Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Yielding: Please, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission

I don't like to be bossed around. I don't consider myself to be submissive, and my husband doesn't either. But.

The idea of being restrained, of being NOT in control, of being told what to do ... why do these thoughts turn me on? Why do I get a rush when my hands are held together over my head? Why does a little bit of pain seem to make my body respond so strongly? I don't know the answer, but I do know that reading the stories in Please, Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission have had a much stronger effect on me than I had anticipated. (Disclaimer–I've not read all of them yet). The stories in this new collection of BDSM erotica, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, explore "female submission and male dominance from the sub's point of view." The women in these stories are "smart enough to know that kink is not about simply embracing one's fears, but grappling with them, battling with them, taking risks and seeing if, in fact, they yield sexy rewards."


It's getting close to midnight as I type this. I know I'm resisting. I don't want to go to the places my mind is going right now. Earlier this evening, I was talking with Emerald (author of the story "Power over Power") on the phone, and she said something about "intimacy with self" (I wasn't taking notes, but I did jot this down). And I'm tired and I don't recall the exact context, but that struck a chord with me. We have to get very intimate with ourselves, to accept whatever kinkiness lies within us. Sometimes what we want is not what we think we want.

Like I said, I've not read all the stories yet. But all the ones I have, even the stories that have at their center something that I just can't wrap my mind around, have been engaging and thought-provoking as well as arousing. I would heartily recommend this book if you are taking part in NaMaMo (for National Masturbation Month). That blog was started by Shanna Germain, whose story "Anticipation" starts off Please, Sir.

Here's the book trailer for Please, Sir.




Also, at the Please, Sir blog, there are some interesting posts, including interviews with some of the authors, excerpts from the book, as well as tidbits like info about the gorgeous corset on the book cover.

While some of the stories involve pushing limits and receiving physical punishment, some are more about psychological power play, such as Donna George Storey's "Just What She Needs," which involves a reversal of sorts.

What I'm wondering right now (when it's getting so late that I really need to stop wondering) is what some of the authors felt as they were writing these stories. Were they exploring territory they are familiar with or unfamiliar with? How much is autobiographical and how much imagination? You don't have to tell which is which, LOL. Unless you want to. Also, if in the writing of the story, you discovered something about yourself that maybe you weren't as aware of before.

And if you're not in this anthology, please comment on your thoughts about the whole submission/dominance topic and how it relates to your writing (if you write).

The last line on the back of the books says it all: Find out why nothing is as hot as the power of the words "Please, Sir."

Monday, May 3, 2010

Nothing like...

having mid-July land in early May's lap. My brain is like steamed mush. Three days ago it was still getting down to thirty degrees at night. Five days ago it only got up to forty-six. When it does this kind of jump, my body can't adjust and I actually have trouble thinking. Anyone else notice that?

I was wanting to try and write an erotic poem every day this month. I have not written one. I've not written much of anything. Today I'm preparing for my spot on the Please Sir: Erotic Stories of Female Submission virtual book tour, which is tomorrow. Still not completely sure what I'm going to do for that, so stop in tomorrow. And no, I'm not in the book. I didn't even submit to it because the call came while I was really not submitting anything (I've already had my butt kicked over my lack of submission - ha!). But I did volunteer for the book tour because there's some great stories in it.

So, return tomorrow.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Lusty Month ahead



April poetry month is over! Yay!  Boo hoo! But what to do with May? Well, it's the lusty month right? And while I thought I'd write a bunch of erotic poems in April, I didn't. So, May is going to be the month of lusty poems!

More info tomorrow. I'm off to NYC today!

Happy May Day!

Friday, April 30, 2010

Never trust a poem over thirty - Day 30 Poem


When she turned thirty, she

weighed about the same as now
was a mother of two little girls
lived in California on the central coast
didn't know what to do with her life
was lonely, all her friends had moved away
wouldn't get paid work again for a long time
kept too much hidden, even from herself
would soon cut her hair and hate it till it grew out
wouldn't understand why for many years
took pictures of the chocolate cake her husband made
couldn't know what the year would bring
would never believe what she'd be up to in twenty-two years


Today's poem, the last poem of April (unless one sneaks in later), just came from contemplating the big 30 and making a list. Between then and now I gained a lot of weight and lost it, several times. Those girls are both closer to 30 than 0. We're now on the East Coast (though farther from the actual coastline than we were then). I'm doing what I'm going to do with my life. I'm no longer lonely. I still don't get paid. I'm no longer hiding much of anything, hahaha. Never cutting my hair short again. I understand. The pictures of the cake are not digital and are in a box somewhere. That was one hell of a year. And I still at times don't believe what I've gotten up to. But all in all, it's good.


SEAF!!!


This picture is from last year's Seattle Erotic Art Festival, but as soon as there are some from this year's, which starts TODAY, I will replace and post more. I wish wish wish I could just be beamed to Seattle, because not only does my daughter live there, but I had two of my poems make it into the ten finalists in this year's SEAF Literary Art Showcase (that there is a link with the listing of all the literary artists and their work, including mine!). Hmm. Do you think I'm excited??? You're damn right I'm excited!

Also, the ever effervescent Gina Marie has not only a poem, but a short story AND a photograph in this years show! Wowza!   Also, Jacque, who has a wonderful erotic poetry blog, Black Satin, has two poems in the show too! And they will be attending the show tonight! Also going with Gina is Shanna Germain and BadAssKona. I'm sooooooo jealous! But I have been assured that we'll get a full report. I mean, Naked Girls Reading our poems!

More later!

Thursday, April 29, 2010

I got a hammer - Day 29 Poem


Cultivating a Lack of Propriety

Always false, her sense of.
A front, cobbled together boards
painted to look like something
else. Suburbia hiding tumbleweeds.

Stripping down in mid-day sun
she takes crowbar and hammer,
whacks away at the general store,
the tea room, the jailhouse.

Hard work, to break down
this distorted authenticity,
expose her aged beams,
hand-hewn, full of character.

She wants to build something
else. A dance hall, saloon, brothel
maybe? Let the wild, wild west
of her mind take over construction.

Or maybe stay with the skeleton?
Bare bones of her natural framework.
Leave all open to the elements:
air, water, earth, space, fire.


Tomorrow is the last day of April, poetry month. Don't know if you're (all three of you) are sick of seeing just about only poems or what here. But this morning the phrase "lack of propriety" popped into my head (won't tell you what I was thinking about), and this poem was born! The picture is of some old barn timbers we got the other year with hopes to use some or all of them to build not just my writing cabin, but our house up in our Maine woods. In the meantime, I'm working on cultivating my true self. 

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Between a rock and a hard place - Day 28 Poem




Erratic

Left behind by ice
ages ago,
this rock, warmed
by vernal equinox sun,
exposed to elementary
alteration, welcomes
deviation from the normal.
Air unseasonably balmy,
bedeviling insects unhatched,
they choose this boulder,
mossy baptismal font,
altar to their concupiscence,
for belated consummation
of primitive home.
Earth still damp with thawing
winter, muddies under
their shifting boots.
Outside, under the mid-day
sun, laces undone, bare
legs wrap around thrusting
blue-jeaned hips, skin
receives stone impression,
bits of moss, crushed leaves
cling, to be washed
away later.


This poem took a bit of time to write today. I had NO CLUE what to write, so I just went into my photos to look for some inspiration. I saw this picture, of what I've named Vernal Equinox Rock, and so, this poem took shape. Yeah, finally, a little bit of eroticism. Oh, and for those that don't know, an erratic is a rock or boulder moved from its source by glaciers. We got lots of em up in Maine. This is a pretty little one. But just the right size. Grin.

Note: concupiscence was The Fucking Word of the Day.