New Novel Corporate Slave

Corporate Slave Cover

It’s out. It’s finally here! Fulani’s latest Novel Corporate Slave will be available from Friday 2nd November. After Twelve months of Slaving away over a hot Mac, editing, proofing, then finding a delightful cover, it’s ready for you to enjoy. And I’m sure you will enjoy it. Fulani’s top quality writing (I know I’m biased, but see for yourself) will keep you turning the pages, stopping only to cool down!

You’ll be able to find it at Erotic Book Network initially, but later on Amazon and on lots of other websites such as Smashwords. 

Here’s the lowdown:

Life isn’t easy for Cassie. She’s a sales assistant in a convenience store, in a society where sex is used to sell everything and is one of the main commodities for sale.

When she buys one of the new Intelligent Dresses to wear when she’s out clubbing, it sparks a sequence of events that lead to her being accused of using the garment’s on-board computer to carry out industrial espionage. Her captors assume she’s part of the resistance movement, seeking to bring down the group of multinational corporations that rule the country. She is imprisoned, interrogated and tortured, and ultimately sold as a slave to a senior corporate exec, Mistress NightMaire. She becomes a pleasure slave to be used for the entertainment of guests and clients.

Meanwhile she discovers a friend of hers, Lorne, is also being held by Mistress NightMaire. And Lorne, it turns out, does have connections to dissident groups.

Cassie begins to plan her escape. But will she be able to find Lorne? Will she be able to join up with the dissidents? Can they change the world? And just as importantly, now she knows the capabilities of the Dress can she get her hands on another one?

Don’t miss this one! VelvetTripp

[Edited 1st Nov to add: read a short sample of the novel, which sets out some of the setting and characters, over at Fulani’s other blog –]

Bondage. Question: How does it Feel?


Me, hogtied

On a Pagan camp during the summer I was asked ‘how does it feel?’ right after the question ‘are you OK?’ when the audience (we were doing a demo) saw me flat out, face down, hogtied and very, very quiet.

Very good questions. Of course, I was OK. They laughed when the tone of my reply (‘I’m OK,’) was so obviously one of bliss. And that’s how it felt. My introduction to the world of BDSM at the tender age of forty+ was a bondage demo in a club. A Goth club. I watched a man tying up someone and fancied trying it. I was impressed to see he was monitoring his charge as he progressed with the tying. His approach was safety-led, ensuring no tendons or joints were under too much pressure, that arms and legs were in safe positions and his charge could breathe properly.

So I had a go while friends watched to ensure my safety, as this man was a stranger. The club was packed. Big Goth boots walked around me hogtied on the floor. Goth music blared out loudly. Weirdly in such circumstances I felt…spaced out. It was such a strange feeling. Unexpected but really good. Much better than I’d anticipated. As someone who has done a lot of meditation and has had hypnosis, this felt like some kind of trance. I was blissed out! In the middle of a busy club! I still am not sure why this should be. Is it to do with being swaddled as a baby and being tightly bound made me feel safe? Is it that I had always had to be in control in my daily life as a single mother and business manager, so here was a chance to give up control and relax? I think maybe it’s a little of each.

One thing it wasn’t and isn’t is scary. Fulani was that stranger. He is now my partner. I still enjoy being tied up. He still enjoys doing it. My birthday this year will be special, as we’ve been invited to a Rope Bondage party that very day. Fun! Scary is actually something I like when we’re playing, but bondage alone doesn’t do that. Mind-fucks do that. And they aren’t physically dangerous.

Bondage is only one aspect of BDSM, and it would be a while before I gradually found out about some of its other delights. Fulani has many years more experience than I, and has always treated me with the utmost respect. Our BDSM is a game. We do not ‘live the lifestyle’ that some choose to, but still get a lot out of it in terms of pleasure, as well as it making our relationship stronger. That’s because of the levels of trust involved. Trust is a very important issue when it comes to BDSM. As the submissive, I give my power over to Fulani whenever I put my collar on and we play. If I give him my safeword, I know that he will instantly stop what he’s doing and release me or check with me what’s wrong. This is VITAL. I might feel ill. I might feel upset. I might feel that a rope is too tight or pressing somewhere it shouldn’t. Rope can damage tendons if it presses on them for too long. Your top or Dom needs to know what he/she is doing and be able to correct a problem quickly.

So if you want to try bondage, you should trust the person who is tying you up, be certain they will respect your limits and have a safeword in case you need it for any reason at all. Communicate with your top. Tell them if something hurts when it shouldn’t. Tell them if you suddenly feel scared or upset.  Of course, if you are playing with pleasure/pain as well as bondage, ‘ow’ will not suffice. Be specific and say ‘The knot on my wrist is digging in,’ if that’s what’s happening, so he can correct if for you.

But as for how it feels, two people at that demo had a go once I’d been released. They both experienced the same blissful feeling as I did. They had never ventured into the BDSM world before. I can’t guarantee you will but how will you know if you don’t try it? And don’t forget to try something twice, just in case it was done badly  the first time!


Fact vs fiction

It’s history – but if you wrote it as fiction, I doubt anyone these days would imagine it had a basis in fact.

I’ve been reading law recently, for a number of reasons some of which are loosely connected with the second of a series of three paranormal novellas (the first one should be out in the next couple of weeks, I’m waiting on a cover image and publication date). But while doing so I came across Argyll v. Argyll, or to give it its full legal reference, Duchess of Argyll v. Duke of Argyll [1967] Ch302.

That case is about a legal injunction, but I’ll try to tell the whole story chronologically.

Ethel Margaret Whigham – known as Margaret – was born in 1912. Daughter of a Scottish millionaire with interests in both the UK and US, she was brought up in New York. She had several youthful romances and in 1930 became a debutante (and noted society beauty) in London. In 1933 she was married to Charles Sweeney, an American golfer, with whom she had three children (one was stillborn, two survived).

In 1943, she was visiting her chiropodist in Bond Street, London, and had a forty-foot fall down an elevator shaft that left her very seriously injured, including a blow to the head. On recovery, her friends reported that she had lost her senses of taste and smell due to nerve damage, but had also become ‘sexually voracious’. How accurate that claim was remains debatable – not so much in terms of her sex drive, but in terms of whether the fall and blow to the head had caused it. There were claims and rumours about various romantic liaisons in her past that suggested (I quote Wikipedia here) that the injury had resulted in a ‘change of degree rather than basic predisposition’.

She and Charles Sweeney divorced in 1947. She had a few affairs, but then in 1951 married Ian Douglas Campbell, 11th Duke of Argyll. She was his third wife. However, while the ancestral home of the Argylls was Inveraray Castle, about 60 miles north-west of Glasgow, she – now the Duchess of Argyll – apparently preferred to live at 48 Upper Grosvenor Street in London, a house that had been in her own family since at least the 1930s. There she conducted a string of affairs with men in the upper echelons of British, and indeed international, society.

In 1959 her husband filed for divorce and the legal hearings ran until 1963. In that year, the Duke raided her house, seizing private diaries and Polaroid photographs which were used as evidence in the proceedings and led to separate hearings for an injunction to restrain him from publicly speaking or writing about these materials and other ‘marital secrets’, or allowing or enabling them to be made public. There was also an interlocutary injunction against the editor and publisher of the People newspaper to restrain them from publishing details, including the allegations made in the petition for divorce.

The key part of this debate concerned what came to be known as the ‘headless man’ photographs. These were a series of Polaroid photographs taken, according to the dates printed on the reverse of the pictures, in 1957. They’d been captioned in handwriting: ‘before’, ‘thinking of you’, ‘during’, ‘oh’, ‘finished’. And they showed a woman, naked apart from a distinctive pearl necklace, performing oral sex on a man whose head was not in shot while another man, whose face was also obscured, apparently masturbated in the background. The fact it was a Polaroid camera, and the handwriting on the pictures, became significant later on.

Diaries and the photographs were both used in evidence in the divorce proceedings. The former enabled the Duke to produce a list of 88 men with whom, he alleged, the Duchess had had sexual relations – the 88 were reputed to have included two government ministers and three royals. The latter rather graphically illustrated these relations and there were issues about, ironically, whether their explicit nature meant they were suitable for production as evidence in open court (they were, eventually).

Matters even reached the point at which Lord Denning, just appointed as Master of the Rolls, was asked to conduct an enquiry to determine the identity of the headless men. (Denning, incidentally, was asked to lead another enquiry into sexual matters in mid-1963: this was into the ‘circumstances leading to the resignation of the former Secretary of State for War, Mr J. D. Profumo’.)

The original list of 88 men was reduced to five headless man ‘suspects’, two of whom were Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. and Duncan Sandys, in 1957 Minister of Defence and by 1963 the cabinet minister responsible for the Commonwealth Relations Office. Sandys was exonerated by Denning on the basis of a medical examination that compared his pubic hair to that of the masturbating man in the photograph; Fairbanks was believed to be one of the men involved based on a comparison of his handwriting with that on the Polaroids.

As a footnote to that, the divorce court didn’t proceed with the claim that the Duchess has committed adultery with 88 men – that would have been overkill – and took evidence in relation to three, one of whom was Fairbanks. He denied his involvement to the end of his life. Sandys was dropped as a suspect ‘headless man’; but towards the end of her life, the Duchess pointed out something interesting to a friend of hers: ‘Of course, sweetie, the only Polaroid camera in the country at this time had been lent to the Ministry of Defence’. Erm… who had been the Minister of Defence at that time? (There’s more discussion in a Guardian article from August 2000, reporting on a TV documentary about the affair: ‘”Headless men” in sex scandal finally named’).

The end of the story is rather sad. The issue about injunctions and non-publication of ‘marital secrcets’ rolled on for several more years (hence the reference above to the 1967 court hearing). The ex-Duchess, as she became, never remarried, continued to live somewhat beyond her means and became increasingly poor, and died in 1993 in a nursing home in London.

So, on reflection and in conclusion, imagine someone (perhaps me) writing a piece of fiction about a woman in her forties whose sexual appetites had resulted from a serious injury and a blow on the head; that involved 88 lovers with whom she committed adultery, including group sex; that at least one of those lovers would be a government minister; that a scandal would unfold when compromising pictures came to light by an aggrieved husband raiding his wife’s London home; and that those pictures were taken on a camera that the minister’s department was secretly testing. You’d think that was a pretty far-fetched piece of erotic fantasy, wouldn’t you? You’d think it was the product of a sick writer’s imagination and some tired plot turns – please, not that stupid bang-on-the-head idea again.

Enough said.


In addition to the sources sited above, you can read more at the Fascinating History Blogspot blog. And probably a bunch of other places as well.

And the other court case that attracted my attention, and that I might actually use in the paranormal novella I’m writing, was a French case from 1858 – the ‘Rachel affaire’ – which concerned the rights to privacy of deceased persons.

A Woman Possessed – the podcast!

Naked Delirium coverWe’ve just been alerted to the fact the latest podcast by Wholesome Addictions contains a discussion of the Naked Delirium book (which we both contributed novellas to), and focuses in particular on Velvet Tripp’s novella ‘A Woman Possessed’.

Their comments: ‘Fucking phenomenal. It’s really good shit. It is dirty, it is nasty, it did things to my pants.’ Later on they say that while erotica doesn’t normally fall into this category, ‘this is literature’. They particularly like the fact the story hits three core areas of their interest: paranormal, bdsm and (of course) sex. And they call it hot and vivid, especially when the leading character is possessed and in ‘wolf-bitch mode’.

And as to the collection as a whole: ‘I can honestly say this is the best money on erotica I’ve spent all year.’

So, when you get to the website you’re looking for ‘Podcast 40: What Does He Really Mean When He Says…’ posted on: 10.11.12 and the segment on the book is about 29 minutes in. And the link you need is Wholesome Addiction.

If you want to buy the book – and why wouldn’t you? – it’s in paperback from and, plus it’s stocked at selected branches of Waterstones bookstore in the UK. It’s also an ebook from,, Smashwords, All Romance Ebooks, Kobobooks and probably some other places as well.

Plus, if you want to buy Velvet’s story as a one-off novella you can to that too: from,, Smashwords (multiple formats – and remember to turn adult filter off!), AllRomanceEbooks, and Kobobooks.

Museum of Deviant Desires – cheap, for one week only!

Cover image, The Museum of Deviant Desires

Cover image, The Museum of Deviant Desires

For one week, i.e. until Weds 17 October, The Museum of Deviant Desires is available at the lower price of $0.99 in the US (plus any taxes applicable where you live, like VAT or GST – so it may show at a slightly higher price e.g. $1.24) or £0.77 in the UK. Because it’s not in the Kindle Select programme that’s the lowest price Amazon allows it to be, due to their internal charges etc. So get your copy from or before it goes back up to the regular price.

What you’ll be buying is a novella-length collection of 11 short stories ranging across men’s adventure magazines with their sleazy sexploitation and politically incorrect pictures of tortured women; sex and bondage in an abandoned building and a burned-out car wreck; sex, photography, and the internet, the technosexuality of vacuum cleaners, and what characters in bdsm stories think about the painful pleasures the author inflicts on them. The title story explores the late-night weirdness of sex, perversion, and fetish at a music festival.

And the review on describes it as: sexy and cerebral; breezy, thought-provoking, laugh-out-loud funny and utterly addictive … establishes fascinating new paradigms for the next generation of erotic fiction … a trenchant critique of contemporary erotic literature with its finger firmly on the g-spot of popular culture; a tasty treat, not to be missed.

It’s published by 1001 Nights Press, which has been busy building a reputation for publishing mostly shorter collections and stories in various niches of erotica.

The women of Bond

There’s a new Bond film out soon, and it’s prompted a bunch of people including the BBC to revisit the history of James Bond and aspects of the character’s life. Never mind that he was in his late 30s in 1962 (in Dr. No) and is still about the same age 50 years later, which arguably means he must be a vampire, or have sold his soul to the devil. What’s been exercising the BBC recently is how his sex life compares to that of the ‘average’ man.

We’re not sure we know any average men, but Bond is apparently several standard deviations away from any average you care to think about. He can apparently attract women merely by raising an eyebrow, which means it doesn’t matter that his chat-up lines are rubbish. He’s a sexist, misogynist dinosaur (according to Judy Dench’s M) but maybe women like a little of that in a man.

It’s difficult to count exactly how many sexual partners he’s had, because the films aren’t exactly X-rated and for all we know, he’s spent the night drinking cocoa and playing Scrabble with the women he wakes up next to in bed. But apparently an academic paper in the journal Sex Roles ascertained he had ‘strong sexual contact’ with 46 women between 1962 (Dr. No) and 2002 (Die Another Day), compared to the reported figure of 9.3 sexual partners for the ‘average’ man as detrmined by the Health Survey for England.

However, one has to question his taste.

  • Pussy Galore (Goldfinger)– the only woman in the US to run an organised crime gang, largely comrising lesbian women – and she herself is a lesbian. Until Bond comes along. Yeah, well… It was 1964. Lesbians were like that back then. Maybe.
  • Honey Rider (novel) or Ryder (film, Dr. No). Professional shell diver, orphaned at the age of 5 and brought up in a cellar until the age of 15. Suffered sexual abuse and later murdered her abuser.
  • Domino Vitali (in the book) or Derval (in the film Thunderball). Graduate of Cheltenham Ladies’ College, orphaned as a result of a train crash, actress, and lover/mistress/partner of organised crime gangster Largo, though refers to him in public as her ‘guardian’, raising some speculation about the dynamics of the relationship. Also appears in Never Say Never Again, as Domino Petachi, with a somewhat different backstory. In either case she’s handy with a harpoon gun.
  • Xenia Onatopp. Soviet fighter pilot, then member of a crime syndicate after glasnost. Femme fatale, literally, who derives sexual satisfaction from killing her lovers: kills a Canadian admiral by crushing him during violent sex. Oh, and she’s a mass murderer, especially in the scene that takes plas in the satellite control centre in Siberia (the film is Goldeneye).
  • Tracy Bond, aka Contessa Teresa di Vicenzo. Born in 1943, therefore aged 20 when the action takes place (1963) in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service (novel) or perhaps aged 26 at the date of the film (1969). Only child of the head of a Corsican crime syndicate, sent to boarding school and lived an unstable life commmitting a series of scandals. Marries into nobility though her husband died in a car accident with one of his mistresses. Bond saves her during a suicide attempt. Ultimately he marries her but she’s killed immediately after the wedding in a drive-by shooting.
  • Anya Amasova, KGB operative and competitor in trying to acquire a microfilm. Also known as Agent XXX – how suggestive! Bond has previously killed her lover. At their first meeting, she has her thugs beat him up in the mistaken belief he killed her Egyptian contact. The film is The Spy Who Loved Me. The film, incidentally, bears no relationship to the novel where the love interest is supplied by a rather innocent Vivienne Michel who works at the ‘Dreamy Pines Motor Court’ motel in the Adirondacks. Vivienne’s backstory involves an abortion after being made pregnant by her former boss, and losing her virginity in a field with one Derek Mallaby following his being thrown out of a cinema for indecently exposing himself.
  • Dr Holly Goodhead (though it’s not clear if the surname refects her sexual prowess), in Moonraker (1954 novel, 1979 film). Scientist, astronaut and CIA agent. Graduate of Vassar College, New York state. It being a later film, she has a good line in sarcasm. In fact an excellent line in sarcasm.

In so far as there are themes underlying Bond’s choice of sexual partners, they’d have to be: he meets them in the course of his work, they had unstable and troubled childhoods including being orphaned, sent to boarding school and/or sexually abused, and later acquired extraordinary professional skills. They aren’t averse to killing people but nonetheless are sexually attracted to alpha males with a misogynistic and sometimes sadistic (if not psychopathic) streak – even if they’re lesbian.

On the whole, the ‘average’ man is probably lucky he hasn’t struck up a relationship with any of them. He’d have to make sure not to leave scuba equipment and harpoon guns lying around. And even then, if he didn’t die crushed between their thighs, he’d be killed by an overdose of sarcasm…