Saturday, April 28, 2007

Chastity Planet Episode 2

Here's Episode 2 of Chastity Planet, tweaked a little since posted on Altairboy a few years back. It'll make more sense of you read Episode 1 first.


Be free with the demerits – it’s your planet!
From “It’s Your Planet: The
Unofficial Guide to New Hymen First Edition AD 3015

As she reached her orgasm, the Nubian tourist wrapped her ebony legs around Tom’s face and crushed him into her shaven vulva.

His cock throbbed against his chastity cup and he had a blinding vision of the redhead’s spicy curls.

The Nubian girl didn’t taste the same, but still Tom found the strength to lick until her salty juices sloshed around his mouth and formed a fragrant puddle under his tongue.

She arched against the back of the booth, thrusting her insatiable groin into his face.

Tom struggled for breath. His arms strained against his cuffs, trying to get his hands from behind his back.
Feeling his energy fade, he forced his tongue into one last flicker.

And she unclasped him.

Tom’s efforts had been enough after all. He knelt back down on the rubbery floor, gasping, tongue and chastity cup throbbing in unison.

On her way out, the tourist’s clammy legs brushed against Tom’s shoulder. His cock gave a little spasm and he felt something hot and wet on his thighs.

Then, behind him, the door opened for yet another client.

I’m done for, he thought, picturing the public whipping.

But, with a beep, his wrists cuffs parted and his arms dropped to his sides. He clutched at the front of his chastity cup, but the flesh-like slit had long since closed. If he wanted a proper orgasm, he would have to find a woman to please.

* * *

Off duty at last.

Tom struggled to his feet. He staggered out of the licking booth and stepped aside so Mistress Amy, the club owner, could install a new bondsman.

He checked for signs of Tanya. Then, feeling safer, he scanned the club once more, this time looking for the redhead. She wasn’t at the bar, and he would have spotted her on the dance floor, unless she was one of the usual clump of girls writhing around Eduardo, Mistress Amy’s personal slave.

But somehow, Tom couldn’t imagine the redhead doing anything quite so brazen.

A middle-aged tourist jostled past him and hurried into the booth. Her head and shoulders appeared above the padded walls. Soon, her ropey neck muscles and facial convulsions made it easy to imagine the tongue lashing between her legs. She sobbed, loud enough to be heard over the dance music. Heads turned, but she didn’t seem to care.

Tom grimaced. A few days on-planet seemed to destroy most women’s sense of shame. It had taken Tanya less than two weeks to get hooked on the licking booths – and yet now she was stalking him, angry he had escaped her through voluntarily demoting himself from kept man to bondsman.

The woman arched backward, exposing the crinkly line under her chin where the makeup left off. Her bosom emerged over the top of the booth. Her tight top barely restrained her breasts, which quivered in time to the unseen licking.

Tom’s imprisoned cock twitched and he wished it were his tongue driving the woman to such pleasure. I’m going crazy, he thought. I have to get out of here, or at least get a date so I can come.

“Looking for somebody?”

Tom yelped.

“Who were you thinking it was?”

Tom found himself eye-to-eye with the tall redhead’s pert breasts. Her silvery mini-dress flowed over them like a waterfall, catching on her nipples to form glittering pleats.

His chastity cup seemed to constrict. Reflexively, he glanced down and saw that his hands were at the same level as her bare thighs.

He curled his fingers. He imagined running his hands over those lovely long legs, then felt a pang of fear. On New Hymen, leering was dangerous. He craned his neck to meet her green eyes. “Hi.”

She extended a freckled hand. “I’m Brigit,” she said in a fresh Celtic lilt that made him think of green hills and convent schools on backwater colony worlds.

Her fingers were soft and warm. He kissed them and said, “Tom.”

“Well, what scared you so?”

Tom fumbled for a convincing lie.

Brigit fixed him with wide green eyes. Suddenly he was very aware of standing before a beautiful girl, naked except for his chastity cup.

“My ex is sort of stalking me,” he admitted. “She’s already given me one demerit. Two more and it’s a public whipping…” He flushed. You should never tell a woman how few demerits you had - she might think it wouldn’t hurt to add another.

“But can’t you demote yourself out of a whipping?” She tilted her head. A cloud of red hair fell over her face. She flicked it over her shoulder. “At least that’s what the guidebook says.”

“I’ve already demoted once. I don’t…”

Just then the music halted in mid track. A shrill male
scream mingled with the orgasmic cries of the tourist.

One the dance floor, the gaggle of girls scattered, leaving Eduardo exposed. The tractor beam took hold, levitating the man until he hung over the dancers. He thrashed in agony as if unseen torturers flogged his naked skin. All the while semen spurted from the tiny opening in his blank groin.

“What’s happening to him?” asked Brigit.

“He’s demoted so many times, he’s ended up Damned.”

“Oh, I read about those in the guidebook.” Brigit’s eyes twinkled. “He’s automatically punished if he… ejaculates, isn’t he?” She grinned, dropping her jaw to flash her white teeth. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth, as if shocked at herself. “He must be a bit dim to end up like that.”

“Rumour has it that he was Claudia’s kept man. She only let him touch her when he demoted himself. When he got down to Damned, she sold him to Amy for a small fortune.”

“Claudia wouldn’t do that!” said the girl.

“This is New Hymen.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She stooped and kissed him on the mouth. Her tongue flickered on his lips.

Tom opened his mouth, drove his own tongue forward and tasted tangy margarita.

Brigit recoiled slightly. Her eyes widened. “I just realised all the places that’s been.”

“Practice makes perfect,” said Tom, putting his hand on her waist. Beneath the silver material, she was soft and yielding - unlike his chastity cup which had never felt harder or tighter.

“So,” she said, making him look up. “Is it true? What the guidebooks say about bondsmen being easy?”

Tom edged his hand onto her bare thigh. He stroked the freckled skin, then slid his fingers up under her skirt and over her hipbone. She still wasn’t wearing any underwear. “We’re highly motivated to please.”

“Let’s get a cab, then.”

“I need to get dressed.” Tom glanced at the changing room door and spotted Claudia stalking towards them. She wasn’t even looking at her tortured former lover. Everything about her – her eyes, her body language, the swing in her hip – was aimed at Brigit.

Tom frowned. He was damned if the predatory lesbian was going to get Brigit first. “But I’ll be OK between the front door and the cab I guess.”

“Let’s go then!” The redhead waved at Claudia and took his hand.

Still naked except for his chastity cup, Tom let Brigit lead him out of the club. His skin puckered in the cool night air. “How am I going to get back without any clothes?”

She just giggled.

* * *

Tom hardly noticed as the cab hurtled up into New Hymen’s night sky.

Brigit sat opposite him, crammed into the seat with her knees drawn up between them like a stick insect. The position turned her dress into silvery funnel, sucking his gaze between her freckled thighs to fix on her rusty bush.
Perhaps she’ll buy me, he thought. No more parade of vulvas. Just long hours lapping between her endless legs.

Unless she was just a tourist. Was she? She didn’t fit any of the patterns – not brazen enough to be off a cruise ship, not confident enough to be a citizen.

Brigit snapped her legs shut. She leaned forwards and stroked Tom’s thigh. “I’ve never really touched a man before.”

Her contact sent an electric tingle straight to Tom’s chastity cup. “Exactly where are you from?” he asked.

With her other hand, she brushed her signet ring. “Anywhere I want,” she said. “It’s my planet, after all.”

A chill of fear wrapped around Tom’s spine. She might be sweet and fresh, but thanks to New Hymen’s laws, he was almost totally in her power.

Brigit smiled sweetly, as if she hadn’t just threatened to bring him within a demerit of a whipping. “Put your feet up, I want to examine you.”

Was this a good sign? Perhaps she was interested in more than a one night stand. Cheeks burning with humiliation, Tom made himself put his feet on her seat, bracketing her hips. She parted his knees, spreading his legs as if for a gynaecological examination.

Brigit clenched her long fingers and rapped his chastity cup. “It’s fleshy, almost!” She probed the tiny slit in its base, then explored the angle where the nanothreads bonded the black cup to his flesh. “What did you have before you demoted?”

“I was a kept man,” said Tom, hearing his voice shake. “It was like this except.” He felt a wave of heat.

“Tell me!” Brigit reddened and her teeth flashed white from between crimson lips. “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? You’re blushing all over!”

Tom lowered his gaze and stared at Brigit’s delicately freckled knees. They’d drifted open again, just enough so that he could see between them and into the darkness beneath her silvery dress.

He forced himself to look up at her face. “The opening was bigger.”

“I thought there were no free cocks on New Hymen.” Again she put a hand over her mouth.

“The whole wasn't that big,” said Tom.

The taxi started its descent. Tom glanced out the window, but the only lights were a long way off.

“How big?”

“Just enough so you can touch the tip of…”

Brigit gasped. “You spent all day playing with yourself! That’s why she dumped you!”

Tom felt his head throb. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget about the rows and tearful arguments. “I wasn’t dumped. It was all a mistake, but Tanya wouldn’t sell me on. I demoted myself.” He glanced up at her, not really caring if she gave him a demerit.

But Brigit’s face had softened. “Did you love her?”

“I followed her to New Hymen to be her kept man.”

“And now?”

“And now she hates me.”

* * *

The taxi halted at a third floor balcony. The doors were already open to let in the warm night air.

Inside, two pyjama-clad girls lay draped on the sofa, eating pizza and watching a period drama on the Tri-D – the one where the earthy hero and frosty heroine nurse a crippled star tramp back to Earth orbit. They had just got to the famous sex scene in the engine room.

A standard year ago, Tom couldn’t have dragged his eyes away from the holographic lovers in the middle of the floor. Now he just glanced around the rest of the room, saw the text books and the computer pads and thought, Students. There was no way Brigit could afford to buy him.

Brigit said, “Tri-D off.”

The hologram vanished. The nearest girl looked up and gasped. Her baby-blue eyes widened. Her cheeks coloured. The crimson spread up to the roots of her blonde hair. Her gaze flickered up and down Tom’s naked body, then fixed on the blank cup between his legs.

Tom fought the urge to put a hand over his shamefully neutered groin.

The second girl’s big round face furrowed into a frown. She’d be pretty, thought Tom, if only she’d not tied her black hair back so tightly. “Whatever is this?” She had Brigit’s Celtic accent, but her voice was deeper.

“It’s a naked man, Deirdre," said Brigit. "I’m bored of talking about It and watching racy films. There’s no point in studying on New Hymen if we don’t have fun with the local lads.”

“Well, it’s not like we can lose our cherries,” squeaked the tiny blonde, then giggled and blushed.

“Mary!” Deirdre got to her feet and put her hands on her wide hips. “We can’t to afford waste our scholarship money on gigolos.”

“He’s free,” said Brigit. “He needs me to get him home, so he’ll do just what I tell him.” She turned to Tom. “Won’t you?”

They had chatted, flirted even. But, when it came down to it, Tom was utterly in Brigit’s power.

This was nothing like licking booth.

This was personal.

Tom’s penis swelled against his chastity cup so fast that he buckled as if punched in the stomach.
“Oh yes,” he said. “Anything.”

(To be continued...)

If you've read this far, please let me know what you think. I write to please!

Friday, April 13, 2007

Chastity Planet: Episode 1

(Skip the the intro if you want to get straight to the chastity erotica!)

Here's the first episode of a sequence of a SciFi male chastity yarn I originally wrote for Altairboy.

OK. Mea culpa! In my last post, I was rather scathing on the subject of erotic utopias: Wot? No threat? A pleasure planet, is of course, nothing more than an erotic utopia wrapped up in SciFi bondage tape. As long as the inmates are volunteers, it's hard to see an erotic threat for visitor or denizen.

In my Chastity Planet sequence, I tried to give it a twist: I set up a world which isn't overtly femdom, but in which the men are all enslaved to some degree. There is a cunning slippery slope; if you don't like your situation, you can always demote yourself out of it. So, men accompanying their partners, or gap year youths earning a good stipend as bartenders, sometimes find themselves having a longer and more degrading stay than expected.

Is it enough? Does this work? You tell me. The sequence is complete but for one episode. I plan to post tidied up versions of the what I have. With enough encouragement I might even finish it.

EPISODE 1: The Redhead

“New Hymen – The safest girls night out in the Galaxy”
New Hymen Tourist
Board, AD 3102.


The girl scowled down at Tom. Her chubby fingers closed on her signet ring. It was a pretty gemstone, but one twist would take Tom a demerit nearer to a public whipping.

Tom’s chastity cup seemed to fill with ice. The vaginal juices dried in his mouth, leaving a salty sludge. The music from beyond the licking booth became a sharp, nagging thump in his temples.

Again, he dragged his tongue up the cleft between the girl’s fleshy labia, desperately seeking her clitoris. How did I end up like this? he wondered. I only came here to please Tanya.

The plump customer just sat there, legs spread, but inert.

The music paused between tracks. Now feminine chatter rattled in Tom’s ears, reminding him that tere was a world of scornful women just outside the booth, waiting to see him flogged.

The music swelled. Each beat made Tom flinch as if it were a whip-crack.

Fighting panic, he changed tactics and dropped to squash his face into wet labia and hook his tongue into her vagina.

Fresh juices spilled into his mouth. Above him, the girl squirmed. She drew up her short legs and rested her feet on the highest of the padded bars which projected from the walls of the licking booth.

He had her! Tom’s penis tried to unbend against the chastity cup. He ground his tongue against the mouth of her vagina and strained against his cuffs, wishing he could slip two fingers into the slippery tunnel.

A flush shone through the girl’s heavy makeup. She twisted and shouted to somebody outside the booth.

She probably had friends on the dance floor. Tom decided to give them a show. He worked his tongue faster, vibrating in time to the music, his captive cock pulsing in sympathy.

Just as his tongue began to ache, the plump girl’s eyes widened. Her hands found the back of his head and crushed his face into her vulva.

Tom gasped for air and ground harder, counting the tongue-strokes.

On the thirty-third, she pushed him away.

He sat on his ankles and watched as she smoothed her mini-skirt over her big thighs and stepped around him without so much as glancing down.

Experienced tourist, he thought, or perhaps a Citizen.

The breeze of the open door tickled his back. He twisted to look over his shoulder.

Beyond the threshold of the booth, the dance floor was crowded. Women of all ages jostled around a handful of men – some Free Neuters also flaunted their freedom, but mostly black-collared Bondsmen like Tom dating in their free period. He grimaced. The only way out of the Licking Booths was if somebody bought his contract.

The girl paused in the doorway and chatted with her wide-eyed friends – definitely tourists fresh off a starship. Perhaps a hen party or graduation present – after all, for all its steamy reputation, New Hymen guaranteed the safest girls night out anywhere in the galaxy.

I don’t even know her name, but I just made her come, he thought and felt a twinge in his chastity cup.

The client stepped aside. Tom glimpsed an impossibly tall redhead hovering on the edge of the dance floor.

Her silvery mini-dress barely covered her thighs. She wore it awkwardly, hunching her shoulders to lower its hem by an extra few centimetres – as if that would make it modest.

The door swung shut.

There was something about the tall girl that made Tom want her as his next customer. He hunched to see under the edge of the booth.

From the forest of legs he picked out a pair of slender shins rising up from strappy sandals. Red toenails peeked from the open tips. It had to be her.

She shifted weight from foot to foot, hesitated, then walked briskly towards Tom’s licking booth.

Tom cursed and wriggled around to put his face in the cleanser.

A familiar breeze brushed his bare back. He couldn’t resist glancing over his shoulder.

The redhead stood in the entrance to the licking booth, one ankle crossed over the other.

Tom’s gaze swept over her elegant feet, webbed by simple high-heeled sandals, and followed her impossibly long legs – bare and with a hint of freckles – until they vanished under her silvery dress.

Inside the chastity cup, his cock strained hopelessly to erect itself. His captive balls throbbed.
He stared up into the girls’ green eyes

She blushed.

Hastily, Tom looked down – no point in earning a Demerit through bad manners.

It was then that he spotted Tanya gliding through the crowd like a blonde ghost, not a snowy hair out of place. Fear clawed his spine. She would still be angry that he’d preferred to downgrade to Bondsman than be her Kept Man. He bowed his head lower. Perhaps she wouldn’t recognise him.

The red head brushed past and the door swung shut.

By the time he had shuffled around to face her, she was perched on the booth’s U-shaped seat. She stretched her long legs into a tense inverted V. The movement made her silver mini dress furl over her slender hips, unveiling a red bush between pale thighs. Her long inner labia pouted from behind the russet frizz, glistening like wet rubies.

All the moisture fled Tom’s mouth. His penis curled in on itself then flexed until he imagined it was about to split its plasteel prison.

He craned forward and pushed his face between her thighs. Lovingly, he drew his tongue over her vulva, parting the red curls. A second stroke dipped into delicate flesh and his senses filled with a savoury honey taste.

His penis gave a little spasm, and he knew his chastity cup must be dripping semen.

The redhead’s thigh muscles hardened against Tom’s ears. But, no sign of pleasure.

Tom explored the moist nook at the apex of her pubic slot. A clitoris popped up to greet his tongue.

He ground the slippery nub and at last, the girl squirmed in her seat, making her long legs writhe like snakes.

Tom repeated the movement until his tongue ached, but nothing else happened.

He glanced up and saw that her green eyes kept flickering around the club. Nervous and self conscious. Probably just off a cruise ship, and striking out on her own. He couldn’t imagine her giving him a demerit, but that just made him want to please her all the more.

He had just one gambit left.

He withdrew his head. When she looked down in surprise, he dove between here freckled thighs, took her red-thatched vulva into his mouth and sloshed his tongue up and down, tweaking her clitoris at the end of each stroke.

The readhead shuddered. Her slender thighs clamped his ears. Then one leg dropped between his. Her sandal scraped his thighs and her toes rapped his chastity cup.

Tom licked faster and she cried out, louder even than the pounding dance music. Her juices flooded Tom’s mouth, her nails gouged his shoulder blades, her foot pressed up against his chastity cup until her toenails dug into his buttocks.

The redhead climaxed with a scream then flopped against the padded back wall of the licking booth.

Tom slowly withdrew.

Her toes glistened with his semen. He ducked down to kiss away the offending smear before she noticed.

When he looked up, she slid off the seat and stood above him. The mini-dress dropped back into place. But kneeling at her feet, he could still see her saliva-soaked vulva glistening in the gloom between her pale thighs.

Tom’s cock throbbed. If he didn’t have a proper orgasm soon, he’d go insane.

The redhead stood straighter now, as if her public display had given her new confidence. “Oh!” She touched her signet ring.

Tom flinched, expecting a Demerit. Instead, there was a familiar squirming in his chastity cup. The tube end yielded slightly. His cock swelled, pushing the very tip of his penis into the tiny opening. As a Kept Man, he’d learned that a few minutes of frantic fingerwork would give him an intense orgasm – Tanya had called it his clitoris.

Tom flushed. Back then, there’d been plenty of time for experimenting. Now he had just five minutes before the gap closed, entombing his penis. He checked the time on the tall girl’s old style watch then shrugged his shoulders to remind her his hands were bound.

Her eyebrows arched. Her green eyes seemed to focus on him for the first time. “Oh, a Slave.”

Tom heard himself blurt, “Bondsman.” He wanted to add, “You can date a Bondsman…” but the words died on his tongue. On New Hymen, it was dangerous to disagree with a woman.

She tilted her head, making her red hair swish across her face. “You’re afraid of me.”

Tom nodded. Perhaps if he found the right words...

A face appeared over the edge of the cubicle. “That was some orgasm.” Tom recognised Claudia, the resident lesbian predator. Her succulent lips pursed into a smile that was almost an invitation to a kiss. “Come join us for a drink.”

A blush blotted out the redhead’s freckles. Her green eyes hooded.

Tom held his breath. There was something about visiting a penis-free planet that turned women bi-curious. Not this one, he thought. She’s mine.

Claudia glared down at him.

Tom flinched. He lowered his gaze before she decided to give him a Demerit.

Above him, the redhead said, “OK.”

Without another word, she left Tom kneeling on the floor of the licking booth, savouring her aftertaste.

He had to have her properly, to run his hands over her sleek body and kiss her delicate face. But would she succumb to Claudia’s charms before his shift ended?


Erich Von Gotha's "Twenty": Three things wrong with erotic comics

Von Gotha's art is fantastic. Like a latter day Klimt, he draws women as if he were making love to them. No cheap misogynistic porn here!

A pity his scripts suck, then.

Well, not all of them. "The Insatiable Curiosity of Sophie" was excellent. "Twenty", judging from a quick glance through his other work, however, is more typical of his output.

Von Gotha is not alone in having poor scripts. None of the other well-known erotic comic artists seem be able to produce a good one, even when working from existing novels such as "The Story of O" and "Venus in Furs". The amateur eroticists over at, are generally worse, though their erotic art, if as enthusiastic, is rarely quite so exquisite.

Script matters, if only because it lends emotional reality to the erotic adventures – a defloration scene is so much more of a turn on if we believe in the soon-to-be-ex-virgin. Better yet, a good story adds an extra layer or eroticism as it establishes itself in the reader's head. Think about prose, for example the "Story of O"; each scene is delicious, but taken in context, is also a glorious step on the descent into darkness. And finally, if erotic escapades are part of a proper story, they are easier to remember…

So, what's wrong with the average erotic comic script?

#1. Deficiency in basics

Usually, the artist is simply not a writer, and it shows. They're faking it, using misapplied techniques borrowed from Hollywood.

So, we get poor handling of exposition, clunky or overabundant dialogue, plots presented as mysteries, and over-complex world-building. The real amateurs – not Von Gotha, I hasten to add - also waste pages and pages on set-up.

#2. No running threat, so no real story

"Sophie" worked because the protagonist had something to lose – innocence and respectability – as she descended into the secret sex club. "Twenty", on the other hand, follows a similar loss of innocence, but in a society where to be a debauched swinger is not just respectable - it's actually socially mandatory.

Sorry guys!

Erotic utopias make great eye candy and one-handed daydreaming, but they don't lend themselves to a story, unless perhaps an innocent is unwillingly drawn into them. Similarly, loosely connected erotic episodes aren't really a plot of any sort.

#3. Threat not erotic

OK, I admit it, "Twenty" did eventually have a real threat, but it was of the thriller kind; Dick Dastardly is after her inheritance. Zzzzzz.

It simply isn't enough to present a thriller or love story peopled by sexy people who stop off to have sex between plot moments. "Look at the sexy super-heroine!" "Hey, the detective is shagging the witness."

Good threats in erotica are themselves erotic, such as the erotic slavery threatening Severin in "Venus in Furs" and eponymous protagonist in "Story of O", and permanent chastity threatening the hero of my male chastity belt novel.

A good threat should take the reader to a place which scares them rigid, but turns them on, or else stand between the protagonist and an erotic place.

* * *
So, what should an aspiring erotic comic artist do?

It's tempting to say; "Find a real writer like me."

However, artists – especially those working in their spare time - like to illustrate their own vision. Fair enough - I wouldn’t write a novel to somebody else's outline.

So, in the end, it's up to the artist. There are books on general story telling – Robert McKee's "Story" is the classic used by movie script writers. There are also good books explaining how comics work, Scott McCloud's "Understanding Comics" is the obvious one.

Go read them!

EDIT: John in comments pointed out that the link is broken. Gotha's site has been down for some time, so I've linked to a Google image search instead.

Follow by Email