Thursday, 3 October 2013

New Erotica -coming soon! excuse the pun.

FORCED by Francesca Fortescue

Emma has been kidnapped by a group of people who have made her into their sexual slave... but all is not as it seems...

Just for you a short sample of this exciting story of intrigue, sexual exploitation and revenge...

Click, the door opened. Emma waited to see who it was this time, the slave or the brute.
“Look at me.” A female voice this time clipped, sophisticated, definitely not the slave’s.
Emma turned her head and drew in a deep breath. A tall slim female stood by her side. The woman was completely encased in a soft shiny leather cat suit including mask. She wore black rubber opera gloves which went up to her elbows. Only her eyes, nose and mouth were visible.
“Comfortable?” said the woman.
“No my back and knees are aching.” Emma tried to be defiant; she had just reached a new point of pissed off. The bondage was impossible to escape and she hurt in a lot of places.
“Silly girl, I meant your butt plug, is it comfortable now?”
“No, it’s not.” The woman leaned over, she reeked of perfume. 
“Listen slave I don’t like complainers maybe I should put a larger plug into you. Really stretch you open would you like that?”
“No, don’t do that.”
“Then I repeat the question. Is the plug comfortable?”
“Yes it’s comfortable. I love it.” Slap, slap! A gloved hand slammed down on Emma’s buttocks.
“Ow, ow!”
“Don’t be a smart bitch slave.” Emma felt soft hands rub over her lower back. The rubber felt soft and made her skin tingle. She arched her back.
“Just like a cat, aren’t you slave Kathy or is it Emma now?”
“It always was Emma.”
Slap, slap! Again Emma’s buttocks received two heavy slaps.
“Call me Mistress!” The masked woman hissed.
“I am Emma…Mistress.”
“Very well, you will be slave Emma from now on. Now relax while Mistress checks out your pussy.”
“My pussy? What the hell are you going to put in there?”
Slap, slap! Again Emma’s buttocks were punished.
“I have a name slave Emma, remember?”
“Sorry Mistress, could I ask what you are going to put inside my vagina?”
“Yes you may ask slave but if you wait a moment you will find out.” Emma felt a gloved finger stroke her labia, she hunched her back but the finger was insistent. The Mistress was very gentle.
“If you relax slave, no harm will become you, especially if you please me, or any of us for that matter. You just need to give into your desires. That’s better Emma, what you are feeling? Things aren’t that bad are they?”
“No, you are being very gentle Mistress, but what you are doing is illegal without my consent.”
“Of course it is, now be still. Slave drop your hips and sink onto my finger until it is right inside you. That’s better; tell me, how does this feel?”
“Well it’s not hurting me Mistress but I should tell you I am not into women. Ooh, ooh.”
“That’s alright, I like a challenge. I guarantee you by the time I have finished with playing you will be appreciating what a woman can do for you. Now I am going to insert a second finger but first some lubrication, lots of lubrication. There - how does that feel now slave?”
“Ummm, it feels nice Mistress.” Maybe if I humor the bitch she will go easy on me? thought Emma. It did feel nice. Go with the flow Emma bide your time. This woman might be a total nutcase. She might pull a razor or a gun if you displease her. Play along, relax.
 Emma began to gently sway her hips. The Mistress’ two fingers followed her every movement, stroking, caressing. Fuck this is starting to feel nice, what do I do? Ooh I’m getting horny as well as being pissed off. Pissed off and horny, who would have thought. Ooh what was that?
“Three fingers now slave, just relax, that’s it. Yes move down onto my fingers feel them scissoring inside you. Now feel my other hand on your clitoris. Hmmm that feels nice doesn’t it slave Emma?”
“Yes, it does… Mistress, are you getting pleasure from doing this to me?”
“Of course, my pussy is wet. Just like yours slave, you are very wet now, did you know that?”
“Yes, I know it, ooh that feels tight are you trying to put your whole hand in me. Ooh, rubbing my clit like that is making me want to cum.” Emma wasn't pretending, she felt the pressure building up inside her and her emotions were becoming conflicted as her mood swung from fear and pain to pleasure.

“Now I want you to relax slave, really concentrate on Mistress's hand, you are becoming very responsive to my touch. I have four fingers in you now a little more and I will be completely inside you. That’s it slave, relax give yourself to me, try and slide down my hand. There you go, you are wonderful - open and horny. Move faster slave, yes fuck Mistress’s hand. Now because you are being a good girl Mistress may allow you to cum.” 

Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Mohair - erotica in winter part 2

Mohair Passion in Winter 
This blog post is devoted to all those hundreds of people who have read my earlier teaser post about mohair and a man called Robert meeting the woman of his most frenetic furry fantasies on an international flight to Frankfurt.
I have discovered that my own delight in mohair, cashmere and angora is matched by thousands of others who love the feel of delicious soft silky hairy fluffy furry fabric. 
In particular the feel of mohair and the look of it arouses many to erotic ecstasy.
Ebay is full of sexy mohair fetish knitted items which can not have been designed for day-wear.
There are erotic mohair stories and videos hidden among the other sexual erotica on the internet.
Now for your enjoyment:
An excerpt from my new novel: Private Obsessions: Mohair. 
The slam of a door startled me awake. As I opened my eyes I did not have time to wonder where I was because leaning over me was Marguerite dressed in a flowing black mohair hooded cloak, under it she wore a silver mohair mini-dress and knee high boots. A glittering silver chain belt cinched in her waist. She put her hand over my mouth and climbed over my body which lay on the bed where I’d collapsed suffering from jet lag after my flight.
Silver handcuffs appeared from the back of her belt and my wrists were locked together before I could adjust my senses to what was happening.
‘What?’ I asked, her dark eyes looked sternly down on me and I fell silent, rebuked. I was in my proper place now, under her and it was up to me not to disappoint her, this was plain in the expression on her face and in the set of her shoulders. She got off the bed and stood back.
‘Get up and strip off your clothes, Robert.’ It was an order, a command, from a woman used to being in command. I struggled woozily off the bed and undid my pants, dropped them and my underwear, that was the easy part; getting my t shirt off was going to be impossible without cutting it off. I began to tug at it but she shook her head.
‘Leave the t shirt on,’ she said, ‘Now lie back down on the bed. Place your arms over your head.’ I did so aware that my cock had sprung to attention and I didn't know if I should feel embarrassed or hope that this Goddess would fuck me since I was so ready for her. I had been ready to be hers since the first moment I saw her.
Marguerite turned away to a large cloth bag and drew out a king sized white mohair blanket which she threw over my body covering me completely. It felt wonderful and the touch of her hands through the soft silky fibers was magical. I moaned softly as gentle hands stroked my face with the mohair, then they moved down my chest.
The hands lifted off – what next? Seconds passed slowly… She touched my feet and I jumped, startled as she pressed the blanket over my intensely sensitive skin and moved inexorably up my legs, driving me crazy with longing for her touch on my cock. I lay breathing hard praying for her to rub my erection however, to my frustration her hands stroked me everywhere BUT on my throbbing organ.
I felt her get on the bed beside me, then she straddled my body and I gasped as I felt her warm thighs over mine and a firm pressure bear down on my cock, pressing it to my stomach. I groaned and gasped at the intense pleasure of her weight on me, the nearness of her sex to mine, separated only by the blanket.
She lay on my chest and gently rubbed her breasts through the layers of mohair back and forth over my cheeks, eyes and lips, it may have been her hands but only if they grew hard nipples. It was then I realized she was as aroused by the mohair as I was and perhaps to find a man like myself, so profoundly aroused by fur and mohair… maybe this meant a lot more to her than I could imagine. There might not be many men like me to be found and so maybe, just maybe she might want me…. I sighed as it seemed her lips caressed mine and I could smell her intoxicating fragrance close to me. I lifted my hips thrusting, thrusting. Her hips were over mine, what heaven! So close and yet so far…

Marguerite lifted the blanket from my face and brushed her lips over mine. Then she nibbled my bottom lip, licked my top lip and finally pressed her beautiful soft sweet mouth to my eager lips. Her tongue snaked inside and I surrendered utterly to her kiss, a kiss so passionate and powerful it was as if we were underwater and I would never breathe air again.

Tuesday, 2 July 2013

Which kind of English do we choose to write our novels in?

Upon waking this morning I noticed a comment on my blog. It was an unpleasant opinion about my writing quality and grammar from a fanfic writer somewhere in the Colorado Mountains.
Now lots of people have opinions about grammar and rarely are those opinions expressed in a positive way.
However this comment illustrates the problems that authors face today when writing fiction for an international audience.
Which kind of English do we choose to write in?
US usage is very different from English usage elsewhere in the world yet American Grammar Nazis no doubt believe that their grasp of their language is the only valid option - particularly if they have never travelled outside the USA.
UK English speakers and writers think similarly, yet their grammar usage and spelling is very different from US usage. US vs UK usage
Europeans, South Americans, Indians and Africans all have local customs when it comes to English expression and how to write the language.
In the US there are reports that English is diversifying, rather than consolidating as a language. Personally I love the languages of Baltimore MD, but I'm sure if we were able to read a book written in this sub-dialect few people would think it was spelled well, demonstrated excellent grammar or was especially understandable - 'ain't nuthin' is one of the memorable phrases I came across there.
In New Zealand we have our own well established idiom and slang which is different from everyone else. There is even a large NZ English dictionary. Australians who are our closest neighbours geographically and linguistically have different ways of using slang and English and a more American way of spelling. Fiona Lake's excellent take on Australian vs US English

AJ and I went to a lot of trouble to write The Secret Empire in US English. Which is our very general understanding of US English given that we are not native speakers, nor have we spent a great deal of time on US soil learning the language as spoken and written. Our understanding was supported by MS Word which has it's own opinions on US English usage.
No doubt the offering at could assist us as it checks grammar ONLY in US English.
However creative writing is not catered to by 'for business' grammar checking facilities. Try putting one of Robert Frost's poems through grammarly!

My current work in progress I'm writing in UK English - a language I feel more confident using.
Are these efforts to write in English from other places on the planet a waste of time?
Am I guaranteeing that I'm going to be 'wrong' all over the world?

My erotic novels are best-selling novels originally published by Penguin and written in NZ English which people here seem to enjoy. Would it be best to stick with our language - since it is what we know best and to hell with the rest of the world and how they use English?

There seems to be a tendency for US English speakers to critique writers whatever their nationality and declare that those writers use the 'wrong English' whilest ignoring the fact that the rest of the world don't have the opportunity or indeed the desire to learn US English usage.

I think that the dismissal of 'Indie Authors' as people who don't edit their novels could be in many cases a lack of understanding of the differences in English usage worldwide.

Personally I enjoy diversity in language and embrace all dialects of English with tolerance. I'm not going to critique someone because they don't write in my dialect.

Which English language dialect do you think works best for international novels?