Elizabeth Bathory:The Blood Countess

I enjoy reading horrible books. Very badly written books. I'm not alone. Anything to do with vampires, people who morph into animals, sex, murder, pregnancy and the south - I'm in. The trick to reading them is to pretend you are on a date and you just want to have sex. Like when the person is talking about their dull life, they're just so uninteresting, you nod and smile and just hope that their penis is really big or if you're into girls, just hope she doesn't have too much cellulite on her ass, that really grosses you out.
The good parts. Once you get to the good parts, take your time. Read over your favorite paragraphs. Don't be shy. This is what you came for, enjoy it.
As far as character development goes, don't feel bad about not investing too much. Just pick one and stick with that, it's enough. A good bad writer knows this and probably overdeveloped one character to a point where you can't even pay attention to the other characters. When they talk, you're like, "Wait. What was that? I really shouldn't be drunk while I'm reading this."
The plot. In order to follow a very badly written plot, keep in mind, self indulgence will lead you nowhere. Sure, the plot is what keeps you reading, but don't expect any results. In the end it will only disappoint you. Once you finish reading a bad book you must wait at least 30 days reading something useful before you start another. It might make you sick to read two bad books back to back! If you turn reading into a mindless, shallow act it will undoubtedly become less fulfilling. Eventually, you won't even remember the last book you read! Books will begin to all look the same to you, just a fuzzy merging of titles and cheap illustrations. Obviously, I speak from personal experience and I feel fortunate none of the authors have my phone number.
Lastly, please remember to wear a condom. You don't want to get any sexually transmitted denouements!

Excerpt from good bad book I'm reading now:

Elizabeth Bathory: The Blood Countess
"Slipping swiftly behind her like a knife blade into a deerskin sheath, the puppeteer said,"Your devoted slave is here, Countess." Without speaking a word, Johannes, still holding her hand, bent over the outer rim of the fountain. He wore a short tunic that barely covered his behind, and velvet leggings just like Elizabeth's. The Gypsy pulled these down, revealing the boy's white buttocks. He then undid his cloak and guided something that looked to Elizabeth like a small roast between Johannes's buttocks. She was still holding Johannes's hand when he tightened it over hers so hard she thought it would break. She reached for the Gypsy's round flesh with her other hand. It was warm, covered with fine velvety skin, finer than the texture of her tights. She parted the slit at the top of it, and a drop of thick, slippery substance met her finger. She rubbed it between thumb and forefinger. She then felt under Johannes's robe and drew the tip of her wet finger around the tiny puckered flower at the center of his buttocks. She then guided the Gypsy's manhood to the place and held on to it until it slipped between her fingers and buried itself into the boy. The sensation of touching the two boys made Elizabeth very warm, as if a small flame, beginning at the center of her spine, had shut suddenly upward, filling her brain. Her mouth was dry, and her boyish tights clung to her legs with her own wetness. At the center of this delicious sensation there was also a thought: if this is what I can make happen because I am Countess Bathory, think of all that I may experience in the future. I am only eleven years old now, and I know very little about pleasure."

Your welcome. I read this last night in my bedroom, with the lights on!
Elizabeth Bathory is a bad ass, literately.