Double Early Bird Sneak Peek: “Keep Looking Where Your Eyes Are Looking Now” and “No Time for Boys”!

October 18, 2018

Hi all! It’s time for another Early Bird Sneak Peek, where I share a glimpse at the story my lucky Early Bird patrons will be enjoying next Saturday thanks to their pledges at my Patreon page! Of course, if you’re not an Early Bird patron, you’ll still get a story next week–“Young Gods”, teased previously as an Early Bird story, has already been submitted to the EMCSA and Literotica. But the Early Bird patrons will be getting two new stories, “Keep Looking Where Your Eyes Are Looking Now” (MC MF FD) and “No Time for Boys” (MC MF MD RB)!

In “Keep Looking Where Your Eyes Are Looking Now”, Leah’s a young and eager erotic hypnotist who asks her friend-with-benefits Sam to be her guinea pig for her first efforts at erotic hypnosis. Turns out she’s pretty good at it… and Sam finds that he really enjoys being her test subject. Here’s a taste:

She didn’t act uncertain, though. “And as you keep your eyes focused on that same spot, you might find your attention wandering a bit as you listen to my words,” she said, her voice taking on the low, breathy tones Sam had heard her practicing more than a few times when he dropped by her apartment. “You might find yourself noticing the way your breathing is becoming slower, deeper, more regular as your body begins to relax and settle into the cushions of the sofa. If you need to shift position to become more comfortable, you’ll be able to do that easily and effortlessly, knowing that the more comfortable you are, the easier it is to let go of distractions and follow my voice.”

Sam sank back a little onto the couch, slightly amused by the way that his body responded to the power of Leah’s suggestion. That was a good sign, right? He tried to breathe the way she suggested as well, consciously trying to take long, steady breaths in and out as he watched the spot on the wall. “That’s it,” she purred, her long fingers stroking down the nape of his neck as she spoke. “You’re doing so well. Just keep listening, and let my voice direct your attention to where it needs to go.”

While in “No Time for Boys”, closeted lesbian Kayla has just gotten the world’s most passive-aggressive present from her passive-aggressive sister – a Boy(tm) all her own. With no return policy and no resale value, she’s stuck with a sex toy she has no interest in… but as you can probably guess, that’s about to be the least of her worries. Here’s a taste:

Kayla turned away from the computer with another loud, theatrical sigh of frustration, and slid the box over next to her chair. She used her apartment key to slice through the tape, pulling open the cardboard flaps and tugging at the foam dividers. Maybe she could turn it into an art installation or something, take it apart with a crowbar and pour fake blood over the pieces as a comment on late-stage capitalism. Or resell it to one of her straight friends, assuming that wasn’t a violation of the End User License Agreement–

Kayla finally pulled out the tightly-packed foam divider. The Boy in the box was cherry-red, her least favorite color. Absolutely fucking typical Margo. And Kayla would lay fucking money that Margo read every word of that ‘no returns or exchanges’ policy, too. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the computer to see if there was a Craigslist section for sex toys.

Which meant that when the Boy stood up and put his hand on Kayla’s shoulder, it took her completely by surprise. She gave a brief yelp and spun in her chair, instinctively flinching back a few inches from it. God, couldn’t they at least have put some clothes on it, or a warning label or something? The last thing she needed was to suddenly have a faceful of robot junk right in front of her at the end of a hard day. (And of course, Margo sprung for the ‘realistic penis’ option…)

Hope you enjoy them!


Is It Hypnosis? – Part Thirteen

October 14, 2018

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 87 happy and kinky Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

So, back to another set of my older stories, examining them with the specific intent of discussing the hypnosis involved and how believable and ethical it really is. (Again, the original plan was just to discuss the realism, but I don’t feel like you can talk about realistic plans to brainwash someone without their knowledge or consent without also mentioning that hey, that’s really not a good idea and you shouldn’t try it whether or not it would work.) Let’s go, shall we?

Suicide Blonde: I’ll be honest, I’m not even sure Natalie is consciously hypnotizing Hannah in this story. I think that she’s just trying to keep Natalie’s attention on her, keep her focused and distracted from her depression and the very real possibility of jumping off the edge of the building just a few feet away, and that there’s enough similarity between “trying to get someone to focus on nothing but you” and “hypnotizing someone” that it sort of happens on its own. I would like to believe that something like this would work in this situation, for fairly obvious reasons, and I also judge it as pretty ethical even though it’s technically covert and conversational hypnosis. Natalie’s not trying to get Hannah into her bed, she’s trying to save her life. The other stuff just kind of happens.

Soft and Wet: This is, like most of the Lynn and Michael stuff, very plausible and in fact based mostly on real life hypnotic play between Lady Ru’etha and myself. In this case, I did elide a few details here and there for ease of narration, and we didn’t actually make me forget who I was while the session was going on, but this is definitely plausible, hot and entirely consensual. (If I ever collect the specifically consensual mind control stories I’ve written into a book, that might be the title.)

You May Be Right: I mainly included this one because I’m not sure how much we’ve talked about subliminal messages, which tend to get lumped in with hypnosis under “plausible and scientifically proven methods of real-life mind control” even though the science on it is dubious at best and doesn’t hold up to real scrutiny. (Participants in a double-blind study tended to believe they’d improved in whatever subject they were told they’d gotten subliminal tapes for, even when the tapes were actually for something different.)

Now, that doesn’t mean that there’s nothing at all to the idea of constant repetition of a message as a form of brainwashing – if you listen to a hypnosis file over and over, you’re going to become more susceptible to it, same as any other form of repetitive conditioning. But bluntly, there are serious limits on how effective that is with an unwitting subject, and it’s going to work even worse if it’s harder to hear the hypnotic messages. This one is straight up fantasy, which is good, because brainwashing your roommate into a sex slave without her consent is incredibly sketchy.

Step by Step: On the one hand… look, I don’t want to suggest that you can just start reciting a set of mantras and within moments, everyone around you is simply going to follow along into a vacant, helpless trance as they drone out the words without thinking. That’s really unlikely with most people, especially someone like Brenda who’s literally hearing these words for the very first time. I think you’d probably get the other kind of blank look, the “what the fuck is this shit?” look.

On the other hand… it’s pretty clear that this is an audience of people self-selected to believe that they have a problem managing their susceptibility to hypnosis. Like, anyone walking through the door isn’t just a good hypnotic subject, they’re someone who has a sufficiently large problem resisting suggestions that they think they need to come to someone for assistance with something they can’t handle themselves. And there is a known psychological effect involved in group activities that suppresses dissent and encourages conformity. Once Brenda saw everyone else going on with it, it would be harder for her to resist. And yes, part of the entire structure of AA directly and deliberately involves surrendering personal autonomy and living according to the directives of the group. (I will save the debate over whether that’s a good idea for another time.) And the hypnosis is being used to initiate sex, which tends to be its own reward for most people.

So it is, just theoretically, possible that Heidi’s scam could work for this particular group of people, even if it probably wouldn’t work for anyone else. But obviously, taking advantage of people who come to you because they think of themselves as extra-vulnerable and in need of support is ungodly fucking terrible and you should only do it if you’re a fictional character. (And even then, only to other fictional characters. Breaking the fourth wall to hypnotize people without their permission is wrong, Deadpool. Also that’s not a pocket watch. That’s a taco taped to a piece of string.)

Unwritten: And here’s another example of that group consensus effect I was talking about. Felicity isn’t being ‘hypnotized’ per se; she’s being introduced into a group that has a very rigid set of social structures at odds with the ones she’s used to, but one where everyone treats the altered dynamic as normal and there’s a fuckton of emotional pressure on her to conform to the group instead of dropping out of college and disappointing her whole family. I’m not convinced this would work, and I certainly think that the set-up for it is convoluted enough that even if you were unethical enough to be a real-life Lucretia Westcroft, you’d have trouble making it all happen… but looking at real-life cults and secret societies, it’s clear that you genuinely can make people do a lot of extreme things just by isolating them from the social structures that tell them not to and forcing them into a dynamic where it seems normal.

Also, looking at real-life cults and secret societies, this is very clearly a bad idea and you should not do it. There’s a lot of “I see this ending in fire” examples out there, in some cases literally. Think of this as a sexy, sexy cautionary tale, and not a set of instructions to make your very own brainwashed slave cult.

And on that cheerful note, we’re done with this installment! See you next week for more blog posts, and whenever I feel like it for more of this particular sub-series!

Double Early Bird Sneak Peek: “Brain Freeze” and “4 U 2 B Free”!

October 13, 2018

Hi all! It’s time for another Early Bird Sneak Peek, where I share a glimpse at the story my lucky Early Bird patrons will be enjoying next Saturday thanks to their pledges at my Patreon page! Of course, if you’re not an Early Bird patron, you’ll still get a story next week–“Narrow Escape”, teased previously as an Early Bird story, has already been submitted to the EMCSA and Literotica. But the Early Bird patrons will be getting two new stories, “Brain Freeze” (MC FF) and “4 U 2 B Free” (MC MF MD FF FD)!

In ‘Brain Freeze’, Quiana’s power outage is making her miserable from the summer heat. But luckily, her neighbor has stopped by with a big bowl of hand-cranked poppy seed ice cream! And Quiana’s about to find out that her neighbor has a gift for making good food… and for breeding very special poppies. Here’s a taste:

“I don’t get a ton of seeds from each harvest,” Marlena went on as she settled back onto the couch cushions, seemingly oblivious to Quiana’s change of heart, “but really, I don’t need a whole lot. I’m not greedy or anything, you know? I think that I used about half my current supply on the ice cream, but I’ve still got more than enough to get me through until the plants produce seeds again. So long as I haven’t guessed wrong about your weight, that is. How much do you weigh, Quiana? About 145 pounds, 150?”

“Um…” It seemed like an odd, absurdly personal question, but what surprised Quiana most was how difficult it seemed to answer it. She felt like she’d been sitting there, eating ice cream and letting Marlena do the talking for so long that now that she finally was given an opportunity to speak, she’d forgotten how. Her head felt strangely numb, and thinking was suddenly a tremendous effort. It was like an ice cream headache without the pain, just a burst of brain paralysis that made Quiana feel like each individual thought was forcing its way through thick fluid.

While in “4 U 2 B Free”, Service Unit 4U and her Master are trying a risky tactic to bring a new ally to their side in the war against the Directors. They’re trying to do something Unit 4U doesn’t believe to be possible – free a slave from the Directors’ grasp. Here’s a taste:

I’ve never seen a pussy wetter than Service Unit 2B’s before. I don’t say that lightly–I’ve been a slave for three years now, and even though not all of my assignments have involved sex and seduction, I’ve still spent plenty of time doing my best to get the people I serve as turned on as possible. I’m very accustomed to the sight of arousal. But 2B… we’ve taken her well beyond that. Two weeks of constant sexual teasing without the possibility of release has turned her cunt into a dripping, slick mess that constantly soaks the chair of the brainwashing suite. (No wonder it’s waterproof.) When I touch her labia, my fingers come away trailing strings of her musk behind them. She’s got to be near her breaking point, even for a slave conditioned to resist all brainwashing not coming from her true Masters.

I wonder for a moment if this is what it was like for Haley, the day they installed me in her head. The day they turned me into a service unit. It’s a little unnerving, finding my thoughts turning to the one moment that I’m never allowed to recall, not even as a totally compliant slave incapable of resisting my Master’s commands. It feels like I’m tip-toeing right up to the line of disobedience by even thinking about it, but at the same time the comparison seems irresistible. I know what Haley’s memories were from before her recruitment, I’m fully aware of everything that happened to her since, but… there’s a void there. And I imagine it must look like 2B right now.

Hope you enjoy them!

Being Me

October 7, 2018

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 84 wonderfully kind Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

A few days ago, I saw a really excellent post on Tumblr (here, for those of you who would like to read it), and I thought it deserved a slightly more thoughtful response than just reblogging it. Because it does say, very well, a lot of things that I’d kind of been practicing without discussing, and I wanted to talk a little bit about why I do the things I do without hijacking the thread. And my blog is a perfect place (in my opinion at least) to talk about myself, in the assumption that people coming here want to hear my specific thoughts and ideas about a topic. So here’s what I think about patriarchal fantasies and realities.

First, let’s start with a basic fact. I am, and I don’t at all think this is an original description of the job of an author, a professional liar. It is, in fact, my job to tell you things that I know are not true, and make them sound believable enough that at least temporarily, you do that wonderful thing called “suspending your disbelief” and treat them as if they are in fact true. This is a good and wonderful thing, and I will defend the need for fiction to my dying day, but the important point is, I lie a lot. And specifically, I lie about sex. And more specifically, I lie about the exchange of power in sex in a lot of ways that are emotionally and politically charged. You can’t write about kink without writing about politics, at least not in a small-p interpersonal way.

Second, the kind of lying that writers do is only worthwhile within the context of an accepted set of rules about when it’s okay to lie. That is to say, if I tell you, “In a hole in a ground, there lived a hobbit,” that is the kind of lie that is perfectly fine even though there are no such things as hobbits and the holes in the ground are (hopefully unoccupied). Whereas if I tell you, “I will be at the airport in ten minutes to pick you up,” and I am in reality sitting at home eating popcorn and watching a ‘Forged in Fire’ marathon, that is a very bad kind of lie even though it is significantly closer to the truth than the one about the hobbits. In order for this whole thing to work, you have to know when I am lying and when I am telling the truth.

And third, I cannot trust you to just know. I mean, okay, maybe I can with the hobbit thing, and I’m probably pretty safe if I claim to have inside knowledge on a war fought long, long ago in a galaxy far, far away, but I cannot legitimately expect you to know that when I say, “Women are inherently sluts and they just need a good hard fucking to bring it out of them,” I’m speaking in my capacity as a professional liar and not as an honest-but-highly objectionable misogynist. Not without something to signify, one way or the other, which metaphorical hat I am wearing when I say it. (The hat is a lie too. There is no hat. “It’s metaphorical” is just a way of saying, “This is a really cool lie that will help you understand something when I explain it to you.”)

Now, there are some people on Tumblr involved in the “patriarchy” kink (I don’t feel like I need to name any names, I’m sure you can all think of a few) who seem to be very comfortable blurring this line. They will make posts that are explicitly anti-feminism, pro-misogyny, and supportive of the idea that all women everywhere should see as their primary goal earning the approval of men. These are their only posts. There’s nothing in there about big-P Politics, and the only little-p politics you can read from their statements is that women are worthless and men should treat them like property. They do not make a distinction between women who consent to this as their personal kink and women who don’t… although as Hypnovictim pointed out, many of them seem very interested in making distinction between ciswomen and transwomen, and not in positive ways. Consent to a patriarchy kink is assumed to be opt-out, not opt-in.

There are, to be blunt, two kinds of people who do this. The first kind are the people who assume, very incorrectly, that they can expect you to know when they are wearing the professional liar hat and that they shouldn’t have to tell you every time. They may believe (again, they are so wrong) that simply being on Tumblr under that account name and posting under their fictional persona is an obvious signifier that they are writing a fictional account of a kink they enjoy, and that everyone should simply understand that they don’t really believe that women should be treated like shit. They honestly don’t understand why it is that they get tarred with such a broad brush by what they assume are humorless people.

The reason they’re wrong is because of the second kind of person who does this. The second kind of person genuinely believes all this awful shit. They are not wearing a professional liar hat. They are not lying. They are saying, quite truthfully and honestly and horribly, that they believe women to have no inherent worth as human beings and they think it’s okay to abuse them for men’s sexual pleasure. They are very serious, and their words are absolutely indistinguishable from the words the first type uses. There is no way to tell who is wearing the metaphorical hat, here.

And all this goes a long way to explain why I have absolutely no fucks to give for the poor misunderstood Tumblr Dom who posts once in a blue moon with, “Why does everyone just assume I’m like this in real life?” or “Why do all these white supremacists and men’s rights activists keep following me?” or “Why does everyone think I’m transphobic and homophobic?” This is entirely a self-inflicted problem. When you don’t make it sufficiently clear what parts of your kink are real and what parts of it are fantasy, you are responsible for that. You chose to blur that line between fiction and reality, and that means you take on an implicit responsibility for people not knowing where you stand. If you don’t like that, in the immortal words of Tumblr users everywhere, TAG YOUR PORN.

And it’s also why I make my Tumblr blog the way it is. I tag my fiction as fiction not just because it’s easier to find that way, but because I want people to know that the things I write about as kinky fantasies aren’t the things I believe, even if they’re told in the first person. I put big-P Political posts on there so that you, my audience, know that when I write about women being brainwashed, it is an opt-in consensual fantasy and not my stance on feminism. I post silly, goofy little shitposts sometimes, not just because I think they’re funny but because I want you to know that I am a real human being and not a persona. I make my blog real so that when I’m lying, you know it.

And hopefully, you enjoy it.

Double Early Bird Sneak Peek: “Zzzonked” and “Of Course We’ve All Seen the Sun”!

October 4, 2018

Hi all! It’s time for another Early Bird Sneak Peek, where I share a glimpse at the story my lucky Early Bird patrons will be enjoying next Saturday thanks to their pledges at my Patreon page! Of course, if you’re not an Early Bird patron, you’ll still get a story next week–“I Would Die 4 U”, teased previously as an Early Bird story, has already been submitted to the EMCSA and Literotica. But the Early Bird patrons will be getting two new stories, “Zzzonked” (MC MD MF FF MA CB) and “Of Course We’ve All Seen the Sun” (MC MF MD)!

“Zzzonked” is a new superhero story, the first full outing for Madame Macabre! She’s just returned from a lengthy battle to find that one of the mystic books she’s guarding has escaped, and she needs to recapture its protagonist before he ends the world with his powerful sleep spells. It shouldn’t be any real problem… emphasis on “shouldn’t”. Here’s a taste:

Of course, she thought with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she alighted through the open window, the fact that nobody could get in didn’t mean she never had any security problems to worry about. Even as dulled as they were by drowsiness, her mystic senses could tell that something was wrong even before she found her clerk Mordecai slumped unconscious in his favorite armchair, a book with mysteriously blank pages lying open on the floor beneath his limp and dangling hand. As soon as she saw him, she realized exactly what it was that was pricking her magical intuition.

One of the stories had escaped again.

She reached down and scooped up the book with her pale, dexterous fingers, turning it over to look at the spine with a sense of growing apprehension. She relaxed a little when she saw the title–‘The Tale of Silas the Somnomancer’–but only a tiny bit. Silas was far from the most dangerous of the narratives she kept imprisoned in her magical shop; if Stabbily Ever After or The Duchess of Bone had made it out of their volumes, she probably wouldn’t have found Mordecai alive. But she knew how Silas’s story ended, and that meant she still couldn’t leave it until morning. Damn. It was always something.

And in “Of Course We’ve All Seen the Sun”, Sunny is trying to explain the strange dream she had, about a prince who needed rescuing and a queen who insisted the sun was nothing but a fantasy. Sunny’s sure it meant something, and she’s hoping her Master can explain it to her. Here’s a taste:

I dreamt I found this… it was sort of like a portal, in my dream. Not like a regular door, or even a magic door, but a sort of portal into my mind? Sorry, it’s sort of hard to describe. It was made of sheets of paper like the kind I use to write my devotions to you, but they were all glued together at one edge so you could only look at them in a particular order. And when you looked at all the words, they all made sense–even the ones that didn’t tell you how to obey, if you can believe that–and they made a picture in your head. In my dream, that picture was so real that I could almost step into it. Like, I read the words and it made me imagine things.

Sort of like your words, Master, but… not yours? I’m sorry, I know I’m not making much sense. But that’s what it’s like in dreams sometimes. Like, once I dreamed I was wearing clothes. All over my body! On my tits, on my cunt… everywhere! I looked so strange all covered up like that, like I wasn’t even horny or obedient even a little bit. I had on these, um, things. On my face. To help me see better, and make me look smart and serious, and it was… it was so weird. I didn’t look like your slut at all, Master.

Hope you enjoy them!

Liner Notes for September 2018

September 30, 2018

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 85 practically perfect Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

Hi all! It is the end of the month, and that means it is the beginning of my Liner Notes for the month! As usual, this is me rambling about the creative process that goes into my stories in a way that will hopefully intrigue and inform you. Let’s get under way, shall we?

This Is You Throwing In the Towel: One of my occasional themes when my MC stories get dark is the idea that there are a lot of people out there for whom mindless obedience would be a step up – with so many of us forced into lives of quiet drudgery anyway, the argument goes, wouldn’t it at least be nice if we could somehow be made to enjoy it? As soon as I saw the title ‘This Is You Throwing In the Towel’, I knew it would fit well with a story along those lines. Specifically, I knew that it would involve an informed choice between mindless slavery and the more subtle, everyday kind.

You’ll usually find me getting out my social conscience soapbox for these stories, and sure enough, Janet has the kind of everyday life where she’s sexually objectified and harassed by men and has to just sit there and take it, to the point where being an actual brainwashed sex slave would at least carry the upside of mindless pleasure. And yes, there’s a little bit of a complaint in there about the way that our education system is designed to turn out workers, not people, and the over-reliance on multiple-choice testing and the prioritization of rote memorization over genuine understanding. (I may have some teachers in my social life who’ve spoken about this.) The point all along, I knew, was that while Janet’s will was weakened by all the conditioning, what she really wanted was to be happy and fulfilled. We all do. But sadly, not enough of us get that.

Only Just Begun: Obviously, this is a simpler and happier story (I mean, so long as you ignore the fact that Nancy’s being brainwashed without her consent into an obedient sex slave, but Nancy is an imaginary person so we can all pretend that she totally would have if she’d been presented with the option and why does this story still feel like the happier of these two?) I wanted it to focus on brainwashing through the combination of deep hypnosis and powerful sexual pleasure, which is one of my favorite things to (consensually and ethically) do as a top and which is very easy for me to write. I think it came out nicely.

Echo: Unlike this one, which was kind of a bear to write for a lot of reasons and which I still don’t think I stuck the landing on. I came up with the basic idea before I even saw the title, where one of my superheroes would meet a potential version of themselves created by a time-crackingly powerful artifact wielded by one of my supervillains. I knew that the other version would be evil, because that’s kind of a time-honored superhero story tradition that I hadn’t really done a whole lot with yet. And I settled on WildRose and Doctor Darke because they seemed like sufficiently well-established characters to give the whole thing a bit of dramatic heft.

But what didn’t hit me until I was writing it was just how hard it would be to get any sexuality into the whole thing. I’m definitely proud of the big twist, that the protagonist WildRose is actually the “fake” one, but I feel like the sex scene really stops short of being a sex scene because for some reason “sex with yourself” turned out to be a surprise squick for me that I couldn’t really get past. I thought I’d be able to write a really good, really hot WildRose-on-WildRose sequence, but I wound up chickening out to just a light tease before I wrapped up the plot as fast as I could (it makes sense as an ending, but I think it’s fairly perfunctory due to my awkwardness with the whole sex part). There’s basically a really delicate blend between “sexy” and “plotty” in these stories, and I think I had the wrong mix.

Counting Stars: I’ve had this one in mind for a while now, pretty much ever since the song got its big airplay about five years ago. I knew it was going to be two people ‘stargazing’, with one of them definitely having something other than the stars in mind, but the details kind of fuzzed and fogged in my head (and mingled with another idea I have, for the song ‘Fireflies’ which also lends itself to a “lie back and look at the pretty lights, dearie” mentality). In the end, I went with a male/female pairing and a trip out to the countryside that both parties know is as much about sex as it is about scenery, and pushed it just that tiny bit past vanilla sex to make it clear that there’s real hypnosis and brainwashing involved. The protagonist isn’t unhappy at all with this turn of events, though.

Zero Signal: As I’ve previously noted, I am trying to work in some M/M stories into my repertoire; they’re never going to be my focus, but I want to do them and do them well. And another of my occasional themes in mind control erotica is the idea of a human brain functioning like a computer, and human thoughts as patterns of signals produced by that computer. I don’t really believe that it’s possible to find a special frequency that will genuinely make a person helplessly susceptible to external programming, but it’s enough of a recurrent fantasy of mine that I think you’ll find it popping up in a lot of my stories once you start looking for it. When I saw this title, it was very much not hard to take it in that direction with a “gay conversion” tale.
And that’s September in the books – join me next week for another blog post, and next month for a new set of Liner Notes!

Early Bird Sneak Peeks: “Art Appreciation” and “Girls Are Always Right”!

September 28, 2018

Hi all! It’s time for another Early Bird Sneak Peek, where I share a glimpse at the story my lucky Early Bird patrons will be enjoying next Saturday thanks to their pledges at my Patreon page! Of course, if you’re not an Early Bird patron, you’ll still get a story next week–“Zero Signal”, teased previously as an Early Bird story, has already been submitted to the EMCSA and Literotica. But the Early Bird patrons will be getting two new stories, “Art Appreciation” (MC MD MA) and “Girls Are Always Right” (MC MF FD RB)!

In “Art Appreciation”, Michelle and her friend Penny are being treated to a private exhibition of a Dutch painter. Michelle doesn’t know much about art, but by the time she looks at a few of Gustav van Niftrik’s mesmerizing paintings, she knows what she likes. Here’s a taste:

“These are the works of Gustav van Niftrik, a contemporary Dutch painter who believed like his predecessors in Neoplasticism that art had the potential to truly transform the spirit by bringing it into contact with an immutable truth, if presented in the right context. He designed this entire gallery–not just the paintings, but the layout and lighting as well–in order to give his work the context necessary to transform his audience. You’ll note that in this first painting, which he calls ‘Receptive’, the subject of the piece has a look of rapt fascination on her face? That’s Gustav telling you to open up, to be captivated by what you see. Just stare at it for a moment, you’ll know when you’re ready to move on.”

Michelle took a moment to gaze at the painting, a portrait of a woman’s face drawn with almost photo-realistic clarity. The picture was drawn as an extreme close-up, the surroundings entirely absent in favor of providing every detail of the subject. Like the tour guide said, she had an expression of wide-eyed preoccupation–her jaw hung open loosely, and her facial muscles were slack as she stared in obvious enthrallment at something. It was so real that it almost made Michelle want to turn around and see what the woman was looking at, but she forced herself to continue studying the painting.

And in “Girls Are Always Right”, a difficult patient finds that his therapist has turned his case over to someone much better at getting people to open up – her Girl(tm). Here’s a taste of that as well:

Noah froze, his hips half-swiveled in the act of turning around. His jaw hung open in a mixture of bewilderment and astonishment as he tried to take Doctor Schuyler’s words and turn thim into some kind of meaningful narrative of events. But no matter how he rearranged the implications of her explanation, his mind circled around to the same answer like water swirling down a drain. “You want me to fuck your robot sex toy?” he asked, his voice faintly aghast.

“No,” the Girl said, standing up in a single smooth movement and walking around the desk to interpose her voluptuous body between him and the door before he’d even consciously processed that he was trying to leave. “She wants you to talk to your robot sex toy. You’re trying to bring sex into it because a discussion of whether her behavior is appropriate is less threatening to you than a conversation about your emotions.”

She smiled, clearly enjoying his astonishment. “We’ve been programmed to be very good listeners, Noah. Communication is essential for intimacy, and intimacy improves the sexual experience. Doctor Schuyler’s just making use of that programming in a therapeutic setting.” Her eyes glowed slightly brighter with amusement, slowly shifting in color from purple to green as Noah watched. She took him by the hand with a grip that felt irrefutable and led him over to the therapy couch. “Now, Noah,” she said, gesturing to the soft cushions, “why don’t we have a seat and you can talk about some of the things that are bothering you?”

Hope you enjoy them both!

“The Authorities”

September 23, 2018

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 82 genuinely amazing Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

A while back, I posted a fairly lengthy rant about the way that some people like to use terms that recharacterize people who are vocally upset over their own sexual victimization as “lynch mobs” or “witch hunts”. And one of the things I mentioned in there, almost as an aside, is the way that the judicial system is rarely up to handling complaints about sexual predators in a meaningful way. I left it at that at the time, but it’s kind of been in the news lately in a pretty significant fashion, so I thought it was time to revisit it.

There are basically two layers to this. One is the vanilla layer, which is the depressingly blunt truth that whatever the laws on the books might say, the people in charge of the judicial system simply do not value women’s bodily autonomy and only take crimes like sexual assault and rape seriously when it can be used to reinforce existing social norms. This means that a white man is by default never a rapist in the eyes of the law, because women’s bodies exist for the sexual gratification of men and so a woman is by default assumed to consent simply because men want what they have and it’s “unfair” to deny it to them.

That’s not to say that there aren’t specific examples of women getting justice for their rapes, but they are exceptions to the general rule (and very frequently involve the rapist being part of their own marginalized culture – black men are convicted of rape, as with everything else, at a much higher rate than white men). It remains a sad truth that the burden of proof in a rape/sexual assault/sexual harassment case remains very much on the woman to demonstrate that she did not do anything, anything at all that could conceivably be construed as inviting the man’s attentions.

I hate to use property crimes as an analogy here, because the whole point of this is that women are not property, but imagine if we regularly saw people defending themselves from bicycle theft charges in in court by insisting that the original owner of the bike told them to accept it as a gift, that it was really one of those “he said/he said” situations, and that they probably just regretted giving away their bike afterwards and now they’re trying to make trouble for a good family man. It would simply be laughed out of court, but when women try to claim the same authority over their own bodies that men claim over their vehicles, they’re shut down. Regularly. Constantly. Continuously.

And not without risk to themselves – a woman who reports, even if not believed, is viewed as “making trouble” for men, and you can best believe that a society that treats women like this just for existing and having sexual characteristics isn’t going to be nicer to a woman who makes men’s lives anything less than perfect. Rape and death threats are common responses to reporting crimes of sexual predation, not just from the rapist but from a host of men who have a vested interest in making sure that women stay good and convinced that getting redress for their grievances isn’t worth the effort.

TL;DR: The rapist in charge of the federal government, who has just nominated an attempted rapist to the highest court of appeal in the nation, is wondering why a woman might not have decided to “go to the authorities” about her assault. It. Is. Self. Explanatory.

Now let’s add onto that the second layer, relevant to the particular interests of this blog, which is kink. Because you do hear that defense of sexual predators a hell of a lot in the kink community when someone prominent gets outed as a rapist: “Well, why doesn’t she go to the police instead of the event organizers, we can’t investigate crimes like this, what about due process, why can’t we just have fun at these things…” (I just deleted literally a whole paragraph of additional justifications.) The point is, a lot of people who would normally shriek bloody screaming murder at the thought of one kinkster identifying another to the mundanes is suddenly all about involving the judicial system when it comes to sexual assault.

But again, the judicial system isn’t even equipped to process the basic concept that women have bodily autonomy and authority over their own sexual activities. The idea that you’re going to introduce an additional concept to them, that women are capable of consenting to extreme and sometimes physically damaging activities, and then revoking that consent? There simply isn’t a framework for this. Depending on the specific kinky thing you’re doing, they’re either set a damaging legal precedent (imagine what it would be like for everyone into flogging if a judge decided that a woman can’t meaningfully consent to being beaten?) or they’re going to blow off the complaint (“so you let him strip you naked and tie you up, but then you ‘changed your mind’ when he started having sex with you?”) Neither one of these are the outcome that the victim wants, and neither one of them is respecting her right to give and withdraw consent.

To say nothing of the fact that, again, even vanilla women are harassed by their own community for reporting their sexual assaults (and “making trouble” for powerful men, which is usually unspoken but gosh the Republicans are shouting it right now). Can you imagine how the kink community would treat a woman who reported a rape at a play party? With the witnesses having to be subpoenaed, testify under their real names that they attend kink events, and admit that they regularly participate in actions of dubious legality (again, there is nothing on the books that says that whipping someone is okay if they tell you to). Women are treated like shit by the kink community for reporting their rapes to other kinksters. There’s no way they wouldn’t be harassed to death, possibly literally, if they went outside the community to get justice.

(Just as a bit of additional clarification, because I can feel some people getting ready to willfully misread that previous paragraph: I am not saying that kinky women shouldn’t report crimes committed against them because it would inconvenience or threaten other kinksters. I’m saying they don’t report crimes committed against them because they know full well what the reaction from the kink community would be to feeling threatened or inconvenienced. There is a huge difference there, and it once again involves shitty and inadequate support systems for women who assert their bodily autonomy.)

So. The reason we keep things “in-house”, in the kink community, is because we are all we have. There’s no way the courts are going to be helpful if they weigh in – they can’t figure out that putting an attempted rapist on the Supreme Court is maybe a mistake, and we expect them to navigate the nuances of kink? Fuck that noise. We self-police because we have to. Now, that doesn’t mean that we need to replicate the entire judicial system in miniature; as I’ve noted previously and as others have noted as well, the consequences for violating the rules imposed by the kink community are not the same as the consequences for violating the rules imposed by the federal government, and they don’t involve deprivation of life, liberty or property. If the punishment for your crime is, “You don’t get to come to our parties anymore,” you don’t get to demand a trial by jury.

To be clear, this is not the end of the conversation. There’s a fucking HELL of a lot more that needs to be done to protect the safety of women in kink, and men for that matter. I’ve been doing a lot of shorthand in this post (including regarding the differences between rape, sexual assault, and sexual harassment, since for the purposes of this conversation they’re just all awful) but it’s worth mentioning that anyone can have their consent violated, not just submissive women, and everyone has the same right to boundaries. But even with that said, there’s a lot that I can’t cover in one blog post. I’m not even able to get into the way that ostracism isn’t the punishment that it should be, because so many kink communities are isolated from each other and because so many submissives find kink through other paths. All I can really do is say this.

When you hear someone say they’ve been sexually victimized, and your first impulse is to wonder why they didn’t go to the cops… think about who’s running this country right now. Think about what he’d be like as a small-town sheriff, or a district attorney, or maybe a federal judge. And maybe set that aside as a criterion of belief.

Early Bird Sneak Peek: “Lazy Boy”!

September 21, 2018

Hi all! It’s time for another Early Bird Sneak Peek, where I share a glimpse at the story my lucky Early Bird patrons will be enjoying next Saturday thanks to their pledges at my Patreon page! Of course, if you’re not an Early Bird patron, you’ll still get a story next week–“Counting Stars”, teased previously as an Early Bird story, has already been submitted to the EMCSA. But the Early Bird patrons will be getting “Lazy Boy” (MC MF FD)!

It’s been a long day working in the garden, but Jen has just the relaxing place for her good boy. And just the right trigger, too. Here’s a taste:

As I’m crossing through the great room, Jen gets back from the supply run she went on this morning. She comes through the door with a double armload of shopping bags and sees me, naked and exhausted and covered in scrapes and bruises. (I don’t think I mentioned the bruises. There are bruises. I whanged myself pretty good on the shin when the wheelbarrow caught a root.) She takes one look at me, and I guess I most look even worse than I feel because she sets down the bags, points to the recliner, and says, “Sit. Now.”

I don’t argue with Jen when she uses that tone of voice. I also get kind of hard, normally, but I’m a little too tired to do more than twitch right now. I flop down into the cushions of the recliner with a weariness that tells me that I was sucking it up a little harder than I realized. Once I sit down, it feels like I may never get back up again.

Now, I know that some of that is down to Jen. When we finally got the house renovated enough that we could move in, she decided to take advantage of our newfound privacy to indulge a few of the fantasies she’d been saving over the years. Not that she didn’t get a pretty big kick out of playing with my head on a regular basis even when we were both working, but she had a whole lot of fantasies that involved unlimited free time and no neighbors within twenty miles, you know? And the recliner was one of them. The recliner was the center of a lot of them, to be honest.

She didn’t let me sit in it just any time I wanted. We had plenty of couches to cuddle on if we just wanted to watch television or something. No, she saved the recliner for special occasions, when she was feeling a little bit frisky and a big bit toppy and she wanted me to start feeling groggy and fuzzy almost as soon as I sat down. She only let me sit in this chair when she was going to hypnotize me, and I knew it. And knowing it made me start to slip away into trance just a little bit even before she used any triggers or inductions, because the feel of the chair under my body was automatically and irrevocably associated with the trance experience. She calls it an anchor. The chair is anchored to trance in my mind, because I only sit in it on those special occasions.

We, uh… we have a lot of special occasions these days.

Hope you enjoy it!


September 16, 2018

(This post has been brought to you by the efforts of my 83 kind and clever Patrons! Visit my Patreon page to learn how to become one of them.)

So a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I’d been stretching myself a little bit and doing some hypnotic ‘arts and crafts’ style endeavors, as part of my ongoing quest to feel more fully invested in my kinky self. I thought I might take a bit today and show off the results! First, my new hypno-pendant:


This was remarkably simple, if I’m to be honest – JoAnn’s sells great big fuckoff Svarkovski crystals that have been pre-drilled near the top, and chains in all different varities. All I had to do was thread an eye-ring (also sold at JoAnn’s) through the hole and bend it around the chain with a pair of flat-head pliers. And voila! One adorable hypno-prop, suitable for dangling in front of your unsuspecting victim.

This next one is a little bit less polished, but I think I’m much more proud of it:


This started life as a three-inch wooden disc (again, JoAnn’s) that I painted with a spiral design using acrylic paint. I’m pretty proud of the spiral, honestly – I realized early on that if I made a 1.5-inch paper disc, and precessed it around the center, I could get really nice, smooth, even curves. The lettering was freehanded with an acrylic paint pen – the spacing came out a little uneven, but I’m ludicrously happy with the mantra itself. If you hold the disc between your thumb and forefinger and rotate it, it forms a perfect “endless sentence” that constantly comes into view while the spiral whirls. The shiny surface is just a little glossy sealant to help keep it all nice and clean.

I have two other wooden discs, and I’m thinking I might try to do something clever with a drill and a pin and a couple of washers to make something that rotates freely, but that’s a little more involved so I’m saving it for another day (one where I can wander past Home Depot and ask a few innocent-sounding questions). For now, I just really wanted to show off a little, and hopefully inspire others to make their own fun hypno-toys!