Ages ago, I came across Rich Larson's wonderful Haunted House of Lingerie. I loved the art but I also just loved that name. It evoked images all of its own. A few years later when I wanted to do a grand Halloween story, I tried a dozen names that just didn't work. At some point, I thought that none of the names were as good as the haunted house of bondage I wanted to write about.
Once I had a title, then I had to have a story. I was working for Ruthie's Club at the time and they have a policy of adding an illustration for every story part. That forced me to constantly think of visuals for my story and for Haunted House, it actually helped form the story. I sat down and made a list of everything I personally wanted to see. Then I made a second list of everything I like about the haunted house genre. Then I made a third list of plot elements to connect the two lists. The end result is a nice story that is equal parts porn and ghost story.
By the way, that process is the same thing I did for BDSM Beach and almost any long story these days. Try it with your favorite genre.
Two last things I want to discuss. One is that this is one of those rare stories where I do a submissive male and a dominant female plot. Not being a submissive male, I often draw upon horror and suspense for my inspiration. I like doing these scenes but I often get worried that because I lack any personal sexual interest that I might not do as good a job as I would like. I also find that my readership drops every time I stretch my writing muscles and do a submissive male story.
Second, my personal favorite bit about this whole series was the idea of having room names instead of chapters. It confuses the fuck out of some readers who stumble upon a later story part first, but I wouldn't change it for the world. It tickles me far more than it should.
The Sitting Room
Painslut's Bedroom
The Bathroom
The Gaming Room
The Candle Room
The Mistress Bedroom
The Secret Room
The Dining Room
.JPG)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Four
Hannah was ready to forgive Adam. She woke up horny. Adam was sleeping beside her, and there were a good 20 minutes before the alarm would go off. She wanted to fuck. Hannah wanted to climax or feel the warm splash of Adam’s climax. At this level of arousal, either would be satisfying.
She burrowed under the covers, leaving behind the cold October morning air for the warmth of bodies under the comforter. Hannah opened Adam’s pajama bottoms and pulled out his half-erect cock She slipped it into her mouth and sucked oh-so-tenderly.
She licked him with all the care and affection she used to feel for him. The taste of him was what she craved. The stiffening of his cock reaffirmed that she was a woman worth desiring. It was so easy to forget all the neglect, all the times he had rejected her for sex and all the heartache she had gone through wondering why his libido had died while hers had paradoxically risen. In the smothering heat of a blowjob under covers, all doubt and regret is burned away. Relief washed over her; maybe things weren’t as bad as she’d suspected. As she sucked her husband’s cock, Hannah began to believe that she didn’t need the strange sexual curses that had recently dominated her life.
To read more, click Whole Post
“God damn it,” Adam yelled. His hands flipped off the covers and pushed at Hannah’s shoulders.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he said. “I’ve got the Henderson meeting first thing this morning.”
Hannah looked at her husband, his cock still in her mouth. She gave his cock a coaxing lick.
“Damn,” Adam said, and Hannah thought she had won him over. “I need to have the mid-month finished, too.”
His tone made it clear that having his cock sucked had ruined his entire day.
Hannah took Adam’s cock out of her mouth and apologized. It didn’t stop him from whining and bitching about the day ahead. He complained after his shower, he fussed about the lack of clean socks while getting dressed, and he was downcast as he sullenly ate his breakfast. By the time Adam left for work, Hannah was out of forgiveness. She had moved full on to resentment and quite a bit of hostility.
She was also very horny.
Wednesday was laundry day. It was a full-day affair; Hannah had figured out how to stretch it with a lunch break, ironing, folding and an hour of World of Warcraft while the towels dried. She sorted through the hamper of dirty laundry and tried not to think of the fiasco of this morning.
Instead, she thought of her curses. What might today’s curse bring? Would she be smothered in her laundry, held helpless while the towels whipped her bottom? Would she held down while Samuel entered her house, taunting her with what he was going to do to her? Would he make her suck his gorgeous cock? Would she choke on his cum as he filled her throat?
Oh, Hannah hoped so, and yet she didn’t. She suspected that all she had to do was go over to his house and knock on his door and she would be fucked all day long. She knew this, but she couldn’t do it. She wanted it, but she was also afraid of what that kind of decision would mean. It would mean the end of her and Adam. It would mean telling her family that she had lost the husband who gave her such a nice house and a life of luxury. It would mean that Adam would be the good guy and she would be the bad girl. For some reason, that galled her most of all. She was the hurt one here, damn it. She wasn’t going to do anything that could change that. She would rather suffer than give Adam that kind of victory.
Hannah was still fuming in offended martyrdom when she started the first load of laundry. It was large pile of whites, half of which were Adam’s socks. She dumped them in, set the temperature for hot, put in the detergent and slammed the lid shut.
That was when a powerful force slammed her against the washer. Her hips were pressed against the filling machine, her legs spread wide by some unknown power. That same invisible strength pushed her head down and pulled her arms behind her. Hannah moaned as her heavy breasts pressed against the cold lid of the washer. Her chin rested on the back of the control panel, her nose pressed against the wall. She was completely immobilized.
The clothes were next. Her shirt was ripped off her. Her bra fell in tatters. Her pajama bottoms tore with a loud rip. Her white cotton panties exploded into inch-long scraps. She was stripped bare and helpless.
She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She welcomed it. She didn’t know what was about to happen, but she knew one thing and that thought made her tingle between her thighs. These things were happening because someone wanted to do something to her. That kind of attention made her euphoric.
The washer went into its cycle, but something was different. It filled with water, but this water was so hot that the temperature of the washer became almost unbearably hot. Hot metal brought Hannah’s skin to life, obliterating any chill that was left in the October morning.
Then the washer moved. The wash cycle began, but instead of the gentle hum she had come to know, this was a bone-rattling vibration. Her entire body shook with the strength of the vibrations. Her nipples were so hard pressed against the vibrating metal lid. The invisible force that held her ground her hips against the machine, pressing her pussy and, more important, her clitoris against the warm steel.
“Yes!” she cried. The vibrations were better than any toy. Bent over and pinned against the machine, she felt as though she were being fucked. She was trapped in a wonderful threesome with the machine and the invisible force. She was in the center of heat, vibrations and unyielding power.
She tried to grind. She tried to move her hips against the washer. She tried to somehow fuck, but the absolute force that held her forbade it all. All she could do was stay there and take it.
Hannah took it.
The vibrations grew stronger. The floor creaked from the out-of-control washer. The walls shook a little, and Hannah watched a crack form on the wall. She knew she should be concerned but somehow the damage being done to her laundry room amused her. It was like breaking a bed with sex or leaving a stain on a dress. All the stress and damage were proof that Hannah was having one hell of a time.
The vibrations stopped. She groaned with disappointment. She tried to get up, but she still couldn’t move. She heard water draining, and she sighed with relief. She still had the spin cycle to go through. In the brief pause, she noticed how much of her desire had dripped down her thighs.
It was worth the pause. Once again, the washer ramped up into some sort of overdrive parody of its usual cycle. The vibrations were so strong that her pinned breasts felt as though they were being squeezed with prickly fingers. The spinning was so intense; it was a pulsing sensation of vibrating bliss on her pussy.
“Oh, yes,” Hannah screamed.
“Oh, yes!” Hannah moaned.
“Oh, yes!” Hannah cried.
Hannah came. The invisible force kept her pinned as her orgasm rippled through her body. She surrendered to her immobility and rode her orgasm out. She became a creature of pleasure, free of husbands, doubt and decisions. She ceased to be a wife and was just a woman fucked in the laundry room.
The washer stopped. She slumped with exhaustion, and it was a good seven seconds before she realized that the invisible force was gone. She had been released and hadn’t even noticed it.
The front of the washer was stained with her desire. She laughed as she flopped to the floor. Her body was numb from the vibrations, and her pussy felt as though it had exploded into a nova. She sat on the floor and breathed.
Idly, she pulled through her brown hair, moving aside the blond and red locks till she found what she was looking for: a single white lock, the same color as her washing machine.
To be continued,
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:
(M+(S-D)+E+A) * L=What Matters
M = Rhythmic Sexual Motion
S = Size of Penetrating Organ
D = Depth of Penetrated Area
E = Erotic Tension
A = Physical Attractiveness
L = Lubrication
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Three
“He didn’t even fucking notice!” Hannah snarled.
Tuesday was grocery-shopping day. It took all day because Hannah systematically spread her shopping among three stores. Whole Foods had the best meats but was a little pricey for anything else. Publix was affordable for most of the canned goods, and Kroger had the best non-food prices. Hannah was very proud that for the small inconvenience of shopping for six hours, she could save over $100 and still have high-quality groceries.
She was proud even though she knew Adam didn’t really notice. Much as he hadn’t noticed her new lock of blond hair. The blond had suddenly appeared, and she didn’t know why or how. She had started to come up with excuses for Adam for when he inevitably asked.
He never asked.
To read more, click Whole Post
“Fucker!” Hannah said. She slammed the door to her car and marched into Whole Foods.
“Fucker doesn’t notice anything unless it gets in the way of his fucking television!”
“Good morning, ma’am,” the smiling grocery stocker said.
Hannah forced a smile and grabbed a shopping cart. Now was not the time to think about Adam, or even Samuel and the bizarre incident of yesterday. Now was the time to shop. She did have a lingering feeling of guilt over the house. After yesterday’s spanking, she had cleaned up the mess but hadn’t done any more cleaning. She was too afraid of what might happen if she went to clean the shower or did any cleaning near the bed. The house wasn’t messy, but it was no longer meticulously clean.
Hannah sighed. Now was not the time to worry about it. She had work to do. The house, Adam and Samuel could all wait. For now, she could retreat safely into the early-morning peace of the grocery store.
The place was empty except for the occasional senior citizen and the far-too-young stockboys. Hannah had discovered the joy of early-morning weekday grocery shopping in the spring. The only other shoppers were quiet older people who came to avoid the crowds. The grocery employees were busy stocking shelves and setting up displays. It was a quiet time where she didn’t have to look at couples and ask herself why Adam didn’t hold her hand in public anymore.
Hannah pushed her cart though the produce section. One of the stockboys stopped what he was doing and stared at her legs. When he realized that Hannah had noticed him, he blushed and went back to work. Hannah was confused. Why was he looking at her legs? She was swearing sweatpants for crying out loud. Was there a hole in them?
She looked down and froze mid-stride. Her comfortable sweatpants were gone. She was wearing a black skirt instead. A shiver ran down her back. She didn’t own a black skirt this short. It barely came down to her knees. She certainly didn’t own a skirt that had a red snake embroidered on it. As she watched, she skirt shrunk another few inches.
“Oh, shit,” Hannah whispered. This had to be another curse. Fear gripped her till she realized that all that had happened was a change of clothes. Compared to the spanking of yesterday, this was nothing.
She kept pushing her cart. She passed by an older woman who frowned at her skirt. Hannah giggled. Disapproval from a woman old enough to be her grandmother was something she could handle.
That was when she felt the breath get squeezed out of her.
Hannah looked down to see that her sweater was gone. In its place was a tight black corset. It was very low cut, and her breasts were about to spill out the top. She recognized the corset. It was from World of Warcraft, one of those impossibly sexy garments that the game considered to be “armor.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered. Another stockboy was staring at her. She had forgotten just how large her tits were. To be more accurate, she had forgotten just how much guys liked her tits. Adam didn’t even cop a feel any more. Judging by the way the stockboy’s eyes were fixated, Hannah didn’t think he would ,mind touching hers at all.
Hannah reached the meat department. She stood still for a moment before squealing as her shoes changed. The boring sneakers turned into high heels. She was elevated several inches, and her breasts jiggled from the motion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn heels, and these seemed impossibly high.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the meat counter said. This was the first time Hannah had been waited on without having to ring the bell.
“Ah, yes,” she said. She fidgeted with her hair. She just felt so nervous. This man was about her age, and his eyes were fixated on her breasts.
“I’ll be happy to help,” he said.
“Do you have any fresh salmon?” she asked.
The butcher smiled. “Not out, but I’ll go cut some up. How much do you need?”
One by one, they went down her list, and at each item, the butcher was excited to help. Hannah even changed a few of her items to more exotic choices, just to see if he would jump through those hoops. He never faltered. He also never stopped looking at her tits, which didn’t bother her in the slightest. Being attractive was a novelty, and as curses went, this one could have been far worse.
When she had filled her cart with meat, Hannah headed for the checkout lines. With the first step she took, she realized that her underwear had changed, too. Her sensible, boring panties had turned into something much skimpier and much thinner. By the second step, she knew she was wearing a thong by the way the fabric was pulling against her sex and along her ass. The material was so tight that it was rubbing her clitoris with every step.
The walk to the cashiers had never seemed so long. The heels were difficult to walk in, making Hannah struggle for every step. The skirt had shrunk down around her thighs, hobbling her. Her tits bounced with every step, and she was convinced the cut of the corset had gotten lower. The corset made her stand up straight, and she realized just how much she had become used to slouching. She had to walk tall and proud, although she wanted to run and hide. As for the thong, it was stroking Hannah’s sex and clitoris. Every step was an orgy of balance, jiggling and stimulation.
It was the other people in the grocery store who were the real challenge. Older women looked at her with disapproval.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, dressing like a dirty whore,” a bitter old woman whispered.
Hannah ignored her and kept pushing her cart. Should she be ashamed? For some reason, she wasn’t. In fact, she felt pretty good.
Older men looked at her with open lust, daydreaming about conquests of their past. The store employees, almost all men, found reasons to linger around her. Their eyes devoured her as she walked by, nibbling and tasting her risqué clothes.
“Need help with anything?” one brave boy asked.
“No, I’m good,” Hannah said. She could have sworn that her corset pushed her cleavage up another inch.
Two steps later, another employee offered his assistance. In response, her skirt constricted more tightly around her thighs.
“No, thank you,” Hannah said. She kept going, working her way past all the staring eyes. Oh, God, they all wanted her. They wanted to fetch things for her. They wanted to do whatever it took to just be near her. When was the last time that had happened?
It occurred to her that she could invite any of these boys home, and they would come.
Her pussy was so damn wet.
She finally made it to the cashier. The grinning 20something at the register looked as if he had won the lottery.
“Find everything?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hannah said. She thought that everyone in the store had certainly found everything there was to see about her.
As she bent over her cart to get the items out, one of her breasts popped out. She froze with shock and just looked down at her snowy white tit. The pink nipple was so hard and stiff . She stuffed her breast into her shrinking corset and stood back up, embarrassed.
The cashier’s mouth was wide open. Her embarrassment melted into a sort of almost pride. When he shut his mouth and blushed, she felt almost powerful.
He rang up her purchases, asking twice more whether she’d found everything. He kept looking at her chest. He blushed a few more times.
Hannah soaked it all in. This was a good curse. Oh, the outfit was scandalous, and if the store had been more crowded, she would have been horrified, but she liked the attention. She liked being sexy. She liked being seen as something to be leered at and fucked. It had been so long since Adam had looked at her this way that she was relishing it now.
The bag boy offered to walk her out to the car. She turned him down. That was too much temptation. If she took him back to her car, he might try something. Hell, she might try something. She was so turned on by the thong’s constant caress, she just wanted to be filled right now.
As soon as Hannah stepped outside the grocery store, her high heels flattened back into sneakers. By the time she got into the parking lot, her corset had shifted back into the rather shapeless sweater. When she reached her car, her skirt was gone, replaced by the tired, dull jeans. When the thong returned to normal, Hannah sighed at the lack of the sensation that had been so wonderful against her pussy.
“That can’t be it,” she said. She sat in her car, thinking of the two other grocery stores she had to visit. “Maybe it will come back when I walk into Publix.”
She glanced at her rearview mirror and saw herself. Right beside the blond lock of hair was a new strand of red. As brilliant as flame, the new strand of hair was just as thick as the blond one.
That was when she knew that there would be no further magic. The curse had hit her and left its mark. It was gone. A wave of disappointment hit her. She had been sexy, far sexier than she had the courage to do on her own. She had been a slut in the grocery store, and now it was over. Now she had two more stores to go to in nothing more exciting than her dumpy sweater and boring jeans.
“Fuck,” Hannah said.
To be continued,
Tuesday was grocery-shopping day. It took all day because Hannah systematically spread her shopping among three stores. Whole Foods had the best meats but was a little pricey for anything else. Publix was affordable for most of the canned goods, and Kroger had the best non-food prices. Hannah was very proud that for the small inconvenience of shopping for six hours, she could save over $100 and still have high-quality groceries.
She was proud even though she knew Adam didn’t really notice. Much as he hadn’t noticed her new lock of blond hair. The blond had suddenly appeared, and she didn’t know why or how. She had started to come up with excuses for Adam for when he inevitably asked.
He never asked.
To read more, click Whole Post
“Fucker!” Hannah said. She slammed the door to her car and marched into Whole Foods.
“Fucker doesn’t notice anything unless it gets in the way of his fucking television!”
“Good morning, ma’am,” the smiling grocery stocker said.
Hannah forced a smile and grabbed a shopping cart. Now was not the time to think about Adam, or even Samuel and the bizarre incident of yesterday. Now was the time to shop. She did have a lingering feeling of guilt over the house. After yesterday’s spanking, she had cleaned up the mess but hadn’t done any more cleaning. She was too afraid of what might happen if she went to clean the shower or did any cleaning near the bed. The house wasn’t messy, but it was no longer meticulously clean.
Hannah sighed. Now was not the time to worry about it. She had work to do. The house, Adam and Samuel could all wait. For now, she could retreat safely into the early-morning peace of the grocery store.
The place was empty except for the occasional senior citizen and the far-too-young stockboys. Hannah had discovered the joy of early-morning weekday grocery shopping in the spring. The only other shoppers were quiet older people who came to avoid the crowds. The grocery employees were busy stocking shelves and setting up displays. It was a quiet time where she didn’t have to look at couples and ask herself why Adam didn’t hold her hand in public anymore.
Hannah pushed her cart though the produce section. One of the stockboys stopped what he was doing and stared at her legs. When he realized that Hannah had noticed him, he blushed and went back to work. Hannah was confused. Why was he looking at her legs? She was swearing sweatpants for crying out loud. Was there a hole in them?
She looked down and froze mid-stride. Her comfortable sweatpants were gone. She was wearing a black skirt instead. A shiver ran down her back. She didn’t own a black skirt this short. It barely came down to her knees. She certainly didn’t own a skirt that had a red snake embroidered on it. As she watched, she skirt shrunk another few inches.
“Oh, shit,” Hannah whispered. This had to be another curse. Fear gripped her till she realized that all that had happened was a change of clothes. Compared to the spanking of yesterday, this was nothing.
She kept pushing her cart. She passed by an older woman who frowned at her skirt. Hannah giggled. Disapproval from a woman old enough to be her grandmother was something she could handle.
That was when she felt the breath get squeezed out of her.
Hannah looked down to see that her sweater was gone. In its place was a tight black corset. It was very low cut, and her breasts were about to spill out the top. She recognized the corset. It was from World of Warcraft, one of those impossibly sexy garments that the game considered to be “armor.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered. Another stockboy was staring at her. She had forgotten just how large her tits were. To be more accurate, she had forgotten just how much guys liked her tits. Adam didn’t even cop a feel any more. Judging by the way the stockboy’s eyes were fixated, Hannah didn’t think he would ,mind touching hers at all.
Hannah reached the meat department. She stood still for a moment before squealing as her shoes changed. The boring sneakers turned into high heels. She was elevated several inches, and her breasts jiggled from the motion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn heels, and these seemed impossibly high.
“Can I help you?” the man behind the meat counter said. This was the first time Hannah had been waited on without having to ring the bell.
“Ah, yes,” she said. She fidgeted with her hair. She just felt so nervous. This man was about her age, and his eyes were fixated on her breasts.
“I’ll be happy to help,” he said.
“Do you have any fresh salmon?” she asked.
The butcher smiled. “Not out, but I’ll go cut some up. How much do you need?”
One by one, they went down her list, and at each item, the butcher was excited to help. Hannah even changed a few of her items to more exotic choices, just to see if he would jump through those hoops. He never faltered. He also never stopped looking at her tits, which didn’t bother her in the slightest. Being attractive was a novelty, and as curses went, this one could have been far worse.
When she had filled her cart with meat, Hannah headed for the checkout lines. With the first step she took, she realized that her underwear had changed, too. Her sensible, boring panties had turned into something much skimpier and much thinner. By the second step, she knew she was wearing a thong by the way the fabric was pulling against her sex and along her ass. The material was so tight that it was rubbing her clitoris with every step.
The walk to the cashiers had never seemed so long. The heels were difficult to walk in, making Hannah struggle for every step. The skirt had shrunk down around her thighs, hobbling her. Her tits bounced with every step, and she was convinced the cut of the corset had gotten lower. The corset made her stand up straight, and she realized just how much she had become used to slouching. She had to walk tall and proud, although she wanted to run and hide. As for the thong, it was stroking Hannah’s sex and clitoris. Every step was an orgy of balance, jiggling and stimulation.
It was the other people in the grocery store who were the real challenge. Older women looked at her with disapproval.
“You should be ashamed of yourself, dressing like a dirty whore,” a bitter old woman whispered.
Hannah ignored her and kept pushing her cart. Should she be ashamed? For some reason, she wasn’t. In fact, she felt pretty good.
Older men looked at her with open lust, daydreaming about conquests of their past. The store employees, almost all men, found reasons to linger around her. Their eyes devoured her as she walked by, nibbling and tasting her risqué clothes.
“Need help with anything?” one brave boy asked.
“No, I’m good,” Hannah said. She could have sworn that her corset pushed her cleavage up another inch.
Two steps later, another employee offered his assistance. In response, her skirt constricted more tightly around her thighs.
“No, thank you,” Hannah said. She kept going, working her way past all the staring eyes. Oh, God, they all wanted her. They wanted to fetch things for her. They wanted to do whatever it took to just be near her. When was the last time that had happened?
It occurred to her that she could invite any of these boys home, and they would come.
Her pussy was so damn wet.
She finally made it to the cashier. The grinning 20something at the register looked as if he had won the lottery.
“Find everything?” he asked.
“Yes,” Hannah said. She thought that everyone in the store had certainly found everything there was to see about her.
As she bent over her cart to get the items out, one of her breasts popped out. She froze with shock and just looked down at her snowy white tit. The pink nipple was so hard and stiff . She stuffed her breast into her shrinking corset and stood back up, embarrassed.
The cashier’s mouth was wide open. Her embarrassment melted into a sort of almost pride. When he shut his mouth and blushed, she felt almost powerful.
He rang up her purchases, asking twice more whether she’d found everything. He kept looking at her chest. He blushed a few more times.
Hannah soaked it all in. This was a good curse. Oh, the outfit was scandalous, and if the store had been more crowded, she would have been horrified, but she liked the attention. She liked being sexy. She liked being seen as something to be leered at and fucked. It had been so long since Adam had looked at her this way that she was relishing it now.
The bag boy offered to walk her out to the car. She turned him down. That was too much temptation. If she took him back to her car, he might try something. Hell, she might try something. She was so turned on by the thong’s constant caress, she just wanted to be filled right now.
As soon as Hannah stepped outside the grocery store, her high heels flattened back into sneakers. By the time she got into the parking lot, her corset had shifted back into the rather shapeless sweater. When she reached her car, her skirt was gone, replaced by the tired, dull jeans. When the thong returned to normal, Hannah sighed at the lack of the sensation that had been so wonderful against her pussy.
“That can’t be it,” she said. She sat in her car, thinking of the two other grocery stores she had to visit. “Maybe it will come back when I walk into Publix.”
She glanced at her rearview mirror and saw herself. Right beside the blond lock of hair was a new strand of red. As brilliant as flame, the new strand of hair was just as thick as the blond one.
That was when she knew that there would be no further magic. The curse had hit her and left its mark. It was gone. A wave of disappointment hit her. She had been sexy, far sexier than she had the courage to do on her own. She had been a slut in the grocery store, and now it was over. Now she had two more stores to go to in nothing more exciting than her dumpy sweater and boring jeans.
“Fuck,” Hannah said.
To be continued,
Monday, October 15, 2007
Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part Two
(Legs contributed by Musns)
Monday was Hannah’s cleaning day. She never cleaned on weekends. It wasn’t because she needed the break. She just liked giving the clutter a few days to build so that she would be kept busy on Monday. She found that she always got depressed on Mondays, and this way she was too busy to dwell on the little things that bothered her like clockwork every Monday morning.
Like why hadn’t Adam fucked her this weekend? Why hadn’t she started working out like she’d sworn she would? Did she really spend all that time playing World of Warcraft instead of getting out to a movie? Hannah used to nag Adam with these thoughts till he got tired of her bitching. Now she held them deep within, smothering them with furniture polish and drowning them in mop water.
Hannah had recently added a dirty secret to her cleaning. She stripped down to her panties and white tank top. She liked the idea of being half naked while she cleaned the house. It was a tiny defiance, proof that she was still sexual even if her husband wasn’t. She had come up with this twist during the summer, but even when October rolled around and there was a chill in the air indoors, Hannah wasn’t willing to put more on. Being barely clothed made her feel more playful, and on Mondays, Hannah needed all the help she could get when it came to ignoring her worries.
This Monday, though, she had a new worry that she couldn’t just clean away. She thought about the previous night and about her neighbor Samuel. She thought of his magnificent hard body and his stiff cock. Hannah thought about why it had been so hard to admit that she had been spying on this beautiful man, why it had been impossible for her to confess that yes, she had masturbated to the site of him, reaching seven wonderful orgasms. Most of all though, she thought of Samuel’s threat of a curse.
To read more, click Whole Post
As Hannah scrubbed the floor with the mop, her heart pounded as she considered what Samuel could have meant by a curse. Was he going to tell Adam? Was he going to tell her husband of six years that she spied on her neighbors while masturbating? How disgusted would that make Adam?
Hannah paused in her mopping and sighed. Would that mean Adam would stop not having sex with her? Seriously, other than embarrassing her about it, what was Adam going to do? Spend more time at work, golfing and watching television?
Hannah went back to mopping. She had a routine for cleaning the house, and she had a routine for cleaning her mind. She reminded herself of what her mother said, about how lucky Hannah was to have a husband who worked hard and got paid enough that she didn’t need to work. She remembered what her friends said, that she was lucky that Adam had a small sex drive compared to some of their husbands, who fucked everything that moved. Hannah dutifully remembered how lucky she was that the only bad thing Adam did was bore her to tears, and wasn’t that her problem, not his?
By the time Hannah was ready to vacuum, she had tidied up her lingering doubts about her marriage. She had also convinced herself that the most Samuel would was make some sort of pagan voodoo doll. Hannah giggled as she imagined
Samuel, naked in his yard, whispering dread curses while sticking a Barbie doll with pins. Heat flashed between her thighs when she wondered if he would do it tonight.
Lost in her giggling, she didn’t notice that the vacuum cleaner cord was coiling around her feet. She was completely unaware of how the cord was slowly inching on its own around her. The cord always pulled back when Hannah pulled the vacuum back, so she never noticed the oddity of it gathering it’s length around her unsuspecting feet.
She cried out when she tripped. The cord had wrapped around her feet and cinched tight. She spilled forward and landed hard on the floor. Her knees hurt from the fall but not nearly as much as her ego did. She had tripped and fallen like a child. What if she had gotten seriously hurt? How bad a housewife would she have to be to hurt herself cleaning the house?
She tried to get up, and that was when she noticed the vacuum cleaner cord was still moving! She panicked as the cord snaked around her legs, wrapping them higher and higher.
She looked up to see her carefully folded dust rags leap from the coffee table and walk on their corners towards her. They walked over to her hands and wrapped around her wrists. With an invisible strength, they pulled her arms wide apart, puling her face down on the freshly cleaned carpet.
Doubting her sanity, Hannah tried to getup, but something was holding her chest down. At first, she thought something was on top of her, but then she realized that the pulling was from her own tank top! Her panties came to life next, rolling gently down her bottom and stopping at the top of her thighs. Hannah couldn’t believe that her very clothes had turned against her.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. This must be the curse. Held down by dust rags, vacuum cords and her own clothes, she became a believer in Samuel and the strange forces of desire he worshipped.
“Stop, stop, please!” she yelled. She didn’t see Samuel, but somehow she though he must be there.
Her carefully arranged stack of magazines came to life. All nine of the thick magazines floated into the air and flew towards her. They rolled themselves up, turning into curved instruments of discipline. Hannah instantly knew them for what they were. Visions of bad dogs and misbehaving cats leapt to her mind.
“No!” she cried out as the first magazine smacked her on her exposed ass. The first blow was so loud that she screamed before realizing that it wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d expected. It was actually just a gentle sting.
It stayed a gentle sting when the second magazine hit her ass, and the heat only increased gradually when the third magazine struck her bottom. It was the fourth, fifth, sixth smacks of the magazines that started to hurt. By the seventh smack, Hannah’s bottom was burning. By the tenth, she was squirming from the incessant heat. By the 20th, her ass felt like it had been set on fire.
Hannah struggled, but there was no escape. The vacuum cord kept her legs together. The dust rags that seemed so flimsy were more than enough to hold her wrists down. She couldn’t even move her torso; the shirt pinned her down to the ground like she had been stapled in cotton. The only parts of her body she could move were her head as she buried her face in the carpet and her ass, which clenched every time it was struck. She had never felt so physically helpless. There was no choice except to take what was happening. In a way it was almost comforting. She had been taking this marriage for six years.
Time became strange. The endless smacking of the magazines made every moment more important than the last. Her ass was attacked from every angle with every thickness of paper. Gentle blows caressed the bottom of her ass before giving away to the heavy thwack of the damned Wired magazine. The TV Guide smacked the sides of her ass with almost glancing blows right after the precise stinging strikes of People magazine. The world was measured in the pauses between smacks and the force of each blow.
She didn’t notice when she started to get wet. All of the sudden, she became aware of this moist inferno in her pussy. It confused her at first. How could she possibly be turned on by being spanked in her living room? She knew the answer as soon as the next hard blow landed on her bottom. It was attention. This was the most she had been touched in months, and the fact that someone, anyone, wanted her bound and butt-naked in her living room was flattering beyond words. She was being punished, yes, but she was also being touched.
The magazines kept striking her ass, but Hannah’s focus shifted to her pussy. She couldn’t touch herself, but she could feel the carpet against her. She tried to grind against the floor, expecting her restraints to hold her tight, but the vacuum cord did nothing to stop her. Escape was forbidden, but apparently humping the floor was OK.
Hannah didn’t care why. She shamelessly ground her pussy against the carpet. The magazines kept hitting her ass no matter how much she squirmed. She welcomed the blows now. She could barely get any friction on her pussy from the carpet, but she could feel every delicious smack of her ass. Every blow sent shockwaves to her pussy. Maybe, just maybe, she could trick it into climaxing.
The magazines kept punishing Hannah’s tender ass.
The dust rags, shirt and cord kept Hannah down.
The carpet refused to get Hannah off, but she kept humping.
And then, it stopped. The magazines fell to the floor. The cord became slack and parted for her struggling legs. The dust rags offered no resistance as she reached under herself and stroked her soaked pussy. It was awkward masturbating on her stomach, so she rolled over onto her back.
She screamed. Her ass, abused for who knows how long, exploded in stinging heat as soon as it touched the carpet. It hurt so damn much, but the need between her thighs was so much greater.
Hannah masturbated. She used both hands. One hand stroked her clit while the other hand plunged deep within her. She thought of the magazines tearing up her bottom. She thought of Samuel spanking her with his hand. She thought of Adam walking in and fucking her silly.
She climaxed. She came so hard that her toes curled for the first time in months. The orgasm was so much better than the tiny climaxes she had given to herself. This was a sex climax, as powerful and overwhelming as first-time love.
The tears came from nowhere. With her fingers buried in her sex, Hannah started to cry, and she had no idea why. She rolled over to her side and sobbed, getting something out of her system that she hadn’t known was there. Much like the spanking, the crying went on forever, taking as long as it needed to.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” she asked. The crying had finally stopped. The pain in her ass, however, still lingered. “What the fuck was that all about?”
She got up on shaky legs and nearly fell over again. She giggled. It was the masturbating that had turned her legs to jelly. Hannah felt sexy. She felt a little dirty. Looking at the damp spot on the carpet, she felt like a teenager having to cover up her first wet spot. Already, she was thinking of what she needed to treat the carpet, but somehow, cleaning didn’t have the same appeal.
Hannah stumbled to the bathroom and washed her face instead. She didn’t want to think about the crying. She didn’t want to think about what strange magical forces had attacked her today. She wanted to savor the orgasm and the odd feeling that she was a woman again for the first time in ages.
She looked up in the mirror and nearly screamed again. Her long brown hair was a mess — and right in the middle of her long brown locks was a shock of yellow. Hannah pulled the strand and looked at it. Right there, a streak of blond hair in the middle of her normal, everyday brown.
How the fuck was she going to explain this to Adam?
To be continued,
Friday, October 12, 2007
Fiction: The Seven Curses of Hannah Part One
It was a brisk October night, and in her dark bedroom, Hannah was wrapped snugly in her house robe. The plush material felt great against her naked skin, and for a brief moment, she was glad she was a larger woman because it meant she had more places to be touched by her robe. Her round breasts, round hips and very round bottom were encased in the soft fabric. She pulled her long brown hair out from under the robe so that every inch of her back could feel the soft terrycloth. Hannah’s body always came to life when she wore this robe, and her aroused mind thought about checking to see if her husband wanted to fool around.
The thought melted away as quickly as it had come. It was five minutes to 9 on a Sunday evening. That meant Adam was sitting on the couch downstairs waiting for his two-hour block of television to begin. He had spent two hours playing video games after rushing through the dinner Hannah had made. Because he had played World of Warcraft with her around noon, Adam considered his husbandly duties done for the day.
Hannah pulled a chair up to her bedroom window. In the darkness, she sat down and opened her robe. She reached between her thighs and started to stroke.
“Adam can watch his stupid secret-agent show,” she muttered. She had her own show to watch.
To read more, click Whole Post
Her second-floor window was set at the perfect angle for her to look down into her neighbor’s yard. Although a high privacy fence that surrounded the yard, Hannah could see all. She stroked her sex casually, trying to keep herself wet without getting too excited. She didn’t know whether her personal show would repeat tonight as it had for the last six nights, but her wet pussy was ready if it did.
She got her wish.
She didn’t even know the man’s name. He had moved in two weeks ago and set up the privacy fence the next day. Hannah knew that he was tall, that he had sexy curly black hair and that his body was in awesome shape. She knew this because he came out at 9 every night stark naked.
Hannah’s fingers worked faster. His muscles just glowed in the moonlight. She couldn’t help comparing him to Adam. Adam, whose idea of exercise was golf every Saturday and martial arts video games the rest of the week. She thought about how Adam’s arms loosely hugged her these days and compared his arms to the limbs of steel in the yard below her. As she stroked her pussy, Hannah thought about how her neighbor’s muscles would feel between her thighs.
The neighbor’s backyard had a small marble statue in the center. The statue was of a nude woman, standing with her arms outstretched. Hannah couldn’t tell if the statue was supposed to be a goddess or a historical figure. All she knew was that the statue was very busty and much slenderer than Hannah and that her neighbor masturbated onto it every night.
She gasped as her neighbor grabbed his erect manhood. He didn’t reach down and fondle himself; he seized it. She could just imagine him grabbing her with the same urgent need. His fist encased his large cock, and he started pumping. The muscles of his arms bulged as he worked himself. He was rough. He was primal. He was exactly what her neglected pussy wanted.
“Oh, God,” Hannah moaned. Her neighbor just stood there and masturbated, but in her mind, he did so much more. She pictured him mounting her, with her arms and thighs wrapped around his hard body. She imagined him kneeling between her thighs, seizing her bottom and burying his face in her pussy. She stroked herself to images of him standing over her, masturbating into her waiting mouth.
Hannah felt her orgasm swell within her, but she held off. A week ago, she always climaxed as soon as possible but the last two days, she had found a sweeter way. No matter how much her clitoris was tingling, she would hold off and gently tease herself with feather touches. She waited till she saw her neighbor reach his own climax.
It never took long. The man tilted his head forward, falling deeper into whatever fantasy he was in. His fist pumped faster, and Hannah resumed stroking her clit. Back and forth the man’s fist pumped his beautiful cock, while back and forth Hannah stroked her terribly wet pussy.
He climaxed, showering come onto the marble statue.
Hannah closed her eyes as her fingers brought her to a brilliant climax.
When she opened her eyes, the neighbor was looking right at her!
Hannah froze, her fingers still slick with her desire. He couldn’t be looking at her. The bedroom was dark, and the distance was too great. It was night time ,and there is no way he could see her from his back yard. There was no way at all. It was just her imagination.
Her neighbor walked to the privacy fence and climbed it easily. He was in her yard now, strolling to the back door.
“Fuck!” Hannah whispered. If the neighbor knocked on the back door and Adam answered, there would be a shitload of explaining to do. Hannah jumped out of her seat and ran downstairs as quietly as she could. She didn’t have time to put on any other clothes so she pulled her robe tight around her. She crept by the living room and the sounds of Adam’s television shows. The outline of her neighbor was visible against the glass of the kitchen door, and Hannah rushed forward. She opened the door just as he had his hand up ready to knock.
“Hello,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Hello,” the man said. “My name is Samuel, and you are?”
It was Hannah’s first chance to see her neighbor up close. The first thing she noticed was his eyes. They were the deepest shade of green she had ever seen on a person.
The next thing she noticed was that he was still nude. Despite his recent ejaculation, his large cock was very hard and pointing up at her.
“Hi, uhh, Samuel,” Hannah said. “My name is Hannah.”
He smiled at her. “Hannah is a pretty name.”
“Thank you,” she said. They stood there for a moment. She in her house robe, he in his naked beauty.
“Hannah, I just came by to say that I although I don’t mind you watching my evening dedications, I find it a little rude that you do it without telling me that you are watching.”
She swallowed hard. She could hear her husband’s television show cut to commercial. She only hoped that didn’t need to come to the kitchen for anything.
“Uh, Samuel, I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said.
“Really?” Samuel said. “Every night, I come out and dedicate my seed to the Goddess of Desire. In other words, I jack off.”
“Oh, I didn’t know,” Hannah clumsily lied.
“I think you do,” he said. “I think you have watched me every night for seven nights. Judging from your flushed cheeks and your obvious lack of clothes underneath your robe, I am betting you masturbate while I do my dedications. In a way, you have offered your own dedications to the goddess. It is only fitting that you admit it and make it official.”
Hannah shook her head. “Honestly, I have no idea what you are talking about. Please go before my husband hears you. He’s not as understanding as I am.”
At that, Samuel frowned. “That’s three times you have denied what you have done. Three times you have lied to me about the seven times you have seen me performing my dedications. Yes, I know about every time you have watched me, and I know about the seven times you have climaxed from what you have seen.”
“Please, just go,” Hannah said. This was too much to process, much less admit. She also just couldn’t help looking down at his magnificent large cock.
“I place my curse on you, Hannah,” Samuel said. “Seven times you will feel the touch of desire. Seven times, no harm will come to you except for the walls you have created around you. Seven torments will come to you straight from your dreams and into your life. These curses, you earned yourself.”
Before Hannah could say anything, Samuel walked away. He headed back to his yard without a care in the world. The brisk October breeze blew the leaves around him, but he didn’t even shiver. Samuel went right back to his fence and jumped over the side with ease.
Hannah shook her head. He was great looking but really weird. It bothered her that he had noticed her, but not nearly as much as it did knowing that he was out of his mind.
“Seven curses,” she said to herself. “God, wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace.”
To be continued,
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Pop Quiz!
This question will count as 25% of your final grade so anwser carefully. Results will be confidential and not shared with any sellers. Please show your work.
What is your favorite sexy monster?
Note: Definition of sexy, favorite and monster are at your discretion.
What is your favorite sexy monster?
Note: Definition of sexy, favorite and monster are at your discretion.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Blog-Secret
Blogs that are run by happily married couples who want to brag about their sex life with each other elicits one reaction in me- Utter disbelief.
I mean, if you're having wonderful brag worthy sex with your spouse five days a week, when the fuck would you have time to write about it? It is one thing if you are blogging with your spouse about the sexual things that interest you. I can understand that. They are partners and so they are doing this together. I just roll my eyes when all the blog is about is a catalog of the great sex these two people are allegedly having with each other. No fights, no issues, no highs and lows; just great sex scenes spliced together like a marriage gonzo tape.
So deep down, I always suspect that happily married couple sex blogs are actually written by really unhappily married couples who are clinging to the sex as a sign that they shouldn't be as unhappy as they are feeling.
Here's the guilty secret part so please don't tell anyone. Ready? Pinky-swear? Okay, here it is-
When the happily married couple sex blog closes down and announces they are getting a divorce, I always smile and nod my head in a smug manner because it just satisfies my suspicions. Every time.
I feel so much better for saying that. Now I don't feel the need to tell you what I think about ________.
I mean, if you're having wonderful brag worthy sex with your spouse five days a week, when the fuck would you have time to write about it? It is one thing if you are blogging with your spouse about the sexual things that interest you. I can understand that. They are partners and so they are doing this together. I just roll my eyes when all the blog is about is a catalog of the great sex these two people are allegedly having with each other. No fights, no issues, no highs and lows; just great sex scenes spliced together like a marriage gonzo tape.
So deep down, I always suspect that happily married couple sex blogs are actually written by really unhappily married couples who are clinging to the sex as a sign that they shouldn't be as unhappy as they are feeling.
Here's the guilty secret part so please don't tell anyone. Ready? Pinky-swear? Okay, here it is-
When the happily married couple sex blog closes down and announces they are getting a divorce, I always smile and nod my head in a smug manner because it just satisfies my suspicions. Every time.
I feel so much better for saying that. Now I don't feel the need to tell you what I think about ________.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Monday, October 08, 2007
Final Chapter Blues
I am on the last chapter of my Halloween story. The last chapter is always the hardest. It is where you wrap all your threads up and then realize that one or two threads in the opening chapter were never mentioned again, while threads you meant to introduce later are very late to the party as in they never arrived either.
So before I write this last chapter, I need to go back and rewrite everything else to bring it in line for the thrilling climaxes I have in this last chapter. Confused? So am I.
Hey look, a picture of the Love Shack. Not the song, because I heard there was a court case and everything. This is a totally different Love Shack with an American flag and video booths. I don't blame them for trying to use the name though. Love Shack is just a fun word. Love Shack. It sounds like a place with barely stable walls, a dirt floor and an air mattress. There is one swinging light bulb and cooler full of drinks. There is only one window and it is always steamed up from the love shacking going on inside.
Okay, enough frivolity. Back to the serious business of a horny housewife and her mysterious hot neighbor.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Cobra Starship: The Church of Hot Addiction
As I keep writing, I keep needing the albums that form the soundtrack of my creativity.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
Friday, October 05, 2007
Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:
"A recent survey of college students1 found that 76% of them cited oral sex as the #1 reason they did not complete an important assignment.
So college students, don't drop out. College is the last place you will ever see that much action."
1Von Madd Observation Satellite Results of October 3, 2007
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
Empowered
Back in the day when I started writing Usenet porn, I started with what I knew. The first stories I had read were about characters I knew, which meant it was all about superheroes. I read so many of them because of the novelty of actually seeing corporate characters get some action. The ones I was drawn to the most were the bondage/damsel in distress stories. Superhero fiction is already crammed with bondage so sex was just the next logical step.
Notice how I said 'drawn' and not 'enjoyed'. Most of superheroine bondage fiction is frighteningly misogynistic. They lose the essential tongue in cheek attitude and became very ugly stories reveling in likable characters' downfall. It was one thing to read about a spoiled rotten arrogant woman be taken down a peg, it is another thing when the writer acts like you want to see Wonder Woman get molested because she's a bitch who thinks she's special. It is too easy to read such stories and speculate a little too accurately on what the writer's romantic life is like.
So a lot of my first stories were superheroine bondage parodies. I ridiculed the genre and had too much fun doing it. After making deliberate fun of the people who write such stories, I tried being a good example and write a few stories that had the bondage, the distress and the sex without the underlying fear/hatred of women.
That shit is hard. My character, Kiko, was forbidden from having sex by her controlling father. So she was a walking time bomb of sexual frustration. She was also supremely talented at being the faux Ninja she was, so the underlying conceit was that she was allowing things to happen to her till she climaxed, and then she would kick ass. Even with a 'willing victim' gimmick, it was very hard to explore themes of capture and bondage without skirting too close to the very unentertaining subject of rape.
Which is my long round about introduction to Adam Warren's Empowered. Adam did what I had long given up on and made the superheroine damsel in distress genre work. Not only work, but thrive. His heroine, who goes by the name Empowered, is a beautiful woman who gets all of her powers from her skintight costume. Sadly, the costume has the durability of edible panties and when it tears, she loses her powers. She has become the butt of jokes within the superhero community but damn it, she keeps trying.
The first part of the book is familiar territory. Empowered gets captured, tied up, threatened and then rescued. It is sexy, funny and a little heart breaking to see this gal try to be effective. But then something happens in the book that is amazing. She picks up some confidence, she picks up a bad buy boyfriend, an Intergalactic Overlord as a roommate and a best Ninja friend. She gets a life. Even though she is still the same ineffective superheroine, she manages to be the envy of her rivals and the beloved of her friends. Best of all, she didn't change to do it. she was just appreciated for who she was.
This is a great sexy book. Although there is no actual nudity, this book drips with sex appeal. Clothes are shredded, sexy positions are assumed and bondage abounds. I was amazed by how dirty this book feels without actually getting explicit.
This book also got passed around by my non-comicbook reading friends. This book does not require that you know how many Robins are in Batman continuity. It is it's own self contained sexy universe that anyone can step into. Right now there is one thick 240 page book out and a second comes out this week.
I am tempted to tie the fact that this is a black and white book into the previous discussions of darkness and shadow but I am resisting. Instead I will direct you to Adam's wonderful art on Deviant. Go take a look.
P.S. Not all superheroine Usenet fiction was bad. 'Batgirl Vs. The Crime School for Girls' was one I remember for not only having some great bondage traps, but also having a quantum cat deathtrap. Too bad I can't seem to find a copy anymore.
P.P.S. If you want to snicker at some of my younger writings, complete with typos, bad sentence structure and weirdness, go read 'Battle of the Heroines'. It is the only story where a faux Ninja, a warrior princess, a Chosen One, and a busty archaeologist battle it out in a series of competitions to become the unwilling bride of an alien overlord.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
The Call of Cthulhu
I'm still writing my Halloween story so you're poop out of luck. It is going really well which means it is absorbing every witty creative thing I have to say. So I guess that means we can continue Unofficial Stuff Shon Likes Week.
Let's talk about my favorite 1920's horror writer. Being an H.P. Lovecraft fan can be frustrating. The man has been dead for ages and although many fine people are doing great jobs exploring the horrors he started, sometimes I find myself preferring his very dated, unique works for what they were- the manifestations of a very intelligent strange mind. It is bizarre to me to think that overly descriptive antiquarian nerd was a contemporary of someone like Hemingway. Lovecraft was an anomaly, and no one has been able to be as out of time as he was.
Thankfully the fine folks at The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society agree with me. They created a movie based on 'Call of Cthulhu', but they got smart and made it in the style of a 1920's black and white silent film. It is like watching an H.P. movie in the time in which he was alive. I found it very eerie and just right. Instead of trying to update Lovecraft, they simply presented him the way he was in the medium he would have known. It baffles me that no one has tried it before.
My wife declared that quote, "That was actually good." High praise indeed.
The choice to do a silent film really intrigues me. After reading 'House of Leaves', my mind is boiling with the idea of using more esoteric methods of story telling. Watching this movie was fascinating in seeing how they managed to tell a story visually with little to no dialogue. Montage scenes, lots and lots of montage scenes. The silence really became impressive when the characters 'spoke' the alien speech. It preserved the speech in your imagination which is where I think it belongs.
I saw 'Call of Cthulhu' last night, and finished 'House of Leaves' yesterday, so right now I am hyper aware of the role darkness played in both. In the movie, the darkness helped obscure the low budget while at the same time creating areas of mystery. In the book, darkness became an absence of detail. I am finding a new appreciation for darkness as something more than just a blindfold.
Let's talk about my favorite 1920's horror writer. Being an H.P. Lovecraft fan can be frustrating. The man has been dead for ages and although many fine people are doing great jobs exploring the horrors he started, sometimes I find myself preferring his very dated, unique works for what they were- the manifestations of a very intelligent strange mind. It is bizarre to me to think that overly descriptive antiquarian nerd was a contemporary of someone like Hemingway. Lovecraft was an anomaly, and no one has been able to be as out of time as he was.
Thankfully the fine folks at The H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society agree with me. They created a movie based on 'Call of Cthulhu', but they got smart and made it in the style of a 1920's black and white silent film. It is like watching an H.P. movie in the time in which he was alive. I found it very eerie and just right. Instead of trying to update Lovecraft, they simply presented him the way he was in the medium he would have known. It baffles me that no one has tried it before.
My wife declared that quote, "That was actually good." High praise indeed.
The choice to do a silent film really intrigues me. After reading 'House of Leaves', my mind is boiling with the idea of using more esoteric methods of story telling. Watching this movie was fascinating in seeing how they managed to tell a story visually with little to no dialogue. Montage scenes, lots and lots of montage scenes. The silence really became impressive when the characters 'spoke' the alien speech. It preserved the speech in your imagination which is where I think it belongs.
I saw 'Call of Cthulhu' last night, and finished 'House of Leaves' yesterday, so right now I am hyper aware of the role darkness played in both. In the movie, the darkness helped obscure the low budget while at the same time creating areas of mystery. In the book, darkness became an absence of detail. I am finding a new appreciation for darkness as something more than just a blindfold.
Monday, October 01, 2007
House of Leaves
I write all weekend and somehow manage to have nothing for Monday. Do you feel better knowing I am over the halfway point of my epic Halloween story? No? Okay, that's fair. You want content, not progress reports on things you can't read yet.
What I can offer you is the wonderful 'House of Leaves' by Mark Danielewski. This monster of a brain reformatter might just be one of my top five favorite books. It makes me feel lazy as a writer and that is a good thing.
This book has so many levels it reminds me of an archeology dig. The first layer is about a tattoo artist who discovers a chest belonging to a recently deceased old man. The chest contains fragments of a book the old man was writing. Well, more like dictating because the old man was blind. Anyway, the book is about a fictional documentary concerning one fucked up weird house, and the family that tries to figure it out.
So follow me here: it is about a tattoo artist, putting together the notes of a blind man, about a film that never really existed. Part of the delight of the book is that the blind man treats it less like a fictional narrative and more like a critical work. So the book about a documentary is crammed with footnotes from fictional people trying to figure out what the house and its inhabitants were up to. When things that happened in the documentary start happening to the tattoo artist, then things go a bit surreal.
One thing I want to stress about this book is that unlike some confusing works, I never felt like this book was being obscure for the sake of being cool. It was actually very easy to follow and understand, it just takes a rather involved mental commitment to piece it all together. I finished the book last night but I suspect no one actually finishes a book like this. More like they put it down for awhile before returning to it.
I can't recommend this book enough. It is crammed with sex, terror, darkness and language. It will spoil you, like all good books should.
What I can offer you is the wonderful 'House of Leaves' by Mark Danielewski. This monster of a brain reformatter might just be one of my top five favorite books. It makes me feel lazy as a writer and that is a good thing.
This book has so many levels it reminds me of an archeology dig. The first layer is about a tattoo artist who discovers a chest belonging to a recently deceased old man. The chest contains fragments of a book the old man was writing. Well, more like dictating because the old man was blind. Anyway, the book is about a fictional documentary concerning one fucked up weird house, and the family that tries to figure it out.
So follow me here: it is about a tattoo artist, putting together the notes of a blind man, about a film that never really existed. Part of the delight of the book is that the blind man treats it less like a fictional narrative and more like a critical work. So the book about a documentary is crammed with footnotes from fictional people trying to figure out what the house and its inhabitants were up to. When things that happened in the documentary start happening to the tattoo artist, then things go a bit surreal.
One thing I want to stress about this book is that unlike some confusing works, I never felt like this book was being obscure for the sake of being cool. It was actually very easy to follow and understand, it just takes a rather involved mental commitment to piece it all together. I finished the book last night but I suspect no one actually finishes a book like this. More like they put it down for awhile before returning to it.
I can't recommend this book enough. It is crammed with sex, terror, darkness and language. It will spoil you, like all good books should.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Fiction: Clean Out
The hot shower spray leaped onto Katie’s skin like an eager lover. She moaned as the cleansing water covered her body. After a long day of designing, testing and using the latest sex toy technology, the complimentary shower bay was the best part about working at the Von Madd laboratories.
At first it had been a little difficult to get used to the open shower bay. There were no stalls which meant there was no room for modesty. At the end of every work day, Katie showered next to her fellow coworkers. Every day she saw them remove their white lab coats, take off their glasses and shed their apparel to share soap and water. Katie stood under the hot water trying not to think which of her coworkers is checking her body out today. As for herself, she was sneaking glances at Jenny Grove, a graduate from Califorina Tech. Jenny had the tightest ass Katie had ever seen and sometimes she just liked to watch the soap bubbles collect at the crack of Jenny’s ass.
At least the shower bay wasn’t co-ed, which honestly surprised Katie a bit. Oh well. Maybe even her boss, Otto Von Madd, realized that to get really clean and relax, you needed one place where sex wasn’t expected. As Katie lathered up, her thoughts drifted to which of the staff she wouldn’t mind dropping some soap in front of.
Katie had just covered her heavy breasts in thick soap when she noticed once again the purple tile in the shower wall. As she reached under one of her breasts to soap it up, she noticed that the purple tile was a little translucent. Was there a light behind it?
“Hey Jenny,” Katie said. “Do you know if there is a light in the wall?”
Jenny had a smooth fit leg balanced on the temperature control. “Oh, that’s probably the camera light.”
Katie froze in mid breast wash. “What?”
“Oh yeah,” Jenny said. “Didn’t you know? All of the showers have cameras installed. There is a live feed that goes somewhere and gets processed. The animatronics department uses the footage to watch human movement, the pornography department uses it for raw material, somewhere in Russia we are a pay-per-view channel, and I heard a rumor that some military bases in Iraq have a constant live feed as some sort of USO project.”
“Holy shit,” Katie said. Under the warm pulses of the shower head, Katie felt very naked. “And these are on every time we shower?”
Jenny giggled and applied soap to her out stretched leg very slowly. “I swear Katie, you should really read the conditions of your contract.”
Katie had this urge to run back to the locker room but something stopped her. “Do you think Dr. Von Madd watches these cameras?”
Jenny smiled. “Wouldn’t you?”
Katie thought about it. After a good ten seconds, Katie very slowly, and very meticulously, gave her pussy a very thorough cleaning.
At first it had been a little difficult to get used to the open shower bay. There were no stalls which meant there was no room for modesty. At the end of every work day, Katie showered next to her fellow coworkers. Every day she saw them remove their white lab coats, take off their glasses and shed their apparel to share soap and water. Katie stood under the hot water trying not to think which of her coworkers is checking her body out today. As for herself, she was sneaking glances at Jenny Grove, a graduate from Califorina Tech. Jenny had the tightest ass Katie had ever seen and sometimes she just liked to watch the soap bubbles collect at the crack of Jenny’s ass.
At least the shower bay wasn’t co-ed, which honestly surprised Katie a bit. Oh well. Maybe even her boss, Otto Von Madd, realized that to get really clean and relax, you needed one place where sex wasn’t expected. As Katie lathered up, her thoughts drifted to which of the staff she wouldn’t mind dropping some soap in front of.
Katie had just covered her heavy breasts in thick soap when she noticed once again the purple tile in the shower wall. As she reached under one of her breasts to soap it up, she noticed that the purple tile was a little translucent. Was there a light behind it?
“Hey Jenny,” Katie said. “Do you know if there is a light in the wall?”
Jenny had a smooth fit leg balanced on the temperature control. “Oh, that’s probably the camera light.”
Katie froze in mid breast wash. “What?”
“Oh yeah,” Jenny said. “Didn’t you know? All of the showers have cameras installed. There is a live feed that goes somewhere and gets processed. The animatronics department uses the footage to watch human movement, the pornography department uses it for raw material, somewhere in Russia we are a pay-per-view channel, and I heard a rumor that some military bases in Iraq have a constant live feed as some sort of USO project.”
“Holy shit,” Katie said. Under the warm pulses of the shower head, Katie felt very naked. “And these are on every time we shower?”
Jenny giggled and applied soap to her out stretched leg very slowly. “I swear Katie, you should really read the conditions of your contract.”
Katie had this urge to run back to the locker room but something stopped her. “Do you think Dr. Von Madd watches these cameras?”
Jenny smiled. “Wouldn’t you?”
Katie thought about it. After a good ten seconds, Katie very slowly, and very meticulously, gave her pussy a very thorough cleaning.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
And the Sign Said
My favorite part about the actual trip to Orlando was the billboards. No, not the ones promising Pecans and Disney tickets at the next exit. The ones I liked were the dirty ones. The ones that promised adult novelties, leather goods, DVD's and my personal favorite, free showers.
At the left is the sign for the Love Shack. I loved how their signs popped with color. Imagine my surprise when we got to the Love Stuff and we found a grungy brown building with missing letters. I would have taken a picture but there were three people outside smoking, and I have found people outside an adult business get nervous when you take pictures. I snapped a picture of the sign over the building instead. Sadly, the Love Stuff is going out of business.
I went through all 700 of my pictures and couldn't find a single one for the most common sign I saw, the ones that promise that their staff "Bare it All". Almost every adult business promises this, and it got me wondering if it is some sort of joke. Like they have a bear out front in a bikini. What fascinated me most about these signs is that they also promised "great food".
That promise of "Great Food" is what really gets me. Naked girls? That's cool. Adult leather clothes? Okay. Great food? Whoa, hold up now. Do you really want me to expect that? I mean, you can deliver on a naked girl. She might be uglier than Orlando humidty but naked is naked. Once you start promising great food though, I want to break out my notepad and my snobby attitude like Anton Ego from Ratatouille. I had to have this great food. I wanted to critique the 'cuisine' while naked girls danced to Poison. I wanted to look down on my plate and demand to see the chef. I also wanted to be waited on by a girl who bares all.
Sadly, my fellow coworkers on the trip thought I was crazy and refused to stop. I might have to field an expedition back down to Orlando to sample the cuisine. Anyone willing to fund this important research?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Whorish Wish
Be my personal whore,
paid for with affection and care.
Let me debase you,
Let me shame you,
Let me hurt you,
Let me ravish,
Let me fuck,
Let me use,
Let me,
my personal whore.
paid for with affection and care.
Let me debase you,
Let me shame you,
Let me hurt you,
Let me ravish,
Let me fuck,
Let me use,
Let me,
my personal whore.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Kidnap Attempt Unsuccessful
Last Friday I was pulled away at the last moment to a work trip to Orlando. This picture was taken when I entered Florida around 10pm. I just got back last night after four days of lovebugs, humidity and Disney vendors operating out of fast food restaurants. My brain is very wacky right now. I came up with an idea for two more blogs because such insane ideas are what passes for normal thinking in Florida.
This was my first trip to Orlando and I knew there were theme parks there, but I was not prepared for how every single business in Orlando designated themselves as a Disney Parasite. While eating inside McDonalds, an employee tried to hard-sell us Disney tickets because as you know, people who come to Orlando don't bother to make any plans, they just figure they will pick those tickets up with their egg mcmuffin. Drug stores, gas stations and our hotel were constantly offering us ticket packages. I bet if we asked the streetwalker we saw, she would have offered us Disney tickets to go with her blowjob.
There was also something surreal about being in Orlando and being too busy with work to go to any of the parks. It was a lot like going to a strip club: You're looking at hot bodies all night long but you can't do anything with them. I did manage to go play some miniature golf at a pirate theme course around ten at night. I'll have to see how those pictures turn out.
Erotica, sexy thoughts and more pictures later this week.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Dr. Otto Von Madd Says:
"Do your part to stop global warming, eat more pussy!"1
1 The science is complicated on this but trust me, it works. Perform more cunnilingus today.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Fiction: Lucky John and the Ladies of Port Royale
Lucky John loved Port Royale like a Spaniard loved thumbscrews. It was a very bad town for very bad men. It was a pirate town, from it's blood soaked streets up to it's four story high brothels. After a long voyage of pillage and plunder, there was no better place to spend your ill-gotten gains.
Unfortunately for Lucky John, that was yesterday. He and the rest of the crew had blown their money on beer, pussy and tobacco. Normally they would ship out when the money ran out but Captain Three-Legs was still fucking through his share of the treasure and wouldn't be done till the morning. That meant sorry poor crewmen like Lucky John had to kill time dead broke in a city of sin. That didn't bother Lucky John much. It gave him time to practice his charm.
He passed a washwoman struggling with her load of laundary.
"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "Would you mind cleaning my drawers too, after you wash my cock with your mouth?"
Her arms were full but her legs were stout and healthy. She almost kicked him in the valuables but Lucky John twisted enough so that her powerful leg only bruised the shit out of his thigh.
"Right, fair enough," Lucky John stummled along.
He came across a wench with an ass so perfectly fit, The Dutch would have insured it.
"Excuse me, Miss," Lucky John said. "I just wanted to say that your arse is a pretty treasure and I wouldn't mind burying some of my own treasure in it."
The woman's ass was fine but her hands were finer. She unleashed a broadside on his cheek with the flat of her hand. Lucky John spun around from the force of the blow like a compass on Halloween.
"Right, fair enough," Lucky John said through the non stingy part of his mouth.
Battered and stumbling, Lucky John found himself outside the Shaky Plank. Coming out of the bar was the bustiest woman he had ever seen. She had tits the size of barrels and they barely stayed within her bodice.
"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "If I had your twin moons to guide me, my ship would never be lost at sea."
The busty wench blinked. Lucky John leaned a little to the right so she would kick his good leg. He also closed his mouth so he wouldn't bit his tongue if she punched him.
"Thank you so much!" the top heavy lass said. "My husband said I was too fat and he ran off with some skinny bitch! What's your name?"
Lucky John slipped an arm around the busty wench and gave her tit a squeeze. "Truth be told, I am so hot and thirsty, I have forgotten my own name."
"Well let me buy you a drink," the wench said as grabbed his hip. "And you can talk about my moons some more."
Across the street sat two of Lucky John's crew mates. Young Stumpy and Bald Frank leaned against a wall, both very sober and very unhappy. They saw Lucky John come around the corner, walk up to a total stranger and slip his arm around the lass. They watched in amazement as Lucky John and the curvy wench go into a bar. Young Stumpy felt tears rise to his eye as he saw the wobbly shake of the woman's assets.
"God damn them all," Bald Frank wailed. "Lucky John always has it easy!"
Unfortunately for Lucky John, that was yesterday. He and the rest of the crew had blown their money on beer, pussy and tobacco. Normally they would ship out when the money ran out but Captain Three-Legs was still fucking through his share of the treasure and wouldn't be done till the morning. That meant sorry poor crewmen like Lucky John had to kill time dead broke in a city of sin. That didn't bother Lucky John much. It gave him time to practice his charm.
He passed a washwoman struggling with her load of laundary.
"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "Would you mind cleaning my drawers too, after you wash my cock with your mouth?"
Her arms were full but her legs were stout and healthy. She almost kicked him in the valuables but Lucky John twisted enough so that her powerful leg only bruised the shit out of his thigh.
"Right, fair enough," Lucky John stummled along.
He came across a wench with an ass so perfectly fit, The Dutch would have insured it.
"Excuse me, Miss," Lucky John said. "I just wanted to say that your arse is a pretty treasure and I wouldn't mind burying some of my own treasure in it."
The woman's ass was fine but her hands were finer. She unleashed a broadside on his cheek with the flat of her hand. Lucky John spun around from the force of the blow like a compass on Halloween.
"Right, fair enough," Lucky John said through the non stingy part of his mouth.
Battered and stumbling, Lucky John found himself outside the Shaky Plank. Coming out of the bar was the bustiest woman he had ever seen. She had tits the size of barrels and they barely stayed within her bodice.
"Excuse me Miss," Lucky John said. "If I had your twin moons to guide me, my ship would never be lost at sea."
The busty wench blinked. Lucky John leaned a little to the right so she would kick his good leg. He also closed his mouth so he wouldn't bit his tongue if she punched him.
"Thank you so much!" the top heavy lass said. "My husband said I was too fat and he ran off with some skinny bitch! What's your name?"
Lucky John slipped an arm around the busty wench and gave her tit a squeeze. "Truth be told, I am so hot and thirsty, I have forgotten my own name."
"Well let me buy you a drink," the wench said as grabbed his hip. "And you can talk about my moons some more."
Across the street sat two of Lucky John's crew mates. Young Stumpy and Bald Frank leaned against a wall, both very sober and very unhappy. They saw Lucky John come around the corner, walk up to a total stranger and slip his arm around the lass. They watched in amazement as Lucky John and the curvy wench go into a bar. Young Stumpy felt tears rise to his eye as he saw the wobbly shake of the woman's assets.
"God damn them all," Bald Frank wailed. "Lucky John always has it easy!"
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Videogames I Would Play
My wife had a hard day at work so she did what every geek girl does, she drowned her sorrows with a bag of new videogames. She bought three RPG's, which for you non-nerds means she bought three games about guys with spikey hair who have to save the world while never sealing the deal with the love of their life.
"What no games for me?" I said.
"One of the games has an Art-deco look," my wife offers.
I sighed. "No, I mean a game for me like say, Librarian Beach VolleyBall Tournament."
She snorted. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Sure it does," I said. "Hot sexy librarians have returned from their summer break for a new school year. But first they must determine who gets to be head librarian by engaging in a kick ass beach volleyball tournament."
"Why would they play beach volleyball to determine who is the head librarian?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I said. "Beach Volleyball combines fitness, bikini fashion sense, an understanding of physics as well as lots of bouncing jiggling body parts."
She looked at me. "That sounds like fun actually."
"What no games for me?" I said.
"One of the games has an Art-deco look," my wife offers.
I sighed. "No, I mean a game for me like say, Librarian Beach VolleyBall Tournament."
She snorted. "That doesn't even make sense."
"Sure it does," I said. "Hot sexy librarians have returned from their summer break for a new school year. But first they must determine who gets to be head librarian by engaging in a kick ass beach volleyball tournament."
"Why would they play beach volleyball to determine who is the head librarian?"
"Isn't it obvious?" I said. "Beach Volleyball combines fitness, bikini fashion sense, an understanding of physics as well as lots of bouncing jiggling body parts."
She looked at me. "That sounds like fun actually."
Monday, September 17, 2007
Rich Larson Comission
Click on the picture for the full beautiful glory. Rich Larson drew this for me at Dragon*con and I was in a pretty giddy mood for the next four days. When it comes to commissioned art I prefer to be as minimal as possible with my request so the artist can do what they like with it. My requests sometimes come off like haiku.
Draw mad scientist
Building sexy robot girl
Add a goatee please.
I also bought just about everything he had for sale at his desk and spent a pleasant few minutes embarrassing him with my praise.
It is not quite how I envision Otto, but that's good. It gets me into the Otto headspace. I really like the sweet expression on the fembot. It makes me want to see if I can recreate that in a story.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Every Fucking Day
A traumatic event happened at Dragon*con. I saw the most beautiful woman dressed as one of my all time favorite costumes. I had seen her literally two floors away at another hotel and she was gone by the time I got to her floor. Two hours later, I ran into her again in one of the darkest places of the hotel. I excitedly asked her if I could take a picture and she consented. I snapped one picture, knew it was going turn out blurry, so I asked for a second. She agreed to that too, which let me tell you, at Dragon*con, that is a rarity.
My second picture didn't come out much better as you can see.
The thing I love about this costume is that this is a big woman, who is wearing a big outfit and that is why it works. I saw so many skinny girls dressing up as heroines, and they looked like teenagers in their parent's clothes. Sure, the spandex showed off their flat stomachs but they no curves. This lovely lady's dress was in proportion to her and it made all the difference. She looked like she was poured into that dress. You can't tell in this photo, but she had very pale skin that contrasted wonderfully with the sparkling red dress, just like the 'real' Jessica Rabbit.
What really depresses me about this photo is that I could have made it better. I could have used a flash because of how dark it was, I could have very politely asked to move to a better area, or maybe there is some setting on my camera that could have compensated for the weird dimness. I don't think there is a magic bullet cure for this kind of picture as much as I think if I had more experience, I would have been better equipped to deal with this situation. I was nervous, I was excited and I fucked up the one picture I wanted most of all.
It also bothers me that I didn't approach her and find out if she is local so that I could take more pictures of her. I keep swearing I'll get cards made but it is another one of those things I never get around to. I wonder if I need two sets of cards, one for being a pornographer, and one for being a photographer. Right now the two are pretty intertwined but man, for someone like this, I could learn to do portraits.
Ages ago when I was writing Thigh Vs Thigh, I had a weekly posting schedule. That meant every weekend, I had another Amy and Bethany story up. Man was that a grind. I wrote science fiction, a lot of action, some magical stories and a shit load of sex scenes. I don't remember why I forced myself to do such a schedule, but I noticed four months in that I could almost couch up a story with two minutes notice. I never realized that you could teach yourself creativity with repetition.
So, terribly annoyed with myself, I have started taking pictures every day. Every fucking day. Days that I don't write, I make myself get up for thirty minutes and take pictures. I don't leave the house without that camera any more. I've stopped limiting myself to pictures of people and now I take pictures of anything that strikes my fancy. No, I take pictures of anything I don't think I can get a picture of. I chased a butterfly yesterday trying to get one non-blurry shot of the fucker. My wife was blown away by my pictures but damn it, the fucker is moving in all of them.
So take my advice. If you love something, you have to do it. Whether it is writing, photography, or your spouse, you have to keep at it. It is just as relentless as working out. You have to get in those X minutes of day where you train your brain to turn on at a moment's notice.
Start now.
My second picture didn't come out much better as you can see.
The thing I love about this costume is that this is a big woman, who is wearing a big outfit and that is why it works. I saw so many skinny girls dressing up as heroines, and they looked like teenagers in their parent's clothes. Sure, the spandex showed off their flat stomachs but they no curves. This lovely lady's dress was in proportion to her and it made all the difference. She looked like she was poured into that dress. You can't tell in this photo, but she had very pale skin that contrasted wonderfully with the sparkling red dress, just like the 'real' Jessica Rabbit.
What really depresses me about this photo is that I could have made it better. I could have used a flash because of how dark it was, I could have very politely asked to move to a better area, or maybe there is some setting on my camera that could have compensated for the weird dimness. I don't think there is a magic bullet cure for this kind of picture as much as I think if I had more experience, I would have been better equipped to deal with this situation. I was nervous, I was excited and I fucked up the one picture I wanted most of all.
It also bothers me that I didn't approach her and find out if she is local so that I could take more pictures of her. I keep swearing I'll get cards made but it is another one of those things I never get around to. I wonder if I need two sets of cards, one for being a pornographer, and one for being a photographer. Right now the two are pretty intertwined but man, for someone like this, I could learn to do portraits.
Ages ago when I was writing Thigh Vs Thigh, I had a weekly posting schedule. That meant every weekend, I had another Amy and Bethany story up. Man was that a grind. I wrote science fiction, a lot of action, some magical stories and a shit load of sex scenes. I don't remember why I forced myself to do such a schedule, but I noticed four months in that I could almost couch up a story with two minutes notice. I never realized that you could teach yourself creativity with repetition.
So, terribly annoyed with myself, I have started taking pictures every day. Every fucking day. Days that I don't write, I make myself get up for thirty minutes and take pictures. I don't leave the house without that camera any more. I've stopped limiting myself to pictures of people and now I take pictures of anything that strikes my fancy. No, I take pictures of anything I don't think I can get a picture of. I chased a butterfly yesterday trying to get one non-blurry shot of the fucker. My wife was blown away by my pictures but damn it, the fucker is moving in all of them.
So take my advice. If you love something, you have to do it. Whether it is writing, photography, or your spouse, you have to keep at it. It is just as relentless as working out. You have to get in those X minutes of day where you train your brain to turn on at a moment's notice.
Start now.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Company
Keep me company
Crawl under my desk
Lay your head on my thigh
And tell me that you are there for me
By the gentle lick,
lick,
lick,
of my balls.
Crawl under my desk
Lay your head on my thigh
And tell me that you are there for me
By the gentle lick,
lick,
lick,
of my balls.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Inverse Drives
Lately I have pretty much lost all of my physical sex drive. I have so little interest in actual sex these days. Creative sex is a whole other matter. I am brimming with story energy and excited about my long Halloween story coming up. It's the actual sex that I have no interest in.
This was really apparent last Sunday when I met a really pretty domme with really cute hair. I found myself daydreaming about what it would take to get her back to my apartment so that I could take pictures of her. I daydreamed about where she could pose, what she would be wearing and what props she would be using. I thought about her necklace that disappeared into her cleavage and what angle I should use to take that picture.
Daydreaming about sex with her? Nothing.
It is nothing I am overly concerned with but it does make me wonder. I know I stopped looking for a BDSM relationship months ago but maybe now it has finally sank into my subconscious. Real relationships are hard, messy and anxiety inducing. I love the ideal of a sexual relationship but the reality of it fills me with dread.
Which I thought would hurt my writing but so far so good. Erotica is something I study, craft and improve on. There are far worse things to substitute sex for.
This was really apparent last Sunday when I met a really pretty domme with really cute hair. I found myself daydreaming about what it would take to get her back to my apartment so that I could take pictures of her. I daydreamed about where she could pose, what she would be wearing and what props she would be using. I thought about her necklace that disappeared into her cleavage and what angle I should use to take that picture.
Daydreaming about sex with her? Nothing.
It is nothing I am overly concerned with but it does make me wonder. I know I stopped looking for a BDSM relationship months ago but maybe now it has finally sank into my subconscious. Real relationships are hard, messy and anxiety inducing. I love the ideal of a sexual relationship but the reality of it fills me with dread.
Which I thought would hurt my writing but so far so good. Erotica is something I study, craft and improve on. There are far worse things to substitute sex for.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
First Fiction Contact
I'm three pages into my Halloween story and I am reminded of an old military saying: "No plan survives contact with the enemy." Well I am thinking that no story survives the first pages either.
When I put a story together in my head, I have a very plot oriented mindset. I picture like a movie when I am creating the story. When I sit down to write though, I have to funnel all of that into one voice, one narrative and most of the time, one point of view. It goes from movie to personal journal. That's okay because that is the kind of stories I like to read, but there is always this transition phase. It is one thing to plan terrible sexy things to have happen to a character, it's a whole other beast to sit down and interpret how the character will respond and receive these terrible sexy things.
When I put a story together in my head, I have a very plot oriented mindset. I picture like a movie when I am creating the story. When I sit down to write though, I have to funnel all of that into one voice, one narrative and most of the time, one point of view. It goes from movie to personal journal. That's okay because that is the kind of stories I like to read, but there is always this transition phase. It is one thing to plan terrible sexy things to have happen to a character, it's a whole other beast to sit down and interpret how the character will respond and receive these terrible sexy things.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Holiday Story Tips
If you plan to write any stories concerning Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year, I have one very important piece of advice for you.
Holiday Writing Tip #1: Start now.
Yes I know it's August and that doesn't exactly inspire you to write about Santa or pumpkins, but you have to write that story now. Why? Because the holidays are a notorious bad time to get anything creative done. It is the one time of year where your job and your family demand that shit get done now so that your end of the year reports are done and Mom has her annual family photo session. You are going to be so busy, all you will have time for is enjoying someone else's holiday story.
Holiday Writing Tip #2: Keep it upbeat.
There is a tendency around the winter months to get thoughtful. That is good. What is not good is when you start tying in the winter into the dying of the soul of a sexually frustrated marriage. There are some really good depressing holiday stories out there but ones people remember, treasure and write you fan mail years later are the stories that lift people up during the holidays. In the end it is your choice to follow your muse, but I really believe that during a stressful holiday season, you will do more good for yourself and your readers with a happy story.
Holiday Writing Tip #3: Break out the Holiday magic.
People who will never pick up a Harry Potter book will instantly buy into the idea of angels earning their wings and hats that bring snowmen to life. I have a theory that the winter months make people want to believe in something because subconsciously they are afraid the sun will never come back, but the reason is not important to you. The important thing for you is to not shy away from doing something a little magical in your story. Magic is like Plot Lubricant, it makes things go easier and things happen now. Experiment with your own desires and see where it takes you.
The great part about magic is that there is no wrong way to do it. It Warlock Steve sends you an angry note saying that you completely screwed up how magic hats work, then you have a funny letter to share with your friends.
Holiday Writing Tip #4: Avoid Parodies.
I know. The easiest thing in the world to write is a dirty version of a classic. People will sing your praises and call you smart and sexy. They will also forget your story as soon as they read the next parody of the same thing you sexed up. Parodies are forgettable and common. Look at how often television programs do their version of 'A Christmas Carol' or 'It's a Wonderful Life'. Do you really want to take story advice from television shows?
Take the chance to make your own immortal holiday story with an original idea. You'll happier with yourself if you do.
Holiday Writing Tip #5: Write AFTER the Holiday
When all else fails, the best time to write a holiday theme story is right after the holiday in question. You have been bombarded with holiday theme stories, movies, television shows and advertisements, you might as well write about it with it fresh in your mind and save it for next year. At this point you know what you're sick of and more importantly, you know what you wish you had seen. I know it's weird to write a story you don't plan to post for a year but look at it this way, that story is done and next Christmas or Halloween you have time to actually do something.
Holiday Writing Tip #1: Start now.
Yes I know it's August and that doesn't exactly inspire you to write about Santa or pumpkins, but you have to write that story now. Why? Because the holidays are a notorious bad time to get anything creative done. It is the one time of year where your job and your family demand that shit get done now so that your end of the year reports are done and Mom has her annual family photo session. You are going to be so busy, all you will have time for is enjoying someone else's holiday story.
Holiday Writing Tip #2: Keep it upbeat.
There is a tendency around the winter months to get thoughtful. That is good. What is not good is when you start tying in the winter into the dying of the soul of a sexually frustrated marriage. There are some really good depressing holiday stories out there but ones people remember, treasure and write you fan mail years later are the stories that lift people up during the holidays. In the end it is your choice to follow your muse, but I really believe that during a stressful holiday season, you will do more good for yourself and your readers with a happy story.
Holiday Writing Tip #3: Break out the Holiday magic.
People who will never pick up a Harry Potter book will instantly buy into the idea of angels earning their wings and hats that bring snowmen to life. I have a theory that the winter months make people want to believe in something because subconsciously they are afraid the sun will never come back, but the reason is not important to you. The important thing for you is to not shy away from doing something a little magical in your story. Magic is like Plot Lubricant, it makes things go easier and things happen now. Experiment with your own desires and see where it takes you.
The great part about magic is that there is no wrong way to do it. It Warlock Steve sends you an angry note saying that you completely screwed up how magic hats work, then you have a funny letter to share with your friends.
Holiday Writing Tip #4: Avoid Parodies.
I know. The easiest thing in the world to write is a dirty version of a classic. People will sing your praises and call you smart and sexy. They will also forget your story as soon as they read the next parody of the same thing you sexed up. Parodies are forgettable and common. Look at how often television programs do their version of 'A Christmas Carol' or 'It's a Wonderful Life'. Do you really want to take story advice from television shows?
Take the chance to make your own immortal holiday story with an original idea. You'll happier with yourself if you do.
Holiday Writing Tip #5: Write AFTER the Holiday
When all else fails, the best time to write a holiday theme story is right after the holiday in question. You have been bombarded with holiday theme stories, movies, television shows and advertisements, you might as well write about it with it fresh in your mind and save it for next year. At this point you know what you're sick of and more importantly, you know what you wish you had seen. I know it's weird to write a story you don't plan to post for a year but look at it this way, that story is done and next Christmas or Halloween you have time to actually do something.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Dragon*Con and Fetish Fashion
I had a blast at Dragon*Con. It was just four lazy days of shopping, eating, and people watching.
I didn't take as many pictures as I thought I would because after a while, I realized I didn't like being a documentary photographer. Taking pictures of other people's devotion to looking exactly like someone else just seemed like an endless circle. I started taking pictures of people who created their own appearances based on something they liked. Even then it was less to record their efforts than it was to make notes about things that intrigued me so I could incorporate them into my writing.
Turns out that the most popular costume was Goth Hooker again. That was closely followed by Alice in Wonderland and one night I saw four adult Strawberry Shortcakes wearing the same store bought outfit. Aside from the costumes that were bought from lingerie shops, it is interesting to me how compared to other conventions, Dragon*Con has the most creative sexual costumes. Something more outright fetish like Frolicon is filled with endless corsets and black skirts as the costume of choice. I mean, Frolicon will never have a bunch of Space Chicks like I saw Sunday night.
It really makes me worry a little for the BDSM community. We are people outside the mainstream yet so much of what I see of BDSM is this quest to aspire to a common ideal. We wear black, we wear corsets, we wear leather and a shitload of boots. It is bizarre to me that there is so much conformity. We are a community that plays with power exchange and yet we shackle our choice of clothing to monochromatic leather.
Where as here at Dragon*Con, you might see a fetish costume that will molest your childhood. Take Snow White here.
Collar? Check. Short skirt for spanking? Check. Hint of stockings? Check? She has a full functioning fetish outfit that is bright, colorful and ties into a character that you might not have thought of in that manner. I loved this costume.
I have to say I was really inspired by all the steampunk stuff I saw. Although it had a lot of common elements like BDSM does, every piece is usually unique and handmade. Check this girl out.
Every steampunk person has goggles, but this girl made her own which makes it stand out. She wears the standard coat, but the colors are her choice. The purple shirt is a nice contrast as is the shiny belt. The boots are common, but not the athletic style she picked. It was really inspiring. I saw dozens of people dressed in her style but not a single person who looked just like her. I love that.
What else did I see that I like? Oh yes, pirates. Pirates are always cute. It is a scientific law of cuteness I believe.
I didn't take as many pictures as I thought I would because after a while, I realized I didn't like being a documentary photographer. Taking pictures of other people's devotion to looking exactly like someone else just seemed like an endless circle. I started taking pictures of people who created their own appearances based on something they liked. Even then it was less to record their efforts than it was to make notes about things that intrigued me so I could incorporate them into my writing.
Turns out that the most popular costume was Goth Hooker again. That was closely followed by Alice in Wonderland and one night I saw four adult Strawberry Shortcakes wearing the same store bought outfit. Aside from the costumes that were bought from lingerie shops, it is interesting to me how compared to other conventions, Dragon*Con has the most creative sexual costumes. Something more outright fetish like Frolicon is filled with endless corsets and black skirts as the costume of choice. I mean, Frolicon will never have a bunch of Space Chicks like I saw Sunday night.
It really makes me worry a little for the BDSM community. We are people outside the mainstream yet so much of what I see of BDSM is this quest to aspire to a common ideal. We wear black, we wear corsets, we wear leather and a shitload of boots. It is bizarre to me that there is so much conformity. We are a community that plays with power exchange and yet we shackle our choice of clothing to monochromatic leather.
Where as here at Dragon*Con, you might see a fetish costume that will molest your childhood. Take Snow White here.
Collar? Check. Short skirt for spanking? Check. Hint of stockings? Check? She has a full functioning fetish outfit that is bright, colorful and ties into a character that you might not have thought of in that manner. I loved this costume.
I have to say I was really inspired by all the steampunk stuff I saw. Although it had a lot of common elements like BDSM does, every piece is usually unique and handmade. Check this girl out.
Every steampunk person has goggles, but this girl made her own which makes it stand out. She wears the standard coat, but the colors are her choice. The purple shirt is a nice contrast as is the shiny belt. The boots are common, but not the athletic style she picked. It was really inspiring. I saw dozens of people dressed in her style but not a single person who looked just like her. I love that.
What else did I see that I like? Oh yes, pirates. Pirates are always cute. It is a scientific law of cuteness I believe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)