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About the author
rarelytame
Novel: A Litany for Monsters - Apocrypha
Genre: Erotic Fiction
25,509 words so far  

About rarelytame

Location: Woodstock, GA USA

Home Region:
USA :: Georgia :: Kennesaw

Age:32

Website: http://www.terralemay.com

Favorite novels: Winterlong, War for the Oaks, Mélusine, Silk, King Rat, Kushiel's Legacy, Tithe, Blood and Iron...

Favorite writers: Caitlín R. Kiernan, Emma Bull, Jacqueline Carey, Holly Black, China Miéville, Elizabeth Hand, Sarah Monette, Elizabeth Bear...

Favorite music: Snow Patrol, Death Cab for Cutie, 30 Seconds to Mars, Audioslave, Sarah Bettins, Milla...

Non-noveling interests: I have a BFA in painting and I own a tattoo studio. I raise Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. I love horses and the State of Hawaii.

Joined: October 19, 2007

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:
'03 '04 '05 '06 '07
'08

NaNoWriMo posts: 1

NaNoWriMo buddies: 11

 

Brief Author Bio:

Terra LeMay was born on top of a volcano. She’s fond of out-of-print books, bad poetry, and anagrams.

Excerpt: A Litany for Monsters - Apocrypha

"Turn around," I say. "Face the corner. If you try to face me once we have begun, do not expect me to stop striking you the way I did last time."

He drops all his weight onto his wrists, onto the cuffs holding his arms overhead, and he spins himself with a toe, as if he is turning a lazy Susan.

"Okay," he says, "but is that meant to be a warning so I'll keep my ass pointed in your direction, or is it an incentive so to make me turn around, in case I get bored?"

I wrap the buckle end of the belt around my wrist and slide the rest of the belt through the buckle and keeper, even though there are no holes on the buckle end to fasten the it. I only want to make certain my grip is secure, that there is no chance the belt will slip out of my hand. I heft the belt again, and give it a test swing.

"I will try not to bore you."

"You know what? You ought to add an extra stroke on just for my suggesting that was even possible. You don't bore me. Not ever. Not once."

"As you like," I reply, and as he has already turned his back to me and I have come within range, I go on and administer the stroke, swinging the belt as hard as I am able. It hits him at an upward angle, cutting across his back and lapping around his right side, eight or ten centimeters below his shoulder-blade.

He lets out a string of undecipherable profanity and every muscle in his body tenses as he absorbs the pain. The belt has left a beautiful mark on him, every rivet laid into his skin in red and all of the belt-mark itself a bright, attractive pink. "Fuck me," he says, after a moment, when the mark has begun to fade. "You got my nipple ring with that, Christ." He shudders, and a second later the wave of his arousal hits my face, warming my skin as if I have stepped into a spot of sunlight. "I can't for all the life of me come up with even a single reason why you'd think I wouldn't want you to finish my confession when it means you're going to hit me like that. I can't understand it. Not even for a moment."

"You misunderstand me," I say. "Of course you will enjoy your punishment. I expect you to enjoy it. And I want you to. I am not sure I would care to punish you if you did not like it. It would not be the same for me. But I also want the truth, Kynan. All of it. I want to know everything you have been keeping from me. Every single thing. Even if you don't want me to know it."

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