Thursday, December 30, 2010


There are many things I love about femdom. I mean, I hate the fact that it sounds like one of those stupid female contraceptive plastic bag thingies, but otherwise- yeah. Totally love it. Love reading about it, love writing about it, have made a list of all the things I love about it:

1. 95% of the erotica/erotic romance I read features alpha males. It's good to get a break, sometimes.

2. Male vulnerability is orsum. Yes, I know that men are big and tough. I know that it's great that they swing in at the last second to ruggedly save someone in a ruggish fashion. But just occasionally, I like it when Indiana Jones gets punched and looks like he feels it.

3. I'd make him feel it, all right.

4. The dynamics are so different to what's expected. I've always loved stories that push against barriers, be it actual literal sci-fi forcefield barriers or just barriers around propriety or good sense or any other number of things. The tension in a story is highest when people aren't allowed to do stuff, or maybe they just think they shouldn't be allowed, or maybe society does a frowny face when they try and allow themselves. It's easy to explore this stuff in femdom, and when I read it there's always this delicious frisson of gender subversion and other naughty stuff.

5. It's hot. It just is. And I think more people would find it hot if they encountered the really well done stuff. Because it's so rare, the proportion of actually well written femdom is much, much finer than the proportion of well written alpha male stories.

So now I'm going to go over my favourite all time femdom stories.

1. The Top of Her Game, by Emma Holly

It's a modern cowboy story. That I actually like. That's some kind of miracle all on its own. But the main and most important thing about this book is that the hero is not some simpering, living in a cage obsessed buffoon. And the heroine doesn't have to give up her illicit femdom ways in order to find happiness. Nor does she discover that actually, secretly, she's really a submissive.

2. Taking Care of Business, Megan Hart

I'm just going to talk about the Megan Hart portion of this book, here, because the Lauren Dane portion is not femdom. Here, again, you've got a hero who isn't a cipher or a whiner or some other stupid thing usually associated with femdom. He's big and handsome and orsum, and the action is hot without a hint of "oh what a little pathetic idiot he is". I can handle the doubting, am-I-a-weirdo-for-liking-this attitude of the heroines in both of these books, because...well. I can understand why they feel that way.

3. Blackberry Pie, Bonnie Dee

It's not technically femdom, but there's something about the dynamic in it that veers close. There's just something about a religious man giving in to carnal desires that ticks all the boxes. And I feel that Bonnie Dee has the potential to write awesome femdom, if she ever tried her hand at it.

4. A Baumgartner Reunion, Selena Kitt

Again, it's not technically femdom. But HOMG the scenes with Henry in them... He's everything that I love in a femdom hero: horny, handsome, big, eager and just waiting to be bossed around. I was desperate to get my hands on his story, and though it didn't live up to those little snippets in Reunion it was still totally fab. Selena Kitt always writes the best male characters, and especially when they're bonking. She makes them vulnerable in their horny eagerness, which is something you hardly ever see in erotica/erotic romance.

And that's it. I think there are others. Joey W Hilly writes some great femdom heroes, for example, and other writers dare to create beta heroes. But the fact that I can't think of very many other femdom books I love when I've read every erotic novel ever written says a lot, I feel.

Which is why I wrote one of my very own! The ravenous zombie-like craving for femdom just became too much, and I had to feed my fix myself. Which is weird because I can't really read my own writing and enjoy it, but I can at least hope that you do, gentle reader.

Here it is:

And here's the blurb:

Clarissa Levinson’s boyfriend has asked for a very unusual birthday present this year. He wants her to fulfill three wishes, and all of them require Clarissa to push her own personal boundaries and become the boss not just at work, but in the bedroom as well.

His kinky demands initially make her nervous, but the more she gives him what he wants, the weaker her inhibitions become. In fact, she’s starting to really like being the one in charge. Who knew domination could be so much fun?

And the link:

And an excerpt:

“Are you shocked?” he asked. His voice sounded dry, like it was desperate to gulp right in the middle of the sentence.

“I don’t think shocked is the word for it.”

It was true. It wasn’t. Instead, she had to press her thighs together against the rising tide of feeling. Sweet tingles threaded through her body, tightening her nipples and swelling her sex as they went.

“Is disturbed the word for it?”

She had to laugh at that. He always thought the worst of all the things he wanted. Like he shouldn’t take that extra slice of pie, and if he did, people would think he was greedy and disgusting. Like he shouldn’t tell people he liked watching figure skating, because they would think he was weird and unmanly. Like he shouldn’t confess things he’d been feeling ever since he caught his first girlfriend being spanked by another man and all he could think was—

I wish I was the one being spanked.

She knew what he thought. She’d seen it in the flush all over his cheeks and the nervous stammering and the questions he didn’t need to ask, like—Do you think girls leave guys because they know that secretly the guy is kind of soft inside?

But how do you reassure someone about something so simultaneously complex and ridiculously simple? None of the things on the list even remotely suggested a softness about him. They were largely mean, cruel sorts of things that took all kinds of strength to endure or admit to.

Yet the fact remained that he wanted them because of some deep-seated needs and long-held desires, and she couldn’t just unpick these things by patting him on the head and telling him not to be silly. She couldn’t just suggest to him—Don’t be embarrassed. This stuff turns me on too, apparently.

Showing would likely work out better. Just showing him that it was okay. That would work out right, wouldn’t it?

“You don’t have to do any of them if you don’t want to. I mean—they’re just ideas, really. Outlines, if you will. Nothing set in stone. And if you don’t want to at all then that’s okay, because I love doing the stuff we do. I really love it. At the very least, you actually act like you want to have sex with me.”

Sometimes she could understand why he said things like that. When they’d met he’d had no idea about clothes and spent his days in brown corduroy or even worse—purple corduroy. He’d side-parted his hair and worn sweaters just for everyday living like the one he was wearing now, and he’d found his glasses in the bin marked “die alone” at Specsavers.

So she could see how he often wondered why anyone had ever wanted to have sex with him. She really could. Apart from where he was absolutely and obviously gorgeous underneath all the derp-itude and the corduroy, like the ugly-duckling-to-swan movie She’s All That only stupider.

Hadn’t anyone been able to see his outrageous potential? The size of his hands, the broadness of his shoulders, that jawline like something out of Strong and Firm Magazine’s wettest dreams. And he was sweet, too. And smart and funny and not like any other man she’d ever met. She knew he was, because here they were spending his birthday together and she’d never spent birthdays or holidays or any of that kind of thing with anyone. Not even her own mother.

“I always want to have sex with you. I’d be having sex with you right now if you weren’t wearing a sweater with dancing bears on it. In fact, even that cutesy image isn’t really putting me off.”

He chuckled.

“You’re such a goof.”

She loved him for doing things like calling her such a goof. He said it with such warmth and affection, as though her being silly meant something good, instead of how her other boyfriends had felt about it—that being goofy or silly made her a scattered flake who didn’t fit into their career plans.

Unfortunately, considering their various points about her only made her think about how relevant being goofy was to the idea of becoming some kind of sexual Dominant. Probably not very, right?

Until words came out of her mouth. And they sounded so businesslike and almost alien that her entire body thrilled all over again.

“So. When do you want to get started?”

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Christmas Reading and Watching Marathon

So in the true spirit of Christmas, I've been reading and watching loads of stuff. I got the following for Christmas:

A Kindle
Sims 3
Tetris Party
A sudden and amazing amount of new readers for Past Pleasures, courtesy of All Romance Ebook's "get it free for one day" offer. So far, it has an average of 3/4 stars, which I am so thrilled with I can hardly speak.
Professor Layton
Art Academy (as you already know my fab art skillz, you know this gift is going to be put to good use)
Miranda Series One
Time Travel Machine
Modern Family
The Office Series Six
Sharlto Copley
30 Rock Series Four
The Middle
Supernatural Series 1-5
Loads of chocolate

As usual when you read my blog, be aware of the disclaimer: some items may not be real and are just the product of Charlotte's fevered imagination. But the Past Pleasures one that doesn't seem real? Yeah, that's totally real. I am actually still number one in All Romance Ebook's Time Travel story chart, and number two in their sci-fi chart. Hell, I'm number six in their erotica chart. See here if you don't believe me:

Have never been so high in any chart before, and it's totally made my Christmas.

But anyhoo, back to my reading and watching orgy.

Matched, by Allie Condie: I bought this for my Kindle, and love, love, loved it. Have a big hard-on for dystopian YA at the moment (like the rest of the world), probably because of The Hunger Games. I think I like dystopian YA for two reasons: it's always fast paced easy reading with a bit of subtext, and my mind goes into overdrive, thinking of all the ways I could write similar stories only with loads of bonking. Which is probably really perverse, considering the books are written for teenagers.

Miranda Series One: You know how, like, people say they're totally Samantha, from Sex and the City? Well, I'm not Samantha. I'm not even Carrie. I'm nobody from Sex and the City, because I do not lead a glamorous, sexy life with cocktails and shoes and hair brushing. No, I lead Miranda's life, from the TV show Miranda. She IS me. She really is. I've never seen a closer representation of myself on television, than Miranda. The only difference is that I'm not single. Everything else is identical. The clumsiness, the lack of social skills, the asides, the love of hotel rooms...I can't believe this show ever got made. It seems like they should have made yet another "fat moron gets a hot wife and complains about it" sitcom. I thank God every day that we now live in a world where Miranda gets made, instead.

Tetris Party: Loved it! What you do is, right- you make the blocks go in a particular shape, like a penguin! And if you make a penguin, then you win. Hooray!

I shall be back tomorrow with more things I have watched and read and done. I know you're on tenterhooks.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Mancandy Christmas!

Last year, I lusted after Santa. This year, I'm just going to dress up a whole cavalcade of hunks as Santa, and lust after them instead.

Mmmm, phallic.

Oooh, even more phallic glllllrrrrrrrrrrrrr.*

I call this one "terrifyingly phallic".

Uh...his hat slipped?

Okay, I realise this is just getting silly, now.

No, brain. That was not your cue to post a giant picture of a hat penis.

*sigh* See what I have to put up with? And in the season of goodwill to all Mancandy! Merry Christmas, everyone!

*Homer drool

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Some Questions

So Cara McKenna put up some questions over here:

And being all contrary, I decided to answer them here.

Favorite recent book: Dirty Thirty, by Cara McKenna

All-time favorite book: I have three, that represent the different bits of me. Cat's Eye, by Margaret Atwood. Desperation, by Stephen King. Menage, by Emma Holly.

Book that most changed your life: The Madwoman In The Attic, by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar

All-time favorite author: This time, I have four: Margaret Atwood, Stephen King, Christopher Pike, Emma Holly

Favorite band or musical artist: Tori Amos

Favorite album (by any artist): From The Choirgirl Hotel

Best song ever: Let Go, Intimate Strangers

Your favorite song right now: Dancing On My Own, Robyn

Favorite recent movie: Is District 9 recent enough? I've also enjoyed Predators, Buried, The A-Team and Let Me In, but District 9 still overrides them all in terms of the impact it had on me.

All-time favorite movie: Return To Oz

Favorite actor: At the moment, Sharlto Copley

Favorite actress: Sigourney Weaver

Favorite recent (last five years) TV show: The Office

All-time favorite TV show: Frasier

Favorite game (video-, board-, parlor-, drinking-, anything): Super Mario World

Foxiest person alive: My current top five is: Sharlto Copley, Nicholas Lea, Ryan Reynolds, Zachary Quinto, Matthew Macfadyen

Coolest person alive: My best mate.

Funniest comedian, living or dead: Stand up? Dylan Moran

Job you'd love to try for one day: Captain of the Enterprise

Dream car (or other mode of transportation): The Enterprise

If you had to get a tattoo today: I'd get a barcode with LV-426 underneath it. Yeah, that's right. I survived, and now I'm pissed.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Mancandy Wednesday: Holt, From Closer

Yeah, yeah- I know. Another Mancandy that ties in with a promo I'm doing. But I always feel I have to do some promo and tell people about my latest work, because you know, maybe people genuinely don't know but actually want to!

You're out there, right? People who actually want to. Bertha says no but then she thinks that all those readers who bought and quite probably read The Horizon are just people I made up. She even went as far as to say I forged my first frankly amazing royalty cheque, flew to America, and posted it to myself after sneaking into the offices of Ellora's Cave for that very purpose, because she's weird and actually a figment of my imagination.

And the less said about what she thinks of all those people who added Control on Goodreads, the better. I mean, they're not really just those squiggly demon things from the movie Ghost, haunting the halls of Goodreads. Right? I'm pretty sure they're not. Goodreads isn't even haunted, okay? It's totally not.

But I digress. About figments of my imagination that HATE me.

Where was I? Oh yes. Talking about Holt, from Closer. Holt, who looks a lot like this:

But with glasses. Et voila:

Though there's more to him than the glasses I gave him in Microsoft Paint, I assure you. He's also completely comfortable in his strange sexuality, in a way my heroine is not. And oh, what fun I had watching him persuade her to progress from simply naughty rubbing against strangers on trains, to fullblown filthy sex in public places.

I hope you have fun too, if you read this little snippet of sexy. It's only $1.49 from Ellora's Cave, and you can get it here:

Oh, and here's an excerpt, if you need to wet your whistle:

The urge had gotten so bad she even knew what time of year was best for doing it. Christmas. Christmas was the best time of year for indulging her little habit, because during the holiday season everyone went temporarily insane and forgot things like personal space in an effort to buy useless things no one ever wanted.

They crammed themselves into shops and tinsel-laced streets, wedged their way onto buses and sandwiched their cars into car parks. But best of all, they got on trains. And they didn’t sit, oh no, because old people and pregnant people and jerks who’d gotten there first always sat.

Instead, the people she wanted to be amongst stood, in thin aisles and broad aisles, in the spaces by the toilet and the exits, by luggage racks when bags and brightly wrapped packages filled it up and on it when they didn’t. But better than all of this, they pressed against her. They jostled her. Some anonymous stranger rubbed her when they thought she wasn’t looking or paying attention.

Oh yes. That was the best sort of press.

At first, of course, she’d hated it. There she was, just starting a new job. Her little suits always immaculate, pencil skirts with little kicky pleats and neat, professional, well-tailored jackets. A coat that she’d almost deemed too expensive, and a new, businesslike haircut that would make everyone understand the kind of person she was.

A professional person. A together, carefully kept, in-control sort of person. People would respond well to that and understand she meant business. No one would ever rub up against her on a train, looking the way she did.

But someone had. They’d pressed their front to her back, and on that very first day to work she’d spent her journey there with a mouthful of the man in front. Mortified beyond belief. Unable to understand how so many people could travel to work every day like that, enduring the heaving, sweaty, intrusive presence of so many other people.

How awful. How terrible. How wet it had made her, to feel some anonymous body sliding against hers.

Though naturally, she’d tried to deny it. The next time she’d stood right in the corner, right next to the exit, so nobody could come up on her from behind. Most of her knew that she’d probably imagined the man behind her, rubbing and rubbing, but some part of her said otherwise. He’d probably gone home that night and masturbated thinking about her round ass in her tight skirt.
Maybe he’d wondered how far he could have gone before she protested—a hand on the back of her thigh, perhaps? If he’d lifted her skirt, just a little, would she have cried out?

She didn’t know if she would’ve or not. She only knew that when she’d stood there, wedged in that little corner with some man’s back in front of her, she’d made a little sound just thinking about it. A little cry, for the cry she didn’t make.

Then she’d pressed her body against the man in front.

That was how it started, she knew. That was when it went from disgust, and being pressed, to pressing back. And so quickly too! One second she was a normal person, the next she was getting off on the feel of a hundred strangers, clamoring to get near her body.

Or at least, that was how it felt when she closed her eyes. Like being clamored for.

But better than that were the dirty things she could imagine happening, with barely any effort at all. One time she’d been trapped between three businessmen in their soft wool overcoats, her senses full of their interchangeable and ludicrously rich-smelling man-perfumes. She’d gotten so close to one of them she could have tasted the tang of the shaving gel used to get that gun-metal stubble down to nothing.

So close he could have forced his mouth on hers with very little trouble at all. And then maybe one of his buddies could have pushed a gloved hand up her leg, between her thighs and beneath her skirt.

Of course she would have preferred the fantasy if he hadn’t been wearing gloves, but then that was the problem with getting off on rubbing against people on trains. There were always far too many layers and it never got any better, not even in summer.

At least in winter the secretive peep of the nape of someone’s neck always got close enough. So close she could have just poked out her tongue and licked, and oh she knew she got nearer to it every day. It tempted her constantly, that final perverted step. To just reach out and really touch—it didn’t seem like that big a deal. No one would ever know.

Except for that man sitting over by the window. He’d know.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Uniform Behaviour

Okay, so you know what Lucy Felthouse, writer, reviewer and keeper of Erotic For All did? Yeah, that's right. She went and created and edited a fabulous anthology, on the theme of those sexy peeps in uniforms.

Now I'll confess. I totally enjoy reading about people in uniforms. Especially priests. As I'm sure you've probably guessed already. But I find it incredibly difficult to write on the subject, so I couldn't sub and so kind of hate Lucy for doing uniforms. Why not vampires, Lucy? Why not an anthology called Weird Repressed Weirdoes Do Weird Things To Some Chick?

Oh wait. I know why. Cos it doesn't sound half as hot as this, dammit:

Do you get all weak-kneed at the sight of a grubby fireman or a hunky soldier? Perhaps immaculately-dressed waiting-on staff get you feeling frisky? If so, you’ve come to the right place.

Uniform Behaviour contains sixteen smutty stories about firemen, soldiers, sailors, police, security guards and even waiters, priests and cleaners!

Delve into this anthology and enjoy steamy stories from established erotica authors including Justine Elyot, Craig J Sorensen, Victoria Blisse, Shermaine Williams, Elizabeth Coldwell and Lucy Felthouse. Uniform Behaviour also proudly introduces some exciting debut authors. So remember, you saw them here first!

As well as being written and compiled for your titillation, this anthology is also designed to do good. A portion of the proceeds from Uniform Behaviour will be donated to UK charity Help for Heroes, which helps those wounded in current conflict.

The stories in this anthology have been hand-picked by a uniform aficionado, so you can rest assured that only the sexiest erotic fiction lies in this eBook.

So hot, right? And for a good cause, too! Get your to buy links right here, right now, cos I know you want to get your mitts on it:

What are you waiting for?