Many-Eyed Hydra's Succubus Bordello

HWA sucks in debate for Vampire Novel of the Century

2012-02-11T16:19:00.007Z

The Horror Writer's Association is marking the centenary of Bram Stoker's death by adding an award for Vampire Book of the Century to this year's Bram Stoker Awards. By century they mean 1912 to 2011, not the 20th century as I discovered after making a tit of myself on the comment boards of a major British newspaper.

The nominees are:

The Soft Whisper of the Dead by Charles L. Grant
Salem's Lot by Stephen King
I Am Legend by Richard Matheson
Anno Dracula by Kim Newman
Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
Hotel Transylvania by Chelsea Quinn Yarbro

It's a selection that leaves me conflicted between the book I'd like to see win (Anno Dracula) and the book I think should win (Interview with the Vampire).

Kim Newman is probably better known today as Empire's goto man for reviewing B-movies of questionable quality. He's also a bloody good horror writer. The first thing I used to do on purchasing the latest Year's Best Horror or other similar anthology was flick straight to the Kim Newman story.

Anno Dracula takes Dracula as a starting point and plays What If! the heroes lost and Dracula won. What we get is an alternate history with a blood-bloated Count on the throne of the British Empire, Queen Victoria on a leash, and vampirism spread throughout England. It's a lot of fun and, as with all of Kim Newman's work, part of the entertainment is spotting all the references to the historical figures and fictional characters of the time.

Of the other books, I Am Legend might seem like an odd choice on a vampire novel shortlist. Isn't that a zombie apocalypse book? you might think, especially if you've only seen the film adaptations. While it might be hard to believe in these sparkly, post-Twilight days, vampires were once used as a metaphor for contagion and plague, a role which has largely been stolen by zombies in more recent times. This is also the reason, despite being an excellent book, it shouldn't win. A true thoroughbred, but someone changed the track midrace and now it’s charging down the wrong path.

As good as the other books are, I don’t think any of them come close to having the same cultural impact as Interview with the Vampire. You only have to look at the shelves clogged up with vampire fiction at your local bookstore (if it hasn’t already closed down) to see the enormous influence of Anne Rice’s work. Without Interview would we have had the vampire-craze of Twilight, or most of Urban Fantasy in general? As much as horror purists might hate how vampires have changed from badass and evil to emo and whiny, it’s really hard to argue against Interview with the Vampire being the defining vampire novel of the last century in the way Dracula was the defining vampire novel of the one before.

I’m still going to put up a link to Newman’s Anno Dracula, as he’s basically awesome and definitely worth checking out if you haven’t read his work before.

I would have liked to have seen Brian Lumley’s Necroscope on the list, but as I haven’t read either the Grant or Yarbro books I can’t legitimately argue it should be on there at their expense.

Anyway, vampires are so last century. I think it’s time for the sexy, soul-sucking succubi to claim the darkness… ;)

Succubus Summoning 101 is out! (as a novel)

2012-02-04T01:34:00.004Z

It's Friday. There have been a few minor teething problems, but Succubus Summoning 101, the novel, is now out and available to buy in both eBook and print form.

Apologies to anyone trying to buy from the eXcessica site today. It should now be available to buy instead of displaying as coming soon. You can get it here, and the print version from CreateSpace is also available here.

It's also available from the major online ebook stores such as Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Smashwords, and in a variety of formats.

This is sort of my donation button if you enjoyed reading the series. Thanks for the support and I hope you like the little extras in the novel.

Succubus Summoning 201 should be out later this year. That's a release to get more excited about... ;)

Succubus Summoning 101: Excerpt

2012-02-01T04:20:00.003Z

Succubus Summoning 101 is coming out this Friday. While I can't really hype it up to the same degree as A Succubus for Halloween, I couldn't pass the opportunity to post a little excerpt. Take flight with Rosa...

(warning: things get a little hot and steamy from here. If you're easily offended, or not 18, and got here by accident, now would be a safe time to leave :) )
Don't warn them, it takes away the surprise.

* * * *

Phil dashed for the door.

Five succubi in heat. There was no way he’d survive that. He had to get out of the castle and take his chances in the forest.

He got halfway across the courtyard before Rosa swooped down out of the sky and gathered him up in her embrace.

“Fleeing prey, my favourite,” Rosa laughed as she carried him up into the lurid pink sky.

Phil struggled, but Rosa wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him. She crushed her soft lips against his and kissed him until the fight left his body. His body went limp in her embrace.

“We’ve never fucked while flying, have we fledgling?” Rosa laughed as her broad wings held them motionless in the sky. “This is going to be fun.”

Phil’s thoughts were clouded and his limbs felt weak. Rosa’s hot kiss had drained all the resistance from him. Her powerful thighs wrapped around his waist and he shivered in pleasurable surprise as his erection slid into her moist vagina.

Hot.

Hot and tight.

Rosa’s body boiled with lust. Her heat enfolded his body and overwhelmed his senses. Still flapping her wings to keep them airborne, she thrust her hips against him. Her lust was contagious. Phil pushed back against her, feeling his cock slide against the hot walls of her pussy.

Rosa laughed with wild abandon and swooped around the black stone minarets of the castle. The horizon and the sky became one dizzying blur to Phil as he span in Rosa’s embrace. Faster and faster she flew, until Phil felt the wind streaming through his hair and down the naked skin of his back. Higher she took them, until the castle became toy-sized beneath them. They were suspended in the sky, their bodies slamming together in passion.

She planted another fiery kiss on Phil’s lips as their bodies slowly turned and ascent changed into a steep dive. Rosa cried with passion as the wind whistled past them. Phil’s heart thudded in his throat as they hurtled downwards. He saw the dark stone walls of the castle rushing up to meet them.

Did Rosa know? Did she care? Her wings were folded back against her body as they continued their steep dive.

The black walls and spiky towers filled Phil’s vision now, and still Rosa showed no signs of slowing down. Too fast. She wasn’t going to be able to pull up in time. They were going to be dashed against the walls. They were going to die.

They were going to…

They didn’t hit.

Phil opened his eyes and almost wished he hadn’t as narrow stone walls whizzed by in a blur. They were plunging through some kind of chimney system inside the castle. Rosa navigated the turns and sudden forks with a speed that left Phil breathless. Mere inches separated his naked flesh from the hard stone as it zipped past.

They fell deeper through the castle until the walls opened out into a cavernous pentagonal room. Phil saw a floor covered in blood-red sheets and scattered with pastel cushions rushing up to meet them before his view changed with a lurch. Rosa had flipped him mid-air and he was now looking up at a ceiling covered in swathes of plush velvet and embedded with large mirrors.

Their descent abruptly slowed as Rosa opened her great red wings above him. Not enough, Phil thought. They were still falling too quickly. He was still going to hit the ground har—

They hit the floor with a soft whumpf. Sheets and pillows were thrown up in the air by the impact. The floor gave beneath him and he realised he’d landed on a gigantic bed, luxuriously soft and very deep. He sank into the surface with Rosa’s hot body riding on top of him, the impact driving his cock deeper into her tight pussy.

Their downward momentum was halted and then reversed as the bed sprang back. Phil was bounced upwards and into Rosa’s embrace. Her pussy squeezed around his cock and Phil groaned as he exploded within her, the head of his cock wedged deep into her hot flesh. At the same time Rosa’s vagina shuddered and shivered around his member as she too was claimed by a violent orgasm.

She rode him as the bed swayed and undulated beneath them, her hot pussy fluttering around his cock. Phil bucked and thrashed in helpless pleasure as she stretched out his orgasm until the ecstasy became almost unbearable. His balls convulsed as her dripping vagina hungrily sucked the seed from his body.

Phil thought he might expire from the pleasure, but gradually the wild pitching motions of the bed died down and his orgasm slowly petered out with it. He gasped great lungfuls of air as his jangling body recovered from the release.

“Whew, that was good,” Rosa said. Beads of sweat spilled from her forehead and formed on her full breasts.

Once Phil got his breath back, he took a look around at his surroundings. He was in a large pentagonal room with stone walls. The entire floor seemed to be taken up with this gigantic bed. Soft cushions and pillows were piled high all around him.

“Well done, Rosa. I see you’ve captured our little plaything.”

* * * *

Succubus Summoning 101. Out (finally!) as a novel this Friday.

As for the long-awaited Succubus Summoning 201, coming soon... ;)

There is no self-epublishing bubble (but you might not find gold…)

2012-01-31T03:46:00.005Z

GuardianBooks announced on twitter “Two epublishing doom-sayers on @guardianbooks today.” I’m not sure I’d trust either with a crystal ball to be honest. In particular, I think Ewan Morrison’s argument that self-epublishing is a bubble is spectacularly off.

At the risk of sounding like a bargain-basement Joe Konrath, ebooks aren’t going away. It’s a technology shift. Ebooks are a bubble in the same way music CD’s, then .mp3 downloads are a bubble, or movies are a bubble, as in they’re not a bubble at all. There are people who still like vinyl records and theatre, but neither has the cultural significance they once had.

I can see why Morrison is trying to make an analogy between bubbles and self-epublishing, but I suspect Gold Rush is a better analogy. Fuelled by the success stories of writers like Amanda Hocking and John Locke, a bunch of folks have decided there’s gold in them thar hills, grabbed a shovel and charged off to make their fortunes. A rare few will strike a motherlode, some will eke out an existence panning dust and a whole lot of folks will return empty handed and disappointed.

This is what we’ll see with self-epublishing. There’s a lot of interest and excitement now, but that will fade once the Get-Rich-Quick merchants realise how much work is involved for little guarantee of success. The current glut of self-published ebooks will subside, but it won’t pop and collapse completely. People have put quill to parchment, or whatever equivalent, for a very long time now, mostly without any promise of riches and rewards, and there’s no reason to think the future is going to be any different.

As always with articles like this I get a slight whiff of Writer vs. writer snobbery. Writers are big, important people who write big, important words. They must receive cheques to support them writing their big, important words otherwise the whole of culture as we know it will collapse into the sewer. writers are hobbyists who scratch words out in their spare time after they’ve finished their shift and popped the kids off to bed. While what they do is nice and commendable, they’re not really important and, besides, they already have the financial support of their day job, or their partner.

When I read articles like this complaining about future hardships for publishing, I tend to substitute writer with Writer, because that’s what they really mean—the few deemed worthy enough to pass through the sanctified gates. Morrison talks about how bad it is when a newly self-epublished writer puts their book out and earns only £99 in a year. Um, the vast majority of writers never make anything, not a single penny. They spend six months, a year, whatever, writing a book and it doesn’t get published. THE END. Oh that’s right, I forget, those folks don’t count because they’re writers not Writers.

And Morrison thinks writers are going to suddenly stop overnight even though a century or more of receiving nothing failed to deter them in the past. Oh wait, my bad, he means those other Writers.

For the majority of writers, the old publishing paradigm was terrible. They couldn’t get published and no one read their work. Yes, this benefitted the reader by protecting them from an awful lot of crap, but it also atrophied choice, especially in marginal areas where publishers were afraid to take risks. Now it’s much better for the majority of writers—they get a chance to be read. These next few years will see more books available to read than at any previous point in human history. If there aren’t a few future classics amongst that lot we should give up as a species and all go and drown ourselves in the Atlantic.

The argument against that is the good books will all drown in the swamp of badly-written dreck. It’s bullcrap. If a book is good it will be found by someone, because it’s out there, to be read, forever. It’s available to be found, as opposed to being locked in a drawer somewhere, never to see the light of day, because it didn’t fit what the publishers of the time thought would make them money.

Morrison’s apocalyptic crash scenario is one where the competition between all the desperate self-pubbers creates a whirlpool of ever-lowering prices, which sucks in the major publishers and leaves no one able to make any money at all apart from Amazon. This could happen. As I mentioned earlier, over a century of receiving—on average—nothing has not deterred writers from writing. This would leave writing as the province of only eager amateurs. Purists would argue it should be done for the ‘art’ rather than money anyway, but they probably haven’t read a book written after 1870 either.

It could happen, but I don’t think it will. There is a bottom. Both Selena Kitt and Joe Konrath have experimented with pricing and come to similar conclusions. The 99c thing was fun for a while, but readers are prepared to pay more for better quality books, although probably not the crazy-high prices set by most mainstream publishers.

More likely, rather than crashing, self-epublishing will stabilise and mature. Readers will get savvier at both avoiding the crap and finding the books they want to read, and will ultimately benefit from greater choice. Despite this, it won’t be that different from traditional publishing in that a few lucky/talented writers will earn huge while the rest won’t make enough income to quit their day jobs.

The majority of writers are still better off. They make some money, whereas before they made none. They’ll find some readers, whereas before it was only friends and family. As for the Writers, they’ll have to prove they are Writers by being popular enough to sell enough books to support themselves, or by being good enough to win the awards/garner the reviews that will generate enough book sales to support themselves. If they can’t do this, then maybe they weren't that different from the rest of us writers in the first place.

If self-epublishing creates a stable ecosystem where writers that wouldn't have been published are able to supply readers whose tastes wouldn't have catered for, and allows those writers to make a profit, then it will be performing its role quite admirably.

Coming Soon... Succubus Summoning 101: The Novel

2012-01-28T03:43:00.006Z

Out Friday 3rd Feb

“Is this where you tell me, ‘Yer a wizard’,” Phil said.

The man laughed. “No, not a wizard,” he said. “A warlock.”

“What’s the difference?” Phil manhandled a big bin liner full of crap into the skip.

“One’s make-believe while the other is very much real.”

So are daemons…

Phil Rowling, a normal eighteen-year-old, discovers this when he is plucked from a dead-end life of fast-food service and enrolled into Wargsnouts College for Warlocks. At the college students are taught how to summon and control daemons from hell.

Everyone at Wargsnouts knows what a succubus is, and why warlocks summon them. It’s a dirty joke shared in sniggers amongst the students. Succubi are female sex daemons, famed for their mastery of the arts of pleasure. Eager to experience this pleasure first-hand, Phil and his friend, Jake Pulman, take the Daemonica Malefique from the library and use it to summon a pair of succubi for a night of sexy fun. After all, succubi are sex daemons, used only for sex, how dangerous can it be…

Phil finds out exactly how dangerous when the ritual goes wrong and he is taken prisoner by a harem of hot succubi. Trapped in a perverse corner of hell, can he escape before the erotic wiles of the succubi claim his life and soul…?

Yes, I finally got around to collecting my Succubus Summoning 101 series together into a novel. If you ever wanted the complete story in a nicely formatted ebook, or even an actual paper-print book, you'll get your chance in a week's time.

So what's new? As you may have noticed already from the little excerpt in the blurb above, I've included some extra pages to give more of Phil's background--how he came to be recruited, who he met on enrolment, and so on. Nothing major, I don't want to dilute all those sinful succubus sex scenes after all, but enough to add more flesh to the world. I also spent some time cleaning up the chapters, fixing some iffy grammar, correcting typos; basically all the boring editing stuff required to bring the novel to as close to a professional standard as I could manage.

One thing I haven't cleaned up is the sex. Some authors tone their work down before putting it up on sites like amazon. In true John Carpenter style, I cut nothing. No need to worry there. Verdé and company are just as sexually uninhibited (depraved?) as before.

In case you're wondering, I'm not going to pull the existing chapters from Literotica and the other places I posted them. While I intend publishing the follow-up, Succubus Summoning 201, as an ebook first, I will continue to serialise the chapters on Literotica. All I ask is if you read the series and enjoy it, please support my writing by buying the ebook.

If you haven't read it yet, whoo boy are you in for a treat!

Next Friday...

What a dull, grey, joyless world some people want us to live in...

2012-01-26T04:04:00.003Z

Apparently this poster:

was so offensive it needed to be banned.

Sigh.

Some aspects of feminism need to be slung back into the dark pit of the seventies. They do more harm than good nowadays. How is this any different to the half-naked beefcakes that adorn the covers of romance novels? Should we ban those too, in the interests of equality? Let's keep going until everyone is in shapeless boilersuits and no tantalising flesh can be seen at all. What a rotten world that would be.

The most offensive thing here is they're trying to bring back Hair Metal. For that crime alone they should be locked in a cage with live panthers, preferably ones that haven't been fed for a week.

And have rabies.

Just to make sure...

I've had better Januarys...

2012-01-25T01:27:00.004Z

It's been an odd month.

Ideally I'd have been promoting Succubus Summoning 101 coming out as a book (my first actual novel!) about now. Unfortunately, what I assumed to be the simple process of converting a finished word doc into the many different ebook formats turned out to be anything but. The awesome Selena Kitt of eXcessica publishing had given all us eXcessica peeps a straightforward step-by-step guide on what needed to be done, which was great until I found out one of the pieces of software behaved very oddly on my M$ Vista laptop (I know, I know, the computer came with it and I was too lazy to change it). What went in as a lovely, nicely-formatted novel ended up looking like bloody gibbets run through an industrial saw when it was spat out the other end.

I'm really not helping myself with character names like Cέrμləa and Mamǝḵā Bēyˁṯān.

Or an insistence on using this as a chapter heading:

But hey, a first novel is like your first wedding--you want everything to be shiny and perfect. So I bashed my head against the monitor in an attempt to get it right, working with software seemingly designed for alien thought processes.

Then I came down with gastric flu and got knocked on my back for a few days, because why not, it's January 2012. Ugh.

Not the best month, as I said.

At least the worst is over. I'm not sure when exactly Succubus Summoning 101 is coming out. It's pencilled in for Feb 3rd. Watch this space.

Now, hopefully, I can get back to doing some damn writing.

English Patch for first part of Monster Girl Quest, Chapter 2

2012-01-11T04:44:00.004Z

Hello, hello. I nearly missed this while I was distracted with all the plagiarism drama.

Someone's been busy...

Once again Luka finds himself in a sticky spot with the ladies...

Hat's off to RogueTranslator. He's already got the first third of Monster Girl Quest: Chapter 2 translated, right up to the lovely Undine above. You can get the patch here. You'll still need a copy of the original game, which can be purchased from here.

Follow-up on Robin Scott, Plagiarist

2012-01-07T18:47:00.005Z

Clicking on the amazon links in the post below now takes you to the lovely realm of amazon's 404, Not Found page. To their credit, amazon were very prompt in taking down the stolen work after I contacted them.

Sadly Robin Scott is still active--still tweeting on twitter, still posti...stealing stories. I know most of the other stories she has on amazon are taken from Literotica.com as well, but they're not my stories, so I can't do anything about it. It's up to the respective authors to take action. I did, however, take the liberty of contacting the authors whose work I recognised with details of what they needed to do... ;)

If you recognise one of her books as work you posted previously to Literotica, contact copyright@amazon.com with links to the stolen work, your story on Literotica and I also included a link to my author page as it shows the date when the story was first published online.

Anyway, hopefully that's the end of my involvement in this and I can get back to other things. Like this...

(Yes, I know you'd rather see Succubus Summoning 201...I'm getting there... ;) )

Another Plagiarist Scumbag: Robin Scott

2012-01-03T06:32:00.002Z

Oh well, I suppose it was inevitable it would happen. Someone has been swiping the free stories I put up on places like Literotica and StoriesOnline and trying to sell them as their own on amazon.com.

I’m not Robin Scott. I suspect Robin Scott isn’t Robin Scott. Succubus fans, if you’re tempted by “her” Halloween offerings, don’t bother. You’ve already read them.

Halloween Daily Short Story #1: Hollows Eve Succubus is A Succubus for Halloween.
Halloween Daily Short Story #2: Fuck the Flowers? is Don’t Fuck the Flowers.
Halloween Daily Short Story #3: Nÿte Nÿte Is Halloween Nÿte.
Halloween Daily Short Story #4: Red Light Halloween is Venus of the Red Lights.
Halloween Daily Short Story #6: A Succubus on Guard Duty is Guard Duty.
Halloween Daily Short Story #7: The Dance is Wrapdance.

If you also write and post stories on places like Literotica you might want to check her back catalogue to make sure your work hasn't been stolen.

I suppose I should treat it as a compliment that my stories are popular enough on places like Literotica for the unscrupulous to try and make a fast buck out of them. Still, it’s a horrible feeling to see a title, check the preview and realise someone has stolen your hard work. It’s like returning home to find you’ve been burgled. It’s not the value of the items taken, but the feeling of being soiled.

The value is negligible in this case anyway. Judging by the amazon rankings I haven’t lost much in the way of stolen sales. The nuisance comes from having to waste time chasing them off. "Guard Duty" and "Don’t Fuck The Flowers" are scheduled to appear in my next collection as part of a growing narrative. I don’t want to risk that, or future Succubus Summoning books, getting torpedoed by fans confused over original ownership or by the scam-artist getting cute on the legal side of things. I like posting work up for people to read for free and want to continue to do so, but this kind of bullshit is enough to make me wonder if that’s a wise strategy.

I’ll be contacting amazon to see if I can get the offending work taken down.

This is Robin Scott’s twitter link from her amazon site: @Erotica_scott. Feel free to register your displeasure and go all PennyArcade on her ass. These scumbags are a pox on readers and writers alike.

Numbers from a Newbie Writer's First Year

2011-12-31T22:02:00.005Z

Here's the latest post I put up on the Self-Publishing Revolution blog detailing how my first year as a self-published(ish) writer has gone. Thanks to everyone who supported me through buying my books and I hope you enjoyed them! More to come next year!

I had a nice early Christmas present when my third quarter royalties came through. I was expecting this to be fairly light, but it also included some October sales, which was when my third collection of short stories, A Succubus for Halloween, came out. The amount this quarter was $600, a nice little sum right before Christmas.

That takes my total profits, after taking out initial setup costs, author copies and seller’s/publisher’s cuts, to $1,300 for my first (kind of) year as a writer. Obviously this is nowhere near the same ballpark as self-publishing titans Amanda Hocking and Joe Konrath, but this is all money in the black, with the only outlay being my free time spent in an activity I enjoy doing anyway.

I put out three collections of short stories, with A Succubus for Christmas coming out October 2010, A Succubus for Valentine’s Day coming out February 2011 and A Succubus for Halloween arriving October 2011. Christmas and Valentine’s Day were originally priced at $5.99 and this was dropped to $3.99 about halfway in the year after eXcessica head honcho Selena Kitt did some experimenting on pricing. Christmas and Valentine’s Day sold just under 200 copies and Halloween just over 100, making 500 books (print + ebook) in total for the whole year. It’s a modest amount, but not bad considering collections of short stories rarely sell well and my subject matter is about as far from the mainstream as you can get! :)

More promising is the growth. Christmas and Valentine’s Day sold nearly 200 each over the whole year. Halloween came out at the end of the third week in October and my royalties run up until the end of October, which meant it managed those hundred-and-so sales in the first week. Baby steps, I know, but they’re going in the right direction.

Unsurprisingly, the lion’s share of these sales was through Amazon, but they are not the only game in town. I can understand why some might think Amazon’s current dominance is a cause for concern, but I suspect if Amazon really started to abuse that dominance to the detriment of writers and readers, they’d quickly find themselves outstripped by one of their competitors in the way Nintendo was usurped by Sony in the console wars of the ‘90’s. For the moment they’re fantastic and a budding writer would be foolish not to take advantage of what they have to offer.

Writers shouldn’t restrict themselves to only Amazon. Having their own webpage for direct sales can be very useful once they’ve built up a following. By promoting eXcessica’s coming soon link for A Succubus for Halloween heavily on my personal blog in the month leading up to its release I was able to generate 40 sales, nearly half of the total for that book, directly through eXcessica’s own store (which also took Halloween to the top of their bestsellers list, yay! Now if only I can match Selena’s sales out in the rest of the big bad world. :)).

For people looking to self-publish as a route to fame and riches, these numbers aren’t very exciting. If I was trying to make a living as a full-time professional writer, 500 sales and a return of $1,300 for the year would be horrifying. Thankfully I’m not, so I can feel chuffed about the numbers instead of worrying about what I’m going to live on next year.

Next year I plan to put out my first novel and a fourth collection of short stories. I don’t know where the path is going to take me, but it’s going to be fun to find out!

All the best for 2012!

Monster Girl Quest Ch.2 - A Review

2011-12-24T01:31:00.008Z

Hurrah for とろとろレジスタンス (hope I pasted the right characters there) and Monster Girl Quest Ch.2. Mention of that always triples the number of hits to my blog. :D

Now if only I could persuade all those people lured here like victims to the alluring, pulsing, moist sack of a pitcher plant girl to check out my stories...

Now that the shameless book-whoring is out of the way, let's get on with the review.

Monster Girl Quest is a hentai RPG game. You play Luka, a young man on a quest to bring peace and harmony to his world by slaying the evil Demon Monster Lord. His companion on this quest is Alice…the Demon Monster Lord.

The majority of the hentai comes from the combat encounters. Luka’s world is filled with monster girls, and all of them want to rape and do unmentionable sex things to the poor lad. Have Luka lose a fight (conveniently, the game makes this very easy with various assorted commands that exist purely to suicide poor Luka) and you’ll be treated to an ending scene where the monster girl gets to have her wicked way with the hapless hero. The game also features an unlockable encyclopedia of monsters encountered so far and gives the player the option to…erm…“battle” them again at different difficulty settings.

There are 85 encounters in the second chapter, each with one or more Game Over scenes. That’s a lot of choice and variety. As with the first chapter the creators have tried to cover just about every fetish imaginable (and a few you might never have known previously existed). The monsters vary from the traditional sexy humanoid types such as succubi, elves, fairies, cat girls…

Oh Alma Elma, we'd have such a future together if you didn't keep killing me...

…to some truly WTF! creations.

We strongly recommend your next action be "Guard".

The only true constant is they’re all female and have a pair (or more!) of boobies. As with the first chapter, the artwork is of varying quality, but some scenes, especially in the succubus village, have a lot more artwork per encounter than before.

While the number and variety of hentai scenes is impressive, the creators have also taken the time to make it a proper game with a decent storyline to stitch the fights together. This isn’t a visual novel where the only interactivity is clicking “Next Page” over and over. In the first chapter a lot of the fights were puzzles where the player had to work out which sequence of attack options to use. The second chapter adds extra complexity through the addition of elemental spirits Luka acquires on his quest. Refreshingly, the game steers clear of the clichéd elemental Jankenpon mechanic and instead each spirit gives Luka new abilities.

When summoned, Sylph allows Luka to dodge status changes and some OHKO attacks, while Gnome boosts defence and allows Luka to break restraints faster. Undine gives a kind of temporary invulnerability to most attacks and Salamander boosts attack and resets special points to full, but prevents Meditating to restore Hit Points while she’s out. The game compensates by making the encounters much harder. In the later battles Luka will need to summon Sylph and Gnome just to be able to fight normally. Failure to do so will result in being hit by restraint attacks he can’t break out of and special attacks that will defeat him in one hit.

The storyline continues the humour and strong characters of the first chapter. Luka is a decent and likable protagonist. Alice continues to be sarky and make fun of him at every opportunity, but it’s clear her respect and affection for him grows during the game. (Tip: Pay attention during the last fight otherwise you’ll need that box of tissues sitting next to you...and not in the way you thought!)

I played the game using AGTH and auto-translation software. It was enough to follow the action, but I suspect I missed a lot of the jokes and swipes at mainstream RPGs. Thankfully, RogueTranslator is working on putting together a full English translation. Progress on that can be followed at his blog here.

I love this game. Obviously I’m biased through my own predilections, but it’s great to see a piece of entertainment with porn as its raison d'être not take the lazy way out and actually aspire to have playability, plot and decent characterization as well as the obligatory Tits’n’Ass (or rather Tits’n’Orifices-of-questionable-function).

With around 9,000 downloads in the first week (9,000! Why am I wasting my time writing dusty old books!?), it’s also great to see the creators have been rewarded for their time and effort. Hopefully, its success will pave the way for other similar games in the future. It would be interesting to see the concept expanded to incorporate random battles or branching paths through the story.

I always did like those old game books… ;)

Monster Girl Quest: Chapter 2 is Out!

2011-12-17T04:54:00.005Z

I was going to do a "While you're waiting for Toro Toro to finish Chapter 2 of Monster Girl Quest, you might also be interested in..." post, but:

http://www.dlsite.com/ecchi-eng/work/=/product_id/RE087736.html

Yay!

For a detailed guide on how to understand what's going on if you (like me, sadly) can't read Japanese, there's my earlier post here. If you'd rather wait for a translated version, I'm sure the ever-busy RogueTranslator will be beavering away on it over the Xmas period. He has a blog now to keep people updated, which is here.

It's great to see the game has already sold nearly 2,000 copies (on the Japanese site) in the first couple of hours. It also makes me think I should really find a way to work some of my ideas into a game rather than only writing books (and maybe keeping Horror-head under tighter control!). :D

As usual I will attempt to ride on Alice's tail like a little remora freeloading scraps. If you like this game, I'm fairly sure you'll also enjoy my books. ;)

Anyway, I think I may be...uh...occupied for this evening.

For...ahem...research purposes. Obviously.

Feedback / Q'n'A for "A Succubus for Halloween"

2011-12-10T03:33:00.004Z

A Succubus for Halloween has been out for a month or so now. Thanks to everyone who bought it, I hope you enjoyed it.

I thought I'd use this post as a general request for feedback. Let me know your favourite/least favourite story from the collection and what you liked/didn't like. This will give me a chance to tighten the screws on my internal filth compass and make sure it's still pointing in the right direction.

I'm going to continue killing 80% of my protagonists off regardless of what's requested. It's an addicton, I can't help it. :D But I do want to make sure the stories are still sexy and entertaining, and I haven't been tempted down the dark and dangerous path of trying to write fancy-and-pretentious-like.

Also if you have any questions about any of the new stories fire away right here (or to my email address manyeyedhydraATgooglemail.com if you'd rather not comment in public).

Ta

A Thing of Subtle Beauty (Not!)

2011-12-03T02:44:00.006Z

Oh Anne Billson, you are such a tease. I saw a link titled Six Reasons Why The Thing Prequel Is Better Than John Carpenter’s 1982 Film and feared the worst. The film critic and horror author formerly known as Anne Billson must have been consumed, digested and copied by an alien shape-shifting horror. Fetch the flamethrower before it can infect others!

Then I read the article and all was right with the world.

I saw the film back around Halloween and as low as my expectations were, they were not low enough. My criticisms are the same as Billson’s—The needless introductory scene for Mary Elizabeth Winstead’s character, her cute-but-clever scientist character coming straight out of the big book of Hollywood monster movie stereotypes, the evil scientist dude from the same boring book of clichés, the bland CGI fx, and the many many moments of bone-headed stupidity.

The biggest shame is this wasn’t a case of They Just Didn’t Care. Someone went to a great deal of effort in recreating the look of the Norwegian camp from Carpenter’s film and explaining how the camp ended up as it did right down to an axe embedded in a wall. Unfortunately, it seems like all that care and attention was thrown out of the window when it came to the script.

aside

Hollywood, you need to value writers and storytellers. They’re the people that link the flashy CGI explosions and fx together in a way that makes sense to people with more than a two-minute attention span.

/aside

[Spoiler Alert!] The tooth-filling test is a nice idea, but it’s crying out to be subverted later in the film. Even if the Thing cannot duplicate inorganic material (but apparently always has a spare set of clothes on hand. Either that or it somehow managed to eat and copy Joel Edgerton’s character without shredding his woollies), it should be smart and amorphous enough to realise it needs to put the earrings and tooth fillings back in afterwards to beat the imperfect test.

The main strength of the Thing concept is no one knows who a Thing is. This would have been a perfect opportunity to ramp up the tension as the audience has their safe conclusions on who is or isn’t a Thing rudely shredded. In John W. Campbell’s original Who Goes There?, characters make an initial assumption a person attacking a Thing couldn’t be a Thing as a Thing wouldn’t attack another Thing. They’re wrong.

This also highlights John Carpenter’s genius. His 1982 The Thing is a much more faithful adaptation of Who Goes There? than the 1951 film. Most of his characters have the same names as in the book. Now, considering the main strength of the concept is no one knows who’s a Thing, this could be a serious drawback. If he follows the source material too closely, anyone familiar with the original is going to know all the twists.

So what does Carpenter (or Bill Lancaster, the man responsible for the screenplay) do, he shuffles the characters around. This is best exemplified in the blood test set piece, where Kurt Russell’s MacReady has the rest of the crew tied to a bench as he tries to establish who’s a Thing. MacReady’s sure it’s the station commander Garry, the audience thinks it’s probably Garry, anyone who’s read the book knows damn well it’s Garry. So they sit there with a smug smile on their face as the film attempts to build tension.

Windows…MacReady…Copper…Clark…Palmer…What The Fuck!

Take that Mr Smug, I-Know-The-Original Man. They’re even more blind-sided than the regular viewer!

The remake should have aimed for that spirit. Instead it retreads the set pieces from the 1982 version and plays them straight, failing to realise that completely diminishes their effectiveness. If you only watch American films and love monster movies, these are very lean times indeed as Hollywood seems to have forgotten or lost the people who knew how to make horror click.

One day I will write my pornified homage to The Thing. I already have the rules for the monster sketched out in my head. It will work and there will be rational explanations for the gratuitous amounts of sex. If you thought "The Orgy of the Pink Flesh" was squicky…

A loss of one of Britain's under-appreciated film directors

2011-11-29T04:29:00.006Z

It’s a sign I’m getting old when the authors and filmmakers that inspired me as a youth are exiting this world. Last week we lost the Grand Dragon-lady of Pern, Anne McCaffrey. This week one of Britain’s more flamboyant and iconoclastic film directors, Ken Russell, died at the age of 84. Sadly, his vision and talent never really found a home in either Hollywood or the British film industry, and he struggled to find funding in his later years.

While best known for The Devils and the Oscar-winning Woman in Love, which earned Russell a nomination for Best Director, I’ll always have a soft spot for his campy cult horror classics Gothic and The Lair of the White Worm. Here’s a clip of the delectable Amanda Donohoe vamping it up as Lady Sylvia Marsh in the latter film (won't allow me to embed unfortunately):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZK61O6H3E9s

If you ever wondered how the characters in my stories "Naga Special Massage" and "Naga Massage Review" got their names, now you know.

Fun Things to do on a Black Friday

2011-11-26T02:17:00.003Z

We don’t have Black Friday in Britain. The term confused me for a while as Black [Insert Weekday] in Britain is used for points in history when whatever moron we had for a chancellor at the time spunked millions (or billions) of pounds up a wall. I suppose the nearest equivalent we do have is the Boxing Day sales after Christmas.

I’m a bad person. Ok, that’s a lie. I’m a good person, probably boring by most people’s standards, but I do have bad bad thoughts.

After reading about the scrums, crushes and even shoppers using pepper spray on each other, impish little ideas started to germinate in my corroded black cortex. Wouldn’t it be fun to go to one of these stores, where people have been queuing outside all night and are grumpy and sleep-deprived, and hand out swords and maces like a regular Leland Gaunt. Out of idle curiosity…to see what happens next…

Hopefully, nobody actually died today, otherwise this blog post might be rather inappropriate.

I think I’d find it hard to be too sympathetic. All death is ignoble, but being trampled in a stampede to get the latest Playstation for a hundred dollars less has to be one of the more depressing and pointless ways to exit this earth. I’m being a curmudgeony young fart, I know, but pictures of mobs bulldozing into stores, their eyes lit up with naked greed at the thought of the bargains inside, highlight a side of human nature that’s a little unseemly to me. Kind of like Reality TV shows.

Anyway, how about this lovely--and very sharp--little sword…?

I’m a bad bad person.

Making my own personal NaNoWriMo

2011-11-23T02:21:00.002Z

November is turning out to be one of those months. Certain projects (curse my atrophied artistic skills) are stubbornly refusing to get finished. I think I'll run from the official NaNoWriMo and make December my own personal NaNoWriMo instead.

A week or so of clearing out the nagging remnants of old projects and then 50,000 words of juicy Succubus Summoning here we come!

Some Naughty Little Bondage Elves For Christmas

2011-11-16T03:13:00.002Z

The season of new manyeyedhydra stories is not quite over. Literotica have kicked off their Winter Holidays competition and I have a runner. Because it's the season of goodwill, blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., I did the usual thing and entered a nasty horror story with lashings of gratuitous and inappropriate sex.

You might never look at Santa the same way ever again:

"What Bad Boys Get For Christmas."

Perfect bedtime reading for unruly children...

Bad Horror-Head! Get back in your cave!

With another anthology opportunity/deadline presenting itself and my glacial art skills leaving the cover for Succubus Summoning 101 still at the top of the Urgently To Do list, this is a bad month to attempt NaNoWriMo. I think I'll set myself my own personal NaNoWriMo from Mid-Nov to Mid-Dec to see if I would have achieved it with a clear run right from the start.

Don't Judge a Game by the Cover: Catherine

2011-11-12T20:40:00.004Z

A little tale. I was in my local video games store. They’re a small store, so they tend to only stock the latest AAA titles. I was surprised to see Catherine sitting on the shelf. Catherine is an odd little Japanese game made by Atlus, the same people that did the Persona series. I’d been interested in picking it up, but had resigned myself to having to order it through Amazon or someone like that as my local games shop is useless and only stocks the latest slick-but-empty titles from Activision/EA.

I mentioned my surprise to the girl behind the counter.

“Oh, that one’s been popular. There are not many games for girls.”

Feeling my manliness being called into question, I of course responded with:

“Um. It’s a horror game.”

Doubtful glance from girl behind counter.

“A pair of girls bought a copy yesterday.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a horror game,” I said rather feebly as I handed over my money.

I don’t think she believed me.

It’s understandable as the cover looks like this:

But the game is actually this:

The uh-thing is firing pink hearts out of its mouth. I guess that’s girly. Right?

Despite the titillating nature of the promotional material, another reviewer summed it up correctly by describing it as an adult game without being an “adult” game. This isn’t Monster Girl Quest. It is, however, completely bonkers and a lot of fun. Well worth checking out. I'm also glad to see it's sold a lot as well, this bodes well for a future where oddball games can exist.

And Catherine, the character, is completely adorable, even if she is a [Spoilers!]

(Oh, and I know the concept of girl’s games and boy’s games is/should be an anachronism in this day and age, but you know what I mean--I hope!)

I'm on Goodreads

2011-11-09T01:48:00.004Z

Goodreads is kind of like a Facebook for readers/writers. I set up an account a while back, but it was classed as a reader account and didn't link to my books because I'd used "M. E." as the first name rather than "M.E.". Ah, CompSci string matching. Anyway, I set up an author page over the weekend, which is here.

I'm not sure how I'm going to use it just yet, but I'm sure it will come in useful at some point.

I might move onto other social media at some point for the filthy book plugging. I tried with Facebook a while back, but it seemed a little finicky when I tried to create a page for this pseudonym rather than the real actual me, and given Facebook's inconsistent approach to what should remain hidden, I really don't want to risk the separate identities being linked!
Until we've finished absorbing and assimilating this foolish human. Hssss...
Of course there's always FetLife, but I'm a little scared of the girls my stories might attract... :)

Succubus Summoning NaNoWriMo

2011-11-05T18:26:00.001Z

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is an annual writing competition to encourage people to quit procrastinating and finally focus their energies to spit that novel out. It’s a simple goal – write 50,000 words in the month of November.

I’ve been wanting to give it a go for a couple of years, but in the past I’ve been too busy finishing up final edits for anthologies and panicking about deadlines to take best advantage of it. Technically, this year is no different. I still have the cover/final tweaks to finish on Succubus Summoning 101 and need to finish two stories for a fourth collection. Then I thought, what the heck, I’ll sign up anyway. I might not get to 50,000, but if I get a good chunk of a novel idea done it will have achieved its purpose.

I also have an outstanding writing project that could use a little push to get over the edge. It’s time to finally drag Succubus Summoning 201 off the backburner and continue Phil’s (mis)adventures.

All Hallow's Read: The First Time

2011-11-01T04:04:00.003Z

A little later than planned, but here's the brand new story I promised to post for All Hallow's Read. It goes without saying that the language gets a little fruity later on. If you're not an adult, begone now. If you are, don't be reading this anywhere the boss might see. ;)

Happy Halloween and enjoy!

* * * * * * *

The First Time

JT Suggs left the note on the counter and walked out of the house. He walked past nice but bland suburban houses as he left his quiet cul-de-sac and turned down the road that led into the centre of town. He walked down leafy lanes alongside a seldom-used railway line. In the centre, opposite the shining glass edifice of the local Tesco supermarket, he hopped on a bus to the neighbouring, bigger town. At the main bus station there he caught another bus that was heading out to an anonymous district on the fringe of the town centre. He didn't have a map; he'd already memorized the route after looking it up on the internet.

JT's heart thudded in his chest as took his seat on the second bus. He trembled with a barely suppressed cocktail of excitement and trepidation. He'd been struggling to keep it all in since he'd made that phone call at lunchtime and been aroused by the seductive, velvet voice he'd heard on the other end.

He was finally going to do it.

The bus reached his stop. He got out, walked down the busy street, turned left and then left again, entering a plain little back street. He identified the door right away. The number was painted on the burgundy surface in white paint. The door was slightly ajar.

JT's heart pounded in his ears.

He walked right by, continuing almost to the point where the side street opened out into the main thoroughfare again. He turned around, walked back, passed the slightly ajar door again.

Yes or no? He wasn't forced to. He could walk back to the stop, catch the bus and return home.

No! He was fed up of having it hanging over him.

Heart pounding, pulse pumping, hands trembling, JT walked up to the door, drew in a deep breath, pushed it open and stepped inside. A small hallway led to a staircase and then up to another short corridor that terminated in a plain white door with an intercom on the wall next to it. Pictures on the walls of beautiful models with come-hither eyes and dressed only in skimpy underwear gave more of an indication of this establishment's function.

JT pressed a button on the intercom. He heard a buzzing sound and a click as the door was unlocked from the other side. The door swung open and JT was greeted by an attractive, busty girl wearing nothing but a skimpy black negligee. Very busty, JT thought, unable to stop his gaze slipping down to the impressive curves of her chest.

"Welcome to Sinful Delights," the girl said. She smiled at JT.

JT mumbled back. His tongue felt like it had swelled up to twice its size and soaked up all the moisture in his mouth. He followed the girl inside.

Beyond both the exterior and interior door, the massage parlour saw no need to mask its presence anymore. JT walked into an open room with a leather sofa against one wall and a stripper's pole in the corner. The walls were decorated with lurid neon tubes twisted into 'XXX' signs and the outlines of sexy devil girls. The room was dim and everything was tinged red in the low light.

Two girls sat on the sofa. One was a blonde with long silky hair and a frilly white blouse, the other was an extremely busty girl with flame-red hair. The redhead wore a tight-fitting, shiny black PVC catsuit. All three girls looked like they'd stepped fresh from the set of a high-class porn flick.

JT had a mental checklist of items that needed to be satisfied for him to go through with this. One of them was the girl needed to have a minimum standard of good looks. If he was going to pay for it, it had to be with a girl he wouldn't be ashamed of picking up in a meat market after a night on the pull.

JT didn't pick up girls at the local meat market after a night on the pull. He wouldn't be here if he could. The principle was still the same. If he wouldn't be interested in the girl if they met under disco lights, why would he want to pay for it with her?

All three were way hotter than any girl he'd have a chance of speaking to under disco lights.

Check.

"I'm Sally," the girl who'd led him in said. "This is Mint and Asami," she gestured first to the blonde and then the redhead. "We're all available at the moment."

Both Mint and Asami smiled at JT. Their full, glossy lips glistened in the low red light.

That was another checkbox on JT's list. He wanted the girl to seem interested. He didn't want anyone who looked bored, disinterested or miserable.

The two girls pouted seductively at JT and pushed out their chests, accentuating their already impressive busts.

JT gulped.

Check!

"Who would you like?" Sally asked.

JT honestly didn't know. He thought this part would be straightforward. There'd be one girl that ticked his boxes and he'd pick her. He hadn't expected to find three girls way way better than his expectations. What did he want? Sweet, filthy, girlfriend experience, porn star... He hadn't given it much more thought than getting laid. Maybe they had specialities he could ask about? JT paused while he tried to make up his mind.

"I'll take him," Asami said, standing up from the sofa.

Wasn't he supposed to make that choice? JT thought. He didn't complain, though, as Asami took his hand and led him through a door at the back of the room. She was fucking hot. And kind of kinky in her shiny, tight black PVC.

Intimidating, but kinky.

More importantly, she looked like she knew what she was doing. Given his inexperience, it might be best if the girl took the upper hand. Asami looked like a girl who liked to take the upper hand.

She led him up some stairs--JT admired the shiny curve of her ass--and into an intimate bedroom. Like the room downstairs, the bedroom had been decorated as a neon temple to seedy pleasures. Dim lighting illuminated the psychedelic swirls on the walls. The 'bed' was a transparent orange plastic inflatable that looked somewhere in between a mattress and a beanbag.

"How long?" Asami asked in a velvet voice.

"Uh?"

JT was too busy staring at her vinyl-covered body. She was hot. Really fucking hot. Beneath the gleaming curves of her bosom her body tapered down to a perfect wasp waist and then swelled back out into a luscious ass on top of long, lithe legs. Her PVC catsuit clung to her like a second skin and gleamed in the low light. This was his fantasy. In flesh.

"It's fifty pounds for half an hour, seventy-five for the full hour," Asami said.

JT realised it was the same velvet voice he'd heard on the phone earlier that day.

"Um, sorry," JT said. "Can we start with half an hour and see how it goes?" he asked.

"Of course," Asami said.

She switched on a stereo and the quiet strains of some kind of goth electronica with haunting female vocals added to the background ambience.

"I'm not...very experienced at this," JT said.

Asami looked him up and down.

"First time," she said.

Was it that obvious? Yeah, JT supposed it was. Twenty-three, and still obviously a virgin. Still obviously a loser.

He nodded.

"You'll be fine." The smile she gave him was pure filth. "Now take off your clothes."

JT kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt.

"I didn't think I'd end up doing this," JT said. "Paying for it."

He dropped his trousers and stepped out of them.

"I'm not a heartthrob, I know that, but I thought I'd find someone. Everyone finds someone."

He'd thought that. Two years at a sixth form college, three years as an undergraduate, and now two years into his post-graduate studies hadn't borne it out.

He unbuttoned his shirt. Asami didn't offer any comments. She watched him with an amused smile on her face and a latex-gloved hand resting against her slinky hips.

"It's not the embarrassment, or the jokes, or the sense of missing out," JT explained.

Although they did get fucking annoying--and old--very quickly.

"I'm scared I'm going to meet this girl, and she's going to be just right, perfect and everything, and then we're going to go to bed together, and I'm going to fuck it all up and be all crap because I haven't had sex before, and that girl--someone I really like--is going to be gone when I wake up the next morning."

He took off the rest of his clothes.

"Does it sound bad if I say I'm doing this for practise?" he asked.

She probably thought he sounded like a loser, but was too interested in his money to let it show.

Asami's gaze dipped down to JT's crotch. She moistened her lips with her tongue.

She looked keen. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected someone a bit more...detached. Professional. Fucking loads of different blokes all the time must get old quick; he was under no illusions there. While he would have liked to have found a prostitute that was girlfriend and porn star all rolled into one, his little checkbox was more prosaic: Gives it more enthusiasm than a corpse.

Asami definitely showed enthusiasm in her bright brown eyes. He could almost kid himself she wanted him. She must be a good actor, or maybe he was letting his own wishful desires superimpose thoughts and emotions that weren't really there.

She was still fully dressed.

"What about you?" he asked.

Her PVC catsuit looked damn hot, but it was going to make intercourse difficult, and that was what JT was here for, to get his damn cherry popped. He wasn't going to be fobbed off with a handjob, blowjob, or any of the other tricks.

"I want to go the whole way," he said.

That was another checkbox--nothing less than full vaginal intercourse. The cherry WAS going.

"You do, do you," Asami said. Her brown eyes twinkled and her moist red lips curled up in a sultry smile.

She reached between her legs and pulled down a zip, exposing the shaved valley of her sex to JT. He saw the folds of her sex--light pink on the outside and darker on the inside.

Blood rushed to his temples. He felt a little dizzy. He was going to do it. He was actually going to do it.

Asami found another zipper just below her neck. She pulled it down, exposing first the shadowy crease of her cleavage, and then pulling it further and further down, revealing more and more of the soft swell of her breasts. Free of the constraints of her tight bodysuit, they looked even bigger. The opened V of her outfit was deep enough to expose the pink circles of her nipples.

Wow. What a body, JT thought.

"Do you like what you see?" Asami pushed the soft pink curves of her boobs together.

"Yea-eah," JT replied.

He couldn't take his eyes off them. What the hell was a girl like this doing stuck in a place like this?

"I can see," Asami smirked as she glanced down at his crotch.

JT looked down. Of course he had a noticeable stiffy.

Asami took two brisk strides, placed her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards. JT fell right into the big, see-through mattress-cum-beanbag thing. It was squishy, but dry squishy. The surface felt like soft, smooth rubber and it was quite comfortable to lie in.

Asami didn't waste any time. She'd already climbed on top to straddle him. One gloved hand pressed down on JT's chest while the other reached down to stroke his twitching hard-on.

"Shouldn't I be wearing a cond--"

He didn't get a chance to finish. Asami positioned the swollen head of his cock at the entrance to her vagina and pushed her hips down, sliding his whole length inside her. She pouted her moist porn star lips and made sultry moans of pleasure as she swallowed him.

JT felt the silky smooth lining of her pussy slide against his unprotected dick. He felt pressure as her tight vaginal walls squeezed up around him. He'd barely been able to contain his excitement since entering the massage parlour and this sensation was far too much. He closed his eyes, released a little sigh and felt his hips give an involuntary twitch as he popped and spunked cum inside her.

Oh, that felt good, JT thought.

Oh, was that it?

He'd come so quickly. This was why he'd decided to give up and pay for it. How crap would it be if he'd performed like this with a girl he really loved? She'd never get into bed with him again.

"Sorry," he said. Even if Asami was a hooker, it still felt appropriate.

She paused on top of him. Her spine was arched back and up, with her head tilted to the ceiling. Her big round boobs were pushed out above JT's chest. She held that pose and JT felt a cold flash of alarm. He'd just spunked his load right up inside her pussy. Without a rubber johnny. He didn't think he was allowed to do that.

Was she going to go all ape-shit crazy on him?

No. She looked down at him with a vulpine smile on her full red lips.

"You don't need to apologise," she said, all velvet and cream. "Not at all."

She shifted position on top of him, keeping his still hard dick deep inside her. The soft, fleshy entrance to her cunt squeezed around the base of his cock, holding him in place. Deeper inside her, the moist walls of her vagina throbbed and pulled on his dick. Whoa, could girls do that? Her pussy was sucking on his cock and it felt about a million times better than his hand had ever done.

"We've only just started," Asami said.

Her eyes changed colour. Her hazel irises became red rings, as if they'd been injected with blood. The pale pink of her overflowing breasts darkened, becoming redder.

What?

She dropped down on top of him and murmured sweet pleasures as she squashed the great soft mounds of her boobs against his naked chest and rubbed them against him. The strong musky scent of her perfume settled over him like a blanket. Her arms slid under his back and she embraced him tightly. Her body was hot--not in the metaphorical sense, but real actual heat hot. Her thighs gripped and squeezed his sides. She rolled her hips against him, rubbing the silky smooth walls of her pussy against the still swollen head of his cock.

Her heat and scent were stifling. Before JT could question what was happening, she pressed her soft lips against his mouth in a scorching kiss.

Her breath felt like flames streaming into his body. Her fire found something combustible within JT and ignited it. Even though he'd just come, he felt he could go again and again and again. Blood boiled through his veins. It felt like a head of steam was building in his testicles and they ached from the mounting pressure.

Her vagina coerced him with teasing little squeezes. Her moist walls gripped him--tugged, sucked. JT's muscles tensed. He was coming. Again. Already. He gasped into her kiss and his hips twitched as he released the pressure into the welcoming clasp of her sex.

Uh. So good, but intense enough to scare him.

Asami broke off the kiss with an orgiastic sigh of pleasure. She tipped her head back and JT saw she wasn't just a wanton hooker, she was a devil. His eyes widened.

Her complexion had darkened to red. She still had the same gorgeous, glamour puss face and porn star pout, but her skin was as red as blood. Her irises glowed like hot coals. Horns curled down through her tangle of flame-red hair. Beyond her shoulders JT saw the black leathery sheets of her folded up wings.

He was fucking a devil.

A devil was on top of him and fucking him.

Wisps of white vapour danced between her glossy red lips. She sucked them down with an ecstatic sigh.

"Delicious," she purred.

JT saw the same wisps escaping his own mouth. It was from him. She was gulping down him.

Then she was lying back down on top of him again--warm pillows of her breasts pressing against him, hot lips wrapped around his. The fires burned higher in JT, fanned by her lust. He couldn't do anything. He was overwhelmed by the urge to fuck, fuck, fuck. He started to thrust his hips back at her, aided by the springy rubber mattress beneath him, wanting to push his cock deeper into the fleshy pit of her sex.

Asami gave another sultry moan. Her soft vagina bunched up around the root of his cock and rolled up the shaft in an irresistible, tugging suction. JT's muscles clenched again and he felt his cock swell inside her as he spurted another full load of cum into her hungry pussy.

Lost in the throes of an even stronger orgasm, JT opened his mouth and let loose a gasp. Asami placed her hands on either side of his head and let her lips form a seal around his. She caught the vapour escaping from JT and drew it into her body.

She was burning him up.

Burning him out.

He couldn't stop. The fire was out of control, tearing through his body. He was fuel and she was going to consume him until he was completely spent.

Asami broke off the kiss with another euphoric sigh.

"Yes, I think I'll slurp you all up," she said.

She looked down at JT and gave him a vulpine smile.

"It's not often we get to fully consume one of our guests. Too noticeable if too many men disappear. So we take a little portion of their sexual energy and let them leave none the wiser."

She ran a black-gloved finger down JT's chest.

"Such light snacks are so unsatisfying," she said. "Sometimes we treat ourselves to a proper meal. The occasional man can go missing without any suspicion arising. No one will know."

She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved on top of him with smooth thrusts of her hips. The full red globes of her overflowing breasts bobbed up and down. JT felt the wet friction of her hot vaginal walls as his cock moved back and forth inside her.

"You're my feast and I'm going to enjoy you to the full," Asami purred.

"Someone will know," JT said.

More white vapour escaped from between his lips and Asami drew it into her body with a sultry sigh. He felt the same plumes escape through his penis as the succubus--she could be nothing else--gave his member another soft squeeze with her vagina and sucked another long ejaculation from his body. She took his vitality with it. He had no strength to resist. The heat of her body wrapped around him sapped out all his fight and he sank deeper into the soft rubber mattress.

"No one ever tells a soul when they go to visit a prostitute," she laughed. "Now lie back and enjoy your final moments. All our men do."

The room was darkening. There was a sulphurous odour in the air that mingled with the twin pungent aromas of her sex and perfume. The music was gone and instead JT thought he heard flames roaring off in the distance. And screams. Many countless screams.

"I did," he said, little more than a wheeze. "I left a note. On the counter at home. Just in case."

Asami stopped. Her lush lips narrowed into a frown. She gripped the sides of his head and forced him to look straight up into her burning eyes. Her gaze filled his world. It swallowed him whole and violated the hidden and secret corners of his soul.

The corner of her lips turned up in a little half-smile.

"So you did," she said. "What a clever cautious boy."

JT shuddered as the soft smothering walls of her vagina relaxed and released his organ. The flow of his essence into her black womb was cut off. The sudden removal of the pleasure she'd caused him felt as bad as a kick to his groin.

"How disappointing," the succubus said. "If I don't let you return home a number of irritating persons are sure to visit here and ask a lot of inconvenient questions. I can't allow that. My sisters would be most displeased with me."

Her finger traced circles around his nipple.

"Lucky boy. It seems I must content myself with a snack after all."

She pursed her lips together and blew JT a kiss. Her breath expanded out into a spectral pink heart that enveloped JT's face. It streamed up his nostrils and settled within the hidden lobes and folds of his brain. She used it to work on the substance of his mind--breaking some connections, rewiring others; gently shaping and remoulding his memories as it suited her.

* * * *

JT thought he'd feel more elated.

It had been good, he thought as sat on the bus home. At least he'd thought it had been good. The intensity of the memory had already faded to a kind of haze. It didn't matter. He'd done it. He'd finally had sex--paid-for-sex, but sex nonetheless. That damn cherry was no longer hanging over him.

Strangely he felt a little empty, hollow even. There was a nagging feeling he'd lost something without being aware of what it was. Stupid guilt, probably.

He got home and saw the handwritten note he'd left on top of the kitchen counter. It had the address of the massage parlour. He'd left it for his mother in case 'something' happened to him and he didn't get back before she finished work. He didn't know what that 'something' might be other than massage parlours were illicit and vaguely criminal and it would be best to be on the safe side just in case he ended up being drugged, abducted and having his kidneys removed for the black market.

It was silly, really. Of course nothing had happened. This was the real world, not a stupid gangster flick. He should have been more worried about his bus getting stuck in traffic, or his mother finishing work unexpectedly early and getting back before him. That would have left him with some awkward and extremely embarrassing questions to answer.

Smiling, JT crumpled up the useless note and tossed it into the bin.

THE END

A Succubus for All Hallow's Read

2011-10-29T18:45:00.004+01:00

This is a brilliant idea from Neil Gaiman. Give someone a scary book this Halloween. I love it. Anything that encourages more people to read is always good.

In a very brief moment of insanity I did think about leaving one of my anthologies in the book cupboard at work. Then I thought it through. The upside is I’d have a lot more time for writing. The downside is I’d probably starve to death after about a month.

I also thought about getting involved by giving away some copies of A Succubus for Halloween, but I felt it would be a slap in the face to the long-time fans that supported me by buying the book on the first day it came out (and taking me to the top of the bestsellers list on eXcessica’s own website—thanks!).

In the horror world I’m still plankton (or maybe single-celled algae), so I have to start off small. Maybe one day I’ll grow big enough to give whole books away. In the meantime I’ve got a nice compromise that should please everyone.

For All Hallow’s Read I’ll put a brand new short story up here on my blog on Halloween*. Yep, check back on Monday, October 31st and there’ll be a brand new never-before-seen tale of spooky succubus fun.

And if you want to get involved, please feel free to pass out extra copies of “A Succubus for Halloween” to friends, family, outside schools—

HORRORHEAD! Bad Head! Down! Get back in your dark cave, now!

Check back here on the 31st. ;)

*Bear in mind I’m chronically bad with deadlines so it might appear late Monday night or sometime Tuesday.

The Tidal Wave of Choice and a Deceptive Cover

2011-10-27T05:47:00.002+01:00

More tubthumping from The Self-Publishing Revolution. My scheduled monthly post ended up being a real bitch to write so I'm doubling it up here to fill in for my usual Tuesday/Wednesday/uh Thursday? slot.

One of the fears about the rise in ebooks and self-publishing is that the world will be buried in a tidal wave of crap writing. It’s a familiar argument—there will be so many bad Twilight knockoffs and other rubbish uploaded to Amazon no one will be able to find anything worth reading amongst the great steaming piles of ordure.

It’s one way of looking at it. Personally, I think it’s just as easy to turn it around and see the positive aspects.

The problem when creativity is commodified is that the bottom line suddenly becomes the number one consideration. It’s not enough to be good; if someone has stumped up cash in advance, they’ll want to see a return on their investment, which means the work needs to be both good and popular (or failing that, just popular, hey, Hollywood ;) ). I suspect more than a few writers have run into, “It’s good, but we don’t think there’s a big enough audience”, before the gate slammed down on their foot. As a result niche, interesting, challenging is often overlooked in favour of safe, bland, reliable (Hey, hello Hollywood! ;) ).

The beauty with ebooks and self-publishing is that the initial outlays are so small. Writers can take risks. Even if they only find a niche audience appreciative of their work, that’s still profit (providing you don’t think too hard about the time spent creating and polishing your work!). It’s also good for readers. Yes, there are going to be a lot of bad books that shouldn’t have seen the light of day (and these too might find fans—taste is subjective), but there are also going to be a lot of quirky, interesting books that might not have made it out of the slush pile under the old system. Personally, I think more choice is better than less choice.

Take short stories. I love short stories, especially horror stories. Mainstream publishing houses seldom publish short story collections. They don’t sell very well. There was even a recent tweetathon to save the short story.

I’ve put out three collections of short stories. They haven’t found a massive audience, but they have been found by readers who’ve enjoyed them a great deal. Publishers have to worry about the cost of print runs and marketing budgets. I don’t. I’m free to write what I want. It doesn’t take many sales to cover the initial costs and everything after that is gravy. That’s good for me, good for the readers who like my writing, and good for short stories, as there are plenty of bloody-minded fools like me that still enjoy writing them.

I suppose this would be the appropriate point for the blatant book plug:

I love the cover Selena and the people at eXcessica came up with. It’s totally inappropriate. This is either the darkest collection of erotica you’re likely to read this Halloween, or the most twisted, sexy-perverse collection of horror tales you’re likely to read this Halloween. Someone is going to pick up this book thinking it’s another cutesy paranormal romance with fashion-conscious demonesses, and get the shock of their lives.

I’m more in love with that idea than I should be. I can’t help it. I’m a horror writer. We want to scare people. It’s in the blood. While marketing-types would be aghast, I’m sitting here and grinning like a Cheshire Cat as I go, “open it… open it…”

It’s Halloween. I’m going to have fun. Bottom line be damned.

Enjoy the book. She’s as cute and adorable as her cover. Honest… ;)

A Succubus for Halloween is out!

2011-10-22T02:28:00.004+01:00

She's out in the wild and eager to snare fresh prey with her seductive wiles:

My third collection of short stories is available to buy from eXcessica, amazon, smashwords, B & N and others. And if you'd prefer a more tangible copy, the print version is also available from CreateSpace (and probably amazon too, shortly).

So go on, enjoy a slice of darker erotica this Halloween...

A Succubus for Halloween: The New Flesh

2011-10-20T04:48:00.003+01:00

Only a few days to go before my third collection of short stories, A Succubus for Halloween, hits the online streets. I’ve talked before about trying to find a balance between posting stories up on the internet for all to read and holding some back to sell ebooks (which is good, as it incentivises me to write more stories). There are five brand new, previously unseen stories in A Succubus for Halloween. I’ve posted some excerpts over the past couple of weeks, now here are a few summaries to raise the excitement level.

Cleric vs. Succubus

Most of the stories are contemporary this time around, but I did include this tasty little historical piece. A luxurious Roman bath becomes a deadly battleground as a holy man fights for his soul against the seductive wiles of a rapaciously erotic succubus.

Oil-Wrestling a Succubus

Splash on some oil as it’s time for some kinky grappling with a lithe little hellcat. With succubi it’s always that kind of wrestling, but don’t expect her to fight fair.

I thought it was about time I covered the femdom wrestling fetish and this story gave me a perfect excuse. There’s also an interesting little scene for those that like to follow the tidbits of continuity I bury in my stories.

Shrimp and the Crab-Centaur Girls

In H-Space, beware the girls with multiple legs and pussy lips that can swallow a man whole…

This one’s insane. One for the voreaphiles to appreciate (I haven’t forgotten you) while everyone else can scratch their heads and wonder why I’m still allowed to roam the streets. If you like crazy Japanese anime, this might tickle your bits.

Serving the Earth Mother

The sultry witch, Annette Brite, lures a young couple into an obscene arcane ritual.

Every good horror film or book needs moments. These are the set pieces that stick in the memory and everyone talks about afterwards. The plot of this story is one such moment. You’ll understand what I mean after you read the story and attempt to describe it to someone else.

Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.

It’s the penultimate story of the collection. It’s there for a reason. By this point the reader is probably thinking the stories can’t possibly get any darker or crazier.

They can and do.

Which leaves the last tale:

A Halloween Party with a Succubus

Fans of the lovely Nicole can rejoice. This is the all-new story featuring her.

She escorts a doctor to a Halloween reunion party where old resentments bubble under the surface. Nicole is not afraid of a little bit of exhibitionism, so the good doctor is in for a livelier night out than he first thought!

There’re these and a few old favourites, all wrapped up in the darkest, weirdest, most insane collection of horror erotica you’re likely to find this Halloween.

"Strange Love" anthology out this week

2011-10-15T03:41:00.005+01:00

October is certainly shaping up to be an active month for me. Strange Love, the fourth of the four anthologies eXcessica puts out every year to raise funds, is out today and features one of my stories: "A Summer Dance with a Succubus".

"A Summer Dance with a Succubus" features a young man being accompanied to a summer dance by the gorgeous and mysterious Nicole. It's one of my favourites out of the stories I've written. Mainly because everything dropped nicely into place as I was writing it. Winning me most of my kindle by placing in an online competition also helps!

Longtime readers will probably already be familiar with this story. I'm hoping that having it appear in this anthology will introduce the story to a wider audience that aren't familiar with my work.

And vice versa. If you've ever wondered what the other eXcessica authors get up to, here's a chance to pick up a sample of their work and maybe find someone new to read.

Strange Love - shapeshifters, genies, robots and other strangeness. Out today.

A Succubus for Halloween: Excerpt IV

2011-10-12T04:34:00.002+01:00

Continuing with the excerpts, here's the lovely Nicole being very naughty (naughty as in if you're not 18, scram!) in "A Halloween Party with a Succubus."

* * * *

They stood outside on a wide balcony overlooking the park behind the house. It was quiet out here. Everyone else was back inside in the light and the noise of the party. Robert took a sip of beer and leant on the balustrade. He stared down at the trees below.

“Is everything okay?” Nicole asked. She put an arm around him.

“It was a mistake bringing you here,” Robert said.

“Oh,” Nicole said. She sounded hurt. “Did I do something wrong.”

“No, not you,” Robert said quickly, alarmed he might have hurt her feelings. “Them.” He nodded towards the light and noise of the party.

He paused.

“No. Me. What was I trying to prove? All I’ve done is expose you to their sniggers and snide remarks. I can hear them. They never did learn to talk quietly. Some of the things they’re saying about you...” Robert shook his head. “It’s not right, whatever your job and background are.”

Nicole looked back at the bright lights of the house. A muted babble of conversation and loud braying laughter could be heard on the other side of the windows.

“They’re not very nice people, are they,” she commented.

Robert paused. He hadn’t wanted to admit it himself.

“No, they’re not,” he said. “Aldrich was that kind of school. I was hoping the years might have changed them, but no, Aldrich is that kind of school.”

He plonked his half-drunk bottle of beer on the stone balustrade.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We don’t have to stay around here and listen to them snigger behind our backs. There’s a pub not far from Josef Schwarz with much better company.”

Nicole’s hand was in his. He turned to walk away, but Nicole didn’t follow. Instead she pulled him back with startling force.

Robert barely had a chance to register his surprise before her arms enfolded him in an embrace and her soft lips pressed against his. Her lips were moist and lusciously soft. A warm buzz flowed through Robert as she pressed them against his. She wrapped her arms around him and pushed her body up against him. A jolt ran through Robert’s body as she wriggled against his crotch.

She broke off the kiss and Robert blinked as he looked at her smiling face. That had been unexpected.

Still smiling, Nicole backed away and twisted from side to side, dancing to a rhythm only she could hear as she crouched down lower and lower. Robert shivered as she pressed a palm against his groin and rubbed. Robert’s member, already slightly engorged, swelled up to full hardness.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Nicole gave him a whimsical smile before grasping the zipper of his fly and pulling it down.

“Something fun,” she said.

She reached into his trousers.

“But they’ll see,” Robert hissed.

The drapes were all pulled back. There was only glass separating them from the party guests.

“I want them to see,” Nicole said. Her smile matched the horns on her head.

“Why?” Robert asked. He trembled as she extricated his throbbing erection and brought it out into the cool October air. “Isn’t this confirming—”

Robert was cut off mid-sentence—mid-thought even—as Nicole kissed the tip of his cock with her soft lips and then sucked, taking in his full length right down to his balls. He leant back against the stone balustrade and closed his eyes as Nicole crouched in front of him and bobbed her head up and down on his erection.

* * * *

Not long now...

October is the month for new manyeyedhydra stories

2011-10-08T02:28:00.003+01:00

Not only do I have a 3rd anthology coming out on the 21st (I may have mentioned this a few times), but I also have a few runners in Literotica's annual Halloween competition.

"Guard Duty" features gangsters, a mysterious crime boss and a succubus in a cage. It expands on the little universe I'm slowly putting together and introduces a new player. It also features a very nasty bit of philosophical fridge horror if you look hard enough.

"Naga Massage Review" is a follow-up to "Naga Special Massage" and shows a different aspect of the lovely Amanda.

I might also enter a new Nicole story for the less death-by-sex inclined if I manage to finish it in time.

So there you go. Stories are like buses. You wait ages for one to show up and then a whole bunch appear at once.

Enjoy! ;)

A Succubus for Halloween: Excerpt III

2011-10-05T03:11:00.004+01:00

Ever had the feeling you started something a little earlier than it needed to be? :)

Never mind. Here's an excerpt from one of the new stories in A Succubus for Halloween. The sultry witch, Annette Brite, is up to more mischief in "Serving the Earth Mother":

* * * *

Aaron felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach as he heard the clipped, perfect enunciation of the new voice. His yell for help had caught the attention of someone.

“It’s difficult to judge the amount of force required to knock somebody out, and it would have spoiled everything had I swung too hard and caved your skull in.”

Brite stood in the entrance to the stone cell. Her pale face looked white and insubstantial in the dim candlelight. She wore the same voluminous black dress as before, with a necklace of large wooden beads around her slender, elegant neck.

“What do you want with us?” Aaron asked.

“You’re a witch,” Andrea said. “You follow the Earth Mother, you know the Rule of Three. How can you do this?”

Brite chuckled.

“It’s a curiosity how language changes down the centuries,” she said. “Words that mean one thing can come to mean another. The same word can take on many different meanings. Many different meanings can even come together under the same word.

“What you call witch is a practitioner of Wicca. The word also has an older, darker meaning, a label given to those that seek knowledge and power through blacker arts. The old fairy tales were not so far from the truth.

“I am not a practitioner of Wicca.”

Brite took off her necklace and slipped out of her voluminous black dress. She was wearing nothing underneath and—like her face—the rest of her body was pale and flawless. She had a fantastic figure—soft and curvaceous around the breasts and hips, but lean around the waist and legs. In other circumstances Aaron might have thought her very sexy. Currently, sex was far from his mind.

“What do you want with us?” he asked.

Brite busied herself in the corner of the room. She painted a complex circle on the floor with a substance that was black and sticky like tar.

“The entities I call upon are more demanding and have darker appetites than your Earth Mother, I’m afraid,” she said. “And they are far less forgiving if their conditions are not met.”

She finished her design and stood up, examining each line and symbol carefully for possible errors.

“It won’t work,” Aaron said. He tried to ignore his fear and the chains around his wrists. He needed his voice to sound calm, a rational knife to cut through the woman’s obvious insanity. “It doesn’t matter how you sacrifice us. They won’t answer. They don’t exist. It’s all nonsense.”

It might be nonsense, but it wouldn’t make Andrea and him any less dead after she’d sacrificed them to her mythical deities.

Brite paused and her supple red lips curled up in an amused smile.

“I love this era,” she said, “so sure in your truth of the world even though you’re as innocent as newborn babes.”

She opened a black canvas bag and pulled out a roll of ancient parchment. She unrolled it and Aaron had the uncomfortable feeling he was looking at a tanned square of human skin.

The shopkeeper’s voice rose as she recited words in a language Aaron had never heard before. It sounded dry and long dead, like dust blowing through long abandoned temples. The words echoed and reverberated off the cold stone walls and sent shivers rattling up Aaron’s spine. The words sounded completely alien, as if the vowel and consonant sounds were not designed for human tongues.

Mumbo jumbo, he thought, products of her madness. They didn’t mean anything.

Brite finished reciting the words from the scroll. There was an expectant hush, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

“See, I told you nothing would—” Aaron started.

He didn’t finish.

The black candles standing around the circle Brite had drawn on the floor started to fizz and crackle. Thick plumes of brown smoke welled up from the candles like exhaust fumes from Hades. Rather than disperse through the room, the smoke coagulated into a thick brown cloud. A vile stench assaulted their nostrils, like a mixture of meat gone bad and stale flatulence.

Parlour tricks, Aaron thought. Nothing but—

The smoke slowly dissipated, revealing...

* * * *

That reveal will have to wait until Oct 21. ;)

A Succubus for Halloween: Excerpt II

2011-10-01T04:24:00.004+01:00

Three weeks to go and it's time for another excerpt to crank the hype handle. While I do love a deliciously sinful demoness with horns, wings, tail and a body so hot it smokes, occasionally I like to cut my imagination loose and get really freaky. Yep, it's time to enter Hell-Space again. Here's an excerpt from "Shrimp and the Crab-Centaur Girls":

* * * *

“Base, can you hear me? Base? Over,” Collins said into the radio.

All he got back was a hiss and crackle.

“Radio’s fucked again,” he said.

“Must be atmospherics,” Rutherford said.

“Or something else,” Shrimp said.

He showed them his iPod. The screen was going nuts. Black shapes flittered back and forth across it like over-anxious ants.

“That’s not all,” he continued. “None of my electrical equipment is working either.”

“We’ll carry on,” Hackett said. “It could be just a localised disturbance.”

They carried on down a barren wide valley lined with rough brown boulders. They travelled a short distance before Banks stopped them again with a raised fist. His hand wobbled, as if he wasn’t too sure of himself.

“What now?” Hackett asked. “You seeing another bare-breasted blonde?”

“Um...actually, yes” Banks replied.

What? Collins hurried round the bend in the path, eager to see like the rest of the squad.

A blonde girl stood behind a boulder up ahead of them. Only her upper body was visible and it was completely naked. What a body it was too. She was tall and curvy—a natural cheerleader. Her blonde hair was long and silky and her eyes were as blue as the skies back home.

At first she was coy. Her arms were folded to hide her exposed breasts. Then she looked at the men, smiled and her shyness tumbled away as she dropped her arms. A large pair of titties swung free, each topped with a perky pink nipple. She looked down at them, as fearless as a stripper.

Fuck, she was hot. Brains versus looks conversations aside, Collins had been lucky enough to have his pick of the girls during his school life. He would have traded all of them for a chance to put his hands on those ripe melons and fuck her from behind like a dog.

Everyone was motionless. No one was quite sure what to do. Rutherford looked like he wanted to wolf whistle as if he was back at his favourite strip joint. Shrimp’s eyes were as big as saucers. He probably hadn’t had many opportunities to see girls like this, naked and in the flesh.

Fuck, even porn directors didn’t get to see girls like this.

The girl moved to the side. A naked leg, lithe and gloriously long, stepped out from behind the boulder. She wore no shoes and even though her foot looked delicate, the rough ground didn’t bother her as she rested lightly on the ball of her foot.

A second leg followed, coming down a little behind the first and then it at all started to get weird.

A second leg?

Collins wasn’t sure of what he was seeing.

There was her right leg, gracefully bent at the knee, and behind that, another right leg, the same as the first.

He watched, incredulous, as a third joined the other two.

What the fuck?

It reminded him of paintings he’d seen in an Indian restaurant. The people in them had three times the number of heads and about five times the number of arms and legs. This was just like that.

A fourth leg stepped out behind the others and then the girl, or whatever she was, slid out from behind the boulder.

Her upper body was human right down to her hips. After that she became something monstrous. Her lower body expanded out into a wide bulbous disc. It looked like the abdomen of a spider or crab, but covered in fleshy pink human skin rather than a hard carapace. Four legs sprouted from each side of her abdomen. They looked like human legs, but she used them like a crab.

The worst part was where her human torso joined with her monstrous abdomen. There was an orifice there, right where the pussy would be on a normal girl, but it was far far larger. It looked like a mouth, a mouth with a gigantic pair of overstuffed lips. They were pink, plush and currently pouting in the grotesque mockery of a kiss. The lips parted a little and Collins saw an interior that was pink and moist.

* * * *

Don't worry. Not all the stories are this weird. Some of them are worse...

Covers Lie

2011-09-28T06:00:00.003+01:00

I love this cover. It’s so deceptive. I think my publisher has a perverse sense of humour. Look at the cute little demon on the pumpkin—so naughty and so sweet. No one would guess the horrors lurking within these pages…

It’s a perfect fit, especially for the nameless succubus from the succubus tablet. She’s cute, she lures you in and then…snap!

I suppose technically it’s the kind of cover that’s more in keeping with an urban fantasy book—maybe a tale of modern-day sexy witches or vampires fighting crime, or the perils of buying fashionable shoes. These stories are much darker and weirder than that. A reader expecting another collection of run-of-the-mill urban fantasy stories is going to have their mind…opened.

Maybe I could have asked for something different, but I like this cover. It’s deceptive. It’s going to draw in unsuspecting readers. Boring marketing theory be damned. It’s Halloween—a time for devils to play. I’m going to have some fun and what can be more fun for a horror-erotica writer than shocking some unsuspecting readers.

This is my trap. Open it on October 21. I dare you…

A Succubus for Halloween: Excerpt I

2011-09-25T18:15:00.005+01:00

Here's an excerpt from "Oil Wrestling a Succubus", one of the new stories from a Succubus for Halloween. Spot the recurring character. ;)

* * * *

What kind of ring was this? Janssen thought as he walked into the arena. There were no ropes and the floor was sunken. If anything, it looked like a large inflatable paddling pool covered in a blue plastic tarpaulin. The wall didn’t rise much higher than his thighs. Janssen stepped over it onto a surface that rocked and swayed beneath him.

It was a damn inflatable paddling pool.

Janssen looked up into the rows of seats. There wasn’t much of an audience, maybe twenty people or so. He saw Rodríguez sitting with a grotesquely overweight man. He guessed that must be the big boss.

What was he supposed to do?

Janssen’s confusion deepened as he watched a statuesque girl step into the pool. Her short black hair was swept up like flames.

Surely they didn’t expect her to fight him?

The girl took off her fine black silk robe and tossed it aside.

Oh man, what a body.

She looked like one of those porn star angels he’d seen on DVDs while over at one of the other guy’s apartments. Fresher though. Without the worn out and used up look some of those girls had. And fit as well. In the athletic sense. Sure, she had the big bouncy boobs he liked to see in those dirty films, but the rest of her body was trim and lithe. Her titties were contained in a black bikini top the same colour and sheen as a pool of black oil. It was stretched taut to hold them in place.

He wouldn’t mind getting his hands on those. Or pinning her and...

He felt the phantom thwack of his grandmamma’s stick as a series of lurid thoughts ran through his head. But hot damn, a body like that sure was distracting.

The girl walked forwards, no trace of fear in her clear blue eyes. There was an easy grace to her movements. She looked like she knew how to handle herself.

But she was a girl. Tall, well-toned and lean, but still a girl. Janssen had maybe a hundred pounds on her. She couldn’t seriously expect to beat him.

“Welcome, treasured guests.” A sultry female voice came over the PA. “Tonight, for your pleasure, we have a very special bout.”

The voice lacked the typical bombast of a fight announcer, instead oozing the quiet sensuality of a late night radio host.

“Another brave challenger has come to take on the exotic wiles of the Ebony Succubus. A round of applause, please.”

What did he do? Janssen wanted to look good for Rodríguez and the Ojos de Oro, but he didn’t want to hurt her. His grandmamma had brought him up well. He didn’t hit girls.

An object hit him in the chest and landed at his feet. It was a clear plastic squeezy bottle.

He looked to where it had come from and saw the blonde girl.

“Have fun.” She winked at him.

Over on the other side of the ring the black-haired girl was squirting clear liquid—oil—all over her body and rubbing it in until her pale skin glistened under the lights. She gave Janssen a grin that looked exactly like one of the girls from the guys’ dirty DVDs.

Oh, so it was that kind of wrestling.

* * * *

A Succubus for Halloween and Other Tales of Terrifying Temptresses, available in print and ebook from Friday, October 21st.

New manyeyedhydra stories: Halloween 2011!

2011-09-21T05:10:00.004+01:00

It's time to crank the hype handle. My third collection of short stories, A Succubus for Halloween and other tales of Terrifying Temptresses, is coming out in a month's time.

Here's the full story rundown:

1. A Succubus for Halloween
2. The Orgy of the Pink Flesh
3. Naga Special Massage
4. Pearls of the Mediterranean
5. Halloween Nÿte
6.The Big Black Bed
7. Succubus vs. Cleric
8. Oil Wrestling a Succubus
9. Shrimp and the Crab Centaur Girls
10. Welcome to the City
11. Capramendes, the Milkmaid
12. Serving the Earth Mother
13. A Halloween Party with a Succubus

Some of those titles will be familiar, some not. Even the titles that seem familiar will be a little different to what might be expected ("Naga Special Massage" - unless you caught the version in Divine Matches).

What to expect. Succubi. Lots of hot sexy succubi. It's Halloween and the sex demons are out to ensnare their victims in webs of seductive pleasures.

There's also weirdness and—because I can’t keep horrorhead under control—some blood-curdling squick. Exactly what a good anthology devoted to both horror and sex needs.

One month to go and I'll be giving out excerpts to whet the appetite over the coming weeks. In the meantime I'll lead off with the obvious:

"They'll give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, and terrors beyond your darkest nightmares..."

Song for the Week: Mar De Grises - A Sea of Dead Comets

2011-09-19T06:23:00.004+01:00

This is the last track (okay next to last if you include the bonus) from Chilean doom metal band Mar de Grises's last album, Streams Inwards. The ending puts me in mind of a world collapsing into a black hole. Haunting.

Great album.

Night of the (Predictable) Demons

2011-09-14T05:38:00.005+01:00

Two reasons to see Night of the Demons:

Ugh. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me there. The sixties maybe. Or a strong urge to put on a flat cap and take t’whippet for a walk.

Anyway. The attractive lady is Bobbi Sue Luther, who also happens to be the face of St. Pauli Girl beer. Not that I make a habit of stalking attractive scream queen’s Wikipedia pages or anything. Um…

Sadly, the film is rather disappointing. No fault of the gorgeous Ms Luther. It's all a bit too predictable—place a cast of attractive plastic people in a spooky house and kill them off in gory fashion over the course of ninety minutes or so. Nothing new there. Bobbie Sue Luther plays the one-who-drinks-too-much-and-must-die; Diora Baird plays her friend, the slutty-one-who-has-sex-and-must-die; and Monica Keena rounds out the trio as the goody-two-shoes-who-obviously-survives.

*gnashes teeth at predictable, crude, clunking horror movie morality*

There’s an interesting scene that hints at what the movie could have been. Diora Baird’s character, fresh after being converted to demonhood, pushes a lipstick into her breast, which then travels down her body and exits in a puddle of blood presumably from her intimate nether regions. It’s kinky and perverse and it would have been a far more interesting film if the makers had taken that theme of demonic perversity and dialled it up to eleven. Instead the film falls back onto the safe old clichés of snarling, fright-show mask demons jumping out of the darkness and pulling out their victim’s entrails. It’s fun, but it’s been done before and much better in countless other horror films.

I’ve been disappointed with most of the spate of recent horror remakes. Compared to the inventiveness and craziness shown in some of the recent Japanese gore movies, the US films look staid and straitjacketed. Where’s the sense of fun that was around back in the days when Sam Raimi was running around with a camera strapped to a plank?

Song for the Week: Shining (NOR) - Fisheye

2011-09-12T05:56:00.004+01:00

Some more musical craziness from Norway. This is Shining (NOR - there's also a Swedish black metal band with the same name just to confuse matters) with "Fisheye" from their recent Blackjazz album. Bonkers.

Monster Girl Quest: Chapter 2 Demo Out

2011-09-10T17:25:00.003+01:00

Hmm. Hits are down. Need to drum up some interest to get the publicity for Succubus for Halloween rolling. Let's blog about Monster Girl Quest! :)

Torotoro resistance has put up a trial version for Chapter 2 of Monster Girl Quest (or Monster Girl Assault or whatever is the best translation in English). You can check that out here. And if you want a version you can read, the ever-resourceful IchigoGyuunyuu/RogueTranslator has already done a translated version, which is...uh...not there, because Hongfire is moving to a new datacentre. Awkward.

I'll post that link when it resurfaces again.

The demo is set in a succubus village—Yum!—and features some amusing comments from the ever-snarky Alice as to the real reasons why heroes from all over the land have arrived there to “defend” the village from succubus attack. The trial fight is with a freshly converted succubus and she sports a new level drain attack. I’d have preferred a different fight being trialled as she’s a bit too ‘fresh’ compared to the more classic succubus, Arumaeruma, from the first chapter, but this is to be expected in a game where the creator has gone out of their way to try and encompass as many different tastes (perversions? :)) as they can.

Something to whet the appetite, and hopefully it means chapter two is not far from completion.

2011 2nd Quarter Royalties

2011-09-08T04:46:00.005+01:00

My second quarter royalties for 2011 came in from eXcessica today. At $180 I think it's safe to say I won't be handing in my notice at work tomorrow. :)

$180 is still $180. Can't sneeze at that. Both Succubus for Christmas and Succubus for Valentine's Day have sold nearly 150 copies each now. With Succubus for Halloween coming out next month (more on that later!) I'm hoping it'll create enough of a bump to take the overall year up to somewhere between one or two grand. I know my stories are far too extreme to ever trouble the mainstream, but it's nice to have a little sideline and maybe sow the seeds for a little longterm notoriety.

Thanks to everyone who bought the books and I hope you enjoyed them. Plenty more on the way if all goes to plan ;).

Now the question is, how much of that $180 to plough into a nice book cover for Succubus Summoning 101 after I finally acknowledge I'm too rubbish to do it properly myself...

Song for the Week: Kvelertak - Mjød

2011-09-05T06:41:00.004+01:00

Love those crazy Norwegians. There's still a bit of that viking blood bubbling away under the surface. "Mjød" from Kvelertak's eponymous album:

The Importance of Pseudonyms

2011-09-03T19:05:00.006+01:00

This little furore, where a teacher was suspended and reinstated after being found out as a part-time stripper, reminded me of the importance of pseudonyms. The thrust of his defence is correct (apart from the facebook part—teachers shouldn’t really friend pupils for good, professional reasons), but even in The Guardian, a paper so wet it would make your fish’n’chips soggy if you wrapped them in it, there were plenty of comments along the lines of, “I wouldn’t want you teaching my child.” Presumably these would be the same people who, a decade or so ago, were totally against openly homosexual teachers working in the classroom for fear they might “infect” their cherished offspring.

The other type of comment—“Well, he’s a male stripper, that’s not as bad as…”—completely misses the point. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it a million times again: What consenting adults get up to in their own time is their own bloody business. Would it matter if a teacher, a good teacher, worked—legally—as an escort after hours, or liked to frequent fetish clubs and have their arse paddled red? Should it? Obviously, it would be a problem if that teacher abused their position to tout for business amongst pupils/parents, or turned up too tired to do their job properly, but most people can and do successfully partition their public and private lives. Sadly, a lot of people are too judgmental, resulting in this kind of silliness.

I’m not ashamed of what I write about, but I’m realistic. I don’t and probably won’t ever be able to make full-time living from my writing. I don’t want to find myself blacklisted from future employment prospects because a recruiter googled my name and found out I wrote some bizarre, creepy porn stories a decade ago.

While future employment prospects are a concern for me, it pales into insignificance when compared to people in other parts of the world, where they face imprisonment—or even death—for having incompatible views, beliefs or sexual orientation.

So to facebook, google+ and the rest—first guarantee me a world where I won’t be killed, imprisoned, ostracised, or have my current and future livelihood damaged for what I write/post, and then I might give you my real name.

12th Annual Literotica Awards

2011-09-01T05:47:00.004+01:00

It's time again for the Annual Literotica Reader's Choice awards. It's not as grand as it sounds. I don't think most of the readers know or care it exists, and there's usually a writer or three making a tit of themselves by taking it far too seriously.

It's hard to take it that seriously. There's no prize other than bragging rights and it's an internet vote that struggles to scrape double figures. Mind you, I'm probably just bitter I get nominated for the Erotic Horror category every year and never win it. Not even with "Succubus Summoning 114" surprisingly, and that's been the number one chapter/story on Lit's Erotic Horror all-time top list for just about forever.

This year "Succubus Summoning 202" is up. I keep trying to tell myself it's not important, nobody actually cares, and I should ignore it, but I have a stupid competitive streak That. Won't. Let. It. Lie.

So, to keep it happy, here's the link where you can vote. Or even check out some of the other nominated stories to see what the other writers on Literotica are up to.

The embarassing part is realising just how long it's been since I posted that chapter. I really need to get back to that series.

Song for the Week: Meshuggah - Bleed

2011-08-29T04:52:00.003+01:00

Some musical caffeine from Meshuggah to start the week. (From Obzen)

The album version is better as it reprises the fast parts and brings the song to a better conclusion. Bah to the mainstream and their insistence on songs no longer than four and half minutes. Still one of my faves.

Succubus Summoning 201: Literotica or No?

2011-08-27T17:04:00.004+01:00

A question from the comments yesterday:

"You mentioned "book", does that mean we won't see any new Succubus Summoning 201 stories being posted on Literotica, but instead have to buy your books?"

The answer is long and complex and when I went past the third paragraph in trying to type it into the comments section, I thought I may was well make it a blogpost.

It depends on how the whole 201 arc shapes up at the end. I stopped going chapter-by-chapter when I was writing 203 and realised I'd gone over 5,000 words with no sign of a sex scene in sight. There are a few new characters to introduce and a lot more background to reveal. 201 is also less episodic overall. This left me with a problem. Either post a huge big chapter on Lit, which no-one will bother to read, or split it up and risk posting a chapter with no sex at all. No-sex chapters go down very badly on Literotica unless they're romance-heavy Twilight clones. I figured my best plan is to write the whole thing out in rough (which I'm still in the process of doing) and then go back through with a chainsaw to edit the whole arc into a more pleasing shape.

There's also the tension between getting readers and getting paid. I love writing and I like posting work up on web sites like Literotica to gain exposure and for the feedback to make me a better writer, but I don't want to be the big soft chump who gives all his work away for free!

I know some writers start series on Literotica and then deliberately make the ending an exclusive to their book. I can see how it works from a marketing perspective, but it strikes me as a scumbag manoeuvre more likely to alienate readers in the long term. It's not how I roll.

I did think about making 201 book only, probably with a super-cheap first month price as a reward and apology to the long(-suffering)-term followers for their patience. I also considered taking down stories when Succubus for Christmas came out. I'm painfully conscious of the 'Why should I pay for it when I can get it for free?' argument.

I don't think Succubus for Christmas and Succubus for Valentine's Day have suffered too much for having some of their content available on the internet for free. It could be argued I might have sold more if those stories hadn't been available for free. It could also be argued I might have sold far less because new readers wouldn't have the faintest idea who I am. Personally, I like having stories up on Literotica for the exposure. If people like them, they can always buy the books to get more stories.

My current plan is to post the remaining chapters on Literotica if I can get them into the right shape. I started it there, so I want to finish it there. I'll keep some additional goodies back for the ebook version and I'll put it out some time before the run on Lit completes. I reckon that should strike the right balance.

It's a horribly long hiatus between 202 and 203, I know. Please have patience. I'm still only a part-time writer. I have to work 9-to-5 on my real-life day-job like everyone else. :)

The Background to Succubus Summoning 101

2011-08-25T06:03:00.003+01:00

Remember my Succubus Summoning 101 series? (Yeah the one I will eventually get around to writing a sequel arc to).

Did you have any questions on Phil's background? Or maybe how the Wargsnouts College for Warlocks fits into that world?

I'm midway through the process of editing it into a book to come out early next year. Aside from fixing some dubious grammar and removing the recaps at the start of each chapter, I'm also going to add some extra scenes to give Phil and the world a little more depth. I guess the big question is...

What's missing from the original? What could be added to flesh out the story without adding too much baggage?

(Yes, I know, as the writer I should know the answer to these questions. I do have a good idea of what I'm going to include already, but I'm curious to see what you, the readers, think. Just in case I missed something obvious. Like with Nicole's last adventure and the ending which was a little too obtuse for anyone who hadn't read Delivery Special Soap beforehand. Nobody's perfect! :))

If all goes to plan, Succubus Summoning 101: the novel, should be out early 2012. Then I'll have to finish Succubus Summoning 201. ;)

Song for the Week: Akercocke - Leviathan

2011-08-22T04:34:00.003+01:00

Another British metal band. Sadly, I'm not sure if they're still going. Both Choronzon and Words That Go Unspoken, Deeds That Go Undone are solid albums.

Eihi Shiina Double Bill, Part Two: Tokyo Gore Police

2011-08-20T21:00:00.004+01:00

If you thought the manga/anime coming out of Japan was crazy...

Tokyo Gore Police. To use the cliché: it's exactly what it says on the tin.

The film is directed by legendary gore-fx master, Yoshihiro Nishimura, and, exactly as the name suggests, is incredibly gory. This is gore taken up to eleven. People grow chainsaws and cannons out of their open wounds, there's a duel featuring a quadruple amputee with blades on each stump, a girl with crocodile jaws in place of her nether regions, and gallons and gallons of fake blood. At one point a character even uses the blood spraying from his severed legs as a jet pack. It's that crazy.

It's what I love about Japanese films. They aren't afraid to leap out of the box and take off in weird directions to shock and surprise the audience. Sure, some might think the whole thing comes across as silly and nonsensical, but who cares when it's an excuse to come up with scenes of such audacious bizarreness they leave the viewer's jaw on the floor at the whole 'WTF' of it all.

Oh, and Eihi Shiina is lovely and serene throughout.

Once again, I realise I have much further to go.

Eihi Shiina Double Bill, Part One: Audition

2011-08-18T05:00:00.003+01:00

Does anyone else think Eihi Shiina is just adorably cute in this scene (from Takashi Miike's 1999 film Audition)?

(In case the name Takashi Miike hasn't already set alarm bells ringing, I should, before you hit the play button, mention Audition is a notorious Japanese horror film. You have been warned...)

(... I still think she's lovely.)

No? I guess it's just me then.

Song for the Week: Cradle of Filth – Lilith Immaculate

2011-08-15T13:14:00.008+01:00

A new feature for my blog. This is where I drive off even more potential readers with my highly dubious music taste. As if I wasn’t enough of a walking cliché already, I’m a metal fan. Here’s something light to kick things off.

I’ve been listening to Cradle since Dusk and Her Embrace. They’re a band with ups and downs. I’d given up on them after Thornography to be honest, but then they bounced back to form with Godspeed on the Devil’s Thunder and the most recent album, Darkly, Darkly, Venus Aversa.

If I had the slightest idea how, I’d love to hire the modelling company Cradle use for their album inlays to do my book covers, but I suspect it would cost more than the books are ever likely to make. Maybe in the future, if my writing picks up enough popularity for it to be financially viable.

(A perv can dream, right!)

Bargain Bin Slaughter: Madworld

2011-08-14T01:32:00.005+01:00

I’m a big fan of violent video games, as I might have alluded to in the past, so when I saw this for the Wii for the bargain-bin price of £2.99 I couldn’t resist.

Violence, gore and sick humour; everything I enjoy in a computer game. It also has a succubus/vampiress boss with the most ridiculous pair of gag boobs I’ve ever seen in a video game.

I think I'm in love.

The state, the state, the state is on fire...

2011-08-12T14:22:00.002+01:00

We don’t need no water let the muthafucka burn. Burn muthafucka. Burn!!!

The country of my birth, England, appears to be a little ill at the moment. I went back to visit this week, which also coincided with an outbreak of rioting and looting in the major city centres.

Yes, I’m now so maleficent my mere presence drives a country into unrest. Joke.

There’s been a lot of talk about the sick state of modern society in all the papers, but I think the illness is not the one they’re talking about. There’s an ideological schism splitting the country, one which, no doubt, any middle-leaning American will recognise with a dejected sigh. Read a right-wing newspaper and they’ll talk about a collapse in moral values which can only be rectified by a good caning, bringing back National Service or simply hanging the buggers until they turn purple and their tongues hang out. Read a left-wing newspaper and you’ll get a lot of handwringing about broken homes, poverty, boredom and legitimate protest.

They’re both bloody idiots.

Poverty is a debased term nowadays. These kids aren’t starving and they have access to far more forms of entertainment than children of decades ago. Several spots of unrest were organised through Blackberries and online social networks according to some reports. Nicking stuff because you feel inferior to multi-millionaire football players in the top 0.0001% or whatever of earners in the country is a fairly venal and piss-poor imitation of the Arab Spring uprisings taking place elsewhere on the planet.

What the kids don’t have is a future. That’s a problem. It doesn’t matter how big a stick you threaten to hit them with. They don’t care. They don’t have anything to lose.

What I hate is the media trotting out the same simplistic right/left-wing ideological solutions which have little relevance to a messy and more complex world. The troublemakers of the past week are scum and need to be punished accordingly, but if they aren’t allowed decent aspirations (playing football for Man Utd or selling millions of records are not realistic aspirations unless you’re phenomenally gifted and lucky) more and more youths are going to go ‘feral’.

The challenge for our glorious leaders is to reengage with these forgotten sumps of society and find a productive use for them. Maybe our politicians could start by setting a better example instead of fiddling their expenses and gorging themselves on the corporate teat. What’s the saying—the fish rots from the head.

Monster Girl Quest. In English!

2011-08-09T03:36:00.005+01:00

After checking the blog’s stats page I was surprised to see daily hits holding steady around 800-1000. I expected them to drop off once I’d finished the Locked in with a Succubus serial and especially when I fell off the radar for the last couple of weeks trying to fight off writer’s block.

A quick check of the google search terms reveals most of you are here looking for the Monster Girl Quest game.

Ah…

That’s *sob* cool. It’s a *sob* cool game. *sob*

Joking aside, I’m really glad the game appears to be picking up a lot of interest. Torotoro Resistance (I hope I’ve got that right) did a fantastic job in creating a complex H-game with a great story to go with the CG sets. That it’s attracted a lot of interest is marvellous, as it means there’s plenty of incentive to get the other chapters done.

(Yep, I’m waiting eagerly for chapter two as well)

Of course, as I set this blog up to promote my books, it would be remiss of me not to point out if you like the many sexy bad endings found in this game, then you will also like my stories. Yeah, I know you’d expect me to say that anyway, but in this case I feel I can do so without a shred of guilt. Writing about sexy, delectable succubi bringing their victims to an ecstatic end is my specialty. If you like the game you WILL like my stories. Give one of my books a try. ;)

In the meantime, in case you weren’t already aware of it, the fantastically hard-working IchigoGyuunyuu/RogueTranslator has finished work on an English translation of the game. Information on which can be found here.

Back from the Dead(line)

2011-08-04T05:08:00.001+01:00

Ugh, that was painful.

I used to be good with deadlines. Sure, I used to faff around and procrastinate like everybody else in the time leading up to the deadline. Then, with the deadline suddenly imminent, I’d burst into life and get the project finished in a blaze of activity.

Nowadays that bursting into life is more like a feeble stirring followed by a resentful crawl leading to something being spat onto the screen a few weeks later, maybe.

It’s been the same for the last stories of every anthology I’ve written so far. This one was worse as I lost confidence in my ability to do the story justice about halfway through writing it. Normally I’d have tossed it back into the ideas file and gone back to it later, but I’d already made a commitment to contribute to one of eXcessica’s fundraising anthologies and didn’t have an adequate back up plan.

Anyway, it’s done. It’ll be appearing in one of eXcessica’s anthologies next year. I had to pretty much drop everything and focus on finishing that story, even though my productivity went to hell. I hate it. It’s an ugly baby that probably deserves to be drowned in a bucket. Maybe I’ll grow to like it after a few months. I didn’t like Arachne’s Web much after I took the route-march approach to getting that one finished as well. I like it better now.

Deadlines, avoid ‘em I reckon. Write whatever wants to be written and then pick whatever’s most suitable at hand when the time comes around.

Time to get this blog back up and running at regular intervals again!

Adamsing My Deadlines

2011-07-19T03:45:00.002+01:00

Whoosh. That's the sound of deadlines whizzing by.

Literotica's Nude Day Contest. FAIL.
The story morphed into something too long and complex to get done in time. I'll stick it on the back burner and chip away at it in time for next year's competition. (This happens a lot. The Christmas story I've got lined up for this year was supposed to be for the competition two years previous :) )

eXcessica Anthology. CRITICAL.
Damn, another story way outside my comfort zone. I really should stick to the big-boobed succubi I know and love. I've got an extension on this one, but I'm probably going to be quiet for the rest of the week while I get it done.

Hmm, now how in the hell am I supposed to make two people skinning each other alive romantic and erotic...

All your fetish are belong to me

2011-07-12T05:10:00.004+01:00

Fellow eXcessica writer, Dr Mabeuse, posted a link to this interesting little fetish map in the Literotica forums.

Here’s the original location. (At a size where it might actually be possible to read it!)

It’s quite an educational little diagram. The fun part is working out which fetishes I’ve already covered in stories and which I plan on covering in the future.

I think I might have been playing a little too much Civilization IV recently. I see a map and the first instinct is to work out how to conquer it. Hmm, so I start in Demon with my Succubus harem. S/M’s easy. I’ll leave Nÿte and Physalia to run that one. Various soapy massage type stories give me a route into Messy Fun. My lovely Naga, Amanda, is quite partial to a little bit of Breath Play. From there we’ll take the strategically important Vore, and that will…

Yeah, I should probably cut back on the Civ.

The real masters of literary corruption...

2011-07-08T03:15:00.005+01:00

I'm writing in the wrong genre. There I was, merrily typing up twisted tales of hot demon sex in order to corrupt the internet and collapse the whole of humanity into a black abyss, and it turns out the real masters of corruption write romance novels for Mills and Boon.

It’s not the first criticism to be aimed at romance novels. Recently another psychologist claimed they can be as addictive as pornography. They do have a smidgeon of a point. I’m sorry to burst your bubble, ladies, but that super-rich, super-handsome Mr Right you’ve been dreaming of will, in real life, probably (but not always!) be a complete dick and chronically unfaithful. Why? Because they can get away with it.

Somehow, I suspect the M & B crowd would be less than thrilled with a book where the spunky heroine finds her Mr Right…only for him to ditch her for a younger model with a bigger rack ten years down the line. The whole point of fantasy is it’s supposed to be escapism, i.e. better than the messy complications present in the real world. Sure, problems can arise when the fantasy forms the basis of a wholly unrealistic set of expectations, but that’s just about true for any situation where fantasy and reality get mixed up.

Unsurprisingly—and understandably—it’s provoked a bit of a backlash from romance fans quick to defend their reading preferences. There are a lot of them in the comments section beneath the Guardian article.

Presumably those same people will be right behind us in the trenches the next time equally stupid things are written about video games or different flavours of pornography…won’t you? ;)

Nostalgia Gaming: Splatterhouse

2011-07-05T02:08:00.005+01:00

Still on the topic of violent video games, here’s a classic from the prehistoric days of lumbering arcade machines.

There was a Splatterhouse arcade machine at my local ice rink and I remember spending a few Saturdays in my youth feeding it 10p and 20p coins. The graphics were totally wacko and disturbed compared to other games at the time. There was a boss with chainsaws for arms, crawling baby things with oversize heads and many vomiting alien monsters/torture victims. The first boss section had waves and waves of bloody worms springing out at you from all angles in a room piled high with red meat. It was sick, it was gruesome and it was fun. There was a satisfying ‘Thwack!’ to splattering enemies up against the back wall with a meaty swing of a pipe.

It was also fiendishly difficult. Back then most arcade games followed a simple formula—a fairly pedestrian stage one, followed by a harder-but-still-possible stage two, and then ramping up into a black hole of difficulty designed to suck all the small change out of your pocket. Mr Chainsawman did for me on many an occasion, although I did see the occasional player stumble past him only to fall at the floating cross and severed ghoul heads at the end of stage four.

A few years back I managed to find a version to run on my PC with MAME (a fantastic program for nostalgia gaming geeks). With infinite simulated 10p coins I would have my revenge, bwahahahaha…

Just about. By level six and an organic corridor full of wibbly embryo monster-things jumping on your back at every opportunity, the game developers are telling you to ‘sod off!’ in no uncertain terms. If it wasn’t for some gratuitous save state scumming (yeah, because even infinite coins isn't enough...) I’m not even sure I’d have completed it at all.

It’s a game I have many fond memories of. It was the first arcade game I remember to really go for it when it came to gross horror visuals. There’s a recent remake I’ve been meaning to check out, even though I’m sure it won’t have that same…you know…Thwack!

I never could pull off that damn sliding kick…

Won't someone think of the children . . .

2011-07-01T05:19:00.003+01:00

I’m normally against all forms of censorship, but the recent overturning of a proposed California law to ban the sale of violent video games leaves me perched rather precariously on the fence. Don’t get me wrong, I love violent video games. Whatever games console I have lying around usually gets updated around the same time the next Silent Hill or Resident Evil instalment comes along. I also thoroughly enjoyed playing the notorious Manhunt. However, I’m not sure twelve-year-old kids should be playing these games.

Attitudes are changing now that the Nintendo and PlayStation generation have grown up and are old enough to have children of their own. Video games have grown up too and are no longer seen as solely for children’s entertainment.

Not everybody appears to have caught on.

It always reminds me of a (possibly) apocryphal story about a video/DVD rental store clerk and a certain, highly notorious, Japanese animated film.

Dad walks up with two young sons in tow and puts a copy of Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend on the counter.

Dad: I’d like to rent this film.

Clerk looks down at fresh-faced young boys.

Clerk: Um, I’m not sure it would be suitable for them.

Dad: Whaddya mean. It’s a cartoon. Action, explosions, giant robots, that kind of thing.

Clerk: Um, it’s quite . . . extreme.

Dad: Don’t be silly. It’s a cartoon. Rent me the goddamn film or I’ll call your manager.

Clerk (hands up): Okay. Whatever you say.

The next day.

Dad storms back into store and slams video down on the counter.

Dad: You sick fuck! What are you doing renting me this sick filth! Fucking pedo! I’ll call the police on you.

Clerk: Um, I did say it wasn’t suitable for minors.

I don’t mind age restrictions. They’re good defence when the moral meddlebutts try to use the Think-of-the-children! card when they want to ban something. Britain, I think, uses a similar ratings system to the one used for movies, which seems sensible to me. When the moral meddlebutts next get in an indignant froth about the latest GTA or Manhunt and how children shouldn’t be playing such sick filth, it’s easy to counter by pointing at the 18 certificate and asking how children are playing the game in the first place. Think-of-the-children! becomes Where-are-the-parents? and draws a lot of venom out of the meddlebutt’s attack. I’d rather developers had the freedom to create games for adults covering adult themes, without worrying about a latter-day Mary Whitehouse whipping up a moral panic and shutting them down.

Like the original blogger, I’m not sure if this is a victory to be celebrated. It’s always hard to know with these things. The moral meddlebutts are getting sneakier at depriving the public of things the meddlebutts disapprove of. There are ways to ban things without explicitly banning them, in the same way a NC-17 rating will financially destroy a film in the US. Maybe this was a battle that needed to be fought and won.

Prick-Tease Muse

2011-06-28T03:34:00.003+01:00

I think my muse might be a prick-tease. All of Saturday before me and she's off shopping/drinking/tormenting poor misguided souls. Come Sunday and just before I'm due to head off to cricket practise she's back with fiery inspiration.

Write this story now, now, now!

I know her lies. If I cry off practise, she'll be gone again within an hour and it'll be another afternoon lost to the great time-suck that is Civilization. I'm better off getting out in the sunshine and giving the little (cancerous malignant creators of filth) grey cells a good airing.

Looming deadlines are always odd for me. Sometimes they spur me on, other times I grind right down to a halt. Time for a project switch methinks to get the juices going again.

A prick-tease muse, hmm. Given the kind of stories I write, I really shouldn't be that surprised . . . :)

Harry Potter and the Future of Publishing

2011-06-24T04:49:00.004+01:00

There have been rumblings about JK Rowling’s new online venture, Pottermore. This week those questions were answered. While Harry Potter fans will understandably be delighted by the new collaborative web site thingymajiggum, it’s the eBook side of things that’s of interest to those of us with a toe (nail) in publishing.

The Harry Potter series is one of the most lucrative franchises in the history of publishing. And JK Rowling holds the electronic rights…

Can you say million dollar diamond mine.

The publishing world has been thrown into a lot of turmoil with the rise of eBooks. Age-old ways of doing things are being ripped up. Authors are going it alone and grabbing a bigger slice of their own pie. The interesting question was always going to be how one of the most successful authors ever would bring their much-loved series to the digital market.

Well the answer is out and I suspect various high-level Amazon and B & N execs were choking on their coffee this morning. The Harry Potter books will come out online, but exclusively from the Pottermore site.

Ouch.

That’s really taking control of your work. Rowling didn’t cut out her publishers entirely, they’re still playing a role, but it sounds like she thinks she’s big enough to manage just fine without the services of the biggest bookseller in the world.

Interesting times indeed…

Plans and Schemes

2011-06-20T02:37:00.003+01:00

The "Locked in with a Succubus" mini-serial is over, so now it's time to move onto pastures new. Here's my current todo list.

Write story for Literotica's Nude Day contest. This may involve weres. It may actually appear in this year's contest. Bearing in mind I originally intended Locked in with a Succubus as a Valentine's contest entrant it's probably safer to assume it'll appear next year.
Write story for an eXcessica anthology due out middle of next year. This has a hard deadline of July 17th. Time to start sweating...
Clean up Succubus Summoning 1o1 and get it ready for publication. My first novel, yay! I'll be adding a lot of extra scenes to develop Phil's character a bit.
Gather enough stories from my stockpile to put a 4th collection together in time to go out first half of 2012. A little hampered in that the current stockpile is a bit lacking in stock.
Complete Succubus Summoning 201. I suspect the only item in the list some of you care about. I kind of feel all GRRM about it as it's been clattered all over my schedule because I'm always behind with other things. Thankfully, I have most of the plot planned out in my head and it will be everything you hoped it would be :D.
Anthology collection #5 for Halloween 2012. (yeah, right. Dream on snail-pace writing boy!)

Of course, most of this won't actually appear until 2012, which is kind of in the way-too-far in the future category. What about the right here and right fucking now. Here's the 2011 run down.

There's the Literotica Nude Day contest story (assuming I finish it in time). You can also expect to see me mount equally fruitless challenges against the unstoppable juggernaut of HEA romance (with or without vampires) in:
Literotica Halloween contest. Because all my stories qualify.
Literotica Christmas contest. Because it's already written (naughty, naughty elves!).
A Summer Dance with a Succubus is in one of eXcessica's forthcoming anthologies. Oh dear, some readers are going to be in for a shock if they go on from that to my other stories. Oh well, everyone has to get a little Unretrofied now and again ;)
A Succubus for Halloween. Collection #3. Yum. Lots of new goodies including a brand new Nicole story. Be warned, it fits Halloween well. Horror-head is awfully hard to rein in for that time of the year. Halloween Nÿte is in there and it isn't even the most fucked-up, nastiest story.

I enjoyed writing the Locked in mini-serial, so I can see myself doing something similar around Halloween to promote the book. Not sure on what yet. Giving away stuff is fun, but I've got to keep some things back otherwise my writing career will be extremely short-lived ;)

Locked in with a Succubus: The Inside View

2011-06-16T05:05:00.004+01:00

Okay, so it looks like I need to run through an explanation after all. :)

Whether people got it or not depended on whether they'd already read my earler story: Delivery Special Soap. That's a fail on my part as I always intended the recurring characters and cheeky little references to enhance the stories for the readers who were familiar with my other works, but not be essential to the understanding of the story for the first time reader.

Here's a little peek from the other side to clear up any confusion:

Demons (and possibly other mythological beings) exist in that world, but they're rare and largely unknown. George doesn't know they exist. Inari, the mysterious woman he does some odd jobs for, does and she has a problem.

Virgins are extremely tasty delicacies to a succubus, especially the nice ones and even more so the older ones. As Nicole points out, George is quite the hot commodity in the succubus world. Inari knows it's only a matter of time before one of the nastier demons (Like Orchrhys in Delivery Special Soap) catches his scent and makes a snack out of his soul.

George hints at Inari's earlier attempts in Part 6, although he doesn't recognise them for what they are.

The problem is he's now too old and a little too tasty. (Hinted at twice. At the very beginning Nicole isn't going to let him into her house. He also mentions about the masseuse, Arisa, making an excuse and leaving. They're worried they're going to eat the poor guy!)

The wine is important as most of you probably guessed.

Mysterious label. No recognisable branding. Yeah, that's not wine. It's how George is able to have a lot of sex with Nicole and not meet the usual fate of most of my protagonists when they have a lot of sex with a succubus. It keeps his energy levels high enough so he doesn't die. (Hinted at again. Nicole recognises what it is. As soon as George shows her the bottle she changes her mind and lets him in)

Nicole picks up on George's slightly submissive tendencies, but gets it wrong with the first room - a classic dominatrix dungeon - she picks.

The second room is right and Nicole reveals her succubus nature. Because of the wine she can also be a little more sexually aggressive than normal.

Except it goes wrong and she loses control. Her behaviour should (I hope!) seem a lot different in Part 9 compared to other chapters.

George passes out and then wakes back up. What happened in the meantime? Another oblique hint. George notices smudges on her cheeks. Succubi can cry and Nicole was extremely upset a few moments before. She thought she'd killed him.

Of course, I'm not going to tell you this. Why spoil the fun when there's another three chapters of will-she-won't-she-kill-him to play with! :)

It's all from George's PoV, so he doesn't realise. Nicole, ever the sublime consort, slips straight back into her role as the teasing demoness. At this point George is in no danger. Nicole has already taken his virginity and gorged on his energy. The final pieces to explaining her behaviour drop into place in Part 12 when she tells George she knows what his secret fantasies are.

The explanation for it all is in the epilogue when Nicole tells Inari her "stink is all over him".

Yeah, if you haven't read Delivery Special Soap, you've got no chance with that one. In the world Nicole inhabits, it makes sense for demons not to tangle with each other over a single human when there are so many others to prey upon. Nicole has fulfilled Inari's request. She's taken George's virginity (so he's no longer a beacon of tasty snackness to other sex demons) and claimed him as 'her kill'. Which was Inari's aim right from the start. Whether the other demons hold up to that, well that's another story...

That's a bit of a booboo on my part. Oblique references to link the story with Arisa from the earlier story are one thing. It's an Easter Egg for the people that spot the reference. Making it vital to understanding the denouement . . . that's the kind of clever-cleverness that falls straight into stupid.

Oh well. That's the good part about putting stories up for free. It's easier to make the right corrections before they find their way into anthologies. :)

I hope that clears things up anyway.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 13

2011-06-12T05:38:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Epilogue

The demoness with horns, wings, tail and empty black eyes lounged on the great big black waterbed. She picked up a phone from the shelf behind her and dialled a number.

“It’s done,” she said.

She stretched in contentment.

“Yes, he was extremely enjoyable.”

Her face darkened.

“There was a . . . moment. It passed.”

A smile returned to her face. She looked at the human lying still on the bed. Her devil’s tail lifted up off the mattress and she used the tip to tickle the man’s nose.

“My stink is most definitely all over him. Your little virgin has been comprehensibly despoiled. That should keep the others away.”

She grinned as George’s nose twitched and he murmured. Still in his sleep, his arms flailed ineffectually at her teasing tail. He snorted and rolled over on the bed.

“Mmm, you don’t need him back right away, do you? I was thinking of keeping him for a little longer. One day, that’s all.”

Nicole heard the reply. Her smile widened, revealing the delicate points of two fangs.

“Oh good. Send over another bottle of that wine.”

THE END

Now, hopefully, if I’ve done my job correctly, that ending should make sense and, if you go back and read again from the start, you should find a lot of Nicole’s actions and words take on a whole extra meaning. If there are still questions, I’ll put up an explanation filling in the gaps from Nicole’s side next week sometime. (As a hint—this previous story might help).

I hope you enjoyed this little serial. If you liked it, please support my writing by buying my books. A brand new story featuring Nicole is in my third collection, A Succubus for Halloween, coming out—appropriately enough—Halloween this year. I’ll put up more details nearer the time and maybe even find another little serial to run to promote it.

Non-Human Morality

2011-06-10T02:54:00.003+01:00

When it comes to non-human characters I like them to be . . . well, not human. This means they probably have a set of attitudes, thought processes and values which are completely alien to us. Not everything, some stuff’s going to be the same, but enough for some of their actions and responses to surprise every now and again.

The Doctor from the BBC’s series Doctor Who is a classic example. Alien. Looks human. Big big heart(s). Saves the world multiple times. But every so often is a bit . . . weird. The current actor playing him, Matt Smith, has got that whole a-bit-too-weird-to-really-pass-for-human thing down perfectly. Tom Baker was also brilliant (although I suspect he might actually be an alien marooned down here on earth . . .)

That little spice of alienness is really important to me. I hate reading urban fiction with vampire or werewolf protagonists where the characters display a completely human array of emotions and reactions. If the author hadn’t told me the character had fangs, super-strength, was centuries old, whatever, I doubt I’d realise they weren’t human at all. Feels like a waste (Although I can’t argue with the success of that genre. Maybe my wrong is everybody else’s right! :) ).

I think this is why I might be so reluctant to write anything from one of my succubus’s point of view. It’s hard to avoid humanising a character and takes away a lot of their mystique.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 12

2011-06-07T03:25:00.005+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11.

A day later than planned, but never mind.

“I lied,” she said.

George stared at her.

Nicole smiled. She traced a circle around his nipple with a coquettish nail. “I’m a demon, what did you expect?”

George deflated inside. She was never going to let him go.

“Aww, such a hurt look,” Nicole teased.

“It’s not fair,” he said.

Nicole laughed. “Oh come on. You’re thirty-four. You must know by now the world isn’t a fair place.”

She reached over and retrieved the bottle of wine from the shelf.

“It’s a pity,” she said. “If there were a few more like you, maybe it would be better.”

“Then I suppose you’re doing your job,” George said. “Servant of Satan and all that.”

He felt so stupid. He’d thrown everything into that last bout of sex. He felt so drained he didn’t even have the energy to lift his head from the mattress. He’d played right into her claws, again. She was a demon; of course she wasn’t going to keep her word. He was such an idiot.

Nicole looked at the wine bottle. Her eyes became a little distant. She smiled.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” she said.

She brought the bottle to George’s lips and he greedily gulped it down. It was so delicious. The wine settled in his stomach and emitted a warm glow. All of a sudden he didn’t feel quite so exhausted. What was in it—crack? His mouth even followed the bottle as she took it away. Don’t, she’d only make him beg for it next time.

If there was a next time.

Nicole shook the bottle with a frown on her face. There was barely a swallow left in the bottle.

“Oh well,” Nicole said. “All good things must come to an end.”

She poured the last dribbles between George’s parched lips and tossed the now empty bottle over the side of the bed.

“Mmm, I was saving this for last,” Nicole said.

She lay down on George and then rolled them both until she was lying on her back in the centre of the large, circular waterbed with him on top of her. The classic missionary position, although George didn’t feel like he had any control.

His erection didn’t get a chance to go down from his last bout of ejaculations either. The moist lips of Nicole’s vagina wrapped around the head and sucked his whole length down inside her. The soft walls of her sex pulsed and undulated around him. He was back to full hardness and trembling in a matter of moments.

Nicole’s legs wrapped around him. Her arms went around his neck. Her great black wings unfurled and then folded around his back like a latex cloak.

“This is nice,” Nicole said. “Relaxing.”

George felt weak, like a kitten, but pleasantly so. He slumped on top of Nicole, his chest resting on the soft pillows of her breasts. There was a pleasant tingling sensation wherever Nicole’s smooth skin came into contact with his. It had a strange draining effect that left him relaxed to the point of immobility. Every breath he took was filled with the sensual perfume of her body.

“You don’t have to do anything at all,” she sighed, her breath whispering through the hairs on the back of his neck.

The walls of her vagina bunched up around his shaft and then rolled down, giving him a pleasant little tug. Her soft lips brushed against his tender throat. Her thighs squeezed his sides. Her membranous wings stretched across his back, hugging him closer.

“You’re mine,” Nicole whispered in his ear. “There’s no escape. I’m going to drag you down into deep, delectable darkness.”

She’d wrapped him all up in her body. There was no way George could get free. He sighed as her pussy contracted around his cock and gave him a teasing little suck.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to get free.

“How does it feel to have your favourite fantasy made flesh?”

Her vagina squeezed again. The moist walls, soft like sumptuous cushions, rubbed against his glans.

What fantasy?

“Haven’t you always wanted to be enthralled by a creature of the night?” Nicole whispered in his ear. “You like to watch the horror movies with the sexy vampiresses. They arouse you.”

George had told no one about those fantasies. Reeves as Harker in the castle of Dracula. “How’d—”

Nicole cut off his question with a luscious kiss.

“A guess,” she said. “But an easy one. A good succubus is adept at sensing the desires of her prey. I heard your heart quicken when you saw my fangs and wings, and you haven’t exactly put up much of a fight.”

George sagged. Was it true? He knew he found her incredibly sexy, but surely he didn’t want this—his death?

“Now it’s real,” Nicole said, her soft breath tickling against his ear. “Here you are, drawn into the embrace of a dark beauty. Mesmerised, seduced and helpless as she folds her wings around you and puts her fangs in your neck.”

Oh god, it was true. Her words sent a thrill of pleasure through him. His manhood swelled and twitched inside her snug sheath.

Nicole chuckled. Her hot lips brushed his throat.

“I can bite you,” she whispered, soft and barely audible. “I have fangs. Would you like me to sink them into your throat?”

George felt two sharp pinpricks. He panicked and started to squirm.

The pinpricks went away. Nicole laughed.

“The bite doesn’t interest you,” she said. “It’s the feeling of being seduced and overwhelmed by a dark temptress. That’s the turn-on.”

She hugged him tighter and writhed beneath him, rubbing her breasts against his chest.

“A good thing,” she said. “Biting’s messy. Blood goes everywhere. Not very sexy.”

Nicole crossed her ankles behind his buttocks and squeezed, pulling him down deeper into her velvet depths. The fleshy walls of her sex throbbed and pulsed against his twitching erection.

“A succubus drains her victim in a much more pleasurable manner.”

Her luscious vagina squeezed around his cock. She stimulated the head with rhythmic tugs of her flesh. George tensed up right away. Pleasure and anticipation thrummed along nerves as taut as piano wires.

“Can you hold on?” Nicole teased.

George groaned. He felt like he was vibrating like a struck tuning fork. Her fleshy tunnel squeezed and sucked on his cock, enveloping his member with hot, wet kisses. Her moist walls slid over his pulsing hard-on like the finest silk.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

George’s balls felt like they were boiling. He trembled as he tried to deny the instincts of his body.

“Oh yes, you’re close. My vagina’s going to slurp you all up.”

Gngh-no, George thought. Her pussy gripped the base of his cock and pulled him deeper into her. Fleshy walls sucked on him like a mouth.

It was her mouth.

Nicole hugged him closer, enfolding him in the heat and scent of her body. Her pussy sucked on him with rhythmic pulses. Too much. He was welling up.

“Mmm, time to drink.”

A gasp of air escaped George’s mouth. The molten flesh of her pussy stimulated him beyond the limits of his resistance. He came.

It was like no ejaculation he’d experienced before. It was like a river of mud—slow and constant—running from his cock with slow, deep throbs. Each throb was a spike of purest ecstasy, each almost a separate orgasm in themselves, all running together as one.

“Ooh,” Nicole sighed. She ground her hips against him, stimulating the flow to continue.

Her vagina pulsed around him with slow, steady contractions, pumping the semen from his body. Pumping his fluids—his life—while he was kept helpless and overwhelmed with sensations of purest bliss.

“It won’t hurt,” Nicole said, her voice soft. “You’ll fall right asleep.”

George slumped on top of her. His energy was ebbing away. She pumped it from his body and into the ravenous pit of her sex along with his seed.

“You’re like most shy guys. You want the wanton temptress to give you the sexual release you’re too nervous to ask for, but you’re so insecure, the fantasy only works if you make her the femme fatale—interested only in your blood.”

Nicole let his head fall over her shoulder, into the black silk sheets of the bed. She placed a hand on the back of his head, and let her smooth cheek brush against his.

“So silly. You’re far more of a man than the shallow peacocks you envy.”

Nicole sighed. Hot sticky fluids bubbled up around his spurting penis.

“And far far tastier,” Nicole purred. “The nice gentlemen always taste the best.”

Her vagina continued to pulse around him with long, slow throbs—like a great velvet heart. He felt the beats flow through him, a pleasure which washed away all other sensation. His ejaculations were long slow waves rolling through his body. He was pouring, emptying, into her and—god help him—he couldn’t bear for it to end. His eyelids drooped shut. He felt tired now—drained and sleepy. There was no fear or panic. His only thoughts were a constant series of sighs and moans—the soundtrack to a hundred porn films all overlaid on top of each other.

“This brings back memories . . .” Nicole said, “. . . of times past, when the world was larger and existence was simpler. A chapter long closed. As it should be.”

George felt like he was sinking. Like the bed was growing softer and softer and, wrapped in Nicole’s embrace, he was sinking into its depths. Pleasure enveloped and surrounded him in a second skin. It saturated all his tissues.

“Mmm, I do so enjoy playing the wicked sensual predator.”

Nicole hugged him tight and dragged him down into deep, delectable darkness. George closed his eyes and the darkness welcomed him into its embrace.

Oh Nicole. To be concluded . . .

Crowd Funded Publishing

2011-06-02T23:49:00.003+01:00

This is an interesting idea I read about recently. Unbound.co.uk are looking to apply the Crowd Funding model to book publishing. It’s a simple enough concept. An author pitches an idea for a book. If enough people pledge enough money then the book becomes reality. Supporters can also get additional benefits depending on how much they pledge.

It’s interesting because it takes away some of the guesswork in judging whether a book will be successful or not. The creative industries tend to be a little conservative and risk averse, preferring to go for a slightly tepid ‘sure’ thing rather than gambling on something unusual.

This model mitigates a lot of the risk. Have a niche idea? Not sure there’s a big enough audience? Well, you can see right away. The project either generates enough interest and funding to get off the ground or it doesn’t.

I don’t think Unbound have it quite right just yet. The initial writers they have on board are already famous (Terry Jones, Amy Jenkins). While it’s good for them to see whether an idea is viable or not, it would be nice to see it used to uncover some unknowns.

I think the minimum £10 pledge is too high as well. There are the other benefits, but £10 for an ebook is a little steep, even with the extras. I wonder if they’re missing out by not having a £1 or similar mini-pledge option. £1 is closer to an impulse amount and might generate a lot of money from people that otherwise wouldn’t be interested in pledging the full tenner.

I think this model might be more interesting if applied to manuscripts from unknown writers. Here’s the first three chapters and a synopsis. If we get X thousand pledges, the book will become reality.

It’s got to be better than the sodding slush pile . . .

Locked in with a Succubus, part 11

2011-05-29T16:21:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10.

Nicole frowned. “It’s not much of a chance. You are quite inexperienced in the arts of lovemaking . . .”

“I’ll take it,” George said.

Nicole’s black eyes glimmered. Her smile became crafty.

“Make me come,” she said.

George paused. He didn’t know what to say.

“When it comes to a succubus and a human male, the succubus has total control in all matters concerning sex,” Nicole said. “As you’d expect of a being who is an absolute personification of carnal desires.”

She sat cross-legged next to George. Her tail curled round into her lap. She stared down at the flicking, arrow-pointed tip.

“Unfortunately, the gulf in experience makes it very hard for a succubus to achieve full satisfaction,” she said.

Her thumb and forefinger came together in a circle around her tail. She moved her hand up and down in an imitation of masturbation.

“What do I need to do?” George asked.

He felt a lot of trepidation. He had no real experience and he was dealing with an entity that lived off sex. Still, a slim chance was better than no chance at all.

Nicole tapped one clawed finger against her cheek. Her other hand went down between her legs and she ran a black fingernail between the moist folds of her sex.

“Mmm, it’s no good with me on top,” she mused. “It’s against your nature, but you’ll need to take the initiative. Be forceful. And work extremely hard. Mmm . . . yes . . . this might give you the best chance.”

She hopped up on all fours and faced away from him.

“Come over here,” she ordered.

Her tone was sweet but the words slipped right through his ears, hooked talons in his brain and tugged. George was on his knees and moving towards her before he even realised.

“Wha-how?” George said in surprise.

“Darling, you should never release your seed in a succubus’s cunt. It gives her a degree of control over you.”

She looked back at George and gave him a wicked smile. She waggled the lovely peach of her ass.

“I probably should have mentioned that earlier,” she said.

Yeah, thanks for the warning, George thought sourly.

“Now come and fuck me.” That voice again, jerking his body around on sugar-sweet puppet strings.

Before he was even aware, George was kneeling behind the lush swell of her behind with a hand stroking up and down his erection. Her tail flicked and twitched, exposing the little bud of her anus. George paused. Her tail lifted. The orifice relaxed and opened. The dilations and contractions, the moist lining behind, the hint of deep tight depths, all drew his gaze. A target.

His hand stroked up and down his bulging erection. All he needed to do was push forward.

George did, but at the last moment his hand steered his cock downwards, plunging it into the silken sheath of her vagina instead.

She hadn’t given him permission for the . . . other place.

Nicole chuckled.

“Always the gentleman,” she said.

She rocked back into him. Her whip-like tail slithered over his hips and curled round behind him.

“You could have, you know,” she said. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

The tip of her tail pressed up against the sphincter of his anus. Not hard enough to enter, but hard enough to imply it could.

“Of course, I’d have then felt obligated to do the same back to you,” Nicole said with a sultry chuckle. “Fair is fair.”

George shivered and instinctively jerked forwards. Forward meant plunging deeper into Nicole’s velvet depths, which he suspected was what she’d intended. She gave a contented moan and stretched her back like a cat. The soft curves of her buttocks pressed into his crotch.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Her tail tickled around the rim of his anus. “It’s quite pleasant.” The tail gave his asshole a delicate little prod. “But I fear you’d empty out very quickly if my little tail started tickling away on your prostate.” The tail moved away and the tip tickled against the underside of his testicles. “Far too quickly to get me anywhere near orgasm.”

George allowed himself a little sigh of relief as her tail slithered off down his inner thigh.

He placed both hands on the soft flesh of her ass and held on as he began to thrust back and forth into her. His cock slipped in and out of her moist sheath.

“Ooh yes, that’s a nice rhythm,” Nicole said. “You can go harder.”

George did, although he wasn’t sure it was by choice. His hips had slipped the leash of his mind and were rocking back and forth of their own accord. In. Out. George plunged into her silken sex again and again.

“You can drop that tentativeness,” Nicole said. “Women like sex too. Harder.”

She braced her legs and rocked back against him, meeting his thrusts with perfect timing. The bed sloshed and swayed beneath them. George was worried he’d lose his balance and slip out of her, but he didn’t.

“I’m not a porcelain doll,” Nicole said. “You’re not going to break me. Harder!”

I’m trying, George thought.

He grasped her hips—her flesh felt so good beneath his fingers; warm, soft, like a pillow he never wanted to let go of—and pounded her harder, harder, harder. She didn’t mind. She wanted more, more, more.

In. Out. His swollen erection sliding between her fleshy drapes. Feeling the friction as her moist vaginal walls rubbed against him.

Make her come.

In. Out.

Sheesh, this was knackering.

Sweat-soaked hair drifted down across George’s vision.

Focus! In. Out. Make her come.

Nicole’s pussy convulsed; clenched and dilated around him. George’s cock plunged right into a thick vaginal secretion that felt as soft and as rich as squirted cream. His mouth fell open as his dick was engulfed in pleasant tingles.

George paused. Nicole murmured in pleasure and writhed against him. The walls of her vagina crawled up and down George’s penis in soft little undulations. His hands slipped from the smooth skin of her hips. Her vagina swelled, pulled away and thick tingling juices were pumped over his cock. George stopped.

That felt so—

No. He mustn’t stop. He was hers for sure if he stopped.

George grabbed her hips and redoubled his efforts. Waves of force rippled over the taut skin of her buttocks as his hips slapped against her. Her round breasts jiggled and swayed.

In. Out. Fucking as if his life—and soul—depended on it, which they did.

Nicole quivered and shivered. The elastic walls of her vagina clenched and unclenched around his dick. Each squeeze felt like a sunburst of pleasure in his loins.

He was going to—

No! Focus on something else.

His breath rasped in his lungs. It reminded him of cross-country running back at school.

He fucking hated cross-country running back at school.

No good. Her ever so pliant pussy squeezed and rubbed against him. Rich warm cream enveloped his member. Nicole was breathing heavier now—deep husky breaths.

No good. Her vagina clenched again and George felt the wet suction pull on him as he fell back for another thrust.

No—uh—good.

George groaned. He was coming. He felt it welling up inside him—from his balls, from his hips, from his toes.

Nicole chuckled in triumph. The motions of her vagina changed, became like a mouth sucking on a lollipop.

Ahh.

No. Even though he was coming, he’d still remain hard for a short while.

He rammed his spurting cock into her as deep as it would go. Nicole gave a surprised yelp. The yelp changed to louder and louder moans as he thrust back and forth into her. George squeezed every last drop from his protesting muscles as he jackhammered against her. It was the last sprint to the line as his dick sprayed his seed inside her.

Nicole shivered. The trembles travelled through her body, spreading to her partially folded wings. She paused, gave a loud sigh. Her pussy exploded around George, flooding his lap with warm, sticky juices.

That had to be it. Completely shattered, George collapsed back onto the comfortable, yielding surface of the waterbed. He lay there, breathing heavily.

Was it enough? It had to be enough.

Nicole shuffled across on her knees and straddled his supine form.

“That was . . . very good,” she said. Her full breasts moved up and down as she got her breath back. Her pale cheeks were flushed deep red. Her crotch was sticky with their shared juices.

She fell forward on top of him and rubbed her body against him, sighing in contentment.

“So, can I go?” George asked.

It had to have been enough.

“No,” Nicole said.

“But I thought—”

Nicole stifled his protests with her soft lips and warm breath. She broke off the kiss and looked down at George. Her black eyes glittered like stones.

“I lied,” she said.

To be continued . . .

Locked in with a Succubus, part 10

2011-05-27T03:20:00.002+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9.

A little later than planned. Took three rewrites before I was happy with the chapter.

“Did you think I was done with you?” she said.

George had thought she was done with him, to the point of doing him in. His relief at finding himself alive and still breathing was tempered by his fear of the demon sitting astride him. She still had his penis.

“And don’t think the usual male weakness will save you,” Nicole said.

Her vagina pulsed. A warm, thick fluid poured into her fleshy cavity and submerged George’s trapped cock. Nicole closed her eyes and murmured. Her vaginal walls slowly undulated, stirring the fluid around his erection and massaging it into his flesh.

George gasped. His hips twitched. His cock surged back to full hardness and strained, eager to burrow deeper inside her. The sudden rush of blood made him feel woozy.

“I can keep you hard for weeks,” Nicole purred.

She wriggled her hips, rubbing more of her juices into George’s throbbing penis. He couldn’t move. The slightest motion and his over-aroused cock would rub up against her vaginal walls, incapacitating him with a burst of intense pleasure. She had him completely helpless and she knew it.

He noticed something odd with the tattoos on Nicole’s side, just below the curve of her right breast. The black lines didn’t seem as clearly delineated as before. It was like the black ink was running. Or—and this must be a trick of the subdued light—Nicole was bleeding as the sharp lines of her tattoos dug into her flesh like razor wire.

“What happened . . . earlier?” George asked. He feared the answer.

“You passed out,” Nicole said. “Anyone would think you’d never had sex before.”

Her lips turned up in a mischievous smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “Couldn’t resist.”

She tweaked his nipples.

“No one will be able to tease you about your virginity in the future,” she said. “It’s gone. The wicked succubus sucked it right out of you.”

“Was that all you took?” George asked. “It felt like . . .”

His recollections were hazy. He remembered both terror and incredible pleasure, a feeling of coming apart and being drawn up into Nicole’s body as she lay on top of him.

“. . . you were sucking out my soul.”

It was strange to use the word. George didn’t really believe in souls and that kind of thing—

He hadn’t believed in the existence of devils either . . .

—but it seemed like the only explanation which made sense.

Nicole laughed. “Don’t be silly. You wouldn’t be talking to me now. Taking out a person’s soul is like removing the batteries from a toy soldier. They cease to function.”

A chill ran up George’s spine. She was speaking from experience.

Nicole leant over him until her abyssal eyes were staring right into his.

“You had sex with a succubus, a being with complete mastery of the carnal arts. For your first time. It was too intense. You passed out.”

It sounded like it made sense, George thought. But what about—

No, best not to go there. Let those memories stay buried in the dark, forgotten corners of his mind. A man could go mad if he thought about it too much. He could throw his life away in a crazy, self-destructive quest to recapture those sensations.

There were smudges on Nicole’s cheeks—black like oil but very faint, as if she’d already wiped most of it away, leaving behind only these barely perceptible traces.

Her claws tickled the skin around his navel.

“Mmm, what to do now,” Nicole mused.

“You could let me go,” George suggested, more in hope than actual expectation.

Nicole sat up, tilted her head to the side, smiled.

“Your libido really is low, isn’t it,” she said. “I see now why it took so long. Most men are usually begging me for more sex by now . . . even though they know they shouldn’t,” she added, a wicked gleam in her eyes.

“I can’t.” She shrugged.

She placed her hands flat on George’s chest.

“It’s a little embarrassing actually,” she said.

She pushed down on George’s chest and used the leverage to lift her hips. George felt a strong tugging sensation on his cock. Her vagina had clenched tightly shut around the root. Where Nicole went, George went too . . . if he wanted to remain a man.

“I really can’t,” Nicole said.

“Oh,” George said.

“My vagina appears to have developed quite an attachment to your penis,” Nicole said. “It’ll relax in a while. Until then it does rather restrict what I can do to you. Hmm, let’s see . . .”

She wriggled and attempted to swivel on George’s cock. At first he was terrified she’d twist his manhood right off, but the swollen entrance to her vagina seemed to slide around his root easily enough. It was only when she attempted to lift her body off him that her orifice tightened up around the base of his cock and refused to release him.

“This is so embarrassing,” Nicole said.

She manoeuvred her body through a full one hundred and eighty degrees. Then she leaned backwards—George’s penis still inside her—until she was lying on top of him with her folded up wings flat against his chest.

“Better,” Nicole said. She smiled up at George’s reflection in the mirror. “I think we’ll lie like this for a while. Consider it a respite.”

She picked George’s hands up off the mattress and placed them on top of her full breasts.

“Something for you to play with while we wait.” She smiled up at the mirror.

She gave George’s hands a squeeze, which in turn caused him to grope the ripe round curves of her breasts. The flesh was soft, warm and eminently squeezable. George wasn’t sure which was hungrier for the touch—his hands or her breasts.

Nicole took her hands away. George’s stayed where they were. He didn’t have much say in the matter. Nicole’s breasts might as well have been coated in superglue for all the chance he had of removing his hands. His fingers clutched and squeezed her boobs, seduced and enslaved by their weight and smooth texture. Normally, George would have been too embarrassed to paw and grope at a woman’s bits like this, but he felt an illicit charge of pleasure as his fingers roamed over her lush curves. And shame. To take pleasure in groping her like a lecherous pervert.

“Naughty naughty fingers,” Nicole purred.

She closed her eyes and stretched on top of him like a cat. He knew she was enjoying the shame she caused him.

George’s fingers brushed up against a chain.

The key!

He remembered. She’d put it on a chain and hung it around her neck. Now if he could just hook a finger around the chain and slip—

Nicole opened an eye. The muscular walls of her vagina clenched around his cock hard enough to make his eyes water.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked sweetly.

“N-n-nothing,” George said.

Please don’t crush my cock, he thought. How could she be so powerful down there?

One hand closed over George’s. The other lifted up the key. It glinted as it swung on the end of the chain.

“Aww, you were after this,” Nicole said. “How sweet.”

Her vagina relaxed around his cock. George went from feeling as though his manhood had been trapped in a vice to feeling as though it was sunk in luxuriously soft putty. A gasp slipped from his open mouth. Her sex burbled and more warm fluids swirled around his cock. Her walls stroked against him in pleasant undulations. It didn’t matter that their sexual organs were sealed together. She didn’t need to move; the internal motions of her vagina were friction enough. The flesh stroked and stroked up his shaft and teased the end with moist kisses. George felt like he was being stroked up higher and higher, as if his hips were rising up off the mattress and he was floating up to heaven.

His cock throbbed and erupted within her. He pumped another great load of semen into her undulating warmth. The soft walls kept stroking and stroking, coaxing more and more juice from his straining manhood until finally he crashed back down on the soft bed. His head and arms lay limp on the mattress. Droplets of perspiration beaded his brow.

Nicole was as perfectly composed as ever.

“Are you really sure you want this key?” she asked.

The moist interior of her vagina squeezed and rubbed against the fleshy head of his spent cock. Sparks of pleasure cascaded through his trembling nerves.

George paused to catch his breath. “Yes,” he wheezed out.

Nicole sat up.

“How disappointing,” she said. “We’ve barely started and already you want to leave. My seductive powers really must be waning.”

She lifted her body off him. George’s erection was finally out from the hot, smothering confines of her vagina. He was horrified by how much he wanted to put it back there.

Nicole reached over to fetch the bottle of wine from the shelf. There was no outpouring of liquid from her sex. While within her, George’s cock had been flooded with her juices. He’d added great spurts of his own semen to the mix. Yet not a dribble escaped Nicole’s vagina. She’d absorbed it all.

She put the bottle to George’s lips and poured in some of the contents. Relishing the sweet taste, George greedily gulped it down.

“If I stay here I’ll die,” he said as she returned the bottle to the shelf.

Nicole sat cross-legged on the bed next to him. He shivered in pleasure as she cupped his balls in a warm palm. Her claw hooked under and tickled around his anus.

“I suppose I shouldn’t begrudge you your survival instincts,” Nicole said.

She lightly squeezed his balls and George gasped, his spine contorting backwards. It felt like a flash, like a warm spark of electricity. He felt something reach up into his abdomen, grab pieces of him and drag them down into his balls. In a matter of moments they swelled back up and felt as plump and as fully loaded as if he’d gone without masturbation for a month.

Nicole looked at the key in her left hand. She ran the fingers of her other hand up and down George’s twitching erection. She tapped a claw thoughtfully against the swollen head.

“You seem like a nice gentleman,” she said. “And I’m not the completely heartless demon I appear to be. Maybe I should give you a chance to escape.”

George’s ears pricked up.

Nicole frowned. “It’s not much of a chance. You are quite inexperienced in the arts of lovemaking after all.”

“I’ll take it,” George said.

To be continued . . .

Part 10 is delayed by vacation :(

2011-05-22T14:58:00.002+01:00

I'm currently on vacation in a lovely East European city. I was hoping to write up part 10 and get it posted while I was out here, but beer, friends and other things have intervened. (A final proof check on the print version of "A Succubus for Halloween" mainly).

Diabolic tease that she is, I'm sure Nicole would approve of leaving readers stuck on tenterhooks. Barring mishaps, Part 10 will go up on Wednesday with Part 11 (Assuming poor George hasn't already expired in ecstatic bliss) following in the usual Sunday/Monday slot.

So much for thinking I'd gotten ahead on the serial . . .

Erotica: When Your Chapter Has No Sex

2011-05-18T04:47:00.002+01:00

I’ve started posting the “Locked in with a Succubus” chapters up on Literotica. It’s the first time I’ve gone outside of the Erotic Horror category. I thought I’d try and see if I could pick up some new readers by posting in the NonNuman category instead (and then promptly lose them as the story heads off into too-dark territory). The first chapter (intro + part 2) went live yesterday.

It has the worst score of any of my Literotica stories.

(lower even than "The Biggest Tits in the World", where I screwed up and tossed out a mental image most readers spotted right off was simply impossible—although I do have a fix now)

That’s something I was expecting and knew I’d have to take on the chin. People like their erotica to have, you know, naughty bits.

It’s always a dilemma. I like my sex scenes to be surrounded by a strong story and the problem with Plot with Porn as opposed to Plot? What Plot? is sometimes the plot heads off into areas with no sex. So what do you do? Crowbar in the naughty anyway, or cross your fingers and hope the story is compelling enough to keep the readers interested until the next pair of jiggling boobs appears on the horizon?

I’m a bit weird, so the story is always sacrosanct to me. No sex unless it fits naturally into the plot.

Fortunately for me, when you write about succubi, sex always naturally fits into the plot!

I was going to combine "Locked in with a Succubus" into one single piece, but I think it might diminish the impact of all those teasing little chapter endings. It’s given me some ideas on how to put my 4th collection of short stories together. I’ll see what happens on Literotica over the next couple of weeks. If everyone gets bored waiting for the hot stuff to happen and buggers off, then I’ll know it was a failed experiment.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 9

2011-05-15T17:32:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8

“Oh crap,” she said.

Puzzled, George looked up.

Nicole sat astride him, motionless aside from the up and down movements of the waterbed beneath them. Her sex had contracted snugly all around his cock, holding him firmly inside her. It was very tight, but not uncomfortably so. In fact, it felt very pleasant. Her vagina was warm, almost hot, and his dick felt like it was stewing in pleasure.

What was happening?

Nicole’s eyes were shut and her face was expressionless, perfect like a porcelain doll. Her vagina slowly started to peel back from the root of George’s cock.

Her sex convulsed.

George’s whole body tensed up. An involuntary gasp burst from his mouth.

The soft walls of her pussy squished around his cock like warm putty and then squeezed. He felt powerful suction roll all the way up his shaft.

And beyond.

He felt it in his trunk, in the blood vessels running throughout his body. The pad of soft fleshy tissue enveloping the head of his penis expanded like bellows and he felt the pull right through his balls and down to his curling toes.

Aaaah. Another involuntary gasp shot from his lips.

Nicole’s head dropped forwards. Her lovely supple lips pouted in a cute little ‘o’ as a short sigh of pleasure slipped from her mouth. Her pale cheeks blushed deep red.

Her vagina pulsed again and a whiplash of breath-taking pleasure thrummed through George. His spine arched backwards, pressing his shoulders back against the mattress.

Nicole lifted her head up and gave a strange alien cry, like some kind of exotic bird or beast. She looked down at George and he was unnerved by what he saw. It was Nicole’s beautiful face, but it looked like a host of emotions were churning away beneath the surface. Something was coming through, something demonic and full of lascivious hunger.

George knew then he was in trouble.

“Mmm,” Nicole murmured.

She relaxed and sank down on George, letting his trapped erection be drawn up deeper into the smothering flesh of her vagina. The muscular walls undulated and sucked, sending another blast of ecstasy rushing through George’s body.

He didn’t know if this had been Nicole’s intention from the start or whether something had gone wrong, but instinctively he knew he was in mortal danger. He tried to lift his shoulders up from the swaying bed.

Nicole looked at him with eyes as cold as distant galaxies. She sang words in an alien tongue. They sounded like the sweetest, purest notes, but with dissonant harmonies like metal coming together in a car crash. She made strange motions with her hands, as if she was dragging her claws through soil or clay even though there was nothing before her but empty air.

Glistening threads, like angel hair or the finest spider silk, drifted down onto George’s chest and shoulders. Where they touched him, they sapped his strength and left behind a state of pleasant enervation. His shoulders fell back on the bed and stayed there.

“You think you can escape,” Nicole mocked. “You’re inside me.”

Her sex pulsed again and George trembled. The muscular walls bunched up around his shaft and rolled to the head in a kind of lascivious peristalsis.

Nicole whispered more words so alien they slipped past his ears like shimmering silver fish. George felt the strange constriction around the base of his cock relax. A few moments ago he would have given anything for it to be gone. Now, he would have given twice as much to put it back.

He was naked, completely exposed. The liquid interior of Nicole’s vagina slithered and tugged at him. She had full control. George felt she could make him come at any time, but instead her motions were slow and practised. She teased him with silken tugs that left him always just short of a threshold that kept rising a little each time. George squirmed and writhed beneath her like a fish caught on a line. The pleasure kept building and building until the denial of release became a kind of torture in itself.

Nicole shifted position on top of him. She sat up straighter and tilted her head up to the ceiling. She held out her hands with the palms facing upwards. Her wings extended behind her. If they’d been feathered rather than membranous like a bat’s she might have looked like an angel in prayer. She even whispered words that sounded like prayer. George thought he saw a nimbus of purple flickering light around her form, but that could have been his imagination.

It was hard to think of anything. Pure sensation overwhelmed him. Nicole might have looked still and composed—with her only motions short, controlled thrusts of her hips—but the interior of her vagina was alive. George heard liquid sounds as the thick, soft walls of her sex crawled over his erection. Her lust had engulfed him whole. It felt like an alien heart had invaded his system and his blood was now dancing to the beat of the intruder organ.

“Now,” Nicole commanded in a soft voice.

The soft meat of her vagina wrapped tightly around his penis and pulsed.

George gasped through gritted teeth. His hips bucked upwards.

Fuck.

His cock spewed an enormous load of semen into the succubus’s pussy. The fleshy pad at the end of her vagina absorbed it all and then sucked on the head of his cock for more.

Oh god.

He obliged. He had no choice. His cock throbbed again and again, each time depositing another hot, sticky load into the succubus’s smothering grip. On and on—

How much—

—more and more—

—could she take?

—as George writhed and thrashed in the throes of pure animal orgiastic release.

The ejaculation kept going, way past the point it should have ended as George pumped jets, streams, rivers of cum into her greedy sex. She absorbed it all and exhorted him for more, more, more!

He couldn’t. His body . . . there wasn’t . . .

Nicole leant over him. She caressed the side of his face with clawed fingers. Her face was feral and strangely all the more beautiful for it, like seeing the model in the flesh rather than her sculpture. Fires raged in the depths of her abyssal black eyes and yet George saw something which glistened in the corner of one of them—a tear maybe, but blacker than the deepest sin.

His body convulsed. He was still coming. What, he had no idea; his balls must have emptied already. Her sex continued to throb around his cock like the beats of a great fleshy heart, pumping the goodness and vitality from his body.

George’s movements quietened down. A cold numbness was spreading throughout his abdomen.

And still his body sang with pleasure, as if he wanted this continue forever and ever and damn the consequences. Forget the future, enjoy the now!

Nicole lay on top of him. Her full breasts rested on his chest. George’s eyes, holdouts from the revolution she’d instilled in his flesh, pleaded with her to stop. Nicole crushed her soft lips against his and stole the breath from his lungs.

Her skin felt so hot against his. A raging furnace.

George was coming apart inside. His pieces were dismantling, becoming firewood to fuel her flames.

The tide of pleasure rose up and claimed the last of George’s thoughts.

It was wonderful, the most natural thing in the world. He felt only the contentment of absolute release as the deep deep darkness rose up to envelop him.

* * * *

George jerked awake with a gasp.

What? Where?

The bed. He lay in a shallow, comfortable depression in the centre of Nicole’s waterbed. And Nicole . . .

The demon was still on top of him. She looked down at him. The stark, perfect beauty of her features contrasted with her horns and empty black eyes. She placed the neck of a bottle against George’s lips.

“Drink,” she ordered.

She upended the bottle and a trickle of sweet liquid passed between George’s lips. He recognised the taste as that moreish wine he’d drunk earlier, only now it seemed even more delicious. He gulped it down like a parched man finding water in a desert.

Nicole took the bottle away, much to George’s disappointment. He lifted his head up and saw Nicole was still sitting on his crotch. The lips of her labia were splayed and pressed against his body. He couldn’t see his penis. It was still inside her. Inside the succubus.

“Did you think I was done with you?” she said.

To be continued . . .

Throwing Rocks at People on High Horses

2011-05-12T05:15:00.000+01:00

Two articles caught my attention in the news today.

The first is about the odious piece of anti-homosexuality legislation being debated in the Ugandan parliament.

The second is about the horrendous murders of sex workers happening out in Long Island. It’s also a surprisingly progressive piece on prostitution from The Guardian (which is odd considering The Guardian is one of the UK’s more progressive newspapers). Obviously the title is a little too sensationalist. Anti-prostitution attitudes didn’t kill those girls, a psychopath did, but it made his (assuming it is a he) work a lot easier. Same as it always does.

Sex workers have always been vulnerable. And always will be while people continue to sit on their moral high horses and try to tell the rest of the world how they should live their lives.

I wonder what it is about our species that makes us feel the need to pry into and interfere with other people’s private behaviour, even when it doesn’t affect us personally in the slightest. It seems simple to me. What happens between consenting adults behind closed doors is their own business. To anyone else: Butt out. It doesn’t concern you. Your opinions, your thoughts and especially your morality are not asked for or welcome.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 8

2011-05-08T06:30:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Now it really heats up. It goes without saying, but if you're not at least eighteen years old, you shouldn't be here. So go now. Don't read another word. I don't want to be responsible for your eyes catching fire and melting in your head.

“My pussy is hungry,” Nicole said, letting her soft hand caress up the underside of George’s cock. “I think it’s time to let her feed.”

George would have been more concerned by her words had his brain not been suspended in a thick fog of pleasure. Nicole looked at his empty, blissed-out state and tutted.

“First we should clear your head a little.”

She rested a palm on George’s forehead. He felt a sudden hot flash and the clouds obscuring his mind were blown aside.

“Wha-ha?” George said. He felt like he’d just woken up from a pleasant dream.

“Too much pheromone,” Nicole said.

She lay next to George and lazily pumped a hand up and down his twitching cock.

“For some of my clients it’s a kindness to have them spend their last moments submerged in a fog of purest bliss,” Nicole said. “I didn’t think that was fair on you. A man should fully experience the moment he loses his virginity.”

“Thanks. How thoughtful,” George said sourly.

Nicole slid on top of him and straddled his midriff. She pinned his arms to the gently rocking bed. She looked down at him and smiled.

“What’s the matter,” she said. “You did say you weren’t against the idea of casual sex, providing the other participant was willing.”

Her tail coiled around his cock and started to pump up and down, keeping him at full hardness.

“And I’m extremely willing,” Nicole beamed.

No, George wasn’t against the idea of casual sex. But this, spread-eagled and straddled by a demon from the pits of hell, wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured losing his virginity.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Nicole said. “I know you’re secretly enjoying this.”

She lay down on him. Her soft breasts rested on his chest. Her arms went around him in an embrace. Her pleasant perfume filled his nostrils.

“I’ll let you into a little secret,” she whispered in his ear.

Her tail continued to masturbate George’s cock. He felt his body respond as his hips started to move up and down in time with her moments.

“I don’t feel pleasure,” she said. “Not in the conventional sense. I only feel the pleasure I give to my sexual partners.”

She leant closer. Her soft lips brushed against the lobes of George’s ear. Her felt her warm breath tickle his skin.

“And I’m very adept at giving them pleasure,” she whispered.

Her tail squeezed his cock. The flat arrow-point tip wrapped over George’s glans like a tight hood. George gasped as it squeezed him. His body shuddered uncontrollably, sending waves flowing outwards across the bed, as the coils of her tail bunched up and stroked up and down his shaft. As much as his throbbing balls wanted to disgorge their contents, the seal around the base of his cock held.

Nicole sat up and laughed.

“Mmm, nice,” she said.

She released the head of his cock. George gasped as he felt the tip of her tail hook and tease the opening to his urethra as it slid off him. Shivers of pleasure ran through his body.

“I’m just a plaything for your pleasures,” he accused.

Nicole sat up. She cocked her head to the side. Her tail continued to give stimulation to his cock.

“Yes, I suppose you are,” she said. The corner of her mouth turned up in a wicked smile. “You’re my little toy and I’m going to play with you all night.”

She reached behind her to fondle his balls.

“How is this different to rape?” George asked.

Nicole put a hand to her mouth and laughed even louder than before. She pinned George’s arms back to the bed and leant down until her nose was brushing his and her empty black eyes were staring right into him.

“Silly boy,” she said. “A succubus never rapes her victims. Rape is sex without consent and a succubus’s victim always gives consent…in the end. They even expire with a smile on their face.”

That wasn’t much comfort to George.

“Don’t worry,” Nicole said. “I’ll push the corners of your mouth down so you look all serious for the undertakers.”

George’s eyes widened.

Nicole ducked down closer. “That was a joke,” she whispered in his ear.

George’s brow furrowed. What did she mean?

Nicole sat back up. She lifted her body up and moved backwards until she was directly above George’s crotch and his bobbing, swollen erection.

“Enough foreplay,” Nicole said. “It’s time my pussy was fed.”

She lowered her body and used her tail to steer George’s erection to the naked cleft of her sex. A mixture of excitement and trepidation flooded through him and he tensed as he felt her weight press lightly against the swollen head of his cock. Her labia, those thick fleshy lips, parted around his swollen glans and he felt the wet folds of her inner sex against the head of his cock.

“It’s still rape,” George said.

His hips twitched. Another orgasm was sent back by the seal Nicole had placed around the root of his cock.

Nicole laughed. “I think your body would beg to differ,” she said.

George’s hips had seceded from the rest of his body. They jerked and flexed of their own accord. Part of him had been waiting—longing—for this moment for a very long time. The little matter of the girl on top of him being a demon wasn’t going to dissuade his body from pushing his manhood up into her juicy, taunting snatch.

Nicole laughed, low and sultry. She had all the control. She rode his clumsy upward thrusts with languid ease. She kept the head of his cock pressed against her moist folds, but didn’t permit him to go any deeper. She wiggled on top of him, teasing him as she ran his swollen glans along the dripping groove of her sex. The tip of her tail curved between his legs and tickled the underside of his scrotum.

“So eager,” she chided. “You should draw out the moment for your first time. Savour it.”

George was more concerned it might also be his last time. His body, of course, didn’t care.

She stopped pinning his arms to the bed and leant backwards, bracing her hands on his thighs. She pressed her hips downwards. George watched her plump labia swell out and engulf the head of his cock. He was inside her, just the tip, but inside her nonetheless. He let out a soft groan as he felt the muscular walls of her vagina contract around the tip of his cock.

Nicole closed her eyes. Her pale white cheeks were tinged with red.

“Mmm,” she purred. “Just a taste to start with. A tiny little suck.”

The lips of her vulva started to move against him. They were sucking on the tip of his cock. Her sex was sucking on the tip of his cock. Like a mouth. George’s head fell back and another involuntary groan of pleasure escaped him.

He felt her juices. Warm and wet, they bathed the helmet of his cock and dribbled down his shaft. Just as with his tongue and lips from when she’d sat on his face, her juices magnified the sensitivity of his skin. His glans felt swollen, enormous; increasing in size until it encompassed his whole world. The warm folds of her sex swept across that world, sucking him and coating his skin in more of her body’s sinful secretions.

“Still feel like rape?” Nicole asked. “You can say no.”

George lay back and stared up into the mirror on the ceiling. Nicole was astride him, in total control. Her black wings were tightly folded up against her back. It felt like a mouth was down there, sucking on the tip of his cock. Such control.

He said nothing.

Nicole looked up and met his gaze in the mirror. Her black eyes gleamed. She smiled.

“Thought not,” she said.

She started to sink down on him, slowly taking him inside her, millimetre by exquisite millimetre. The inside of her vagina was silk. Silk impregnated with perfumed oil. It slid smoothly over his head and hugged the length of his shaft. Nicole sank all the way down on him until she was kissing the base of his cock.

Nicole’s eyes gleamed with triumph as she stared down at him. The succubus had him. He was in her. He was hers.

“Would you have stopped,” George asked, “if I’d said no?”

Nicole cocked her head to one side, thoughtful as she considered his question.

“No,” she answered.

Her vagina convulsed. The walls undulated up and down George’s erection. Inside her, his cock was deluged in thick, warm fluids that sank into his skin and sent his nerve endings wild with pleasure.

George’s head crashed back down on the mattress and he thrashed it from side to side as ecstasy washed through him in a wave.

“But I might have felt a little guilty about it,” Nicole said.

Calm and perfectly poised, she started to move her hips up and down. Her full breasts bobbed with her movements, but the rest of her body was still and composed. The bed rocked and swayed beneath them and Nicole incorporated the undulations into her movements, timing each downward thrust to match the rising crest of each wave.

“Poor little virgin,” she teased. Her pale face was beautiful, radiant, terrible. “Defiled by the evil succubus. You’re my little toy now. Drown in my lusts.”

George was sinking. He still lay on top of the pitching surface of the waterbed, but he was drowning nonetheless. All his thoughts were being crowded out. The only thing left was the sinuous motion of her hips as she smoothly engulfed his cock within her silken sheath again and again.

“Drown little virgin,” Nicole whispered. “Give yourself up to my lusts.”

George writhed beneath her. His own body was betraying him. His hips began to push up and meet her thrusts, driving his manhood deep inside her warm vagina.

There was something at the end of the tunnel of her sex, he realised dimly—a pad of flesh that was hot and lusciously soft. As Nicole’s thrusts grew longer and deeper, the head of his cock nudged up against it. It felt…pleasant. The tip of George’s cock came away with nice tingling sensation and a desire to bury it deeper into that thick soft cushion.

Nicole came down hard, pushing George’s erection all the way up inside her vagina. His cock pressed against that soft obstruction and suddenly it came alive. Soft, hot, moist flesh ballooned around the fleshy helmet of George’s cock and engulfed it—absorbing it almost—in a tight muscular grip.

Nicole gave a sharp intake of breath. She paused. Her vagina contracted—hard—around George’s shaft, trapping him in a tight, fleshy vice. Her eyes widened.

“Oh crap,” she said.

Uh oh. To be continued...

I’d like to vote to have less of a vote, please

2011-05-05T02:44:00.006+01:00

Tomorrow (or most likely today when this goes up), Britain is holding a referendum on whether to change its voting system from a First Past The Post system to an Alternative Vote system. Now this is a complicated issue, with many politicians on all sides of the political spectrum weighing in with complex opinions.

Essentially though, it boils down to this:

A. Yes. I would like my vote to have more of a say in who governs me.
B. No. I don’t want my vote to have more of a say in who governs me.

You’d think it’d be an easy choice…

Locked in with a Succubus, part 7

2011-05-02T01:59:00.002+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

“Relax. There’s no escape now,” Nicole whispered in his ear. “Mmm, I like to let my victims melt with pleasure. Then I slurp them all up like delicious ice cream.”

George remembered why he should be afraid.

“Still frightened?” Nicole asked. “My my, you are a troublesome client.”

She slid an arm underneath his body, grabbed his arm and pulled, spinning George around until he lay on his back with Nicole on top of him. The waterbed sagged beneath him, comfortable but also a prison.

He saw again her horns and those empty black eyes.

Still frightened? You betcha.

“People will notice if I go missing,” he said. “They know I’m here.”

Nicole put an elegant hand to her mouth and laughed.

“I hope you don’t play cards for money,” she said. “You don’t bluff well.”

She pulled off her panties.

“Of course Miss Kitson knows you’re here,” Nicole said. “She did send you to me after all.”

George’s eyes widened. Why would Miss Kitson do that?

“Now shut up and soak in my pheromones for a while,” Nicole said.

She shifted position until she was crouched above his face and facing his feet. George got an extreme close-up view of the shaven lips of her pussy. George might not have had sex, but he’d still seen his share of porn films. Nicole’s labia seemed plusher and somehow more comfortable looking than the girls he’d seen in those films. They tugged at him with a primal urge and his cock twitched to life as the image of slipping it between those cushioned lips entered his thoughts.

“That’s more like it,” Nicole said as she bent down to caress his erection with her hand.

Her labia twitched, gaping hungrily to reveal a glistening red tunnel. George shivered. The girls in the films he’d watched had never been able to do that. No human was able to do that.

Nicole laughed at his fear. “Just wait, in a moment this lovely rock-hard cock is going to be inside there. Then my sweet little cunt will suck all that fear right out of you. As well as everything else,” she added with a wicked laugh.

George didn’t get a chance to protest. Nicole sat down, smothering his face in the soft flesh of her ass. The bed rocked and swayed beneath him as she ground her body against him. He felt the moist folds of her sex rub against his nose and mouth. Something slender and whip-like wound around his throat.

He couldn’t breathe. Her ass covered his face like a pillow, blocking off his airways. Her warm juices dribbled onto and between his lips. Each drip set off firecrackers of sensation across his nerve-endings. The opposite of a numbing agent, her fluids heightened the sensitivity of whatever skin they came into contact with. George’s lips and tongue fizzed with pleasure. Nicole laughed wickedly and wiggled her body on top of his face.

George still couldn’t breathe. Her tail tightened around his neck like a noose. His mouth and nose were smothered between her ass cheeks. He started to feel light-headed.

Nicole waited until he was on the verge of passing out—George had no idea how she knew; she just knew—and lifted up her ass. Grateful, George took a deep breath—

—and nearly choked on an overpowering, musky scent. It surrounded his head in a cloying cloud and—with his lungs starved for air—George was helpless as he drew the heady perfume into his body. His first instinct was to cough out the corrupted air, but he had no chance to do that as Nicole was already sitting back down on him, smothering him back between the luscious curves of her ass.

The scent was like a fine liqueur—the first taste abrasive, but after that becoming smooth, warm, pleasant; something to crave. Tendrils of perfume twined up his nostrils and wrapped his brain up in soft cotton wool. He felt like he was floating up in the clouds. The bed, so soft and comfortable beneath him, felt like a big fluffy cloud.

The next time Nicole raised her ass George was eager to inhale more of her sweet-smelling musk. He felt it rush down through his body like a head of steam. The pressure built up beneath his manhood and it swelled up even harder until it was throbbing with need.

“Mmm yes,” Nicole purred. “Drown in my lust.”

She folded her body down on him until her breasts were resting on his midriff. Long, skilful fingers touched, prodded and flicked his erection. They crawled down between his legs and tickled through the hairs on his testicles. George’s sigh of pleasure was cut off—smothered—in the descending folds of Nicole’s sex.

A soft hand wrapped around the base of George’s cock. Soft, full lips kissed the tip. Just a light peck for the first, second and third touch. For the fourth, the lips remained there, pressed against the swollen mushroom head of his dick. They slowly sucked, drawing the tip into her mouth like a strand of spaghetti. A quicksilver tongue lapped up the pre-cum drooling from the opening to his urethra.

George groaned into her smothering pussy. His body twitched.

“A-ha,” Nicole released his cock and scolded. “Not yet.”

She pursed her lips and blew on the tip of George’s cock. Something—it felt like a smoke ring or bubble of energy, yet tangible—rolled down the outside of George’s shaft. It settled at the root and cinched tight, choking off George’s premature orgasm before it even started. Dammed, the pleasure backed up and cascaded through George’s writhing body.

“You don’t come until I say you can come,” Nicole said, her voice as soft and as authoritative as an old-fashioned schoolmistress.

Her warm lips enclosed the head of his cock and gave another teasing suck.

“And I’m not letting you come until you’re buried deep inside my hungry vagina,” she released his cock to say.

Her warm breath flowed over and teased the throbbing head of his cock with maddening swirls. Nicole dipped her head forward and took another teasing suck, going deeper this time, letting the head of George’s cock rest on her moist, fleshy tongue. One hand pumped the base of his cock while the fingers of the other fondled and toyed with his balls.

George writhed and squirmed beneath her, battered by waves of sensation crashing through his body. He was helpless as she used her fingers and mouth to play him like a virtuoso musician. Unused to the touch of a woman, he felt the desire to come rise in him again and again, only to crash into and be repelled by the choke around the root of his penis.

Nicole shifted position, climbing off his face. George was finally able to take a breath untainted with the odour of her sex.

“My pussy is hungry,” Nicole said, letting her soft hand caress up the underside of George’s cock. “I think it’s time to let her feed.”

To be continued...

Riddles and Validations

2011-04-29T02:52:00.002+01:00

A little bit of tubthumping I did over at The Self Publishing Revolution.

Riddle me this:

What’s the difference between a self-pubbed author who sells X copies and a trad-pubbed author who sells X copies?

(I haven’t, by the way, but if you’d like to help me achieve this goal and have a liking for weird, kinky horror, please feel free to mosey on over here…)

It’s easy to be insecure as a writer. There aren’t finishing lines to cross first, opponents to punch out or teams to score more points than. As with most creative endeavours, where quality is subjective, it’s hard to tell if you’re any good or not.

Acceptance with a publishing house gives validation, or so the argument goes (although Joe Konrath refers to it as an example of Stockholm Syndrome). It’s a stamp of approval. Get that deal—and the advance—and a writer can say with authority, “Yes, I am a real author!”

The problem with self-publishing is the ‘published’ part is always going to come with air quotes. If any old oik can shove their badly written mush up onto Amazon, then ‘being published’ no longer feels like an achievement. For that reason self-publishing is often pushed aside and treated as a special case. If the author had to do it themselves, they probably weren’t good enough to be published in the first place. I think many of us have held this view at some point and some almost certainly still do. Check the membership guidelines of professional writers' organisations like the HWA and SFWA and you’ll see very clear stipulations on what does or doesn’t count as a valid publication for obtaining active membership.

Now that the ebook explosion has burst the dam, how important is the traditional stamp of approval?

As validation goes, that stamp is only a proxy when you think about it. To use a simple fantasy analogy, it’s an entrance exam granting permission to go and slay the dragon. Congratulations! You passed. But you still have to go and kill that dragon…

If someone else decides to skip all those stupid trials, goes straight to the dragon and hacks its head right off, are they any less of a dragonslayer?

In this case the dragon—and true validation—is finding an audience, whether it is small and distinguished or massive and lucrative.

What happens when more and more writers choose to go it alone, not because they aren’t good enough, but because it makes more economic sense than signing away a huge chunk of their royalties? Clauses like this (from HWA’s active membership requirements)

With the sole exception of comic books, self-published work can not be used for qualification purposes. "Self-published work" is defined as written material disseminated by the author (for example, email or electronic publications, publication on the author's Web site, or printed publications sold on consignment or solely by the author), or written material whose basic publication costs are defrayed in whole or in part by the author.

will cease to make any sense. As will references to 5¢/word rates and minimum advances.

Riddle me this:

Person A gets a $5,000 advance from an accredited publisher, but only goes on to sell a couple of hundred copies. Person B makes $10,000 a month selling 99¢ self-published ebooks on Amazon. Which one is the professional author?

(I’m not trying to bash the HWA, by the way. I was a fresh-faced wannabe member a while back and I found them helpful in terms of market information and discovering new writers I hadn’t read before.)

Which leads us back to the original question:

What’s the difference between a self-pubbed author who sells X copies and a trad-pubbed author who sells X copies?

My gut says the answer is this:

Locked in with a Succubus, part 6

2011-04-24T18:52:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” George said. “I only run that line to make the ladies think better of me. Do you honestly believe a man can get to thirty-four—in this day and age—without ever having sex?”

Nicole chuckled. She leant over him until his eyes were staring up into hers. Their emptiness was a hole that threatened to tug out his soul and reel it up into limitless black depths.

“Cute bluff,” she said. “Not very effective when I can see it clearly for myself.”

“How?” George said. “It’s not like I have a hymen or anything. What’s the difference between spunking my load into a woman’s vagina or the palm of my hand?”

“We know,” Nicole said.

She dipped her head and sniffed George’s chest. Her cheeks reddened and she sighed in pleasure.

“Here.” She took his hand and pressed the palm against her crotch. “Do you think this happens around every man?”

George’s eyes widened. The fabric of her panties was completely sodden. He felt the cleft of her sex beneath. He drew his hand back in alarm as he felt her vulva move independently against his hand. Like a mouth.

Unabashed hunger shone in Nicole’s eyes.

“I want so much to shove your hard cock in my pussy and suck and suck and suck,” she said, her supple lips coming together in a luscious pout.

As much as the prospect thrilled George, he knew it would be too much for him. She’d be too much for him. Her passion would incinerate him like a moth in a candle flame. He had to get away.

Nicole started to undress him, first peeling off his jumper and vest from his unresisting body. As she moved down to his trousers George felt flickers of life return to his limbs. The paralysis, or strange state of blissful enervation, was wearing off. He rolled over and kicked out blindly as Nicole tugged at his trousers and underwear. The bed rocked and swayed with violent motion as he struggled beneath her.

His trousers came away and with them Nicole. Naked now, George crawled across the wildly pitching surface of the bed. He reached out with a hand, found the hard rim of the bed, started to pull himself towards it.

A warm weight settled on his back. Nicole lay on top of him, her soft breasts squashed against his back. George stopped squirming.

“It’s really not possible for a man to fight a succubus from this position,” she whispered in his ear. “Not when he’s naked and she’s on top of him. Not when her naked flesh is pressed against his.”

George’s mouth gaped open and he released a little sigh. Her skin felt so good against him—warm and smooth like silk. He felt a pleasant buzz wherever she came into contact with him, a luxurious tingle which left the rest of his skin hungering to experience the same pleasure.

“It takes the fight right out of them.” Nicole dripped honeyed sin into his ear. “It’s pushed aside as all those illicit little desires come bubbling to the surface.”

George gave another soft little groan. His thoughts were submerged beneath a deluge of pornographic images. Full pouting red lips; eyes gleaming with lust; ripe, round breasts with perky erect nipples; glistening pink pussies—all calling out to him, hungry for him. George struggled to hold on as the torrent threatened to wash his mind away.

Nicole came closer. Her soft lips brushed against his ear. “I can satisfy all of them, every last filthy one of them,” she whispered in his ear.

George shivered beneath her.

She ran a claw lightly over the skin of his shoulder. “What? Doesn’t that appeal to you?”

It did, but his terror of the consequences more than outweighed the stirrings he felt in his balls. It was so unfair.

“Being a virgin at thirty-four is bad enough,” George said. “Now I get to be savoured as a delicacy by a devil because of it. Whatever happened to punishing the deserving sinners?”

Nicole’s finger tickled down between his ass cheeks.

“We wouldn’t be considered evil if we only targeted the bad people,” Nicole said. “Do you consider this to be punishment?”

She lightly kissed the back of his shoulder. Her hand cupped his balls and gently pumped. A warm burst of pleasure washed over George’s body.

“Oh, but you do,” Nicole said. “You tremble like prey. You smell of fear like prey. If I fuck you like this I’ll surely eat you all up like prey.”

She straddled the small of his back and sat up. Out of the corner of his eye George saw her tail loop around the handle of one of the exotic bottles sitting on a bedside shelf. Her tail lifted it up and brought it back to her.

“I think we’ll wear away all those fears with a sexy little massage,” Nicole said.

George heard her work the pump handle of the bottle. He felt a cool liquid splash across his back. It didn’t remain cool for long as her skilful hands started to rub and knead it into his flesh. She pushed her hands up either side of his spine and then across his shoulders, spreading a pleasant little buzz in her wake. They moved up to his neck and she used her long fingers to work out the knots in his muscles. The fragrant aroma of the massage oil tickled his nostrils.

“My, so much tension,” she said. “Have you ever been massaged before?”

“No,” George replied.

Nicole squirted more oil onto his back and danced along his spine with her thumbs. She pressed down with her palms and slid them out to George’s sides, smoothing out the flesh beneath them. A nice feeling of warmth permeated through the muscles of his back.

“You were never tempted to pay a visit to one of those naughty little massage parlours?” Nicole asked.

Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and rubbed behind his ears with soothing circular movements.

“I was always curious about what went on in those places,” George replied. “Miss Kitson suggested I go in and find out. We had a little joke about it.”

He paused.

“I thought about it,” he admitted, “a little, but it was never going to happen. You never know where the girls are from, whether they’re on drugs, crazy, under duress. Not worth the risk. Even if it went fine, I’d still feel like I cheated.”

George didn’t know why he was so forthcoming all of a sudden. He felt odd again. Fogged up. The scented oil smelt extremely pleasant and Nicole’s hands were supremely skilled at working out the kinks and knots in his muscles.

“Miss Kitson did book a masseuse for me one time,” he said. “Not this type,” he added hastily, “a sports masseuse.”

“Sports masseuse?” Nicole queried.

“Yeah. I hurt my knee and Miss Kitson sent a girl round to look at it. A pretty young oriental woman. Really pretty, actually. She had me strip down to nothing but a towel and I was really embarrassed she’d see I had an erection.”

Nicole paused. She chuckled at a joke only she understood.

“Of course she’d try Arisa first,” Nicole murmured. “The weaver and the serpent aren’t reliable enough and she definitely couldn’t send you to the Scottish village.”

“Arisa, yes, that was her name,” George said, surprised Nicole knew it also. “Lovely girl. Had a really nice smile. We never went through with the massage in the end. Something cropped up at the last minute and she had to leave in a hurry. Some kind of family emergency. At least that’s what she said. I think she took one look at my hairy back and legged it.”

Nicole laughed at another private joke.

“I think you have a very nice back,” she said, straightening her arms and rubbing her hands over his shoulder blades. Her sultry voice drifted over him like a warm quilt.

“We never did get round to making another appointment,” George said wistfully.

“A shame,” Nicole said. “I hear Arisa gives a very pleasant body-to-body massage. Truly enveloping.”

Her fingers kneaded the muscles of George’s neck and shoulders.

“And lucky,” Nicole added. “I hear she’s also quite the maneater.”

She bent down low, sniffed the back of George’s neck and murmured contently. George felt the wetness of her sex where it rubbed against the small of his back.

“I’m not without my own talents,” Nicole whispered in his ear.

She lay down on top of him. Her arms went around him, her thighs squeezed against his sides and she squashed her soft breasts against his back. The pleasant tingle of skin-to-skin contact was all around him. Ripples of pleasure ran out across his skin from where her nipples pressed against his flesh. Her heat—and lust—enfolded him. He soaked in it, drew it in through his skin in a form of osmosis. Nicole murmured. She held him tighter. The flow of pleasure increased. George felt trailers of fire race through his blood vessels. He moaned as he felt the heat settle in his balls. They felt bloated—overripe—and the desire to plunge his cock into a soft, snug orifice and relieve the pressure grew overwhelming, shouldering aside other thoughts.

“Relax. There’s no escape now,” Nicole whispered in his ear. “Mmm, I like to let my victims melt with pleasure. Then I slurp them all up like delicious ice cream.”

George remembered why he should be afraid.

To be continued...

Close, but no Earth Day goodies for me

2011-04-22T02:10:00.004+01:00

The winners of Literotica's 2011 Earth Day contest were announced yesterday. My internet connection has been lousy all week (which is why this is a day late), but I was able to log in and find out I'd finished outside the top three.

Don't Fuck The Flowers did a lot better than I expected considering it's a weird erotic horror story with a bad ending and some highly dubious humour. At one point, right before the cut off, the story was in second place, although I think this was more a quirk of the anti-cheating measures Literotica has in place. It finished 5th, about .01 off third place in score.

I was surprised by how close it came. Traditionally, slushy feel-good stories come out on top. People like nice endings. I enter freaky kinky horror stories that are more likely to squick out than please the average reader because... well, that's just the way I am. :)

Thanks to everyone who read and voted. Hell-Space is turning into a nice little playground for me. I have a word file filling up with snippets and story ideas, so expect me to return there again in the future.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 5

2011-04-17T07:09:00.002+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

The plot thickens...

“I’m a succubus. I guess Inari neglected to tell you that,” Nicole said. “And you appear...” she turned a key in the door, locking it with a click “...to be locked in with me.” She turned to George with a predatory smile on her face. She hung the key around her neck like a pendant and dropped it down into her bosom.

George flailed out with his arms and legs. His attempts to get away were hampered by the rocking motions of the bed beneath him.

“I love this bed,” Nicole said. “Aside from being extremely comfortable, it’s also quite difficult to get out of.” She smiled, showing off two long fangs. “Perfect for my more surprised guests.”

She crouched and jumped. A downward thrust of her bat wings boosted it into a graceful leap that took her right onto the bed and astride George’s body. The bed rocked and swayed with the force of her landing. George lashed out with his arms and legs and tried to buck her off him.

“So lively,” Nicole said. “You should save that energy for later. You’ll need it.”

She whispered words so alien they slipped from George’s ears before his brain could register them. She leaned over George’s struggling form, pursed full lips and exhaled a breath. It took form—a giant peach-coloured heart—and expanded to cover George’s face and upper body. He gasped as it sank into his body. Pleasant energy flowed into him in a wave. It felt like he’d been dipped in warm honey. His legs stopped kicking. His arms fell back against his sides. He felt relaxed. Languid.

“That’s better,” Nicole said. She settled down astride his stomach.

She noticed George’s gaze hovering in the vicinity of her exposed chest.

“Like what you see?” she said. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up and accentuating her cleavage.

George hadn’t seen anything like them, at least not in the flesh. They were gorgeous—big, round, soft. They were better even than the perfectly sculpted examples he’d seen while surfing for porn on the internet. They didn’t need the elaborate tattoos to be eye-catching.

He couldn’t look away. He didn’t know why. He felt strange—clouded, horny.

“How about I give you a closer look,” Nicole said, her voice low and dirty.

She folded her body over George’s until he felt the soft pillows of her breasts against either side of his face. Nicole twisted her body, playfully buffeting him with the heavy, soft flesh of her boobs. George couldn’t think straight. Too fogged up. A strange desire came over him for Nicole to press down harder, to bury him in the soft valley of her cleavage, to smother him completely in her tits.

Nicole sat up. One arm was folded beneath her breasts. Her other hand rested on her chin.

“Hmm, I wonder,” she said.

She bent down again. This time she wrapped her arms around the back of his head and squashed his face tight up against her chest. The warm flesh of her boobs pressed tightly against his face. It felt good until George realised he couldn’t breathe. His nose and mouth were completely smothered by her flesh. He tried to squirm out. Nicole wrapped her arms more tightly around his head, keeping his face wedged up in the soft valley of her cleavage.

It should have been easy to throw her off. She was smaller, lighter than him.

He couldn’t. It wasn’t because she possessed excessive strength or anything like that, but rather his had deserted him. He didn’t have the energy to break her grip.

Nicole shifted position, relaxing her grip long enough to allow him a shallow breath, one filled with the spicy perfume of her body. Then she pressed back down again, smothering him in the warm space between her breasts while the waterbed rocked and undulated beneath them. She played the game for a while, each time seeming to take longer and longer between allowing George breaths, until he thought he must pass out for sure.

She stopped and sat upright. George opened his mouth and gasped in the air his lungs craved. Nicole straddled him, a contemplative expression on her face. She reached behind her and stroked a hand along the noticeable bulge in George’s trousers.

He was hard? Why was he hard?

“I thought so,” Nicole said. “I had a feeling I wasn’t too far off with the first room.”

The first room—that dungeon? What did she mean?

“Mmm, this is going to be fun,” Nicole said. “I really enjoy playing the wicked seductress. It’s been a while since I could really cut loose with all of my talents.”

“What do you want with me?” George asked.

Nicole gave him a predatory smile. “I’m a sex demon. Take a good guess.”

She bent over and ran the moist tip of her tongue up George’s cheek.

“Mmm, a truly delicious virgin and a well-matured one at that,” she said.

“What does my virginity have to do with anything?” George asked.

“Claiming a man’s virginity is a succubus’s greatest prize,” Nicole said. “The older the virgin, the greater the pleasure. At your age, you’re quite the hot commodity in the succubus world. I’m going to savour this.”

Nicole ran a long black fingernail down George’s chest. Her other hand gave his balls a teasing squeeze.

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” George said. “I only run that line to make the ladies think better of me. Do you honestly believe a man can get to thirty-four—in this day and age—without ever having sex?”

To be continued...

Encouragement for all Erotica Writers

2011-04-14T04:36:00.003+01:00

Zowie! Go Selena Kitt! Or should that be $elena Kitt.

Selena Kitt started off eXcessica publishing and is now doing very very well out of erotica ebooks. Success well deserved, I'd say. Selena was ahead of the curve when she set up eXcessica. Back then it was to have the requisite stable of writers to get work up with Fictionwise. Of course, then Amazon came along with the Kindle and ebook publishing mushroomed into a huge market.

It's encouraging news and indicative of how much the ebook revolution has opened things out. I wonder how many more Amanda Hockings, Joe Konraths, Selena Kitts and M.E. Hydras will emerge in the new world of epublishing.

Okay, maybe not that last dude. Should be locked up in the nuthouse if you ask me. Writes those horrible stories...

Locked in with a Succubus, part 4

2011-04-10T17:09:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Time to start turning up the heat...

“Would you like a little tour of my house of sin?” she whispered. “I’m sure you must be curious to see how a high-class escort plies her trade.”

George was, actually.

“Why not,” he smiled.

Nicole looked at her wine glass. It was still full.

“It would be a shame to let this go to waste. Here,” she said, passing him the glass.

Well, it would be a shame, George thought. Before he knew it, he’d tipped the glass back and poured the whole contents down his throat.

“Heh, seems like you really like it,” Nicole said. “Why don’t you bring the bottle with you?”

Whoa, George thought as bubbles of light-headedness trickled up through his brain. He was probably going to regret this come tomorrow morning. Against his better judgment he picked up the bottle anyway. Damn stuff was so moreish.

Nicole led him through the back of her house. It seemed a lot larger than it had looked from the outside. And deeper. She led him down some steps and into a maze-like basement area. The first door Nicole opened led to a very odd room. It looked like a cross between a medieval dungeon and a fitness suite. There were stocks and full-sized crosses covered in black padding. A cage big enough to hold a man if he was on his hands and knees stood in the far corner. A variety of whips and floggers were mounted on the walls.

“Is this your...?” George asked.

“Yes, it’s my dungeon,” Nicole answered. “I bring naughty boys here and teach them some discipline.”

She looked at George and smiled. The bright red colour of her lips contrasted with her pale complexion.

“Have you been a naughty boy?” she asked.

“No no no!” George said, backing away with his hands up. He was thankful Nicole was still wearing her large shades. He suspected he’d be quite unnerved by the look she was giving him right now.

Nicole doubled up with laughter.

“That room was scary,” George said once they were back in the corridor. “Do people really pay you to tie them up and beat them?”

Nicole nodded. “People in power often have their day-to-day lives filled with hard choices. I think sometimes they enjoy ceding that power to someone else.”

George looked at her as if she was speaking Swahili. He shook his head.

“Diff’rent strokes for diff’rent folks,” he said.

They continued on through Nicole’s lower floor. She skipped the next door, but opened the one after it. Now this room was more like how George expected a tart’s boudoir to be. The lighting was low and soft. The walls were hung with heavy black velvet drapes. A huge circular bed took up most of the centre of the room. It was covered in glossy black silk sheets and plush black pillows. An apothecary’s dream of bottles and vials stood on the back shelves.

“This is my relaxation room,” Nicole said.

“Is that a waterbed?” George asked.

“Yes,” Nicole answered.

He pushed down on the edge of the bed and watched the surface sway with wet sloshing sounds.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Be my guest,” Nicole smiled.

“I’ve always wanted to find out what one of these felt like,” George said.

He put the wine bottle down, took off his shoes and dived backwards onto the bed. The bed rocked and swayed beneath him, waves lifting his body up and down. He grinned as he stared up at his reflection in the mirror on the ceiling.

“Yes, I think this is the right room,” Nicole said, looking about her.

George lifted his head up, puzzled.

Nicole took off her coat and hung it on a peg next to the door. Her body was even more gorgeous than George had imagined. She was curvaceous around her chest and ass, but there wasn’t an ounce of spare fat anywhere else. George knew this because he was seeing a lot more of Nicole’s body than he was entirely comfortable with. Beneath her coat she wore a skimpy black bra, panties, thigh-length fishnet stockings, and that was about it.

Her skin was the biggest surprise. She was covered from head to toe in black tattoos. It was an unusual design; George hadn’t seen anything like it before. It looked as if a mad scientist had scribbled all over her body in black pen, covering every inch of her exposed flesh in bizarre symbols and pictograms.

Nicole hadn’t finished disrobing. The bra went next. The mad designs continued across the ample swell of her breasts. Her left breast was decorated with a complex whorl that spiralled all the way down to the pink disc of her areole. George thought she didn’t really need additional help to draw the gaze to the perfect curves of her bosom.

His mouth gaped open. She was topless. Why was she topless?

“Uh...I thought you said Miss Kitson hadn’t given you any money.”

Nicole looked at George and smiled. “She hasn’t.”

Her skin wasn’t the biggest surprise.

She finally took off her shades and shook out her hair. A chill ran through George. What was that at her temples? Horns? And her eyes—god, her eyes—where were they? He saw now why she always wore those dark glasses. There were two empty black wells where her eyes should be. Nicole stretched her shoulders and a pair of black bat wings erupted from her back. A black tail—slender as a whip and ending with a spade-like point—unfurled down the back of her legs.

“Ah, much better,” she said.

She smiled at George. It was the same elegantly angled face; the same full, kissable lips; the same gorgeous contours of her body. Her features should have been perfect, but they also came with horns, wings, tail and those unsettling empty black eyes. It turned her beauty into something horribly wrong. Sexy into perverse.

“W-w-what are you?” George asked.

“I’m a succubus. I guess Inari neglected to tell you that,” Nicole said. “And you appear...” She turned a key in the door, locking it with a click. She hung the key around her neck like a pendant and dropped it down into her cleavage. She turned back to George. A predatory smile was on her blood-red lips. “...to be locked in with me.”

To be continued...

Officially good enough to be plagiarised

2011-04-07T03:33:00.002+01:00

Some people have a lot of nerve.

A few days ago I got an anonymous email through Literotica’s feedback system (thanks, whoever you are) asking if I was posting chapters up on DeviantArt.com under a different username. I followed the link and found a gallery with the first eight chapters of my Succubus Summoning 101 series.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen my stories crop up elsewhere on the internet. It’s the nature of the beast. If you post something up where everyone can see it, it’s inevitable the same work will be reproduced elsewhere. As long as my name’s still on the top and no-one’s milking it for cash, I’m usually content to turn a blind eye. Often it’s extra advertising and the stories are already available for people to read for free online anyway.

This is the first time I’ve ever had someone else try to claim my work as their own and that’s a whole damn different ball game. When they’ve already picked up fanart for my original characters you know this shit has to be sorted out damn quickly. Obviously, I couldn’t resist leaving the odd sarcastic comment or three, especially a “Please tell, I’m curious to know myself”, in response to their answer of “All will be revealed in time,” when someone asked what Verdé’s plans were.

Sadly, DeviantArt gives page owners the ability to hide comments, which rather spoiled my fun somewhat.

Fortunately, I also frequent the Monster Girl Unlimited forums, where a good proportion of the members also have DeviantArt accounts…

I’m not sure whether DeviantArt terminated the account after it was reported, or the plagiarist de-activated it themselves once they realised it was impossible to maintain the pretence anymore. Either way it was gone by the time I got back from work.

I wonder how they thought they could get away with it in the first place. One google search to the wrong place by any of their fans would have blown the deception wide open. It’s a little mortifying to think they managed to get eight chapters up without anyone actually noticing, and that the chapters hadn’t really picked up many comments either. Take that knee in the soft and squishy parts, ego. Big time infamous succubus writer, ha!

Oh well.

I suppose I was lucky. It was only a case of someone trying to impress their circle of friends on an art site. Other writers from Literotica are still struggling to get stolen work pulled down from amazon’s ebook store.

Locked in with a Succubus, part 3

2011-04-03T16:54:00.003+01:00

Part 1. Part 2.

“I’m a prostitute,” Nicole said, absolutely straight-faced and without a hint of shame. “Men pay money to have sex with me.”

Her directness completely threw George off.

“Well...um...”

“Does that bother you?” Nicole asked in a voice that sounded as if it had been dipped in honey.

“No...um...I mean if you’re...um...happy...if it’s what...”

He held out his palms.

“I’m not judging,” he said.

Oh dear. George knew he was making a hash of it and tried to rally.

“I mean, if you look at it a certain way, I do the same thing with the people I go and visit,” he said. “We’re both giving people a bit of company. Only I don’t have to do the...uh...physical side of things...”

George ran aground.

“I’m trivialising it, aren’t I? It’s not the same at all. I’m not forced to...uh...do those...uh...other things...”

Dear oh dear. Keep on digging why don’t you, George.

Nicole didn’t seem to be taking any offence. She laughed at his discomfort. That was good, he supposed.

“It’s fine,” Nicole said. “I get paid well and I enjoy the work.”

Understanding suddenly dawned on George. There could be another reason why Miss Kitson had sent him here.

“Um...Miss Kitson, she didn’t give you any money to...”

“To do what?” Nicole asked, affecting an air of deceitful innocence.

“Oh, nothing,” George said.

It must be the wine, causing his tongue to flap like a flag in a gale.

“Nothing?” Nicole said. She raised a pencil-thin eyebrow.

Her sunglasses made it impossible to tell, but right then George fancied she was staring right through him with a piercing stare. She examined him, no trace of emotion on the flawless mask of her face.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you,” she stated.

“What,” George protested. “Me? No...of course not. I mean...I’ve had my share...I know what it’s...” he blustered. “Yes,” he admitted. No point lying; she’d see right through it anyway.

“I thought as much,” Nicole smiled. “I saw how uncomfortable you looked whenever I stood close to you. You’re shy around women.”

“Yes,” George admitted. “Don’t make a big thing about it, okay.”

“I’m not judging,” Nicole said, smiling as she held out her palms.

George realised he’d used the same response when she’d told him she was a prostitute. He laughed.

“Another glass?” Nicole asked.

“What?” George looked down. He’d managed to empty the glass without realising it. “Oh, yes please.”

Nicole refilled his glass and walked back to her seat, leaving behind a swish of her musky scent. It really was rather fine, George thought as he started on a second glass. Fruity, bubbly...vital, somehow. Really moreish. He’d have to be careful he didn’t drink it too quickly, in case it went straight to his head.

He noticed Nicole still hadn’t touched her glass.

“You’re not drinking?” he asked.

“I don’t drink wine,” she answered. “I do love the aroma of a freshly popped bottle, though.” She picked up the glass and swirled it beneath her nose, savouring the aroma. “Especially a vintage brimming with such youthful vigour.”

George smiled and shook his head. Beautiful, delightful and very odd.

“How old?” Nicole asked.

George realised she’d gone back to the other topic. “Thirty-four,” he answered with a grimace.

Nicole’s supple red lips formed a perfect ‘o’. She sat back in her chair.

“Really?” she said.

George nodded.

“I always thought it would be one of those things that would just...you know...happen one day. And, well, it didn’t. Or rather it hasn’t.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Nicole said. “It’s admirable to wait so long for that certain special person.”

George’s expression became pained.

Nicole raised an eyebrow. “You’re not waiting for someone?” she said.

“I’m not against the idea of sex for a bit of fun,” George said. “It’s the deception I don’t like. You know how it is. Some blokes will say anything to get in a girl’s knickers. And then they’ll kick them out of bed the next morning without so much as a how-d’you-do. There’s the other stuff as well—getting them drunk, getting them vulnerable—”

“Paying for it,” Nicole interrupted.

“Paying for it,” George repeated. “Drugging the poor lasses if they’re desperate and ratbag enough. Raping them.” George shook his head. “I’m not going down that route,” he said. “I’d rather go without than resort to tricking or forcing the girl.”

Nicole made circular motions with her finger on the table. “So you’re not against the idea of casual sex, so long as the other participant is willing.”

“Oh no,” George said. “I’m not one of those no-sex-before-marriage types. Not that I’ve got anything against them,” he hastily added. “I’m fine with the idea of sex for fun, with the right precautions of course. It’s just I’m a bit...well...crap around girls as you noticed. And I’m not exactly a prime specimen of manhood. Let’s face it, there’re easily hundreds of blokes a girl at a nightclub would rather take home first before getting to me.”

George paused. Nicole didn’t appear to be paying attention. Hard to say with her sunglasses—why was she still wearing them?—but she looked like she was staring into space. George watched as she ran a moist pink tongue over her supple red lips. He caught a whiff of her musky perfume again. Stronger this time.

“Sorry,” Nicole said, snapping out of her sudden trance. “Daydreaming.”

Had her pale cheeks picked up a red tinge?

“Um, Miss Kitson, she didn’t...?”

“No, Inari has not given me any money,” Nicole said with a smile.

“That’s a relief,” George said. “She has some very strange ideas sometimes. About what she thinks people need.”

Nicole leaned forward towards George.

“Does it disappoint you Inari hasn’t given me any money to have sex with you?” she asked.

George recoiled. That directness again. He guessed it came with her profession, but it sure made him feel uncomfortable.

“No...um...I mean you’re...um...really beautiful and I’m sure you’re very...um...good at what you do...”

Good golly, could he dig himself any deeper?

George took a deep breath.

“I’m sure it would be very pleasant,” he said, “but it wouldn’t feel right. I’d always know you only did it because you were paid to. It would feel like cheating, like it didn’t count.”

Nicole smiled at his tongue-tied stammering.

“It’s fine. I understand perfectly,” she said.

“You do?” George said, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked down at his ratty old jumper. “Besides,” he said. “I must be way below your usual clientele. Who are they?” he asked. “Lawyers? Politicians? Football stars?”

Nicole regarded him with an enigmatic little smile.

“Is that the writer in you?” she said. “Digging for interesting stories.”

George blushed. “Sorry. Mustn’t pry.”

Nicole leaned right across the table. Conspiratorial.

“Would you like a little tour of my house of sin?” she whispered.

To be continued...

No fish were hurt in the writing of this story...

2011-03-31T03:42:00.003+01:00

Literotica's Earth Day 2011 Short Story competition is underway and I have a runner. It's a new Hell-Space story:

http://www.literotica.com/s/dont-fuck-the-flowers

This one nearly didn't make it. An early paragraph featured a man talking about using a fresh fish in a rather...ahem...unusual manner. It tripped the sensors on Literotica's early filtering system and the first draft was rejected for Bestiality. Thankfully, a little tweak and an explanation in the submission note resolved that misunderstanding.

There’s a character implied to have done some disgusting things in his past and a rather vulgar joke involving a knife, a fish and a certain part of the anatomy, but it’s mainly played for laughs. Of course, the horror and erotica kick in later.

I have to put my hand up and admit that thing with the fish didn’t spring solely from the pool of black sludge in the back of my head. Savvy comic readers will recognise it as a homage to / inspired by / blatant rip-off of Garth Ennis’s brilliant Preacher series. In one of the spin-offs a poor fish meets a very untimely and hilarious end. If you haven’t already read it, I’d heartily recommend picking this series up. They’re some of the best graphic novels out there.

Anyway, enjoy the story (and don’t forget to vote for it!)

Locked in with a Succubus, part 2

2011-03-27T16:54:00.004+01:00

Here's part 2 of the little mini-serial I'm running here. Part 1, the introduction, is here.

This was a nice place, George Mead thought as he walked up the steps to the front door. Elegant Georgian terraced housing stretched right up the hill. A quiet street. Posh without being ostentatious.

He rang the bell and was surprised by the woman who answered. She was younger than he’d expected, and far more attractive.

“Nicole?” he asked.

“Yes,” the woman replied. “And you must be George. I was told to expect you.”

She was gorgeous. Delicate high cheekbones, luscious red lips and pale white skin on a face that could easily grace the cover of a fashion magazine. Her jet-black hair was cut in a stylish bob with wings to frame those perfect features. Her figure was hidden by an elegant white fur coat. Her eyes were also hidden; she wore a large pair of black sunglasses. They looked very chic.

Absolutely gorgeous. She could have been a French film star, or a perfume model. What was he doing here?

“That’s right,” George said. “Miss Kitson sent me.”

Nicole didn’t seem so thrilled. Actually, that was a bit of an understatement. George thought he was about to get a door slammed in his face.

“I bring wine,” he said, holding a bottle aloft with a cheerful grin.

The bottle was Miss Kitson’s idea. It was also her bottle. George didn’t have a clue on the quality. There wasn’t even a name on the bottle, just a label featuring silhouettes of sylph-like women dancing around oversized bunches of grapes on a plain yellow-gold background.

It overcame Nicole’s reticence. She looked at the bottle and her cold hostility thawed into a warm smile.

“Come inside,” she said.

George tried to place her accent. He didn’t think it was French, although it had a similar sensual eroticism. Brazilian?

“Let me take your jacket,” Nicole said as he crossed the threshold into a neat little hallway.

“Er, thanks,” George said.

He let her help him even though he didn’t really need the help. Was it him, or was she standing a little closer than was entirely necessary? She seemed to linger a little over helping him remove his garment. Odd girl, George thought as he watched her hang his jacket up next to the door. Extremely beautiful, but odd.

She picked up the bottle of wine and examined the label. Her supple lips turned up in a smile.

“Will you join me for a glass?” she asked.

“Sure,” George replied. It was why he was here after all.

He followed her through into a large kitchen-slash-dining room. For all her glamorous appearance, Nicole’s house looked surprisingly normal, bland even. Her kitchen was so clean and tidy George wondered if she’d ever prepared a meal in it. Nicole opened a cupboard and brought out a pair of pristine wine glasses. She popped open the wine bottle and took in the released aroma with a murmur of pleasure. George caught a whiff of something both fruity and spicy. Nicole poured out two glasses, but instead of passing one to George, placed both on the table instead.

She pulled out a chair and motioned George to sit on it. Again, she seemed to linger a little longer than was necessary behind him. This time George felt a strange prickling sensation on the back of his neck. What an odd girl.

Nicole moved away, leaving behind traces of an exhilarating musk that crackled up George’s nostrils. Nice perfume. She sat opposite from him, her eyes still hidden behind big black shades.

The wine was an odd colour, George thought as he examined his glass. He’d thought it was a white, but it was yellower than any white he’d ever seen, almost like sparkling honey or amber. It must be a specialist brand. That would explain the label.

“I hope this isn’t really expensive,” he said.

“Why?” Nicole asked.

“It’d be wasted on me,” he said. “I’ve got no palette to speak of at all when it comes to wine. It’s all grape juice gone off to me.”

Nicole laughed.

In truth, George didn’t really like wine, but he took an experimental sip anyway. It would be rude not to drink it.

Mmm, that was nice, really nice. It was sweet rather than dry and made his whole tongue come to life, like there was a wild party kicking off in his mouth. He took another sip—bigger this time—and relished the fizzing sensation as it slipped down his throat. Delicious. He took a gulp. He could drink this all night, or at least until he fell out of his chair.

Nicole swirled the glass under her nose. Her nostrils dilated as she savoured the aroma. She didn’t drink.

“How do you know Inari?” She asked.

“Miss Kitson? I’m sort of her odd-job man,” George answered. “I do a bit of gardening here, mend a few wires there. That kind of thing. I help her out with her psychiatry work sometimes.”

“Really,” Nicole said, leaning forwards. Her wine glass was in her hand, but she still hadn’t touched a drop.

“Well...” George started. “I say help out, but really it’s just talking to people. And listening. Miss Kitson sends me out to visit people and I talk to them and listen to their stories. They’re usually old dears, poor things. It’s sad really. Their husbands are long dead, the family doesn’t give a toss, so they’re left on their own. I go over, have a cuppa with them and try and cheer them up. That’s all people need sometimes—someone to talk to. I don’t need any fancy certificates to do that.”

George looked at Nicole.

“I thought that’s why Miss Kitson sent me here, but you don’t exactly look...”

“Old,” Nicole finished for him with a smile. “I’m not lonely either,” she added.

Her smile held extra meaning.

Of course, George thought. A girl as pretty as her would never lack for male attention. It didn’t mean she always had someone to talk to. Being beautiful wasn’t always a guarantee against feeling isolated and separated. Maybe that was why Miss Kitson had sent him.

“But do you ever get a chance to talk?” George asked.

Nicole cocked her head to the side, as if George had said something which had genuinely surprised her. She looked at him and then laughed. It was light-hearted laughter, nothing malicious or mocking about it, more like she was laughing at herself for missing something obvious.

“It’s very noble,” Nicole said, “giving up your time to talk to those lonely old dears.”

“I like it,” George said. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer. To be good at that you have to get out there and hear what people have to say. Some of these people, the things they’ve seen throughout their lifetimes, the stories they know...It’s fascinating. I never understand why they get abandoned when they have such tales to tell. It’s tragic.”

Nicole looked at George with an impish smile. “I can give you some stories,” she said. “Did Inari ever tell you what I do for a living?”

“Um no, I don’t believe she did,” George said. He wondered what was coming next.

“I’m a prostitute,” Nicole said, absolutely straight-faced and without a hint of shame. “Men pay money to have sex with me.”

To be continued...