Thursday, 28 May 2015

She wanks among the highest in Wome

On Amazon rankings last week:

Hey, it might only be for a moment, but it's worth celebrating when it happens! :-)

Tuesday, 26 May 2015

Smut by the Sea 2015

It's not just about sex, you know. It's also about CAKE
Once again I have failed to take a dip in the North Sea, I'm afraid. Every year I say to myself  "I must go to the beach, it's just around the corner," and every year the indoor lure of biccies and smut wins out. 2015 was no exception: Smut by the Sea was a dizzying day of erotica, meeting old friends, meeting wonderful new people, drinking tea, racking my brains for a new take on werewolves, signing books, buying books, free cookies (thanks to the incredible bakemeister Bella Settara), burlesque, reading out loud and getting spanked by Cara Sutra.

That last bit should have gone on for longer, I feel...

The usual suspects: Nano Vaslen, Bella Settara (in stetson), Ashe Barker, Helen Parry, Cara Sutra WITH PADDLE and Victoria "Smut" Blisse
My luck was not in on the Tombola this year I'm afraid - I only won one little sachet of lube :-(

Highlights of the day for me were the performance by the breathtaking Bea Noir whose act (that poor cucumber!) left my hands too shaky to hold the camera...

And meeting up with the amazing Cameryn Moore, who absolutely knocked my socks off:

Playwright, actress, sex-line performer
She writes personalised erotica for customers on the street, which is a kick in the nuts for those of us who need our precious comforts, privacy and safety nets before we'll dare put down any words. Go Cameryn! She's on tour at the moment with her solo play Phone Whore, so if you've got the chance check it out!

It was lovely to meet friends both old and new ... and I'm going to be back for more at Smut Manchester later in the year :-)

Photo by Jennifer Denys - thanks!

Sunday, 24 May 2015

Friday, 22 May 2015

I'm packing

... guess what for?

Eeek - I still haven't decided which excerpt to read!

See you tomorrow, smutters :-)

Wednesday, 20 May 2015


I love my new "Short Stories" page; love it love it love it!

My creaky old website has been transformed! At long last it has been dragged kicking and screaming into this century, as it's now revamped, stripped down, and will (hopefully) work on mobile phones.

And given that I was planning to get all this done BEFORE the publication of Cover Him with Darkness ... well, that gives you an idea of the depths of my procrastination.

The new site structure was coded by Eloise Pasteur, who put up patiently with my Luddite whinging ;-)  THANK YOU ELOISE! Site content can be blamed on me (with credit to the sockball). Hosting is now by Arvixe, who are adult-friendly (yay!). I've actually been greatly impressed by the ease-of-use of the Arvixe facilities, and I should find it much easier to keep things updated from now on.

You've no idea what a weight this is off my mind...
And now I can go back to writing :-)

Monday, 18 May 2015

Blue Monday - Sommer Marsden guests

Every Monday I post a naughty excerpt for your entertainment!

This week's excerpt is from Haunted, the brand-new deliciously spooky and sexy paranormal e-book by Sommer Marsden:

Two people lost and alone in life searching for answers…Maddox visits abandoned sites to take photographs and figure out his future. He haunts the places that are monuments to the way he feels inside. Stark, empty, raw. And Olyvia searches for answers to her own painful loss by hunting ghosts. Trying to comfort herself by seeking proof of an afterlife.One haunted amusement park with a dark history…Maddox and Olyvia recognize kindred souls in one another. But a chance to fully explore their connection is a luxury they may not have. There’s a ghost stalking Screamland hell-bent on revenge. And it’s targeting them...

It hadn’t been that long since they’d been together, and yet, much to Olyvia’s surprise, her desire for him was as fresh and sudden as the first time.

She kissed him hard, kissed him deeply, trying to pour all her fear and worry and angst into that kiss and release it.

It worked. Her heart lightened, her body followed suit. Between her legs she grew wet then wetter still. Her heart seemed to be beating faster and slower at the same time. Her mind cleared, and when Maddox slipped his hand up under her tee, her nipple hardened beneath his stroking fingers. Pleasure uncoiled slowly from her breasts to her belly then wound lower with a slow lick of passion.

“Is this safe? Should we be doing this?” he muttered the words along her skin and painted a hot line from beneath her ear to her collarbone with his tongue.

“We’re good, I think. We’re good…” She thought they were. She hoped they were. However, she wasn’t really sure. And yet, her urgency to be with him seemed to override everything else, even the abomination they’d witnessed before confining themselves to the animal emporium.

She lay back, pulling him atop her and holding him close. His fingers skated down her shoulders, raising goose bumps as they moved. He stroked her sides, and the small muscles in her stomach quivered from the stimulation. He pushed a hand down into her pants, breached her panties, and parted her with his fingers. He drove a digit into her with ease, and Olyvia sighed as her body clenched around him, triggering more pleasure.

“God, Olyvia,” he said. He pushed deeper, stroked the wet walls of her pussy then added a second finger. Then, moving so he could watch her face, he proceeded to thrust over and over, manipulating her body in a way no man had managed before. She never came just from being fingered. And yet, she found her body tightening then relaxing, over and over again, as he fucked her easily.

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he whispered. When he smiled, she felt that lightness in her heart go from mere lightness to something ethereal.

He found her clit with his thumb and pressed, rubbing gently as he continued to move his fingers in and out, in and out. He bent to kiss her. A tender kiss that stole her breath. When she parted her lips and pushed her tongue against his, Maddox went with it, kissing her more aggressively.

He added a third finger and played his lips across hers again. She broke. Surrendering to the goodness he’d elicited. She came, clamping her lower lip between her teeth to keep herself silent. She arched up to meet his hand and it forced his thumb more firmly against her clit. The orgasm kept unfolding, a warm, slow coil of pleasure and release.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling down at her. He leaned in, raked his teeth along her collarbone and sat up to pull up her tee, unclipping her bra. “I want to get naked, but I’m worried.”

He looked worried, and she felt a moment of guilt for saying screw it and going with her instinct to be with him again. But when he grinned at her and leaned over to suck her nipple into his mouth, she forgot that wasted emotion. Her nipple spiked hard against his tongue, her breast breaking out in gooseflesh from the light scrape of his teeth. He moved to the other one and sucked hard enough that she felt the draw on that flesh in her pussy.

Maddox placed soft kisses along her ribs then moved down lower to her belly. He left heat on her skin as he licked her hipbone then dragged his tongue across her stomach to the other side. His fingers were thick but efficient on the button of her jeans. He worked them down over her hips and tugged her panties along with them, but only to her knees. He left them there, a denim prison binding her legs. Leaving her unable to spread them completely.

He parted her pussy lips with his fingers and studied her. She pushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes and stroked his strong jaw, his cheek. The sound of his stubble whispering beneath her fingers made her smile.

The smiled disappeared as he put his mouth to her. Parting her again, but this time with his tongue. He pushed his lips against her, sucking her clitoris so that fresh lust through her. It wouldn’t take much, she thought half crazed with the feel of him licking her. It wouldn’t take much at all to come.

He knew it, too, because he flicked her clit repeatedly with the tip of his tongue then sucked it hard. Then again. Maddox changed tactics, working his way all around that tender bit of flesh, not touching it deliberately, making her mind go blank and her body go insane. She arched her hips—desperate. She pulled his head then remembered his wound and raised her hands above her head with a groan as if she didn’t trust herself. Because she didn’t. He chuckled, his breath hot across her sensitive skin. He sucked again, and when she groaned, he licked her clit in a flurry of quick swirls of his tongue until she was coming a second time, her hand clamped across her own mouth to stifle her cries.

But, when she removed her hand, she whispered just one word. “Maddox…”

Buy Haunted at
Amazon US
Amazon UK

"Professional dirty word writer, gluten free baker, sock addict, fat wiener dog walker, expert procrastinator." That sums it up.

Sommer Marsden has been called “…one of the top storytellers in the erotica genre” (Violet Blue), “Unapologetic” (Alison Tyler), “…the whirling dervish of erotica” (Craig J. Sorensen),and "Erotica royalty..." (Lucy Felthouse). Her erotic novels include Restricted Release, Restless Spirit, Boys Next Door, and the Zombie Exterminator series. Sommer currently writes for HarperCollins Mischief, Excessica, Xcite Books, Pretty Things Press, and Resplendence Publishing.

You can find Sommer's short works in well over one hundred and twenty-five (and counting) erotic anthologies.

Visit her at Unapologetic Fiction

Friday, 15 May 2015

More Meat

It's not a Monday, so this taster of my story More Meat will not frighten the horses ;-) But yes - more dub-con monster-sex from Ashbless!

“Are we done, my lady?" he asked, as the sounds of feasting ceased and the long dark serpentine coils of her lower limbs slid and lapped to either side of him. He turned, and she was standing in front of him – if ‘standing’ were the word for her monstrous pose. Even at floor level she overtopped him by a head. Her long hair eddied like seaweed in a tide-pool. He cleared his throat and raised his voice. “Are we done?”

“When you give me the men who let slip the hawk and the hound.”

His blade was still bare in his hand. “They came with me from England. They hunted at my command, and did not know the land was yours.”

“I want more meat, King Henry.”

He shook his head, once. “Those men are mine. So I will pay their debt, my lady. Take it from me, if you must.” He eased his feet subtly into a defensive stance, and the muscles in his sword-arm tightened.

She laughed, with a noise like breaking sticks. “You’d provoke me to a fight here, in my own house?”

“The burden of hospitality lies upon you, my lady – you are the landholder. But I’m not afraid, if it comes to that.”

“Liar.” She licked blood off her lips. “But you are braver than most. I like a man with courage in his belly and fire in his blood. Are your balls as big as you’d have me believe, I wonder?”

“Come find out.” He didn’t give much for his own chances against a monster whose trade was illusions, but he would give it his best try.

“You’ve fathered enough bastards, I hear. Despite being wed to that fair Scots lass.” Her sly grin was full of knives. “You’ve bollocks enough to have brought half the maidens of England to a shameful state.”

“Hardly.” Henry couldn’t stop the heat flushing to his cheeks. “And I brought no shame. Every one of my natural children I’ve acknowledged as my own, and provided for. Every one of my paramours I’ve seen wedded well.”

“Then you won’t scruple to lie with me, will you?”

He inhaled sharply and tried not to pull a face.

“What? Are you hesitant? Do you not find me beautiful, Henry, my sweet?” She cupped the heavy orbs of her breasts mockingly. All around him in the shadows the coils of her serpent limbs slithered an expectant susurrus.

“You are… formidable,” he rasped, stalling for time, “in your femininity.” Demons were renowned for their sinful appetites, he reasoned; it should not surprise him that one, even one as ancient and horrific as this, should wish to wallow in carnality. And she was so foul to look upon that there was a kind of fascination to her.

“Heh heh. I want meat, King Henry. Your meat.” Erecura cocked her head. “Pleasure me and your debt is paid. I’ll let you and your men, your hounds and your horses and your hawks, all go.”

A bargain, he thought, if it came from the lips of any human woman. If I can trust her word. If… I can perform. In Christi nomine – can I even get a cock-stand for such a one as that? He dropped his gaze to the lavishly mounded orbs of her breasts. If they weren’t grey as ash they’d be luscious. He’d want to bury his face in them. Henry only wished the rest of her were that alluring. Maybe, if I just keep my eyes on those. Or if I keep them closed…

“Have we an understanding, my sweet?”

“It would be," he said through gritted teeth, as he wondered how on earth to lay hold of a body that size, how to overbear her and bring her to yielding, “an honour and a pleasure, my lady.”

“Then cast off your clothes, Beauclerc. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He raised his eyebrows. He was not used to being ordered about, and it occurred to him that this might all just be a ruse to make him lay his sword aside.

“Shall I promise not to hurt you?” she hissed, seeing his anxieties very well. “Are your nuts shrivelled in their shell after all?”

Damn you. Fixing her eyes hotly with his own, he sheathed his steel and dropped his sword-belt to the side. “Don’t doubt me, my lady,” he growled.

Amusement bubbled at her thin lips. “And the rest.”

He clenched his jaw and, with jerky motions of his hands, stripped himself of his clothes: the short outer tunic he’d worn for hunting instead of his usual robes, the tight-fitting inner tunic of linen, his shoes and long hose and braies. He stood before her naked, shoulders back and chest full, feeling the damp air of the ruined hall tickle through the hair on his chest and belly and groin. God be praised, anger was standing in for desire for the moment, and he was not shamed by the length that hung between his thighs.

Who Thrilled Cock Robin on sale from
House of Erotica
All Romance
and Amazon US : Amazon UK

Wednesday, 13 May 2015


Ugh - I seem to be afflicting my wrist with repetitive strain injury, and no, not in the way you might  expect. Loading URLs to one of my website pages has made for far more clickety-click than is good for my old joints (Did you know I've written over 50 short stories to date?) and I've found that I need to wedge a ball of hiking socks under there to stop it hurting a WHOLE LOT.

Anyway, my wizzy revamped website is mere days away from being finished and revealed! I'm so pleased!

It is going to be green rather than purple this time round. That is cutting-edge, I tell you ;-)

Wednesday, 6 May 2015

Musical interlude

I'm giving blogging a break this week, as I am wading through the html to completely gut and revamp my creaky outdated ol' website.

In the meantime, here's some appropriate music:

Monday, 4 May 2015

Blue Monday - Tabitha Kitten guests

Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!

This week's guest post is from the story Knock Three Times by Tabitha Kitten, which appears in the BDSM anthology Tie Me Up

F Leonora Solomon, editor of that naughty/knotty volume, gives us this special intro to the collection:

"I am not a novice as an editor of anthologies, far from it. But when I finished the completed manuscript of Tie Me Up, I felt such a sense of accomplishment and pride that was unrivaled from anything I had felt before. This is my first anthology with Riverdale Avenue Books, and I am over the moon to have this anthology published with them.

Tie Me Up, as I told people when I was editing it, is exactly what it sounds like in terms of erotica. But do not believe for one second that it is your typical bondage anthology. It is not. It is a very sexy book as the genre demands, but it is also smart and filled with surprises. It is soft-core and hardcore at the same time. I had the pleasure of working with authors that I worked with before, and authors I worked with for the first time. Every story in this book stirred something in me, and I can promise you it will stir something in you. 

BDSM is the fetish du jour these days for many reasons, but especially because of that book which is mentioned often within these pages, because it is inevitable. But what I want you to take away from reading this anthology, aside from being aroused more than you ever thought possible, is to realize that bondage can be many things. It is not just the ideas that you conjure in your head of people tied up or suspended in the air. Bondage is like any sexual activity between consenting partners, and can be a more than fulfilling exchange that connects them in ways they were not expecting. There are a lot of revelations uncovered in this anthology where people are transformed. Any good sexual act or reading activity should take you to the next level. I hope Tie Me Up will take you to that level..."

I needed a new lover. In fact, I needed a perfect lover. After several months of being single, I realized that I wanted someone in my life and, more importantly, in my bed. However, finding a new man was proving to be difficult. I didn’t wish to hang around bars or clubs late at night, my friends were all married and there were no unattached men where I worked. So, I turned to internet dating.

But after several fruitless months of exchanging messages and meeting up with unsuitable men, I decided I needed a new approach. I made the decision that I would not ask for any personal details or photographs of the men I corresponded with. Instead, I would limit myself to the constraints of the written word and begin to build a rapport with as many eligible suitors as I pleased. I eliminated those I did not feel I would be compatible until, finally, I narrowed it down to the two potential lovers with whom I felt I shared the best connection.

My kinky plan was to then invite each of these two men to visit me in a hotel room, where I would be blindfolded so that I could not make any judgments about their physical appearance. They would be allowed to bind me, and do as they pleased for exactly one hour. The one who satisfied me the most, would become my new full-time lover.

I wrote to many men, upfront about my naughty plan and lascivious intentions. That in itself weeded out those for whom this was a step too far. But I needed the excitement, and sharing the edgy thrill of my plan would ensure that my co-conspirator was of a similar mindset and willing to fulfill my dirty little fantasy. Surprisingly – or not – most found my proposal extremely exciting. I exchanged messages and e-mails with a dozen of them and, finally, I had determined the two men would I would invite to the hotel room. On paper they were witty, intelligent and charming. I looked forward to meeting them although, of course, I wouldn’t get to see them properly until after I had discovered what they could do.


Nervously, I sat on the bed awaiting Carl. I wore a black negligee that tied with ribbon at the neck. It was sheer, so my breasts and hard nipples could be seen through the flimsy material. I had on black stockings but decided not to wear panties, leaving my shaven pussy on display. My blonde hair was curled into loose corkscrews and I wore light make-up. Perched on top of my head was a flight eye mask at the ready.

I set the timer on my phone for exactly one hour, and waited. Minutes later, I jumped at the sound of somebody knocking three times on the door. I switched the timer to start, and walked across the room. I felt a rush of excitement as I opened the door slightly and asked,“What’s the password?”

Carl’s voice was deep, resonant and rather sexy, as he said, “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”

I pulled the mask down over my eyes, and opened the door fully. I heard him enter the
room, then close and lock the door. Cautiously, I walked in the direction of the bed and when I felt its edge, carefully climbed onto it.

Carl guided me on the bed, and arranged the pillows so that when I lay back I was not flat but raised up as if I were about to watch television. He held my left wrist, and I heard the metallic, seductive snap of handcuffs as he cuffed me to the bedpost and did the same with my right wrist. The cool metal rubbed my skin, and the handcuffs jangled when I moved my arms. I could hear the rustle of clothes, indicating Carl was undressing.

The bed dipped – he sat alongside me. The ribbon at my neck was untied, and my negligee fell open, exposing my body. I felt vulnerable knowing he was looking at me, at the way he had bound me to the bed and how I was there for him to do as he wished. It was incredibly exciting, not knowing when he was going to touch me or where and whether he would enter me with his tongue, fingers or cock.
I felt his breath on me, then his large hands groped my breasts, squeezing the flesh and pulling at my nipples. Then I felt his teeth gently, but painfully, bite my erect nipples and hair brushed against my breasts. Carl had a beard, I thought, as he scratched my skin with its bristles. The roughness made me purr with delight. He caressed, sucked, tweaked and pinched until I was moaning and tried to wriggle my inflamed nipples from his grasp. The handcuffs jangled as I writhed.

Carl straddled me, his knees pressed against my sides. As one hand fondled my breasts, I felt his other slide down between my thighs. The anticipation was thrilling. I parted my legs even further, ready for his fingers. When he touched me, I jolted up with desire. His fingers explored my pussy circling my clit and crept closer to my opening. I was already panting with lust, but when he plunged his fingers deep inside me, I gasped loudly, my mouth wide with longing. He withdrew his fingers and paused; I was desperate and when he finally ploughed them back inside me, again, I let out a loud moan of pleasure. He finger-fucked me, just enough to make me wonderfully wet and make me whimper beneath him. When he withdrew his fingers, I waited impatiently for them to open me up and explore my pussy again. He shoved them back deep inside, and I shuddered once more. As I let out a cry of passion at the glorious sensations between my legs, he forced the tip of his erect cock into my mouth.

I took him greedily into my mouth. His hand left my throbbing pussy, to steady himself against the wall. I closed my lips around his thick member, delighted to discover his massive size. He fucked my mouth, withdrawing slowly and then pushing himself in. His cock slid over my tongue, and edged its way to the back of my throat. I swirled my tongue around the sensitive tip of his large cock head and listened to him moan. I imagined what I looked like: sitting up naked in bed, blindfolded, my wrists handcuffed to the bed, Carl straddling me with his hard cock deep in my mouth. The image excited me, and I sucked him even harder.

“Yes,” he moaned. “This is what your mouth is for. It wants to be fucked.” He pushed harder and faster as I sucked, licked and teased, wanting all of his enormous cock in my mouth. His breathing was ragged, and he moaned louder. I could tell from his frantic thrusting that he was ready and, almost at once, I felt him shudder in my mouth and his thick come pump down my throat.

Tie Me Up can be bought at
Amazon US : Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
and direct from Riverdale Avenue Books

And if you want to read more juicy excerpts from all thirteen short stories, just follow this link to F Dot Leonora's blog
Happy browsing!

Friday, 1 May 2015

The Beverley grotesques

A pagan and an atheist went into a church...

And a jolly big church it was too

No, it's not the start of a weird joke! Last week Nano and I met up to explore the stranger sights of Beverley Minster.

Beverley is little market town - but their 14th century church is, thanks to some historical twists, the size of a cathedral. A cathedral built on a swamp, btw. (And that's why it hasn't got a central tower.)

It's very beautiful inside, and absolutely stuffed with odd carvings on every pillar and arch. Green men proliferate, of course - over 80 of them we're told

This one might be a rare Green Woman - it's wearing a wimple

But also many Medieval musicians ...

Not all of them blessed with an appreciative audience
And monsters ...

My, that's a highly polished sphinx


Some of the grotesques ... well, goodness knows what they are meant to represent:

"Woman with crow and baby sea monster"

"Foxy-looking dude"

"The dangers of drinking whilst snake-juggling"

Okay, I give up

Satan, presumably ...

Satan's mother?


However, I think we can all take a good guess at what's going on in this scene!

Oh you naughty nuns!

Thanks Nano, for a fab afternoon!

Wednesday, 29 April 2015

Who Thrilled Cock Robin?

I did!
Well, we did! And I'm delighted to be in such company :-)

The brand new anthology Who Thrilled Cock Robin is out now from House of Erotica, and my male-sub story More Meat is one of eight stories therein based on traditional folk songs.

Folk ballads are awesome triggers for stories, because - as I discovered in my teens - they are basically all about sex and death. Often both at the same time.

Here's the full lineup:
  •  Widicombe Woods - Vanessa De Sade
  •  My True Love’s Ring - Zak Jane Keir
  •  More Meat - Janine Ashbless
  •  Lord Bateman - Slave Nano
  •  Clementine - Aishling Morgan
  •  Halewijn’s Song - Elizabeth Coldwell
  •  Broadstairs Bloke Week -  Helen J Perry
  •  The Wyrm - JM Kaye
It's also on sale as an e-book from All Romance
and as both a Kindle download and a POD paperback from Amazon US : Amazon UK

Would you like your appetite whetted? Here's Sallyanne Rogers' introduction:

"Defining what folk music actually is, is nearly as difficult as deciding what actually makes a story erotica rather than romance, horror, sci-fi or literary fiction. Is it the subject matter? The instruments it’s played on? The language used? While folk music tends to consist of songs which have been passed down orally for so many generations that their original composers are unknown (but bands like the Levellers are often described as ‘modern folk’), and erotica tends to have quite a lot of explicitly described sexual activity, the boundaries still blur. People tend to fall back on claiming that they’ll know it when they come across it.
"The eight stories that make up this collection are all, broadly speaking, erotica and the songs they relate to are all, broadly speaking, folk songs. Some are light-hearted bawdy romps; one is a gentle, almost traditional romance; a couple are dark, twisted and just a little scary. Authors were given free reign to choose a song that they reckoned fell into the folk category, and then to see what kind of story they came up with. So there’s a gloriously eclectic mix on offer: present-day realism, paranormal, historical, LGBT, heterosexual, kinky or vanilla.

Vanessa de Sade picked the most contemporary piece of music: her story Widicombe Woods was inspired by "Widicombe Fair," a modern take on the traditional ballad by Max Scratchmann and Michael Dyer, where a maiden has good reason to take drastic action rather than be married off to an unsuitable man.

My True Love’s Ring, by Zak Jane Keir, gives a BDSM-style makeover to a song variously known as "Sovai," "Sovay," "Cecilia" or "The Female Highwayman," in which a woman who doubts her lover’s commitment decides to put him to the test with a spot of cross-dressing.

An unsettling and memorable reworking of "King Henry," one of the Child Ballads, pits Henry I against the terrifying dark goddess Erecura in Janine Ashbless’s More Meat, while Lord Bateman, a tale of an imprisoned crusader and the woman who sets him free, was sparked off by Jim Moray’s version of the old song with the same name according to Slave Nano.

Probably the best-known song drawn on for this anthology is Clementine, whose unfortunate heroine was chosen by Aishling Morgan for some 21st century full-tilt filthy fun. Elizabeth Coldwell offers a story based on "Heer Halewijn," one of the earliest folk songs in existence. The original is in Dutch, and there is an English song on an identical theme known as "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight." In Halewijn’s Song, a resourceful heroine outwits a murderous elf-lord but only after she’s had her fun with him.

Broadstairs Bloke Week, by Helen J Perry, not only has its roots in "The House Carpenter," sometimes called "The Daemon Lover" but also makes affectionate mention of the thoroughly real Broadstairs Folk Week. Finally, J M Kaye picks another Child Ballad, "Alison Gross," as the starting point for The Wyrm, featuring an overly arrogant young man who gets more than he bargained for when he wanders into the path of a witch with evil intentions.

Child Ballads, it’s perhaps worth mentioning, are not specifically for or about children, but are a hugely comprehensive collection of folk songs amassed and published by one Francis James Child over a century ago. I must also mention that the original idea of doing an anthology based on folk songs came from Slave Nano and to him and all my other authors I extend my thanks.
To you, dear readers, I extend an invitation to slip between these pages with a song in your heart, as soon enough you should have your hand in your pants as well."

Monday, 27 April 2015

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a filthy excerpt for your entertainment!

This week's post is sort of inevitable, after my spotlight on poor old Saint George. The Scent of Hawthorn, which appears in my second collection of shorts, Dark Enchantment, is set in Italy during the Dark Ages. Herrick is a disillusioned heretic knight who fights monsters in order to save people, but has lost his own way in life - until a vicious battle with a dryad in the mountains finds him thrown down and bound with thorns.

The dryad jumped up onto the rocks and straddled his hips. He couldn’t even raise his head to look down at those naked thighs.

‘So - Does the guest-bed suit you?’

He groaned.

‘A little hard on the back? What a pity.’ She bent and licked the blood streaks on his chest; he was surprised to learn that her mouth was warm. ‘Still, you did arrive at very short notice, without invitation. You must make allowances.’

His heart was racing; she must be able to feel its thud against her lips as she sipped from him. ‘Don’t blame yourself,’ he said through gritted teeth, as the world spun around him.

She chuckled, surprised. ‘Do you enjoy this, man of iron?’



‘That’s my name.’ It seemed important to him that she should know it. He did not want to go nameless to death.

She mouthed the foreign word with distaste. ‘Is this how you expected it all to end, Herrick?’

‘One day.’ And he was horrified to find that his strongest emotion was relief.

‘You’ve fought my kind before?’

‘No. No dryad.’

She circled his nipple with the tip of her tongue, making it harden. ‘Monsters…’


‘The last children of Rhea. So that the children of the stones may inherit the earth.’ Her teeth closed cruelly over his left nipple and he groaned from deep in his chest. Then she released the crushed nubbin of flesh and crept forward up his chest, breathing the smell of his sweat and his fear until her lips were against his ear. ‘Do you wish to hear the good news?’

He managed to swallow, and she took that for assent.

‘This isn’t the end, Herrick. Not yet. You are not going to die until I tire of hurting you. And in this place I can take to the brink of death and bring you back again, over and over, for my pleasure. Until your pain has brought me ease.’

Fresh damp sprang from every pore. His insides seemed to turn liquid. She raked claws down his chest and stomach, testing every patch of skin between the criss-crossed bonds. He rolled his eyes back and tried to call upon the mercy of God, but it came out sounding completely wrong somehow.

‘What’s this?’ Her voice was low with surprise. He strained to look down at her and found she’d reached his lower garments, had been sliding about on his crotch, had found something that should not have been there at all: his massive, stony erection, pushing up against the cloth, the swollen head seeping with such eagerness that it was making a damp patch. Herrick was washed by a crimson tide of shame.

Dear God give me strength to resist her, he begged.

She ripped his clothing to shreds. His cock thrust out blasphemously through the rent fabric, and jerked with eagerness as she traced the veins with the tips of her deadly claws - Like a dog rising to greet its mistress, he thought, sick with humiliation.

‘Oh Herrick. Now I know.’

‘No,’ he groaned.

‘This is a gift, isn’t it? A phallus like this, and a man like you, in my power?’

‘You’re wrong…’

‘Wrong? No. Men may lie, but this does not. It makes plain what it wants, Herrick.’ She slapped his prick with first one hand then the other, like a cat playing with a mouse. He burned with shame. ‘Slattern,’ she mocked.

He twisted in his bonds uselessly, driving each pin-point of pain deeper.

‘Lick me, ’ she ordered, looming right over him, lowering her breasts to his mouth. He put out his tongue to her nipple but she snatched it away, giggling, before he could touch her. He groaned, scoured by her glee and his weakness. Then she wriggled back down and crouched over his prick, laying her lips to the underside of the shaft and nipping her way delicately right down to the root, never quite hurting him but threatening all the way. She took his balls one after the other into her mouth, rolling them between her teeth until sweat ran down his temples. Spitting out his slippery ball-sac she then found the silken skin stretched between his soaring cock and his scrotum, and took a fold delicately between two eyeteeth. She held it for a moment, letting him realise what she was going to do.

Herrick quivered, choking out incoherent prayers.

She bit down. Two sharp teeth met through a thin fold of skin and he opened his mouth in a soundless roar. His cock jerked twice - and clear fluid bulged at the slit and, welling out under its own volume, ran down his hard length, testament to his need.

‘Herrick,’ she chided. ‘Look at you.’

‘Oh God – No!’

‘Shh. Stop pretending.’

With her tongue she traced the path of his overspill back up from his balls to the head of his cock, where she lapped his ooze. He groaned again and shook like a man with the ague. His world was in flames. Could there be any defeat more shameful than this – to be beaten in combat then abused as a whore, his body a treacherous accomplice? And her mouth was exquisite comfort now after the hurt she’d inflicted, as tender as a mother hugging her child after smacking it. The pleasure was overwhelming; he knew he needed more. More hurt. More solace.

Her lips, wet from painting his glans, left it bereft and straining. ‘Pain,’ she whispered, straightening and kneeling up astride him again. ‘Your pain is my pleasure, I thought. But your pleasure
too. Don’t worry, Herrick; I will give you what you need.’ She guided his erect cock between her thighs, into her tight slick grip, her eyes rolling back with the effort of taking his girth. Then she refocused on his face. For the first time she sounded a little breathless.

‘You will not spend, Herrick. You will hold it back. Because if you let spill before me I will walk away and leave you here and never return. You understand that?’

‘Yes.’ Oh my God yes.

‘But if you give me my heart’s desire, I will give you yours.’ She reached behind her, down between his thighs, and sank her nails into his scrotum. He gasped and nodded, water running from the corners of his eyes. ‘I’m going to hurt you.’ Her voice was cold, her eyes green fire. ‘I’m going to hurt you badly and there is nothing you can do about it. You are mine to play with. Your strength will not save you. Your God will not save you. Your life is mine now, and it is over.’

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