The Hole

The bar was beautiful, dimly lit, with dark wood paneled walls, black lacquered tables, low music, and a hushed buzz of conversation.

The bartender nodded at me as I walked the length of the bar. His muscles rippled as he shook a chrome mixer of ice and some delicious cocktail.

I passed couples sitting close, whispering and smiling, a few kissing over their drinks. I passed it all though, going to the back of the place, then through French doors to a silent hallway, then down stairs to a metal door with a slit that slid open sharply as I approached.

Serious brown eyes met mine and studied me for a moment. I nodded at him and then pulled up my lapel to show my pin. His eyes fell to the gold bunch of grapes which held the letters O and D. He nodded again before the slit closed and the door opened.

A tall man in a black suit with a black shirt and a black tie led me into a parlor with identical furnishing as the bar. It even had the same music.

The difference was that along one wall were a row of nude legs and hips. Nine pairs of legs, attached to people who were bent over, with their heads and torsos swallowed up by some kind of enclosure in the wall, like medieval stocks but far more beautifully designed.

I had heard about this place many times, but had been hesitant to visit. The Order had many palaces of entertainment in the city, each unique and complicated. This was one of the most secret.

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Review: Giselle Renarde’s Nanny State

Except for the work of a few friends (Guy New York, Sinclair Sexsmith) I don’t find that much erotica that really turns me on. Well, not much that is being published this decade.

51geyortszlNow, there is a lot of erotica out there, so part of that is just not being able to find erotica that suits me. I am very much not into romance genre erotica, which is most of what is out there. Billionaire, werewolves, the ever present cocky alpha. These are things that as so far from what turns me on that I’m better off reading cricket scores to get off.

That all being said, I search. I’m happy to take recommendations.

A few days ago I found (through SugarButch’s Best Queer Sex Blogs list) Giselle Renarde’s Nanny State. I read the whole thing today and it was delectable.

It’s a wonderful novella. A young college girl named Summer, who is living with a family friend during school, gets into a very interesting relationship with her landlord cum caregiver, Victoria. Soon Victoria becomes “Nanny Victoria” and the two wrestle with a budding power dynamic and how the rules of the household might work once nightly suckling at Nanny’s breasts and lingering fingered baths become part of their lives.

There is a lovely tension, a building, and I really liked how the rules changed over the course of the story until the two (and eventually the three) partners found something that worked for all of them. A sweet ending along with a glimpse into a complex past.

It was a story that was complete, but didn’t give away everything and left a sweet air of mystery.

Ageplay, without ever using the term, spankings, domination, and even a few kinks I’m not that into like diapers/pee, but it all worked for me and was hot as hell.

Giselle Renarde’s Nanny State is available on Amazon and through her website Donuts & Desires.

Banged For My Pokéstop: How Pokémon Got Me Laid

Because I am a nerd trying to find a niche market, I give you: Banged For My Pokéstop: How Pokémon Got Me Laid. The finest in Pokemon erotica.


pokestop“Ok, ok, so we are just bored girls who don’t want to go out in the heat and we want to play our game, but it would be twenty times more fun to play it in here, since you have both a PokéStop and intense air conditioning magic so we are willing to, you know, get topless and stuff,” she said, still seeming to be hypnotized by the smell of the pizza.

“And stuff?” he said, opening the box and taking out a slice.

She watched him take bite, licking her lips.

“Yeah, you can, like, touch our tits. Not like, the whole time, but when there are no Pokémon around, we will let you feel us up and maybe we’ll make out with you and stuff,” she explained, the last words trailing into slight mumbling.

Mark finished the slice in a few large bites, then he washed it down with his beer.

“Both of you?”


“Making out and ‘feel you up?’ That’s kind of sounds like high school doesn’t it?”

“Kinda. That’s kinda hot, right?” she said with a wide sly smile.

Mark tried to fight the smile, but he nodded and laughed.

“Kinda,” he agreed.


New Girls

He laughed his cruel laugh again as she felt the old rug grind against her naked knees.

“Listen, you’re just the new girl, you don’t think you deserve my cock all for yourself do you?”

The two other girls smirked and snickered.

She wasn’t a person really. Not that night. She was just one of three sluts kneeling at his cock.

Some part of her recoiled, knowing how fucked up it was, but a much stronger part of her wet her lips, assuring her that she would show them. She would suck the best and he would realize she was the best toy. He would see past those other girls, she just knew it.

But in her contemplation she had missed some signal he gave and the other girls had descended on his cock before she could. She could only hover near it, watching their greedy pink lips suck, waiting for them to give her enough room, unable to to do anything but lean in because of her bound hands behind her back.

The situation made her dizzy and confused and so wet she could feel her inner thighs slick with her messy need.

The Routine

It felt good to have daily routines. It made her feel rooted. The same breakfast every morning; oatmeal with a banana in the winter and fall, yogurt and granola in the summer and spring. She always took the 8:14am train into the city. She always got to the station early and bought the Times and a medium coffee; skim milk, no sugar.

Three days a week she went to the gym before work. Chest and biceps on Tuesday, shoulder and triceps on Thursday, and back and legs on Saturday.

On Sundays she made and packed lunches for the week. A lean protein, two vegetables, no starch, and a piece of fruit.

On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays after work she took the subway downtown instead of getting the PATH train home and stopped for an hour or so at his apartment.

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The Little Bird Part 3/3

Jason froze.

From the living room he heard the sounds of the front door closing and locking, then a jacket being hung up in the closet, then someone walking around, then silence.

He hopped off the bed and grabbed his jeans, almost falling over as he pulled them on.

“Jason?” said Ray from the other side of the bedroom door.

“Um, yeah?” Jason answered.

“Sorry to come back unannounced, but you weren’t answering your texts.“

Jason didn’t know what to say.

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t leave her all alone or get freaked out or anything,” Ray added.

“Um, no. We’re cool,” Jay said, looking at the mostly naked girl who had a rather bemused smile.

“Can I come in?” Ray asked rather seriously.

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The Little Bird 2/3

In his best friend’s bedroom, holding the leash of a mostly naked girl, Jason listened for the slamming of the apartment door.

When the sound came he closed his eyes and thought deeply about his situation.

He was still high on the kisses of his first date with a pretty girl. His body was still primed to fuck. In his hand was the leash of a girl who had been kept in a cage consensually, made to masturbate, but not come, every few hours, and who was now ordered to do anything he wanted.

A slow electric feeling flooded his veins. Power. Power, desire, and confusion.

He looked down at her, kneeling at his feet. She was a pretty thing, oval face dominated by wide eyes amplified by thick black eye makeup that came to winged points. Her lips were fat and perfectly painted as well, a dark matte red.

“Anything you want.”

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The Little Bird Part 1/3

Sometimes after a really good first date, you walk around in a daze. A stupid grin plastered on your face, a drunken wobble in your gate, and a fog over your eyes.

That’s where Jason was as he made his way through the east Village and up to the apartment of his best friend Ray.

Ray opened the door and immediately rolled his eyes at his friend’s swooning smile.

“Oh boy, not again,” he said, letting Jason float into his apartment.

“No man, this is serious, I’m in-” Jason started but Ray stopped him.

“Don’t say it, don’t say it, I know, you’re in love. At least wait until the second date to tell her,” he laughed as he popped opened each of them a beer.

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The Order of Dionysus: The Pass

There really wasn’t anything special about her. Well, other than her curiosity.

I saw her almost every day on the A train. She often wore that sort of post collegiate uniform of the early 2000s; tight dark blue jeans tucked into calf high leather boots, a gauzy white blouse, various Anthropology accessories.

Yet there was something unique about her smile and the way she looked around the subway car. No phone in her hand, no book, just perusing people.

Admittedly, there was also her tits and her hips and her ass. They were large. Her breasts were almost too large for her frame, though they were often camouflaged by her loose blouses, though occasionally on display with a low cut sweater.

That day it was a tight, light gray, low cut blouse with a wine colored cardigan over it. The deep line of her cleavage extra pronounced because of her rather awkward position between a bespectacled octogenarian and shopping bag laden hausfrau.

It wasn’t the first day I noticed it, but that day she was rather prominently displaying a symbolic pin on her jacket. It was the golden symbol of The Order of Dionysus. A bunch of grapes, resplendent with leaves and tendrils, and in the center a little O and a little D. The letters only really recognisable to someone in the know.

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