The Corner Chair was the first story I read by Laila Blake, but it certainly wasn’t my last. I’ll happily admit to having developed somewhat of an author crush on Laila and I’m over the moon that A Hotter State will publish her BDSM novella Driftwood Deeds later this year. Laila’s erotica star is rising and rightly so. I was quite blown away by The Corner Chair because I instantly fell in love with the writing. I read it, and then I read it again. Then I jumped up and down for a bit and made my wife read it. The Corner Chair is literary erotica at its finest and I will always be proud to be able to say that Ladylit published Laila’s very first erotica story in Anything She Wants.
P.S. Laila’s equally breathtaking story On an Ocean of Skin appears in Ladylit’s mini-anthology Sweat (Five Sporty Tales of Lesbian Lust).
Here’s a snippet from The Corner Chair:
She is not a cringing, cowardly creature. She does not fear anything, I think, but she adores praise like nothing else, even just a satisfied glance can make her chest swell with pride. Which is, of course, why she was kneeling there for near three hours—her hair matted with sweat, face red and tense, the muscles of her thighs shaking with exhaustion: because she adores being given the opportunity to earn my praise.
I had been watching her silently from across the room for the last ten minutes or so. She was beautiful. I know I sometimes forget to mention that because, to me, it is so utterly clear and obvious that it almost seems trivial and silly to try and put it into words. But let me be clear: my kitten is utterly beautiful—with her huge, shining eyes, the wild red hair and the freckles that spread all over her light, almost pink skin, down her face, her breasts, her shoulders and all the way down, only petering out in the small of her back, over the dimpled cheeks of her ass. She carries just enough weight and gravity to make her soft and plump like a ripe fig, ready to feast upon.
Maybe it was cruel, but I want to try and explain it if you have never been in this situation before. You know that she is perching there, in pain, every second stretching into infinity, waiting, always waiting for a word, a gesture of yours that would end the struggle. She wasn’t tied to the chair at all and—albeit with some struggle to make her stiff and aching muscles move—she could have gotten off the chair at any moment. But she didn’t, because of you. Because of me. Watching her fight to keep her shaking muscles in line, forcing her body to ignore every rational reaction to the stimulus of pain it could come up with, was more than a testament to power. Far more. Power means nothing in the face of all that longing, that desire, the knowledge that every stretching second, she is imagining your face, your cunt, the taste of your tongue.
LAILA BLAKE (lailablake.com) is a linguist, author and translator. She writes character-driven love stories, whether in romance, erotica, YA or mainstream, co-hosts the podcast Lilt and blogs about writing, feminism and society. The first instalment of her Lakeside series, a paranormal romantic fantasy, was published in early 2013, and her next publication, an erotic novella called Driftwood Deeds, will follow in November 2013. She lives in Cologne/Germany with her cat Nookie, adores obscure folk singers and plays the guitar.