Savage Beloved

I’ve never bothered to learn the history behind this weird holiday you Americans use as an excuse to get even grotesquely fatter than usual. But since I gather it’s something about Native Americans (are you celebrating because you stole their land?) and hanging out with people you love, this week I got drunk with my friends and we all read a book that fittingly explores the moral quandaries that arise when red dick meets white pussy.

Savage Beloved by Cassie Edwards is a universally panned (by which I mean, even the cat ladies writing reviews on the Kindle store hated it) romantic romp through the Wild West that centers on a sweet, small-titted pioneer lass named Candy. LOL IKR? Apparently that name can be explained by the fact that Candy’s mother was a “dancehall queen,” which is the second nicest euphemism I’ve ever heard after “working girl” for a professional nutgobbler. After Candy’s dad slaughters a bunch of redskins, the Wichita tribe retaliate by swarming in to turn the dumb crackers into shrunken heads. Only Candy is spared—because she is hot, I guess—and the Wichita Chief, Two Eagles (sidenote: this would also be such a great stripper name), decides to keep her in his teepee as a permanent slave.

After an internal debate that lasts a couple hours, Candy ends up falling for the soulful eyes of this tough leader. Communication poses no barrier, because as long as the Indians intersperse random Ho! sounds in their sentences, they speak pristine English, although if this was a movie they’d probably have British accents. Then Two Eagles finds out that Candy saved the life of his homie, Short Robe (his stripper shtick would be to randomly flash the family jewels), so after a hundred and sixty five fucking pages of dancing around each other, they finally get down to bone.

As you will recall, I had forced my friends to get through this cliterature with me, and by page 165 the horny fuckers were practically touching themselves with anticipation. Two Eagle’s entry line, however, immediately boded badly: “I am the first with you and I want to be the last. But…are…you ready?” Next came a deluge of phrases better suited to an elementary school sex talk than a book (presumably) meant to get you off. His “manhood” touches her “entrance.” She felt dizzy with “a need that must be filled.” An erotic heat knifes through her body and stabs her “deep into her secret place.”

Midway through the scene, Edwards just gets lazy. Instead of actually finding the words to articulate the pleasurable sensations that arise when a dude swirls his tongue around your nipple, she simply writes: “She was all feelings—wonderful, beautiful feelings.” Really, asshole? I’m supposed to whack off to this? My eyes scanned the page for more scintillating bits, but instead landed on the closing paragraph, where virginal Candy manages to climax despite being presumably covered in a sea of her hymen. “I am stunned by how it can feel. It was so beautiful… such a splendid joy,” she breathes when it’s all over.

At this point, I was pretty schwasted, so I’m not sure how much of what I remember consists of actual plot or my friend’s interjections. Candy decides to go into the forest to pick vegetables to make Two Eagles a salad for dinner. Or maybe she was trying to find her pet wolf (there’s an entire side plot involving a mystery over whether this wolf was impregnated by other random wolves, but I didn’t know how to artfully weave it into this review). Either way, she gets fucking kidnapped by a guy named Alfred Cohen, a Jewish Mormon who had previously kidnapped other white-Wichita women and made them his sex slaves. My friend pointed out that this event followed the literary tradition of abduction narratives during the 1700s. All I know is that I started to get a historically inaccurate boner, because suddenly the possibility of rape and/or violence was in the picture.

Things got even more exciting when we find out that Alfred Cohen had also kidnapped Candy’s mother, who everyone had presumed was dead! Candy Sr. had already been forced to bone the bad guy, but she was like “I’ll probably lose the baby so NBD.” However, OBVIIII Two Eagles swoops in to the rescue and whateverwhatever where’s the turkey at?

Rating: Zero dildos. As a friend put it: This was the least erotic thing to have ever happened to me, including all #fail sex I’ve had in real life. Edwards could have at least created narrative tension by making the Mormon have a huge schlong, and Two Eagles a baby schlong, so that Candy would have had to choose between great sex vs. love. What a great idea. Maybe I should write the sequel.

Previously - Shunga

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