I published a book at the beginning of the year. It is titled, Wicked Hope. I originally published this book under a different pseudonym because … well … I didn’t want its atrocities to taint this pseudonym. I have changed my mind! I have decided that I will continue to publish all erotic romance, paranormal romance and erotic horror under the name of Tilly Slaton.
With that said! Friends and family, I would very much prefer if you did not read any post pertaining to Wicked Hope. It is merely a book, a story, nothing more, and I do not wish to undergo your scrutiny or judgement.
Basically .. If you choose to disregard my request and forewarning, then you will just have to deal with your disgust in silence. I do not wish to hear anything about your thoughts on the book … Whatsoever.
Ok, here is a post I made on another site, the one containing posts from the other pseudonym.
Sometimes the loneliness beats so fiercely that I cannot breathe. At other times, it is a calming wave of reassurance and relief that washes over me, and the weight on my chest lessens just enough so that I can breathe. Loneliness can be a powerful tool, but unfortunately, sometimes the sheer force of it is so overwhelmingly consuming that I become irretrievably lost in my thoughts.
Have you ever allowed the bombarding thoughts to entangle with one another? Have you ever allowed the tickling, teasing connections to become irrational and rule every fiber of your being? Connections are powerful, and they can drive your mind, actions, thoughts and behaviors until you are no longer in control of your very own fingertips. Senses are essential to life, you know?
I find it intriguingly ironic that someone this closed off would find something as simple as a mere touch so erotic, even when there is nothing logically erotic about it. I don’t like to be touched, and I find myself holding my breath when someone chooses to violate my personal bubble.
Do you know what happens when a person becomes so lonely that she desperately aches for someone to merely brush by just to feel the slight warmth his or her body would bring in passing? Occasionally, I find my fingers trembling at the slight opportunity to feel someone’s skin. Although the thought of being so close to another sends a shrieking scream silently through my head, I cringe with such unbearable need that my calves tighten with adrenaline.
It always amazes me how sudden the excruciating desire fills me. More importantly, it’s the desire in itself that drives the discomfort that ceases to pass. I wouldn’t be so damned concerned about the inner turmoil or the cravings that drive me, but I cannot help but wonder if they’re wrong, if somehow I’m one of the odd sort, one of the damned perverts you see in this disgusting world.
The self-loathing or perhaps a better word choice would be self-denial, eats away at any chance of happiness that dares creep closely into my world. Even the slightest glimpse of sunlight at the end of the tunnel forces me into an unrelenting havoc of agonizing anticipation of the inevitable depression to come. This is precisely why I struggle with relationships, exactly why I push those who get close … away.
I do not handle people well. They unnerve me. I am bound by a hypocritical sense of judgment, which is comically ironic on its own, and I wonder … wonder about the motives or the lies that are undoubtedly linked to person who is smiling at me.
No, I do not handle people well at all. That fact alone is exactly why I have created this blog. I plan on writing about my sex life, my fantasies as well as posting snippets from my new book.
I am a published, erotica author who is being forced to create a second pseudonym because my latest book contains inappropriate and unacceptable content. Rape, blood, gore, violence, mutations and pedophilic brutalities.
I welcome comments regarding your opinion on said atrocities, appreciation of the titillating excursions, hello theres and blatant disregard for my right to fantasize and write about what is and what is not arousing.
With that said …