Monday, August 31, 2009

Erotica Threat Level: Cobra Grey


I spent the weekend working on my Choose-Your-Own-Porn story. It is about Nash Nighhammer rescuing a kidnapped Princess from an evil wizard's Harem. Holy crap, it is a pain in the butt. I'm trying to anticipate every choice the reader may want to make and resisting the urge to just railroad them through the story. Replayability is my prime concern. I want a reader to be able to solve it once, and then pick it back up and go a different way, and still solve it. Which means I often end up writing a sex scene, and then turning around writing the sex scene over with a different strategy in mind. By the time I finish an encounter, I have written about three or four sex scenes with the same character.

I have two more encounters to write and the first draft will be done. From there I may go back and add more encounters to flesh out the harem more. The modular nature of the story makes it ridiculously easy to go back and insert entire scenes between other scenes. Last night I added a magic fountain and it was a snap.

The paperwork involved in keeping all the encounters and possible decisions straight is a pain in the crotch. I keep telling myself that this will be last time I write a story like this, but at the same time, I keep getting ideas for another one. I guess it will depend on how popular this story is.

I have a new disturbing story set to go Wednesday, and then I am off to Dragon*Con on Thursday. Wohoo! Gene Wolfe, Mike Mignola, and Rich Larson are going to be there. I heard that somebody called William Shatner and Leonard Nimoy from 'In Search Of' will be there but shit, Mike Mignola, the creator of Hellboy will be there! Be still my fanboy heart.

I will also be there taking pictures and trying to get as many pictures of people dressed as Baroness as possible.

This drawing of the Baroness is by Steven Sanchez. He has recently been drawing my childhood with a plethora of sketches. When he put this Baroness up for sale, i had to get it.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Fiction: Law and Spikepits: Criminal Defense

Ula checked herself in the mirror. Her breasts looked great but they could be better. She pressed a control button on her Smart-dress. The top of the Smart-dress shrunk by an inch and the corset panels constricted another size. Her breasts popped upwards in an abundant manner.

Once she decided she looked perfect again, she turned her attention back to the accused man she was here to counsel.

“How are we doing this morning?” she asked the accused.

The defendant groaned. Ula could tell that the Queen’s Whips had been less than gentle with him. The elite force that protected the Queen’s interests were excellent at their job but sometimes they brought in defendants who were near dead. A giant bruise took up the entire left side of this one’s face. His arms were burned from multiple hits with the pain batons. He was also missing his pants and underwear. It looked like the Queen’s Whips had a little fun with him first. The poor bastard.

“Who are you?” he groaned.

Ula Birtz straightened her back and thrust out her breasts. “I’m your defense counselor,” she said.

He looked at her. Ula said nothing as he checked her out. It was an important part of the process. Defendants wanted to assess the one person who could save their lives.

That is why Ula kept her blonde hair short so that it framed her face. She wore a simple black corset dress that had a top that was too tight and a miniskirt that was too short. She wore lacy black heels and a pair of optical enhancers on her nose even though she really didn’t need them. She projected confidence but also a flirty amount of thigh that made defendants feels as though a trial can’t be a bad thing with this much leg around.

The battered defendant smiled. “What are my chances?” he asked.

She consulted her data-book. “Not so bad. You are accused of spreading treasonous literature calling into question the legitimacy of the war against the Gem Moons. Your attempt at propaganda only spread to one restroom area which will need to be re-educated. On the scale of treasonous offences, it is quite small.”

He relaxed.

“So according to law, your trial shall be two hours in the Rape-Beast cage,” Ula said.

“What?” the accused said. “I thought you said it was a small offence!”

Ula pushed her optical enhancers up her nose. “If it was a serious offence, it would have been your entire family. Be grateful. I hear that lately the Judges have been allowing people to leave the Rape-Beast cage before they die. You might just see another sunrise after all. Though you probably won’t walk straight ever again.”

The man screamed in terror. Ula sighed. She really hated it when the defendants acted so unprofessionally. This was a place of law after all.

She closed the cell door. His screams were muffled by the laser proof doors. His cell began to move on it’s hover jets. It would take the defendant straight to the cage and an excited audience. The next time that door opened, it would be to introduce him to the Rape-Beasts.

She walked to the next cell.

Inside was a young woman in her thirties. She was scared but she was able to project a certain amount of poise. Even though her factory clothes were shredded and her arm was broken, the accused was sitting up straight. Ula noticed the woman’s legs were short and stocky.

“Excellent posture,” Ula commented. “I see that you are accused of forging your work hours in order to make more wages than you actually earned.”

The factory worker said nothing.

“If this was a civic factory, you could just repay the wages you stole by working in the Prison Brothels,” Ula said. “But because you work at a weapons factory, this is now a Royal matter. Your trial shall be a Battle Royal with twenty other embezzlers in the mud pit. The battle is to the last woman standing. The Queen has recently ordered the mud to be charged with aphrodisiacs. That should make it more interesting to onlookers as well as the combatants.”

The factory worker snarled but still wouldn’t say anything.

“If there are extenuating circumstances,” Ula said, “now is the time to bring it up.”

“I was being blackmailed,” she said. “My sister demands money from me or she will tell my husband that I am cheating on him.”

“See? That’s what I am talking about,” Ula said. “This is the sort of thing we can enter into your record and it will really help you.”

“I could be let go?” the woman asked.

“Of course not,” Ula said. “But I can see that your arm is healed before you are put in the mud pit. I can also alert the authorities to investigate your sister for jeopardizing the smooth operations of the munitions factory. Finally, I can get you issued a knife for the mud pit.”

“That’s it? Is there nothing else you can do for me?” the factory woman asked.

“Sure,” Ula said. She projected a reassuring smile. She loved this part. It let her be supportive.

“I want to advise you to play to the audience when you have your fight. The people want to see some showmanship out there. Don’t just kill the other defendants, make sure you massacre them! Do a good job, and the Judge presiding over your case may allow you to have medical treatment if your wounds are mortal. It is up to the Judge, but to increase ratings, they often spare crowd favorites.”

The factory worker looked at her in horror. She unleashed a string of expletives that made Ula blush. The defense counselor quickly stepped out of the cell and closed the door. The cell flew off to the hospital area.

“After all I did for her,” Ula sighed. The job of a defense counselor was so thankless. She walked to the next cell.

Ula pressed a button and the cell door opened.

The woman inside the cell was young. She was barely twenty with the bloom of youth upon her. Her legs were the best part. They were practically lawyer’s legs. Ula noticed that the girl looked barely harmed, with only a black eye from her arrest. Even the Queen’s Whips knew she had something to offer.

“Get me out of here!” the girl whined.

Ula looked at the data-slate. “It says here you are accused of murdering a Space Navy Captain. You hit him with your vehicle and drove off without notifying the authorities.”

“I didn’t know he was a Captain!” the girl whined. “The drunk asshole walked out in front of my hoverbike! My family just moved here from the Luvia Nebula!”

“Oh, so you are not a native of Euphoria?” Ula asked. “Then I guess you are not familiar with the Queen’s Law.”

“What’s that?” the girl asked.

“Back in unenlightened times, the King of Euphoria had to preside over every crime committed against his reign. King Fong wisely delegated this power to the Judges, whom he charged with determining the innocence of those accused. He also gave the Judges a miserable small budget and charged them with generating their own income. The Judges decided to sell admission to the trials as a way of making credits. Now King Fong’s granddaughter, the magnificent Queen Erishella, has decided in her wisdom to allow the Judges to sell the rights to broadcast the Trials all across the planet. The Queen of course gets a commission. It is crimes against her after all.”

The girl still looked confused. Ula sighed. Was it that hard for them to pay attention?

“People like to see the trials?” the girl asked.

“Oh yes, they are quite inventive.” Ula said. “Every year, the Judges get more creative to keep the jaded audiences watching. A hundred years ago, a defendant might be given a knife and told to fight a Sword-tiger. In these modern times, the defendant would be given a grenade strapped to his cock and a vibrating butt-plug inserted into his ass before fighting a Sword-tiger hyped up on steroids. We have come a long way.”

“Now killing an officer of the Queen’s Navy, that is a serious crime,” Ula said. “In the Skull Kingdom criminal justice system, all defendants are guilty until proven innocent, either by tribute, accusation of others, or trial by entertainment. Do you have twenty thousand credits?”

“No,” the girl said.

“Do you know of any other murders committed against the Queen’s military?”

No,” she whined.

“Well then,” Ula said. “You have two choices. Choice one is to undergo Trial by Electro Flogging. If you survive six hours of having every inch of your skin lashed by electrical whips, then you are innocent and all charges will be dropped. I should also inform you that ten lucky audience members will have the chance to masturbate onto your twitching body.”

The girl winced. “What is my other choice?”

“Because you are attractive, you can submit to a tour of duty as a Defense Counselor. You will serve for ten years and learn the laws. You will have to understand the different trials people could endure. You will be helping people understand their options.”

The girl didn’t look impressed. “What do I get out of it?” she asked.

“For starters, you wouldn’t get electro-flogged,” Ula said with a touch of annoyance. “If you work hard enough, you might get noticed for your professional attitudes and healthy appearance and even get promoted to Trial Judge.”

Ula pointed to a poster of Judge Lona. The redhead Judge was wearing a red corset that pushed her breasts up almost to her head. She was using her Gavel Laser to incinerate an objectionable defendant. The Judge’s legs were shining from the lotion that her bailiffs were rubbing onto them.

“Oh wow, they have a lot of power, don’t they?” the girl asked.

Ula nodded. “They make sure the Trials go smoothly, as well as presenting the Face of Justice to the masses who watch us on the entertainment nets. They also decide whether to show mercy and take some defendants as personal slaves.”

“Okay, I’ll do that!” the girl said. “That would be great!”

Ula smiled. Finally she had a defendant who has happy for help. Ula stepped out of the cell and began to program the plea bargain into her data-book. The girl would be a good counselor. She had a cute face. She came across as a bit spoiled, but that sort of thing goes far in this profession.

Ula paused while entering the data. Ula had worked here for six years ever since she poisoned her boyfriend. She had been promoted to District Defense Counsel but she had also been passed over for Trial Judge eight times. She wasn’t getting any younger. Ula thought about the girl’s legs. She thought about how those young legs would look in a Judge’s gown.

Most of all, Ula thought about how insufferable it would be if some young spoiled girl got promoted ahead of her to a Judge.

She looked down on her data-book and made a note. ‘The defendant chooses Electro-Flogging.’

The Queen’s Justice could be cruel sometimes but the cruelty of the Defense Counselors was worse.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Lunacy

They spill upwards out of the red bra
Massive lovely soft pillows of desire
I am a werewolf howling at twin moons

One bite, just one bite. That is all I need and I can sate my hunger.
No, two bites; I want to taste them both.
No, my entire mouth; I want to suck half her breast between my lips.
No, my hands; I want to squeeze them like I own her.
No, my cock; my cock needs to fuck them.
No, my seed needs to spurt onto them and mark them.

Out of reach they haunt me
Plans, strategies, flirtations and lines I never use
Frustration howls out my throat

Friday, August 21, 2009

Von Madd Laboratory News



This issue of Von Madd Laboratory News is the special back to school issue!

Articles include,

Best Vibrators to Sneak into Class!

Seduce Your Teacher in Six Easy Steps!

After school Clubs: Snoozeville or Secret Orgies?

The New School Sex Symbols:Math Teachers!

And don't miss our Scientist of the Month, Felicia Branger and an in depth look into her amazing work in soft drink aphrodisiacs. Also, an in depth look into Dr. Branger's thighs.

Purchase your copy today!

*illustration by the hard working Jet Amago*

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Fiction: Steel Breaking Ass

“Step right up!” the slick man from out East yelled. “Today you will see a modern marvel the likes that have never seen before in the year of our lord, 1866! Made from good American Steel and designed by finest minds in New York City, and transported all the way to here, Deadbrush, Texas, this amazing contraption is the cure for all good men and their not so good wives. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Steam Powered Wife Spanker!”

He pulled a cloth down and the crowd gasped at the sight before them. It was seven feet tall and shaped like a giant man. The steel caught the Texas sun and dazzled us like a jewel. It had a boiler on its back for the water but what really impressed us was the paddle it carried. The paddle was six feet long and a foot wide. It was one mean looking paddle.

“Now gentlemen I want you to know that I know what it is like,” the slick salesman continued. “You provide a good home for your wives, complete with a stove and a basket full of your clothes to clean. You feed them and let them go out to church every Sunday. You look over them and keep them away from any whiskey yet still these wives act up. They start getting ideas like wanting the vote! Or maybe they want something really crazy like their own money!”

The crowd laughed. Mostly male voices.

“So sometimes you have to bring your wife to heel,” the slick man said. “You got to smack her a little and put her in her place. Well after a hard day of working and drinking, who has time for that? That is why my company designed the Steam Powered Wife Spanker! With just three buckets of water and one log of wood, the Steam Powered Wife Spanker will give your misbehaving wife the loving correction she needs! The Steam Powered Wife Spanker is one hundred percent guaranteed to tame your wife and teach her the errors of her ways!”

“Oh yeah?” a female voice yelled out.

It was Texanah. She was a wild woman to say the least. No one knew where she came from. She rode into town one day and took up drinking at the Crown Saloon. Rumor had it that she would fuck a man if she liked the way he packed his guns, and not take any money for it! She earned all of her money playing cards, always placing her opening bet with her shirt.

“Well Miss,” the fast talking Easterner said. “I can tell you are a bad sort of woman. You’re wearing jeans, which I didn’t think was humanly possible for a woman to wear. Your shirt is torn open so that I can see both of your buffaloes and your blonde hair is way longer than any decent woman would let it be. The Steam Powered Wife Spanker can teach even a harlot like you a thing or two!”

Texanah spit on the ground. “Want to make a bet out of it?”

The salesman nodded and raised his hands. “If you can take what the Steam Powered Wife Spanker teaches you, then I will give you one hundred dollars out of my own pocket. If you cry out for mercy and we stop the Steam Powered Wife Spanker, then you must promise to wear a dress and live a life of propriety forevermore!”

“Cocksucker, you are on!” Texanah said.

The crowd got excited. They loved a good bet but ever since Texanah had showed up, the womenfolk had been acting uppity. Some of the whores had been getting ideas and asking for more respect. Some of the wives had been asking why they couldn’t wear jeans too. Even the schoolteacher had asked to get paid for teaching. It was getting to be shameful.

They brought a sawhorse to the Steam Powered Wife Spanker and Texanah allowed herself to be tied to it. They strapped her down with rope around her wrists and ankles so she couldn’t dodge the paddle. The Sheriff stood by with a knife, ready to cut her loose as soon as she yelled for mercy.

I have to say, Texanah sure did look good. Bent over with her ass up in the air, I started to get some unhealthy ideas. Her massive chest straddled both side of the sawhorse just as tightly as her legs did. If I had one of those fancy cameras, I would have asked the crowd to wait ten minutes while I took a picture.

When everything was ready, the cityslicker pulled a handle on the Steam Powered Wife Spanker. A loud whistle screamed out of the metal man and the paddle arm pulled back. The crowd was silent as the arm went back, back and further back before finally swinging down like a snap of the bullwhip.

WHACK! The paddle slammed into Texanah’s ass. Her hat went flying off and no one knows if it ever came back down again.

“Is that all you got?” Texanah yelled.

Almost as if the Steam Powered Wife Spanker heard her, it swung again. After the first slow blow, the other swings were fast. Whack, whack, whack the paddle struck her bottom and the sound of metal on jean covered ass echoed through the town. The force of the blows made Texanah’s entire body shake and her hair was a flying everywhere but still the bad girl wouldn’t give up.

“Shit, I’ve been hit harder by mattress springs!” Texanah yelled.

The slick salesman made an ugly face and fiddled with a dial on Steam Powered Wife Spanker. The paddle came down faster and harder as the whistled screamed louder. The paddle was a blur as it smacked into Texanah’s butt.

The crowd started to murmur and I pushed my way through to see what the commotion was about. It was Texanah’s jeans. The paddle was hitting her so hard; it was shredding the touch denim on her backside! Blow by blow, we saw more of Texanah’s curvy bottom.

Whoo-ee, and what a bottom! She had a nice round ass but it was so firm from all the riding she did. Every time the paddle hit her ass, the force would ripple across her skin like rainwater in a bucket. Her bottom was the color of a red apple and getting darker with every paddle swing.

As for Texanah, I could tell it was starting to hurt the girl. She was gritting her teeth and her eyes were clenching awfully tight. Her blonde hair flew around her face with every walloping slap to her ass. The dirty gal had some spirit in her, I tell you.

“Fuck, when is it supposed to start hurting?” she yelled.

The crowd laughed. The crowd had no love for Texanah but they always liked to see a Texan give shit to an Easterner. The salesman was getting pissed at her wise ass remarks. He dumped another bucket of water into the Steam Powered Wife Spanker, turned a few dials and pulled down hard on a lever.

The machine screamed with new whistles and the paddle was flying faster than a locomotive running from Indians. The paddle swings made so much wind that the men had to hold onto their hats and the women had to hold down their skirts. It was a storm of paddling the like we had never seen before and never will again.

“Yee-haw!” Texanah yelled. The wicked woman was actually laughing as the paddle punished her bottom. She struggled against the ropes and I thought she was trying to escape, but I was wrong. Texanah was lifting her ass into the paddle! She had a big smile on her face and a dreamy look in her eyes.

The harlot liked it.

A popping sound came from the Steam Powered Wife Spanker. The head started wobbling and one of its legs was vibrating. Water was coming out its arm and the paddle was shaking with each swing. The crowd backed up as the salesman worked at the dials and levers. Shrieks of steams came jetting out from all over the machine. A rivet flew out and nearly took my eye.

“It’s going a blow!” someone yelled.

“I know. I’m so close!” Texanah yelled.

I still don’t know what she meant by that. The Steam Powered Wife Spanker exploded at that point, sending hot water and steaming metal in all directions. The crowd dived for cover and luckily no one got hurt. The salesman got blown through the general store and he paid a lot of money to fix their window.

Texanah only got hit by the paddle. It blew off in mid swing and slammed right into her bottom. It put a big smile on her face and she was moaning as we untied her ropes. Women can be weird sometimes.

“I’ll take that hundred dollars now,” she said. The salesman was unconscious but she had no problem fishing it out of his pockets. Well, she had a little problem walking because her ass was so red and tender. We tried to get her to put on new pants but she refused. Her jeans had two big gaping holes that showed her beautiful ass.

That’s how assless chaps were invented by the way.

“I like the feel of the wind on my ass,” she said. That was the last thing she said as she walked her horse out of town. I guess she was tired of us. Her work here was done. After the failure of the Steam Powered Wife Spanker, no one in Deadbrush tried to tame their wives with a good spanking anymore. In ten years time, we had women on the town council and they were teaching sex education in the bars to cowboys. We were never the same again.

Monday, August 17, 2009

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 39

Together, Dr. Vanilla and I pushed away the rubble. Our headquarters had been destroyed. The Secret Censors of Atlantis had leveled our base with their Tidal Laser. I don't know how they got past our force shields, but they did. If Dr. Vanilla and I had not been in the Forbidden Porn Vault, we might be the ones buried under the tons of concrete, collectibles and sex toys.

The question on both our minds was grim. Did the rest of the League of Extraordinary Pornographers survive?

We found the Invisible MILF first. There was a layer of dust covering her body so we were able to see her. It was the first time I had ever gotten a good look at her. She was as beautiful as I always imagined. I watched with a certain amount of jealousy as Dr. Vanilla performed CPR on her. Oh how I had fantasized about touching those unseen lips but not like this. Not with the humiliation of an ambush and the possibility of dead friends.

I kept looking for survivors. Over by the wreckage of the platinum hot tub, I found the others. The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student was unconscious. She was sprawled out on top of the rubble as if she had crawled there and then collapsed. I froze where I was. Standing over her was the Midnight Cock.

He wasn't checking to see if she was okay. He wasn't crouched over her in concerned. He was just standing there, one hand on his crotch. I could see the darkness swirl around him. She was helpless and if there is one thing the Midnight
cock loves, is a helpless person. The bastard.

"Hey!" I yelled. He spun around. His face was a frustrated snarl. I stared him down.

"The Secret Censors of Atlantis," I said. "Save your rape fantasies for them."

He grinned. That smile was more frightening. I know the asshole can't help his nature, so I gave him somewhere else to focus it.

"The shields," the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student groaned.

I bent down beside her. She wasn't wearing pants, which was just her way. A thin strip of pubic hair tempted me to look at her sex but I resisted. I cradled her head. Damn, I didn't blame the Midnight Cock for her dirty thoughts now that I was having them.

"What about the sheilds?" I said. "They overcame them somehow."

"No," the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said. "I was analyzing the Tidal Laser as it hit us. They were on the same frequency as the force shields. They went right through it and nailed us."

The Midnight Cock bent down behind me. Shit, I hate it when he does that. "The same frequency? That's a million in one chance."

The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student coughed. "Not if we have a traitor in the League."

Friday, August 14, 2009

Honest Scrap


Adventures in Nerdiness awarded me the Honest Scrap award, which is a meme about truth. Normally I would activate Sasha38DD's kill program when someone tries to include me in a meme, but AiN is one of my favorite blogs so I will join in this time and we can all pretend I am normally too aloof for this kind of thing, right?

The rules for this award are,

Link back to the person who gave you the reward- Which is the excellent Adventures in Nerdiness

Give the award to ten other bloggers- Crikey. In no particular order,

Phantom of the Pulp, a great meditation on all things horrible and sexy.
And Now the Screaming Starts, that rare blog that is incredibly intelligent and hilarious in it's analysis.
Draw Like Crazy, a wonderful artist who is going to be famous one day.
Uncommon Curiosity, a real math nerd and sex fiend.
Pictorial Arts, the blog of an artist and his morgue of collected images. I visit it before writing every Erishella story.
Here Lies Richard Sala, the blog of one of my favorite creators. There is no way in fuck he would do it, but we can all dream, right?
Trixie's Treats, a collection of visual delights.
Bluewords, as a fellow ASSM/ASSD newsgroups survivor, I sometimes feel like Bluewords and I are scarred veterans of a conflict no one else can ever really understand.
Images By Alex, the home of the guy who does all my Sasha and Claire art. If I ever did a porn comic, I would so want him to illustrate it.
Vladi's Musings, I keep meaning to do a post about this guy. He's he Godfather of superheroine distress stories and art.

Now that I have infected ten other bloggers with the meme virus, time to get to the last bit. List ten honest things about yourself.

1. For all of my nerdity, I could give a rat's ass about Star Wars. I was a huge fan when I was 7 and grew out of it by the time I was 12.
2. Having said that, I have a Star Wars knock-off toy that is a 12 inch cross between Darth Vader and Superman. It is my most prized childhood possession.
3. The only time I get motivated to better myself is when I see an apocalypse movie and I worry about how unqualified I am to live in a post-electricity zombie-filled world.
4. I have spent the last three months reading only books put out by Games Workshop's Black Library label. I read through 'Gaunt's Ghosts', the 'Horus Heresy' books and am almost through the second Inquisitor trilogy. This is the longest single genre phase that I have gone through.
5. I work from home and my coworkers are all non-geeks. Twitter has become my geek-social crutch this past year.
6. My wife is the first woman that I have felt secure enough to sing in front of her.
7. The fact that my brother doesn't read for recreational is the biggest reason I can never relate to him.
8. For years I resisted the idea of medicating my anxiety. Now that I take Lexapro, my quality of life has improved immeasurably. Fuck, I was an idiot.
9. My blog hits have dropped steadily for the past year and although it annoys my ego, I am pleasantly surprised to see that it has not affected my desire to write.
10. I am terribly stingy with my money EXCEPT as I am finding out to my chargrin, to when it comes to Baroness fan art. It hits me right in my nostalgia libido.


*Baroness sketch by Frelncr*

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Fiction: Sub Scouts

Megan waited. She was mostly naked except for the purple sash that came down over her shoulder and across her plump breasts. As a Pinkie Scout, the only article of clothing she was allowed were here pink and white striped knee socks. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail as suggested in the Sub Scout Handbook. Megan was on her knees and the hard wooden floor made her eager to start.

Ashley and Jennifer kneeled to either side of her. They made no eye contact but Megan could feel the excitement in them. Tonight was a special night for all three of them though their paths were in different directions.

Other Sub Scouts talked around them. The other Pinkie Scouts said nothing although they looked on the kneeling girls with a mixture of envy and fear. Megan understood their feelings. Being tested was what they all aspired to, but it was also the most fearsome thing they did.

The Junior Scouts were another story. They were dressed just like the Pinkie scouts except for the addition of the purple thong. The Junior Scouts harassed the Pinkies with incessant requests and cutting admonishments. Over the last year, Megan had come to hate the sight of a purple thong. At the same time, she wanted nothing more than to have one for her very own.

Last were the Senior Scouts. These women were still topless except for their sashes, but they were allowed to wear the purple skirt. Unlike the stressed Pinkies and the cruel Junior Scouts, the Senior Scouts were relaxed and at ease. She heard snatches of gossip, both lewd and mundane.

None of the Sub Scouts discussed the three kneeling nudes. Ignoring them was part of the tradition.

“Good evening Scouts,” the Scout Mistress said. The gossip ended as the Sub Scouts found their seats. “Before we begin, let’s recite the pledge.”

Megan bowed her head. All around her, the voices of her fellow scouts joined in.

“I will be submissive and strong, as I serve others before myself while bettering myself at all times.”

“We have a lot of Scouts attempting to earn badges tonight,” the Scout Mistress said. “Ashley will be attempting to earn her Cropping badge. She recently earned her Spanking and Whipping badges last year. We’ll see if her bottom can endure what we dish out tonight.

Jennifer will be attempting to earn her Knot badge. As you remember, last month, Jennifer earned her Basic Rope safety badge. She will be demonstrating the knots she has learned on some of our volunteers.

Finally, we have Megan. Megan will be attempting to earn her Cocksucking badge tonight. Just a month ago, Megan earned her Masturbation badge and is now looking to show her improvement in other skills.”

There was a polite round of applause. Megan controlled her breathing. She prayed silently that she would get to be tested last. She didn’t think her nerves could take it just yet.

“Let’s start with Megan,” the Scout Mistress said. “Blindfold her.”

Megan moaned softly as the purple mask fell over her eyes. The blindfold was part of the test, but it never failed to send a shiver down to her sex. She loved how she had to imagine what was happening around her by using her other senses.

She heard Jennifer and Ashley as they stood up and moved aside. She could feel the vibrations in the floor as other, heavier people walked close to her. A musky smell entered the room and Megan licked her lips.

Something pressed against her lips.

“You may begin,” the Scout Mistress said.

Megan opened her lips and took the cock that was there into her mouth. It was already hard and solid against her tongue. She moved her hands from behind her back and cupped his balls. The cock shuddered in response.

Briefly, Megan wondered who’s cock she was sucking. She knew that some of the Sub Scouts were married and their husbands volunteered for this duty. Some of the Sub Scouts had submissives of their own that they offered for these tests. There was a male Chapter of the Sub Scouts, and sometimes they supplied the cocks for these tests. Megan wasn’t sure which possibility made her wetter.

She stopped daydreaming and focused on the cock in her mouth. The test was to get three cocks off without stopping, so there was little time to waste. Megan had been practicing her jaw endurance by sucking on vibrators but there was no telling what surprises they may do today. She needed to get this guy off and prove her skills.

He was a little too big for her mouth. She could only get half of him into her lips. Megan used one hand to grip the base of his cock. Her hand stroke him as she sucked, creating the illusion that he was deeper in her mouth than he actually was. She lapped hard against him, her tongue impressing itself on the veins of his cock. Her cheeks caved in as she sucked hard, as if trying to pull come from his mouth by sheer force of will.

The cock throbbed. She could hear his moans as she stroked faster. Against her better judgment, her mind drifted. Did the cock in her mouth belong to some young playtoy of one of her fellow Sub Scouts? Maybe it was the husband of the Scout Mistress herself, enjoying a little bonus for all the work his wife did. Megan groaned. Was a fellow Sub Scout looking at her man getting his cock sucked? Did it make her jealous or did it make her hot?

“Oh, oh,” the man said. Megan cleared her mind. It was about his pleasure, not her fantasies. She pumped his cock faster while her tongue washed over the head of his cock.

He came. It was her choice whether to spit or swallow. Megan swallowed. The salty splash in her mouth was her reward for a job well done.

The cock pulled from her mouth. A polite round of applause greeted her ears. She had time to smile before rough hands grabbed her by her ponytail. She gasped as a new cock impaled her mouth.

Pubic hair smashed into her nose. Ball pressed against her chin. This cock was smaller but the hands pinning her head were powerful. She tried to touch him but a growl warned her hands away. Megan understood then what her role was to be.

He facefucked her. His hands kept her head still while his hips pumped into her face. She kept her jaw slack as he rammed in and out of her. His balls bounced off her chin, a constant reminder of the crudity she was enduring.

All of the little tricks she had read about, all of the tips her friends had given her and all of her own personal experience were useless in this situation. A flicker of annoyance coursed through her. She could bring him so much pleasure if he just let her to do it.

She pushed those thoughts away. This was how the cock wanted it. It was not her place to offer anything except her submission. Megan embraced her role as an open mouth. She took him.

After a few minutes of facial abuse, his hands tightened painfully in her hair. The man said nothing as a burst of seed filled Megan’s mouth. Megan was the one moaning as she swallowed him. Once again, she had served.

The cock pulled out. Megan waited for the next cock to press against her lips. Nothing happened. After a few nervous seconds, Megan reached out and felt naked legs in front of her. She followed the legs up to the hard cock waiting for her.

Megan didn’t need an invitation. She opened her lips and took one long loving lick. A soft moan drifted down to her ears but the man did nothing to touch her. She was going to be on her own this time.

After the vigorous facefucking, Megan was glad for a chance to show off. She started by licking down the side of his cock down to his balls. Her hand snaked around his body and grabbed his ass as if she wanted to never let him go. She brushed her lips against the head of his cock, teasing and arousing him with rapid flicks of her tongue.

When she had kissed and licked every inch of his cock, Megan finally slipped him in. Her lips parted and slowly his wet cock went into her mouth. She greeted his cock with her tongue, licking him as he filled her mouth.

She took as much of him as she could and when she was full, she began the slow work of pulling her head back. Every part of his cock was worshipped with her tongue. She sucked hard as she pulled back, sealing her lips over his cock as he was reluctantly pulled from her mouth. Only when just the tip of his cock was in her mouth did she stop, pausing before beginning the slow process of putting him back in her mouth.

Slowly she worked. Her jaw hurt but she ignored it. Her lips were tingling from all that had happened to them but she ignored it. Her own cunt cried out for release but she ignored it. She was a Sub Scout, and all that she cared about was the task in front of her.

In time, he came in her mouth. Elation filled Megan’s heart as the come filled her mouth. She took swallowed it all and then carefully licked and cleaned his cock before letting go of it.

The men were gone by the time the blindfold was removed. Megan blinked as she adjusted to the light. The Scout Mistress was smiling at her, which was it’s own reward.

“Congratulations Megan,” the Scout Mistress said. She held a gold circle in her hand. The shape of a cock entering a mouth was sewn into the circle.

“You now have your Cocksucking badge.”

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 5

"All of the sexiest bloggers are slowly disappearing," the Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student said.

"Aren't they always?" I said. "Sex blogging is a strange hobby. Most people enjoy a burst of euphoria as they flash the internet and then get bored once the thrill is gone."

The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student shook her head. When she did that, her naked breasts swayed ever so slightly. The webcam above her computer recorded every jiggle for her subscribers.

"I'm not talking about the flash-in-the-pan bloggers," she said. "I'm talking about the good ones. Urban Tramp has gone silent this week, as well as Perpetually Pervy Woman. Last week it was Amber Gold and Attention Whore."

"Attention Whore?" I said. "Now that is interesting. I never thought she would ever stop posting. Remember when she was hospitalized and she kept twittering her sex fantasies about the doctors?"

The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student smiled at me. Oh sweet Buddha, that smile was so beautiful. My cock hardened and I had this awful urge to give her my money.

"That's what I mean," she said and the magic of her smile was broken. "Now her entire blog is gone and her twitter account has stopped posting. That made me suspicious so I did a little research during my Chemistry class. In the last six months, over 40 sex bloggers have stopped posting. Blogging being what it is, we don't know if they quit or were disabled from posting."

"40?" I said. "You're right, that is suspicious. We need to alert the rest of the League. Who would block the best sex bloggers?"

The Stripper/Escort/Camgirl/Exhibitionist College Student knew who. "The Secret Censors of Atlantis."

Monday, August 10, 2009

Simple Choice


Pictured to the left is one of my old City of Heroes characters, the Choice. What I loved about Choice was that she was the kind of character who leaps into the middle of a fight. She lets her punch and kicks do the sorting out of life's problems. If you can't Thunder Kick someone, maybe an Eagle's Claw will do. She allowed me to indulge my reckless side.

I sure as heck need that now. I have no less than three long projects partially completed right now. It's not procrastination that's killed me this time. It is just a manner of finding time and working out the individual kinks of the projects.

Project #1 is a long story featuring my Librarian characters. I was seeking to imitate an Agatha Cristie mystery with a mansion full of suspicious characters. I have a delicious premise, and a good plot, but the execution destroyed the key dynamic that I love about the Librarians. Claire is Mr. Dillon's sub, but they work together as a team. I was halfway through the story when I realized Claire was just getting kicked around by these neat characters, but the teamwork was nowhere to be found. I can fix it, but it will require me rewriting every chapter that I have done so far.

Project #2 is a Nighthammer story written as a Choose Your Own Adventure. I got it started but discovered that before you can write a story where the reader gets choices, you need to lay out all the choices before you really do any writing. I had to fall back on my nerd skills of a roleplayer and make the 'dungeon' the reader will be traveling through. It's a little frustrating to get excited and want to write a section, but realizing I really shouldn't till the whole damn thing is plotted.

Project #3 is a fictional blog that I tells a 3 month story and then ends. I want to have the whole thing written before I do post one, which is a good thing considering that at the rate I am going, I am averaging a post about every two weeks. I have an outline and a handful of posts worked out on that one.

In addition to these, I have my current Erishella obsession and doing posts three times a week. Oh, and Blood Bowl, the game of violent comedy football. Cripes, I could post every day if I was allowed myself to talk about Blood Bowl.

It occurs to me that what is keeping my projects on hold is me. I need to pick one and just attack it and only it for a week. I need to jump in like I was playing Choice and roundhouse these stories till they get done. I need to stop thinking and do more writing.

I'll still post stories every Wednesday because quite frankly, nothings breeds short stories better than having to write a long story. Just thinking about replotting the Librarian story gives me an idea for a Texanah story. I also have a perverse pride in posting a new story every week. I don't think viciously attacking one story will affect my posting schedule though it may put my Chaos Team's chance at the Blood Bowl trophy on hold a bit. Oh, the sacrifices of a porn writer.

*Sketch Card of Choice drawn by the incredible George Sportelli*

Friday, August 07, 2009

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 111

The Squid-men had me surrounded. I had used my last Arousal Grenade and now I was defenseless. Each one of the monstrosities wielded a Castration Sword in their tentacles. I feared for my balls, but more importantly, I feared I wouldn't be able to tell the League of Extraordinary Pornographers about the terrible plans of the Secret Censors of Atlantis.

I backed up as the Squid-men closed in on me. Their inhuman eyes glared at me with hatred. The balls of other trespassers hung from trophy belts on their vile waists.

The group stopped as one of the Squid-men in the back screamed. It was a terrible shrieking sound that chilled my blood. It was a sound of pure horror.

The Squid-men spun around but there was no one there. Their screaming companion was on the ground, his buttocks horribly abused. That was when they noticed that the lights were fading, as if a nightmare was descending on them.

Another Squid-man screamed, and then another. The darkness was pitch black but I could hear what was happening. I could hear the violence as they were wrestled to the ground. I could hear the savage pumping of flesh on fish flesh. I could hear the terror as the Squid-men were taken down one by one.

The violence stopped. I was alone in the dark.

"Your welcome," a male voice growled in my ear. He was behind me.

My ass clenched. "Midnight Cock," I said. "Ah, thank you."

There was an awful silence. I could smell what he had done. He was a fellow League member, and he had saved my life a hundred times, but I was still afraid of him. We all were. The Invisible MILF was his mother and even she was afraid of him.

He grunted in response to my thanks. The darkness receded and I could see again. I tried not to look at the violated bodies moaning on the floor.

The Midnight Cock was gone.

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Fiction: The Curve of Her Breastplate

“You realize these have not been used in over one hundred years,” Pimin Tal said. The older man winced at the lecturing tone of his voice. As the Master of Armor, he was used to giving orders and instructing his novices. He had spent the last four years teaching his adepts how to maintain the exquisite custom armor of King Zarn. The old King had lost interest in being on the front lines of war and Pimin took that lack of interest as the start of his semi retirement.

“I know that,” Queen Erishella said. “That is why I must wear it.”

Pimin nodded in obedience. The Queen stood before him in the nude. They were alone in the Royal Armory chamber, the secrets of the Queen’s armament was too much of a state secret to even allow for slaves to attend her. Pimin was having a hard time not staring at the Queen’s impressive breasts or the long black hair that she braided in coils around her shoulders. He was an old man, but even he felt the stirrings of desire in his pants when he looked at her.

“I just want you to know that this is new territory for me,” Pimin said. “Your father, King Zarn and your grandfather, King Fong, never had a need for this kind of armor. When you requested it, I wasn’t even sure if it really existed.”

The Queen played with one of her braids. “Of course it existed. There is a giant mural of great-grandmother, Queen Jahoris, in the mail hall. She’s wearing the armor as the planet of Corta burns. By the Skull Throne, there’s a picture of her wearing it on the one thousand credit bill!”

“Well, just because we have pictures of it, doesn’t mean it exists,” Pimin said. His lecturing tone had come back. “These images are often apocryphal. Why, King Fong once required a codpiece that was far larger than his anatomy required. For that matter, Kin-“

Pimin’s words died in his throat. The Queen taken a step forward and her breasts were inches from his face. As distracting as they were, it was her fingernails gripping his throat that had his attention.

“But you found them,” she said. “And now you will put them on me. If I am going to keep my army inspired and my enemies shitting themselves, I need to invoke the past glory of the Skull Throne. Since I will not be wearing Father’s codpiece, that means I will need great-grandmother’s armor. Put it on me, now!”

She released his chin and Pimin bowed his head. “Yes, your Majesty.”

He reached into the box. He took out a jar and strange crystal wand. He opened the jar and looked at the Queen. Pimin felt the urge to explain, but he didn’t trust himself to not lecture her.

“Where is the armor?” Queen Erishella demanded.

“Uh, it’s here,” Pimin said. “Please understand that there are no instructions. All that is in the box is this jar and this wand. The jar appears to contain a gold colored liquid. I have a theory, but I will not know till I test it.”

The Queen stared at him. Her royal head barely nodded. “Test your theory.”

Pimin passed the wand over the top of the jar. The gold liquid rose out of the jar is if it was being pulled. It wrapped itself around the tip of the wand, leaving a glittery trail back to the jar. Pimin bright to wand to the Queen’s skin and pressed it to the curve of her breast. The gold liquid slid onto her flesh, spreading like water over her breast but not a single drop fell from her globe.

The Queen hissed. “It feels strange,” she said in a whisper.

The Master of Armor froze. He pictured a rather graphic death at the hands of the Queen’s Whips. “How so?” he asked.

“A tingling,” Queen Erishella said. “Like a dozen tongues licking at my flesh.”

“Interesting,” Pimin said. “I imagine it is a side effect of the armor anchoring to your skin. The molecular adhesion could be playing havoc with your sensation receptors.”

The Queen snapped her fingers. “Less lecturing, and more application.”

Pimin nodded in obedience. He passed the wand over the rest of her breast. The mysterious liquid was like paint but it was immune to effects of gravity. It only went where Pimin directed the wand. To imitate the style of the murals of Queen Jahoris, Pimin had to trace the great swell of Erishella’s breast. His wand moved over every expansive inch; trailing gold metal in its wake.

He hesitated when it came to her nipple. Pimin was glad his theory was working, but the Queen was groaning nonstop as he worked. It just felt impertinent to touch the royal nipple.

“Do it,” Erishella growled. Her eyes glared royal anger but also something else. There was desire in her eyes.

He moved the wand over her nipple. As the gold metal covered her erect nub, the Queen trembled and a lusty moan escaped her lips. Pimin looked in wonder as her breast jiggled and the metal shell jiggled with it. It was becoming a second skin.

“The other breast,” Queen Erishella moaned. “Do it now!”

There was no arguing with the Queen’s tone. Pimin turned to her other breast and began applying the armor there. This time he tried a little bit of artistry, attempting a half cup design that more closely resembled the murals. The liquid metal obeyed perfectly. Thoughts of designs came to mind and Pimin realized with a little practice, he could wind a snake of armor around her body, or perhaps a great bird stretching its wings across the Queen’s breasts. Future generations would marvel and wonder at Pimin’s skill when they see the murals that will be made of Queen Erishella.

Pimin’s dreams of grandeur were interrupted by the moans and shivers of the Queen. She clenched and unclenched her fists as Pimin moved his wand. He worried that the Queen would have him executed for being the instrument of such obviously decadent sensations. He worried more that she might have him executed for not doing it right.

“There,” Pimin said when the breasts were covered in gold armor. “We have enough to test the effectiveness of the armor. The legends say Queen Jadoris could survive a direct laser rifle shot with this armor, but I suggest we just try a knife’s edge.”

Queen Erishella glared at him. “You are not remotely finished.” She pointed at the black bush that covered her majestic sex. “Apply it there. Now!”

Pimin knew better than to argue. His years of experience in creating battle armor had not prepared him for a moment like this. He also wasn’t sure what the armor would do with the pubic hair. What would be the Queen’s rage if he inadvertently gave her a bikini wax?

The gold flowed over her hair and gently pressed it down. The Queen’s hands gripped Pimin’s shoulders like a vise as she shook. He didn’t hesitate. He kept applying the exotic armor to her sex, covering the lips as well as the delicate clit of her sex with firm even strokes. He wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but he could swear the gold was sparkling as it adhered to her most intimate regions.

“Keep . . .going . . .” Queen Erishella said. Her breathing was ragged and Pimin noticed with professional interest that the armor on her breasts were moving naturally with her breathing.

Since he was essentially done covering her sex, but still ordered to proceed, Pimin allowed himself creative license. He directed the gold to flow in a pattern that resembled the Skull Throne in shape. While the Queen moaned and trembled, Pimin passed the wand over her sex as he sought perfection.

“Yes!” the Queen shouted. Pimin knew her cry was not out of appreciation for his realistic rendering.

“You may stop know,” she said. Pimin obeyed.

She produced a deadly stiletto out her hair that Pimin had no idea was there. Before he could stop her, she slammed the pointed blade into her breast with startling force. When the blade shattered on the gold metal, Pimin almost pissed himself in relief.

“Very good,” Queen Erishella said. “How does it come off?”

Pimin activated the second button on the wand. He pressed it against her breast and the metal leapt off her skin and onto the wand. Pimin was relieved to see no irritation or side effects on her flesh.

“Hmm,” the Queen said. “I guess this means you will have to apply the armor personally when I choose to wear it.”

Pimin swallowed. “True, your majesty.” It was one thing to be personally responsible for a King or Queen’s personal armor and protection. It was another thing to be personally responsible for touching the intimate parts of a Queen when she needed to go to war.

The Master of Armor smiled. If the job had always been like this, he would have never thought of retiring.

Monday, August 03, 2009

Royal Army Prayer

Queen Erishella,
Your cunt is by my side.
I serve your glory as we rape the universe.
Guide my hands so I may slay your enemies.
Kiss my ears so I may hear your traitors.
Caress my legs so I may run to your wishes.
Let me lick between your thighs when I please you,
Jam a grenade up my ass if I should ever fail.