A VERY INTIMATE SHARING from CELIA DEMURE!!

Hi. This is Celia Demure, I am a writer of highly naughty smut, which currently I publish independently on the Amazon Kindle store:

                                                      http://amzn.com/e/B00ALHMATQ

Mr. Boehner graciously allowed me to say a few words to you about my influences and my work.

I have adult ADHD. In women, this often takes the form of rambling conversations with “oversharing,” missing social cues, daydreaming…  In writing it means I tend to write things in bursts and out of order. I use a lot of ellipses (the … symbol) because I leave things hanging and jump from one thought to another. I’m surprise, actually, that no one’s ever complained about that in my writing!

Sooooo I’ll try and keep this relatively brief (for me) and touch on some salient points as to what inspires my writing. Like most of my thoughts, it’ll be a little random, some little juicy tidbits of thoughts…  

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How did I get into erotica?

Truthfully, I was corrupted by 19^th century porn novels as a teenager. I mean, it’s not like I was never interested in guys or sex before I read them, of course I was… but it was Victorian erotica that really inspired me, both in terms of writing and my perverted imagination in general.  Autobiography of a Flea, Night in a Moorish Harem, The Lustful Turk, The New Epicurean… God I LOVED those books.

(Night in a Moorish Harem in particular features the titular harem full of ladies begging the hero for his seed, hoping he will make them preggers, saying things like, “Aye! That will make a fine blue-eyed boy!” after he cums in them. I think I picked up a life-long breeding fetish from that...)

My friend’s older brother had a footlocker full of “adult” materials in his bedroom, with a combination lock on it. I mean he had EVERYTHING…  Including some stuff that in retrospect was pretty gross. But he also had a bunch of paperback reprints of these naughty books from the 1800s. I fell in love with them instantly. He let me have a bunch of them… I don’t know if it was because I was a girl asking for them, or because he found them boring, maybe both.

I kept a bunch of them (the Victorian porn paperbacks) tied up with a pretty ribbon under my dresser in my room, dog-eared with my favorite passages. Those books nurtured my love for detailed, flowery, yet highly sexual prose and stories of virginal young ladies submitting to eager, handsome, well-hung gentlemen. The message in those old underground books, was that sex was something for women to enjoy, they didn’t need marriage or romance to give in to their animal desires and experience it. It was all counter to the mainstream of the Victorian culture which was pretty repressive towards women. I’m not sure if I understood the socio-political context at the time, but I knew what I was reading was exciting and HAWT.

My mom was always kinda religious and, even more so, preoccupied with worrying about her girls becoming “loose” (i.e. promiscuous; even back in the ‘80s when I was young, that term seemed outdated…) So I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when I came home one day after she’d been cleaning, to find the pretty ribbon lying limp on top of my dresser and my hidden cache of antique porn books gone forever. (Thanks to the Kindle store I’ve managed to track down public domain versions of most of those old books now, still… Dammit mom!)

But, even though my mom threw away the books, the damage had been done. My young brain had been warped by that moldy purple prose and the scenes it described, and I was a fan of erotica for life.

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Chase has asked me to talk about my story “Phallus of the Stone God”:

                                                       http://amzn.com/B00ASOBK16

This story germinated for many years, and it was one of the first I tried to write… Though the earlier versions were never finished. After publishing my first few stories, I finally had enough confidence to get me through it. Though, to be truthful, I wanted to quit a couple of times… The writing was sloooow. I got pretty obsessed with the details. I had to get every moment right, every inch--

--of the TWO FOOT LONG(!) stone dong that the virgin heroine has to take ALL THE WAY to save her people. See, it’s the cock of a fertility god statute, and he (the god) needs to be FULLY SATISFIED.

Yes, the idea is innately silly, as some reviewers have taken great delight in pointing out. There’s shadowy temples and orgies and magical coochie-stretching potions… But I had a lot of fun--and got really turned on writing it.

The original idea came from reading about how, in ancient Greece, young girls would have their maidenhoods taken by a statue of the fertility god Priapus, with their families and others watching. That seemed so perverse that I couldn’t get the idea out of my head.

I now think that the historical existence of such a ritual may be questionable. The only reference I can find to it is in the book I originally read when I was in high school, “Extraordinary Endings of Practically Everything and Everybody,” by Charles Panati. I am thinking now that maybe Mr. Panati was just a kinky bastard who wanted to sell books, and he probably made the whole thing up.

But it doesn’t matter… For me, the idea stuck. And it got exaggerated in my head so that the stone cock became GIANT SIZED, the ritual not just a deflowering but a test of womanly stamina and, uhh, internal flexibility.

By the time I got around to finishing the story, I realized the fantasy was a bit silly, maybe even dorky, I didn’t know how people would react. So I was surprised when so many actually liked it, and it became my best-selling work so far.

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Why do I write what I write? I mean, in terms of the fantasies/subject matter?

That’s a question I get a lot… Or, on the other hand, people assume that the books are real or what I want to be real, that I want what befalls my heroines to happen to me ‘IRL’ as it were.

Firstly, I write about what turns me on to imagine and fantasize about. There is a difference between reality and fantasy… Most kids know this, but it’s amazing how adults tend to forget.

There are two main themes in most of my work so far… BREEDING SEX and GIANT COCKS, to be blunt.

Breeding sex is a fantasy and a fetish. In theory, it’s the most natural kind of fetish. Sex to produce offspring, procreation… That is nature’s program, isn’t it?

But we women in the modern world spend much of our lives (or at least our sex lives) trying specifically to avoid pregnancy. Which makes sense; babies and children tie one down and severely limit one’s options, and birth control was key to giving women equality and freedom, including sexual freedom.

But the more one tries to avoid something, the more power the idea of that thing takes on. And thus sex for impregnation’s sake has become a bit naughty, taboo… There’s a delicious tension in the concept, at least for those who are tuned into the fetish.

There’s also something kind of wild and animalistic about the idea. Most breeding sex stories, after all, aren’t about happy committed couples trying to have a baby with their own spouse/partner. Either the guy, gal, or both are reluctant; they are strangers; the wife is getting knocked up by someone else other than her husband; the male is another race or species entirely; etc. etc.

To justify this crossing of taboos, the idea of animal breeding instincts coming to the fore. Woman casts civilization aside and surrenders herself to the lust of the ravaging male, longing to be filled with his seed. The guy loses all politeness and pounds her pussy for all its worth, his primal male drive kicking in, nature forcing his body to inseminate her.

It’s wild and freeing as a fantasy; the idea of mating like animals without a care. In the process, of course, lots of rough, sweaty sex happens, which I love to read—and write—about.

My submissive side also likes the breeding stuff because it represents a type of natural male domination. If the female is at all reluctant, that tension sweetens the deal as the hunky male fucking her wins her over with pleasure… She surrenders to him even knowing that he’s going to fill her with his DNA, create a new life inside her, and create drastic changes in her own body.

I don’t think I’m going to win over anyone who’s not already turned on by the idea of breeding sex as a fantasy. But I think I’ve explained why I like it…

Do I want this in real life, to be knocked up by a stranger or an alpha male husband of my best friend, or even “bred” by my husband? Am I aiming to become the next Mrs. Duggar?

No. I have kids, I don’t want more, I take the pill. I was a MISERABLE pregnant woman, anyway.

But the IDEA of breeding sex, the fantasy, that yummy tension… Ummm! I don’t want another pregnancy, I know it’s highly unlikely with us taking precautions anyway. But do I still ask my husband to “seed me” and “knock me up” just because saying it gets me off? Yeah, I do… Maybe I’m weird that way.

Now about the GIANT COCKS… My other little fetish…

As I wrote above, my most popular story involves a two-foot long stone dingus. I’ve just recently published a story called “Stretched and Ruined” about a 14-incher that is so big it literally alters the heroine’s feminine anatomy by the end of the story:

                                                       http://amzn.com/B00CV9UD96

Why so ridiculously big? Do I truly want my male readers to feel woefully inadequate?

Not really. Actually—and this may be getting into TMI territory—

I had a really big one once, back in my days of youthful abandon. Like 9 inches. Brief version: He was a douche, it hurt, I cried, I bled… IRL that’s when I realized there’s such a thing as too big. Hubby is on the upper end of average and I’m fully satisfied… No big cocks, no big toys, I don’t want to be stretched brutally, really.

So why write about it?

Again, it’s drama. Size is frightening, dangerous, powerful… Especially if it’s a MONSTER dick like in some of my stories.

This is probably also another fantasy that developed in my youth. I was shy, I was a virgin for… Well, into college, at least. I was fascinated by the idea of sex, but also a little scared about penetration. I always imagined that things would be a tighter fit than they ended up being when I finally “did” it, with more pushing and forcing and stretching involved. The idea of him working to “get it all in” became part of my naïve fantasies… and it stuck.

Oh, and back to my mom always worried about me being “loose” when I was younger… I guess in a way, maybe, I subconsciously wrote these stories as a response to her. The heroines of “Phallus of the Stone God” and “Stretched and Ruined” certainly end up VERY loose after their encounters with these monster dongs! Ha.

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Writing erotica has been rewarding for me. I’ve made a little bit of money, I’ve met a lot of new people, especially through Facebook (lots of pretty cool people, and a few strange men who send me unsolicited pics of their man parts… Guys, that’s just rude, c’mon! Sheesh.)

Writing and self-publishing erotica can also be very frustrating, though. At least once a week I tell myself I’m done with this crap, I feel like I’m wasting my time… But I’ve still managed to put out nine titles so far. Something keeps me going, I guess.

There is an odd shame factor involved in writing erotica; at least, for me, there is. I use a pseudonym because I’m a mom with school-age kids, also there are religious people in my family who live very close by. Their own hypocrisy notwithstanding, there would be no end to the weeping and wailing and frantic praying for my salvation if they found out about my smut writing career. So I have to keep things secret.

Also, with kids and family around, there are times when I’d love to whip out the laptop and work on my latest torrid tale, but I can’t due to prying eyes.

My husband is supportive, but still, sometimes I feel guilty. I’m spending a lot of time writing about giant cocks and breeding and such, hardly something I can brag about. Wouldn’t it be better if I spent more time with my family, or tried writing a Young Adult book that my kids could read?

Amazon also treats erotica writers like we’re naughty, evil bad children much of the time. No clear rules as to what is acceptable or not, no subcategories to classify my work, my books now hidden from the “general” search on the Amazon main page (and I believe my sales have suffered for it… “Phallus of the Stone God” escaped their notice for a long time and remained on the main search page, but they finally caught it recently, sinking its sales). So I feel like I’m on probation even as I’m making money for them. I don’t know how I’d ever sell anything without the exposure Amazon’s free promo days gives, though… So I’m kinda stuck. 

It would be easier to come out of the shadowy, slutty world of erotica and write something else, certainly? I consider doing so every day… But I also don’t want the bitches/bastards to win, maybe that’s what really keeps me going!

If I do leave behind writing straightforward smut, it’d be to do erotic romance instead. Which would mean keeping the intense, detailed sex scenes, but having plot and actual deep character relationships. There does seem to be the possibility of more readers and more feedback there. And perhaps a bit more social acceptance… I’m working on a sci-fi romance novel now, been plodding through it for a while. I’m trying to avoid all of my usual “slutty, dirty talk” (as one reviewer of my story “Swap Too Far” put it) and make the dialogue more acceptable for romance readers, that’s been a real challenge! I LOVE dirty talk but it’s been stressed to me recently that many women don’t, so I’m trying to adapt. Such is the lot of the indie author!

-Celia Demure