Friday, August 30, 2013

Jim Lyon reviews "Seafood" and gives it 4 stars!

Inspiration for the
main character...
Jim Lyon who has an excellent review blog has reviewed my Seafood novel! Among other things he said:
In this world slaves have permanent chastity cages fastened on their genitals and public whipping posts and benches are commonplace, even in locations such as churchyards and resorts. Mistresses matter-of-factly utilize these public conveniences for routine discipline, but not before requiring their slaves to publicly milk themselves with a self-lubricating dildo. Absolutely, these are hardcore femdom fantasies, and they would seem way more over-the-top if presented in contemporary and conventional circumstances. Somehow the unreal setting provides them with a degree of plausibility that even evokes a little humor as the narrator frets about his combined arousal and dread when facing this sort of punishment/humiliation.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Excerpt from my "Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers: Seafood"

A world of Lesbian Flappers
The churchyard was home to a whipping horse rather than a post, not that it mattered much. Nearby, there was a bench with a wooden locker attached. Flaking paint spelled out, “HONESTY BOX AND EQUIPMENT”.
“Put my shopping there,” said Lena.
As I put the brown paper bag down on the bench, the locker creaked open. Lena produced a leash and what they call a prod - a disposable hooked dildo.
My buttocks clenched at the sight and I felt a thrill of fear. If she made me ejaculate first, then the whipping was going to really hurt. Bitch! I thought, and tried to hold onto that word.
“Strip off,” she said, not turning away, but not looking at me either. She arranged herself on the bench and stretched out her slender stockinged legs.
The grass looked wet and it was covered in sodden brown leaves. I shifted to the paved path and peeled off my slave livery - footwear, the jacket, the knee britches, the shirt - and folded everything up neatly on top of the shoes.
Now I was naked except for the steel bands around my neck, wrists and ankles, and the chastity cage embedded in my neutered groin.
.. and ignored slaves who
see everything!
A seagull squawked and I felt out-of-place in this ancient churchyard. Sure, if you went inside you’d see icons of the Sun and Moon Goddesses. However, from the outside, the church looked Norman. I could be back home in the Real World.
“Hurry up,” barked Lena.
I scurried over to kneel at her feet. The wet grass was icy on my bare knees.
Lena lent over and clipped the long leash to my collar. She handed me the prod. “Five minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch.
Wincing, I lay back. The thick grass cushioned my spine even as it leached away my body heat. I brought up my knees and reached around with the prod.
The rubber dildo was cold and hard on my anus. Gradually, the soapy surface melted into a lubricant. The dildo slipped into my rectum, inch my inch until I had that glorious prickling sensation of fullness. My cock flexed inside its cage. A sigh escaped my lips.
“In silence,” barked Lena. She was reading a paperback novel, but still had one hand on my leash — without that, my conditioning wouldn’t let me stimulate myself.
I worked the dildo in and out of my ass, aiming it so it did not hit my prostrate. I so wanted to come, but I needed the shield of arousal to cope with the whipping. Even so it was soooo very tempting just to let go. Julia was always lax about sending me to the milking parlor and I had not ejaculated for months.
Birds chirped. Insects buzzed me. Lena turned a page of her book, and the dildo slurped in and out of my ass.
Then there was a creak of hinges. Two women emerged from the church’s side porch; a vamp about Lena’s age in a close fitting flying helmet type hat with a camera about her neck, and Daphne the statuesque artist with her wild blond hair.
The vamp touched Daphne’s shoulder and said, “Just a few pictures. They’d be artistic.”
The girl blushed and squirmed but did not pull away. She pursed her lips, showing off big front teeth. “I…”

I realized that Daphne has somehow shaken off the trashy Felicity, only to snag the attentions of an older woman.
Lena rose from her bench and called across me, “Claudette? What the heck are you doing here?”
The vamp - Claudette - spun on the spot making her long cashmere coat fan out. “Lena! Just taking a holiday! I hear the seafood is good.”
The Amazonian girl glanced at Lena and her face went bright red.
“You’re Daphne Brown,” said Lena. “We met at the station, but we weren’t properly introduced. I’m Lena White.”
“Lena White?” Daphne took a step closer and put a hand to her wide mouth as if shocked at her own forwardness. With her muscular bare legs and sandals, she looked like some kind of wild child. But she had no idea how to move her statuesque body, or how to speak without sounding young and gauche.
I wondered how she would be after a licking or fingering from Lena… A wet pressure built up in my cock. I rolled my head to look at the whipping horse and moved the dildo as slowly as I dared. I must not ejaculate.
“That’s me,” said Lena.
“The… the famous journalist?” said Daphne. Her blue eyes widened. “Are you working on a story?”
Beside her, Claudette frowned. She did not like the competition.
Lena laughed. “Right now, I’m inducting a new slave.”
Daphne’s gaze falls on me. “Oh - I haven’t really seen one of these close up.”
“Be my guest.”
…and there I was curled up obscenely at her feet, caged penis dripping, fucking myself up the ass with a disposable prod. My cheeks burned, my collar constricted my throat. Of its own accord, my hand worked faster making the self-lubricating dildo slurp in my ass as if this could get the experience over with.
The vamp appeared next to her. “You’ll get used to them. Though they have their… uses.”
The blond artist giggled and squirmed. The new position let me see between her muscular legs, right up the skirt of her faded floral dress.
My eyes adjusted to the poor light under her hem. She wasn’t wearing any panties. Glistening inner labia protruded like a sea creature from her ash blond pubic hair. The pink flesh shone wetly like rubies in a darkened room and the some of the curls had been slicked back. Either she had been masturbating, or somebody’s lucky tongue had been at work between those powerful thighs.
Pleasure spiked in my ass. My hand must have drifted, and now the prod bumped my prostrate with every stroke. I was so close… so very close to a real orgasm. Eyes fixed on the blond artist’s pussy, I pounded the dildo into myself. My spine curled. My knees crushed my chest. My face burned. My collar shrank to squeeze my throat and—
—there was a sensation like peeing, and a splatting from my groin.
My leash jerked. “Get up,” ordered Lena. “Dispose of the prod then prepare yourself on the whipping horse.”
I struggled to my feet and felt thick semen drip down my thighs, taking with it the warm cushion of desire that normally shielded me from the worst mistreatment.
I glanced at the whipping horse and shuddered. This was going to hurt.
“Oh,” added Lena. “Get a gag from the equipment box.”
Bitch! I thought.

Read the rest: [Kindle][Kindle UK][Epub][iTunes]

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" now on iTunes


So, Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" is now on iTunes! (I'd be very grateful if somebody who has iTunes would click the link in the sidebar to make sure it works.)

Of all my kinky story worlds, Femdom Flapper World is closest to my heart.

I just love the fresh style and classy elegance of flappers and vamps of the 1920s and 1930s, and, most of all,  I love the fact that they are all wearing stockings.

Femdom Flapper World lets me take my retro voyeurism one step further, to step into the picture.

The slave is there, gets to watch, touch and... taste... but he's dehumanised. Nothing that happens is for his benefit, not even the beatings and permanent chastity. And yet he lives in a constant state of teasing and denial, of erotic tension heightened by real fear.

Mmmmm.

And because the flappers are all vanilla lesbians who think nothing of owning a permanently chaste male slave, I can make them as realistic as possible, give them hopes and dreams, vulnerabilities, and have the slave see them all.

You see, I'm one of those subs who genuinely likes women. I want to be the mistreated slave of a likable, lovable woman. (Actually, I've achieved this.) Femdom Flapper world gives me morally good women who don't think twice about owning a slave, because that just happens to be the culture.

Plus, did I mention the stockings?

I remember realising - one day - that all those women in all those films were bare-thighed under their skirts or dresses, with garters or garter belts keeping up that sleek hosiery.

Throw in femdom and I am lost! Lost!

However, I have other stories to tell.

The next visit is to Chastity Planet, a tourist destination where all the men wear chastity cups. In Femdom Flapper World, slavery is normal. On Chastity Planet, male chastity is the norm. Different dynamic, different stories.

But, if the people like Sex Slave of the Lesbian Flappers "Seafood" then I'll be glad of the excuse to return to a world of stockings and whips and vamps and flappers.


Friday, November 09, 2012

Wednesday, November 07, 2012

Seafood Amazon description...

Guys - how does this sound?

A lesbian romance told by a male slave doomed to permanent chastity!
Simon is trapped in an alternate Jazz Age where the men are all chaste slaves and the women all lesbian Vamps and Flappers… a world of stocking-tops and cloche hats, where beatings are routine and men are mere sex toys and domestic servants.
When Simon is sold on a whim, he vows never to love his owner again. Can he resist the fiercely intelligent and sensually voracious Lena?
Lena, a burned-out journalist, seeks tranquility in the sleepy fishing village of St Eves. Can she fight off the attentions of her former lover, the seductive vamp Claudette? Can she win the heart of Daphne, the skinny-dipping Bohemian artist?
Inspired by a love of retro erotica, “Seafood” brings to life all those sepia-tinted Flappers… gives each a whip and a chaste male slave to cringe at her stockinged feet.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Work in Progress: "Sex Slave to Lesbian Flappers - Seafood"

Thought you guys might like to see an excerpt of the forthcoming novella...
 
A week later, Lena strolled along the cliff top path. She had exchanged her cloche hat for a floppy knitted beret. The wind made her scarf dance and her heavy tweed dress cling to her legs. However, my owner looked warm enough in her “Arran” sweater, its red and orange zigzags cheerfully defying the bleak landscape of scrubby grass and rocks.
She was also magnificently alone—
—except for me, her slave, plodding along half a minute behind laded with a thermos flask and folding stool. But then, I didn’t count.
Lena had kept to herself for a week, typing, walking and sleeping. I’d run errands down the cliff steps to the village, made her endless coffees, but I’d only touched her to give her long massages. If she had masturbated again, I had not seen it.
The memory of that frantic self pleasuring made my lost cock heave inside its surgical steel cage. Her daily massages were a delicious torment. Despite the cold wind, I could almost feel the heat of the bedroom, see the firelight flicker on her oiled flesh as I ran my thumbs up and down her spine, the lust breaking over me in waves.
I frowned. Just a general lust, I told myself. I just wanted more of the free porn show. I most certainly didn’t have any desire for Lena in particular.
Damn! She’d stopped and I’d ended up just a little too close.
I halted and tensed, expecting her to use that clicker of hers to rack up another demerit. Instead, Lena produced her binoculars and swept them out to sea - not out to sea, she was pointing them down at the beach.
I sidled a little closer to the edge so I could see what she was looking at.
Far below, in a sheltered cove, a barefoot girl in a duffle coat left footprints in the sand while the wind made a swirling cloud out of her ash blond hair. It was Daphne the artist! My groin tightened a notch.
Daphne stopped just short of the high-tide mark. She put down her sandals, unslung a satchel and draped a towel over a rock. The heavy duffle coat came off and the wind plastered her flowery summer dress to her statuesque figure. She caught the fluttering hem and whipped it off over her head to stand naked on the cold beach, her back to us.
My cock came to a prickling hardness and tried to tear free off its permanent cage. Pale skin made marble-white by the cold, statuesque curves competing with the waves… Daphne looked like a goddess.
The wind snatched the dress out of her hand. She turned inland and raced after it, hair billowing ahead of her, teeth flashing with merriment. Her full breasts bounced as they ran, dark areolae bobbing in time to her long stride. My gaze fixed on a divine blond arrowhead of curls between her honeyed thighs and my chastity cage seemed to fold in on itself.
I glanced guiltily at Lena, but my mistress was lost in the view, moving only to keep the binoculars focused on the naked blond girl.
Daphne caught the dress. She carried it back to her rock then bent to trap it with stones - was that shadow between her thighs the darker skin of her vulva? My vision blurred and a tremor ran through me.
The blond girl stepped over the band of rotting seaweed marking high tide. She sprinted down the beach, took three long bounds into the waves, then, like a dolphin, made shallow dive into the frothing water.
My owner and I both watched rapt as the girl swam back and forwards across the bay.
I shifted from foot to foot trying to stay warm, my cock just a numb hardness. More sensibly dressed than I, Lena just stood there enjoying the close ups granted by her binoculars. From time to time, her legs tensed and she twitched her hips.
I looked back down at the beach.
Daphne emerged from the sea like a mermaid, her large breasts firm and globular, shiny with saltwater. The water fell away from her flat tummy, then her pussy - the white-blond curls plastered against her pubis. She strode up the beach, white-skinned and unearthly, as immune to the cold as a goddess. She grabbed the towel in both hands and dried herself with vigor, making her breasts wobble.
The tip of my penis prickled and it was if the each wave that struck the beach ran on up the cliffs to make me sway back and forth. I just wanted to run home and masturbate, but there was no home, and no possibility of masturbating, ever.
Daphne pulled on her dress, then the duffle coat, then trapped her hair with a woolly hat. The show was over.
Bootsteps crunched on the path. Lena strode past me. I raced after her, back along the cliff path to her cottage.
I found her in the porch. Still wearing her Arran sweater, she was sprawled in an old wooden chair.
I hung up my bulky coat then knelt to unlace her muddy boots.
“Forget the boots,” she said, spreading her legs. The hem of the tweed dress rode up to reveal cosy woolen stockings hugging sleek calves. “Lick me.”
A steel fist clenched my cock.

Monday, October 29, 2012

After some very useful feedback on Chastity Planet, I'm starting to get a handle on what people think is cool about it. Guys - am I right?
  1. It's a plausible Femdom world
    You can imagine it working. The people don't just live for sex. The women don't all wear latex all the time. Despite it being SciFi, this makes it seem more real.
  2. Vanilla people
    There  are plenty of good plausible reasons for vanilla men and women to be there and become corrupted or seduced.
  3. Femdom and Vanilla Life collide
    Vanilla relationships and concerns can quickly turn Femdom, or collide with Femdom. Only on Chastity Planet can your ex-wife buy you as a slave, or your college crush unknowingly visit your licking booth.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Chayste series...

By popular request, I'm planning some stories in the "Aliens made me chayste" series. Nothing is fixed, but by way of inspiration I have mocked up a cover (really a product image for Kindle):


What do you think?

Saturday, August 04, 2012

Back to erotica! (At last!)

Well, that's that. I've made my foray into Femdom self help books, said what needs saying, hope to god I've helped some people. Now I'm sliding back into my comfort zone and returning to writing chastity orientated erotica stories.

I have so many themes to explore, so many nuances of chastity and Femdom.

I also have a lot of half-finished pieces. Thanks to Kindle, I now have an impetus to polish them and get them out of the door.

Thanks for everybody's continuing friendship and support!

Giles
PS I have reopened the polls
PPS Feel free to make suggestions or requests :)

Monday, June 25, 2012

The Chastity Belt revised! (FREE UPDATED COPY FOR READERS)

As part of my new epub drive, I've revised The Chastity Belt!
 
New cover as well! (Wish it were me in that fine CB...)

Really, I've just corrected typos and continuity errors - nothing you probably noticed if you have already read it! However, if you have read the old version and would like a revised copy in epub format, please email me your old one with "CB REVISED" in the subject.

Monday, April 16, 2012

So what's so good about my Chastity Planet?

I'm curious. Chastity Planet was supposed to be a personal project - it breaks all the rules for commercial erotica: it's SciFi, it has a complicated setting and so on.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Sorority party on Chastity Planet

So, there’s a girl’s hand on my bare thigh and there’s nothing I can do about it. A horrible sense of naked vulnerability makes my groin tighten. I’m not wearing underwear beneath my Roman-style tunic. However, no matter how far up her hand goes, her long nails aren’t going to find my genitals.
I’m on Vesta - “Chastity Planet” - in the university city of Minerva. I’m at my first sorority party. Like every other male in the room, I’ve got a flesh-toned chastity cup nano-welded to my groin. Most of them are here for the cheap education. Me? I’m here for a girl. But not this girl.
“Hey, Annmarie,” I say. “Off. Out.”
A catlike grin forms on Annmarie’s round face. Her hand leaves my thigh and I know she’s fondling my groin cup. I can’t feel anything, but my lost penis goes wild, trying to heave itself upright. “What you going to do?” she says. ”Slap me?”
I blush. The discrete transparent collar about my throat stops me doing anything violent. The best I can do is try to shuffle away and close my legs.
Annmarie’s hand catches my knee. “Besides. I’m your date.”
I could still pull away - I’m not entirely helpless - but her fingers are strong and her nails are sharp; a reminder that men aren’t really protected from assault on this planet.
I glance around the room. Surely somebody will tell her to quit petting in public?
Thanks to the dress code, everybody’s wearing a unisex white tunic. It’s supposed to create a classical sense of tranquillity to go with the college’s columns and portico's. However, away from the College Wardens, everybody’s behaving as if it’s a toga party. There are bare legs everywhere, some smooth, some hairy. Nearby, a couple neck on the couch. His hand is running up and down her thigh. I get a glimpse of her pussy, dark lips behind a blond frizz. The girls don’t need underwear here, but only the men wear the cups.
Annmarie’s breath is hot on my ear. “You’ve been here a semester. That’s three months without an orgasm.” Her tongue teases my ear-hole, setting off a painful throb in my groin. “I have an orgasm every night.”
“Good for you,” I shoot back.
“Want to help me?” she purrs and I have a vision of her soft flesh undulating in the dark. Annmarie is built for sex, and suddenly I wish we were on a different planet with different rules. Mind you, she’d eat me alive.
“Not much in it for me, is there?” I say.
She tweaks my nipple through the tunic.
I bite back a whimper.
“More than you think,” says Annmarie. “I have this toy…” She laughs. “You come from a conservative world, don’t you? You’ve no idea what I’m talking about.”
But I’m not really listening to her. I’ve spotted Naima. My Naima.
I didn’t recognise her at first. Tall, blond, with long legs tapering down to her strappy sandals she looks coldy elegant. A million light years from the girl next door back home. Naima crosses her ankles as she talks and a vise seems to clench my groin.
Annmarie whistles under her breath. “Oh. I can’t compete with her. Is she why you wanted to come to the party?”
I nod mutely.
The buxom girl laughs. “She’s why you came to Vesta, isn’t she? You’re just a big soft romantic.”
My cheeks burn. “Girlfriend,” I mutter.
“Ex-girlfriend,”says Annmarie. “But go on. This should be interesting.” She gives me a shove.
I get to my feet. Chastity cup throbbing, I pick my way through the jumbled bodies. I’ve rehearsed this moment for so long, worked out all the ways the conversation could go. I want her to know that it’s OK that she’s not ready for sex, that it always was. But I don’t want her to think I’m here for her - that would be too much pressure.
Naima’s blue eyes twinkle. “Hello Brett,” she says. She looks me up and down.
Again I feel naked, naked and stupid. “Hi,” I say and blush again.
“We have unfinished business,” she says. She stoops a little, tilts her head and kisses me on the lips. Her hands catch the back of her neck and her tongue slides between my teeth. There’s a wet pulse in my groin, and I feel dizzy.
“Come upstairs,” she says.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Lena?


About the right age, I think. Grown up, self possessed and elegant.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Whips and Stockingtops: The Flapper and the Fishing Village (cont)

(First part here)
With a whoop, Charli yanks the hand break and hauls at the wheel until her hands cross. As Lena screams, the sports car whirls onto a side road and we pick up speed again.
If my testicles weren't already clamped into their cavities, they'd be trying to crawl there now.
"Crazy bitch!" yells Lena, clutching her hat.
"You ain't seen nothing yet!" Charli puts her foot through the floor. The G-force throws me back into the upholstery. Trees blur past. We're heading inland, faster and faster. The sun's setting behind us, so the trees look like cardboard cutouts--I bet they won't feel so cardboard when we hit them.
And Charli doesn't let up.
We accelerate towards the brow of the hill, the engine making a zooming roar, picking up more and more speed...
And then we take off.
There's a moment of weightlessness, and I get a sickening flashback to being abducted.
Lena screams, long and loud, and we land with a bump. The suspensions takes it, and we chug along slower now while Charli laughs.
Lena twists in her seat and starts flailing her gloved hands at Charli. "Stop. The. Goddamned. Car."
Charli just pulls into a lane.
"We'd better be near my cottage," shouts Lena, checking her cloche hat's still there.
"Better!" yells Charli. She pulls off the lane and onto a rutted track that crosses an open field that's strewn with rocks and rises to a summit, which is where the Vamp finally stops.
She springs out of the car, pulls off her helmet and shakes out black bobbed hair. Her driving jacket and riding britches aren't exactly feminine, but they don't do anything to conceal her broad hips and ample bosom.
I start to pick myself up and get out to open the door for Lena, but Charli gets there first.
Lena steps down onto the grass.
Charli sweeps a jacketed arm at the sun setting over the western ocean. "What do you think?"
Len takes in the view, and for a moment int he pink light they both look like pen and ink drawings from the real Jazz Era; fashionable ladies out for an evening spin.
Then Len turns and slaps Charli hard across the cheek. "Crazy! Bad! Stupid!"
"You have such a way with words, doll," says Charli. She grabs my mistress and kisses her hard on the mouth.
Lena thumps her on the brow-leather covered back. I take a step forward, not that it would do any good; my conditioning stops me raising a hand to anybody.
Then Lena... Mewls; an animal sound that sends a shiver down my spine into my steel-shod crotch.
My mistress's hands shift to the back of the vamp's head and she grinds her face into her own. Just like in the old movies, she bends one stockinged until the calf and thigh muscles press together.
My cock inflates in its prison until it prickles. I've seen this thing thousands of times since I was enslaved--Women together, no men who are free, let alone regarded as human? Of course they're all Lesbians!--I should be used to it. However I've had precisely zero orgasms since they caged me. So now I stand there feeling a wet pressure building up inside my lost penis, a pressure which I can do nothing about.
Stooping so as not to break the kiss, Charli backs off enough to get at my mistress's coat buttons.
Lena twists her mouth half free and says wetly, "Let the slave do it."
Charli gasps, "Sure."
That's my cue. I move up smartly and as unobtrusively as I can and fall to one knee. Lena's coat buttons are tiny. I fumble with them while the damp of the ground soaks into my knee, and the two women make squelching noises with their mouths just above me.
Finally, the coat opens. I scurry around behind Lena to take the coat from her shoulders, revealing a matching burgundy dress.
Right away, Charli's big hands shoot out to grab my mistress's breasts through the dark red fabric.
The vamp's leather driving coat has big chunky buttons. It doesn't take me a moment to unbutton them. As she shucks off the heavy garment, she breaks the kiss. "Lay it on the grass like a blanket then go fetch what you find in the glove compartment."
I drape it over a flat patch of cropped grass and scamper back to the auto. Inside the glove compartment is a leather bag. I know what's in it just from the shape and there's a wet spurt from my chastity belt.
When I return to the women, Lena is already sprawled on the jacket, knees bent so that the skirts of her petticoat and dress have furled around the top of her thighs. Her brown stockings leave off just past her knee, with tight looking garters as anchors.
Her briefs--flimsy cream silk things--lie on the grass where Charli must have thrown them. However, I cannot see my mistress's pussy because the Vamp is kneeling between her feet, head buried between the Lena's thighs, hands still clamped on her breasts.
I kneel down just close enough, the bag on my lap.
Charli doesn't seem to notice me. Mixed with the sound of the wind is the distinctive scratch-squelch of tongue on clit.
Lena shimmies against the coat. Her fingers slide into the back of Charli's hair.
Charlie bob's up from the other woman's crotch. Without looking at me she says, "Do you know how to insert a joystick?"
I nod. "Yes ma'am."
"Get my pants down and do it." She dives back onto Lena's crotch. Still licking, she shuffles her knees back until she’s on all fours.
There are a row of buttons on the nearest. Gingerly, I undo them and slide the pants and briefs over her ample hips and down to her knees. Then I take the bag and move to kneel behind her.
Charli spreads her thighs until the pants are taut between them and tilts her hips. Now I can see her rosy anus and her thick-lipped vulva, glistening shamelessly from a clearing in its forest of dark curls.
I unlace the bag and take out the "joystick". It's a J-shaped double-ended dildo, with knobs and ridges in all the right places.
With shaking hands I position it between her thighs, the tip of the short end against her vulva. She shoves against me and I push it in. My fingers touch the rubbery outer lips and there's another squirt from my chastity cage.
Abruptly, Charli crawls forward and pushes her hips between Lena's spread thighs.
I duck low just in time to see Lena's red inner lips pouting from behind her mousy blond bush. The dildo slides in and now the Vamp's buttocks are in the way.
I kneel back forgotten.
Charli takes the weight on her elbows and kisses my mistress's throat while slowly twitching the dildo in and out.
Each movement earns a cry and a squirm from Lena. Her bare hands--Where did the gloves go? Christ, I'd better remember to find them--untuck Charli's blouse. The red painted fingernails vanish inside. The vamp gives a little cry, then a grunt; those knobs and ridges are doing the job for her too.
Now the two women undulate together like practised performers. Each grunt from Charli triggers a gasp from Lena, and a grunt in return. The grunts and cries tumble on, one hard on the heels of the other.
The pressure builds in my chastity cage until it's unbearable, like a wasp scuttling over the tip of my cock—not that I can really remember what the tip of my cock looks like. I did once get a vanity mirror and inspect it, but all I could make out was a shadowy pink behind the surgical steel mesh, and the staring at the places where the spidery bars pierced my flesh to anchor in the bone made me queasy…
And the two women subside.
Charli rolls off and stares up at the sky her hips and thighs white in the dying light. "Stars." It's true, the stars are coming out, but I have eyes only for the pale strip of flesh between Lena's stockingtops and the skirts furled at her waist. Her pubic hair is slicked back and wet, her lips bruised as dark as her dress. If only I could--
Lena stands up and brushes down her skirt. "It's called the outdoors, Charli. You know, Mother Nature." She holds out an arm and I spring into action with her coat. "Now take me to my cottage, please."
"Sure!" Charli plucks out the joystick and tosses it to me. I catch it on reflex. It's hot and sticky to the touch and I fancy I can smell their juices. I shudder. I could almost have an orgasm if only--
But no. The two women are relaxed and sated. I'm still hard in my cage. That's just the way this hellish alternate world works.
I put the thing away. By the time I've located and returned my mistress's gloves and undies, the vamp is dressed and back behind the wheel, engine growling, headlights casting beams over the fields.
"With care," says Lena, getting in. "You may have a death wish, but I do not."
Charli laughs. "I guess you have a novel to complete. Journalists always end up trying to write novels. What's it about."
Lena says nothing.
Despite Charli's mirth, we we trundle through the darkening roads more sedately. Each bump causes my cock to throb against its cage and I start drifting into an erotic trance...
...and suddenly we've stopped.
"Can I help you... unpack?" asks Charli.
"Certainly not," replies Lena as I open the door for her. "I have a slave for that and other things."
She strides off towards the gloomy bulk of the cottage. There's a crack of light coming under the front door.
I heft the luggage out of the trunk and slog along after her like a henpecked husband on a second honeymoon. If only there were a warm vagina waiting for my cock.
Charli calls something, but her words are lost in the crunch of gravel under the wheels of the heavy case.
Lena locks the door behind us and leans her back against it. She looks drawn and sad. "Right," she says. "Forget the luggage for now. Go do whatever it takes to run me a bath."
As I scamper off, I realise that I am shortly going to see her properly naked, with no predatory vamps around to spoil things. By the time I have the furnace stoked up, my chastity belt is throbbing like a second heart.