I watched the trailer for Fifty Shades of Chicken earlier this week. I enjoyed the narration. I enjoyed the eye candy. As a writer who tackles different genres and styles, I'm glad that there's a market for a cookbook for what I think is the most common of meats -- all sexed up.
You know my stance on food, enjoyment and sex, already. Plus, I love to laugh. I've delved into kink and BDSM only a handful of times; I've relinquished power for play and art.
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| Photo by: mErocrush |
Years before ever experiencing it in real life, I wrote about it. In a poem. ::::gasp:::: (knowing me and my relationship to poetry will elicit gasps). I wanted some new material for an open mic so I wrote the poem "Rope Burn" at work. Took about 20 minutes between coming up with the idea, fielding phone calls and processing orders at work and using the knowledge of said sex acts to complete the poem about Shibari knots, nipple clamps and machine fucking. Here's an excerpt:
"...you pick up on the gleam of pleasure in my eye as we teeter on the cusp of Scorpio
Libra tips the scales in favor of more pain
shearing me in half from the force of the twisting rope traveling between my legs
both your Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are privy to a nipple
to clamp and twist and adorn with crude piercings
now slippery from what drips off the ball gag in my mouth..."
-- Rope Burn, Abigail Ekue, 2008
It's been a rousing success. I wowed at the open mic that faithful night. I've performed it at UrbanErotika (2008) and Forbidden Kiss (2011). I want to produce a Rope Burn video next.
That would be tasty. Like fried chicken.
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