Smut by the Sea

Last weekend, I went to my third Smut event, Smut by the Sea in Scarborough.

According to event organiser, Kev Blisse, Scarborough is the "spiritual home of smut". I believe they put that on the tourist information brochures these days.

I'll tell you something else about Scarborough, It's really, really far up North. I'm very much a Southerner. I consider anywhere north of London to be "The North." A while back one of those quizzes circulated round Facebook asking "How Northern are you?" I answered the questions and got back the result that I was 0% Northern. That seemed fair.

It's not like I think there's anything wrong with The North. I don't consider you to be backward or primitive or anything. I fully respect your commitment to "speaking as you find" (as opposed to our southern custom of "being polite") but I do tend to think of the North as being strange and foreign and populated with people with funny accents and odd notions regarding what time of day 'dinner' should be served.

Although, Yorkshire's contribution to food cannot be underestimated.

But you know, I'd had such lovely times at previous Smut events in Manchester and Luton, that I was more than happy to make the trip up to Yorkshire in order to do it all again.

Victoria and Kev Blisse (along with their close family members and their close family member's dog) are the tireless organisers of the Smut events. I am completely in awe of the amount of work they must put in to make these things happen.

This particular event was held in the rooms above Scarborough library. Anyone entering Scarborough library last Saturday would have seen a bunch of signs saying "Smut" with arrows directing them upstairs. I'm surprised that we didn't find ourselves gatecrashed by a herd of inquisitive twelve year olds following the "Smut" signs like cartoon characters following a particular delicious smell.

There were some great workshops. Jennifer Denys gave a workshop on writing about werewolves in erotic fiction. She started off the discussion by writing "Doggy-style Sex" on a flip chart and then asking the audience what other advantages we could name by having lycanthropic heroes. Personally, I just like to think that Jennifer always writes "Doggy-style Sex" as the first item every time she writes on a flip chart. Regardless of context.

There was also an interesting workshop given by Slave Nano on historical research. Given that I primarily write historical fiction, this sort of thing just makes me worry that I am Not Taking Research Seriously Enough. I tend to have a cavalier attitude to research and assume that as long as I don't give my characters iPhones, it's probably OK. I believe the writers of  BBC's The Tudors were of a similar opinion.

Their Xbox is just out of shot.

As always, the reading slams provided a great opportunity to hear a huge variety of different kinds of smutty fiction across all genres and with varying levels of filth. Once again, my Kindle 'to read' list just got a whole lot longer. There were too many great writers to name check all of them here but I will certainly be checking out Jacqui Brocker and Helen J Perry's books soon. As always, the lovely Bella Settara looked delightful and was dressed in character for her book reading - on this occasion as a very sexy cowgirl.

I read a bit from my second book Lady Westbrook's Discovery. I was more than usually nervous before doing so as I was reading it from my Kindle and had remembered far too late in the day that my Kindle had been acting up lately and skipping ahead pages without warning which would be slightly problematic in a reading out loud scenario. Really should have got round to printing out my excerpt beforehand. But my Kindle behaved impeccably when it mattered and I now love it dearly in an entirely non-sexual way. Oh who am I kidding? My Kindle is 99% porn. Our relationship is entirely sexual.

There was plenty else going on at Smut by the Sea including a burlesque act and an awesome bit of entertainment from the astonishingly beautiful Bea Noir, a bed of nails and (briefly) a cucumber.

The cucumber did not fare well.

It was - as to be expected in the spiritual home of smut - a thoroughly enjoyable day. I even went for a paddle in the sea at lunch time because I do very much love the sea even if it meant I spent the whole of the afternoon with very sandy tights.

Not that kind of paddle.

There are far better write ups than mine which you should go and check out - ones with proper pictures and everything. Have a look at Slave Nano, Jennifer Denys and Jacqui Brocker's blogs to find out more about this excellent - and altogether smutty - event.

And, in case you are worried, I did successfully manage to get my way back down South again afterwards.

Expanding My Horizons at Smut Manchester

I went to Smut Manchester last Saturday.  This was a fairly nerve wracking undertaking for me as it involved going out in the real world and meet real people while maintaining my guise as Etta Stark (Etta Stark does look remarkably like my real name self, which helps of course. Although she may be slightly taller).

Until now, Etta Stark has been a mostly online presence, a mishmash of electronic signals much like Mr Smith from the Sarah Jane Adventures or Max Headroom.

Except I have better hair.

No more. Now I have gone forth into the world (or at least the bit of the world that is the Manchester Conference Centre) and had actual conversations with people over actual cups of tea (and actual glasses of Pinot Grigio) about writing erotic fiction as though it were a perfectly normal and reasonable thing to do. Which of course it is. I feel quite invigorated.

Smut Manchester itself was great - and eye-opening. My mind has been expanded in all sorts of new and interesting directions. There are some great writeups of all the exciting activities that went on. Check out blog posts by Anna Sky and Charlie J Forrest to find out more about the day's events including sex toys, cinquains, writing collaboratively and rope-tying. Many, many thanks to the tireless Victoria Blisse who organised the whole event.

Alongside the other activities, there were readings from a whole bunch of writers including Ashe Barker, KD Grace, Liv Honeywell and Bella Settarra. Most of whom were new to me. My Kindle 'to read' list became considerably longer this week, I can tell you.

I was scheduled to read my Flash Fiction Story, "The Final Straw" in the afternoon. I am not used to reading out loud in public. I think the last time was probably the poem I read at my sister's wedding fifteen years ago. And that (as far as I recall) didn't even have any sex or spanking in it. The idea of reading my somewhat smutty story was fairly terrifying.

However, by the time I came to do it (it was the last event of the day in fact - clearly everything else had just been a mere prelude), I'd heard at least a dozen readings from fabulous writers covering every conceivable subject ranging from the mildly suggestive to the absolutely filthy which made me feel a good deal more confident about my ability to say the word 'cock' out loud in mixed company. And I did it. Without fainting or freaking out or anything. So yay me. Jaye Peaches also read her lovely Flash Fiction story, Big Wheel Date Night which you should go and read. It's considerably less smutty than mine,

I had a wonderful weekend and am immensely glad that I forced myself to do it. And there was a bit of force involved. A definite moment before I had to leave to catch the train on Friday evening where I had to shout down the persuasive inner voice making the case for calling the whole thing off and staying home instead. But you know, that whole going outside of your comfort zone thing? There's a lot to be said for it.

"The Final Straw" A Short Story

In a few week's time , I shall be attending Smut Manchester which is described on their website as "an Erotica Authors & Readers Smutty Social Get-Together" It's terribly exciting. Every word in that description describes me to a tee. I'm smutty! I'm social! I'm an erotic writer AND an erotic reader. Clearly, it's time for me to go forth and meet my people.

My people are kinky people, obvs

Part of the getting-together socialness of the event, is a 'Flash Challenge' which is a writing competition (and not a competitive flashing event as you might have supposed).

Entrants are required to write a 1000 word story using the photograph below of the Manchester Wheel as inspiration. The top three entries will be read out by the authors at the event which is fairly terrifying prospect.

My entry which is titled "The Final Straw" is below. 

Let me know what you think in the comments. And give me a shout if you're planning to come to Smut Manchester on the 15th. It is of course where the very best smutty, social, erotic, got-together people will be.

The Final Straw

She squinted  slightly and pulled a disappointed face. “It’s not very big is it?”

“What?”

“The wheel. It’s much smaller than the London Eye. Seems a bit daft to come up here and then go on a sub-standard wheel.”

Joel let out a long exasperated breath. “You don’t want to go on it then?”

Katy shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

“Whatever. I’m not going on it with you if you’re going to spend the whole time comparing it unfavourably with your London one.”

“Our London one. You live in London too.”

“Yeah but Manchester’s where I grew up. That was the point of us doing this trip together. But all you’ve done is put the place down. Manchester bars aren’t as good as London bars. The Manchester Museum isn’t as good as the British Museum.  I’ve had enough of it. I’m going back to the hotel.”

Joel strode off, not too bothered if Katy followed him or not.  She caught up with him and walked with him back to the hotel. When they got back to their room, Joel  grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge and stared moodily out the window at Piccadilly Gardens and the wheel.

“What do you want to do?” asked Katy.

Joel shrugged. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to bend Katy over his knee and spank her ungrateful little arse. She’d done nothing but snip and complain since they’d arrived in Manchester.

He had never spanked Katy. Never spanked anyone, in fact, but it was something that he thought about a lot. In great Technicolor detail.

He looked over at his girlfriend. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Shame about the bad-tempered look she was wearing. Yet she’d submissively followed him back here without a word. She now seemed to be awaiting his instructions. His cock stirred at the thought of it. Why, he wondered, didn’t he just spank her? Maybe that was what she’d been angling for with her bratty behaviour. It was certainly what she deserved.

He set down his beer and sat on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he commanded.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to give you a damn good spanking.”

“You’re going to spank me because I wouldn’t go on the wheel?” Katy asked incredulously.

“No, I am going to spank you because you've behaved like a spoilt brat since we got here. The wheel was just the final straw. Now, get over my knee. This will do us both good.”

A tiny, significant second ticked by. Everything hinged on her reaction. She could tell him go to hell. Or storm out. She could, quite feasibly laugh in his face,

But she didn’t do those things. Wonderfully, amazingly, she walked over to where Joel was sitting, her eyes focused on the floor, and laid herself awkwardly over his lap.

He pushed her skirt up to her waist and yanked her knickers to her knees.

“Are you going to use your belt on me, Joel?” Katy asked quietly.

Joel’s cock stiffened at her words. She was so up for this. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

He spanked her hard and fast covering every inch of her from her waist to the top of her thighs. Her shapely arse changed colour from cream to the hottest hot pink.

Katy let out gasps and squeaks of protest every time Joel’s hand made contact with her flesh. Even though she was wriggling deliciously over his lap, Joel sensed that she wasn't moving as much as she wanted to. She was trying her hardest to be compliant. To submit.

He stopped spanking and admired the warm fiery glow of Katy’s bottom. He wasn’t through with her yet.  Loath as he was to move her from her delightful position, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of a swing with his belt with her across his knees.

“Up you get,” he said brusquely and Katy jumped to her feet. “Over the bed, face down. You’re going to get whipped with my belt.”

Katy hesitated. “Didn’t I behave well enough during the spanking?”

“You behaved beautifully.” Joel reassured her. “That’s why you’re only going to get three swats with the belt. If you hadn't, it would have been much more. Although I'm going to add more strokes if you don’t lie down on the bed right this instant.”

Katy complied immediately.

He brought the belt down across her buttocks three times in swift succession. Then threw his belt to the floor and admired the three bright red lines running horizontally across Katy’s bottom. He didn’t think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

He climbed onto the bed and slipped his fingers between her legs feeling the inviting wetness of her delicious pussy.

“You enjoyed that didn’t you?” he whispered.

Katy didn’t look up. She nodded her head which was still buried in the duvet.

“Oh sweetheart, we are going to have so much fun with it,” he said softly, unbuttoning his jeans and releasing his stiff engorged cock. He entered her swiftly from behind, pounding into her to the sounds of her pleasure. She was already so close to orgasm he realised, He wondered if he could make her come just from spanking her alone? He'd like to try.

They lay together afterwards -  a sweaty, sticky, happy mess. “You were right,” she said. “That did do me good. Thank you.”

“You’re entirely welcome. We’re going to be doing it a lot more.” He smacked her reddened backside for emphasis.

“Shall we go on the Manchester Eye, now?” asked Katy, her eyes shining.

“I didn’t think you wanted to?”

“I’m growing fonder of the idea.”  There was a wicked glint in her eye. “You know, if I say anything unkind about it, you can always take me to task afterwards.”

Joel grinned. He rather hoped she would find something unkind to say about it. “Come on then sweetheart. We have some sightseeing to do.”