We’re delighted that Rachel Kramer Bussel has selected an excerpt from Cathedral of Furs: Ardent Erotica Inspired by Anais Nin by Lana Fox in an women’s erotica showcase at Refinery29! Check it out here, along with the excerpt below.
Warning: This excerpt contains incest between immediate family members.
When I was young, I’d steal cake from the larder or speak out of turn so my father would be angry. He’d drag me up to the attic and throw me over a trunk, then he’d raise my skirts and spank me. Oh the intimacy of punishment, of hand against buttock, of stinging pleasure, of guilty heat! He’d spank me so hard that I’d quiver and mew, clawing at the trunk, leaving trails in its dust. I did not understand why I loved the spanking, nor why I longed for Mother to discover us.
Once, quite by accident, she almost did. When I heard Mother climbing the stairs, the click after click of her low heels, she called out, “What’s going on up there?” and I had my first climax, right against my father’s hand. I bit my lip as the pleasure shot into me, burning and cascading as he called down his excuses. I’d never felt sensation so sublime, as if my flesh had ascended to the heavens.
He did not tell my mother he was spanking me. Instead, he said he was talking to me about my behavior. My mother went quiet after he’d spoken, presumably poised quite still on the stairs. During these moments, my climax died, fluttering like moths from a net. At last, I heard Mother turn without a word and descend the stairs once more.
My father did not know I’d come, and I would never tell.
A couple of years later, when I was still a girl, my brother Anton and I were particularly close. We’d share secrets, tell stories together, and even sit on the sofa in one another’s arms. Once, at night, when we were meant to be asleep, he crept into my room. I’d been dreaming of him, of kissing him, of pressing my sex against his, so when I woke to find him standing over me, my sex was wet from the dream. He pulled back the bedclothes, revealing my thin nightdress, which had ridden right up to my thighs. My skin looked milk-white in the moonlight, which spilled across the bed—it seemed I had forgotten to pull the curtains closed.
“Arielle,” Anton murmured, sitting down next to me and trailing his fingertips up my thigh. I gasped, wanton. I’d never been touched this way. I marveled at how my nipples hardened, and the honey bloomed between my legs. As Anton continued to touch me, his breath falling warm on my body, I rolled towards him, letting the nightdress inch up further. He closed his eyes and made an exquisite sound—a noise of bliss, a noise of devastation. The kind of sound I’d never heard before. It made my blood rush with absolute need.
“Keep touching me!” I gasped. I grabbed his wrist and drew his hand up higher, right beneath my nightdress. He moaned again, and I mewed like a cat as his fingers touched the delicate crease where sex meets thigh. The thought that he might touch my sex was desperately exciting, especially as I knew this was utterly forbidden. He leaned in closer and I felt his sighs of wonder falling on my skin.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he said.
You can buy the full story as part of Cathedral of Furs by Lana Fox on Amazon, Amazon.co.uk, B&N, or at Go Deeper Press where we’re offering a 50% reduction on all titles until December 31st 2016 (code: Holiday16).