As we all should be aware I have a soft (wet and shaved) spot for Victorian erotica. Something about the language, the innocence, the repressed sexuality and the possibility for adventure has always turned me on. HG Wells, Rudyard Kipling, Jules Verne, all those period adventures are just so much fun. Stiff-lipped heroes and feisty maidens in trouble in exotic savage spots far from home? Villains tying up heroines while they twirl their mustache? Bare-chested explorers captured by natives? Swoon!
Throw in some Lovecraftian monsters, sorcery and mad science and I’m in love. Jekyl-Hyde potions, invisible men, Frankenstein monsters; it’s no wonder I write erotic steampunk.
Tell me I’m the only one who doesn’t think about being trapped in a submarine with Captain Nemo’s sailors. Tell me I’m the only one who fantasized about being the bride of Frankenstein and discovering his gigantic monster cock.
Formative in my ideas of how I imagined Victorian girls in danger is none other than the goddess of Steamporn, Sarah Hunter, aka Lady Clankington.
The only thing better would be a Lady Clankington adventure with Kato as her sidekick. ZOMFG, my wrist would get sore!