Looking at Sam’s clean, pretty-boy face, you’d expect him to be some college kid home for Christmas to spend time with his folks. You’d be wrong: Sam has been on and off the street much of his life, and he’s recently fallen into the sort of desperation that drives him to sell his body for food to eat and a place to sleep. As Thanksgiving weekend draws near, he finds himself out in the snow with no cover and little money. He takes cover in the doorway of a book shop as a last resort, and in a twist of fate that borders on magical meets Kim Grafton, the young proprietor of the shop who sweeps Sam off the street and helps him remember what it’s like to truly be wanted.
Apparently so, according to this petition over at change.org. I don’t quite follow the logic, considering I have bigger concerns for the film, among them the question of how the producers of the film intend to keep everything strictly cinema-safe and still retain the major draw of the story. That being the gobs of filthy, filthy, explicit sex. Fifty Shades of Grey is porn, which is fine. It’s porn for women, which is great. Sanitizing it for international release sort of defeats the point.
But many people (more than eighty six thousand of them, as of this moment) are singularly displeased with the decision to cast Charlie Hunnam (Queer as Folk, Pacific Rim) and Dakota Johnson (21 Jump Street, Beastly) as the leading man and lady. I understand the chafing at Hunnam’s casting best, since he looks far too… chummy, let’s say, for the role. He has a face and (from what little I’ve seen of him) a presence for romantic comedies, not the raunchiness of Fifty Shades.
That isn’t to say I prefer apparent fan favorite Matt Bomer. He has one of those smarmy fist-magnet faces that I find a little repellent, though he’s objectively an attractive guy. If he’s your ideal Christian then by all means visit the link at the top of the page and let the world know.
As for me, I’m not sure I’ll even go see this one. The book didn’t do too much for me and I don’t know if I could sit through two hours of the script dancing around the fact that it started out as something much more explicit.
What do you think of the casting, my little sunflowers?
I am snot incarnate at the moment. Dragging myself bodily through the final stages of a flu bug that ravaged my mortal shell the entire week. It was a big flu, one of those life changing flus that make you rethink your commitment to anything not within immediate reach from your nest on the sofa. I wasn’t able to do one of my double-length stories, which was quite the disappointment, but I did have fun for all the lucid moments during which I worked on this week’s tale of debauchery.
Seeing as I’m incapable of most intelligent thought right now, I’ll leave you with a (relatively work safe) trailer for an X-rated ‘parody’ of the upcoming Fifty Shades movie. I have to say, their Christian hits closer to my mental image that Charlie Hunnam. The rest? Uh, not so much, no. Points for trying.
Magenta Room of Pain?
I don’t like the word ‘fetish.’ Its hard consonants and judgmental connotations don’t appeal to me. I do like the word ‘paraphilia’ as an alternative word, however. It sounds whimsical, like something a wizard might talk about. A very interesting wizard indeed. You may, of course, use whichever word you like best to describe an unconventional sexual interest. Maybe you enjoy feeling judged, hm? Nasty things that you are. I adore you.
If you’ve been following my poor, neglected blog, you know I’ve written a few sissy and crossdressing stories. What can I say? I dig it. Some guys just look so sweet in satin and lace, and the subversion of gender norms has always fascinated me in many ways.
When reading or writing a story in which the accessories – be they physical props or nonsexual action – are given as much weight as the eventual sexual culmination, it can be difficult to determine when the erotic portion of the story begins and ends. I find myself lingering over passages describing decidedly unsexual things, drinking them in or lavishing them with attention depending on whether I’m reading or writing.
What are some of your naughty indulgences?
The manufacture of Hollows – engineered replications of humans devoid of emotional or intellectual complexity – is outlawed in the civilized portions of explored space. That isn’t to say it doesn’t happen, considering the alien demand for human meat without a murder charge. But Telo, a Hollow who has named himself, is different. He feels, he learns, and he even embraces his own escape when he’s offered up as tribute to a space pirate attacking his masters’ ship.
Captain Carmine, Telo’s captor and savior, captures his attention as well. He’s aloof, but kind and pleasantly familiar, and Telo immediately feels a connection to him – and some more drastic and physical sensations – that he never experienced among aliens. Telo’s first lesson on life among humans is an unplanned introduction to lust and pleasure.
When I started this story, I had something much heavier and less episodic in mind. What wound up happening was the opening to something closer to my Fucked in Space series, a playful episode with characters who are more playfully perverse than ravaging and brooding. I love my sweet, virginal characters paired off with brooding alphas, but I was just jonesing for something irreverent and silly-sweet. Just a playful send-up of scifi staples.
My dragon shifter mpreg series To Dragons Bound wrapped up recently and today you have the opportunity to both finish that series and start on a new shifter series, Beastly Captive, completely gratis. You can grab one or both by clicking their covers below. Or don’t, I can’t tell you how to live your life.
The To Dragon’s Bound series also includes Mated to the Prince, Breeding Feud, Breeding Ritual, and Stolen and Shared. In addition to mpreg the series contains light bondage, dubious consent, gangbang scenes, and mid-shift sex. If that’s your jam, please check it out!
Taylor’s 21st birthday bash was a bust. The night he was supposed to spend carousing in the moonlight with his friends was instead spent doing God only knows what. Taylor certainly doesn’t remember, but when he regains consciousness in what appears to be a jail cell there’s a stone-faced man with a riding crop convinced he attacked three innocent people. To make matters worse, Taylor’s captor is intent on treating him like a dog and teaching him to fear him. For his own good.
Alan Walsh’s life took a turn for the worst when he turned eighteen. Turned out by his parents during an argument over his desire to pursue art rather than follow in their footsteps studying business, he’s spent several weeks floating between the street and friends’ couches. The end of the tunnel starts to brighten up when his friend Kris scores him a part time job at an eccentric coffee shop called the Iris, but the enigmatic owner, Damon Stanford, is entranced with his voice and takes a very personal interest in him.
Damon is as commanding as he is handsome, as greedy as he is gorgeous, but Alan finds himself drawn to Damon and intrigued by his demand for submission. Is Damon out to cage his songbird, or free him?
It’s no secret that my relationship with Fifty Shades of Grey, while it lasted, was tumultuous at best. I’ve tried several times to get into the fantasy of a take-charge alpha with tons of cash bossing someone around, but I’ve always been disappointed with the results. I’m not quite sure I’m satisfied this time, but I liked Alan and Damon enough to turn this into a story a bit longer than average. It clocks in at 10,000+ words, or around 30 pages. I’m all psyched up to write a second, nastier, raunchier installment where we learn what Damon Stanford really does for a living.