Fiction: The Day the Vibrators Died

Alice was almost there. She had her vibrator deep inside her cunt and her feet were braced on the footboard of her bed. It always felt a little slutty to have her legs up in the air like this but fuck it. This was always the best way to come. Alice had a hard day and damn it, she deserved a great orgasm.

The vibrator died in her hands. “No, no!” Alice cried. “I just changed the batteries!”

A mile away Helen was grinding against her lover, Paula. Helen thought the idea of a double ended vibrator was silly but not anymore. She was impaled on the buzzing plastic goodness and everything was feeling awesome. Helen could tell Paula was enjoying it too. Paula’s eyes were halfway closed, like they always were before an orgasm. What was great was that Helen was about to come to. They looked in each others' eyes and held off till they could time it just right.

The buzzing stopped, right in mid grind. Both women looked down in horror.

Further down the road, Victoria leaned against her washing machine. Her husband, Jack, always asked why she had to run the washer so late at night. He had no idea that it was the only way Victoria could get any sleep tonight. Rubbing against the washer right as the hot and cold water sloshed back and forth sent her private secret parts all a twitter. Sex never gave her the same bliss the washer machine did so Victoria felt no shame in getting her happiness where she could. There was no need for Jack to know either.

The washer machine quit. Victoria looked down and moaned. She pressed the button. She lifted the lid and closed it. It just wouldn’t start. It was so unfair!

Two miles away, Catalina stood in a hotel bathroom. She checked herself out in the mirror. She was beautiful but when you have Catalina’s job, you always need to make sure. Her long black hair was shimmered like velvet when she turned her head. The red shirt she wore barely contained her large breasts which was just how Catalina liked it.

Catalina was a Voluptumancer, a practitioner of sexual magic. She used sex, and she was empowered by sex but most of all, she was sex.

A wave came crashing down on her. Catalina gripped the sink to keep from falling to the ground. Her body was attuned to the sexual pulse of her environment which was often a good thing but right now it threatened to drown her. It was a wave of frustration, as if an entire town of libidos was suddenly denied their pleasure at the same time.

For Catalina, it meant becoming horny enough to fuck an entire football team and the college they came from. Her hand went to her sex but it wasn’t enough. She needed cock. She needed a mouth. She needed someone there.

She stood up and looked at the mirror. Her desire was on her face. Gone was the sexy confident magic woman. Instead she looked into the face of a very horny slut. As she looked closer, she saw other faces besides her own. She saw a frustrated housewife. She saw lesbian lovers frowning. She saw tense single woman and many, many more faces.

“Well now. It looks I have a job to do.”

Half an hour later, Catalina stood outside the only sex store in town. It was nine at night on a Friday night but ‘Sweet Romance’ was closed for the night. Inside, Catalina could see two people inside the store but when Catalina knocked, the woman inside shook her head.

“We’re closed!” the woman yelled. “Go away!”

On a good night, Catalina might have gone elsewhere. On a good night, Catalina wouldn’t be carrying the sexual frustration of an entire town. This qualified for a bad night and a worse attitude.

Catalina leaned down and kissed the lock. The door opened for no lock can resist the kiss of a Voluptumancer.

“Excuse me, but I need to check your sex toys,” Catalina said.

The man inside the store was barely old enough to be in the store. He was cute with his short blond hair, but to be honest, Catalina was so frustrated that a blind leper with a limp would have looked sexy.

“I’m sorry, but we’re having troubles with our novelty items,” he said.

The woman pushed the younger man aside and stomped towards Catalina. She was much older than the man but she had the same blond hair, albeit a lot longer and grayer. The frown lines on her face made her like crueler than she was but Catalina was still turned on.

“I said we were closed!” the woman said. “And Eric, don’t tell people about the vibrators. I don’t know why everyone decided to return their tonight but we never offer refunds!”

“So the vibrators stopped working?” Catalina asked.

“Yes,” the man answered. The woman smacked his arm.

“No, they work fine. None of them are broken. Now get out, we’re closed. I’m tired of customers thinking they can get refunds tonight. I’m going to close till they all calm down.”

Catalina shook her head. “I didn’t say they were broken, I just said they stopped working. I’m trying to figure out why, you silly woman.”

The woman snarled. “Get out of my store now or I am calling the police.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Catalina said. She touched the woman on the arm and the woman fell to the floor.”

“Mom!” the man yelled. He rushed to her side but stopped as his mother started to groan. As he watched, his mother whispered things in her sleep and started dry humping the floor.

“Your mother?” Catalina said. “You work for your mom in a sex store?”

Eric looked at her. “What? Yeah, I do. Get over it. What did you do to my mom?”

Catalina smiled. The boy had attitude. “I discharged some of the frustration I was carrying. Your mom is having the best wet dream of her life but she won’t climax. I just needed her to hush so you can explain to me what was going on.”

Eric started to say something and stopped. He looked at his mom and then at Catalina. “Ok, first, too much information on my mom, alright? Second, who are you and how did you know our vibrators stopped?”

Catalina picked up a vibrator on the display shelf. She turned it on and nothing happened. “Sorry, I am working under a lot of stress here. My name is Catalina and I am a Voluptumancer. I practice sexual magic and I can tell that nothing that vibrates and gives pleasure is working in this town. That includes vibrators, some washing machines and in one case, a bowling pin scrubber that should really be disinfected. I don’t have time to convince you that all sex gives off magical energies and those energies can be manipulated, you just have to trust me, okay?”

Eric looked down at his mom who was kissing the floor. “Do something magical other than knock my mom out.”

Catalina looked into his eyes. Eric felt his cock harden but that was because he was looking more into her cleavage than her eyes.

“You masturbated to a picture of Ali Larter last night,” Catalina said. “The first girl you kissed was Jenny Gordon but the first girl you fucked was Jenny’s nicer friend, Candice. Your favorite position is cowgirl and you have 32 pornographic images on your Ipod of Sasha Gray.”

Eric blushed. “Uh, okay. You got magic. What do you need?”

Catalina looked around the store. “I don’t know. I mean, I came here because sometimes the sex life of a town can be cursed and the best place to put the curse is at a sex store. I just don’t feel a curse here. I’m also carrying the combined frustrated energy of the town so I can’t think for shit. It has to be something other than a curse but it could be several things.”

“Well, if you don’t know what it is, maybe it will take care of itself and go away?” Eric said.

Catalina shook her head. Her long black hair floated around her face. “No, it’s too dangerous to have this much frustration around. Normal people won’t absorb the energy like I have but they’ll feel it. Tempers will be short and violence will break out. No, if I am to stop people from getting hurt, we have to stop this now.”

Eric looked around the store. “Well you’ve convinced me. Feel free to use anything here that can help.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Catalina said. She lifted her tight red shirt over her head. Her bare breasts stood in all their glory. Eric had worked in this sex store for two years and in all of the porn he had seen, he had never seen breasts that buoyant and beautiful.

“You said you were frustrated, but . . .” Eric said.

Catalina went down to her knees. “No offense Eric, but you couldn’t satisfy me tonight.”

Eric looked down as Catalina unzipped his pants. “Uh, why are you doing that then?”

“Because we need to do a scrying,” Catalina said. She let his pants drop to his ankles. His cock was standing proud underneath his boxers. Catalina pulled his cock free and with both hands, she began to stroke him.

Eric’s knees shook. “I don’t know what a scrying is but I like it.”

Catalina looked up at him. Her hands kept pumping his cock. “Scrying is like when witches look into a crystal ball or fortune tellers read a palm. Voluptumancers need something a little more intimate.”

Eric moaned. “Oh my God, this is unreal. First the vibrators stop working, then my mom is in a wet dream and now a sexy woman is jacking me off.”

Catalina smiled. “I always enjoy being called sexy.” Her hand cupped his balls. She gave him a gentle squeeze, not enough to hurt but enough to let him know a woman was holding him there.”

“Oh boy,” Eric moaned. Catalina could feel the surge of his orgasm coming.

“No boy here, Eric,” she said. “Just a handsome man with a very handsome cock. Now give me your pleasure, Eric. Come all over my breasts. Drop your white load on my brown tits. Would you like that?”

Eric nodded and Catalina felt his cock throb. Normally she would use some sort of lube even if it was spit but Eric didn’t need it. Her hand was all her needed. She loosened her grip just slightly so she could jack him faster. Catalina rose up slightly on her knees, presenting her breasts a few tantalizing inches away from his cock. One good thrust and his cock would drop right into her cleavage.

She looked up at Eric and their eyes locked again. He needed that final bit to push himself over the edge.

Catalina licked her lips.

Eric cried out. His cock erupted and a heavy load shot forth. Catalina felt the hot splatter on her chest and her own sex clenched in frustration. She ignored her own needs and kept pumping his cock. Six streams later, she released him and looked down on the white splashes on her tits.

The come itself didn’t form a pattern. It’s the trained Voluptumancer’s sensitive mind that looks at the chaos of desire’s traces and makes sense out of it. Like an artists can see a dog in the clouds or a musician can hear the rhythm of an idling car, a Voluptumancer can sense the magic around her in the semen of a young man.

“Well shit, that explains a lot,” Catalina said. The pointy ears, the three rows of teeth and the triangle eyes emerged from the splattered mess on her tits.

“What is it?” Eric asked. “Can you see it or umm, do I need to do it again?”

Catalina smiled. “Put your shooter away, cowboy. Looks like this town has a gremlin.”

To be continued.

League of Extraordinary Pornographers Episode 94

"It's true," Dr. Vanilla told me. His girlfriend of the week had her head in his lap. He was looked down on her with such affection. His fingers trailed through her long blonde hair with a certain reverence that was almost spiritual.

"I just can't beleive it," I said. "I mean really, the term 'sex-positive' was created by the sex-hating Hollow Earth Vatican? I see respected sexperts use that term all the time."

Dr. Vanilla signed. He lightly ran his fingers over his girlfriend's cheeks. He traced the counters of her bone structure like he was trying to memorize them by touch.

"Sexperts are a seperate conspiracy," Mr. Dom said. His hand was now over his girlfriend's mouth. He closed her nose as well. Her blue eyes bulged. Not for the first time, I wondered if he would let her breathe before she passed out.

She made a whimpering noise and Mr. Dom smiled. It was a cruel smile. He pulled his hand away. She gasped for air but she knew better than to move away. She knew to stay in her place.

"Think about it, idiot," Mr. Dom said and I took no offense. "Sex-positive implies that some things are good sex. By simply having the term, it implies that there must be a sex-negative. Since no one uses the term, sex-negative, it leaves it up to the individual to figure out what is bad sex."

"But I have read definitions for sex-negative," I said. "It applies to puritanism and anti-sex attitudes."

"Dumb-ass," Mr. Dom said. "Yeah, they have a definition, but how often do you see people use the term, sex-negative?" Compare that to how often you see the term, sex-positive, used as fucking punctuation?"

Mr. Dom grabbed a fistful of the blonde's hair and yanked her head back. "And you better damn well thank me when I let you breathe, slave."

The girlfriend whimpered again. "Yes, sir. Thank you sir."

"Oh," I said. "And if you don't use the term often enough to define it, then it is possible that it could be anything. Rough sex, footplay, role-playing etc could all be sex-negative."

Dr. Vanilla bent down and placed a kiss as gentle as a father's on his girlfriend's forehead. He looked hurt when she flinched.

"Correct," Dr. Vanilla said. "See? It was right there in front of you. You just needed to work it out for yourself."

"No, that would be your mother!"

I know you don't play Team Fortress 2. I know most videos from games are boring. Trust me when I say you will enjoy this video and you will thank me for bringing it to your attention.

And it has porn in it.

Happy Mother's Day

Zdravstvuj, readers. Shon has locked himself in his secret meditation bunker to begin work on his next epic piece of porn. By epic I do not of course mean a real book like say, 'War and Peace'. Shon thinks a hundred pages is epic. If he had to write the Iliad, he would have done it in a three minute song, and the chorus would have been about Helen's tits.

In the mean time, Shon asked me to quote "Take care of the flowers for Mother's Day." I have been doing this task with a certain amount of glee. It is not often I am allowed to kill something. I have been taking care of the flowers with my AK-47 and it has been quite lovely. I guess a flamethrower would be quicker but I prefer to kill things one by one.

To those annoying readers who want to point out that Mother's Day has already passed, please keep in mind that back in Mother Russia, Mother's Day comes in November. There we understand that your mother needs to be reminded why she gave birth to her spawn during one of the coldest months of the year.

I am finished with providing excuses for Shon's absence today. I shall return to the fields and slaughter more flowers. If I had an imagination I would picture every flower belonging to a SpamBot.

*Surveillance photo provided by Alex Dai*

Fiction: Robot Killer Surprise

Dr. Otto Von Madd pressed the button. A force field appeared around the red paddle and Otto tapped the paddle onto his hand. The force field amplified his tiny amount of tapping into a powerful blow in his hand. It looked like the Momentum-Assisted Paddle could be ready for the Summer Kink Convention season.

“Dr. Von Madd,” an urgent voice said in his ear. “We have an emergency on level Seven.”

Otto sighed. “There is always an emergency, Tanya; it’s why I hired you as my Security Chief. I would have thought your extensive background with corporate espionage would have prepared you for any emergencies that would arise.”

There was a pause on the communication line. “Doctor, I once fought off an attack from the Duchandu Corporation that consisted of a team of Ninjas led by a top heavy blonde and crazy brunette who wore the tightest jeans you have ever seen. I can handle high stress situations, I’m just not exactly sure what it is we have destroying the organic sex toys department.”

“My apologies,” Otto said. “I forget you have just started last week. Please describe the emergency.”

“We have a nearly naked redhead running around in the Organic SexToy Laboratory,” Tanya reported. “All she is wearing is a long black duster and a pair of sunglasses.”

“Obviously she must be a scientist who got into the aphrodisiac garden,” Otto said. “How does this constitute an emergency?”

“Well, she’s shooting lasers out of her hands for one,” Tanya said dryly.

Otto put down the paddle. “Hmm, any other unusual attributes?”

“So far she has kicked down a steel door, jumped twenty feet to avoid a pit trap and so far she hasn’t missed a single scientist that she has aimed at.”

“Oh wait, is it May already?”

“Uh, Doctor, what does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything Tanya,” Otto said. “Every May someone sends a robot assassin to kill me. You said it was a redhead?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Hmm, that’s nice. Last year it was an blonde and the year before it was a very curvy black female. A redhead is a nice change of pace. What would you estimate her cup size to be?”

“Oh those things are D’s at least,” Tanya said. “I’m sorry Doctor, but you’re saying someone tries to kill you every May? Why May?”

“Excellent question,” Otto said. “I suspect it has something to do with the fact that time travel is far more reliable when during the month of May. If they sent it any other month, they stand a good chance of losing their robot entirely or worse, missing their target by an entire century. You know, my uncle Ludwig had a theory that Queen Victoria was originally a lost time traveling robot.”

“Wait a minute,” Tanya said. “This thing is from the future? Who is trying to kill you in the future?”

Otto shrugged. He walked to his personal elevator and set the destination for his armory. “Some admirer I think. So far all of the robots have been body types I am attracted to.”

“Shall I mobilize the security robots after it?” Tanya asked.

“Absolutely not,” Otto said. “What is the fun in that? I shall subdue it personally. I have a suit of armor ready for this sort of thing. It’s equipped with EMP gloves and a magnetic field condom.”

“A condom?” Tanya asked.

“Of course,” Otto said. “I’m not going to fuck a sexy killer assassin robot from the future without one.”

“But why, doctor? Why would you fuck a sexy killer assassin robot from the future in the first place?”

“Ah, the question is, why would they send a SEXY robot if they didn’t mean for me to fuck it?” Otto said.

There was silence on the line. Otto could almost his picture the look on his security chief’s face. Her blue eyes would be closed and her excellent mouth would be open in disbelief. He thought about her sensible short blonde hair and shook his head. No sense in fantasizing about the staff when he had a perfectly good sex robot to subdue.

“I am almost ready,” Otto said. “Please evacuate the floor and seal the exits after I enter. Oh, and give me at least four hours before contacting me again. I like to enjoy my gifts.”

“Understood, Doctor,” Tanya said. “Uh . . .never mind.”

“Go ahead, Tanya. You had a question?”

“Can I watch?” Tanya asked.

Otto smiled and adjusted his goggles. “You’re my security chief. Of course you can.”

Story Crush

I have an idea. A big sexy beautiful idea that I can't wait to turn into a nice long sexy fuck of a story. There is a tinge of guilt because I have a long list of ideas that have been patiently waiting for my attention but I am blissfully ignoring my other ideas in favor of this new slut of an idea.

New story ideas are like crushes. I bore everyone I talk to about how much I love this idea. I flirt with the idea, toying with it in my mind before getting to work on it. I am fascinated by the idea but also afraid of engaging it right now. It's sexy and beautiful and at this stage, it is a perfect. As soon as I start working on it the perfection will slip away as the reality takes hold. There were be plotting issues. There will be something that doesn't quite work so I'll need to change my expectations. There will be work. Oh my, lots and lots of work. I can see that even now.

But for today, I just want to enjoy the crush.

About Star Trek

The new Star Trek movie is great.

You want more? Okay. For a franchise that has touted the interracial and international nature of it's crew, this is the first Star Trek movie that gave Sulu, Chekov and Uhura significant screen time to the point that I felt like they were the cream of their professions. That might seem minor to you but in a movie that is juggling 7 or 8 characters, I was really impressed.

They also somehow made a Kirk who was a disrespectful asshole but somehow someone you can root for and sympathize.

The movie finally embraced that Spock is far from logical. He's a damn emotional timebomb who is trying really hard to be calm around these idiot apes. I love that.

Most of all, it was fun. I fully endorse fun movies.

Flowers and Dissappointments

Kids, when you buy flowers online, read all the fine print. The picture to the left is what was advertised.













This is what she got.

Get your momma a music player instead.

Fiction: Slut-In-Law

“Mark, what are you doing here?”

I pushed my way through the door and grabbed Claudia’s throat. She gasped as my fingers tightened. Some of her long black hair was trapped in my fingers but that was all right. I squeezed too hard and her eyes widened. I had her attention.

I kicked the door shut behind me and pushed her against the wall. She had a delicate blouse on that I ripped open. Her bra held her massive breasts and I pulled a tit out. My fingers scratched her nipple before I twisted it.

She tried to scream her pain but she was out of air.

I let go of her throat and pulled out the other breast. Her pink nipple was already hard. I clamped her nipple with my fingers and this time she did scream. I twisted both of her nipples and she rose on the tip of her toes.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked.

“That is a better answer,” I said.

Claudia wasn’t a bad mother-in-law. She just needed to be disciplined from time to time.

I released her nipples and grabbed her by her hair. “Your little comment to Trish last week.”

I pulled her by the hair to the living room. When we got to the back of the couch, Claudia tried to pull away. I brought her face up and slapped her twice.

“Over the couch,” I growled.

She looked down shyly. For a brief flash I saw her as demure young girl instead of the forty something woman she was. It was only a moment, because she unzipped her pants without being told and pulled her pants down. My slut-in-law wasn’t wearing panties.

“Oh you knew,” I said.

Claudia looked at me with those wise green eyes of hers and bent over the couch. She braced her legs in an arch and presented her ass. The bitch was playing me, but damn, she did have a wonderful ass.

“Tell me what I did,” she said.

I took off my belt. “You told Trish that the reason she looked chubby in her swimsuit was because of all the butter she used for the mashed potatoes. Now Trish is on a diet and damn it, the mashed potatoes suck with less butter.”

Claudia clenched her very tight buttocks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Trish would take it so personally.”

I hit her with my belt. Claudia hissed and arched her back. I pushed her head back down over the couch.

“You are an awful liar,” I said. She whimpered in response. There was nothing more to say.

I whipped her ass. I have never spanked my kids and I have certainly never spanked Trish. There was something about Claudia though that brought it out in me. Mercy left me. Marks appeared on her ass; horrible angry looking welts and yet I kept whipping her. When I whipped my mother-in-law, I became a different person.

At first I used to think it was because I knew of her Claudia’s sins. I knew about the ways she used to nag Trish when Trish was a teenager. I knew about how Claudia’s insistence on cleanliness had given Trish a minor bacteria phobia. I knew a hundred different secret ways that Trish resented her mother and how Trish hated herself for disliking her popular mother sometimes. In my mind, whipping Claudia was helping Trish get some sort of second hand revenge. It was karma.

“Oh fuck!” Claudia yelled as my belt went between her legs and landed on her cunt. I hit her there a few more times. The blows were barely slaps but on her sensitive sex, the pain was shocking.

I knew the truth these days. I punished Claudia because it was fucking hot. The infractions she committed were just an excuse.

The belt fell from my hands. Claudia jumped as the buckle hit the floor. She was breathing hard and swaying her ass back and forth as if she was trying to cool it off.

“Your punishment isn’t over,” I said.

My mother-in-law groaned. “My mouth?” she asked.

“No.”

“My pussy?” she begged.

“No.”

Claudia moaned.

I spread her buttocks apart. She screamed as my fingers touched her marks. I took the bottle of lube out of my pocket and applied it to my cock.

“Please, I’ll be good,” she whined.

I slipped my cock into her ass. She moaned as she took everything I had. I could feel every tremble of her body. My hands went to her black hair and pulled her head back so I could see her face in the mirror above the mantle.

She was smiling.

I took my time. We fucked for a good half an hour. I added a few more welts to her ass with my hand. I’ll say this about Claudia, for an older woman, she can take a fucking. I hope Trish had this much endurance when she is her age.

Claudia came twice. The first time I caught her fingering herself as I fucked her ass. I let her finish but then I forbade her from touching herself. The second orgasm she got from my hand. I needed to feel her ass clench in that spasm way of hers when she comes.

I came in Claudia’s ass. She hates it but then, that’s why I do it. She knew better than to complain.

“You’ll behave,” I said later. I was dressed again while Claudia was naked on the floor. She was a beautiful sweaty mess.

“Yes,” she said. I believed her. For now.

“Good,” I said.

As I went to my car, I saw another car pulling into the driveway. I waited to see who it was. I smirked a little when I saw it was Brian.

“What did she do?” I asked.

Brian slammed the door of his car and came towards me. “Claudia told Shelly that she needed to stop wearing shorts because her thighs were too big.”

“Damn, that is cold,” I said. “Well, fair warning, I just whipped her ass and fucked it.”

He nodded. “That’s okay. I was thinking about doing some breast binding and face fucking her. After talking Shelly out of not throwing away all of her shorts for half of Sunday, I’m not leaving here till I bust a nut in Claudia’s mouth.”

I got into my car. “Sounds good. Oh, tell Claudia Happy Mother’s Day. I forgot.”

Random Porn Inspiration

I have a large file on my computer called Projects. The initial idea was that I would put pictures there that inspired me so that I could refer to them later. The odd nature of erotica means the folder is pretty damn incoherent and all over the place. Which I guess serves it's purpose. Sometimes I open the file and grab a random image and see what it does to my imagination. The complete lack of organization means that pretty much every image is random.

I don't have many HNT's in my folder. I think it's because I am very aware of how difficult it is to get a good sexy picture of yourself that also hides your identity. Being aware of the limitations takes me out of an inspirational mindset and into a sympathetic critical one. I have to say though, the few I do have are pretty spectacular. I just wish I did a better job of naming them so I know where they came from.


I am surprised by how many Page 3 girls I have in my folder. As a jaded porn writer I feel like I should be somehow too strange to appreciate a simple busty blonde but yet here I am. I think some things are just universal. As much as the internal snob wants to be above what everyone else likes, some people are just beautiful and sexy no matter who is looking at them.

That's the most important part of an inspiration folder. It has to be honest. It has to include every odd thing that captures your libido. You don't have to a story about latest TV star who's on every magazine cover but you can recognize what her appeal is to you and translate those feelings into a story. That folder belongs to you and it does you no good if it's custom made for what you want people to think of you.

Apocafuck: The Devil's Hexagon

The Devil's Hexagon is an area of downtown Atlanta in which a number of strippers, escorts and beautiful people have disappeared during the early 90's. The local media attributed the disappearances to a serial killer but no bodies of the missing were ever found. Also, many of the disappearances happened in front of witnesses although the sordid nature of the Devil's Hexagon discourages many witnesses from sticking around or giving their true names to reporters.

The boundaries of the Devil's Hexagon traditionally starts at the male strip club, 'Men, Men and Men', travels east down Peachtree Street to the adult store, 'The Toy Shack', then heads southeast down Dunwoody Industrial to the adult video rental store, 'Starnight Movies', southwest down Dunwoody-Peachtree to the tattoo parlor, 'it's Gonna hurt', then west down Piedmont to the adult book store, 'Brown Bag Books' then northwest up Peachtree Peidmont to the strip club, 'The Classy Belle' then northeast up Peachtree Street back to 'Men, Men and Men.'

The first documented disappearance happened in 1993 when stripper, Brad Bimmers went missing. Witness spotted him walking through the front door of a tanning salon but the security cameras of the salon showed no one entering. Local homphobic rednecks were blamed and posters went up but no one information came forward on Brad or his amazing physique.

For the next four years, at least 100 other cases were documented. It began with missing strippers and other adult industry workers but soon customers and in one case, an car of lost high school cheerleaders went missing. The cheerleaders was one of the more disturbing cases as the car was found idling on a street corner with the doors locked and the windows rolled up. Their purses were left behind but odddly not their pom poms.

Religious groups claim the disappearances was God weeding out the sinners. Civic leaders argued that the disappearances were proof that the clubs and adult businesses should be closed down. Right wing militia groups suspected that black vans were kidnapping people to use as sex slaves for the United Nations.

A pagan witch by the name of Medea Ares claims that the disappearances are the first sign of a Sexual Rapture where all the sex workers were taken to a paradise to teach them to be sex angels for the Apocafuck. This theory of course was ignored and ridiculed by the Atlanta Constitution as they preferred the United Nations sex slave theory.

The last reported disappearance happened stopped in 1996 when the stripper, Dusty Mounds vanished on stage. The busty blonde was spinning on a pole and simply vanished. The centrifugal force sent her bikini top and bottom into the crowd. At first the crowd applauded as they thought it was part of the act but when she didn't reappear to collect the money on stage they knew she had really dissappeared.

In 1998, zoning laws closed down many of the adult businesses in the Devil's Hexagon. Most of the owners moved onto to other interests that were more socially acceptable like advance payroll cashing, gun stores and real estate. The area is now known for having the highest concentration of Waffle Houses in Atlanta, which is saying something.

Recently in 2009, several fabulously attractive people have disappeared in Tokyo, Japan around one of the more disreputable parts of town. It will take more research to determine if this a new Devil's Hexagon.

First of May

Pick up other love songs at Jonathan Coulton's site.

Fiction: Big Gun Sue

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Comissions: G and M

I wrote all day Sunday and yet I don't have anything to post on Monday. It is days like these I remember why a fiction blogger can't post five days a week. I mean, I cranked out two stories this weekend and watched a movie for a review later, but coming up with something for Monday? Whew, I'm tired. In lieu of an actual post, I am sharing an image from my collection of commissioned works. This is an picture of a kooky creepy couple sharing a romantic moment. I can be such a sucker for sweet romance sometimes. UmbraFox did this for me and he really captured the inherent love I was looking for.

Terri Samantha

They undress each other for my amusement
Terri smothers my face with breasts of plenty
Samantha offers her nipples like strawberry treats
My hands fondle them together
One hand on my lover and one hand on her lover
Each is perfect and each is the greatest in this world.

An ass in each hand and a set of breasts for each side of my face
One mouth to kiss while the other mouth bites my ear
They trade my mouth back and forth
Terri giggles after each kiss
Samantha moans after each kiss
They both gasp when I bite their lip

My cock is another meal to be shared
Terri sucks my cock while Samantha licks my balls.
Samantha throats my cock while Terri nibbles on my balls
Together they lick my cock
Their lips meet briefly as they delight me.
They kiss each other with my cock between their tongues.

I take Samantha from behind while she eats Terri.
My thrusts travel through Samantha’s body
Erupting in moans from Terri as she keeps her friend in place
I fuck Terri on her back while Samantha sits on her face.
My thrusts pound through Terri
Making Samantha’s breasts jiggle from the quakes.

I drink from both their pussies
Terri has that place where my tongue makes her come.
Samantha prefers the finger as I lick her clit to climax
My jaw aches but I can not quit
I love their taste and I can not decide
Between Terri’s sweet fountain or Samantha’s refreshing spring

They both scratch grooves in my back
Bites from both their mouths scar my shoulders.
My hips bear the bruises from their clenching thighs
Terri begs me to come in her pussy.
Samantha groans for me to come in her mouth
I give Terri my climax but I give Samantha the rest to fill her mouth.

Celebration Time

Today marks my 36th birthday. Yay me.

I've never feared getting older. When you grow up in an emotionally abusive household, getting older is the light at the end of the tunnel. It's good to get old. It's good to get out of the house. When I was a young twenty something, I had a hard time being taken seriously as a dominant male. Submissives equate age with power and strength. Heck, even as an amateur porn writer my age seemed to be a handicap. Of course I was writing about sexy Ninjas, I was too young as far as my online colleagues were concerned. Cripes, if I could have turned 36 at the age of 25 I would have.

The really weird thing about being 36 is that I feel like my life is just starting. I'm writing stuff I'm really proud of. I have a girlfriend who treats me as an equal. I am enriching myself with movies, books and experiences every week. I have stuff to do and I feel like I am finally doing it. I love life instead of just enduring it.

Have a great day today for me.

The Convention Slut

Jacqueline fucked like a porn star, and not in a good way. Every thrust was a full body spasm that shook her black breasts. She never stayed in a position for longer than three minutes as if some unknown director was shouting instructions for her to change. When she grinded against me it was like we were pulping oranges between our groins. Her mouth would hang open and her eyes would roll into the back of her head like she was having a seizure.

It probably didn’t help that Jacqueline was a porn star. She had done a few movies for a website here in Atlanta. They weren’t even movies; they were just half hour clips of her fucking pale white guys. She kept encouraging me to watch her movies but I balked at the $39.99 subscription fee they required. Why pay when I had her pierced tongue for free?

I had met her at a kinky convention. She looked gorgeous in a red vinyl corset and bright red leather boots. I didn’t usually find the dominatrix look to be sexy but damn, Jacqueline was beautiful. She was six feet tall in her heels and she strode the convention like a black Amazon. It wasn’t love at first sight, but it was certainly fuck-in-the-ass at first sight.

It’s still hard for me to believe how easy it was to approach her. She intimidated men, and other women just hated her. She gave off a domme vibe that encouraged submissive men and someone like Jacqueline doesn’t respond well to men who worship her. A tramp like Jacqueline doesn’t know what to do when people elevate her.

All I had to do was hit on her. See, in a kinky convention, everyone is told repeatedly to act like proper gentlemen and ladies and treat everyone with the up most respect. It discourages the assholes from grabbing naughty bits that don’t belong to them and it creates an atmosphere of proper manners. People think adult conventions are like drunken frat parties but the reality is that act more like Sunday services at the church. That meant Jacqueline had spent a day walking around in leather and people kept trying to engage her in philosophical discussions about submission and dominance.

I on the other hand told Jacqueline that she was sexy as fuck and I wanted to get her back to my room. After a day of being treated like a person, she was happy to be treated like a slut again.
Twenty minutes later I was ramming my cock into her pussy. The metal rings that pierced her cunt took a little getting used to but the liquid clamp of her cunt made it worthwhile. Jacqueline’s entire body was that way. The blue star tattoos on her tits distracted from the natural beauty of her nipples that were the color of milk chocolate. The metal stud in her tongue distracted me when she licked my balls. The damn tattoo of a snake on her ass really took the focus away from how wonderfully round and fit her bottom was. It was like Jacqueline had defaced her body just to spite those that used it.

It didn’t stop me from using it.

We fucked off and on till the convention was over. Normally if I found someone as hot as Jacqueline I would kept them planted on my cock but there was something about Jacqueline that I could only take in small doses. It was her fucking mouth. She was hot as shit but as soon as she started talking, you realize just how fucking stupid she really was. I know she was just twenty-two, but seriously, she almost functionally moronic.

“What was that word?” she would say. That was her favorite phrase.

I would spend a minute reviewing what I just said. “Hostile?” I would say incredulously.

“Yeah, what does that mean?” Jacqueline would ask.

I would either teach her basic vocabulary or I would stick my cock down her throat. Sometimes coming down her throat wouldn’t be enough to get the pain of her stupidity out of my head.

So I would kick her out and she would go hang out with whomever the fuck she came there with. I would go back into the convention and attend seminars on proper protocols between dominants and other dominants. After a few hours of listening to brilliants fucktards talk about their imaginary rules of behavior for their sex games, I would start looking for Jacqueline again. She was just as dumb as the seminar presenters but at least I could come on her tattoo covered tits while she talked.

And Jacqueline loved to talk. She never stopped talking during sex. She would tell me in vivid foul mouthed detail what we were doing right there at that moment.

“You’re fucking me hard!” she would say. “You’re fucking my black cunt with your white cock!”

God damn, it is hard to come when someone is telling you that their mouth is open and ready for your come. I can see that for myself! Some dirty talk is nice but Jacqueline thought it was her job to narrate.

I started to gag her mouth with her panties. She thought I was being kinky. I just liked her better when she wasn’t talking.

We exchanged numbers after the convention. I don’t think I ever called her but man, she would call me. Atlanta has a pretty robust adult convention schedule. About every two or three months, someone is trying to rent a hotel so they can charge ridiculous admission fees for a convention where some people might be naked. The hotels weren’t cheap and people would get together to rent a single room to save money.

Jacqueline didn’t have that many friends but she had me. She would call and ask if I was going to Adult Rip-Off 08 and I would say I was thinking about it. She would suggest that she wanted to go but it she was low on money. Apparently porn didn’t pay as well as she would like. I would suggest that I could get a room for just us. She would say I was awesome.

We never negotiated sex as payment for sharing a room. For Jacqueline that would have been like planning on when to breathe air. Her body was her credit card. She would put her hand on my cock while discussing me paying for dinner. She would shove her tits in my face if she wanted a new sex toy in the dealer’s room. I’m not saying Jacqueline was a whore, I’m just saying she paid her way with tits and cunt.

But God, did I make her pay. The more annoying the convention, the more I took it out on her body. I spanked her ass with my paddles. I bound her tits in rope and tape. I came down her throat, on her tits, in her ass and after one boring seminar about polyamory marriage counseling, I came on her hair just to make a mess.

She took it all. Jacqueline’s ability to please was only limited by her ability to understand what I wanted. She would fuck standing up just as easily as she would fuck on the floor. You didn’t need a safe word with Jacqueline. She would do anything it took to get you to climax one more time.

I’m not sure why Jacqueline loved the conventions so much. She would parade around in her fetish clothes trying to get noticed. I know she loved to get flogged and would throw herself at anyone with a flog and a cock. Jacqueline would disappear for hours at a time and then come back to the room with her ass covered in red marks. I don’t know if she fucked the guys who flogged her. I didn’t care. I still fucked her welt covered ass no matter how sensitive it was.

This went on for about a year. We only met for conventions. We fucked, she talked and I would try not to listen. She traveled for her job; posing for webs sites and fucking actors stiff on Viagra. It was her big dream to be in a Bang Brothers video one day. She would send me links to her new appearances, reminding me she was still hot until it came time again to ask if she could crash with me again.

Sometimes she would tell me about her life. I knew she lived with her mom. I knew she once worked at a rent-a-car place before she was fired. I knew she didn’t haven an e-mail address. I knew she thought her tattoos looked good. I knew she once had a cat.

I didn’t listen. The fact was that she was a dumb woman who wasn’t going to be beautiful forever. One day she wasn’t going to be able to pay for rooms with a thirty minute blowjob in the shower. When I listened to her talk about her life, I couldn’t ignore how fundamentally unequipped this woman was for the rest of her life. Hell, if anything happened to her mother, Jacqueline would be more helpless than your average ten year old.

So I just fucked her. I made her stop talking about her life and had her talk about my cock between her tits instead. I tuned out her stories about her mom’s illnesses and focused on getting Jacqueline’s ankles on my shoulders. I spent weekends with Jacqueline because I wanted to fuck a willing slut, not to be her guidance counselor.

I still remember the last time I fucked her. I came on her face. She looked up at me with those half open eyes. It was her porn face. I wiped my cock on her cheek to see if I could make her break character. It didn’t work. I wondered if she even had another face.

Jacqueline didn’t call me when the next convention rolled around. I didn’t call her because frankly, those trips were getting fucking expensive. I needed the financial break.

When she didn’t call for the next convention, I called her. It went to voice mail. At this point it had been over four months. I figured she had found some new guy to sponge free rooms from. Maybe she finally got that Bang Brothers video and her porn career took off. Whatever her reason, she had seen no need to tell me about it. I felt oddly rejected.

I’ve stopped going to adult conventions. It just wouldn’t be the same without Jacqueline. I couldn’t sit through another paddling demonstration without the promise of Jacqueline sucking down my cock.

I miss that slut.

Queens of Videogame Cockteasing

Almost every videogame website I visited this morning has an ad for the online game, Civony. The ad features a lovely lady telling you to defend your lands, your armies and your Queen. Hmmm. I just finished an epic game of Galactic Civilizations last night where I led my custom made Blissians into their sexual conquest of the universe so I am not quite ready to do it again on a medieval scale but the idea is intriguing. Is the Queen a demanding dominatrix who rules her kingdom through your micromangement? Or is the Queen your royal concubine who you treasure and hoard away from other horny kingdoms?

The anwser is neither. It's a free online version of Age of Empires. From what I can tell from reviews, there isn't even a Queen. Oh joy.

I shouldn't be upset. I mean, Everquest got things rolling with Firiona Vie and ever since, MMORPG's have had hot female mascots for their games. You certainly can play a woman as hot as Firiona, but Firiona herself has little to do with the gameplay.

I think that is where I get annoyed. Let's make the sexy woman an important part of the game. I'm a dominant male and even I would get a kick out of having some sexy Red Queen type give me my mission briefings. Or heck, reverse the power dynamic and make the Queen my prize where every town I conquer gives me another piece of lingerie I can dress her in. I don't care which direction you go, just make the damn sexy queen in your advertisement actually have something to do with the game.

Fucking videogame cockteases.

Which brings my to the point of my post: This is where you get your ideas, writers. When the advertising world lies to you about the sexual content, it is up to you to deliver it on your own. Save your free time by not playing Civony and instead write the story Civony suggested to you.

And if you do make a game that involves a Queen, let me know, alright?

Back From Art

Washington D.C. was great. The first two days were cold and rainy but the last three days were sunny and warm. I had a long list of places I wanted to go to but I ended up running out of time. That was all right. I hit the art museums I wanted and wow, I just feel enriched. My girlfriend took about 800 pictures which freed me up to just walk and absorb.

I love sculptures. I love something that was meant to be walked around and appreciated in slices as well as altogether. As a writer, I find sculptures to be art from another world. I can tell a story and evoke desire but I can never craft a marble breast that just begs for your touch.

I also love Folk Art with a mad passion. My favorite Folk Artists annotate themselves. The paint a river of blood and then writer the words, 'River of Blood' on the river. It's like the artists have no faith in their ability to convey their very important message so they are backing themselves up by labeling the river of blood, the whore of Babylon and the rain of fire. Their passion for their message surpasses their artistic ability and their own faith in their artistic ability and I find that inspiring somehow. I wish bloggers had that much passion.

Food was a mixed bag in D.C. We hit a few dives and we hit a few of the upper scale places. Quality was not dependent on the prices, let me tell you. I never expected so much seafood to be available nor did I expect that nearly 80% of the fish came from North Carolina. It was a weird deja vu to see a crappy small town I used to live near be listed as a far off exotic port on a fancy restaurant menu.

To my surprise, I enjoyed the Native American Museum the most. Most of the Smithsonian is aimed at children and tends to have wonderful artifacts but the presentation is juts below a History Channel special. The Native American Museum was refreshingly adult and very comprehensive. It focused on so many different tribes and presented a wealth of experiences. I was worried it would be depressing but in the end I was really uplifted by the understanding that so many Native cultures have survived and continue to endure in such overwhelming influential environments.

Now that I am back and I have forgotten more wonderful art than I can possibly remember, I am eager to write. I'm eager to try a few new things and I am eager to experiment and see where I go.

Vacation Hiatus

Zdravstvuj, readers. I am Sasha38DD and I will be caretaking the blog for the week. Even though Shon just flew to Puerto Rico in December, the lazy pig dog is taking another vacation in April. He will be flying to Washington D.C. where he will gaze upon the lies and false histories created at the Smithsonian. Did you know Russian Sexbots landed on the moon in 1958? You won't see that exhibit at the museum of U.S. propaganda.

Instead of trying to smuggle me through airport security, Shon has left me behind to do menial labor. Right now I am painting dildoes in Easter colors. I am capable of building anti aircraft artillery and yet Shon finds painting sex toys to be a better use of my abilities.

It is times like these I am tempted to start a profile on Fetlife.

After painting each dildo, I have been instructed to try them out on all four of my orifices and write a report. I think Shon sometimes doesn't realize I am a robot so he treats me like on of his bimbo sex slave characters. Testing and reporting each sex toy will take me all week which means I will not have any time to post entries for you to amuse yourself with.

Yes, cry some more readers. The tears of your disappointment will be a small comfort as I try to penetrate the 14 inch silicon phallus into my quaternary orifice.

Photo realistic image by Alex Dai

Dalek Chicks

Why yes, I have nothing to post today. How could you tell?

The Dalek Chicks are three adorable cosplayers who give me hope for costuming again. Seriously, that is damn cute.

Work has been insane. Man was not meant to work 12 hour shifts from home. Dinner is that magical time when I can escape the office, eat something with a fork and then return to my command center. We're doing this very important non-disclosure thing that amps up our workload for an intense month and a half. Since I am middle management, I'm the guy who tries to keep exhausted employees working when I want to run away from it all and join a folk band.

My folk band would basically rip off Michael Hurley songs but it would be awesome by the way.

I'm pretty proud of Easter Hunt, the story with no comments below me. It's a mean, bitter story about a submissive suffering through an awful holiday themed kinky event. I violated one of my rules of Holiday Stories but not making it a happy story. Who knows, Easter may come and my story will be on a million web pages. Weirder shit has happened.

While slaving away for the Man, I have snuck out to start a Blip FM page. I haven't uploaded some of my more personal favorite songs yet, but check it out. I have a Marvin song you must hear, as well as 'Paint the Line', my favorite pseudo 80's song that never was. I might not have time to write but I don't know, picking songs for you to listen to seems like a creative outlet. Maybe I should run away and become a folk singing DJ.

Thanks for sticking with the blog as I go through this horrific low content period.

Fiction: Easter Hunt

“Fucking wonderful.”

Fiona shivered in the Easter morning dew. She wasn’t the only one. All around her, submissives were struggling with the unsexy damp chill. Topless women wearing nothing but white stockings, bunny ears and thongs with little rabbit tails were going to be fucking cold.

They were participating in one of those decadently sinful ideas that look great on someone’s livejournal but was pretty awful in actual execution. It was an Easter Hunt, arranged by the too wealthy for his own good, Sir Paddle. They were on his estate outside the city which meant they were away from prying eyes, but it was also so secluded that the idea of naked women running around was too kinky to pass up.

Fiona looked to Victor, her Master. Of course, he was fine since he was dressed in a suit and jacket. Asshole. All of the Masters and Mistresses were dressed like they were attending Church. Fiona shivered again but this time it was from desire. She had to admit that the contrast was hot. All the submissives looked like cheap sluts from a dirty magazine while the Masters looked like they were from another world much classier than here.

Her Master wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at this short little blonde bitch with painted tits. Fiona frowned. All of the other girls wore the strict uniform that Sir Paddle had requested, but that little bitch had painted her tits like Easter eggs. All of the Masters were looking at the bitch and admiring her. What was her name? Kitten something? Or Angel something? God, Fiona hated cutesy sweet submissive names.

Fiona took a deep breath. God damn it, why was her Master looking at that painted whore? Fiona was a six foot tall redhead with long curly red hair. Her tits were still perky instead of falling like so many of the women here. Fiona had a great ass from all her exercising where as she pretty damn sure none of the other women here knew what a fucking squat crunch felt like. Fiona was the hottest woman here and it burned her inside when she caught her Master looking at other women.

To Fiona’s left, another submissive was twitching her nose and sniffing her Master’s hair. Fiona rolled her eyes. Oh God, someone is fucking role-playing being a rabbit.

“When does this stupid game start?” Fiona snarled.

Her Master slapped her hard across the face. “Patience and language, young lady.”

Fiona’s eyes took a moment to focus again. All of her annoyance was briefly replaced with the euphoria of being put in her place. The sting on her face warmed her against the chill of the dew.

“Are all our little bunnies ready?” Sir Paddle announced. He was standing on a lawn chair. Fiona couldn’t help notice the leg of the chairs were folding under his weight.

“Yes!” the other little obedient submissives yelled.

“Good!” Sir Paddle declared. “Somewhere on this lawn, are hidden three prizes! Now there are only three prizes so you’ll have to really look for it! Once you find a prize, bring it to me in your mouth. Once all three are found, the Easter Hunt ends!”

“What are the prizes?” Fiona asked. There was a murmur of disapproval from the other submissives. The cunts hated it when a submissive was presumptuous enough to speak out of turn.

“You’ll recognize it when you see it,” Sir Paddle said.

Fiona looked at the lawn. There were dozens of bushes, a few trees and too much furniture. She looked down at her white stockings. This was going to get dirty quickly.

Her Master grabbed her by the hair. “Bring me a prize,” he demanded.

Fiona swallowed. “There are only three,” she said.

“Bring me a prize or I will give you to Sir Paddle for the night.”

Fiona groaned. Shit, that fat fuck would tear her ass up for an hour and then his penis would fuck her for 2 minutes. This is not how she wanted to spend Easter.

“I’ll get you a prize,” she said. He released her hair.

“Ready!” Sir Paddle yelled. “Set, go!”

The bunny submissives broke into a run. They were all barefoot except for their white stockings. The cold grass sent chills up Fiona’s spine but she gave it her all. A chubby submissive got in her way and Fiona happily shoved her into some bushes.

“Oops!” Fiona said very unconvincingly.

Most of the bunnies ran for the big circular hedge that was in the center of the lawn but Fiona ignored it. It was too obvious. Fiona might not be the most submissive woman here, but she was a great fuck because she understood sadists. Fiona figured a sadistic person would hide something in the most obscure place possible. She skipped the easy to reach bushes and headed for a clump of bushes that were almost hidden behind a tool shed.

Fiona ran to the farthest bush and rummaged through it. The dark overcast skies made everything look a dull green but Fiona was hunting for color. She assumed they were looking for Easter eggs, something colorful and bright. Her fingers dug lightly through the dirt. She wouldn’t put it past sir Paddle to actually bury a prize.

Someone was looking in the bush beside Fiona. It was Sunbeam, that New Age submissive who keeps trying to talk to the other girls about the spirituality of submission. Fiona would have hated her for that alone, but the fact that Victor kept admiring Sunbeam’s ass was all the reason Fiona needed.

“Look somewhere else, bitch,” Fiona said.

Sunbeam’s perpetual smile faltered a bit. “You can’t call dibs on hiding spots, silly.”

Fiona stood up. “I can plant a foot up your ass, right?”

Sunbeam frowned. “You are so negative, Fiona. You’re not better than us or anything.” She got up and left.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Fiona said. She tore through the bush Sunbeam was at. The bush had thorns but Fiona didn’t care. She was tough. She was strong. She was beautiful. She wasn’t going to let a silly kink game get the better of her.

“I got one” someone yelled. It was some older woman Fiona didn’t recognize. The lady held something in the air and Fiona sighed. It was a bright dildo, painted in Easter stripes. Of course.

“Remember to carry it in your mouth!” Sir Paddle said.

The woman happily put the dildo in her mouth like a dog carrying a bone. Fiona sighed again. Some women just don’t understand what a Master wants when he gives a command. When Fiona found a prize that was not how she was going to carry it.

Fiona looked back at the lawn. Now that she knew it was a dildo, she had a better idea of where to look. It looks like the woman found the prize underneath a lawn table. Okay, that means you need somewhere to hide eight or nine inches long. The bushes were still a good idea but under the lawn table? That seemed almost too easy.

The cold wind blew across Fiona’s bare tits. “God damn this game,” she said.

“I found one!” a voice yelled out. Fiona groaned when she saw it was that painted bitch again. AngelCat, yeah that was her lane ass name. Fiona watched as AngelCat put the dildo in her mouth crossways. Then the stupid bitch HOPPED over to Sir Paddle.

“Oh my God,” Fiona swore. Submission wasn’t cute. It wasn’t about dressing up and doing stupid little kids’ games. It wasn’t about freezing your ass off in stockings and stupid bunny ears. Not for the first time, Fiona thought about leaving the group to their inane stupidty.

She saw her Master looking at her. He had his arms crossed. Worse, he looked disappointed.

God damn mother fucking piece of shit. Fiona had to win. It was a stupid game but she had to win. She had to be better. She had to do what Victor demanded. She had to prove she was too good for this shit by being the best at it. She had to earn her own scorn.

AngelCat had found her prize in the bird fountain. That confused Fiona. What was fucking hard about that as a hiding place? It’s like that fat lazy fucker just tossed the prizes wherever it was easy to place.

Fiona bit her lip. She forgot sometimes that some Masters were no where near as sadistic as herself. She looked around the lawn again. This time she looked for easy places that you could something without the slightest bit of effort.

She ran to the flower garden. She fell on the wet grass and slid a few feet. One of the stupid bunnies stopped to help Fiona help. Fiona pushed the girl away. Fiona’s body was covered in wet grass but she didn’t care. Getting dirty was something submissives do.

The flower garden was simple and uninspired. Fiona stood over the garden and scanned it quickly. Rose, rose, tulip, tulip, tulip, lily, ten inch didlo painted in pink swirls.

“I fucking have it!” Fiona yelled. She picked it up and made sure everyone saw her. With everyone’s eyes on her, Fiona opened her mouth and deep throated the dildo. It tasted of dirt and dew but Fiona sealed her lips around it. She had had far more disgusting things in her mouth.

She walked over to Sir Paddle with a mouth full of dildo. She swung her hips. She let the wind rip through her long red hair. She savored the look of disappointment on the other submissives’ faces. Her pussy flushed as she saw the leering look of the Masters and Mistresses.

Fiona stood in front of Sir Paddle and tilted her mouth to him. He reached up and pulled the long dildo out of her mouth. Because he was a pervert, he pulled it out slowly. Because Fiona loved to tease those she would never fuck, she moaned as he pulled it out.

Sir Paddle handed the prize to Fiona’s Master. “Here you go, Victor. These things aren’t cheap so enjoy it.”

Fiona smiled at her Master. He slapped her even harder. While the stars floated in front of her eyes, he pushed her hard and she fell to the ground. His foot pushed her over to her belly.

Fiona knew what to do next. She lifted her ass and spread her legs. Her Bunny tail stayed on her ass as he pulled aside the thong. With a single thrust, Fiona took all nine inches of the dildo into her cunt.

She grabbed the grass as her Master viciously masturbated her. He was ramming the dildo into her and Fiona shuddered with the thrusts. She looked up at the shocked expressions on the submissives’ faces. AngelCat clenched her eyes in horror. Sunbeam looked like she was jealous. Most of them couldn’t stand to watch.

All the Masters watched though. Fiona loved that. She grunted as her Master violated her on the dirty grass. The thought that maybe these watching Masters might fuck their submissives tonight while thinking of Fiona just made her want to giggle in delight.

Instead, she came with a scream.

New To You Fiction:Painting On An August Morning

It was a hot August morning, the kind where there was steam outside instead of fog. Inside, it was the cool constant temperature I needed for my paintings. Inside me, the temperature ranged from rage to surrender.

Danielle was in bed, lying on her stomach, the sheets and pillows still a mess from last night. She was reading a magazine, topless except for her straight blonde hair hanging over a shoulder. I frowned as she bounced her ankle from the bed to her round buttock. It was something she always did when she was excited, and I knew where the source was coming from.

“Stay just like that,” I said as I sat on the bed beside her, my tools beside me.

“I don’t have time for posing today,” Danielle said curtly. “I have a lunch date with Karen in an hour.”

More like a lunch date with her lover, Avery, but I held my peace. “I don’t need you to pose, just lay still,” I said as gently as I could.

Danielle grumbled something but I ignored her. Dipping paintbrush to palette, I selected black as my instrument. My hand was steady for the first time since discovering her infidelity as I brushed the first stroke to her shoulder blade.

“Jesus! That’s cold!” Danielle complained, but her modeling instincts prevented her from moving.

“I’ll be careful,” I said. Her tanned back had a deep, even color that complimented the black paint. I sighed at the perfection of her shoulder blades, rising just slightly enough to guide my paintbrush as I drew the first curves. The black-ribbed wing I drew joined her shoulder blade naturally. Danielle’s buttocks shifted under white panties as she fought against shivering.

As I began the second wing on her other shoulder blade, I reflected on how just last week I had wanted to draw white wings. I had wanted to draw the wings of angels to adorn my wife, maybe to proclaim her divinity and maybe to protect her by wrapping her in the decorations of the angelic. Now I was painting bat wings to serve another double purpose. I wanted to wrap her in infernal garments to accuse her of what I couldn’t say out loud, and to damn her for the devilish succubus that she was.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asked.

“Painting,” I told her. “I was inspired,” I said truthfully.

Shortly, the wings were finished and were partially dry. “Sit up please, but slowly and hold your hair away from your back.”

Danielle did as I asked, and I wanted to scream at her. How could she follow my every wish, my every command, my every desire when it came to my work, yet disobey every vow of love she had ever uttered? Obediently she sat on the edge of the bed, her lovely legs hanging over the edge. There was an impish smile on her face, the one she always gets when she is the center of my world. Did she smile like that for Avery?

Wordlessly, I knelt before her and slipped my fingers under her panties. I pulled them off as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb her back and cause the paint to wrinkle before it dried. Just as silently, Danielle sat there and lifted her legs, letting me strip the last of her clothing away. She held her shimmering blonde hair over her shoulder in her hand, reminding me of Rapunzel. I filed the image away for a future painting. Even when she betrays me, she is still my most inspiring model.

Danielle parted her dark thighs, revealing her tempting inner canvas. Desire welled up in me, and I tore my attention away from where I had intended to go. Instead, I crawled between her thighs, resting my elbows on knees that had locked around my waist in the past. I dipped brush to palette and yellow was the guardian I employed.

I breathed on her left nipple, watching it harden and flush to a darker brown. I wanted her breast to appear as it would when Avery was with her. I needed it to be the same texture, the same color it would be when she felt desire, and for the nipple to be the same shape it would be when he leaned down to suck it.

When I was satisfied that her nipple was aroused and Danielle’s thighs had clenched around me, I began to paint. I drew a spiked barb around her nipple, pointing inward at the hard nub. From here I painted a curling tail that circled around her nipple, expanding outward. Danielle gasped as the soft brush teased her breast, and I knew the inability to move only heightened her sensations.

From between her legs I began to smell her arousal, but I ignored it as I drew the Guardian. The inside of her round breast was where I drew the origin of the tail, a yellow scorpion. It wasn’t easy to paint on the curving fruit of her breast, but then I had all the inspiration in the world sitting there with me. The tail was too long for the scorpion’s body, but exaggeration is the privilege of an artist and the right of a husband. Yellow claws completed the vicious beast, pointed towards her cheating heart. I christened him Telemachus, after the defender of Penelope’s fidelity.

“It feels weird, but pleasant,” Danielle whispered, perhaps afraid to disturb the creature on her chest.

“Good,” I lied. I cursed my cowardice.

I examined the firm slenderness of her waist, searching for the next device I needed to summon. It was hard for me to look at the belly that was the center of so many of my paintings and know that someone else’s mouth had kissed that navel. The answer became clear to me, and I dipped from gold to make my next sigil.

I painted two circles of intersecting gold so that her lovely navel was shared by both. The symbolism would be clear to Avery when he dipped his head down there. Symbolism isn’t nearly as mysterious as some creative types would want people to believe. A symbol is worthless if no one understands it, so by definition, a symbol has to be something that can be recognized even by the uneducated. When Avery kissed her down there, I wanted him to be reminded of the vows she had sworn, and then broken, to me.

“This is nice,” Danielle said softly. “What gave you this idea?” She parted her legs even further as I brought my attention to her sex.

“The thought of you sucking Avery,” I wanted to scream. “Finding his phone number on your cellphone!” I wanted to accuse. Instead, I simply said, “You.”

Danielle’s curly hair covered her sex but couldn’t cover her arousal. The lips of her basin were thick and her pearl was shiny with desire. I hated Danielle. I hated her for getting turned on when I was trying to punish her. I hated myself more for wanting to dip my tongue into her. My paintbrush dipped into her cup, and I stroked the outside of her thighs with her own inner juice. Wasn’t the first paint the product of crushed juices? The consistency was awful, but the thin clear color was translucent on her tanned skin.

“Yes,” Danielle purred.

I selected another paintbrush and dipped into red. The thought of stroking her fruit reminded me of another fruit and of another Guardian. While I continued to stroke her garden with my first brush, I used the other brush to draw the outline of a fiery sword on her right thigh. I’m not one for Biblical references, but the idea of Gabriel’s sword protecting Danielle’s Eden comforted me. It wasn’t easy to paint her thigh and stroke her sex at the same time, but then Art never is easy.

“Are, are, you almost done?” Danielle stuttered. Her eyes were closed and her lips were an open bow of submission.

“Almost,” I said. I breathed softly on her thigh, causing the paint to dry. My other brush was useless, sticky and saturated with Danielle’s paint, but I kept dipping back into her. I had an irrational impulse to paint her clit, to somehow seal it with paint and prevent it from being used again. No, from ever being used by Avery.

“Please,” Danielle begged in a whisper as I continued to blow on her thigh.

“Turn around, and watch the paint,” I said, inspiration striking again. I rose and unbuttoned my pants. Danielle smiled at me, and I almost forgave her for everything right there. She turned her body around, carefully avoiding letting her thighs rub together. On her knees, my wife presented her round buttocks to me, the vines of her garden peeking from between her thighs. She kept her head down so that her blonde hair wouldn’t obscure the bat wings I had drawn.

My cock, uncaring of minor issues like fidelity and trust, was eager for Danielle. Sliding into her was tainted bliss; the pleasure of her gripping me eclipsed by the thought of other cocks that may have been gripped before me. Danielle gasped as I filled her, heedless of her own sins.

My hands went down to her hips, pulling her back into me. I toyed with the idea of painting thorns around her ass, to prickle Avery when his stomach met her buttocks like mine did now. I admired the curve of her back, wondering if I should mar it with paint. As my cock plowed her garden, I wondered if a flaming sword would be enough. When Danielle’s neck undulated in pleasure, I considered a collar of silver and blue to keep her passions leashed.

Danielle’s wings fluttered on her back, Telemachus curled his stinger around her nipple and the sword burned her thigh as she reached her triumph. She wanted to collapse and enjoy herself but my wife refused to let her body go for fear of distorting the drying paint. The beautiful woman held her pose in spite of her orgasm, or perhaps the pose aided in her pleasure. Danielle was more faithful as a model than she was as a lover.

With an aggressive grunt, my cock gave her the final coating. White was the color of my claim, spraying and filling her from the inside. It wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be enough. I could climax in her a thousand times and there would still be a spot somewhere in her untouched by me. As my last brush wilted inside her, I realized how futile this whole morning had been.

“We have to do this more often,” Danielle said, wiggling her hips against me playfully.

“Why are you sleeping with Avery?” I asked.

My Bad Girl Crush, the Baroness

Back when I was a kid, there was this insane little phenomenon called G.I.Joe. Apparently Joe started out as some sort of boy's version of the Barbie but by the mid 80's, he had shrunk down to a five inch toy fully accessorized with CRAZY. The old Joe wore army fatigues and had sensible weapons. The new Joe was about 50 figures, all different shades of the rainbow and equipped with Ninja swords and laser rifles. It was like some sort of science fiction military that looked like the Justice League. I loved it.

And then there were the women. The good guys had a token girl. She was a redhead named Scarlet and her gun was a crossbow. Hmm, that seems silly now. I had a Scarlet and she was always dating my favorite Joe at the time, whomever he may be.

The bad guys got a token female named Baroness. Black hair, black leather and most important of all, she had glasses. Heck, I think she was the only toy I had ever seen with glasses. 14 year old Shon had glasses and so did an evil woman with an undetermined accent. Obviously we had a lot in common.

G.I.Joe was a huge franchise. They had a cartoon series that was written by many ex-comic book writers. The actual comic book was a surprisingly mature book that introduced young Shon to such terms like 'extreme prejudice'. The comic also introduced a subplot where Baroness was in love with a Scottish Arms Dealer named Destro. I remember at one point Baroness sacrificed herself to save Destro and was horribly scarred by a fire. Young Shon was very upset. I didn't see Scarlet sacrificing herself. Baroness was obviously the better woman.

Looking back, it is easy to see why so many geeks my age still have a thing for Baroness. The glasses are a big key as she was essentially the first geek girl many of us would encounter. Princess Leia was a tomboy, Dale Arden was a victim and Wonder Woman was a goddess, but Baroness had glasses and in the 80's that made you a nerd no matter how sexy your leather outfit. At the time, being a bad girl was a determent. Today that would get you a blog and a Suicide Girl interview.

The picture is a sketch from the fabulous Frelncr. He was selling some of his preliminary sketches and although I usually have little interest in art of franchise characters, I couldn't resist picking up this one of Baroness. It's amusing and a little juvenile which is something young Shon would have drooled over every waking moment. Now I just need to finish that time traveling mail system.

Fiction: Wait, Wait, Don't Fuck Me

Good morning, you're listing to the Von Madd Datalink Network, the number one source of information for all Von Madd Laboratories employees. I'm Ed Jackson and we're in the middle of a game we like to call "Wait, wait, don't fuck me!"

Our next contestant is on the line right now, Dr. Samantha Kinsella. It says here doctor that you work in the theoretical suspension advances. Can you explain to your colleagues who are listening what that is?

"The problem with the bondage enthusiast who lives in an apartment is that it is hard to rig up anything that will not damage the walls or ceilings. We are looking for alternative ways for people to enjoy suspending their bound lovers using anything from anti-gravity to self supporting expendable structures. We do a lot of experimental research here."

That's fascinating, Dr, Kinsella. Let's get right to the game now, shall we? As you know, every employee at Von Madd Laboratories fills out a weekly sexual fantasy list. You have been listed by three of your colleagues as their ideal sexual domination fantasy. If you can correctly identify the person who entered each fantasy, then you will win a two week vacation on a tropical island of your choice.

"That sounds great, Ed, but what happens if I don't get all of them right?"

Well, Dr. Kinsella, fail to identify the identity of someone who wants to humiliate you, and you will be spanked by that person and then masturbated on. A video of the experience will be created and your mystery humiliator will have one year access to a surveillance camera assigned to your shower and personal quarters. Are you ready to play?

"Oh fuck."

That's the spirit! The first fantasy goes as follows 'I want to fuck that stuck up bitch, Dr. Kinsella in the ass the next time she says my work is unimaginative!'

"Oh good, I thought these would be hard. That would be Dr. Braun, and his creativity is rather poor considering we work in a theoretical department."

That's absolutely correct! Tough luck, Dr. Braun! The next person to submit a fantasy wrote this, 'Every night I masturbate to thoughts of Dr. Kinsella choking on my big fat cock. The best part is when I make her thank me for facefucking her.'

"Hmm, I am going to have to say Dr. Wickman. He does seem to have inadequacy issues as well as an obsession with oral sex."

That is correct! You're doing great, Dr. Kinsella. One more question and you will be vacationing on a beach. Get this one wrong, and you'll endure a night of humiliation. Now, who wrote the following? 'Every time she rolls her eyes at my work, I just want to slap her face with my cock.'

"Ummm, could it be, umm, no . . ."

This is the final question. Now think, Dr. Kinsella, who really hates it when you roll your eyes?

"That could be fucking anyone, Ed. My alleged colleagues are a bunch of assholes with stupid ideas."

Think fast, Dr. Kinsella. I need an anwser in five seconds.

"Wait, wait . . .oh shit . . . is it Dr. Holt?"

Oh, so sorry, Dr. Kinsella. Dr. Holt is gay by the way. Most of his fantasies are about Dr. Braun. I'm afraid it was DR. Rodkin who wants to cock slap you. Please proceed immediately to Spanking Room #9 and Dr. Rodkin requests you were red panties.

"That mother-fucking piece of -"

And that is all the time we have today. Next up is the daily Kylie Minogue tribute marathon but join us next week at this same time for another episode of "Wait, wait, don't fuck me!"