I will be in England in mid-February 2014 and would like to explore the possibility of meeting with readers, either as an informal get-together or as a guest speaker to groups of SM/spanking or erotica enthusiasts — I’m open to all ideas. The UK is my biggest market after the U.S. and I would love to say thank you in person. It’s always a treat to spend time with fans of my books and other erotica, as well as other writers.
In a previous post, I promised to post excerpts of work in progress. This one is for Trent, who voted for pony girl content.
This is as yet unpublished work. Please protect my long hours of hard, lonely work by not posting any part of this chapter elsewhere, although you are welcome to link to this page. Hopefully people who might otherwise not find it will come and look and maybe go to the book page and buy some of my published work. Some, like Decade of Discipline and A Teacher’s Dispatch, are hard to find on Amazon because they’re labeled “adult.”
Here we go — hold on tight!
The Stable Girls of Maison Jolie
By Alice Liddell
The idea that made me the richest woman in Paris, or at least the richest woman in the Paris demimonde, came with a suddenness such as I had never before experienced . It struck towards the end of a meeting of my Board of Directeurs, which is to say a night with my lover and patron, the Marquis de Beaubourg. He was at my side, propped against the headboard with satin pillows at his back, contentedly smoking a pipe. At the time he wore nothing upon his superb body save riding boots and a long black cape. His magnificent prick was draped languidly along one muscled thigh having itself a well deserved rest.
“The stable!” I cried, so affected by this flash of inspiration that I struck the bed with my fist.
The resultant shaking of the mattress disturbed Colette, who had been fast asleep at our feet. She raised her head and blinked her big brown eyes sleepily before returning peacefully to her slumber, curling herself back around Angelique’s familiar body. That little pussy cat had not stirred in the least.
The Marquis turned his head towards me and studied my face with great seriousness. “You, my darling,” he said after some moments, “are the most beautiful and diabolical woman I have ever met.” He smiled and allowed his eyes to travel the length of my nude body before settling one hand affectionately between my legs.
It was difficult to tell whether this was in response to what I had just said or was simply a general declaration of his affection for me. The Marquis is a perceptive and highly intelligent man, and I think the world of him, but he is understandably not at the height of his mental acuity after a long night of fucking and hashish.
“I wonder if you heard me,” I pressed gently. “I have decided to use the stable for our expansion.”
He frowned slightly. “Do we have a stable?”
“Yes, of course. It’s part of the carriage house.”
“Ah,” he said, closing his hand so his middle finger was exactly atop the centre line of my still slick nether lips. I shifted my hips accommodatingly so his lovely long finger might slip right inside. He made an appreciative noise. Then continuing our conversation, he said, “I thought Cook lived out there.”
“She does, and my outdoor man, too,” I confirmed, unwilling to let the topic go despite his distracting ministrations. “But they live upstairs, in the quarters I had built for them last year. The area of which I now speak is on the ground floor. There is an open space big enough for two carriages, if carefully parked, and stalls for four or five horses.”
He closed his eyes and seemed to consider, although perhaps his attention was drifting elsewhere: with his middle finger planted firmly inside me, his thumb was now circling my pleasure pearl.
“Do I understand that you intend to refurbish the space in order to create a few boudoirs d’amour for our working girls?”
“We’ve run out of space in the house. I would never ask a girl to rush her art in order to turn a room faster, but neither should I like to keep a man waiting when he’s holding his prick in one hand and his wallet in the other.”
“Just so,” the Marquis said. His eyes were still closed. He had not ceased the delicious motion in which his thumb was engaged. It was becoming a tad difficult to keep my mind on business, but the Marquis continued the discussion unperturbed.
“Your clientele,” he cautioned, “may not take kindly to paying your usual prices for being entertained in a barn.”
“They shan’t pay my usual prices,” I said, unable now to keep a touch of triumph out of my voice, for we had come to the kernel of my plan. “They shall pay more.”
That got his attention nicely. For all his inherited money, the Marquis has a nose for business and nothing arouses him quite like a profitable scheme. He opened his eyes and withdrew his hand, and turned on his side to face me. He was now miraculously alert, his elbow on the bed, his chin propped in his palm, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.
“More, you say? Truly? Expound, my dear.”
So I laid out my plan, describing it in exquisite detail, for if there is anything at which I excel it is painting a pretty scene. I have always had an instinctive feel for what to put before a man’s eyes, and how to control that image to feed his arousal. It is one of the secrets of my success.
As I spoke I kept one eye on his member, taking careful observations. I noted exactly at which point it jerked awake, as well as which specific words brought on subsequent thickening and lengthening. Nothing in its response surprised me. It reacted exactly as I thought it should, and judging from its size and state by the time I had finished, my idea was not only sound but inspired.
It was time to wake the girls. I gave them each a good nudge with my foot and told them to come up the bed and get back to work. Colette woke with an appealing little yawn and crawled towards us on all fours, and it was a pleasure to watch the lovely roll of her haunches as she did so. She settled herself, as I instructed, between the Marquis’s legs. Angelique, meanwhile, wiggled up between mine, sighing contentedly as she slipped her small hands under me to cup my curves and draw my body closer to her sweet mouth.
Copyright Alice Liddell. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce or repost but linking is fine. Thank you! I hope you enjoyed it.
I know I’ve been quiet, and I apologize for that, but things ARE happening behind the scenes. I’m at work on a number of new books. I just wish I could predict when I might publish any one of them. Late fall? End of the year? We can hope.
In the meantime, a discipline story I translated a number of years ago is newly available as a Kindle book on Amazon for $2.99. Please check out Peach Village by K. Taira. You probably know that name already, as he is the compiler of the famed internet Encyclopedia of Spanking Art, which I’m happy to say is back online after disappearing for more than a year due to server trouble.
Here’s part of the product description: “Set in feudal Japan, Peach Village is the story of a mountain village that communally tends a bounteous peach orchard that provides most of the income for the entire community. When prized fruit goes missing, the village headsman knows the thief must be from among his own people, hard as that is to believe. Hiding in the orchard at night, he spies a group of teenage girls in the act, but is able to catch and identify only one, the comely Osato. He is forced to punish her, for her own good as well as to set an example for the rest of the villagers, which he does strictly but fairly with the assistance of his second-in-command. But what about the girls who got away? Will Osato give them up? Will they get their well-deserved comeuppance?”
What’s particularly interesting about this story for discipline fans is that it includes descriptions of punishments that aren’t well known in the West, including the laying on of moxa (moxabustion) and bound public exposure. There’s even something that will remind you of the story of Lady Godiva!
I translated Peach Village because I think it’s interesting for Western readers to have a window into discipline in other cultures. I’m also at work on a translation of a story by a well-known female Japanese SM story author, Kayako Saeki, about a pain clinc that doesn’t treat pain — it administers it! The first part of the story is all about needle play, and is taking me WAY out of my comfort zone. It’s also giving me ideas I never had before! Stay tuned. Late fall? End of the year? We can hope!
As if there weren’t enough reasons to visit to Japan — crazy vending machines, maid cafes — this video ought to convince you.
It was taken in a town called Asuka in Nara Prefecture, which was once home to the rulers of Japan and is replete with ancient culture like temples, shrines, and archeological sites. And then there is the annual Onda Matsuri festival celebrating the rice harvest and fertility.
One of the traditional customs at the festival is for men in devil masks to go around whipping the visitors’ backsides — men and women, boys and girls — with a big stick that is split at the end. Here, the camera follows a couple of them around, amid much hilarity.
On Oct. 9, Amazon announced its new “Author Rank” feature, still in beta, which the company says is the “definitive list of best-selling authors on Amazon.” I’m kind of excited to see that I’m currently ranked #83 in Erotica, and that the ranking page prominently features my newest book, Straits Academy. Straits hit the Amazon Top 100 rank this past weekend.
Sorry for the tiny photo — if you click on it, it gets bigger. (Why does that sound dirty?)