E is for… Eat Me, Drink Me

Scuttling across the floor behind Mistress, I swallow a whimper. Bare floorboards scuff my knees, the gaps between the planks leave stinging prints on my palms. I stumble a bit, gasping for breath when she yanks on my spotted tie to stop me from face planting.

“Keep up, boy,” she commands in her whip-lash voice.

I choke out a barely intelligible, “Yes, Mistress,” and do my best to pick up the pace.

She tows me from one side of the room to the other. Guiding me around the sofa, weaving me in and out between the coffee table and armchairs. I follow obediently, head held high, arms bent at the elbow, back arched, ass in the air. Presenting myself as per her instructions, performing as perfectly as her Schnauzer did at Crufts. Continue reading “E is for… Eat Me, Drink Me”

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”

B is for… Been Caught Stealing

Busted!

Slamming the door behind her, a store security guard ushers me further into the room. I’m making my mouth go Professing my innocence, insisting that she can’t touch me and that she can’t prove anything. All I get in response is a quiet laugh and a ‘yeah-yeah’ or two. She knows I’m fucked just as surely as I do.

Still, she’s going to have to wait until the coppers get here, cos I’m not turning over a thing. I’m telling her nothing, I’m…

Bitch!

I stumble past the chair I was aiming for, propelled by a sharp shove, and my ill-gotten booty slips from inside my jumper to tumble to the floor. Hand on a cluttered desk to steady myself, I give her my most poisonous glare. Continue reading “B is for… Been Caught Stealing”

A is for… Ashes to Ashes

Hey hey, folks! This post kicks off my first ever attempt at completing the A to Z Challenge. This challenge requires that I publish a blog post every non-Sunday day in April, moving through the alphabet as I go. I picked a theme for this challenge, and that theme is Playlists. Each day I’m choosing a song title from my personal playlist of fave songs and will write a piece of filth based (however loosely) on that title. Today’s post was inspired partially by the song title and partially by the Masturbation Monday prompt. Two birds and all that. As the title may suggest, it has a grim theme (death, funeral) so do be aware of that when going in.

Somewhere in the trees on this cold and gloomy day, a lone bird twitters merrily away to itself. Not far away on the road behind me, a procession similar to the one I arrived here in crawls by. And right here at my side, clinging to me with one hand while weeping into the tissue she has clutched in the other, is my sister.

We’re surrounded by friends and family, all wearing black and the same pained expression. An expression that passes for grief at a glance, but on closer inspection betrays a deep sense of relief. They’re glad he’s gone. If I’m honest with myself, so am I. Continue reading “A is for… Ashes to Ashes”

Waking the Fallen

This story is the second part to Demonised, a devilish tale of angels and demons. Check it out if you haven’t already.

Cocking my head to the right in a tick-like jerk, I consider the chair in front of me. Constructed from bone – femurs for legs, a rib cage back, a seat of jagged skulls – stained by time and blood, and lashed together with intestines in some places, sinews in others.

Looking a little closer, I see that the knucklebone armrests bear the fingernail scrapes of utter boredom, and that the pelvis which cradles my head is scorched black by the heat of my untamed thoughts.

Yes, my throne is now as it has ever been. The only thing different about it is that I’m no longer sitting in it. For the first time in centuries, I’m standing on my own two feet. Scuffing them against the floor, agitating the diaphanous carpet of forsaken souls until their moans rise to a crescendo then settle into a haunting hum. Continue reading “Waking the Fallen”

Backseat Deal

This story started out as a Wicked Wednesday post. The prompt was hand-holding, which happens to fit nicely with one of my favourite ways to give the Fella a handjob. But I didn’t get it finished before the deadline so decided to change my personal piece into a bit of erotica. I combined what I had with an idea I had for Kink of the Week, et voila. 

A few weeks ago, my best friend Jace and I made a deal. See, we each have something we want but can no longer get it from the people who used to give it to us. So instead we’ve decided to swap favours. Do one another a solid. He’s going to scratch my back and I’m… you get the picture.

That’s why we’re wedged into the back seat of his little banger, Jace with unbuttoned jeans and me with my tits out. It’s not all that late in the day, but the country lane we’re parked on is lined with trees that overhang the road so it’s pretty dark inside the car. I can’t see his face to properly gauge how he’s feeling. And that means he can’t see mine either, so unless one of us breaks the ice we’ll be sat here hanging out probably indefinitely. Continue reading “Backseat Deal”

Dial 19-50-CANDY


Image owned by (and of) the beautiful Candy Snatch Reviews

This piece is basically me flexing my fingers in practice for #EUPHOFF. To be honest, the only thing sexy about it is the picture of Candy at the top but I’m publishing it anyway cos it made me giggle. Hope it gives you a smile, too.

19-50-CANDY what’s your pleasure…

Uh, yeah. Hi. So I, uh, I was cruisin’ just now and decided to hit Jenny’s for an ice cream float. While I was takin’ a leak, I lamped your picture stuck to the wall. I don’t usually… but wowee, you are one hot mama. A total knockout. Anyway, the card said to give you a bell for a good time and I couldn’t resist callin’.

Tell me what you want, Big Daddy… Continue reading “Dial 19-50-CANDY”

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”

All That Remains


Image used with permission of Floss Liddell

The walk from my back door to the bottom of my garden is a short one. Thirty steps, give or take. Even so, it always takes me a good twenty minutes to shamble down the length of the stepping stone path. Partly because I dislike the heavy feeling I get in my heart when I reach the end and partly because, every few feet along the way, a different memory is called forth.

See that stone bench over there with the carved koi base? When Jenny lived here, we’d use it as a spanking bench. We’re both tall and the bench is low and close to the fence, but we’d made it work.

And the park bench, iron-footed with wooden slats, is where I used to bind Teresa with shackles. That memory always makes me smile in a way she would have called dirty. It can’t be helped, though. The sides are just far enough apart for her legs to be as wide open as any pair of legs could be. Look, underneath it. There, in the grass. That’s the riding crop I used to spank her soft folds with. I can’t bring myself to take it inside. Not now that she’s gone. Continue reading “All That Remains”