contain a mix of storytelling styles, settings and heros/heroines. Kink, sex toys, exotic locations/scenarios welcome as long as there is an element of erotic romance as opposed to strictly erotica. Sensual and sexual should coexist. Stories should be strongly plotted, have engaging, unique characters and be hot and original. I highly prefer contemporary settings but will consider a limited amount of historical fiction. All characters must be over 18; no incest, scat or bestiality. No poetry. See my anthology Irresistible: Erotic Romance for Couples for examples of the kinds of stories I'm looking for. Unpublished stories only (this includes blogs and websites).

How to submit: Send double spaced Times or Times New Roman 12 point black font Word document with pages numbered (.doc, not .docx) OR RTF of 1,500-4,000 word story. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing, do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). US grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) required. Only submit your final, best version of the story you are submitting. Do not send multiple versions of the same story. Include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to romanceantho@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name as well as your pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. You will receive a confirmation within 72 hours. I will get back to you by September 2013. I cannot give any feedback on rejected submissions.

Payment: $50 and 2 copies of the book on publication

Deadline: June 1, 2013 (earlier submissions strongly encouraged)

Questions: romanceantho@gmail.com

Female Fantasy Erotica
To be published by Cleis Press in 2014

This collection of erotica will feature female protagonists living out their hottest fantasies. From vanilla kinky, single to partnered, from 18 to elderly, I'm looking for stories of all sorts of women (transgender characters are also welcome) exploring new aspects of their sexuality. For inspiration, feel free to check out a list by Violet Blue of common sexual fantasies, but stories must capture what about that particular fantasy for that particular character is so compelling and make it red-hot to work for this book, and authors are encouraged to be creative, daring and provocative with exploring the definition of fantasy and how it plays out for your character. All characters should be over 18. No nonconsensual scenes. No bestiality, scat or incest. No poetry. Please see my anthologies Orgasmic, Women in Lust, and Fast Girls for examples of the kinds of stories I'm looking for. Unpublished stories only (this includes blogs and websites).

How to submit: Send double spaced Times or Times New Roman 12 point black font Word document with pages numbered (.doc, not .docx) OR RTF of 1,500-4,000 word story. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing, do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). US grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) required. Only submit your final, best version of the story you are submitting. Do not send multiple versions of the same story. Include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to fantasyantho@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name as well as your pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. For the smoothest editorial process, please double check that the byline you are using with your submission is the byline you'd want published. You will receive a confirmation within 72 hours. I will get back to you by September 2013. I cannot give any feedback on rejected submissions.

Payment: $50 and 2 copies of the book on publication

Deadline: July 1, 2013 (earlier submissions strongly encouraged)

Questions: fantasyantho@gmail.com

Kinky Couples Erotica
To be published by Cleis Press in 2014

This book of erotica stories will feature couples exploring many aspects of BDSM, from newbies to seasoned players, in bedrooms and dungeons and far beyond. Editor Rachel Kramer Bussel is looking for BDSM stories featuring couples (though stories with more than two people are welcome). Couples can be of any sexual orientation but the book’s primary audience and focus is on heterosexual couples. They can be newbies or experienced players (or a combination of the two). The final book will feature couples who’ve just met but will contain mostly stories about already-established couples who are engaging in BDSM in various forms. The more creative, the better. Submissions tend to skew extremely heavily toward the female submissive POV, so if you are submitting a female sub/male dom story, please make sure it is unique and dazzling. I’m especially looking for stories from the top’s/dominant’s POV. Most of all, stories should be attention-grabbing, provocative and daring. All characters should be over 18. I’m looking for a mix of male and female tops and bottoms (and switches), as well as a mix of physical and mental power play. No nonconsensual scenes. No bestiality, scat or incest. No poetry. Please see my anthologies Anything for You: Erotica for Kinky Couples; Yes, Sir; Yes, Ma’am; Please, Sir; Please, Ma’am; He’s on Top and She’s on Top for examples of the kinds of kinky stories I prefer. Unpublished stories only (this includes blogs and websites).

How to submit: Send double spaced Times or Times New Roman 12 point black font Word document with pages numbered (.doc, not .docx) OR RTF of 1,500-4,000 word story. Indent the first line of each paragraph half an inch and double space (regular double spacing, do not add extra lines between paragraphs or do any other irregular spacing). US grammar (double quotation marks around dialogue, etc.) required. Only submit your final, best version of the story you are submitting. Do not send multiple versions of the same story. Include your legal name (and pseudonym if applicable), mailing address, and 50 word or less bio in the third person to bdsmcouplesantho@gmail.com. If you are using a pseudonym, please provide your real name as well as your pseudonym and make it clear which one you’d like to be credited as. For the smoothest editorial process, please double check that the byline you are using with your submission is the byline you'd want published. You will receive a confirmation within 72 hours. I will get back to you by September 2013. I cannot give any feedback on rejected submissions.

Payment: $50 and 2 copies of the book on publication

Deadline: July 1, 2013 (earlier submissions strongly encouraged)

Questions: bdsmcouplesantho@gmail.com

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Dallas Bondage Expo coming up April 26th to 28th

Bondage Expo Dallas is coming up so if you're in Texas and into bondage (or just curious), check it out! I won't be there unfortunately, but it sounds like a blast. On the writing front, Laura Antoniou, Midori, Sidney Bristol, and Eden Bradley will be there, along with many bondage experts.

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Free Friday night reading at Purple Passion in NYC

Purple Passion is a wonderful fetish clothing and BDSM shop in Chelsea and I'm reading there on Friday night for the new Cleis Press D.L. King anthology Under Her Thumb: Erotic Stories of Female Domination, along with Laura Antoniou (whose new BDSM mystery The Killer Wore Leather you should also check out), Anne Grip and Lawrence Westerman. Some of my books will be for sale and I'll be giving out free bookmarks, plus it looks like this is my last reading in NYC as a New Yorker. The reading is at 18+, 7 p.m. It's free, and Purple Passion is at 211 West 20th Street. Official details on D.L. King's blog. My story is about a dinner party turned kinky foreplay and what happens afteard, and is called "Subdar" and there's a brief snippet below. See you there!

From "Subdar" by me

Some people like to think they have gaydar; Quinn knew she had subdar. She could tell within a minute of meeting a guy whether he was less interested in sitting across from her, staring passionately into her eyes, or perhaps taking her across his knee for a sadistic spanking, than in kneeling at her feet, head lowered, ready to bend over and grant her access to his beautiful bottom, or bend further and kiss, lick and all-around worship her feet. She had a hunch for which men wanted to be blindfolded, bound, stripped bare in every sense of the word, handing over their autonomy to her to do with as she pleased. She could tell which were the types who wanted her to stop them in mid-sentence with a well-timed pinch of their arm; a warning hand resting on their cheek, threatening to slap it, in private or public; or fingers digging in to the back of their neck, sending them halfway to ecstasy. It was a game she played when she was bored, whether sitting in traffic, at the real estate office amongst her coworkers, shopping in the mall—it wasn’t hard to tell the subs amongst the men waiting with their wives’ purses next to them in the department stores—or, like tonight, at a dinner party she was wishing she hadn’t agreed to attend.

Subdar wasn’t a skill she could teach other women, and even if she could keep, she wasn’t interested in sharing her secrets. It was more of an innate talent, something honed by over twenty years as a practicing dominant woman, from her first lover, Martin, in college, who’d begged to eat her pussy for hours, who she loved to tease by tying him up and using all manner of vibrators while he watched, helpless with desire, to the other men who’d longed to suck the cock she loved to wear – wanted her to spank them hard and put collars around their beefy necks, and generally got off on giving in to her in every way. Something inside her, something more than just her pussy, lit up in the mere presence of such a man, even if he was already under orders from another woman. Seeing a man catering to a woman fed something in her soul, made her feel at home, no matter whether it was an elegant woman in heels towering over her husband or simply one who knew how to twist her man to get her way.

Dominant women aren’t always the bitch goddesses they seemed in pop culture; true dommes know there are infinite ways to get what you want, and sometimes all it takes is a wicked smile or a hint of a whisper. Quinn considered herself a spy when out and about in mixed company, always searching for her peers, or a single man aching for nothing more than a woman to put him in his place. There were few things in life that gave Quinn the same kind of satisfaction as surveying a room and making eye contact with a man who fit her profile, who could feel the energy passing from her body to his. It made her wet every single time.

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Monday, April 08, 2013

Jen Sincero made me do it

I told you how big a fan I am of the forthcoming book You Are a Badass by Jen Sincero, but I wanted to share some ways it's influenced my thinking and actions recently.

1. Thursday night, I had just landed in Toronto, was in the depths of my cold's fogginess, and decided I wanted the kale salad at Lola's Kitchen. Somehow, in my haste, though I said Church Street when entering the taxi, I'd typed "College" on my phone so wound up having to take an extra long cab ride. When I realized we were going in the wrong direction, I lost it. I started crying. I was so mad at myself because I was tired and hungry and sick, and that meant I would miss the Feminist Porn Awards pre-party at Good for Her, which I then thought was a signal that my whole endeavor covering the awards would be a failure. I considered skipping dinner and going straight to the party, but instead, I went to the restaurant and had orange juice and watermelon juice and nachos and purple kale salad and was still a bit delirious when I got to that night's screening, but at a certain point I gave up on the idea of going to the party. I let it go. I realized I had to be in that moment, taking care of myself, in order to be present for the rest of the weekend.

2. Last year, an incident occurred in which I was asked to not attend an event. That's all you need to know for the purposes of this post, because what I want to talk about is my reaction. I was hurt, angry and upset, but instead of standing up for myself, I caved. I thought, This person is right, and I will do what is being asked, even though it went against my core values. Even though I didn't have any respect for that person before that moment and certainly didn't afterward. But because I caved, because I assumed that if that was being asked of me that that is what I deserved, I lost out. The upside is that, after I spent much too long agonizing about the unfairness of this situation, I realized that this didn't mean I didn't belong in that world at all, and that if I wanted to belong, all I had to do was invite myself. It's a free country, after all. So I did, and you know what? Just by virtue of showing up, I have been educated, enlightened and entertained by that world. I've gotten so much back from simply showing up, and all of it has served to validate me that I don't need anyone's permission, and that anyone who would seek to exclude me isn't someone I should waste even a millisecond on. So I stopped, and my life has been so much freer, mentally and in other ways, since I stopped caring. Putting my energy into the wrong places and people is a way to zap me of my strength, and I need every last ounce of it. This idea of letting go of your past to be a better person in the present and future is a key one in the book, and one I keep having to reapply and remind myself of its total truth.

3. I was at the coat check at the Feminist Porn Awards, and the cost was $2 Canadian. Someone in front of me only had U.S. currency and they were going to let her pay with that, but I had a $5 Canadian bill, so I just paid for her (and tipped the extra $1). I'm not saying this was a revolutionary act, but it made me feel good, and hopefully made her feel good, and it was inspired by reading Sincero and realizing that I can take action at this very moment to get to where I want to be. Not every action is huge and grand, but each is a building block, like weight lifting, where the smaller actions gradually come together and create a whole greater than the sum of its parts.

4. I am a creature of habit and love routines, which so often become ingrained to the point that when life throws up an obstacle I freak out. Like last night, when I went to get on the J train at JFK and found it closed for the weekend. I'm still recovering from a cold and pretty exhausted and was cursing myself and the MTA and wondering if I should turn around and take a cab. Instead, I got on the E train and discovered that I could take it to the G train, which is also near my home, and I got there in probably the same amount of time my normal route would've taken. I only let myself freak out for a few second, I didn't cry or throw a tantrum or feel like the world was against me. I just thought, so this is what it's like to be back in NYC, and got on the train, and had a seat the whole time, on both trains.

5. Today it was stating succinctly, and fully believing, "I can't afford travel unless I have a paid speaking gig attached to it." Because it's not just that the times I've done that I've wasted money; it's that I've put myself out as someone who doesn't deserve to get paid, and that means that gigs can get canceled at the drop of a hat, because there's no contract, because I haven't put it out into the universe that I'm a businesswoman and, while a creative soul, I need to make a living if I'm going to continue doing the work that I do. It means that when I spend money in ways that don't either further my business or add something as valuable as their price to my personal life, I am selling myself short, thereby enabling others to do so, because I haven't demanded more. This switch in thinking about money is going to be a long slot, but is one I am realizing that, if I ever want to be a parent, I need to enact immediately. Not just because I don't want to set a horrible precedent for my children around money, I want to be able to raise them in a way that affords me the time and energy to take care of them to the best of my abilities.

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Want a bookmark? I've got 'em!

Bookmarks! A first for me. Want one? Email me at rachelkb at gmail.com with “Bookmark” in the subject line and your name and address in the body. I'll also be bringing them Friday night to Purple Passion in NYC for the Under Her Thumb reading and to RT Convention in Kansas City in May.

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Sunday, April 07, 2013

3 new Audible audiobooks: Serving Him, Women in Lust, Suite Encounters

Now you can listen to BDSM erotica, women's erotica and hotel erotica thanks to Audible! Click here to see all my Audible audiobooks and listen to free samples; click on book titles below to read the books' introductions and tables of contents. I love how many people are now listening to my and my authors' erotic writing! If you're new to Audible, you can listen FREE with a 30-day trial, more info at Amazon and Audible.


Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission
Buy Audiobook on Amazon or Audible, narrated by Joanna Knight, Charles Carr, Paula Jai Parker


Women in Lust
Buy Audiobook on Amazon or Audible, narrated by Cat Lyons


Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories
Buy Audiobook on Amazon or Audible, narrated by Lili Tulip

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Friday, April 05, 2013

BDSM Book Reviews gets my taste in bondage, which means more to me than 5 paddles

Who doesn't love a rave review? I'm vain enough to cop to saying that of course I love reviews that say nice things about my books. But not all great reviews are equal. There are some that let you know the reviewer gets what you were trying to do, and as both an anthology editor and book reviewer, I'm not trying to suggest that "what the author/editor was trying to do" is the only way to interpret a book. There is no "correct" one true way of interpreting a work of art (see this post) but in this case, especially as I'm in the midst of editing Best Bondage Erotica 2014, I was thrilled to see that the things BDSM Book Reviews highlighted in its review of Best Bondage Erotica 2013 were precisely the things I look for when selecting stories:
What is really appealing about this book is the creative ways people are bound. The ones where there is a treat of exposure outside are exhilarating. The reader can feel both the excitement and the anxiety of being caught. One of the bondage stories includes walking through a hotel where others could see their sexy restraints before the Domme and her female submissive retires to a lush hotel room. Each one of these stories will appeal to many reader’s fantasies.
More on the book:



Buy Best Bondage Erotica 2013 at:

Amazon

Kindle (ebook)

Bn.com

Nook (ebook)

IndieBound (find your local independent bookstore)

Cleis Press

Foreword: Uncomfortable Truths Graydancer
Introduction: Loving Bondage Anywhere and Everywhere
An Introduction to Shibari Elizabeth Coldwell
This Is Me Holding You Annabeth Leong
Tying the Knot Tiffany Reisz
The Great Outdoors Teresa Noelle Roberts
What Vacations Are For Thomas S. Roche
Lights Out Mina Murray
Feeling the Heat Lucy Felthouse
You Can Look… Evan Mora
The Moons of Mars Valerie Alexander
Interlude for the Troops Louise Blaydon
Hot in the City Sommer Marsden
Passion Party Purgatory Logan Zachary
Steadfast Andrea Dale
Tree Hugger Giselle Renarde
A Public Spectacle D. L. King
Seven More Days N. T. Morley
A Bit of a Tangle Monocle
Wheelbarrow Position Danielle Mignon
The Longest Afternoon Medea Mor
Plastic Wrap Shoshanna Evers
Wiped Kay Jaybee
Foot and Mouth Rachel Kramer Bussel

Introduction: Loving Bondage Anywhere and Everywhere

One of the main things I look for when editing the Best Bondage Erotica series is variety. I want a mix of types of people being tied up, a range of implements used to bind, a diverse setting for these kinky scenarios. This year, I got all that and more—much more.

I was especially pleased to see that several authors threw open the bedroom door and took their kinky play outside. In “The Great Outdoors,” “Wheelbarrow Position” and “Tree Hugger,” you’ll find some very creative bondage that borders on exhibitionism, as well as full-on exhibitionism in “A Public Spectacle.” The excitement of being exposed, of baring your body to the elements and not being able to escape should someone walk by, is expounded on with kinky delight in these tales.

The variety doesn’t end there. There are newcomers, whether to bondage or specific types of bondage play, from shibari to a simple rope harness, plastic wrap to handcuffs to a chastity tube. There are sex toys, all manner of them, from a special pink ribbon to a Hitachi Magic Wand, and they come into play in ways that will surprise and delight you, but what I’m most thrilled about with this collection is what the men and women feel once they are tied up, bound, restrained, at someone else’s mercy. Here’s a sampling:

“…this is a stranger for whom I want to be the very best toy ever.” (“The Moons of Mars”)

“She focused on her breathing. Taking slow, deep breaths, she stared back at him, daring him to do his worst.” (“The Longest Afternoon”)

“The blatant hunger on his face almost made up for the last year of neglect. But he was struggling against his bonds now, and that just wouldn’t do.” (“Lights Out”)

“Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker that I fall for it every time. Maybe I just want to. But when I see and hear him taking out the duct tape, I squirm in anticipation.” (“Foot and Mouth”)

These characters find themselves appreciating even the discomfort of bondage, trading their autonomy for something greater, something that sets them free—from convention, from daily life, from their usual roles. It’s that freedom to exult, straight, mouth off, give and take pleasure that I hope comes across the strongest in these pages. For while these stories take place in a variety of settings, using all sorts of implements and household items, what they have in common is desire, curiosity and a willingness to pursue them, even when you’re not sure where the journey will take you. I hope dedicated bondage fans, newcomers and those of you who share that curiosity about the thrills of being tied to a tree or a chair or a bed, will keep this book handy and be inspired to dream up, and live out, your own fantasies.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

And here's a bonus of a few paragraphs of my story "Foot and Mouth," a very sex toy filled tale!
"Foot and Mouth" by Rachel Kramer Bussel

Shiny silver bondage tape. Dangling bells at the ends of matching nipple clamps. A black leather paddle. A Wartenberg wheel, that tiny, mean, metal medical implement. Pink feathers. And an evil grin. I shiver not so much because Bennett has those sadistic items in his hands, save for the last, which he sported on his lips, but because I can already feel the sticky heat of the tape trapping my mouth, the brush of the light feathers against the overly sensitive skin under my arms, the wheel winding its maddening way along my tender, ticklish soles. Even more than those inanimate objects that my man loves to animate, though, it’s him who makes me shiver. Bennett knows even better than I that he and he alone can make me stay stock-still, can make me tremble in fear and arousal so closely combined I have no idea where one starts and the other stops.

My entire body strains toward these kinky accoutrements, and toward him, the pull so deep I can barely remember a time before I was at his mercy, even though I know there exists such a time. Now it’s just me and him and however he wants to use me. Sometimes he only wants my mouth, sometimes my ass, sometimes my pussy, sometimes my mind. Sometimes I put on shows for him, sometimes I tell him stories, sometimes I bend over.

Today I know it’s not about what I want or can do for him at all; he wants to hurt me, and therefore he will, and I will like it, because that’s how I respond to him. My nipples can already feel the press of the clamps, the deep heat that seems to burn its way through me, and stays there. Bennett’s smile is a little mysterious, small, playful, which usually means his mind is concocting grand plans to torture me. If he could read my desire for pain, for service, for full immersion in being completely his from day one, then now, well past day one thousand and one, it’s like he knows me better than I know myself.

He’s not the kind of person you can ever tell what you want straight on. Or you can, but it doesn’t do you any good, not as a sub. Or more accurately, it doesn’t do me any good. Bennett gets a perverse pleasure out of denying me what I crave, out of only giving in when he knows I’m so mad with desire I almost no longer want it. Then he unleashes every ounce of sadistic determination on me, but not a moment sooner. He’s not interested in the “You like to be spanked, therefore I’ll spank you” kind of equation. Too straightforward, too boring. He’s told me as much. “If you just want some man to play Dom, or play Daddy, go find someone else,” he told me on our first date. I hadn’t intended to tell him all about my kinkiest fantasies; the ones I’d never told anyone, even the men I let tie me up and have their way with me. I hadn’t ever truly gone there, hadn’t even realized where “there” was until, without even a drop of wine, Bennett coaxed the truth out of me. The very naughty truth that made my cheeks burn, as I whispered it across the flickering candles and elegant tablecloth and forgotten meal.

It’s not just because he’s a genius, literally, and his mind moves too fast for that to be at all interesting to him. And it’s not the wealth of lovers he’s had before me on whom he’s honed his Dominant skills, either. It’s that he wants each time to be better than the last. He wants it to matter. He wants me to feel it not just on the tender surface of my skin but inside, deep down, all the way, where it counts. When he takes out his knife and traces it along the swell of my breast, he wants me to wonder, even for a split second, if he’ll be careless⎯or, worse, careful⎯and break the skin. He wants me to wonder, when he tells me he is bringing guests while I’m all trussed up, if he really is, and how many. He wants me to be uncertain whether he’d actually try to get his gigantic fingers inside my tight but eager ass without lube. Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker that I fall for it every time. Maybe I just want to. But when I see and hear him taking out the duct tape, I squirm in anticipation. I know I will miss the chance to mouth off, or to simply tell him basic things like, “Yes!” or “Fuck,” or “Please,” or “More.” We are both attuned to the verbal nuances of power play, so it’s rare that he takes away my power of speech. He does like to see me drool, but gags aren’t his style. He’s more the type to shove four fingers in my mouth and wait until the saliva starts to spill down my throat, or hand me a particularly large cucumber and insist I take it as far as I can.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t know that a part of him, and, yes, a part of me, is already thinking about how the tape will feel coming off, how it will rip at the tender skin of my upper lip, my chin, my cheeks. Will it leave red marks? Will my lips burn? I whimper as the future pain whispers to me, and he looks down at me with what would typically be called contempt, except I know it as love. That’s his way, and when he pinches my lips closed with his fingers, I instinctively spread my legs. Trust me, we have plenty of truly tender, TLC moments, but not when we’re about to indulge our deepest desires. I’d say “do a scene,” but there is nothing of performance art about this.

“You want the tape, don’t you, Sophie?” he asks, even though it’s not really a question. He peels the shiny silver tape so close to me I hear its separation from the roll loudly. When I nod, he frowns at me.

“Yes, Bennett, I do, I want the tape. You know I want the tape.” Except it’s not about knowing, it’s about acknowledging these truths, saying them out loud, admitting them.

In 12-step programs, they say that admitting it is the first step, but in kink, at least my kink, admitting it is not about disowning it, but the very opposite: owning every ounce of what makes me so perverse as to want that tape on my most tender parts. It’s a good thing I’m so clear on my own perversions, because that’s the very next question Bennett asks me. “Where do you want the tape?” Oh, but is that ever a trick question. Do I want it on my nipples⎯and will I want it when it comes off my nipples? Do I want it binding my ankles together? Do I want it wrapping my wrists together so that I can see myself like a glinting Christmas present, all wrapped up and waiting for its proud owner to tear apart?

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"You must have seen a different play" - some thoughts on opinions, difference, and what makes the world so beautiful

Last weekend, I went to a matinee of Tanya Barfield's play The Call at Playwrights Horizons. The crowd was, by my estimate, made up for 90% people over 60, with most of them closer to 70 or above. Judging from the chatter I heard, most had also seen the other play showing there now, Annie Baker's The Flick (elevator consensus: too long—I misread when it was playing so won't get a chance to see it this time around). Anyway, after the play was over, the woman sitting next to me turned to me and asked what I thought. "I liked it," I said. "You must have seen a different play," she said. She didn't say it in a mean or rude way, more a baffled way. I can't remember if she stayed for the Q&A with Barfield afterward, but that helped illuminate some aspects of the play for me. Now, I did like it, but learning that it's being rewritten with every performance also made me wonder what the final product might look like. It brought up some powerful issues about fertility, adoption, race, community, neighborliness, compassion, empathy, family. I thought it was definitely worth the $30, but probably my biggest revelation wasn't about the play itself but what my seat neighbor said to me.

Because isn't that what makes the world go round, ultimately? That we are all here on the same earth but can be in the very same space and experience things so utterly differently. This weekend I also watched Eyes Wide Shut, which I was expecting based on everything I'd heard to be a sexy movie. I was hoping to get some writing inspiration. Instead, I fear I will dream about the creepy masks. I kept falling asleep on and off and was grouchy, hopefully in an adorable way, though I am probably kidding myself on that front. My boyfriend kept saying we should watch the rest in the morning but I insisted on keeping it on, so I missed a few key plot points, but the next morning we talked about the movie, about how Kubrick died before the final edits, about its issues with the ratings board, about what the lack of actual sex in a movie ostensibly about desire meant.

That discussion meant a lot to me. I realized that most of my cultural consumption is of books; I have always been and probably always will be a bookworm. If I could change one thing about my reading habits it's that I'd like to read faster so I could read more. But because not everyone I know is as voracious a reader as I am, or reading the same things, I don't often get to have in-depth discussions about books. Maybe I should seek out a book club when I move. I found in both the theater talkback and our two-person movie critique that what I saw, and how I processed it, are just one part of the puzzle. That the watching and contemplating don't end when the movie or play ends.

Most of all, that we are all living on the same planet, sometimes in the same spaces, sometimes doing and seeing the same things, but that doesn't mean we come out of those equations the same. To me that's what makes the magic of connecting with people in a genuine way so magical—it doesn't happen with everyone. Just because, say, my friend is friends with someone, doesn't mean I'll get along with them. Just because you think someone's sexy doesn't mean I will. And that's not only okay, that's wonderful news because then we have things to discuss and ponder and maybe even, like my neighbor, shake our heads over. It made me realize that in my work I can't cater to anyone or expect everyone, or maybe even anyone, to like it. I just need to make sure I like it and, in the case of work I'm selling, make sure my editor(s) like it. And make sure it's something I can be proud of. And in the case of me, I also can start to edge away from the viciousness of my innate people pleasing ways. Pleasing everyone is a game I'm bound to lose, and maybe even pleasing anyone. Certainly trying to please anyone at my own expense. It's a fool's errand and I don't even know how much of my life I've spent playing and being that fool because it mattered so much to me. I thought that's who I was: what other people saw. I thought I should rewrite myself, redo myself, remove myself, hate myself, in accordance with their opinions.

What's funny is that Barfield told us she's been revising her play, 15-20 pages, approximately, with each performance. But not, I didn't get the impression, because other people didn't like it. Because, to perhaps stretch this metaphor, she got the call, in her own head. She listened, closely, minutely, and watched, and was free to experiment and change and try. I'm reading a book, You Are a Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life, now that's blowing my mind, cracking it open, the kind of book that feels like it was written specifically to me because it's so true. It's not out another month or so, and I will be covering it way more extensively, but since it's so eerily spot on in so many areas of my life, including this post, I will share that author Jen Sincero advises us to "become aware of what you're gaining from your stories" and goes on to write: "We pretty much don't ever do anything that we don't benefit from in some way, be it in a healthy way or an unhealthy way. If you're perpetuating something dismal in your life because of some dopey story, there's definitely something about it that you're getting off on." Bingo! I know her book isn't literally written just for me, but that was me for so long it was eerie to read. I'm trying to live a different kind of life these days, to apply a better awareness of myself to my behavior, to not automatically believe that when someone else thinks something, they're right, by virtue of being them.

That's a lot easier than it sounds. My first, instantaneous, gut reaction will probably always be to believe that the woman next to me (literally her, and iterations of her) is right. It's much easier to be a follower than a leader. It's much easier to let everyone else be "right" than fight, internally and externally, for your opinions. It's much easier to assume everyone else is better educated and more knowledgeable so their opinions deserve more weight. But I'm over the false promise of "easy." That got me precisely nowhere with my life. I'm ready to tackle hard, to tackle discussion, debate, nuance. I'm ready to tell myself a new story, which might just be that I'm a badass. Tonight I'm covering and presenting an award at The Feminist Porn Awards. The latter happened by what also feels like magic, but really, was just a result of being me, the me who left law school with no safety net and didn't "decide to become an erotica writer" but, looking back, it seems, got a call to do so. The me that doesn't even watch all that much porn but feels a kinship with this community; the me that watched a short film set in New York and felt at home seeing a little bit of my home reflected back on the screen, even though I'm in another city, another country. There was a time when things like that would happen and I'd want to demur, and sometimes did. You don't want me, you want someone better/smarter/prettier/more organized/more perfect. I couldn't accept the wonders and miracles and happy surprises because I was so deep into my story about how wretched I was. When no one seemed to believe I was that wretched, I'd do things to make them see it. See? Now do you believe me? Look at all these fuckups, piled up like a car wreck, each one more catastrophic than the next. Now don't you think I'm wretched? But to echo what pretty much every self-help or spiritual book I've ever read says: No. I'm not wretched. I'm a person who's flawed and has made a lot of mistakes, but when I stop reminding myself of my wretchedness, I can appreciate glorious weeks like this one. I can accept those gifts from the universe given simply by being myself, that same flawed person, but one who accepts her flaws and doesn't let them sabotage her purpose.

It's also helped me realize that if my job is just to be me, I don't need to convince or beg or hope or wish anyone else thinks I'm a badass or a good writer or a good person or a good anything. Not my friends or family or boyfriend or exes or potential employers or my local baristas or strangers or God. Letting go of wanting everyone to like me is like peeling off layers of flaky skin after a sunburn; it doesn't hurt, exactly, since they shed and shed and shed. It's just that there are so many layers, a seemingly endless amount. When you want certain things for an entire lifetime, learning to unwant them is, yes, hard. But worth it, so so worth it. I can't wait to sit next to everyone and everyone and watch different plays. Together.

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Thursday, April 04, 2013

One of the interviews I'm most proud of doing, ever: Carry On, Warrior author Glennon Doyle Melton for The Fix

I've done dozens, if not hundreds of interviews, because that is one of the things I most love: seeing or reading or experiencing someone's art and getting the honor of picking their brain. And when a book changes my life and makes me rethink it and realize that being flawed isn't a bad thing, but perhaps makes you a stronger, more committed person, if you will it, then I'm even more humbled. For me, reading Glennon Doyle Melton's Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed changed my worldview and made me want to be a better person, based on her example. I'm extremely proud of my interview with her for The Fix. When someone is that raw, real, open and giving, it makes it easy to ask hard questions. Do also read her blog Momastery. She is right: we can do hard things. I'm learning that, baby step by baby step, one second at at time, as I rework myself into someone I can be proud of. In the book and on her blog, she quotes Anaïs Nin: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." That quote cut me right open because it's so true, and as someone who has lived in fear for what feels like forever, breaking out of that feels beyond liberating. It feels like something I have no words for. So thank you, Glennon, Anaïs, the Universe, for giving me the chance to remake myself into the best possible version of myself, with every moment, every decision, every failure, and reminding me why I need to.

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24-hour BOGO sale for Kindle and Nook of Best Sex Writing 2013 April 16th only

For 24 hours only on its official publication day, April 16th from midnight EST to 11:59 p.m. EST, I am offering you a special deal: buy Best Sex Writing 2013 in Kindle or Nook form, and I will send you any of my other Cleis Press ebooks, Kindle or Nook, totally free! Just forward your Best Sex Writing 2013 ebook receipt to bestsexwriting2013 at gmail.com with "BOGO" in the subject line and tell me which book you'd like of the following, and which format, and I'll send it as a gift! Important: This offer is ONLY good for ebooks purchased during that 24 hour period (if you're wondering why, as far as I know, bestseller lists are calculated based on the momentum of a book's sales in a given time period, so many people purchasing the book in the same day actually boosts the effectiveness of each sale and has the potential to let many more people see that this book exists). This book is one I'm extremely proud of--just look at the table of contents to see why. And stay tuned for the virtual book tour next month! I feel grateful and humbled and honored that all the people involved allowed me to print and reprint their work, and want to send that energy back into the world by making sure as many people as I possibly can convince read this book. This series has been a labor of love in many ways, but I believe in labors of love and in being passionate about what I do, so I hope you will take advantage of this deal if you plan to read this in ebook form. Book pick options: Twice the Pleasure: Bisexual Women's Erotica, Anything for You: Erotica for Kinky Couples, Serving Him: Sexy Stories of Submission, Instruments of Pleasure: Sex Toy Erotica, Caught Looking, Crossdressing, He's on Top, She's on Top, Yes, Sir, Yes, Ma'am, Please, Sir, Please, Ma'am, Rubber Sex, Spanked, Bottoms Up, Cheeky Spanking Stories, Tasting Him, Tasting Her, Going Down, Do Not Disturb, Suite Encounters, The Mile High Club, Peep Show, Fast Girls, Orgasmic, Smooth, Passion, Irresistible, Gotta Have It; 69 Stories of Sudden Sex, Surrender, Obsessed, Women in Lust, Hide and Seek Only You, Best Bondage Erotica 2001, Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Bondage Erotica 2013, Best Sex Writing 2008, Best Sex Writing 2009, Best Sex Writing 2010, Best Sex Writing 2012.



About the book (aka, why I'm so giddy about it and want you to read it):



Foreword Carol Queen
Introduction: A Different Kind of Sexual Education

Live Nude Models Jonathan Lethem
Can a Better Vibrator Inspire an Age of Great American Sex? Andy Isaacson
Sex by Numbers Rachel Swan
Very Legal: Sex and Love in Retirement Alex Morris
Notes from a Unicorn Seth Fischer
Rest Stop Confidential Conner Habib
When on Fire Island… A Polyamorous Disaster Nicholas Garnett
Cherry Picking Julia Serano
Holy Fuck: The Fourth-and-Long Virgin Jon Pressick
Baby Talk Rachel Kramer Bussel
Dear John Lori Selke
Sex by Any Other Name Insiya Ansari
Enhancing Masochism Patrick Califia
Submissive: A Personal Manifesto Madison Young
Ghosts: All My Men Are Dead Carol Queen
Happy Hookers Melissa Gira Grant
Christian Conservatives vs. Sex: The Long War Over Reproductive Freedom Rob Boston
Porn Defends the Money Shot Dennis Romero
Lost Boys Kristen Hinman
The Original Blonde Neal Gabler

Introduction: A Different Kind of Sexual Education

As editor of the Best Sex Writing series, and a writer about sex in both fiction and nonfiction forms, I’m privileged to hear from lots of people about sexuality, whether asking for advice or wanting to talk about the big issues of the day, whether that means attacks on birth control or Fifty Shades of Grey. The biggest thing I’ve learned, though, is pretty basic: we are all always learning. You can indeed get a PhD in sexology, like foreword author and contributor Carol Queen did, but that doesn’t mean you simply give up and assume you know everything about the wide world of sexuality and sexual variation. You can’t; it’s impossible.

Part of why sex writing is so vital is because we all have things to learn—about ourselves, and about others. While this book will not teach you how to have sex, you will learn about what motivates others in their sexual desires, whether to engage in multiple relationships, perform sex work, come out as bisexual, build increasingly advanced vibrators, or more.

I think it’s safe to say that whether this is the first book about sex you’ve ever read or the thousandth, you will learn something about what makes people tick, about sexual desire and sexual community. The latter is as important to me as the former, because it’s within the community of sex writers, educators and activists that I’ve carved out a place for myself as a bisexual, feminist, kinky sex writer. Lori Selke writes in her open letter, “Dear John,” about feeling disillusioned by the judgments being passed around her local leather community. “See, my kinky leather identity grew firmly out of my queerness and my feminism. All three of those elements are important and in some ways inseparable. It’s important to me to pursue the sort of social justice that ensures that our consensual relationships are someday entered into from a place of roughly equal societal power. Without that aim, we’re simply perpetuating oppression.” I suspect many people aren’t aware of just how committed to their ideals those in the kink and leather communities are. To assume it’s all about whips, chains, bondage and spanking is to miss the point—of course it’s about those things, but it’s also about much more.

The educational lessons here are often much more personal. When Conner Habib opens his essay “Rest Stop Confidential” with, “I was fifteen the first time I found out that men have sex in public,” I must admit that, at thirty-seven, I have only seen men having sex in public at parties specifically designed for sex. The first of many firsts Julia Serano details in “Cherry Picking” begins, “The first time I learned about sex was in fifth grade.” We are all both capable of learning more, and impacted by what we did—or didn’t—learn about sex at a young age.

Some of what you’re about to read is sad or scary or disheartening; I cannot promise you a book of shiny happy sex bouncing off every page, because that is not the world we live in. There are laws to fight against, AIDS plaguing the gay community, internalized oppression, questions that may have no answers, or multiple answers. I didn’t select these essays and articles because they purport to have all the answers.

Last year’s guest judge, the noted sexual commentator Susie Bright, when asked about The Guardian’s Bad Sex award, responded, “There is no art without sex.” I think the same could be said for the news; sex is not a topic squirreled away on the back page of the paper; it’s on the front page, in the sports section, the business section, the editorials. It’s covered in fashion magazines and newsweeklies. In Best Sex Writing 2013, hot topics include New York Jets quarterback Tim Tebow’s virginity and the laws governing condom use in porn.

Sex education remains at the forefront of the news and continues to be “controversial,” though, like birth control, another political battleground of late in the United States, I would think it would be a no-brainer. Yet I can still read articles like one in Time about the Mississippi county, Tunica, with the highest teen pregnancy that is only recently getting on board with sex ed, via a law mandating it do so. “During the four years Ashley McKay attended Rosa Fort High School in Tunica, Miss., her sex education consisted mainly of an instructor listing different sexually transmitted diseases. ‘There was no curriculum,’ she says. ‘The teacher, an older gentleman who was also the football coach, would tell us, “If you get AIDS, you’re gonna die. Pick out your casket, because you’re gonna die.”’”

We should not be reading articles like this any longer, but we are, and it’s not just youths who are in dire need of sex education. Just today, I received an email from an acquaintance asking if I could chat because, “I have found a wonderful woman with whom i have begun to explore areas of my sexuality i really have never followed through on or even verbally fantasized about.” He has questions. So do many people, but they don’t know where to turn.

This book doesn’t purport to have all the answers, and is likely to raise many discussions and propose multiple answers to questions about open relationships, prostitution, sexual orientation and other topics. It cannot take the place of talking about sex—with your lovers, friends, parents, children, neighbors and coworkers. Those shouldn’t be the same conversations, but they can exist, and by making sex a topic we don’t shy away from, we start to educate ourselves about what others are thinking, feeling and doing. So I hope that you won’t read this book and keep it tucked away on your bookshelf (or e-reader); while you are more than welcome to do so, I hope you will introduce some part of what you’ve read into a conversation, take it off the page and into real life. You will very likely learn something, and that is a process that can easily snowball; there’s never an end, because it’s a lifelong process, one that I look forward to every day.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

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Monday, April 01, 2013

BDSM in fiction: Carrie's Story excerpt

I'm honored to be part of the blog tour for kinky erotic novel Carrie's Story: An Erotic S/M Novel by Molly Weatherfield, just re-released by Cleis Press.
Carrie's Story is regarded as one of the finest erotic novels ever written—smart, devastatingly sexy, and, at times, shocking. In this new era of "BDSM romance," à la Fifty Shades of Grey, the whips and cuffs are out of the closet and "château porn" has given way to mommy porn. Carrie's Story remains at the head of the class. Imagine The Story of O starring a Berkeley Ph.D. in comparative literature who moonlights as a bike messenger, has a penchant for irony, and loves self-analysis as much as anal pleasures. Set in both San Francisco and the more château-friendly Napa Valley, Weatherfield's deliciously decadent novel takes you on a sexually-explicit journey into a netherworld of slave auctions, training regimes, and enticing "ponies" (people) preening for dressage competitions. Desire runs rampant in this story of uncompromising mastery and irrevocable submission.
Molly Weatherfield, the pen name of Pam Rosenthal, is also the author of Safe Word, the sequel to Carrie's Story. A prolific romance and erotica writer, she has penned many sexy, literate, historical novels. She lives in San Francisco.

You can find Molly on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/MollyWeatherfield and on Twitter at @PamRosenthal.



Here's an excerpt:
“I’m sure,” she began, “that it’s not really necessary to point out that ‘reading you your rights’ is just a little joke we have around here, a private name for the lecture I’m about to deliver. Because if you think you have any rights around here, somebody has made a terrible mistake. But you seem to understand what’s going on. So…”

She paused for a moment and then continued. “Now,” she said, “I’ve been calling you by name, because that’s what you’re used to, and it was easiest to process you in that way. But you’re completely entered into our system now, and for most of our personal interactions, you won’t really need a name. ‘Slave’ is quite adequate and a good deal more accurate. This is a warehouse, a processing center, and also a display center. We take care of all you little packages of merchandise that will be auctioned off this Friday. We take excellent care of the flesh—some of you are ridiculously expensive—we package and display you to make sure you are appealing to buyers. But we also have a more subtle responsibility— to the spirit, which demands abuse and contempt.

“For what we understand is that although most of you think of yourselves as slaves, you really have not the faintest notion of the concept. You, for example, have served one man for a year. Oh, I know you’ve participated in little entertainments he arranged, but they’ve been trivial. And you did the pony thing, which is certainly good experience, but limited. Essentially, you had a lover, a boyfriend(she said the word contemptuously), not a master, however he chose to superintend your activities. He organized his life around you every bit as much as he commanded you to organize yours around his. We don’t consider that kind of situation an exercise of your capacity for obedience.

“Now, you’ll only be here five days, but we think you’ll find them instructive. You will find, in any case, that nobody here is particularly interested in you, in your little quirks of personality or individuality. We value you—all of you—as rather unique commodities that will be sold for a lot of money. Our job is to pass you through our very well-designed system. It’s our system that’s your master, and all of us who administer it are your masters and mistresses.

“This means Paul and I, of course, but it also means Karl over there, and all the people on our payroll—cooks, security guards, garbage men, and so forth. You will address us all as Master or Mistress, when you address us at all. We will indicate when you may speak—be careful to understand our wishes. And keep your body as open and displayed as possible. I like the way your arched back offers your breasts to me, but your legs are too close together, your pubis too hidden. That’s better. Now keep your chin up, but lower your eyes. You’re not allowed to look us in the face. If it helps you to discipline your gaze, remember to concentrate on the whip we all carry at our belts. When possible, your hands will be bound, but when they are not, you must remember not to touch yourself. That’s all. We’ll take care of you completely during your brief stay here. You’ll hear the details as you need to hear them. Well, what do you say, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress,” I managed. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She rose. “I’m giving you back to your Master Karl now. He’ll get you to bed. And Paul and I will see you tomorrow for your whipping, your photograph, and your punishment.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I repeated. Paul prodded my hip with one of his Dr. Martens, and I found myself saying, “Thank you, Master,” in his general direction as well.

Then they left me on my knees there, looking meekly at the floor. I was tired. It had been a long day. I couldn’t quite focus my understanding on everything Margot had said, but I knew that these next days would be different than anything I’d known thus far. I felt lost, really. I was frightened, and, I realized, obscurely thrilled that something really new was beginning to happen. I wanted to lose myself some more, dive into the swirling, vertiginous feeling she had created, but just then I realized that Master Karl was standing over me.

Great. An oafish teenage master. About the least attractive person who’d ever been thrown my way. I mean, I knew that was the point, but I was tired, damn it. I don’t think he knew much English, but I guess he’d mastered what he needed to know.

“Lick my boots,” he managed, and I muttered, “Yes, Master,” and did. I could hear him moaning. He was really getting off on it, and I started to hope that his teenage boyness would get the better of him and he’d come in his pants. Because if he didn’t…

He didn’t. I was going to have to get behind this scene, I knew. He pulled me to my feet by the collar and bent me over the desk. I heard him unzip his fly, and I was afraid this was going to hurt terribly. Relax, I told myself, open up. You can do it…slave. I heard this last in Margot’s voice. Her lecture. I started to play it over in my head. It’s the system, I thought, the system is your master. He jammed his cock into my asshole, and I just kept thinking, the system, the system, the big, beautiful, well-designed system. And as Karl kept pumping away, I kept hearing Margot, and then I kept seeing her mouth, which I was glad I had gotten a look at before she told me I couldn’t look at her face. I was crying really hard, but I kept seeing her, her hips in the leather pants, her hands on the computer keys. She had, I thought, designed this hid- eous, awful, beautiful system. She had created all this pain and humiliation for me.

Karl cried out and collapsed on top of me. I could feel him shrinking within my raw, abused asshole, and I could feel various buttons and buckles of his pseudomilitary uniform biting into my back and legs. I wept and wept, but it was partly with relief that it was over. I’d gotten through it. But no way did I feel anything but outrage at being violated by this dim-witted creep, and no way was I ever going to feel any kind of respect or sexy abasement in front of him. It had been my sexy images of Margot that had gotten me through it. Margot and her system. I guess I’d cheated. Sue me.

Karl pulled me up and then pushed me to my knees. I was glad I didn’t have to look at his face to see the mulish satisfaction I knew I’d find there. He unhooked my hands so that I could put his cock back in and zip up his fly. Then he pulled me to my feet and pushed me in front of him. He opened a door and we walked down a corridor. A few doors down, he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me. Then he went into a little kitchen and came back a minute or so later with a glass of what looked like milk. It was. Warm milk, to help me sleep, I hoped, and I also hoped it was drugged. He pushed me on, through some more corridors, and we finally came to a room, all white, with a white iron bed in it. There was a ring embedded in the wall above the bed with a chain dangling from it. He nodded to the bed, and I lay down on my side. He pulled the chain through the ring in the front of the collar and loosely attached my cuffs to it as well. Then he covered me with a light blanket. I settled into a fairly comfortable position, dimly aware (the milk must have been drugged) that I was falling asleep in the same position that O did, her first night at Roissy, in the Guido Crepax illustration.
Blog Tour Schedule

March 24 - Shanna Germain

March 25 - Lelaini Loves Books

March 26 - Alison Tyler

March 27 - Romance After Dark

March 28 - Romance Junkies and Amos Lassen

March 29 - Sinclair Sexsmith

April 1 - Rachel Kramer Bussel

April 2 - Kissin Blue Karen

April 3 - Dana Wright

April 4 - Erin O'Riodan

April 5 - Lindsay Avalon

April 6 - Laura Antoniou

April 7 - DL King

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