HARD. Yes, I really like it HARD. Uncontrollably HARD. Yes, that’s the key — “uncontrollably”. This means someone else has the control. Someone else has controls my arousal. Then they control my thoughts and my desires. They control my actions. They control my subconscious motivations. When I feel that control or influence, I feel so good, so excited, and, yes, so aroused. Its like this circle of submission and arousal, arousal and submission. Like a ride I get on and never want to get off. Unless she lets me. One way She captures me and puts me on this ride is by “asking” me to help or contribute — perhaps even to write a blog entry about writing erotica.
She knows full well that in hearing Her ask for a “contribution” my mind starts softening. My will starts shifting. My focus sharpening… on Her. Like Pavlov’s dog hearing that bell ring. And She knows I love it. And so here it is, a simple, sincere “ask” to write about writing erotica and how I write erotica. I really don’t write erotica much, only when She asks for it. And it flows when she does.
How does it flow? Actually I’m not that sure but when those chemicals of arousal and submission, triggered through obedience, start to flow, then my imagination ignites. Perhaps that’s the effect of a mild trance state setting in. Shifting to that receptive, imaginative, state of being. Then I imagine amazing, arousing, stories and situations, creating as I get more and more aroused and more and more obediently happy and imaginative — thoughts and feelings swirling around Lady Inamorata.
So it does seem that to write erotica, the kind I write, it’s almost a devotional — almost a feasting on the feelings that I love to feel. Generating those, fantasizing about those. Fantasizing about submitting to Her. Fantasizing about being captured by Her. Fantasizing about losing my will to Her. Imagining, remembering, and reacting. The erotic verses of prose flow, as if down a mountainside, down faster and faster towards obedience and arousal. Towards the heart of the matter.
Before I know it, I’ve composed a story. Perhaps a devotional. Probably both. The source is Her. The source is the desire and growing warmth between my legs growing out of the focus I have on all the ways She can make me feel that I am Hers and that She holds the power, the control, and focus. Then as I daze out in this sort of submissive bliss, I write. And it comes. It flows. To Her. That is the inspiration. She is the inspiration. She is the source. She makes it easy. And then Lady Inamorata makes it HARD, if you know what I mean 🙂