Filthy Money

Filthy Money cover

Filthy Money cover (link to Smashwords)

Please read responsibly!

I’ve just self-pubbed this collection of eight stories, which I’ve described as quasi-erotica: Filthy Money, and other stories of sex in the gutter. And I’ve put it up at the bargain bin price of 99 cents.

Why ‘quasi-erotica’? As I said in the blurb, these are stories of desperate sex, sexual perversity and moral degeneracy from the margins of contemporary society – they’re mostly set in the kind of social situation where people are living in bad neighbourhoods, or in squats, or on the streets. The kind of situation where no one has any money but drug and alcohol use are common and life is chaotic.

It’s not, of course, an accurate representation of that life. The collection is BDSM themed, for a start. And many of the more unsavoury aspects of that life – self-harm, self-destructive behaviour, people who collect debts with machetes and so on – have been toned down. A lot.

I haven’t included a snippet as a come-on. You can see the first 20% for free on Smashwords anyway.

I’ve had these stories in my head for a while, maybe for a couple of years. And I’ve self-published them for two reasons.

Firstly, it was a form of exorcism. It worked, more or less. But secondly, since it’s unlikely to be a massive best-seller anyway, I’ve treated it as an easy introduction to self-publishing on Smashwords. At the moment it’s only on Smashwords (and thus ultimately its associates like Diesel, Ebooks-Eros and B&N). I haven’t decided if I want to put it anywhere else, like Amazon, yet. That’s a decision I’ll make a month or two.

Self-publishing it was a learning curve, but now I’ve climbed it I might try it again in the future with other stuff that’s a little less strange and dark.

Have fun. If it actually sells I’ll be gratified. But if you like it it’ll only encourage me – even if you only like it in a ‘That’s as entertaining as looking at a car wreck’ kind of a way.

Something new, something old: End of Season

I was going to do an intelligent blog about writing projects. I have a few under way, including an erotic epic poem, a piece based on found text – pieces of paper found as rubbish in the street – and half a dozen others. They’ve been under way for some time, though, and I’m not sure when or if they’ll see publication. Sometimes as a writer, or indeed any other type of creative, you start something with no idea where it will lead or whether you’ll be able to bring it to a successful conclusion.
However I’m not feeling very intelligent today, so instead here’s a reworked segment of something I wrote last year that I never found a home for. If you like it I could post more…

 

End of Season

The east coast of England is a patchwork of caravan and chalet sites, like so many refugee camps butted up against each other. They were popular fifty years ago, before cheap air travel took holiday-makers away to the Mediterranean. Then they became ghettoes for those who couldn’t or wouldn’t travel abroad for their summer vacation. With the recession, they’re popular again.

It’s the end of the season, the holidaymakers have left and the family that owns the site is in Spain for a month. Ghislaine and Danny have the whole site to themselves. They’re cleaning, doing maintenance, mothballing the site for the off-season. But also, importantly, they have the whole site to themselves.

Ghislaine works her way around the site, cleaning the units for the last time this season. It’s fast work because there’s no need to ready the units for more occupants. Outside, as she moves from unit to unit, there’s a cool sea breeze but repetitive physical movements keep her warm enough, in her stripped-down choice of short shorts and skinny T-shirt.

She’s pretty sure Danny will be at the clubhouse when she’s finished. She’s pretty sure what he’ll have in mind. That thought, as well as her work, keeps her warm. Keeps her warm in special places. In fact, it’s that more than anything that gives her a glow of perspiration. Of anticipation.

Ghislaine also knows it will end soon. In less than a week she’ll be out of here. Danny will be part of her sexual history, she’ll be part of his. That’s just how it goes.

When they started this project of realising each other’s fantasies, she thought she’d be able to predict Danny’s preferences. The point of fantasies is of course that they’re deeply seated, transgressive, and not always in the best taste. That said, she suspected his fantasies were more conventional than her own. Fuck in every part of the site, the chilren’s play area, the pool table in the clubhouse, the middle of the big central lawn. A lot of blowjobs. Her acting out the part of a drunk teenager, a slutty barmaid, a burglar or a street hooker waiting to be picked up.

He did have those fantasies. They did act them out. But maybe she’d just thought her own fantasies were deeper, or more creative, simply because she’d had more life experience than Danny, had more education and was somehow more sophisticated. Whatever she’d thought, it’s wrong.

When Ghislaine finally walks back into the clubhouse, the tables are cleared away – except for one that is evidently for a teacher, and a smaller one for a pupil. She doesn’t have much in her wardrobe that’s schoolmistressy, but she can improvise. Hair up (it normally fell to the middle of her back), some lipstick, heels that gave her a catwalk prance, and she’s completely in character.

What she doesn’t expect is that Danny’s wearing a short pleated skirt, while his shirt bulges to accommodate a bra stuffed with old tights. His normally shaven scalp is hidden by a cheap blonde wig, the kind they sell in the tourist shops in town.

And on the teacher’s desk: a cane, a dildo and a bottle of lube.

There’s a small blackboard balanced on a chair – the one they use to write daily lists of site activities. On it, Danny – or Dani – has written: Tha teecher punised Dani wiv sicks stroks of a kane and then fuked her in the ars wiv a dilldo.

What had surprised her when he finally admitted it was that his deepest, most intense fantasy was being taught how to spell. Because, he said, he’d never exactly paid attention to reading and writing in school. He’d been too busy doing speed and stealing cars.

He genuinely can’t spell properly, and it takes many more than six strokes of the ‘kane’ to make him learn. Ghislaine creates a spelling test that includes the words blowjob, bondage, climax, dildo, erection, kneel, lick, orgasm, penis, punish, slippery, spank, spurt, strict, suck, teacher, thigh, tight, wet, write.

Dani doesn’t need to pretend she can’t remember the spellings, because she genuinely can’t. It’s as difficult for Dani as it would be for Ghislaine, for example, to remember the whole of the Standard Model of particle physics. It takes a while for Dani to pass the test – on the sixth attempt, she achieves fifteen of the twenty. By this time Dani’s ass is striped the same livid red and pretty pink as the sticks of rock they sell in the site’s convenience store.

After that, there’s a dictation test: ‘Dani has to wear the dildo and write down what teacher says. When Dani passes the test she can kneel between the teacher’s open thighs and lick her out.’  Dani wriggles uncomfortably with the dildo in his ass. The wriggling looks oddly girly and cute. But, surprisingly, she remembers the spellings. Ghislaine lets Dani lick until the teacher has an orgasm.

Only then does Ghislaine consent to Dani coming, the disciplinary aspect of this being that Dani has to achieve this by masturbating to a climax in front of her, with occasional encouragement from the cane.

Dani’s kneeling on the floor and she’s behind him, using the cane lightly on the back of his legs. Somehow, though, his spunk still manages to hit her face.

There are some unused words on the list. Bondage being a key one. Ghislaine tells Dani to go and find some rope, and be quick about it. There’s going to be an extra lesson.

 

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 – fulanismut.blogspot.com]

Bondage. Question: How does it Feel?

hogtied

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!

VelvetTripp

Celebrate Difference – Be Yourself!

Differnet people all posing together, one in a wheelchair, one gay, others Goth or transgender

Difference. What does it matter?

I’ve been musing on this subject for a while now. Then Bisexuality Day came along to remind me just what a challenging word this is. We live life as though all is set in stone, and anything ‘outside the norm’ seems to provoke a lot of negative reactions from  people.

That’s always seemed alien to me. I love the different, the strange, the unusual. I think I was born that way, and grew up that way because I had parents who raised me to accept difference. We lived in an area of high immigration in the days when we needed people from other countries to come and work in our mills and factories. I played with Muslims, Sikhs and Caribbean children. They accepted us in their homes and we reciprocated. At school I had a friend who was a thalidomide victim. She had a stump for a hand. I never commented on it, and held ‘hands’ in the playground without acknowledging it. I knew it embarrassed her, and I didn’t see the point of bringing it up. In later life I had a polio victim friend. I’d known her a year when she asked my why I’d never mentioned her limp and clumsy footing on occasion. I replied it didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that we liked each other and were friends. She was thrilled and said she’d never met anyone who had resisted asking before.

I’ve never seen the need to reject, insult or judge anyone on the basis of their looks, health issues, sexual preference, sexual orientation or relationship arrangements. Who am I to tell someone else how to live?  Of course, there are completely unacceptable behaviors such as murder, pedophilia, rape. They are harming others, and no-one can or would want to condone that kind of behaviour.

I live by the credo ‘Do as you will and harm none.’ Harm none includes myself.

All that said, why are human beings so afraid of difference in each other? We divide and subdivide ourselves into little groups that war with other little groups. Why? I suppose it’s buried deep in the lizard brain to suspect anything we don’t understand and see that as a threat to our survival. We have to work at acceptance. Reason with ourselves. Think before making snap judgements. Remember that underneath that hoodie might be a nice young man who is cold and hungry. We spotted one hoodie getting all excited and concentrating hard on what he was doing at the edge of a roundabout. We watched suspiciously. It turned out all he was doing and getting excited about was photographing a rainbow. How cute is that? So what if someone is into kink or is gay or transgender? Or Black or yellow or whatever. What matters is the personality of the human inhabiting that body. What people do with their sex lives, personal taste and dress code is up to them. You might not like what they wear or do, but tolerance is needed. After all, they might not like what you wear or do, and you expect tolerance at the very least, if not acceptance from the world around you.

I thrive on those differences, use them in my work. And I’m here because I want to write and share some of the contents of my mind, which as you can see is pretty open. So I write. I have a fair whack of experience to draw on, and I think the contents of my mind might entertain people who enjoy BDSM, kinky sex, sex with more than one partner and lesbian sex and more. Who knows where my imagination will go next? I’m working on a new novella right now, and enjoying creating characters who are different. Who like to buck society’s constraints and find their own way to enjoy their kinks. Who have the bravery and strength of personality to be themselves.

Difference gives the opportunity to learn from each other. We can broaden our horizons, learn how different difficulties affect other people and learn solutions for problems we might not have understood previously. Speaking for myself and Fulani, our lives are richer for the people we have met and interacted with.

If I was to meet you, I’d accept you until you did something unacceptable, like treating me badly, abusing my trust or behaving badly to someone else. In other words, I’d be nice to you as long as you were nice to me. Celebrate difference, enjoy meeting interesting-because-they-are-different people, and have as much fun as you want in your sex lives.

I hope you come back to us, enjoy our stories, make use of the information we can gather for you here and enjoy being yourself, a unique individual who celebrates being different!

Whatever or whoever you are, you’re welcome here. Just be nice, please!

VelvetTripp xx

If you’re interested in stories that ARE different, that tickle your imagination in the sex arena, you might like the novellas Fulani and I wrote in Naked Delirium, an anthology of five stories out in illustrated paperback or on Kindle now. They’re tales of sex during altered states, all wildly different to each other and all, we hope you think, great reads. All of our other published work can be found here.

Feedback?

Not much posting going on here recently, but that’s because not much erotica’s been going on. Our creative juices have been flowing in other directions. However, insofar as I’ve found time to write erotica, it’s been experimenting with some slightly different ideas. In particular, trying to move away from the rather tedious trope of dominants being immensely rich and powerful with their own castle or penthouse or whatever with its secret, custom-made dungeon. Also in particular, experimenting with bringing little dollops of social theory into stories in an explicit way, usually to show that the characters have lives outside bdsm, were paying attention in school (some of them anyway), and have some reflective capacity about what they’re doing and why they’re doing it.

So what follows is a short extract from a work in progress. It’s the start of a scene where a young woman who works in a home improvement store gets to see exactly what her favourite customer has been doing with the wood, screws, shackles and hooks he’s been buying. And ultimately how he’s modified the electric saw.

The question is, do you like the way it’s written? Does the self-reflective stuff intrude or add to the story? Comments welcomed…

 

***

 

Fulani opens the door, invites me into the hall. Hangs up my coat, puts my bag down in a corner. Inspects me, in my underwear and hold-ups and boots. Apparently he’s impressed I came stripped for action. Semi-stripped for action. Spins a finger to tell me I should give him a 360 degree twirl.

‘Very good,’ he says.

The side table has stuff on it. Stuff that’s been put there for me, I guess. Leather cuffs, wrists and ankles. Same with the collar. And this is the business, fits on with little padlocks. I won’t be getting out of these until he decides to let me go.

‘Only thing is, for the kind of party this is, you’re a little overdressed…’ The fucker has scissors there. Cuts off my best bra and sparkly G-string. That, right there, is him marking ownership. Your property is of no consequence and I am entitled to destroy it. Your skin is mine to display naked as I see fit. Symbolic, you see. Yeah, I did sociology at school. Symbolic interactionism and stuff.

‘I’m at work tomorrow,’ I remind him.

‘I’ll make sure you get a couple of hours sleep.’

‘It’s okay. I’ve gone into work before now on no sleep at all after being out clubbing.’

He just gives me a lopsided smile and sticks a leash on the collar. Makes me kneel down. I figure what’s coming. Open my mouth ready for it. I knew I’d end up sucking cock. Hey, I enjoy it. But I did think it’d be longer than thirty seconds before I had one in my mouth.

Not that it’s a problem. Not a problem at all. It’s just a mindfuck, a reversal of the usual drink-talk-kiss-pet-fuck scenario. Another bit of symbolic interaction, a prove-you’re-really-submissive challenge. So, on my knees, mouth open, I prove it.

After I’ve proved it, I make my entry to my first fetish party. Nude, hands cuffed behind my back, on the end of a leash, drying spunk on my chin and tits, feeling like a human sacrifice about to be thrown into a pit of wild animals.

Did they throw human sacrifices to wild animals? I don’t know, but that’s the thought in my head.

-F

Naked Delirium!

Naked Delirium cover image

Naked Delirium cover image

We’ve been hanging off from making this post for a while because the book hasn’t actually been available on Amazon. But it is now.

Naked Delirium, a collection of five novellas from Sweetmeats Press, is finally out – and it includes stories from both Velvet Tripp and Fulani.

The blurb goes like this:

The mind has the power to save us from depravity…or to drive us further to it!

NAKED DELIRIUM delves deep into the human psyche to celebrate sex in altered states!

Five twisted tales, lusciously illustrated by Giorgio Verona!

Within these pages, we invite you explore the indecent expanse of the unfettered mind, and maybe get a little bit delirious yourself. Free your mind….and great sex will follow!

In SUGARSHUTTLE EXPRESS by Sommer Marsden, a three-day hike becomes a three-day high when Danny and Wren climb aboard!

The mystic waters of the Lakeshore Spa are the domain of Gilinda the Good….but Gilinda is not always so good, in GILINDA AND THE WICKED WITCH by Vanessa de Sade.

In LILITH RETURNS by Kristina Wright, Adam and Eve have lived together in harmony for millennia. But the return of the demon Lilith is set to result in one cataclysmic climax!

A young woman is left fighting for her very body and soul when a pagan ritual goes suddenly wrong, in A WOMAN POSSESSED by Velvet Tripp.

And finally, in SMOKING HOT by Fulani, hypnosis has helped Hannah kick a 40-a-day smoking habit, but the side effects have been most unexpected…

If you don’t want to buy from Amazon, you can go to Smashwords instead.

And if you want the individual novellas rather than the whole book, they’re available as well – on Amazon soon, but already on Smashwords: Velvet Tripp’ A Woman Possessed and Fulani’s Smoking Hot. The others, from Sommer Marsden, Vanessa de Sade and Kristina Wright, are also available from the same sources.

We’ll leave you with one other pic, an interior illustration from Giorgio Verona…

 

 

Illustration from Naked Delirium

Illustration from Naked Delirium