Dark Castle Press, $0.99, ISBN 979-8215647479
Historical Erotica, 2022 (Reissue)

According to the copyright notice, Emmanuelle de Maupassant’s Forbidden Desire was first published in 1984 under the title The Gentlemen’s Club. As usual, I have no idea whether this edition I am reading has been revised or expanded in any way.

Lord Henry McCaulay has been the Earl of Rancliffe for seven years now, and he has yet to find a wife and pop out brats, much to the dismay of his godfather.

He accepted that a wife would have to be found, and that a woman suitable for that role would, at some juncture, present herself. It was simply that he was exhausted by the process of seeking her out, and ever more fearful as to how far he’d be obliged to compromise, marrying a woman merely for her bloodline and her ability to cause him minimal irritation.

In the meantime, it’s off to Brockford’s, a modest club by day and a house of delightful harlotry by night.

‘My lords.’ The Master of Ceremonies bowed with an extravagant flourish. ‘I bid you welcome and good appetite.’

He paused, allowing his eyes and a momentary purse of his lips to convey his meaning. ‘Tonight’s performance promises to be especially memorable, thanks to our new hostess, lately arrived from the Continent, and bringing a wealth of delightful and delectable diversions for your discerning delectation. May I introduce Mademoiselle Noire.’

Mademoiselle Noire is a trollop with a crop, and soon she is subjecting our darling Rancliffe into a glorious bisexual odyssey of submission… on stage. In public.

Oh my, the author knows the ways around my heart.

A sob rose in Rancliffe’s throat.

Not like this.

Not in front of them!

Yes! Like this!

Meanwhile, Rancliffe encounters Lady Maud Finchingfield in the most proper ballrooms of London. Fortunately, the author doesn’t take me down the played out “I love this woman and I am attracted to that woman, oh what is happening?” drama that I’d normally expect from a story with a premise of this sort.

Instead, she focuses on what really matters: sexy stuff, Rancliffe joyfully wanting to submit to his Mistress in every way possible and then some, and more sexy stuff.

What I love about the sexy stuff here is that the domination and submission aspects aren’t just whack, whack, whack like some gardener intent on clearing a weed-choked tract of land with a machete. The author lets me into her characters’ heads, so I have an intimate front row seat to Rancliffe’s absolute joy in being subjected to all kinds of sexual acts from a position of submission. It’s fun, and I have no shame in admitting that, heh.

Also, as I hope I’m stating this coherently, there is an element of tenderness between him and Mademoiselle Noire even when they are strangers. She understands innately what makes him tick, and she is firm yet gentle in her orders and reprimands. There is no sense of shame or degradation here, just two people really getting into their roles.

As a plus, while other authors tend to cheat by making the hero a submissive while behaving anything but, often disobeying the Domme’s instructions, here Rancliffe is more than happy to be the submissive.

Throughout all of this, the author’s phraseology and narrative style are gorgeous. I feel the eroticism just from reading the toe-curling sexy scenes, and jaded old me is actually enthralled by these scenes when I thought I’d read them all already.

You know, I would love to give this baby five oogies, but I feel like the floor has given way under me when the story just sort of ends just like that.

On one hand, I’m glad the author doesn’t force these two into some contrived respectable happily ever after, which would be completely false after all the fun stuff they had been through. These two would no doubt have lots of unholy matrimony fun in the future, bless them and may their stamina remains unflagging throughout all their exertions.

On the other hand, yikes, the story ends in a way that feels very abrupt considering all the steamy, sensual build-up leading to that point. I am led to expect something truly climactic in every sense of the word, maybe a giant orgy ball in Brockford’s with everyone pouring the hard, hot love onto Rancliffe’s face…

Wait, where was I again? Oh yes, this baby. It’s good. I really like it. I just checked out a few more titles of the author, including the two sequels to this baby, and I hope the fun never ends, at least not yet, in Maison de Maupassant.