The island of Sharpesblades on the planet Euphoria has had a long bloody history. The terrible deadly trees here grow leaves that are renowned in the galaxy for their natural sharpness. In the reign of King Fong, a prison was built on the island to hold his political enemies. Even if they escaped from the prison, a good strong wind would dislodge the leaves and shred people to bits.
During the reign of King Fong’s son, King Zarn, The over populated prison population managed to overcame their wardens and take over the prison. Safe within the prison walls, the prisoners issued taunting proclamations of freedom and independent art criticisms. King Zarn was a maniacal despot and a rather uninspired painter with an insecure ego. He could not allow these enemies of his father and his own art to exist.
A plan was made to deploy a dozen Rape Dogs from Tiberon III. Eight feet long from snarling snout to prehensile tail, the Rape Dogs were known for fucking anything that moves. Possessing jaw that could crush microsteel and armored in a hide of the toughest leather, the Rape Dogs were quite capable of overpowering anything that takes their fancy. Their foot long cock capable of seven orgasms meant that whatever they did fuck would be in no shape to escape the rest of the pack.
It only took the Rape Dogs two days to molest every prisoner on the island. The prisoners themselves only survived twelve hours after that before being raped to death. Unfortunately for King Zarn, the trained handlers of the Rape Dogs only lasted three minutes before their horrific beasts broke free of the control.
Rape Dogs oddly enough are vegetarians. They thrived on the island. They posses only one gender and reproduce by raping each other. Within a year, the island was bristling with Rape Dogs desperate for something new to stick their vile cocks in.
King Zarn issued a bounty of a million credits for each Rape Dog cock brought to him. Hunters from all over the galaxy came to collect the astonishing reward. A silent grim hunter dressed in mysterious armor collected four cocks before flying off to parts unknown. He collected the most cocks. Most hunters were not so lucky. The beaches became littered with the broken asses of would be cock collectors.
The population did slowly begin to dwindle. For a million credits, someone was always willing to try and some of them even managed to collect a cock or two before being horribly assaulted themselves. It became a rite of passage among macho men who wished to test their courage against the ultimate predator. By the end of King Zarn’s reign, entire small armies of mercenaries would rampage through the forest looking for just one big score.
When Queen Erishella came to the Skull Throne, she outlawed the hunting of the Rape Dogs. She declared them to be the official royal animal and thereby protected by threat of execution. The small population of monstrous violators is on the road to recovery.
It is said that one of the Rape Dogs was captured and brought to the Queen as her personal pet. It is said that she has tamed the carnal beast and it now serves at her command. Visual depictions of what she may do with the Rape Beast have become quite popular folk art with the masses.
--Euphorian Gazetteer
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Monday, May 31, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Fiction: The Haunted Library
“This is ridiculous,” Claire Currie said.
Her employer, Mr. Dillon, added another log to the fire.
“I agree,” he said. “Who puts a fireplace in the library these days? Don’t these people understand fire hazards?
Claire bit back a sigh. The last time she sighed at something Mr. Dillon said, he had slapped her face, spanked her, and then roughly fucked her mouth.
In any other job, this would be grounds for sexual harassment, but this was no ordinary job. Claire was a librarian for the Colette-Ashbee collection, the world’s greatest collection of erotic books. As a librarian, Claire was trained in all sorts of erotic genres, book publishing identifying marks and dealing with sellers of rare books. She was also trained to take a spanking, endure various humiliations and sexually satisfy her boss with every aspect of her body.
Normally it was an exciting job but tonight was turning very strange.
“Do you really believe this library is haunted?” Claire asked her boss.
Mr. Dillon stepped away from the fire. He walked over to the bedroll that had been provided. He stripped off his suit very slowly and folded every piece. Claire admired his body in the firelight. He was an older man but he stayed remarkably fit. The only traces of his age were the occasional gray patch in his chest hair. Her employer put on silk pajama top and matching bottoms. Only when he was dressed again did he answer.
“I do not know if this library is haunted, Mrs. Currie” Mr. Dillon said. “I do know that the owner of the house thinks it is. I also know that Mr. Evans is concerned that if we removed the book he generously wants to sell us, that the spirit of his late wife might haunt him. With this mind, his request for us to spend the night here seems reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Claire said. “It sounds codependent to me. He is so afraid of his wife that even in death he wants her permission. How can spending one night here verify her approval? If she disapproves, is she going to appear and try to frighten us?”
Mr. Dillon sat down on the bedroll. Actually, it was two bedrolls. Mr. Evan had provided them with very comfortable looking sleeping bags but Mr. Dillon insisted on placing his on top of one for Claire so that he could have extra padding. These sorts of inequalities were a part of the job.
“Perhaps she will,” Mr. Dillon said. “All I know for sure is that the Collection has been looking for ‘Cowboys in Heat’ for nearly twenty years. Mr. Evan’s late wife owned the book and for a very modest sum, he is willing to sell it to us. One uncomfortable night of sleep is a small price to pay.”
Claire looked around the library. The rest of the house was fairly ordinary but special expense had been spent here. Shelves reached up to the ceiling and every shelf was full. Two reading chairs with accompanying tables were the only furniture. The only painting in the room hung above the fireplace. It depicted Persephone being abducted by Pluto. Under the flickering light of the fireplace, the painting had a sinister air.
“Strip, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire bit her lip. It was a little nippy in here and Claire had debated wearing her clothes, but Mr. Dillon’s request obliterated any chance of that. He preferred her to sleep in the nude. Any chance of him skipping that rule tonight seemed unlikely.
She started with her shirt. She undid the buttons one by one so as to slowly reveal the bra that was barely holding in her dark breasts. Because it was a Thursday, the bra was a bright canary yellow. She took her shirt off and then proceeded to remove her bra. She didn’t need to look at Mr. Dillon to know he was watching. He considered her heavy breasts to be his own personal perk for this job.
Claire unzipped her skirt next. She stepped out of her skirt and folded it. The fireplace flickered light over her stockings and yellow panties. Bending over at the waist, Claire unrolled her stockings with the utmost care. Mr. Dillon punished harshly for damaged stockings. Once both legs were bare, she took off her panties. Her thick bush glittered in the firelight.
“Come over here, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
For Mr. Dillon, that statement was foreplay. Claire walked over to his bedroll and sat down beside him. He guided her with his hand until she was laying across his thighs, facing his erect cock. Her breasts were on display and thanks to the fireplace behind Mr. Dillon, her dark mounds were amply illuminated. She dipped down to take him in her mouth but he stopped her.
“I only require your hand tonight,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire whimpered but she did as he asked. With her heavy breasts inches from his cock, she took him in her hand. She gripped him lightly and enjoyed the feeling of his girth.
Something creaked behind her. It sounded like a floor board but when Claire looked, there was nothing.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Dillon?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know if I believe,” Mr. Dillon said. “I do know that once I acquired a book from an owner who had died in bed with his mistress. On two occasions, the smell of a woman’s sex would fill the room even though I was alone.”
Claire giggled. “Are you sure that wasn’t just your imagination?” She began to stroke him slowly from base to tip.
“Very sure,” Mr. Dillon said. “On another occasion, I came into the possession of a book that was rumored to be written by a priest detailing his love affair with a succubus. For three nights, something would wake me up every time I tried to sleep. I barely had an hour of peace at a time.”
“What would wake you?” Claire asked. Her thumb played over the tip of his cock. With each stroke, she would rub her thumb over his cock as if he was entering her.
“It felt like a kiss,” Mr. Dillon said. “It felt like someone was kissing me awake.”
Claire almost giggled again but the seriousness of Mr. Dillon’s voice stopped her. “What made it stop?”
“I mailed the book off the Collection for storage,” Mr. Dillon said. “I recommended that it be put in the Isolation Wing.”
Claire stopped in her stroking. “We have an Isolation Wing?”
“Ms. Currie, I did not ask you to stop,” Mr. Dillon said. Only when she resumed did he answer her question. “The Isolation Wing is used primarily for rare books that are fragile. Crumbling texts, ancient scrolls and that sort of thing are stored there. In 1892, we began to put other books there as well. A little moisture please, Ms. Currie.”
Claire pulled her hand from his cock. She stuck her tongue out and licked her hand. She could taste him on her hand. She gave her hand quite a few good licks until her fingers were wet. She embraced him with her hand and he groaned in happiness. Now that his cock was slicker, she stroked him at a faster pace.
“The Collection gathered a book called ‘Ritual Fornications’,” Mr. Dillon continued. “It was a dirty little thing, mostly describing sex that could call upon supernatural powers. It had quite a few illustrations by an unknown artist who had only a tentative grasp on anatomy. A little faster, Ms. Currie.”
Claire obeyed. She added a swivel to her pumping motions for good measure. The sound of her spit squelching joined the crackling of the fireplace.
“Once it was added to the Collection, the custodians discovered that it had a tendency to fall off the shelf it had been assigned. As you can imagine, falling books is unacceptable. It was locked in a case but soon they found that the case would fall off the shelf. It was decided to secure the case to podium. Once this was done, they had no further trouble with it.”
A woman laughed softly. Claire froze in her stroking. She started to rise but Mr. Dillon stopped her with his hand.
“Did you hear that?” Claire said. “It sounded like a woman.”
“All I hear is the absence of stroking,” Mr. Dillon said.
“Yes, sir,” Claire said. She rested back on his side and kept stroking him. “Permission to stroke myself, sir?”
“Denied,” Mr. Dillon said. She was surprised when she felt his hand between her thighs. His knowing fingers slipped inside her wet sex.
Considering the strangeness of the night, Claire looked down to verify that yes; it was Mr. Dillon’s hand.
“Are there other books like that?” Claire asked. She felt his fingers push deep inside her before he answered.
“Quite a few,” Mr. Dillon said. “In Paris, there was a small book published that was alleged to drive the readers mad with lust. My predecessor, Ms. Wei, left instructions that no one ever read the book. To my knowledge, the Collection has respected her request. Press your breasts closer, Ms. Currie.
Claire leaned forward till his cock was between her cleavage. She kept stroking him while his fingers thrust freely inside her.
“In Dallas, Texas,” Mr. Dillon continued, “I came across a thick tome of hand written pages detailing a stripper’s love life. It was a fantastic book but every time I read it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It is not the most scientific observation, but being watched is a peculiar feeling. Do you know what I mean, Ms. Currie?”
“Yes,” Claire moaned. She was feeling it now. She had no doubt that Mr. Evan’s late wife was with them tonight. As surely as Mr. Dillon had three fingers inside her, Claire knew that they were not alone tonight.
“So in conclusion,” Mr. Dillon said, “I do no know if ghosts exist. I do know that odd things happen and that I have no explanation for them. I am not a scientist, I am a librarian. All I care for is the books.”
Claire had no answer to that. She was stroking him faster. Her grip loosened around his tip to simulate the act of penetration. Claire was also bucking her hips against Mr. Dillon’s fingers. Their stroking synced together until their rythyms matched. Manually, they fucked each other.
“Well, I also care for coming on pretty women,” Mr. Dillon admitted.
Claire smiled but her smile faded as a great chill fell upon her. Despite the roaring of the fireplace, the air in the library chilled like a window into winter was opened. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The cold bite of the air nibbled all over her body.
“Mr. Dillon,” Claire whispered.
“Shh, stroke,” Mr. Dillon said.
To punctuate his point, Mr. Dillon’s fingers pushed inside her. Impaled on his hand, Claire stroked his cock even faster. She felt his body tense with an impending orgasm. Her hand pointed his cock towards her breasts. Like a geyser, he erupted onto her dark mounds.
She pumped his cock. With each release of hot seed, Claire felt the strange cold melt away. She leaned into him, coating her breasts with his vibrant sticky heat.
Claire’s orgasm soon followed. Her thighs tightened around his hand and she moaned loudly in the dark library. A heat of a different kind flooded her body and chased away the bitter cold.
Afterwards, Claire cleaned him up. She licked his wet fingers clean and wiped her breasts with the care of a librarian. Her duties completed, Claire began her crawl to her pillow.
“Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
“Yes, sir?” she said.
“Perhaps you should lay with me tonight,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire was greatly surprised. He never invited her to sleep with him. She was touched but at the same time, she knew that the peculiar formality of their relationship wouldn’t do with an act of kindness.
“In case a ghost appears?” Claire said.
“You never know,” Mr. Dillon said. “We should sleep side by side just to be careful.”
Claire crawled beside him. He turned her on her side and then spooned her. His cock pressed against her thighs with a delicious heat.
“Just to be careful,” Claire agreed.
Her employer, Mr. Dillon, added another log to the fire.
“I agree,” he said. “Who puts a fireplace in the library these days? Don’t these people understand fire hazards?
Claire bit back a sigh. The last time she sighed at something Mr. Dillon said, he had slapped her face, spanked her, and then roughly fucked her mouth.
In any other job, this would be grounds for sexual harassment, but this was no ordinary job. Claire was a librarian for the Colette-Ashbee collection, the world’s greatest collection of erotic books. As a librarian, Claire was trained in all sorts of erotic genres, book publishing identifying marks and dealing with sellers of rare books. She was also trained to take a spanking, endure various humiliations and sexually satisfy her boss with every aspect of her body.
Normally it was an exciting job but tonight was turning very strange.
“Do you really believe this library is haunted?” Claire asked her boss.
Mr. Dillon stepped away from the fire. He walked over to the bedroll that had been provided. He stripped off his suit very slowly and folded every piece. Claire admired his body in the firelight. He was an older man but he stayed remarkably fit. The only traces of his age were the occasional gray patch in his chest hair. Her employer put on silk pajama top and matching bottoms. Only when he was dressed again did he answer.
“I do not know if this library is haunted, Mrs. Currie” Mr. Dillon said. “I do know that the owner of the house thinks it is. I also know that Mr. Evans is concerned that if we removed the book he generously wants to sell us, that the spirit of his late wife might haunt him. With this mind, his request for us to spend the night here seems reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” Claire said. “It sounds codependent to me. He is so afraid of his wife that even in death he wants her permission. How can spending one night here verify her approval? If she disapproves, is she going to appear and try to frighten us?”
Mr. Dillon sat down on the bedroll. Actually, it was two bedrolls. Mr. Evan had provided them with very comfortable looking sleeping bags but Mr. Dillon insisted on placing his on top of one for Claire so that he could have extra padding. These sorts of inequalities were a part of the job.
“Perhaps she will,” Mr. Dillon said. “All I know for sure is that the Collection has been looking for ‘Cowboys in Heat’ for nearly twenty years. Mr. Evan’s late wife owned the book and for a very modest sum, he is willing to sell it to us. One uncomfortable night of sleep is a small price to pay.”
Claire looked around the library. The rest of the house was fairly ordinary but special expense had been spent here. Shelves reached up to the ceiling and every shelf was full. Two reading chairs with accompanying tables were the only furniture. The only painting in the room hung above the fireplace. It depicted Persephone being abducted by Pluto. Under the flickering light of the fireplace, the painting had a sinister air.
“Strip, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire bit her lip. It was a little nippy in here and Claire had debated wearing her clothes, but Mr. Dillon’s request obliterated any chance of that. He preferred her to sleep in the nude. Any chance of him skipping that rule tonight seemed unlikely.
She started with her shirt. She undid the buttons one by one so as to slowly reveal the bra that was barely holding in her dark breasts. Because it was a Thursday, the bra was a bright canary yellow. She took her shirt off and then proceeded to remove her bra. She didn’t need to look at Mr. Dillon to know he was watching. He considered her heavy breasts to be his own personal perk for this job.
Claire unzipped her skirt next. She stepped out of her skirt and folded it. The fireplace flickered light over her stockings and yellow panties. Bending over at the waist, Claire unrolled her stockings with the utmost care. Mr. Dillon punished harshly for damaged stockings. Once both legs were bare, she took off her panties. Her thick bush glittered in the firelight.
“Come over here, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
For Mr. Dillon, that statement was foreplay. Claire walked over to his bedroll and sat down beside him. He guided her with his hand until she was laying across his thighs, facing his erect cock. Her breasts were on display and thanks to the fireplace behind Mr. Dillon, her dark mounds were amply illuminated. She dipped down to take him in her mouth but he stopped her.
“I only require your hand tonight,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire whimpered but she did as he asked. With her heavy breasts inches from his cock, she took him in her hand. She gripped him lightly and enjoyed the feeling of his girth.
Something creaked behind her. It sounded like a floor board but when Claire looked, there was nothing.
“Do you believe in ghosts, Mr. Dillon?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know if I believe,” Mr. Dillon said. “I do know that once I acquired a book from an owner who had died in bed with his mistress. On two occasions, the smell of a woman’s sex would fill the room even though I was alone.”
Claire giggled. “Are you sure that wasn’t just your imagination?” She began to stroke him slowly from base to tip.
“Very sure,” Mr. Dillon said. “On another occasion, I came into the possession of a book that was rumored to be written by a priest detailing his love affair with a succubus. For three nights, something would wake me up every time I tried to sleep. I barely had an hour of peace at a time.”
“What would wake you?” Claire asked. Her thumb played over the tip of his cock. With each stroke, she would rub her thumb over his cock as if he was entering her.
“It felt like a kiss,” Mr. Dillon said. “It felt like someone was kissing me awake.”
Claire almost giggled again but the seriousness of Mr. Dillon’s voice stopped her. “What made it stop?”
“I mailed the book off the Collection for storage,” Mr. Dillon said. “I recommended that it be put in the Isolation Wing.”
Claire stopped in her stroking. “We have an Isolation Wing?”
“Ms. Currie, I did not ask you to stop,” Mr. Dillon said. Only when she resumed did he answer her question. “The Isolation Wing is used primarily for rare books that are fragile. Crumbling texts, ancient scrolls and that sort of thing are stored there. In 1892, we began to put other books there as well. A little moisture please, Ms. Currie.”
Claire pulled her hand from his cock. She stuck her tongue out and licked her hand. She could taste him on her hand. She gave her hand quite a few good licks until her fingers were wet. She embraced him with her hand and he groaned in happiness. Now that his cock was slicker, she stroked him at a faster pace.
“The Collection gathered a book called ‘Ritual Fornications’,” Mr. Dillon continued. “It was a dirty little thing, mostly describing sex that could call upon supernatural powers. It had quite a few illustrations by an unknown artist who had only a tentative grasp on anatomy. A little faster, Ms. Currie.”
Claire obeyed. She added a swivel to her pumping motions for good measure. The sound of her spit squelching joined the crackling of the fireplace.
“Once it was added to the Collection, the custodians discovered that it had a tendency to fall off the shelf it had been assigned. As you can imagine, falling books is unacceptable. It was locked in a case but soon they found that the case would fall off the shelf. It was decided to secure the case to podium. Once this was done, they had no further trouble with it.”
A woman laughed softly. Claire froze in her stroking. She started to rise but Mr. Dillon stopped her with his hand.
“Did you hear that?” Claire said. “It sounded like a woman.”
“All I hear is the absence of stroking,” Mr. Dillon said.
“Yes, sir,” Claire said. She rested back on his side and kept stroking him. “Permission to stroke myself, sir?”
“Denied,” Mr. Dillon said. She was surprised when she felt his hand between her thighs. His knowing fingers slipped inside her wet sex.
Considering the strangeness of the night, Claire looked down to verify that yes; it was Mr. Dillon’s hand.
“Are there other books like that?” Claire asked. She felt his fingers push deep inside her before he answered.
“Quite a few,” Mr. Dillon said. “In Paris, there was a small book published that was alleged to drive the readers mad with lust. My predecessor, Ms. Wei, left instructions that no one ever read the book. To my knowledge, the Collection has respected her request. Press your breasts closer, Ms. Currie.
Claire leaned forward till his cock was between her cleavage. She kept stroking him while his fingers thrust freely inside her.
“In Dallas, Texas,” Mr. Dillon continued, “I came across a thick tome of hand written pages detailing a stripper’s love life. It was a fantastic book but every time I read it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. It is not the most scientific observation, but being watched is a peculiar feeling. Do you know what I mean, Ms. Currie?”
“Yes,” Claire moaned. She was feeling it now. She had no doubt that Mr. Evan’s late wife was with them tonight. As surely as Mr. Dillon had three fingers inside her, Claire knew that they were not alone tonight.
“So in conclusion,” Mr. Dillon said, “I do no know if ghosts exist. I do know that odd things happen and that I have no explanation for them. I am not a scientist, I am a librarian. All I care for is the books.”
Claire had no answer to that. She was stroking him faster. Her grip loosened around his tip to simulate the act of penetration. Claire was also bucking her hips against Mr. Dillon’s fingers. Their stroking synced together until their rythyms matched. Manually, they fucked each other.
“Well, I also care for coming on pretty women,” Mr. Dillon admitted.
Claire smiled but her smile faded as a great chill fell upon her. Despite the roaring of the fireplace, the air in the library chilled like a window into winter was opened. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The cold bite of the air nibbled all over her body.
“Mr. Dillon,” Claire whispered.
“Shh, stroke,” Mr. Dillon said.
To punctuate his point, Mr. Dillon’s fingers pushed inside her. Impaled on his hand, Claire stroked his cock even faster. She felt his body tense with an impending orgasm. Her hand pointed his cock towards her breasts. Like a geyser, he erupted onto her dark mounds.
She pumped his cock. With each release of hot seed, Claire felt the strange cold melt away. She leaned into him, coating her breasts with his vibrant sticky heat.
Claire’s orgasm soon followed. Her thighs tightened around his hand and she moaned loudly in the dark library. A heat of a different kind flooded her body and chased away the bitter cold.
Afterwards, Claire cleaned him up. She licked his wet fingers clean and wiped her breasts with the care of a librarian. Her duties completed, Claire began her crawl to her pillow.
“Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said.
“Yes, sir?” she said.
“Perhaps you should lay with me tonight,” Mr. Dillon said.
Claire was greatly surprised. He never invited her to sleep with him. She was touched but at the same time, she knew that the peculiar formality of their relationship wouldn’t do with an act of kindness.
“In case a ghost appears?” Claire said.
“You never know,” Mr. Dillon said. “We should sleep side by side just to be careful.”
Claire crawled beside him. He turned her on her side and then spooned her. His cock pressed against her thighs with a delicious heat.
“Just to be careful,” Claire agreed.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Glass Staircase
Every year, the youths of Euphoria gather for the great race on the Glass Staircase. Wrapped around the great mountain of Phos, the Glass Staircase coils for six thousand, nine hundred and sixty-nine steps. The only decorations on the Glass Staircase are the black marble statues of past winners. The steps themselves are made of reflective glasscrete, allowing the sun to reflect those who climb the stairs, but yet stay cool to the touch.
This is an important detail for the youths as they must run naked up the steps. Teenage boys and girls of legal age ascend the stairs in a mad dash of devotion to their Queen. The glass reflects their nudity back at them for the enjoyment of the millions of Euphorians who watch the race every year via remote video cameras. Their young flesh jiggle and struggle up the steps and many a youth are often offered careers as concubines by smitten viewers.
Most of the youths pass out on their way up the stairs. Quite a few youths find romance with each other and give up the race to pursue each other. A small number of youths fall from the stairs and their deaths are always cheered by the viewers at home. One youth was struck by a strange beam from outer space and teleported to Gods know where. Only a few ever reach the top.
For those lucky few who reach the top, they must finish the last part of the race. Queen Erishella waits for them on her Skull Throne. Her outfit changes from year to year but what never changes is how open her thighs are and how bare her royal sex is. For this is the last challenge; giving pleasure to the Queen. With their chests panting, their lips trembling with exhaustion and their chests heaving, and their mouths still gasping from the climb they must orally please the Queen.
The Queen can be quite demanding. She wraps her legs around them and pins their mouths to her sex. Boy or girl, the Queen treats them the same. She allows them to attempt to please her until she bores of their attentions. If they fail, their bodies are tossed from the top of the Glass Staircase. If they succeed, the scream of the Queen as she climaxes announces the end of the race.
The winner is granted a million credits. It is enough to enjoy a life of decadence for the talented youth. A title of Baron or Baroness is granted them as well as a sizable tract of land. Their statues are erected along the Glass Staircase to serve as an example to next year’s contestants.
--Euphorian Gazetteer
This is an important detail for the youths as they must run naked up the steps. Teenage boys and girls of legal age ascend the stairs in a mad dash of devotion to their Queen. The glass reflects their nudity back at them for the enjoyment of the millions of Euphorians who watch the race every year via remote video cameras. Their young flesh jiggle and struggle up the steps and many a youth are often offered careers as concubines by smitten viewers.
Most of the youths pass out on their way up the stairs. Quite a few youths find romance with each other and give up the race to pursue each other. A small number of youths fall from the stairs and their deaths are always cheered by the viewers at home. One youth was struck by a strange beam from outer space and teleported to Gods know where. Only a few ever reach the top.
For those lucky few who reach the top, they must finish the last part of the race. Queen Erishella waits for them on her Skull Throne. Her outfit changes from year to year but what never changes is how open her thighs are and how bare her royal sex is. For this is the last challenge; giving pleasure to the Queen. With their chests panting, their lips trembling with exhaustion and their chests heaving, and their mouths still gasping from the climb they must orally please the Queen.
The Queen can be quite demanding. She wraps her legs around them and pins their mouths to her sex. Boy or girl, the Queen treats them the same. She allows them to attempt to please her until she bores of their attentions. If they fail, their bodies are tossed from the top of the Glass Staircase. If they succeed, the scream of the Queen as she climaxes announces the end of the race.
The winner is granted a million credits. It is enough to enjoy a life of decadence for the talented youth. A title of Baron or Baroness is granted them as well as a sizable tract of land. Their statues are erected along the Glass Staircase to serve as an example to next year’s contestants.
--Euphorian Gazetteer
Monday, May 24, 2010
Colossus of Gloric
In the spaceport city of Gloric on the planet of Euphoria, Queen Erishella commanded that a statue in her likeness be built. She wanted her regal form to be the first thing that visitors to Euphoria would see. White diamond marble was imported from the conquered Gem Moons so that her statue would be equally radiant in day time and at night.
The Erishella Colossus was nude of course except for the three tons of gold that formed her crown. Eight architects designed the slender legs that stood her statue a hundred meters into the sky. Seven architects designed the contours that depict her royal pubic bush. Six architects designed the curves of her lovely ass. Five architects designed the breasts that hang above the city with the promise of endless bounty and shade from the sun. Four architects were needed to accurately portraying the beauty of her face onto the stone. Three architects sculpted the marble curls of her long hair. Two architects polished her eyes so that they always shone. One architect sacrificed his sanity to make sure the Queen’s full lips were exactly right.
Devout loyalists to the Queen believe it is good luck to visit the Erishella Colossus before undertaking a journey by space. Men will ejaculate onto her marble feet while women will kiss her come stained feet.
On Queen Day, criminals are thrown from her breasts to their deaths. If they are survived, they are considered to have earned the Queen’s Mercy. To date, no criminal has yet to be pardoned.
--Euphorian Gazetteer
The Erishella Colossus was nude of course except for the three tons of gold that formed her crown. Eight architects designed the slender legs that stood her statue a hundred meters into the sky. Seven architects designed the contours that depict her royal pubic bush. Six architects designed the curves of her lovely ass. Five architects designed the breasts that hang above the city with the promise of endless bounty and shade from the sun. Four architects were needed to accurately portraying the beauty of her face onto the stone. Three architects sculpted the marble curls of her long hair. Two architects polished her eyes so that they always shone. One architect sacrificed his sanity to make sure the Queen’s full lips were exactly right.
Devout loyalists to the Queen believe it is good luck to visit the Erishella Colossus before undertaking a journey by space. Men will ejaculate onto her marble feet while women will kiss her come stained feet.
On Queen Day, criminals are thrown from her breasts to their deaths. If they are survived, they are considered to have earned the Queen’s Mercy. To date, no criminal has yet to be pardoned.
--Euphorian Gazetteer
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Fiction: The Three Bards Part Two
Nash Nighthammer waited by the stairs. The cellar was dark except for a single dim lantern. The air was cool but a regular gust of warm air would come from the other side of the cellar. From exploring earlier, Nash knew that was where the man sized hole in the wall was. Nash was pretty sure that the warm air was the breathing of the monster snake.
He gripped his warhammer and felt no fear. Sure, the snake was supposed to be terrible. Sure, the snake had devoured three people the last time it came out. Nash didn’t care. Monsters could be killed. Monsters could be smashed if you hit them enough times. The only thing to fear from a giant snake was death and Nash stopped being afraid of death a long time ago.
What worried Nash more were the three bard women upstairs. They expected Nash to choose one of them as a reward for slaying their monster. It was a good reward. He would be happy to bed any one of them. That wasn’t a problem.
What worried Nash was the feelings of the two bards he doesn’t pick. Nash Nighthammer could endure harsh elements, multiple stabs and dreadful supernatural creatures, but he had one weakness. He hated to hurt the feelings of women. He would sooner stab himself in the thigh than watch a woman feel rejected.
He patted his full stomach. The stew he had eaten was truly the best he had ever had. He thought of Rhian, the bard who had cooked the meal. He thought of her round hips, her plump ass and barrel sized breasts. Rhian had sung a song with her bells about a woman taken by the wind. She created cravings in him that mere food could not satisfy.
He gripped his warhammer and thought of Lita. She was a warrior bard, as equally skilled with a blade as she was with her lute. Lita had played a sad song while he waited for dark. It was a song of closing one’s eyes for the kiss of death. That was a woman who had seen horror but still had the lust for life.
He took a drink from a flask of water and thought of Dylie. The small dancer had performed for him in the crackling of the fireplace. The way she danced was so hypnotic, he couldn’t get her out of his head. She reminded him of everything that was joyous in the world and he wanted nothing more than run with her, hand in hand.
A hissing sound came from the other side of the cellar.
“Come to me, whoreson,” Nash said. He braced himself and lifted his warhammer. He looked forward to the simplicity of battle.
An hour later, Nash Nighthammer ascended from the basement. He was covered in sweat and quite a few snake parts. Gore dripped from his warhammer. He looked exhausted.
“Is it dead?” Dylie asked.
Nash nodded. “You have enough snake meat down there to feed you for a year.”
“Are you injured?” Lita asked.
He shook his head. “I just need to wash again and I will be fine. It has been a long day.”
“Well you certainly earned your bed tonight,” Rhian asked.
A pause hung in the air. This was the moment, perhaps more so than the actual death of the monster, that the three bards were waiting for.
“I certainly did,” Nash said. He wiped some snake blood from his forehead. “And I made my choice. I have decided that since I saved the inn for all three of you, that all three of you should warm my bed tonight.”
The bards looked at each other in confusion. For once, all of them were speechless.
“For right now, I am going upstairs to bathe again,” Nash said. “I expect to see all of three of you, or none at all.”
Nash climbed the stairs to his room. He was feeling quite cocky. Not only did he destroy a nasty beast, but he solved a dilemma with mature wisdom. Knowing women as well as he did, he was sure that the bards would realize how silly it was to compete with each other. If songs and stories were any guide, they would understand how close they came to ruining their friendship. Right now they are probably all getting drunk together in a surge of friendship.
Nash regretted that he would sleep alone tonight but he prided himself on solving a difficult problem. He couldn’t wait to brag about this to some other bard so they can record his wisdom. He was a strong warrior, but he wished more people knew how smart he was.
He thought about this as he bathed. Lucky for him, snake blood cleans rather easily. In no time at all he was clean enough for bed.
There was a knock at the door. Before Nash could open, in came the three bards. He was a little disturbed by how they were smiling.
“You are correct, Nash,” Lita said. “It should be all or nothing.”
“Thank you for showing us that we are stronger in harmony than when we are singing alone,” Rhian said.
“So we decided that all of us would fuck your brains out,” Dylie said.
“All-Mother’s tits,” Nash muttered. There would be no sleep for him yet.
Lita came for him first. She walked right up to him and grabbed him by the back of his head. Her mouth kissed him hard, pushing her tongue inside his mouth without fear or modesty. He grabbed her back. His fingers enmeshed themselves in her wild blonde hair. Their mouths battled in a war with no loser.
She pushed him away, gasping for air. He was about to pull her back in when another touched his face. He turned just in time to greet Rhian’s mouth sealing over his. Lita released her embraced so that Nash could put his arms around the voluptuous curves of Rhian. While he explored with his hands, she devoured his mouth with an insatiable passion.
Rhian broke the kiss, licking her lips. Nash turned to the bard that he knew was waiting for him. Dylie leapt into his arms with a dancer’s grace. He held her easily in his arms as she pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue danced in his mouth, twisting and pushing with a skill he didn’t think possible.
As he held Dylie, Nash felt his loincloth ripped from his body. Kisses rained on his cock from two mouths. Tongues licked while lips nibbled all along his length. As Dylie took his breathe away from his mouth, the other two bards breathed new life into his cock with their lips.
Rhian was the first to take his cock inside her mouth. She took all of him between her lips and down her throat. He felt her bodice covered breasts press against his thighs as she consumed him. Down, down, down his cock went into her throat and Nash was stunned by how much she could take of him. Her tongue licked every inch of him as he went in.
He wondered where Lita was when he felt a lapping against his balls. The strong bard was surprisingly gentle as her tongue licked such a sensitive area. Her fingernails were not so kind as they bit deeply into Nash’s thighs. He didn’t mind them though. A tongue like Lita’s was worth a little pain.
With Dylie still in his arms, he broke the kiss. She looked at him with disappointment until he reached for the neckline of her dress. Holding her small body in one hand, he ripped the dress from her with the other. She laughed as he manhandled her clothes. Nash almost lost himself in her laughing eyes.
Almost. He turned his attention to her tender breasts. They were so small compared to his hungry mouth. He pulled her chest to his mouth and nibbled feircley at her breasts. Her pink nipples were like candy to him and he sucked as greedily as Rhian was sucking at his cock.
As Nash gorged on Dylie’s delicate breasts, Rhian was allowing Lita her turn. Nash shivered as he felt his cock engulfed by the blonde bard. She couldn’t take as much of him as Rhian could, but she made up for it with a powerful suction. She gripped the base of his cock like she was wielding a sword. Her head bobbed up and down on his cock with the fury of a storm.
Nash groaned. He tossed Dylie’s body to the bed. She laughed as she flew through the air. He wasn’t surprised when she landed on her back with her legs open.
“Enough!” Nash said. “All of you, into bed now”
Rhian stripped off her dress and happily climbed into the bed. Lita pulled off her bodice and kicked off her warrior’s boots. She then went to work unlacing her leather pants.
Nash couldn’t wait for her. He jumped into bed and tackled Rhian’s body. She squealed like a farmer’s daughter as Nash grabbed a handful of her breasts. Her pale skin was seasoned with lovely freckles. Nash suckled on her nipple with a growl. No matter how much he bit and sucked, there was always more breast to taste. Rhian moaned and pressed herself to him, happy to feed his appetites.
He felt kisses go down his spine. Shivers traveled his body as Dylie’s tongue skipped along his skin. Her small mouth kissed down to his ass while he gorged on Rhian’s breasts. Her fingers joined in, pinching and scratching his hard body. When reached his ass, he was shocked to feel her teeth on his bottom. Her gentle bites made his cock surge. The dimunitive dancer was full of surprises.
The bed groaned as Lita joined the pile. She pushed her way back to Nash’s cock. She took him back into her mouth. She stroked his cock furiously, as if trying to spill his seed while she sucked on his head.
Dylie’s bites on his ass worked in a sensual harmony with Lita’s sucking of his cock. The bites sent tingles down up his cock while Lita’s tongue licked with a fierce passion. His hips thrust back and forth between the two mouths.
Nash lifted his head from Rhian’s plentiful breasts. “Lita, I must return the favor of your mouth.” He flipped over onto his back. “I demand the chance to give you my own song.”
“Be careful what you demand,” Lita said but there was laughter in her eyes.
She climbed his body like a cat. Nash watched as heavy breasts swayed back and forth. Her wild hair was in her face but the hair between her legs was wilder. She straddled his face and Nash grabbed her ass to pull her down onto him.
She tasted glorious. He drank from her over flowing desire. The sounds of crying out made his cock swell. His tongue moved radily to see what other songs he could make her sing.
A small weight settled on him and then his cock was engulfed in pleasure. His moans were stifled by Lita’s sex. Dylie’s cunt gripped him tightly with a dancer’s strength. Her thighs embraced him as she began to move. He didn’t need to see her dance to know it was beautiful. His cock told him every movement she made.
Lita was doing a dance of her own. She gripped his hair and fucked his mouth. Nash was up the challenge. He used his tongue like a hammer, pounding away at her sex. He breathed when he was able. All that matter to him was the bard’s pleasure.
Well, that and the wonderful dance Dylie was doing on his cock.
With one bard on his face and another on his cock, he wondered where Rhian was. He wondered no more as he felt his hand pulled away from Lita’s ass. His fingers were pressed against a wet sex and Nash knew where Rhian was. She pressed his fingers inside her and Nash felt her heat. Slick with desire, she opened easily for his thick fingers. Rhian’s cries joined Lita’s and Dylie’s in a chorus.
Lita’s thighs clenched around Nash and he knew. He flicked his tongue as fast as possible. His entire body was a testament to his power and that included his tounge. He licked Lita to a body shaking orgasm and did not stop she fell exhausted from his body.
Lita collapsed to the side of the bed. “Your tongue was like a shot of poison,” she laughed. “I can barely move.”
“Oh, I can still move,” Nash said. He sat up with Dylie still on his cock. The redhead giggled as he flipped her over onto the bed. He grabbed both of her ankles and spread her lovely legs wide. He knelt between her legs and pulled her body against his cock.
“Shake your love,” Dylie taunted.
“I will,” Nash said. His face still slick with Lita’s desire, he leered down on her body. His hips bucked and he fucked her. He might not be a dancer, but he was a warrior and he had battle armies for hours. Thrusting into a tight sex would be easy but no less fierce.
Dylie cried out as his hips picked up speed. In and out, in and out, his cock hammered into her. He shook her entire body with the power of his thrusts. His grip on her ankles was like iron, keeping her spread for the fucking. Within moments, his cock was a blur inside of her.
Rhian came over to Nash. She kneeled beside him as he thrusted. Her arms went around him as she nibbled at his ear. Her plump body a welcome incentive as he thrusted faster.
Even Lita was moved by his actions. The exhausted bard reached between her legs and continued what his tongue had started. She couldn’t match Nash’s cock in girth but she certainly matched him in speed.
Dylie cried out her orgasm. It was a high scream of joy and wonder. She pulled at her pert breasts as the pleasure swept through her. Her scream of pleasure degenerated into a babbling of some kind of bliss.
Nash pulled out and turned to Rhian. Outside the rain had started to fall. He had no words for her. He was too filled with lust for all three of them for witty comments. He just wanted.
He pushed her down to the bed. Freckled thighs part for him. His cock slipped into her and they moaned in unison. Her red hair fanned out behind her like a sunrise. He pushed deep into her, watching her breasts jiggle in response.
Nash fucked Rhian. His powerful hard body rubbed on top of her deliciously soft body. His broad chest crushed her plump breasts. His strong thighs pushed against her warm legs. His hard cock pushed into her soft sex. Their bodies became a fusion of legs, hands and motion.
They were not alone. Lita crawled over and offered her breast for Nash’s lips. He eagerly took her offering, sucking on her erect nipple. Dylie found the will to move and crawled over to behind Nash. He felt her hand on his balls. It would take a dancer to be able to gently cup his balls and keep pace with his thrusts. Her gently fingers stroked him to faster speeds inside Rhian.
Rhian climaxed. The rain outside grew louder and her scream of joy was taken by the wind. The other bards sang with her, adding their moans to Rhian’s to form a song so beautiful that it almost made Nash weep.
Instead of weeping, he climaxed instead. His cock erupted into Rhian’s sex. Dylie’s gentle stroking urged him to empty his balls while Lita’ smothered his gasping mouth with her breasts. Embraced by the three bards, he pumped ntil every drop of his seed was gone.
The four stopped moving. Bodies shifted to get more comfortable until there was a tangled web of legs, arms, breasts and cock. Lust flared from time to time, resulting in something being sucked or something getting groped. For the most part, they were content to nestle within the heat of each other.
Nash drifted to sleep while someone tried to lick his cock back to life.
As beds went, Nash thought this one was very well warmed.
He gripped his warhammer and felt no fear. Sure, the snake was supposed to be terrible. Sure, the snake had devoured three people the last time it came out. Nash didn’t care. Monsters could be killed. Monsters could be smashed if you hit them enough times. The only thing to fear from a giant snake was death and Nash stopped being afraid of death a long time ago.
What worried Nash more were the three bard women upstairs. They expected Nash to choose one of them as a reward for slaying their monster. It was a good reward. He would be happy to bed any one of them. That wasn’t a problem.
What worried Nash was the feelings of the two bards he doesn’t pick. Nash Nighthammer could endure harsh elements, multiple stabs and dreadful supernatural creatures, but he had one weakness. He hated to hurt the feelings of women. He would sooner stab himself in the thigh than watch a woman feel rejected.
He patted his full stomach. The stew he had eaten was truly the best he had ever had. He thought of Rhian, the bard who had cooked the meal. He thought of her round hips, her plump ass and barrel sized breasts. Rhian had sung a song with her bells about a woman taken by the wind. She created cravings in him that mere food could not satisfy.
He gripped his warhammer and thought of Lita. She was a warrior bard, as equally skilled with a blade as she was with her lute. Lita had played a sad song while he waited for dark. It was a song of closing one’s eyes for the kiss of death. That was a woman who had seen horror but still had the lust for life.
He took a drink from a flask of water and thought of Dylie. The small dancer had performed for him in the crackling of the fireplace. The way she danced was so hypnotic, he couldn’t get her out of his head. She reminded him of everything that was joyous in the world and he wanted nothing more than run with her, hand in hand.
A hissing sound came from the other side of the cellar.
“Come to me, whoreson,” Nash said. He braced himself and lifted his warhammer. He looked forward to the simplicity of battle.
An hour later, Nash Nighthammer ascended from the basement. He was covered in sweat and quite a few snake parts. Gore dripped from his warhammer. He looked exhausted.
“Is it dead?” Dylie asked.
Nash nodded. “You have enough snake meat down there to feed you for a year.”
“Are you injured?” Lita asked.
He shook his head. “I just need to wash again and I will be fine. It has been a long day.”
“Well you certainly earned your bed tonight,” Rhian asked.
A pause hung in the air. This was the moment, perhaps more so than the actual death of the monster, that the three bards were waiting for.
“I certainly did,” Nash said. He wiped some snake blood from his forehead. “And I made my choice. I have decided that since I saved the inn for all three of you, that all three of you should warm my bed tonight.”
The bards looked at each other in confusion. For once, all of them were speechless.
“For right now, I am going upstairs to bathe again,” Nash said. “I expect to see all of three of you, or none at all.”
Nash climbed the stairs to his room. He was feeling quite cocky. Not only did he destroy a nasty beast, but he solved a dilemma with mature wisdom. Knowing women as well as he did, he was sure that the bards would realize how silly it was to compete with each other. If songs and stories were any guide, they would understand how close they came to ruining their friendship. Right now they are probably all getting drunk together in a surge of friendship.
Nash regretted that he would sleep alone tonight but he prided himself on solving a difficult problem. He couldn’t wait to brag about this to some other bard so they can record his wisdom. He was a strong warrior, but he wished more people knew how smart he was.
He thought about this as he bathed. Lucky for him, snake blood cleans rather easily. In no time at all he was clean enough for bed.
There was a knock at the door. Before Nash could open, in came the three bards. He was a little disturbed by how they were smiling.
“You are correct, Nash,” Lita said. “It should be all or nothing.”
“Thank you for showing us that we are stronger in harmony than when we are singing alone,” Rhian said.
“So we decided that all of us would fuck your brains out,” Dylie said.
“All-Mother’s tits,” Nash muttered. There would be no sleep for him yet.
Lita came for him first. She walked right up to him and grabbed him by the back of his head. Her mouth kissed him hard, pushing her tongue inside his mouth without fear or modesty. He grabbed her back. His fingers enmeshed themselves in her wild blonde hair. Their mouths battled in a war with no loser.
She pushed him away, gasping for air. He was about to pull her back in when another touched his face. He turned just in time to greet Rhian’s mouth sealing over his. Lita released her embraced so that Nash could put his arms around the voluptuous curves of Rhian. While he explored with his hands, she devoured his mouth with an insatiable passion.
Rhian broke the kiss, licking her lips. Nash turned to the bard that he knew was waiting for him. Dylie leapt into his arms with a dancer’s grace. He held her easily in his arms as she pressed her mouth to his. Her tongue danced in his mouth, twisting and pushing with a skill he didn’t think possible.
As he held Dylie, Nash felt his loincloth ripped from his body. Kisses rained on his cock from two mouths. Tongues licked while lips nibbled all along his length. As Dylie took his breathe away from his mouth, the other two bards breathed new life into his cock with their lips.
Rhian was the first to take his cock inside her mouth. She took all of him between her lips and down her throat. He felt her bodice covered breasts press against his thighs as she consumed him. Down, down, down his cock went into her throat and Nash was stunned by how much she could take of him. Her tongue licked every inch of him as he went in.
He wondered where Lita was when he felt a lapping against his balls. The strong bard was surprisingly gentle as her tongue licked such a sensitive area. Her fingernails were not so kind as they bit deeply into Nash’s thighs. He didn’t mind them though. A tongue like Lita’s was worth a little pain.
With Dylie still in his arms, he broke the kiss. She looked at him with disappointment until he reached for the neckline of her dress. Holding her small body in one hand, he ripped the dress from her with the other. She laughed as he manhandled her clothes. Nash almost lost himself in her laughing eyes.
Almost. He turned his attention to her tender breasts. They were so small compared to his hungry mouth. He pulled her chest to his mouth and nibbled feircley at her breasts. Her pink nipples were like candy to him and he sucked as greedily as Rhian was sucking at his cock.
As Nash gorged on Dylie’s delicate breasts, Rhian was allowing Lita her turn. Nash shivered as he felt his cock engulfed by the blonde bard. She couldn’t take as much of him as Rhian could, but she made up for it with a powerful suction. She gripped the base of his cock like she was wielding a sword. Her head bobbed up and down on his cock with the fury of a storm.
Nash groaned. He tossed Dylie’s body to the bed. She laughed as she flew through the air. He wasn’t surprised when she landed on her back with her legs open.
“Enough!” Nash said. “All of you, into bed now”
Rhian stripped off her dress and happily climbed into the bed. Lita pulled off her bodice and kicked off her warrior’s boots. She then went to work unlacing her leather pants.
Nash couldn’t wait for her. He jumped into bed and tackled Rhian’s body. She squealed like a farmer’s daughter as Nash grabbed a handful of her breasts. Her pale skin was seasoned with lovely freckles. Nash suckled on her nipple with a growl. No matter how much he bit and sucked, there was always more breast to taste. Rhian moaned and pressed herself to him, happy to feed his appetites.
He felt kisses go down his spine. Shivers traveled his body as Dylie’s tongue skipped along his skin. Her small mouth kissed down to his ass while he gorged on Rhian’s breasts. Her fingers joined in, pinching and scratching his hard body. When reached his ass, he was shocked to feel her teeth on his bottom. Her gentle bites made his cock surge. The dimunitive dancer was full of surprises.
The bed groaned as Lita joined the pile. She pushed her way back to Nash’s cock. She took him back into her mouth. She stroked his cock furiously, as if trying to spill his seed while she sucked on his head.
Dylie’s bites on his ass worked in a sensual harmony with Lita’s sucking of his cock. The bites sent tingles down up his cock while Lita’s tongue licked with a fierce passion. His hips thrust back and forth between the two mouths.
Nash lifted his head from Rhian’s plentiful breasts. “Lita, I must return the favor of your mouth.” He flipped over onto his back. “I demand the chance to give you my own song.”
“Be careful what you demand,” Lita said but there was laughter in her eyes.
She climbed his body like a cat. Nash watched as heavy breasts swayed back and forth. Her wild hair was in her face but the hair between her legs was wilder. She straddled his face and Nash grabbed her ass to pull her down onto him.
She tasted glorious. He drank from her over flowing desire. The sounds of crying out made his cock swell. His tongue moved radily to see what other songs he could make her sing.
A small weight settled on him and then his cock was engulfed in pleasure. His moans were stifled by Lita’s sex. Dylie’s cunt gripped him tightly with a dancer’s strength. Her thighs embraced him as she began to move. He didn’t need to see her dance to know it was beautiful. His cock told him every movement she made.
Lita was doing a dance of her own. She gripped his hair and fucked his mouth. Nash was up the challenge. He used his tongue like a hammer, pounding away at her sex. He breathed when he was able. All that matter to him was the bard’s pleasure.
Well, that and the wonderful dance Dylie was doing on his cock.
With one bard on his face and another on his cock, he wondered where Rhian was. He wondered no more as he felt his hand pulled away from Lita’s ass. His fingers were pressed against a wet sex and Nash knew where Rhian was. She pressed his fingers inside her and Nash felt her heat. Slick with desire, she opened easily for his thick fingers. Rhian’s cries joined Lita’s and Dylie’s in a chorus.
Lita’s thighs clenched around Nash and he knew. He flicked his tongue as fast as possible. His entire body was a testament to his power and that included his tounge. He licked Lita to a body shaking orgasm and did not stop she fell exhausted from his body.
Lita collapsed to the side of the bed. “Your tongue was like a shot of poison,” she laughed. “I can barely move.”
“Oh, I can still move,” Nash said. He sat up with Dylie still on his cock. The redhead giggled as he flipped her over onto the bed. He grabbed both of her ankles and spread her lovely legs wide. He knelt between her legs and pulled her body against his cock.
“Shake your love,” Dylie taunted.
“I will,” Nash said. His face still slick with Lita’s desire, he leered down on her body. His hips bucked and he fucked her. He might not be a dancer, but he was a warrior and he had battle armies for hours. Thrusting into a tight sex would be easy but no less fierce.
Dylie cried out as his hips picked up speed. In and out, in and out, his cock hammered into her. He shook her entire body with the power of his thrusts. His grip on her ankles was like iron, keeping her spread for the fucking. Within moments, his cock was a blur inside of her.
Rhian came over to Nash. She kneeled beside him as he thrusted. Her arms went around him as she nibbled at his ear. Her plump body a welcome incentive as he thrusted faster.
Even Lita was moved by his actions. The exhausted bard reached between her legs and continued what his tongue had started. She couldn’t match Nash’s cock in girth but she certainly matched him in speed.
Dylie cried out her orgasm. It was a high scream of joy and wonder. She pulled at her pert breasts as the pleasure swept through her. Her scream of pleasure degenerated into a babbling of some kind of bliss.
Nash pulled out and turned to Rhian. Outside the rain had started to fall. He had no words for her. He was too filled with lust for all three of them for witty comments. He just wanted.
He pushed her down to the bed. Freckled thighs part for him. His cock slipped into her and they moaned in unison. Her red hair fanned out behind her like a sunrise. He pushed deep into her, watching her breasts jiggle in response.
Nash fucked Rhian. His powerful hard body rubbed on top of her deliciously soft body. His broad chest crushed her plump breasts. His strong thighs pushed against her warm legs. His hard cock pushed into her soft sex. Their bodies became a fusion of legs, hands and motion.
They were not alone. Lita crawled over and offered her breast for Nash’s lips. He eagerly took her offering, sucking on her erect nipple. Dylie found the will to move and crawled over to behind Nash. He felt her hand on his balls. It would take a dancer to be able to gently cup his balls and keep pace with his thrusts. Her gently fingers stroked him to faster speeds inside Rhian.
Rhian climaxed. The rain outside grew louder and her scream of joy was taken by the wind. The other bards sang with her, adding their moans to Rhian’s to form a song so beautiful that it almost made Nash weep.
Instead of weeping, he climaxed instead. His cock erupted into Rhian’s sex. Dylie’s gentle stroking urged him to empty his balls while Lita’ smothered his gasping mouth with her breasts. Embraced by the three bards, he pumped ntil every drop of his seed was gone.
The four stopped moving. Bodies shifted to get more comfortable until there was a tangled web of legs, arms, breasts and cock. Lust flared from time to time, resulting in something being sucked or something getting groped. For the most part, they were content to nestle within the heat of each other.
Nash drifted to sleep while someone tried to lick his cock back to life.
As beds went, Nash thought this one was very well warmed.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Cell Phone Slave
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'Cell Phone Slave' is up for sale. Now you can finally purchase a material copy for use in your bedroom, on your lap or the back of your lover. George Sportelli did the cover which gives the book an incredibly gorgeous look.
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Click on the button to purchase a copy of 'Cell Phone Slave'.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Fiction: The Three Bards Part One
Nash Nighthammer stood in the middle of the street. The small town he was passing through had two inns. He had traveled far this day and his mighty warhammer was starting to get a bit heavy on his shoulders. The sun was fading and he had a rumbling in his stomach. Clouds were gathering and he knew it would rain tonight. He needed a place to sleep for the night but he also had an itch for adventure. Inns were a perfect place to discover new friends, encounter old men with older maps and a flirty barmaid or two.
On the left, the Frothy Mug looked busy and bustling. The stable beside it was so full that some of the horses were outside. Singing could be heard from the open windows and the smell of good beer wafted through the air.
On the right, the Three Bards looked deserted and abandoned. The paint on the sign was new but the stable beside it was as empty as Nash’s stomach. A lonely wisp of smoke came from the chimney and no sounds of merriment came from the windows.
Nash Nighthammer was many things. He was a fearsome warrior. He was a brave hero. To many farmers he was a source of great concern when it came to their daughters. One thing most people didn’t know about Nash was at heart he was as curious as a cat. It wasn’t a hard choice for him at all.
He walked into deserted inn. He expected the place to be dark but lanterns were lit all around the spacious common room. It was also remarkably clean as if someone had spent all day tidying the empty area.
“Hail!” a voice called from behind a bar. A large woman was furiously rubbing away at a stain. The vigor of her actions made her ample chest quake within her bodice. Her faint blonde hair was pinned back behind her head but a wisp had escaped her ponytail and fell across her cheek like a sparkle of sunlight.
“Hail, innkeeper!” Nash said. “I am Nash Nighthammer, and I seek lodgings for the night and I wasn’t sure if the place was closed.”
The large woman stopped her battle with the stain. “The same Nash Nighthammer who was at the battle of Northern Pass?”
“Yes,” Nash said. He found her voice to be soothing and lyrical.
“The same Nash Nighthammer who killed the Snow Beast this year?”
“I brought his head in, yes,” Nash said.
“The same Nash Nighthammer from the song, “Lock Your Daughter Behind a Strong Door?”
“Well, yes,” Nash admitted. The hard warrior’s face turned a deep red.
“Thank the Gods!” the woman said. “My name is Rhian. Me and my two partners run this inn but ever since we opened, we have been plagued with a dreadful monster.”
Nash smiled. A dread monster would make an excellent end to this day. Looking at Rhian’s ample womanhood, he also had a reward in mind that would suit him quite well. He sat at the bar and rested his warhammer. “Tell me more.”
“We bought this inn from an old man,” Rhian said. “He sold it to us for only two gold pieces. At the time, we thought he was just happy to be rid of the place. He left town and we never saw him again.”
“Never buy from an old man who leaves town,” Nash said.
“I know!” Rhian said. “That is what Dylie said! That first night we discovered why he sold it for so cheap. Up from the cellar came a horrible snake. It broke down our cellar door and crawled into guest rooms. It ate a plump merchant, his servant and a whore he had rented for the night. Me and my partners watched in horror as the bloated snake crawled back into the cellar and down a dark hole.”
“That would be bad for business,” Nash said.
“Damn right!” a voice said behind him.
“This is one of my partners,” Rhian said. “Nash Nighthammer, meet Lita, the finest lute player I have ever met.”
Nash turned to face the bard. Lita was tall with long wild blonde hair. Where Rhian was plump from the joys of live, Lita was hard and firm from the toils of adventure. She had the sharp eyes of a woman who has had great adventures and lived to sing about them. Her handshake was firm and Nash had no doubt that the woman had already tried to kill the snake.
“Hail, Lita,” Nash said. He had a sudden image of this woman riding his cock like he was a stallion.
“Hail, Nash,” Lita said. “I hope Rhian made it clear how fierce this snake was. He had black scales as hard as chainmail. Fangs the size of daggers broke my sword in two. I tried to sing a Death Song at it but the cursed heart of the monster was able to resist my magic.”
Nash nodded. “I am sure if it could be killed by song magic, the two of you would be able to slay it.”
A hard slap fell on his back. “This one recognizes talent!” Rhian said.
“Someone should have told me we had a customer!” This came from a woman coming down the stairs. She had short black hair that framed a pixyish face. Her entire body was small and she barely came up to Nash’s chest. She didn’t walk down the stairs as much as she floated. Nash knew at once that she was a dancer of great skill.
“This must be Dylie,” Nash said. “Hail, I am Nash Nighthammer.”
Dylie smiled as she heard his name. “The same Nash Nighthammer who fucked the Giantess of Jakan.”
Nash winced. “I merely soothed her so she wouldn’t harm the farmers in the area.”
Dylie laughed. “I am sure,” she winked.
“Nash has come to help defeat the snake in our cellar,” Rhian said. “We haven’t discussed his payment yet.”
“A warm bed and a hot plate of food will be payment enough,” Nash said. “I am happy to help.”
“Rhian makes the best stew in the land,” Dylie said. “As for the warm bed, you can have your choice of beds.”
Nash wasn’t sure if Dylie was being as a flirty as she sounded with that last bit. Knowing bards though, it would be a sure thing.
“It is a deal,” he said carefully. “I shall eat and then I shall stand vigil in the cellar. First though, I would like to wash. All I need is a warm bucket of water and some soap.”
“I shall warm it up for you now,” Rhian said. “Why don’t one of you show him to his room?”
“I shall,” Dylie said quickly.
“It is your turn to bring in the firewood,” Lita said. “I shall take him to his room.”
The small bard sighed. “You are right,” she said. She turned to Nash. “Did you know that I was so skilled with the flute that I once charmed an entire army of goblins?”
“Really? I think I had heard of that,” Nash said.
“Maybe later I can show you my flute playing,” Dylie said.
Nash nodded. Yes, this bard was definitely flirting. As she danced out of the room, he imagined exactly the kind of flute playing she had in mind.
“Follow me,” Lita said.
Nash pushed the thought of the impish bard aside as he followed Lita up the stairs. The woman had a scar on her shoulder from a knife. The way she carried her hips told him that she had carried a sword for many years. As for her bottom, all he learned from watching it was how nice it would be to grab with both of his hands.
Lita opened the first door beside the stairs. Together they walked into a spacious room with a large bed. A small table was to the side as well as a large chamber pot. It had all the comforts of home.
Nash set his warhammer down and sat on the bed. Lita picked up his warhammer and gave it a test swing. To his surprise, she barely struggled with the weight.
“This is truly a mighty weapon,” Lita said. She set it back down. “It must be exhausting to wield it in battle. How do you not get tired?”
“A lot of practice,” Nash said. “In the heat of battle, one does what one has to.”
Lita nodded. “It is the same in love making, isn’t it? One does what one has to do. Even if it takes hours and hours.”
Nash tried to casually move his arm over his loincloth to hide the rapidly rising cloth.
“That is true as well.”
“Hours and hours,” Lita said. She looked at him with the hunger of a wolf. “I shall leave you to rest before your duties tonight.”
When the door closed, Nash leaned back against the bed. He thought about Lita’s strength and power. He thought about Dylie and her skills at dancing and playing the flute. He thought about Rhian and her abundant beauty.
A knock came from the door. Before he could answer, Rhian was already entering with a large bucket of water. Her face was flushed from carrying the bucket up the stairs. Nash had a feeling he would see that same flush if they were to fuck.
“Here you go,” Rhian said. “I must admit, I thought only bards bathed on a regular basis. Most warriors think of it as unhealthy.”
“I have been instructed on the virtues of bathing by many wise women,” Nash said.
Rhian smirked. “I bet they did.” She looked over his muscular body, his long black hair and his broad shoulders.
“Would you like some assistance bathing?”
“Nay,” Nash said. “I am still learning and I must keep at it so I can learn how to do it properly. I thank you though.”
“Oh well, perhaps it is for the best,” Rhian said. “You haven’t earned your reward yet,” she laughed.
Nash laughed with her but after she left, he wasn’t laughing any more. As a hero of a hundred adventures, he was used to rewards of a carnal nature. He just wasn’t used to having such a bounty to choose from. It was a vexing problem indeed.
“Look on the bright side,” he said to himself. “This fucking snake might kill me and save me the trouble of choosing.”
To be concluded
On the left, the Frothy Mug looked busy and bustling. The stable beside it was so full that some of the horses were outside. Singing could be heard from the open windows and the smell of good beer wafted through the air.
On the right, the Three Bards looked deserted and abandoned. The paint on the sign was new but the stable beside it was as empty as Nash’s stomach. A lonely wisp of smoke came from the chimney and no sounds of merriment came from the windows.
Nash Nighthammer was many things. He was a fearsome warrior. He was a brave hero. To many farmers he was a source of great concern when it came to their daughters. One thing most people didn’t know about Nash was at heart he was as curious as a cat. It wasn’t a hard choice for him at all.
He walked into deserted inn. He expected the place to be dark but lanterns were lit all around the spacious common room. It was also remarkably clean as if someone had spent all day tidying the empty area.
“Hail!” a voice called from behind a bar. A large woman was furiously rubbing away at a stain. The vigor of her actions made her ample chest quake within her bodice. Her faint blonde hair was pinned back behind her head but a wisp had escaped her ponytail and fell across her cheek like a sparkle of sunlight.
“Hail, innkeeper!” Nash said. “I am Nash Nighthammer, and I seek lodgings for the night and I wasn’t sure if the place was closed.”
The large woman stopped her battle with the stain. “The same Nash Nighthammer who was at the battle of Northern Pass?”
“Yes,” Nash said. He found her voice to be soothing and lyrical.
“The same Nash Nighthammer who killed the Snow Beast this year?”
“I brought his head in, yes,” Nash said.
“The same Nash Nighthammer from the song, “Lock Your Daughter Behind a Strong Door?”
“Well, yes,” Nash admitted. The hard warrior’s face turned a deep red.
“Thank the Gods!” the woman said. “My name is Rhian. Me and my two partners run this inn but ever since we opened, we have been plagued with a dreadful monster.”
Nash smiled. A dread monster would make an excellent end to this day. Looking at Rhian’s ample womanhood, he also had a reward in mind that would suit him quite well. He sat at the bar and rested his warhammer. “Tell me more.”
“We bought this inn from an old man,” Rhian said. “He sold it to us for only two gold pieces. At the time, we thought he was just happy to be rid of the place. He left town and we never saw him again.”
“Never buy from an old man who leaves town,” Nash said.
“I know!” Rhian said. “That is what Dylie said! That first night we discovered why he sold it for so cheap. Up from the cellar came a horrible snake. It broke down our cellar door and crawled into guest rooms. It ate a plump merchant, his servant and a whore he had rented for the night. Me and my partners watched in horror as the bloated snake crawled back into the cellar and down a dark hole.”
“That would be bad for business,” Nash said.
“Damn right!” a voice said behind him.
“This is one of my partners,” Rhian said. “Nash Nighthammer, meet Lita, the finest lute player I have ever met.”
Nash turned to face the bard. Lita was tall with long wild blonde hair. Where Rhian was plump from the joys of live, Lita was hard and firm from the toils of adventure. She had the sharp eyes of a woman who has had great adventures and lived to sing about them. Her handshake was firm and Nash had no doubt that the woman had already tried to kill the snake.
“Hail, Lita,” Nash said. He had a sudden image of this woman riding his cock like he was a stallion.
“Hail, Nash,” Lita said. “I hope Rhian made it clear how fierce this snake was. He had black scales as hard as chainmail. Fangs the size of daggers broke my sword in two. I tried to sing a Death Song at it but the cursed heart of the monster was able to resist my magic.”
Nash nodded. “I am sure if it could be killed by song magic, the two of you would be able to slay it.”
A hard slap fell on his back. “This one recognizes talent!” Rhian said.
“Someone should have told me we had a customer!” This came from a woman coming down the stairs. She had short black hair that framed a pixyish face. Her entire body was small and she barely came up to Nash’s chest. She didn’t walk down the stairs as much as she floated. Nash knew at once that she was a dancer of great skill.
“This must be Dylie,” Nash said. “Hail, I am Nash Nighthammer.”
Dylie smiled as she heard his name. “The same Nash Nighthammer who fucked the Giantess of Jakan.”
Nash winced. “I merely soothed her so she wouldn’t harm the farmers in the area.”
Dylie laughed. “I am sure,” she winked.
“Nash has come to help defeat the snake in our cellar,” Rhian said. “We haven’t discussed his payment yet.”
“A warm bed and a hot plate of food will be payment enough,” Nash said. “I am happy to help.”
“Rhian makes the best stew in the land,” Dylie said. “As for the warm bed, you can have your choice of beds.”
Nash wasn’t sure if Dylie was being as a flirty as she sounded with that last bit. Knowing bards though, it would be a sure thing.
“It is a deal,” he said carefully. “I shall eat and then I shall stand vigil in the cellar. First though, I would like to wash. All I need is a warm bucket of water and some soap.”
“I shall warm it up for you now,” Rhian said. “Why don’t one of you show him to his room?”
“I shall,” Dylie said quickly.
“It is your turn to bring in the firewood,” Lita said. “I shall take him to his room.”
The small bard sighed. “You are right,” she said. She turned to Nash. “Did you know that I was so skilled with the flute that I once charmed an entire army of goblins?”
“Really? I think I had heard of that,” Nash said.
“Maybe later I can show you my flute playing,” Dylie said.
Nash nodded. Yes, this bard was definitely flirting. As she danced out of the room, he imagined exactly the kind of flute playing she had in mind.
“Follow me,” Lita said.
Nash pushed the thought of the impish bard aside as he followed Lita up the stairs. The woman had a scar on her shoulder from a knife. The way she carried her hips told him that she had carried a sword for many years. As for her bottom, all he learned from watching it was how nice it would be to grab with both of his hands.
Lita opened the first door beside the stairs. Together they walked into a spacious room with a large bed. A small table was to the side as well as a large chamber pot. It had all the comforts of home.
Nash set his warhammer down and sat on the bed. Lita picked up his warhammer and gave it a test swing. To his surprise, she barely struggled with the weight.
“This is truly a mighty weapon,” Lita said. She set it back down. “It must be exhausting to wield it in battle. How do you not get tired?”
“A lot of practice,” Nash said. “In the heat of battle, one does what one has to.”
Lita nodded. “It is the same in love making, isn’t it? One does what one has to do. Even if it takes hours and hours.”
Nash tried to casually move his arm over his loincloth to hide the rapidly rising cloth.
“That is true as well.”
“Hours and hours,” Lita said. She looked at him with the hunger of a wolf. “I shall leave you to rest before your duties tonight.”
When the door closed, Nash leaned back against the bed. He thought about Lita’s strength and power. He thought about Dylie and her skills at dancing and playing the flute. He thought about Rhian and her abundant beauty.
A knock came from the door. Before he could answer, Rhian was already entering with a large bucket of water. Her face was flushed from carrying the bucket up the stairs. Nash had a feeling he would see that same flush if they were to fuck.
“Here you go,” Rhian said. “I must admit, I thought only bards bathed on a regular basis. Most warriors think of it as unhealthy.”
“I have been instructed on the virtues of bathing by many wise women,” Nash said.
Rhian smirked. “I bet they did.” She looked over his muscular body, his long black hair and his broad shoulders.
“Would you like some assistance bathing?”
“Nay,” Nash said. “I am still learning and I must keep at it so I can learn how to do it properly. I thank you though.”
“Oh well, perhaps it is for the best,” Rhian said. “You haven’t earned your reward yet,” she laughed.
Nash laughed with her but after she left, he wasn’t laughing any more. As a hero of a hundred adventures, he was used to rewards of a carnal nature. He just wasn’t used to having such a bounty to choose from. It was a vexing problem indeed.
“Look on the bright side,” he said to himself. “This fucking snake might kill me and save me the trouble of choosing.”
To be concluded
Monday, May 10, 2010
Book Schedule News
This weekend I uploaded a test version of 'Cell Phone Slave' to Lulu. I expect to get the proof copy this week and then I can look it over and scrutinize it a bit. If all goes well, there should be a version you can order by the end of the month.
Now that my Super Work Project is over, I can get back to my publishing schedule. I plan to do a collection of Librarian stories next. I also intend to include a twelve part Librarian novella in that book that will never have been seen before.
I am a little nervous over the idea of publishing a brand new story. After providing stories for free for years, it feels a little dishonest to save something for a book that has to be paid for. On the other hand, we are saving for a house so every bit counts.
In other news, I plan to do an Island Princess book in time for Christmas. It will be done in the style of a bedtime story and activity book for adults. That means it will have activities that you would expect to see in a childrens' book, except it will have a shit load of naked boobies and dirty words. I envision it as something that will be read and played with by couples.
Since I envision an activity between every story, I have to come up with quite a few activities. Right now I am considering paper dolls, word searches, a maze, some pages to color and a mad lib or two. Since I do not have children, I am curious if my readers have any ideas for some good activity pages. Consider this your time to contribute!
Now that my Super Work Project is over, I can get back to my publishing schedule. I plan to do a collection of Librarian stories next. I also intend to include a twelve part Librarian novella in that book that will never have been seen before.
I am a little nervous over the idea of publishing a brand new story. After providing stories for free for years, it feels a little dishonest to save something for a book that has to be paid for. On the other hand, we are saving for a house so every bit counts.
In other news, I plan to do an Island Princess book in time for Christmas. It will be done in the style of a bedtime story and activity book for adults. That means it will have activities that you would expect to see in a childrens' book, except it will have a shit load of naked boobies and dirty words. I envision it as something that will be read and played with by couples.
Since I envision an activity between every story, I have to come up with quite a few activities. Right now I am considering paper dolls, word searches, a maze, some pages to color and a mad lib or two. Since I do not have children, I am curious if my readers have any ideas for some good activity pages. Consider this your time to contribute!
Friday, May 07, 2010
Euphorian Tax Day
Greetings citizens of Euphoria! It is I, Queen Erishella. I have taken this moment out of my busy schedule to talk to you on this most special occasion. It is Tax Day and I want you to know how much your sacrifices are appreciated by your Queen.This year, your taxes will pay for the continual invasion of the Gem Moons. although we are raping those wealthy Moons for every scrap of value they posses, we have not yet been able to fully process all of the loot. It takes money to plunder money.
Your taxes will also pay for the construction of my first Pleasure Palace here on Euphoria. Many of you are already hard at work building my gardens and seven tiers waterfall and heated pool. Some of you have already enlisted in the special sexual training required to serve in my Pleasure Palace. Rest assure that your taxes are helping many beautiful people learn how to lick their Queen properly.
Your taxes will also pay for many of my gorgeous gowns, hair styles and articles of seduction. As you Queen, I understand that I must present the ultimate in decadent beauty at all times. I must wear the highest heels, the tightest corsets and the most revealing bust line in all of the land. Trained specialists tend to the royal hairs of my cunt so that when I ride the faces of our enemies, I will present a bush worth respecting.
Finally, your taxes will continue to pay for the universal health care you enjoy. I may be a merciless dictator with enormous perverse appetites, but health care is just common decency.
Now it has come to my attention that some of you can not pay your taxes. Have no fear! In my infinite wisdom and mercy, I will allow those without the funds to pay their rightful taxes the ability to work off their taxes in the Royal Brothels. If you can not pay, you will be able to sexually satisfy and pleasure my soldiers, my administrators and my courtiers. Who knows? Perhaps you may even have a chance to be beaten horribly for my own personal pleasure?
I am bored now with addressing you. Your Queen will retire now and lounge luxuriously in the large bags of credits that you have paid to me today. Farewell my minions and remember, pay your damn taxes.
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
Fiction: Morphic-Sexual Feild
SLAP!
Katie Delman cried out as something hit her ass. She spun around but there was no one else in the hallway with her. Her ass was still stinging from the blow, so she knew she didn’t imagine it. Katie looked around carefully for hidden robotic arms, camouflaged paddles or maybe that new ass laser she heard that Applied Lightbeams were working on.
You can never be too careful when you work at Von Mad Laboratories, the world’s foremost Erotic Science research center.
Katie rubbed her ass through her labcoat and kept walking down the hallway. She needed to return to her lab to finish the stress tests they were conducting on edible handcuffs. They were having a problem with the chocolate chain links being too soft and Katie needed to work it out in time for the Halloween sextoy purchasing season.
As she reached the door to her lab, something large and hard hit her ass. The force of the blow nearly knocked her off her feet. She leaned against the door frame when another blow landed on her bottom. Katie barely had time to cry out when seven more perfect blows hit her ass with savage force. She pressed her face to the wall and bit her lip as her ass suffered the mysterious spanks.
Just as quickly as they started, the spanks stopped. Katie stumbled into her laboratory and closed the door. She walked over to the mirror they used for exhibitionist tests and turned around. There were no paddle impressions on her lab coat or her skirt. She lifted her skirt and gasped. According to the mirror, there were clear impressions on her plump bottom from a very nasty looking paddle.
“I need to call Dr. Von Madd,” Katie said.
Twenty minutes later, Katie was bent over the lab table, completely nude. She wasn’t sure why she had to take off her shirt and bra, but Dr. Von Madd been insistent that it was scientifically important. The way he pinched her nipples didn’t seem scientifically important to Katie, but it did feel nice.
“Amazing,” Dr. Von Madd said. He was standing behind her, staring at her ass through those strange purple goggles he always wore. She felt his hand cupping her bottom. His fingers scratched the welts that were forming and Katie hissed.
“Ms. Delman, your ass is quite lovely,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I want you to report tomorrow to the Hologram department and let them map your ass. I think your bottom may have future applications.”
“Umm, thank you, Doctor,” Katie said. “But do you know where these phantom spanks are coming from?”
“Oh, right,” Dr. Von Madd said. He was a brilliant scientist but he was often thinking along multiple theories. One time Katie was giving a report on Orgy Dynamics and Dr. Von Madd interrupted her to test her gag reflex.
“You said it just started today?” Dr. Von Madd asked.
“Yes, Doctor,” Katie said. “I was walking down the ha-ouch!”
Something round and small left her left buttock. Katie flinched and then the same small object struck her right buttock. Back and forth, the small paddle struck each of her buttocks. The pace increased to a blistering speed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Katie cried out. She tried to cover her ass but it didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse to grab her ass while the skin was still reeling from the spanking. Dr. Von Madd grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her ass. He was so close to her bottom that she could feel his breath on her stinging flesh.
It was a long five minutes before the stinging stopped. Five long minutes of a brutal merciless paddling of her ass. Five long minutes of Dr. Von Madd inches from her ass and pussy. Katie wondered if he could smell the desire coming from her. Hell, he probably has already categorized the scent according to some personal index system.
She was completely unprepared when he bit her ass. The prickly hairs of his goatee irritated her tender skin but it was a small distraction compared to the hefty bite he was taking. Katie screamed until he released her ass from his sharp teeth.
“Ah yes,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I tasted a slight static charge on your paddle marks.”
Katie was breathing so hard on with her face on the lab table that her glasses were fogging up. “What does that mean?”
“I believed you are experiencing a rare morphic-sexual field,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Your ass is sharing a connection with someone else’s ass. I imagine if we spank you, they would feel it as well. The real question is, if they experience anal sex, I wonder if you would too?”
Katie gasped. “How did this happen?”
“That is an interesting question because I believe there could be commercial applications,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I believe you had contact with one of the experimental Quantum-Morrison paddles but those are strictly monitored. Do you know Dr. Victor Wendall or his assistant, Dr. Lisa Pin?”
Katie frowned. “I don’t think so.” She hissed as something hot and splattery dripped on her ass. It felt just like candle wax.
“Wait!” Katie gasped. “You mean Master Vic? I played with him and his submissive, Stat Slut, last weekend. We met at the company nudist picnic.”
“Yes, Lisa Pin does have an unusual attraction to statistics,” Dr. Von Madd said. “And did they use a paddle on you that had a faint blue glow?”
Katie blushed. “Oh yes. He spanked both of us with it. We were on top of each other, umm, kissing, while he spanked us.”
“Excellent,” Dr. Von Madd said. “The Quantum-Morrison paddle was supposed to create paddle spanks that travel through time to be felt later, but this is a good application as well. I think it linked your ass to Dr. Pin’s.”
Katie cried out as more hot wax spilled on her already sensitive ass. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course I am sure, I am a genius,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Plus I know that the two are having a sexual release session today. I am having it videotaped for my enjoyment later.”
“Can you stop it?” Katie asked.
“Easily,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Well, not easy for you I am afraid. I will have to work out a counter impact rhythm to cancel out the morphic-sexual field. Please tell me as soon as you start to feel a paddling again.”
Something large and studded struck her ass.
“Ow!” Katie cried. “It’s happening now!”
Dr. Von Madd went into action. He grabbed Katie’s long brown hair and yanked her head up from the table. His other hand grabbed a ruler and he swung it down on her bottom.
“Shit!” Katie cried out. She wanted to move but she knew better. Dr. Von Madd was working and her ass was his laboratory.
The ordeal was surreal. Her bottom would flatten under the impact of the large paddle only to be followed a split second later by the stinging slap of the small ruler. Something would strike her right buttock with enough force to make her glasses fly off her face and then Dr. Von Madd would counter it with a snapping spank to her left buttock.
Katie moaned under the double assault. Her sex was also aching to be touched. Between the hard thuds of the other paddle and Dr. Von Madd’s stinging bites with the ruler, Katie was overwhelmed with sensation. She was openly humping the edge of the lab table, not caring what Dr. Von Madd thought. She had given up on modesty and could only think about her poor abused ass.
When Katie didn’t think she could take any more, the paddling suddenly stopped. Her ass was still incredibly sensitive but there were no more paddle strikes. She felt like her bottom would combust into flames at any moment.
Dr. Von Madd bent down and bit her ass. Katie screamed until he let go with his teeth.
“The morphic-sexual field is gone,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I don’t think you will be troubled by it any more.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Katie said. She was panting from the abuse she had endured.
“Of course, there is one unfinished matter,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Playing with restricted sextoys is a serious offense. There will be a note in your file as well as a suitable punishment.”
“What kind of punishment?” Katie asked.
She heard a zipper being pulled down. She felt a cock press against her ass. A few drops of lube fell onto her bottom.
“I have something in mind,” Dr. Von Madd said as he entered her.
Katie Delman cried out as something hit her ass. She spun around but there was no one else in the hallway with her. Her ass was still stinging from the blow, so she knew she didn’t imagine it. Katie looked around carefully for hidden robotic arms, camouflaged paddles or maybe that new ass laser she heard that Applied Lightbeams were working on.
You can never be too careful when you work at Von Mad Laboratories, the world’s foremost Erotic Science research center.
Katie rubbed her ass through her labcoat and kept walking down the hallway. She needed to return to her lab to finish the stress tests they were conducting on edible handcuffs. They were having a problem with the chocolate chain links being too soft and Katie needed to work it out in time for the Halloween sextoy purchasing season.
As she reached the door to her lab, something large and hard hit her ass. The force of the blow nearly knocked her off her feet. She leaned against the door frame when another blow landed on her bottom. Katie barely had time to cry out when seven more perfect blows hit her ass with savage force. She pressed her face to the wall and bit her lip as her ass suffered the mysterious spanks.
Just as quickly as they started, the spanks stopped. Katie stumbled into her laboratory and closed the door. She walked over to the mirror they used for exhibitionist tests and turned around. There were no paddle impressions on her lab coat or her skirt. She lifted her skirt and gasped. According to the mirror, there were clear impressions on her plump bottom from a very nasty looking paddle.
“I need to call Dr. Von Madd,” Katie said.
Twenty minutes later, Katie was bent over the lab table, completely nude. She wasn’t sure why she had to take off her shirt and bra, but Dr. Von Madd been insistent that it was scientifically important. The way he pinched her nipples didn’t seem scientifically important to Katie, but it did feel nice.
“Amazing,” Dr. Von Madd said. He was standing behind her, staring at her ass through those strange purple goggles he always wore. She felt his hand cupping her bottom. His fingers scratched the welts that were forming and Katie hissed.
“Ms. Delman, your ass is quite lovely,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I want you to report tomorrow to the Hologram department and let them map your ass. I think your bottom may have future applications.”
“Umm, thank you, Doctor,” Katie said. “But do you know where these phantom spanks are coming from?”
“Oh, right,” Dr. Von Madd said. He was a brilliant scientist but he was often thinking along multiple theories. One time Katie was giving a report on Orgy Dynamics and Dr. Von Madd interrupted her to test her gag reflex.
“You said it just started today?” Dr. Von Madd asked.
“Yes, Doctor,” Katie said. “I was walking down the ha-ouch!”
Something round and small left her left buttock. Katie flinched and then the same small object struck her right buttock. Back and forth, the small paddle struck each of her buttocks. The pace increased to a blistering speed.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Katie cried out. She tried to cover her ass but it didn’t help. If anything, it made it worse to grab her ass while the skin was still reeling from the spanking. Dr. Von Madd grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her ass. He was so close to her bottom that she could feel his breath on her stinging flesh.
It was a long five minutes before the stinging stopped. Five long minutes of a brutal merciless paddling of her ass. Five long minutes of Dr. Von Madd inches from her ass and pussy. Katie wondered if he could smell the desire coming from her. Hell, he probably has already categorized the scent according to some personal index system.
She was completely unprepared when he bit her ass. The prickly hairs of his goatee irritated her tender skin but it was a small distraction compared to the hefty bite he was taking. Katie screamed until he released her ass from his sharp teeth.
“Ah yes,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I tasted a slight static charge on your paddle marks.”
Katie was breathing so hard on with her face on the lab table that her glasses were fogging up. “What does that mean?”
“I believed you are experiencing a rare morphic-sexual field,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Your ass is sharing a connection with someone else’s ass. I imagine if we spank you, they would feel it as well. The real question is, if they experience anal sex, I wonder if you would too?”
Katie gasped. “How did this happen?”
“That is an interesting question because I believe there could be commercial applications,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I believe you had contact with one of the experimental Quantum-Morrison paddles but those are strictly monitored. Do you know Dr. Victor Wendall or his assistant, Dr. Lisa Pin?”
Katie frowned. “I don’t think so.” She hissed as something hot and splattery dripped on her ass. It felt just like candle wax.
“Wait!” Katie gasped. “You mean Master Vic? I played with him and his submissive, Stat Slut, last weekend. We met at the company nudist picnic.”
“Yes, Lisa Pin does have an unusual attraction to statistics,” Dr. Von Madd said. “And did they use a paddle on you that had a faint blue glow?”
Katie blushed. “Oh yes. He spanked both of us with it. We were on top of each other, umm, kissing, while he spanked us.”
“Excellent,” Dr. Von Madd said. “The Quantum-Morrison paddle was supposed to create paddle spanks that travel through time to be felt later, but this is a good application as well. I think it linked your ass to Dr. Pin’s.”
Katie cried out as more hot wax spilled on her already sensitive ass. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course I am sure, I am a genius,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Plus I know that the two are having a sexual release session today. I am having it videotaped for my enjoyment later.”
“Can you stop it?” Katie asked.
“Easily,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Well, not easy for you I am afraid. I will have to work out a counter impact rhythm to cancel out the morphic-sexual field. Please tell me as soon as you start to feel a paddling again.”
Something large and studded struck her ass.
“Ow!” Katie cried. “It’s happening now!”
Dr. Von Madd went into action. He grabbed Katie’s long brown hair and yanked her head up from the table. His other hand grabbed a ruler and he swung it down on her bottom.
“Shit!” Katie cried out. She wanted to move but she knew better. Dr. Von Madd was working and her ass was his laboratory.
The ordeal was surreal. Her bottom would flatten under the impact of the large paddle only to be followed a split second later by the stinging slap of the small ruler. Something would strike her right buttock with enough force to make her glasses fly off her face and then Dr. Von Madd would counter it with a snapping spank to her left buttock.
Katie moaned under the double assault. Her sex was also aching to be touched. Between the hard thuds of the other paddle and Dr. Von Madd’s stinging bites with the ruler, Katie was overwhelmed with sensation. She was openly humping the edge of the lab table, not caring what Dr. Von Madd thought. She had given up on modesty and could only think about her poor abused ass.
When Katie didn’t think she could take any more, the paddling suddenly stopped. Her ass was still incredibly sensitive but there were no more paddle strikes. She felt like her bottom would combust into flames at any moment.
Dr. Von Madd bent down and bit her ass. Katie screamed until he let go with his teeth.
“The morphic-sexual field is gone,” Dr. Von Madd said. “I don’t think you will be troubled by it any more.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Katie said. She was panting from the abuse she had endured.
“Of course, there is one unfinished matter,” Dr. Von Madd said. “Playing with restricted sextoys is a serious offense. There will be a note in your file as well as a suitable punishment.”
“What kind of punishment?” Katie asked.
She heard a zipper being pulled down. She felt a cock press against her ass. A few drops of lube fell onto her bottom.
“I have something in mind,” Dr. Von Madd said as he entered her.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Palace of Fiction
Behold the erotica writer, master of his pleasure palace of fiction.
His harem is stocked with beauties of a thousand genres. Delicate white flowers of college age beauty, dark voluptuous women with abundant curves, chained heroines, arrogant queens and submissive older women are his to call on. They may be nude and showing their assets for the world to see. They may be clothed in fetish gear and uniforms of fantasy. Their appearances are limited only by his imagination.
Wicked, wicked, wicked things happen here. Cocks are rammed down throats, willing and unwilling. Breasts are caressed, bitten, loved and punished in equal measure. Asses made to be spanked are spanked and sometimes penetrated. Cunts, furry and rarely shaved, slide onto cocks, dildos, tongues and fingers. Deviance is the norm and the expected.
Love is created here. Lust abounds as well. Friends fuck here as often as enemies. People fuck alone. People fuck in pairs. People fuck in groups if the writer demands it. Sometimes, no one fucks and there is just cruel denial but this pleases the writer. There is no limits to his whim.
But the writer is also the slave here. Some stories are not told easily. For every spontaneous act of perversion, there are just as often long drawn out battles with inspiration before the orgy of sin. Craft takes work and there are days when even the most blissful cock sucking takes a long afternoon of trial and error. Rewrites are the writer's best tool and his lament.
The writer suffers. While his characters suffer the threat of the lash, the writer suffers the threat of indifference. While characters are broken on the wheels of his plot, the writer is broken on the knowledge that the story he wrote was not quite as good as the one he imagined in his head.
Weep not for the writer. There are other palaces. He could just as easily visit the foreign lands of other writers by reading. He could lose himself in the epic quests of videogames. Twenty minutes of porn videos could sate him. He comes back to the palace of his making of his own free will. No one keeps him here.
Behold the erotic writer, master and slave to his pleasure palace of fiction.
His harem is stocked with beauties of a thousand genres. Delicate white flowers of college age beauty, dark voluptuous women with abundant curves, chained heroines, arrogant queens and submissive older women are his to call on. They may be nude and showing their assets for the world to see. They may be clothed in fetish gear and uniforms of fantasy. Their appearances are limited only by his imagination.
Wicked, wicked, wicked things happen here. Cocks are rammed down throats, willing and unwilling. Breasts are caressed, bitten, loved and punished in equal measure. Asses made to be spanked are spanked and sometimes penetrated. Cunts, furry and rarely shaved, slide onto cocks, dildos, tongues and fingers. Deviance is the norm and the expected.
Love is created here. Lust abounds as well. Friends fuck here as often as enemies. People fuck alone. People fuck in pairs. People fuck in groups if the writer demands it. Sometimes, no one fucks and there is just cruel denial but this pleases the writer. There is no limits to his whim.
But the writer is also the slave here. Some stories are not told easily. For every spontaneous act of perversion, there are just as often long drawn out battles with inspiration before the orgy of sin. Craft takes work and there are days when even the most blissful cock sucking takes a long afternoon of trial and error. Rewrites are the writer's best tool and his lament.
The writer suffers. While his characters suffer the threat of the lash, the writer suffers the threat of indifference. While characters are broken on the wheels of his plot, the writer is broken on the knowledge that the story he wrote was not quite as good as the one he imagined in his head.
Weep not for the writer. There are other palaces. He could just as easily visit the foreign lands of other writers by reading. He could lose himself in the epic quests of videogames. Twenty minutes of porn videos could sate him. He comes back to the palace of his making of his own free will. No one keeps him here.
Behold the erotic writer, master and slave to his pleasure palace of fiction.
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