D is for… Drain the Blood

This story is the sixth instalment of my Bloodlust Vampire Erotica Series. To check it out from the beginning click here. CW – it’s another sexually violent one, folks.

Laughter. It’s everywhere. Squealing from the mouths of a dozen girls splashing in the river. Bubbling from the throats of the boys sending their thoughts on all those nubile naked bodies around in a circle of whispers. Giggling and guffawing at words like breasts and buttocks.

I’m not laughing, I’m too busy basking in the warmth of midsummer sunlight. That’s everywhere, too. Filtering bright orange through my eyelids, darkening my skin, bleaching strands of yellow into my hair. Though it feels good to be kissed by the sun, there’s something about it that makes me feel uncomfortable. Why should being on the riverbank in broad daylight feel so… unnatural? Continue reading “D is for… Drain the Blood” →

C is for… Celebrity Skin

“I don’t want to go, and if I don’t want to do something, I do not fucking do it, so they’re gonna have to find some loser to accept the damned award on my behalf because I will not be there to do it myself.”

“But Miss Val–”

“No buts! When I say no, I mean no. You there?! Get Johnny on the phone. You?! Cancel everything in my calendar for the next five days, then book me a flight to Paris because I want escargot and I want it now. And you?! Get me a latte, and do not dare make it skinny.”

From his chaise by the window, Harrison watched Valerie breeze around the room. She barked order after order, stalking from one flunky to the next, grabbing arms, shoving, snarling. Raising an eyebrow in disapproval, he pursed his lips as she hollered at some cowering kid, pointing accusingly from him to the splashes of dirty martini that were seeping into the feathered hem of her robe. Poor kid hadn’t been anywhere near her, she’d done that herself with all her ill-tempered gesticulating. Continue reading “C is for… Celebrity Skin” →

I Love Lucille

I shouldn’t be in here. Not much of the place is off limits to us, but his place…well, it goes without saying that we’re just not allowed in. My mother once said curiosity would kill me, but her prophecy will only come true today if he catches me. My luck has held so far. It got me here despite everything going on out there. Really, if I have to die I would have it be his way. Quick and final. I don’t want to still be once I’m gone.

He doesn’t have as much in the way of belongings. I’d expected a leader like him would have everything that could still be used. I mean, he does have the dart board and the pool table, the TV, DVD and the generators to use them. And the bar. He has that, too.

But it’s all out there where other people can see that he has it. Symbols scattered around this battered old factory to show the man has status. Power. Look at me, they say, the world is fucked beyond comprehension and I can still rack up and shoot pool if I want to. I’m owning this shit. Continue reading “I Love Lucille” →

Pretty in Pink

Okay, sugar, park your ass on the sofa. Yeah, right there on the throw. The pink of your skirt looks good against that baby blue, right? And damn, I love the way those white knee socks pop against the black leather down there. That blonde hair of yours is gonna pop against the black, too. Lean back a little, lemme see. Fluff your pigtails a bit. Yeah, just as I thought. Pop!

Now sit forward, right on the edge of the seat, and part your legs. Wider. A bit more. Good, good! Now keep your feet where they are – fuck, those Mary Jane’s are hot – and pull your knees together. Nice!

Elbows on your knees. Shoulders back, hands on your chin. Ohh, cute. Now that’s cute. Isn’t she cute, Tommy? She’s got some striking eyes on her, amarite? Damn, I could look into those peepers all day long. You make my heart throb, do you know that? Come on, flutter your lashes for me. Lick your lips. Gimme your best pout. Fuck, you’re making something else throb now, too. Continue reading “Pretty in Pink” →

#StoryIn12 – Drunk as(s) Fuck

It’s May’s birthday. Her gal-pals arranged a humdinger of a night in the local strip joint for her. Though May and I are a relatively new thing, they still asked me if I was okay with it. I said yes, of course. Dictating what my partners can and can’t do has never been my style. If I’m honest, I kinda wish I’d been invited along, but it was an all-woman affair so me and my dick stayed home. Continue reading “#StoryIn12 – Drunk as(s) Fuck” →

Doing It by the Book

Glenda has a new book. It’s one of those books. A… shh… a sex book. She bought it because things aren’t going so well in that department for Arthur and herself. At first, she’d thought it was because they were new at it. You see, neither of them had done it before they were married. Arthur confessed on their wedding night that he’d taken himself in hand on occasion (those occasions were actually uncountable, though he didn’t tell his bride that) but Glenda blushed when she admitted that she had not.

Arthur had wondered at her confession because of course she had not. Why would she, a woman, do such a thing? After an awkward fumbling of buttons and arranging of fabrics in the dark, they’d finally come together. Well, that is somewhat misleading. Arthur came, Glenda did not. Continue reading “Doing It by the Book” →

An Abandoned Chapter


Image used with permission of Little Switch Bitch. To see it in its original home, click here.

As a rule, my stories are all written on the day they’re published. But not this time. This post is what it looks like when I cheat because I lifted this partial chapter from an abandoned project that I started in 2016. When I saw this week’s Masturbation Monday prompt I couldn’t help but think of this scene, so I’ve decided to share it with y’all. It’s a long one, though, so get comfy before going in. Enjoy, folks.

I stared at the golden numbers in front of me, wondering for the thousandth time since I’d arrived at Glenville Royal Hotel just what the hell I was doing.

Every step of the way here, I’d fully intended to head to room sixty-four to spend the night with my boss and apparently on-again lover. I’d scrambled into the lift, telling the guy beside me that I was going to the second floor, only to still be standing there, smiling awkwardly, when he vacated on the fourth. I went all the way up to the top floor, palm sweating around the card with one six nine hand-printed in the corner. Continue reading “An Abandoned Chapter” →

Roses & Lilies

**This story is part of my Bloodlust Vampire Series, part one of which you can find here.**

While sitting on an iron bench in the most secluded part of City Gardens, trying to live in the moment instead of mulling over the historical, my eyes are drawn to a small flower. The leaves of the bush it’s growing on are a glossy green so deep they make the scarlet bloom look almost bloody.

Such a pretty rose.

As soon as my mind names the flower a memory swoops in, entirely unbidden, to drag me back into the past. I don’t go far back, though. Just a handful of years to a comment my own sweet Rose made in one of her regular fits of fearlessness. It amuses me so much I laugh out loud. Continue reading “Roses & Lilies” →

The Hanging Tree

**CW: this piece contains dub-con and death. Happy Halloween!**

“They say this part of the woods is haunted. That a handful of centuries ago, those accused of witchcraft were brought here after their trials – they were invariably found guilty – for execution by hanging. Though official records weren’t kept in those darker times, it’s estimated that at least a hundred and fifty women died beneath this very tree. While some of them would surely have been guilty of crimes both minor and major, the vast majority of them would have been innocent. Continue reading “The Hanging Tree” →

Broken Idol

**To see this image in its original post, click here to visit Maria Merian’s site**

In the muted light of his workshop, Piero stuck out his tongue and considered the figure in front of him. He tasted dust on his lips, drew it into his mouth, felt the sandiness of it scuffing against his teeth. With the most loving of touches, he smoothed a rough patch here, reshaped a bit there, added a little more detail with a small metal tool. At last, the final curl had taken shape. He sat back on his heels, sweating, filthy, starving almost to the point of emaciation, to marvel at his newest creation. Continue reading “Broken Idol” →