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Verisimilitudinous Kink

/ Jaye Elise / 5 Comments

So, if you made it past the title and are now reading this, thank you for hanging in there! Despite what you might think, one of my kinks isn’t using big words…although I am an unabashedly hardcore sapiosexual. 😉 

For those of you who don’t know and aren’t in the mood to waste a browser tab on looking it up (and I don’t blame you one bit), “verisimilitudinous” means having the appearance of being true or believable. It’s truthiness. 

I won’t speak for other BDSM, D/s, fetish, and/or erotica authors here, but from my own experience, I find that I skirt a razor’s edge of verisimilitude every time I sit down to write. 

I have to capture how the characters navigate their world, making sure that it’s sexy, yet focused enough to drive the plot. 

I have to describe intense scenes of power exchange, Dominance and submission, unorthodox practices, and sexual delights and torments that, in some cases, don’t even exist while capturing the very real emotional struggles and growth that come with these exchanges.

I have to draw from personal experience, when possible, while also making sure to not share too much.

The best kind of kink, for my money, is the verisimilitudinous kind. The kind that gives you just enough reality to suspend disbelief on some of the more far-fetched fantasy. The kind that pulls you into its world and holds you captive with curiosity, desire, and longing for what the characters are experiencing. The kind that sinks its teeth into your core and doesn’t let go until it’s through with you.

But for those of us who write erotic fiction, verisimilitudinous kink can be a liability. Where does the fantasy end and reality begin? How can you reconcile the extreme practices of some of your characters within the bounds of safe, sane, and consensual? 

And, most importantly, how to write this truth-y fiction without baring your soul to the entire world? 

There Should Be No Should

/ Jaye Elise / 7 Comments

I’ve written elsewhere about the notion of the word “should.” It’s an insidious little word that sneaks its way into conversations all too easily and to great detriment to all. 

Are you sure you should do that?

Maybe you should try taking things slower/faster/a different way…

Even though this feels good, I shouldn’t want it, shouldn’t need it, shouldn’t crave it.

We’ve all said it; we’ve all heard it. And it never feels good. “Should” implies judgement of ourselves and others. Why bind ourselves to narrow, externally imposed constructs of what “should” be right, “should” be acceptable, “should” be pleasurable? (Unless, of course, being bound is what you like…) 😉

And specifically, within the context of the BDSM, D/s, and other power exchange communities—provided you’re engaged in safe, sane, consensual practices—there should be no should.

I encourage us all to critically examine* our use of the word “should” and adapt accordingly.

* You know, I really shouldn’t split an infinitive like that. 😉

(Here’s a link to the song I reference in the image above, in case you’d like to have a listen.)

Undivided Attention

/ Jaye Elise / 4 Comments

“Eyes on me.” 

There are few things that bring a submissive to rapt attention faster than these three words. Ahhh, delicious, deviant, decadent attention.

And eye contact is vital, yes, but it’s so much more.

It’s establishing deep focus on the Dominant and placing yourself in their hands. It’s silencing external stimuli and establishing a cocoon of safety and trust within which you explore together. It’s recognizing the fundamental power in your submission and entrusting your body, mind, and soul to the Dominant. 

It’s the D/s power exchange distilled into its purest essence with three seemingly innocent words. Although, as powerful as these words and the implied exchange are, I’ve been noticing of late that there is another layer I’d not explored.

We live in a world in which our attention is parceled into seconds-long snippets, with clicks, likes, clips, vids, and other quick hits of social dopamine vying for our limited attention spans. There’s also the focus demanded of us by our careers, families, and friends…by our artistic and extracurricular pursuits…by the increasingly polarized and unsettling news cycle and state of current affairs…and I could go on. 

But for the briefest of moments – and for however long he commands it – “eyes on me” is a reminder that you’re in service of a higher purpose, one that demands your full attention. 

And I’m hard pressed to find many things sexier than that. 

A little treat…

/ Jaye Elise / 4 Comments
A man in a suit holds a bound woman across his lap in preparation for a spanking

Motivation is a vital factor when it comes to so many aspects of our lives. 

Dragging yourself out of bed before dawn to go work out. Filing your taxes. Dealing with the piles of laundry that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Buckling down and putting pen to paper on a new book idea. Submitting to the will of another and placing yourself entirely in their hands. 

The common denominator here is motivation. And finding the right motivation at the right time for the right person…that’s truly sublime. 

In my particular case, motivation comes in the form of little treats. And Mr. Elise understands this implicitly. After spending the better part of the last two weeks hammering out my newest erotica work in progress, I put the final period on my first draft last night. 

And I think I deserve a little treat.

But I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. 😉

I’m back…

/ Jaye Elise / 4 Comments

Eight years ago, I began my journey as an erotica author, publishing six novels in one year. 

Seven years ago, I didn’t think I would write another word.

What started off as an adventure of exploration, self-expression, creativity, and community-building devolved into a soul-crushing disaster of burnout, overexposure, and upset. 

I had curated a wonderful crew of authors, creators, and friends, but I abandoned them, too paralyzed by the prospect of continuing on the path I’d forged. And abandonment was only the first step. I also shut down all social media, newsletter activity, and creative pursuits; to this day, I still don’t know why I didn’t delete this blog. The thought of writing—of being Jaye Elise—was too much to endure. 

But, as you might have gathered from the title of this post (and the fact that I’m posting after seven years), I’m back. I’ll spare you the obligatory “phoenix rising from the ashes” or “back in the saddle” clichés, but I will say that it’s nice to be here with you again.

It’s doubly nice to be back and sharing a key update. Within the next month or two, I’ve got a new book coming out. While I can’t share too many details quite yet, I can say that I’ll be heading back into one of my favorite sub-sub-sub-genres (emphasis on the sub). D/s dynamic, strong hero/defiant heroine, bondage, medfet, spanking, and more. I can’t wait to share more with you as we get nearer to publication! 

Also, thank you. Thank you for your patience, your kindness, and your grace. And to those of you who I’ve abandoned, my sincerest apologies. 

Sending much love and support your way…as I make sure to reserve some of those for myself, too.

A Few Observations on My Authorversary

/ Jaye Elise / 13 Comments

CoverI always like to start my blog posts off by coming up with the title, but I had trouble coming up with something suitable for today’s post and that, in and of itself, is disconcerting. In other words, sorry for the lame title. 😉

So, where should I start?

Well, today is my authorversary. On April 29 of last year, I published my first novel, Doctor’s Orders, and Jaye Elise was born. At that point, I still hadn’t told my husband that I was a published author and I already had another book in the pipeline. All in all, it’s been an exciting year! Three solo novels published, three more with my amazing co-author, Jack Crosby, and a short story in a Christmas anthology…not too shabby. And this doesn’t even include the Wicked Daddy-inspired stories I’ve been posting! 😉

I’ve made some amazing friends over the past year as well, including you, dear readers! A few who readily come to mind are the aforementioned Jack (bacon lover and cheerleader extraordinaire!), Katie Douglas, Wicked Daddy, Gracie Malling, Marlee Wray, Philip Mitchell Stein, Ruth Storm, J.B. Crown, Seanna Cullen…and the list could keep growing! What a pleasure it is to learn, grow, and share ideas with you all!

It’s a bittersweet day, though, and there’s really no hiding that fact. Without overdramatizing my situation, I wouldn’t call what I’m going through right now “writer’s block”…it’s more like “writer’s paralysis”. I’ve bought loads of my friends’ publications and have them ready to go on my iPad…but I can’t bear to read them. I’ve got four or five novels in various stages of development…but I can’t even open the documents to see what a shambles they are. I’ve got suggestions, support, and recommendations about moving forward coming in from all across my network (thank you, by the way)…but it’s falling on deaf ears.

I haven’t written—really written—in months.

I’ll be the first one to tell you I’m not a creative type. I don’t obsess about my “craft” because I don’t have a craft to obsess about. It’s simple. I like smut. And I like writing quality smut that resonates with people. I’m pretty sure I’ve done that.

At some point, I’m sure I’ll do it again.

Now is not that point.

Broken Woman

Weebles Wobble…

/ Jaye Elise / 2 Comments

Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.

Weeble

Ahhh, Weebles. These little toys predate yours truly, but their signature catchphrase has been running through my mind for the past month or so. For those of you who have even a cursory knowledge of my blogging style, you know how difficult it is for me to share any details about myself.* The good Midwestern girl in me is reticent to open up, to bare myself, to surrender to self-indulgent emotionalism. It goes against the grain of everything I’ve always known. But Christ on a cracker. Sometimes the reed must bend lest it break…and baby, this reed is going full-on yoga instructor in a wind tunnel! So perhaps it’s a good time to crack open the door again and let you all have a little peek.

In so many ways, and even though we’re only a few months in, 2018 has been the most challenging year of my life. And the blows keep raining down, sending me reeling off-kilter and making me feel like a stranger in my own skin. Personally, professionally, creatively…nothing feels safe or off-limits anymore.

It’s unsettling at best.

That being said, I may very well be wobbling, but I won’t fall down. For every challenge and obstacle I’ve come across this year, I can also look to the wonderful new friends I’ve made, to the moments of laughter and joy I experience each and every day, and to the slivers of peace I can carve out of even the most mundane goings-on.

So, to all of you out there who’ve helped to keep this wobbling Weeble from falling down, thanks for the support, the friendship, and the happiness. When the worst is over, I’m confident I’ll be a better woman for all of this. And for all those who’ve graciously filled my cup (and even those who haven’t), when the time comes, there’s a serious ray of sunshine headed your way, so gird your loins and prepare to get wobbled yourself!

* Of course, this begs the question why I choose to blog in the first place, but that’s a story for another time, folks! 😉

Some Naughty Couplets from the Ball

/ Jaye Elise / 2 Comments

Ball GownOur girl wrapped herself up in glamour and lace,
Painted makeup all over her pretty face.
The sassy Cinderella went to the ball,
But the people there didn’t know her at all.

They’d no idea of the stories within,
Her brain teeming with all manner of titillating sin.
She wanted to sit back and write their tales,
To uncover the naughty truths behind their veils.

Jonathan looked like he enjoyed a nice threesome,
And Mariana secretly craved to take it in the bum.
Steven wished he were there with the gorgeous waiter,
While Jen fought it out with the plug and tried to walk straighter.

But our girl put on her smile and told her jokes,
She giggled with the ladies and flirted with the blokes.
She thought she had them all nailed down,
Until she felt His eyes fixed on her figure and gown.

He watched her from across the room,
Never moving toward her, never dared to assume.
He saw beneath her carefully crafted façade,
Apparently unsure whether to censure or applaud.

Our girl melted beneath his gaze,
Caught red-handed by the only one who knew her crafty ways.
She smoldered and blushed in all her glory,
For she was now the heroine in someone else’s story.

The Most Seattle-esque Day in the History of Ever, or Why Jaye Can’t Stop Crying

/ Jaye Elise / 12 Comments

Albert_Bierstadt_-_Puget_Sound_on_the_Pacific_Coast_(1870)

Puget Sound on the Pacific Coast, 1870 (Albert Bierstadt)

Hi all,

Well, for those of you who are unaccustomed to me sharing anything of consequence on this blog, hold on to your knickers, because yours truly had an awful day—the first I’ve had in as long as I can remember. Things are kind of topsy-turvy on the homefront right now, and I’m having a hard time grappling with it. But now, thanks to some encouragement from a new friend, I’d like to tell you a little more about it. **Warning** This tale involves plenty of tears, a bit of heartache, and more caffeine than I care to admit.

But wait! Before you write this off as a “woe is Jaye” tale and skip over to read some scintillating smut, would it sweeten the deal if I promised you a little smile at the end? C’mon…throw me a bone here! I’m trying to share, dammit! 😉

So, looking at the title for this post, when you think of “Seattle” what images come to mind? The Space Needle? Grunge? Starbucks? Amazon? Grey’s Anatomy? Well, whatever you think of, I can pretty much guarantee you’re thinking of it cast against a gray, gloomy background. Because Seattle, for a solid eight months every year, is a cloudy, wet, rainy place.

Now, picture for me—if you will—the Seattle day I had…and imagine me crying throughout:

  • 5:30am – Walking the dog in the dark. And crying.
  • 6:30am – Checking my social media accounts. And crying.
  • 7:00am – Showering. And crying.
  • 7:30am – Walking to the bus stop in the rain. And crying.
  • 7:45am – Catching the bus, finding a seat (awesome!), listening to some Chris Cornell (Seattle boy, RIP). Still crying.
  • 8:30am – Jumping off the bus downtown and heading toward work in the rain. And crying.
  • 8:45am – Taking a detour to Starbucks (est. Seattle 1971). Crying while surrounded by homeless people.
  • 9:15am – Showing up late to work, hiding in bathroom. Can’t stop crying.
  • 9:30am – Leaving work because I’m essentially useless. Walking down street while crying.
  • 10:00am – Going to Seattle Art Museum to surround myself with pretty things. Not crying quite so much.
  • 12:00pm – Joining my husband for lunch at Nordstrom (Seattle-based department store), realizing that nothing is quite as bad as it seems, drinking coffee #2. Crying stops and a few laughs ensue.
  • 1:30pm – Indulging in some retail therapy, drinking coffee #3. The crying tries to resurface, but I manage to keep it together.
  • 2:00pm – Falling asleep at a coffee shop, embarrassing the living shit out of myself by drooling onto my shoulder. No crying though!
  • 3:30pm – Heading home. The crying hath ceased.

Just as today’s gloom gave way to some gorgeous sunbeams, some rays of hope, happiness, and laughter broke through my sadness and despair. Because even as rough as the most Seattle-esque day can be, there’s nothing that can keep me down for long. And though I’m going through a bit of a rough patch right now (and though a *few* more tears may fall), it’s kind of fun to remind myself that I, too, am human…

…and that there might be a few of you out there who could benefit from a glimpse at that humanity.

A Nice, Naughty Massage for You…

/ Jaye Elise / 3 Comments

Massage

I thought you all might like a nice massage to help get you through the end of the week, so I started digging through some of the first material I ever wrote (never published) and found this little scene I’d like to share with you. 🙂 (And please be gentle! This is unedited, raw footage, folks!)

To give you a little background on the story and this scene, Marcus is a Dominant and has agreed to take on and train feisty graduate student Jade as a submissive in order to help her gain a better understanding of the D/s lifestyle. At this stage of the game, he’s got her face-down, loosely bound to a padded table, and he’s intent on opening her eyes to the possibilities of what pleasure can really mean…

I detect a light scent of coconut before his oiled hands make contact with my shoulders and neck. He melts into my body, skillfully manipulating each muscle and drawing soft whimpers of pleasure from my parted lips.

“Receiving pleasure, just like receiving pain,” he explains, “is a delicate balance. Part of you needs to remain in touch with the source and the placement of the stimulus, while the other part of you needs to relinquish conscious thought and simply absorb pure sensation. It’s a balance of mindfulness and unconsciousness.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Sir,” I manage to mumble through the unmitigated bliss.

“Okay, so right now, you can feel my fingers working their way across your body. Each pressure point is registering on your senses.” He works his thumbs deep into the muscles along my shoulder blades, causing me to sigh wantonly. “Now, without ignoring the sensations I’m eliciting from you, let your mind go and become the pleasure.”

I have no idea how in the hell I’m supposed to do what he’s asking, considering how deep and intense the massage is getting. Leaving one hand resting along my spine, he grabs the bottle and drips a little more oil onto my lower back. He slides his hands over the curves of my hips, back up along my vertebrae, and then down my shoulders. The contact is heavenly. And distracting beyond all measure.

I’ve never been one for mindfulness or meditation and I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know how to focus on Marcus and the massage while simultaneously surrendering to the pleasure itself. But Christ this feels wonderful…

Is he trying to turn me into some sort of hyper-aroused sex monk or something?

“You’re overthinking it and tensing up,” he chides me, sensing my internal monologue through the slight flexing of my muscles. “Don’t worry so much—we’ll work on it. For now, just enjoy the massage.”

Now this I can handle.

After a few more minutes of work on my back, he hops off the side of the table, grabbing the bottle of oil as he goes. Pouring a little more into his hands, he proceeds to massage my extremities, starting with both arms from shoulders to fingertips. Then he moves on to my legs from hips to toes. Lastly, he works on my lower back and my plump rear end. Using just a bit more oil, he kneads my rear end with firm, sensuous strokes. I would probably be more self-conscious about him being near my rear entrance and exposed pussy if I actually gave a damn about anything besides his skilled hands at this point in time. Every single touch feels like heaven.

Alternating between deep squeezes and gentle caresses, he works my backside over more than thoroughly for a good five minutes. And then, without warning, his hands are gone.

I’m too relaxed and pliable to move a muscle, but I perceive unadulterated absence without his hands touching my body. While certainly not painful, it’s the antithesis of pleasure. I want him back but am unable to verbally form the request in the midst of the hedonistic haze that’s clouded my mind.

Just when I’ve convinced myself that he’s left me here to relax and to contemplate the finer points of pleasure, he’s with me again…in a most unexpected way. Without making contact with the rest of my body, he stealthily yet firmly dips two fingers into my pussy.

And I finally understand what he’s been trying to tell me about being present while surrendering to the pleasure.

My whole body trembles uncontrollably, pulling up from the padded table, and a blast of endorphins bombards my system, flooding me with warmth and pleasure. Although his fingers are only contacting one very specific part of my anatomy, every inch of my skin senses the lingering electricity of his touch, the echo of his deep massage. He remains perfectly still inside me, but I can feel myself convulsing around him, tremors racking my restrained body. My breathing becomes uneven. It doesn’t hurt, but the second he starts pumping his fingers inside of me, I release a deep, guttural moan, manifesting my inability to grapple with what I’m feeling.

He presses a third finger into my tight wetness and I perceive an immediate change. My body stills and falls to the table. My mind becomes a flash of white that soon envelops me, while my hands flex and clench at nothingness and my toes curl upon themselves.

I can feel his fingers inside of me, working their way into my depths, but it’s a sensation of being soothed, caressed, quieted, and aroused at the same time. My breathing becomes regular again.

And I’m floating.

I hope you all enjoyed your massage… 😉