I love old pulp art like this, especially when there are scantily clad women involved.
Reposted from Bougieman's blog.
Mar 31, 2009
The Book of Revelation
The Book of Revelation (Ana Kokkinos, 2006, Australia)
I had The Book of Revelation in my Netflix Queue for months and it finally arrived over the weekend. It's an Aussie flick starring Tom Long as Daniel, a dancer with a girlfriend (Anna Torv from TV's Fringe) and overprotective chreographer (Greta Scacchi). Daniel goes missing for twelve days. When he returns, he won't tell anyone where he's been. Now out of a job, he wanders the city, looking for answers.
Many men would glady pay for what happened to Daniel (as the head woman -- also played by Anna Torv -- points out). He was kidnapped by a trio of young ladies who remain hooded the entire time he's chained up in a warehouse. They manually stimulate him, fellate him, and fuck him, using him solely for their pleasure. As Daniel's abduction isn't consentual, it's a bit horrific but I couldn't help but think, "Gosh, I wish that was me."
Tom Long has an interesting look about him. At times he reminded me of Paul Mercurio from Strictly Ballroom while, at others, he looked a bit like Nick Cave. From the neck down, however, he's gorgeous. Watching the muscles ripple under his skin is half the fun of this fun. Meanwhile, I'm still on the fence about Anna Torv. Normally, I don't find her that attractive but she looks pretty good in The Book of Revelation. As mentioned above, Torv also plays one of his tormentors but the audience isn't supposed to notice that or try to infer anything about this, according to director Ana Kokkinos. That seems like a scenario begging to be explored.
I love that the dancers' routines involve long ropes that hang from the ceiling, already calling bondage to mind. Add to that that their practice room looks like it was decorated by the same guys that tortured Debbie Harry in Videodrome and you're in the right frame for this deliciously twisted flick.
The DVD from Netflix is a Hong Kong import wherein a lot of the "naughty bits" such as Daniel's erection and some pubic hair are disconcertingly blurred. The ending is slightly unsatisfying and a few things that may have been "left to the imagination" are merely vague. I plan on picking up the book by Rupert Thomson to see what other wonderful tortures Daniel experienced.
Mar 30, 2009
Another Night With My Beer Buddy
The following is a sequel to this story
I could feel the drops of sweat landing on my back as Tony plowed his cock deep inside of me. I had sucked him off earlier and knew that this would be a nice, long fuck. Despite the coolness of the basement, Tony was hot from the effort of pumping his cock in and out of me. The drops of sweat reminded me of the burn of candle wax that he loved to drip on me occasionally, especially down my balls and across my perineum.
I moaned with each thrust, loving the feeling of him inside of me. He held on tight to my ass cheeks, pulling them apart roughly as he went deeper and deeper. When he was inside of me, I knew that he had complete control of me. He owned me completely.
I had always been the bottom to Tony's top but there was more to it. He made me weak and I loved being this way for him. I looked forward to our next "game night" as soon as the last one was over, as I limped to the car and drove home to my wife with an ass or belly full of Tony's cum.
Tony had taken to more automotive blow jobs and other games at work. He had me wear a large butt plug which he'd put in me before morning coffee. He'd take it out of me before we went home for the night or, on "game nights", once I got to his place.
Tony was getting close to loosing his load inside of me. Between grunts I heard a gasp and my stomach fell. There was only one person that it could have been... Marsha, Tony's wife.
I don't know if Tony heard it or if he was just too far gone. I clenched down on his cock, wondering what was going to happen. This apparently put Tony over the edge as he unloaded into me, cumming and cumming, gripping my ass harder in his hands, leaving a half moon of bruises that would rise in the morning.
"Tony? What...?" came Marsha's meek voice.
"Oh, shit," Tony said under his breath as he pulled out of me. I felt his hot cum dripping down my thighs.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Tony get up, naked, his half-hard cock dangling between his thighs, and turn to his wife. "I'm not going to say 'it's not what you think' because it's exactly what you think. I've been fucking this bitch once or twice a week for the last year. Do you have a problem with that?"
This was the first time I had ever heard Tony talk this way to Marsha. When describing his wife, the term "loud mouth" always came to mind. She was the kind of woman whose voice you'd hear over everyone else in a restaurant, endlessly bitching about some inane thing. She had henpecked Tony for as long as I had known him and this was the first time I'd seen her at a loss for words and him with the upper hand. Perhaps fucking me had empowered him.
"I asked you a question," he said, cum still dripping from his cock onto their plush carpet. She was completely cowed. He walked over to her and she seemed to snap awake, as if from a nightmare where her husband was fucking his "best bud". Her mouth started moving and through her stammering she seemed to come to some kind of self-realization, "N-n-n-n-n-No. No. No. I don't." She gasped, getting her breath, the cloud of confusion slowly dissipating.
Tony had told me a few times (usually after a few drinks) about the problems Marsha and he had been having in their marriage. Marsha had lost her interest in sex a few years into their marriage and this affected Tony more than he was willing to admit. I don't know when he first started having sex with men but I wanted to think that I was his first and only.
"No, I don't," she repeated. "I don't have a problem with that."
Ah, this was more like the Marsha I knew. I wondered when she was going to get loud or hysterical.
"Good," he said, "Then you shouldn't have a problem with this. Get down on your knees and clean my cock."
The Marsha I knew would have laughed sarcastically and told Tony to shove his sentiments up his ass. But this Marsha... My jaw nearly hit the table I was bent over when she did exactly that, kneeling and taking Tony's half-hard meat--now without the condom he filled while fucking me--hungrily into her mouth. He groaned and pulled her head closer to him. I slowly slid down from my position over the table and took a seat on the floor to watch what happened next.
He put a foot between her legs and kicked her knees apart before pulling her mouth off of him. He reached down between her legs, up under her skirt. She tilted her head back and moaned as he said, "Ahhh, you're wet, you slut. You like watching me fuck this faggot's ass, didn't you?"
She nodded, her eyes closing with pleasure, his arm working.
He turned to me, "Get over here, bitch boy. Crawl."
Obediently, I heeled on his left side, waiting patiently.
"Lay down and take off your skirt and panties," he told Marsha. She snapped to his orders as if she'd been waiting all of her life to hear them. She removed her garments and lay back.
He pointed to her crotch and snapped his fingers. "Eat her out, bitch. Make my wife cum and make it good."
I practically dived into her pussy, going from kneeling to laying between her legs in record time. Her trimmed bush tickled my nose as I spread her with my fingers and found her clitoris with my tongue. I sucked on her the way I sucked her husband, my tongue making tiny circles, tasting her rich flavor.
A shadow passed over me and I looked up to see Tony standing over Marsha, his arm jack hammering away as he masturbated over her. I began licking her harder and faster and her hips began raising and lowering in time, pushing her sex against my face. It'd been long enough since I'd eaten pussy that I was afraid I'd forgotten. Luckily, I seemed to be doing a fair job. Marsha grabbed my head and pulled me deeper and harder against her as she began to shudder and gasp.
She climaxed, wailing loudly. I looked up to watch her face undergo the lovely paroxysm of pleasure. Tiny drops of milky liquid began dotting her face and I heard Tony grunt as he began cumming as well, decorating her face with his jism. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she sunk back down, her hands slowly letting me go.
As it happened I realized that I had never seen Marsha smile the genuinely sated smile that crossed over her face. She lay, quiet, for several minutes. In the meantime, Tony had me get dressed and dismissed me.
Tony saw me less frequently after that night. We had our occasional "game nights" but there was no artifice any longer. When I came over, Marsha was now always a part of our evening. She was a changed woman. Tony had shown her that he was in charge and she graciously accepted it.
It wasn't until a few months later that I found out Tony had told Marsha to come home early that evening and come see us downstairs. He wanted her to see me getting fucked and use that as his first step in taking her over. While I'm often jealous that I'm not the only person that Tony fucks, I'm glad that he and Marsha have a better relationship and that I can play some small part in it.
Freedom is Slavery Write-up!
There's a lovely write-up of the Freedom is Slavery eBook available over at Adult Sexotica. It's delightful to see this!
Mar 29, 2009
Mar 28, 2009
The Voice Inside My Head
"The doctor will see you now," the secretary announced. I was alone in the waiting room, the last patient of the day.
I always experienced a sense of dread as I walked down the long hallway to my therapist's office.
Dr. Houston was, in my mind, my wife's therapist. She'd been seeing him for years. As our marriage grew older, my depression got deeper and deeper until she finally demanded that I see her therapist to get some help.
I'd been seeing Dr. Houston for a few months and didn't feel like we were getting anywhere. Every session seemed to follow the same pattern where I'd talk about what had gone on since I last saw him for fifty minutes, he'd put his fingers on his chin and then tell me the "patterns" he's seen in everything I had just said. It was maddening. I didn't want to talk about the more difficult things that had been troubling nor did he seem to want to ask about them. Worse, each week I swore I'd put voice to my complaints but still hadn't.
Today, I did. If Dr. Houston was taken aback by anything I said, he didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to be waiting for me to bring up this pattern and left it up to me to break it."
"I'm very proud of you, Michael," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I want to try something new this week if you're open to it. I'd like to try some regression therapy via hypnosis to see if we can take down some of the barriers you put up. I think that's the reason why we've fallen into this trap. You're hesitant to relax and tell me what's really bothering you. After all these months, I still don't know much about the reason why you're here other than your evident depression."
I was desperate to try anything that might justify the immense therapy bill I paid off each month and that would help me get out of the funk that brought me to see a therapist in the first place. I readily agreed.
"We're going to try and get to the root of where your issues are coming from." He closed the curtains to the office, turned on his white noise machine and lowered the overhead lights.
"Now relax," he said. "Close your eyes and listen only to the sound of my voice..."
He talked and I listened until it felt like I was hearing him so much as I was experiencing him. It felt like his voice was coming from inside my head.
I felt like I was drifting, unhinged from my physical form.
"Time is like a river and you're standing on the shore. You're looking at the river of your life. You can put your toe in at any point," Dr. Houston said and I could see the river before me, familiar faces making ripples in the water. "I want you to look at the water... look at how it roils and moves... Is there one point in the river that's more active than others?"
"Yes" came my voice. I don't know if I said it or just thought it. Regardless, he kept talking to me... through me.
"Go to that spot in the water. I want you to dive in right there. Don't be afraid. It looks rough but it will be warm and safe. I'm right there with you."
I looked into the water and what I saw made me cringe. Yet, I was compelled to step into the stream. I sank down, slowly, gently, the water filling my eyes until it cleared.
I found myself in a dimly lit place. It was cold and damp. It was a basement.
I looked around and saw posters on the walls; rock bands and women like Farrah Fawcett and Catherine Bach. One wall was decorated with beer cans from floor to ceiling. There were three beds in different corners of the room and my stomach fell as I realized where I was.
I heard voices coming from another part of the basement. I'd not heard them in years but I recognized them. They were my neighbors. Three brothers who lived two doors down from where I grew up. I wanted to run up the stairs and leave but something made me follow the sounds.
As I turned the corner, going from one their sleeping area into a makeshift workout room with blaring fluorescent lights I came upon a uncanny sight. It was me, standing in the corner. I was twelve years old. I was naked except for a pair of underwear, little whitey-tighties that seemed especially white in the stark lighting. My hands were shielding my crotch.
I had put this day out of my mind but suddenly it all came flooding back in a flash of images and feelings.
"Wait, wait," came the voice in my head. "Go slow. One step at a time."
I caught my breath and forced myself to concentrate.
I was back in the basement room, but earlier now. I was there with Steve, John, and Geoff Long. Steve and I were best friends. We would play with action figures or ride our big wheels together every day. He was a year older than me. His brother, John, was two years older and Geoff was five years older.
The four of us had been hanging out that day, a rarity due to our disparate ages (even one year can make a huge difference in the "maturity" of boy at that age -- I was still into action figures while Geoff was taking driver's training). We were in their father's weight room when Geoff exclaimed, "Look what I found!"
It was a treasure trove in a Styrofoam cooler. Years and years of Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler back issues. We fell upon them like cannibals feasting upon missionaries. I had never seen so much naked female flesh in my life. i underwent a flurry of feelings. I knew that what I was looking at was to be considered "wrong" and "dirty" but it felt so nice seeing these naked women. And such a variety! Blonds, brunettes, red heads, big boobs, small boobs, shaved pussies, bushy pussies, and on and on.... A feast for the eyes that sent strange sensations shooting up my legs and into my penis.
We made jokes. That was the natural response to pornography as I've learned over the years. We compared and contrasted the women, laughing and using words that were beyond our years. But things got quiet after a while as we all became absorbed in the pages of flesh.
The silence of the room became too much. I looked up and saw something that was even more foreign than the dirty magazines. Geoff sat on one of the weight benches, his legs over each side, his jeans undone, and his hand on his penis, rubbing it.
John and Steve saw this as well and began imitating their brother until they all three were masturbating. Other than one time at the YMCA, I'd never seen another boy's penis. Now I was seeing three of various sizes and all hard.
I didn't know what to do. I liked looking at the naked women but didn't want any part of what my friends were doing now. I wanted to run away.
"Why didn't you?" came the voice in my head.
I was fascinated. I didn't quite know what they were doing but their faces betrayed that they felt good doing it. Geoff looked up, a strange look in his eyes. He kept his hand working his penis as he looked at me and said, "Take off your clothes. Get naked."
I don't know what possessed me. I began untucking my shirt and pulled it over my head. I stepped out of my shoes and socks. I undid my jeans and took them down. I stood there, in my underwear, and backed into the corner, my eyes darting from one of them to the other to the other. And they all looked at me like a slab of meat.
They stopped what they were doing and, like hungry jackals, they got up and began to approach me. I wanted to look at their eyes to see if I could tell if they meant me any harm but I couldn't tear my eyes away from their dicks, swaying, pointing at me.
Geoff grabbed me, putting an arm around my neck. He sunk to his knees and took me down wish him, his knee pushing against the back of mine to collapse my legs. I could feel him poking me, all the way down. John stepped in front of me and Geoff started pushing me down towards his brother's dick. "Open up. Open your mouth," he told me.
I did as he said and John put his dick in my mouth. I'd barely thought about male on female coitus at this point in my life. I'd never even contemplated fellatio, especially between two men. But here I was, putting him into my mouth. Geoff began pushing my head up and down, his hand holding my hair tight. Pushing, pulling, the feel of John's dick going over my lips. I didn't know what was happening, really, why they were doing this to me, or what would happen, but I knew it was wrong.
John began making noises and I thought I was hurting him. I thought maybe my teeth were scraping against him so I folded my lips over my teeth. Geoff began pushing and pulling my head harder and faster until John yelled out. I tasted something tart in my mouth and hoped it wasn't blood.
John stepped away and Steve took his place. Geoff did kept pushing and pulling my head. I tried harder, now, to make sure my teeth didn't scrape Steve, I didn't want more "blood" in my mouth. Geoff was grunting in my ear and I could feel him rubbing harder against me. He moved the hand that was around my throat down to my underwear and pulled it off of me. His hand began manipulating my penis, making it get bigger.
I'd only had this happen to me a few times before, usually in school. I knew what was happening because of a book I found in my parents' basement that compared it to a fireman's hose filling with water but I still didn't know what caused it or what it meant. As I got harder, it felt like the room was going away from me, like I was getting light-headed.
Steve began making noises, now, and they were different than John's. They were more urgent, like he was trying to say something. All he said was "Yes!" and I tasted something sour filling my mouth.
Before I had time to catch my breath after Steve left my mouth, Geoff was forcing me down, now, onto my hands and knees. Steve took one of my arms and John the other, holding me at the shoulders, each putting a knee on the backs of my hands to pin them. I heard Geoff spitting and, before I knew it, I felt him entering me. I don't know if I cried out but John or Steve put a hand over my mouth.
Everything goes black. And though I'm standing there, observing this all, seeing myself being raped, I know that my young self has closed his eyes. There's nothing to remember. When the lights came back up, I was laying on the cold tile floor. The boys were gone. I got my clothes back on and upstairs. The house was empty. I could hear them talking in the back yard. I went out there with them and it was like nothing had happened. Within moments we were on our bicycles and riding in the park. No one ever talked about what went on.
"Why didn't you go our the front door?" the voice asked. "You could have gone home but, instead, you went back to them."
Normally I would have said, "I don't know," as an easy way to duck the question. But something made me answer the truth. "I wanted acceptance. I wanted to be a part of their group."
"Didn't you care what they did to you?" Dr. Houston asked.
"I cared."
"But... You liked it, didn't you?"
Hearing this was a shock. But what really devastated me was the answer to his question.
"Yes."
"You've blocked out that day. You've hidden it from yourself. That's because it was wrong in a lot of ways but it's also because because you liked it and that scared you."
He paused, letting this all sink in, letting me feel the truth of it.
"And you want to do it again, don't you? If I told you to come to me and suck my cock, you would, wouldn't you?"
And, again, no matter how much my conscious mind may have wanted to deny this, I had to tell the truth.
"Yes."
"Then, do it. Come to me."
I was back in the office and Dr. Houston stood near his desk, his hand on his fly. I felt like I was floating, rather than walking as I moved to him, going to my knees, undoing his fly, and taking out his cock.
"That's right, suck it. Take it," he said. Even though he was standing in front of me, his voice still sounded like it was coming from inside my head.
"You want cock. You need it. This is what you've been craving for twenty five years. This is why you've had problems in your marriage. You're hungry for cock. Feel it filling you up. Feel it making you complete."
And he was right, of course. Having him in my mouth made me feel so good. So happy. So right. I could feel every inch of him. Every vein. I could feel his pulse beating, the blood pulsing.
"You're a natural born cocksucker. You're hungry for cum. You need a belly full of it. You need a real man to complete you, to drop his load in you. That's what little bitches like you are good for..."
And then he grunted and moaned and I tasted that old taste that had only tantalized me so many years before. Now it was flooding my senses, the smell of it, the feel of it in my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed as he came in my mouth, filling me up.
I wanted more and was sad when I knew I'd have to wait to get it. And then I was shocked to realize I was thinking this way.
"Now, Michael, I'm still in complete control of your thoughts. When I snap my fingers, you will remember nothing that happened today. You will think that I was unable to hypnotize you. But the next time we're together and I say 'Cheeseburger', you will immediately fall into this same deep trance. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Good."
He snapped his fingers and I awoke. I looked at the clock and saw that my session was nearly over and I was pissed about letting yet another week go by without addressing anything important at therapy. Instead, I let Dr. Houston waste my time with hypnosis mumbo jumbo that didn't work. He sat there, his fingers on his chin, with this self-satisfied grin on his face, collecting another two hundred dollars for an hour of lost time. But I knew I'd be back the next week for another session and swore that I'd make progress with him, no matter what.
Mar 27, 2009
Mar 26, 2009
Freedom is Slavery -- The eBook!
I've worked with Adult eBook Shop.com to make Freedom is Slavery available as a relatively lightweight eBook version for the low price of £3.99 (roughly $6 US).
This is less expensive than the version available at Lulu. One strange thing about Lulu is that the PDF used for print is the same PDF used for their download, meaning that it needs to be a lot heavier with the 300dpi images. The version available via Adult eBook Shop.com is saved specifically for a faster download. The images are still there, and still beautiful, though they're saved at screen resolution rather than print.
Now... go buy a copy!
Tom and Jerry and Infantalization
Someone brought up a good point that these "Tom & Jerry" cartoons were pretty twisted and may have lead to some wires being crossed in kids' heads!
Mar 25, 2009
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