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]

Hot Review on Rope Bondage story

Fulani’s done it again! I’m proud to tell you that his erotic rope bondage story  ‘Addicted to rope’ has another great review. BDSM Book Reviews’ Riane has this to say.

Rope bondage story

Addicted to Rope. Click to buy on Kindle

Here’s the summary of the story Riane kindly took the time to read.

Ruth’s work leaves no time for relationships. Traveling a lot and living in hotel rooms, her sex life revolves around one-night-stands. In a hotel bar, one night, she encounters a professional bondage rigger and maker of dungeon equipment. His occupation might be strange, but he’s more together and more interesting than most of the men she meets. When he offers her a challenge, she can’t resist it. And it leads her into an addiction to rope.

And Riane’s opinion?

Review:
Rope. Rope. Rope. I, personally, am fascinated by rope bondage. Shibari is something I’ve never tried but am extremely interested in. When I saw the name of this book, I knew immediately I had to read it.

Ruth is a driven professional woman, a corporate trainer to be exact. She relaxes by having one night stands with guys she picks up in the various cities she visits. While looking for a new sex partner, she meets Leo. When she learns he’s a professional rigger, she’s stunned but interested. He gives her a small taste of domination in the hotel bar and then they part ways with his room number and an offer for more if she’s interested. Since this is not the end of the book, you can guess she’s interested.

The book progresses rather quickly. She’s given an immediate introduction to ropes, and more. I was a bit surprised by the level things progressed to in the first scene. In real life, it generally takes a bit more time to build up the trust required to do some of those things. However, this is fantasy, and it was very hot.

This book is heavy sex, light plot. Not a bad thing, if that’s what you want in a read. I was hooked until Chapter 4, at which point the story took a bit of a turn for me. I like being able to place myself in the position of the female character when I read a story, but Ruth became obsessed. Obsessed not just with rope, but with becoming a “cheap whore” just for free instead of cheap. Instead of being a book I can sink into, it became more of a porn flick on paper… you can watch from a distance and enjoy it on a different level.’

If you want your very own copy of some sizzling hot erotic adult fiction so you can read the story again and again… you can buy it here. Or tell your friends about it. Just click to send to your network on any of the services listed below.

Dangerous Sex

Would it surprise you to know that one in ten adults say they or their partner have fallen off the bed during sex at some point during their adult lives and one in fifty have fallen off the washing machine? That’s only the tip of the iceberg.

According to The Telegraph (OK, it’s an old article from 2010!), the most common injuries are;

1. Pulled muscle
2. Injured back
3. Carpet burns
4. Cricked neck
5. Bashing elbows / knees
6. Bruised shoulder
7. Twisted knee
8. Sprained / strained wrist
9. Sprained / strained ankle
10. Bending fingers back

We think between the two of us, at one time or another we’ve experienced all of these.

The most dangerous locations were:

1. Sofa
2. Stairs
3. Car
4. Shower
5. Bedroom
6. On a chair
7. Kitchen table
8. Garden
9. Lavatory
10. In a work cupboard

And the most commonly broken items were:

1. Bed frame (yup, done that)
2. Wine / pint glass (ditto)
3. Picture
4. Chair
5. Tea cup (you can tell it’s an English survey, can’t you…)
6. Wall
7. Chest of drawers
8. Door
9. Window
10. Vase

From personal experience we’d add that indoor practice with a bullwhip can result in damage to lampshades and light fittings.

The Telegraph doesn’t, unfortunately, give the source of the report. Another equally unreferenced report suggests you should remove your pets from the room before embarking on sex. Apparently, cats are especially prone to clawing at genitals if present (if the cat’s present, that is, not the genitals) when there’s action going on. Ouch! Avoiding oral sex after spicy food is also recommended, after a woman ended up in casualty with burns in a delicate place when her boyfriend went straight there after a hot curry. And of course, be careful what foreign objects you introduce into sensitive areas! Bottles, light bulbs and other glass objects are not a good idea. One report tells of a man’s lucky recovery, which required an operation, following an exploded light bulb in his rectum!

Many didn’t realise they were injured until the following day, when passion (and possibly alcohol) had worn off. If you’re into BDSM and topping or domming, you should have full control of your faculties, but subs beware – both alcohol and painkillers might leave you unable to tell how much pain/pleasure you are actually having.

So take safety seriously if you don’t want to end up recovering from a session for much longer than you anticipated! Clear the room you intend to use, have safe toys available, put the cat out and make a soft landing for yourselves if you’re going to climb on furniture.

So have fun and play safely!

Follow up to ‘Emotional Safety During a Scene’

There’s a Combichrist song we like to use as background music when we play called ‘This Shit Will Fuck You Up’. It was on the other night. I remarked that actually, this shit can sort you out! There’s a good reason for that. The memory I had that prompted the original post Mental and Emotional Safety During a Scene has, over recent weeks, been aired, sorted and ousted from my life and psyche. I had to work at it. I had to talk a little more about it, and I had to act on what I felt was right for me. In this case, I needed to regain my self esteem and self respect that had been damaged all these years by my past, forgotten event. Bringing it out into the open via the vehicle of BDSM, although an accident and a shock at the time, was very freeing and has had a positive effect in many areas of my life, not just the sex.

This is a world where you have to communicate clearly to your play partner. Otherwise you get stuff you didn’t want, and what’s the point in doing it if it’s NOT what you want? That’s not very satisfying for you and not for your play partner either. Dom or sub, you hopefully want your play partner to enjoy the experience in their own way as much as you want to yourself. People with low self esteem find it very difficult to assert their own needs. I am, due to the purge of the past, much more able to do that. Not only in the bedroom/dungeon but in everyday life too.

And that improvement in my life came partly through more play. Another scene. A much more positive one (well, two actually). It’s a great way to act out stuff you can’t in any other arena I can think of with someone who cares enough to see it through with you and be there should you need them to be.

If you have the support of a good play partner go for it. Explore new territory, dare to push your boundaries. Just remember to deal with stuff if it appears, however painful (and I’m not talking welts!). Don’t try to ignore it. You might find it more freeing than you think.

VelvetTripp

The plastics factory – free erotic fiction from Fulani

I did a previous story, Burnout, on an industrial theme and got some good feedback from it. Here’s another one. Pics by Velvet Tripp; the factory is quite near us.

Here’s a Twitter-sized summary:

Burned-out factory. Naked, gagged, wrists tied to a blackened overhead beam, open to the sky. He’s gone to fetch his whip. I’m euphoric.

***

The old plastics factory burned down a couple of months ago. Arson. Kids set a fire they couldn’t control.

I drive past it every day, going to work. Some of it is a lunar landscape, melted plastic like solidified lava flowing over the ground. Some of it looks like a war zone. At first there were security guards, fire investigators, like ants toiling in a post-apocalyptic world. Then, no one.

In a month or a year, someone might clear the site and rebuild. In the meantime, I’m curious.

When I mention it, you’re interested too. So we drive out there, one Friday evening.

And I know exactly what’s in your mind, because it’s in mine too. That’s why I chose the clothes I’m wearing, and it’s why there’s a bulge in your jacket pocket.

The stream on one side of the site flows grungy and dark. The trees surrounding it are as blackened as your soul. The metal fence as twisted as your imagination. We slip through it easily. Crunch, crunch. The sound of our feet on rough cinders, until we come to the slightly spongy melted plastic.

‘It’s a great shame,’ I say. ‘The place contributed to the environment by recycling plastic, and now the trees are gone and the chemicals polluting the water.’

‘Yeah. But despite the destruction we carry on. We even create our own amusements.’

We walk towards the shadowed entrance to the factory building. It’s not supposed to be an entrance – just where a wall collapsed. Inside, blackened unfathomable machinery. There’s a long girder there; it was a roof support and still rests on the remaining wall but is angled now to touch the ground on the other.

I just know you’re going to whip out what’s in yourpocket.

And you do. Twenty meters of rope.

‘Hold your hands out.’

I offer them to you, gleaming in the shadow. I offer my submission like a jewel. Because it is a jewel. You know it. I know it.

You secure my hands. Practiced ease. Throw the other end of the rope over the girder. Haul on it until I’m on tiptoe. Ties it off on a stanchion. Anything I try to do with my feet spins me round, out of control. Not, of course, that I want to be in control at this point.

There’s a reason I wore the halter top and the button-through skirt. It makes it easy for you to remove them. You throw them casually on the sooty ground, making them unwearable. My thong becomes unwearable because you rip it off. I have, now, no clothing, no protection, until we get home. Knowing this claws at the inside of my belly, pulls and strokes my clit.

After that I open my mouth automatically for the gag.

You stand back and watch me for a while, as I watch you watching me. I’m getting excited. I watch you getting excited. Breeze from outside excites my nipples. The breeze carries scents of oil, burned wood, fire smoke. Why is that a turn-on? What repressed memory makes me juice up at smell of heavy engineering and disaster?

After a while you produce a blindfold.

‘I need to get the whip,’ you say casually. ‘I may be a while.’

Normally I can still my racing mind, but being bound and exposed in a place like this… There’s always a risk, and risk is something I get off on. I’m restrained by the ropes, my imagination flies free, I’m own euphoric.

When you, or someone anyway, crunch back towards the building I’m hanging helplessly, liquid desperate dripping anticipation.

The whipcracks are loud in my ears, echoing in the cavernous space. The noise is more scary even that the impacts and stings. You – or someone – don’t spare me. You never do. While I know you care about me, for me, you also know that in this situation I must feel you have no mercy, no compassion.

And it feels exactly that way as stripes and welts form on my body, some overlaying bruises I still have from four days ago.

Despite the gag I yelp, and the muffled yelps bounce, amplified, off the metal surfaces. They come back to me as the sounds of sex.

Which they are.

I dance for you, for the whip.

By the time you’re done laying burning welts on me I’m in my own dreamworld of torture. This is a good thing. I like my dreamworld. I like the way my dreams become visible on my skin. When you release the rope I stand unsteadily, holding onto you for balance. Even with the blindfold I know whose arms they are. Through the gag I’m pleading, demanding, making my need for orgasm clear. Orgasm now. Right now. Please. Any way you want me. Do I have to say that magic ‘Master’ word? I say it anyway.

‘Not yet, lover,’ you murmur. Use the rope as a leash. Take me outside, walking nude across the broken wasteland. Tie me somewhere. I don’t know where. I’m bent at the waist, legs apart, arms up above my head. Perversely now I’m in the cold evening air, the welts feel even hotter. I feel even hotter.

And you take me from behind, the buckle of your belt pressing into my reddened ass with every thrust, until I scream.

Afterwards: my clothes are trashed. We leave them. The rope is sticky with oil, tar, ash. You string it along the fence as a symbol: we were here. I know I’ll see it, every morning on the way to work.

I’m nude in the car on the way home. All I have on my body: my sneakers, the gag, and the whipmarks. I’m in the darkness, feeling cool car seat leather on hot skin. That’s the way I like it.

Submit! – free erotic fiction from Velvet Tripp

I don’t know how long I’d been there. Waiting. He’d not be far away. He could be standing right in front of me. I squirmed at the thought. As much as I could anyway, bound as I was to the chair. His, I mean my dom’s, special chair. Blindfold and gag deprived me of two of my senses. Headphones played a track that blocked out sound from the room. Taste, sight and hearing impaired. Let me tell you, that really does sharpen your remaining senses. Touch. And smell.

All I could smell at this moment was the freshness of the night air drifting through the open window. There would be no-one around for miles. That’s why he chose this place. No one can hear you scream. As for touch. That’s what I was waiting for. That’s what I wanted. But he knew that. He knew I was impatient. It amused him to watch me, knowing I would only be hotter if he left me to endure anticipation for a while.

I felt something then. A shiver over my skin. Did he touch me? Has a bird flown in? I can’t hear anything but the music. Strange, Germanic type stuff. They’re singing about ripping clothes off. Hmm. That happened a while ago, now. I think the disk is called Eevil Young Flesh. That would be a good description of me, then.

I feel warmth to my left. He’s here. My heart races. My pussy dampens. I know he’s going to be a bastard tonight. Because he wants me to call him that. When he’s earned it. He considers it a compliment. And he knows I’ll resist using that title because it’s what he wants me to do. I can’t help it. That’s how I am. He’s decided I need to learn the true meaning of submissive. One lesson at a time. I know tonight will be a challenge for me. To submit. To do as I’m told. To take what I’m given.

His hand cups my crotch. ‘Good,’ he says, flatly. ‘You’ve shaved. I like easy access, slut.’

My heart is pounding now. My crotch even more damp. I shiver as I feel cold steel on my thigh. Then the other thigh. A knife. That’s my thong gone. I wondered why I’d been allowed to keep it on before he bound me with 30 feet of rope. Legs splayed by the special chair, arms firmly bound to the armrests, breasts bound until they throbbed. Then left to ‘contemplate my fate’. Now I meet it.

‘Now, I know you’ve had to wait, so I’m not going to mess you around any longer. I promised you would learn to call me by my favourite name and that I would earn it. Here we go. I start to earn now.’

Searing pain shot through my left nipple. I squealed through the gag, found it hard to catch my breath. A clamp. The really bad ones, I think. The pair connected by a chain… He waited moments for me to relax, and then my right… I gasped, almost screamed. But the rebel in me didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

‘So that’s easy for you, eh, pain slut?’

I nodded. Stupid.

‘In that case, I think we’ll have to make you work harder. I can’t have you slacking, can’t have you being wilful. I control you now.’

I bit down on the gag, unsure of his next move. My nipples throbbed, transmitting their protests down to my clit, where somehow it got a pleasure signal, and my now exposed pussy was positively wet. Then my nipples exploded. Again. Bastard! He has some little weights to hang off the chain of the clamps he especially liked to use when torturing me. I could feel that weight on them, pulling, tugging and making every nerve ending in them scream. But I still didn’t. My clit stubbornly refused to accept what my nipples were telling it. I began to drip. I was breathing hard; absorbing the pain, letting it change my chemistry, flood me with endorphins.

My minds started to float away. I was high. He was getting off on me getting high. I could now smell his muskiness and the leather of his trousers. Leather, pain, pleasure and imagination. Oh, yes, I was sky high.

Suddenly he whisked the headphones off me.

‘Now slut, you have two choices. A or B. Which do you choose, I wonder? Raise a finger on your left hand for A, a finger on your left for B.’ I sat, paralysed, high, confused. I heard him step away. The leather of his trousers as he moved. A or B? But I didn’t know what those meant. What choice was that? Then I got it. That was the point. Whatever I chose, He chose. He decided what happens next. Clever fuck! He just want to make me submit!

Smack! I flinched, the clamps swayed, tugged. I squealed through the gag. He chuckled evilly. A flogger. On the inside of my thigh. I should have raised that finger… Smack. Now I screamed. I dripped. I lifted my left finger. OK. A. I do submit. I do.

I waited. He moved away. Fuck! What had I done? What now? My heart pumped blood and adrenaline and endorphins round me so fast my head was spinning. My pussy drooling.

‘You should know I’ve got a quick call to make, then you’ll have my full attention again,’ he said abruptly. ‘Hi, yes, she’ll be ready for you in about ten minutes. Ok, yes, I’ll make sure of that, don’t worry.’

If I could have gulped, cried out to be released, I might have. I still had my hand signal, but I wasn’t going there. Pride wouldn’t let me. I wouldn’t let me. I wanted this. I got this. I’ll see it through.

I hear him moving things, some clicking kind of sound. Then he untied me, deftly, dragged me by the collar across the room, juices trickling down my thigh as I walked. He carefully lowered me to my knees and cuffed my wrists, pushed me forward. I found myself face forward on a sofa or bed of some sort, ass exposed, legs as far apart as he could push them. The clamps bit my nipples. He bit my ass. He ran his finger over my soaking, exposed clit.

‘Huh. You are a pain slut, aren’t you. My little pain slut. I can do what I like when I like, can’t I?’

I nodded. He grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. ‘Now the clamps. You know they have to come off, don’t you?’ I did. He took them off, one at a time. Blood flooded back into squeezed and tender flesh, nerve endings flashed into overdrive and I yelled through that gag. Did I yell!

Then a loud buzzing sound. Not like a vibrator, more like a chainsaw. There wasn’t time to think. Suddenly that sound made contact with my pussy. It was a vibrator. It felt more like a jackhammer. My instinct was to try and wriggle away. But he had me pinned. My pussy went straight into rocket-assisted launch mode. I gasped and gasped and gasped. I creamed and screamed. I came so hard and so fast my brain went stratospheric. My pussy exploded over and over. He carried on. I couldn’t come down. The only way was up. I screamed again. I came again, tears escaping from behind the mask, and again, forced to orgasm until I didn’t know which way was up.

It stopped. I stopped. He stopped. I collapsed, flying; waves of incredible ecstasy still rippling through me as he stroked my hair now, kissed my back.

‘It’s not over. You know that, don’t you?’

I was incapable of responding. He just laughed. He took out the gag. My jaw trembled.

He got up and left me draped over what I could now see was a leather covered storage box all padded out. I heard him open the door. ‘Come in, Janine’.

My lover. He’d invited my female lover over. The bastards had planned it all. I smelled her perfume as she came closer. ‘Now, my pet, now we both have you. Now you’re ready for us,’ she whispered. I turned to him, smiled shakily and said ‘Fucking bastard, thank you.’

***

More from Velvet? There’s a short story in a different vein, Tropical Paradise, in a short collection of five stories and simultaneously in a full-length 20-story collection, both by Xcite. And more to come soon from the same publisher…