Free until 28 July: Voodoo Fetish

Voodoo Fetish is free on Amazon until 28 July, on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

It's the second novella in my Vodou Trilogy. The first book, Ridden (or go here for the UK version), details Eloise’s experiences in the Caribbean. A car accident near a cemetery in which she's possessed by the lwa and Baron Cimitiėre. Their use of her as a channel for supernatural healing. The discovery that these powers require her to undergo bdsm sex so that her pain and orgasm can channel away another person’s illness. That's the backstory.

Voodoo Fetish is set in London - a world city that's home to members of the vodou diaspora. She’s called upon by the lwa to carry out a healing ceremony for the daughter of a work colleague. Among other things this involves supernatural sex, discussions with crows and a dead witch, sex with a pagan couple she meets who are recruited to her healing project, a relationship with a houngan (male priest) who comes from the slightly different New Orleans tradition of vodou, a bass guitar with interesting properties, and discussion of the Navier-Stokes equations of fluid dynamics.

There will be a third novella in due course, which explains how the various people she’s healed are connected together and what the longer-term project of the lwa was. And, yes, bdsm and sex are involved. Extensively involved.

For now, though, you can download the second novella, Voodoo Fetish, for free. Hope you enjoy it.

Sex Art and Aromatherapy - free 27th May-9th June

Here's a heads-up: my short story Sex, Art and Aromatherapy will be free on iTunes from tomorrow, 27th May, to 9th June.

I can't give you a URL for it because the old way of constructing URLs for iTunes products doesn't seem to work any more. Just search on the title, or my name.

Brief details: Ruby is already experienced in BDSM and fetish, but she’s surprised to meet an older man in an art gallery, of all places, who also seems experienced in that world. He tells her stories about how, in his youth, BDSM was simply one part of a wider spiritual quest. Ruby lets him take her on a journey of enlightenment…

I think the cover used in this post is the right one! It replaced the original cover (which featured a woman's hands bound in red rope) when it first went onto iTunes because the bondage was deemed too racy for iTunes cover guidelines. That said, I think it's a pretty neat cover image.

I'll also just mention that at various points in the past (it's been out for a while), this story's apparently been among the most popular erotic downloads on a range of iTunes country stores.

Erotica, but not as you know it

I’ve just self-pubbed something you might or might not see as erotica: Filthy Money, and other stories of sex in the gutter.

The publishing process itself was a steep learning curve. First edition not sufficiently well proofread; second edition lost a bit of formatting in the Smashwords 'meatgrinder' (their term for the automatic conversion processes for e-publishing); third edition good, but failed Smashword’s premium catalogue submission due to not using markers (three or four asterisks) at section breaks, and having no first line indent at the beginning of each section – this part of the process isn’t automatic, but down to review by an actual human. Previous humans hadn’t seen these as problems, but never mind. The fourth version is ok and I wanted to get to that stage before promo-ing the collection.

Having got it on Smashwords and their premium catalogue - which distributes to Diesel, Ebooks-Eros, B&N and several other places - I don't have any enthusiasm for going through the same process with Amazon yet. Maybe some time in the future. 

What it is: eight quasi-erotic stories of desperate sex, sexual perversity and moral degeneracy from the margins of contemporary society. It’s set in a dystopia that actually exists – in social science literature it’s often called the underclass, though how the underclass is defined is a variable quantity. Political writers like Charles Murray turn up their noses at those who are ‘welfare dependent’, ‘feckless’, having kids outside marriage and so forth. Other more liberal writers point to the role of international capitalism and neoliberalism in reducing the life chances of the poorest, to the point that many are not only unemployed but excluded from much of what we might reasonably describe as civil society. They also, incidentally, point to the increasing dependence of the middle classes on welfare as 'professional' jobs become deskilled, and the prevalence of births outside marriage and 'reconstituted' families following separation and divorce in the middle classes; these trends don't just define the underclass any more. Or alternatively, more people with middle-class backgrounds are becoming members of it. If you want to know, I tend to side with the more sympathetic view of what 'underclass' means.

Over the years I’ve known a lot of people who qualify for the ‘underclass’ tag. I know their world and as the blurb for the book says, it’s an unstable world where anything can happen, reality is perverse and perversity is normal. People in that world find their pleasures any way they can, and it’s often a way that’s chaotic and wild. They often end up having desperate sex in ways that can sometimes lead to trouble and more chaos. I have, frankly, edited out parts of the chaos that involve alcoholism and serious violence, but left in – and, in fact, substantially toned down – the bits that involve drug use, the police, and psychological problems including self-harming. Much of what I’ve seen first-hand would frankly be more suitable to a horror collection rather than an erotic one.

And, yes, there’s a fair bit of BDSM in the stories. Not because it’s a major part of that world, though it does happen, but because that’s my particular bent. Even so, many of the scenarios in the book are based on stuff that I’ve either seen first-hand or been told about by those involved. It’s fiction, but there are factual threads running through it.

It doesn’t, by the way, include the story of what happened to someone who was kidnapped by a drug dealer because their boyfriend didn’t pay a debt. And it doesn’t go into any detail of the sexual dynamics of couples where both parties are self-destructive and manipulative. Maybe those are for an even darker collection.

I wrote most of the stories as a form of exorcism, because I'd had the ideas running around in my brain and didn't know what to do with them, other than share them with you. It hasn't completely exorcised them, but at least I feel better now...  I don't know whether the collection will be attractive to readers, if only in a tight lipped 'Eeew, that's really nasty' way. Possibly not. I'd be gratified if you did like it, but you may not want to encourage me. 

I published them myself because I wanted to get a sense of what that involves, and now I've done the learning curve I might selfpub some stuff that's a little more conventional eroticism. Or less unconventional eroticism, anyway. I have a few ideas I'm working on.

So what would be your motive for buying this collection? I’ve described it as quasi-erotica. It has a high urban grit content, plus a lot of sex. It has a lot of irresponsible and dangerous sex entered into by people who really, profoundly, don’t care about the problems it will bring because the world’s unpredictable anyway. It has sex between people whose fantasies are utterly against the norms of political correctness and polite society – though as we already know, many people’s fantasies from all walks of life are politically incorrect and brutally transgressive. It has sex that is chaotic, perverse, pleasurable, and pleasurable because it’s perverse.

And remember, in reading this, that morals are an affectation of those who have the financial resources to afford them. Read responsibly, and if any of what you read troubles you, just remember that it probably has really happened somewhere, sometime, pretty much the way the story tells it.

The link again: Filthy Money, and other stories of sex in the gutter.

Museum of Deviant Desires cover

If you notice a difference from the original cover, a slightly more medieval and handwritten feel to the title - that's because Sharazade at 1001 Nights Press had it redesigned using a new font. I feel a blog post on fonts coming up sometime...

The stories in it are still the same, though:

• Poppy Seeks Pain
• Waiting
• Something Different
• Burnout
• The Plastics Factory
• Fashion, Intent, Desire, Choice
• Don’t Mess With the Author
• Sex and the Giant Squid
• >Voiceover
• The Museum of Deviant Desires
• $2.99

And the places to buy remain the same: Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk,  Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Sony, Diesel, Ebook-Eros and some other places, like iTunes, I don't have URLs for.

You may also like to know this is the novella-length collection that was reviewed as 'sexy and cerebral; breezy, thought-provoking, laugh-out-loud funny and utterly addictive', establishing 'fascinating new paradigms for the next generation of erotic fiction', and 'gritty, modern, playful, and strange.' And now, depending on how quickly the new cover propagates through the interwebz, with new wobbly and weird handwriting on the cover (the writing inside remains weird, but that's down to the stories themselves and not the choice of font).

Where she was going (flash fiction)

She knew where she was going. She’d dressed for it. Dressed for action. The urban-camo pattern skirt that was fourteen inches down the side seam, and six of those were a split. The schoolgirl-style white blouse with no buttons that she’d tied in a tight knot at the front. The guys would go for it.

She knew what she wanted. She was planning on getting it. She headed for the address she’d been given.

The address that was, for her, synonymous with sex and violence.

Abused as a child? Check.

Dysfunctional family life? Check.

Used to accepting violence as normal in a relationship? Check.

Presenting difficult and challenging behaviour as an adolescent, acting out, doing drink and drugs, struggling to find her identity, her authenticity? Check.

But this wasn’t about any of that. She could have been brought up in a wealthy, caring home with no worries, no arguments, a dog and and a pony. She could have been driving up to the house in a Ferrari bought for her by mummy and daddy. She’d still have been wearing the fourteen-inch skirt and the schoolgirl blouse with the buttons pulled off. She’d still have been rocking up to that address, expecting sex and violence.

That was her identity, her authenticity.

What happened in that house was what her dreams were made of. 

***

I might at some point turn this into a longer story, for a self-published collection. For now, the short version will have to do.

Smoking Hot audio extract

Text-to-speech is a wonderful thing, though I've had to edit the text a little because 'Alex' doesn't pronounce some words particularly well and I had to use Garageband to tinker with the timings where I could (I could probably have played with Alex's intonation as well but there's a limit to how much time I was able to spend on it!).

But there's a 4 minute 23 second extract from 'Smoking Hot', my novella in the Naked Delirium collection, that you can hear over on my Tumblr blog.

And 'Smoking Hot' is available as an individual novella in about 10 different ebook formats over at Smashwords. The whole collection and other four novellas are all there individually as well - here's a link that lists them all.

Naked Delirium

Out soon (expected mid-August) from Sweetmeats Press. Note the 'explicit content' advisory.

An illustrated anthology of sex in altered states. Five novellas, by Fulani, Kristina Wright, Sommer Marsden, Vanessa de Sade and Velvet Tripp.

Velvet, incidentally, is my partner and an author in her own right, so you get 'his and hers' stories in Naked Delirium.That's only happened once before (Xcite's Lust Bites collection, available direct from the publisher or on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk).

Oh yeah - notice that last line on the cover? It's an illustrated collection, though I think only if you get the print version.

More details and trailers sometime soon.

Transference

Pic on the left is a street shot, taken outside the local court in one of the areas where smokers tend to congregate. It sparked off an idea, and the idea is below. It's deliberately urban and grunge and the main character is pretty dysfunctional and has poor impulse control. Especially around sex.

There was a condom, incidentally, just like the story describes. It's just out of this shot near the toe of the topmost shoe.

See what you think. Do you like it? Do you want more?

***

They won’t let you smoke on the steps of the courthouse. You have to go to the back of the building, where there’s a little grass area. If you want to smoke a last spliff before your case so you don’t get caught with weed on you, you go a bit further, down an alley next to where the prison vans come and go.

So that’s where I go. Rest my butt on a low red-brick wall, kick off my ballet pumps and spark up.

I get about a minute with my own dark thoughts before a guy turns up. I know instantly what the score is. He’s wearing a suit and tie, which means he’s a defendant.

“Which court are you in?” I make it sound like I’m in the same position. Because I am.

“Court three.” He swallows, looks uncomfortable. “Pleading not guilty, though.” Pulls a pack of ciggies out of his pocket, offers one to me.

“I’ll have one for later, but you can try this if you want.” I hold out the spliff. “It’s resin, so it doesn’t smell as much.” He takes a drag, passes it back.

“They got the wrong guy, then, like they always do?” But I’m smiling, mocking just a little but open to being told I’m wrong.

“Yeah. Came out of a club, there was this big ugly guy laying into some dude half his size because he’d looked at the guy’s girlfriend. I thought it was out of order, because the club bouncers were just looking the other way. So I just tried to stop him, got knocked out and then the cops arrested me instead of him.”

Well, what do I know? Could have happened that way.

“Yeah, I’m pleading not guilty too. But I think they got too much evidence.”

Well, I did trash my boyfriend’s car. Smashed every window, slit every tyre, and it wasn’t enough and it felt good so I did the cars parked next to it as well. Taking speed probably didn’t help.

He deserved it, though. I went to his place and he was there fucking this bitch who’d been hanging around with his mates. And his excuse was “She likes anal and you don’t.”

That last bit I didn’t mention, though, talking with him.

He looks me up and down. Hoop earrings, red jacket, over a tight white T-shirt top, black power skirt – the kind that’s a wide elastic bandage, you can wear it with the top at the waist to the hem is just above the knee, like I will in court, or with the top just under the bust so the hem is miniskirt length like I’m doing now.

“Well, you look cute,” he says. “And if you were my girlfriend I wouldn’t be cheating on you.” That’s his idea of a compliment, I guess, because he doesn’t know me.

“Yeah, well. I doubt you’ll get the chance to cheat on me. I reckon if they find me guilty this time they’ll give me custodial.”

That makes him pay attention.

“I’ve got a history.” That’s all the explanation I’m going to give.

“Does that scare you?”

“Only the bit about not getting any sex.”

“What about all those lesbian prison movies?”

“Yeah, well. If that’s all can get, that’s what I’ll have to do.”

He’s got a stump on thinking about it. I guess he’s got a mental image of watching me with another woman. Or maybe it’s just me telling it like it is.

But then I think about it. I get off the wall, plant my ass against it, legs braced wide.

“If that’s all I’ll be able to get, I should have a memory to keep me warm.”

So right then, right there, bend over, reach out, unzip him and flick his cock out of that nice-looking suit.

See, that’s me not doing well on impulse control.

It’s not exactly a strength of mine.

I’m looking into his eyes and he says “You can’t do that here!”

“Why fucking not? What are they going to do, send us to jail?”

He laughs. And then he moans, because I’ve got one hand round his balls and I’m squeezing them gently, with my forefinger pushing the sweet spot just behind the balls where the pumped-up vein is a hard bulge. Plus, I’m brilliant at deepthroating. You don’t have to take my word for it, there’s a dozen guys will back me up on that. And that’s not counting the ones whose names I can’t remember and the ones I don’t know cos I was blindfolded at the time…

Taste: insipid and clean, like he’s recently showered. No nice man-smells. But he’s a handy and mouthy not-too-small not-too-big size, fits my throat nice and slippery.

Only problem is he’s going to spurt soon.

Condom in my clutch bag. I may not be good at impulse control but I do remember the condom thing. Tiny G-string that moves aside like it’s just a single thread of cotton. I’m glad I made than choice this morning, even though I only made it to avoid a panty-line with this skirt.

And then my skirt’s round my hips, my legs are wrapped around his hips, I’ve got my back up against the wall and most of my weight is bearing down on his cock. Which drives it deep.

“Don’t you dare,” I say breathlessly, “come quickly and leave me hanging on.” Because I know what’s in his mind. All the worry about being in court, and then the sudden shock of a random blowjob and fuck from a complete stranger. I’m not just fucking him, I’m fucking with his head and that’s going to be on a hair trigger.

I’m wrapped around this guy and looking right into his eyes. Grey eyes. Big pupils. I see that’s flickering behind those eyes, see into his brain, see the orgasm switch snap closed in a shower of sparks, right inside there. Feel the jacked-up pumping of his veins, pressed right against the inside of me. Feel the smack of his pelvic bone against mine. Feel him as he comes and it’s almost too early for me but then I’m with him, mouthing Gah! Gah! Gah! and then the blast comes up from clit and slit to spine and brain, and I’m already on a one-way trip to shameless raging fucking ecstasy.

When I’m finally able to see straight, think straight, and straighten my legs, he lets me down and I have to cling onto the ground because my legs won’t support my weight.

He pulls off the condom, flicks it into a corner. Takes the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket again and this time I accept his offer.

When I look round I hear applause. Couple of guys there in hoodies and tracksuit bottoms. I don’t know if they’re defendants, or just hanging out and maybe waiting for a friend.

I’d smile and curtsey but I’d probably fall over.

“I gotta go. My brief will be waiting for me.”

“Yeah.” Cough. Spit. That’s the thing about deepthroating. It encourages your throat to produce a wad of mucous. Then by the time I was coming, with the moans and all, I was almost gargling it.

Once my leg muscles have stopped trembling, I stand up, adjust my G-string, pull the skirt down to above-the-knee respectability. It’s dirty from the wall. Can’t be helped.

I finish the ciggie and go off to meet my destiny. The guys who were watching me snigger, because I still can’t walk straight.

It’s only later I realise I forgot my shoes and I’ve lost an earring.

Here’s the strangeness. I get a not guilty. Maybe it’s the fact I look like shit, only one earring, and sound dippy and ADHD. Maybe it’s because the figure on the CCTV, wearing camo and a balaclava, smacking the cars with a hammer, doesn’t look or move like me. The girl I see on the video was wired on speed. Even I have to look twice, and I remember doing that stuff.

And the guy I fucked – I ask around when I leave, because frankly I’m so weirded out I could go another quick and hard round with him. But he got a guilty and a custodial.

I don’t get to play with the lesbians and he gets to be some tough dude’s bitch.

Makes me think. I have all the what ifs going round in my head. What if the sex transferred the guilt from me to him, the innocence from him to me? What if I stole his innocence from him? Or contaminated him with my fucked-up head-shit?

His name’s on the court hearing list. I write it down. If I can keep the paper for more than a day or two I might mail him. Might even visit him in jail. I’ll light a candle for him, anyway.

In the meantime, I’m single and very fucking available. I adjust the power-skirt up to miniskirt length and I’m going shoeless in search of a victory lay.

Tricks for Kicks published

Tricks For Kicks: Sex with Rewards - a new Xcite collection edited by Elizabeth Coldwell and with contributions from Veronica Wilde, Mary Borsellino, Fulani, Victoria Blisse, Maxim Jakubowski, Catelyn Cash, Landon Dixon, Tabitha Rayne, Heidi Champa, Dominic Santi, Kay Jaybee, Kathleen Tudor, Marleen Yong, Giselle Renarde, Cecilia Duvalle, Alanna Appleton, Cynthia Lucas, Sommer Marsden, Scarlett Blue and Elizabeth Coldwell.

Twenty stories in all, available in paperback (224 pages, £7.99) or electronically (£6.49).


Ever had the urge to pay for your thrills? The characters in this collection have, but it’s not just money that changes hands when these lovers go all the way. Pimps and prostitutes, gigolos and gold-diggers are all to be found enjoying Tricks For Kicks. And let’s not forget the boys and girls of the vice squad, whose intentions are often just as dishonourable as the hookers they’re arresting.

From girls who’ll do anything for that special piece of jewellery to the confessions of the woman running the best little whorehouse in town, here are twenty tales of sex for money – and other benefits.

My own story, 'Filthy White Dress', is a foray into a world in which an actress is paid for her encounters with a guy who wants her to act out his fetishes. And yes, they're sexual fetishes - but probably not in any conventional sense of the words 'sexual' or 'fetish'.


As a disclaimer I should point out my piece also appears in the smaller five-story ebook-only Making Her Pay, which also contains the stories by Veronica Wilde, Mary Borsellino,Victoria Blisse and Maxim Jakubowski and is available at a very reasonable £2.99. Xcite do this with quite a few collections now, to give the choice of 20 stories in one book or four smaller 5-story publications.

In other news - the Erotica Romance Ebooks site that Xcite ran alongside its own website, and that enabled some authors to sell directly to the public, currently redirects to the main Xcite.com website. And no, I don't know if that's a temporary thing or not. More news as I get it.