May 13, 2008
Sugasm 131
May 12, 2008
Dominating the Cinema
I'm working on an article about BDSM in popular culture. Any instances jump to mind? Madonna as a ProDomme in Body of Evidence? Angelina Jolie as a BDSM assassin in Mr. & Mrs. Smith? Michelle Pfieffer with her whip in Batman Returns?
What else comes to mind?
May 11, 2008
May 6, 2008
Prurient Interests: The Book?
I've been asked a few times and now I'm finally doing it. I'm collecting my favorite stories from this site and putting them together in a smutty book. I'll be making this available via Lulu.com and, of course, this blog.
The one area that I'm lacking in a bit is photos. If anyone has any pictures they'd be willing to share (especially for the cover), please send them my way - pornoperson@pornoperson.com - high resolution photos to which I can have the "rights" for this project, please!
The interior will sport about two dozen b&w photos that will probably be close-ups of body parts. I know that this is objectification and rather fetishistic but I just don't care. It's easier than finding someone who's comfortable showing their face!
May 5, 2008
Cerebral Trainee Subject: Susan
The package arrived on a Thursday. I was so excited that I could barely contain myself. For all of the pomp and circumstance of my purchase, I had to laugh to myself about the plain wooden crate. I almost expected a customer representative from CETS to have brought the package to my door personally, accompanied by a five piece brass band. I mean, I had spent enough to merit this kind of treatment, as well. As it was, the innocuous package loomed on my porch and might as well have been something ordered through Sharper Image.
Six months before I first approached CETS. I was celebrating my promotion to Senior Management and found that all of my new co-workers had their own personal unit. I wanted to keep up with the Big Boys and needed one of my own. I went through the whole spiel. The song and dance routine that lead to a velvet soft sale. My rep was clever. He knew how to appeal both to my vanity and my bank account while handling all of the sordid details. He transformed the experience from what could have been a simple catalog selection and user's manual to an Experience.
I underwent a battery of personality tests, credit applications, and psychological examinations. After my selection, I was enrolled in a six week training class that ran for four hours every Wednesday night. It was a major investment in time and cost but I knew it'd all be worth it once this moment arrived.
I don't remember the first time I heard about CETS but the idea was repulsive. It went against everything that I had been taught all my life. But, somewhere deep inside, it awakened a piece of me that I couldn't admit existed. It appealed to an idea I had when I was little. Someone to take care of me, in every way. Complete control. There was a safety there that was comforting. I was always the person who took care of everyone else. This was a chance for someone to take care of me for a change. Though morally repugnant, I found myself thinking about it at the oddest times. When I caught myself masturbating at the same time, I finally admitted that this was for me. Plus, the money was exactly what I needed.
I could spend five years toling away at a shitty job where I was far more degraded and make a small percentage of what I'd make in five years at CETS. And, if the commercial was right, I wouldn't remember anything anyway. I'd wake up five years later with a healthy bank account and feel like only a day had passed. And, who knows, maybe I'd choose to keep the memories if they were fun.
I underwent a battery of personality tests, psychological examinations, and physical evaluations. After my selection, I began a rigorous six month program of re-education and surgical procedures that configured me to the exact specifications which had been demanded. It was a major ordeal but I knew it'd all be worth it once this moment arrived.
A better description for the crate, once I saw inside, would be "coffin." This was the impression that the satin lining provided. The woman inside, stiff as a corpse, added to this as well. Her arms were crossed and there was almost a deathly pallor to her features but this was explained away by the specifications I agreed to at the showroom. I retrieved my notes, including the quick "cheat sheet" that CETS provides to new customers, and gave the initiation command. "Initialize," I said. I thought I may have been too quiet at first as nothing happened immediately. I was on the verge of saying it again when I caught sight of her chest rising and falling slightly.
The combination of drugs and hypnotism put the "subjects" (as we were always called publicly) into a near-catatonic state. We were especially "zonked" during the last three weeks of "programming" when the doctors finally added real wires to us—just as we had been "rewired" mentally. I was awake during this time but it was as if I was looking at someone else undergoing the procedure rather than myself. That my physical appearance had been altered significantly increased this perception, I'm sure.
That first word that my Owner spoke took me out of the deep trance into which I was placed before being boxed and shipped. Thank goodness the programming had removed any latent claustrophobia! I was sure that a good deal of my fears had been whisked away over the preceding six months. There was no telling what an Owner would do to his property and baseless fears needed to be removed to give the Owners more pleasure. I wondered how deeply the programming went. If my Owner told me to put my hand into a flame, could I do it? Would I? Would the second skin protect me from the heat? Certainly it could prevent abrasions and removed all unwanted body hair and sweat production (funneling this into an elimination procedures that was taken care of during "Daily Maintenance") but were we safe from the elements?
Though my pupils didn't deceive me, I looked into my Owner's eyes and felt that he probably wouldn't be putting me int harm's way. He looked like children did back when Christmas was still a legal holiday.
I think it was the eyes that caught my attention first. They opened as she leaned forward. They were an unnatural hue of violet and, when the light struck them, the pupils didn't react at all. Then I noticed that they didn't shift. Rather, the whole head turned when "looking" at its surroundings. "Her" surroundings. It was difficult to personify an object but the paperwork requested that I do. I had opted for a "Female" model and there was even a story that went along with this particular line; the Susan 0147. I had been given a packet of material at the showroom and could recall some of the highlights of the fictional background the CETS unit had.
It sat up from its casket and initiated a series of diagnostic tests, twisting each joint before finally placing a foot outside the box and walking in the herky-jerk walk with which even the best CETS units exhibit. It, I mean "she", appeared flawless. There's always something so wonderful about a new piece of equipment. Her "skin" was polished, her "hair" bright and perfectly coiffed, and I could hear the creak of her joints before they were fully lubricated. Seeing how good she looked, I was glad I had opted for the self-grooming package which was guaranteed to keep her in tip-top condition.
Finally, she turned, blinked, and kneeled down at my feet. Her voice box emitted a hollow but fairly emotional rendition of "Awaiting further instruction, Master."
The sound of my own "voice" startled the hell out of me. I hadn't been allowed to speak for four months. What I heard wasn't my own voice, per se, but a mechanized version with a metallic tinge. It sounded like my voice over a satellite line to New Tokyo and back again.
I felt myself getting wet. This response had been conditioned into me, as automatic as a computer program. Behind the full lens eyes, I could see the affect that I was having on my Master.
Seeing her, kneeling down before me, gave me an immediate erection. I noticed the gloss painted across her lips, they looked wet, soft, and ready. Her knees were parted, keeping herself open at all times as the CETS units are programmed to do.
It was time to indulge myself, to test Susan, and feel the privilege that went with my new position and possession. Remembering back to the list of commands I ordered her, "Fellate Master."
I wasn't surprised that this was the first thing he wanted me to do. I had been prepared that most Masters will require fellatio more than anything else. This is why my mouth had been coated with a special film that provided better stimulation (including a small electrical vibration). CETS had also performed surgery to reshape my palette as well as ridding me of my gag reflex. I was now a cocksucking machine, amongst my other special skills. I was now, literally, made to do this.
I removed Master's cock from his trousers and heard myself cooing in an automated response. This garnered an equally appropriate reaction in Master as I felt his cock twitch in my hand. I heard my "eyes" move up, as if to look at his face, but my real eyes (behind the coverings) were on his penis as I took it into my mouth. A few gyros adjusted, forming my mouth and throat to fit him better. Every blowjob from a CETS doll was custom to the man enjoying it.
Her mouth fit me like a glove. I felt the vibration that CETS units are famous for. It was accompanied by a warmth and wetness that almost felt real. Her head began pistoning up and down on my penis, I could see the slick silicon-based oils that glistened like spit. And, I swear, I heard the unit moan as she pleasured me.
I knew exactly how he liked his cock sucked. It was part of my internal matrix. I ran a finger along the underside of his balls until I found his asshole. The faux dermis of my finger produced a fine layer of lubrication that helped me enter him with ease. Once inside, air was pumped into the "finger," filling up his ass and placing pressure on his prostate gland.
She did everything I liked, and nothing I didn't. I loved looking down into her violet doll eyes and seeing them "stare" back at me. She gulped and slurped at my cock like her life depended on it. The small sound of servos kept whirring and a moan came from somewhere deep inside her circuits. It was astounding. The pressure on my prostate and the sucking of her mouth finally became too much. I didn't even bother to hold back, knowing that I could (and would) use her whenever I wanted. This revelation was liberating and I think I came more from that than even the pleasure she provided.
He pumped his cum inside of me. It was vacuumed down, past a processor placed in my stomach while the internal washing process began to clean and dry his cock. From what I've been told, the sensation is gentle and delightful. I dreamed that perhaps one day, five years and some months from now, I'd have my own CE.T.S. doll to serve me. But, for now, I belonged to Master and felt complete, existing only for his every whim.
Apr 30, 2008
Sugasm 129!
Thanks to the folks at Sugasm for picking my recent story, Writers' Conference for this week's picks!
This Week’s Picks
April Showers Bring May Flowers: Part II“As mentioned earlier, this is one of the biggest hurdles to overcome; this is also where mind over matter comes into play.”
Au revoir
“In the life of an eclectic slut, however, these are all warning signs.”
Ode to Anal: Why?
“Really, for me, it was the first, and one of my foremost, all encompassing sexual acts.”
Mr. Sugasm Himself
Soviet Erotica
Editor’s Choice
Catalina loves Real Women
See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.
Apr 26, 2008
Quick Fantasy
"Take it out. Show me. I know you're hard, show it to me. I want to see you stroke yourself," she said.
She was right. I was very aroused, just from sitting next to her and listening to her talk about what she had done the weekend before with her girlfriend, Linda.
Even though we were alone in her house, it still felt odd to be sitting there, fully clothed, and to take my cock out of my pants in front of her. Odd, but good.
She watched as I touched myself. I looked into her eyes, keeping them locked there while my hands were busy. Meanwhile, she kept her eyes on what my hands were doing.
Apr 19, 2008
Apr 18, 2008
Writers' Conference
She looked like a character in one of her books. Tall, lean, bottle blonde, a smear of red across her lips. I never thought about her voice but it came out with an endearing Southern twang. She wore a tight leopard-print skirt, white blouse, and a short jacket. Her legs were spectacular and as she sat down at the conference table she revealed her garters for just a moment, a brief blissful moment.
I had come to the city for a writers convention. I'm not much of a writer; I throw words together and hope that they make a sentence or two. The woman speaking, now she was a writer. However, I could barely concentrate on her words as her looks were so distracting. I'd read all of her books and thought I knew everything about her bibliography... until she let it slip that she occasionally wrote erotica under the nom de plume "Christa." I wrote this down, hoping to have a chance to ask her for the names of a few publications where I could find "Christa's" writing.
Alas, after she was done with her hour long chat, she was mobbed by other admirers. I sat back down at my table, waiting for the next speaker, making a note to look for titles by "Christa" in the future.
The second day at the conference I was up early and at a local coffee shop when I hear her distinct laugh from one of the back tables. She was speaking on her cellphone. I took my latte to a nearby table to read the local free rag. Despite her sitting there, I was able to get engrossed in an article to the point where I only distantly realized that I was being addressed.
"I'm sorry?" I said, looking to her.
"No, I'm sorry to disturb you. But, you were at the conference yesterday, right?"
I told her I was and we made small talk for a few minutes while I tried to find the perfect opportunity to ask her about "Christa." I finally slid in the question. Rather than being upset, however, her eyes grew a little wide and she seemed delighted to give me all of the information I could ever want.
"What spurns your interest in erotica?" she finally asked me.
I couldn't help but confess my dabbling. "The only problem," I followed, "is that I tend to base everything off of real life events to some extent. That can make for some, uh, interesting research."
"You really kiss and tell!" she laughed.
"Kiss, and a whole lot more, I suppose."
"You're doing it all for research, though. That's a noble pursuit."
"Thanks, it keeps me busy but it also gives my stories a verisimilitude that might otherwise be lacking."
"I wonder what it would be like," she said, "to have you write a story and have another person write the same story from their perspective and then either run them side by side or cut them together."
"Definitely interesting. That's something I've tried to do but it's difficult to take any perspective other than my own. All of my tales have a real 'confessional' feel to them and I have to admit a weakness for capturing the voice of the other person or people.
"Then that might be even a better challenge; to do the same thing but you can only write from the other person's POV. It'll make you stretch."
"That's true, though there aren't many people who I tell about my hobby and a lot of the people I play with aren't confessed writers."
"Then it's a good thing we're talking!" she chuckled again, giving me a look that even I couldn't mistake for anything other than a proposition.
"Indeed, it is. Do you have time today to try a writing exercise like that?" I asked.
She agreed. We were both staying at the same hotel (conference rate) and exchanged room numbers, agreeing on a time after the day's events were well over. If you think concentrating on anything for the rest of the day, especially with her sitting a few tables away.
I could tell he was nervous and I almost had to laugh. I'd been looking at his writing all afternoon on my iPhone and it was difficult to sit still. I almost changed my underwear before we were supposed to meet but I wanted him to be sure to smell how excited he'd gotten me.
Here he was, fumbling and stammering, completely unlike the way he portrayed himself in his stories. Did I get myself into a bad situation or would things change we got started? I was anxious to see. I was glad that I had prepared the room beforehand. A set of cuffs hung over my bathroom door, my traveling pair.
I didn't want small talk. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him against the bathroom door. He saw the cuffs and knew what to do. I secured his wrists and put a blindfold on him. I felt like a mad scientist in an old movie. I almost wrung my hands and cackled, "Now I've got you where I want you."
He looked so innocent as he hung from the door. I could see the appeal that he held to others who had taken him in the past. I began unbuttoning his shirt and watched as his nipples grew hard from the air conditioning. I gave one a tweak. He shuddered and moaned as if I had done the same to his cock. I pinched the other one and he reacted even more. Oh, this could fun.
I undid his pants and pulled them down, along with his underwear, all in one pull. I touched a nipple again and watched as his cock twitched, like there was a direct current between them. I flicked them, one after another, with the nail on my index finger, watching his cock bob and arch each time. I kept thinking that he was at his hardest but each time I touched him he seemed to grow even more.
I got down on my haunches, a position I wouldn't have taken if he could see me, and began batting at his cock. I wanted to see how much he could take. He began whining almost immediately. "Shut it," I commanded. I pulled up his cock and started flicking his balls with my nails. He tried to pull away but there was no where for him to go. He was whimpering but trying not to cry out loud. A challenge. I wanted to hear him cry out.
Redness started to rise across his balls as I flicked him harder. I allowed his cock to flop free, using my other hand to touch myself. With my right hand I flicked his balls, with my left I flicked my clit. Still, he wouldn't cry out. I was left with no other choice... I grasped his cock and put my mouth over it, biting down gently but firmly around the head. As I applied more pressure with my jaws his moaning turned to a shriek that pushed me over the edge. I came, legs spread and squatting.
I wasn't done torturing his cock. I removed my mouth and used my fingers, slick with myself, to open up the hole at the end of his dick. I slid my pinkie inside and his body jumped like I put a live wire to it. I pushed it deeper, always amazed at how pliable that little opening can be. I began pushing and pulling my nail in and out, essentially fucking him. The noises he made were almost like the cry of an animal.
I unbound him, pushing him onto my bed. I had shackles at the ready, attached to the head and footboards. I bound him, spreadeagled, face down. I donned a pair of rubber gloves and slicked my forefinger with lube. I didn't allow him to prepare for what was to come, quickly attacking his ass, sliding my finger into him. His gasp turned into a moan. I held myself inside of him for a beat. When I started to pull out, he moved back, showing me that he liked having me inside of him. Smiling, I added another finger and began to fuck him.
There's something so sweet about fucking a man in the ass. Something so personal about it, feeling their pulse through your fingers. Feeling them clench and release with an internal rhythm. Finding that nubbin, the prostate, inside, and pushing on it ever so gently... or not. Finally, making them cum without their "permission" as they cry into a pillow or against a gag.
I released him, giving him a warm rag to clean up.
"Now, was that inspirational enough?"
Note: Second section courtesy of Christa
Apr 14, 2008
Cute Girl At The Airport
I don't usually do this -- as it could be viewed as creepy -- but this girl was just so cute and I wanted to share.








