Tag Archives: medusa

Coincidences! Controversy! Starting an old school attention fight!

8 Apr

Nothing to get one’s career in writing smut going like a bit of dirty dirty controversy. Unfortunately, to the great disappointment of scatophiliacs the world over, I refuse to fling my feces around, even at other people.

So, I was checking my amazon books, as an obsessive author is want to do every so often (every 5 minutes! I don’t have time to write anymore! what has become of me! let me check my books again!) and I noticed a little something.

You may know that Amazon, the clever buggers that they are have this little feature under each book.

Customers Who Viewed This Item Also Viewed:

and this is what I found:

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Holy SHIT!!! I thought (to the joy of scatophiliacs worldwide). Did I accidentally steal someone’s idea? I thought I was being original!

For those unaware this is my book:

medusa's lover copy

No, it’s probably completely different. It’s just a coincidence the titles are so similar. So, I went ahead and read the description:

“When Medusa was beautiful, finding a man to love her was easy. Poseidon fought for glances from her heavy-lidded eyes against suitors who proposed whenever she left her house. Even goddesses weren’t treated with such worship.

Athena grew jealous. She allowed Medusa to be violated in the Parthenon and turned her into a monster for her indiscretion.

Now when Medusa stares into the eyes of men, they scream as their skin hardens into stone. A caress against her cheek will be rewarded with the poisonous bites of the snakes that slither on her head.

No man is brave enough to approach her, until Perseus is ordered by the gods to kill her.

When they meet, desire sizzles between them. They are willing to risk it all-death, the wrath of the gods, the destruction of their families-if it means they can spend one more night together.”

I thought to myself: HOLY SHIT!

That’s exactly the plot of my short erotica story, except elaborated into a full-length novel.

Here’s the brief description of mine:

“Medusa is loathed by the gods themselves. Their jealousy and hatred forcing her into solitude, she spent an eternity alone with her desires when Perseus finally comes to kill her.

Will Perseus be able to destroy the monster, or will he be consumed by her desires?”

Then, I checked the publishing dates to see if I should be worried Mrs. Black would be writing me a complaint letter.

I published my story in July 2012, hers was published in November 2012. So, I was first. Therefore I say:

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pppthhhhhbrtttt!

Anyways, who knows if it is coincidence, I must confess I haven’t read the actual book by Mrs. Black, but it sure seems damn close from the title and description. Can’t really copyright an idea and a myth is a myth and by goodness she wrote the whole 224 pages, which is no small amount of work, but I would appreciate a shout out from Mrs. Black if my story inspired her!

So something like this:

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Juliana Sliema’s Medusa’s Lover is a real inspiration!

Anyways, check out my other stories before someone else steals my thunder!

Medusa’s Lover – Free Erotica this Sunday, 5 August

1 Aug

It’s my birthday this Sunday. Rather than receive a gift myself, I’m going to give a gift.

Medusa’s Lover – My most recent sexy short story will be free this Sunday August 5th. Be sure to download your free copy.

lust is blind.

 

Just to whet your appetite here’s a little preview.

 

Medusa’s Lover

The mirror revealed a beautiful woman. My hair flowed in waves over my shoulders, it shone with a million tiny stars. My flawless skin coated the ample curves of my body. I hated it. Clothes served no purpose. No one that saw me survived. I let them die with a final glimpse of my untethered beauty and yet all that registered on their petrified faces was horror.

 

I clawed at my face, the pain searing my cheeks, but the gashes healed as fast as I created them. I screamed in frustration for the millionth time. It was no use.

 

The mirror was the only one in my palace I hadn’t ground into sand. One as lonely as myself needs some form of company, even if it is my odious own.

 

I walked through my palace resting my hands on the balustrade of my balcony. My eyes kept to the cracked and dusty floors. I avoided the horror etched on the stone statues that decorated my house. Their faces were forever imprinted in my mind. I did not need to look up to see them.

 

Heroes, all of them. Come to slay the monster. Me.

 

Only one of them had not come to slay me. His statue stood beside me.

 

He smiled at me, his eyes wide with surprise as his finger pulled aside his blindfold. I had turned away to admire the sunset and when I turned back he was turned to stone.

 

“You foolish boy,” I said. At least his face was not contorted in horror. His stone lips were shiny and worn from the kisses I would give him every night before I would go to sleep.

 

I wrapped by arms around him. My fingers scoured his body, lingering in the parts I used to love the most. His neck, the muscles of his back, but they were beginning to crumble at my touch. His solid frame had been reassuring when he was alive, but now I longed to touch soft flesh. Something alive.

 

The sea was visible from my balcony. In the valley beneath my palace I could see the city below. The sunset bathed it in an orange hue. Soon it would glow with the lights of their torches.

 

In the distance a figure approached my palace with determined steps. Even from this distance his sword shone through the mist that rose up from the valley. My heart raced with excitement. Another hero come to destroy me. I delighted at the prospect of my own destruction and the imminent end to my loneliness.

 

I observed him as he entered my expansive garden. The trees and flowers the only living thing I had touched in centuries. He edged his way under the imposing stone gate, sword drawn and muscles tensed. Sweat made his body glisten in the setting sun. He spun around, swinging his sword at the sound of rustling behind him. A small hedgehog that tried to scurry across the path froze in front of him. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He smiled, but his crooked smile faded as he came ever nearer to my door.

 

I hurried down the stairs to hide behind the door. I didn’t want him to see me. I feared him not. On the contrary, I wished him to succeed.

 

The thick muscles of his bare legs tensed with each slow, deliberate step. He stopped to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Like all those who came to slay me, he was a paragon of masculinity. A towering giant among men, with broad shoulders and limbs as thick as tree trunks. His sandaled footsteps fell on the floor as silently as a cat’s. It was difficult to tell where his golden skin started and where his breastplate ended. They flowed seamlessly into each other. He carried a golden Spartan shield.

 

“Don’t turn around,” I whispered. “If you do you can be sure it will be your death.”

 

He froze. A flesh statue, in the midst of a stone menagerie.

 

“I don’t want you to die,” I said. “I want to help you.”

 

“Are you going to lead me to the monster?” he asked.

 

“Lead you to the monster? I am the monster,” I said. My voice always put them off. They never expected a woman’s voice. They expected the shrill shrieks of a mindless beast with serpents instead of hair. I knew what they said about me in the village.

 

He shifted his shield slowly with the movements of a man cornered by an unpredictable and dangerous wild animal. He examined my golden reflection on his shield.

 

“But you’re just a woman,” he said. His posture relaxed.

 

“Don’t turn around,” I warned him. He stiffened again. “What did you expect?”

 

“Snakes for hair, demonic eyes, scaly skin, but not this,” he said.

 

“This?” I asked.

 

“You’re gorgeous. A rival to Athena herself,” he said.

 

I smiled. Athena’s jealousy was the very reason I suffered this horrid curse. I was happy to give my head to this man, “Listen to me carefully, hero. I do not want to hurt you. Are you listening?”

 

He nodded, shaking the plumes on his golden helmet.

 

“I’m going to walk and stand behind you. Watch me if you like in your shield. You can be sure it is not a trick. When I tell you I am ready, you will close your eyes and swing the blade round. Do you understand?” I asked.

 

Again, he nodded his understanding.

 

My bare feet glided the few steps left between us, leaving footsteps behind in the dust of crumbled statues. His muscles tensed as he watched my approach in his shield.

 

He was so alive. He smelled of fresh sweat and the grass he had crushed underfoot in the garden. Heat emanated from him. It had been so long since I had felt the heat of another living being. His broad chest heaved with each breath. His skin had little droplets of sweat. Did I even remember what skin felt like?

 

I reached to touch him. One last taste. Death would shortly follow.

 

More here.

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