Join Reader Rewards and earn your way to a free book! The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by A. N. Roquelaure and Anne Rice. Read an Excerpt. download. The Claiming Of Sleeping Beauty. The Claiming Of Sleeping Beauty. byAnne Rice. Publication date Uploaded by Adult-Books on November 23, . Book 1. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty In the traditional folktale of "Sleeping Beauty," More From Anne Rice, author of Beauty's Kingdom, the t More.
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In the first chapter of the story, Beauty is awakened from Beauty willfully disobeys, and the book closes with. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty by A. N. Roquelaure and Anne Rice. Where to .. Her other books include the Mayfair Witches series, the novels The Mummy. The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty: A Novel (A Sleeping Beauty Novel) [Anne Rice , A. N. Roquelaure] on Book 1 of 3 in the Sleeping Beauty Trilogy Series.
Look Inside. May 01, Pages download. May 01, Pages. Before E. Roquelaure, retells the Beauty story and probes the unspoken implications of this lush, suggestive tale by exploring its undeniable connection to sexual desire. Here the Prince awakens Beauty, not with a kiss, but with sexual initiation. Praise for The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty:
Roquelaure Anne Rice is not a native English speaker. I don't have much experience with reading erotica, so please, somebody enlighten me. Since these books are, well, books, they should have some kind of a plot, right? Or does the 'sexy' subject make them exempt from such? Because this one definitely does not have a plot unless you count the forty billion instances of spanking.
Am I naive to expect plot in what is marketed as a book? Anyway, as I said, I started skimming pretty early on easy in a plotless book because even my semi-saintly tolerance for bad fiction ends at some point. It is boring, badly written, almost glorifies rape, and apparently does not believe in consent.
I would not recommend it to anyone. I have no idea what possessed me to read it. But it's been years since I've read it, and remembering it still makes me shudder. I read this about 20 years ago and I thought it was sexy at the time.
I really liked it. I was really new to sex. I wonder if I would like it now Lol. I wonder if I would like it now.
I absolutely loathed the writing of 50 shades I only read about pages and I was done the dialogue alone was ridiculous. I loved your review! I wonder if I Michelle wrote: "Lol. I absolutely loathed the writing of 50 shades So I guess this one may win on the writing front. Finished, and I am so glad that this book is now out of my life and hidden away.
I've mapped out my emotional progression from the beginning to end: Pre-read with high expectations: Pages - ish: Page - end: This book is absurd. Being swept down there with the bristles of a dirty broom? I've never read the word "spank" as many times as I have in this book because it's noted on almost every single page.
It was a relief to finally finish the book, not just because of the perversity not that it's lacking--this book is dirty but because the overused plot devices became quite laughably boring. I really don't have anything against BDSM or anyone who's for it.
But when it's handled in such an unpolished and over indulgent manner, it's hard for me to place much literary value on a book. So I wrote the books I couldn't find. I never thought a book as eccentric as Interview with the Vampire would have mass appeal. I only knew that I wanted to "be with the vampire" in the story, tell it from his point of view.
I wanted to be inside his head and heart and reveal his voice and his pain.
People wanted to explore all kinds of super characters and hear their intimate musings. The demand for such romantic fantasies grew and grew. But did I have any idea that would happen? I wrote what I wanted to read. Well, the same thing is true with the Beauty books. I didn't know whether that many other people had the fantasies. After all, we didn't talk much about them. Only a small elite knew about the mysterious Story of O.
But I knew I had these fantasies, and I wanted to share them, and I felt an overwhelming desire to do them "right. I wanted to really delve into intense sensuous pleasure but put a gilded frame around a safe place for the reader from which he or she could go and come with ease. Of course these books have from time to time been banned. I never expected a library to stock the Beauty trilogy.
I know that many libraries respond to community standards, and I just never thought about it much at all. I did notice and I couldn't help notice that the books sold well and steadily, and that at every signing I gave, people brought them to be signed.
Recently, I've signed as many copies of the Beauty books as I have of any other book I've written. So I don't worry too much about being banned. I've always shocked people. Years ago, I published a novel about the eighteenth-century castrati opera singers, titled Cry to Heaven. Someone brought a copy back to a bookstore in Stockton, California, and demanded his money back. There are always some people objecting to what I do. I'm grateful the Beauty books have been embraced and sustained over the years.
As a feminist, I'm very much supportive of equal rights for women in all walks of life. And that includes for me the right of every woman to write out her sexual fantasies and to read books filled with sexual fantasies that she enjoys. Men have always enjoyed all kinds of pornography. How can it be wrong for women to have the same right? We're sexual beings! And fantasy is where we can do the things we can't do in ordinary life.
A woman has a right to imagine herself carried away by a handsome prince, and to choose for herself as she writes, the color of his hair and eyes, and imagine his silky voice. She has a right to make him as tall as she wants and as strong as he wants.
Why not? Men have always allowed themselves such fantasies. We are in a new golden age in which fantasy, science fiction, speculative fiction, historical drama, horror, gothic, and supernatural romance are all mainstream. Famous madams have told us for decades that powerful men love to be dominated and come to them for role playing that allows the male client to be passive.
In fact, some madams have said that men who enjoy playing the passive role are often men who are very powerful in real life. Well, women today are more powerful than ever. They're Supreme Court judges, senators, doctors, lawyers, entrepreneurs, executives, soldiers, cops. They can excel in all walks of life. And why shouldn't they be able to go home from the courtroom, the university, or the office and kick back and "pretend" they're being swept away to the Queen's sadomasochistic kingdom where all the fairy-tale court will watch them being ravaged by the handsome Prince?
The literary world today is wide open for all kinds of creative endeavors. Well, the same holds true now obviously for erotica.
People in general are "out of the closet" as enjoyers of erotic books. The novel 50 Shades of Grey has proved this. But I wouldn't continue Beauty's story. I felt that ended just the way I wanted. But I might write some more. I'd deepen that aspect, and still keep the tension, if I did them today.
People are much more comfortable today admitting and talking about what they enjoy in fiction and film. Much more. People are "out of the closet" about sexuality, period. The whole world knows women are sensual human beings as well as men.
It's no secret anymore that women want to read sexy fiction just as men do, and there's a new frankness about the varieties of fantasies one might enjoy.
And this is a wonderful thing. In the traditional folktale of "Sleeping Beauty," the spell cast upon the lovely young princess and everyone in her castle can only be broken by the kiss of a Prince.
It is an ancient story, one that originally emerged from and still deeply disturbs the mind's unconscious. Now Anne Rice, writing as A. Roquelaure, retells the Beauty story and probes the unspoken implications of this lush, suggestive tale by exploring its undeniable connection to sexual desire.
Here the Prince awakens Beauty, not with a kiss, but with sexual initiation. His reward for ending the hundred years of enchantment is Beauty's complete and total enslavement to him …as Anne Rice explores the world of erotic yearning and fantasy in a classic that becomes, with her skillful pen, acompelling experience.
The Prince had all his young life know the story of Sleeping Beauty, cursed to sleep for a hundred years, with her parents, the King and Queen, and all of the Court, after pricking her finger on a spindle. Even the bodies of those other Princes caught in the thorns of the rose vines that covered the walls had not made him believe it.
They had come believing it, true enough, but he must see for himself inside the castle.
It was not his desire to die so much as to conquer. And picking his way through the bones of those who had failed to solve the mystery, he stepped alone into the great banquet hall. The sun was high in the sky and those vines had fallen away, so the light fell in dusty shafts from the lofty windows. And all along the banquet table, the Prince saw the men and women of the old Court, sleeping under layers of dust, their ruddy and slack faces spun over with spider webs.
He gasped to see the servants dozing against the walls, their clothes rotted to tatters.
But it was true, this old tale. And, fearless as before, he went in search of the Sleeping Beauty who must be at the core of it. In the topmost bedchamber of the house he found her. He had stepped over sleeping chambermaids and valets, and, breathing the dust and damp of the place, he finally stood in the door of her sanctuary. Her flaxen hair lay long and straight over the deep green velvet of her bed, and her dress in loose folds revealed the rounded breasts and limbs of a young woman.
He opened the shuttered windows. The sunlight flooded down on her. And approaching her, he gave a soft gasp as he touched her cheek, and her teeth through her parted lips, and then her tender rounded eyelids.
Her face was perfect to him, and her embroidered had fallen deep into the crease between her legs so that he could see the shape of her sex beneath it. He drew out his sword, with which he had cut back all the vines outside, and gently slipping the blade between her two breasts, let it rip easily through the old fabric. Her dress was laid open to the hem, and he folded it back and looked at her.
Her nipples were as rosy pink as were her lips, and the hair between her legs was darkly yellow and curlier than the long straight hair of her head which covered her arms almost down to her hips on either side of her. He cut the sleeves away, lifting her ever so gently to free the cloth, and the weight of her hair seemed to pull her head down over his arms, and her mouth opened just a little bit wider.
He put his sword to one side. He removed his heavy armor.
And then he lifted her again, his left arm under her shoulders, his right hand between her legs, his thumb on the top of her pubis. Her head fells towards him, and he felt the hot moisture against his right hand, and laying her down again, he cupped both of her breasts, and sucked gently on one and then the other. They were plump and firm, these breasts.