Welcome Lisabet Sarai - Dark Cravings

Happy Halloween! It's a little more like Christmas around here for me. I am beyond thrilled to welcome multi-published Author Lisabet Sarai to Pick a Genre Already. Anyone that has followed me either here on the blog  or on Twitter, knows that Lisabet is a big favourite of mine. I am just a new author but Lisabet has been a great influence on me. She has helped, supported, calmed, bolstered and promoted me, given much needed advice and has had never-ending patience with my frequent questions and recurrent insecurities. For those of you who are unfamiliar, I guarantee you will leave here wanting to read more.  Lisabet is an incredible storyteller and just as open and giving in her writing as she is as a person, as you will find in this post. And for those of you who are fans like me, just sit back and Enjoy — Lisabet Sarai's Dark Cravings...
 

Dark Cravings 

by Lisabet Sarai

Happy Halloween, everyone! I'm delighted to be guesting over here at H K's blog on one of my favorite days of the year. In honor of the holiday, I thought I would talk about the way we erotic authors are motivated by dark cravings. Ask any one of us. If we're honest, we'll admit that we write, at least in part, to exorcise wicked and forbidden hungers.

I don't mean the desire to drink blood or tear victims limb from limb. I'm talking about the lusts we dare not consummate, the dangerous fantasies that would shatter our neat little worlds if we ever made them real. Ever imagine being ravished by a stranger? Or by more than one?  Pictured yourself kissing and fondling your closest female friend? Thought about being tied so tightly you couldn't move, with vibrating dildos embedded front and rear? Ever watch your twenty-year-old son's best buddy, blond, tanned and well-muscled, and wish you could lure the guy upstairs to your bedroom on a sleepy summer afternoon? Then there's that crush you had in high school, that never went beyond a single kiss on graduation night. What if you encountered him again at your twentieth reunion and could slip away from your unsuspecting husband to reignite that lost passion?

Practically every erotic author I know began by dumping personal fantasies to the page and then pushing them far beyond anything she'd ever do in reality.  I'm no exception. My debut novel, Raw Silk, is not in any sense autobiographical, but it was fueled by recollections of my first experiences with BDSM. In the book, my heroine Kate goes far beyond anything my master and I did during our few short months of active experimentation. Furthermore, my hero Gregory has none of my real master's insecurities or hang-ups. In fact (though I didn't realize it at the time), he's a bit of a stereotype, the idealized Dom of whom every submissive dreams. Still, he's not cardboard. He speaks with my master's voice, in that mocking yet tender tone that melted me during our thrilling encounters. I even had Gregory use some of my master's words.

Raw Silk is an expression of the profound impact our mutual explorations had upon me and my sexuality. It's a tribute to him, as well as a lavish fantasy extravaganza in which he claims me for his own, forever.

In the real world, my master and I drifted apart. He never managed to communicate his real feelings for me; I thought he saw me as nothing more than a kinky playmate. By the time I understood the true depth of our bond, I had met and married my husband, a loving and sexually adventurous man, but someone who is bewildered by my submissive yearnings. My first novel turns back time, allowing me to play with notions of what my life might have been like, had I taken another path. 

  

I'm still in contact with my master. Our youthful passion has transformed itself into an intimate friendship.  As my writing has matured, I've tackled characters and scenarios far less similar to my personal history,  but he still haunts my stories every now and again. I've written quite a few tales set in an alternative universe where my master and I were still a couple, even set up housekeeping together. Interested readers will find several in my recent collections Body Electric, Just a Spanking and Spank Me Again, Stranger. (I'm curious as to whether people could figure out just which tales were most closely modeled after him.) And occasionally, I've gone beyond those imaginings, into the true heart of darkness.

 

My short story “Never Too Late” (in Body Electric) tackles a particularly dangerous “what if” scenario. What if I'd met my master later in life, after a long and happy marriage? Would I have reacted the same way as I did when I was in my twenties? Would I have experienced the same transcendent level of fulfillment? And if I did, what then?

Let my story speak for me.

                                                                                        ****

There's nothing he can do to me that I will refuse. He lashes me with the crop he extracts from his suitcase. He paddles my butt with the long-handled shoe horn he finds in the closet. He buries his cock in my ass and sinks his fist into my cunt. He makes me lick his anus and even drink his pee.

It doesn't matter. I want it all, after waiting so many years. I want the degradation, the pain, the constant unbearable arousal. Above all I crave the overwhelming high that comes from knowing he's pleased. His praise is far more satisfying than an orgasm – even the world-shattering climaxes he wrings so skillfully from my middle-aged body.

When even he is too tired to fuck, we talk. I learn that he is single, that he lives in Silver Spring, that he's a partner in a corporate and tax practice. I tell him about my history, my work, my fantasies. We don't discuss my husband.

On the day the conference ends, we finally venture out into the world. I return to my own room for a shower and a change of clothes. We meet for breakfast in the coffee shop on the twenty-second floor, overlooking the harbor.

He orders Eggs Benedict. I can't handle more than coffee and toast. He's shy, most of his bravado gone. It's up to me to keep the conversation going.

"My flight is at noon. I'm booked on the nine-thirty shuttle van." I feel compelled to tell him this, to re-establish some kind of sobriety after days of intoxication. When I see his stricken expression, I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.

He pushes Hollandaise around on his plate. "Come home with me," he says finally. "Stay with me." His eyes are naked. A lump of lead settles in my chest.

"I can't. I have work, responsibilities. Another life."

"That life is over. You'll never be satisfied with it again. Not now that you know who you are. Now that you know me..."

I have a sinking conviction that he's right. But I can't chuck everything and start over, can I?

"Your husband, your children – they'll be fine without you." As in the bedroom, he reads my mind. "Haven't you given them enough? How many years has it been? Twenty? Thirty?"

"Twenty seven."

"I know you love him," Mark says. "But for those twenty seven long years, while he's had you, I've been waiting for you." He leaned closer. "I need you. More than he does."

"No." I shake my head, picturing my husband alone. Eating alone. Sleeping alone. How could I do such a thing to him? Then I look at Mark, feel the power he's broadcasting. I fight the urge to slip under the table and kneel at his feet.

He grabs my hand so hard that pain shoots up my arm. "Picture what it will be like. You'll be mine, my slave, my darling. I'll take care of you. I'll give you everything you need. We barely know each other now, but you feel the connection, too. I know you do. Think how it will be, spending months together. Years. A new life. A new start. It's never too late."

I struggle to hold back the rising tears. "No, it's just not possible. You reach a stage in your life where you're no longer free. Not even free to explore yourself."

Do I really believe this? When I'm with Mark, anything seems possible. I feel like one of the Apostles. Drop your nets and your tools and follow me, Jesus told them. I will be your mother, your father, your children. How old were they when they abandoned their lives for the Light?

This feels like the same sort of revelation, demanding the same kind of sacrifice. Or am I deluding myself?

"Mark, you have to understand..."

"Nobody understands you better than I do." His dominant streak reasserts itself briefly. The power in his voice makes me damp and helpless. Then he allows it to slip away. I see the raw emotion in his face. "Do you want me to beg?"

I'm being torn apart. If pleasing him is my greatest joy, imagine what it feels like to make him hurt.

"Please, have pity on me..."

"I do pity you. I've given you a great gift and you're about to toss it away."

It's so tempting. I can imagine it so clearly, waking up with him beside me – or inside me. Going deeper, exploring the limits of desire and endurance. I want this gift so badly. Can I really reach out and take it?

                                                                          ****           

Dark cravings indeed. The fantasy is seductive. I'm glad that I can experience it within the safe confines of my writing, rather than loosing my demons to the light of day.

What are your demons? What do you read – or write – that you wouldn't dare put into practice? Leave me a comment below and you could win your choice of any of the three short story collections above. I'll draw the winner on Sunday the 4th of November.

Don't forget to leave your email address in your comment. And have a Happy Halloween!

BIO: A dozen years ago Lisabet Sarai experienced a serendipitous fusion of her love of writing and her fascination with sex. Since then she has published five single author short story collections and seven erotic novels, including the BDSM classic Raw Silk. Dozens of her shorter works have been released as ebooks and in print anthologies. She has also edited several acclaimed anthologies and is currently responsible for the altruistic erotica series               COMING TOGETHER PRESENTS. 

 

Lisabet holds more degrees than anyone needs from prestigious universities who would no doubt be embarrassed by her chosen genre. She loves to travel and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her highly tolerant husband and two cosmopolitan felines. For more information on Lisabet and her writing visit Lisabet Sarai's Fantasy Factory (http://www.lisabetsarai.com) or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com).

Thank you for being here, Lisabet. 

What did I tell you? Awesome, right?  

My demons? Hmm, where to begin...

  

Happy All Hallows Eve!