Winners of Books by Felix Baron!

Wednesday's winner of Dominant is:

tls

Wednesday's winner of Sweet as Sin
is:

Nikki

And Friday's winner of The Persian Girl is

Lil

Drop me a line at telltale [at] primus [dot] ca with your snail mail details and I'll send you your books.

Thanks to everyone who welcomed Felix Baron to Lust Bites!

The Persian Girl

by Madeline Moore




Do what thy manhood bids thee do, from none but self expect applause; He noblest lives and noblest dies who makes and keeps his self-made laws.
- Sir Richard Francis Burton British explorer & orientalist (1821 - 1890)



On Wednesday, we chatted with Felix Baron, a writing tutor and an erotica writer who publishes novels with Nexus. Felix's latest release is called The Persian Girl. It recounts an adventure, hitherto unknown, that Sir Richard Burton experienced before he was knighted.



As you may know, he translated The Arabian Nights, The Kama Sutra, and The Perfumed Gardens. A master of disguise, en route to India Sir Richard learned enough Hindi to get off the ship, enrobed, and pass as a Hindu. He entered Mecca as a Muslim. He is acknowledged as the greatest swordsman of all times, and wrote the standard British Army manual on the sabre. Quite the character, hm?



Here's the lovely front cover of The Persian Girl:



and here's what it says on the back:

The auction catalogue read: Lot #217. A tin trunk, circa 1860, containing a number of esoteric volumes, many with curious woodcuts, all in poor condition.

The trunk holds the secret diaries of Sir Richard Francis Burton: soldier, spy, explorer, linguist, diplomat, master of disguise, the greatest swordsman of all time, hero, scoundrel and rake. During the period of his life recounted in 'The Persian Girl', he carouses his way from London to the Himalayas.

From the depraved 'governess', Abigail, and her debauched young wards, to the quartet of nymphs he encounters in a Turkish palace, Burton's journey leads him to his greatest challenge of all - schooling a dozen lusty young wenches in the more arcane arts of the bed chamber.

After that, saving the British Empire from a perfidious Russian plot is easy.

Sound like fun? I'd say so! This novel is a great read, and I'd say that even if Felix Baron wasn't my true love.

I just adore stories that start with the discovery of ancient stuff. In this case, Felix purchased the tin box, in which he discovered the secret writings of Sir Richard Burton. It is known that Sir Richard's wife, Isabel, burned all of his papers that she deemed scurrilous. But Sir Richard, knowing his wife's public prudishness (as well as her private earthiness) must have hidden some of his scandalous stuff in a tin box, only to have it end up in the hands of none other than Felix Baron, erotica writer. How serendipitous!



This first excerpt takes place in the Turkish palace mentioned above. Sir Richard Burton is being pampered by four lovely sylphs:

I was led into a candle-lit chamber that was dominated by a raised dais, not strewn with cushions as I might have expected, but thickly padded and covered in textured cotton. Signs and tugs directed me to recline, on my back, arms and legs spread wide. One fetched hot towels and aromatic unguents. My face was lotioned, covered, kneaded through cotton, then bared for the ministrations of a cut-throat razor. The girl’s strokes were so sure and delicate that it felt as if she were caressing my skin with a goose-feather rather than with a sharp blade.
When she was done, my steaming towels were renewed, but this time only covering my eyes. I was so warm and comfortable that despite the presence of four delightful nymphs, I had almost drifted off to sleep before I became aware that my smallest fingers and toes were being subtly manipulated. The tugs started gently but became stronger, until the joints ‘cracked’ and the ministering fingers moved on to the adjoining toes and fingers.
Their coordination impressed me. Without a pause, the massage moved from finger to finger, toe to toe, until both of my great toes and both of my thumbs ‘popped’ simultaneously.
Strong little fingers dug into my palms and the soles of my feet. It seemed as if each and every one of the bones in those appendages was isolated and manipulated before the probing fingers moved on. My wrists and ankles were deeply massaged, then my forearms and calves. When the girls started on my knees and elbows, I became aware that my digits were being revisited. This time, the girls were using their lips. Again, the sweet treatment progressed from smallest to largest. Each finger and toe was licked and then sucked upon, as if it were a miniature cock being fellated.
The slow progression was incredibly tantalizing but I was happy to surrender to the teasing. It was simultaneously stimulating and relaxing to have ten fingertips fondling each of the creases between my thighs and my torso and caressing my armpits while four soft wet mouths and sinuous tongues played behind my raised knees and on the insides of my elbows.
My erection became almost painful. Gentle lips nuzzled both sides of my neck. There were tongues slithering the lengths of my groins. Fingers brushed my nipples and danced down the arches of my ribs. The two girls who attended to me above my waist were straddling my arms. I lifted my hands to stroke the softness of their bellies. As if in response, all four humped higher upon me. Four mounds bore down. A girlish cunny spread its hot wet lips on each of my insteps. Two more impaled themselves on my fingers. All four lithe lovelies writhed, stimulating themselves as well as me.
A tongue tickled at each corner of my mouth. I turned my head to the left, to suck the sweetness from one eager mouth, then to the right, to sample and compare the other nymph’s oral nectar.
The back of a hand lifted my scrotum. The perineum, called Hui Yin in Taoism, is a Chakra, a centre of spiritual power. It is as sensitive as a lip. The caress I was subjected to was so subtle that for a while I wasn’t sure of its source. Then I realized. The girls were giving me ‘butterfly’ kisses – fluttering their eyelashes on my skin. The sensation was almost unbearably exquisite. I reached a stage when it seemed my climax would be inevitable even though my shaft had not yet been touched unless I delayed it by an effort of will, when all four withdrew.




Oh! Poor Sir Richard!
Well, we mustn't feel too bad for him. He gets plenty of action, as well he might, for he's as talented in bed as he is with a sword. In this excerpt, he has been captured and is being transported along the silk road. One of his companions on the journey is Fatima, a young Egyptian belly-dancer.

She agreed, ‘Slowly and gently. We have all night.’
I wrapped her curvaceous little body in my arms. My fingers found her nipples. I nuzzled and licked into the crook of her neck, a caress I’d discovered she particularly enjoyed. Fatima was less patient. Her fingers curled around my shaft. Her back hollowed, hitching her bottom higher. She steered my cock up between her thighs to the lush warm wetness of her cunny and rubbed its dome between her nether lips and against the hard little button at their juncture. Her gasps were subdued and breathless but within a few moments she gave a delicate shudder and sighed.
‘You said “slowly and gently”,’ I reminded her.
‘That was to give me the patience for “slowly and gently.” Now, tease me, please?’
‘And what manner of teasing does my little harlot have a taste for, tonight?’
‘This manner.’ Once more she guided my shaft, this time presenting it to the pucker between her bum’s cheeks. Her grip was just behind my cock’s head. She rubbed my dome against her opening with increasing pressure until the tight portal to her rear passage relaxed and the head of my cock, just the head, entered her.
Holding me there, she twisted her neck to get her tongue to my mouth. As we kissed, I pressed, gently, but her grip tightened, holding me still.
With a last lascivious lick of my lips, she murmured, ‘Just that deep, no deeper. That’s the best part – when the thickest part of you passes through the narrowest part of me.’
I rocked. My cock’s head plopped through the stricture, and plopped out of it. Each stroke was held in check by her clutching fist. I felt Fatima shiver in my arms in time with my entrances and with my exits. The urge to plunge deep came to me but I resisted. From her swallowed moans and tiny quivers, I was sure that she too was fighting her desire to be totally impaled. My lust stretched and sang, like the string of a violin that was being played even as it was tightened. It became more extreme when I felt that although Fatima’s left hand was restraining me, her right was busy at her cunny.
There was no sudden rush to climax. One second I was slowly sodomising her and enjoying the incredible tension. The next, I spent. My jism had simply flowed out of me.


Want more? Well, The Persian Girl is available in the UK now, and is available for preorder now in the US for a Dec. 9 release (just in time for Christmas!)

Or - Felix will be popping in today to answer any questions you have about research, etc. and I'll be about as well, so pepper us with your questions and comments and one lucky person will win a copy of The Persian Girl.

Chatting with Felix Baron

by Madeline Moore

Felix Baron is a well-known writer of erotic novels for Nexus and short stories for many erotica anthologies. Felix is also my own true love!

His latest Nexus novel is The Persian Girl. This is a tale taken from the secret diaries of Sir Richard Frances Burton: soldier, spy, explorer, linguist, diplomat, master of disguise, the greatest swordsman of all time, hero, scoundrel and rake.


Isn't it gorgeous?

It also happens to be my favourite of Felix's erotic novels. We'll be taking a long look at The Persian Girl on Friday, with excerpts and a chance for one lucky commenter to win a copy.

Today, let's get to know Felix, and two of his other Nexus novels, a little better...

MM: Welcome back to Lust Bites, Felix. I'm so glad you agreed to submit to being interviewed by me.

FB: Thanks for inviting me.

MM: When did you decide to be a writer, and what was the first thing you had published?

FB: I slithered into this craft. As a salesman, I wrote a lot of ‘puff’ for which I wasn’t paid but benefited from indirectly. Then, when I managed a phone-sex operation, I did a deal with an underground newspaper, copy for advertising. I caught the writing bug. My first stab at a novel was a thriller, written in blue felt-tip on a yellow pad. It was so bad, even I recognized the fact. That’s when I decided I’d better study my craft before practising it. The first half-decent novel I wrote was an epic fantasy. I showed it to a famous ‘writer in residence.’ She complimented me on various aspects of my work but told me she hoped it’d never be published because of the Male Chauvinist Pig content.

I used that. I wrote to an editor and quoted the comments. He asked to look at the book, and rejected it, but suggested I try something in the Horror genre, which was booming at the time. I did, and he bought it, but warned me that the popularity of Horror was waning and suggested I try Erotica, because of the erotic content of my Horror novel. He introduced me to Peter Darvell-Evans, then editor of Nexus. Peter rejected my first attempt as ‘funny and sexy. No humour, please.’ He bought my next.

MM: Is there a genre you’d choose to write in, if you were free to write anything you want?

FB: No. Genres are my harem. I love several: Erotica, Action Adventure, Mystery, Horror and more. Given free rein, I write cross-genre. In my Mysteries, people screw. In my Erotica, they plot, and so on.

MM: Did you read erotica before you started writing it?

FB: Starting with Fanny Hill, in Grammar School, at about age twelve.

MM: What are your writing rituals? Do you have a special place to write in, a special time to start and stop?

FB: I write where my PC is. When? I work best in the morning but have been known to go into a frenzy where time disappears and I am no longer aware if it’s 3pm or am.

MM: In general, what writers influenced you to become one yourself? Who are your favourite authors, (besides Shakespeare, please!)

FB: Poe was my first love. I learned purple from James Branch Cabell. Adam Hall taught me how to write tension. I’m also influenced by Mervyn Peake, Muriel Spark, Chelsea Quinn Yarborough, Stephen King, Marcus van Heller, Anthony Burgess, and on and on… I’ll learn from anyone who impresses me.

MM: When did you start writing erotica? Any influences?

FB: See above. I’ve always loved Fantasy, so my first erotic sale was Witch Queen of Vixania. I planned it as #1 in a trilogy but after #2, Slaves of the Witch Queen, I was told that Nexus was moving away from Fantasy, so my trilogy was never completed. For those two, I was Morgana Baron, at Kerri Sharpe’s insistence.

MM: How did you decide on your pen name, Felix Baron?

FB: Kerri Sharpe asked me for a list of first names and surnames for her to consider – hence Morgana Baron, her choice. After Kerri moved on, I was given leave to use a male name. ‘Felix’ means ‘fortunate,’ so I tried the Chinese mojo.




MM: Let’s talk about Dominant. It tells the story of a young man’s journey to becoming a Dominant. Here’s a little excerpt:

(The teenage protagonist, Cole, begins to understand what some girls want from a man)

...The kisses became harder and deeper. Cole was congratulating himself on having picked a hot one when she slid her arms under his jacket and pinched him, hard.

Cole pulled back and told her, 'Don't do that. It hurts,' before returning to the kiss.

She twisted his flesh viciously. He caught her wrists and doubled them behind her. Vanessa went crazy. Her lips spread so wide it seemed she was trying to swallow his face. Her body twisted as if she was struggling to escape but her wrists didn't pull against his grip. Cole forced one leg between hers. Still in constant motion, she sank onto it, rucking her miniskirt high. Her pubes pressed down on his thigh and humped it ferociously. Vanessa gave a guttural cry and went limp.

She blinked at him and said, 'Goodnight,Cole. Thanks for seeing me home.'

Her door closed. Cole was left, aching hard, alone.

(Cole sees Vanessa home from another dance.)

When they got to her doorway he took hold of the back of her neck again. Her arms snaked under his jacket. Before she could get a grip on his flesh, he yanked her wrists out and behind her back. Last time, he'd held them in the small of her back. This time he pushed them up between her shoulder blades, knowing he was hurting her. Her teeth went for the side of his neck. Before they could close, he had his fist in her hair and her head bent back. Her kisses were just as wet and fierce as before. Cole pinned her to the wall with his body. He had it all worked out. Being held, painfully helpless, turned Vanessa on. If he could stop her from getting off on his leg, she'd fuck...

His freed hand popped the buttons of her blouse. Once more, he found her nipple and pinched. Her legs came up high and wrapped around his hips. His hand left her breast and worked down between their bodies. It was under her skirt and fumbling at her pantyhose when she jerked and grunted.

The bitch had got off again.



MM: Is this based on your own experience?

FB: Yes. No one is born a Dominant – or if they are, they’re weaned off it by the time they’re three. A Dominant develops. My own journey is reflected in that novel. In my experience, a man becomes a Dominant out of his love for women. Perhaps it’s laziness. Submissive women are the most straightforward in their needs, so easier to please.

MM: What about the woman in the book who seeks serious physical abuse?

FB: I’ve encountered several much more extreme ones. Such women are dangerous. The D/s dynamic can only work if the Safe Sane Consensual rule is paramount.

MM: Do you think bdsm has become ‘mainstream’?

FB: Yes. In hindsight, that was inevitable. People read erotica in order to experience better and different sex, vicariously, than in their lives. In days of yore, in our society, simple promiscuity was a taboo, so if we wrote about a character who had many partners, or a woman who openly enjoyed sex, those were enough to titillate and oral/anal etc., were way out there. These days, most people practise oral at least, and many anal, so we have to go further to reach taboo territory.

Sweet as Sin was your next book with Nexus. It’s a twisted, nourish tale about a mother, and her daughter, a father and his son. Here’s a taste:


Trixie grabbed his right wrist in both hands, pushed it down the length of her body and yanked it up under her slip. His fingers met soft wet folds. It’d been so long since he’d touched a woman there that he’d almost forgotten the intensity of the emotions generated when delicate flesh parts to eagerly welcome hard strong fingers. She was hot inside, and so wet her flesh felt slick. His two fingers squirmed, discovering Trixie’s labyrinthine internal convolutions. There were smooth places, and folds, and soft subtle pockets. Intensely aware of how delicate and sensitive the inside of a woman’s sex is, he explored slowly and cautiously. The thought of damaging her, the mere possibility of his bruising her internally, terrified him.

MM: Tell us a little bit about the plot.

FB: How can I, without spoiling the ending? Suffice to say, the male characters are easy dupes and the female ones are wise and wicked. It’s the ‘black widow’ subgenre of ‘noire.’ I tried to make it obvious that the mother and daughter were up to something but endeavoured to keep the reader in suspense about the ‘what and how.’ Then, after the major ‘dominos,’ twist, I added another and managed somehow to get away with breaking a Nexus rule.

MM: Was it difficult writing female main characters?

FB: Putting me on the spot?

People are people. Of course our hormones make us different, but we all encompass both genders and many personalities. If I can write about psychopaths and monsters from the inside, surely I can do the same with women.

MM: I believe this book might be the one that caused our editor, Adam Nevill, when asked what he wants in our books, to cry out ‘More dead bodies!’ Do you think so?

FB: Perhaps he was using corpses as symbols of cross-genre writing. Now that the Internet has taken over the anatomical school of Erotica, it behoves us to create real characters in real plots.

MM: Finally, your new release, The Persian Girl, is available now in the UK and for pre-order in the US. How did you come to write this novel? Why did you get two complete sets of royalties for it? (I think we’d all like to try that!)

FB: I’ve long been a fan of Sir Richard’s. He was an absolutely incredible character; much larger than life. If he hadn’t lived, I’d have been reluctant to create him. Who’d believe that the greatest swordsman of all time would also be a scholar, spy, diplomat and linguist of such amazing stature? I’ve wanted to use him as a character ever since I read his biography. I must add, his real adventures make the one I wrote for him pale by comparison.

I didn’t get two sets of royalties, but I did get two advances. I happened to mention Burton in casual correspondence with Maxim Jacubowski. He encouraged me to write about him for Neon, so I did. Neon paid the advances but shrivelled on the vine and released the rights back to me. I pitched the novel to Adam, who bought it despite his reluctance to buy any more historical tales. Adam makes a lot of rules. He has to. He isn’t blinded by them, though. Even if he’s actively discouraging a subgenre, show him something that he feels works well and he’ll allow it.

MM: Now that we all belong to Random House, what’s next for Nexus, Felix?

FB: Ask Adam, but I doubt even he’d be definitive. Obviously, our future work will need to be well plotted and be inhabited by interesting characters. The days of sub meets Dom and discovers her/his true nature are gone, thank goodness.

MM: Cats or dogs? Werewolves or vampires? White wine or red? Tea or coffee?

FB: Cats for apartments. Dogs for the country. Vampires, but modified ones. I’m against magic outside of Fantasy, so the vamps I write don’t change into bats. I’ve also written about werewolves, but had to adjust the way mine changed shapes. I simply couldn’t see them sucking all that fur back into their pores when they transformed back into humans.

Red wine, the drier the better. I still remember the ordinaire that I drank in France, that puckered my mouth and stuck my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

The tea/coffee thing is tricky. I arrived in Canada a true Brit, loyal to tea. Gradually, I was seduced into drinking coffee. Then, a few years back, tea lured me and is now my regular beverage. Next year? Who knows?

MM: Thank you, Felix.

Bloggers! Ask Felix your questions, share your opinions about Nexus, erotica and bdsm, tell us your stories or just post a line or two on your thoughts about this post.

We'll be giving away one copy of Dominant to one lucky commenter and one copy of Sweet as Sin to another lucky commenter. Let the fun begin!

Write Sex Week: Day Two

by Felix Baron (Nexus)

Lusty Ladies, on behalf of your myriad fans, I salute you! You deserve our fullest respect for the many benefits that you bestow upon this world. You start with nothing but your sweet sensuousness and well-honed skills and create publishable novels. That’s magic!

Consider, if one of your books sells 5,000 copies and it takes three hours to read, and it’s read only twice per copy, that’s a total of 30,000 hours of pleasure that you are responsible for. That’s 1,250 days, or almost three and a half years. Incredible?

It was Nexus editor, Peter Darvil-Evans, who told me, ‘We publish books for one-handed readers.’ I think it’s safe to assume that each reading of your novel brings about at least two orgasms. I’m including those resulting from the readers’ busy fingers, while reading; those that come later, from the fantasies that the book inspires, and those that are results of your work moving its readers to seek out their lovers for their mutual pleasure. (Two-for-one.) That’s about 10,000 orgasms induced by every novel you write! Most people don’t stimulate anywhere near that many in other people in an entire lifetime. That’s an achievement to be proud of!

Further, you ladies are educators. How many people, I wonder, first learned to locate and appreciate the clitoris or the G-spot from reading sexy fiction? Those revelations can be life-changing. I’ve heard of young women who suffered unslaked lust to their early twenties, or sometimes beyond, because neither they nor their partners knew which cute little pink buttons to push, to induce la petite morte. You’ve saved relationships. You’ve brought continuing joy to countless thousands. Be proud.

Your tutelage isn’t confined to anatomy. You teach tolerance and acceptance. You’ve brought masturbation out of the closet. Thanks to erotic writers, the shame that has crippled so many lives is in rapid retreat.

It isn’t just self-loving that erotica writers have rescued from ignominy. By reading erotica, people can see a pair of thighs gleaming above lacy stocking-tops through the admiring eyes of a leg-fetishist; gaze into cleavages with the glee of boob-fanatics; appreciate the allure of skinny bad-boys or beefy bears; feel the sweet bite of canes through the tingling senses of masochists and enjoy the swelling pride of dominants who are being served well. Those vicarious experiences don’t change the sexual preferences of readers but they do help them to understand tastes that some might consider deviant and unnatural.

More importantly, through erotica, fetishists of all stripes learn that they are not alone. Others appreciate the allure of toe-cleavage. Others fantasize about their public nudity being applauded by the sound of mass masturbation. Whatever your kink, if it’s safe, sane and consensual, there should be no shame in it. (Unless shame turns you on, of course.)

It was here that I read Murray Suid’s witty account of his writing a book review for his college paper, and mentioning cunnilingus. His Dean reprimanded him, not for the prurience of his content, but for perpetuating the myth that such acts were performed in real life. If the simple act of oral love can be considered mythical, isn’t even more absurd to think that people might enjoy being spanked, or buggered, or bound?

Your works, ladies, simultaneously give us permission to be honest about who we are and defy those who would blame us for not being repressed and prudish.

Madeline Moore and I write movie scripts. Over recent months, we have been adapting some of the scripts we’ve written and not sold, into novels.

(Adam was kind enough to publish the first such adaptation as my erotic novel, Dominant.) The process of turning scripts into novels has brought home to us an important advantage that the written word has over tales told in moving pictures.
In a movie, you might watch a 17th Century Parisian seamstress find solace with her last candle. (Warming her hands at its flame. What did you think I meant?) In a novel, however, you can be that seamstress.

Only the written word can take people inside characters. The difference between watching a movie and reading a book is the same as the difference between sympathy and empathy. In an erotic movie, you can see and hear a character express joy at buggering or being buggered; dominating or submitting; sucking or being sucked. In an erotic book, you can share the characters’ glee from the inside. That way, you can truly understand not only the physical sensations, but the emotional ones. It might seem contradictory, but there is more realism in what you read than in what you watch.

All of the foregoing, ladies, was foreplay. It’s a preamble to the meat of my essay, which is that I am delighted that Black Lace is both for and by women. Most of the opinions I’ve expressed so far pertain to all writers of erotica, male or female. There is, however, an important difference, to the readers, if they know beyond any shred of doubt that the authors are of the fair sex.

I have written erotica under feminine pen-names. I suspect that my readers have often twigged my ruse. So, when I write of female characters who yearn to be sodomised or who can’t get enough of any of the depraved acts I have described, a reader might think, ‘Of course he writes like that. He’s a man. Real women don’t…’

It’s sad, but many men and even a few women, believe that women feign sensuality for duplicitous reasons – to trick men into marriage or to get pregnant or simply for pay. Yes, a woman’s sensuality can be quite different from a man’s, but it can be just as intense, or even more so.

Men doubting this has ruined many relationships. Women denying this has excused psychological frigidity. An incredible number of women consider the female orgasm to be a myth – and I’m not talking about ejaculation.

But, when a writer who is ‘certified female’ invites readers of both sexes into her mind and extols the pleasures of fellatio or cunninlingus or buggery, and describes in fervent detail the ecstatic glee of a fine climax, no one can deny the truth of what she writes. Women readers can learn that such joy is within their reach. Men readers can learn to become better and more trusting lovers.

Ladies of Lust, you are strippers all, baring your innermost selves, and whatever your motivations, you are simultaneously incredibly exciting and powerfully therapeutic.



Felix Baron writes in a number of genres, under various names, and teaches a Course in Writing Erotica for http://www.qualityofcourse.comHis latest novel for Nexus, Sweet As Sin, will be released in October, 2007 and is available for pre-order now at Amazon.com.