27 May 2015

Erotica, Erotic Romance, Monsters, and Aftercare

I have read that erotica is when two gay cowboys fuck each other, erotic romance is when two gay cowboys fuck each other and fall in love, and romance is when two gay cowboys fall in love, whether they fuck each other or not.

I can't help it, I'm a teddy bear, a softie. My stories have the most outrageous sex scenes imaginable, and there's also tenderness and perhaps even love. Does that mean I'm actually writing erotic romance? Possibly, but if so, the emphasis is still heavily on the erotic. I mean... goddamn, there's a lot of crazy fuckin' in my stories.


I dunno, I'm just thinking about these things after having just written a couple of interesting scenes that have left a bit of a mark on me. In my main series, The Erotic Apocalypse, the heroine, Veronica Hudson, is not well-liked by other human beings for the most part. They don't understand her, they judge her, they mistreat her. And she doesn't take shit from anyone. She gives it right back as good or better than she gets it.

But she's only a bitch to people who are assholes to her first, If you're fair to her, she's more than fair to you. Since most people are assholes to her, the reader doesn't get much of a chance to see that Veronica can be tender and loving and caring. She gets accused constantly of being like the very demons she hunts, and she is like them. And as the story progresses, in some ways she becomes even more demonic.

There is a scene in Angel's Kiss, which I'm now writing, where Veronica sexually pushes a young, innocent girl pretty far for it being the first time she's ever done anything "bad." This leaves the poor girl feeling a bit shaken and withdrawn. In BDSM circles, there is the very important notion of aftercare: caring for your sub after an intense session to ease their transition out of sub-space without being "dropped." In real life BDSM this is vital, but I don't think it ever shows up much in books or movies (except for in kink.com videos, where they make it a point to show the participants recovering and healthy after all the crazy shit they just did).

Normally, I'd want characters to make the worst possible decisions, because that's what drives the plot, that's where the juice is. And believe me, Veronica makes plenty of bad decisions. But I knew that this moment was not to be one of them. We had to see Veronica's true heart, see her as she can be, not as the monster others see her as.

So when she sees the young woman is shaken and withdrawn, she jumps into aftercare mode. She dries her off (they were in a bathtub), she puts clothes on her, as if she were dressing a child. She leads the young woman to a large couch and lays down with her, holding her close until she falls asleep.

Another character sees this tenderness and remarks on it to her, letting her know that in fact she is not a monster, that she not only has a heart, she has a big heart. The scene ends with Veronica herself in silent tears, because nobody ever sees this side of her or recognizes it.

I wrote this scene, and I thought... this is erotica?

Veronica adores this girl, but at the same time, she gets off on corrupting her, on leading her on to be "bad." And the girl herself wants to be bad, and in turn looks up to Veronica.

I don't know if this sort of thing is in most erotica, but for better or worse, it's in mine. 





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26 May 2015

[SEXcerpt] Consent is Sexy

I have been dying to write this scene ever since I introduced innocent, adorable Eleanor in Demon's Embrace. You knew Veronica was going to get into her panties eventually. But Veronica's a little... different, now. Is Eleanor safe with her?

Maybe this is old news to some authors, but instead of just assuming everyone wants to bang everyone else (which would be out of character for sweet Eleanor), I wanted the process of negotiating consent in the story, and I wanted it to be hot.

And... I think I managed it? It's hot, to me! Tell me what you think.




Visual inspiration for Eleanor
I awoke on the couch in the meeting room of the agency, looking up to see Eleanor, of all people, peering down at me, looking very distraught and concerned and cute. When she saw my eyes were open, she gasped.

“Oh, Miss Hudson! Were you robbed? What happened?”

“What are you doing here?” was all I could think of to say. I looked around but didn’t see Sariel. “Ow... my head...” I put a hand to my forehead and touched something serrated and hard.

Oh, no.

I was too out of it to lie. “No, Eleanor, I wasn’t robbed, it was the police.”

“What! Miss Hudson, did you... did you do something bad?” At this, I had to laugh, despite my own pain and the poor girl’s earnestness.

“Yes, Eleanor, I did something bad. I’m a bad girl. All I ever do are bad things.”

“I’ve been so worried about you! I’ve been coming in to clean but it seems like no one’s been here in days. The phone keeps ringing and I didn’t dare answer it.”

“Help me up, please,” I said, holding out a hand. She took my wrist in hers and got me to a sitting position. The blanket fell down around my waist but I didn’t care. It was hot and itchy.

“Wow, your body!” said Eleanor.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” I looked down at my breasts and over my shoulder. Everything seemed okay, considering all I’d been through.

“Are those... tattoos?” She pointed to my shoulder, at an ancient Viking ward design, once black as pitch, now fading to navy.

“Yeah,” I said.”

“Oh, my gosh, I’ve heard of them, but never seen them, especially on a woman! What do they mean? They look like symbols.”

“They are, they’re magical protection symbols.”

“Protection against what?”

I sighed.

“Miss Hudson, you’re not really a private investigator, are you?”

“No, Eleanor, I’m not.”

She gasped again and covered her mouth with her hands. “Miss Hudson, what’s that on your head?” Her voice was now soft and timid. I pulled my red hair back and felt them. They were much longer, about four inches or so, and maybe an inch-and-a-half in diameter. They swept back , following the curve of my skull.

“What do they look like, Eleanor?”

“Wow, you really are bad.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I said, reaching out for her, I grabbed her by the ruffles on the front of her blouse and pulled her to me. She squeaked like a cute little mouse and fell into my arms, her black hair cascading over the crook of my arm.

“Have you ever been with a girl, Eleanor?” She shook her head, looking at me with wide, blue eyes.

“I’ve never been with anyone, Miss Hudson,” she whimpered.

“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered as I nibbled on her neck. She let out a small moan. Her body undulated in my arms. I slid a hand over a breast and down her tummy, skipping over her center to stroke the smooth skin on the inside of her thigh. I parted her legs and she whimpered, but she didn’t stop me or close them.

“Do you want me to stop?” I repeated. I kissed her on the mouth.

Oh, sweet heaven.

Her mouth moved a little in response, but either she wasn’t sure what to do or she wasn’t sure if she wanted to do it.

“No,” she said.

“No, what?”

“No, I don’t want you to stop.”

I kissed her more fully, she awoke to it and began to kiss me back. Probably the only people she’d ever kissed were stupid boys that chased her in school.

There is no sugar as sweet as innocence.

“Is this bad, what we’re doing?” She said.

“We’re getting there,” I said, “Why do you ask?”

“It feels so good!”

I stroked her inner thigh down to her center, where her panties stretched over her mound. Just the lightest stroking of her there. She whimpered deliciously.

“Yes, it does,” I said.

“I want to be bad with you!” she said through our kisses. I dipped my tongue into her for a moment then broke off.

“How bad?”

“Real bad, Miss Hudson.”

I pressed my finger against her gently and she moaned so sweetly, I thought I was going to burst.

There is no nectar as intoxicating as corruption.



See? Is that some sexy consent, or what? Just wait till you see what happens next. Start reading Demon's Embrace, it's free on Kindle Unlimited.




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25 May 2015

[SEXcerpt] What Have I Done?

Writing for the second book in my series continues at a decent pace. Tentatively titled Angel's Kiss, it picks up where Demon's Embrace left off. There's not much I can share with you in the form of excerpts at the moment, because it's all terribly spoilery, even if you'd read the first book.

The angel of Angel's Kiss is Sariel, a fallen archangel come to aid Veronica to heal her up after her nearly fatal encounter with the demon Xezbeth at the end of the first book. Or, at least, that's why Veronica thinks she's there. Sariel has her own reasons for things, which she hasn't yet revealed. Veronica's partial demonic transformation has continued as she discovers her fangs are longer and she has horns growing out of her head.

In this scene, Sariel has just revealed to Veronica an earth-shattering secret about the nature of God, earth, and the heavens.



“That’s what I adore about you, Veronica.”

“What?”

“Most people would simply refuse to believe it. The rest would ask, ‘What should we do?’ but not you. You ask, ‘How can we stop it.’” She kissed me again.

“Well, yes,” I said, “Despite the fact that nearly everyone hates me and my life feels ultimately lonely and meaningless, I still prefer it to oblivion.”

“Oh, Veronica, people love you. Rather, they try to. You make it impossible for anyone to really love you, and then you blame them for it as if it were their fault.”

“What? I do not!People are just closed-minded, jealous, petty assholes!” I raged, shaking my fists. I stood up from the bed and paced about the room. “Everybody loved my brother, not me. He was the hero, the family heir, the good boy. And I was in his shadow my whole fucking life! I was the bad girl. I was the whore. Never good enough!” At this point, I was randomly picking things up and throwing them against the wall, and I wasn’t even paying attention to what they were. That was booze? Shit. I was the very epitome of blind rage, inconsolable.

“How can I be the best and never good enough at the same time!” I grabbed the sheets off the bed and flung them about, but I only succeeded in getting tangled in them. I threw myself back onto the bed in a tangle and sobbed. I had never said any of that to anyone else, and once the flood gates were open, there was no holding it back.

“Veronica... you’re doing it, now. You’re proving my point even as you try to deny it.” Sariel leaned over me, put a hesitant hand on my shoulder.

“Why are you doing this to me!?” I screamed. She had the code, she cracked me open, my guts were exposed, vulnerable, and I lashed out.

“I’m trying to... to heal you,” said Sariel.

And then I was on her.

Grabbed her by the back of the head, twisting up her silver hair into my fist, yanking her to me. Her golden eyes looked at me with sadness and fear.

She was afraid of me.

Good.

With my other hand I reached out for her cock, which had engorged at some point during all of this. Perhaps during my rage? Did that turn her on? I didn’t know, but there it was before me. The way I had her pinned to me, she leaned back and her legs were bent under her, so her cock jutted out at an angle. I stroked it. She moaned.

“Veronica...”

“Shut up!” I growled, “You want to sin? Let’s sin, Sariel, let’s waste some seed. Let’s... let’s let some blood.”

“W-what?” she said, but I was already twisting up her hair in my fist even more tightly.

Pulling her head back. Jerking off her hard cock as her arms flailed helplessly.

I sank my fangs into her, one piercing her skin before the other. Pop, pop.

Her angelic blood heated my mouth. She moaned, whether in pain or ecstasy, I didn’t know. Perhaps both. I held her to me, pinned her down. Her wings flapped like a bird caught by a cat. I swallowed her blood, I stroked her cock. Fire ran through my veins. Even as I drained the blood from Sariel, it seemed what she had in her all wanted to flow to her cock.

I let my fangs out of her skin and her blood flowed in earnest, cascading down her neck, over her breasts in ribbons of red against her pale flesh. My body flushed with power from her blood and pain from my injuries and where my horns were growing.

“Veronica...”

I bit her again, this time on her breast, even as the first bite continued to pour out blood, which was now covering me, as well, and staining my bed.

“Oh, fuckyesohGodohFUCK!”

Sariel’s hips bucked and she screamed weakly, clutching at me with a blood-spattered arm. She came hard enough to hit the opposite wall with her glowing spunk, jet after massive jet of it, impossible amounts of semen ejaculated from her raging cock as I stroked it and fed on her, her cries seemingly never-ending.
When she finished cumming, I let her fall from my arms in a heap of limbs, blood, and pink feathers.

There were four hard-hitting thuds against my front door. I turned to look, blood dripping from my face.

What have I done?

“POLICE! OPEN UP IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!”


What happens after this? You'll never guess. It gets really crazy. And dark. And poignant, even.If you haven't grabbed the first book, yet, Demon's Embrace, get it now while I'm writing the second book.



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23 May 2015

You've Met the Demons, Now Meet the Fallen Angels of the Erotic Apocalypse


In Demon's Embrace, Veronica Hudson gets up to her eyeballs in futanari demons, fucking her way through one encounter after another. In the second book of the Erotic Apocalypse, we begin to see a little of the other side of things, starting with the fallen archangel, Sariel.

This is probably complete overkill for erotica, but I came up with some pretty thorough lore for angels and demons that fits pretty well with what most people think they know about such "celestials." The key for this sort of thing, for me, is to base it on the known, and then take it beyond into the realm of the unknown but plausible.

Well, maybe giant-cocked futanari aren't terribly plausible, but to me it all makes a certain fucked-up kind of sense.

Inspiration for Sariel
To me, having a good story, good reasons for things, and deep, layered characters makes the sexy stuff even more sexy, because a huge part of what's truly erotic is context. A story's mythology and lore is a huge part of that context. One of the reasons people love A.N. Roquelare's (Anne Rice, as we now know) Beauty books is because her world-building was so thorough and lent an impressive erotic overtone to the books. The setting itself and the culture and its rules were part of the erotica. Those books are one the best examples I can think of to take my inspiration from in this regard.

That's why the Erotic Apocalypse isn't just about hunting and fucking demons because succubi are sexy, blah blah blah. These demons are being hunted in New York City in the year 1948, shortly after the end of World War II, just because I love the styles of clothing and hair from that era. I wanted the characters to have limited technology. I wanted more contrast between the setting and the society with Veronica and the Celestials so each would stand out more. As a character, Veronica is a complete anomaly for her time, being so badass and sexually charged, rubbing everyone the wrong way even though her heart's in the right place.

So the angels are not just hot futanari chicks with wings. They're an important part of the overall story. Yes, there's actually a story beyond "Veronica fucks every person she encounters." It ain't called the Erotic Apocalypse for nothing.

There are demons, fallen angels, and heavenly angels. Of those three groups, it's the fallen angels that interest me the most, because unlike the other two groups, fallen angels spend nearly all their time on the earthly plane. They are cast out of Heaven, but they haven't been sentenced to the underworld. Earth is their Purgatory, their Limbo. There's a matter of degree to their sins. It's a long way to the bottom, when you fall, and some have fallen farther than others. You can tell by their wings. Black wings? Fallen angels. Red wings? Fallen archangels. The farther you've fallen, the darker your wings get.

What if doing the right thing was a sin? What if it made you fall further? Would you still do it?

In my opinion, one of the things we like about erotica is that people do things they know are wrong, and they do them anyway. We live vicariously through that, that's part of the appeal of erotica. Fallen angels give me a chance to portray some highly conflicted characters, which will make them even more sexy, even more erotic.

And, oh yes, they will have big cocks, too. *Evil grin.*

If you haven't yet read Demon's Embrace, it's free on Kindle Unlimited.





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21 May 2015

[New Release] The Incestuously Orgasmic Futanari Shitstorm Continues

The delightfully depraved tale of Tabitha and her hot messy futanari mommy continues! Wet Messy Futa Roadtrip is now available at Smashwords because this shit is too hot for Amazon.

Tabitha and her mom are in for the roadtrip of their lives with scorching wet messy non-stop futanari action!

Previously, Tabitha found out her mother had become a futanari and needed her help. When she arrived, a desperate, forbidden love arose arose between her and her mother, complicated by the side effects of her futanari transformation. Tabitha's mother suffers from sexesthesia, and loses control of her bodily functions during orgasm, resulting in a hot wet sexy mess.

In Wet Messy Futa Roadtrip, Tabitha has decided she wants to become a futanari, too, just like her mom, so they can continue their forbidden taboo love. The van from the Futanari Transform Institute arrives and two very sexy futas appear to transport them to the FTI. But... it's no ordinary van! It's outfitted with all kinds of amazing technology of a decidedly sexual nature.

But when Tabitha actually arrives at the FTI and meets the mysterious Dr. Gentry, will she change her mind, or will she go through with her futa transformation?
You can read a generous 20% of the story for free on Smashwords and it's available in every format and reader imaginable. Get messy!





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Writing Erotica is so Fucking Easy (and Fun)

I can't even tell you how hot this is to me. I just needed a picture so I made it a good one.

I was chatting on Facebook last night with a fellow erotica writer and we noted just how easy it is to write erotica.


That's right. I said it was easy. So fucking easy, it's almost a crime. And this is coming from a guy who has a real plot and depth to his characters as well as whole lotta sick, twisted fuckin' in his stories, too.


Here's the formula for any general erotica story:

  1. Take any situation, from boring normal life or make up something absolutely batshit crazy.
  2. Put characters in it together who should NOT be fucking. In fact, the worse of an idea it is for these characters to be fucking, the hotter and better your story will be.
  3. Something happens that puts people in a moment-of-truth decision from which there is no return.
  4. Have them fuck, suck, fuck, suck, and fuck some more. Each scene is progressively more intense than the one before it and each scene itself grows progressively more intense. My personal take on this is that the final scene should be way off the charts, so that people won't even believe what they just read.
  5. Whatever kink/fetish you're into, just throw it in there!
  6. They're not sure they should be doing this at the beginning, but by the time it's all over, nobody regrets a damn thing. They're happy they did it, looking back on it fondly with a secret smile.
And voila, you have an erotica story!

Just for fun let's insert (ahem) some examples.

  1.  Jennifer and her family are moving house. Brad, her husband has already flown with the kids to the new house, leaving Jennifer to deal with the movers who are there packing things up. The plan is for her to join her family later after the old house has been packed.
  2. There's no way Jen and these movers should be fucking: she's married and perhaps some of them are, too. They're there to do a job, that's all. Right? Right?
  3. As the moving men are packing, they accidentally discover all of Jen's sex toys. They start making fun of her and acting sexually aggressive towards her, brandishing her own toys at her. She's partly embarrassed, partly angry, and a whole lotta turned way the fuck on. She realizes there's no way her husband and family will ever find out so she dares the boys to be as rough with her as they can, and treat her like a dirty whore.
  4. Naturally, the moving men are more than willing, and Jen progresses through several stages: she is stripped bare, tied up, penetrated by her own toys, then the guys gangbang her. This is where most writers would stop, but what I would do next is the guys would call in all their friends for even more "fun." Jen would be terrified at first but she gives in to a massive train run on every hole in her body. Worse (better) yet, the guys film it on their phones. By the time it's all done, Jen is a wrecked cum dump of a mess.
  5. Let's say I wanted this to be a futanari story. I might change a few things around but the important thing is that either Jen is a futa, or the movers are (or both!). What if my thing was femdom? The guys would find her gear and ask her what the hell and she would tell them and then offer them a sample. They agree and the scenes are all Jen dominating these big strong movers and making them beg and cry. It doesn't matter what your kink is, you can apply it.
  6. After the move, Jen is back with her hubby and family and everything's pretty perfect, but every once in a while, she gets a primal, dark urge, and she searches the internet for her own video and watches it while she gets herself off as hubby sleeps.
See? Easy as fuck.

And no way am I suggesting this is the only way to write an erotica story. Of course it's not.

And let's not forget the fun part. 


It was fun for me to think of the above example. Not going to lie, it made me hard just imagining it.This is where you get to let loose with your own personal fantasies, because what made you think of that particular scenario, and those particular characters, and that particular fetish? Because it made you hot & bothered!

And when it's fun and hot for you, it shows in your writing and people pick up on it. You're a better erotica writer for it and you'll sell books, even if you're writing some crazy kinks that not a lot of people are into (see, I could easily take the above scenario and plug it into my Hot Futanari Mommy Tales and oh, my God, it would be so filthy!).





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20 May 2015

[SEXcerpt] Futanari Fuckmobile

Hoo boy!

I can't even tell you how much naughty fun I'm having writing this story. Too bad I won't be able to sell it on Amazon.

This is from the second book in my super-taboo Messy Futanari Mommy Tales series, called Wet Messy Futa Roadtrip, and it's now available.


Tabitha has decided to become a futanari, just like her mom, who's she's been (literally) banging the shit out of. The Futanari Transform Institute sends in a couple of hot futanari drivers and a specially modified van to transport them to the FTI.



An hour or so later, there was simultaneously a polite little honk outside as both our phones updated with texts announcing the Futanari Transform Institute driver’s arrival. Mom buzzed them into the gate as I looked out the window. A discreet, unmarked white van pulled up into the circular driveway. The door opened and two women emerged who were so beautiful I bugged my eyes out and my jaw dropped like a cartoon character. One was blonde with pale skin and the other had dyed her hair green and turquoise, and had a slightly more olive complexion. They each wore white Tyvek one-piece jumpers that snapped down the front and then about halfway down one thigh. On each right breast was the FTI logo, a stylized combination of the symbols for male and female, bisected by a DNA helix combined with the classic medical cadecus.

Neither FTI representative had their uniforms buttoned up all the way, though. In fact, they were undone to a scandalous amount, revealing their extremely generous cleavage and perfect bodies. But what really caught my attention were the unmistakable bulges between their legs. Aside from my own mother, these girls would be the first real futanari I had ever met in person. I hadn’t really thought that much about how I looked, and most of the time I adopted a sort of “slouchy lesbian” look that made me look like I had raided some dude’s closet. I felt a little “schleppy” before their practiced and professional appearance.

The two FTI girls sauntered up to the front door in stride and rang the bell. I opened the front door and they both smiled at me and waved. The blonde spoke first.

“Hi, I’m Vix and this is Mandy, and we’re from the FTI. Are you Tabitha Johansson, our new transform guest?”

“Yes, hi,” I said, suddenly feeling awkward and shy, “You can call me Tabs for short.”

“Aw, that’s so cute,” the blonde said, “Vix is short for Vicky,” she pointed at herself and laughed, making her chest move around in all kinds of wonderful ways.

“Hi, girls, nice to meet you!” said Mom from behind me.

“Hi, you must be Charlene? Tabitha’s mother?” said Mandy, the green-haired one.

“Yes, I am.”

“Cool!” said Mandy, “When I was a kid I loved seeing you on the covers of all the fashion magazines. It’s so cool that you’re a futa, now! You’re so beautiful!”

Mom waved away the compliment with a practiced false modesty, “That’s so kind of you to say,” she said. I knew my mom well enough to know she felt flattered and annoyed at the same time. Flattered by the compliment, annoyed by the ‘when I was a kid’ part because that made her feel old. Mandy may not have been able to see it in her face, but I could.

“All right, well, we don’t want to keep Dr. Gentry waiting, so let’s get your bags and get comfy in the van,” said Vix, with professional cheer. She reached out for my luggage and Mandy grabbed Mom’s and we all stepped out to the van in a line. Mom closed the front door and locked it.

Mandy climbed up the ladder on the back of the van and that’s when I noticed the boots she and Vix wore: they were white vinyl combat boots that went with their uniforms perfectly. Vix opened up the luggage rack on top of the van and Mandy began handing up to her our luggage.

“Why don’t we just put the luggage inside the van?” I asked, “I’m sure there will be enough room.” Mandy and Vix looked at each other and laughed.

“You’ll see!” Vix said so cheerfully, I couldn’t possibly be miffed by them laughing at me.

After the luggage was loaded up top and the cargo box’s lid closed and locked, Vix slid open the van’s side door with a flourish, as though she were a game show hostess, and for the second time inside of ten minutes, my jaw dropped and my eyes widened.

“The fuck…?” I said.

Mom looked perplexed, as well. “I… don’t get it,” she said.

The van’s interior was covered in waterproof padding. Inside was a captain’s chair with what was clearly a vibrating dildo sticking up out of its seat. The chair had a full harness to hold in its occupant. The back half of the van contained a bed, designed to be able to withstand a lot of… fluids, shall we say, spilled on it. But the weirdest of all were the strange pieces of equipment. Large hollow cylinders with wires and hoses coming out of them at one end were connected to what looked like an industrial shopvac.

“You didn’t think a boring ride in a normal vehicle was how a sex-crazed futanari is supposed to travel, did you?” asked Vix brightly.

“Welcome to the futanari fuckmobile,” said Mandy, "Strap in, bitches, it’s gonna be a wild ride!”

I looked at Mom, she looked at me, and we both laughed.




If you're not washing your eyes out with bleach and you actually liked what you just read, be sure to get the first book in the series: My Mom's a Hot Messy Futa




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17 May 2015

Demon's Embrace Now Available!

My demonic futanari fuck-fest is now live!

At long last, my lovely pervs, Demon's Embrace is finally here and ready for you to read for free on Amazon if you're a member of Kindle Unlimited!

Description:


World War II is over and New York City is crawling with sexy futanari she-demons. Sex-crazed Demon hunter Veronica Hudson has her hands (and mouth, and everything else) full as she catches her prey through seduction. In this historical paranormal tale of erotica, Veronica goes through one smoking hot sex-soaked encounter after another! But she may have more than she can handle when she goes after a powerful demoness who's packing a little something extra. Okay, maybe not so little!

Read Demon's Embrace

I'll be back soon with more excerpts and musings on erotica and other fun things.




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15 May 2015

[Excerpt] - What most women do

Greetings, my lovely and terrible pervy friends. Today brings you another snippet from a story in progress, the one I'm casually referring to as my "billionaire BDSM story." You can read the first excerpt here and the second one is here.

In this third and latest excerpt, billionaire Kaden Montgomery has returned with friends to dine at the steakhouse where Cass waitresses. This visit is even more memorable than the first one as Cass makes a crazy decision and her coworkers' jealousy reaches the peak of its bloodlust.



“Cassandra, look at me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she knew she would have no trouble whatsoever obeying that order. She wished she could look at Kaden all the time. She had her growing collection of pictures and video clips thanks to her internet research, but of course none of that compared to having one of the world’s most powerful and enigmatic billionaires sitting before her.

“Did you know I constantly get offers like the one you made earlier, this evening?”

“I suppose I could’ve anticipated that, Sir, but I didn’t. Of course that would happen to you all the time.”

He nodded. “Do you know why you failed to anticipate that?” She thought about it for a moment but came up with nothing and shrugged.

“No, Sir, I don’t know why.” She looked down at her lap.

“I told you to look at me.” She snapped her eyes back to his face. This was turning into a complete failure of an evening.

“The reason why you failed to anticipate that,” he said, “was because you weren’t thinking about me, or about ways to anticipate what I would need. Instead, you were thinking about yourself.” She realized that what he said was true, and the growing dismay in her dove even deeper. Kaden stood up from his chair, stepped to her and crouched before her. He looked at her with an earnest intensity that made her heart race again.

“When women make those offers to me, as you did, when they offer to ‘do something full-time’ for me, do you know what nearly all of them do?” She could smell the wine on his breath. She licked her lips.

“No, Sir, I don’t.” she whispered. She whispered because she relished the intimacy of this moment, and she wanted to make it more intimate in an acceptable way. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face for her, tucked it behind her ear. She closed her eyes briefly at this touch, all exhaustion burned away from her body in a flash of thrilling heat, but then she remembered her orders and quickly opened them again to focus on him.

“What most women do,” he continued, “is offer to suck my cock.” Again her fantasy came back to her unbidden, full force, and made a thousand times worse because it was Kaden himself who triggered it this time! She felt her face grow uncontrollably hot, completely giving herself away. Now he knew! But if so, he gave no sign of it.

“But you didn’t,” he continued, “You at least had the class and the grace to not go there, and I want you to know I’ve noted that.” He was now caressing her cheek. He brushed his thumb across her lip, but she did not open her mouth, did not kiss his thumb or lick it. She was perfectly still.

“So, even though you still have some things to learn, I do like what I’m seeing, which is why I told you what you needed to do, instead of simply rejecting you outright. You’re a good girl, Cassandra, and good girls get rewarded. Would you like your tip?” A rush of yearning, hungry pleasure coursed through her sex.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, sure that he could hear her raw desire in her voice.

“You know I notice everything,” he said.

“Yes, Sir,” she said.

“The new clothes are nice, you chose well. Close your eyes.”

She did. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

“You are not allowed to make a sound, do you understand? Nod your head if you do.”
She nodded.

“Put your hands behind your back and open your legs.” Another surge of desire and need flared up through her. She clasped one hand in the other behind her back and spread her knees wider, opening herself to whatever he was going to do. Suddenly in her ear he whispered: “Good girl.” His breath caressed the skin of her neck. Something was placed in her hand behind her back and Kaden pressed her fingers down over it to hold it.

“I want you to do something for me, Cassandra. Are you willing?” For a brief second, she feared what it was he might ask of her, but then she realized it did not matter at all what it was. She would do anything.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, still whispering, only now she had to whisper, even if she hadn’t intended to, because she was breathless.



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13 May 2015

[New Release] Shocking Taboo Erotica - My Mom's a Hot Messy Futa Now Available

"Mom, what are you doing? Oh, my God, what is that thing?"

Tabitha's a bisexual woman with a really big problem. Tabitha's mom underwent a startling transformation, thanks to recent advances in medical and genetic engineering: Tabitha's mother became a futanari!

She did it in a desperate play to keep her marriage together, but her mom's plan backfired and her husband left her. Now the only person she can turn to is her daughter. Shocked at her mother's insane news and behavior, Tabitha flies out to help her mother, only she's not prepared for the shocking discoveries that await her.

 There were… side effects to her mother's futanari transformation, and now she suffers from sexesthesia, which results in loss of control over her bodily functions as well as a pleasurable intermingling of different sexual and bodily sensations.

Fueled by memories of a drunken night of taboo love with her own mother years ago, Tabitha "cums" to her aid. Repeatedly. And in the messiest ways possible! This could very well be the hottest, dirtiest thing you've ever read.




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11 May 2015

[Excerpt] Kneeling for Sir

My lovely pervs, it's time for another excerpt from my more mainstream story, the working title of which is In His Service - Cassandra Submits to the Billionaire.

If you missed the first excerpt, you'll find it here.



Cass brought out the orders for Kaden’s table (she no longer thought of it as table seventeen) by herself, since it was obvious Deb wasn’t good for anything at the moment. Possibly, she wouldn’t be good for anything for the rest of the night and possibly for the rest of the week. Cass distributed dishes in professional silence to the guests, thankful to whatever powers of luck existed in the universe that she didn’t make a mistake.

What Kaden did to Deb...

She still felt torn about it. After all, wasn’t it Deb herself who told her to do whatever Kaden asked? Maybe Deb should’ve followed her own advice. After she’d set out all the dishes and refilled drinks, she looked around and twiddled her pen nervously.

“If there’s one thing I dislike,” Kaden said, “It’s fidgeting. Do stop that, Cassandra.”

“Yes, sir.” She found this response was quickly becoming automatic.

“I can see you are used to being a server, Cassandra, but that you are unused to servitude. You don’t have the faintest clue as to what constitutes true Service.” The way he said it, she could hear the capital S in Service, as though it were for him some kind of holy ideal. “Well, my dear, your first lesson in Service begins tonight. Has, in fact, already begun, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Kneel, Cassandra.”

WHAT?

“E-excuse me, sir?”

“I want you to kneel. To sit on your knees, and be still, without fidgeting, watching for opportunities to excel in your Service to me. When you see such an opportunity, you are to take it, and then resume kneeling.”

Holy shit... this man.

But as she got down to her knees and straightened out her skirt over her black stockings, she felt a warmth and a quickening between her legs.

Oh, God. This isn’t real.


“Yes, Sir,” she said, and there was something different in how she said it, that time. She could hear the capital S in Sir in her own voice, and, more importantly, she was sure he could hear it, too. Kaden nodded, as though he liked what he heard.

“Cassandra, I know what you did by telling me you needed your supervisor’s help. You don’t think I actually believed you, do you?”

“No, Sir, of course not.”

“Do you know why I haven’t punished you?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.”

“Loyalty. You showed loyalty and even though in this case it was misguided, I prize loyalty above all other qualities. I want you to remember that, Cassandra.”

“Yes, Sir.

“Good girl.”

The heat in her panties grew damp. She didn’t know where it came from, or why, but there was nothing she wanted more than to be his “good girl.” Her breathing grew a little heavier. She didn’t know what she wanted more, for the evening to be over with, or for it to continue forever.

In a surreal fever dream, she continued in her Service to Kaden and his colleagues, relishing any chance to rise from her knees so that she could assuage the growing wetness between her legs through walking. She was sure everyone knew she was turned on even though that was ridiculous. But was it? She was on her knees serving a man who made her supervisor crawl around like a pig in front of her. How much more ridiculous could it get? She didn’t think she had ever been this wet, before. This wasn’t like her, but it really wasn't fair that Kaden was so...

Hot.

Panic and lust wrestled together inside her. She prayed her gathering desire wouldn’t trickle down her leg. The room seemed suddenly much too warm.




From there, the evening gets even more intense. Just wait til you see the tip she gets. Events are only now just starting to be put in motion for sweet Cassandra. Her tests are just beginning.




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10 May 2015

Harder, Darker, Dirtier - The Realm of the Taboo

There's erotica and there's holy shit you fucking WHAT mate?

There is erotica, and then there is taboo erotica.

I was writing my billionaire BDSM submission story and got stuck at one part, so rather than beat my head against the wall, I set it aside. I didn't want to sit idle, writing nothing, and I didn't feel ready to tackle the book that comes after Demon's Embrace. I wanted to take a break from Veronica's headspace for a bit (she's pretty intense).

So on a whim I decided to start writing the dirtiest, most perverse thing I've yet conceived, something that went from a salacious gleam in my eye to a couple sentences in my notebook to what is now thousands of words, already.

It's so bad, I can't sell it on Amazon.

Working Title: My Futanari Mother's Messy Accidents

I know, I know.

Do not pass Go, do not collect $200, just go straight to hell.

But goddamn, I'm having so much nasty fun writing it, I just don't care. I'll sell it on Smashwords and B&N and it won't hardly make any money and that's fine. For me the most important thing is to have fun. Yes, I hope to make some money, but I have to enjoy the ride, you know?

Until next time, my beautiful pervs,

Cheers!




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08 May 2015

Excerpt: Serving in Submission

And now for something completely different.

With Demon's Embrace wrapped up for revisions/editing, I thought I'd try my hand at something very different. What we have here is, for better or worse, yet another billionaire submission tale. Except it's got that Bryce Calderwood darkness to it. It's a little twisted.

I guess that's just how I write.

Since this is new territory for me and it's not so personal, I'm very interested in any feedback you have. I already know the demon story probably won't sell much, I'm writing that because that's what I want to read. This kind of story will probably appeal to a much wider readership than futanari demons, I'm sure.




“Cass, can you grab seventeen? Jen had to go home sick and we need it covered, like, now.”

Cassandra Miller tried to hide her reaction but Deb saw the face she made anyway.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve been doing really well here since you started a couple weeks ago and an important customer is coming in, tonight. We can’t have the ball dropped on this one.” Deb put a conciliatory hand out to Cassie’s forearm and looked at her earnestly.

Cass sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, smiling back at Deb.

“I knew I could count on you,” Deb said, “This won’t be forgotten.” She made a kissy sound at Cass and moved on.

It had been a little over two weeks since Cass had started working at the Monte Christo Steakhouse, a high-end steakhouse established by the protege of a famous TV chef, who’s name Cass could never remember, but for some reason she knew it reminded her of an animal. It was a good change of pace for her. She’d waitressed before (she was your typical L.A. MAW: model/actress/whatever), and always found herself quickly promoted, simply because she was competent, hard-working, and good-looking.

It was always the good-looking part that got her into trouble. Inevitably, another female coworker would get jealous and snap, or she would suffer unwanted attention from some mouth-breathing loser or, worse yet, some “bro culture” fuckboy. The attention would become too much and she’d be forced to move on to preserve her own sanity. The only previous job she’d held for any length of time was under Dimitri, who ran a greasy spoon Greek joint, and the only reason she stayed there for so long was that Dimitri always knew exactly what he wanted and ruled the place with an iron hand clad in a velvet glove. Cass respected him for that. If there was one thing she despised, it was cowardly, weak-minded people in general, but she especially disliked weak-willed men. She found them utterly disgusting, and it seemed like she had to deal with more than her fair share of them, thanks to her looks. Guys would be attracted enough to her to make some kind of attempt with her, but they ultimately lacked the guts to really be the kind of strong man she dreamed about.

She went over to table seventeen, which was a large table in a private dining room, and began setting it up. Usually “important customer” meant some ugly asshole with a little bit of money who acted like it was a lot of money, or some guy who was spending money he didn’t even have yet, because he thought his screenplay deal was “for sure.” But if she could flatter them enough, play to their power fantasies, she could often go home with some fat tips, and that, folks, was the name of the game. As she set out the table, Deb floated back over her way and started looking at her work. This didn’t sit well with Cass.

“If you want me to take care of Mr. Important, then, why are you here checking on me like I don’t know what I’m doing?” she asked, barely keeping her irritation in check. Deb held up a steak knife to the light.

“This one has schmutz on it,” she said, “Replace it. Mr. Montgomery would be livid if anything’s not perfect.”

“Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes, Kaden Montgomery.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, “Wait, you mean the billionaire?”

“That’s the one,” Deb said.

“No pressure,” Cass smiled thinly.

“You’ll be fine, Cass, just remember to pay attention to detail, but most importantly of all, you do whatever he wants.”

Cass nodded, “Okay, got it.”

#

Cass wasn’t there for when Kaden Montgomery was received and seated at table seventeen, deciding, rather wisely, she thought, that she should take a quick bathroom break to pee and check her appearance one last time before his reservation. So when she came out of the women’s room, he and his group were already seated and watered and drink orders taken. She approached the table of talking, laughing, well-dressed men and women.

“Good evening, my name is Cassie, and I’ll be your--”

When she caught sight of Kaden Montgomery, she totally faltered. Nobody had told her how good-looking he was! She’d seen a few blurry pictures in magazines and on the internet, but she’d never paid much attention to news about him, so she had no clear image of him in her mind already. He cut a sharp figure in a dark tailored jacket. At a time when nobody in L.A. wanted to wear ties, he not only wore one, but wore it properly knotted and tight against his throat, too, against a smooth field of a crisp white oxford. Kaden was one of those men who actually had a five o’clock shadow by five o’clock, and his hair was slightly mussed after what was probably a long day of running his fingers through it while he did whatever billionaires do--made money by the second and ruined people’s lives, probably.

But it was when he looked at her that her voice suddenly ceased to function. What she saw in his eyes could easily be mistaken for contempt, but what it was, she thought, was extreme competence and self-confidence combined with low expectations of others. Here was a man used to being disappointed by others, and she could understand that.

“Yes, Cassie, what is it you are going to be, this evening?” He smiled condescendingly at her and there were titters of laughter from his guests. Cassie looked around quickly at the others at the table and back to Kaden Montgomery.

“Your server. Tonight’s specials are--”

“My server?”

What the fuck was this guy playing at?

“Yes,” she said, trying not to sound irritated. No duh, what the hell did she look like, a random homeless bum, or something?

“What would serve me would be that you don’t go by that ridiculously frivolous nickname. Tonight, you are not Cassie, you are Cassandra, which is a beautiful name, befitting a beautiful woman, wouldn’t you agree?” Well, there was no way she could disagree.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected.

Seriously?

“Yes, sir,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Do you find respect and manners to be funny, Cassandra? Shall I have someone else here serve me? Perhaps permanently take my business elsewhere?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now, Cassandra, if you want to serve me well, you’re going to take our order, and we don’t care about what your specials are or even what’s on the menu. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

That made him smile, and his smile, combined with the brusque manner in which he treated her, did something to her. Something inside her heated up, a little, and she found herself feeling a little nervous for reasons unrelated to job performance. She took their orders, a mish-mash of items that bore little resemblance to anything on the menu save for the cuts of meat, and steak was steak. She had a brief but intense conversation with the caller, urging him to ensure every plate was perfect, then she did rounds at the other tables to which she was assigned.

When she returned to table seventeen to check on them, the look in Kaden’s gorgeous eyes told her something was very amiss. She decided being direct was the best option, so she walked up to him and said, “Is something wrong, sir?”

He crossed his arms and looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she just said.

“I thought you said were going to be my server?” Snickers from his guests at this.

“Yes, sir, and?” Adding and? to a statement, she had found, was a great way to let assholes dig their own graves. She realized such tactics would not work with him, judging by the way his expression changed from mild amusement to more serious appraisal.

“Cassandra, are you giving me... attitude?”

“No, sir, I just--” she stammered.

“You were just attempting to put me in my place, weren’t you?”

He had her on that one.

“Weren’t you?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” she admitted.

“I thought so. You know how I know? Because that’s what I do. Look at me, Cassandra. What is my place, here? Where am I sitting?”

“At the head of the table, sir.” He smiled.

“Very good. Now, you said you were my server, and yet you left me unattended and gave your attention to other people.” Did he not know how waitressing worked?

“Yes, sir, that’s how it usually works,” she said. But he shook his head.

“No, not tonight. Here’s how it works for you tonight, Cassandra. You are mine, and only mine tonight. And unless you are specifically doing something for me, you are to remain here at my side, are we clear?”

What the...

“Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she stammered, “I need to clear this with my supervisor, first.”

“You do that,” he said crisply.



#



“He said what?” said Deb, raising her voice more than usual, which was something, because Deb was one of those people who prided herself on keeping her cool.

“I’m sorry, but that’s what he said, I don’t know what to do, Deb!” Cass pleaded with her. She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said.

Cass followed Deb back to table seventeen. She didn’t realize it, but she was holding her breath.

“Excuse me, Mr. Montgomery?”

When he looked at her, she continued, “I’m afraid I can’t allow Cassie here to only serve your table. We can be very lenient when it comes to people like you, but this is where we have to draw th--”

“That’s fine, I’ll arrange for your replacement to allow it. Perhaps I’ll arrange to have Cassandra here to take your position, or simply have the owner hire someone new, or perhaps I’ll just buy the restaurant and then sell it and fire all of you.”

Deb grew pale, and could only stand there, dumbfounded.

“Is that what you would like?”

“No,” she said in a small voice.

“No, sir,” he corrected, “Jesus Christ, is everyone on this planet a fucking animal, nowadays?” He held his hands out like he just couldn’t believe what was happening.

“No, sir,” Deb said, looking down. Cass looked around and Kaden’s dinner companions all wore predatory smiles. They knew the scent of blood.

“Yes, you are,” Kaden said to Deb, “You know what you are? A pig. You’re a piggy.”

Cass was mortified for Deb, but at the same time, a deeper, more primal part of her enjoyed seeing her supervisor get dressed down like this. Got off on it. Deb’s eyes were quivering. Cass was torn between feeling sorry for her and wanting to see just how far Kaden would take it.

“Why don’t you get down on all fours and crawl around for us, piggy?”

Oh, my God.

Deb’s lip quivered. She started to bend down, changed her mind, then relented and got down on her hands and knees, sniffing loudly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Crawl around, piggy.” Kaden made a circular motion with his finger.

Cassie’s heart pounded in her chest.

Deb didn’t move, she was on her hands and knees, but she was crying softly and not moving at all.

“Piggy better start crawling if it wants to come back to a job tomorrow.”

Deb began crawling in a circle, her round ass sticking out and wiggling. She sniffed and tried to suppress her crying.

“Snort, piggy!” Kaden leaned back in his chair, holding up his wine glass, with a look on his face that made Cass wonder if he would look at her like that in bed. She stirred below, between her legs.

Yeah, like that would ever happen.

Deb stopped crawling and had put her face down to the floor, crying.

“Why is the piggy not snorting?”

“PLEASE, I HAVE CHILDREN!”

Kaden set his wine glass down carefully and leaned forward in his chair. He put his hands together into a steeple but pointed downward in Deb’s direction. He appeared to be gathering his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you think of that before you shot your piggy mouth off to me? Before you presumed anything with me? Is that my fault? How is that my problem?” Against his barrage of questions Deb could only continue crying. Cass had seen enough.

“Sir?” she said clearly and calmly. Kaden looked at her in an appraising way, sitting back up.

“Cassandra, my server, what is it?”

“Your dishes will all be ready soon, and I’ll need Deb’s help with them.” Kaden narrowed his eyes at her and her heart raced. He looked down to Deb and back to her again. He tapped his lips with his steepled fingers.

“Very well.”

Feeling the weight of his gaze, she bent down and put a hand around Deb’s upper arm and lifted her up. Deb allowed herself to be led from the private dining room. But when they’d gotten out of earshot of the dining room, Deb savagely shoved Cass away from her, slamming her into the wall.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Deb hissed at her like an old cat, and walked away, now openly weeping.



And, yes, it gets even more fucked up from there. Cassandra is in for an extremely interesting night. It hasn't even really begun, yet. What do you guys think? Is this worth anyone's money? Let me know your thoughts.




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Demon Futa Cock Worship - Final Excerpt from Demon's Embrace

This is it, my dirty pervs, the final excerpt before Demon's Embrace comes out. I hesitated to reveal any more but I just can't help sharing this hot snippet from the final incredible sex scene, an encounter between demon hunter Veronica Hudson and a futanari demoness who turned out to be much more powerful and cunning than Veronica anticipated. She is now at a very submissive disadvantage...





“Now, my precocious brat,” said Xezbeth, “get on your knees and open your mouth.”

I knelt, she stood, swinging that thing in front of my face like a pendulum. My mouth was open and my tongue stretched out, reached for it. I barely get a lick in on it when she pulled it back. I chased it a little with my mouth but she was too fast. Lightning-quick her palm stung my cheek.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

I waited, and she eased it closer. I opened my mouth wider, but she pulled it away again after I barely get a taste. I reached up for it and my hands were slapped away by her tail.

“I didn’t say you could touch it, I said open your mouth, demon fucker.” Conscious that my mouth had been open this whole time, I closed it for a brief moment, since she was talking. This was a mistake. By the way, I’m a terrible at submitting to other women. Even if they’re demons. Even if they have monster horse cocks.

“Why are you closing your mouth after I just said to open it? My, but you’re incredibly--slap!--DIS--slap!--O--slap!--BEDIENT.”

“Haaahgh...” was all I could say in reply. My face stung and I realized I was drooling all over my own breasts. My mouth seemed to have no problem producing copious saliva, now. This must be the result of what she did to me just now. She pressed the fluted red tip of her cock against my tongue and rubbed against it, slathering my tongue with clear precum, which spilled over the sides of my tongue and ran down everywhere. The way she pressed harder told me she was gonna go for the big push and I’d better be ready. I didn’t think I could open my mouth that wide but somehow I did as her flared dickhead plowed into the back of my mouth. I relaxed my throat and she shoved it further in. Our eyes were locked on each other: hers gold, mine icy blue.

As she heaved her cock down my throat, I slathered my tongue left and right all over the bottom of her shaft. She reached out a clawed hand and I tried not to flinch. She caressed my face, biting her lip as she did so. Her touch on my burning cheeks was surprisingly delicate. With her cock about halfway in she slowly pulled back out. It was much wetter coming back out, but I just kept licking the underside of it. She went on like this for a while and I became lost in the rhythm of it. Each time she pulled all the way out, she dangled her dripping cock above my face for a moment, twitching and throbbing and dripping onto my nose and tongue. She held it there so I could admire it--and, I think, so she could admire it, too. I didn’t blame her. How could you not be in love with your own cock if you had a beast like that? She laid it down on my upturned face. It was phenomenally heavy, like another limb. She lifted it up a few inches and dropped it, and it thudded into my face with an impact that went straight to my pussy.




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03 May 2015

Veronica Hudson - Demon Hunter, Demon Lover, Misunderstood Badass

This is the second interview with the heroine of Demon's Embrace, Veronica Hudson. In my previous interview with Veronica, we discussed how one becomes a demon hunter and how demons are caught (and what she does with them once she catches them).

Bryce: You're bisexual in the year 1948. That can't be easy.

Veronica: Don't get me started! It's like an entire nation decided to just sit on its collective rear end after giving women the right to vote. As if to say, "You got your bone, now shut up and go away." I'm not going anywhere. On top of that I can out-fight, out-drink, and out-fuck any man who dares to step into the ring with me. The hardest two things are finding a man who isn't a goddamn idiot and finding a woman who is... like me. I can't tell you how many failed friendships I have with other women. You think you're reading the signs right and go for the kiss or that more... intimate touch and suddenly it's Freak Out City. It gets tiresome.

Bryce: Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to rub people the wrong way?

Veronica: All the time, usually by screaming at me that they hate me and either running away crying or trying to kill me. I can count my true allies on one hand, and that's after chopping off a few fingers. Maybe I just don't understand people? I seem to relate better to demons (laughs). You know, Nietzsche once said you had to be careful when hunting monsters, lest you become one. Maybe he was on to something, there. I can be a little rough, a little dominating. It sort of comes with the job, but I enjoy it.

Bryce: Would you rather dominate? Do you enjoy being dominated?

Veronica: I love dominating other women and demons but I love being dominated by men. I don't know... sometimes I think I may be an "alpha female." If I can dominate you, I will, but if you can actually dominate me, I'll submit to that. I once let the entire crew of a Navy destroyer use me like a fuck toy and it was one of the most transcendent, greatest nights of my life.

Bryce: Do you have an ultimate domination fantasy?

Veronica: Hmm... interesting question. I would love to be able to submit to a demon, to be totally dominated by her cock, without the safety and control of a Circle of Binding. Just me and the demon of our own free wills, nobody trying to kill anybody else. I don't know... that actually might be worth the ultimate price (laughs).

Bryce: What would it take for that to happen? What would prevent a demon from killing you without being bound by you?

Veronica: I don't know. I suppose if she cared about me enough, she would rather want me alive instead of dead.

Bryce: Can demons love? Are they capable of love?

Veronica: I think demons are capable of love. I think being capable of love and yet being bound to Hell is the greatest punishment of all that they suffer.


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