What is it about control that is such a turn on? A blindfold, gives us control over expectation; a silk scarf, control over movement and touch. Why do we relish both sides? There seems to be just as much excitement on one side of the blindfold as there is on the other? Why?

I was working on a new story today and the issue presented itself. A character is faced with a person that has control over a situation. It was interesting to write because, in third person, I got to explore both sides of the scene; the controller and the person being controlled. Perhaps control isn’t the right word. Perhaps it’s a question of power and the relinquishment of control.

What is it about power that is so thrilling? That is so sensual and titillating? Why does it make us weak in the knees when a lover decides to order us to this or that?

“Come over here,” she said looking up at her assistant.  “Stand right here.” She pointed at a spot on the floor directly in front of her knees as Allison walked around her desk.  She waited until she reached the spot and then looked over the nervous girl.  “Now unbutton your blouse. I want to see your breasts,” she said.
Allison slipped the top button through the hole and then started on the second as her eyes watched her boss silently stare.  She wasn’t sure why she was obeying her, following her every command, only that she was and was going to continue to do so.

I would be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject.  I find the whole idea of authority and power interesting.

Erotica & Me (lately)

Peta Todd

So, as many of you know, I have been writing and publishing a lot of erotic short stories lately.  They are of the Hardcore Erotic sub-genre; a situation, some characters, and a very steamy sex scene – literary porn, if you will.

They don’t have a great deal of back story; the characters are described in brief, the setting is like a sketch of an actual description, and the focus is on the naughty acts themselves.  I am in no way opposed to this sort of writing, I actually enjoy both reading and writing the sub-genre, but my latest story has gone a different way.

The latest piece I am working on (The Last Shot – working title) is a different species of story altogether, at least for me.  It seems to be building itself as it goes along rather than the other way around.  The protagonist is the narrator and it’s a first person, past tense view over the story’s arc.  As I sit down and write the story, it as if she keeps cramming detail and description into it, unhappy with the idea that her story be an abbreviated sexual romp between the sheets, or over a desk, or on the kitchen floor.  And I am just letting her go with it and watching the results, the evolution of the story with a certain amount of interest.

I was reading a book recently that talked about the difference between writing porn and writing really well put together erotica.  There’s an obvious but subjective difference in the two.  Erotica seems, to me and this author at least, to be something that draws the reader along.  It’s a full-fledged story with characters, back story, and a plot that may or may not end with short quick breathing and the exchange of bodily fluids.  And yet, it may achieve the same result as the the sub-genre in a more subtle, almost clever way.

After reading the book, I realized that I had never thought about erotica that way and that maybe this is what the new story is leaning toward.  Perhaps subconsciously, this new story is the direct result of that knowledge and my desire to explore it.

It is nothing if not a writing exercise.  I find myself asking all of the usual questions that a reader would ask of the character and the situation in any other genre and then click-clacking the answers through the description or inner-dialogue of the protagonist.  I suppose the point is, it’s new and challenging and different and I am enjoying it immensely.  I can’t wait to hear what everyone else thinks.

Sorry if this is not up the usual snuff of dirty little tidbits that the usual posts contain.  This one is just an update on the latest piece I have been working on.  I’m hashing out the experience.  Keep an eye out for it.  It should be completed soon, hopefully.  I guess I don’t really know, because she just keeps going.

Katie’s Long Holiday – An Erotic Tale

Katie’s Long Holiday – An Erotic Tale

This story was one that had been in my head for a while.  It’s Katie again, this time in first-person present tense, describing her stay with her friend Ann and Ann’s father.  The story opens up with Ann’s father creeping through the house, making his way downstairs, and trying not to wake his daughter or her friend the night after they arrive.  Katie is listening to him, already thoroughly infatuated, and thinking about her plan.

She doesn’t wait long.  Before you know it, she’s up and getting ready to head downstairs.

I get up and realize how excited I am. I stand in front of the mirror in my silk pajama top and look at myself. My hair doesn’t look too bad, it’s tousled but in a sexy kind of way. My breasts are pushing against the fabric; with it buttoned up you can only see the cleavage. I decide to unbutton all but one button. I look at the reflection and grin, perfect. I move around a bit, turn from side to side. Now they are more visible but not falling out. From either side you can see the gentle curves, the roundness and weight of them, but not the nipple. From the front you can see the inside of the curves, the pertness. I turn and look at myself over my shoulder. It’s a long pajama top, comes down to the top of my thighs. It’s my favorite thing to sleep in. If I sit down, it’s going to be a show. I pull it up a bit and look at the little boy shorts underwear I have on. It’s black lace and only covers half my ass cheeks. Satisfied with the overall look, I drop the top back down and head toward the bedroom door.

Katie’s stories are always interesting that way.  They don’t have a lot of back story.  Katie wants, she desires, she’s devours the men she finds attractive.  It seems to be all she thinks about.  She’s obsessed with older men, men in their fifties, strong men who take care of themselves.  I often wonder if we will ever find out what her life is all about.  So far, it’s all just snippets and little pieces of stories – in this story we learn that she doesn’t really talk to her family, that she’s glad to be away at college.  So far, she seems to do one thing well and that is bring her and her chosen partner (she is always the pursuer, the temptress, never the pursued) to climax.

I move my hips in his grip and slide my muff along the length of his shaft. He moans. I lift my arms above my head, stretch my body and arch against him. He feels so good, his stiffness against me, his strong hands on my waist, his warm breath. I look at him and he is taking it all in, soaking in the view of my tender body. I grin and bite my lower lip as I slide off his legs and down to the floor. His eyes get wide. He looks like he can’t believe what’s about to happen, like it’s too good to be true. I flip my hair back over my head doing my best to look sexy, like a hot little vixen. I lick my lips and stare at it, the hot thick rod between his legs. I wrap my left hand around the base of it and point it at my face. I gently squeeze and tug on it until a little more of the clear liquid appears. I move my head toward it and watch him hold his breath in anticipation. I open my mouth, look up at him and grin before I lick the tip of his cock. He tastes salty. I lick him again, this time I running my tongue along his girth. I start at the base, above where my fingers are wrapped around him, and drag my tongue to the top. He moans and thrusts his hips. It feels so good to watch him enjoy it. I do it again before opening my mouth and slipping him between my lips.

If you would like to read more, as always, just click on the title of this post and it will bounce you over to my Amazon page.  Please feel free to leave your comments here, or there, or on Twitter (gabrielleprevot), or Google+ (  Thanks!

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