OPERA, LOONEY TUNES, AND DOTTIE FOR YOU: THE PAST AND FUTURE OF MODERN EROTICA

DOTTIE FOR YOU’s season finale is out today! Get all eight episodes of the libertine horrotica.

Since quarantine started I have easily watched 150 hours of opera, maybe 200. That’s basically all I do these days—get up at 4 in the morning, shower, eat, play with the cat, write until it’s Opera o’ clock, then eat again and go to bed. In the course of this exercise—which, thanks to the Met’s kind extension of its nightly free opera stream, could feasibly continue until I’ve exhausted their library of recordings—I’ve felt my brain change in a number of ways. The way I approach my own stories and experience the stories of others is certainly altered.

More than that, though, I can’t help but notice a distinct memetic lineage. This is the evolutionary chain I mean: opera > serialized pulp fiction > Looney Tunes and other short cartoons > modern Kindle pulp fiction. There may be more nuance than that and more steps in the chain, but the more I think about this particular artistic evolution, the more I can’t help but deny that it feels right.

If you don’t have much experience with opera, I’d recommend checking out the Met app on whatever device you can. The free trial mode allows you to access their nightly free opera and it’s a great way to have a piece of art you might not otherwise experience randomly forced upon you. One thing you quickly learn, aside from the fact that the librettos are handily represented in the form of subtitles (true even at the actual Met, where they appear along little digitized windows on the backs of all the chairs), is that opera plots are by and large terrible. Oh, man. They are awful. Looking objectively at the writing of opera can reveal the sometimes painful truth that just because something is in Italian or French doesn’t make it smart.

That’s not to say all opera plots are terrible. If I let myself get into Richard Wagner I’d be here all day with a pinboard covered in hysterical strings and headed by the mathematical formula “RING CYCLE + PARSIFAL = TANNHAUSER.” Even lighter comedic operas can be wonderful experiences. The Elixir of Love by Donizetti is a very alchemical work of art that teaches us how increasing our social value with others will permit us to win the hearts of those we really want. Don Pasquale teaches us, uh—old men shouldn’t want to fall in love? Well…like I said, they can’t all be winners.

The long and short of it, however, is that by far and away the prevailing trope of opera is the love triangle—in Verdi’s many operas the theme is almost constant, but it appears in just about every opera you could name in one way or another. From a mechanical standpoint, this is probably largely because you can’t have, say, a Mission Impossible-style conflict and sing at the same time. Conflict therefore has to emerge in manageable ways, and what better and more relatable conflict is there than that of love?

As a result of the focus on music above plot and reaction above action, we frequently see that the scenes in opera depict characters singing about their feelings: feelings for others; feelings about life or death or love; feelings about what’s going to happen, or what just happened between acts or off-stage or even long before the opera started. Character interaction occurs in fits and spurts, defying the age-old piece of writing wisdom that if your character is alone you need to get them with other people or a plot event ASAP. Romance is often a trite vehicle rather than a noble cause, a means to get people to betray each other with often homicidal or suicidal results.

And the characters themselves, in the tradition of commedia dell’arte, subscribe to a fairly predictable set of stock roles. Watching limitless operas back to back, day in and day out, I sometimes feel as though I’m watching the same characters re-emerge across different pieces, especially when they’re played by the same singer. In private, I wryly refer to the primary opera archetypes as “The Simp,” “The Cuck,” and “The Incel,” with one character sometimes playing two or three roles throughout a story. And don’t worry, ladies…female characters can fit these roles just as well as male characters can.

Cuckolding has a long, pre-Shakespeare tradition of being used for an easy gag and reliable plot device. Johns Ford and Webster were just about obsessed with it, and not long after their careers, these same issues of lust and romance were incorporated into opera. In Mozart’s (let’s just use a word I hate) “problematic” opera Cosi fan tutte, the main male characters even adopt disguises and essentially cuckold themselves in an attempt to win a bet with a friend that women are inherently unfaithful. Spoiler alert: they lose the bet and it turns out all women are unfaithful sluts. Thanks, Mozart. That’s just lovely.

But when you put aside the sometimes questionable history of opera tropes and the bad habits of certain composers who seemed to rely a little too heavily on the exoticism they found in other races (Puccini, I’m looking at you), you notice something very interesting. Something familiar. Easily recognizable stock characters, stories presented in almost episodic format, frequent elements of disguise, general trickery, romance of sometimes dubious consent, slapstick comedy…boy!

See why I can’t help but notice an almost straight-line correlation to Looney Tunes? It’s no wonder the Bugs Bunny episodes “What’s Opera, Doc?” and “The Rabbit of Seville” are surely two of the most well-remembered and influential cartoons in all of human history. The more I watch opera, in fact, the more I can’t help but see it as nothing but a kind of live action cartoon set to music.

I’ve gotten into arguments with people about this, but the truth is that opera was really forced to change after Richard Wagner. I would even go so far as to say it ended then, and that Strauss and Puccini were, despite their obvious talents and incredible bodies of work, stragglers emulating forebears rather than pushing their genre forward. By the time Wagner died, Verdi was retired and would only come out for a few more hits–most of which were adaptations of Shakespeare. And, while I acknowledge Puccini was a wonderful composer, his operas lack the grabbing power I feel from Donizetti or Mozart. Of “canonical” opera composers, Strauss was the latest—and it’s worth noting as a point of interest that he produced 6 of his 17 works after the premiere of Looney Tunes in 1930. There’s always going to be some overlap in the evolution of an artform or a genre, and I can’t help but feel it’s far from a coincidence that Strauss seemed to be winding down during the same decade that Tex Avery and Bob Clampett were barely winding up.

If you need more proof, look at the origin of Warner’s “Merrie Melodies” and cartoons as a whole. Merrie Melodies stole—I mean, uh, had their name inspired by—the Disney project, “Silly Symphonies.” Both projects were designed to showcase musical compositions owned by their respective companies. Most early cartoons were set to music or simply musicals—all of this is to say that early cartoons were, essentially, opera. They were used for the same purpose: as visual vehicles to get audience members in seats to listen to a composer’s music.

That’s why the plots of operas tend to be so weak; in most cases, composers and librettists were different people who sometimes didn’t even meet. In the case of operas like Strauss’s Rasulka there were gaps of many years between the writing of the music and the writing of the text. The libretto was a means to an end. Gilbert & Sullivan could hardly stand each other, if you believe the hype—and lest we forget, their comically absurd (some might say almost cartoonish) operas are an undeniable influence on even modern cartoons and signal clearly a shift of storytelling. What Simpsons fan can forget the hilarity of Sideshow Bob singing the entire score of H.M.S. Pinafore in a very Bugs Bunny-esque trick of Bart’s?

Yes, of course, people are still creating opera…but it’s just not the same. It’s all very conceptual now. Shostakovich’s The Nose is hilarious, but almost unlistenable. Glass’s Akhnaten felt like the same motif played over and over again until I had to get up and bake a batch of cookies or else fall asleep in my chair. I wish I could like John Adams, but I really just can’t get there. Frankly, the more modern opera I watch, the more I strongly admire Repo! The Genetic Opera’s willingness to dig into the tropes and character archetypes that once populated these glamorous stages while still making music you can enjoy listening to.

Modern opera is just off. The spirit is gone. It’s moved elsewhere. Composers now compose for films instead of the Church, and so when they compose for opera the tone is now different—the stories, too. Opera is just not the widespread medium for storytelling anymore…and as a result of over-production and executive meddling, neither is film or television. Soap operas seem like the natural descendant, and from a plot perspective they are, but their stories lack the transcendent power of their predecessors. After all, how can you tell a fulfilling story when you’re really just writing to fill the air time between soap commercials?

Disney has dropped all emphasis on creating really heartfelt stories in a gambit to instead fulfill plot beats in films designed to serve as advertisements for rides at Disneyland and Disneyworld. You think they spend all that money on their movies just to sell you merch? Piddly action figures and t-shirts and DVDs? Oh no, baby…that cash is nice, but it’s all about getting your kids to beg you for an in-person visit with Mickey Mouse and his new best friend, Darth Vader. No wonder they’re pissed about COVID—think of all the money they poured into the two-hour-plus trailer for whatever new Mulan ride they were ready to unveil. Or maybe did unveil. I don’t feel like Googling.

So that’s not where the spirit of commedia dell’arte and opera has gone. And it’s not in Looney Tunes anymore, either, because Warner is certainly subject to the same problem Disney-Marvel-Fox has. Where, then, is opera lurking?

In my erotica, my friend. In my erotica and your erotica and even, yes, the erotica of money-making genius E.L. James. We may not like it, but it’s successful for a reason.

Let’s revisit some of the qualities of opera. Opera’s emphasis is on reaction, rather than action. It frequently starts en media res or at least as close to the action as it possibly can. It deals with love triangles, romantic trickery, heartbreak and fulfillment. Cuckolding is a prominent trope, but I didn’t even mention the frequently employed character of the prostitute or the very standard use of the Madonna/Whore dynamic. And, perhaps most relevantly, most—if not all—plot action tends to occur off-stage in favor of long, relatively self-indulgent, angst-filled interactions between forlorn lovers.

All of this as a vehicle for music, much as erotica, which also bears all these qualities, is a vehicle for sex. Replace the dramatic arias and duets with the scenes of lovemaking they represent, and you couldn’t tell if La Traviata’s libretto had been written by Francesco Maria Piave or Regina Watts.

That’s the most important thing to remember about opera—all these songs are symbolic of something deeper. They’re not taking place, as musicals seem to, in worlds where characters suddenly burst into song. Rather, like a soliloquy in Shakespeare, when Violetta paces back and forth in her room exclaiming to herself that she must be free to frolic from joy to joy while Alfredo, far off, cries to her that love is the heartbeat of the universe, we are being trusted with a glimpse into the courtesan’s soul. It is a symbolic song, as so many lovers’ songs in opera are a symbolic replacement for the act of sexual union. Siegfried’s taming of Brunhilde at the end of Siegfried is perhaps among the most audacious works from that regard, because it is just so forthright in its depiction of what is happening between them and Brunhilde’s extremely complicated feelings about it.

So it’s very easy to see the close connections between erotica and opera. Furthermore, erotic fiction used to be primarily verse—from Catullus to Shakespeare and even among characters within the generally prose format of Lady Murasaki’s sensual Genji-Monogatari, poetry was the vehicle of erotic expression. What is libretto but poetry intended for music? It’s almost as if, with the mainstreaming and gradual acceptance of opera, (which like most forms of theater was considered a degenerate waste of time by puritans for quite a long time), erotica split itself in two. The lurid, saucy, graphic stuff that the Victorians left us and that we now pump out for Amazon’s pleasure; and the subtle, spiritual, high-consciousness erotica of the soul as represented by the symbols of opera. With opera in that form no longer being readily produced and this spirit unable to emerge organically when you’ve got groups of producers carefully designing the story that will give them the highest possible financial return, it’s only natural that the creative spark of sensual storytelling has returned to prose.

Poor authors without networks will always be there to write from their hearts. This is sufficient to engender the lively and theatrical storytelling of the sort that opera once produced—but with well-written erotica, the connections are obvious. I am of the strong opinion that erotica is largely derided as a genre because it doesn’t achieve its own expectations—that is to say, the very experience of reading erotica should be, in and of itself, erotic. The aesthetics of the prose should be erotic just as the aesthetics of the opera score should be romantic, sensual, powerful.

Every time I read a bad turn of phrase in a work of an erotic fiction it’s like I’m chewing on aluminum foil: it’s like a wrong note in an opera. In erotica more than any other, the language should flow, the text should have rhythm, the very sentence structure should pulse with sensual intrigue. A good erotica is one through which the reader flows almost as if they’re listening to music or making love. It builds momentum from the start and pushes you through its text in the same way that a Wagner score rises from the orchestra, interweaves with its characters, and draws its audience members deep into the heart of the story until they themselves can hardly be said to exist.

My serialized cannibal horror erotica DOTTIE FOR YOU began as a sort of dual homage to the Marquis de Sade and Vladimir Nabokov, but it was unavoidable that as I absorbed more and more opera the tone of the story would shift. Maybe I expected that, but I didn’t expect opera to have such an impact on the way I tell all my stories—and I certainly didn’t expect it to have such an impact on the way I think about my prose. It has taught me how to make work fast-paced but still emotionally deep. By DOTTIE’s novel-length season finale, out today, the tone of the series had shifted away from violent erotica for the sake of violent erotica and into violent erotica for the sake of spiritual enlightenment.

I have come to view it, especially Episode 8, as a form of prose opera—and DOTTIE fans who’ve already read the season’s finale, especially the last six or so chapters, will surely agree with me. The definition comes not from its referential relationship with many operas from Pagliacci to Die Walkure to Carmen but from the dedicated effort, by way of aesthetic prose, to elevate the violent, sometimes horrific lovemaking of its characters out of sordid pulp and into its own form of esoteric spiritual experience—just as the music of opera frequently elevates the clumsy plots and silly characters of commedia dell’arte out of cartoonish nonsense and into revelation.

It’s only a matter of time before more and more authors see erotica not just as a place to make a quick buck but as a source of artistic and even spiritual expression. Maybe, with everybody stuck in their houses and the Met running one opera a day until at least September of 2021, we can expect this change to come sooner rather than later.

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hello i love spooktober, bad witches, bizarre transformations oh and uh apparently hucow

Celebrate a month of Halloween fun by ensuring you’re all caught up with the adventures of SEXY SABINE! Sure, they’re standalone, but so are Looney Tunes…and if you enjoy one Bugs Bunny misadventure, odds are good you’ll love the rest. Grab THE WITCH’S GARDEN HOE for $4.99 and join wicked witch Sabine as she spies on her annoying and corruptible neighbor, Clarinda the Good Witch…then watch sparks fly as Clarinda gets what’s coming to her for being a busybody. From Satan-on-futa-on-male threesomes (featuring, of course, demonic tentacles and some really horrible sadomasochism that made me scream out loud to write and edit), to witch-on-witch spanking, to outrageously hot lesbian orgies and generally blasphemous magickal mischief, THE WITCH’S GARDEN HOE is a novella-length entry that’s sure to please.

But if you’re looking for something a little more, shall we say, niche, then enjoy a quicker read with THE WITCH’S MILK JUGS for $2.99. How can you eat Satan in the form of a bowl of cereal if you’re out of milk? Luckily, if you’re a witch with a cute, innocent, in-denial neighbor, it’s easy enough to make some of your own…this wet and messy short is especially for all the dairy lovers out there, but it’s weird, hot, and funny enough that anybody who’s enjoyed previous Sabine stories will love this one, too. Read THE WITCH’S MILK JUGS and learn a valuable lesson in Karma with your favorite bad witch!

Oh, and while I’m at it…be sure you’re signed up to my mailing list, because you get a free (and exclusive) Sabine short when you do! Fill out the form below and check your spam box if you don’t hear from me right away.

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hello i love interracial femdom orgies of sapphic sluts plus girls getting dollified by busty goths in retro horror erotica

say this post’s title five times fast and then buy this raunchy horror standalone that’s a smash hit on kindle! two days on the market and it’s rocketed up to #20 in transgender erotica, #48 in lesbian erotica, and #58 in erotic thrillers. this ultra-fun blast from the past is packed with decadent lesbian orgies, bimbo sluts, mind control, anal play, humiliation, voyeurism, dollification, human furniture, blasphemy, cuckqueaning, and a touch of giantess play to really make it fun. and don’t forget about that horror plot, baby…because it is a horror story first, as always.

if you love elvira (specifically her cult classic movie, elvira: mistress of the dark), the mystery science theater 3000 episode and/or original hokey movie the touch of satan, or goosebumps and fear street, then by Satan, this is the horror erotica standalone for you.

READ “THE WITCH’S NEW DOLLY!”

“Come back in three days, on Saturday night, and I’ll make you a doll.”

Alma has heard some wild stories about the neighborhood recluse, but when she finally meets the busty goth chick named Sabine Malbrook, Alma isn’t prepared for her to be quite so hot. Or so crazy. It’s not long before she’s calling herself a witch, inviting Alma to play with her dolls, and promising a few strange things if only Alma will return on Saturday night.

A fiery Latina, hot and athletic in her own right as well as a confirmed lesbian, Alma can’t resist the tempting offer…and can’t help but want to explore the exquisite aesthetic pleasures that come with the sensual art of doll-making. But being made a doll is only half the fun. The real purpose of a doll is for playing with, of course, and Alma will learn that Sabine likes to play rough…but not as rough as the rest of her coven, who happen to be coming over for a depraved Sabbath rite full of shocking twists and one magickal, mummified toy that’s a far cry from your mother’s strap-on.

Still, however rough it gets…better to be made a doll than a piece of furniture, right?

READ “THE WITCH’S NEW DOLLY!”

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hello i love hot fictional girls getting roasted alive for real or for pretend

Happy DOTTIE Day! Get your fill of depraved cannibal erotica with the first novel-length entry of DOTTIE FOR YOU…and stick around after the episode for special instructions about how to acquire DOTTIE AFTER DARK Secret Episode 2, a scene from Episode 6 that was just too inappropriate for me to put in Amazon’s erotica category. That’s almost 60,000 total words of DOTTIE that are now available for you to enjoy. Included in that you’ll find a super-hot Dolcett scene (think DelishMedia or Muki’s Kitchen if you’re a person of culture like myself and are familiar with either of those), tons of Jane and Tarzan-style primal sex, a whisper of mmf, voyeurism, reverse cuckolding, the usual taboo ageplay and consumption of psychedelic girlmeat, and much, much more…there’s even a crazy metaphysical plot in there to enlighten your consciousness while you’re getting off, so you can thank me later. Oh! And I almost forgot…this one has a novel-in-a-novel featuring the disgracefully erotic story of Herod and Salome. pseudo-incest is okay when it’s a Bible story fictionalized as a fictional character’s fictional novel, right? Right.

READ DOTTIE FOR YOU EPISODE 6: “DULCET LITTLE DOT”

Harold Fleetwood’s got to step his game up. He may be a billionaire, but it occurs to him now that there are many other billionaires on the planet. Some of them–for instance, Harold’s former business partner and lifelong friend, cunning and charismatic Leo Byron–might even be better-suited for Dottie. At least, more able to captivate her attention. Dottie tells Harold it’s all in his head, but he’s not so sure. And now that he knows Byron’s own superhuman secret, well, Harold can’t help but think he needs to find more ways to relate to DULCET LITTLE DOT than through consensual cannibalism and financial domination) alone.

Especially because, as the board meeting looms and Harold braces himself for backlash on recent changes to certain employees’ salaries, it occurs to Harold just how much he needs Dottie. For instance, during the two-week period of healing in which their favorite form of bonding is verboten, Dottie finds other ways to turn up the heat in their exotic romance: he might not be able to cook her alive the way she wants for a few more days, but they can at least pretend. And there’s so much more than that. After all, he and Byron are used to sharing everything: even if activities are restricted between them, there’s still plenty of fun to be had with three people; more fun still as, inspired by Dottie, Harold unfurls his own twisted work of erotic fiction for the pleasure of his immortal nymphet.

When a girl trusts you enough to let you play these sorts of games–sorts of games other men might kill for the chance to play–the least you can do is come up with a grand gesture to show her what she means to you.

What better gesture than an erotic retelling of the taboo Bible story of Herod and Salome?

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hello i love bratty dommes

TALE OF RHO BOOK I: DEVIL’S PLAYTHINGS is out today on Kindle! Get your copy for $6.99 or read it for free on Kindle Unlimited and enjoy a sexy paranormal reverse harem story full of ageplay, femdom, foot stuff, cannibalism, humiliation, spanking, a desperate old pervert who licks bathwater off the floor, and more libertine mayhem than you could shake a cane at. This slow-burn serialized story is in large part an homage to TALE OF GENJI, and like that famous book it is L O N G. Strap in and enjoy–you can expect one TALE OF RHO book every month/month and a half for the next half a year or so, so if you want a finished erotica serial to read right now, check out BE MY BULLY. It stars the same character, even…kind of. You’ll see what I mean once you’ve started this trippy, sexy, ultraviolent paranormal romance.

READ TALE OF RHO BOOK I TODAY!

“What are eidolons, exactly? Vampires?”

“Yes, and. Think bigger.”

“Demons?”

“Yes, and.”

“Ghosts?” Rhoda wrinkled her nose in irritation. “Faeries? Aliens? Angels?”

“Yes, yes, yes and, baby.”

DEATH IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS.

At least, it’s not what Rhoda Dendron thought it would be like–or rather, Rhoda Kingston. After the surreal events in the strange school and town of Griswald gained clarification, if not conclusion, Rhoda was ready for life to settle down. But when an entity in the guise of bad boy (well–bad older man) detective Felix Eirwen offers her an opportunity to flee mundane reality for eternal life as something called an Eidolon, she’s more than happy to explore what a new reality has to offer her…even if it means leaving certain things behind.

Not everything stays where she left it, however. There’s really no place like home: and in her new home there’s a Lulu, and even a Talbot…albeit a Talbot calling himself Emmanuel Harteveldt. Suave, calculating, and dangerously seductive, cunning libertine Dr. Harteveldt is a former OB-GYN with a lifetime full of secrets and a penchant for sadistic mindgames to rival Rhoda’s own. And he might be a little too eager to take the family’s new brat in hand for Felix’s liking.

Although he can’t really blame the old abortionist for his keen fascination with the new addition to their lineage. After all, Felix finds Rhoda pretty irresistible, himself. Especially when she calls him “Daddy.”

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hello i love finishing books – BE MY BULLY’s final episode is out now!

i’m not crying you’re crying. read the FINAL EPISODE of this lesbian schoolgirl femdom noir for $2.99 or FREE on KindleUnlimited. this was my flagship erotica project and while i’m thrilled it’s over i’m also very sad, ya’ll. but wait! because if you love rhoda dendron, be extra-sure to check out this episode–after the story is over there’s a free sample of my upcoming reverse harem paranormal erotica, the tale of rho! this multi-volume series is full of ageplay, femdom, polyamory, teasing, spanking, and way, way more, so if you’ve enjoyed be my bully, you’ll enjoy this series of novel-length volumes even more. read the sample at the end of be my bully episode 12: despair thy charm, or just join all the readers who have already pre-ordered the first book in the series!

READ “BE MY BULLY EPISODE 12: DESPAIR THY CHARM”

When it rains, it pours. Publicly humiliated in front of transfer student Lulu Eirwen and several police officers, Rhoda Dendron is locked in a cell in the Griswald police station; the identity of the serial killer has become evident; and Lucia is now under strict orders from her father to stay in their temporary domicile at all costs.

But there are some situations adults simply can’t resolve. Lucia realizes something nobody else does: that the police force of Griswald is now functioning under a time limit, and they haven’t got a prayer of solving the case when they’ve convinced themselves they already have their killer. It’s up to Lulu to take a risk, rescue her friend, and free the town of Griswald from the shadow of a murderer.

Too bad she’s never practiced firing a handgun before: but, as they say, you learn by doing.

This romantic tale of erotic mystery contains explicit content that may not be appropriate for all readers, and some episodes feature frank discussion of disturbing topics. Discretion is advised.

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hello i love free previews – two short chapters from INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY

Buy my debut standalone novel for $9.99 and get it the day it comes out on July 31st, 2020! If that command doesn’t convince you, then maybe these samples will.

5

By the next evening, the stranger had established her page on the video site. White, unadorned, empty of anything but her account name. Plain as her early set. After careful furniture rearrangement, she’d produced enough space to prop her budget photography screen against the kitchen/not-kitchen partition. There was even space for the lights. More adjustment made room for the camera. The barstool normally at the partition became her seat before the background. They were missing just one thing: after discussion, she took her seat with a hammer in her hand.


“Hello,” she began on his mark, but he immediately stopped the camera.


“You need more energy than that.”


“Do I?”


“Yeah. Think about those videos I showed you! These people were all super excited. You need to understand that you’re crafting a character.”


She pondered the head of the hammer. Rust lined the metal edge: the result of a leaky pipe in the last kitchen sink under which it had been stored. Time’s victim. “I’m so detached from myself. How could I come up with a character?”


“Oh, please, you’re the craziest girl I’ve ever met. You mean to say you’re not a character already?” He waved his hand at her. “Tell me what you feel about your situation. Do you like it more or dislike it more?”


“I guess I like it more. I like it a lot more than I dislike it.”


“And what do you like about it?”


“Well…” Her thumb pressed to the jagged texture of rust buildup, almost cuttingly sharp. “I guess it’s an opportunity to feel things. Things nobody else can ever feel.”


“So, you want to enjoy it—I mean, your condition. Your life.” Obviously uncomfortable with the true degree of her sadomasochism, he scratched his cheek before turning back to the camera. “Then I think that’s what you should tap into. If you want people to watch you, be excited about something. People love artists who are passionate about their art… Nobody likes a singer who’s too blasé, not for long.”


“Do people really want to see my passion for self-mutilation?”


“Just roll with it,” he said, adjusting the focus of the camera. “In three, two—”

6

The most-discussed viral phenomenon over the next few days was not the disease sweeping the globe but a surreal video of a lovely young woman in front of a white screen.


“Hi, everybody!” The woman giggled as if at herself and continued, “I’m the Degenetrix!” She introduced herself as a performance artist living in the city. Fairly close to true, or was about to be. It occurred to the woman only in the first few seconds of filming that this was a whole new medium for her. A massive shift: from making art to becoming art. The assumption of a new identity, “the Degenetrix,” a title suggested by the stranger and immediately embraced like the answer to some riddle.


This realization of new emergence was not apparent in the video’s final cut, where her image was superimposed with the familiar clip of her body smashing against a windshield. “You probably know me from the hit-and-run video that’s been making the rounds! A lot of people have wanted to know about me: Was she in shock? Is she on drugs? Is it a publicity stunt? No! I’m a real person. And what you’re about to see is real, too.”


Once the camera panned to reveal the hammer in her hand, the woman known as the Degenetrix stood up, crossed behind the stool, laid her left hand upon it, and attempted to bring the hammer down with her right.

“Ah!”


The first blow made her cry out but was not hard enough to achieve anything stupendous. The second got a knuckle and a “Fuck!” but yielded no satisfying break. “Help me,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Help me, help me, damn you—”


After the shake of the camera upon its tripod resolved to a still frame, the cameraman appeared in the scene to help her. Face obscured by the low angle so all that could be seen was his arm, the man took the hammer and repeatedly brought it to bear upon her fingers.

“Oh, God!” Her screaming pierced the apartment, and she realized at once that this would never fly—they had to get sound-dampening equipment to line her not-kitchen. This was one of a flurry of out-of-place practical thoughts—strange, spontaneous expansions of imagery the way people thought of chores during sex. In the video, she didn’t appear to be thinking about anything: only screaming, profaning, gripping her abused left hand by the wrist to keep it in place while the hammer smashed away.

The man stumbled off frame again. Viewers commented that the sound at time stamp 3:14 was likely the sound of the hammer being dropped. For about thirty seconds, the footage showed only the woman, gasping, weeping, her forehead against the edge of the barstool while she stared through tear-matted eyelashes at the pulp of her hand. Gradually, her crying calmed. The camera shook as it was removed from its tripod and the cameraman’s arc swung wide to reveal bits and pieces of an apartment, lighting equipment—no substantial wires or special effects equipment immediately visible. Only the woman, who, still collapsed against the stool, lifted her head at the camera’s approach and managed a shaky inhalation.

“This is real,” she wetly emphasized, reaching off-screen for a paper towel she used to blot blood from her bruised hand. “This is a magic trick. I’m a performance artist. But this is real.”

The camera zoomed in on her cleaned hand. Crumpled fingers snapped back into place as if the woman were a blow-up doll expanding into shape. By the time ninety seconds had passed, the woman’s hand was healed. The camera panned over the breadth of her grin, eyes bright and cheeks flushed as if by postcoital ecstasy.

“If you want to see more, be sure to like this video, leave a comment, and subscribe to the channel. See you next time!”

One last shot of her waving her broken hand: an auto-suggestion from the website’s algorithm that viewers might also enjoy this clip of a man falling from a ladder and smashing his head on his driveway.

-END OF SAMPLE-

IF YOU ENJOYED THIS, YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY…

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hello i love bad girls who get good whippings

and i also love having 20 titles on the kindle store. yes, between may 13th and june 29th of this year i have posted 20 titles to the kindle store including one bundle and, two novellas, and a few titles currently in preorder state. i’m very pleased with this start to my amazon erotica career and think it all the more appropriate that today’s new semi-standalone short (read for $2.99 or for FREE on KindleUnlimited) stars that devious and spankable former senior class vice president of griswald school for unruly girls, rhoda dendron. have the pleasure of reading about felix eirwen giving that incorrigible brat a taste of the razor strop and while you’re at it enjoy a sprinkling of heterosexual dd/lg shower sex. this second semi-standalone short is set in the background of be my bully episode 8, so you might enjoy this steamy short even more if you’re caught up with the series. if you’re not, there’s no time like the present.

oh, and ps, you might notice this is bonus episode 2bonus episode 1, also starring rhoda and felix, is available only to mailing list subscribers. fill out your email in the form at the bottom of this page and i’ll send you a download link for that episode and more!

CLICK HERE TO READ “SQUEAKY CLEAN”

Eighteen-year-old Rhoda Dendron is the kind of brat who requires thorough attention. (Un)lucky for Felix Eirwen, recent dark events in the strange town of Griswald and its seemingly cursed school have left Rhoda with nowhere to turn…and both Felix and his daughter are too warm-hearted for their own good. Take Felix: he tries to be a stand-up guy, but sexy, sensual Rhoda has a way of tempting him to submit to more primitive impulses than he cares to admit he has.

Is it really so wrong to react as nature intended when a hot, athletic girl like Rhoda joins you in the shower? Who’s really to blame? That irresistibly wicked nymphomaniac? The strapping older man who just can’t say no?

Or, you know…the murderer running around the town of Griswald who landed Rhoda in Felix’s house to begin with?

This erotic semi-standalone episode contains light DDLG dirty talk and other explicit content that may not be appropriate for all readers, and some episodes of the series as a whole feature frank discussion of disturbing topics. Discretion is advised.

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hello i published a sexy chastity short

if i’m being honest i don’t understand chastity fetishes (i am so far gone at this point that it is basically like vanilla sex to me) but since it’s the single most popular femdom category on amazon i decided i better learn. gotta write to that MARKET baby i kno u kno. so i looked for a character who could help me learn what’s fun about it and voila. the end result is a new franchise of interrelated but potentially standalone shorts starring the mary poppins of femdom, the titular (and i do mean titular) evita tartt. meet evita as she begins to guide married couple nina and freddie down their journey into femdom in the first-timer’s guide to chastity, available now on amazon for $2.99 or free on kindle unlimited. this series is great for anybody who wants their kinky fiction a little tamer–more on the side of domestic discipline than hardcore bdsm. but if you’re into the latter, be sure to check back tomorrow…or just preorder your copy of dottie for you episode 1: feeling dottie now on amazon so you can have a delicious dolcett romance delivered to you first thing in the morning, you sick fuck.

that’s all today thanks for reading oh and don’t forget

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hello i love new releases

i wrote a new femdom erotica novella that’s got whipping, foot worship, pegging, cuckolding, and a lil “forced” bi (although is it ever really forced when people enjoy themselves???). and speaking of bi please buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it click the cover below and give me $4.99 on amazon or read it for FREE on kindle unlimited but u kno if u actually buy it i’ll think ur cool so it’s up to u

“There exist, my adored slave, such contrivances of strap and harness, and certain implements (generally of stone or ivory) that can be attached therein…why, such things can even be used on men to great effect.”

At the decadent height of the proud Roman Empire, the last taboo is the one governing relations between master and slave–so when the powerful socialite Marcella Agrippina, used to having men line up to kiss her feet, receives a new slave as a gift from her lover, his true intentions are beyond her wildest dreams. This studly gladiator salvaged from the bloody games of Rome’s Colosseum is the very height of male splendor…and his hard body is irresistible, even when making use of that body means Marcella must risk her own freedom.

But is she truly in danger of being made a slave, herself? Faustus, the strange and scheming senator who insisted on the gift, seems pretty interested in this sexy bull of a fighter. So eager to hear all about what she thinks of her new slave–so interested to hear how she uses him.

Maybe it won’t be so hard for Marcella to bend both men to her will in the end.

This work of erotic fiction contains unconventional relationship dynamics and fantasies of female domination. Reader discretion is advised.

ty for ur time and reading and money xoxoxo

ps

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