Friday, 25 October 2013
“Even if we have not read Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella, “The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde,” most of us are familiar with the concept -- a Jekyll and Hyde personality. The concept connotes a rare mental condition of a “split personality,” where within the same person there are two distinct personalities. The novella's impact is such that it has become a part of the language, with the phrase "Jekyll and Hyde" coming to mean a person who is vastly different in moral character from one situation to the next. In Doctor Jekyll’s case the two personalities are apparently good and evil, with completely opposite levels of morality.
“Written in 1886, it was an immediate success and is one of Stevenson's best-selling works. Stage adaptations began in Boston and London within a year of its publication and it has gone on to inspire scores of major film, television and stage performances.”
The tale is well known. Amiable Doctor Jekyll, invents a potion, which transforms him into the brutish Mr Hyde. There is another potion that changes him back to Doctor Jekyll. In the persona of Mr Hyde, he commits the sort of atrocities that nightmares are made of. But the transformation becomes involuntary, and Doctor Jekyll is unable to reverse it because he has run out of the original batch of the powders. “The brute that slept within me” is now in control.
When he falls asleep as Jekyll, he wakes as Mr Hyde. Could the character of Hyde irrevocably take over? Concerned that he had overstepped his bounds, Jekyll chooses to give up the freedom of Hyde and for two months maintains the identity of Doctor Jekyll. But he is tortured with Hyde's longing to freely take part in evil doings, and he once again he takes the potion. During this transformation, Hyde commits murder.
There is a manhunt for Hyde, and Doctor Jekyll vows never again to make the transformation. He sets out to try to remedy the evil inside him. But he has given too much power to his evil side. Hyde is an irrevocable part of Jekyll's character, and the many transformations and evil behaviours have only strengthened his power. One night, while contemplating Hyde's deeds, Jekyll spontaneously transformed into Edward Hyde.
Finally, Hyde kills himself, thus finally releasing both Jekyll and Hyde.
Stevenson never says exactly what Hyde takes pleasure in on his nightly forays, generally saying that it is something of an evil and lustful nature; so Stevenson is writing within the context of the times. Whatever Hyde has done, it is abhorrent to Victorian religious morality. Stevenson had to take into account Victorian sensibilities. Hyde may have been revelling in activities that were not appropriate to a man of Jekyll's stature, such as engaging with prostitutes or burglary. However, it is Hyde's violent activities that seem to give him the most thrill, driving him to attack and murder Sir Danvers Carew without apparent reason, making him a hunted outlaw throughout England.
I think that if it were written today, Mr Hyde would be a counterpart to someone like Josef Fritzl. We wouldn’t be talking in veiled terms of evil and lust. We would be talking explicitly about rape, sodomy, torture, incest, bestiality, necrophilia. We’d be thinking about stuff that even Hannibal Lector couldn’t dream up. But I think that Stevenson’s novella is all the more compelling, because of what he doesn’t say. Our own imaginations are more powerful than anything that can be written down.
Realizing he will soon be Hyde forever, Jekyll leaves behind a testament; pointing out that while Jekyll often felt like a charlatan, Hyde felt like a "genuine man" years younger and far more energetic than his more "sociable" self. He also states in his final confession that although Hyde knew people recoiled from him, he, Jekyll, did not.
“The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde,” pre-empts Freudian psychoanalysis. As far as I can ascertain, Sigmund Freud was not talking about the Id, the Ego and the Super Ego, before 1899, when he published “The Interpretation of Dreams.” As I said earlier, Stevenson published his book in 1886.
So, Stevenson was talking about repression, and the return of the repressed and demonstrating the concept through his characters, before Freud had even thought of it. Although the reader of Jekyll and Hyde is led to believe that the threat of evil comes--as in earlier Gothic stories--from without, it is actually within the breast of the good and kind Jekyll that the danger lurks. Perhaps Stevenson himself, was afraid of what he had unleashed in his creation, Mr Hyde.
It is a creepy tale. It has been a long time since I read it, but whenever I think about Stevenson’s novella, I think about the CI programmes on Sky, that I am addicted to. Sky even has “Serial Killer Sunday”. I watch programmes about Ted Bundy, Ian Brady and Myra Hindley. Before Ted Bundy was executed a senior policeman asked; “what’s all this about Ted?” Ted Bundy’s response was; “I like it…”
It seems that serial killers, really cannot stop killing. And neither can Mr Hyde. Stevenson’s creation, revels in the choking ashes of the dark and primal.
I think of Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita”, where the monstrous Humbert Humbert, the handsome academic, who hides his paedophilia so well, constantly insists -- “I am not a monster.”
Is there a monster lurking beneath the surface in all of us? When I think about some of the weird stuff that I think about, that I write about in my fiction, I sometimes think -- where the hell did that come from?
The only honest answer that I can give is -- I don’t know. And what is “normal?” Is that knock on the door Mr Hyde rattling to get out?
I read this in the Observer newspaper some years ago.
“We acknowledge the receipt of your order for 5 triple furnaces, including 2 electric elevators for raising the corpses. For transporting the corpses, we suggest light carts on wheels. We are submitting plans for our cremation ovens which operate with coal and have hitherto given full satisfaction.”
So went the estimate from the Berlin heating firm, to the Commandant at Auschwitz.
Who typed it? Who priced it? Who put it in the mail? Nice normal people I don’t doubt.
From Bruce Kent in an open letter to the Observer newspaper. 13th November 1988
“ ‘The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde,’ was initially sold as a paperback for one shilling in the UK and one dollar in the U.S. The American publisher issued the book on 5 January 1886, four days before the first appearance of the UK edition issued by Longmans; Scribner's published 3000 copies, only 1250 of them bound in cloth. Initially stores would not stock it until a review appeared in The Times, on 25 January 1886, giving it a favourable reception. Within the next six months, close to forty thousand copies were sold. The book's success was probably due more to the "moral instincts of the public" than any perception of its artistic merits; it was widely read by those who never otherwise read fiction, quoted in pulpit sermons and in religious papers. By 1901 it was estimated to have sold over 250,000 copies.”
Here is Johnny Cash, growling out the lyrics to “The beast in me.” It seems appropriate…
Friday, 18 October 2013
The breasts, particularly the nipples are highly erogenous zones for both men and women. Stimulation of the breasts and nipples form an essential part of sexual foreplay for both sexes. But in women, the breasts are also there for the purpose of suckling an infant, the process of feeding a baby for the first few months of its life.
The breasts of a female produce milk and for some form part of a fetish, or paraphilia known as erotic lactation fetish and going on the stories I find on the Web there are helluva a lot of people playing around with the fantasy of suckling; both in the giving and receiving of a partner’s breast milk.
Erotic lactation can be part of a BDSM scenario. A submissive woman may be ordered by her Dominant partner to be milked, in the same way that a cow may be milked, thus reducing her to the level of an animal. And as with any Dominant/submissive relationship, it may be the submissive who is controlling the events. It may be that her own humiliation is part of the scenario. Her desires, and the acting out of the play itself satisfies sexual desires.
But the scenario I come across most frequently, is that of combining an infantilism fetish with that of lactation fetish. A man or woman has a desire to be treated as a baby. This may mean wearing diapers, defecating and urinating and having to be cared for, bathed and changed. And for some, a total return to infancy, which will include suckling from the breast.
On the other hand, erotic lactation may have nothing to do with infantilism. It can be that one or both participants gets off on suckling from the breast, or being suckled.
Much has been written about children’s psychosexual development from Sigmund Freud onwards…but I don’t believe that anyone really knows for sure as to why either infantilism or erotic lactation fetish occurs.
I wrote a story, it’s in my “Fetish Worship” collection about the adult Joel’s desperate quest to find a “mommy”. Joel wants to be twelve years old; he also wants a mommy and is lucky enough to find his ideal partner in Sally.
In “Will you be my Mommy?” Sally hints to the reader that she plans to initiate breast feeding Joel – she has already hinted that she loves to have her nipples sucked and bitten. In the follow up tale, “I’m sorry Mommy”, Joel and Sally are now lovers; lovers that act out the mother and son fetish absolutely seriously. They also have mind blowing sex within the framework of the fetish, which concludes with Joel suckling milk from Sally’s breast.
Research on the Web informs that it is possible to induce lactation without a woman being pregnant, through routinely massaging the breasts and nipples, by persistent suckling and/or by use of hormones.
Fetish Worship is available at Amazon US and at Amazon UK
Friday, 11 October 2013
THE fountains mingle with the rivers
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle—
Why not I with thine?
Sorry, Percy Byshhe Shelley, it ain’t gonna happen.
Forget it. If that special something is missing, she won’t want to kiss you. Your lips will repel her. Your breath will disgust her. She won’t fall into your arms -- no matter how much you weave your magic with those exquisite words -- it’s just not going to work.
Am I talking about love? Lust? Sexual Attraction? Infatuation? Passion? Chemistry? I don’t know. Probably I’m talking about all of them.
Love -- unrequited love. Thousands and thousands of words have been written about it, by pens far more eloquent and elegant than I can ever hope to achieve.
And the songs. We all have our favourites. Beautiful words, melodies, rhythms and harmonies, that remind us of that one time that special something happened. Makes us yearn for it to happen again.
Thousands of Romance writers, re-write the same story, over and over again. He’s a bastard. She falls in love with him, despite herself. The reader is in love with him too. The reader is addicted to the re-telling of the story. The reader believes in that elusive something.
Nobody can bottle it for sure; that thing that makes it happen. Perfume distillers with all their ancient skills have tried to capture it for centuries. It cannot be done.
If that something is missing, then it can’t be found.
A friend of mine, Lucy had a guy doing some building work in her house. They got talking, she saw a sadness in his eyes…she touched his hand…
Within a second they were in each other’s arms. Within a breathless heartbeat tongues were down each other’s throats… it happened, just like that. No need to analyse it; there’d be no point anyway. That mysterious, elusive thing had happened.
Time stood still. The overworked phrase suddenly made sense.
What was it? Raw lust? I don’t know; neither does Lucy.
Lucy and her builder are still together, two years later.
But it can hit you at anytime. I do believe it. Eyes meet across a crowded room/restaurant/rock festival. And he/she is there. The one. It may only last for an hour, or days. For some it can last a lifetime.
But what is IT? Where is IT? Why does one person make our juices flow, cocks stand to attention? Another person, leaves us, well…flaccid and dry?
So I guess I have ended up talking about lust. Does lust come first? (pun intended).
Sometimes it smoulders, long and low. Think of all those office Christmas parties. Folk who have barely spared a glance for each other, all through the long year, are suddenly together. Alcohol lowers the inhibitions, and it hits you.
That happened to me, long ago. It took twenty years to burn itself out.
Then months ago, I was convinced it was going to happen again. A guy I knew from a long while back. But when we kissed there was nothing. Nada. Rien.
I felt sad, cheated, disappointed.
So did he…
Friday, 4 October 2013
Twitter is transformed into a gallery from where Ms Emma Styles exhibits her collection of photographs. Erotic photos of beautiful women, alluring, luring the viewer in, enticing the viewer with promises of fantasies to be fulfilled in every delicate detail.
I asked Emma if I could run a blog post about her collection of erotica and I was delighted when she gave her permission.
But I soon discovered that there is more to this tweeter than photographs. Ms Emma Styles is also a bestselling writer. I’m going to let Emma speak for herself. She’s also generously giving you an extract from her book.
My name is Emma Styles. I am a English married mother of two. I currently live between Kew, West London and Southern Spain. I have just completed my first book “First Tango In Paris”, which is a true-life account of my sexual experiences and adventures since stumbling into the very elegant but incredibly decadent and hedonistic Parisian swinging scene. The book documents intimately and often graphically many of the more salacious and debauched encounters over a ten-year period, whilst also portraying how I juggled the more predictable side of family/working life with my quest for even greater sexual escapades.
From that very first eye opening evening I just knew Paris was going to be an inspirational turning point in my life. Until that moment I was a young stay at home Mum to two living a very suburban life in West London, coping with all the normal day to day stresses and strains of running a home and raising a small family. Of course this proved exciting and fulfilling in itself, however, that initial weekend opened my eyes to reveal something so different and so sexually gratifying, that after several late evening deliberations over a glass of wine with my husband, we both agreed entirely that it was something that we both wanted to explore further. I found that having my husband’s full approval, coupled with his desire to give me free rein to indulge and to fulfill even my wildest fantasies was exceptionally liberating and empowering.
After a period of throwing ourselves, or more to the point throwing myself head first in to the elegant yet completely riotous sexual freedom that Paris, it’s clubs and people had to offer, whether indulging as a couple or flying solo as a single woman, I began to structure both the family side of things with my new found hunger for wild, and on many occasions anonymous erotic encounters. I have discovered almost endless opportunities to turn any situation into a full blown sexual adventure, from a brief and teasing flash in a bar to a willing participant amongst a group of men in the afternoon clubs of Paris, which caters to the physical needs of a certain kind of confident and self-assured woman.
I very quickly became aware that the French in particular have a completely different outlook to most other cultures in the way they behave and express themselves sexually. In the vast majority of French society circles and in the many thriving chic and sophisticated Parisian “Clubs Privées” being a liberated woman who enthusiastically pursued and achieved her sexual desires is regarded with great respect and the utmost admiration.
Both my husband and myself find that the wide and diverse range of people who indulge in this hedonistic style of sexual gratification are some of the most interesting and intellectually inspiring people we’ve encountered. In fact many of our close friends followed in our footsteps and all say what a positive and emboldening experience it has been for them.
Simply having the knowledge that as well as the hugely rewarding family life at home, there was also a completely self-indulgent side of life, one that was there to be grasped with both hands and relished. I’ve found this in itself to be a huge thrill, both mentally and physically. It has certainly added a very positive “other” dimension to daily life.
I soon discovered that this sexual freedom that we had allowed each other to explore has simply strengthened our marriage. The level of trust that was already in place has only been enhanced further by the openness in which we approach and discuss all situations together, whether sexual or life in general. Almost from the very outset my husband adored me recounting my liaisons and outrageous shenanigans to him (no detail sparred), whether as a teaser over dinner - leading to our relentlessly exciting bedroom games, or wherever and whenever a situation presented itself. It simply keeps everything fresh and frisky.
My main reason to write “First Tango In Paris” was, as “erotic fiction” has recently become a hugely popular genre, I felt that it was all well and good reading about fictional characters in fictional situations, but thought that from my point of view it would be much more inspiring and liberating to read a wholly factual account from a person who has experienced it all in reality, in genuine and existing clubs and locations. Obviously, as with all things in life there are the disreputable places that are to be avoided, however, in my book I document many of the finer establishments where one can go to turn fantasy into reality in the blink of an eye (the majority of which are just a click away on the internet). Go explore your inner desires you’ll be surprised at just how elated and revitalized you’ll feel. For the ladies reading this I strongly recommend you get the man or men in your life to have a sneaky read, their reactions may just surprise you! (at the very least a trip to Paris should be on your wish list)
The following excerpt is one of that will give you a flavor of the book, and an insight into one of the numerous elegant but highly decadent situations I was party to!
Recently, my favoured pastime is when I’m alone at our place in Spain I venture the ten minute walk to the local nude/fun beach and get naked and just see what potential situations develop in the heat! I’m always happy when a young “senor” or two park themselves nearby. That when my exhibitionist streak really explodes!
The book is 98 thousand words, covering the first ten years; there will be a concluding book bringing my escapades up to date later in the year.
Emma Styles is at Twitter
The book is available to download at Amazon US Amazon UK Or shortened link
Or you can view more Of Emma's erotic photograph collection at her, very new, blog.