Captive Flesh, by Cleo Cordell

I recently got my hands on a pile of Black Lace novels, and I'm trying to space them out. The first I read of that batch was Captive Flesh, by Cleo Cordell.

Eighteenth-century French convent girls Marietta and Claudine learn that their stay at the opulent Algerian home of their handsome and powerful host, Kasim, requires something in return – their complete surrender to the ecstasy of pleasure in pain. Kasim's decadent orgies also require the services of Gabriel, whose exquisite longing for Marietta's awakened lust cannot be contained – not even by the shackles that bind his tortured flesh.

Can't remember where I read that the early Black Laces used to be a bit too focused on the women as sex slaves to dominant males. I'm afraid Captive Flesh, which actually was one of the first BL books, fits that mold. My grade: D.

To me, there are two types of erotica. There are the ones like Emma Holly writes, which are really like a romance novel, only with more sex and with the actual sex much more adventurous, and with the protagonists usually having more than one partner. Then there are the novels such as this, where what there is of a plot is simply an excuse for sex scenes. Characters are not real people here, they are more like characters in porn movies.

And, in this case, I liked the story even less because it was so much about dominance and submission, with the woman doing the submitting and finally loving it of course. Bah! (BTW, I don't mean a consensual D/S relationship. The heroine is literally forced here). The sex scenes... well, a couple weren't bad, but it was not enough to save the book.