Twelve years after I started a blog on Tumblr and began writing erotica there, I’ve released my first collection of short stories.
Many of those posts disappeared in the porn purge. As it happened, in 2013, two years after I began blogging, I started backing up my posts. Not because I thought they would be deleted, but because readers were asking me about stories that I didn’t remember writing, that’s how much I had posted, so I started backing up my stories into an archive that had a search function for me to find stories.
I don’t believe I truly lost any work. But so much of it was deleted because of the porn ban. The rest that somehow made it through, I turned into private posts or deleted myself, because I was desperate not to completely lose access to this account that had seen me through so much growth.
Between prolific posts, there were long hiatuses. Every time I returned and logged back in, I felt comforted and welcomed back. This article gives some language to my shared experience of discovering my own sexual self.
As I’ve said before one aspect of Tumblr that will never cease to bring me awe is how every edgy story, every dark fantasy, found a reader.
Filthy Morsels is an offering of over 40 stories I’ve written, many of them posted in those early years. Everything was edited, many were revised, and most were expanded but not everything. It’s out today, available for purchase as an ebook on Amazon.
Thank you for staying with me. Thank you to everyone who has preordered it. I would love to hear from you once you’ve read it.
What I’m working on: Wicked Bites, Diary of a Band Slave, the BDSM as religion story, and a new one—this story draws inspiration from a particular flavor of fetish photography that I am, ahem, very partial to, and that is BDSM outdoors. The story begins with a lost female hiker, who, while wandering through the woods, stumbles across an off the grid, anachronistic community where the women live in subjugation and sexual servitude to the men. In exchange for shelter, food, and protection, the males expect the women to dutifully carry out their domestic roles, which include being sex slaves. Fair trade, right?
This issue’s exclusive erotica is a continuation of this story from Issue 6.
“On Honeymoon Island” [M/f]
Their room on the island held every possible luxury. From the bedroom and the en suite bathroom, which could have rivaled a royal palace for its decadence, the windows revealed the pure white shores and the cerulean sea.
Elsa Boone had seen nothing of these five-star views, however. Her new husband had kept her permanently blinded ever since they boarded the private plane after the wedding reception. He preferred her in the hood for the duration of their honeymoon, he said, and when it was removed for bathing, she had to keep her eyes tightly closed until the eye mask settled safely and securely over her eyes.
Consequently, Elsa was wholly dependent on Daniel. He fed, watered, bathed, and dressed her. He escorted her to the toilet. He led her everywhere, and gradually, she did begin to trust that he never let her trip or fall as he guided her here and there.
But she craved seeing things. She felt a strong yearning to see her husband’s face. Most of all it was awful not being able to see what was happening when he disciplined her. Not punishment, because she had been trying so hard, and Daniel had assured her that she was being very good. What he did to her was discipline, he explained. It was good for her, and it was for his pleasure.
Elsa felt, somehow, that it would hurt less if she could see it happening, see it taking place. Not knowing, not being able to anticipate, seemed to make the discipline go on forever. She wished to see his face, to know a hint of what he was thinking. To see that pleasure and satisfaction on his face as he wielded his dominion and rights over her, his wife.
Sometimes she thought about the other women who had traveled on the plane with their husbands. How was Meera faring? She wondered if she was the only wife on the island being subjected to this enforced blindness. She thought she might be, by the sounds of the previous evening gathering.
Yesterday, Daniel had made her wear a pair of very special shoes. Custom made just for her. They were platform heels, she could tell that much, and they were closer kin to stilts than they were to shoes. Once they’d been strapped to her feet, she felt as though she’d been elevated to a tottering height. Perhaps if she’d had use of her eyes, she could have attempted walking in them. But without her eyesight for balance, with her wrists locked in the posture bar behind her back, she didn’t dare take a single step. It was as effective as chaining her in place.
And then there was the plug. Monstrously large. Even with copious amounts of lube and teasing, it had been the work of an hour to get it seated deeply in her bottom. The plug made her walking even more precarious and slow.
With an arm around her waist, Daniel guided her on a long walk. Carpeted hallway, she thought. An elevator. Marble floor? Down a series of steps. Until they were surrounded in a wash of distracting noise that made it even harder for her to pick up on cues. Voices mingling together. Feminine sounds of…both distress, and pleasure.
Elsa overheard a man commanding, “Keep your eyes on this cock, Jilly, that’s it girl, look at what rules you,” and another masculine voice saying, “Take a good look at Rickson’s wife over there, see how she spreads herself for a rough ass fuck, you should aspire to her level of whoredom…”
So other slave wives could see. She wondered if any of them were looking at her, wondering who she was under the faceless hood.
“Daniel!” a voice declared. “Have you seen…?”
She felt her husband press his cheek close to her leather-covered face and say, “Stay, Elsa.”
When he let go of her waist, she was immediately lost in space, legs locked. How far away was he? Where did he leave her, in the center of a room or in a corner? How big was this space? How many people were looking at her?
Ten feet away, Daniel kept one eye on his new wife as he greeted acquaintances. She couldn’t know how gorgeous she was, standing alone on those impossibly high heels, her face a featureless mask save for her mouth. The posture bar, which connected her collar to the wrist cuffs at the small of her back, kept her spine straight and her head tilted. She was coltish in her helplessness, and the slight trembling through her body made her large breasts quiver most becomingly.
Greetings dispensed with and followed by agreements to meet later, he circled Elsa, studying the way the plug twitched between her ass cheeks. He thought that he missed seeing her face more than he expected. The hood was so titillating and integral to her training, and it made him so much better at reading the signs of her body. But he had begun to crave seeing the pain and gratitude that would flash through her eyes, the cringing humiliation, the dazed look of pleasure as she lost herself and became, truly, his creature.
Soon enough, he thought. Their honeymoon would be over before he knew it.
He was gratified by how Elsa relaxed when she recognized his touch, the tension leaving her slender frame. He kept one hand hovering near her should she fall, but overall he was pleased with her grace and bearing as he guided her along until he reached the area that he had reserved. He was pleased to see the requested equipment waited.
“Now, this is what’s called a one bar prison, my dear,” Daniel said. “It will hold you quite securely and prevent any accidental falls. I have several ones just like it at home, in different rooms. You’ll become quite familiar with it.”
She gave a wobbling start under his hand as he began to adjust the steel pole, raising it in steady increments until the blunt head of the dildo prodded the juncture of her legs. He kissed the bare skin of her pubis and continued to slide the pole higher, until her thighs were trembling and the dildo was well and truly seated in her seething cunt. With the plug making it a tight fit, she had to work to accommodate the length of the dildo. When it was done, she was panting, a sheen of sweat having broken over her body.
He stepped back to take it all in. Elsa was mounted quite beautifully on the pole. Chin tipped up due to the broad collar, posture bar holding her shoulders back and rendering her unnecessary hands out of the way. The heels, which elongated her legs so perfectly. The big, heavy breasts atop her petite frame, the jut of her nipples, and the pert curviness of her bottom. She wouldn’t be dismounting from her impalement without assistance.
“Exquisite,” a man named Taylor remarked. “Felicitations to you on your recent wedding. I expect you hear this often, but your new bride has the tits of a goddess. Her slenderness really calls attention to them.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Daniel smirked. “I’m obsessed with them, myself. She probably curses every day that god blessed her with such a bounty. It invites such…cruel and focused attentions.”
“Good man,” Taylor clapped him on the back. “Must say, the posture bar is a nice touch, but I’m surprised you don’t have her in harness.”
“Oh, she’ll have a whole new wardrobe as soon as we land back home. Her daily uniform will be a very restrictive corset designed to highlight those assets.”
“Cheers, my friend. May I have a closer look?”
“Why don’t you have a more personal touch?” Daniel replied.
Taylor was glad to accept the invitation. Even with Elsa on those elevated heels, Taylor towered over her. He wasted no time in handling her tits, bouncing the rounded weight of them in his hands.
“If you were mine, girl, I’d keep these lovelies strapped up, nice and tight,” Taylor murmured. “The constriction would make them bulge even more…they would feel so swollen and heavy, and the longer the harness stays on, the more sensitive you would become. Until even just breathing on them would make you gasp. When you reach that point…that’s when I would whip these beauties hard, girl. After you asked me to, of course.”
His grip turned cruel and hurting as he mauled her tender flesh. Her mouth shaped wordless pleas, near soundless cries.
“So soft and firm, these just beg to be played with,” Taylor crooned. “I’d dearly love to lash these tits of yours quite savagely. Oh well. I can only hope for the opportunity to watch your husband break you in.”
He shaped her breasts within his big hands, squeezing the mounds and mashing the erect nipples in his palms. Elsa was writhing atop her pole, grinding on the dildo. She wouldn’t be able to come; its height prevented her from attaining any sort of leverage to ride it. It remained thrusting upwards, buried in her cunt, competing for space with that sizable plug.
With one last hard tweak of her pliant nipples, Taylor stepped back to join Daniel in admiring his friend’s wife, squirming in place, tits swaying from her body’s helpless movements.
What I’m listening to: “Edging”, a 6 minute audio story by Luva Gray, author of the Erotic Merchant newsletter. Short, sweet, delicious.
What I’m reading: “Bondage, Beauty and the Beast” by Angela Knight, in her Wicked Games anthology. The Beast teaches his Beauty erotic submission. Bondage, enchanted toys, this line spoken by the Beast….“Because you’re mine whether you like it or not, and I’m going to bugger you whenever the mood hits me.” It’s a hot and wicked retelling with a flash of playful humor.
What I’m wondering: I was impressed with the poll I ran in my last issue for the interactive Lady Ashley story, the functionality and ease of use is great. It was also a useful indicator of how many people are reading and engaging with my work. I’ll no longer run polls for Lady Ashley on Twitter; the character count was too limiting and only Twitter users could vote. From here on out, newsletter issues will include a poll.
most definitely Tales of Ownership. love this universe of cheinne's and Maitre's. Would love to read of sabines subjugation or another's.
Definitely Lady Ashley. Cannot get enough of it!