My dear readers, happy new year. I am hopeful that 2024 will be a good year.
In case you missed it, I updated the Lady Ashley story with Part 7; the poll to vote on what should happen next in the story is only open for a week. New erotica on the blog include this hucow story and a new installment of the Baby Slut storyline. And this totally wrong breeding/forced impregnation kink story and its part 2 and part 3. I’ll also be tweeting lines from every single story included in Wicked Bites on Twitter; follow the #WickedBites hashtag for all of them.
What I’m working on: I’ve finished a number of stories for Sweet Tidbits, some expansions of old work and others that are brand new. One is a continuation of the “Baby Slut” story first included in Filthy Morsels. Yes, there will be more stories featuring Bev and Lorne and Megan! I posted a few of the new excerpts on my blog but I’ve also written a lot of new content. Another story is about, um, a fictional 48-year-old President infantilizing a 23-year-old political intern and turning her into his baby girl. *hides face* And then there’s my ageplay-themed retelling of Cinderella that I can’t wait for you to read. If you remember the Cherry Rose story — it now has two additional parts.
It depends on how extensive the edits are for Wicked Bites (it’s very long and I predict there will be significant edits needed) and my other workload, but right now I am very optimistic that Sweet Tidbits could also have a publication date in 2024. Take a look at the table of contents—any stories you’re curious about? Finally, the book description is up on Goodreads, so please add it to your Goodreads lists!
A New Job [MMM/f]
The posting was the first time Alicia had ever seen something like that, but Susan and Jill assured her that it was normal. Not a scam. Taxable income and health and dental benefits and everything.
Jill swore that she knew a bartender whose roommate was a relief girl for a Fortune 500 company.
“She flies first class or private with the execs on business trips,” Jill said. “She gets really sick gifts on top of a generous bonus too.”
“It’s true,” Susan nodded, because she knew of someone as well — the cousin of a friend of a friend was the relief girl at a British petroleum company — and the benefits were “crazy good.”
“It’s not for the whole company anyway, usually it’s a perk for the C-suite, and maybe the board,” Susan said.
Jill and Susan both agreed: She should do it. They totally would, but they had boyfriends. Partners, who might not understand.
The application was long and invasive. So was the interview. The first round was done remotely, on a video conference app. She was asked to keep her camera on, but the other interviewers in the room had their cameras turned off. In addition to another round of deeply personal questions — more personal than what she got asked at the gynecologist — she was asked to perform several small tasks. They asked her to prepare a cup of coffee. Then to brew tea and pour tea for six. She was asked to stand up, and to turn around slowly. Then to do it again, but with her arms out straight, parallel to the floor. And once more, but with her hands clasped and folded behind her head.
Then they asked her to crawl. Literally get down on the floor and crawl back and forth.
It was weird and unsettling but the company’s Director of Human Resources was right there on the call. So she just went along with it.
She was called back a week later for a day of in-person interviews, on site at the company’s headquarters. She was introduced to the team that her role fell under. Their head of legal, the CFO, the CTO, and the COO. Apparently the CEO had his own personal relief girl.
They wanted her to strip so they could have a good look at her body. She wondered how many candidates they were interviewing in person, how many other women had taken their clothes off in this same room.
The table in the conference room they were using had a glass surface, so she had a pretty accurate idea of how much they liked looking at her body. They requested that she take a seat and masturbate for them. She didn’t have the job yet, so no one touched her. They just put her through her paces with these even, sexual asks. Some of them made little notes on their legal pads as they observed her.
Did she understand, they asked, what being a relief girl would be like?
She assumed she would have sex with them.
Well, yes. And maybe with other people, at their command. Maybe with other businessmen, to seal the deal.
How many people would she have to sleep with?
Whoever they wanted. They couldn’t put a number on it. And it might not be sex. It might be oral. Might be a titty-fuck, because her rack was big enough for it. Might be anal. She said she hadn’t done anal before on her application. Was that going to be a problem?
She supposed not.
Good, because that was an ironclad requirement for them.
What else should she know, about being a relief girl?
They would have requirements about her work attire, for one. She would get a whole new wardrobe, using her own corporate credit card. They had particular preferences with regards to her clothes. They didn’t want her to look like a $20 hooker. But they were clear they wanted a bimbo. Tight clothes. Short hemlines and low necklines. Sexy, slutty lingerie. Very high heels, five inch minimum. She would have a monthly allowance, for getting her hair and nails and waxing done.
She was fine with that.
The job came with the use of an apartment. 3,000 square feet, great views. She might have to entertain guests with no warning. There would be some special furniture that she wouldn’t be able to modify. Custom pieces.
Ok, sounds good.
They would have the right to punish her. Basically whenever they wanted.
Like a spanking?
Spankings, sure. And using other implements. Paddles. Belt. Cane. Whatever they wanted. Basically, some of them were sadists so she could expect a regular dose of pain and corporal punishment.
She was less sure about this point, but she was still open to it.
Great, great. They were excited. Let’s seal the deal. We’ve got the papers right here. Read over the contract. Take your time. And they would see her on Monday, at 8 a.m. sharp.
What I’m listening to: Music by Hozier. There’s “Talk” and its sexy chorus—I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now / All the things I would do / So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out / How I’m imaginin’ you. Then what about his song “It Will Come Back” with these lines that ignite my fantasies: You know better, babe, you know better, babe / Than to smile at me, smile at me like that. Or the line Ain’t you my baby, ain’t you my baby? from “NFWMB.”
What I’m reading: One of my favorite sex bloggers is Girl on the Net, who creates and hosts audio porn. Recently I discovered several stories (and accompanying audio porn) that made me fan myself as I read them. Read (or listen to) “The Inspection, part 1” and “The Inspection, part 2” by Molly Moore. After that, add “One More Week: dirty little cum slut” by Molly Moore and “You’re restrained and used all day long” by JM Seaborn to the queue.
What I’m wondering: A reader wrote in and suggested they would liked to read more of the “Meeting In-Laws” story (featuring Marie, Sean, and Sean’s brother and sister-in-law) that was originally posted on Tumblr and published in Filthy Morsels, in response to the prompt “Dinner with the family... except it's daddy's family, and they all know about your relationship.”
I wrote two versions of that story. In the first, Sean and Marie visit Sean’s brother and his sister-in-law, and it’s an open secret that Marie is a regressed little girl. In the redux version, Marie experiences a rude awakening at the family dinner that her private age play as Sean’s little is in fact known by her in-laws. Both versions feature heavy doses of humiliation.
I am considering continuing this storyline in Sweet Tidbits. Which version should see a continuation? Please cast your vote!