Well, how are you all doing?
I'm in a hazy glow of OMG! I have been having a hard time with my writing recently which contradicts the amount that is coming out. It's funny how it works - I've just received my author copy of this thought provoking anthology edited by the amazing Remittance Girl from Burning Press Books. It's all about expressing the erotic through body modification and I am delighted that my story was accepted for this. Remittance Girl said she was looking for work that displayed jouissance - what a word. What a word!
Anyway - here's a tiny little snippet from my story... hope you enjoy!
As she runs the tip of her tongue over the ridges – the un-natural ridges that I created, I try and hold myself steady. Try not to retreat inside myself and tell her to leave.
She is at the first.
She is going to go through every single one of them in chronological order, I know it. I fight the urge to pull my black polo neck back over my nakedness and hide away.
“Shhh,” she soothes, her soft firm voice at once cradles and commands. “Let me do this.”
I wonder at her perception. She can sense the tiniest shift in my body, my mood, my thought pattern. It’s disconcerting and comforting at the same time and I sigh away my tension, forcing my body down into the carpet. She’s told me she’ll melt me. I don’t believe her but she seems determined enough.
She’s onto the next. Her hot little tongue flirting with the ragged bumps. The crass ones, before I learned to control myself. Before I’d perfected my art. Half of me wishes she’d skip those and get to the beautiful ones, but I don’t say anything, I just concentrate on unfurling the tight, cringing nerve endings that keep me bound into my own skin.
“This is where it started,” she’s onto the third. And she’s right. How can she know that? How can she tell the first two were afterthoughts, a result of a furious outburst?
“Yes,” I hear myself whisper, the tremor in my voice far too apparent. She’ll be angry. Will she?
“Yes, this is the one when you began to know who you are.”
“How can you tell?” I ask, curiosity suddenly dispelling my nerves.
“It’s smoother.” I lift my upper body to study the arm she’s holding in her hands. It’s my arm. But today, it feels disconnected.
“Only slightly,” I say, a little fearful of contradicting her.
“Yes, but it’s deliberate. It took time to do this one.”...
So there you have it - hope you're enticed to read on.
Get your copy from Burning Press Books now
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