Please Leave Fifty Shades of Gray Alone

I understand the frustration. I regret that I made statements against the book without even reading it. Its popularity led to it getting unfair weight, so I understand the urge to correct that impression people are left with, many of whom don't or won't know much else about power exchange dynamics in a loving relationship, but I keep reading these posts about abuse and I'm reading that BDSM educators are leaving pamphlets for movie goers. It smacks of desperation. We're talking about a work of fiction. Fiction is different from real life, it's a representation, it can take any number of forms.

Here's a story Joseph Campbell told me. In an ancient human society, they used to bring out four or five virgin boys and one virgin girl. Under a rigged contraption of tree trunks, the boys would one by one have their first sexual relations with the girl. When the last coupling was in the act, the contraption would be sprung. The couple would be crushed, cooked, and eaten by the community. That's not fiction, that's true. So we have two choices when we hear that story. We can condemn that practice as barbaric, or we can consider it from a different perspective and recognize it as a need for those societies to make sense of what they think of the world through myths and through metaphorical enactments.

Fiction is a means of making sense of different things in a similar, much more innocuous way. If you see a relationship portrayed in a work of fiction and determine it to be abusive, you're not wrong but when you're telling everyone else they should find it abusive you absolutely are wrong, because you're putting your interpretation on other people. How do we expect anyone, maybe taking a risk by openly enjoying this book or this movie, to make sense of what they're experiencing through these fantasies enough to incorporate it into a real life enjoyment when they're being told they're doing it wrong before they even get started?

I doubt any practitioner of BDSM, however healthy and loving they feel their real life relationships are now or have been through the course of their adult lives, can say every fantasy construction of BDSM they've ever experienced in their minds would play out in real life in that same healthy and loving form. And even now I'm still playing that game of what's healthy and what's not. Who is to judge these things? It's never ceased to amaze me, since getting on fetlife--a site many people would judge shouldn't exist at all from their narrow perspective--the number of people who feel comfortable stating that this is acceptable but this isn't. This is a healthy relationship but this is abuse. We can't know what the experiences of other people are unless we are those people. Which isn't possible, so what's the point? And when people start in on fictional representations, they sound like people who don't have a grasp of the difference between fantasy and reality. And I don't mean to rant against them, because I understand why. They're protecting something that others have harshly judged. So, that's fine, but use this connection with people, this influx of interest, as an opening to communication instead of dishing out the same judgment.

The Story of My Two-Star Review

Let me start by clearly stating that readers have every right to post what they choose to post in reviews and how they choose to rate books they've bought and taken the time to read. I would never and will never publicly comment on a reader review.

Professional reviews (and when I say professional I mean books received for free which leads to compensation in the form of exposure for a review site and/or the reviewer who in many cases is also an author with books for sale) ought to aim for a high level of objectivity. This is a difficult skill to acquire. Anyone who's had their work critiqued by fellow writers will probably tell you there are some talented writers whose critiques are primarily focused on pointing out how your work fails in being the story they wanted to read instead of how it could be improved in being the story you wanted to write. Truthfully I'm not sure how well reviewers accomplish this, I simply am aware the skill is difficult to acquire and how rare it is among critiquers, which leads me to guess there are reviewers who fail to meet a high standard of objectivity in reviews. As an author of femdom novels, which are generally less comfortably received, I am highly selective about sending my books out for review. I prefer to rely on generous readers who bought copies wanting the kind of book they knew they were getting and their reviews, which have been not numerous but favorable. I'd rather do that than send books out for review that would land in the laps of reviewers who would never by choice read a femdom novel, and then be left to hope in their ability to review objectively a book not to their specific taste.

I stumbled onto another option when I found a reviewer who stated in his review policy that he only reviewed books he felt comfortable rating three stars or higher. His stated reason was that it was a conflict of interest to rate fellow authors' books poorly when he had books of his own for sale. An admirable position, but for me it was appealing because it would prevent a reviewer reacting negatively to the nature of the relationship between my dominant heroine and her submissive lover, the portrayal of which is uncomfortable for some.

I contacted him with free review copies of both Courting Her and Serving Her, books recently released in tandem by my publisher, Pink Flamingo. He messaged back with a two-and-a-half star review, which included some legitimate criticisms but primarily was a judgment of the characters under the guise of a review. Kimberly was described as selfish, a psychopath, and I was told that the characters should switch, occasionally, or the relationship they engaged in was a form of abuse. He cited from Serving Her, the follow up book to Courting Her, a part where Kimberly observes the dynamic between a neighboring couple, perceives the man as too dominant in that relationship, and upon leaving a visit with them informs Alex she needs to spank him to feel better.

The reviewer defined feminism for me as equality between the sexes. If Kimberly is meant to be a feminist, it's news to her creator, the author. She's a fledgling female supremacist. She perceives misogyny in the world around her, is frustrated by it, and punishes her male submissive lover to alleviate that frustration. Is that fair? I would say no, it's not. I would say that's a flaw in her. Probably so would Alex. Rather than decry her for it, Alex enjoys supporting her by helping her work through it, by enduring punishments. Men enjoy women inventing less valid reasons for delivering punishment for enjoyment's sake. Alex is not complaining when Kimberly contrives reasons to punish him.

Kimberly has a chip on her shoulder. I know that. Alex knows that. I find her more interesting because of that; Alex finds her more courageous because she emerged with that weight from a misogynist influence to become the dominant woman he loves and adores, flaws and all. Now this reviewer caught that but rather than consider what that meant about their relationship, he went straight to assuming writer error. A reviewer completely airballing on the core interplay between two characters in a book and then reviewing it poorly is unfortunate for everyone and exactly what a review policy of only reviewing books if comfortable enough to review them three stars or higher would have avoided had the reviewer adhered to his own stated policy.

The books individually did well enough, were enjoyed by enough readers, that my publisher, Pink Flamingo, packaged them together and made them available at a better value, combined, as Ebooks and paperbacks. The two-star review remains attached to it despite my reminders to the reviewer about our agreed upon arrangement. That's unfortunate but is unlikely to affect sales. The people who are comfortable with themselves reading these books, the people who are comfortable with themselves writing them, are fully aware that there are people who are uncomfortable with them reading (or writing) these books and don't particularly care, would prefer those people not act sanctimonious. They're aware that books like this might have a poor review or two that aren't a reflection of the books' quality but a reflection of the reviewers' bias. So the books will still sell the same. They might lose one, here or there, which is sad. Sad for the reader who might have found a book to love and sad for the writer who might have lost an opportunity to connect with that reader. Reviews are meant to connect us. That doesn't mean they all have to be good reviews, that wouldn't work either, but they ought to be objective and in this case the review wasn't.

Worse there are people who aren't fully comfortable purchasing and reading books they enjoy on these subjects and are potentially upset by a judgment on their reading tastes disguised as a review. Slam my writing and I'll keep quiet. Attack my characters for their lifestyle and I'll defend them with everything in me. By defining feminism he clearly revealed his bias that books should portray his idea of feminism. It's hard to be objective but reviewers have to be held to a standard so that they strive to write and post reviews void of these judgments. When negative reviews lack objectivity and are essentially rants against a certain lifestyle choice characters have made they're far closer to a form of censorship.

(If you don't think this happens, some time read some of the one-star reviews of Freedom by Jonathan Franzen, arguably among the great prose writers of the day. Most of them are complaints about the ideology presented in the book. Now a complaint that a novel is too loaded with ideology is perfectly valid. A complaint about a specific ideology is useless to include in a review; it's a reviewer getting up on his or her soap box and spouting an irrelevant opinion, a clear bias.)

Start the review with 'This is a type of relationship of which I don't approve but' and then when you're done take out the 'This is a type of relationship of which I don't approve but' and hit post, because no one cares about your approval.

I'm not making this personal. The reviewer will be easy enough to find as long as the review remains posted. If he wants his name out of it, he can remove the review. By his own review policy, it never should have gone up. I doubt he will. He ignored my last message and unfriended me. He seems to have successfully rationalized violating his stated review policy, for these books, how I couldn't tell you. The explanation he gave me defied logic, in my opinion. I certainly won't miss his friendship. I would like for him to have kept his word and acted like a professional.

In one of our exchanges he mentioned that he could maybe edit the review and go to three stars. So was it two stars or three? Apparently three with my consent and two without it. Clearly this shows a lack of integrity in the review. It occurred to me that giving the go ahead to the three-star review would probably lead to good exposure. A dominant woman being described as "too selfish" is a fairly typical comment from a world deeply influenced by misogyny, and would have been unlikely to deter femdom readers. It wasn't about the stars, for me. Stars mean little. It was the biased attack on the characters that led me to thank him for the time he put into reading the books but that I thought we should move forward. I didn't want my books to become an opportunity for a reviewer to get on a pulpit and preach against a lifestyle some people engage in and enjoy and many other people enjoy having portrayed in the fiction they read.  

I don't expect writers to be on my side on this. It's deeply ingrained in us to keep quiet about reviews, but in this specific case, a clearly stated review policy was violated, essentially it was a breach of contract. I won't be kept silent by an internet bully. My concern is if speaking out hurts sales and my publishers, who invest time and money making my books available to readers in hopes of turning a profit to keep their business running. I'd be tempted to keep quiet for them, but I answer to a personal code of ethics above all. And the posting of this review was an injustice.

The books in question can be found here, for sale on Amazon, in paperback and Ebook form:  

http://amzn.com/1938897471

Both remain for sale individually, as well, in only Ebook form. At the Pink Flamingo site, both are available individually in paperback and as Ebooks.

Positions, Excerpt from The Lodge

Dominant women making submissive men hold positions seems to be a common theme in my books. I suppose that's no accident. That's a hot fantasy to imagine, choosing to obey a command to hold to an uncomfortable position from a woman who, meanwhile, is exercising free range of movement. I must not be the only one. My friend, Mistress Lilyana, who authors an excellent blog, told me her post on positions is one of her most popular. You can find that here:

http://www.mistresslilyana.com/2009/06/about-week-ago-in-my-favorite-fetlife.html

 

The Lodge is an exotic dance club where patrons have the option of paying double price for admission with a collar instead of a wristband. The entertainers carry leashes and target collar boys for double price dances, which these men get to view from their knees. To briefly set up this excerpt. Paul has become a valued regular to his favorite dancer, Destiny. He arrives one night and Destiny isn't there. He purchases a wristband, not wanting to be clipped by another dancer, but disappoints Destiny by showing too much zeal at a night off her collar, particularly making the mistake of hounding a cocktail waitress, Angela, into dancing for him.

 I’m going to teach you a couple of positions.” She sat down and Paul knelt in front of her. “The first we will simply call ‘The Position.’ If I say ‘assume the position’ or if I snap my fingers or if I simply give you a look that says I mean business all of that will mean I want you in this position.” She took her paddle off her hip and moved it between his knees. “First spread them.” Paul inched his knees apart until Destiny nodded. “Now clasp your hands behind your back.” She stood up and moved behind him. “Get your butt up off your legs.” Paul obeyed, though he shuddered at the vulnerability he felt as Destiny touched the paddle to his backside. She moved back around and touched the paddle to his shoulder. “Bend slightly over.” She sat down and crossed her legs. “Now head up and look at me.” Paul craned his neck up and met her gaze. She smiled. “There. That’s exactly how I want you. Take a moment to memorize it.”

            Paul considered his exact position. The feel of his body, the way his quads strained slightly keeping his butt off his legs, the slight tension in his neck from being bent forward with his head up. The acute vulnerability of having his cock and balls hanging fully exposed as Destiny’s heel swung in the air in front of them. “Now unless I say ‘at ease’ or make it clear that you have permission to relax or give another order, this is how you’ll spend the evening. I’ll be inviting the other entertainers in and displaying you to them. If I catch you covering up, I’ll be disappointed in you.” She gave this a moment to sink in, that she and Angela would not be the only women invited into the room. Paul felt a horror and resignation pass over his face that Destiny appeared to notice and enjoy.

            “Position two: Present.” She got up and moved behind him. “Touch your cheek to the floor and get your butt in the air.” Paul obeyed, but she caught him sneaking his knees together and admonished him. Paul moaned as he spread his knees with Destiny just behind him. “I know, it’s very humiliating, but is it much different from positions we’re in while we dance? Get used to it while it’s just me and you, because the entertainers who danced for you last week are all going to see you like this.”

            “Destiny, please, I’m so sorry. Will you please not do this?”

            “Paul, I’m simply making demands and you are capitulating to me. You may have your clothes back and exchange my collar for a wristband at any time. You just have to say. Otherwise, I expect obedience. Are we clear?”

            “Yes, Ma’am.”

When creating this fictional exotic dance club, I tried to include elements of realism, with some club rules and with a focus on the dancers' income. I also took some liberties. So would there really be a club where dancers could take men into the champagne room and strip them naked? Yes! It's called The Lodge, and it's the setting of a femdom novel by Gregory Allen. The Lodge is available in print and as an Ebook at the Pink Flamingo website. The Ebook is available at amazon and other Ebook retailers. Thank you for reading!  

New Release: The Lodge, excerpt from chapter one, "Clipped by Destiny"

The Lodge is an exotic dance club where the dancers carry leashes and, for an extra fee, patrons can enter wearing a collar instead of a wristband. The novel opens with Paul finally working up the courage to visit his favorite dancer at the club wearing one. The excerpt picks up just before Paul receives his first dance.

               Clipped by Destiny, from chapter one of The Lodge by Gregory Allen

Destiny sat in the middle of the couch between the other two and leaned back. She gave the leash a sharp tug and pointed at the floor. Paul crawled to a stop and knelt up. Destiny crossed her legs. She kicked her heel in the air between them. The view up her tiny skirt revealed her bikini bottoms pressed between her tightly closed thighs, but the glorious sight remained in his periphery. He couldn’t remove his gaze from her face as she smiled down at him. “I wondered if you would come in with a collar on. You seemed like the type.” She uncrossed her legs and, placing both feet on the floor, leaned forward. She pinched his cheek. “Were you too shy?”

“Yes.”

She leaned back, drawing the leash tight, pulling him slightly off balance and making him tense up. She raised her chin and glared down. “While you’re at the end of my leash, you will address me as ‘Mistress Destiny.’”

“Yes, Mistress Destiny.”

She smiled and let the leash go slack. She crossed her legs, again. She told him she was enjoying the change at the club. She was having fun with it. Several of her regulars were coming in with collars on. Paul never liked hearing about her other regulars. He didn’t have any delusions. Of course she was an entertainer and men came in to see her, and it never bothered him to see her admired by other men she danced for, but he did like to think she wasn’t anyone else’s primary reason for coming in. When a dancer spots a man and knows when she sees him he’s a certain yes for a dance a nice bond is created. He wished his sharing of that with her was unique, but he obediently nodded along, listening attentively as she continued speaking, her foot moving through the air just under his chin.

The usual chatter took place. She let him know how her week had been and he told her about his. He didn’t have a lot in common with a beautiful woman half his age, but with Destiny, their surface conversations always felt sincere, and her wit and intelligence, during these pre-dance chats, had always made it more amazing that she would be dancing naked just for him and not slightly less the way it could if a dancer seemed too vapid or uninterested during the conversation. Now, on his knees at her feet, their pleasant, mundane chit chat took on a heightened erotic charge.

A few other patrons had been clipped by dancers, but the only two he could see on the adjacent couches wore bands around their wrists and were sitting and talking with their entertainers. Their forearms grazed against the dancers’ naked thighs. The couples seemed focused on each other, but Paul still felt the embarrassment of having to kneel while Destiny relaxed on the middle of the couch, her arms sprawled across both cushions.

She chatted idly, as though not even aware of the humiliation involved in his predicament, yet with subtle looks and sly maneuvering of her feet, which stretched nearer and nearer to his face, Paul could tell she was intentionally heightening his embarrassment.

When the song began, the dancers beside Destiny both rose. The men slid to the middle of their respective couches and opened their legs, and the dancers centered themselves between the knees of the men and began to slither out of their bikinis. Destiny simply uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “This is going to be fun.” She cupped his cheek, grazing her palm against his skin, and pinched his cheek. “I’ll take it a little easy on you.”

The free amazon sample continues from here, I'll leave a link to it. The novel is also available in paperback at the Pink Flamingo website.

The sample is all of chapter one and a portion of chapter two:

http://amzn.com/B00K3B870G

Three Men and their Romance Writing

I have this strange memory that surfaces when I participate in interviews. It's from Beaches when Bette Midler's character is watching herself on a talk show and answers to some question, all dramatically, after begging herself from the couch to not go and say it, "I would say that C. C. feels things." Then the C. C. from the couch turns to the little girl and asks what she thinks. The girls says, "I thought you sounded kind of dumb."

That haunts me! Although I also think Stephen King was onto something when he said in On Writing, that if you're going to agree to give an interview you have to have something to say. In my case, I've been interviewed by generous people who gave me an opportunity on their blogs, so short of making something up, (The example Stephen King gave in the book was that he once lied and said he didn't write on Easter, Christmas, and his birthday) which I wouldn't be comfortable doing, I attempt to push through my comfort zone and offer something.

Which isn't usually difficult for me, I have strong opinions, but I'm also quite sensitive, especially on the topic of gender stereotypes and the effects of sexism in the erotica writing world. As usual, I probably over stepped, but I was fortunate for two reasons. The author of the article, PM White, did a great job weaving my statements into a balanced article and because Willsin Rowe added a fantastic point I missed. To my point that there are some sex-based biases in the world of romance reading and writing that we would all benefit from having cleaned up, a bit, he offers that it's a relatively, in the context of obvious worse issues in the past, soft issue.

Please check out the article here: http://www.write-sex.com/?p=1792 

  

To Write Books or to Play Video Games?

Is "Keep Writing/Don't Give Up" advice you give?
 
Lately I find myself steering away from giving that kind of advice. When my writing friends post their frustrations (which seems to happen only occasionally, everyone seems to try and present a positive outlook), I like to offer encouragement but I'm more likely to say things like, "Try to focus on enjoying the work," if their complaint is about sales and reaching readers. I've reached a point where I feel like telling people to not give up and keep writing is a way of telling them that the book sales and the reaching readers they desire are just around the corner. And I worry that I might be presenting false hope. The reality is the readers most of us are hoping for probably aren't around the corner.

What I would really like to tell writers struggling with whether or not they want to keep going is to take a quick break and consider if the joy and satisfaction you get from sitting and writing, from doing the work, is enough to keep you going by itself. If all those hopes and dreams of gaining readers and all that might come with that were to go away, would you still write? The answer doesn't have to be yes. Writers give a lot to the blank page and it's okay to want more back, whether it's more communication with an actual person or financial compensation for our investment of time.

I've done this on numerous occasions and I always quickly come back to yes as my answer, but that has to do with a lot more than just me as a writer, that has to do with me as a person. I don't have a challenging day job, I'm not a religious person, and these are two important holes in my life writing fills. I also have the free time available to spend on writing. If I didn't write, I might play video games. That's the analogy I often fall back on when I wonder why I'm bothering when I'm feeling down about sales and gaining readers: I could purchase video games and play them till I conquer them or I could write books. Writing books, if nothing else, is cheaper. 

Femdom Symbols

A friend asked me to read a story she'd written and comment. She apologized if "writers get that a lot," which made me laugh because that marked the first time I'd ever "gotten that." I was immensely flattered my opinion was valued. She also warned me to not expect it to be "as sensual" as my writing, which again flattered me. Then I read this story. It was well written, but I knew it would be because I was familiar with her blog and already knew she wrote well. The characters felt like they had a loving relationship as they played. I was wondering what exactly she might have meant when she said it wasn't like my writing. Then, near the end, the female character (it was a femdom story) peed on her submissive male partner.

I began writing femdom erotica for a few reasons, but one of them was that reading femdom meant running into activities that either didn't turn me on or that I didn't particular like that they turned me on. I "get" enjoying getting peed on as an expression of submission to a partner, it just goes a touch far, for me. In Serving Her, Kimberly tells Alex that peeing on him is on their "list." Their "list" is a mutual one of activities neither of them choose to participate in. It's mostly for Alex, since if Kimberly didn't want to do something, she simply wouldn't, as she tells him. But it's not a judgment against activities anyone else chooses to engage in. Kimberly spanks Alex with all kinds of implements and snaps his cock with rubber bands. Plenty of people would find that "a touch far" as an expression of love between two people. How giant of a hypocrite would I have to be to not recognize that getting peed on is simply another loving expression of dominance and submission between people different from me?

And she didn't mean, I don't think, that I would have an adverse reaction to that scene, but it struck me that she thought I would find less love between them. If two people whose tastes in femdom are close but don't quite sync up, can't come together and recognize that the love is there, how can I expect vanilla people to recognize that Kimberly and Alex share a love as strong as any two people who don't engage in female domination? Only the symbols are different, the love is the same.   

Reaching Readers and Tasting Chocolate Ice Cream

Thinking about reaching readers, I got caught in a loop. I don't know if this is obvious or interesting, but I realized people are averse to the feeling like they're missing something. And none of this is intended as criticism, this is mostly me thinking of me. I'm like a lot of people who say they're always looking for new books to enjoy. I was a reader long before I was a writer and I'm still a reader. I love finding a new book or new author who knocks me off my feet. But in the meantime, I'm not sitting around contemplating the absence of the startling, wonderful feeling of being thrilled by a new book. That would be too painful. Plus I'm too busy for that. I have my personal list of go to authors, whose books I consistently enjoy, enough that I don't want to miss any of them.

Moving away from books, if I've never tasted chocolate ice cream, it doesn't matter how delicious chocolate ice cream might taste to me, I don't feel like I'm missing anything. If someone comes over to my house with a carton of the stuff, I can take a bite and discover how tasty it is. If they pop over empty-handed and just tell me about chocolate ice cream, I might toss it in the memory bank as something to try when I get the chance, but I'm not going to spend the time it takes to get to the nearest grocery store drooling over how much I might enjoy chocolate ice cream that I, at that point, only know my friend finds tasty.

Back to books again. Enjoyment of a book requires more work than somehow getting chocolate ice cream to land on a taste bud. When we consider that people are, on a deeply subconscious level, averse to feeling like they're missing something, it shows the difficulty in reaching them. Then people are resistant even to hearing things like, "You should check out this book!" (You're missing out on the experience of reading this book!) That's how word of mouth eventually works. After hearing enough times, from enough people, how good a book is we finally do feel like we're missing something, that pains us, and so we read that book. That's why just about everyone has read at least one Harry Potter book and a Hunger Games book. (Not saying those books aren't also enjoyable.) That would also explain why while most books are buried in obscurity there is always that occasional book everyone reads. Also the reason movie studios clobber us with advertising for movies. They aren't trying to make sure people see a movie's trailer and decide it's something they might enjoy. They're trying to create, through repetition, a compulsion to see that movie, like a need to scratch an itch. (Not always the case, in either case, a movie trailer can, by content alone, pique the interest of an audience, same with a book synopsis, but I more mean the challenge of reaching a larger audience.)

So I don't know how my theory, if there's anything to it, could be applied to aid us little guys and gals in reaching readers. (I was hoping someone else would come up with that part.) And, again, not intended in any way as a complaint aimed at readers. I'm always amazed and impressed that intrepid readers come upon my books and take the time to read them, with all the literature available, besides being extremely grateful when they do.    

Thank You Readers

I'm thrilled that my latest femdom novel has been accepted for publication by Pink Flamingo. I'll have more details as the release date approaches, but right now I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who has bought and read any of my previous femdom novels released by Pink Flamingo. Sad or not (and I think it's a little bit sad) at some point your track record is probably going to be more of an influence over a publisher than the quality of your next book. When I got the news that the new novel was accepted, I felt an intense bond with all of you.

I think it's unlikely that a femdom novel will be widely popular in my lifetime. Although I still hope: http://courtingherbygregoryallen.blogspot.com/2012/12/could-femdom-book-have-popularity-of-50.html    But I feel, daily, the fulfillment of communicating with readers through the magic of fiction. The new book took me about two and a half years to write, first word to last (During that time I was also still working on finishing Serving Her), and I had an amazing time working on it. The vague idea that someone will, one day, read something you wrote is probably a driving force for all writers, but the more you can crystallize that idea that your writing is communication with other people, the more of an inspiration writing becomes. It would sound too cheesy to say I feel like I wrote this book with all of you, but I'm going to say it anyway. I feel like I wrote this book with all of you.

Alex Prepares to Serve Kimberly's Friends in Courting Her

In honor of Courting Her making a comeback, last quarter, I wanted to post an excerpt. I'm thrilled that after three years, readers still seem to be enjoying this book. I'll be back with more Protégé Mistress excerpts soon. Sorry for the delay in posting. Thank you for reading!

"Let me see how my marks look," Kimberly said.

Alex, dressed in black dress pants and a white shirt, was fluttering about the kitchen, nervously arranging things for the party. She had forbid him to wear underwear, wanting him to worry that her friends would know serving them excited him, even though she knew it wouldn't really be that obvious in black pants. Alex dropped his pants to his knees, turned his back to Kimberly, and lifted his shirt up. The stripes from spelling her name, though three days old, still showed. "Those were some good ones, weren't they? Some of my best, I think." Kimberly pinched one and twisted the sore skin, causing Alex to wince. "Say, I'm wearing Kimberly's best."

"I'm wearing Kimberly's best," Alex said. He was rewarded with her hand, which came around his hip and passed, twice, over his member.

"Please, Kimberly, please don't make me serve today."

"Are you begging with your head higher than mine? You know to beg on your knees."

Alex turned and dropped onto the linoleum. "Please, Mistress. Please don't make me."

Kimberly stepped into him and pulled him against her. Alex buried his face in her shirt and hugged her by the back of her jeans. She pulled him back by his hair until his eyes met hers. "You will serve my friends, and you will make me proud."

Protege Mistress, A Tale of Unrequited Love Excerpt #3

“Can I see?”

Kevin looked partway back, glimpsed Diane, her arms raised as she dried her hair with a towel. The bottom hem of her damp T-shirt clung high up around her thighs. He turned his back to her and unsnapped his jeans. He slid them and his underwear down over his butt and raised his shirt to his lower back.

Diane emitted a sigh of pity and moved forward. “Oh my gosh, Kevin! I can see the belt marks. She hit you really hard.”

Kevin dropped his shirt and pulled his pants back up. “I shouldn’t have stolen her deliveries.” He turned around but kept his eyes lowered. Still he could see Diane leaned over the counter. Her T-shirt outlined her curves.

“You poor boy.” She smiled. “Fix me a glass of wine.”

She remained poised there as he did. Her slender arms and legs delicately posed. She pushed up from the counter when he had her glass ready and walked to the couch. Kevin dared a look at her behind as he followed. Her taut cheeks pressed against the damp fabric of her shirt, and she seemed to be accentuating the swivel in her hips the way she sauntered. She pivoted and sat on the couch, crossed her legs, and pointed to the floor. Kevin knelt. She took the glass of wine and gave him a foot in its place. Kevin stooped forward and kissed it.

Diane giggled. “I didn’t even tell you that you had to do that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Diane patted his head. “Do you like coming over after work and kissing my feet?”

Kevin looked up at her. “I enjoy being near you…and it’s a chance to show you affection.”

“So yes?”

“Yes, Diane.”

“Say it then.”

“I like coming over after work and kissing your feet.”

“Did you want to kiss anywhere else?”


Sorry I was later than I meant to be posting the next one of these. Protégé Mistress is available in print from my publisher's website, Pink Flamingo, and wherever Ebooks are sold. The opening sample is free to read at amazon and there is also a free excerpt at Pink Flamingo. Thank you for reading!

A Tale of Unrequited Love, excerpt #2 from Protege Mistress

Despite being frequently summoned for clandestine visits to his manager’s apartment in the evenings, work felt surprisingly routine. He and Diane had running conversations that only paused when one was on the phone or Diane was handling a customer or when the orders were backed up and they needed to focus to catch up. The conversations paused again when Kevin was cut early and un-paused when they met up later at her apartment. Kevin began to feel his entire life was one eternal conversation with Diane, moving from pause to un-pause. He loved listening to her chatter about school, express worry over her bills, share stories about her friends, and complain about work irritations almost as much as he enjoyed following her over to the couch, kneeling on the floor, and taking care of her feet. A privilege all the more gratifying since he knew how much it excited her.

She would smile down at him in a way that reminded him he was on his knees in front of her and made it clear she was enjoying her lofty position. “So, how is it working under me, so far?”

“Good. Wonderful.”

“Am I too bossy?”

“No, you’re a good boss. I always thought you were a good boss, even before…” He trailed off, embarrassed to articulate exactly what transpired after before.

“You mean before your promotion?” She finished for him, letting him off easy. “By the way, I have told Monica not to tell everyone about our arrangement at work, so don’t worry. A little hinting around and teasing is one thing, but I’m not going to let her out you to the rest of the drivers.”

“Thank you, Diane.”

She leaned forward and smiled down. The trajectory of her swinging foot slowed and extended until her toes touched his parted lips. She flipped the bottom one down and giggled when it flapped back up. Soon she lifted both feet up for him, and Kevin held them and kissed and licked. Diane opened her pants and her hands went in.

She still had the habit of putting his face to the floor, keeping her recovery from her orgasms private, but she seemed more comfortable with him witnessing her. She’d grown less modest, and Kevin had been treated to some glorious sights, staring up at her as her feet played in his mouth. The strings of her panties stretching around her hips, the muscles of her thighs flexing and emerging past her pushed down pants. She was less careful about keeping the triangle of her panties centered. Between her fingers, Kevin glimpsed precious shadows of pink. 

Thank you for reading! If you're interested, Protégé Mistress is available in paperback at my publisher's website, Pink Flamingo, and in Ebook form wherever Ebooks are sold.

Protege Mistress, intro to a series of excerpts

If you haven't read it before here, I began writing female domination erotica after emerging from the lover side of an unrequited love situation. (I almost said the wrong side, but both sides are difficult.) This was a surprise to me. I'd been writing for several years, always had submissive fantasies, but never felt inspired to write any down. Writing Courting Her was part fantasizing about what could have been and part catharsis.

Protege Mistress, my second female domination novel, began as a short story about a submissive man, who loses a card game bet to his manager and owes her a foot massage. Diane brings Kevin home to pay up and announces, before she lets him in, that she can never date him because it's against the rules for her to date people under her. An excerpt of what happens next is already posted here:

http://courtingherbygregoryallen.blogspot.com/2013/07/another-fav-moment-from-protege-mistress.html

After receiving foot kisses and oral sex from Kevin, Diane pats his head and says, "Good boy. See you at work."

When I wrote that I realized I had a book. To that point I'd been writing a short story called, Coaster on the Floor, but that became chapter one, because I would need a book to see how things turned out with these two. I mean, imagine facing her at work and wondering who she told (she did tell her friend Monica)! What happened next, I consider luck, because good ideas coming are always a lucky thing. I realized I could turn an unrequited love story into a romance. I did this by writing the first half from Kevin's perspective. Kevin becomes Diane's submissive lover, but he's pained because he doesn't feel like a "real boyfriend."

Diane, meanwhile, a fledgling domme, is under the influence of Monica, who wants Diane to feel free to take "real" lovers while Kevin remains her submissive lover. Harsh stuff, for anyone who is uncomfortable with cuckolding, which I kind of am. I find the idea titillating but the reality way past my limit. But what I tried to do, while remaining in Kevin's POV is show how torn Diane is at putting Kevin in the role Monica wants him in. At one point, while Kevin is being whipped for some failing, Monica scolds Diane for kissing his cheek. Diane is in love with Kevin, and eventually, this becomes known to everyone. (**SPOILERS** And she never did take another lover, though she kind of sort of dated a regular at the pizza shop. A man Kevin called Extra Meat because he always got extra meat on his pizza.)

That's the book's first half in summary. What it allowed me to do is explore the pain of unrequited love without paining the reader (or the writer as I was writing it). Kevin rides the rollercoaster of emotion I rode trying to squeeze myself into the friend box my unrequited love wanted me in. At times it seemed to be working, we were able to celebrate our friendship without that problem intruding, but it was always hanging over us and when it came down it was crushing, for us both. For Kevin, and really for Diane too, there are some excruciating moments that were largely lifted from my real life experience, and I plan to include those in this story of excerpts.

Within this thread, I'll post (hopefully weekly) excerpts that tell Kevin's unrequited love story as well as it can be told in brief excerpts. If anyone gets impatient, the novel is available in print at Pink Flamingo and as an Ebook at amazon. I'm glad to have you reading the portions posted here, though, too.     

Another Fav Moment from Protege Mistress

I posted a fav moment from chapter 1 of Protégé Mistress a while back and meant to keep going with a few more, but I got sidetracked. Then I meant to post a more climactic moment from the end of chapter 1 (Climactic for Diane only, of course), but I got stuck on one of the build up parts. I tend to like the build up parts better. All of chapter one and parts of chapter 2 are part of the free sample at amazon if you'd like to read more. Thanks for reading!

Diane leaned back into the couch again. “Let me ask you a question, and I know you’re very shy, but I want you to answer honestly. Earlier tonight, when I invited you over, before I told you about how I couldn’t date you, were you hoping to kiss me?”

            Her foot kicked toward where he knelt in front of her. Under the circumstances, he felt silly being scared to admit it, but he could barely meet her gaze as he answered, “Yes, Diane.”

            She smiled. “Awww, you’re so cute. Blushing at my feet. Did you fantasize about kissing me on your drive over?”

            “Yes, Diane.”

            “Well, your fantasy might come true. Though it’s probably not going to happen exactly as you imagined. Do you still want to kiss me?”

            “Yes, Diane.”

            She frowned slightly. “I know you can be more polite than that.”

            “Yes, Diane, please.”

            She straightened her leg, her foot rose to just under Kevin’s chin. She pressed her foot down so that her leg from toe to hip stretched its full length. “Go ahead. Kiss me.”

            At his eye level, Kevin could glimpse, under her pant leg, her smooth calf. He knew what she wanted, what she offered him, and he desired it as much as the kiss on her lips she had correctly guessed he’d driven over hoping to receive. This alternative was beyond compensation, it was bliss. He bent forward and placed a soft kiss on her foot.

            “Good. Very good boy,” she said. “Now, one on the bottom.” She pointed her toes up, and the bottom of her foot hung inches from his face. “And you don’t have to be so quick. You can give me a nice, long kiss. Don’t be shy.”

Bottoms in Love on sale and featured at Kay Jaybee's blog

I guess this is my third announcement of the new and expanded version of Bottoms in Love, published by 1001 Nights Press. But this time it's on sale for 99 cents. The new content, hopefully, got worked in seamlessly, but it gives some backstory to how Lindsey and Carter arrived at their compromise. Originally, it was going to be in a prequel to Bottoms in Love, but when the opportunity came along to republish Bottoms in Love with 1001 Nights Press, I decided to work the new material into the original story, which I think worked out much better.

If you think you're not a fan of reading off your computer, this would be a great, short piece to try with. If you have a kindle, you've probably already tried it, but if you don't, you can download a kindle app for your PC, which is free. Purchase Bottoms in Love from amazon for 99cents and have it sent to your kindle app on your PC. Then the kindle app takes up your whole screen, you click to turn the pages, and you almost forget you're not reading from a paper copy.

Please have a look at Day 2 in the 5 Days of 1001 Nights at Kay Jaybee's blog. Don't forget to peek back at Day 1, which was The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards, and stay tuned for three more days of books, all on sale for 99cents or 77p, the p is, I think, a UK thing. Here's the link:

http://networkedblogs.com/MKVO6

Bottoms in Love, synopsis and excerpt

Bottoms in Love by Gregory Allen, a novelette published by 1001 Nights Press

Synopsis:

Nothing gets Carter hotter than the thought of his wife in charge -- submitting to her desires in the bedroom. And Lindsey can be the perfect dominatrix: demanding, knowing, pushing all the right buttons. The problem? She's submissive too. Her idea of the perfect place is at the feet of a commanding husband.

Lindsey and Carter think they've solved the apparent problem with the toss of a coin, an impartial system to randomly determine who's on top -- this time. But a string of the coin coming up heads leaves Carter particularly whiny about having to dominate his wife for an evening. He manages to quell his jealousy and give Lindsey some of the punishment she craves, but when the coin comes up tails the next time, his wife decides to show her husband a real punishment.   

Excerpt: from part one, Heads

The dime sat tails-side-up, centered on top of her left hand, the shimmer of the fresh coin dulled by the diamond close by. “Now, don’t look glum,” Lindsey said. “Fair is fair.”

Carter nodded and smiled. He picked up the dime and dropped it into his shirt pocket, took his wife’s hands in his, and leaned in and kissed her. “Are you ready to go?”

She frowned. “Are you?”

As he rose and stood next to her, her expression changed. Her lips parted, her chin dropped down, her eyes brightened. He motioned for her to rise, and she, quickly and gracefully, slid her chair back, swung her touched-together knees toward him, and pushed up. She slipped against him, feeding her arm between his hip and the nook of his elbow.

He led her.

She remained just a fraction behind, drawing brief stares from men sitting with their dates at the dimly lit tables along the way. Her purple skirt wrapped around her legs, falling just past her knees. The white of her shirt, pressed forward by her breasts, emerged in his periphery even as his gaze stayed forward. She loved to play the part of his eye candy to tease him, but he knew better.

The dime had come up tails four times in a row. The odds quickly popped into Carter’s mind: one chance in eight. He shuddered. Of course, the streak wasn’t that unusual, and had it been the fourth time in a row that the coin landed heads up, he would have been perfectly pleased with the result. Lindsey seemed to know what he was thinking, and she squeezed his arm, bolstering his resolve.

A hostess opened the door and smiled good night to them. Carter said goodnight in return, letting his wife out ahead. She waited, just beyond the threshold, giving the hostess only a nod, and slipped beside her husband again. He walked the length of carpet under the canopy outside the restaurant’s doors  and handed a ticket to the valet. The city lights were brightening under the arriving dusk.

The rarity of an evening out allowed them to splurge on an overpriced dinner and expensive wine, though a night at home alone, with the kids at her parents’, was the real treat. Tempered only by the unfortunate flip of a coin. The car pulled around and Carter walked his wife to the passenger side. She slipped off his arm as he opened the door and sat in the leather passenger seat, smoothing her skirt, which had ridden up, and letting her hand trail down her knee.

Carter tipped the valet and got in on the other side. He gripped the steering wheel and exhaled a desperate breath. “Can we do two out of three, please?”

“Could we if I had won?”

Carter put the car into drive. “No.”

Lindsey crossed her right leg over her left and squeezed against her husband as he pulled out of the lot into the street. “I always take my turn without complaint.”

“All right. Fine.”

The firm tone of her husband caused Lindsey to straighten and sit up. “Ooh, are we starting?”

“I guess.”

“You can’t guess, if we’re starting.”

Carter glanced down at Lindsey’s knees lightly rubbing together. “Lift up your skirt.”

She slid her hands down the sides of her thighs, keeping her knees touching, acting coquettish. Bunching the skirt, she drew the material halfway up and stopped.

“Farther. Show me your panties. If you’re even wearing any panties.”

“I am.” She obeyed, raising the skirt higher. She slunk a bit in her seat, and the white strip of her underwear emerged, her pussy tightly encased within. “See? I told you I was wearing panties.”

“Watch your tone. You know what will happen.”

She wriggled under his glare. The band of her seat belt pressed between her breasts, pinning her blouse tight and accentuating the pertness of her nipples, which even through her bra showed hard at her husband’s strict demeanor. He returned his attention to the road, but surprised her by taking swift, firm hold of her thigh. A sharp intake of breath preceded a lengthy sigh, and Lindsey slunk down further in her seat. Her skirt bunched around her waist, and she nudged her panty-covered pussy toward her husband’s hand, but he kept her at bay. His eyes remaining on the road, he stroked her thigh without allowing her grinding lap the touch she craved.

Finally, the pinky side of his hand grazed her, and the slight touch released her yearning breath into the quiet enclosure of the car. Carter remained stoic. She slid toward him, and his hand moved once again towards her knee. “Oh, please,” she said, in a whisper, but he only glanced down, smiling, and shook his head.

Amazon buy link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00CQFKQO2/ref=pd_lpo_k2_dp_sr_1?pf_rd_p=1535523722&pf_rd_s=lpo-top-stripe-1&pf_rd_t=201&pf_rd_i=B006O3ZZ6G&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_r=06FC8YTWVJCBQ8YEKR74

The Bottoms are Back!

It takes a brave writer to admit to a mistake, but I'm not going to be brave. Instead I'm going to rationalize! But it's a rationalization I actually believe, if you can believe it. This is the second origin story about Bottoms in Love. The first can be found at the personal website of Sharazade, who would end up republishing Bottoms in Love with her publishing company 1001 Nights Press:

http://sharazade.com/?cat=78
 
I'll summarize it for anyone who doesn't want to click over. The Bottoms in Love originally published last year by OC Press of Oysters and Chocolate was conceived as a flash fiction idea. A man stops in the middle of spanking his wife to make her promise she'll give him a good turn next. "Yes, I promise! Just please spank me!" It sounded like something that would turn out well as a 500 word story. I planned to enter the home of a couple, pictures of their kids on the walls, and show somehow that these were rare opportunities for them to indulge in power exchange. Then describe a man giving a sexy punishment to his wife, letting it go on just long enough to make it seem like an enjoyable maledom scene before delivering the surprise twist ending.

That story sat on the back burner while I worked on something else. Then I opened, instead, with where Bottoms in Love opens now, with Carter and Lindsey enjoying a rare night out with the kids at Lindsey's parents'. They flip a dime, and Carter loses and has to dominate his wife. Just for fun, I began the story with Carter losing for the fourth time in a row, which leaves him just a touch whiny (okay, maybe more than a touch) as he gets started on their drive home.

I was happy with the story. I never felt anything was missing. The mystery of just how these couple of bottoms ended up married played nicely in the background. But that dynamic played out to the extent that I was playing with it. An opening scene came to mind of Lindsey exhausting Carter with her submissive desires, early in their courtship. Carter was spanking her nightly and getting blowjobs, but how much of that was he supposed to take? Not until he set dumping her in motion did he realize what he really wanted was a turn!

I intended to follow that moment with them working out the rotation of submitting to each other. Expecting to end the prequel with them celebrating their compromise over dinner and picking out from their change a shiny dime. Again, that stayed on the back burner while I worked on other things. Then OC Press and Oysters and Chocolate decided to move on and released their titles to the authors. OC Press had gotten Bottoms in Love to readers, which is something I'm always tremendously grateful to publishers for, so that was upsetting news, but Sharazade wanted to republish it at 1001 Nights Press. I told her about the prequel idea and then, in the email, mentioned moving the prequel scenes into Bottoms in Love as back story. My musings on just how those scenes would fit together were so vivid, I recall joking in the email that I guessed I'd started writing it!

Which puts me in a strange place, I suppose. Because I'm super excited for this latest and longest version of Bottoms in Love to go out to readers; although I still think the original version worked nicely, I guess I reached a point where that untold back story got so compelling, I felt compelled to tell it. (A part of me still longs for that 500 word flash fiction story that never came to be, so I suppose writers are just hard to please.) Here's a bit from Carter's POV:

“We need to talk. I don’t think I can do this.”

Lindsey’s bowed head lifted. Her downward gaze sharpened and pointed up at him. “Stop. Get my clothes.” She turned to the side and raised an arm to cover her breasts. Carter sat up. He rose and scampered off, gathering her clothing. He touched the balled up fabric softly to her back shoulder. She pulled it over. “If I am going to get dumped, I want it to happen while I’m dressed.”

“No one’s getting dumped.” Carter glanced at Lindsey’s naked back before turning around to let her dress privately. “I just don’t think... I don’t see why... I mean...”

He could hear her clothes coming on, faster than they’d come off. The hurried sound of limbs fighting roughly through folds. She sat and her shoes lifted off the floor. Carter turned. “Wait,” he said.

Lindsey looked up at him, no longer hurt. She looked angry and determined.

“It just seems like I should get a turn.”

“Oh, is that what this is about?” Lindsey shifted back slightly on the couch. Carter felt instantly vulnerable standing over her calm form. “You want a turn?”

A Counter argument to the idea that "forced femme" fantasies are misogynistic

Anyone familiar with my femdom erotica knows "forced femme" isn't a recurring theme. I actually worried when my publisher mentioned on the back cover of my first novel, Courting Her, a scene where Kimberly has Alex clean her apartment in a girly apron. I worried because I didn't want to mislead fans of forced femme. The apron was just one Kimberly happened to find lying around and, like a lot of aprons, it had some flowers on it. The scene didn't have much of a forced femme dynamic. I find forced femme titillating, but it's not an aspect of D/s that comes up in my stories.

It surprised me to discover some women consider forced femme offensive. Because I'm not a woman, I thought very hard on those opinions, but the logic of the argument doesn't speak to me. I don't expect to convince any of them they're wrong, because I don't think they are wrong, I consider it a matter of personal opinion. I expressed as much and was told, essentially, that it's not a matter of opinion. I was told men who enjoy forced femme are misogynists, whether they know it or not.

I have a problem with someone else claiming to know what I think better than I know what I think. But my intention in posting about this subject isn't to argue with people who think differently from me. I'm posting this as a counter point to some of the posts I've found from dominant women. I know a lot of submissive men's first interaction with a real life, openly dominant woman is through these blogs. It can be pretty close to devastating to have a dominant woman tell a man who purports to esteem women that a fantasy he's been carrying around for years is "proof" that he actually hates women and just doesn't realize it.

The logic of the argument is hard for me to follow and so will be hard for me to summarize, but I guess the argument is that because being made to wear panties is humiliating for you, as a man, it must be because you feel like there is something despicable about being like the people, women, who normally wear panties. An analogy I've heard for this side of the argument is that it's like someone wearing black face and mocking African American people.

I thought of an analogy today, that I think works better. Two friends went to rival colleges. The two schools are comparable in every way. Neither friend truly believes his or her school is superior. Yet they brag about their respective alma maters. A big game comes up, and they decide on a wager. The graduate of the losing school has to wear the winning school's sweater out to a bar, buy a round, and toast the winning school. There is some playful humiliation in the loser having to toast the team he or she wished hadn't won.

Forced femme seems like that. We're talking about men who profess to love and revere women. But they aren't women, they're men. Men and women are different. Often those differences are what draws us to each other. Submissive men genuinely love women, they love them for those differences, but that doesn't erase the social influence that they aren't expected to do things mostly only women do, like sit when they pee, or wear panties. So when they submit to a dominant woman who "forces" them to wear women's panties, they don't feel humiliated because they're dressed like lowly women. They feel humiliated because they know they aren't women and are being made to wear something men, in typical society, don't wear.

To continue my analogy, there would possibly be some adamant fan of the winning school who would want nothing to do with a rival to his school wearing the clothes of his alma mater and toasting his school. That's fine. What I think wouldn't be fine would be if he told the winner of the bet that he must hate his school to let someone toast their school in jest. If someone finds that disrespectful, they're certainly entitled to not participate, but I think they're imposing their views if they tell others they should also find it disrespectful.       

Pictures of Me

My novella, Bottoms in Love, will be rereleased soon with a new publisher and with some added content, but I'll blog about that with more information in a few days. My new publisher asked for all my covers to put together an author photo. I was busy with other things, so I zipped them over to her without thinking much about it. Then I got a file back and opened it. Her designer had arranged the covers of my three novels and the new cover for Bottoms in Love and put them over a few different backgrounds and asked me which one I liked. I was completely overwhelmed. I wrote her back that I loved them all, and she agreed and said her designer did a fabulous job, which she definitely had, but what overwhelmed me was seeing what I might look like to someone else. I looked like someone who writes books. If that were anyone else, I might even call him an author.

This immediately led to critical reflection. What the hell is wrong with me? Do I have deep rooted self esteem issues, that it took someone else neatly arranging my covers for me to admit that I'm succeeding in my dream of being a writer? Who knows? Maybe. I tend to think no, though. Anything created, anything built, anything learned loses some of its magic after completion. When you contemplate it, humans walking on two feet and so easily maintaining their balance will fucking blow your mind. Yet most of us walk without ever thinking about it. There's no real mystery in writing a book. You do a little every day and eventually you're done. The possibility feels amazing but as you go you discover it's fun, it's work, and it's fulfilling. There's some mystery in a finished book, but when you wrote it that mystery is replaced by the wonderful memories from a string of writing sessions. As the author it's clear how you got from A to Z because you were there for every letter.

Satisfaction and fulfillment are different from amazement. I love writing and I love writing books. The intrinsic rewards are so incredible they easily make up for the almost complete lack of extrinsic rewards, but feeling fulfilled and satisfied and even proud aren't the same as feeling amazed. And for just a moment the other night I saw all my books in one picture and I was amazed. Then the feeling evaporated. I remembered that I simply wrote those books a page or two or three at a time, and I sat down to write a page for my WIP.