Tag Archives: erotica

The Door in the Wall – A Guest Post By Monique Roffey (@MoniqueRoffey13)

Sexual love can be a gateway to the divine, a common trigger to a full blown mystical experience. So say the mystics and tantrikas. Most of us have experienced moments of utter bliss, a lift into an altered space, after and during sex, in short, we have touched spirit. Many religions believe in this too, including Christianity, that sexual love can be the ‘door in the wall’, or a hidden window onto a spiritual reality. The writer George Feuerstein says that today’s sexual malaise, addiction to porn etc, is a spiritual, not a societal problem. Feuerstein (a scholar and tantrika), says that most crucially, we have lost contact with our bodies. We both deny our body and are pre-occupied it. We distrust our body, and we are ashamed and afraid of it, and there is an absence of ‘true sexuality’ in today’s world. Many of us can ‘perform’ sex without being present. We have a fear of the body, and especially a fear of the feminine, seen in our disrespect for nature/gaia and the way we exploit it. I totally go along with his ideas. He wrote about this in the 90’s and he was ahead of his time, and well ahead of the internet. Today’s world of internet sex often misses this component of sex and spirit. Porn offers hard, quick fix voyeurism; it often only offers us a wilderness.

Years of tantra have informed my views on sex, the way I think about sex and the way I write about it. Scared sex, to me, is sex that sustains me, morally and spiritually. It is the opposite of routine, unfeeling, goal orientated sex, the goal being orgasmic release.  However, you have to practice this kind of sex, and find a partner who practices it too. Tantric sex is the sex of woman worship; it is a woman’s call for intimacy and more intimate relating, sexually. And so, I’ve mostly sought tantric lovers in the last ten years. A bed isn’t just a place to get it on; it’s a place to connect with spirit. I believe it’s important to cultivate an awareness of the spiritual dimension to sex and to know how to lead others to this door in the wall.

I joined a tantric group recently, after years of being on the outside of the tantric world. A lover died, I broke up with another. I needed time away. Rejoining was a good thing to do. Recently, one dimly lit spring evening, I found myself seated yab yum style on a handsome half-naked man, our energies connected and flowing and the kundalini energy rising. It was simple and easy to get there, too. We were entwined, softly, and yet charged with desire and I felt like I was glowing there, lit up like the full-blown frigging Goddess. For a moment this handsome man stopped and chuckled as if reading my thoughts; he gazed deeply into my eyes and whispered welcome back.

My novel, The Tryst, is written from my own POV, as a tantric woman; it is woman-centred, and it is about a call towards intimacy for Jane, towards an awaking of a different life, a new way of being. Jane knows something is wrong with her current life, that there’s more out there, just as I did in my early 40’s. She senses a call to a greater sexual life in the form of numerous fantasies and dream trysts that pester her day and night. The sexual part of her is active in her imagination, only. She wants sex, but just doesn’t know how to break out of her own confines to find the type of sex she needs. It takes another woman, a Kali type Goddess, Lilah, a predator and a sexual connoisseur, to throw her into crisis and to force her to leap, to activate her sexuality Then, there’s healing. Jane finds her scared whore and her full sexual potential, the part of herself was missing. The Tryst is about a woman finding her sexuality, and it doesn’t come easily. There is a fight for it.

*****

The Tryst (Dodo Ink)

Extract

By Monique Roffey

I found Bill still asleep in our bed. He was naked, covered to the waist by a thin sheet. It was dawn, a fragile time of the day. July too, and the sash window was fully open, the curtains not drawn. I hadn’t seen Bill in ten days. Now, I feasted my eyes on him – so vulnerable in sleep. He was half-turned on his side, cradling himself with one arm, his hair had grown decidedly longer and fell about his face and shoulders, and his torso was summer tanned. He was a man in his late 40s and big framed, both muscular and voluptuous, a sight of a man. Gazing down at him there, I came to understand that Bill was a piece of my puzzle too. Just like Lilah, he was part of my solution. A longing for him sprang inside me, warm and reassuring – my husband. I put a hand across my belly and welcomed the sensation, letting it spread slowly, thinking I had needed Bill all along, for part of me to heal.

And now I saw him lying there, I had a choice. I could go, leave him sleeping. Or I could step forward into another life, fully open. On the side table next to him, I saw the small polished egg I’d left behind, a part of me too. A gift, a message I’d never fully understood myself. I took out the stick of chalk I had with me and bent to the ground, drawing a thin white line around our bed, whispering incantations. The sprite had gone but she had left her energy in the room; I could still smell her there, dense earth. I lit a small sprig of sage too and uttered banishments at each corner of the room and when I was done, I sat down carefully on the bed. I had never fought for Bill, let alone protected him or what we had.

Bill’s eyes flickered.

I smiled at him. He groaned and shook his head. His eyes flew open and he stared. His alarm faded when he registered who it was.

“I’m here,” I said.

His eyes opened wider, his long hair fell over his face and he pulled it back. His beard looked stronger too, as though Bill had been quietly growing richer over the last week or so. He didn’t say anything; he just looked at me. He gazed and mouthed the words hello, Jane.

He looked clear-faced and older. The worriedness I’d associated with his features had somehow lifted. I said hello back and moved across the bed and lay myself down next to him, face to face, our bodies aligned and close, not touching. I was clothed. Bill was naked. The sheet separated us. We gazed at each other for several minutes. Sadness swelled in me, a wave of regret and devastation at the loss of him. For those ten days I’d been unable to contact him by phone or email. Lilah had interfered. I had understood some kind of separation had been imposed; it was out of my control. We’d been cursed. I’d wept for days in a hotel room. Tears fell, looking at him. He touched my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He moved closer and kissed my tears. I felt relaxed, like that tender feeling after a bath. Or maybe my own grief had softened me. I felt older too, and womanly, and forgiving of myself and him. Bill kissed me on the mouth and pulled away the sheet and I reached down to hold him.

I kissed him back and he moved across me, pulling open the buttons of my shirt. Then we were together, in motion, kissing, responsive to each other, tongues searching, words flowing between us. My back arched as he smothered my breasts with kisses and whispers of his own sadness and regret. Both of us uttered our mantras, sorry, sorry for the past. I was wet and soft and half-clothed.

I saw Bill then. Big-boned and full-hipped and sexy. Both of us were somehow sexier for being this age. Had I lost confidence in my body? If so, I seemed to suddenly have it back. Then Bill was on top of me, naked and hard, his cock pressed into my stomach. He peeled off my white lace bra and I showed him that I was a little unsure of my breasts and he said ‘yes’ with his eyes. Had this been part of it? The loss of my younger body, was that also in the mix? Bill peeled down my jeans, taking my panties with them. He sank his mouth between my legs and I gasped, burying one hand in his hair. I laughed and he laughed too and drank. I opened my legs and sighed and opened my eyes and even said the word out loud, “Lilah”.

I could feel her presence in the glossy silkiness between my legs. Bill’s tongue was strong and agile and I writhed with the pleasure he provoked. Then he stopped and looked at me, as if to say, this is only beginning. He pulled my jeans away so that I was naked and yes, my nakedness brought on a feeling of extreme shyness. And at the same time I felt open and full of longing. Then Bill was using his knuckle up and down, up and down on my clitoris, stroking me and dripping his silky serum on to me. My breath quickened and a spasm came from my groin, from his tender loving hands. An orgasm sprang upwards from my centre and swept through me. I’d never known this husband-lover Bill, had never tempted him to me, ever. He laughed and watched my body tremble and then he said “my wife, my wife”, and slowly, oh so slowly, he sank his long hard cock into me.

*****

The Tryst, blurb

By Monique Roffey

London, midsummer night. Jane and Bill meet the mysterious Lilah in a bar. She entrances the couple with half-true, mixed up tales about her life. At closing time, Jane makes an impulsive decision to invite Lilah back to their home. But Jane has made a catastrophic error of judgment, for Lilah is a skilled and ruthless predator, the likes of which few encounter in a lifetime. Isolated and cursed, Jane and Bill are forced to fight for each other, and, in doing so, discover their covert desires.

Part psychological thriller, part contemporary magical realism, The Tryst revisits the tale of Adam’s first wife, Lilith, to examine the secrets of an everyday marriage.

*****

Praise for The Tryst

“What makes The Tryst an unexploded virus isn’t just the quality and brightness of Roffey’s writing on sex, even as it uncovers inner glades between flesh and fantasy where sex resides – but the taunting clarity of why those glades stay covered. A throbbing homewrecker of a tale, too late to call Fifty Shades of Red.”

DBC Pierre, Booker Prize winner

*****

BIOG

Monique Roffey is an award-winning Trinidadian-born writer. Her novels have been translated into five languages and short-listed for major awards including 
the Orange Prize, Costa Fiction Award, Encore Award, Orion Award and the OCM Bocas Award for Caribbean Literature. In 2013, Archipelago won the OCM BOCAS Award for Caribbean Literature. Her memoir, With the Kisses of his Mouth, was published in 2011. She is a Lecturer on the MFA in the Novel at Manchester Metropolitan University. She divides her time between the East end of London and Port of Spain, Trinidad.

Buy at Amazon:

UK: http://amzn.to/2snABX2 US: https://www.amazon.com/Tryst-Monique-Roffey-ebook/dp/B072BX51PV/

Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=esSTfsbP3P4&sns=em

Twitter: @MoniqueRoffey13

Facebook: @MoniqueRoffeyAuthor

Instagram: @MoniqueRoffey

Website: www.moniqueroffey.com

From Lucy Felthouse – Last Chance to Get Nuts About You #charity #cancer #99c #99p

Hi folks,

Today is the last chance to grab this amazing male cancer charity anthology for only 99p.

Grab your copy today before its gone forever.

260k words, 17 stories all for 99c/p.

Amazon US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XDJJYF6

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XDJJYF6

Amazon CA- https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B06XDJJYF6

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iTunes – https://itun.es/gb/kuLTib.l

 

Add to Goodreads here – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34409833

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 160 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. Subscribe to her newsletter and get a free eBook: http://www.subscribepage.com/lfnewsletter

Guest Blogger: S. Nano

Lady Sally’s other adventures

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester is the main character of Mistress Of The Air. She’s a larger than life, incorrigible dominatrix who travels across the Empires of Europe finding new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen and creating mayhem along the way.

Lady Sally was featured in other adventures before Mistress Of The Air. Her first appearance was in a short story, ‘Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester and the Silk Merchant of Samarkand’, which appeared in an anthology called Beltane Fire (Xcite Books, 2012). In this story, she travels to the silk route city of Samarkand to follow up an account in the journal of her ancestor who tells of a marvellous weave of silk that works like a kind of ancient day Viagra. In fact, we find out in this story that Lady Sally is descended from a Samarkand courtesan. She ends up getting fucked on the tomb of Tamerlane the magnificent by her silk merchant.

She returned in ‘Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester and the Walled Garden’ in an anthology of stories on the theme of gardening erotica in Fifty Shades of Green (Greenwoman Publishing, 2014). In this story she commissions landscape gardener, Jack Buckingham, to design a walled garden planted with poisonous and prickly flora which Lady Sally proceeds to use on him before fucking him in her new garden (yes, there’s a theme developing here!)

Lady Sally possessed some distinctly Steampunk characteristics in both these earlier stories, especially her love of fine corsetry and nice afternoon teas. But in ‘Lady Sally’ Rudston-Chichester and the Automaton Horse’ (Forbidden Fiction, 2015, reproduced in the anthology Of Passion and Steam, 2017) she developed into a fully-fledged Steampunk character. After her horse is beaten by Lord Melchiot’s at York Races, believing she’s been cheated, she plots her revenge involving a brass, automaton horse that provide unique opportunities for some exquisite punishment.

Mistress Of The Air does sneak in some references to Lady Sally’s earlier adventures including her lineage as the ancestor of a Samarkand courtesan. And she has fun telling her companions these tales whilst smoking a hookah pipe of hashish whilst in Istanbul.

So, as you can see, the character of Lady Sally has been developing, reaching its culmination in Mistress Of The Air. You can expect wild escapades, kinky BDSM, the fastest airship ever built, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of teas. I hope you’ll join Lady Sally for the ride

Buy links to Lady Sally’s other adventures:

Beltane Fire: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-rudston-chichester-and-the-silk-merchant-of-samarkand/s

Fifty Shades of Green: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-rudston-chichester-and-the-walled-garden/

Lady Sally and the Automaton Horse: http://slavenano.co.uk/writing/lady-sally-and-the-automaton-horse/

Book Blurb

Mistress of the Air is a Comic, Steampunk, Erotic Adventure.

Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester owns a brass mine in Zanzibar, a Lapsang Souchong tea plantation in China, a rubber tree farm in Malaysia, trunk loads of corsetry, and the country’s largest collection of antique whips and floggers.

Larger than life, and itching to find new and inventive ways to punish her submissive gentlemen, the Edwardian dominatrix has a vision. Embracing the spirit of the new age of aviation, she embarks on a series of adventures on her own airship, The Corseted Domme, with her transvestite maid, Victoria, her airship pilot, Captain Wyndham, and her automaton sex toy, Borghild.

A select group of submissive gentlemen, consisting of a duke, bishop, lawyer and banker, is invited to join Lady Sally so she can try out her new dastardly devices and sex toys on them. She whips, spanks and punishes her way across the Empires of Europe, dropping off to visit her aristocratic relatives and friends for afternoon tea.

But Lady Sally’s journey is not uneventful. War is threatening to break out and the Ministry of Aviation want to commandeer her airship for the war effort. And when The Corseted Domme has a crash landing, Lady Sally realises there is a stowaway on board intent on sabotaging her airship.

There will be wild escapades, kinky BDSM, dastardly devices, explosions and nice cups of tea.

Buy links

Ebook

Amazon US (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2qsu64J

Amazon UK (Kindle): http://amzn.to/2pxDBhr

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/mistress-of-the-air-s-nano/1126181430?ean=9781545250242

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/mistress-of-the-air

Print

Amazon US (print): https://www.amazon.com/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Amazon UK (print): https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mistress-Air-S-Nano/dp/1545250243/

Create space/eXcessica (print): https://www.createspace.com/7078177

 

Extract

Lady Sally was an organised and ruthless shopper. She had a vision for what she needed and set about her purchases with determination. She was also a tough negotiator and bartered hard with the traders to get a good, and fair, price. This was, of course, only what they would have expected, but if they thought this rich, aristocratic English woman was going to be a soft touch, that illusion was soon dispelled. Lady Sally used a combination of hard bargaining skills, along with her undoubted charm, to secure a good price.

They went from block to block in the bazaar, each zone specialising in a particular craft. She wanted hand-woven Turkish rugs and bought several of them, with brightly coloured geometric patterns. She purchased ceramics, copper bowls, hukkah pipes, silver tea pots, decorated glasses and lamps. That was before she even got to the section selling materials and clothing where she bought silks, cottons, kaftans, gowns, silk slippers and an abundant supply of silver jewellery. Then there were the spices and incenses, and last, but not least the teas. There were stalls selling a vast range of teas, many blends she was familiar with, but she also purchased pomegranate and jasmine teas, which she’d never tried before.

The chests filled up quickly, and it wasn’t long before the six men found themselves carting the laden trunks around the bazaar with them. Lady Sally shopped like a whirling dervish, and it wasn’t until it was time for tea that she finally stopped.

They retired to a tea shop recommended by Mr Mustafa. Lady Sally was sipping green tea whilst inhaling enormous drafts of smoke from a huge hukkah pipe. She was in a good mood… an exceedingly good mood.

She was giggling manically and telling them tales of her colourful past.

“Did I tell you about the time in Samarkand when I got fucked on the tomb of Tamerlane the Magnificent by my silk merchant?” she announced, proceeding to relate the story in graphic detail.

Then she told them about her poison garden at Rudston Hall, and how she’d fucked her gardener, and about how she punished Lord Melchiot on her automaton horse.

She was in fits of giggles.

“Oh, I’ve had such marvellous adventures.” She turned to the merchant, “So tell me, Mr Mustafa, is this what is called ‘hashish’?”

“Yes, Lady Sally, the very finest… and potent.”

“Well, I must say, this is wonderful stuff. My last purchase will be to stock up with some to take back to England.”

By now the whole party was well and truly stoned, except for Victoria, who had a ‘gippy’ stomach from the horse’s testicle, and had declined the offer of smoking hashish. In between reclining on the divans collapsed in a constant state of giggles, they managed to demolish a huge plate of flatbreads, lamb kebabs, chickpea dip, dates and other delicacies.

A young, veiled woman approached them.

“Come here, my dear,” called Lady Sally. “What a lovely necklace. It’s so shiny. Oh, my goodness, I’ve never seen anything so shiny! I don’t think my poor eyes can stand the brightness.”

“Please, are you the famous English lady, Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester?”

Lady Sally was not averse to bit of flattery, “Oh, famous, well yes, naturally my reputation does proceed me.”

“I’ve read about you in the Istanbul Sun. You are a strong lady who will stand up to males and protect women. I have come to plead for your help.”

Victoria’s ears pricked up. Alarm bells rang.

“Yes, do tell me more,” Lady Sally encouraged.

“My name is Nisrahur. You see, my sister has been picked up from the streets by the sultan’s guards where she has been taken to his harem as a slave. I know the girls are badly mistreated. I was hoping a lady of your standing could negotiate with the sultan to get her released.”

“I will do better than that,” exclaimed Lady Sally. “I will rescue her!”

Her maid tried to intervene, “Madam, is this wise? This could end up as a disaster. I see more explosions and being chased out of Istanbul.”

“Victoria, let it not be said Lady Sally Rudston-Chichester will not leap to the defence of her sex for a noble cause.”

About the author

S. Nano is an author of erotic stories with dark and exotic content in fantasy, paranormal or historical settings, often drawing on the themes of female supremacy, BDSM and fetish but with a seam of quirky humour running through them as well.

His first full-length erotic novel, ‘Adventures in Fetishland’, a BDSM/fetish re-invention of Alice in Wonderland, was published by Xcite Books. His short stories and novellas have been published by Xcite Books, House of Erotica, Forbidden Fiction, Coming Together and Greenwoman Publishing.

His second novel, ‘Mistress Of The Air’ was published by eXcessica on 21st April 2017.

Web site: www.slavenano.co.uk/writing

Blog: www.slavenano.co.uk/blog

Facebook (Nano Vaslen): http://www.facebook.com/nano.vaslen

Mistress Of The Air facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/Mistress-Of-The-Air-1671491076492099/

Pinterest: http://uk.pinterest.com/nanovaslen/

Amazon UK author profile: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B005EBU1QI

Amazon US author profile: https://www.amazon.com/Slave-Nano/e/B005EBU1QI/

Goodreads author profile: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/6828376-slave-nano

*****

GIVEAWAY!

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