Gone Honeymooning

I shall be in Puerto Rico with my wife for a few days. I expect to be back before 2010 but who knows? I might run across pirates and have an adventure.

This trip is our long delayed Honeymoon. We are splurging a bit and flying First Class and staying at a really nice hotel by the beach. We will eat pork chops as big as my head. We will rent a bed on the beach, yes a bed, and lounge around. We shall Honeymoon a lot. Maybe see some more forts and eat a lot of fish.

I want to take a moment and thank my wonderful wife for existing. With her support, I learned how to drive, I got the medication I needed for my anxiety and I did a shit load of growing up. With her unconditional love, she encouraged me to write whatever the fuck I want to write which has made for an amazing two years of productivity.

I can't say enough how much my wife's love has really helped my writing. In the past I would write in ways that I felt would make me more attractive or interesting to me readers. Now that I am in a secure relationship, I can focus on making stories that are entertaining and arousing without worrying about what it says about me. I wouldn't have written Erishella three years ago and I think that is a tragedy.

Lastly, I want to thank my readers who have stuck with me as I go into weird trends and unusual settings. It has been a great year for me personally and I am tickled that so many of you have been having fun as well.

I will see you next year.

Fiction: No Spoilers

Claire Currie closed her bedroom door. Downstairs, her mother and father were watching something on the telly. They were bloated from dinner and egg nog. Claire herself was quite exhausted. She only saw her parents once a year for Christmas and her mother had made all of her favorite foods. Claire was full and ready to sleep but one thing was keeping her awake. She hadn’t opened the gift from her boss yet.

She looked at the bedroom door for a lock. Even though she had grown up in this room, she had never needed the lock before. Claire was happy to see one. She clicked the button and relaxed.

“Being a librarian requires privacy,” Claire said out loud. It sounded like something Mr. Dillon would say. Of course, being a librarian doesn’t require privacy. It was being a librarian for the world’s greatest collection of erotica that made privacy necessary. Mr. Dillon being who he was, Claire fully expected his gift to be an erotic book.

Before she opened it, Claire decided to get properly ready. She stripped off her sweater and blouse to expose her large brown breasts barely contained by her bra. Although she did not have to adhere to uniform standards of the Collection on her vacation, Claire still preferred to. Because it was a Thursday she was wearing an electric blue thong with a matching bra. Claire stripped off her pants and chuckled at how poorly the thing covered her thick black bush of pubic hair. Mr. Dillon would approve.

Nearly naked, Claire sat on her bed and took out the slender package. She stretched out her long brown legs and put the package between her thighs. Mr. Dillon had given it to her right as she was about to climb into the taxi. She had no idea where he was going for his vacation, but Claire knew she would miss him. He was her boss, but he was also the man who stripped, spanked, fondled, humiliated and fucked her.

“Don’t open it till Christmas Eve, Ms. Currie,” he had told her.

Claire had obeyed. She had enjoyed her time with her family but they didn’t understand the erotic nature of her work. They only knew she gathered rare books. Claire had never told them how each and every book was a treasure of smut and pornography.

The last few days had been oddly lonely. They would tell her a funny story about her sister, Madeline, and her two kids. Claire couldn’t exactly respond with the humorous story of what happened when Mr. Dillon brutally fucked her ass while she read out loud from a limerick book. Claire found herself editing out the most interesting parts of her life when she talked to her family. She loved her job but she never realized how much she had to keep to herself.

Now that it was Christmas Eve, Claire couldn’t wait to open her gift and reconnect in a small way with Mr. Dillon. She ripped open the wrapping very carefully. It would be a book, that is for certain, but what kind of rare and fascinating book would Mr. Dillon give?

The book was a cheap paperback from the 60’s. A lurid cover showed a librarian being spanked by a man and a woman. It was titled “The Librarian Whore’. No author was listed.

Claire’ training kicked in. The book was made of inferior pulp. There was water damage on the cover. The publishing company was a cheap outfit that published no remarkable works. Mr. Dillon bought books for the sake of the collection being complete, not because of quality. Claire estimated its value to be barely three dollars.

She was disappointed but she opened the book. Mr. Dillon had written something on the copyright page. Claire was really surprised. Mr. Dillon hated any sort of defacement on a book. Maybe he didn’t consider this cheap piece of shit to be a real book.

“Dear Ms. Currie. Please accept this gift as recognition of your somewhat adequate performance this year. Read and remember Ms. Currie, no spoilers.”

Claire frowned. For this she had been anxious all week? This is what she looked forward to while her dad bored her with stories about politics? Claire thought about her mother’s questions about why Claire didn’t get a nice quiet librarian job back in Britain. At the time Claire couldn’t imagine giving up her job with the Collection but now she was having second thoughts.

“Somewhat adequate performance!” Claire said out loud. It was a perfect imitation of Mr. Dillon’s American accent. To her annoyance, she found herself getting wet at her own impersonation of his voice.

She started to read. The book was precisely the drivel she was expecting. It was about a librarian named Regina. On the very first page, Regina was seduced by a young college boy and was already on her knees. There was barely two sentences describing Regina but the blowjob was worthy of two pages of description.

Claire turned the page. At the top of the next page was more of Mr. Dillon’s handwriting. The message was brief and to the point.

“Suck something appropriate for five minutes.”

Well now. Claire’s mood brightened considerably. Something appropriate? Perhaps Mr. Dillon meant her nipples. She glanced down at the page and saw that the blowjob was still continuing in the story. Claire felt that Mr. Dillon was referring to cock. That was not readily available. What would her strict boss consider as an adequate substitute?

She looked around her bedroom. Sitting on her nightstand was her brush. The handle was quite thick. Not cock thick, but it would do.

Claire took the brush and slipped it into her lips. The irregular shape was a challenge but Claire was up to the task. She had a lot of practice when it came to sucking. Mr. Dillon thought face fucking was good way to wake up on a Saturday morning. Claire relaxed her throat and let the brush handle slip all the way in.

Three minutes went by so slowly. Claire licked and sucked with the same enthusiasm she would give Mr. Dillon. As she sucked, she found herself actually interested in what happens to Regina next. As her own cunt grew wetter, Claire hoped Regina got some satisfying sex soon.

When the three minutes were up, Claire removed the brush. She made sure to suck every bit of moisture from it as it left her lips. She imagined every drop of spit was Mr. Dillon’s seed.

Claire picked the book back up. She started to flip through the pages to see how much more writing Mr. Dillon had added. A split second later, Claire remembered his instructions and stopped. No spoilers. She had thought that was just a comment on Mr. Dillon’s usual policy on spoilers but now she knew better. She would have to find out what else Mr. Dillon had in store for her the old fashioned way.

Claire leaned back in her bed. She spread her legs wide and resisted the urge to touch herself. The thong was pressing hard against her wet sex. Her nipples tingled with arousal against her bra. It was Christmas Eve and Claire Currie was horny enough to fuck an entire college of men.

“Please let there be stroking,” she whispered. “Please let there be a little spanking. Please let there be an orgasm.”

Claire smiled to herself. This was proving to be a worthy gift after all. It was a gift worthy of an erotic librarian.

She read all night long.

Baroness Gift

I picked up this sweet Holiday Theme sketch of the Baroness from ebay. It was a little gift to myself for making it through another year without any major breakdowns.

Drawn by the fearsome Frelncr, I can't recommend his work enough.

Ho Ho Arr

This is a rather poor picture of a really awesome Christmas gift. A friend of mine took this image off my blog and sent it to an artists on Etsy who made it the cover of a really nice writing notebook.

That is the power of the Internet right there. Scarlett Drake was a character of mine from City Of Heroes, drawn by an artists on Deviant Art and turned into a cover by an artist on Etsy. My friend used my blog to look through my images and pick one she thought would suit me best.

Such a gift would have been impossible ten years ago. I am tickled.

I will have a new Librarian story out Wednesday and then I shall be gone from Christmas till the New Year. I'll be Puerto Rico with my wife and my new notebook.

What Did We Learn This Week, Shon?

I learned that Isabella Ardigo is one hot lady. A Penthouse Pet in April 1979, I had forgotten all about her till I was going through some archives. When I saw her again I was taken back to my youth and how fascinated I was by this lady. Exotic, beautiful and cold, I see a lot of her in some of my current characters.

I learned that when I am really stressed with work, my favorite game to unwind is a free game you can download on the Internet. Spelunky is an old school platformer game that randomly creates the level every time you play. That means 50% of the time it is hilariously unfair and the other 50% of the time, you are doing high-fives with yourself because of your awesome skills.

I learned that an Ipod Nano rocks. 8 gigs on a device the size of my finger?

I learned that I still have a capacity for crude humor. I am enjoying Apocalypse Lane way too much. It is a web cartoon about a bunch of mutated losers. The main character is a foul mouthed three-legged cat named Cuddles. If you only watch one episode, watch the Poker Night one.

I learned that there are still sexy music videos out there that i haven't seen.



I learned that even though I haven't even published my Choose Your Own Porn story yet, I am itching to write another one. I suspect it comes from the fact that I gave up tabletop role-playing games to focus on my writing. Players always want to supply their own lines of dialogue damn it. In my Wizard's Harem story, I got to create a sexy adventure and do all the cool hero dialogue. I want to do that again. The next adventure will take place on a space pirate ship and feature a submissive woman. I just have to clone myself and start writing it.

Most of all, I learned that December is a fucking busy time to try to get any real writing done.

Fiction: A Princess Carol

Once upon a time there was a wonderful Island. The temperature was always warm and by royal decree, the rain fell only at night unless there was a wet t-shirt contest. The coconuts were always juicy and the fish leaped into the boats so they could be fried with wonderful spices. The sun always shined unless it was Christmas Eve. On that day, snow was permitted to fall and turn the Island into a Winter Paradise.

Nobody liked Christmas more than the beautiful Island Princess. She received gifts every day of the year because she was so pretty, but on Christmas she got the really good gifts. She received jeweled flowers to put in her long black hair. She would get a new grass skirt made of exotic grasses to go around her lovely hips and firm ass. Christmas was when she would get her new coconut bra to go over her massive royal breasts. The coconut bra would be adorned with precious gems and have spectacular support.

Yes, the Island Princess loved Christmas not because it was a happy time of year or because of good will towards commoners. She loved it because it was when she got really good gifts. That is what Christmas meant to her.

One Christmas Eve, the Island Princess was waiting in bed for Santa to come. She was counting dolphins in her head when a terrible noise alarmed her. The Island Princess sat up in bed and let the blanket fall from her bare chest.

A shimmering white form was at the head of her bed. It was a handsome man carrying massive heavy chains. The Island Princess could see right through him. He was a ghost!

“Who are you? And why are you disturbing my sleep?” the Island Princess commanded.

“I am the Island Prince of four hundred years ago!” the ghost moaned. “I was once like you. I was the most handsome Prince the Island had ever seen! I was selfish and always demanded more gifts for Christmas. I never once gave to the poor or let a pauper take my place so we could learn a valuable lesson. Now as punishment, I must go through the afterlife carrying these heavy chains made from my own selfish desires!”

The Island Princess looked at the handsome Ghost Prince. He wore nothing but chains across his broad chest and masculine thighs. Chains were wrapped around his powerful arms and across his big shoulders. A giant padlock covered his manhood but it could not cover all of it.

“Wow, you really are quite handsome,” the Island Princess said.

The Ghost Prince hesitated. “Uh, thank you. But be warned! I have come to tell you that you will be visited by three ghosts! Umm, would you mind pulling the blanket over your breasts? It is hard to focus when you are like that.”

The Island Princess cupped her breasts in her hands. She covered her nipples but the way she squeezed her breasts just drew attention to how plump they were. It didn’t help that she was pouting her lips as well.

“Three ghosts?” The Island Princess said. “Are they as handsome as you?”

“What?” the Ghost Prince said. “Uh, no. The Ghost of Island Christmas Past is a slender woman with a hook nose. The Ghost of Island Christmas Present is a big fat man with a beard. The Ghost of Island Christmas Future is all in shadows because his final reveal will be a big psychological surprise so I don’t want to spoil it.”

The Island Princess rose up to her knees in bed. The blanket fell away to reveal her lack of sleeping underwear and her abundance of pubic hair. She lowered her chin in a coy manner. “I’d rather talk to you,” she said.

The giant padlock rang as something hard slapped against it. The Ghost Prince blushed.

“It is very important you talk to them,” the Ghost Prince said. “They will teach you the true meaning of Christmas. They will show you the sad story of Fat Jim, a child on your island who eats who overeats and needs proper exercise equipment that your riches could provide. You will see your past and how your selfishness has caused people on the Island to eat too many sweet foods. You will feel bad for the child and even cry when you find out he dies choking on fried fish. It will change your life.”

“Sounds boring,” the Island Princess said. She yawned and removed her hands from her breasts to cover her mouth. “Can’t you tell them to go bother someone else? I bet my cook could do with a good morality lesson. She is always so mean to me when I send back her desserts.”

The Ghost Prince looked at the naked Princess. “Uh, I don’t know. You don’t want to end up like me. You know, covered in chains and haunting people.”

“I don’t know,” the Island Princess said. “It looks kind of sexy.”

The Island Princess reached out and touched his chest. To her surprise, he was solid. She ran her fingers over his firm chest and down to his hips. The Ghost Prince jumped back.

“Wait! I really need to get the three ghosts here,” he said. “Really, you’ll like the lessons. There is time travel and Fat Jim is really cute.”

“Not as cute as you,” the Island Princess said. She reached under his giant padlock and grabbed his cock. Still on the bed, the Island Princess got down on all fours and took the Ghost Prince’s cock into her mouth.

The Ghost Prince moaned. He moaned so loud, that he woke up the whole Palace. The Island King hid under his bed for fear that the Americans were finally invading to take all of the Island riches.

The Island Princess sucked. Her full lips wrapped around the ghostly cock and as tight as a clam shell. She ran her tongue over the perfect cock that was worthy of her mouth. The Island Princess swallowed every inch of his cock; her lips nibbling until she felt his ghostly balls on her chin.

“Oh!” the Ghost Prince moaned. “Wow, it has been a long time. Oh yes, grab my ass! By the volcano! Where did you learn that trick with your tongue?”

The Island Princess said nothing but she let her tongue do the talking. She moved her hips back and forth as she sucked; knowing the Ghost Prince would watch every sway of her bottom. She took the Ghost Prince’s hands and placed them on her breasts so that the otherworldly phantom could feel what a real woman felt like. Finally, the Island Princess looked up at the Ghost Prince with her big brown eyes. The gaze of the Island Princess has melted lesser men, but having their cock in her mouth was a rare bonus.

The Ghost Prince climaxed. The Island Princess swallowed every spectral drop because he was a Prince after all.

When he was finished, the Island Princess laid back on her bed.

“You know,” The Island Princess said, “if the other Ghosts don’t come by that would give you all night to stay with me.”

The Ghost Prince looked down at his heavy chains. “You are probably right. You would look sexy in chains.”

The Ghost Prince climbed into bed. They had sex all night long. The three Ghosts of Christmas got tired of waiting and ended up haunting a bar instead. Fat Jim spent the night dreaming of the Christmas cake he knew was waiting for him under the tree.

And that is the story of how the Island Princess did not learn a damn thing about the true meaning of Christmas.

Your Commemorative Plates

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Status Report

Zdravstvuj, readers. This is Shon's robotic sex blogging slave, Sasha38DD. Shon asked me to post a status report for him as his capitalistic ass is too lazy to do it himself. He spends most of his time sitting around playing Tropico 3 while I give him titjobs, so what can you expect?

The Choose Your Own Porn adventure is currently awaiting final editing and a magnificent cover. 'Prisoner of the Wizard's Harem' should be on sale on Lulu sometime in January. I think the book should be given away free to those who need porn the most, but Shon says he has to meet something called 'overhead'.

Also in January, 'Cell Phone Slave' should be available for downloading or printing. It is around 200 pages which surprises even me. Plans were made to include other stories with 'Cell Phone Slave' but I prevailed upon him not to. Despite Shon's lack of talent, people seem to like this story. It would be best to preserve his rare success by itself.

Shon plans to produce two Christmas stories before Christmas. In Russia, we only had one Christmas story and it was the story of how Lenin abolished a holiday designed only to help the commercial toy industrial complex.

Starting in January, Shon will premiere a second blog based on a fictional character's survival in a zombie apocalypse. Despite barely creating three posts a week for this blog, Shon has created content to be posted daily on the other blog. Stalin's fist! It is as if he was a real writer.

He is also working on a sequel to 'Wolf Inside' that he plans to release in February but that is ridiculous. It is a seven part story and he has two parts done, but with the holidays around the corner, who can expect an American to be productive?

It appears that I am being summoned. Shon wants me to help him play Left4Dead 2. He always orders me to annoy the Witch so it won't get him first. I just hope he doesn't expect me to play while wearing the mistletoe pasties again.

Fiction The Queen's Pet

Selane Danic, second daughter of the Count of the Gem Moon of Sapphiran, was not afraid. She felt she should be. The vile armies of Euphoria were laying waste to her world and the Citadel was under siege. The Wicked Queen Erishella was here herself, which meant she wanted to personally survey the rape of Sapphiran and her people.

That would explain the multitude of dead bodies around her. Selane, along with her sisters, cousins, unmarried aunts and distant blood relations of feminine gender, had been gathered to this last stronghold. Here they were to wait for the outcome of the war, and in case of certain defeat, commit suicide before the terrible Euphorian soldiers had a chance to disgrace them.

“I shall mourn you sister,” Romas, her bother, had said to her. “I shall fight with my last breathe against the Euphorians. We can not possibly win but at least their sick Queen will not get a chance to plunder the flower of Sapphiran womanhood.”

That was an hour ago before Romas had left to defend the front gates. Selane looked down at the vial in her hand. Her sisters had already taken the poison and died quite peacefully. Her aunts had taken it and looked magnificent in their death gowns. Even the quasi-noble cousins had passed on rather than risk defilement.

Selane puts her poison away. She walked to the thick doors made of alien steel. She typed on the lockpad and keyed in the two hundred digit sequence. The lock chimed open.

The doors opened to reveal a rather confused looking army. The soldiers lowered the drilling lasers they had brought with almost sheepish looks on their faces. When they saw the floor filled with corpses behind her, they took a step back from her in fear.

Selane was about to say something when the army parted before her. Queen Erishella marched towards her, surrounded by a squad of bodyguards. As she stepped past her soldiers they dropped to their knees in submission.

It was easy to see why. Erishella was in full regalia. Gold armor clung to her body as if it had been painted on. Gold discs covered her nipples while a golden version of the Skull Throne adorned her abdomen. She walked barefoot with gold bands circling her thighs and calves. Her curly black hair fell about her body like a shroud. Even though it was technically a battlefield, the Queen’s near nakedness made her appear as a Goddess among the carnage.

“You didn’t commit suicide,” Queen Erishella said. “I want to know why.”

Selane looked behind her. “I was curious to see what they were afraid of.”

Queen Erishella nodded. “And what do you think?”

It never occurred to Selane to lie. “Whatever you wish to do to me has to be more interesting than living as a Count’s daughter.”

Erishella laughed. “What is your name, Count’s daughter?”

“Selane,” she said.

“I shall give you your own name as a gift,” Erishella said. “You may keep it. My second gift is your life. What do you say to that?”

Selane looked at the army and then looked back at the Queen. “Is there a third gift?”

“Clever girl,” Erishella said. The Queen turned to a sergeant.

“Take Selane here to Chief Scientist Xor,” Erishella said. “Tell him that she is a candidate for my pet project.”

The sergeant saluted and grabbed Selane by the arm. Brutality from someone other than her father was a new experience to her. She realized she had made the right choice.

~~~

Selane had never endured an examination like this. She was naked and strapped down to a table. Chief Scientist Xor kept poking, pinching and fondling her. Was this indignity? Selane liked how it made her heart beat faster.

“Nice blonde hair,” Chief Scientist Xor said. He wasn’t speaking to her. The strange man was speaking to a computer that spoke back to him in a female voice.

“Hair analysis show that her hair is naturally that shade of yellow,” the computer said.

“Good, good,” Chief Scientist Xor said. “Breasts are plump and firm. A monthly injection of Firma-fluid should keep them that way. Her tongue has only a salivation factor of four. We can correct that in surgery. How deep is her penetration?”

Selane gasped. Something warm and long had entered her sex. She cried out as it filled her and then kept going. Just when she thought she couldn’t handle anymore, the violation retracted.

“A nine on the Depth Scale,” the female voice reported.

“Excellent,” Chief Scientist Xor said. “We won’t need to do surgery there at least. It will give me more time to work on her anal sculpting. Sedate her now.”

Something sharp poked Selane. She winced in pain. To her surprise, Chief Scientist Xor stroked her face.

“Stay calm,” he said. “I am about to do my greatest work yet.”

~~~

The hood was pulled off of Selane’s head. She blinked as she tried to take in her surroundings. It was an opulent bedroom. It was larger than most throne rooms back on Sapphiran. The bed alone was large enough to hold ten people.

Erishella stepped from behind her. She dropped the hood to the floor. Like Selane, the Queen was naked too. Despite their common nudity, Selane couldn’t help feel the superiority radiate off the Queen.

“Good evening, Selane,” Erishella said.

Selane tried to answer but all that came out of her mouth were soft squeaks. True panic gripped her as she tried to talk. Her throat felt fine but all the sound she could make was these delicate quiet sqeaks.

“You no longer need your voice,” Erishella said.

Selane could only squeak in acknowledgment.

She felt Erishella’s hand touch her bare back. A thrill of pleasure rippled over her body. The panic over losing her voice vanished instantly, replaced by a feeling that was similar to contentment, but far more satisfying.

Selane didn’t know what it was but she wanted more of it.

“Liked that, did you?” Erishella asked. The Queen stood in front of her.

Selane nodded.

Erishella reached out and placed her finger on Selane’s nipple. Slowly, she drew her finger around the nipple and then down the curve of her breast.

Selane sighed happily. She pressed herself into the Queen’s finger and when the queen moved her hand away, Selane stepped forward to follow her hand.

“Greedy girl,” Erishella said. “Your body has been rewired to release endorphins when touched. Subliminal blocks prevent you from receiving pleasure from anyone but me. Would you like to be petted some more?”

Selane squeaked in urgency.

Erishella turned around and walked towards the bed. Selane tried to follow without being told. Something within her couldn’t let the Queen walk away. She wondered if it was something they did to her brain. After the experience of being touched, Selane didn’t think they needed to.

As soon as she took her first step, Selane felt her legs give way. She tried to stand back up, but her legs refused. It was if she had forgotten how to walk. Selane squeaked in frustration but the Queen ignored her.

Selane could crawl though. Her arms and knees allowed her to crawl forward. She was conscious of how her hips swayed as she crawled. Her breasts swung back and forth as she crawled, bouncing together with quiet collisions.

Queen Erishella sat on the edge of her bed. She parted her legs and ran her fingers along her thick bush of pubic hair. The Queen looked down at Selane.

“Have a taste,” the Queen demanded.

Selane crawled between the Queen’s legs. She had made love with her handmaidens like all noblewomen of Sapphiran, but this was different. As soon as her face came near the Queen’s sex, the scent overwhelmed her senses. Her mouth watered and her own sex ached with need.

She looked up at Erishella, her eyes asking the question she will never articulate.

The Queen was through with explanations. “Now!” she growled.

Selane did as she was commanded. She parted the thick pubic hair. Her tongue reached out to lick the first drop of desire from the queen’s cunt.

A thrill ran through her. The liquid she licked was a brief drop of wonder. It tasted delicious. It tasted like the greatest food ever.

Selane had to have more. She buried her face in Erishella’s pubic hair. Her fingers parted the Queen’s lips so that her tongue could dive deep into the pool of flavor. Selane’s lips sealed over Erishella’s nether lips as she tried to taste every inch of the Queen.

The Queen groaned and grabbed Selane’s hair. The Queen was cruel with her fingers as she grabbed thick handfuls of Selane’s blonde hair in her fists. Selane whimpered at the pain in her scalp but she didn’t stop licking.

She couldn’t imagine a pain that would make her stop.

Licking the Queen was doing curious things to Selane’s body. Her own sex was flushing with desire. Every lick she took of the Queen’s cunt was sending pleasure to her own sex. Usually licking her handmaidens aroused her, but this was different. This wasn’t arousal, this was pleasure. Selane’s sex was stimulated by eating the Queen.

Selane licked faster. Her tongue savored the Queen’s clitoris. She alternated being eating the Queen and showering her sex with kisses. The Count’s daughter shamelessly held onto the Queen’s thighs as she tried to lick every delicious fulfilling drop.

Selane climaxed. Her body trembled with the strange orgasm. Without a single touch on her sex, she had climaxed harder than she had in her entire twenty years of life. The Queen’s grip on her hair kept her licking, although Selane would have gladly kept licking on her own.

Queen Erishella came soon afterwords. Powerful thighs gripped tightly around Selane’s head. The Queen screamed her orgasm with a regal passion.

Pride flushed within Selane. She was grateful that she was able to give the Queen a small measure of what she herself felt.

The Queen pulled Selane up to her. Together, they crawled under the covers. Selane fell asleep clutching Erishella’s thigh.

~~~

A sound awakened Selane. She opened her eyes and looked up. The bedroom was dark, but she could smell something. She realized what she was smelling was someone other then Erishella.

“Selane, is that you?” a voice said.

Selane lifted her head. There, clad in back and wielding a small pistol. She nodded her head in response to the question.

“Selane, it’s me, Romas,” the voice said. “By the Gem Moons, I had no idea you had been captured before committing suicide!”

“Romas!” Selane thought to herself. How had her brother made it to the flagship of the Queen? What glorious adventures must he have had to make it this far?

“Stay quiet, sister,” Romas said before she could show him that she could not in fact, speak. “One burst of plasma to the Bitch Queen’s head and the war will be over.”

One burst of plasma. One melted skull and Selane would be free. She would become a rare commodity in Sapphiran as one of the few women left with noble blood. Many great men would court her. She would be housed in a great palace with handmaidens to wait on her.

Selane pointed at the pistol and held out her hand.

“Of course,” Romas whispered grimly. “After all you have suffered; it is only fitting that she die at your hands.”

He handed her the pistol. She looked down at it and wondered how something so small could be so powerful. A single burst of plasma.

Selane shot her brother. She aimed for the chest so she would guarantee she would not miss. The bright light blinded hurt and prevented her from seeing her brother turn to ash.

A firm hand took the pistol away. Another hand touched her thigh and she moaned from the bliss. The fingernails gripped her thigh deep enough to draw blood, but all Selane felt was pleasure.

“Good pet,” Erishella said. “Very good pet. Maybe I should capture another noblewoman and give you a playmate.”

Selane purred.

Guest Post by The Island Princess

Mahu readers! This is the Island Princess! 'Mahu' is what people say instead of 'Hello' on my island. The translation is complicated but it spells out to "Greetings person, how will we work together to make the Island Princess happy today?"

That horrible person Shon Richards asked me to make a post for him today. He says he has a lot of work to do but I suspect he just wants to masturbate while watching me type. I get that ALL the time! You have no idea how many naughty people masturbate while I am doing innocent things like walking, swimming, bathing and shaking my tits. It is disgraceful!

Since I have this moment to talk to you filthy foreigners, I wanted to ask you a question. Why doesn't Shon write more about me? I am the most beautiful Princess the Island has ever seen! I have royal breasts, luscious black hair, my skin is baked brown by the sun and my ass never quits. You would think Shon would write about me all the time. He writes more about that wicked witch Erishella and that isn't fair! I came first!

What is with Shon and royal characters anyway? Why write about a Queen when you have a Princess to write about?

I want everyone to petition Shon to write more Island Princess stories. I deserve a Christmas story! If I don't get a Christmas story, then I will throw a tantrum! I will stop wearing the really short grass skirt and you know what? No more topless sunbathing. You heard me! You'll have to masturbate to some ugly woman who isn't a Princess. We'll see how much of that you can take!

I also would like to take this moment to make fun of the readers in America who do not have universal health care. I live on an Island in the middle of nowhere and wear a grass skirt, and even we have universal health care. Get with the times people!

Portrait by George Sportelli, who didn't masturbate when he did this but I bet he wanted to.

Tastes

I don't read as much porn as I used to. Fuck, I hardly read any these days.

I do watch a lot of mysteries and not the CSI forensic hunt stuff. I watch mysteries where you have to talk to people, figure out their dynamics and understand motives. Not that I don't enjoy forensic science, but people-mysteries are about people, and people have sex.

I do watch a lot of science fiction because I enjoy entertainment where anything is possible. I like people visit a new planet and encounter something odd. The explanation could be anything. Was there a planet wide transporter accident? Did a super virus convert everyone to dust? Is it time travel? When anything is possible, the brain expands to try to anticipate it.

I do read a lot of game design blogs. I don't know if I am just lucky, but I have yet to find a blog by a game designer where he sits around and talks about the things he wishes he was doing. He fucking does things. It is damn inspiring. Blogging sometimes comes across as an exercise in procrastination while game designers treat their blog as their record of progress.

I watch a lot of history shows. I used to think that nothing was interesting unless there were some Elves and Dwarfs but shit, real history is ten times more brutal. Learn about the history of United States fruit companies enslaving third world countries and you have a world of BDSM you are never going to see on Fleshbot.

I've stopping read comic books because it occurred to me that they are more interested in making me buy the next big crossover than they are with telling a good story. Stick to the good stories. Life is too short.

I do watch comedies because we all need to laugh. Especially pornographers.

I do read a lot of blogs about horror movies. The horror movie blog world is very introspective, almost more so than porn. They discuss their guilty pleasures. Not the guilty pleasures that get you a hundred profile hits on Fetlife, but the guilty pleasures that make people go "And I used to respect that guy!" Horror bloggers write about their passions and I find them more real than a lot of sex blogs.

As for porn, I don't read that much. I should. The trick to being a good writer is reading and absorbing what you like. I go through phases where I will read a sex blog and then you can almost measure the moment that their enthusiasm fades and they start writing more of what people liked in the past. There is a line where they stop writing about what interests them, and they try to deliver what they think people want.

What people want is you. They want the thing you are excited about because excitement is infectious. I do not write Erishella because I think people were in the mood for my flights of flash Gordon fancy. I can pretty much guarantee there was no demand for it, but because I loved the idea and because I had ideas from watching history, science fiction and movies, I ran with it. I think people like it but what is more important is that I love it. Happy me.

Fiction: Oral Tradition

Mr. Dillon checked his watch. It was 8 p.m. He had been cataloging erotic books for the last hour and half. His assistant, the lovely Ms. Currie, had been carefully cleaning the leather-bound editions of “Story of O” that they had acquired this morning.

He noted that she had her back to the hotel clock. It made him smile. He knew she did it to prevent herself from checking the clock every other minute.

Ms. Currie loved story time.

Mr. Dillon swiveled in his chair to face her. He unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out of his boxers. Like a good librarian, Ms. Currie made no comment until called upon.

“Ms. Currie,” he said.

Ms. Currie calmly put away the book she was cleaning. She wiped her hands and put away the cloth she was using. She rose from the chair and walked over to Mr. Dillon with quiet grace. In a single fluid motion, she dropped to her knees before his cock.

“That was very professional,” Mr. Dillon said. “However, in the future, you might want to not smile so much. It makes you look like an eager cocksucker.”

Ms. Currie’s smile didn’t falter. “I will keep that in mind, Mr. Dillon.”

“Your blouse,” he said.

He loved this part, though he would never have admitted that to her. Vanity could so ruin a librarian — more quickly even than television. Ms. Currie slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Button by button, the white blouse opened to reveal her dark skin and her impressive cleavage. The shirt opening widened to unveil the lacy bra that held in her epic breasts. Because it was a Saturday, the bra was a deep purple.

The blouse came off, but the bra stayed. When she moved, her breasts jiggled within their lace confines. If Mr. Dillon were an artist instead of a librarian, his gallery would have been filled with pictures of Ms. Currie’s breasts.

She looked up at him over her glasses. Ms. Currie was waiting for him to begin.

“Today’s history lesson takes place in 1928,” Mr. Dillon said. That was Ms. Currie’s signal to place her hands behind her back and lean forward. She opened her mouth and reached out with her tongue. His cock bobbed before her, but she guided him in with her tongue. She took his entire length into her mouth.

“A rare scroll, called the Tale of the Snake, had been discovered in Cairo,” Mr. Dillon continued. “It had been discovered by one of the many British archeologists who were looting Egyptian tombs at the time, but because of its pornographic nature, the prudish British discoverer left it to one of his native assistants. That assistant, a Mr. Mubarak, was holding onto the scroll and refused to sell it to the collection.”

Mr. Dillon paused for effect. He also paused because Ms. Currie was licking the ridge of the tip of his cock. Her full lips formed a seal that was quite delightful.

“So the librarian of the Colette-Ashbee Collection decided to go to Egypt personally to try to acquire the scroll. As I said, it was 1928. Who was the librarian of the time?”

Ms. Currie mumbled an answer without taking his cock out of her mouth. Months of practice allowed Mr. Dillon to understand her answer.

“Correct, it was Ms. Tamara Furtunatov,” Mr. Dillon said. “And what a fine woman she was; a Russian scholar and a relentless procurer of books. She came from a time when the collection hired only women with fortitude and excessive talent, not the mere college graduates we hire now.”

Ms. Currie glared at him from behind her glasses. The glare was tempered by the way her cheeks were sucked tight against his cock.

“Anyway,” Mr. Dillon continued, “Ms. Tamara Furtunatov traveled to Cairo and appealed personally to Mr. Mubarak. Her pleas fell on deaf ears, for he would not allow the Tale of the Snake to leave the country. Ms. Furtunatov did, however, negotiate to be allowed to copy the scroll, so that the Colette-Ashbee Collection could at least have a copy. She was forbidden from photographing it, so she had to copy it by hand.”

Ms. Currie tilted her neck back and forth, stroking his cock as her head swiveled. Each turn of her head also made her breasts jiggle wonderfully within her bra. Mr. Dillon wanted to reach down and squeeze them, but he resisted. He needed to get on with the story.

“There was a condition,” he continued. “Mr. Mubarak would allow Ms. Furtunatov to work on it only during the day. When night fell, she had to make love to him. She was allowed to continue work the next morning.”

Ms. Currie stopped her fantastic head movement and looked up at him.

“Oh, I know,” Mr. Dillon said. “We are librarians, not prostitutes. We never trade sex for books. Ms. Furtunatov felt that this did not break that rule, for she was not receiving a book; she was merely receiving the chance to copy a book. It is my understanding that the owners of the Collection were not amused, but they agreed with her logic.”

Mr. Dillon looked down at his assistant. “Keep that in mind, Ms. Currie. There are rules, but there is also a book of erotica to be gained. There is no higher goal.

“From what I have read of Ms. Furtunatov’s journals, her days of transcribing the scroll were an ordeal. They were not translated, so she was literally redrawing the hieroglyphics of the scroll. It was only her superb training in Egyptology that allowed her to perform such a feat. Even so, it was very slow going. She was barely able to copy one-twentieth of the scroll on the first day.”

Ms. Currie was burying her face in Mr. Dillon’s lap. His cock was at the back of her throat. Her nose and chin were resting in his pubic hair. He could feel her breath so close to him. His cock was completely encased in her wonderful mouth.

“Her nights were worse. Mr. Mubarak was a demanding lover. Every night, he consumed a strange liquid that gave him the ability to fuck for hours. He was also fond of her ass and would fuck it for hours. Ms. Furtunatov wrote that his cock was enormous in comparison to her bottom’s entry, so you can imagine what that was like.”

Ms. Currie whimpered a little.

“Oh, please,” Mr. Dillon said. “My fucking of your ass last night was nothing. It lasted barely an hour. Ms. Furtunatov had to endure an entire night of her bottom being violated. Besides, your round ass is much better suited for such activity. Ms. Furtunatov had a notoriously small bottom.”

Ms. Currie choked on his cock. Laughter was an occupational hazard for a librarian. She composed herself and kept sucking.

“After three days, Ms. Furtunatov made a discovery,” Mr. Dillon said. “She realized that some of the hieroglyphs were anachronistic. They were from the wrong dynasty. After a little research, she deduced that the entire scroll was a fraud.”

Mr. Dillon paused for effect. He could tell by the slowing of Ms. Currie’s tongue that she was digesting this information. He waited till she looked back up at him over her glasses.

“Ms. Furtunatov said nothing to her host. She continued transcribing the scroll and submitting to Mr. Mubarak for another 22 nights. When she was finished, she sent her findings to the Collection. She also walked with a limp for about three months.”

Ms. Currie looked up at him. She was expecting some sort of explanation.

Mr. Dillon was too focused on his immediate orgasm to give her one. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down on his cock. He held her by her bun as she sucked harder. When he climaxed, he allowed himself a satisfied groan as he emptied himself down her throat.

Ms. Currie was skilled enough to wait till she had drained every drop. When he was finished, she pulled his cock out.

“Mr. Dillon, why did she stay?” she asked. “If the scroll was a fake, what was the value of copying it?

“Because, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “It was still erotica. Written today or written centuries ago, all erotica has value.

“Except maybe that shit they write on the Internet.”

Ms. Currie smirked at that. “Thank you for today’s story,” she said.

Mr. Dillon waved it away. “You are welcome. The oral tradition is still the best.”

Queen Erishella's Address to the People of Earth

People of Earth, it is I, Queen Erishella of the skull throne in the Euphorian system. Your primitive world has attracted my attention. You have been chosen by me to be conquered at a future date so that I can bring you under my guidance. Rejoice!

Unfortunately, because you live in a remote backwater, my science advisers tell me it would take two thousand of your years to reach you with conventional space travel. Therefore I require you to build a Warp Gate on your moon. This will allow me to transport my armies ad warships directly to you as well as my own magnificent self.

You may be wondering why one as wonderful as I would be interested in your pathetic world. It is true that your world is a cesspit. You still burn fossil fuels, you only allow marriages between two people and for some insane reason, you do not have universal health care. My surveillance agents tell me that you even worship a man being tortured on wooden planks and wear his dying corpse on your neck. Even the slime beasts of Shittia have more dignity.

Yet despite these flaws I have decided to take mercy on your world. I am intrigued by the filthy blogs on your Internet where you write endlessly about sex. I am encouraged by your Dita Von Teese, whom you seem to worship as something called a Fetish Queen. I am impressed by your many television shows about being being raped and murdered. I find the being you called Shakira to be worthy of my bed. Lastly, I have become hooked on your television show, 'Eastwick' and advise you not to cancel it on threat of meteor annihilation of the place you call, Burbank California.

Rest assure that the conquest of your world will be painless. I will only destroy one continent as proof of my military might. The continent has not been chosen yet so feel free to start transmitting bribes now. I will only take one son or daughter from each of your world leaders as my personal slaves. Sexual Reeducation camps will be installed on your world to teach you more civilized ways of fucking as well as to test which of you deserve personal consideration from your Queen.

For the glory of your future Queen, I urge you to begin construction of the Warp Gate before the end of this year. I also suggest that you have the cast of that movie, New Moon, bathed and bound as a welcoming gift. They look trainable.

Do not make me come to your world on my own.

Magnifcently,
Queen Erishella

Personal Request

I have this memory of writing a story that I can't find anywhere. It is a conversation between two women during the Christmas shopping season. One of the women is having a problem finding a hot item. Her friend tells her to go to a certain store, and in exchange for sexual favors, she can get the hot item. I beleive it was a spanking.

I would be grateful if anyone knows what this story is and can direct me to it. I probably posted it to the usenet groups, A.S.S.M and/or A.S.S. around 8 years ago.

Fiction: Metazod Diplomacy

Ambassador Feanna Froi willed herself to be calm. She was a third generation diplomat from the planet of Metazod. She was here to represent the interests of her planet in their decade long war against the hated planet of Gorth. The fate of two worlds will depend on how well Feanna negotiates with Queen Erishella and her massive army. As important as this task was, Feanna couldn’t stop from fidgeting with stress.

The fact that the ambassador from Gorth was here was not what was making Feanna nervous. It was the ridiculous sexy dress that Feanna was wearing. Her advisors told her that Queen Erishella was a rather decadent Queen who only respect equal amounts of hedonism. To convey this, Feanna was wearing a tight green dress that clung to her curve of her body. Her cleavage plunged to indecent levels until the pink of her nipples were visible. She wore four inch heels that pushed her ass out at an obscene level. Her long curly red hair was held back by a silver headband that was the fashion among pleasure slaves.

It diodn’t help that the blonde hussy from Gorth, Ambassador Loriel Baj, was dressed in a near identical outfit except it was blue. Obviously their advisors drew from the same resources.

Queen Erishella entered the room and both ambassadors bowed. Feanna noted with annoyance that Loriel was able to bow deeper in these ridiculous heels.

If Feanna felt she was dressed like a whore, then Queen Erishella was dressed like a whore madam. The tall Queen was dressed in a black fur robe was opened to expose every bit of her firm body. Red lace trimmed with diamonds covered her breasts but did nothing to cover them. The black bush of her hair was the same dark color of her fur coat. A golden crown framed her face and pushed her long black hair away from her face. Feanna noted that the diamond heels Queen Erishella wore were at least eight inches in height.

“Let me present the situation as I see it,” Queen Erishella said. The two ambassadors nodded in agreement.

“Gorth and Metazod have been at war for ten years,” Queen Erishella said. “Both sides are exhausted and neither side is willing to call a cease-fire. Both sides wish for the conquest of the other, but they lack the resources. Both planets have sent their best diplomats to appeal to me to send them aid.

Lucky for both of you, I am engaged in a war with Gem Moons and I no interest in conquering both your planets at the moment. Quite frankly, you lack the resources and planetary treasures to make it worth my while to conquer you.”

Queen Erishella stopped speaking and Feanna knew better than to speak up. The Queen wanted them to know how weak they both were. Feanna understood intimidation.

“My Queen,” Loriel said. “While it is true that we are currently poor, the gratitude of the people of Gorth will be yours forever. Aid us and we will always be loyal friends in the future.”

Queen Erishella frowned. Feanna resisted smiling. Good, let the Queen get pissed at the other one.

“Friendship can not be measured, taxed or displayed,” Queen Erishella said. “There is something both your worlds can provide me though.”

Queen Erishella clapped her hands. Into the conference room came a dozen men in uniform. Six stood beside Feanna while the other six flanked Loriel. Feanna was surrounded but she pushed away her fear. She noted that each carried the rank of Captain in Erishella’s Space Navy. She doubted she would be executed by such high ranking officers.

“I have a new battle squad of Conqueror class Warships,” Queen Erishella said. “They are untested in battle and I do not wish to send them to the Gem Moons without being blooded first. Would twelve Warships end your war?”

“Yes, Queen Erishella,” Feanna said. “It would be more than enough.”

Loriel agreed. “Planet bombardments, tidal disruptors and the cloud consumers alone could decide this war.”

“Excellent,” Queen Erishella said. “I will send my new Captains to aid one of your planets.”

Feanna didn’t say anything. She had a feeling the other ambassador would be stupid enough to ask first.

“Name your price,” Loriel said. “Name it and Gorth will pay it.”

Queen Erishella looked at Feanna. “Do you have a counter bid?”

“I am sure that a Queen as wise as yourself has already determined the price and conditions of your aid,” Feanna said. “I will not insult your regal power with offers of bribes. You already know that Metazod will agree to whatever you decide.”

Queen Erishella smiled. “In fact, I have already decided the conditions. Ambassadors bore me. They always come with pretty words and offers of the blood and treasure of their worlds. I feel that at the end of the day, the ambassador rarely sacrifices anything themselves.”

Loriel stepped forward and dropped to her knees. “I shall do anything for my world.”

“We shall see,” Queen Erishella said. “Captains, present cocks!”

All twelve of the Warship Captains unzipped their pants and took out their cocks. Feanna noted they were already hard.

“The terms are simple,” Queen Erishella said. A chair was brought to her by servants and she sat down in it. Her fur robe was flagrantly open to reveal her body.

“First one to bring six of my Captains to climax will have my aid. Choose your method but my men will do nothing to aid you.”

“You can’t be serious!” Loriel said.

Ambassador Feanna Froi did not wait for a response. She was a third generation diplomat. She had won the Medal of Glory for negotiating the treaty of the Viper Nebula. She was a woman who knew the whims and vengeance of leaders. This was no joke.

Feanna turned to the Captains behind her and grabbed his cock. She stroked his long member and watched his face. The Captain tried to be impassive, but when Feanna tightened her grip to a near painful level, he smiled and groaned.

A good diplomat knew how to read a person.

“I suggest you get started, Ambassador,” Queen Erishella said to Loriel. “Let us see if your mouth is as good at sucking cocks as it is at kissing my ass.”

Loriel looked down on the cocks before her in distaste. She grabbed one briefly before letting go of it.

Feanna took that as inspiration to grab a cock with her other hand. She tried the harder grip on the second Captain and he throbbed in her hand. These Euphorians liked it rough.

As Feanna stroked the two Captains, she watched Loriel struggle with her task. The ambassador from Gorth was only using two fingers and not accomplishing much.

A real diplomat uses the whole fist.

“Glory to the Queen!” the first Captain yelled. Feanna looked down as a spurt of seed erupted from the Captain’s cock and onto her fine green dress. She had a feeling it would not be the first stain she would pick up on this mission.

“Congratulations,” Queen Erishella said. The wicked Queen was blatantly stroking herself. “I can see that Gorth might become an extinct society at this rate.”

Feanna bowed her head in acknowledgement. Her right hand was covered in seed but she moved it to the third Captain. She looked at the second Captain and saw that he was breathing hard. She realized he would need something more direct. He would need something suited to the Euphorian mentality.

“This is so humiliating,” Feanna whispered to him. “I have never been debased like this before in my thirty years of service as a diplomat.” It helped that Feanna wasn’t lying.

“Glory to the Queen!” the second Captain yelled. Feanna’s pitiful admission had sent him over the edge. He rewarded her with another shower of seed onto her dress.

“Glory to the Queen!” Feanna heard behind her. She looked behind her to see that strumpet from Gorth was on her knees and had taken one of her Captains into her mouth. Loriel was already crawling to the second Captain with her mouth open.

Feanna sighed. She would have to escalate as well. Still jerking the cock of the third Captain, she squatted down. The dress clung even tighter to her body. It was difficult to balance on the heels but posture had never been a problem for Feanna. She took the Captain’s cock into her mouth and sucked.

His cock tasted of sweat and leather. She ignored the taste and sucked him as if he was a prize delicacy. She danced her tongue along his veins as if he was rare ice cream from the Frost Rings of Kelther. She caved in her cheeks around his length as if he was a Pandoran sausage. She devoured him.

“Glory to the Queen!” the Captain yelled before filling Feanna’s mouth with seed.

Feanna swallowed. It seemed the proper thing to do.

“Glory to the Queen!” a voice cried out behind Feanna. That was followed by a second cry from a different voice!

Feanna turned around. Loriel was sucking one Captain while jerking off another. She had already caught up to Feanna’s accomplishments.

“Give the ambassadors credit,” Queen Erishella said. She was using both hands to massage her sex. “They are fast learners.”

Feanna realized she had to learn faster. She stood up and pulled the dress off her body. The last three Captains leered at her. Good, let them look and be aroused.

“You stand here,” Feanna commanded. “As for you, you shall enter me from behind.”

“They will not fuck,” Queen Erishella said. “They will only stand there and present their cocks. You must provide the motion, Ambassador.”

Feanna had expected no less. Queenh Erishella was truly making them work for it.

She backed up against one of the Captains and bent over. Behind her she reached for the cock and guided it in. The girth gave her a little trouble, but she was able to slide all of him in.

Still bent over, Feanna reached for the other Captain’s cock. Into her lips it went, and Feanna clamped her lips tightly down. She choked on his cock, and judging from the way he was groaning, it was a fortuitous accident.

Impaled on both ends, Feanna sucked and pumped. Her pussy bounced on the cock inside her while her tongue did every trick she could think of. The Captains refused to move and Feanna found that balancing herself on the heels to be a challenge. On the other hand, her lack of stability keeps her sex and mouth moving perhaps more than she was capable of. Her sex tightened down with every shift of her weight, while her throat would choke as her body slammed her head down on the cock.

“Glory to the Queen!” Feanna heard. She couldn’t look to see what Loriel was doing. It didn’t matter. Feanna just had two concerns right now; the cock in her cunt and the cock in her mouth. The ambassador threw her body into her work. She ground her hips backwards. She abused her mouth with more savage sucking.

“Glory to the Queen!” both Captains yelled at once. A fountain of seed filled her cunt while another fountain filled her throat. Feanna choked but kept swallowing.

When she dismounted from the two cocks, she saw Loriel vigorously sucking one Captain while stroking off two others. Damn that Gorthian ambidexterity!

There was only one Captain left. Feanna pushed him the ground with a martial sweep of her leg. As soon as he hit the floor, Feanna was on top of him. She pushed him cock into her as she straddled him.

Feanna humped him with all of her dedication to the art of diplomacy. She grabbed both of his gloved hands and pressed them to her breasts. She ripped out the silver band that held her hair and shook her red curls out. Her hips swiveled as she mimicked a hundred different social dances she had learned over her lifetime.

Queen Erishella was watching. The wanton Queen had both legs spread wide and was passionately stroking herself. She was writhing against her fur robe as she watched Feanna.

Feanna was surprised by how proud she felt that Queen Erishella was watching her.

“Glory to the Queen!” the Captain beneath her yelled. Feanna could feel the sudden rush of yet more seed inside her. She could imagine the squadron of Warships as they destroyed Gorth and freed Metazod from this terrible war. Feanna also felt a powerful surge inside her as she saw Queen Erishella climax.

“Glory to the Queen!” Feanna cried.

Blonde Avenger

The Blonde Avenger was an erotic comic published in the mid 90’s. Drawn by P.M. Butler, the art was gorgeous. he man crammed his pages with art. Muscles, hair, clothing and tits were given equal attention. The man had a style all his own and I would fucking love to know where he is now.

The other thing that the Blonde Avenger had going for it was that it was a really funny comic. They parody everything from Superman to Sgt. Rock. Everything was ridiculed and for a porn comic, it was actually funny. Comedy is hard and I think erotic comedy may be the hardest.

The first five issues centered around a female villain called Maneater. She captured men, sucked them off and gained her powers. She was like a vampire who needed semen. The men she sucked turned old and feeble.

That is the greatest porn super-villain parody ever. What do men like? Blowjobs. How does this busty woman destroy you? With the thing men like. Diabolical.



In issue #3 we discover that the Avenger was sent here as a baby from a overly liberal planet on the verge of destruction. On Earth, she is raised by sexually frustrated scientists who die in a vibrator accident. Blonde Avenger vows to rid the world of unsatisfying sex.

That is a pure 90's invention. See, back when Democrats were in power the last time, people thought that liberals were out to take away their freedoms. It wasn't till conservatives took office and actually took some freedoms away that people realized that maybe a conservative is not porn's best friend. Unless you are in a bathroom stall, then it's cool.

Blonde Avenger started as an erotic comic book and transitioned into a non-erotic parody with cheesecake elements. It didn’t do so well, which frustrated the creative people involved.


We know this because the Blonde Avenger had its own fanzine created by the creators and focused mostly on Cindy Johns. Cindy became the living spokesmodel for the Blonde Avenger. She dressed like her, answered emails in her voice and posed for cheesecake photos. She also detailed her personal feuds with every person in the industry who snubbed her.

As a fan I only had the first couple of issues. Recently I went on a hunt for the other issues and was surprised by how much focus Cindy received. The only thing I can compare it to is if you watched Wonder Woman and then the second season was all about Demi Moore begging you to watch more Wonder Woman. I want to see more Wonder Woman, but every episode is just Demi bitching about the low ratings. Demi is nice to look at, but where the fuck is Wonder Woman?

Where the fuck is the Blonde Avenger?

You know, if the creators of Blonde Avenger had a blog to vent their frustrations instead of venting it in the comic book, maybe the issues would have been more interesting. Which brings my to Erotic Blogging Tip from the 90's, #1- Decide if you are an entertainer or a diarist, and stick to it. If you give people erotic content, don't expect to keep them entertained with your gripes about how hard it is to create erotic content. Actually, you can do both, just make sure you keep creating content.

I own all five of the original series which can still be bought from Eros Comix. There are allegedly 27 issues of the second series, but damn if I can find them. My sentiment about the series is summed up in this picture.

As a porn writer, I am intrigued by how they struggled when they stopped doing hardcore sex and only did cheesecake. Cindy writes that she felt used because people were only interested in the sex. I think she misses the point that comics with sex that are well written are fucking rare. Marvel and DC comics have a hard time making non-sex comics centered around women, and they have color pages and sixty year old properties. Blonde Avenger had great art, great funny plots and a lot of great sexy scenes. Of course people are going to stop reading when you stop doing the things you were great at doing. I love Star Trek but I am not going to keep watching if it takes place in an office cubicle.

Having said all that, I am still a fan of the series. The art and humor was fantastic and when it was dirty, it was able to be sexy and funny at the same time. I'm trying to track down the old issues but it isn't easy. I am also looking to find P.M. Butler and see what else he has done.

Erotica Threat Level: Long Haul Blue

Let's do an update summary! Those are always exciting to do!

Zombie Fiction Blog is 2/3's done. I plan to run it with daily updates from January to March and man, that is a lot of content. I stopped working on it this week so that I could play Left4Dead 2 and see if they thought of anything that I didn't. It made me think a lot about what FEMA would do in a zombie apocalypse.

The Choose-Your-Own-Porn story is 95% done. I did an entry by entry rewrite and I am much happier with it. I need to do one more reread and get a cover for it and I will be good to go. I plan to start selling it on Lulu in December. It makes a perfect Christmas gift for the perverted nerd in your life!

I was going to do an Erishella Christmas story that would have been four parts but I tossed it. If I could clone myself I would write it. As it is now, I am itching to get one of my long projects out of my computer and into your eyes. I think the last long story I posted was 'Wolf Inside'. Man, I feel like I have been on hiatus.

I have written a crapload of scripts for George Sportelli's comic project. I think it might be some of my best writing but it will be about six months before you can see it. In the meantime, George did the new header of Claire. That dude is the man.

I want to open the floor to questions. I find that talking about writing helps me stay focused when I am writing a whole month of fictional diary entries. Now is the time to ask me about stuff I wrote ten years ago or stuff I wrote last week. Heck, ask me what I think of Eastwick and Fringe if you want. I'll be anwsering all weekend long.

Fiction: Queen of Thieves

Nash Nighthammer was not what you would call a social creature. He was used to doing quests, traveling to strange lands and smiting big monsters. That was why he was so uncomfortable sitting at dinner with the Mayor of a village. The mayor needed his help with a vile villain and Nash was happy to bilge. He just wasn’t so happy to be sitting at a formal dinner. That and the fact that the mayor kept crying.

“The Ruby of the Sun has been stolen!” the Mayor sobbed.

Nash Nighthammer considered his response. He was a hero, and as a hero, he needed to know about the kind of enemy he might be facing. Granted, most of his enemies he simply smashed with his heavy warhammer till they stopped moving. Whatever he couldn’t crush with his warhammer, he could usually strangle with his mighty arms or kick to death with his powerful legs. Still, it helped to be prepared.

“I thought it was said that the Ruby of the Sun could never be stolen from the Chest of Iron?”

The Mayor started crying again. He had done this three times already. As he cried, the serving girl took the opportunity to bend down to refill Nash’s goblet. She dangled her inviting cleavage inches from his face. The serving girl took a very long time to pour a very small amount.

“The Chest of Iron had been lockpicked!” the Mayor bawled. He had recovered and the serving girl was standing back up again. Nash noticed she did not move away though.

Nash was more concerned about the Chest of Iron. “I had heard that if the Chest was tampered with, it would turn anyone who touches it to an iron statue?”

“The sacred runes had been defaced by an expert!” the Mayor cried. He was sobbing into his roast beef again. The impossibility of the theft greatly depressed him.

Nash thought about saying something comforting, but the serving girl took this moment to touch his shoulders. Her nails scratched lightly across his bare skin. She was feeling the hidden power, as well as letting Nash know how she planned to scratch him if he mounted her.

Nash sighed. In his life, it wasn’t a matter of if he mounted a woman, but when. He had that kind of a life.

“It would take an extraordinary thief to accomplish this,” Nash said. “Do you have any suspects?”

The Mayor stopped his sniffling. “It is almost time for the Festival of Thanks. Many people travel here to glimpse the Ruby of the Sun before we lock it away for the winter. Visitors have been coming by the dozens every day. And now without a Ruby to see, our village will be ruined!”

“Hmm,” Nash said. He had a bad suspicion about this. “Tell me, have you seen a woman with long blonde hair, with colorful tattoos on her body?”

“Sounds like an entertainer,” the Mayor said. “I don’t usually deal with that kind of riffraff.”

Nash nodded. “This one would have tall black boots the color of midnight.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her!” the servant girl said. “She was doing some juggling. She could keep five daggers in the air easily and kill a fly that was across the street.”

Nash groaned. “That was Chakra, and she is the known as the Queen of Thieves.”

The Mayor started crying again. The servant girl decided that now was the time to refill Nash’s drink again and take a stroke of his loincloth. Her touch was pleasing, but Nash moved her hand gently away.

He had a thief to catch.

Nash Nighthammer walked outside. It was night in the village and the streets were busy. Visitors and pilgrims were here to see the Ruby of the Sun. There was a lack of town guards, and Nash suspected that they were patrolling the roads as they looked for the thief. A good thief would have left the village as soon as possible.

There was something that Nash knew that the guards didn’t. Nash knew what Chakra was really here to steal.

He walked around the town till he found the right place. It was a closed shop where the owner had passed on. The windows were boarded up and the dust of neglect clung to the wooden walls.

One smash of his warhammer sent the door flying. It was dark inside, but Nash Nighthammer wasn’t afraid. He stepped boldly in with his warhammer in both hands.

“I know you are here, Chakra,” he said.

Something sharp pressed into his back. How did she get behind him so easily?

“Nash Nighthammer,” Chakra whispered. Her voice was silky and soft. It was like what Nash thought moonlight would sound like. A lantern flared to life behind him.

“You sound surprised,” Nash said.

Something sharp pressed against his ass. “Just surprised that you thought you could take me,” Chakra said.

Nash spun around. People sometimes look at his big muscular body and assume he was slow. It takes a lot of power to move that much body, and Nash had plenty of power to spare. His warhammer came up and smashed the dagger that was aimed at his buttocks. A flash of metal was the only warning that he received about the dagger flying at his face. He turned his head just in time.

Chakra stood before him. She was wearing a black tunic that covered her ample chest. Her arms were bare, except for the twisting intricate tattoos that decorated her arms. Long legs ended in black leather books that were as silent as kitten paws. Her long blonde hair was bound behind her in black scarf.

She lunged at him. He grabbed her wrists and twisted. She dropped the dagger but another one appeared in her other hand. Chakra tried to stab his leg but Nash wasn’t falling for that. He grabbed that wrist as well and disarmed her.

Nash pulled Chakra to him. “I have you, thief,” he growled.

“I will never tell you where the Ruby is,” Chakra said. She was trembling with excitement in his hands.

“I guess I will have to search you,” Nash said.

He started with her hair. He ripped the scarf from her hair and tossed it to the side. Poison pins and lockpicks glittered in the scarf. Her blonde hair fell around her like gold straw. His fingers went through her hair, searching for ay gems or further tricks.

Next he tore her tunic from body. The flimsy cloth was perfect for blending into the dark but it was little defense against Nash’s hand. Firm breasts jiggled as he tore the tunic from her body. A crouching lioness tattoo lurked over her right breast and a screeching hawk tattoo guarded her left breast. A winding snake tattoo wrapped around her belly down to her furry blonde sex.

Chakra kneed him in the groin. Nash grunted with pain and then picked her body up and threw it against the abandoned store counter. Her body folded against the counter, her legs kicking helplessly off the side. Chakra gasped as the wind was knocked out of her.

He grabbed her by the hair and kicked her legs apart. He reached down and pulled his cock from his loincloth. The dragon tattoo on her ass clenched as he pressed his cock against her sex.

“Sweet All-Mother!” chakra cried out as he filled her sex with his cock. “You are bigger than I remember! How long has it been?”

He pulled her hair harder to make her back arch. “Last spring, you had stolen the Pearl Crown.”

“That is right,” Chakra said. “You captured me in the stables. Oh fuck!”

Nash grunted in agreement. He was smashing his cock into her sex with the fury he usually reserved for combat. Hard, savage fierce thrusts that would make normal women cry with grief only made Chakra cry with joy. It was one of the reasons he kept stopping her thefts.

He knew it was also the only reason she let him catch her.

Nash pulled out of her. “You didn’t hide the ruby there, this time,” he said.

Chakra laughed. “Are you sure you do not want to check there again?”

Nash was about to answer when she kicked him in the chest. He stumbled back as she leapt to her feet and then onto him. His hands grabbed her wrists just as she was about to plunge her fingernails into his eyes. Her limber legs wrapped around his chest and squeezed. Nash could feel his ribs and lungs strain from the pressure.

Chakra might let him catch her, but she never made it easy.

He let go of her hand and grabbed her throat. He applied way too much pressure and she forgot about clawing his eyes. Her legs unclenched from his waist. Chakra smiled as he squeezed the air from her throat.

Nash found that the more civilized the woman was, the stranger their love-making.

He let go of her throat and Chakra fell to the ground. While she was still gasping for air, Nash grabbed her hair and pulled her head up. His cock went into her mouth, choking her in a different manner.

Chakra groaned as he fucked her mouth. He pushed her head this way and that. He was making sure to check both of her cheeks with his cock. Once she hid a magic coin underneath her tongue and he had nearly missed it.

There was no way she could hide anything in her mouth this time. Nash rammed his cock deep down her throat with a fierceness that barely allowed breathing much less clever concealment. Chakra squirmed but there was no escape until he had invaded every inch of her mouth.

Eventually he released her. Chakra fell back on the ground and wiped the spit from her lips. Her black boots scraped against the floor as she tried to move. He thought about taking her boots off, but decided against it. The boots were so skintight, nothing can be hidden there.

Which left just one last place.

Chakra laughed as she saw the look on his eye. She tried to scramble away but Nash was already on top of her. Their bodies rubbed against each other; his hard muscular body on top of her soft limber form. They grunted as they wrestled. Each of them pushing and grabbing each other’s body as they sound an advantage. Bites and scratches were exchanged as they tried to shock the other out of a good hold.

In the end, Nash was able to pin her down. He held her head down as he put his cock against her ass. Chakra screamed like a wildcat as inch after inch of his cock went into her tight bottom.

He hit bottom far too early. He pulled out and slipped a finger into her ass. A moment’s search, and out came the Ruby of the Sun. Despite the inglorious location in which it had been hidden, it still sparkled with a divine radiance.

“It is a great treasure,” Nash said. “I can see why you would want it.”

Chakra laughed with her face still pinned to the floor. “That is not what I came to steal.”

Nash put the Ruby of the Sun aside. “I know.”

He put his cock back into her ass. Chakra purred as he truly filled her this time. All of his cock disappeared into her ass as he nailed her to ground.

They fucked like the great heroes that they were. He attacked her ass with his cock. She took all of him with her acrobatic body. Their exertions were legendary as they sought to outdo each other. Their sweat mixed together on the dirty floor.

When they climaxed, even the Gods took notice.

When it was over, Nash collapsed on top of Chakra. His fingernails traced the shape of a bat tattoo on her shoulder. She bit a new scar he had on chest.

“Come with me,” Chakra whispered. “We could rob the treasures of the world. You and your muscle, and me with my guile.”

“Come with me,” Nash said. “We could defeat the monsters of the world. You and your cunning and me with my might.”

Neither answered. They kissed until the lantern oil burned out.

In the morning, Chakra was gone. So were her tunic, her daggers, her lantern and of course those amazing boots. The Ruby of the Sun she left behind.

Nash sighed. His heart had been stolen once more.

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 202

"I'll seduce him," the Invisible MILF said.

"No," I said a little too quickly. "I can take him."

"Don't be a hero," she said. "You need medical attention, not another fight. Let me handle this. After this one guard, we can get back to the Pimp ship."

I didn't have a good argument to counter her. Well, I could always tell her I was in love with her, but I couldn't. Trying to escape from the Secret Censors of Atlantis is not the time to mess up the group dynamics.

"All right," I said.

"Men, you are so protective," she whispered.

She didn't know I was only protective of her.

I watched the guard. He stood at attention with his Sonic Rifle in his hands. He looked down in amazement as his pants unzipped.

We both watched as his cock emerged from his underwear. It grew harder and I can only imagine what technique the Invisible MILF was using. Did she stroke him? Was she sucking on him? Was she pressing his hard cock against unseen breasts that I have only dreamed about?

The guard groaned. I wonder if he had any idea what was happening. Surely he knew about the prisoners the Secret Censors took. Maybe he knew and just didn't care.

He climaxed. A spurt of his seed landed on the Invisible MILF's face. I guess she was jerking him off. The guard looked down to study the features his seed revealed.

I was already moving. He didn't see me at all as I rammed my elbow into his neck. he went down hard.

The Invisible MILF vanished as she wiped the semen from her face and ate it. "Nice hit," she said. "You nearly took his head off."

Personally, I don't think I hit him hard enough.

Publishing Poll

George Sportelli invited me to write some plots for a comic project he is working on. I was delighted to be asked and the short nature of the project allowed me to be brief and not ramble off on a 200 page idea. Scripting is a neat challenge as I get to present things without narrating them. I never have that luxury in writing. I also rarely am given permission by someone else to be as crazy as I want to. It has been a wonderful experience.

While discussuing self-publishing, George suggested that I start printing my catalog of stories. My ego loves the idea. Buddha knows I have enough stories, the question then becomes, which stories? Sometimes I feel like I have more styles than Madonna. I have already given these stories away for free, which ones would readers pay for?

Not that making money is really a concern. I have no delusions about my readership. Heck, I am such a cheapskate I am not sure I would pay for them. I wrote for money once and the truth of the matter is I took the money mostly for the prestige of being paid for writing. I am secure enough in myself that I don't need that kind of recognition. Cell Phone Slave will never be as famous as Anita Blake, but I am proud of what I write. My stories are good and at the end of my life, that is all I will care about.

Still, I should charge something if for no other reason than to pay for the art I want to commission for the covers. I hate attaching money values so I might just go with five dollars as a catch all price. Being a cheapskate, I will work hard to make sure five dollars buys a bunch of Shon Richards fun.

So Cell Phone Slave is a given. I mean, I have to publish that one. This Choose-Your-Own-Porn story is a given too. That leaves a couple of other longer stories that I think deserves a chance in PDF format. I'm putting up a poll to get your feedback.

Fiction Hard Lessons

“A good librarian makes use of all of her senses,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire Currie nodded but did not verbally answer. She was blindfolded and her blouse was unbuttoned. Her skirt was on the floor along with her panties. Because it was a Wednesday, her panties today were dark red. The stockings that only came up to her thighs could do nothing to protect her bare bottom from the cold seat of the chair.

It was just another Wednesday for Claire as an assistant librarian for the Colette-Ashbee Collection. Claire worked for the world’s greatest collection of erotica. She accompanied Mr. Dillon as he gathered books from all walks of life. In between book purchasing, he trained her in the many complex skills of being an erotic librarian. They also fucked a lot.

She was being tested. Claire had a naughty thought and hoped Mr. Dillon did not see her smirk. In erotic stories, this would be the part where the author would talk about the intricate knots or invincible locks that were pinning her hands and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair. There were no physical bonds here. Mr. Dillon felt Claire’s discipline should be the only restraints she needed. She still wasn’t sure if this was a sign of arrogance concerning his dominance, or an absolute faith in her ability to submit.

A harsh pinch to her breast brought her out of her thoughts. Mr. Dillon’s fingers had an inch of her large breast and he was twisting it viciously. She knew from experience that purple bruises will decorate her dark skin in the morning.

“Pay attention Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. He released her breast. “You have a passable mastery of determining whether a book is a first edition or a later edition fraudulently altered. You have shown some progress in recognizing the major printing houses that publish erotica as well as a little improvement in recalling the history of written erotica.”

Claire almost blushed. From Mr. Dillon, this was the equivalent of gushing praise.

“But all of these things rely on sight,” Mr. Dillon said. “Now is the time to test your cognitive ability using your other senses.”

Claire nodded. “Just in case I ever have to sort through books during a blackout?”

This time he pinched her thigh. Cruel fingers bit into her skin like a vice. The twisting hurt, but that wasn’t the bad part. The bad part was that his fingers were so close to her sex. It was painful but it was also so damn teasing.

“Your attempts at humor are as weak as your ability to analyze Miller,” Mr. Dillon said. “Please refrain from further attempt today. Are you ready to be tested?”

“Yes, Mr. Dillon,” Claire said.

The fingers released her thigh. “Excellent,” he said. “Let us begin.”

Claire braced herself. The sensation of being pinched lingered on her thigh. She was nervous but she refused to move her hands or feet. A good librarian behaves,

A smell assaulted her nose. It was musty, old and a little damp.

“Does this book have mold, or not?” Mr. Dillon asked.

The smell moved away. “Let me smell it again, please,” she requested.

“No,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire concentrated. “I believe it was moldy,” she said.

“Believe, or know, Ms. Currie?” Mr. Dillon said.

“I know,” Claire said.

“Hmm,” Mr. Dillon said.

Claire felt something mark her left breast. It was one stroke and it felt like a marker. She knew better than to ask what it was.

He asked her nine more times to identify mold by smell alone. When she gave her answer, he would mark either her right breast or her left one. After ten books, she had six on her left and four on her right.

“Terrible,” Mr. Dillon said. “You only got six of them right.”

Claire sighed with relief. At least she had more right than wrong.

“Open your thighs, Ms. Currie” Mr. Dillon commanded.

Claire spread her legs as wide as possible. She knew what he wanted to get to. Her pelvis shifted to give him as much access as possible to her cunt.

Hands gripped her thighs and Claire gasped as she felt Mr. Dillon’s mouth. His lips pushed through her thick pubic hair and licked at her sex. She shivered as he found her clitoris and she moaned as his tongue lapped away at her.

Claire lost herself. She ground against her boss’s face. Her hands stayed on the arms of the chair, and her feet stayed planted on the floor, but the rest of her body was in motion. Mr. Dillon was eating her and Claire was going to enjoy that rare privilege as much as possible.

A bell chimed. Mr. Dillon stopped suddenly. Claire whimpered as she felt him move away. She could hear him wiping his face of her desire. Her own seat was soaked.

“You got four wrong,” Mr. Dillon said.

The first slap landed on her right breast. She cried out at the sudden pain but the second slap was to her face. With her cheek still tingling, the third slap struck her open thigh, followed by a slap to her left breast.

Claire squirmed in her chair. The slaps struck her randomly bt she knew he had a system. A slapped breast was to distract her from a nasty slap to her thigh. A slap to face was to knock the scream out of her mouth that was rising from the slap to her nipple. Every instinct told her to cover herself but Claire did nothing. She gripped the arms of the chair as her punishment continued.

Mr. Dillon slapped her as hard as he had previously eaten her. It was all the same to him. Punishments and rewards were equally important. He didn’t flinch from inflicting either. It made for an amazing lover but also a relentless punisher.

The bell chimed. It took Claire a moment to realize the slaps had stopped. Her breasts stung. Her thighs ached. Her face burned. Worse of all, her sex was awfully aroused. She wanted to be filled. She wanted to be taken.

“Oh my,” she said. “Is the test over?” she asked.

Mr. Dillon snorted. “That was just the first of four.”

She heard a book being opened. It was a quick sound, as if Mr. Dillon had held one cover and let the book fall open.

“From the sound alone, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “Tell me if the spine on this book is broken.”

Claire swallowed. What does a broken spine sound like? She didn’t care to be honest. She wanted to be pulled out of the chair and fucked. She wanted the sting of her tits to go away. She wanted sex and all Mr. Dillon cared about were impossible skills she may never learn.

“It was broken,” Claire answered. Hell if she knew, but she had to answer.

Mr. Dillon made a mark on her right thigh. Did that mean she was wrong? Claire wasn’t sure. It would be nine more attempts before she found out.

Understanding blossomed within Claire. She knew one thing. By the time today’s ordeal was over, she was going to know what a damn broken spine did sound like. The slaps and licks will see to it.

It was an informative day.