My guest today on the purple, crushed velvet, couch is Canadian author Kyoko Church. I recently met Kyoko at my local romance writer’s group. Yes, I live in Australia and now, apparently, so does Kyoko. She still has that funny Canadian accent but we will beat it out of her and she’ll be speaking with a nasal twang in no time at all.
Kyoko: Aw, come on! You’re not supposed to say it’s funny, you’re supposed to say it’s cute or sexy! I don’t want you to beat it out of me! That’s right, I’m a BDSM author that’s not so into the beatings. Lol. So sue me. Sensual dominance is more my thing. 🙂
Thank you for agreeing to be my guest.
Kyoko: Thank you for having me! I’m honoured to visit the purple crushed velvet couch. Purple being my fav colour, and all.
Lillian: So, first things first. What was your journey to becoming an author?
Kyoko: I was taking some writing classes and wrote some non-paying parenting articles online and tried submitting a few regular short stories to literary journals with no success. Then one day this sexy story formed in my head and I couldn’t get it to leave me alone. It just went around and around in my brain until I had to write it down in order to be able to have any other thoughts!
After I wrote that story I sent it to the only place I knew published that kind of work, Black Lace Books in the UK. I liked reading their books so it seemed like the natural place to start. Their editor liked the story and said he wanted to publish it. After receiving only rejections on my regular short stories, my first erotica submission, “Delayed Gratification,” got accepted right away. I figured, well, better go with what works!
Lillian: Is writing a fulltime obsession or a part time pleasure?
It was a part time pleasure until I made the decision to move here to Australia. Then I decided to dedicate myself to writing full time.
Lillian: What genre or genres do you write and what motivated you to write them?
I write erotica. As mentioned, at first it was just about going with what worked. But the more I do it the more I love it and the more I realize how it fulfills me. It allows me to explore my fantasies, wonder over them, analyse them. I believe it was Socrates who said “the unexamined life is not worth living” and I couldn’t agree more. I think it makes me a fuller, happier person. Plus, I just have a blast writing about naughty things!
Lillian: As I mentioned above, you have just moved from Canada to South Australia. Why the move, and how do you think your new location will affect your writing?
Almost twenty years ago I made the decision to stay in Canada to be with my husband while the rest of my family moved to South Australia. Last year I was finally able to convince him that it was time to give living in Australia a turn. It ended up easier to convince him after all of our trips here to visit my family. I’ve always loved this country and through our visits he grew to as well. He appreciates the “work to live” as opposed to “live to work” attitude that Aussies have. And of course the weather is a bonus! Plus we live in the Hills and it’s just beautiful here. But for me the biggest motivation was to be reunited with my family. Being able to drive five minutes down the street to pop in on my sister after spending my whole adult life only being able to see her for a few weeks every few years is a dream come true! I’m hoping being deliriously happy in my surroundings affects my writing positively. I really don’t want to go for the whole tortured writer thing.
Lillian: When I first emigrated from the UK many many years ago I was shocked at how bad Australia’s idea of fashion was. What has been the most surprising thing you have discovered about Australia?
Ha, ha, ha!! That’s funny. I’ve been visiting here since I was a child and I remember the fashion being really different too, as well as the music and tv shows. But all that’s changed now, with how accessible everything is thanks to the net, social media, etc. I mean damn, I turn on the radio here and hear Ryan Seacrest! I know, I’m not saying that’s a good thing, I’m just saying!
I thought I was pretty used to things from all my visits but living here is different than visiting so there have been some surprises. I had never seen the Hills in winter because I always visited in summer so I had no idea how beautiful it is when it’s so green! And it’s always surprising when I find there are still words Aussies say that I haven’t learned yet. I thought I had it all down saying capsicum instead of pepper and rocket instead of arugula. Then someone comes along and says ‘rort.’ Rort? What the heck is rort?? Lol.
Lillian: I have just read your new release ‘For Her Pleasure’, and it’s not your usual romance with an alpha male and a happy ever after.
That it is not. Lol. I know, my mother – who knows kind of what I write, but not really – keeps wanting to recommend it to her friends. I appreciate her support of my work but I keep wanting to say… it may be a bit of an acquired taste! This is not your grandmother’s Fifty Shades!
Maybe you can tell us what inspired the story and why you chose to write it the way you did.
Inspiration came from all sorts of places, as is usually the case, I think. But one of the big ones, funny enough, was from watching Mad Men. Do you watch? I LOVE that show! It’s so well done. My favourite character is Don Draper, because sometimes he’s just so fucking sexy I want to die! But a very close second is the character of Joan, played by Christina Hendricks. First of all, look at her. (And if you don’t know who she is or what I’m talking about, you can check out this board I have on Pinterest!) I mean, I’m pretty hetero but even I want to fuck her. And the way they write for her is brilliance. She pulls off bitch like nobody else. I love it when two opposing things are put together to show each one off in a brighter way, if you know what I mean. The way she can say the absolute worst thing, but all in that silky smooth voice with those big green eyes and heart stopping smile is just awesome.
And it got me thinking. Joan from Mad Men would be the best Domme ever!
That got the ‘what ifs’ flowing, which is always where great stories come from for me. What if Joan was a Domme? What if the humiliation she enjoyed inflicting – because she so obviously enjoys it – was an erotic one? What if there was a guy who got off on her doing that? And things just went from there.
Lillian: The book is very sexy. Do you struggle to write sex scenes or do they just flow?
Thank you! So glad you think it’s sexy. Sex scenes almost always just flow for me. I find if I’m struggling it’s because I’m writing parts that are not sexy in order to get to the sexy. When that happens I will often just start writing the sexy bits and fill in the blanks after … and I often find I don’t really have to fill in much. I mean, I don’t know about you, but when I’m reading a sexy book I sometimes just skim to get to the good bits. I know, I’m a bad girl like that. J But I figure if I do that, others must too. So I just try to make all my stuff the good bits! So if you want one big horny parade of naughty adventures, buy my books!
Lillian: What is in the future for you? What books do I need to add to my TBR list?
Aw, you’re going to read more of my stuff? I’m so flattered! You can see all of my books and short stories on the Read Me page on my blog, www.kyokochurch.blogspot.com. I have a trilogy called The Draper Estates and I’m working on Book Three for that series currently. Plus I just found out this week that Sweetmeats Press has accepted one of my short stories. If you’re unfamiliar with what they do you should check them out at http://www.sweetmeatspress.com/. They are a unique publisher because they pair erotic fiction with beautiful (and totally explicit!) illustrations. So I am absolutely thrilled about their acceptance and totally excited to see what their artists come up with for my work. And it will be in print as well as digital! I haven’t had a print copy of my work in a while!
Now some questions just for fun.
Chocolate or sex?
If you tack “or sex” onto the end of any choice, I’m pretty much gonna go for sex every time. As I said, I’m a bad girl like that. And I don’t like chocolate that much!
Hot or cold?
That’s difficult! It depends! But right now I’m looking out at my pool… so I’m going to go with hot.
Dom or Sub?
Oh, now you’re just being mean. You’re gonna make me choose that? Okay. Sub. *blush*
Jimmy Choo’s or Manolo Blahnik?
Okay, now you’re outing me as total fraud! I know what I said in my book, but I actually don’t know that much about high end shoes! Lol. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love shoes. I’m just a little too thrifty for to go for the really posh ones.
Thanks for playing along. 🙂
Thanks for sending such great questions! It was total fun.
Want to know about Kyoko’s naughty book?
Imagine an average guy with a wife, a job, average house, average car, average sex life… Well, not exactly. He has a secret he finds so embarrassing that he never talks to anyone about it. And then one day he meets her…
An architect chairs the newly formed Sexual Harassment in the Workplace Committee. When the consultant he hires to help him organize the new committee turns out to be a red haired bombshell, he tries to rein in his untoward thoughts.
But when she uncovers his embarrassing little secrets, this married man ends up in a relationship that’s so wrong on every level of his carefully put together life.
How long will he let his burning carnal desires threaten everything he’s worked so hard for?
When he got back to his office she was stretched out on the leather sofa beneath the large picture window that looked out high over the city. Her feet were up, Kate Spade heels on the floor. Again, those red toenails.
He shut the door behind him.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I made myself comfortable while I was waiting. Been on my feet all day.’ The look she gave him then could only be described as imploring. Imploring in a way that sucked his gaze back to those gorgeous feet. An inexplicably helpless feeling bloomed in his chest.
‘Have a seat,’ she said, indicating the sofa beside her.
He settled uncomfortably at the other end, not knowing where to look or how to position his body. She chuckled. ‘A little closer, silly,’ she said, lifting her foot up, offering it to him as he moved closer. He blushed but took it, gently. Her foot was surprisingly small and slender, the skin pale so the red toenails stood out sharply.
His mind raced. Raced. Everything in his brain screamed how wrong this was, how they were the two people in the entire building most aware of the wrongness, charged as they were with informing the entire company on the intricacies of how wrong everything about a man touching a woman’s foot in a work setting was.
Especially when said man was pitching a tent in his pants.
But he absolutely could not stop. His dick screamed back at his brain to shut the fuck up, just shut up for once and let me have this one.
Well, what harm would a little consensual foot rub do? That was the key word, right? Consensual. He began to massage slowly.
‘Wait a second.’ He looked up. ‘Turn to me a little,’ she said. ‘That’s right. Now lift your knee up onto the couch.’ He did so and jumped as she placed her other foot gently but firmly against his crotch. ‘Keep rubbing,’ she commanded, gesturing at the foot in his hand. ‘I just want to make sure you’re not getting excited.’ Fire exploded in his face. He looked away from her, at her foot, then looked away from that.
She laughed. ‘It’s OK,’ she cooed. ‘I know you like my feet. And I do need a foot rub right now. So you rub my foot.’ He hesitated. ‘Do it,’ she said, not laughing now. ‘But I just need to make sure, you know, for legal reasons, that you’re not being a disgusting pervert and getting all excited about my pretty feet. I need to make sure this foot rub is just about you doing something I’ve asked you to do for me. Alright? For massage therapy purposes.’
How could he be so confused and at the same time his dick be growing? Did she mean it? Of course she didn’t, but he couldn’t be sure.
He rubbed, obediently trying to clear his mind, trying to think of anything but her slim foot in his hands. But there was also the pressure of her other foot against him. And then she started making little noises. Little whimpers, groans of pleasure. ‘Mmm, that’s right,’ she purred. ‘Ooo, right there, that feels so good.’ He was helpless. He sat helplessly rubbing her sexy foot while his cock grew with a mind of its own.
‘Oh my god, what is going on?’ She looked at him. ‘I can feel you, you know,’ she said, wiggling her toes against his stiffness, only worsening matters. ‘God, what horny little thoughts are going through your head? Was it the noises I was making?’ she chided. ‘I was only enjoying the foot rub! You weren’t thinking that’s what I sound like when I fuck, were you?’ Oh! To hear that word. To hear that word come out of her mouth. It hung in the air, like a spark, like an echo. A mere half hour ago she had been standing in the conference room lecturing on what constituted inappropriate language in the workplace! But he could not deny that he had never heard that word sound so fucking sexy ever before. A hard slap of a word and when she said it he immediately wanted nothing more than to do it. With her. Now.
He stared into his lap, unable to respond. ‘Well, if you are going to act like a horny, little dog, then that’s how I’m going to have to treat you.’
This is how it was that the chair of the sexual harassment committee of X Architects found himself on all fours on the floor in front of this goddess, pants around his knees, praying, hoping against hope that no one opened the door to his office that he didn’t think to lock, while he humped his straining shaft against her foot like some kind of human lap dog.
It was sheer and utter madness. And he was powerless against it.
Even though she didn’t make it easy for him, did things like swing her foot away, complain that he was going too fast, laugh, force him to keep all four limbs on the ground, to not use his hands, even still his little problem reared its ugly head.
He spurted, hips helplessly bucking, after two minutes.
Here it comes.
He knelt in front of her and braced himself. He steeled himself against the familiar onslaught of feeling – frustration, anger, shame – that always raged through him like a firestorm, burning through everything in its path. But instead of the usual reactions of disappointment, pity, anger or worse, the yawning silence, pregnant with judgments and unspoken resentment, there was something different.
Giggling. Like tinsel. Like glasses chinking together, crystal laughter.
‘My, my, my, we are the eager little beaver, aren’t we?’
Heat rose, he could hear the blood pump through the vessels in his head.
‘That’s OK, sweetie,’ she said and she leaned over, put her lips right next to his ear, so he could feel her breath on his skin. ‘Mistress has all sorts of ways of dealing with a horny little puppy like you,’ she whispered.
‘Starting with,’ she said, dipping her finger in the creamy mess on her foot, ‘rubbing your nose in it.’ She swiped her finger across the space between his nose and his upper lip. A moustache of his own shame. The sharp, acrid odour immediately brought a fresh jolt of humiliation. ‘You may not rub or wash that off,’ she announced. She took his chin with her fingers, stared right into his eyes. His heart pounded in terror. ‘You will wear your disgusting mess on your face. It will be there for all of the rest of your meetings today.’ Oh god. ‘And when you go home and kiss your wife.’ Oh god! ‘And when you put your head on your pillow tonight.’ She sighed then, closed those gorgeous eyes and smiled. ‘When you have your shower tomorrow morning you may wash it off then.’ He realized then he wasn’t breathing and took in a gasping breath.
And suddenly he realized something else. Something astounding.
He was hard again. Harder than he had been the first time.
There was shame. But no anger. There was humiliation. But no frustration.
Pure humiliation. Not blazing, like the white hot heat of the firestorm of his secret torment, but rolling in slowly, like molasses, covering him, turning his insides liquid, enveloping him in a mass of humility, shrinking him down, making him want to place his hard, needy little cock before her in an act of complete submission.
And what she did then made it throb and ache even more.
She leaned in and placed the smallest little kiss with her full, soft, pouty red lips right on the tip of his nose. Like the period at the end of a sentence.
There it was. Just like that. Turned a hair to the left. His torment died.
His kink was born.
Kyoko Church discovered the power of the written erotic word when she was 16 years old and penned a very explicit missive to her boyfriend detailing all the naughty things she wanted to do to him. When he received it, boyfriend was impressed. When he found it, father was not. For the next 18 years she hid her naughty thoughts in shame until she found a community where they were once again appreciated for the well-imagined smut they are. Her short stories have been published in anthologies by Black Lace, Rubicund Publishing, Xcite Books and HarperCollins Mischief Books. Book One, Nymphomania, and Book Two, Sapphic Secrets, in her Draper Estate Trilogy were published by Xcite in 2012. For Her Pleasure was published by HarperCollins Mischief in February 2013. A Canuck by birth, she has recently made Australia her home. She is currently learning to drive on the left and say G’day convincingly.