The well-known
writing advice is that in the course of a story, a character should change pole
to pole. I've never taken this to mean that a character could or should change
their stripes completely. A klutz who
can't climb stairs without tripping doesn't necessarily need to be riding a
unicycle at the end of a story. But the
character's understandings and actions should evolve consistently with the
action. At the end, I want the main
character to be headed in a different direction.
Since I'm writing erotic fiction, the
character development needs to be expressed through sex.
Over
the course of three stories (two combined in my novel Mandi, the third my Fair
Warrior Chronicles story, Circe),
the character Mandi climbs to the heights, falls to the depths, and rebounds.
Here she is on the way up, in The Fire Genie, Book 1 of Mandi:
I execute the market directions while he
eyes my trimmed delta and idly stretches my undies like an oversize pink rubber
band. When I finish and look up, I've put $800 million of Alex's money in
motion, and the limo is pulling onto a tarmac beside a large corporate jet.
Alex puts my panties in his pocket and says, "Shall we?"
I tug my skirt over my twat. "Where are we
going?"
Here she is at the
bottom, in The Master Genie, Book 2 of
Mandi:
I stood as quickly as I
could manage. The torn skirt had slipped away and one of the sandals had gone
with it. My last article of clothing was one shoe. Its high heel made me unable
to use my bare foot. I touched a granite counter top for balance. He stared at
me, slowly inspecting every part of my body.
Fear
that I was not pleasing him and frustration that I had not satisfied the genie
renewed my sobbing. He put his tongue on my cheek and lapped up a tear as if it
was a delicacy. My chest racked with the effort to give him more.
"I
like it when you wriggle your breasts," he said.
I wriggled them and smiled.
And here she is on the
rebound, in Circe:
My arms reach behind me. My shoulders and
spine bend backwards. My hands settle on the soles of my feet. This is the
camel, the ustrasana. The
circle I make leaves my face hanging upside down, my breasts pointed at the
ceiling, and my hips pushed outward.
If
these people are slaves of the Master, this pose might please him. If they aren't,
the pose will answer their need for everyone to fuck me now.
Mandi goes
from confident and saucy to servile and desperate and then to compliant and
calculating. And in the end, she…well, maybe you should buy the story and read
it!
