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I have a new novella out called “No Harm, No Foul.” And boy has it cause quite a ruckus!
I’ll start at the beginning.
I wanted to explore the idea of a woman who uses sex to get what she wants. Namely money, jewelry, a car – you know, material things. And why not? She’s hot, sexy, and can easily manipulate men with her womanly charms. So why not use that for her benefit?
Because it’s wrong?
Immoral?
Mean to men?
Why?
Let’s cut to the chase. It’s simply prostitution under the thinly veiled guise of “love.”
But is it?
A man dates a woman, brings her flowers, buys her a nice dinner, they see a show, and the man may expect something at the end of the night. The woman may offer something at the end of the night.
Did this man just buy sex?
Is that prostitution?
A man buys a woman a drink, she accepts, and they chat. Did he buy an hour of her time?
Let’s rule out any forced prostitution. I think that’s wrong. Trafficking, whatever. Let’s talk about a woman who decides to offer sexual experiences for a price.
People play a plumber to repair a faucet. People pay a masseuse for a massage. People pay to see (or read) sexy material. People pay for a private sex call. People pay for strippers.
Where’s the line, exactly?
Is it actual intercourse? A blowjob? A handjob? Can someone pay someone else to masturbate while they watch? Is that prostitution?
When I made the first draft of “No Harm, No Foul” available, I made the mistake of using existing characters in my fictional world. I call these “other” stories my “Alternate Freya-verse” series. The stories are outside of my main series. They exist in their own little world. But people took umbrage with what they saw as a character that had been so sweet and loving suddenly turned into a dirty whore.
And my story was destroyed by readers.
Hated.
I literally got hate mail over this story!
But the story was up to my usual standards. I certainly NEVER just “phone it in” when I’m writing.
And it had hot scenes.
Masturbation scenes.
Her eyes were facing the girls in front, but she was imagining herself on the beach with a throng of attentive men watching her. She started rubbing tiny circles around her clit. She felt her excitement grow in tandem with her clit engorging as she continued to caress herself. Delilah imagined one of the men intently watching her and rubbing the bulge in his shorts. She imagined him walking over to her. She could see him standing above her, looking down. He reached into his shorts and pulled out the biggest dick that Delilah had ever seen. It waved in front of her face, the fat head of it already glistening with precum in the early afternoon sunlight.
She had to touch it.
But in her mind, this man had a different idea.
As she reached for it, her lips already parting, ready to suck as much of it into her mouth as would fit, he pushed her away. She looked up at him, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair. It hurt, but she liked it. He knelt on the towel between Delilah’s legs, pulling her body down as he went.
Now, between her bent knees, he roughly pulled the bikini bottom aside even more, allowing his cock full access to her pussy. As Delilah frantically rubbed herself in the back of Chastity’s car, in her mind, the man pushed himself into her with a force that knocked her head back.
She gasped as she came.
“Are you okay,” Chastity asked from the front seat.
“Um-hmm,” she answered, not quite trusting herself to speak actual words.
Lesbian scenes.
Men like women with some meat on their bones,” she cooed into Chastity’s ear. “And I know that some women do, too.”
Chastity closed her eyes and leaned back against Delilah. She was almost lulled into a trance by her friend’s fingers caressing and fondling her body. Chastity could feel the tingling start between her legs. She thought of the first time that Delilah had made love to her. It had been so new and so exciting and so frightening all at once. She had never thought about girls in any sexual way, but ever since Delilah showed her just what a woman could do to her, Chastity had barely stopped thinking about what a woman could do to her.
The second time that Delilah had made advances towards her, Chastity had been hesitant only because she wasn’t sure of Delilah’s intentions – she did have a well-deserved reputation, after all – but as soon as Delilah lightly nibbled on her earlobe, Chastity simply melted into an entire night of carnal passions.
Straight sex scenes.
Well, you know. My usual sex stuff! I can’t give everything away, right?
So, I rewrote some things, I changed the names of the characters, and we’ll have to see what happens. Maybe it was simply just a flop? Maybe it was too much of a departure from my normal “sweet and sexy” stories?
Who knows?
But I wrote it. I’m proud of it. And it’s there for anyone that would like to read it.
In the meantime, I’ll keep writing.
Thanks for reading.
Love,
Frey
It’s almost Easter Sunday and a new story of mine, “Mulier Unit 05-22-E,” just published on Bookapy, so I figured that now would be a good time to talk about some of the Easter Eggs that I hide in many of my stories, especially this new one.
This blog post does contain some spoilers, so if that bothers you, then read my “Mulier” story first and then come back to this. If you don’t care about spoilers, then carry on!
So… I love to amuse myself and one of the ways that I do that is by sticking all kinds of hidden things into my stories. It could be something like using the name Rufus for a male character who has red hair. Rufus is a Latin word for red.
Or an Easter Egg could be a hidden joke like the name of the French restaurant that Cynthia, one of the characters in my “Freya and Friends” series, likes to go to. She’s more of a “full-figured” girl and the name of the restaurant is “La Fille Rondelette.” In English, that translates to “The Chubby Girl.”
Oftentimes it’s something like the name of my dog used in a story. Or something that I see right in front of me as I’m writing. I just saw a squirrel in my yard, so I may write: “A curious squirrel scratched at the compacted dirt only to scamper away as Beth approached the old house.”
Some Easter Eggs are obvious.
Some are known only to me.
Some of them have already been forgotten by me!
I love adding in funny/odd little treats that most people don’t even know are there. It’s nice when someone discovers them, but it’s also funny to me that they are there in plain sight and never seen. Or at least never seen until I point them out.
Again, spoilers coming up!!
Let’s talk about Easter Eggs in my latest story – which, by the way, is my first (and so far only) foray into the world of sci-fi storytelling.
“Mulier Unit 05-22-E” contained a lot of Easter Eggs for readers to discover. I’ll try to remember them all, but I’m sure there are some that I will miss. There were lots of them in this story!!
It’s a story about a man who gets a female android to help with household chores and eventually things go awry with their relationship. Sexually awry! This is erotic fiction, after all!
Last chance if you want to read the story first!
Here come the spoilers!
So, first off, just the title of the story, “Mulier Unit 05-22-E,” has two Easter Eggs hidden in it. “Mulier” is latin for “woman” or more specifically, a “lawful wife.” And the female android’s serial number spells out “Eve.” “E” is the fifth letter of the English alphabet, “V” is the twenty-second letter, and the “E” is… well, “E.” In the story, the main character and “Eve” end up as the sole inhabitants of a wonderful planet that is a veritable Garden of Eden.
See how that worked out?
And even more obvious, the main character is named Adam. Ha! His last name, Renovare, is Latin for “to renew” (in the story, he and the fake android are banished to a planet and they decide to populate this new world – renew mankind). Also, his personal ID number, 05-04-05-N, spells out Eden.
I’m such a goof, right?
The company that makes these lifelike androids is called Vivus-Droid, Inc. “Vivus” is Latin for “living.” Vivus-Droid, Inc. also makes male androids to be assigned to unmarried women that are called “Vir” Units. “Vir” is Latin for “man.”
It’s all pretty silly, but I have to come up with names and whatnot anyway, so why not give them some type of meaning, right?
The “female” Mulier Unit assigned to Adam, in my story, calls herself Oriella. I thought that name was pretty (I simply did an internet search for female names), but it also means “full of life” in Latin. This wasn’t hidden in the story. I actually spelled out that Easter Egg right in the story because I wanted the Oriella character to try a little humor.
There are a few more Easter Eggs that are much less obvious, so let’s delve into those, shall we?
In the story (last chance to turn back before a HUGE spoiler!!), it turns out that Oriella is pregnant when they board the shuttle to the new planet. This is unknown to the main character, Adam, at this time – as well as unknown to the reader at this time. But in the story, they need to be ready to launch by “1500 hours.” Or three o’clock in the afternoon.
Get it? Because there’s secretly three of them on the shuttle.
Sometimes, I’m pretty darn slick with those Easter Eggs, huh?
And then there are some random ones that no one would really know. The age at which an unmarried person is assigned a droid is 25. For some reason, the number five keeps popping up in my life, so I’ve started to fit it into things, just for fun. And, of course, 25 is 5 squared. So twice the 5s!
There are probably a few more sprinkled throughout that I’ve forgotten, but that’s about it for “Mulier Unit 05-22-E.”
I have Easter Eggs in pretty much all of my stories.
A minor character of mine, Valentina, was a nod to the first erotic writing contest that I ever entered (the contest was to write a Valentine’s Day story, so I wrote “The Valentine’s Day Triple Play” which ended up being quite a fan favorite). I was in the middle of writing a chapter in my first novel, “Freya’s Sexual Adventures - Book 1: The Beginning,” and I needed a woman’s name, so I gave a little shout out to my first contest entry story.
In another short story that I wrote, “Faith” (the first part of my “Faith, Hope, and Love” trilogy), the male lead character is named Finn. Finn is Irish for “blessed.” I chose this name because (more spoilers!), although the character definitely feels cursed, he eventually realizes that he can still be blessed. And he becomes blessed by a woman named Vera, a name meaning “faith.”
Also in the story, there is reference to Finn’s late wife, Ana. That name is of Hebrew origin and refers to the blessings bestowed on Hannah in the Old Testament of The Bible. In Finn’s darkest moment, Ana shines through to give him hope and a belief that he could still have a future without her.
Those are some Easter Eggs on how I play around with names and whatnot.
You know what? All this talk about hidden things and meanings in my work has got me thinking, so at this point, let’s take a quick look at what is probably my most-misunderstood story, “La Petite Mort,” and the secret meaning behind this VERY (under 1K words) short story.
I wrote this over a year ago (a mere month into my erotic fiction writing journey) and posted it online with the description that it was a “departure from my usual style.” I then asked readers what THEY thought it was about. I’ve heard from a handful of people but no one has gotten it right, yet.
That ambiguity was by design, though.
In case you haven’t figured it out yet, everything I write is pretty well thought out. My writing may seem light and breezy, but almost nothing is left unscrutinized.
Spoiler alert!
“La Petite Mort” is about an elderly widow sipping coffee alone in her kitchen, fondly reminiscing about the physical love she shared with her late husband many, many years in her past.
And that’s it.
Just a woman’s memory of something in her life from so long ago.
Apparently, my intention of making it vague, succeeded too well! I thought it was clever and well-written and everyone would admire my writing prowess, showering me with praise. I was wrong. The story flopped.
But I really like it. Still.
And some readers did like it, too. But I got comments like:
“At first, I thought it was about a man, but then thought it was about a woman.”
“The story is clearly about one person masturbating.”
“It was someone’s dream.”
That one was pretty close!
Well… now you know how I amuse myself with my writing. Fun, huh?
Thanks for reading and take a peek at some of my stories and see if you can uncover any hidden Easter Eggs!!
And Happy Easter (if you celebrate), Sweet Passover (if you celebrate), Merry Pineapple Upside-Down Cake Day (who wouldn’t celebrate THAT day??), or just…
Have a Great Weekend!!!
Love, Frey
I’m currently writing a story about my main characters (Freya and Friends) and they go to a sex convention where they meet up with all kinds of sexy people and have all kinds of sexy sex.
Anyway, I’m taking a short break from writing and wanted to dump some of what I’m doing into a blog post for you.
So without any further preamble or setup of any kind, here’s where I’ve left off today. I think you’ll be intrigued.
Standing in the lush penthouse suite, the three girls held hands and smiled at each other.
“Cynthia, how did Valentina get you up here?” Katie asked.
“There was no way that I was going to let you be the first one to get lucky this weekend.”
“She may still be the first one, you know,” Valentina pointed out.
“Yeah. But I’ll at least be part of it all,” Cynthia said. “First or not – that’s just splitting hairs.”
Katie giggled. “Well, with me, there’s no hair to split.”
“Really?” Valentina asked, arching one eyebrow at Katie. “Well, let’s head into the bedroom and get ourselves a little more comfortable.” As she led her two new lovers towards the double doors leading into the bedroom, she said, “I was hoping that I would see you here at the convention, Katie. I have something that you may like. My friends and I call it ‘The Jackhammer.’”
As they got into the bedroom, Katie saw what she thought was ‘The Jackhammer’ set up on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Oh, my!” She exclaimed. “I’m not sure that’s for me. Maybe Cynthia should try it first?”
“Unfortunately,” Valentina stated, “Cynthia and I spoke in the elevator on the way up and we had a different plan.” And with that, Valentina and Cynthia grabbed poor Katie, threw her face-first onto the huge bed, and Cynthia held her down while Valentina pulled her sneakers off.
Katie had learned that there was no use in struggling against Cynthia – not that Katie really wanted to anyway – so she just lay prone on the bed and asked, her voice slightly muffled by the Egyptian cotton comforter, “Cynthia, why is it always me?”
“Because you can’t pick me up,” Cynthia said.
Katie shrugged. “Fair enough.”
With her sneakers off, Katie’s jeans and panties quickly followed. She heard the telltale ripping sound and then the familiar feel of nylon restraints affixed around her bare ankles.
“Okay. Cynthia, let her go,” Valentina stated. Cynthia did and stood up next to the bed. Katie saw the look on her face and thought to herself, ‘Oh, crap.’
“You’re gonna love this, Katie-bear!” Cynthia told her with an evil gleam in her eyes.
“Katie, on your knees,” Valentina said in a somewhat stern tone of voice that was at odds with the soft and syrupy purr that Katie had heard from her previously. Katie did as she was told. She was willing to play along. Valentina then addressed Cynthia. “Cynthia, take off the rest of her clothes, then take off your own, and then come over here and undress me.”
Cynthia also did as she was told.
As she approached, Cynthia, now barefoot, had to look up to meet Valentina’s suddenly cold eyes. Cynthia rarely had to look up to anyone and standing naked in front of this dark statue of a woman, Cynthia felt almost subservient. Bordering on helpless, even. This was a feeling that she thought had been left behind many years ago in her childhood.
And she didn’t want to have those feelings again.
Except…
There was something in Valentina’s overall demeanor that reassured Cynthia. There was no menace in her eyes. No anger on her face. There was no question to who was in charge, but there was no pall of impending danger. Just a serene calmness.
And Cynthia felt safe.
“Unzip my dress, carefully slide it over my shoulders and to the floor,” Valentina told her.
Cynthia did as she was told.
As she carefully slid the dress down Valentina’s sleek figure, Cynthia was inches from some of the most beautiful body art she had ever seen. Every color and line only accentuated the flawlessly smooth skin and gentle curves of Valentina’s erotically charged form.
When Cynthia was on her knees behind this beautiful woman, holding the delicate silk in her hands, Valentina gracefully stepped out of the dress, turned and told Cynthia to hang the dress in the closet and then come back to the bed.
Once again, Cynthia did as she was told.
“Thank you,’ Valentina curtly told her.
Cynthia nodded.
Then Valentina addressed Katie. “Katie, please get down on your hands and knees.”
As Katie did, her arms trembled slightly in uncertain expectation. But she knew, as always, that nothing bad would happen to her as long as Cynthia was there.
“Cynthia,” Valentina said, “Give me a hand with ‘The Jackhammer,’ please.”
There you go.
If you want to see what happens next, follow me or friend me or whatever you need to do on whatever site you read this on. I would really appreciate that and I promise that what comes next will NOT disappoint you!
Love, Frey
My publisher and I decided to change the cover of my “Tartura” book. And we sold a copy!! Yay!!! Either the cover change drew someone in to check it out or my last blog post helped or pushing it on social media made the sale or it was just random chance. Either way, now every one of my books for sale on Bookapy has sold at least one copy!
How exciting!!
Ah, crap. The phone lines again?
“Hello. You’re on the air.”
“Freya, how are you?”
“I’m doing great. All of my books have sold at least one copy.”
“That’s great! Congratulations.”
“Thank you so much! Did you have a question?”
“Oh, right! In your second novel, you wrote about having sex on top of a washing machine. Did that really happen in real life?”
“I write erotic fiction, honey.”
“Well, I know. But the washing machine thing was so realistic. It was in the third chapter when you were having a nervous breakdown. And that dream about the guy at the supermarket. I mean, all of that happening must have been really scary for you.”
“Yeah. But my husband was really support – hey! You’re trying to get me to talk about my personal life! What? Do you want me to tell you about what happened two nights ago when I was exhausted and my husband climbed into bed next to me and I tried to push him away, but the feel of his cock pressed against my hip was too much so I just rolled onto my back and let him have his way with me? Is that what you want me to talk about?”
“Yes, please!”
“Buy a book.”
Next caller.
“Hello. You’re on the air. Do you have a polite question for me?”
“Hey. It’s me again.”
“Seriously? How did you call back so fast?”
“Two phones.”
“And you’re not a creep?”
“Not at all.”
“Fine. What’s your question that isn’t about my personal and private love life?”
“At the end of your second novel, your husband has his dream foursome. And it sounds amazing! Does he ever get that final foursome for real?”
“Yes, he does. It’s at the start of my third – in progress – novel. All four have one final romp before Alex is off-limits for a while. But it starts with a little one-on-one fun in the shower between Alex and Cynthia.”
“Really? Can you tell us about that?”
“You know what? I’ll just pull a short excerpt out of that third novel. Hang on and let me pull it up.”
“Thank you SOOOO much!”
“Okay. Stay tuned and thanks for calling.”
So, let me dig a nice quote out of my work-in-progress third Freya and Friends novel…
Here we go.
Cynthia repositioned a little bit with her other foot, then leaned forward and slightly bent down, pushing her ass up and backwards towards Alex, and told him, “Alright. Let’s have some fun.”
Lubing up his condom-covered cock, Alex positioned it pointing directly at Cynthia’s dusky puckered asshole. Pressing lightly against her, he dribbled a little more lube directly on the juncture of cock and hole.
“Ready?” He asked.
“Ready,” came the enthusiastic reply.
Alex pushed against her.
“Make sure you use plenty of lube,” Cynthia advised him.
Looking down at her shiny asshole, Alex figured that maybe a little more wouldn’t hurt. He let a couple more drops fall while he gently pushed and watched as the tip of his dick started to spread her hole open. Carefully keeping himself straight and on target, he dripped a couple more drops and pushed a little bit further.
His deep concentration was interrupted when Cynthia asked him, “Hey, Al?”
He stopped and answered, “Yeah?”
“Could you do me a little favor?”
Thinking that it was a somewhat odd time to ask for a favor, he simply answered, “Yeah, Sure.”
“Squirt a whole bunch of that stuff on me and you, then could you please hold my hips for a second?”
“Okay…” Alex squeezed a good bit of lube down her wide open ass crack and then on himself.
“Put the bottle down and grab my hips, okay?”
Alex did as she asked.
“Grab me nice and tight.”
Alex did.
With an almost animalistic bellow, Cynthia pushed backwards against Alex and after a mere split second hesitation, his cock shot straight into her.
“Hold me! Hold me!” She gasped.
Unsure of whether he was holding her up or if he was holding himself up – or a lot of both – he held onto her wide hips as best as he could. If not for Cynthia’s foresight with the towel on the floor, they would have surely slipped and probably been badly hurt. Over the next few weeks, Alex would spend quite a lot of time imagining exactly what Cynthia and Katie did in the privacy of their home that warranted so much knowledge of safety precautions. But right now, he had his hands full of – and his dick deep inside of – a sexy, curvy woman.
“You okay back there?” Cynthia gasped.
Alex took a deep breath. “Yes. Uh-huh.” He couldn’t believe how she felt. Every fraction of his cock felt like it was cradled in a warm, soft cloud balanced by an unbelievably erotic, tight grip on the very base of his dick.
“Okay. Just stay right there for a minute.”
Alex could have stayed there all night.
While Cynthia caught her breath, Alex placed a hand on her lower back and felt her sphincter tighten at his touch, then felt it loosen a little as he started to caress her. “That feels so good,” she sighed.
Nice little scene, huh?
I’ve been super busy with editing my back catalog, getting stuff ready for sale, writing new things, and winning erotic fiction contests (he he!), but I PROMISE that I’ll get back to work on my third Freya and Friends novel.
But you have to promise me something. Well, a couple of things.
I’ll get the next novel out as fast as I can if you share my Bookapy links all over the place and if you rate and review any of my stories that you buy. As The Freya Empire grows, it gets easier and easier for me to carve out more time for writing, so a quick (positive!) review and sharing the links to my work will ensure that I spend more time writing and less time promoting.
And that’s not shameless begging. That’s a sincere request among friends!
Thank you so much!!
Love,
Frey
I heard from a reader, dingbatking, who first discovered my story, “Katie Saves Valentine’s Day,” from a post that I had on Bluesky. He then “jumped around a little bit here and there” and when my work was available for download on Bookapy, he bought my first novel. (Well, I don’t know if he bought “the first one,” but he bought a copy of my first book!) He told me that he wanted to support my work and that Freya and Friends are his “favorite group of characters out of anything [he’s] read.”
Feedback from readers means a lot to me. It’s important to know that I’m not just screaming into the abyss. Or just babbling to myself in this lonely world of my own making.
I was talking to my editor a few weeks ago and sharing my appreciation for all that he does. He, of course, downplayed his role, but one of the things that I pointed out is that my writing is such a lonely job. It’s just me and my imagination sitting in a room trying to figure all of this stuff out.
In my experience with other writers, it seems like many of them chat amongst themselves and share ideas and even outright collaborate. I’ve never done that. I can’t. I feel that I have a clear vision of what I want to say and I fear that any outside influence will dilute my work. Sully it. And I can’t have that. And it’s entirely a “me” thing. I just don’t work well with others.
My editor pointed out that he thinks that I prefer this lonely place.
And I do.
I love my family. They accept me and my… “quirks.” My home and my family is truly my “safe space.” Interactions with anything outside of that – or any part of the outside world entering into this place – stresses me out. A lot.
So, yeah. I like working alone. I prefer it.
But it can get lonely.
And people like my editor and readers who contact me, help make my writing world a little less lonely.
And that’s nice.
On to the topic of today’s blog post…
A few sentences back, I wrote that when I write, “it’s just me and my imagination sitting in a room trying to figure all of this stuff out.”
What is “all this stuff,” though?
It’s everything inside of me.
My writing is me.
All the joy, fear, love, hatred, uncertainty, passion, humor, depression – all of the emotions you can imagine. And probably some more that you can’t imagine. I’m cursed with a VERY vivid (and uncontrollable) imagination.
And sometimes my brain decides to write something different.
I agree with dingbatking. Freya and friends are MY favorite group of characters out of anything that I’VE read. Quite egotistical, but whatever!
But sometimes my fingers type something different.
Enter the character of Tartura. The cum vampire – or whatever she is.
I just invented her, put myself into her mind, and typed. 7,000 words later, I had a story. A reader described “Tartura: Destroyer of Innocent Souls” as “a stream of consciousness monologue that reads like a nightmare.”
That’s about right.
Tartura, the character, is a nightmare and while I was in her head typing, it was just whatever came out.
To me, it’s a disturbing story, but ultimately one of redemption. Originally, I had it just end in the darkest place possible, but then the real Freya spoke up and I couldn’t let that happen. I still love a happy ending. Even – perhaps even more so – when it is preceded by such horror.
In my mind, “Tartura: Destroyer of Innocent Souls” is a story about a woman tortured by addiction, abuse (sexual and emotional, childhood and adulthood), self-loathing, hatred, religion, suicide, death, the uncertainty and unfairness of life, what happens (or what doesn’t happen) after life… There is an awful lot to work through with this story.
Perhaps that’s why it’s one of my favorites.
And maybe that’s why it has been difficult for readers to appreciate.
Anyway, I just wanted to take a few minutes to share some of my thoughts on this story with you.
Thank you.
Love, Frey
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