Monday, November 23, 2009

Planet Earth....

Gene Roddenberry somehow managed to depict a femdom society on mainstream TV. I wonder how many young men got their first whiff of kink through this pilot...?

Sunday, November 22, 2009

The perfect chastity belt...

My friends over at Chastity Wear are building the ultimate non-metalic male chastity device, and it set me thinking - what would be my perfect chastity belt?

It has to be secure, or I don't think it counts as a chastity device. At minimum, I don't want to be able to pull out without destroying the device. So - in the absence of a piercing - out go the simple ball grippers. Ideally, I'd like it in a material I can't easily cut with the contents of my tool chest.

It has to be comfortable for long term wear. I need to be able to sit at my desk, go to the shops and in all ways carry on with daily life without discomfort. Some of the more over the top steel devices probably fail at this hurdle, as does anything that relies on pressing too firmly round the root of my penis. The best solution seems to be something with an internal cock-and-ball ring.

It has to pass the shower test. For most uses, it's enough to be able to take a shower without the thing collapsing, corroding or becoming water logged. However, the perfect belt would enable me to actually wash and dry my genitals. This suggests a cage rather than cup construction.

The problem with a cage is that it's downright ugly, doesn't look neutered, and doesn't hide whether or not I'm turned on. These visual considerations mean that I'd always opt for a cup over a cage, even though this reduces the possibilities of long-term wear.

Mmy ideal chastity belt would get around this: a girdle and ball-gripping cage, with a visor-like cup.

Beyond basic design, I want it to be easy to fit a dildo to act as a prosthetic, and can it the belt be adjustable in order to simplify fitting, and account for fluctuating weight...?

Small wonder that the DIY route is so attractive. However, if I had the money and lived close to Chastity Wear, I think I'd be queuing up for a fitting.

Friday, November 20, 2009


Now I've let go of "The Chastity Belt", I'm ready to move on with other projects.

The big problem with writing erotica is that a zillion fantasies tug at the imagination. A few thousand words are enough to bring a fantasy to life, but an erotic novel needs at least 40,000 words. So, there's this strong temptation to flit between projects and never quite finish anything.

Also, some fantasies make lousy stories because they're about a lifestyle. I like the idea of retreating into classical slavery. Lots of sexual frustration, punishments and humiliation, but no real story. I also like the idea of being a permanently chaste lover; there would be no dialog over release, no possibility of orgasm, just a life of exquisite frustration and sensuality. Sometimes I evoke these in my erotic captions, but I can't see how to make these into novels since the attraction is the absence of drama.

Themes that I can write about are...

  • Adventures in chastity - Chaste hero becomes object of desire for competing ladies.
  • Chaste romance - Chaste hero gets drawn into a romance that would otherwise be impossible.
  • Persecuted male - More traditional femdom, in which an angry female victimizes the hero, who she of course traps in a chastity belt.
  • Journey into permanent chastity - Usually provides the looming disaster for the above. Ultimately, the hero probably choses this. Coming up with convincing permanence is tricky.
  • Slave tale - Chaste male slave as observer of Sapphic comings and goings.
  • Journey into Slavery - Chaste male slave grows to relish his role, perhaps as the result of a Slave Tale.
In both the kinds of tale, the Journey theme gives the hero a reason to resist; yes I love this girl, but if I surrender to that love, then I'll be trapped forever! Lose that theme, and there's less to keep the story going.

This is probably why I haven't knocked out a sequel to The Chastity Belt. I left the hero enslaved to a very nice menage a trois. I'm not sure I 'd want to disturb that happy ending. If I did, the stakes would have to be purely erotic or emotional... perhaps Moira goes off with some Lesbian bikers, leaving Casandra and Felicity to battle over who owns Mark. Or perhaps Mark is tempted by a more normal romance and must decide who he wants to be. The possibilities are there, but it would be harder to write a real page turner.

In the mean time, I'm working on a Whips and Stockingtops yarn...

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Download my novel for free...

Well, I thought about revising it and adding more scenes, but really I'd like to move on to explore other fantasies. So, I've put it up on You can even download the PDF for free... though if you do, please write me a review!

Mark is surrounded by delicious but messed-up college girls. Despairing of ever bedding one, he agrees to wear an experimental chastity belt, only to discover that the girls quite like the idea of a man without a penis!

His chastity belt unlocks the libidos of ice maidens, pathological teases, timid virgins, and super bitches, opening the way for a spectacularly dysfunctional love triangle. Unfortunately, the more he gets turned on, the longer the hi-tech device remains locked....

Which would you choose? Erotic adventures beyond your wildest dreams, or being able to have an orgasm again... ever?

Buy the book, or download a free copy.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Showering in a chastity belt...

There is something unutterably erotic about showering in a chastity belt. Not the sensuality of the act itself, but the fact that it's possible.

If you can keep clean in the device, then there's no theoretical reason why you should have to take it off - ever.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Sleeping Beauty: 1 The Dark Tower

Beauty's tower loomed against the sunset, a column of blackness against the swirling red clouds.

The Wanderer peered into the briars. There were skeletons amidst the tangle, some in crumbling armour, some still clutching rusted swords.
He shivered and wrapped his dreams around himself. It had cost him his name to come here. Now he would be the first to pass the test.

He touched the hedge and the thorns drew blood. The sudden pain brought the feeling back to his numb fingers. He watched the dripping wounds and finally understood what he must do.

Slowly, the Wanderer shucked off his coat and stripped. Naked as well as nameless now, he turned his back on his clothes, closed his eyes and stepped towards the hedge of thorns.
No pain. Nothing but the bare earth underfoot and the icy Autumn wind clawing at his puckering flesh as he passed through the hedge of briars.

When the earth gave way to scratchy heather, the Wanderer opened his eyes and stared up at the tower. She was so close now, he could almost hear her call. Surrender was the key.
Behind him the briars coiled and thrash, obliterating his path. But he did not look back. Half running, half scrambling, he struggled up the side of the hill, the dry heather scratching his bare feet and legs, drawing blood from his hands each time he fell.

At last he faced the familiar stone gryphon that guarded the gate to Beauty's castle. Despite the cold and pain, he smiled. This really was the place from dreams.

The Wanderer waited until all trace of the sun had gone and the courtyard was a black void, peopled by borrowed memories of strange pageantry and solemn processions.

Now it was time.

No longer cold, he stepped into the darkness. Instinct guided his feet to the doorway at the base of the tower. Inside, a spiral staircase went up, and down.

He chose down and plunged deep into the hill, feeling his way past entrances and landings until masonry gave way to damp bedrock and a faint glow registered on his light-starved retina.

A last turn of the stair and he stood blinking in a cavern illuminated by glowing five-pointed stars painted on its vault.

His eyes adjusted, and there she was, naked and snow-white on her plinth. He stumbled forward, his arousal growing. But when he reached her, he found nothing but marble effigy.

The unknown sculpture had captured her perfectly, down to the slight wrinkling around her eyes. "My God, you were beautiful!"

The unnatural stars twinkled, lending movement to Beauty's frozen limbs, but he was a thousand years too late. This was no lady to be rescued. This was a tomb.

But why depict her naked with her long legs tensely spread? And why such anatomical detail in the secret place between them?

Just as his erection became almost painful, his toes stubbed against something cold and hard – a heavy chain leading from the foot of her plinth to a bronze collar around the neck of a skeleton. Seamless bronze fetters enclosed the wrist and ankle bones, and a cup – some sort of codpiece – lay on its pelvis.

He squatted and pulled the collar free of the human remains. There was no lock, just two hairline cracks to show where the hinge and opening were. It was designed to be put on, but not removed.

Was the man a willing sacrifice following her to the afterlife, or another rescuer arrived too late? Either way, the Wanderer envied the man, dying at Beauty's feet.

The collar fell open. Perhaps she needed sacrifices, not suitors. He lifted it to his throat and snapped it shut.

The Wanderer had become a prisoner.

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