Remittance Girl

Remittance Girl is a writer of literary erotica, commonly known as smut.

Covering Up the Disempowerment of Men

I rarely get overtly political on this blog. I have another one for that. But this is a gender issue and goes to the very heart of gender identity and what it means to be a human. What triggered my ire was this exchange between Veena Malik, a Pakistani film star and comedienne, and a…

Portraits Update: Subs 7 – Doms 0

Just a little note to let you know this is still (sort of) happening. I got 24 acceptances to participate. Yay. I got about an even number of subs/bottoms/masochists to doms/tops/sadists. Yay So far, 7 of the subs/bottoms/masochists have sent me back their responses to my questions. Yay. So far, NONE of the doms/tops/sadists have…

Guest Blogging at Lisabet Sarai’s House

In the next month, Lisabet Sarai (editor of my short story anthology and erotica writer extraordinaire) is hosting a series of guest bloggers on her site Beyond Romance.  I’m gonna be there March 24! Below is a list of the names and dates of the guests. As you can see, it’s something of a who’s…

Characters in Erotica – Dominants, Submissives, Sadists and Masochists

I have often gone on rants about how poorly non-vanilla characters are portrayed in some erotic fiction. I’m pretty sure we’ve all run across the stereotypical impermeable stay-pressed Dominant, the bratty, navel gazing Submissive, the evil and unprincipled Sadist and the mentally ill and most probably sexually abused Masochist.  Or we are presented with sexual…

The Pipe of Thorns

Images, memories, songs came whirling up, lending each other meaning. The faces of women he’d been with, the taste of them, the timbre of voices raised in laughter or hoarse with ecstasy, the warm wealth of their bodies and the redolent scents of their pleasure. It made him sad, not in a painful way, but the memories of each of them filled him with pathos.

Proof of Use

Eight dark smudges indelible beneath skin a quartet nestled beside each hip bone. Half-moons that almost breach the surface reflected there on the soft flesh of my inner thigh and there, on the rounded vault of my shoulder. Small purple anemones bloom under my jawline, in the crook of my arm and just next to…

Apologies for Loss of Feed

Some of you have subscribed to get my new posts by mail through the Feedburner subscription link on my page. Recently this has stopped working. I’ve done some tinkering and hopefully it’s back up and running now. Please leave me a comment if you have not received this post in your mail. Hugs RG

Mise en Scene

At the wretched gathering in the line for free oblivion I shall catch your eye and engage you in a conversation that has been pre-recorded in front of a live studio audience. Oh, yes. I’ve been this way many times in many guises and you are a convenience: a cock with a face I’ll choose…

Coming Together: Robert Buckley

There are few people I can point to and honestly say: ‘This person taught me how to write”. There is a good chance that you haven’t heard of Robert Buckley and, if you enjoy good erotic writing, that’s a damn shame because Bob is a masterful erotic writer with a voice like no one else.…

Rock of Ages

Did you cry for me the way I cried for him? Did you wait wretched, fretting, one moment damning me as a heartless bitch who couldn’t spare you a single kind word in a day, then melting as one sweet thought followed another, falling around your ears like water lily petals? This desperate chain and…