First of all, let’s get this straight. For all of my bravado and my openly sensual
nature and, yes, my wildness, I am a woman who feels emotions immensely - hurt,
laugh, love, and anger! Ok, now that we have that straight, let’s go on, shall
we?
My readers have asked me why I started writing erotica, and
my general answer is that it is just so much damn fun! But that is on the surface. You see, I write erotica because there is a
need.
Women and sensuality have been portrayed as shameful and
dirty – even to the extent of gross double standards. Men are portrayed as having voracious sexual
appetites, and women, at least most my age, have been told that it is our duty
to pleasure our man. But where does our
pleasure happen? Sorry, but I am not
willing to just lie there and take it.
Uh, uh! No way! Because you see,
if my lover wants a robot that will let him receive all kinds of pleasure and
he does not allow me mine, then he is out the door! That is if he is not open
to suggestions, so to speak.
In my sexual awakening a couple of years ago, I realized
that part of the reason I had not enjoyed sex in my life was because of a
lifetime of programming that sex was dirty and shameful. This not only came from the most important
man in my life growing up – my father – but from the religion in which I was
raised. Women were not to enjoy sex; it was only for procreation.
You know the routine – the man is the head of the house and
can do as he wishes at all times. The
woman cooks, cleans, and takes care of the babies along with being his
occasional whore to do with as he pleases.
And she had better do this with smiles and the pretense of
enjoyment. Learning to fake an orgasm was
Sex 101 in my sex education as a girl. And if the little woman did not pretend
to enjoy sex and tell her man what a great lover he was, well, he could go
outside to any woman, enjoy himself, and the little woman better be glad he
came home to her.
Well, I realized that type of mentality not only created
oppression and misery, but did not allow me to fully accept my feminine
nature. I learned how to pleasure
myself, since my man could not. And in
realizing just how empty my sex life was, I opened to lovers. But not just any lover will do. I am particular.
I will not suffer a man who thinks I am there strictly for
his pleasure and gives little concern for mine.
I will not suffer a man who does not respect me as a woman or as an
equal. I will not suffer a man who
thinks so highly of himself that he carries a double standard. Not me!
Do I submit? Oh, I
love to give control over to a lover that respects me. You see, my submission is a gift and one that
I hold with high regard. The man that
gets to dominate me sexually understands that and respects that. The man to whom I offer power exchange
realizes just how precious my gift to him is.
The man to whom I give control receives immense pleasure from me because
it gives me pleasure to call him Sir and to offer myself to him. The man to whom I give control treats me like
the precious treasure I am. And the
minute he takes that gift for granted, well … I take my submission back.
You see, for me, the role of submissive is one that I do not
take lightly. Do not demand my
submission because I will look you in the face and laugh …. Hard! When I offer
it, take me with care, protection, and respect.
Then, and only then, will you fully know my gift.
So, this is being Camille.
This is why I write erotica. It
is more of a teaching tool for women and men who desire pleasure and infinite ecstasy
– that of being a lover. That is why I
write erotica.
