What is this contest about? Have you ever read a sex scene that was so awful, you were laughing on the floor? If your answer is yes, do you think you can write one that’s worse? We mean better. No, that’s not right. Cheesier. Funnier. That’s it!
So without further ado, behold our second entry. To vote for this entry, please leave a comment on this blog post.
Reader Discretion Advised. Please read on if you dare.
Bend Over Madame
By Katalina Leon
And take delivery of a steaming hot blog!
This is a repost of a blog that was very popular and hopefully will provide a good laugh at my expense.
I just wanted to share something fun and incredibly stupid. I’m offering you the worst and most pointless romance blog I’ve ever written. In order to write this, I sank low and I’m counting on you to sink with me into the well-worn ruts of overused romance tropes. This is every bodice-ripping romance novel ever published from the 90s featuring Fabio on the cover. I deliberately wrote the most wretched, offensive dialogue and scenarios I could think of. Poor grammar, exhausted tropes, typos and thoughtless dialogue were done willfully.
Copyright Katalina Leon:
Bad Writing Exhibit A: A Bluff Pirate’s tale, “Semen at Sea.”
The scene opens on a stereotypical pirate ship that’s clean, spacious, and free of filth and offensive odors, just like the good old days.
A swarthy pirate chief has a quailing maiden in his clutches. Isn’t that always the case? She’s being held prisoner in the captain’s cabin. You already know the scenario so let’s jump right into the stupidity midscene…
Captain Muskysac, the much-dreaded handsome bastard pirate of the inky blue undulating ocean, loomed menacingly over his captive prize, conveniently kidnapped on the eve of her wedding to an impotent old lord.
The beautifully delicate Miss Ashley Roseheather, the wistful jewel of his heart since childhood, gazed at him with limpid eyes. “Sir. I beseech you to consider my special condition and show pity.”
“Ha, arrh!” he bellowed. “I don’t give a heck if yer a virgin lassie, I’m going to peek in your porthole and force you to ride me bucking lower deck whether ya like it or not.” Captain Muskysac insolently puffed his broad chest forward, thrusting his man-nipples three feet apart, kicked his boot heels astride and stood thusly with his fists firmly planted heroically on his insinuating lean hips and barked, “On your knees, lass! Get ready to hop aboard my swinging yardarm. I’m going to ruin you for future nuptials!”
Ashley glanced upward and mumbled through ruby rosebud lips, “There’s been a slightly awkward miscommunication. I’m not a virgin and haven’t been for quite some time.”
Captain Muskysac’s posture wilted as a disconsolate pout tugged his lips downward. “What do mean yer not a virgin? I had a whole deflowerment routine of horribly protracted degradation painstakingly planned for you. I was going to win your heart by conquering your frail womanly form and easily shocked sensibilities. I’d like some acknowledgement for my efforts. It’s no easy feat to craft a misguided plan that a single well-placed comment could shatter. Before you put the quietus on my arrangements, let’s hear your ravishment scheme. I’ll bet you don’t even have one!” With his raven locks flowing past his shoulders, he stomped across the floorboards like a child having a tantrum “I’ll have you know I went to a great deal of trouble for you. How about showing me a little respect? Manacles were polished. A peephole was drilled into the wall. Neverwash Walter is eagerly waiting in the next cabin to shout rude, inappropriate comments and leer over the entire sordid event. We were all looking forward to this. I’ll be honest with you, this is a bitter let down.”
She batted her lashes coquettishly. “I’m so sorry, Captain, I’m not a virgin and there’s nothing to be done about it now. That train has left the station. I could play another part. How do you feel about a sassy, cigar-smoking, whiskey-voiced, salty-tongued, been abandoned by love but has a heart of gold, hip-swishing sea wench? Could you use one of those? Don’t give up on me yet. I adore life-jarring forced seductions and humiliating degradation on the high seas.” Ashley’s diaphanous baby-blue eyes bulged pleadingly. “It’s not too late to have a good time, is it? I’ll just behave flustered and witless and we’ll put the whole embarrassing misunderstanding behind us. You’ll never notice I’m not a virgin. What do you say, my spicy pepperoni—is the party on?”
Captain Muskysac stared dejectedly at the toes of his tall boots. “I don’t know—it’s not quite the same. I take pride in my arrogantly aberrant behavior. Menacing maidens is an art form. I’m not really prepared for an experienced woman. I don’t want to just stumble through the act halfheartedly.”
“Oh what the hell, I’m starting without you,” Ashley shouted. “Nay, nay dark ruthless master, don’t burst my preciously treasured, carefully guarded and saved-for-sacred-marriage maidenhead, and spoil my chances for a peaceful, productive life and soak my virgin tight-as-a-kidskin-glove, pouting rosebud, woman’s secret cottage in the glen, quimmy with your steamy hot juices! Spare me, lava-hot love god. I beg of you!”
Appalled, Captain Muskysac’s jaw dropped. He whispered a tense warning. “You do realize Neverwash Walter and others can hear you in the next cabin?”
“All the better. I’m a randy exhibitionist. Let’s get loud! Lash me to yer throbbing purple yardarm, hop’n jack me, whip the pony, butter the biscuits, take me if you must, grease me with deck-wax, pin me flat, and ravish me on your thick commanding masthead. Your mysteriously threatening knobby turgidness compels me to surrender!”
“Yes, your stony rock hard as iron and straight as a plank of wood turgidness. Shove it in me, lord of my mattress! For you, my dewy quim is like a fragrant rose shyly opening its delicate silky pink petals to the first fair day of spring sunshine that we call love. My naughty lady-slipper pouts, longs, desires, drools, and oozes with love nectar waiting for you to take me again and again and again and again—”
“All right, already!” he announced as he tore at his laces and evacuated his threateningly turgid, inhumanly proportioned, mapped with veins, sweaty, salty manhood from his skintight period-correct breeches and let it thrust in all its twitching glory toward her startled face. “I’m going to slip you the sausage and mash the potatoes. Then I’m going to spill man-gravy all over your plate, and let it all soak in the sink until morning. I doubt you’ll walk upright for a week!”
“Nay, if I ever walk again!” She screamed ridiculously and ducked under the bedcovers. “You’re so massively, hugely big! The sheer girthy width of your tremendously engorged spit–red-hot-rivets-wang-hammer is enough to kill a girl. The impressive volume of your man-tool leaves me humbled, awed, and yet strangely drawn to the danger-tinged mystery of its wrinkled foreskin.” She sighed sweetly. “Your balls are big too.”
“So is your plump round bottom, madam. Bend over! I shall take a brisk palm to task against those firm, proud peaches and paddle a happy tune on your pink drum skins before I lave my tongue between your warm, wet woman folds and send the fire truck to hose down the flames.”
He did and they lived happily ever after.
XXOO Katalina Leon