Cryptolibido

Her sex is a labyrinth.

Whether by cock or by tongue, her sex is a maze filled with magic, wonder and bliss. Folds and passages without dead ends going on forever and ever through corridors of pleasure and mystery. At the center of this beautiful maze lies precious treasure but it is not the treasure that makes the labyrinth special. It's the way the labyrinth changes me. It molds me, reshapes me, transforms me as it squeezes me through until I emerge from the labyrinth exhausted, exhilarated and new.

After I leave the physical labyrinth of her sex, I still find myself blissfully lost in the labyrinth of her love.

Out of Town

I am heading out of town for the rest of the week. I'll be back this weekend and hopefully will be back on a regular posting schedule Monday.

I have stories in mind that I want to tell that do not feel like therapy. I have some ideas that will hopefully entertain you and me. I know divorce is supposed to take forever to adjust to but I'm really tired of it. I want to be a writer again and not that guy who analyzes his life all the time.

Thank you for all the kind e-mails and comments. I may not have been a god husband but apparently I have been a good blogger considering how much affection and good wishes I have received.

Merry Christmas from Chiron Beta Prime

From the always entertaining Johnathan Coulton comes a song I wish I had written.

Office Party

You are cordially invited to the Von Madd Laboratories Christmas/Kwanza/Festivus/Whatever party being held December 21 at 8:00 pm. Please bring this invitation with you or else you will not be allowed into the party unless you submit yourself as a test subject for the new FlogMistress-3200 (Now with 20% more rotations!).

Food and drinks will be provided, as well as lube, mattresses and seasonal lingerie. A strictly dress code will be observed requiring at least fifty percent of flesh to be exposed. Lab coats may be worn if they are the only article of clothing being worn.

The mistletoe this year will emit a powerful aphrodisiac at random intervals resulting in kisses you may not be able to stop for an hour.

One percent of your fellow coworkers will actually be cleverly disguised sex robots. Take a chance this year on that coworker you have been crushing on, you might get lucky with them or at least get lucky with a highly accurate sex android version of them.

A vast majority of the candy canes will in fact be vibrators. Yo determine if a candy cane is in fact edible, you can test it by stroking the length of the cane three times. if it vibrates, it is not edible, though you may still want to put it in your mouth.

Presents will be distributed based on a system of peer appraisals, work reviews, outstanding sexual qualities and number of PhD's. Presents could of course be traded but that is only if you have zero faith in Dr. Von Madd's delicate and highly researched system, but that is your choice if you want to go against science and all. It is the holidays, you are allowed to throw away everything you beleive in just because you want something prettier than what you deserve.

You may of course bring your own presents to give to your coworkers based on your own flawed system.

Video cameras will be recording the entire party in order to provide Research and Development with necessary data. The film footage will also be used as outright porn for management and holiday cards for next year.

Happy Holidays,
Dr. Otto Von Madd

Good Sex

Good sex is like entering heaven.

Good sex is like finding what all the fuss is about.

Good sex is like the sky: warm, bright, beautiful and infinite.

Good sex is like watching porn and realizing that it is you on the screen.

Good sex is like Christmas, Easter, Halloween and your birthday on one special day.

Good sex is like finding an author you love and then realizing that they have written a hundred other stories that you can read.

Good sex is what we all deserve.

Written Anything?

I love my friends. Some of them ask if I have written anything this week. They are not greedy, they just think it is a healthy sign that I am getting better. They want to know that I am still writing and that everything will be okay. The fact that it has been less than a week doesn't seem to sink in because it is so surreal.

Of course I haven't written anything yet.

But I have some ideas. I have one story banging around but I'm not writing it because it is really sad. I don't want to be that blogger. You know the one, who undergoes a terrible life change and then starts writing stories about characters who go through the same life change and shit plays out. Christ, you're my readers, not my therapists.

I want to write something funny. I want to write something with a lot of action. I want to write a summer movie with big explosions and bigger breasts. I want to write amazing sex with even more amazing dialogue. I want to go blow your fucking socks off.

So we'll see what happens this weekend. This weekend I get the rest of my stuff. I get boxes and boxes of memories and coping mechanisms. I'll get stuff that was either bought for me by my wife, or bought by me trying to make myself happy in a unhappy marriage. Bleh, I am not looking forward to that.

That cheap meaningless light story is looking more and more attractive.

My Porn

One of the first things I did when I left my parents' house was get a shitload of porn. Man, I wanted it all. Back then I only had access to magazines and over priced videos from mail order companies but I just tore through it all. My parents viewed sex as a dirty thing and I was eager to see what all the dirt was about.

When I got married, my porn buying slowed down. Part of that was the Internet and it's wonderful vast collection of free porn. I really liked the text stories and started writing my own. The more I wrote, the more I treated porn as research material. I got porn that excited me, but a lot of it was just that same insatiable curiosity I had as a young adult. Sex fascinates me. It's something no two people can readily agree on. Well, they do if they want to have sex, but I almost consider that a statistical miracle. You can grab two people off the street and ask if they like a certain flavor of ice cream and you stand a good chance of these random two people saying yes. Grab two random people and ask how they feel about oral sex, you have no telling how they will react.

This is all my way of saying that my porn collecting didn't bother me in the least.

But now that I am divorcing, and I am able to talk to my friends for the first time about the sheer lack of intimacy I have had in my marriage for the last 10 years, holy shit. I've moved in with a friend and as I unpack I am just stunned by how many breasts, asses and acts of submission I have visibly around me. It's impossible for me not to see how dysfunctional it all looks.

Take my video games. My wife hated going anywhere. She much rather stay home and rest from throwing herself at work. So I bought a beach volleyball game for the XBox that has all bouncy half naked chicks who you buy swimsuits for. I got my summer vacation I didn't want, a bunch of giggly video girls who lay in the sun and I got to dress them in the swimsuits my wife always rejected wearing.

I have a pillow with pinup girls dressed in Halloween costumes. I like it because it is done in a 50's carefree style. My wife made it for me, after I found the fabric and asked her to do it. She made it for me, but it was what I wanted. You know what I mean? It wasn't her desire to make it. It was me, surrounding myself with something sexy to remind myself that I like sex.

Fuck. That's how I look at all my little sexy possessions. Art books, posters and figurines that evoked desire in me were precious things I bought and treasured because it was validation that I was a sexual being. For many reasons, my wife rarely had sex with me and damn it, I just couldn't ever give up on sex. I surrounded myself in sex like I was living in a bachelor's apartment. Maybe all that sex around us was too much pressure. Maybe it turned her off. Maybe because I wanted it so fucking bad and she realized my objects were my substitute for her. I don't know.

I can't throw them out though. I see them as reminders and maybe emotional crutches but I can't let them go. Being sexually frustrated is a part of me I know so well that right now when my world is so upside down, I don't want to let it go.

Who the Fuck?

This is going to ramble a bit but you'll understand because I'm getting a divorce.

My wife and I take care of each other. We adore each other in spite of those thing we hate about each other. Over the last few years, the hate outnumbers the love. There is no need to say what the breaking point is because over time the breaking has been going on for years.

I didn't understand this till Friday night. She was mad. She was upset and she unloaded on me. She said that she felt like I split my attention between my writing, my readers, my play partners, my friends and her. She said that all her attention is on me. She said that I hurt her, and for the last 8 years, that I have not taken care of her and that I am too selfish to really care for her.

Then she took it all back. She was just upset. She didn't mean it.

The thing is, this was a continuation of the same fight we have had for ages. We were picking right back up from the last time we had this fight and this was years old. She resents that so many of our friends like me better. She resents that I do not want to live like a hermit just with her on some lonely mountain. She resents that I don't submit to her tastes and interests.

So this really tore me up. I realized how unhappy she was for the past decade. See, I thought that no matter how unhappy I was, at least she was happy. I thought I took a good job taking care. I feel like I break my back taking care of her and now I knew that I sucked at it. The question became, if I was doing such a bad job as her husband, why was I making myself miserable for so little results?

We talked about it and we both agreed that we were both working really hard for so little happiness. We love each other and we care about each other but we are not good for each other.

The weird part is that I feel like I have lost my identity. I saw myself as that husband guy who loved and took care of this very special woman and made her happy. I made choices every day with her in mind. I made decisions with my inner voice sounding like hers. I have worked, played, loved and wrote with her influence and approval or disapproval.

And now it's just me. I haven't been me in 14 years. Even in my writing, there are large bits of her. I'm not saying it in a tragic, oh-she-will-always-be-with-me way, but in a very serious, I did everything with her in mind. I was not myself, I was what she demanded of me. And now I'm not. I'm me.

Who the fuck is me?

I have friends. I have close friends. I have people who love me. I will not be alone in this. I'll be moving this week. I will keep writing. Something. I just don't know what that writing will be. It will be all me. Or a lot of me with less of my wife. But this will take time and well, practice.

I've never been me.

Spanking Rivalry

Matthew checked the woman’s ass. It was like touching a hot plate. The hour of flogging, spanking and whipping has made the woman’s ass a crimson delight of heat, welts and tenderness. The woman squirmed when he touched her but the spanking bench’s restraints held her tight. The gag in her mouth stopped any protests but that was okay, she consented to everything in advance which is just how Matthew liked it.

He tried to remember the woman’s name and failed. It was just too damn hard to keep track of all these names. He felt like it started with a hard ‘K’ sound. Karen? Kathy?

“Is she ready?” Jason asked.

Matthew looked at his older brother. “I’d say so.” Matthew tried to act cool as he gripped the woman’s plump ass. Was her name Kelly?

Jason was acting just as nonchalant. He toyed with the paddle he had just used on the woman. “So, which end do you want to fuck?”

To read more, click Whole Post


Matthew looked at his paddle as if the choice didn’t matter to him either. “I was thinking about fucking her ass.” He was also thinking the name might be Kitty?

The bound woman moaned in delight or apprehension. They couldn’t tell which. They really didn’t care.

Jason shook his head. “Brother of mine, I think I’m going to have to call you out on that.”

Matthew kept looking at his paddle. “You sure? She has a pretty mouth. I’ll take the ass and you can fuck those plump red lips.” Katherine?

Jason laughed. “You’ve been reading too much porn. Plump red lips?”

Matthew laughed. “Okay, you’re right. That was a bit too much. But you know, I didn’t spend an hour whooping her ass just to fuck her mouth.”

Jason nodded. “That’s how I feel too.”

This conversation was one they have had a hundred times. It started back with their high school crush, Tina Stratford, and continued through college, and into their adult lives when they started going to BDSM clubs. The brothers don’t mind fucking a woman at the same time, but they have very strong opinions about which end they prefer and they just hate sloppy seconds.

“Dragon tails?” Matthew asked.

Jason nodded. “I’ll get the stickers.”

Five minutes later, the bound woman had twelve colorful stickers on her ass. They were bright yellow and green letters arranged in a circle on her bottom. B-B-O-O-T-T-T-T-O-O-M-M.

Fifteen feet away, Jason and Matthew uncoiled their dragon tails. The whips were made of rough leather and had a strange cut that resulted in the fabric forming a spiral when at rest. They looked neat but were a bitch to actually aim. This made it perfect for their purposes.

Jason snapped his first, striking the bound woman’s exposed ass but missing the letter, ‘B’.

“Fucker, we hadn’t decided who goes first,” Matthew said.

“I just did,” Jason said. Only brothers could get away with being this unfair when a woman’s ass is on the line.

“Fucker,” Matthew said again. He snapped his dragon tail and hit his letter perfectly. The sticker was obliterated by the speeding leather.

“You small dick asshole,” Jason sad.

Matthew smiled and snapped again. This time he was off by a few inches as his dragon tail landed on the woman’s bare ass. Even through the woman’s gag they could hear her scream.

Jason snapped his dragon tail while the woman was still squirming. He struck his letter this time perfectly.

“Show off,” Matthew said.

“Yep,” Jason said as he snapped again. The leather uncoiled and whipped off the ‘O’.

This time the woman arched up as much as her restraints would allow and Jason waited. She stayed like that for a minute before she collapsed back into the bench. That’s when Jason tried again and missed.

“I had to make sure your bench would hold,” Jason said. It was an old insult.

“Dog humper,” Matthew said without much conviction. “I don’t go bitching about the quality of your leatherwork,” he lied. “If you think you can do a better job building benches, then you build the next one.”

Jason said nothing. The fact that Matthew missed was all he cared about.

Around the woman’s ass they went. Crack after crack of leather landed on her bottom and there were more hits than misses. The brothers had good aim, the kind you only get from years of practice and an asshole to compete against. They never lacked for targets in the clubs and jealous doms were convinced that they weren’t even really brothers. They could have any woman’s ass, but they didn’t do it for the pussy. What really mattered was which brother was better. Something like that makes it personal.

It came down to the last letter.

Jason missed.

Matthew missed.

The woman shook as she realized how soon she was about to be fucked at both ends.

Jason missed.

Matthew hit.

The woman screamed and climaxed at the same time.

“”Fuckstain,” Jason said. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even that disappointed because the woman did have pretty lips. These things came in cycles. Today he lost, tomorrow he might win. If the contest hadn’t been close, then there would have been an issue.

“ Christine!” Matthew said. “That’s the woman’s name! That was driving me up the wall!”

Jason shook his head and tossed Matthew a condom. “Brother, you worry about the dumbest things.”

Matthew took the condom. The woman’s ass was decorated in multiple welts. Jason was right. What did names matter when there was a victory ass fucking to be had?

The end.

Dirty Thoughts: Greed

I want to unwrap her.

I want to take all of those beautiful clothes that she wears and peel them off one by one. I want to be so gentle but not for her sake. I want to be gentle with her clothes that are so delicate and feminine as I work my way down to the prize of her body. I want to savor every new curve, treasure every new inch of skin and memorize every gasp she makes as I pull her out of the safety of her clothes and into the thrilling danger of what I have planned for her.

I want her bare.

I want her exposed.

I want her to be all mine.

Erotica Alert Level: Blood Rushing Red

I wrote most of a story lately. It is almost finished except of course for the part where I like it. I have to tweak it a bit and figure out what essential piece will connect the story I wrote to the story that was in my head that I was so happy about.

What is interesting to me and I apologize to you wonderful readers because I have turned this into a Track-My-Anxiety blog, is that although I am no longer scared shitless by the world, I still have all this crazy adrenaline. I'm excited. I'm terribly excited to the point that when I sat down to write my story, I had to get some scratch paper and write out the four different possible ways of telling that story because I couldn't just focus on one. This story is barely three pages and yet four versions of it exist in my head and I had to give them all equal time just to silence the doubt that the version I like is the best one.

But the thing is, I wrote it. I put it down and it's not bad. Considering how much work I have to do at work, and the constant jitters I have right now, it is a fucking miracle it was done at all. Yes, I want a cookie for my efforts.

Where's my cookie?

Time Management

Daydreaming about kissing is the most unproductive use of my time and yet it is the BEST use of my time.

Gateways

I was watching 'Tin Man' last night on the Sci-Fi channel. It's not bad, but it has more interesting ideas than execution. I'm still watching it though because the flashes of brilliance might get more frequent.

It got me thinking about childhood fantasies. The most popular stories often involve tornadoes or rabbit holes taking us to wonderful places where children get to be active participants instead of passive observers. I think we like these stories because we inherently don't beleive that the world we live in is exciting or interesting enough. We want to go somewhere else and much like Dorothy, we don't know where that place is, but we know it's not here.

I think the Internet has become a tornado for people now. I know the first time I logged into a BDSM chatroom I felt like I was embarking on an adventure. I was escaping conservative North Carolina where BDSM could only be accessed through 'Beauty' books or leftover Gor novels. Chatrooms grew into discussion groups, fiction story archives, cyber sex and dirty e-mails. I met one of the loves of my life through the Internet and right now I keep in touch with my kinky friends through livejournal and my blog. When my anxiety last week was at it's worse, I got supportive e-mails from Oz and Wonderland, encouraging me to come back.

I think sometimes that people online don't really understand how lucky we all are. We are one click away from a new Emerald City or one e-mail away from meeting the Red Queen. Before the Internet, we were stuck on that Kansas farm wishing for something, anything, different and the best we could hope for was meeting someone who didn't think we were too weird for owning a paddle bought in some kinky gas station.

I think we're living in a fantasy land right now and we don't even notice it.

Anxious

Around last Tuesday my sex drive dropped. No big deal, it happens sometimes. It sucks to be a sex writer with a dead sex drive but I didn't worry about it. I knew I was one good episode of 'Dr. Who' away from getting it back.

Thanksgiving came and I had a pretty lazy day. I played insane amounts of City of Heroes and spent sometime playing the wonderful Bioshock.

Friday came and that night I went to a party hosted by Valerie. We played dirty word scrabble with a group of mostly lesbians. There is nothing like watching a lesbian play the word, 'Pud', and then explain it. I won the second game with BJ on a double word score and I'm still pretty happy about that.

Saturday I woke up with a tight chest and the sense that I was going to screw up big time. I felt incompetent, stupid, childish and lame. I was scared of everything. I was scared of hanging out with friends, I was scared of messing up my wife's birthday, I was scared of alienating people, I was scared of writing a shitty blog, I was scared of doing anything.

Monday wasn't much better. Tuesday was pretty bad but I think I held my shit together enough for my wife's birthday. Luckily she had an awful day at work and weirdly that took the pressure off me. I knew nothing I did would be as bad as what was happening at her job.

I was/am convinced that her birthday was a big trigger for this current anxiety attack. We just had an anniversary where we did everything under the sun and now I feel like I have to find one or two more wonderful things to do for her birthday and I am just flat out of inspiration. She's been looking at me all week to pull one more romantic miracle out of my ass and you know, she deserves one more romantic miracle but fuck if I had any idea what to do.

So, because work was such a bitch, she wants to move her birthday celebration to the weekend. That's fair. It also means that I have five more days to do something that will keep this from being a sucky birthday.

I so need to get my shit together.

My Wife's Birthday

Today my wife turns 34. Years of putting up with me has grayed her hair a little but other than that she's pretty much the same gal I fell hard for. Well, she's a bit more sarcastic but again, I think I have myself to thank for that.

I'm my wife's biggest fan. She somehow combines a great compassion for all living things with a ruthlessness that is a daily inspiration. She's the smartest person I know in all the most important things like computers, comic books, Everquest and why Harry Potter is over-rated. I can't imagine spending my days with anyone else.

The fact that she is a busty blonde with a great ass is just bonus.

That Fine Line

There are women that I love. They are smart, funny, and exciting. They make me feel like a great Priapic god when they show attention and affection for me. I adore and treasure them and want to be in their celestial orbits. I want to make sweet love to them in the dying of the night.

There are other women. The ones I want to fuck, ride, bend, bind, spank, pinch, overwhelm, and dominate. These women I want to play like instruments; discovering their unique song within and making them sing like they have never sung before. I write their story with paddles, commands and sheer will. I write a story that only works for them using themselves as inspiration and source.

One kind of woman is the kind I can grow old with.

One kind of woman is raw material to be processed, used and consumed.

I want both but it is hard for me to treat a single woman as both. A relationship that starts as the first rarely survives being transformed in the second. A relationship that starts as the second ceases to be exciting for the sub when it transforms into the first. Every book I read and every dom I talk to suggest starting with the first type and moving into the second and I agree in theory. It's the reality that's tricky.

I pull my punches as a dom when I love my sub. I have trouble having my sub hate me when I used to flourish under their love. I can't go for the kill when I lack the heart to be her villain.

A dom has to know that his sub will still love him after he has done wicked things to her. Again, I know this in theory but my anxiety screams that this brilliant wicked thing I have thought of will shut that affection forever. I know it's a lie, that my own affection for my sub will prevent me from doing anything that would hurt her, but my anxiety says that I make mistakes. My anxiety says that one day she'll figure out that I am not as strong as I pretend to be.

I think this is why I enjoy writing BDSM so much. I can hurt fictional characters and I will. I can be honest with a character about my desires and the sub's desires, with no fear of being judged. I can use a character. I enjoy using a character. They are there to be used and since the never loved me and never can, my anxiety never sabotages what they need.

There is a fine line between those that I love and those that I dominate. The truth is that I love them all, I just have troubles loving them well.

Wednesday Erotica Ramblings

What makes good porn is the act of interesting people having interesting sex. You can have one without the other, but the thing you do have has to be SO interesting that it outweighs the lack of the other. The reason I stop reading most 'real sex' blogs is that they tell me nothing about the people involved so they are reduced down to stereotypes. There's the boyfriend, the cheating wife, college kid, or some other bland characterization that creates a weird sense of deja vu in myself in that I think I am seeing these characters again. Even in a blog about real people, the lack of depth to the people they write about makes me think that I am reading about the same sorta-kinky college boyfriend who's also fucking girls in six other blogs. I start speculating about this mystery Romeo who has all these girls smitten over him, before I have to remind myself that it's not the same guy, it's the same lack of interest in fleshing him out. In a way I think the sex bloggers are less interested in the guy and telling us why they adore him as much as they just want to assure us that they too have sex.

The sex blogger quest for anonymity has created a large cast of faceless men and women who seem to have an awful lot in common. Some days I am fascinated by these shared qualities and what it says about us as sexual beings but most other days I just consider it bad writing. Sex bloggers who tell us about their real sex lives need to tell us about why they adore the people they are fucking so that we can adore them too.

Along a similar vein, one of the things I hate when I am reading a 'real' sex blog is when they use commercial copyrighted images on their blogs to throw in some nude porn. Maybe I am too knowledgeable about porn but few things take me out of immersion faster than when I am reading about a kinky event that allegedly happened last weekend, and I have a picture of Erica Campbell staring at me. Don't get me wrong, I love Erica, but somehow I don't think she is a close personal friend of the blogger. Images from professional porn inject the same sense of professional porn artificialness to a so called real life sex blog. I feel less like I am reading someone's personal account and more like I am reading porn filler for a magazine. Use your own images, or if you use other people's property, talk about why you like them so much. Make them the conversation.

The blogs that do hold my attention do so because they create the illusion of sharing. They make me feel like I am reading about a real sexual being. They have flaws and strengths. They fall for certain types because of experiences they have shared with their readers. We the readers feel informed enough to give advice because we feel like we know the blogger better than the blogger knows themselves. That's not an easy feat and I appreciate every writer who has that talent.

Monday Erotica Ramblings

One thing I love about erotica is that each individual story rarely has an impact on literature as a whole, but one special story can change a single person forever.

On the Internet with millions of erotica choices, people rarely read the same story. They are seeking their own fetish, their own favored voice and their own preferred deviance. When I talk to me friends about a story I liked, almost never does one of them say "I read that too". I have to show it to them. Even if something gets posted on Fleshbot or Sugasm, it doesn't guarantee that everyone reads it. Erotica readers hardly ever have a shared reading experience unless they initiate it between each other.

This used to depress me. If people are not having a shared reading experience, then the genre can never grow. Someone out there has written the perfect Coming of Slave story, and eliminated the need for anyone else to write another. Someone out there has created the most beautiful spanking scene possible and other writers will never be inspired by it. Without a shared foundation, our stories ca not build and grow from each other. I used to think this was a bad thing.

Now I realized it was just ego. I wanted people to get the credit they deserved but if people did learn from each other's porn, then I think porn would move as a generic whole. I walk into a book store these days to read fantasy or science fiction and all I can find are Vampire romances. Young reader books are all about magic schools and destined ones. They are building off of one another and trying to steal a little of each other's success but what we get is one or two stories being retold and improved upon.

Which is why I think I prefer porn the way it is. As much as I get tired sometimes of reading yet another twenty-something girl's sexual experiences that acts like she invented the blowjob, I am touched by the honest way they feel like they are exploring new ground. Instead of stealing from previous more successful erotica, people tell their own stories in which they discover the joys of sex for themselves in an almost vacuum.

This is not to say that there are erotic blog imitators out there. Quite a few blogs read like resumes where the blogger is trying to convince the reader that they are hip, sexy, knowledgeable writers who deserve their own magazine column pretty please, but I really feel these people are in the minority. People who create blogs in the search for money and manufactured fame are easily recognized as the faux sex-obsessed people they are. When you have more ads on your blog than personal content, the reader knows better. I am going to be really bitchy here and say the only people that read a wannabe commercial success sex blog are other wannabe commercial sex bloggers.

Which brings me back to the amateur sex blogger/writer who's greatest ambition is to share. We want to express these weird wonderful sexy thoughts that we don't see reflected back in mainstream society. We want to discuss what turns us on, what we do in our bedrooms and we want you to know about it. The urge to express is so great that maybe we don't do enough reading and listening to other sex-obsessed writers. So we never have a common reading ground and erotic never becomes literature in the sense of a shared experience. We tell our stories that might have been told better in the past but because we don't know that, we have the courage to write and maybe make something better.

The best part is that just because we don't reach everybody with our blogs and stories, it doesn't mean we didn't reach someone. Our honest, un-influenced, un-intimidated stories will touch someone or maybe two someones and become part of their sexual desires. Because we are not commercially struggling to reach a mainstream audience that aims for the lowest common denominator, we create a very specific powerful tailored piece of work that strikes right at the heart and libido of someone who will masturbate, fantasize and daydream about that story forever.

I'm pretty happy with that.

Divide and Write

There are days when you would happily give up sex for a year in exchange for one good story idea.

And then there are days like this week where you are swarmed with ideas. There are so many possible stories and each one comes to mind faster than the previous one till you start thinking you might need to skip a meal to work in all of the writing and while you are at it, maybe skipping work, friends and sleep would be good too.

The biggest problem in times like these is that you are having so many ideas that you're not actually writing any of them. The euphoric rush of creativity sometimes fucks your focus to the point that you're not giving any one idea the time it needs to bloom into a story. You're filling notebooks with ideas but readers don't want ideas. They want stories and stories take time and focus.

Which is why I feel the best attribute a writer can develop is the ability to procrastinate when it comes to ideas. That brilliant thought you just had will still be as brilliant next month when you're finished with what you are doing. Put it off. Write it down on it's own separate page of notes and turn the page. Divide out your ideas into little cells in your notebook prison. Lock them away and keep them in isolation. Quit thinking about your ingenious BDSM story involving peppermint so that your current brilliant idea, the story about sadistic kinky real estate agents can get the attention it needs to get finished.

Divide and write.

Things I Like To Do During a Spanking That Does Not Involve Spanking

1. Pulling her pants down. This is something I really like to do myself. The act of unbuttoning is the BDSM equivalent of unwrapping a gift. Which I guess it is.

2. Grabbing the hair. You know, when you grab someone's hair, you have their attention. If you are wailing on their ass while doing it, then you have split their attention in two places. Besides, good hair was meant to be pulled.

3. When the ass is bright red and hot to the touch, I like to lean down and bite. I like the feel of hot skin between my teeth while the person I am biting either squeals, moans or shivers. I like to bite right where their cunt is inches from my nose. If I am doing a good job of spanking, I can smell just how good I'm doing. When the skin I am biting is no longer blistering hot, I know it's time to go back to the spanking.

Feel free to add to the list.

Review: The Classic Pin Up Art of Jack Cole

Jack Cole is one of my favorite artists. In his all too short career, Jack made some of the best pin up art a man could do. Everything he does, whether it is naked girls, sight gags or his comic book character, Plastic Man, all has this basic level of impressionism. His women are not recreations of what women look like, they are interpretations of how women are seen, remembered and treasured.

Fantagraphics Books has a 2004 collection of Jack's work that I just now recently discovered. 'The Classic Pin Up Art of Jack Cole' is a long mouthful of a title for a very precious book. It collects his art in that middle period between leaving comic books and working for Playboy. Here are a bunch of illustrations written for the gag magazines in the Humorama line. The jokes are dated and often archaic nut the art is timeless.



Jack is at his best when he is just cutting loose. Breasts and hips become flowing lines with the same gravity as moons. Eyes disappear and are replaced by ominous eye lashes. Legs are bare in winter and lips are big and pouty. There's energy in every picture even when nothing is moving.

I would recommend this book to any lover of in-up art. For that matter, I would recommend a lot of what Fantagraphics Books publishes. Their books are often the fuel I use to jump start my imagination. Most of all though, I recommend that you explore the work of Jack Cole for yourself. He was one of the best and still is.


Click the pictures for mondo giant size versions.

Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:

Burlesque dancing is a creative form of exercise that improves hip-eye coordination, contract reading skills and socializing with the opposite sex. Burlesque dancers are 80% less likely to have heart disease than joggers and other people who do boring exercises. Enroll your girlfriend, boyfriend or spouse in a burlesque dancing class today!

Fiction: S-Bay

"S-Bay Alert! One of your flagged dealers is offering a new prize for bidding!"

Tina squealed with excitement. She put away her cell phone and rushed to her computer. Her fingers shook as she logged on to the website, with her user name, xBottomSlutx, and clicked on the auctions.

"Please let it be Mr. Paddle," she said. Her pussy tingled as soon as she said his name. It had been a month since he last offered his prize and last time that bitch SweetKitty23 had outbid her.

---Mr. Paddle offers to strip, bind and spank the winner of this auction on November 17, 2007 at 1pm at auction winner's preferred location.-----

To read more, click Whole Post


"Yes!" Tina squealed. She looked at the time remaining. S-Bay auctions can last any set time but Mr. Paddle was notoriously fickle. This time he only listed his auction for an hour. Tina bit her lip happily. It was a Monday morning, and not many other bidders would be on. Either Mr. Paddle was feeling generous to whomever was lucky to be on, or else he wanted to see a cat fight break out among those who were on.

Tina thought of Mr. Paddle's grin when he picked up his favorite wicked studded paddle. More likely, he was hoping for a catfight.

Tina thought about her bid. She thought about how ruthless he was. She thought about how devastating he can be with his vast array of toys. She thought about her poor bottom, which hadn't been spanked in over three weeks.

Tina started the bidding with 30 spanks.

Three minutes later, SweetKitty23 entered a bid of 35 spanks.

"Oh that greedy bitch," Tina said. She countered with 40 spanks.

A minute passed by. Tina smirked. 40 hits from Mr. Paddle was nothing to sneer at. There would be bruises. There would be marks. She might not be able to sit for the rest of the weekend but damn it, she deserved it.

A minute later, Schoolgirl4u entered a bid of 50 spanks.

"What the fuck?" Tina whispered. 50? Tina tried to remember if she had seen Schoolgirl4u on any other auctions. She clicked on her name and listed her previous auctions. A short list appeared, all within the last two weeks. Most of it was rope bondage auctions with one forced masturbation scene. There were none for spanking.

"The crazy bitch has no idea what she's in for," Tina said. She had seen it before. New girls make all sorts of offers till they make one promise too many. They drop out for a month or two, coming back a bit more conservative with their bids and a lot more determined to get what they want.

Tina closed her eyes and thought of the time she bid too much. She offered her ass, literally, to an older man with ten inches of cock. He was looking for sex and Tina was looking for something to make her forget about the job promotion she didn't get. Other girls offered oral, spankings and dinner, but Tina offered her ass. When the time came, he made her forget all about that promotion. Well, and about walking normal for a week.

She opened her eyes and saw that SweetKitty23 had made a counter-bid of 75 spanks.

"Motherfuck!" Tina said. 75 was insane. 75 was brutal. Mr. Paddle wouldn't go soft halfway through either like some dealers would. He would inflict every punishing swing and it would be your own damn fault if you couldn't handle it.

"Seventy-fucking-five," Tina said.

She reached between her legs. Her pussy was so warm and wet as she slipped her fingers over her clit. She thought of SweetKitty23 being tied down to a bench and getting the beating of her life. Tina stroked herself as she imagined that greedy slut's ass turning red, then purple then blue.

"Seventy-five," Tina said. She stroked faster. How many did SweetKitty23 bid last time? 43 was it? 43 was where Tina had drawn the line and she went without a spanking. She had to settle for masturbating like she was right now while SweetKitty23 got spanked by that wonderful sadist, Mr. Paddle. That slut was going to win again but at least she was going to pay for it.

Tina kept stroking, trying to climax off of the idea of SweetKitty23's discomfort. It wasn't working. The act of giving up had taken the thrill out of it all.

With sticky fingers, Tina made an offer of 90 spanks.

She went back to masturbating. Her pussy was so wet. 90 was unheard of. It was too much. She would need to take Monday off from work. It was crazy and yet Tina's pussy never felt so sensitive and alive.

Tina waited for a counter-bid from SweetKitty23 or Schoolgirl4u. Her fingers were a blur between her thighs. She was masturbating as fast as her heart was pounding. Would any of those bitches top that? How badly did they want it? How badly did they need to be spanked?

How badly did they need to win?

Minutes passed by with no counter offer. That didn't mean anything. They could be busy. They could be waiting till the time nearly ran out. There was strategy in bidding. Heck, they might be waiting for her to pull back her offer. There was a penalty for doing so, but it might be safer than 90 spanks.

Tina kept masturbating. The wet sound of her pussy and fingers replaced the ticking of the clock. She came close to coming but she held off. She had to know before she climaxed. Would she climax as an unfortunate winner of a terrible spanking, or would she climax as the lucky loser of a terrible auction?

The auction ended. There were no higher bids. xBottomSlutx was the winner.

Tina screamed as she climaxed.

I Know Nothing

One of the nice things about my week off was that I could spend even more time reading the scriptwriting blogs during the writer's strike. I started reading these blogs about a month ago as I loved the stories of trying to write something that was not crap when the network you work for is demanding crap. Reading those blogs made me so happy to be an obscure porn writer.

Anyhoo, I have picked up so much information on this writer's strike that my head will explode. The interesting thing is how all my friends/family/hated enemies who get all their information from E! and People magazine are far more informed than I am. The subject will come up and I will mention something like, how the writers of SpongeBob got screwed, and the people I am talking to inform me that the writers of SpongeBob eat caviar in their million dollar mansions and if they didn't get a better deal, it's because they are communists who don't understand how capitalism works, GO AMERICA!

Holy shit. It kills me how excited my friends get in telling me how evil the writer's guild is for endangering their weekly fix of network television. Three dollar a gallon gas doesn't excite them but don't fuck with their 'Lost'. I am starting to realize that if you really wanted to terrorize America, you'd have to hit their entertainment. People who bore me to tears describing how Cheney needs to be impeached, will break the kneecaps of a television writer if they endanger their Desperate Housewives.

If you want to know as little as I do about script writing, please check out these fine links.

Seriocity has been talking about the strike and described the painful process of pitching shows in a pre-strike environment.

Kung Fu Monkey is just plain funny most days with the regular flash of brilliance that makes you jealous.

If you love television, movies, comics or humor, then you should already be reading Mark Evanier's blog. He's been a great resource in which he answers the questions of readers who think all television writers get paid in gold coins.

Finally, United Hollywood is a great place to get all your short and sweet information.

Finally, err, final finally, for a brief just under four minute explanation about the writer's demands, watch this video.

Fiction: Control Group

"God, I hate my job," Erica said.

Laura Arsan nodded and kept working on her computer. Bitching about the job was the number one pastime at the Von Madd Laboratories. Laura was busy trying to create a personal lubricant meant to be used in space. It was tricky to make something that aided in reducing friction yet didn't break apart in zero gravity. Erica's daily complaining was a distraction the chemist didn't need.

"I mean, it pays well," Erica added. "Shit, in just the six months I've worked here, I've made enough to buy a house. I have four patents to my name and I get to design crazy sex toys for the rich and depraved."

Laura nodded again. She pushed her brown hair out of her eyes and focused on the screen. She ran a few chemical simulations on her computer to see if maybe it was worth exploring vegetable oil as a lubricant. Laura did take a moment to smile at the thought that she personally had 8 patents and had only worked here half as long as Erica.

"But seriously," Erica said. "Who would have thought that working at a sexual scientist lab would have such strict rules against fucking? I mean, what the hell?"

To read more, click Whole Post


That question made Laura stop. The twenty-seven year old woman couldn't quite figure that out herself. The number one rule that Dr. Otto Von Madd explained to each and every scientists there was simple- no orgasms. You weren't allowed to fuck or even masturbate.

"Dr. Von Madd explained it," Laura began. "He said that giving in to our base urges in a sexual environment would ruin laboratory discipline. Our contract states very clearly that for the safety of all involved, we must resist the urge to even playfully flirt with one another."

"But no masturbating?" Erica said. The redhead sighed. "When I showered today, I was this close to climaxing when the water hit my cunt. That can't be right."

Laura blushed. She could almost feel the hot spray of the water herself. "I do think it is a bit extreme."

"Yeah, especially since we have cameras in every shower, bathroom stall and bedroom," Erica said.

"Those do seem a bit excessive," Laura said. "But we did sign a contract promising to forsake all physical pleasures in the interest of science."

Erica rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you get anything done. I've been working on this all-purpose lubricant for desert conditions for a week now and I just can't focus. Every time I start looking at melting points, I start thinking about being dressed in a bell dancer's outfit while some sheik bends me over his knee and then-"

"Enough!" Laura snapped. She took a deep breathe. "Dirty talking is forbidden as well. Keep talking like that and we'll have a lot of explaining to do when we turn in our panties for inspection this evening."

The loudspeaker cut in. "Dr. Arsan, please report to Dr. Von Madd's office."

Erica's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit," she said. "Did they catch you doing something? Have you been masturbating?"

Laura sighed. "Trust me Erica, if I had been masturbating, I wouldn't have gained these ten pounds from the snack machines."

Dr. Von Madd looked bored when Laura came into his office. He was looking at a bank of video screens. On every screen was a different part of the underground laboratory. Laura recognized many of the areas, like the condom testing range and the dildo mold room. She sat down in the chair opposite the Dr. and waited patiently as he scanned the lab.

"Dr. Arsan," Dr. Von Madd said. "When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"Excuse me, sir?" Laura said.

"Last time you had orgasmic release, doctor," he said. "It's not a hard question."

"ah, maybe the night before I moved into my bunk quarters," she said.

"Amazing," he said. "Out of all the employees in Sector Frigid, you are the only one who doesn't sneak an orgasm. That is quite a level of self control."

Laura was confused. "I'm sorry, did you say I was the only one? I thought if you had an orgasm you were fired."

Dr. Otto Von Madd smiled. "Well, if we catch you doing it too flagrantly. It ruins the whole reason for setting up Sector Frigid. I mean, you can't have people fucking in the hallways if you are trying to create a sexually frustrating enviroment."

"You mean, I could have masturbated if I did it discretely?" Laura asked. A wave of horny despair washed over her. All those sleepless nights she jammed her hands under her pillow!

"Certainly," Dr. Von Madd said. "What is even more amazing is your productivity is so high. You are one of our best scientists and I full faith you will crack that zero gravity lubricant problem in less than a week."

Laura didn't know what to think. One question did come to mind. "Why?" she asked.

Dr. Von Madd pressed a few buttons and all the video screens changed. New areas appeared on the monitors. Laura recognized the Von Madd Laboratory decor, but not any of the locations. There were entire sections of the lab she had never seen before and more importantly, people were fucking on every screen! An orgy was going on in the commissary, the chemistry department was hosting a sampling of edible underwear and a blowjob was occurring in the hallway outside the radiation department. It was like there was an entire other lab where people fucked.

"We needed a control group," Dr. Von Madd said. "I knew that allowing sex among my scientists would unlock the sexual creativty we needed, but like any true scientist, I like to prove it. So I started Sector Frigid and imposed some strict rules. Oh, people still fuck, but the high sexual tension is exactly like a lesser mainstream lab. Every time we have an accident in the real lab where someone was careless because they were still giddy from a threesome, I check on the progress of Sector Frigid and look at the dismal project completion rates. If it makes you feel better, the sexual unhappiness of you and your coworkers help justify the amazing progress our main lab makes."

Laura felt a surge of heat blossom between her thighs. Months of sexual frustration slammed into her. She looked at all the sex on the video screens and drank it in like a starving woman.

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked.

"because it just seemed cruel," Dr. Von Madd said. "You are our best scientist in Sector Frigid. Imagine how much better you will be when we transfer you to the real lab."

"I could have sex?" she asked. Her hands moved to her thighs.

"Anytime," Dr. Von Madd said.

"I could masturbate as much as I want?" Laura asked. She unzipped her regulation lab slacks and pulled them down. It wasn't easy to do while still sitting but Laura managed it easily.

"We have a morning workout just for that purpose," Dr. Von Madd said.

"I would never have to listen to Erica bitch ever again?" Laura asked. She buried three of her fingers into her cunt and cried out.

"Not unless you want to spy on her going about her miserable, sex once a week in the beaker closet where she thinks we don't have a camera."

Laura climaxed as she thought about that. "Oh, I do want to see that."

Dr. Von Madd smiled. "I made you an hour long tape as a welcome aboard gift."

"Thank you," Laura said. She was masturbating furiously. "Would you mind fucking me too?"

Dr. Von Madd rose from his chair. He unzipped his pants as he walked over to her. "Dr. Arsan, welcome to the side of the lab that gets things done."

Just So You Know

My wife and I are taking this entire week off work. This should mean that I will have lots of wonderful time to blog but so far I have succeeded in only playing lots of City of Heroes, eating out and watching a lot of Torchwood.

If it makes you feel better, My City of Heroes Robot/Traps Pirate Queen Mastermind is now level 45. I have eaten a lot of peppermint chocolate that was delicious, and let me tell you, that Torchwood show rocks.

In other news, my old blogging friend, Vixxxen, has started a new blog at Risque Writing. Give her a holler.

Sex Store Packs

Seven girls came into the adult store. I had seen them in the parking lot. They waited outside for something, either waiting on more to arrive or just working up their courage to enter the big bad store.

Twenty minutes after we had gone in, The girls finally came in. They were giggling and far too loud. One by one, they saw me and my wife browsing the restraints aisle and one by one their giggling gave way to confused frowns. Couples came in here? Couples would shop a store that only sold stuff for sex? What kind of a relationship is that where both of them want sex?

They kept looking at my wife. Whispering to one another, they took turns examining her. We had just come from a fancy dinner so she was looking rather upscale with her expensive shirt and very professional slacks. I think it was the glasses that threw them. My wife looked smart, sophisticated and very very happy to have found the sparkly vibrators. These giggling girls who couldn't have been more than college freshmen if they were that old, just couldn't imagine growing up to become a successful woman who came to a sex store with her husband.

Their giggling at a stop, the girls wondered around with better squad discipline than most military units. Everyone was in arms reach of one another. Everyone talked inward. Eye contact with other people was strictly avoided but it was okay to take turns looking at my wife. They picked up items, quietly passed it around and then returned it to its place with little discussion. They were scared shitless.

I felt really sorry for them. They had misconceptions, shames and fears that required them to work up their courage to go into a sex store and then only in a group of seven. Damn, that's no way to live much less masturbate. I wanted to go up to them and tell them that it was okay to buy a vibrator but I am pretty sure all seven would have maced me if I got that close to them.

As we were leaving, I noticed a group of guys hanging outside the store. They were sitting around the same car that the girls were earlier. The boys were laughing and staring at the sex store. Maybe they were the boyfriends, waiting for their girls to return. Or maybe they were screwing up their courage too. Knowing kids though, I am betting that the girls made the boys wait outside for fear that so much porn would turn them into maniacs. Shit, looking at the nervous bunch of kids, the girls might have been right.

At least my wife and I had a good long fuck after that. Nothing like messed up youth to remind you how lucky we really are in our adulthood.

Post-Halloween Hangover

What a wild and crazy ride that was. I had a friend buy a new car yesterday and then spend the rest of the day freaking out because it was her first brand new car ever. Atlanta traffic was more horrible than 'Hostel 2'. My wife had a near nervous breakdown because of work and spent the night being upset. Wohoo! The fun never ends around here.

Tonight I am running away from home with said wife on our 11th wedding anniversary. I *might* be back Monday. It depends on how many hot hitchhikers we pick up along the way. 11th Anniversary is celebrated with threesomes, right?

So instead of actual content, I will direct you to other places so you don't get too bored. Yes, I am delegating entertainment to other blogs but it's cool cause it's the holidays.

Kevin is a very funny guy on most days but this is by far my current favorite right now. Click and read Samuel L. Jackson's Young Reader Line.

Once you're giggling, then head over to Will Pfiefer's X-Ray Spex and read his very comprehensive Horror Movie Marathon. Find some good movies to watch instead of 'Saw', okay? You deserve it.

Do you like H.P. Lovecraft? Do you want to see the very best in current Lovecraft writing? Then you have to read Footnotes to a Species Once Called Humanity. His 'Trois Freres' series is making me get off my ass and do some serious writing.

If all this fictional horror is starting to bore you, then go over to Atlanta Water Shortage and watch an ecological disaster happen in real time. Wohoo!

Now that you are shell shocked, confused and maybe whimpering, your mind is finally ready for the glory that is Cobra Starship.

Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Nine

Hannah paced the living room. It was Monday morning, and Adam had long been gone for work. She had the house all to herself and should have been busy cleaning it. There would be no curses to deal with today.

That was the problem.

She had awoken in a terrible depression. She tried to clean, but it seemed so pointless. She didn’t want to fucking clean. She wanted to fuck.

Being subjected to curses had not been her idea of a great way to spend a week, but damn it, it had been better than the alternative. The idea of spending more years cleaning, shopping and playing games seemed so damn hopeless.

“Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it,” she muttered. She walked right out the door, not even bothering to lock it behind her.

To read more, click Whole Post


“Fuck it,” she repeated as she walked out into the cold grass without any shoes.

“Fuck it,” she said again as she realized she was dressed only in her sweatpants and a sweater.

She approached the fence that separated her yard from Samuel’s. There was a gap in the fence, just big enough to let her pass. She could have sworn that gap had never been there before. She didn’t care. She walked right through the fence and up to his back door.

Hannah knocked on Samuel’s door. On the sixth knock, he answered.

“Hello, Hannah,” Samuel said. He was naked again.

“Fuck it,” she said. She stepped into his house. He closed the door behind her. She took a moment to look around and was surprised. Instead of being full of strange occult furniture and other weirdness, his house looked like any sparsely furnished bachelor pad. There were a couch and a television in the living room. In the hallway was a painting of a cat. Even the clock in the hallway was just plain. It looked like the house of a normal man, not the house of the man who had cursed her into having a sex life again.

“I want it back,” Hannah said.

Samuel folded his arms. “Want what back?”

“I want sex again,” she said. She gasped as Samuel grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close to him. His erection pressed against her belly. God, he was taller than she’d remembered.

He grabbed hold of her sweater and just ripped the seam at her neckline. Hannah screamed, but she made no effort to get away from him. He bent his face down and bit her shoulder oh so wonderfully gently. Her knees shook as he nibbled along her shoulder.

“Keep talking,” Samuel said.

“I am tired of settling,” she said. “And oh, that feels good. … I am tired of cleaning a house for a man who doesn’t fuck me. … Oh, God, yes, and I am tired of not getting what I want. … Oh, shit, yes!”

Samuel ripped the rest of her sweater off. There was her T-shirt.

RIP! Off it went.

Underneath was her bra —not even a good one. It was just another one of her boring safe white bras. She had probably bought it on sale.

RIP! Off it went.

Hannah shrieked as Samuel pushed her up against the hall wall. He grabbed a large breast in his hand and squeezed. He squeezed it like he wanted it, her other tit and her whole damn body.

“So what do you want me to do about it?” he said. His fingers found her nipple and twisted.

“Yes,” she hissed. “I … want you to show me how you did your magic.”

His hand went to her other breast and pinched it in a way that made her so deliciously wet.

“You mean this kind of magic?” he said.

“No,” Hannah said as he mauled her tits. “The magic that makes my world come alive. The power that turns everything into a sex toy.

Samuel leaned down till his mouth was inches from her ear. She could feel his hot breath pulsing in sync with the throbbing of his cock.

“And what will you give if I teach you?” he asked.

Hannah closed her eyes. “Me.”

“Will you give me your mouth?” he asked.

She shivered. “Yes.”

“Will you give me your ass?” he asked.

She clenched. “Yes.”

“Will you give me your cunt?”

She swallowed. “Oh, God, yes.”

“Then I will teach you,” he said. He kissed her neck.

“Will I have to leave my husband?” she asked.

“You don’t have to,” Samuel said. “But in time, you will on your own. Are you willing to accept that?”

She didn’t need to think about it. “Yes.”

Samuel took a step back. “Then I demand payment now. We can start with your mouth.”

Hannah fell to her knees with a grace she hadn’t known she had. His cock throbbed in front of her, beckoning her. She thought about how Adam had stopped her from sucking his cock. She felt a momentary flash of guilt, but it faded. Lust quickly replaced it, and all Hannah wanted was this beautiful cock in her mouth.

She opened her mouth, and Samuel stepped towards her. Her tongue guided his cock into her lips. She’d known his cock was big, but it seemed to be much larger in her mouth. After sucking on it for a minute, she realized it was still getting bigger!

Samuel grabbed her hair and kept her head pinned on his growing cock. Hannah, who had just endured a week of strange magic, did her best to adapt. She widened her mouth to take all of him. She felt his cock inch towards the back of her throat. She groaned as his impossible cock filled her mouth.

Slowly, Samuel fucked her mouth. Hannah grunted as he face-fucked her with his immense girth. She knew she should have been choking or at least gagging, but somehow she took it all. Better yet, the feeling was incredible. All she could taste was cock, and when his balls pressed against her chin, she treasured the feeling of him against her face.

The cock throbbed in her mouth. His grip on her hair became tighter as her hair was wrapped around his fists. His balls bounced off her chin as his hips moved back and forth. Hannah tasted his pre-cum, and a sudden heat flashed between her thighs.

He climaxed. A flood went down her throat, and she swallowed it all. It was impossible how much semen he was shooting into her, but she didn’t care. She took it. She devoured it. With every swallow, she felt reborn as a sexual person.

Samuel pulled out of her mouth. His cock was normal-sized again. Well, normally well-endowed. He looked down at her with the most contented smile on his face.

Hannah liked that look.

“Come on,” he said. He reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair. He headed towards the living room, not giving her much of a chance to stand. She followed him, hunched over and held down by the hair.

“Ow! Did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“Oh, not at all,” he said. “I just think a beautiful woman should be dragged by the hair every once in a while.”

She didn’t object anymore.

“Over the couch,” Samuel said. “Over the arm of the couch with your ass up.”

Hannah did as she was told. She didn’t say a word as he pulled her sweatpants and underwear off. She did, however, groan when he placed a hand on her bare ass.

“I’m going to tell you something about your ass, Hannah,” Samuel said.

“Yes?” she asked.

“It is a beautiful ass, and I plan to spank it. I will spank it for a very long time, and I can promise you that every lesson I teach you will be preceded with a spanking. Do you know why?”

Hannah clenched her ass. “No, why?”

“Because I want to, and because you like that idea.”

His hand came down on her ass before she could respond. It was a sudden slap that made her arch up from the sharp sting. As soon as she started to rise, Samuel’s hand went to her head and pushed face back down into the couch.

“No escape, Hannah,” he said. “Unless you want to go back to your boring old life. Do you want to go?”

Hannah shook her head as much as Samuel’s hand would let her.

“Good,” he said. “Now relax. Pain can do wonders for cleansing the mundane mind.”

Hannah didn’t believe that, but she didn’t want to go, either. She bit her lip and prepared herself for what was to come. She wasn’t ready.

She didn’t feel his hand anymore. Oh, he still held her head down by hand, but what struck her bottom was not his hand. Whatever struck her kept changing. At first, it felt like a book, landing with solid THUDs on her ass. Then, it felt sharp and precise, stinging like a belt. Later, it changed into small heavy SMACKs. Hannah could never tell what was coming next.

What was odd was that the differences were too fast. Two sharp stings followed by a thud and then five smacks within the span of ten seconds wasn’t possible. It was as though an army were spanking her bottom. There were so many different sensations landing one right after another on her ass. The only constant was Samuel’s strong arm, pinning her head down onto the couch that smelled like him.

Hannah felt herself become disconnected from her bottom. Her ass was on fire, burning with the constant attention. It hurt but not really. It was too much and yet not enough. It was a spanking and somehow foreplay. Her ass was beaten and yet adored. It was relentless, and it was sexy. She wanted to run away, and she wanted to stay. In the fury of the spanking, Hannah didn’t know what she was doing anymore, but she knew that she liked it.

This was so much better than the spanking she’d had in her living room. This was personal. This was not a punishment but something Samuel wanted. It was something Samuel wanted from her. She realized she could endure anything.

Then it stopped. The spanking stopped, but her ass could feel phantom strikes hitting her tender flesh. She became very aware of how much she had soaked the arm of the couch with her desire.

“Hannah?” Samuel asked. She was pulled up by her hair to face him but not off the couch.

“Yes?” she croaked out.

“You know what the real magic is?” he said.

“What?”

“You have to want it,” Samuel said.

“I want it,” Hannah said.

“I know,” he said. “So do I.”

He stepped behind her and kicked her legs apart. Hannah lifted her ass towards him. Her hair fell in front of her face, and she noticed that the colored strands were back. She wasn’t surprised.

Hannah offered herself to Samuel, his cock and his ability to change everything.

She wanted it.

He gave it to her.

The end.

Tits, Ass, Pussy and Thoughts

Valerie wanted pictures of her Halloween costume, which this year was Red Riding Hood. The red cape was awesome, as well as the shoes which we have already seen, but I fell hard for the fishnet stockings. Scarlet and oh so netty; they covered Valerie's legs and didn't hide a damn thing. It was a barrier but one that asks you to reach out and rip it open. Sigh.

Official Kinky Red Riding Hood Costume Joke- "Your safeword today is Woodsman."






This is a picture that I took when most of the clothes were off. Valerie has one of the best sexy smiles I know. That's is the smile of a woman about to be filled in all sorts of good ways. At least I think it is considering I have not seen Valerie filled. Hmmm.

So, I was sorting through my pictures afterwards and I patted myself on the back for doing a classic blogger naked picture. Half the face is gone but naughty parts are shown. I have five shots like this and that's it. I don't have any of Valerie in this pose with her entire face. I couldn't beleive it at first until I realized that a year or two of blogging has taught me some really shitty photography habits. I have the perfect anonymous nudie picture, I just don't have the perfect Valerie nudie picture.


Finally we have Valerie's ass. Wow, nothing I can say can improve upon her bottom. In light of that, I would like to direct your attention to a few things.

One, over in my blogroll, Otto Von Madd is running for President and has a blog to chronicle this attempt. Do not fear, this blog will not suffer in content. The fact of the matter is that I have such expansive political knowledge that I needed to drain it somewhere. A fictional character running for office just made sense. I get to put all my current news knowledge to use and you get a silly blog. We all win.

Second, I am terribly happy everyone is enjoying the Seven Curses of Hannah. I went through a deep depression just writing it so it's glad to see you get some fun out of all that pain. When you hit your mid-thirties, that seems to be when all your married friends decide what a big fucking mistake they made. My own marriage has had it's ups and downs so there are certainly some inspirations drawn from real life too. The thing I would like to remind all my readers is to me, Hannah and Adam have a sucky marriage because they deliberately take pains to avoid realizing how sucky things are. I know I should let the story say that for me, but I think a detail like that is too damn important to leave to my writing skills.

Third, I just wanted to say how happy all of my readers make me. Knowing you guys and gals are there waiting to see what I do next has been a big ego boost and a great inspiration. You help keep me writing, thinking and entertaining and I appreciate that a lot.

Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Eight

“Hannah, are you awake?”

Hannah opened her eyes. A strand of her blond hair was lying in a curl in front of her. She felt a hand on her hip, and she thought it was the invisible touch she had experienced yesterday. It was when she felt Adam’s cock pressed against her ass that she realized it was her husband gripping her hip.

“I’m awake,” she lied. She was emotionally exhausted from last night. Tossing and turning, all she had dreamed about was Samuel, the odd curses she was under and how badly she wanted to get laid.

She felt Adam’s cock throb. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Adam said. “I just wanted to fuck you.”

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Hannah was more awake now.

“Really?” she said.

He turned her over on her back and climbed on top of her. She looked at her husband in surprise. His hair was a mess, and his morning breath was atrocious. He sure as hell hadn’t taken a shower. This was so unlike him.

Especially that thick pulsing cock between his legs.

“What do you say?” Adam said. “Maybe it’s your hair, but I really just have to fuck you this morning.”

Hannah giggled. “Yes.”

He slid right in. Despite the highly sexual week Hannah had enjoyed, having a real cock enter her was like heaven. This was just what she wanted.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” Adam said. “I don’t know where I want to kiss you first.”

Hannah lifted one of her tits. “Right here,” she said.

He growled, and Hannah trembled. How long has it been since he growled for her instead of at her? She shivered as Adam dived on her tit. He bit far too hard, but that was OK. He hadn’t had this much passion for her tits since they were dating. Hannah decided he could have all of her tit he wanted.

Adam fucked her while he devoured her breasts. It was a slow, steady grind, and she dug her fingernails into his back. It had truly been far too long.

“We should do this more often,” Adam said.

“Yes!” Hannah agreed.

They fucked faster. He kicked off the sheets. She wrapped her arms and legs around her husband like she was never going to let him go.

“I want to fuck you all day long,” Adam said.

Hannah groaned.

“I want to fuck your brains out,” Adam said.

Hannah moaned.

“I never want to leave your hot pussy,” Adam said.

Hannah believed him.

She climaxed. She came, and it was so much better than masturbating. It was even better than the orgasms she had from her curses. It rocked her, shook her and made her fall into a million pieces and come back together.

And once she had her orgasm, Adam let go with his. He climaxed like an animal, yelling his pleasure as he released into his wife. Hannah’s heart raced as she heard his cry. It was a scream of victory and possession.

Adam smiled and kissed her. It was such a tender kiss, morning breath and all. After the kiss, he rolled off her and laughed.

“We should do that every morning,” he said.

“OK,” Hannah answered. She rolled over and cuddled with him.

“What got into you this morning?” she asked.

“I think I realized just how lucky I was to have you,” Adam said. “I mean, you’ve been pretty unhappy lately. The house is a mess, and at first, I thought that you were being lazy, but after thinking about it, I realized that it has been a long time since we’ve done anything together. We always end up doing my hobbies. Or we play Warcraft, which isn’t about us, it’s about that game. I mean, you and I got married because we wanted to be with each other, not because I was going to make my job my entire life and you were my housekeeper, right?”

Hannah purred and rubbed her face in her husband’s chest hair. “Damn right.”

“I guess it occurred to me this morning,” he continued, “that I was damn lucky to have a wife who wants to jump my body, and it was about damn time I took advantage of that. I know work has been making me too stressed for sex, but you know what? Fuck that shit. I like fucking you, and damn it, I’m going to fuck my wife no matter what happens at work. That work for you?”

“Yes!” Hannah said.

“I love you,” Adam said. “But I need to go to the bathroom. Will you be ready for round two when I get back?”

“Fuck, yes,” she said.

Adam went to the bathroom, and Hannah sat up in her bed. This was amazing! Adam did understand what was going on. He really did know what she had been going through. They could have a happy marriage, and she didn’t have to get her kicks from creepy neighbors who thought they knew Hannah better than her own husband.

Hannah glanced at her dresser and saw herself in the mirror. Her face was still glowing from her orgasm. She especially liked how red her cheeks were. Not to mention how her long brown hair was just a tousled just-fucked mess.

The strands were gone.

Hannah scrambled to her mirror to make sure. All of the colored strands were gone. Her hair was back to the original rich brown color. It was strange for Hannah to be looking at her normal hair again. It made her doubt that the last week had happened at all.

Was she finally free? Why were there only six curses?

Adam walked back in. He looked grumpy. “So what are your plans this morning?” he said.

“I thought we would make love,” she said, plopping back on the bed.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Maybe later. I haven’t even had breakfast yet, or taken a shower.”

He walked right past her nude body and changed into some slacks. “I was thinking about getting a few rounds of golf in this morning. Maybe you should clean the house, and when I get back, we can play some more Warcraft or something.”

Hannah nodded. She didn’t trust herself to talk. She understood what today’s curse had been. For one all-too-brief morning, she’d had the husband she wanted instead of the one she lived with.

Just as with her marriage, Hannah wished she’d known that she had a time limit before the sex died.

To be concluded,

TV on the Radio:Wolf Like Me

In my house, you are only allowed to play TV on the Radio at full volume. 'Wolf Like Me' is about werewolves but damn, it always makes me feel like a dom. This is the perfect song for me before I step into a dungeon.

My mind has changed
my bodys frame but god I like it
my hearts aflame
my bodys strained but god I like it

Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Seven

“Adam isn’t so bad,” Hannah thought. It was Saturday morning, and Adam had made breakfast. He made his very complicated bacon omelets. The table was laid out for two, and he made a big deal out of pretending to be her waiter. It reminded Hannah so much of how he used to act when they were dating.

Over breakfast, he attempted an apology.

“Work has been really bad this week,” he said.

She nodded.

“And I have had all this stress placed on me to get this Davidson project done in time.”

She ate another bite and nodded again.

“I didn’t realize how much I must have been working till I realized I hadn’t noticed your new hair color.”

Hannah nodded.

To read more, click Whole Post



“I mean, wow, I must really be working really hard not to notice something like that. I think I might need a vacation somewhere. Like maybe an extended golf weekend or something. Go down to Florida and spend three days just golfing to unwind.”

Hannah just looked at him. That was his idea of a vacation?

Adam squirmed a little under her silent stare. “I forgot the butter. Do you need anything from the kitchen?”

Hannah shook her head. She understood that this breakfast wasn’t a plea for forgiveness. It was a bribe for some golf trip.

Adam hurried off to the kitchen. Hannah sighed as soon as he was gone. She had had that brief fleeting feeling that Adam understood how unhappy she was, and now it was gone. He didn’t see past his own needs. Needs that apparently didn’t include her.

Under the table, a hand closed around her thigh. The sudden touch made her jump. The startled feeling was replaced by fear as she realized that one of her curses was happening now — with Adam in the house!

She looked under the table, but there was nothing there. She sat back up and groaned as two invisible hands gripped her breasts through her robe. Firm fingers kneaded her tits like an urgent lover. Hannah groaned from the wonderful touch, but her heart was pounding with terror of Adam walking in on her strange curse.

“I also got the jelly if you wanted it,” Adam said.

The hands disappeared. Hannah waited for the next touch, trying to will herself ready. She thought that if she didn’t jump or let it show, she could endure this curse in secret.

“So,” Adam began again. “The place I was looking at is a golf resort but they have things for the wives to do, too. They have a shopping mall and a pool you could lounge at.”

Hannah didn’t hear him at first. She was waiting for the next touch. Nothing was happening, though.

“A pool?” Hannah said. That was the only part she remembered.

“Oh, yes,” Adam said. “Two actually.”

He started to recite the text of the brochure or Web site he had obviously been studying. Hannah half=listened to him while waiting for the next sensory assault. Still nothing happened. Was that it? A touch on her thigh and a grabbing of her boobs? She found herself kind of disappointed.

“So, I was thinking sometime in November,” Adam finished. “We can make reservations today.”

“Sure,” she said. She got up and gathered her dishes. She half-expected Adam to jump up and help, but apparently his eagerness to please had evaporated once he got what he wanted. He just sat there while she carried her dishes into the kitchen.

Once she was in the kitchen, something grabbed her ass. It wasn’t a pinch, it was a full squeeze of her buttock. It was like what a lover does right before he whispers something naughty in your ear.

Hannah stood there, enjoying the squeeze. She listened for whispers but nothing came.

Adam came in. “I’m really glad you see how important this golf trip is. I think it is the perfect thing I need in order to stay sharp and get that promotion.”

The squeeze stopped as soon he walked in. She understood then what was going on. He was blocking her curse. If she stayed with him, nothing would happen. With him, she would be safe from whatever was happening. He could be her refuge today.

“So what are you doing today?” Hannah asked.

“Thought I would play some games till 1,” he said. He seemed a little hesitant. He was worried she wanted him for something. “Then I was going to find a ball game to watch.” He paused, afraid of the answer. “What are you doing?”

She thought about it. “Mostly stuff around the house. I doubt you’ll even see me.”

Adam was so relieved that he didn’t notice that relief was clear on Hannah’s face as well.

As Adam made his retreat into the living room, Hannah hurried to the laundry room. Immediately the hands were back, running wild all over her body. She stumbled to the washer and leaned against it. She remembered the orgasm she had had here and hoped that today would be just as explosive.

Invisible hands crawled all over her body. They moved under her clothes, yet somehow didn’t disturb them. Finger danced over her thighs, squeezed her nipples, squeezed her ass and touched her lips. It was a full-body grope. It was like being manhandled by a dozen men.

It was like being desired.

She could hear Adam’s videogames coming from the living room. Back in the early days of their marriage, Hannah would sit with him and cheer him on. Later, she resented the videogames that he would study and master instead of spending that energy on her. Today, however, she loved every explosion, laser and car crash she could hear. It all meant that the invisible hands would keep mauling her.

After ten glorious minutes of being manhandled, she realized they were never going near her sex. Her nipples were pinched. Her thighs were lovingly squeezed. Her lips were touched by teasing fingertips, but her pussy got nothing. Hannah thought about touching herself, but she resisted. She wanted the curse to get her off. She had a hard enough time getting Adam to fuck her; she didn’t want to settle during a curse, too.

She thought it might have something to do with proximity to Adam. Since the hands stopped whenever Adam was in the same room with her, maybe his just being within earshot was blocking the magic from getting her off.

She went to the study, but there the hands only tease her with a frontal body massage that skipped the magic area of her sex.

She went to the bedroom, but there the hands teased her by pulling and tugging at her heavy tits.

She even tried the bathroom, but there the hands would probe and tease her ass without ever getting near her pussy.

Hannah stood by the window. She was wet, horny and frustrated. Adam’s football game was starting, and still she had not climaxed. She had exhausted every room in the house, and none was far enough. Hannah sighed in self-pity. This was the most frustrating curse yet. This was what she got for watching her neighbor in his yard.

“The yard,” she said. She laughed. Hannah grabbed some clothes out of her bedroom. She grabbed some shorts, even though she knew it was too cold outside for them. That was OK. Hannah counted on the invisible hands to keep her warm.

She went outside to her backyard. She stayed on the deck since she hadn’t bothered to grab shoes. The cold October air nipped at her, but she had been right: The roaming, invisible hands did keep her warm. She sat on one of the lounge chairs and shivered on the plastic. The cold just added more sensation to the curse.

Her guess had been right. The hands moved to her sex. Oh, other hands were still playing with her legs, her face and her tits, but now it felt as though there were an orgy of hands on her pussy.

“Oh yes,” Hannah moaned. How long has it been since someone masturbated her? Well, no matter when it had been, it was nothing like this. She never had fingers pulling and twisting her clitoris. She had never had finger after finger fuck her like some sort of manual gangbang. She had never felt so touched in that one place where she wanted to be touched the most.

The clouds moved slowly overhead while Hannah was being finger-fucked. She became aware of how bare the trees looked. Wood smoke was in the air, drifting from someone’s fireplace. All of these sensations were sinking into her as she writhed and groaned on her chair. She was being fucked outdoors, and she never imagined that happening on a cold, lazy October Saturday.

She climaxed, gripping the arms of the lounge chair. She managed to stay quiet, with only the wide grin on her face showing how much pleasure she was enjoying.

“You’re beautiful when you do that,” a voice said.

Hannah jumped in her seat. Leaning on the fence was Samuel. He looked so damned smug.

“That was a compliment, or are you unused to hearing those from your husband?” Samuel said.

Hannah didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to vent, to let it all pour out to this mysterious neighbor. She wanted to talk about Adam, about her frustrations and about how this week had been one of the best in her life.

Instead, she just stayed quiet. Denial was an old habit for Hannah.

“My husband does just fine,” she said. “I am a happily married woman. Your curses are … just a pleasant distraction.”

Samuel nodded. “Let’s see what your opinion of your husband is tomorrow.”

Hannah wanted to say something biting, but Samuel left. He went back to his house, leaving her alone in her yard. The wind blew harder, and there were no more hands to warm her.

to be continued,

High Heel Bondage

I like rope but I don't like rope enough. When I look at hobbies, I always ask myself what the learning time is going to be, and what would I rather be doing. With writing, I love it and will always write if I have some spare time. Photography to me is writing one image stories, so I will always want to learn how to do better. Rope though, after fumbling with my fifth knot, I start thinking about why I haven't written another Librarian story. The learning curve is just too high. I have things to do that I love more.

So, thank the Gods for eye-bolts, premade restraints and clips.

One thing I have found from not using rope is that I am fond of the one limb bondage. Rather than cocoon someone, I like the idea of just tying a part of someone down so that I am free to play with the rest of them. There is also something mental going on when you bind an ankle and that's it. The fact that they are not escaping on their own means that something emotional/mental/psychic is going on.

It also left her other leg free to go elsewhere, like around my hip.

Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Six

Hannah soaked in her bathtub. The water was as hot as she could stand it. The CD player filled the room with random selections of her favorite songs. The lights were off, and two candles flickered in the darkness. It was only 9 in the morning, but she had already had a rough day.

“What a fucking pig sty,” Adam had yelled over breakfast.

Work had called him this morning. Some disaster was happening. They needed Adam right away. These kinds of things happened more frequently lately, but that was the price Adam paid for his high-paying job. Sometimes, he handled it like a martyr, moaning about the fact that he was the only one smart enough and talented enough to handle these disasters.

But then there was his other response.

To read more, click Whole Post



“When’s the last time you vacuumed? I swear this dust ball has been here for a month!”

“We’re still out of light butter? You know this shit butter makes me congested!”

“Why the fuck is the laundry not done yet?”

“What the hell did you do with your hair?”

That last question was the one that hurt the most. With all that had happened to her, what he’d finally noticed were the new colors in her hair. He didn’t notice the soreness she had from all the orgasms. He didn’t notice how guilty she had felt. The asshole only noticed that his damn house wasn’t as pretty as he was used to. It was searching for something else to criticize that finally made him notice her hair.

Hannah retreated to the bathroom after he was gone. Before she had videogames and chores to fill her day, for that matter, before she had even been married, she used to retreat to a warm, soothing bath. It was a habit she’d picked up when she was a teenager. When her parents brought up her weight and lack of dates one too many times, the bathroom was the only place she had been able to go to escape their helpful advice.

The hot water cradled her. Her body felt smaller submerged in water. She sunk down until her chin was under water. Her knees came up, rising from the water like wet cliffs. Both of her nipples also peeked out, hard and red from the hot water. She felt her tension melt away.

She forgot about the house.

She forgot about Adam.

She forgot about the curse.

The water pulled her down. Some great suction pulled at her, and the water went over her. Her head was dunked down and Hannah just managed to hold her breath in time. The water held onto her, somehow holding her arms and legs down so she couldn’t get up. As her head went down, her breasts emerged from the water and wobbled on the surface.

Hannah’s head was pulled up from the water. Her body was still pinned, but at least she could grab some air.

“Holy shit!” she yelled. She was angry. All of the calm she had gathered after Adam left was gone. Now she was just pissed. “Drowning isn’t sexy!”

A rattle came from her sink. The small basket of hair clips and barrettes rattled as if something were alive in it. She watched as most of her hair clips came floating out of the basket. It wasn’t all of her hair pins, and it took her a moment to understand which clips were flying. They all had teeth or something that could open and close.

The hair clips flew and hovered over Hannah’s nude, wet body. They circled, closing and opening over her. She tried to move, but the water sapped all of her strength, making her an observer of her own torment.

The water pulled her back down under the water. It was slow this time, and she took a deep breath to hold her. She wasn’t afraid. She was helpless, and her face was under water, but for some reason, she was unafraid. Curiosity and a sudden heat between her thighs made her want to see how this played out.

Once again, her breasts rose from the water as her head was dunked. As soon as her breasts were exposed, the flying hair clips attacked. They dived down like angry wasps. Plastic teeth bit into her flesh. Her biggest hair pins fastened cold metal around her nipples. As more of her breasts were exposed, more of her clips attacked. Her tits were covered, and not a single clip was holding on gently to her tender flesh.

Her head was kept under water. She had thought it would hurt more than it did. The pinpoints of pain were more like love bites. Even the big clips that had her nipples were no harsher than Adam’s hardest bite. It was the need to breathe that worried her. How long was she going to be kept down?

The hair clips flew off, and before Hannah could react, her head was suddenly pushed upward. She gasped for air before gasping from the sensation of having her bitten tits submerged in the hot water. She grabbed a mauled breast and examined it. It was covered in plastic teeth marks but otherwise unharmed.

“Was that it?” she asked.

The water pulled her back down. The hair clips attacked again. Before she’d thought they were harsh, but now she appreciated how gentle they had been. The clips this time came down with a vengeance. They pinched. They sunk into her. They nibbled.

The big clips were the worst. This time, they clamped around her nipples and twisted. She fought to keep from screaming under the water. Her nipples were on fire, being twisted and pulled without mercy.

Worse, every twist of the clips on her nipples was sending shockwaves between her thighs. Hannah’s pussy came to life. The more her breasts suffered, the more her pussy wanted to be touched. The more the tiny barrettes nibbled her tits, the more her pussy wanted to be nibbled as well. All this attention on her tits just reminded her how long it has been since she had been truly taken. She tried to move her hands to her pussy, but the water’s curious strength still held her. There was no escape for Hannah, neither literally nor sexually.

The water released her. She emerged, once again gasping for air while the clips flew around her. Horny, she reached between her legs and stroked herself. She groaned at the bliss.

She stroked once.

She stroked twice.

On her third stroke, the water reclaimed her.

This time, however, Hannah’s ass was lifted up as her head went down. Like some great waterspout, her ass was lifted up in the air. She kicked her legs in the air and struggled to keep some sort of balance. It was hard to hold her breath like this, even harder now because she didn’t know why she was being held in this position.

The hair clips attacked. They landed on her calves. Each one latched onto her with merciless plastic teeth as rows of barrettes worked their way up her calves to her thighs, to her pussy and right onto her clit.

“Fuck!” she yelled under the water. Sweet, unbelievable, wonderful pain exploded from her clitoris, quickly replaced by the warmest, most powerful surge of desire she had ever felt. She was being bitten, eaten and devoured.

She climaxed. It happened so fast. She felt it coming, and before she could do anything, she climaxed with a yell. As soon as she cried out, her body was released, and she rose out of the water. She tried to stand on shaking legs, but she couldn’t get any purchase.

She shivered in her hot bath water. All around her the hair clips floated. The magic was gone. The marks on her thighs and breasts were still there. Also still there were the pounding heart and ragged breathing.

She sank back down into the water, and closed her eyes. She didn’t bother to look for the new lock of hair. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to think about curses, Samuel or how the pain and hot water had given her a better orgasm than Adam ever gave her. This was her bath time. This was her refuge. All of that could wait. For now, she just wanted to escape and relax.

A hair clip floated past her chin. Another shiver went down her body. She sighed. She knew she would never relax here again.


To be continued,