Please welcome my guest this week, author Anneke Jacob. Thanks for being here, Anneke.

Q: To begin, please share which genre you write in…
A: I write bdsm erotica, because these have been the stories that have been in my head forever, wanting to get out. I might have another story or two in there of other kinds if I look, but so far, bdsm is what it’s been.Q: How long did you write before you received your first contract for publication?
A: I spent about four years writing my first book, ‘Owned and Owner,’ in the evenings and on weekends, whenever I could find the time. At first it was for my own amusement, but about halfway through I began to see that it might be publishable. When I was more or less done I offered it to a couple of publishers; the second one took it. The first expressed an interest in seeing something else from me, but that was all I had — no poetry or short stories tucked away. Novels are it; I seem to be a one-trick pony.

Q: Out of all the stories you’ve written, which is your favorite?
A: Out of all my two stories? lol ‘As She’s Told,’ my second novel, is my favourite, because I put into it everything I’d learned writing the first one and then some. Everything I had, really. It was enormous fun to write; I loved it. It also won an award, the National Leather Association Pauline Réage Novel Award – so I can’t not love it!

My first book, ‘Owned and Owner,’ is science fiction, set in the future on another world (a standard bdsm fantasy, to tell you the truth – makes all the slavery legal), and its porn roots show more than I’d like. I touched them up a lot, but they’re still there. But from the beginning, ‘As She’s Told’ got every attention to structure and language and characterization that I could give it. And since the book is set in my own home town of Toronto, I got to ground the story in a real place: in streetcars and ethnic enclaves, on the Toronto Island ferry. Groping winter winds, lush summer backyards. With the sights and smells to match. Great fun, after having to invent everything for ‘Owned and Owner.’

Q: Do you need to be in a specific place or atmosphere before the words flow?
A: I need time and no distractions. Which is tricky. Because I normally write only on weekends, it’s sometimes hard to keep the flow going. Ideas continue running through my head on Monday, and Tuesday a little, and then it fades. By Saturday I have to work to get back into it. Which probably has a lot to do with the length of time it takes me to write anything. On the other hand, I do a lot of thinking about the plot, the characters, etc. while I’m driving or in the shower. Showers are great for creative thinking. Until the hot water runs out.

Q: If you could offer one tidbit of information for new writers, what would it be?
A: Could I offer more than one? First, study the writing you love, to find out why you love it, and why it works, and use what you’ve learned. And second, read good books about writing, especially to shore up your weak points and help you with mechanics like transitions. Believe me, it saves time in the long run. And books about writing can be fascinating reads.

Q: Do you have an evil day job or do you write full time?
A: A day job, or I’d be a much more prolific writer.

Q: What do you like to do in your spare time?
A: Read, mostly. And I spend a lot of time on Fetlife.com, which is a social networking site for us kinksters.

Q: What’s your favorite dirty word?
A: Cunt. I’ve always thought of it in the way D.H. Lawrence used it in Lady Chatterley’s Lover, as a loving and appreciative word not only for body part but for the delight the character found in it.

Q: Do you have any tattoos or piercings?
A: Nope. Even my ear piercings have closed up. I write about piercings….

Q: If you could be intimate with three people (not necessarily all at one time *g*) without getting in trouble with your significant other, who would they be?
A: The only one I can think of offhand is Donald Sutherland, at the age when he made M*A*S*H. Long, lanky, irreverent, hilarious, and totally hot.

Q: Which household chore do you abhor and why?
A: Most of them. Cooking would be top of the list. It bores me to death and I’m terrible at it. Give me a recipe to follow and I’m worse. I know it can be the height of creativity; and I respect that, particularly when the result is me being fed by someone else. But I’ll do anything to avoid it.

Q: Do you have a favorite book or movie?
A: The most perfect book in the world, in my opinion, is ‘Animal Dreams’ by Barbara Kingsolver. Some of her other books are close runners-up, but that one is incredible. Brilliantly written, wonderfully human and humane, multilayered, full of pain and hope and humour. With a great love story included, I might add. Just an amazing book.

Q: Is there anything else you’d like to share?
A: Sure: an invitation for the curious to visit my website at www.tpe.com/~anneke. Information, excerpts, reviews, readers’ comments, updates; they’re all there. And of course I’d like people to know where they can find my books: direct from Pink Flamingo in paperback and ebook formats, and also from Amazon and Kindle and a few other online sellers.

Q: In closing, tell us a bit about your latest release (& share a yummy excerpt for those who aren’t yet familiar with your work)
A: ‘As She’s Told’ is about the development of a loving, intense relationship between Maia, who wants very much to hand herself over to someone she trusts, giving up all other choices, and Anders, who wants to own a woman – consensually – and control her. The story is told from both points of view, and the reader gets an intimate view of the development of an increasingly intense bdsm relationship, with all sorts of kink trimmings, including animal roles, humiliation and a great deal of teasing and denial. Anders takes Maia to fairly extreme levels of submission – I must confess that the book pushes boundaries in a big way – but always in the context of the care and love they have for each other.

This excerpt is from an early stage in their relationship:

A minute later I was sitting in his lap and he was stroking me firmly along the back and legs, calming me down a little. He ran a finger along my eyebrows and across my lips.
“What happened when I spanked you?”
Oh god. I ducked my face down against him, and felt him stroke my hip gently, six, eight slow strokes. “Come on,” he said.
“I felt… It was – so fast, instant – ” I swallowed, couldn’t say it.
“Lust?”
I nodded slowly. “And more than that,” I whispered. “It was the first time you – the first time – ”
“I hit you.”
“Yes. I was so scared, I’d been so scared, and there it was. The first – .”
“Symbolic, then.”
“Yes.” I burrowed into his arms, shook with the fear and arousal he made me feel, tried not to cry.
“So much more to come, Maia.”
“I know.” The words muffled by his shirt.
“Let’s add a little to your experience, then.”
He stood me up, then arranged me face-down over his lap. Strings of words were running through my skull like beads on wires: please don’t hurt me, yes hurt me, don’t hurt me, please, anything, please. His big hand stroked my ass; it was gone a moment and then it smacked down, stinging. Like hot sauce on the tongue. Another on the other side. More. He forced my legs apart and stroked my pussy lips for a moment, then slapped me again. I was moaning now. My pelvis, angled over his thigh, began to climb him, try to touch myself to his leg just a little.
“Ah-ah, no you don’t.” His leg shifted and he resettled me, taking his thigh out of range. My breath was pressed out of me in a sudden huff; he had yanked the cincher yet tighter. I panted, squirming, as he retied the knot. Then my right wrist was pulled firmly behind my back, and the light spanking continued, ass, thighs, spreading heat. I didn’t know if it hurt; yes, it hurt, yes. I writhed and could move only so far, and the feeling of restraint kicked me off the edge of thought; sensation swamped me and my body struggled and strained in helpless abandon.
He stopped then, pulled my wrist even higher up my back, and waited. I whimpered, squirmed. I felt his grip change hands, and then he was squeezing my breasts, flicking the rings, pulling my nipples until I cried out. He waited some more. Slowly he stood me up, still holding my wrist, and brought me over to the bed. “Lie down,” he said, watching me as he took off his clothes. “Don’t move.”
I lay with wet thighs trembling, stinging ass hot against the cool sheets, breathing fast against a waist held tight. Watched as he bared those big pale shoulders; the lines of muscle on chest and abdomen; hard, reddened cock. Bit my lip and repressed a moan. Watched as he rolled the condom on. He pinned me down, arms and legs; the moan ripped out of me, and my hips lifted to him, reached. I wanted him inside me like I wanted not to die.
He looked down into my eyes. “Can you come without being held down?”
I looked at him, half startled out of my trance. “What? I –”
He shook me a little. “You know what I’m talking about.” He smiled, almost laughed. “Can you?”
He’d held me down each time, a substitute, I suppose, for the bondage he wouldn’t use yet. I tried to look away, dug the side of my face into the sheet. “I – yes.” I squirmed under him. “It takes – much longer….” His grip tightened and my taut thighs strained. Then in one stroke he was inside me and my voice was loose, climbing.
He rolled onto his back, bringing me over with him. A moment later I was straddling him, all my limbs free, confused. I watched his long fingers at the cincher; he unhooked it completely in front and tossed it away, and suddenly there was nothing restraining me. Eyes on my face, he grinned and began to play with my tits. “Come on,” he said. His hips rocked gently, and I groaned, and moved against him. He stroked me softly here and there, guided my hips, pinched my nipples. “Come on,” he said again. “You can do it.”
I tried. I raised myself the length of his penis and back again, felt my nipples burning. I gasped and bit my lip and tried for a long time. When he took hold of my hips and thrust harder I almost felt myself getting close. Beneath me he shuddered, his thighs like steel cables, and then he came with a shout from deep in his chest, his head thrown back, hands gripping my flesh.
Very slowly, his head rolled forward again, his eyes opened and focused on me, and he let out a long, long breath. Then he grinned again and pulled me down next to him. “You can’t come at all in that position, can you?” My face buried in his chest again, I shook my head. “That’s useful to know.” He turned my face so he could see it, and he laughed. “Would you like to come now?”
My entire pelvis was radiating heat; it was the Amazon basin in the midst of mating season. I could hardly hold back the animal noises. “Yes, please,” I whispered.
He closed his eyes for a long moment. Then he sat up, and his eyes travelled slowly down my body and up again to my face. A wicked light grew in them. “No, not just yet.” He turned away, dealt with the condom, turned back.
I lay there, wide open, stunned, stupid with arousal, waiting to see if he really meant it.
He mused, “So all I have to do to keep you from coming is to put you on top and not tie or hold you….”
I shuddered, and felt crazy drumbeats within.
“I’m just kidding,” he said. I looked up at him, feeling what? Relieved? Disappointed? “You’ll be tied down all right. I just won’t let you come.” The noise I’d been holding back got past me. My breath caught in my throat and I felt close to tears.
He closed his eyes for a minute, and then yawned and stretched. “I’m going to get something to eat. Are you hungry?”
I shook my head.
“You’d better come with me anyway.”
He took me by the wrist and pulled me up and out the door. At that moment I knew it was for real. This was an exercise of power in a direction quite unexpected, and it hit me like the slap on the stairs. I followed after him, saturated in juices. This really was unknown territory now. If he could do this without tying me or hurting me, what could he do with the whole kink panoply available to him?