A Lady and a Maid is now in edits. I’m exhausted from it, and I am only about two thirds of the way done.
Writing, yes; editing, HELL NO.
One of the things that I’ve been struggling with (aside from the aforementioned slog of editing) is the categorization of this particular story. I don’t know about other erotica writers, but I really am torn between whether to take a story down an erotic romance track, or pile on the chains, crops and gags and scream down the erotica road in a jacked-up truck with a “Fuck Happily Ever Afters” bumper sticker on the back.
With my second (soon to be) published work I’ve tried to have my cake and spank her too. How’s that for a perverted mangling of a worn out idiom? Look, I’m tired, OK?
The story began as a single scene, and then – as my depraved mind is wont to do – a whole cascading series of ‘what-if’ questions started. Eventually, I just started writing as the questions kept coming. Writing this thing was almost 100% seat-o-yer-pants, which is highly unusual for me; I typically use notes and a rudimentary outline to string all the notes/ideas into a coherent story arc. With this one it was about as non deliberate as it gets; it just came out. Now it will be up to you, dear readers, to tell me if it sucks or not 🙂
There is one other issue that is a potential landmine with this story: F/F sex. This has some (of course of the D/s variety), which is something that is less common in erotic romance – though well represented in erotica. I included the F/F interaction for three reasons:
- I thought it was hot, and I hope the readers do too.
- It’s actually part of the characterization of Lady Miriam, one of the main players in the story.
- See #1.
Now, where I have tried to straddle the two genres is with the love story between the characters of Owen and Sophie. I really wanted to tell their story, while hinting at the details of the larger world they inhabit. I hope I’ve at least partially succeeded.
I set out to write this as an erotic romance, but I allowed myself to follow the story where it took me. It ended up erotica, and fairly harsh erotica at that. I hope I haven’t managed to alienate my female readers with this, but the story had to be told the way it is.
So, on the off chance that I am not the only person reading this blog, I have a few questions for readers: Do you think F/F can have a place in erotic romance, as long as it’s clear that that type of content is included in the story? Do you wish there were more F/F scenes or relationships in erotic romance? Lastly, do you think there is a difference in how F/F D/s is handled as opposed to M/F D/s? What would you like to see in F/F D/s?
Excerpt from A Lady and a Maid
“What’s she done to deserve this Miriam?” Sandra, her rouged lips pursed, glanced over at her friend.
Miriam strolled over from her great mirror and stood close to her friend, Miriam’s shapely dark-haired form a pleasing visual contrast to the slender fair figure of the Countess.
“Oh, she still has this silly idea that she gets some say as to what, or more to the point, whom she lays with,” the handsome lady said, wagging a long beringed finger up and down dismissively. “She’s being shown the error of her ways.”
“I see. Not content with her station in life is she?”
“Not exactly,” Miriam said, staring down at the subject of the conversation. “She serves passably well, especially at table. But she still can’t get used to the fact that this is a house run by a woman, and that as a servant of the house, she is expected to serve that woman’s needs – all of them.”
“Missing a boy back home or some such?”
“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but the girl seems to be averse to women. Sad, but true. Isn’t that right, dove?” Miriam said, raising her voice slightly.
“Ah, not a good attitude to have here at House Westwood, girl. You’d be wise to shape up quickly,” the Countess said, her voice soft.
“She has this odd notion of only being attracted to men, and says she’s never been with a woman before!”
“How selfish of her! What a bizarre thing for a girl to think Miriam!”
“Isn’t it though?,” Miriam said, lighting a few more candles about the dim room. “It’s as if she thinks it matters that she’s only attracted to men. Servants do just that – they serve. She just needs to come to grips with the fact that a major part of her duties here in my house, indeed the most important duty, is attending me. Until she gets that through her thick skull, I am just going to have to train her in proper behavior at this manor.”
“Well, I can hardly make anything between these bars and the fact that she’s tucked away in this corner, love. Perhaps we might get a better look at her?” The Countess’ clear blue eyes sparkled brighter in the fire-lit bedroom.
“Oh, I suppose we can Sandra. She’s in there to think, to decide if she’s going to accept the truth of things.” Miriam stooped down, her movement graceful, her hands smoothing the wrinkles out of her deep green silk dress. Her friend, clad only in a sheer white gown, lace décolletage only partially concealing jutting breasts, knelt down as well, face slightly flushed, eyes intent.
“She’s only been in there a half hour. It’d be a shame to spoil the lesson by letting her out too soon,” Miriam said, considering, fingers toying with the golden lock affixed to the hasp.
The ‘she’ in question, was a naked girl. She looked perhaps nineteen or twenty, and was very fair of skin (though the low light betrayed just how fair). The girl was in a small cage ensconced in a corner of the noble’s luxuriously appointed bedroom. The round steel bars of the cage were closely spaced, dull gray in color. She knelt, or to be more accurate, was forced to kneel tightly over, her body practically bent double, the cage being scarcely more than three feet in height. She faced away from the two ladies, so it was impossible to make out much more of her countenance. A thick rope of her dark brown hair was wrapped casually around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage.
“You couldn’t get some more light over here could you Miriam?” the Countess asked, keen on getting a better view of the girl.
“Oh certainly, Sandra.” Miriam retrieved a large glass-shrouded candelabra and set it on the nightstand next to the forlorn little cage.
The splash of warm yellow light illuminated the pale, broad orbs of the buttocks planted solidly on her heels, the vulnerable soles of her feet visible beneath the lush curves. In the cramped confines of the tiny cage, her posture prostrate, the dusky crack of her bottom yawned open, clearly exposing the wrinkled whorl of the anus, the perineum, and the dark, fur shrouded contours of plump labia below.
Indeed the cage was such a tight fit that the girl’s ample bottom pressed against the sides and back of the enclosure, flesh slightly bulging into squares within the rigid confinement. The bars crossed the bottom of the cage too, and one could see that they must have galled the smooth planes of the girl’s shins terribly.
Even in this closely crouched position with the girl’s bosom pressed to her thighs, Sandra could see that the captive nude was possessed of full breasts; their soft, pale curves bulged invitingly out to either side, contrasting with the delicate pattern of the girl’s rib cage.
The girl’s arms were bent behind her, reaching up and around one of the bars crossing the top of the cage, the delicate wrists clasped in metal cuffs. Sandra could see that the girl wasn’t entirely naked either, though what she did have on hardly afforded any protection from the gaze of the two noblewomen.
The cuffs were clipped to a fine, silver linked chain stretched taut to a ring embedded in the back of a broad belt. This belt clasped her lower waist, stretching round to pass just above the dimples of her bottom. The black leather was tight, the flesh bulging slightly both above and below, and made the swell of the girl’s voluptuous bottom even more pronounced.
Sandra thought she knew with some fair certainty why this particular girl was subject to the attentions of her friend Lady Westwood. The majestic raven-haired mistress of Westwood Manor was well known among her wide circle of friends for her feverish penchant for well-fleshed lasses, especially those blessed (or cursed) with a big, round bottom. She knew Miriam would make the girl wish she’d never been blessed with such bountiful buttocks.
“Ah, those shoulders must be a trifle uncomfortable by now Miriam. How about having her out for a spot? Just to get a look at what you’re working with,” the Countess said, turning her head to her friend.
“She has a lot longer to look forward to in there, but I suppose there won’t be any harm in having her out for a little tea-time stretch. She’ll no doubt be grateful for it.” Miriam said, winking at her friend.
The willowy mistress gazed at the prostrate servant a moment longer; a fingernail leisurely drawing a light furrow into the skin of one of the girl’s buttocks. Miriam fished a necklace out of her deep cleavage, from which (much to the delight of the Countess) hung a tiny golden key. She opened the small lock at the hasp, carefully tucking the key back between her breasts.
After unwinding the rope of the girl’s hair from the crossbar, Miriam unclasped the chain from the ring at the back of the girl’s belt, letting the chain slide down to the floor of the cage. She then pulled the girl’s arms straight up behind her. This allowed her to swing the heavy top of the cage up on groaning hinges. As the girl’s hair fell to one side of her back, the dark leather of two straps could be seen emerging from around the front of the girl’s face. The straps diverged, one reaching around the base of the skull along the hairline, the other snaking higher up the back of the skull, submerged in her thick hair.
With a hand clasped firmly to one of the girl’s upper arms, the olive color of her hand clashing with the creamy whiteness of the prisoner’s flesh, Lady Westwood helped the girl straighten. The fingers of Miriam’s other hand lightly played about the crimson tips of the plump breasts as the girl stood, her movement halting, and stepped out of the cage. The Lady used another key to pop open the metal cuffs, hanging them on one of the cage’s bars.
The girl immediately started to whimper and twist, her knees rubbing together, toes wiggling, rubbing the abraded skin of her wrists. Her soulful green eyes were near to overflowing with tears, the lips pulled back in a rictus by a thick black rubber-coated bit clenched between white teeth. A bit of saliva could be seen at the corners of her mouth, as well as at the lowest part of her bottom lip. Straps crossed her cheeks tightly from either end of the bit to wrap around the back of her head.
“Pins and needles, dear. She’s been in there a bit, as you know,” Miriam said matter-of-factly in response to Sandra’s questioning look.
The Lady made no attempt to comfort or assist the girl, merely content to observe her discomfort as circulation returned fully to her lower limbs. After a minute or two, when the girl’s wriggling had subsided, Miriam guided her over to the foot of the huge, richly appointed bed, and bade her sit upon the magenta duvet cover.
“Don’t get too comfortable now Sophie. Once the Countess has had her look at you, it’s back in your cage. You still have a lot to think about, and you aren’t getting out of your quiet time that easily,” said the Lady. She stood before the sitting girl, her arms crossed below the swell of her bosom.
“Yes, I see why you picked her Miriam. Very nice indeed.” The Countess pressed on the girl’s arms clutched protectively around her bosom. The bright pink bands of cuff-abraded skin on her wrists emphasized the pallor of her breasts. The Countess’ fingers moved up to trace the length of the bit, touching the girl’s soft rose lips.
“Might we pop this out too Miriam? These lips do look enchanting, and I can’t really see them pulled back so.”
“Of course, my dear,” Miriam said, unclasping the buckles at the back of Sophie’s head. The bit loosened, and fell away trailing dark straps, landing with a wet slap on the girl’s pale thigh. The corners of the unfortunate girl’s mouth were inflamed, almost blood red. The straps left fading furrows crossing both cheeks. Both women watched a moment as Sophie worked her mouth and lips to try and return some sensation to the numbed flesh. The bit had apparently been just as galling as it looked.
“Hands up now. No, behind your head. You know better than to cover up,” Miriam said, her dark brows furrowed momentarily. The nude laced her fingers behind her head, widening her elbows at a barked command from the Lady.
The girl was well-built, even tending toward powerful. Strong shoulders contrasted against the slender muscles of her arms. The breasts were full, hanging heavily on her chest. The nearly smooth areolae were wide and brown, accented with prominent, dark nipples. The belly was soft, but smooth, the inky depth of her navel a pleasing counterpoint to the pale planes of her abdomen. There was the slightest curve to her belly down to the rather prominent curls adorning the pubis. Her hips flared wide from the narrow waist, and she looked as if she might have to watch her weight when she was further along in years. But now in the prime of her youth, her hips merely advertised her luscious femininity.
The Countess glanced at Miriam. “May I?”
“By all means Sandra; it’s what she’s here for,” Miriam said, smiling at her friend.
Sandra ran a finger along the line of the girl’s biceps, tracing the smooth flesh to the underarm. She rubbed a few of the dark curls there between her fingers, looking at Miriam with a raised eyebrow.
The Lady laughed softly, coming over to stand next to her friend again. “The peasant girls are all au naturel. I usually shear them when they come to my house to serve, but this one has such enchanting curls that I decided to keep them along with that thick thatch between her thighs. Their men are apparently quite taken by this natural growth. I’m starting to see the wisdom in their preferences.”
“Oh I agree,” Sandra murmured. Though she was at first shocked at the curls, she could see the attraction. In a way they made the girl seem more vulnerable, less in control of her own body. More of an animal. Enchanting indeed.
Sandra tickled a fingertip through the hollows of Sophie’s collarbones, then ran a bejeweled finger through the girl’s cleavage, tasting the sweat from between the heavy breasts. Miriam brought over a stool padded in black leather for Sandra to sit upon, so that she might be more comfortable in her examination of the nude captive.
Sandra cupped a breast gently, lifting its heavy weight in her palm, while with her other hand she worried the nipple between finger and thumb until it stood at rigid attention.
“Such breasts,” Sandra said. She grasped the nipple hard between thumb and index finger and pulled upward, exposing the tender white underside of the globe. Sophie hissed softly, then flinched as Sandra lay the cool back of her hand against the warm flesh under the breast.
“Be still Sophie,” Miriam said. “She hasn’t even hurt you yet.”