RSS Feed

April, 2014

  1. Writing Process Blog Hop

    April 28, 2014 by Heather Cole

    I was tagged by the naughty minx, Bella Bryce, an author in the domestic discipline fiction genre, to talk about my writing process. Bella and I became acquainted through Facebook and have had some hysterical interactions where she was mischievous, funny, and a talented writer. She also takes excellent photos of food. And we all know how I feel about food.

    I’m pleased to participate in this particular blog hop because Nikki and I don’t talk much about how we write. Usually we’re talking about sex or other people having sex or come in our eyes. Er, my eye. Today I have the opportunity to talk about what goes on behind the writing scenes, not only for our blog posts but also our books. Thank you, Bella! I hope we don’t disappoint. xoxo ~Heather

    1. What Am I Currently Working On? Currently I’m writing the TRILOGY THAT WILL NEVER END. Just kidding. It will end, dammit. Just not quite yet. I’m in the third short novella in a religious/BDSM trilogy: Sins, Penance, and the final installment, Absolved. The problem is that in the third book I’m at the edge of the denouement, and the hero declares that he doesn’t believe in God. <headdesk> The setting of my story takes place in an obscure Catholic sect that explores sexual congress as a path to discovering the divine. So to have my male lead volunteer that he doesn’t believe in God… well… sigh… I want them to have sex, not debate theology. To solve my stalemate, I went back to the first book to edit, hoping to find my character’s way again. I’ll let you know how that works out.

    2. How Does My Work Differ From Others in the Genre?  Well, it’s better. HA! I’m only sort of kidding about that. Erotica is a broad and varied genre, and I swear that there is something for everyone. I write short pieces, 10,000 – 13000 words, and my overall goal is to give the reader a quality viewpoint into a character’s sex life. Technically I don’t believe in Happily Ever After. Or perhaps it’s that my version of HEA looks different because of the BDSM/power exchange elements that I include. I want to offer an escape, but I want that escape to inspire genuine feeling. Sure, I want there to be orgasms, for my readers and my characters. But the thing I truly desire is for you, the reader, to walk away thinking about what a fantastic ride that was because of the feelings you’re left with. And maybe your soaked panties.

    3. Why Do I Write What I Do? I have a confession. One of my secret projects belongs in the Urban Fantasy/Paranormal genre. It’s a full-length novel, and I have a second novel-in-progress that is an older lady-detective story (imagine Golden Girls set in the south with a dash of magic). My day-to-day writing, though, is about sex. This blog is about sex, and as my master pointed out to me one fine day, I should be selling novels about sex. See? Perfect alignment. My secret projects are in medically induced comas for the moment while I capitalize on my sex life. Well, the creatively enhanced version of all the sexual adventures I would ever want to have in my head.

    4. How Does My Writing Process Work?  Writing is my job. Most of the time I love it, but there are days when every word feels like it was dragged out from underneath a giant boulder. I even wrote out a schedule to balance writing, my freelance work, my child, and my sir. Writing happens first thing in the morning for a couple hours, and then later in the afternoon, right before I begin cooking dinner. My brain, however, is always sifting through those words. My rough draft, the first version I commit to a document, is bare bones. It’s mostly ‘she went there and then she said this’, etc. It’s a framework of the idea built from the blueprint in my head. The rough draft is created to see if the building of a story will be able to stand. My next go-through is about stabilizing the foundation. I reexamine my characters’ motivations and the trajectory of the plot. There are more details that time around, and I add in more of the senses. I check to see if the feelings are portrayed effectively, and I dive into the crux of the theme. The last time through is more for tweaking and praying and maybe some crying before I send it to my editor. That’s also when I make sir read it and then plague him with endless questions, “Are you CERTAIN that you liked it? Did you think this was believable? How did it make you feel?” That might also include a caning for being annoying. Sooooo not kidding about that.

    For next week I nominate Nikki Blue. Because she’s my soulmate clone and deserves it.

    <snicker>

     


  2. Let Go, Baby

    April 23, 2014 by Heather Cole

    I was snuggled under his arm as we watched Game of Thrones in bed. Despite losing myself in the story and the feeling of his warm body next to mine, I could feel a tight coil of tension at my center. The stress of worrying about the future and mourning our impending separation was my constant companion. The mornings were easiest when I had work and caring for my child to distract me. By the time sir returned home for dinner, though, I could feel tears threatening. I knew it was about needing a physical release for the emotional tensions of my day, but I was reluctant to give in to it. I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer, and I really didn’t want sir to begin associating his return home with a deluge of my tears every time he walked through the door. So I mentally placed those coils of tension in a small box somewhere around my stomach, and tried to ignore it.

    After the program ended, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand to set the alarm. Sir disentangled himself from the bed sheets and got to his feet to go to the bathroom, I presumed. To my surprise he strode to the closet instead and began digging through the toy bag. I watched in disbelief as he pulled out black clover clamps and walked over to my side of the bed.

    “Stand up and take off your pajamas,” he said.

    My mouth dropped open in disbelief, and I stopped myself a second before asking why out loud. Asking for an explanation of sir’s motivations would only get me in hot water.

    I did as he commanded, and he took a seat on the edge of the bed. He watched me intently, one hand on his lap and the other holding the clamps that I loathed. Finally I stood in front of him wearing only knee socks, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.

    “Step out,” he said and motioned for me to spread my legs.

    My heartbeat kicked against my chest, and I took a tentative step. His expression was pleasant, but I heard the underlying hint of steel in his voice. His hand went to my crotch, but I backed away. I stared at the clover clamps glinting at me in the dim light.

    “I can’t handle clover clamps on my pussy,” I said.

    Panic blossomed through me, and I found myself shaking my head. My eyes were wide, and that box inside me where I had kept the day’s fears was threatening to spill open. There was no way on God’s green earth that I could tolerate the merciless clamp of metal on my sensitive nether regions. The thought was overwhelming. I couldn’t do it. Not even for the man I loved.

    Sir laughed. “You say that like you think there’s a Door #2 or something. There’s no other option. Come here.”

    “I can’t do it,” I repeated and shied away from his questing fingers.

    “You’re going to do this,” he said, “or I’m going to beat you with a wire hanger.”

    If he had threatened me with any of our usual toys, a cane or whip or flogger, I would have dived for the alternative. But a hanger was so outside our usual play parameters that I recognized it as a true deterrent. Plus, I had seen Mommy Dearest. Did I think he would actually do it? Probably not, but I understood the message beneath the uncommon implement. Sir was dead serious.

    My voice caught in my throat. In that moment I knew there was nothing to be done but submit. I could feel the emotion welling in my throat, along with defeat, and there was no denying that the avalanche of feeling contained within me would break free. Tears slid down my cheeks as I slowly stepped forward and gave him access to my labia. I couldn’t bear to watch him apply the clamps, so I shut my eyes and looked away. My tears fell faster, and I started to shake. Big hiccupping sobs shook my chest as I felt sir’s hands move from my pussy to my breasts. Still I refused to look.

    His fingers gently teased my erect nipples as he clamped them, and the familiar weighted chain felt cold against my skin. Relief that he wasn’t going to clamp my pussy washed through me, but it couldn’t stop the torrent of emotions that had been unleashed. I continued to sob as sir murmured endearments.

    “Just let go, baby,” he crooned. His lips grazed the underside of my breast, and then he kissed a clamped nipple. He gently caressed my skin with his hands as his lips planted sweet kisses over my chest.

    As he wrapped his arms around my waist to pull me even closer, I rested my cheek on the top of his head. Finally my tears were spent, and I took a ragged breath. I felt exhausted and empty, exhumed of all tension and sadness.

    “Thank you,” I whispered.

    Sir sat back on the bed and carefully removed the clamps. “I think you really needed that.”

    “I did.”

    “You know, I was never going to put these clamps on your pussy. That would have been mean.”

    I shook my head and felt a small smile bow my lips. “You really are a champion mind fucker.”

    We crawled into bed and returned to the positions that had originally started our evening. I snuggled into his side, my head on his chest, and I took my first deep breath of the night. Deep feelings of love and gratitude swept through me, and I pulled them tight around me like a blanket. I wanted the moment to last forever.

     

    IMG_2233 Smashwords

     

    Want more stories of a good girl being naughty? TALES OF A FILTHY GOOD GIRL by Heather Cole is now available on Nook, , and Smashwords.